#just a simple one eyed twink

[ghostatservice]

"Oh sixer, it would eat you alive"

[oceansblvds]

after dark ; astarion (baldur's gate)

pairing ; astarion x reader

words ; 1.9k

about ; "It was a simple plan, really. Learn what makes you happy, use it against you. Copy and paste from what he had been trained for, make you feel instead of lure you away to some castle. Make you vulnerable, make you trust, make you oh so easy to manipulate."

warning(s) ; fluff, romance, eventual smut, the first chapter of a two part series, cazador (warning in itself), astarion needs a hug, astarion's feelings (another warning in itself),

authors note ; heyyyyy. i've been inactive for a while but i guess all it took was a vampire spawn blonde twink to show up for me to start writing again. anyways! this is the first chapter of a two part series. consider me whipped.

In his years of trying to push away his feelings, none of them compared to this. 

It was an absolute yearning that he had only felt for another person when he wanted to feed, when he wanted to bite something, an almost cannibalistic feeling that had come over him since he had escaped from Cazador’s grasps. He was free. Free to do what he wanted, to bite who he wanted, to feel how ever he wanted and yet, things were still hard for him to manage. The world was so much different than the tiny tidbits of memories that he could remember from his life before being vampire spawn. He couldn’t remember how to act, he couldn’t remember how to feel. It was deep inside of him, and sometimes he wondered if it was there no longer, if all the humanity had been stripped out, leaving him bare and broken, just the way that Cazador had wanted him. 

The moment that he woke up from the nautiloid crash he had thought that being alone would be the best option. He wouldn’t have to listen to anyone else, he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone's incessant whining but his own. But the moment he saw someone coming up to him, just as broken and smokey eyed as him, he had moments of doubt. He didn’t have to be alone anymore, no matter how much he was conditioned to do so. If he was to show any type of connection to any of his ‘brothers’ or ‘sisters’, his master would take them away from him, he would hurt them, and he hoped to whatever god that was out there, if there were any, that it wouldn’t be the fate for you. 

You. 

The thought made his stomach churn. 

It was a simple plan, really. Learn what makes you happy, use it against you. Copy and paste from what he had been trained for, make you feel instead of lure you away to some castle. Make you vulnerable, make you trust, make you oh so easy to manipulate. Copy and paste. Words spoken to you with a type of adoration that only he was good at making sound sweet despite the intentions behind them, make you want. He had done this to hundreds, no, thousands of people in his many years of living and still, you made his plan falter. Only at first ever so slightly, he thought that it was a good thing, maybe you were more easy to manipulate than he previously thought. But then you began to see him, really see him even if you weren’t trying to. You were speaking to him like he was a normal person, like he wasn’t a slave to be ordered around. You didn’t make him bite the drow, you didn’t make him do things that he didn’t want to do despite his words telling you differently. You knew him. 

And it made him absolutely sick. 

Words that he didn’t have the strength to speak continued to pile up in his throat, clawing their deep nails into his flesh with each passing day. But it was a better pain than the one that he would inevitably bring on you. He would rather feel that pain than hurt you. He had come to realize that he would do anything that he could to make sure that you didn’t get hurt. Whether it be standing in front of you when a stray arrow flew or offering to bandage up a cut on your arm, he always made sure you weren’t hurt. 

“Astarion.”

Astarion looked up from the blade of grass he had been staring intently at for the last few minutes, his red eyes shifting instead to you, standing above him with your hands by your side. You’d changed into your nightclothes since the last time he saw you, a few scrapes peppering your face and neck were now visible to him and he could smell you, smell your blood, how tantalizing it was. If he didn’t know any better he would reach out for your hand and plant a kiss on the top of it, a quick thanks for all the things that you didn’t realize meant so much to him. All the things you had done to make him feel human again. Even his name on your lips, Astarion, meant more than it ever had in the past. In previous years it had been said as an order, but the way that you spoke it was so soft, so pretty, so real. If he hadn’t been sitting down on the small blanket outside of his tent he would’ve felt his body wobble. 

“Yes, darling?” 

“I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. I know our mission tomorrow . . . it won’t be easy for you.” 

The mission that you spoke of was something that he had dreamt about since being freed from the nautiloid. Finally taking down Cazador, getting rid of his reign of tyranny and facing his captor for two hundred years. It had taken a while to come into fruition. You and everyone had been coming up with a stable plan for a few days now while you rested from your fight from Moonrise Towers. After a brief word, no, interrogation of a few of his brothers and sisters, you all had learned that Cazador wanted to complete the ritual in a day's time. That meant that you had to strike tomorrow and strike hard. But the nerves had gotten in the way of him getting any sort of substantial rest, and Astarion should’ve known that you would be able to see it. See right through him. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be? Finally getting my revenge,” He spoke, almost as though it was a well rehearsed line. His usual tone prickled through the air and his eyes searched for any answer that his deceit had worked on you. 

“I know, but it must be hard to think about going back to that place.” It hadn’t worked. 

You took a kneel down, making your way to the same level as him, sitting oh so close that he was sure if you had gone any further your knees would touch. And that made him chuckle to himself, that he could get so overwhelmed by a mere brush of your touch. “I just want you to make sure that we’re with you all the way. I’m with you all the way,” You almost whispered the last part, and he wondered if you were scared of letting others know of the gentleness you were granting him. Of course, that couldn’t be far from the truth, but it was whatever his mind concocted in the moment. A small smile flashed across your face and he wondered what your lips tasted like. If he would ever be granted that blessing. “You don’t have to hide yourself from me.” The words weren’t spoken but he knew that they were there. You were referring to the night after the Drow incident, when he pulled you aside and gave you a personal thanks for not allowing him to bite that woman. It was the closest you had ever gotten with him, your delicate hand pressed against his own, fingers nimbly interlacing together in a pattern that was only known to the two of you. He knew he didn’t have to hide himself from you, though the fear was still there. He wasn’t sure if it was fear of rejection, or fear of harm. You didn’t deserve to be with someone like him. You deserved to be with someone kind, someone who didn’t have the burden that he had. Someone who could assure you that everything would be fine, someone who could give you safety, give you a family. Astarion wasn’t that person. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be that person. 

“Thank you,” He said with true sincerity, his gaze breaking for a tiny moment as he went to grab your hand, putting his other one on top of yours. Astarion knew he was being greedy of your touch, but perhaps he would die tomorrow. He had to indulge. Even if it was just a mere touch. “You know, you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I know that facing Cazador is not on your top priority list.” You still hadn’t killed Orin or Gortash yet. You still were no closer to taking down the Absolute’s power, and a part of him felt guilty for having his burdens fall on your shoulders. 

The look on your face almost hinted as though he had offended you. For a moment he believed it was his touch but instead you squeezed his hand, leaning in closer almost instinctively. “Of course I have to come with you. I wouldn’t dream of making you do this alone,” You said. “You know, sometimes it seems as though you can’t comprehend that people care about you, Astarion.” A blush tinted your cheeks. “I care about you, I want to make sure that you’re safe.” 

His body betrayed himself. It was as though he was looking at the scene from above. 

Astarion closed the gap between the two of you, hand reaching for your soft cheek and pulling you in, pressing his lips against your own. He heard a muffled noise come from the back of your throat and waited for you to pull away. 

But you didn’t.

Instead you pushed closer, putting your hand on his own, another making its way to the crook of his neck. Your fingers brushed ever so slightly against the two puncture marks on the side of his neck and instead of fear he felt safe. Pushing away from the kiss, taking a breath, he instinctively looked to the sides, seeing that the tents of your fellow companions had been long since tied up for the night. His gaze fell back on you and your cheeks were even more flushed than they had been just a moment before, if it was even possible. 

You opened your mouth to speak. “I-” 

“I’m really sor-” He blurted. 

“Wasn’t expecting-” 

“I lost control of my-” 

“It’s really oka-” 

“We should forget-” 

“I’m glad you did.” 

The back and forth dissipated and Astarion was sure that he had to have misheard you. You didn’t walk away, you didn’t cower in fear, you only returned your hands to his, index finger brushing against his own as they sat in his lap. He gave you a quizzical look, wondering what could possibly be going on in that beautiful head of yours. 

“I’m glad that you did,” You repeated, a whisper this time. It held the power of a million forces of the sun, the way that you said it. “I used to think that it was silly of me to think that way of you . . . of wanting you during these times but. . .” You trailed off, a tiny look of embarrassment twinged at your face. “I am just glad that my fondness of you makes you feel safe enough, you know, safe enough to feel.” 

Oh, Astarion had been such a fool. 

This entire time he had thought that he was protecting you. All those times that you had helped him overcome whatever he was going through . . . when you would let him feed off of you . . . when you did nothing but allow him to be himself. Not a slave, not something that could be ordered around for another, but as himself, as just Astarion. 

You had been his protector this entire time.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Leatrice Joy (You Can't Fool Your Wife)—she's got this boyish air about her. a slight manner of the twink shall we say. a genderbent je ne sais quoi. enjoy these photos of her in king mode and the ones with silly hats [photos below the cut]

Pola Negri (The Wildcat, Men, A Woman Commands)—Legally obliged to submit her as she's from Poland, but also it is one of the greatest stars of silent film, both in Hollywood and Europe, so she has to be here. The og femme fatale and a fenomenal dramatic actress. And just so hot in this 1920s vamp style. Obviously her career slowed down in America with the introduction of sound movies, because of her accent and low voice. I'd say her voice is so much hotter thanks to that, but I'm just a simple simp. But then she made movies in Germany, and after the war she was even offered Gloria Swanson's role in "Sunset Boulevard'' but she declined. She was probably bisexual as after romances with Charlie Chaplin and Rudolf Valentino in the 20s, since the 1940s she lived with her 'female friend'.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman. (remember that our poll era starts in 1910, so please don't use propaganda from before that date.)

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Leatrice Joy:

Pola Negri:

A tempestuous green-eyed vamp of the silent screen, she tantalized with both her onscreen and offscreen romances. Rocked a Polish accent - well, once there was sound! A true proficient at promoting herself and using all possible tools to do so - from a dead Rudolf Valentino to a cheetah named Teddy, the latter of which she brought to a press conference.

First European actress to be contracted by Hollywood! She survived poverty and illness to become The Queen of Tragedy, she divorced a count to date stars like Charlie Chaplin and Rudolph Valentino, then spent the rest of her life living with Margaret West in what could have been a romantic relationship.

I don't have much to say about her actual career, personal life, etc. but I just need everyone to see how hauntingly beautiful her face is. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since the first time I saw her LOL like its pretty clear why she was such a star

[cynicalraccoon]

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

The Picture Of Dorian Gray was something. Never thought I could dislike characters so much, but I do.

At first, I thought this book was about some guy who got offered a deal by the devil disguised as a painter or a something similar, but no! It was just about a spoiled little twink who got corrupted because he wanted to keep his youth. And with the way they go on about Dorian, you'd think he'd be this typical, delicate, dew eyed BL character(if you know the type, you know).

I didn't like anybody in this book, except maybe James Vane. He didn't do anything wrong honestly in the short time he appeared.

Henry thinks he's smart. He's not. I honestly can't find the words to describe him because he makes me mad. Cold-hearted, arrogant, cynical, ect. I actually thought there was going to be a plot twist that he was a supernatural creature there to lead Dorian to sin because of how he was hyping the guy on throughout the whole book. Nope. That's just how Henry is. And I wanted someone to bring him off his high horse so badly. You have no idea. He didn't care that Basil died. And I bet money he would've dropped Dorian too if he wasn't interesting or looked attractive.

Basil was no better. He was blinded by Dorian's beauty. He knew what Henry was like and his influence. He should've spoken up, but he didn't. I get that he has his own life, and that he didn't want to upset his crush, but as a friend you have to speak up sometimes when they do stupid things. Basil failed. Plain and simple. And that's what got him killed in the end. He didn't know his true friends. If he had any other friends than Henry and Dorian.

Dorian...don't get me started on this whiny child. He didn't have an remorse at all. Even in the end, he didn't care about Sybil, Basil, Alan, or the other girl. He only cared about himself and his supposed "woes", that he brought on to himself. How dare he blame Basil for planting his picture when he made the wish to stay young while the painting grew old in the first place? And yeah,, Basil might've contributed to the supernatural part because he might've put his all into said painting, but still. People can be pretty on the outside, but ugly on the inside. That perfectly sums up Dorian Grey.

Don't let it get to your head because the faster you rise, the harder you fall.

I didn't feel sorry for Dorian's death. He got what was coming to him.

Besides the characters, one other thing that I couldn't get over was the flipping of POV tenses that sometimes appeared in the book. It was kind of out of place to me, but that's just my opinion. Also I can see why this book is philosophical. A lot of questions and paragraphs about life, beauty, and human nature. And by paragraphs, I mean these characters will talk pages sometimes.

Description was beautiful though. I could imagine the scenes as I read. I could imagine being in the locations at times.

Lastly, I'm glad it was a short book. Not a lot of supernatural elements, but it was a good read to pass the time.

[abusivelittlebunny]

Since I like causing trouble, favorite body part of each twink and why? 😉

Tits ass tits ass tits ass tits ass

Oof this is a difficult one there's so much there to appreciate honestly it would be very tough to choose but I'll try my best! Let's separate face & body though & examine them separately. Also we are not taking hair in this because truly i will be doing the actors instead of their characters as these features apply to any role they've played even though it feels weird to rate a real person ...

With Mr Murphy, when it comes to face I know many would say eyes, I know I know I know, they are just so perfectly shaped but if I'm real Too blue eyed people freak me out a bit but he has such nice lashes to contrast it and incredible makeup worthy eyelids and a hauntingly hollow eyesocket with those strangely shaped and actually very long brows that are scarce enough next to that endless hollow that they sometimes seem nonexistent so he gets a flying pass. But. But. I'm going to have to say cheekbones because they are honestly one of a kind and you can cut a man with them they're just so incredible; if I was one of those artists that drew little to no actual facial details like the hollow of cheekbones and just a simple smooth face I'd have the hardest time trying to draw Mr Murphy they are just so essential to his face.

It's hard to choose between ass and tits and thighs and waist when it comes to him because truly he's gifted in all of these areas but I'll say waist because he looks so milfy with how hourglassly his figure is; so mommy.

Special shout out to: his hollow eyesockets giving him that iconic look.

Mr Cole has such incredible eyes and honestly their shape mesmerized me; it has this cat-like curve like his pretty plump pink lips that is so seductive and effortlessly charming; if John wasn't such a rambunctious little dude up for mischief he could easily be a fucking Bond boy with those lovely eyes holding so much mystery and elegance.

For him it would be a sin not to say how hot his ass is i just want to eat the whole entire thing, its so round and plump and bitable.

Special shout out to: the beauty mark on his lower lip giving a good target.

For Mr Dickinson it would be an actual crime against humanity if I didn't say lips, those lips oh my God, such pink pillowy perfections they are borderline insane they are so sexy. All the boys mentioned above have that born for blowjobs lips but him him he fucking has the supreme slap a dick in his pretty princess mouth lips like I would pay real money to see the Beach Rats cut where we actually witness from the homeless dude's perspective how those lips can work a cock for real.

In the butt department I'm afraid I've even spoiled by the other twinks because his one is nearly fat enough for me but he makes up for it in the most beautiful tits with rosy nipples and a cute beauty mark right beneath that's begging for a lick.

Special shout out to: his insanely long elegant fingers.

Mr Mackay has such an interesting face it is truly very hard to draw it is just so irregular and intriguing and its mystery draws the eyes in and keeps you captive but my favorite facial feature on him has to be the nose it just has such a unique profile, so sharp yet elegant and it compliments the whole face really, what a pretty boy.

Also he has a very unique body as well very fit and trim with the longest most shapely legs that end in a tight pert butt so I'll go ahead and say his pretty ballerina legs.

Special shout out to: his very protruding veins all over his body.

[vic-chaos]

Why are you neutral on bunny but love bunnyman lol?

OK first of all I'm sorry I left this ask in my inbox and completely forgot about it for like months jsdjsjdjfssd 😭

I think the most simple way to explain it is since buttman and kenman are my biggest otps, bunnyman is just like a fun way to combine them together so I can have both at the same time. It helps that I do really enjoy their dynamic together, and I think all 3 of them would do well in a poly relationship. As long as it was a triad where they're all dating each other, not a V relationship where one person has two partners, because Butters and Cartman are both too jealousy prone for that imo. But I think, as well as balancing each other out, all 3 of them are people who would enjoy having two boyfriends (Cartman especially would be a huge show off about it lmao) and enjoy having more than one person to receive romantic affection from. So where I usually wouldn't be so into combining ships like this just because I like them both, this is a rare instance where I actually think it works really well and the new poly relationship that it creates is one that I also find really fun and interesting to explore just on it's own merit as well.

Unfortunately I just don't have the same emotional attachment to bunny as I do to kenman or buttman, and am just... not as interested in them when it's just the two of them alone?? It could be because Cartman is what makes both buttman and kenman so much fun for me, and without him there it just is no longer relevant to my interests sdjfsjds

I don't dislike bunny... I find the ship a little boring but that's about the worst I can say about it, I'm really just neutral on it with no strong feelings one way or another. I have a huge weakness for ships with physical contrast so the fact that they're both skinny blond and likely blue-eyed twinks already loses me to a degree (they do make me think of those memes about gay couples who look like twins ajhsbjdfbsjb) and personality wise there's just nothing really about the combination of these two characters that draws me in. Their canon interactions are really scarce, but what is there is just... yeah exactly the same, it's cute but no strong feelings about it again.

I think I would be more willing to entertain bunny if I didn't have a slight resentment towards them based on sheer popularity as well. Like I will straight up just admit that this is petty of me, but it does suck having a ship like buttman where the amount of canon material they have to work from is honestly just beyond belief at this point, be so ignored in favour of something like bunny where just based on a few brief scenes (which I won't deny are shippy, but are nothing compared to what buttman have in sheer volume lmao) being so much more popular??? just because they're both skinny... To put this into perspective in case anyone hasn't checked the numbers themselves: on Ao3 there are currently 194 buttman fics tagged, 185 kenman fics, and 1,333 bunny fics - also making it the 3rd most popular in the entire fandom after creek and style. (Bunnyman only have 5 if anyone is wondering... 😭)

I also really don't like the fanon characterisation of Butters in the majority of bunny content but I don't hold it against the ship itself, a lot of it is just down to the same ancient yaoi tropes that haunt the sp fandom at large. Sorry to kind of meander this into so much of a "why I don't like bunny" rant dsksdjs but it's part of why I feel this way about all of these things as a whole so it's still part of the explanation. In summary, I'm only really into bunny in the context of bunnyman.

[starkerhelpline]

Hello!! Any good sugar daddy Tony fics? WIP or Completed, either is okay ❤️

Hi! Yes, of course there are! 

Wouldn’t Be The Worst Thing by deltorafray

In which Peter somehow finds himself having a sugar daddy in Tony Stark without either of them meaning to, but neither really do anything to stop it. It’s not like anyone else bats an eye either, so it just … happens.

Coffee & Sugar by SweetLittleDarling

When Peter Parker got into NYU he imagined long nights studying in the library and bad takeout food. Instead he's working a dead end job and drowning in a mountain of debt. His old high school bully Flash gives him a business card to a secret sugar baby agency. Steve Rogers, the owner of The Captain doesn't think doe eyed Peter has what it takes to be a sugar baby. Steve gives him a chance, thinking that the kid won't last the night, he sets him up with his most difficult client: Tony Stark. Peter is going to kill Flash for letting him think that this was a good idea.

Sugar Honey Iced Tea by silhouette (thiefless)

Just business. That's all this was. Just a simple business transaction. The kid needed money, Tony wanted companionship – with a generous sprinkling of orgasms on both sides. All they had to do was not fall in love with each other. How hard could it be?

Or: the one in which Iron Man becomes Spider-Man's sugar daddy.

You Deserve It, Baby, You Deserve It All by marin27

Peter knows that Tony has a heart of gold, that he gives and gives and gives because he can. But this is sort of going out of control. Considering it's Tony Stark, 'going out of control' means thousand dollar pieces of designer clothes and a trip to Italy. Peter is out of his element here. ~~~ Where Tony accidentally becomes Peter's sugar daddy and Peter denies it. Although he does suspect something (and is somehow completely off-mark) This is not your run of the mill Sugar Daddy!Tony fic, it's honestly more of a love story where Tony loves showering Peter in gifts. Then I added plot. Too much plot. Lots of unresolved sexual tension and so many internal conflicts on both sides.

Daddies and Twinks by Neuropsyche

Peter and Tony meet in an online chatroom and Tony becomes infatuated with the idea of being his sugar daddy and decides to come find him

what’s the point of a clear raincoat with no hood? by CarnivalGoldfish

Tony buys Peter clothes because he likes Peter wearing what he bought him. Peter realizes this is not normal.

[jennrypan]

Ok so. I finally watched the god awful monster high reboot and like. Oh my god.

The outfits are so fucking UGLY.

Dracula is a loser and it was better when he was mysterious and they said he was a traveler or somethin like that.

And why would they turn their HOME into a school??? Also..youre telling me a lot of monsters existed but never thought of making a whole town instead they had to wait for kids to do it?

And they could keep Deuce but take out all Clawdeens siblings and give her ugly ass annoying little brothers?? Also..where tf is her dad?? THE WOLFMAN??

And they gave Frankie Ghoulias traits, and Clawdeen turns into a wolf like every 2 seconds to do simple shit even though shes athletic too and aint she a lesbian?? Fuck is this twink Rathe dude doing here.

And Moanica is the only one I liked. She had a nice design and she had good ass motives cus fuck them humans.

And Toralei doesnt even have her personality, shes just fucking there when shes literally VERY opinionated.

They HAVE GIL BUT NOT CLAWD HEATH OR JACKSON???

And again. The outfits are fucking ugly and the school design is heinous.

Like at least the old monster high looked like a school?? Also..they had more than two/three teachers.

And also..theyre so dead eyed, they look like fish.

Its just. God why did they decide to reboot everything just cuz a couple of karens complained?? Everythings ugly and the dolls arent any better, so why would Mattel assume theyd make more money or some shit??

Im just..so annoyed. Oh my god--

I dont want them to bring it back if just gonna be this tacky mess without the characters people actually like??- like lord. They are just..so fugly.

Also..I just wanna see Clawd, the old Clawd, I dont want them to change his character for no dumb reason and make him twinkish like they did Deuce cuz they did my mans dirty.

Like I just want the old characters and better clothes.

[ask-badlydrawn-mercosur]

Sorry for the rant but world flags makes me angry: I like the style and what their trying to do, but With the world flags designs I think they can improve a lot on many of them. I’ve always been pissed about CAM since Canada looks cool as hell! Mexico looks neat THEN THERES THE TWINK. They missed on a brilliant opertunity to make a teenager who’s trying to just get threw the day and eat as much BBQ as his body allows yet there’s the TWINK. Don’t get me started on the blue eyed blonde trope with the US.

Obviously with Paraguay they could have done a lot better, don’t get me started on any of the names for these guys. Paraguay could’ve have duel swords with each one having the front/back of his flag.

But seriously, so much creative ability and yet the Americas look lack luster.

Also Jamaica’s deign confuses me because his hair makes my brain hurt.

// No worries, it frustates me as well. I have A LOT of feelings towards World Flags... (rant under the cut)

Credit where its due: some of the designs are really good, like Japan, Italy, France, Mexico, Canada, China, South Africa... I really liked what they did with Brazil and Argentina too (saving for the names, but I'll get there later).

And their New Zealand looks so cool, I absolutely loved how they blended maori elements with the whole samurai thing, I don't doubt there are very talented people working there, but for the most part it does feel like quantity > quality for them.

Like, I get it, they are supposed to be personification of the FLAGS dressed as SAMURAIS, but it doesn't mean you can't blend some elements related to said nation's culture? They did with NZ and he looks absolutely cool, but then I look at Bolivia and Peru's designs, and honestly, I couldn't even tell they were supposed to represent said countries. Why not incorporating some Aymara or Quechua elements on their designs? Same could be said about Paraguay and Guarani culture which is, like a HUGE part of their identity?

There were so many simple ways you could actually have improved Paraguay's design so he actually could LOOK paraguayan, like, give him a straw hat, put some ñandutí patterns on his outfit, a tricolor belt, give him a tereré, or an harp? but NOPE... Generic design loosely based on the flag ( and very loosely)

But if there is ONE THING that bothers me above all is the name of the characters? Like??? If they want they to go by actual names rather than nation names, its alright, but between the designs from Latin America, it felt they couldn't even get the names right? We got stuff like:

Honduras =  Xatruch ( a surname) El Salvador = Magico (Literally "Magic" what???) Panama = Lewis (why an anglo sounding name???) Costa Rica = Navas ( another one that I've only ever seen as a surname and not first name...) Argentina = Batistuta ( I really hope its a misspelling of the name "Batista") Ecuador = Delgado (another surname, I've never seen it used as a first name) Bolivia = Valdivieso (Another surname) Peru = Vargas (again... a surname) Uruguay = Recoba (another surname...) Cuba = Chapman (another anglo sounding name, tho I feel like he was supposed named after Cuban-american baseball player Aroldis Chapman) And now Paraguay, Chilavert, named after rather controversial football player José Luis Chilavert, again ANOTHER SURNAME.

Why can't they have proper first names??? This feels very disrespectful to me to be honest.

Honestly, WF made me appreciate Himaruya's designs A LOT MORE, Hima was by no means perfect( and I have a lot of complaints about APH in general), but it does feel like he at least tries to do his research and that he puts care in the stuff he draws and his designs.

By no means I wanted WF to fail, I absolutely adore projects like these, honestly it makes me super happy when people take interest in my nation's culture, and in my continent, but I don't think WF has been doing that much of a great job, and I barely see people criticizing them.

Sadly a lot of wasted potential....

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

I Don’t Want a Soulmate

Dean Winchester stared at the clock with rapt attention. In exactly fifty-eight seconds he would be turning eighteen and somewhere on his body, his soulmate tattoo would appear. He glanced over at his younger brother who was fast asleep. Sam was in awe of the idea of having a mark on your body that was a perfect match to another person’s. Even though he was four years from getting his mark, for the past few months, it had been the only thing he wanted to talk about.

“Dean, what do you think yours will be?” “Do you think it will hurt when it appears?” “How long do you think it will take for you to find your soulmate?” “What if you don’t like your soulmate?”

Dean had finally shouted at his brother to quit asking about the stupid things. Unlike Sam, Dean hated the idea of the soulmate marks. He was furious that he didn’t get to choose the person he was going to spend his life with. He had learned all too well how fate could be a bitch. His parents were a perfect example.

Mary Campbell had been the sweetest, most outgoing person who saw the good in everything. Mary Winchester was a shell of the person she was before she met John Winchester. After enduring years of abuse from John, Mary took her own life when Dean was thirteen and Sam was nine. Dean had sworn to himself that if his soulmate were anything like John, he would never stay with them.

Dean watched anxiously as the seconds on the clock ticked down. As soon as the time changed to midnight, he felt a bright hot pain sear into his left shoulder. He gritted his teeth through the pain, not wanting to wake up his sleeping brother. Once the pain had faded, Dean walked into the bathroom to see what his mark looked like. He stood in front of the mirror and slowly pulled his shirt sleeve back.

Dean’s mark was a simple hourglass with equal amounts of green sand in the top bulb and blue sand in the bottom bulb. “Well, it’s not the worst mark I’ve ever seen,” Dean muttered into the quiet bathroom. He glared at the mark as he pulled his sleeve down to cover it. He was going to do his best to pretend like the thing didn’t even exist.

                                                           *****

Dean was standing at the bar drying shot glasses when the seat in front of hum was suddenly filled with six feet of aggravated Castiel Novak. Dean grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured the tattoo artist a shot before sliding it over to him. Cas glanced up at him with a mumbled, “Thanks.”

Dean threw the towel over his shoulder and leaned forward on the counter, his elbows supporting most of his weight. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

Cas slammed the empty shot glass down as he growled, “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t wear panties.” He smirked at his roommate as he said, “You on the other hand have quite an extensive collection.”

Dean grinned, completely unashamed. “Damn straight! I’m telling you buddy the material feels so good against your skin and they hug you in all the right places.”

“As I always say, I’ll take your word for it. Pour me another shot.” Cas slid the glass back over to Dean.

Dean poured more whiskey into the glass. Cas went to reach for it, but Dean shook his head. “Nah ah, not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Give me the damn glass, Dean,” Cas snarled.

Dean glared at his friend, refusing to follow his order. “No. Something happened and I want to know what.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your roommate, but also because I’m your friend, Cas. I need to know if I have to go beat somebody up,” Dean answered.

“We’ve only been roommates for a few weeks Dean.”

“And?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

Cas huffed but finally said, “Balth dumped me for some twink in tight little boy shorts. Like, if the dude is even eighteen, I’d be surprised. We’ve been together for two years and he cheated on me for a fucking twink! What the hell does he have that I don’t?”

Dean passed the shot glass over and Cas downed it in one go. He held the bottle out and said, “Here, you need this.” Cas took a long gulp from the bottle. “I’m sorry, Cas. I know you really liked him.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Truthfully, I don’t know how much I liked him anymore. The past few months haven’t been all that great. I think I’m more pissed about the fact that he refused to break up with me to my face. Not to mention, he chose somebody that’s at least a decade younger than me. Great boost to my ego.”

Dean reached out to grip Cas’ shoulder in a comforting embrace. “Look, Balth was a douche and you deserve so much better. If he can’t see how great of a guy you are, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Cas flashed a small grin at his friend. “Thanks Dean. You know, I still can’t fathom why you are single. I mean, it’s not like you give a shit about the whole soulmate mark so why not have a little fun?”

“Why even start something with somebody if they’re just gonna leave you in the end? I’m ok with being single for the rest of my life,” Dean replied with a shrug.

“So, why don’t you go look for your soulmate then? I know you’re afraid after what happened with your mom, but you’ve got to try, Dean,” Cas insisted.

“No,” Dean said sternly. “I’d rather be single than find out that my so-called perfect match is some douchebag.”

Cas frowned. “I wish you would let me see your mark. I’m sure it’s something awesome.”

“It’s nothing special. Besides, it’s not like you’ve ever let me see yours,” Dean shot back.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to since you’ve made it very clear how you feel about them. Hell, I learned about your panty collection on the second day of knowing you and you made less of a fuss about that. You nearly bit my head off when I asked about your mark.” Cas lifted the bottle to his lips and took another sip from it.

“Did you ever see Balth’s mark?” Dean asked softly.

Cas nodded as he answered, “Yeah, it was some weird cross thing. Not even close to matching mine.”

Dean sighed. He had only known Cas for a few weeks, but he was the best roommate Dean had ever had. The previous three had been nothing but trouble. One brought all their dates to the apartment and Dean had to listen to them going at it all night. Another smoked pot nonstop. Dean wasn’t a prude; he’d tried a lot of things in his twenty-five years of life but even he didn’t want his apartment smelling like a pot factory nonstop. The one before Cas had been ok except for the fact that they didn’t pay their part of the rent, so Dean kicked them out.

From the very first day, Cas had been an enigma. Cas was the only tattoo artist Dean knew who didn’t have a single tattoo of his own. When Dean had asked why, Cas said he didn’t want to have them, and his soulmate not like them. Dean had scoffed at they, saying it was Cas’ body and he should be able to do to it what he wanted.

That wasn’t the only weird thing about Cas, though. His favorite piece of clothing was an old tan trench coat that was frayed at the seams and had a few odd stains on it. Cas said he’d had it since he was a teenager and couldn’t bear to part with it. Cas also had an unhealthy obsession with bees and botany. Dean had listened to dozens of lectures about how important bees were to the environment and which flowers attracted them the most. The weirdest thing about Cas was the way he always tilted his head and scrunched his eyes and nose when he was confused. Living with Dean meant he was confused most of the time.

Even though Cas was an odd guy and was taken, Dean had quickly fallen head over heels for him. Before Cas, he would have never spent hours watching nature documentaries or thought that anybody would look good in a baggy trench coat. Dean’s heart stuttered every time he caught Cas doing the adorable head tilt thing.

It was because he was so in love with Cas that Dean said, “If you show me your mark, I’ll show you mine.”

Dean nearly dropped the glass he was holding when Cas cocked his head and scrunched his eyes. “You’ve never wanted to see it before, why now?”

“MaybebecauseIlikeyou,” Dean said in one go.

“Uh, Dean. I didn’t understand a thing you just said.”

Dean sighed before slowly saying, “Maybe because I like you.” Dean felt bile rising as Cas continued to stare at him. “Oh shit, you don’t feel the same way. Fuck, you just broke up with your boyfriend and here I am admitting I have feelings for you.” Dean dropped his eyes and muttered, “Way to go Winchester.”

“Dean look at me,” Cas said gently. Dean slowly lifted his eyes to lock with Cas’ blue ones. “Maybe I like you too. It was just one more thing that was driving Balth and I apart.”

“Oh great, I’m the reason your boyfriend of two years cheated on you,” Dean cried as he threw his hands in the air.

“No, you weren’t,” Cas assured. “We’ve been falling apart for months, so please don’t blame yourself. If I truly loved him, there’s no way I would have fallen for you.” Cas grabbed Dean’s hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. “Dean, I don’t care if our marks don’t match. If we start something, I’m not going to leave you for some stranger who has the same mark as I do.” Before Dean could reply, Cas pulled his left shirt sleeve up and exposed his mark to the dim light.

Dean gasped as his eyes locked on the hourglass filled with green and blue sand. He shook his head, whispering, “It can’t be,” over and over. He tore his eyes away from the mark to stare at Cas wide eyed.

“Dean, is everything alright?” Cas asked with concern.

Dean’s hand shook as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and slid it up over his shoulder, allowing Cas to the see the mark etched into his skin. Cas’ jaw fell as he stared at the mark. Cas looked at Dean, his expression a mirror image. “Our marks… they match.”

“Yeah,” Dean said shakily.

“I can’t believe this. I’ve imagined meeting my soulmate hundreds of times, but I never imagined he’d end up being my roommate,” Cas said in awe.

Dean was hesitant as he replied, “I’ve always been so afraid of meeting mine. I hated that fate got to decide my perfect match instead of me.”

“And now?” Cas asked hopefully.

Dean’s lips spread into a bright smile. “Now, I guess I have to admit fate knew what it was doing when it picked my soulmate.” He grabbed a fistful of Cas’ shirt and pulled him across the counter. Their mouths met in the middle. Dean moved his lips against Cas’ and marveled at how soft they felt. Cas moaned and Dean took the opportunity to lick into his mouth. Their tongues danced with one another as the kiss deepened. As they broke apart, Dean whispered, “I think I might already be in love with you.”

Cas kissed Dean again before replying, “I know I’m already in love with you.”

Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @multifandom-fanatic @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel

[sublimestarker]

Starker smut - Trim my hedges

Peter Parker was loaded. Most of it was family money, inherited by his parents and his uncle, but he still managed to double that amount. He worked on apps, and sometimes invested in properties and stock, with his aunt’s permission. “You’re only 19, Peter live your life while you’re young” she’d say and if he had a penny for every time he heard it and rolled his eyes, he’d be even richer. But even she couldn’t deny that their luxurious lifestyle had it’s perks - a nice apartment in Queens and a vacation home in the Hamptons. They were currently there, the July sun shining on Peter’s Ray-Bans as he watched his aunt showing the new gardener around. He knew that the staff never stuck around for too long, so he opted for scrolling through his phone instead of watching the man. Peter was forced to meet him later, when May introduced them.

“Peter, this is our new gardener, Anthony Stark.”

“Please call me Tony.” He said and stretched his hand out to the younger man. Tony, in his tank top and his dirty gardening gloves shaking hands with Peter who was dressed in Gucci pants and had a new Rolex on his wrist was a sight.

“Alright boys, play nice.” May ordered, before going back in the house.

“Kid, you should go in too, I’m gonna trim the hedges and it will get pretty loud.”

“Don’t worry, I have these.” Peter fished out a pair of Airpods from his pocket, and placed them in his ears, his music on low volume, so that he stayed focused. He wanted to observe the gardener a bit more. That guy wasn’t May’s usual type - tall, blonde, with muscles and blue eyes, like the precious ones. Peter particularly missed Steve Rogers, or Captain America,as they called him and a guy who he just called Thor. He had fucked them both, leading to their unemployment, thanks to his aunt. He still remembers the vicious arguments they got in.

“If you didn’t want me to have sex with guys who are twice my age you shouldn’t bring them over.” Peter yelled as he saw that May had fired Steve. His nerves got the best of him and he knew it.

“I didn’t bring them over, I asked them to work for me. You should really think of who you’re seen with, your little hookups can lead to bad press.” May shouted back. He hadn’t seen her this angry with him since he gambled last year.

“Bad press? What is this the 60s. I can sleep with whomever I want and the paparazzi won’t bat an eyelash.”

“Though you should be free to do whatever you want with your body, I’m still the adult here, Peter. There should be some limits. I just want the best for you, I don’t want you to get hurt like last time.”

“We’re still on that. I told you it was just a one time thing.”

“Is that why you were cooped up crying in your room for months. Because of a one time thing. Look I don’t want another Bucky breaking your heart.”

“Don’t call him that. Only I can say that. To you and everyone else he’s James.”

“But he wasn’t, wasn’t he. He was Bucky to his wife and kids, wasn’t he.”

“Get out.”

“Peter I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries.”

“I said get out.” He screamed, face red and tears welling up in his eyes. He even threw a framed picture at where May stood moments ago.

Peter was snapped out of that memory when he felt his gardener tapping him on the shoulder.

“You’re so deep in thoughts that you didn’t feel that the first few times, huh kid. Anyway, I need to mow the lawn, so I’d suggest you move.”

“You don’t make the suggestions here. If I wanted I could get you fired right here on the spot.”

“Nice try kid, but I know that your aunt’s the boss here. Plus what are you going to do after you fire me? Replace me with a blonde, blue eyed muscular jock.”

Peter clenched his fist in anger.

“May told you.”

“Yeah, she didn’t want me making the same mistakes as the previous gardeners. Though looking at your attitude, I’m sure she won’t have a problem.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh, I know everything about you. Because I was you. I was a rich brat, with lots of cash and lots of fuck buddies.”

“Anthony Stark, Tony Stark, my father used to know your father. Wait, the Wikipedia article said that you ran away from home one night and that you’ve been MIA ever since.”

“Yeah kid, I know what it says, I wrote it. The truth isn’t that glamorous or mysterious. One night my old man saw me sneaking in my boyfriend. He banished me, it was a different time then. And I’ve been on my own since then. I was 18 and on the street, it was literally rags to riches, but well riches to rags. I tried a lot of things. Took a few odd jobs, went to community college, even tried to get back into the family business after my dad passed. Well nothing worked and here I am, in what I’m convinced is my personal hell on earth.”

“Why did you take this job then? You knew what you were getting into.”

“Because it’s the only way I can get money.”

“You see that little garden over there - Steve planted marigolds for me when he was still here. They should bloom in a week. If you stay at your job until then, you’re free to leave and I’ll even give you an extra 10 k. But if i seduce you before that, you’ll have to work here, all summer, every year. Do we have a deal?”

“Sure kid. Just don’t go crying when you can’t afford to get a new Audi because I can keep it in my pants.”

The next day Peter set his plan in motion, thanking God that May had to go back to New York to handle some unexpected business. He was going simple - sunbathing while Tony was working. So he sat in his chaise lounge, Versace sunglasses on and a tiny pink thong. Better to leave somethings to the imagination. Plus skinny dipping in his pool was one of his other options.

Seeing that his gardener was coming, Peter rubbed some tanning lotion on his milky white skin, before saying seductively.

“Hey, can you help me with the back.”

“Sure kid.”

He spread the lotion down the younger man’s back, obeying every command to go lower.

Tony’s hands were millimeters from Peter’s ass, when the older man leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“Why don’t you get dressed before your neighbor comes over to greet you.”

“Neighbor? Wait someone’s coming over for the summer? Which house is it, the one on the left of the right?” Peter asked frantically as he covered himself with a towel. It couldn’t be, right. He wouldn’t come back here again.

“Right. Why?”

“Did you see who was there? Was it just a woman, or a man, or a couple with kids?”

“It was a couple. What don’t you know your neighbors? If it helps jog your memory, the man had a sleeve tattoo of a biomechanical arm, can’t miss it.”

“Bucky.”

“You do know them. So, what is Bucky some old guy, whose son you fucked or something?.”

“He’s my ex. And he absolutely mustn’t see me.”

As if on que, there was a ring on the doorbell.

“Please get it.”

“Kid you have to reap what you sew. I’m not bailing you out.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“Get in the house before he can see you.” Peter flashed him a smile, before jogging into the house. Locking himself in his room, he peaked through the curtains to see what was going on. He could spot Bucky and Tony arguing, then his ex leaving. His gardener then climbed up the stairs and knocked on Peter’s door.

“Thank Tony. I owe you one.”

“Cash rules everything around me, kid. Now come on, give me the money, Parker.”

“How about a blowjob, it’s worth more than I could ever give you in cash.” Peter tried his luck.

“The money, now.” Tony said through his teeth, one hand gripping Peter’s throat.

“Yes daddy.” The younger man replied instinctively, and made a mental note of how Tony bit his lip at that. Peter grabbed a pen and his checkbook, writing a quick cheque to Tony.

“There’s an extra grand for your silence on everything that happened.”

“Pleasure working with you kid.”

Peter could see Bucky’s car driving away, thanks to someone telling Ms. Barnes exactly where her husband had been earlier.

A few days passed and Peter tried his best to seduce Tony. From skimpy outfits to touches that lingered on for more that they should have, nothing seemed to work. But he had some tricks up his sleeve.

Tony had almost forgotten about the younger man’s seduction attempts and didn’t think much before accepting his proposal of a movie night. He was lounging on the expensive white couch with Peter in gray sweatpants beside him. The movie was Beach rats, Pete’s pick of course. But when them first sex scene started on the screen, Tony noticed something unusual, Parker was moaning. Taking his eyes from the screen Stark noticed that not only was the younger man moaning, he was touching himself. He didn’t stop stroking his cock when he noticed the gaze on him, he even started thrusting faster.

“Peter that’s indecent exposure.”

“But I’m not exposing anything, Mr. Stark. There’s a perfectly good movie and you’re watching me. Seems like you want to sleep with me.”

“Fine, if that’s how you wanna play it, I’ll watch the movie.” Tony said as he glued his eyes to the tv. He was staying focused until

“Tony” a desperate breathy moan cane from Peter’s lips. Ignore it, your will is strong.

“Mr. Stark, please.”. He’s just some little bratty twink.

“Fuck me, Tony.” You could be his dad.

“Daddy”. With that Peter came, his eyes were closed and his cheeks were a rosy shade of pink. Tony still kept his eyes on the screen, but there was a bulge in his jeans. Peter didn’t miss that and quickly came up with a plan on how to work with that.

“Well I’ll have to do laundry now. Mind if I squeeze past?” He said and accidentally fell into Tony’s lap, grinding his hips, feeling the throbbing member beneath him.

“Wow, Mr. Stark, you’re packing. You know I usually don’t care about size, but damn I’m sure you.” Before he could finish his sentence, Tony pushed him away.

“Don’t touch me, kid.”. Well plan failed.

Tomorrow was Peter’s only chance to seduce Tony. It wasn’t about the money anymore, nor was it a matter of pride. The younger man was genuinely in love and that terrified him.

Maybe if Peter fucked Tony all these feelings would just disappear. He was determined to find out. That morning they didn’t even exchange words. Tony was working by the pool when Peter jumped in. He swam a lap, before tossing his swimming trunks by the other man. Then he decided to practice his backstroke, showing off his “technique”.

“Care to join me? You don’t need a swimsuit. Come on daddy.”

Tony just sighed and started stripping. Peter’s eyes sparked up with joy. He was winning. And more importantly he was going to be fucked in his pool. Looking his crush up and down, he bit his lip. For an old man Tony had a nice body. Toned abs, big biceps, that perfect v that drove the guys crazy and his dick. Peter couldn’t wait to have it in his mouth, running his tongue over the uncircumcised length.

“Earth to Parker.” Tony was right next to him, oh god, he was so hard for the older man. “You know this week I realized that you get flustered by me. You, Peter Parker the handsome rich boy who can have any guy, likes me, an old man.”

“You’re not that old.”

Tony took steps forward and Peter backwards, until his back hit a wall. Peter’s breath hitched and Tony leaned into him, their lips millimeters apart.

“Is it worth it, if you loose all the money.” Peter asked, clearly taunting the other man.

“Everything’s worth it for you, baby boy.”

Peter closed his eyes and pressed his soft lips against Tony. But instead of feeling lips, he felt a hand. Anthony had placed his large palm between them.

“Psych.”. He said, before exiting the pool and drying off with Peter’s towel. Peter shamelessly rutted his hips against that same towel before cuming with Tony’s name on his lips.

The next day the marigolds had bloomed. Peter picked one and placed it behind his ear, as a sigh of defeat.

When Tony arrived he wasn’t dressed in his usual gardening clothes, but instead he was in a rainbow crop top and booty shorts.

“Parker where’s my cheque. I’m dying to go to the bank like this.”

“Oh, I was prepared to give you cash.” Peter said, opening his Balenciaga fanny pack to reveal stacks of 100 dollar bills.

“I want a cheque. I want to have physical proof that Peter Parker couldn’t seduce me.”

“Fine.” Peter pouted, stomping his feet up to his bedroom, followed by Tony. When he wrote the cheque, he handed it to the older man.

“Oh, Peter, one more thing.”. Before Peter could say anything, Tony pressed his lips against his. The kiss was hungry and sloppy, all tongue and teeth clashing together. The older man almost ripped off the buttons of Peter’s shirt, playing with his nipples. Tony pulled down his lover’s pants.

“Going commando? I bet you were watch me work and play with yourself, wishing that I was touching your sensitive cock, huh baby.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Well you don’t have to wish for it any more, cause it just came true.”. Tony palmed Peter’s erection, swirling the precum from his head to the base.

“Need to taste you, baby boy.”. With one bob of his head Tony could deepthroath Peter. His cock was sensitive, he was ready to come just from that.

“Daddy please.”

“Fuck, baby boy, you have to be needier than that. As much as I like having your pretty cock in my mouth, I want you. Get on your hands and knees for daddy.”

“Lube and condoms are in the bedside drawer.”

Tony kissed Peter reassuringly, then coated his fingers in lube. His finger slid in easily.

“Baby boy, did you play with yourself this morning?”

“Yes.”

“And who did you think about?”

“You, daddy.”

“You know that bad boys get punished. Count how many spanks I’m gonna give you.”

Tony’s hand struck Peter’s bottom, loving how the younger man’s hole tightened around him. After 5 spanks Peter was a mess. His ass was red and he was drooling on the pillow, begging for Tony’s cock inside of him.

“Just a but more, baby.” said the older man. He couldn’t take the teasing either. He had to have his baby boy, now. So he just added two fingers and scissored them, opening up Peter. As the younger man moaned, Tony opened the condom and lubed it up, before entering his lover.

“Fuck, baby boy, you’re so tight for me.”

“Daddy, you’re so big, you feel so good.”

“Beg for me, Peter.”

“Daddy, please harder. I need you, please.”

“Okay, baby.”. Tony bottomed out, causing Peter to let out an almost pornographic moan.

“Right there. I’m gonna cum.”

“Say my name.”

“Tony.”

“Try again, baby boy.”

“Mr.Stark.”

“I won’t let you cum if you’re wrong one more time.”

“Daddy.”

“That’s right, baby boy. Now come for me.”. Peter came, making a mess on his bedsheets. He rode it out quickly, cock softening.

“Help daddy come, Peter. Touch yourself.”

“But I’m still sensitive, it hurts.”

“Do you want me to feel good?”

“Yes daddy.”. Peter touching himself and let out a whimper, his hard cock already twitching in his hand. Tony wrapped his fist against him, causing him to groan out and slow his pace.

“Don’t stop ,baby, I’m almost there.”. Just as Tony came, he could feel Peter’s hole tightening, the boy had come again.

“You did so good, baby boy. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you daddy. Can you help me wash off, all this cum is sticky.”

[askiisoft]

FAN ART FRIDAY: ALL THE WARRIORS, Part 2

And to think I was planning to fit all of the OCs into one week...yeah, not happening. With 50+ entries and counting, I’ll be lucky to fit them all into four parts.

Welcome back to Part 2 of “All The Warriors”, a multi-week showcase of the Katana ZERO community’s awesome fan characters! The volume of submissions for this event has been mind-blowing, to the point where I’ve had to create a dedicated Excel spreadsheet to keep track of them all. If you haven’t submitted your character yet, there’s still one week left! If you have, rest assured that it’ll will be included eventually, so please be patient! 

For those who missed it, don’t forget to check out Part 1 of this series.

[WARNING: The work herein is based on fan creations, and should not be considered canon.]

Alpha 13, “Believer” by @DokusatsuMurXer

What is the loneliest number? ‘One’, you say? Nope, it’s 13...Alpha 13, that is.

Being one of the first Alpha-series NULL, it’s likely that Thirteen joined purely out of adoration for the illusive “Great Scientist”—a noble cause compared to the violent psychosis that defined the later Gamma-series NULL. While it’s clear he’s taken lives in service of his one-sided infatuation, it’s hard not to see him as another victim, still pining for his senpai’s attention even after everyone’s graduated and moved away years ago. Why do we always love the one who will hurt us the most? 

According to @DokusatsuMurXer’s, the drunken swirls in his Post-war portrait are hiding something much steamier. I can only imagine.

Please, senpai. By @DokusatsuMurXer

—

Beta 6, “Blade” by @Khwany_kawawii

In the Third District, there’s only two ways to get what you need: by coercion, or by force. Beta 6 opts for both, and seems to have a reputation on par with The Dragon amongst hapless goons. Ironically, it seems amnesiac NULL like Blade or Zero are the ones who kept going on killing sprees after the war, instead of throwing in with criminal syndicates or settling into an ordinary day job.

Her giant curtain of hair, while a bit ridiculous-looking standing still, would certainly add a sense of dynamism as she flipped and pirouetted in midair, tossing knives left and right. Also, knives.

“With no drugs, I will die. But with the drugs...I am the Killing Angel.” By @Khwany_kawawii

—

Ema by @Khwany_kawawii

Well, would you look at that. Not only is Ema our first non-NULL OC, but also the first...*drum roll*...Cromag! That’s right—as a child, Ema barely survived a NULL attack that killed her family, and she’s dedicated her life to finding whoever was responsible ever since. 

The concept of a private eye in Katana ZERO’s neo-noir metropolis, especially one who suffers from such intense trauma and racial discrimination, has fantastic plot potential. What if she finds the NULL who orphaned her, but they don’t remember it? What if they have to team up? I can’t help but wonder how long an average woman (bionic arm aside) could survive in this dark underbelly of drugged-up super-soldiers...

—

Gamma 4 by @camellia_066

Not every hero dies on a battlefield.

Being a commander means taking responsibility for those under your command. For some that extends beyond wartime, and especially so after the one-way process of becoming NULL; while an Alpha could skip doses of Chronos with nothing more than a nosebleed, a Gamma might require twice the dosage just to stay lucid. 

Maybe the weight of New Mecca’s defeat was too much for him to bear. Maybe he knew that a cure for Chronos was a pipedream. But it was better to die for the slim chance of salvation than witness his former comrades slaughter one another for just another dose. 

—

Gamma 12 by @wqwrppwu

So this is who’s been stealing my Uber Eats.

The idea of a Gamma-level NULL—especially one as devious-looking as Gamma 12—working as a pizza guy is hilarious to me. I have a soft spot for features like thin noses, wild eyes, and razor teeth that just scream “bad guy, stay away”. Most other NULL would just kill the cashier and take what they want, but Twelve uses his powers to steal booze and cigarettes and get away with it, every time. 

It makes sense that he’d be best friends with Alpha 25, “Pomidor” (see Part 1)  thanks to their mutual eccentricity and love of mayhem. 

Camaraderie at work. By @wqwrppwu

—

Gamma 5 by twink-182

Beta 6 had better be a wizard to claim the nickname “Blade”, given how many Gamma-level knife experts roam the city’s underbelly. Once part of Fifteen’s circle of former NULL, Gamma 5 evidently saw the writing on the wall and decided to leave before his comrade’s vendetta drew him deeper into danger. Otherwise, who knows, we might have had a quick, teleporting knife-thrower heckling us throughout the Headhunter boss fight...yeah, maybe it’s for the best that he’s M.I.A.

I’m guessing the photo and red string is just another point on Fifteen’s byzantine conspiracy board; I hope we get to see the whole thing one day.

—

Alpha 4 by @kym0433

As with any conflict, the end of Cromag War produced massive windfalls for organized crime in terms of illegal weapons, war drugs, and super-soldiers thirsty for Chronos. Luckily for Alpha 4, the Chinese had carved out their own niche in New Mecca’s Chinatown, and they offered him a steady supply of "ke le nuo si”, as they called it, plus a cushy job as a bodyguard; after all, who would dare to start trouble on their turf? Who, but a certain samurai who walked up to the roulette table one day...

While Ted might not be the strongest NULL, he leads the pack in terms of fashion. No musty olive fatigues for this killer—whether it’s a traditional patterned chengshan or tasseled shawl, Ted makes it look awesome. No one would even suspect he’s hiding weapons under there! 

By @kym0433

—

Beta 24, “Cecil” by @Tacoyaki86

Contrary to popular belief, the inability to feel pain is not a superpower, especially when paired with a military specialization as hazardous as demolitions and bomb disposal. Imagine not realizing your hands got blown off until you reached for a sip of coffee. That, and you’d be stone deaf from constant close-range explosions and minigun fire.

Knowing that, I can understand Beta 24′s desire to spend a quiet veterancy at a manga café, where the otaku don’t want to chat anyway and the biggest risks are coffee burns and paper cuts. 

Also, is that chevron on his beret the same as Headhunter’s? That must indicate rank, or possibly explosives experts. Given Headhunter’s propensity for sticky mines and suicide vests, I’d believe it.

“Detonation successful!” By @Tacoyaki86

—

Gamma 767, “Retana” by @TailWood

Given how many NULL prefer close-range weapons like knives, swords, and bludgeons, having to fire artillery from kilometers away must seem like a crushing indignity for a Gamma like 767: slowing time just means it takes longer for his rockets to hit their targets, and he can’t even collect any trophies to show off to the guys at the bar once they’re off-duty! But hey, someone’s got to do it; I don’t think even the sharpest steel would do much against a tank...

By @TailWood

—

Gamma 9, “Nara” by @couriervictor

Sadism and sharp objects don’t pair well together. It was never explained why Headhunter chose to wear her old uniform everywhere, but in Gamma 9′s case it’s pretty clear: he’s an elite, and he wants you to know it. Lack of physical strength doesn’t matter, since everyone in Katana ZERO died in one hit anyway, and his affinity for throwing knives reminds me of Biker’s levels from Hotline Miami. More knives.

—

Alpha 35, “Sako” by @matsumatsu_kou

For a Gamma NULL, overcoming a debilitating wound is as simple as using their powers to ‘reset’ and try again until they can win the battle without a single scratch. Sadly, that wasn’t an option for their lesser Alpha brethren, as evidenced by Alpha 35. 

There have been known cases of NULL choosing to retain scars and other superficial injuries as badges of honor, but if there’s a reason why Sako chooses to fight with a blind eye and busted arm, it’s beyond me. However, if Proto-15 is anything to go by, battle damage is a huge plus for you ferals out there, and it gives him an extra place to store those KNIVES. *snickt*

By @matsumatsu_kou

—

Beta 74 by @cheezysucks

“Take everything from a man but his weapon, and do not judge him thereafter.”

Even in the far-flung future of New Mecca, it seems PTSD still haunts soldiers returning from conflict, even those as exceptional as NULL—if a near-death experience is harrowing, imagine the trauma of countless actual deaths, each instance being dragged backwards in time to start over.

Still, as far as ex-NULL go, Beta 74 chose as honest a job as his ilk can manage, given their stigma abroad. And oh, wow, is he wearing a pair of those funky four-eyed night-vision goggles? Look them up, they’re real, and just as absurd-looking.

—

Gamma 5, “Heatseeker” by 6at

Pour one out for another fallen warrior, Gamma 5 (yes, I know there was already a Gamma 5 earlier, won’t be the last time this happens). Five seems more like a tactical fire commander than your average NULL, with actual combat armor and a bubble helmet seemingly inspired by early concept versions of Headhunter’s gear, replete with a digitized HUD; pretty slick-looking, I must say.

Knowing how far far New Mecca went to cover up the NULL program, I’m surprised they let Five live as long as they did, though his hermetic lifestyle likely made him a minimal risk. I’m guessing he was terminated around the same time the government halted the production of Chronos. Coincidence? 

Seems like ‘Heatseeker’ attracted a bit too much heat, heh heh.

—

And that was Part 2 of our Katana ZERO OC event. Is your finger tired from scrolling yet? Not as much as mine...

Click here to read ‘Part 3: Was Going To Be The Finale But I’m Drowning’. Thanks immensely to every single artist who’s submitted their characters and expanded the world of Katana ZERO just a bit more!

By @wqwrppwu

[goopytoad]

Pornhub [Gay!]

Dan was sitting on his bed, browsing the internet aimlessly. Lets refrase that, Dan was laying on his bed with his laptop sitting beside him, with a porn site open. He eyed the front page of PornHub. Nothing looked apealing. He scrolled down to the bottom of the page, were the different tabs were located. He eyed the tab that read "Gay." Small across the screen, but, slowly nagging at his mind to click on and have a good, guilty, orgasm So, he clicked on it. He heard Phil walk across the hall to go to his room, so, when he closed the door to his room, he looked at his screen. Now that was appealing. All Dan saw was boys. so many boys. tiny boys, avarage boys, hunks, twinks, more than he could count. He searched; "Emo." Simple, yet so effective when the tab loaded and his cock twitched with an image of a black haired boy that looked like Phil. What had gotten over him all the sudden? But he clicked on it, shamefully and lust-filled as his cock started to rise in his sweat pants. When the video started, he bit down on his lip and let out a whimper just at the sight. He immediately took action and shoved his hand down his sweats, gripping his cock through his boxers as he stroked over it slowly, it twitching in his grip. Dan let out a breathy moan, as the boy on his laptop started to rub his cock through his jeans. Dan eventually figured out that he didn't need the porn. He needed Phil. But he couldn't just ask him. So, he closed the laptop and kept stroking up and down his cock, teasing at the head. His vision was blurry and his toes were curling, he hasnt fealt like this in a long time and he was the perfect mix of one half pleasure, and the other half 'My crush is in the room next to mine and could be listening to me masturbate right now." As dan went faster, and faster, precome started to stain his boxers. Didn't phil do laundry? Fuck, he didn't care. His body coarsed with pleasure, his stomach started tightning, and then phil walked across the hall. "Oh oh, fuck fuck, phil phil im-" Phil knocked. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and Dan came with hot spurts inside of his sweatpants, a wet spot appearing on the front almost instantly. "o-oh shit," his voice shook as he wiped off his hand on his boxers, his cock not finished coming yet. "y-yeah?!" Dan shouted. "Are you alright? I heard you saying my name?" Phil spoke through the door, and dan blushed. His heartrate sped up horrendously and he spoke; "Uhm, Sorry! i was recording something for a video!" He sat up in his bed, his eyes still blurry from his orgasm. "Oh! Alright." So phil left. And Dan let out a breath, his heart slowing down. his thighs clamped together with a thought, What would've happend if phil had walked in?

[tsundozer]

🛍- A memory about being a teenager - For Rha

BELAH’DIA: A DRABBLE I DON’T REMEMBER POSTING

“No.”

The response was simple. Emphatic. Declarative. Rha did not just say it as if it were truth, he said it as though it were the only truth in the world.

“No, I don’t believe in anything.”  The tired, weathered looking man took a long drag from his smoke and dashed the ash onto the dead grass below, watching it smoulder.

Across from him sat another man--equally old, equally tired. But his seafoam eyes shone like the moon reflecting off the ocean, and even as he spoke in harsh tones, they remained ever-gentle. He ran his hands through his thick, dark hair. Specifically, along streaks of silver running through it (Rha felt bitter, over how elegantly the other had aged). “Then let me ask you something else--If you don’t believe in anything, why are you here?”

Rha scoffed. He narrowed his eyes into a sharp arc and knit his brows close together, while his lips expanded rather than contracted with the rest of his face as they pulled into a tight snarl. “You asked me here. What kind of fuckin’ question is that? Why am I here. Really?” Another drag from one of his many portable poisons, one of several vices-on-demand. As he went for a third, it was plucked from his fingers by the other’s deft hands, and it was promptly crushed into the dirt. Rha’s dimmed, at that, though only to morph into an indignant scowl. “The fuckin’ hells are—”

“If you don’t believe in anything, then why are you here, Rha? Alive?” The other extended his arm to gesticulate towards his person for a moment, before finding the most concise (and affecting) words in his arsenal. “If you tell me, that there’s no Gods. Why do you try to expatriate your guilt, why is it salvation that you want so badly? If you tell me there’s no truth in this world, why do you say it like you’re right? If you say there’s no hope, no reason to believe in anything, why do you get up, in the morning? Why haven’t you taken that last step, and walked right onto those tracks?”

Each statement was like the man had drawn his blade and driven it into his gut. It left him shaking, with anger--until the last, which left him instead trembling from sudden cold. He felt a pang of guilt, where the blade had been thrust. “Lark, I—”

“Don’t think I haven’t seen you.” Again, the sword was drawn, this time piercing the heart. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you, night after night, standing at that railroad, thinking about stepping into an oncoming train and spraying every hope anyone has ever had for you onto the dirt to be soaked up by ungrateful earth and fed on by ants.”

Rha didn’t know what to say. He sunk himself down to sit in the dirt, and stared down at the ground. He resorted to the only thing he could, when he was out of words, out of defenses:

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.” A scrawny, green-eyed-black-eyed youth ground a palm against his socket, as if trying to stymie the flow of blood and flatten away the swelling.

The taller boy--this one with shaggy golden hair and eyes that wild horses ran behind--scoffed, and gave the other a rough shove. “What do you mean, ‘fuck you’? All I did was ask, if you don’t think you can win the Bloodsands, why do you keep going out there? It’s stupid.” He shoved his thumb up against the other’s eye and pressed against a lid with a twist. It sent the other stumbling back with a yowl--then a threatening hiss. Golden-hair was not remotely intimidated. In fact, he pressed on, “You feel that? It hurt like shit, right? But you’re ready for more. Know why? You think you can take me. Even if I beat your ass down, you’d get back up and try again, right? It’s the same. Don’t tell me, you should just quit, and you can never win. Because I’ve seen you, going in there time and time again, getting your hopes and dreams beaten out and leaking from your nose and lips, and you keep findin’ more. You keep goin’ back in there.”

Green-Eyes just stared. His chest rose and fell heavily as he fought the urge to tackle the other and claw his eyes out, for what he just did. He wanted to retort, but the most he could conjure up was a growl, that tapered into a whimper. That--that really hurt.

Golden-Hair shrugged, “You won’t get anywhere if you start cryin’. But for what it’s worth--I’ve seen you in the ring. The tenacity. I think you’ll get there, someday. Life’s like a brick wall, y’know? The people who make it in this world are those who can climb it, or who can throw themselves at it until it comes topplin’ down. You’re the latter.”

Green-Eyes heard the other, but the encouragement was mostly lost upon him. Instead, he felt the indignation of the implication that he would ever cry. Which prompted the tears of anger and shame to finally begin, as he slumped down to the ground. “Fuck you,” he said again.

“Nah, thanks. I only like women.”

“You--what?” Green-Eyes stared up at Golden-Hair, uncomprehendingly.

“Yeah!” Golden-Hair smirked and placed one hand on his hip as he nodded along to his own words, “I won’t fuck you, I only fuck women. Specifically large Roegadyn ladies who can probably crush me. I like the thrill, yanno? Also, like. They can go for ages. So no. I won’t fuck you. But we can probably find some twink that will?”

Green-Eyes stared. He stared, and stared, and stared. He felt something else bubbling up besides the anger, the indignation: incredulity. Following that, humour, and instead of a sob came a laugh. Then another, and another, until he was holding his bruised stomach and laughing and crying from the pain altogether. He saw a hand come down towards him. It was cached in filth, and the fingers were rough and calloused. He followed it upwards with his eyes until he stared through tears at the blurry features of the Golden-Haired boy. He was...strange. Provoking you, then joking with you, mocking you, then offering you his hand. Strange. He accepted it. He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet--and even stumbled into the taller youth’s arms. His cheeks flushed, he gave Golden-Hair a rough shove and stepped back several fulms. “You’re fucking weird, you know that?”

Golden-Hair just laughed, at that. He’d heard far worse. When Green-Eyes pushed away, he laughed even more--then gave a wink, just to put off the other more. “What’s your name!” It wasn’t a question. It was an exclamation. A demand. It was spoken with such confidence, that it prompted a response from the other—

“...Larkh’a. Larkh’a Relanah.”

“...Larkh’a?” Golden-Hair scoffed. “What kind of name is Larkh’a?” He snickered. He hadn’t heard such a stupid name in his life, he—

“It’s my mom’s! Watch it! See these black eyes? I can spread the wealth!”

Another snicker, “Okay, okay. Look--I’m Rha, okay? Rhaaaaaa! Rhaaaah!” He imitated growling and snarling noises, as he stamped about like a child. “There ain’t never been a dumber name! You’re in good company. Why..are you named after your mother, though?

“All keepers are,” an annoyed huff, “well, all the boys. You’ve never met a keeper before?”

“I’ve met plenty of keepers!” Rha grinned, the way his eyes shone, Larkh’a knew there was another joke bubbling up in the insufferable seeker. “Why, that broad-chested beauty down by sapphire? She’s absolutely a keeper! ...If you can keep’er well paid!”

“You’re not funny, you--you know that, right?” So Larkh’a said, even as he reached to cover his laugh with a hand. “Look— all male keepers are named after their mom. And we’re differentiated by birth order. Larkh’a, Larkh’to, Larkh’li, on and on.”

“What kind of culture doesn’t give their sons a name? That’s fuckin’ stupid, and I come from seekers, which are, like, really fuckin’ stupid. So if I’m calling this stupid, you know it’s the most backwards, ignorant shit on the planet. Fuckin’ tribals.” Rha spat on the ground. He expected to be struck for that, and he didn’t mind.

Instead, Larkh’a spat too. “I left, yeah? There was no place for me, back in the Shroud. I—”

“The Shroud! You’re from The Shroud? How come I’ve never met you?”

Larkh’a just raised an eyebrow. This kid oscillated between childish naivety, and a certain confidence and self-surety that he couldn’t place. “You...you’re kidding, right? The Shroud is huge. It makes sense, you’d never have seen us. By your own words, you’ve never even seen a keeper—”

“Boy. I’ve never met a keeper boy. I’ve seen ‘em.”

“...Met, a keeper boy. My point stands. I left. There was nothing for me there. So I came here. I’m going to be the champion of the Bloodsands, someday. I’m going to make a name, for myself.”

Rha smiled. A persistent shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“What?”

“You just proved me right. You said you were going to win the Bloodsands.”

Larkh’a didn’t bother giving that a response. He averted his gaze to glare at the passerbys on their way to shop along sapphire avenue. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

“I ain’t got nothin’ for me back in the Shroud. It’s nothin’ but ghosts, the dead, and the dyin’. I’m lookin’ for Belah’dia.”

“Belah’...dia? You mean the old ruins out there? They’re no mystery, unless you mean you’re going deep inside—”

“No! I mean, yes! But no. I mean...Belah’dia. The idea of it, you know? A golden city amongst the sands, blessed by the sun. Paradise. I’m lookin’ for my Belah’dia. My dad, he wrote about it a lot in his journal.”

“So you’re gonna find that here, then? Here, and the actual, literal Belah’dia?”

“Nah.” Rha shrugged, “My Belah’dia is in Sharlayan.”

“Your Belah’dia. The Thanalan civilization? It’s in Sharlayan?”

“Yeah.”

“Sharlayan is not a desert.”

“Yeah.”

“There is no Belah’dia there.”

“There’s my Belah’dia.”

“But you’re not in Sharlayan.”

“No.”

“You’re in Thanalan?”

“Yeah!”

“With the actual Belah’dia.”

“Right.”

“But that ain’t your Belah’dia, you have to go to Sharlayan. Which is really far, really expensive.”

“That’s right.”

Lark’ha just stared. He stared, and he stared, and he stared until he thought he’d bored enough of a hole to peer into the other’s soul, and what he saw was a burning fire. An inferno raging behind his skin and funneling out through a dalamud-red eye. “You’re...really stupid, you know that?”

Rha just beamed, “Yeah, I guess. That’s about what I’ve heard! Ain’t been told nothin’ different, yet. But stupid people have gotten by before. They’ve even done great things. Stupid people don’t know when to quit, y’see? That makes ‘em, in a way, much better than smart folk.”

The logic didn’t hold up. Not in the slightest. Yet, Larkh’a found himself impressed--or at the least, intrigued--by the other boy. “How, exactly, do you plan on getting to Sharlayan? And what’ll you do then?”

“I’m gonna play my music. Then, I’ma buy an airship ticket. Once I’m there, I’m gonna take th’ exams and enroll in their academy. My dad went there. Said so in his journal. He saw all sorts of things. I’m gonna see ‘em, too.”

“...So you’re going to be an academic?” Larkha offered uncertainly.

“Yeah,” Rha affirmed with a cheery smile. “Like my old man.”

Larkh’a sighed. The kid wasn’t right in the head, he thought. Touched. Maybe dropped on his head too much. But...he believed in the other youth. What’s more, a kid who had never once spoken to him before in his life, believed in him too. “Listen, I’ve--we’ve got a place. Around back. You can stay there as long as you’d like, the others won’t mind. But you’ll have to earn your keep, pay some of that music money. Help in other ways, if you can’t come up with enough. They’re a bunch of dirty rats, lowlifes, beggars. But you’ll have a bed. One of them even plays. He’ll like to talk with you, I’m sure. I just have one condition, yeah?” This time, it was Larkh’a’s turn to extend a hand.

Rha took it without a second thought, “Yeah?”

“Take me with you, would you?”

“You mean to Sharlayan?”

“No, not there.”

Rha understood. With a confident (bordering upon arrogant) smile, he went off with his new friend.

“You still think it’s out there, Rha.” Larkson spoke in quiet, reassuring tones, even as he saw his friend curl up into himself in an attempt to retreat. He felt sure of himself, as he spoke those words, and confident that Rha would hear them, and take them to heart. He was far from the angry, uncertain child of his youth--and he had, in his own way, made a name for himself. Through hard work, dedication, through his friends. He’d also seen the man Rha had become--and he’d seen the loss of that man, until he was what he saw before him. But when he looked into his eyes long enough, he saw, just for a moment, what he thought were coals and wild horses. “After all you’ve been through, down to the seventh hell and back, cursing the gods all the way--you still believe in Belah’dia.”

[vampirenicotine]

But BK likes Ste and Harry. Hes probably trying to do a Trevor and grace kind of thing where he had an affair and fell in love with sienna but realised he wanted to marry Grace and it was her he wanted before his death on their wedding day. I'm a starry fan so I might be biased. I know BK said he likes Jarry too but starry is a oldie.

yeah but just because bk likes starry doesn’t mean that he’s not starting something with jarry. starry has been a relationship that’s gone on for 3 years now. they’ve never gotten the attention i know bk wanted like he wanted them to be the next stendan & they never became that. they had a decent following yeah but that following has rapidly declined. jarry has been building for 2 years and fan interest has peaked in recent months I AM ONE of the new fans who have joined in. the popularity for jarry is growing by the day to the point they’re beating starry in polls. even if bk likes starry i think he recognizes that the viewers don’t care for them anymore. any producer will tell you that what the viewers want to see is what’s most important & more and more of them want to see jarry & don’t want to see starry at all & i don’t think he can ignore that anymore. grace/trevor/sienna isn’t really the same because nobody cared about that love triangle and the show didn’t address ship ending problems with grace & trevor like they do with starry. they’ve addressed on multiple occasions how ste loves the OLD harry & how harry’s changed. harry has said ste isn’t what he wants anymore. to me that says the writing isn’t flowing in starry’s corner to be the main stay ship anymore but who knows, i’m just a simple bisexual who enjoys my gay trash lawyer & his gorgeous wide eyed twink

[gascon-en-exil]

Mercilessly Judging the Men of Jugdral: Part 3

Part 1: FE4 Gen 1

Part 2: FE4 Gen 2

Last and least (least filled-out on average, anyway) there are the men of Thracia 776. Unlike the epic breeding fest that is its predecessor, FE5, like the Archanea games before it or FE6 after, pads out its roster with filler recruits devoid of any character beyond a portrait and a line or two of dialogue. As such I have no choice but to keep this post to a filthy highlights reel of Thracia’s men. Playables not included here may be assumed to be like those guys you skim past all the time because there’s nothing eye-catching or memorable about them; given enough alcohol you may end up messaging some of them and maybe even come away with some photos of varying quality, but men who make such little effort to express themselves can’t possibly expect to leave much of an impression…or to get laid with any regularity.

(Also note that, as mentioned previously, characters who are playable in FE4 as well don’t get an additional entry here. As such we may enjoy the fitting irony of Leif not getting a profile in the post for his own game.)

Rash and impulsive, he’s quick to indicate interest in any guy he finds hot - generally with dick pics - but just as quick to stop responding once he’s finished jerking off or, more rarely, is actually successful in securing a hookup. Never remembers to bring condoms or lube, but it’s not much of an issue for him since he’s happy with trading handjobs and getting sucked off. He’s tried giving head and even anal whenever he happens to meet a guy prepared for a full encounter, but anyone who takes longer to cum than he does frustrates him and makes it tough for him to keep up the pace. Not looking for anything beyond quickies since he’s already got a reliable FWB or two and he’s some years off from having the dedication for a serious relationship. He’s got a soft spot for twinks and might eventually date a nice one once he’s matured a bit, but since they tend to make him uncomfortable in person this currently only manifests in his preferred porn tags.

Is used to being “the average guy” in his group of friends and, to his credit, has probably stopped a few drunken benders from turning criminal and/or lethal. As such he’s not very accustomed to having guys hit on him, but he’ll surprise everyone by immediately going after anyone who expresses a passing interest. Whether that reads as assertive or desperate will vary on the person, but any guy looking for a steady boyfriend with some bulk - a little less glam and a little more pudge if he’s being honest, but then he’s not one for sugarcoating - won’t be disappointed. An experienced top with enough stamina to go for multiple rounds and enough flexibility and cushion on the back end to take a turn bottoming if so desired. He’ll be often overlooked like so many of the other guys in Thracia, but his friends are just crazy enough to keep him from looking too boring.

Unusually involved for a late-in-life gay, he can always be relied upon to be organizing something within the community, whether it’s an amateur sports team for his favorite bar or a drag show for charity. He’s more likely to meet guys at such events than he is on hookup apps, though he does put in a token appearance on all the ones friendly to more hirsute men. Doesn’t have a problem with femme guys but isn’t likely to get naked with them either, and if he finds his (second) better half it’ll most likely be with a good-natured cub. The Bear flag hangs prominently in at least one of his offered selfies, which also include close-up action shots of him breeding and/or getting bred by someone just as hairy as he is (but don’t worry, he’s on PrEP and has all the relevant links and pamphlets on hand to encourage you to get on it too).He may be a bit short and stubby below the belt, but his gut isn’t as pronounced as it often is for men of his build so there won’t be too many problems with maneuvering at least. Likes to fuck long and slow for hours, but he won’t push his partners if they can’t keep up with his pace.

Deceptively hairy, as anyone will discover once he starts sending pics, but aside from that he seems like a typical gym bunny at first glance. It’s only after getting to know him through conversation - generally after exhausting him via a lengthy session of circle jerking and oral - that he reveals that he’s been recovering from a reckless past of partying and drug use. Has unquestionably engaged in PNP, possibly with meth, but if nothing else he deserves props now for making an earnest effort to clean up his act. Is not really that much of a top - after being dependent on alcohol and drugs to get in the mood he doesn’t stay hard for long - but this will work out in his favor since what he really needs is a strong guiding hand from an older man. As a power bottom he’s both loud and sloppy; his aim is terrible even when sitting on a dick. Even so, he’s a dream come true for a bear looking for a beefy young man and/or a good project.

Still in some equivalent of a teenage mall goth phase, though in his case it’s more like a pirate phase what with the piercings and tattoos and overall swarthy look. Not very secure in his sexuality, but he’ll angrily rebuff any attempts at playing therapist or any requests from guys looking for something more than a blow-and-go. Will open conversations with a dick pic and precise stats, and if that proves enticing he might be feeling risqué to show off his (underdeveloped) torso. May never progress beyond the level of glory holes and handjobs with no eye contact until he addresses his myriad hangups, which range from a deeply embarrassing crush on a guy who used to bully him in school to an even more embarrassing diaper fetish - any evidence of which he’ll immediately scrub clean from his internet history after each guilt-laden wank. In the end he’s probably best off being left alone, though it’s anyone’s guess what amount of trouble he could end up in on his own.

He can always be counted on to spend most of his time at bars hanging outside by the door, greeting all the twinks with a winning smile and heckling any homophobic passerby with taunts and poses that he assumes look more threatening than silly. His white knight-ish behavior has indeed gotten him laid on more than a few occasions, but he’s got just as many rivals as he’s got satisfied fans. Buffed up to full-on twunk shortly after hitting the scene for the first time when he realized that no one was going to take him seriously as a Dom otherwise with that face. Flexible enough to work with ropes, leathers, blindfolds, or simple hard vanilla fucking depending on what’s being asked of him, although he does get an extra thrill out of the kinky stuff. He’s got a good sense for when he’s worn out his welcome and would be better moving on, something he can accomplish with ease thanks to a lack of serious career aspirations and his ability to charm his way into hearts and beds no matter where he ends up. It’s unlikely he’ll ever return to his hometown, after an incident in which he drunkenly made a pass at a guy that he later figured out was his own brother.

Still a few years away from being old enough to drink - and about fifteen years away from looking old enough - but he gets in anyway since he has a tendency to hang around upperclassmen. Unironically wears booty shorts and flashy scarves and sometimes glitter because he’s a twink and knows it, and even though he gets all the tops in the place hot and bothered he’ll swear up and down that he’s never danced on top of a bar and never plans to. He’s actually quite faithful to the aforementioned older friends, to the extent that he may list himself as in a relationship on hookup apps even if he’s not technically dating any of them. Likely feels this way toward the guy who took his virginity, specifically. Still a little willowy to really bottom well, and with his intellectual interests and career aspirations that’s unlikely to change much as he gets older. Maybe once he hits college the freshman fifteen will give him a little more cushion. Expect to see him settled down and at “we only play together” status a few years down the line…unless the object of his precocious affections happens to be looking elsewhere, in which case expect to find him one night bent over a desk by one of his professors.

His entire personality may be perfectly summed up by the word “surly.” He expresses non-verbal interest often on apps (i.e. he’s a “serial woofer”) but never initiates conversation, and on the rare occasions that he goes out he’s the type to hang out against the wall by himself nursing a beer and watching the crowd. He almost never responds to attention either, though he’s got a hidden soft spot for wide-eyed types who seem just as out of place as he is. As might be expected of a guy who rarely hooks up and whose idea of a good sex partner is just that - an idea - he feels more comfortable pleasuring himself in solitude than in performing the act itself. It’s a shame, too, because he’s got a pretty nice dick and naturally high skill and stamina to put it to work. He’s even bottomed a few times though he’s loathe to say he liked it, not because he’s got any problems with that but because his sex life is one of the many things he never likes to talk about.

His profile is fully descriptive but not all that interesting - looking for friends and good conversation, not willing to hookup or jump into anything too quickly, goal-driven but not pushy, and so on. He’s the perfect guy to bring home to your mother, and on the surface he really does seem as dull as that entails. However, he’s benefited from a surprisingly thorough education courtesy of an older friend and longtime community member, and after he’s gone on a few dates and gotten comfortable with someone he’d be more than happy to show off everything he’s learned. Fully vers but still inexperienced with taking charge in the bedroom, he’ll be happy to follow his partner’s desires wherever they may lead. Quite a nice package too; it’ll be worth the wait to see it since he doesn’t take naughty selfies as a rule. At or just before his eventual wedding he’ll introduce his new spouse to his friend, a meeting that will lead to many warm and companionable nights together that may optionally end in orgies.

By all appearances he’s your average clean-cut mild-to-wild twenty something, looking for casual dates and maybe a little fun while he finishes up school or ascends his chosen career ladder. He has a weakness for younger guys though…including those who are clearly falsifying their ages to be on the apps in the first place. It’s no big deal now - who doesn’t understand the appeal of a twink who knows how to work it? - but in a decade or so he’ll be decidedly in creepy sexual predator territory. As his current trajectory seems to be setting him up for a high profile position it’s probably best to stay away or risk being caught up with him when the shit hits the fan, but then again he could find himself a nice stable boy to date and settle into the comfortable and mostly-monogamous role of sugar daddy. His biggest fantasies involve electroshock kink, so his greatest challenge will be finding a twink who’ll get into that too.

Still bears the remnants of a tragic emo phase that he hasn’t quite left, but to his credit he can take (some) jokes about his weird hair and makeup choices. Pot and hallucinogens used to be his scene, but he’s been trying to get clean for a little while now. Unfortunately he’s still the type of guy who’s best dealt with through a phone or in the dark and smoky atmosphere of a bar, because he smells horrendous up close. Hookups are surprisingly fun though they come with the challenge of sneaking into whatever sober living community he currently calls home, and with that environment if he’s hit it off with anyone there odds are things will get awkward if he’s discovered playing the field. He’s quite aware that he’s not boyfriend material in any sense to anyone who’s not as screwed up as he is, but he’ll still smile and give his partners a warm hug and a reminder to come back anytime after they’ve gotten dressed. He just really appreciates the company. Has an interesting selection of cock rings, up to and possibly including a Prince Albert.

His selfies surprise in their quality and variety, and it takes only one meeting with this guy to figure out that the serious tone of his profile regarding community outreach and sex positivity belies his dark sense of humor and even darker bedroom proclivities. He’s enjoyed the company of numerous call boys and amateur porn stars and will let anyone know it, though he’s not enough of a dick to be the kind to expect that level of performance from anyone. All the same he’ll be more engaged in conversation with a guy he can sense is experienced, as he doesn’t get much out of training untried virgins (or claims he doesn’t, anyway). Can go either way - he loves to take bottoms hard and fast just as much as he loves to take huge uncut cocks (more than one at a time if he can get it) himself. He’s by no means hardcore femme, but he wears the reclaimed labels of effete gay stereotypes with pride and won’t hesitate to throw them in anyone’s faces if they take issue with that. It’s doubtful anyone’s seriously looking to date him given how rough around the edges he can seem, but he’s got a little something lowkey romantic on the side of all the wild fucking so he doesn’t much care if his unconventional life choices raise any eyebrows.

His marriage is happy in spite of its conventionality, and he only found himself making a profile on the apps after he shared with his wife the story of the college roommate he had a massive crush on but never had the courage to approach. He’s just as painfully earnest online about his situation: he’s just looking to experiment with something he’s not yet experienced outside of his own fantasies and the occasional foray into the equivalent porn. Can’t take a selfie for the life of him and his looks are just starting to go - maybe he’ll try growing a beard at some point once he learns about bears and such - but there are still a few friendly and open-minded men willing to take him up on his offer of mutual masturbation and possibly some oral. Anal play of any kind is still a pipe dream for the moment, but one has to give him points for trying…and his wife for being so understanding, even if after cumming with someone he might quietly intimate that things weren’t always so peaceably open between the two of them. Never blocks anyone, but all his hookups tend to forget about him shortly thereafter anyway. His wildest dream involves meeting his roommate again somehow, having a few drinks and seeing where the night takes them, but what are the odds of that?

He may no longer be on active duty, but he maintains the strict sense of duty and regimentation that comes with the “military” tag on his profile (though this clearly does not extend to his personal grooming). Is one of those guys who’s really into exotic pets, but at least his favorite reptiles are low-maintenance and won’t interrupt foreplay by demanding cuddles. Shies away from rough types like himself, preferring the company of twinks who love to ogle his biceps and make him feel needed and important even if it’s just for the few minutes it takes for him to fuck them to an explosive prostate orgasm. Tends to get wistful after sex, and some prodding will reveal that he’s still holding a candle for someone he knew back in his service days who ended up marrying someone else. It’s exactly the sort of thing to ward off more vapid partners from looking for repeat visits, but a sufficiently sensitive touch may just be able to help him move on and turn him into long-term relationship material. The dick alone would be worth it. 

Is a known regular at every bar, strip club, and urgent care center (for gonorrhea, and hopefully nothing worse) in the area. Perpetually drunk, frequently high, and willing to hit on anything that moves, even high school students if he thinks he can get away with it. His hookup space is casually enticing for seekers of NSA, and he’s got a fully-stocked album and a range of videos showcasing everything on offer. Likes to manspread in public to show off the goods, not that he’s packing anything huge down there. Similarly, when not performing for the camera his skill in bed is more imagined than actual, even on the rare occasions when he’s actually sober. When he’s not indulging his vices he’s busy composing filthy poems of questionable quality and writing half-formed sentences for a novel that may surprise everyone by actually getting written one day, assuming he doesn’t OD or get himself murdered first. No one knows what he does for a living and he’s not telling; the best guess anyone has is that he’s a humanities major dropout and either a trust fund baby or a prostitute. Possibly both.

Never uses a face pic and gives out a pseudonym when asked, which he explains by telling guys that he’s a politician. Dreams of silk sheets and caviar and a media circus should things go south are quickly dashed before the first date even begins however, because in fact what he really means is that he’s a working-class aspiring politician with a massive chip on his shoulder and a hunger to work his way up through whatever menial government post he can manage. Resents anyone with more money than him and will angrily rebuff offers of compensation for his time *ahem*, and the sex that he does have is stiff and almost never ends in orgasm for anyone. Very few guys will come back for seconds, particularly since his political views lead toward establishment conservatism and as such he’s almost certainly got some internalized homophobia he’s making a powerful effort to ignore. Everyone may at least take comfort in the fact, should he ever actually get elected anywhere, his stubbornness and various neuroses will ensure that he’s terrible at the job.

Forget about asking for stories of wild nights in the seminary, because he’s always been a priest on a mission. He’s not on any hookup apps and rarely goes drinking, but he’s met his share of guys nonetheless doing community outreach or missionary work. Is usually too busy and too dedicated to even consider being fun in bed, but he’s not bad to look at for a little clerical fantasizing and makes for a fascinating conversationalist for all manner of theological and philosophical discussion. His political sympathies are just slightly radical for his order so it’s not entirely out of the question that he might one day be tempted to indulge himself, but lacking experience it would mostly come down to affectionate cuddling and cute fumbling with the logistics of the serious stuff. No one could keep up with his lifestyle of wandering service, but he doesn’t mind since he can make sincere friendships and encourage guilty boners wherever he may happen to find himself.

By a combination of good fortune and deliberate cultivation he’s a near exact likeness for a celebrity much lusted-after by the gay community at large, a point that he exploits to his advantage whenever possible. Protects himself from the possibility of lawsuits and the strong likelihood that his doppelgänger is straight by using the classic headless torso and genitalia close-up approach to serve for introductions and only agreeing to discreet NSA hookups in semi-public places. He can only maintain the façade in the digital space however, as anyone who meets him in person will instantly note that he sounds and acts nothing like the man he’s impersonating. He’s unskilled and clumsy during sex, but bizarrely he makes for an excellent teacher and has successfully helped many a hapless kid hone his technique at topping or giving head or taking a dick…or a dildo rather, since he can’t be relied upon most of the time to aim himself properly. His world will implode if he’s one day rebuffed by a guy who claims adamantly that he’s not who he says he is because the actual celebrity’s dick is bigger - and he’s got the photographic evidence to back it up.

Seems innocuous at first glance, a kindly older bear with some mildly interesting conversation and a handful of tame pictures of himself at home or out with friends to offer. He’s been through some rough patches but lives quietly and comfortably now, and while he’s a bit past his prime he’s easily pegged as a dream daddy, with or without sugar. It’s after the night’s wearing on and the foreplay has moved into a horizontal position that a major problem presents itself - this man will not cum. Suck him until your jaw locks, ride him until even he can’t handle the strain anymore, tongue him and fuck him until you can’t stay hard, leave hickeys all over his neck, massage his balls, nipples, ass, feet, and wherever else he can think to point out…nothing will get him off. It’s not because he doesn’t want to and isn’t trying either, but whether it’s because the years have taken their toll on him, he was never very sexual to begin with, or he has a crippling porn addiction you’d practically need to host a sixteen-man orgy with the wildest, dirtiest fucking anyone could conceive in order to get him to blow his load. He’s bound to lose interest eventually in anyone who can’t satisfy him in bed too, so there goes those ideal daddy fantasies. Would it even be worth all that effort, though?

He’s very well known for his charisma and presence, and not just to the local community. He makes friends easily on apps not by trading pictures but by engaging in extended, thought-provoking conversations that get gently steered away from sex at every opportunity. Larger than life he may seem, but he tends to underwhelm on a first real meeting; he’ll come across as aloof and distracted, and he doesn’t seem to have a very good grasp on how to progress a relationship beyond cocktails and warm glances. Presumably he’s never had much in the way of sexual mentorship, but whatever the explanation don’t expect too much from him once his clothes finally come off. Oh, he’s surely very well-endowed and well-formed in general, but it would be better to look elsewhere if you’re in search of someone who actually knows how to put his good genes to work. He’s got a nice selection of toys though, particularly for anal play, so those might work as bedroom icebreakers.

He’s downright grungy from the state of his appearance and the dingy backdrops of his selfies, enough to where the aged bad boy charm might not even be enough to carry him. He spends his life floating from one dive bar to the next, a recovering something or other who’s fallen off the wagon so many times it’s a wonder he’s not dead in a ditch. He’s even paying child support for a kid or two, a result of either youthful experimentation or genuine bisexuality that was poorly thought-out regardless of its cause. Skilled and domineering in bed, but won’t be into breeding guys since he’s just now learning to be responsible with condom usage…not that those will stop him from occasionally passing on his crabs or his herpes. He’ll never be a reliable father, husband, or partner on any level, but under his gruff exterior there are a wealth of stories to be teased out of him during whatever pillow talk he’ll allow, poignant and bittersweet and most shockingly of all reaching back to a past life of wealth and privilege when he was (comparatively) sober and washed his clothes more than once a year.