#might color code later

[kazbiter]

"adam parrish was a miracle of moving parts, a study in survival" in case u forgot!!!! "what do you want adam to feel awake when my eyes are open" let's consider!!! "who has he ever had to love him, ever?" even!!! "I know you are not the same as him but in my head everything is always so tangled I am such a damaged thing" as well!!! "he was not robert parrish but he forgave past adam for being afraid of the possibility" in fact!! "rags to riches isn't a story anyone wants to hear until after it's done" if you'll remember!!! "it was only because he believed he had saved himself that he could imagine saving someone else" if u even care!!!

[soupysuki]

still feeling a NORMAL amount abt the karma timeline (￣▽￣*)ゞ

[captivemuses]

Bennett's about page is all done but oh man that was really time intensive with getting all the little individual parts of the code modified so my brain needs a brain. Probably just gonna watch more Youtube and hang out on Discord in the meantime since I'm still waiting for my daily resin to replenish.

[rolanpilled]

Facts about Rolan you might have missed, while you were busy saving the world

Spoilers for Baldur’s Gate 3 below!

Here’s a collection of some Rolan facts you may have missed during your playthrough. (These are all from memory, so I will edit this later with sources and exact quotes.)

He is not related by blood to Cal and Lia - You can find this information by speaking with his corpse. All three of them consider each other family, but Rolan seems to hold some insecurities about his position with his siblings. In the same conversation, he mentions having “no one” when asked if he has family and that he identifies as “Rolan, just Rolan” - potentially implying that he’s been abandoned or rejected by his blood family, if they’re alive.

Cal considers Rolan an older brother - If Rolan dies during his rescue attempt in Act 2, Cal confesses that Rolan is his “older brother” and “the person he looks up to the most”.

Rolan loves organizing things - He has overhead dialogue with his siblings where he jokes about wanting an organized, color-coded sock drawer.

You can try to convince Rolan to leave his siblings behind at the grove - Try to convince him to leave Lia behind, and he will admit she’s a pain sometimes, but he could never leave her, not even for his prestigious apprenticeship.

Rolan’s diary changes depending on if his siblings live or die - Self-explanatory. He obviously becomes much more depressed and angry if you fail to save his siblings.

Rolan and his siblings have known each other since Cal was at least eight - They have overhead dialogue where Cal mentions that, when he was eight, Rolan once conjured a cat for him, only for him to find out it was made of fire.

It’s implied that Rolan, Cal, and Lia share a mother figure - If Lia dies, Cal has dialogue with Rolan about throwing a party in memorial for her, “like [they] did for mum”.

Rolan, Cal, and Lia have unique dialogue depending on which of them die - This is self-explanatory, but you can see most of the scenes here. He also appears to have unique dialogue coded in act 3 depending on if he’s angry with you or not (if you disrespected Cal and Lia’s memories by calling them Carl and Liam), but I haven’t been able to trigger it yet.

https://twitter.com/gimblebock/status/1705080072489574619?s=46&t=ZnMav_9KejiNOZkZPad0Mg

Lorroakan hates to admit it, but Rolan is more powerful than him - Speak with Lorroakan’s corpse after killing him and having Rolan side with you. He will begrudgingly admit that his apprentice is more powerful than him. Side note, it can be implied that Lorroakan never calls Rolan by his name, as he defaults to “tiefling” or “boy” in their few interactions.

If Rolan has a high enough initiative in the Lorroakan fight, he will use Thunderwave to shove Lorroakan off the tower. Peak revenge.

Some of Rolan’s spells have his name in front of them (Rolan’s Thunderwave, Rolan’s Mage Armor) - Some people have headcannoned this as meaning he had to learn magic by himself, therefore being a Sorcerer. Considering his clothes are a unique color combination for the Sorcerer robes, it raises more than a few questions

Rolan always carries Lorroakan’s letter on him - This one always makes me so sad, pointed out by @sadwizardlover. Throughout the game, the one thing Rolan always carries on his person is the written response from Lorroakan to his letter, posted below.

Lorroakan also beats Rolan up😭 He'll only admit this if Lorroakan's dead though

That’s all! If anyone has any more to add to this list, shoot me an ask✨💞

[forlix]

𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[renthony]

In the aftermath of my big post about censorship, multiple people have left comments that boil down to, "it's okay to show heavy topics in fiction as long as they're portrayed as bad."

Let's take a quick look at an excerpt from the full ext of the Hays Code, shall we?

No picture should lower the moral standards of those who see it. This is done: (a) When evil is made to appear attractive, and good is made to appear unattractive. (b) When the sympathy of the audience is thrown on the side of crime, wrong-doing, evil, sin.The same thing is true of a film that would throw sympathy against goodness, honor, innocence, purity, honesty. note: Sympathy with a person who sins, is not the same as sympathy with the sin or crime of which he is guilty. We may feel sorry for the plight of the murderer or even understand the circumstances which led him to his crime; we may not feel sympathy with the wrong which he has done. The presentation of evil is often essential for art, or fiction, or drama. This in itself is not wrong, provided: (a) That evil is not presented alluringly. Even if later on the evil is condemned or punished, it must not be allowed to appear so attractive that the emotions are drawn to desire or approve so strongly that later they forget the condemnation and remember only the apparent joy of the sin. (b) That thruout the presentation, evil and good are never confused and that evil is always recognized clearly as evil. (c) That in the end the audience feels that evil is wrong and good is right

This is the same Hays Code that supported Nazis. This is the same Hays Code that forced Jewish artists out of Hollywood. This is the same Hays Code that targeted artists of color, queer artists, female artists, any artist who deviated from the white American Catholic ideal. And it was explicitly Catholic, which I explained in further depth here.

The idea that art has to have a clear moral, which lines up with the dominant morals of white American Christianity, is foundational to the Hays Code. If you sound like the Hays Code, you need to re-evaluate.

Censorship and moral codes enforced on art are never used for anything other than oppression. The second you try to dictate what is and isn't allowable in art, you side with people who will enforce those rules on marginalized people with no mercy and no hesitation.

Censorship does not create healthy relationships with media, even the censorship you might be tempted to think of as "good censorship."

(And, as usual, being an independent censorship researcher does very little to pay my bills. Kick me a tip on Ko-Fi or pledge to me on Patreon if you want to support my work! <3)

[bloodboyx]

my personal journal any other month: 🟧🟧🟨🟩🟩🟩🟦🟪

my personal journal in January: 🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥

[atimeofyourlife]

Steve being the one who is actually a fountain of queer knowledge because he has a gay uncle in San Francisco or New York, one of the cities that had the biggest queer communities.

Robin not having much information because she's a closeted teenage lesbian who can't drive, so she has nowhere to source that information without raising the suspicions of her parents.

Eddie doesn't have the chance because he can't afford to spend weekends in Indianapolis or Chicago, because weekends mean parties, and parties are one of the best times to deal. He might go occasionally, but just hitting up a bar to find a dude to hook up with, not getting into queer theory because he doesn't really care to. He doesn't bother to learn about hanky code or anything else, because he's not interested. All he's interested in is getting a little action.

But Steve? He spent a lot of time with his uncle, Hank, while growing up. Anytime his family was in the area, they would stay with Hank. Sure, Steve's parents would try to explain his partner, Joe, as a friend or a roommate, but Steve always knew. He could see how in love they were, even more than his parents.

It became normal for him. He heard the words that other people would throw around, how they would talk about how dangerous, how disgusting two men together was. But he couldn't understand why people thought so badly about it. Because Hank and Joe were so happy together and they weren't hurting anyone.

When he was twelve, they were the first people he told when he had the conflicting feelings of having a crush on a pretty girl named Annika in the grade above, but also really wanting to kiss Tommy every time the other boy laughed at one of his jokes. Joe and Hank just listened to him, then taught him about bisexuality. That it was perfectly normal to like both. They gave him gentle warnings, that he would have to be careful because people were cruel.

And because his parents had left him with them for a couple of weeks, they took advantage of it to introduce Steve to other people. They took him to a tiny queer bookshop that was run by a friend of theirs, giving him a space to learn in safety. Because of them, he met people of so many different orientations lesbians, bisexuals, gay men. Self-proclaimed dykes and faggots. Transexuals, men who were once women and women who were once men¹ and people that pushed the boundaries of gender entirely. He felt in awe of all these people, but also loved and accepted by everyone he met.

A few years later, the summer of '82, age 15 and between freshman and sophomore year, he was sat down for a more serious conversation. The day after he arrived, Hank and Joe sat him down for a serious talk about safe sex, in way more detail than what he got from his parents, which was just a pack of condoms appearing in his bathroom on his fifteenth birthday, with a note saying to use them so he wouldn't get a girl pregnant. The talk emphasized the need for a barrier during any type of sex, and brought up the very real risk of GRID, which had yet to be renamed AIDS², to point out why he had to be incredibly careful with everyone he had sex with. But they also made a point to reassure him that they were both okay, that he didn't have to worry about them. They made sure that he knew that they were always there for him, just a phone call away if he ever had any concerns or questions.

A year later, at 16, they decided he was ready for more information. They provided him with pamphlets and zines, covering everything from rights movements to AIDS to secret codes. He took an interest in the hanky code, but felt a little intimidated about what some of the colors meant. They also provided him with a fake id that declared that he was twenty one and that his name was Mark. While he was staying with them, he joined them out in the community. Meeting the people affected by AIDS, learning about the real effects of it and not just the few scare stories that were breaking through on the news. Hearing more stories of lived life, getting a better understanding of the people around him.

Just a few months later, November '83. When everything went to shit. Steve was terrified when he saw the photos Jonathan had taken from outside his house and developed in the school dark room. He couldn't help getting stuck on the what if? What if it wasn't Nancy he had in his room? What if it had been that night when he and Tommy got a little too drunk and kissed each other? What if he'd finally got the nerve to bring a guy home? His life could have been destroyed in seconds by an asshole being a creep.

He became more on guard, scared that at any point someone could be taking photos in his backyard. Then seeing Jonathan with Nancy in her room, it pushed him further. With the fight the next day, he just wanted to make his words hurt. He dug deep and threw out accusations that he'd never wanted to say. Allowing his anger and fear to take over. The moment the word queer left his mouth, he felt an uneasy sense of regret. Accusing someone else of being what he was, as if it was a bad thing.

After it was all over, the details were shared, the cover stories were given, the paperwork declaring that nothing had happened had been signed, Steve felt lost and alone. Even after apologizing, he still felt dirty for calling Jonathan queer. After a few days, he breaks and calls Hank and Joe, and tells them, well not everything, but what he can. The photos, the camera, the fight. What he said to Jonathan. They understood his anger and his fear. They disagreed with his choice of words, but told him that if he'd apologized and meant it, and it had been accepted, there was no point in him continuing to beat himself up about it. That he couldn't change the past, but he had to try and be better in the future.

The following summer, 1984, he joined them with a new hatred and fear of the government. He felt safer with them, not feeling like he was looking over his shoulder all the time. But he was also so worried, what if the Upside Down came back when he wasn't there to help. He threw himself into helping others, knowing there were so many ways that the government was willing to screw over citizens. Wanting to do the little he could when he could. It brought him some peace of mind, being able to do something.

After Starcourt, after getting discharged from the hospital, Steve confides in Robin. He tells her about Hank and Joe. About how much he'd learnt from them. He tells her that he's bisexual, a word she was unfamiliar with, but she embraces him anyway. He spins a story of all the different people he'd met, people that proved it could be okay for people like them.

It formed an even deeper bond between them, a shared understanding that they couldn't find in anyone else their age. They share secrets about crushes, about realizations. Judging how attractive customers are together once they got the jobs at Family Video. Steve showed Robin the zines, helping her pick up more pieces of information, about how many others there were out there.

Steve clocked Vickie pretty quickly, almost certain she was bisexual like he was. Robin struggled to believe him, not wanting to get her hopes up, or to risk getting hurt.

When Eddie crashed into their lives during the spring break from hell, Steve found himself falling hard and fast. He'd noticed the black bandana Eddie wore tucked into his back left pocket, and wanted it. He had never considered being into s&m, but would be willing to take anything Eddie gave him.

He tried to bring it up subtly to Eddie, only to be met with confusion. Even trying less subtle ways of questioning it, Eddie still didn't seem to get it. Steve had to ask if he was flagging, and Eddie responded by asking what flagging was. Steve felt mortified, and stuttered about it being a code, and he thought Eddie was gay. Eddie assured him that he was gay, but still had no clue what Steve was talking about with flagging.

Steve showed Eddie the zines as well, going through all the different colors of the hanky code. Eddie got a little embarrassed when he realized what he'd been signalling, but some of the interactions he'd had with guys the few times he'd been to a gay bar made a lot more sense.

It took a few more days after that for Eddie to realize what Steve had been getting at by bringing up him flagging. There was another awkward, and slightly embarrassing conversation to confirm that yes, they were into each other, and no, neither of them were actually into s&m.

(And of course, Hank and Joe got a kick out of the story when they were the first ones Steve told, other than Robin.)

¹I wrote it this way, as it would have been a way that twelve year old could understand different gender identities in 1979. Different language and terminology was used. I believe that it is up to individual trans people for how they describe and consider themselves pre and post coming out and transition, as it is a very personal thing. I'm non-binary and I consider anything about myself under the age of 17 to be a girl, because that's how I identified at that time. ²(AIDS was known by a bunch of different names, some less kind than others, including GRID [Gay-related immune deficiency] and 4H disease [Heroin users, homosexuals, hemophiliacs and Haitians], until the summer of 1982. The name AIDS was proposed on July 27th 1982, and came into use by the CDC in September of that year. The term HIV came into use in 1986.)

This was supposed to be a quick little headcanon, and it ended up taking me nearly a month to write 1.5k words. And I now want to write so many parts about Steve with his relationship to Hank and Joe. They're the gay uncles everyone deserves.

[t34-mt]

western region kyhuines remake for myself because i thought they looked bad, tho they finally look good to me now. the only guys with blue-ish gular sack and skin around the face

they originated from western savannah biome but like every other ethnic group they've spread out. for short they'll be called western kyhuine because that's where they're concentrated the most

you can view the old one from 2023 under the cut

may 17th 2023 version ^ , it makes me feel violent

i also tried to redo them in later 2023, though i didn't like it at all either. they're also from a failed ethnicity chart that im not satisfied with anymore, oopsie

females were based on male wood ducks, and males were based on male mandarin ducks. I don't know what was up with me, ducks are the least kyhuine thing ever yet i did it anyway. the current designs used sandgrouse for reference, pin-tailed sandgrouse to be precise, check them out!

kyhuine has heavy pigeon inspiration in them, mainly because we have pigeons lol. sand Grouse and quails are very much "kyhuine coded" in my brain too. but also, prairie chicken! they have the same feather structure on the head, although angled differently, kyhuine "ears" are just feathers if you pluck them off they'll have a smooth head, the ear hole is near the eye.

might delete the post and repost it if i ever make more of those so it can act as an "ethnicity chart post" (you will never see me make a clean ethnicity chart it will only be doodles like this stuck together. when i start making one i lose my mind because a week later i think the proportions look wrong now im babbling

you can have a sneak peak on me doing a southern male render cause the only refs i have of them is from 2023 again, when they were just 2 simple colors, you can see the older version on the right. even tahofahs were so tiny it makes me giggle. trying to have western faces be shorter with salt flat and southern valley (the guy right here) have the typical pointy longer face. and then easterns get the round funny head

ok byebye

[sp0o0kylights]

You know what I want to see, I want to see more of Steve, Eddie, and Robin being 1980s small town kids from Indiana, by which I mean;

Robin is The Source of Gay Knowledge purely because her parents host Hippie Christmas and she managed to sneak away to find a neat bookstore in Indiana once. 

Her knowledge is not in depth. It's patchy, woven together through rumors, stories she heard or things she picked up from her parents' old pictures. She's got a handful of zines, one book, and some movies she managed to order for Family Video behind Keith's back.

She acts like she's Queen of the Queers because in Hawkins she pretty much is.

(Max and El ask her what a lavender marriage is once, something they overheard snooping around. 

Robin confidentially answers that it's code for when one woman dresses up as a man, fooling officials into wedding two woman.

She does not live this down two years later when they find out what it actually means.) 

Eddie doesn't spend every weekend in Indianapolis. 

Gas is expensive, his busiest days of his "job" is Friday and Saturday, and he has no fucking clue what the hanky code is. 

He's wearing that bandana because Metallica front singer James Hetfield has one on all their tour posters. 

Eddie does make it down to a gay bar though, by accident. Rick needed some back up for a shady deal. Promised Eddie a boatload of free drugs to sell if he agreed to just stand there and look mean. 

He was warned the bar they were meeting in was 'weird' and to not 'freak out' --which Eddie thought was hilarious given his nickname and general appearance, but whatever.

He doesn't understand when they get there, because it's just a bunch of hot men with hanky's in their back pockets everywhere.

Then he sees two women kissing and it clicks. 

He can't out himself in front of Rick, but one of the bartenders playfully dresses him down for his own hanky, letting him know all about the code and teasing him through his embarrassment. 

He's got an offer to come back and learn what color and which pocket his hanky should actually be in, a prospect Eddie was salivating at until Chrissy Cunningham up and died on his ceiling.

(He still wore the hanky, because the feeling of that bartender tugging it out and stuffing it back in might be the closest thing he's ever had to sex and he absolutely wants a repeat. 

He's young and horny, sue him.) 

Steve Harrington may not be academically smart but he's not dumb. 

He figured out a while back that the basketball team as a unit probably crossed the queer line more than once--or at least it did before Hargrove came in. 

( Brad Handly for example, went around slamming kids into lockers and screaming slurs like a fucking movie villain one Monday because the varsity team got dead drunk at Laura's party on Sunday and hey, look, there weren't that many girls there, okay?

They all had fucking hands and mouths. Everybody but Tommy was single and hot to trot. Nothing gay about it.

Its not even like they were kissing or treating each other like chicks. It was just Brad's first time and they got to tease him later for overthinking it. 

Dude graduated soon enough after and given Steve was on the team as a sophomore, he hadn't thought about the guy and why he might be freaking out so bad in years.) 

Robin's entire panic attack at Starcourt, and a few more after had Steve replaying that whole incident. Reframed it a bit, and, yeah.

In retrospect that had been extremely gay, actually. 

It sat with him a lot easier than he'd thought it would. Partially because of Robin, but mostly because that's just who he was.

Stranger things had happened to Steve and this one didn't want to kill, maim or otherwise eat him, so it got filed under 'interesting facts he should never tell his parents if he wanted to keep his trust fund' and then he went about his day. 

(Or he tried too, anyways.

It caught up to him when Eddie and Robin somehow figured out the other was queer and dragged him along to some bar Eddie had a standing invitation at, with demands for Steve to do what he did best.

Babysit.

Their magical trip was utterly destroyed when Brad Handly happened to be the very same bartender who had given Eddie the invite.

 Considering Brad's immediate bark of laughter followed by a hug and introducing himself as "Steve's gay awakening", Steve ended up having to speedrun through Eddie and Robin both having a crisis for him.

It didn't help that Steve had politely, and laughingly, corrected Brad with a casual; 

"Pretty sure that was Tommy man, but if it helps I think that tongue of yours gave Matt Burdon a crisis."

--which ended up with him answering a lot more gay sex questions with Brad than he cared too. 

At least he, through Brad, was able to help Robin connect to some local lesbians and--after a second crisis from Eddie regarding how Steve managed to have more sex than "the resident town freak and guy who actually knew he was gay, Steve!"-- even helped Eddie out by catching the metalheads tongue with his mouth later that evening.

The last one landed him a boyfriend, trust fund be damned.) 

[lunaforyou]

HI

Maybe you seen me in @transingthoseformers asks and wondered "Wow, what the fuck is wrong with this guy?"

Many years of catholic trauma

ANYWAYS, YES, I'M MAKING AN AU

So like, to understand this AU you need to understand three things

1) My genuine belief that tf1 Optimus will be tied or connected somehow in the creation of new sparklings

2) The fact that merging with the Matrix is considered "Interfacing" (IDW Optimus put it this way, not me)

3) My interpretation that the Matrix and the bearer are constantly spark merging.

I lied it's 4) My obsession with the Virgin Mary, she should have been at the cluuuub

So, the AU starts by Optimus somehow in the surface, his entire frame has been aching for a while but he is still needed to fight the Decepticons and the Quintessons.

Maybe a fight goes wrong, but it sends him panicking because his HUD just fucking told him "Emergence protocols initiated" and it's a little earlier because of the fight but that's not an impediment, the little one wants out and he wants out now

So you might want to guess, where does our dear Prime go to give birth?

.

.

.

.

That's right! The cave of the Primes! You get nothing for guessing correctly <3

Plot twist; Optimus didn't have a forge, another thing Sentinel took from the miners. The Matrix gave it back when restoring his frame, after all, it needed it for restoring the rest of the Primes. So yeah he freaks out a lot a lot

And yes! He is going through this TWELVE more times

The first one is Prima naturally, the little one gives Megatron a run for his money in "things that nearly killed Optimus multiple times" and almost gets stuck in the birth canal once or twice (Optimus doesn't want to think what would have happened to them both if his coding hadn't kicked in at the right moment) and Optimus can't see the little one without getting his carrier coding out of hand and deciding right then and there that he needed to find a sire for their sake. Also Optimus absolutely loves the little bastard like he hung the moons and the stars

And all the time, he felt the presence of other mechs in the cave with him. Someone definitely helped him stay upright, and he could squeeze his hand around a much much larger one when the contractions hit.

Right so he goes back to base, and everyone pretty much noticed how white and gold the sparkling is. Everyone assumes that somehow D-16 is the sire, keeping on brand with the platinated colors, and, well, Optimus doesn't correct them. Besides, it was just one sparkling, what harm could it do if a few rumors ran around here and there?

Ohhhh boy, not a week later, he discovers that maybe it won't be just one sparkling.

Also, I'm naming this au Primes Reborn, and you can't stop me

[megamagimugi]

A Brother's Comfort

This is me trying my hand at the good old post-nightmare comfort trope. And an excuse to draw Mario giving Luigi a brotherly kiss on the head - just to get used to more open displays of platonic affection. (Let me reiterate: "brotherly"; "platonic". Do not tag as a ship!)

Fun fact: their pajamas are based on my own two sets that I have in red and in green. I think they are very Mario and Luigi coded, though believe it or not, it's not why I bought them. Red and green just happen to be my favorite colors so I wanted both. And later I thought it might be fun to draw these two wearing them someday. And that day is today, apparently. I always thought it'd be a much happier and more chill piece than this, but oh well. (I never even planned to make this; I just needed to vent my emotions and whoops, this happened).

Oh, and their bedroom is based on the one shown in Superstar Saga 3DS remake.

[bones4thecats]

➸ Fear Deity! S/O; Record of Ragnarok

Character: Hermes, Aphrodite, Odin, and Buddha A/N: This was fun to write. By the way, I might allow requests to be open tomorrow. No promises though! Disclaimer(s): Nothing wrong, just fluffy shit

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Hermes ═══════════════════════════════╝

📨 As the Greek Deity of Fear, you were hailed for many centuries for your ability to torture someone with visions and dreams of their worst nightmares happening. Because of how bad some of them got, many began calling you Deitas Interni Nocendi, or Deity of the Internal Harm

📨 Hermes gained interest in you after the whole Adamas incident. He had asked if you sided with his uncle, to which you smiled and asked if he thought you feared such a pathetic man so much. He just smiled back and chuckled before evolving into a deeper conversation with you

📨 Years later, you guys stood by one another's side as you were married and began to make your own branch of the Greek Pantheon grow larger and larger. This was especially true when your children of fear from your previous bond with a human warrior, the Terrors, began to see Hermes like a father

📨 During Ragnarok, you stood alongside your husband and now adult-children. While he admired the fights with his father, you merely sat with your head on your hand in boredom. It wasn't until Poseidon lost and Jack the Ripper came on stage that you could feel the fear that flowed through everyone's frames, feeding you amazingly

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Aphrodite ═════════════════════════════╝

💐 Aphrodite has always been an alluring woman, and she knows that. She looks at herself so much that she can perfectly draw her body without any issue. But, with breasts that big, how hard would it be to remember your figure?

💐 When you arrived at a meeting with the other Gods, she was shocked to see just how dark you were. Even the God of the Dead, Hades, dressed in more color than you did! You walked in with your children following you, all in cute little color-coded cloaks, while you had a large thorn-made crown on top of your head with some thorns poking out of your skin amazingly

💐 She was entranced with how you held yourself. Many feared you, and the small few who didn't ended up succumbing to your ability to instill fear in all you wish too. Aphrodite was surprised that you seemed to have little animosity with her, and when she asked, she was happy to hear you actually enjoyed her more 'peppy-look'

💐 It was after you guys married and began ruling your realm together that everyone began to notice just how much more joyful you were to be around. You started dressing with more color and plants on you, she even got your little Terrors to dress more colorfully and child-like, despite how they aged to be more mature. It honestly made even the toughest Gods smile on the inside

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Odin ═════════════════════════════════╝

🪶 Odin respected you from afar. He knew of your abilities and always decided to stray away from asking you for any insights on the issues inside of your Pantheon

🪶 But, when a couple incidents with Loki grew into including your youngest Terror, Kenaz, he had no choice but to have you come to a meeting. Everyone was internally weary that you would pull something and end up forcing their Pantheon to go into war against you and your seven little fear-monster children. Thankfully, that did not happen and you ended up surprising them by being quite nice to be around

🪶 Ever since that day, you spoke more and more to the Head God of the Norse Pantheon. As he spoke to you more and more, Odin had started to mentally record every tiny event you guys had where you made his heart start beating faster. This led to you guys becoming close allies, then courting, before settling on marrying one another years later

🪶 When your only biological son, Thor, was born, everyone feared you more. Not only could you instill fear and make someone scared so much that they had a heart attack and just drop dead like nothing, you were also married to the Odin, and had the Thor as your son. You were quite the surprise to all

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Buddha ═══════════════════════════════╝

🍭 Buddha had always heard of a Deity that lived in Heaven that could control the fear that someone, even an immortal, had inside of them. He never encountered you for quite some time, but when he did, he wasn't that surprised with how you behaved

🍭 He guessed you'd be a quiet and threatening type, which you were. But, you only shocked him when you seemed to be more sunshine and rainbows with your Terror-children. You would kneel to their height, pat them on their shadow-like head, and kiss them goodbye as they went to speak to another mortal on the path to be a better person

🍭 When you guys actually started bonding, everyone who knew you just wanted to know why you were around the 'Human-God knockoff' all the time. You would just smiled and laugh before looking at them with a dead expression and telling them he made you laugh more than anyone else had ever

🍭 Buddha does love being around you, especially after you guys got together. He also loves being around your children. Your oldest Terror, Shui, was more of a shy-type, but when Buddha came around? That just fell faster than a loose rock on the mountain that Sun Wukong was stuck underneath years ago! He was the perfect choice for you and the perfect choice for your children. And you wouldn't have it any other way

[xtreklx]

Low ~ Raphael x reader

One-shot: bayverse Raphael x reader Word count: 3.7k Warnings: cursing, mature themes, and slight NSFW, so this one is rated 18+ (minors DNI, see my masterlist for disclaimer) A/N: holy Toledo this one's a doozy. I've been working on it for a while, and it's def one of my favorite things I've written so far (at least, for now..). loosely based on the song Low by SZA, and lyrics are included in the text where I see fit. also I added color-coded dialogue for funsies. thank you guys for all the love on my stuff, and I hope you enjoy :)

__________

As a young, blossoming adult, your life so far has been overall steady. It staggers here and there, of course: moving in waves as life often does. But for the most part, it is everlasting mundanity. Your early twenties are supposed to be where it begins to roar; when you obtain the dizzying adrenaline and overwhelming fear of free will. Empty wallets, fleeting romances, broken hearts, anxiety, love, hurt. These emotions are meant to be felt, and life is not lived without them.

So, as life would have it, your steady mundanity was indeed set ablaze in your early twenties, when you fell in love with someone you had originally thought you hated.

Some might call that cliché. But, in actuality, not quite.

You had been friends with the mutant ninja turtles for years, ever since they saved New York City from the infamous Kraang attack of 2016. Your father was a police officer, and you had all met at the post-battle award ceremony and celebration. You and the turtles were 17 at the time, and you saw them repeatedly after that as they continued to work with the NYPD. Over time, you grew to become the friends you were now.

Well, not all of you. From your first encounter with the brawny brother in red, you discovered that he had quite the knack for pushing your buttons. While Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Donatello became some of your closest friends in the world, Raphael did everything he could to block you out. He was argumentative, temperamental, and unpredictable. You two could fight about anything: what kind of toppings to put on pizza, DC vs. Marvel, song or movie choice, even knitting patterns. The two of you were always bickering, always finding some way to make a snide comment or butt heads about something.  You couldn't stand him, and the feeling was very obviously mutual. 

On the topic of heads: flash forward five years later, when it finally came to one. You had been spending a lot more time with your turtle friends after finishing off your online degree program. While you were happy this was the case, the tension between you and Raphael seemed to be growing the more often you were around.

One day, the guys had gone out on their regularly scheduled patrol, with Raph staying behind because of a particularly nasty fight with Leo. You were waiting in the lair for them to return so that you could have your weekly movie night, but you were growing bored, and Master Splinter was nowhere to be found. Thus, you made the difficult decision to go bother Raph as he worked out in the dojo. 

When he saw you approaching his bench, he groaned through a rep, his eyes rolling back into his head. "What do ya want, shortstack?" He grumbled as he continued to bench press his barbell, the veins in his big, green arms flaring with each movement. 

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed. "Save it, meat head. The more entertaining members of this family are gone, so I'm stuck here with you and nothing else to do. So..." You paused for a moment, watching as a scowl grew on his face while he continued his reps. "Do you want a spot.. or something?"

Raphael let out a breathy laugh as he set the barbell down back onto the stand. "Easy, tiger," He spoke as he sat up on his bench, side-eyeing you. "Even if you could lift this bar, I sure as shit ain't letting ya spot me. You'd purposefully drop it on my head before I could even bat my eyes at ya."

Your arms uncrossed and your hands went to your hips as you took a step closer to the red-masked brute. "Pssh, like I'd ever let you bat your eyes at me. I'd gouge out my own eyeballs before that could happen."

He scoffed up at you as he began to unwrap the bandages on his hands, which had been protecting his calluses from the aggressive texture of the metal bar. "Gee, yer a real charmer, aren't ya?" he questioned sarcastically, slightly under his breath. "Must be why you gotta line of men falling at your feet. Someone's gotta tame the tiger."

The dig at your love life (or rather, lack of one) made your face heat up, and you clenched your fists at your sides, taking another step closer to the brute. After all these years of bickering and insults, you were finally nearing your limit. "God, I try to be civil with you for one single day and you're a total asshole for no reason. What's your damage, Raph?"

Raphael whipped his head to you, the bandages he had just finished unwrapping long forgotten as he tossed them to the floor. He stood up from his bench as he spoke, taking a step towards you. "Ain't that easy. Yer my damage, sweetheart. Always have been, always will be."

"Oh, yeah?" You two stood not even a foot apart, and you were glaring up at him with the most intimidating look you could muster. "And just what exactly is your problem with me?" You could feel your heart rate increasing from the growing tension in the room. The air surrounding you felt like it had been injected with adrenaline, and you felt your temperature rising by the second. "Another easy one," Raph growled, looming over you. "You annoy the shit outta me, and ya never know when to shut yer goddamn mouth."

Your rage was increasing by the second, and by the fumes you felt radiating off of his mutant green form, you could say the same for the turtle in red. You were practically pressed against each other, him with a scowl on his face and you with a fire in your eyes. Your chest puffed up, and the words were out of your mouth before you could have a second thought.

"I bet you'd like to make me, wouldn't ya?"

It was silent after that. After quickly thinking it over, you almost gasped aloud at the implications of your words. The eye contact changed from a heated stare battle to his hazel eyes dominating, searching yours. You had been feeling very confident up until this moment, but that sentence alone caused the confidence to wither away, confusion at yourself taking its place. What the fuck did I just say?

Raphael's snarl had changed into a look of surprise. Confusion. And then back to anger.

With a frustrated grunt, he grabbed your waist and smashed his lips to yours. 

And that was the kerosene to the match that set your young adult life ablaze. 

The kiss was all burning rage, gory passion. It was tongues brushing and teeth clashing and a harsh grip on your waist and an even harsher grip on the tough, scaled skin of his shoulders. It was embers and flames and then the roar of a forest fire.  

You couldn't help the sounds that the kiss drew from deep within your chest. You didn't know how or why, but your soft lips fit oh so perfectly against his rough, scarred ones. Your mouths moved together in a harmonious rhythm despite the chaos, even as he gripped you by your thighs and carried you to his bedroom, as if you had practiced this a hundred times before. It felt like second nature to kiss Raphael, even though this was your first time doing so.

And you hated that you felt that way. 

What followed could, in no universe, be described as love-making. It was desperate and reckless ecstasy, a steaming release of the fury and tension you had been feeling towards one another for all these years. It could be seen in the way your nails clawed at his tough skin, in the way he pounded himself in and out of you, in the way your needy moans synchronized with his low grunts, in the way you clenched ever so tightly around him as he filled you with himself; it was aggressive, rough, almost mean.

You and Raph stilled for a moment after it was all over, breathing heavily and not saying a word, when you suddenly heard commotion coming from the living room. You made eye contact quickly, eyes widened, before scrambling to get dressed and cleaned up. You scurried out of his room and into the hallway, making it look to the returning brothers like you had been merely using the bathroom. And neither one of you spoke of it.

If you see me out in public, you don't know me, keep it silent In the bedroom, I be screamin', but outside, I keep it quiet Keep it on lowski, I'm the lowest of the lowest Wanna see if you can keep it like nobody know shit

The months that followed held similar tales of hidden passion. You and Raph never outright discussed what was transpiring, but assumed the unspoken rule of not mentioning it to his brothers. You continued to hang out with them when you could; on movie nights, you told them that you liked to wait in the lair for them to return from patrol so that you could eat all the popcorn without them. If Raphael stayed back from patrol, you snuck into his room or the dojo with a sarcastic remark and a smug look to annoy him to the point of 'teaching you a lesson'. If one of you was feeling particularly desperate to let off some steam, he would sneak out to your apartment on their nights off, telling his brothers that he was going to go get some air to 'clear his mind'. No matter what time he called or texted, you answered. It was almost like an addiction; you couldn't get enough of each other, and you couldn't deny how the other was able to satisfy you perfectly. 

You know how to reach me every time and it plays in your mind With a rush that feels like we committin' a crime You know where you belong, I'm gon' save you a spot But we can't be outside 'cause the block is too hot And I'm all on your mind...

At first, as stubborn as you both were, you kept up your gig of hating each other, despite the passion you were displaying. Between kisses and within sexual acts, your bickering continued relentlessly. "Wow, ya didn't even wear panties today. Gettin' desperate, are we?" "By the looks of your crotch right now, I don't think I'm the desperate one, dumbass." "Ya better watch yer fuckin' mouth." "Why, Red? Can't handle the heat?" "Oh, I'm boutta show ya heat, sweetheart." 

It was a balancing act, both of you trying not to break face and show the other how much you were enjoying these rendezvous of yours. Pride is a crazy thing, however, and as the situation went on, it began to manifest itself in other ways. 

Raphael was the one to start it, about a month into the endeavor. He couldn't help himself; after a day of arguing with Leo and feeling like a disappointment, he sought you out to release his frustrations. And the way you looked writhing and whining above him (as he munched like his life depended on it) had him feeling real smug. His hazel eyes watched you as he worked, the liquid gold shining with mischief. When he came up for air, his hands still keeping busy, the pride emerged.

"Anyone else make ya feel like this, doll?" He asked, his low voice scraping your ears like gravel, a dark smirk spreading across his face. "Tell me. Can anyone else make ya feel this good?" You had rolled your eyes and scoffed in the moment, but couldn't help the moans that continued to emerge from your mouth at his actions, clenching the sheets beneath you. He saw your bratty behavior and abruptly halted his movement, holding your hips still so that you were trapped. "Answer the damn question, or I'm stoppin'." You squirmed for a moment, whining, but your need had consumed you like a demon. "No!" You yelped. "No one else makes me feel this good, Raph! No one else makes me feel like you do! Please don't stop, please!" You wouldn't have called it begging after the fact, but he most certainly did. 

After that, something shifted. Sure, your sessions were still utilized for tension release, but there was more of a possession between you two than there had been before. The two of you were hanging out more often than you ever had. The bickering lessened, and in its place was validation, need, and your names on each others' lips. The contact grew more tender, and the conversations afterwards were more joke-y and only held friendly fire.

"So... do ya wanna put on that movie you were tellin' me about the other day?" "Wow, you wanna watch a movie with me? You must reallyyyyyyy enjoy spending time with me, Red~" "To be honest, I'm not here for you, I'm just here for the take out I know yer gonna end up orderin' later." "I love this hot n cold thing we have going on here. It's really turning me on." "Yer such a fuckin' goofball."

Between the two of you grew a mutual respect, an understanding, a cooperation: a love.

You found yourself thinking of things you wanted to tell Raph about when he wasn't around, and craving his input when you sought him out for advice. You yearned for the sound of his gruff voice and his blunt choice of words that always made you laugh or eased your mind. He found himself longing for the random questions you asked him or the jokes you'd regularly crack (whether they were funny or not) and the angelic sound of your laughter. Neither of you told the other about these feelings you were having, but they continued to develop on both sides.

Raphael found himself pondering these feelings one day while hitting the bag in the dojo, growing frustrated with himself. You had been in the lair hanging out with his brothers, and he continued his workout routine in the interest of being discreet, but he longed for nothing more than to hang out with you. To just be with you like his brothers were right now.

Of course, a particular brother in blue was bothering him more than normal. Leo was closer to you today than he normally was: giving you long hugs, sitting close to you on the couch, making you laugh with his idiotic jokes. Raph scoffed as he heard your laugh from the living room now, throwing an extra aggressive jab. What did Leo know, anyway? He'd bet that he could make you laugh twice as hard. He stopped, annoyed with himself for being so worked up, and stepped away to grab a towel and some water. 

As he made his way over to the mini fridge to grab a bottle, he was surprised to see you making your way over to him. Normally, on nights like these, he didn't expect anything from you besides your staged bickering until his brothers went to sleep or you went back to your apartment. You had a playful smile on your face as you approached the mini fridge, a message in your eyes that he couldn't quite make out, but goddamn he knew they were trying to say something to him.

"Hey, big guy. Leo sent me to grab some water," you looked up at him as you spoke, the smirk still on your face. And all the hope that Raph had felt in that moment dissipated, like popping a balloon. He scoffed at you, rolling his eyes before grabbing a water bottle and walking away. 

"Wait, woah. What's the matter?" He heard you ask from behind him, confused. He shook his head as he walked. "Nothin's the matter," He spoke slightly under his breath, but you could still hear him. "Why don't ya just go back to Leo? You're all over him, anyway."

He heard your footsteps as you followed him over to his bench. "Hold up, do you have a problem with me hanging out with your brother?" Raph couldn't make eye contact as he turned around to face you, so he looked down at the ground and huffed, eye ridges furrowed.  "Well, ya know me, and I don't like ta share. So if you're gonna hang out with him like that, then go ahead." 

"And just what would you be sharing?" You stood your ground a couple of feet in front of him, arms crossing at your chest and a determined glint in your eye. "Be straight with me, Raph, 'cause it's time we talked about this. What's going on between us?" He let out a grunt, shocked at your sudden confrontation, but still refusing to make eye contact. "Obviously nothin', if yer gonna go hang with Leo like that."

You inhaled, trying to maintain your patience. From the proximity you now held with the turtle in red, you knew you wouldn't get anywhere by fighting back. "Let me rephrase that. What do you want to be going on between us?" Raph moved to turn away from you, huffing again. "I don't know! Geez!" He exclaimed, before you grabbed his large bicep. He faced you, his massive form towering over your frame as you stepped close to him. He finally looked into your eyes, and saw nothing but a genuine question. No teasing, no tormenting, just a silent plead.

"Hey, talk to me, Red. It's just me." You smiled softly, begging eyes searching his liquid gold ones for something, anything, to grab onto and run with. He let you for a moment, before looking down at the ground again, growing more and more frustrated with himself. He took a deep breath, and kept his gaze on the floor as he spoke. 

"...I'm not very good with words, ya know that." He paused for a moment, making quick eye contact with you before looking back to the floor. "But I just... I like how this is goin'. How we're goin'... I like us together. I like bein' with ya, Y/N, and I just wanna do that without any of the other shit. I..." He stopped again, taking another deep breath. "I want to be with ya for real. And I'm sorry if I messed this up and that's not what ya want--" 

"I want that, too, Raph," You cut him off with a rising smile on your face, not being able to wait any longer. "That's all I've been wanting to be honest. I should have mentioned it earlier." Raph returned his eyes up to your face, shock gracing his expression. "Wait, so yer not into Leo?" He questioned, slightly caught off guard. You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove. "No dumbass, I'm into you." He watched your smile grow into a beam, silent, before a smile began to grow on his face as well. 

"God, finally," a voice exclaimed before Leo came out from behind the entrance of the dojo, walking up to the two of you. "It took you guys long enough. Even I was getting impatient." "Thanks buddy," you said to him, smiling as you guys bumped fists. Raphael watched the exchange, confused. "Wait... what?" He asked gruffly, eyes flicking between you and his brother. "You knew... about.. us?"

"Dude, we've all known for a while." Mikey shouted from the living room. Donnie walked past the entrance of the dojo and paused, a newly filled cup of coffee in his hand. "Yeah, you guys aren't exactly the most discrete," he said, before continuing his stroll back to his lab. Leo chuckled before turning back to his brother. 

"I was tired of watching you guys sneak around, so I finally confronted Y/N about it last week, and she spilled the beans on how she felt about you. Something told me you felt the same way, call it a brotherly instinct. Or maybe it was all the times you not-so-secretly snuck off to her apartment." He gave his muscly brother a playful punch to the bicep. "So pardon me for playing matchmaker a little bit."

You took a step closer to Raph, hugging yourself around one of his arms and looking up at him through your lashes. "Yeah, I mayyyyyyy have gotten impatient and recruited Leo to help me move things along. That's why we were all cuddly today. But you don't mind, right?" You jokingly pressed him, batting your eyelashes. 

He rolled his eyes at you and scoffed, removing you from his arm, but wrapped his arms around your waist instead of pushing you away. He pulled you from his side to his front, turning you to completely face him and ignoring his older brother present in the room. "Yeah, I guess it's fine or whateva," he fake-sighed, bringing you close to his plastron and leaning in toward you. You, too, leaned in, your arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. 

"Okay, at least wait until I'm out of the room to start sucking face," Leo commented, turning around and booking it out of the dojo. The two of you turned your heads to watch him leave before facing each other again, glowing smiles on your faces. 

"So... I guess I tamed the tiger, huh?" He teased gruffly, nudging his snout into your cheek. You giggled, a mischievous glint reaching your eyes. "Who said anything about tame?" You teased back, playing with the ends of his blood red mask.

"That's my girl," he murmured, before smashing his lips into yours.

[regressionworldz]

I think it was about time I drew some CG!Aziraphale and Little!Crowley, I honestly can't get enough of them, especially since Crowley is clearly so baby coded, I can't wait for the next season!

On another note, I know you guys have been wanting me to provide headcanons on some of these characters, so I've decided to compile a small list for them! If you guys enjoy these headcanons, I'll try doing more for other characters.

GOOD OMENS AGERE HEADCANONS!

Aziraphale discovered that Crowley had been a regressor in the last 100, perhaps 200 years, around the 1800s era. Prior to that period, Crowley had been a regressor but kept it a secret, showing little concern for himself.

He unintentionally regressed and faced significant challenges in reclaiming his former self. Aziraphale likely perceived it as a panic attack, a common occurrence for Crowley and a factor that increased the likelihood of his regression.

He becomes extremely sensitive to pain during regression, yet he makes an effort to conceal it. Even a minor injury like pricking his finger prompts tears and shakiness, but he refrains from admitting the pain. This sensitivity stems from the trauma of the angelic fall, where angels experience pain for the first time, and the impact of the descent can leave their bodies broken for hours or even days. While Crowley may have felt pain as a human, the fall marked the first instance he truly felt vulnerable and weak.

Snakes have limited color vision, primarily perceiving shades of blue and green (though there might be some variation). Recognizing this, Aziraphale purchases and knits toys for Crowley within that specific color range.

During regression, Crowley opts for a more concise term, referring to Aziraphale simply as 'angel.' Occasionally, he might use 'papa,' though it occurs less frequently.

When Crowley is happy, he engages in vocal stims, emitting squeals or spontaneous, joyful noises.

Crowley holds a preference for snakes as his favorite animal, yet he appreciates any plushie he receives, with a particular fondness for sheep and goats.

Crowley typically sheds tears either upon waking up or at the onset of regression. Throughout the rest of the time, he makes an effort to suppress his tears. When upset, he opts for deep breaths as a coping mechanism, consciously avoiding crying. However, this emotional suppression can lead to him becoming worked up.

While regressed, Aziraphale assists Crowley in tending to his plants. However, later on, Crowley becomes frustrated with himself for being kind to his plants, expressing displeasure with the unexpected benevolence.

During Crowley's regression, Aziraphale is inclined to prepare warm meals for him. Although Crowley doesn't eat often, he readily indulges in meals provided by Aziraphale.

Crowley has a star mobile above his crib that Aziraphale added, allowing him to gaze at the stars, a simple joy that consistently brings him happiness.

Hope you guys enjoyed some of these papa azi and little crowley headcanons!

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 2)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 1

Haymitch doesn’t sleep, but he does wait until a reasonable hour to climb out of bed to drink. And glare at Y/N from the dining table of their suite.

Their wedding attire, as well as the sheets they’d consummated said marriage upon, had been prompted collected. Nothing is ever really theirs. Not their clothing or their houses, nor their bodies. Everything belongs to the Capitol, everything belongs to Snow.

It is a foolish endeavor, trying to keep Y/N safe. Haymitch knew it from the moment her name was plucked from the reaping bowl. Surely she would die in the arena, but somehow she didn’t. Surely Snow would kill her after, but for some reason he didn’t.

For a moment, Haymitch almost believed that he could do it. That he could save her. Spare her from this. But Snow wanted her; everyone wanted her. Haymitch’s stomach turns at the rather extensive list of patrons who are chomping at the bit for just one night with her.

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know if it was pride or stupidity which caused him to blurt out that he would do anything, in exchange for Y/N’s safety.

Clearly Snow intends to take full advantage of anything. The victors of district twelve can still prove themselves useful and lucrative. A new means to entertain and distract people from what is really going on.

Haymitch isn’t sure how many of the Capitol’s higher ups will have seen their wedding night by now. Not that it matters, most of them have already seen him anyway. But they hadn’t seen her.

Some part of him understands that it is stupid to become attached to her. She’ll be another person for the president to hold over his head. She is just a stupid girl, who makes him do stupid things.

Y/N begins to stir against the mattress.

Haymitch knocks back the remainder of his drink. He has the full lineup waiting for her. Uppers, downers, sleeping pills, painkillers, something to calm her nerves. All color coded and laid out on the table, next to a glass of water.

Sure, there are other ways a person might comfort another. But Haymitch isn’t familiar with them. However, he’s on a first name basis with pills. Booze.

Y/N’s lips part and she lets out a sleepy sigh.

God those lips…her mouth. The noises she made.

Haymitch slaps a hand against the table. He could not and would not think about it. She didn’t want him, she was forced. They both were. He has to figure out how to live with that.

Eventually Y/N wakes, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her eyes find him, at the table, watching her, intently. She excuses herself to the washroom and returns a few moments later. Haymitch is still staring. “Good morning,” she says, in a weak attempt to break the awkward silence.

Haymitch grunts in response, observing as she opens her travel bag in the corner and produces a tablet. The same one she taps away at day and night. Frankly, he’s surprised it hadn’t ended up in bed with them. “What are you doing?” He asks, as she presses a button and the screen comes to life.

“I was just…” about to pour my heart out in a word document, then seal up the file. “Going to play a game.”

“You should take something,” Haymitch nods to the pills, “then you should eat something.”

“Which ones do you take?”

“None.”

“Did you eat?”

“No.”

“Then we should call for breakfast.” Y/N turns her gaze back to the tablet screen. “What do you like?”

“Are you taking notes?” Haymitch huffs a laugh.

Y/N arches a brow, “yeah.” Knowledge is power. Anything from how a person takes their eggs, to their favorite color.

Haymitch purses his lips, “I like bacon, crispy, toast with strawberry marmalade, and eggs over easy. What about you?”

“Oh,” Y/N jots it down, waving a dismissive hand. “I like french toast, with fruit. Hash browns, with hot sauce and coffee. I love coffee.”

“They’ll have it sent for you, back home in twelve. They’ll send you anything you ask for…they’re not supposed to give us money, but things, they are allowed to give us things.” The people who get to watch. The people who pay to watch.

“Do you think we’ll have to do it often?”

“I think last night will keep them entertained for a while.” Haymitch says, “how are you?”

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up. The ask is too intimate. “I’m fine.”

Haymitch sighs, “white one’s for pain, pink peps you up, blue helps you sleep, yellow is for nerves.”

Y/N clears her throat, “my mom…has a pretty nasty addiction to morphling.”

He can respect that. “You should only take what you need then.” Nothing less, nothing more.

“I don’t really need anything.” Y/N lifts a shoulder.

“But you will take one if you need to?”

“Yes, Haymitch.” She assures him.

“Does this bother you, then?” He lifts his bottle between them.

“No.” Y/N shakes her head. “You said you wanted to keep your liquor, that was one of your terms.”

“But does it bother you?”

“No, Haymitch. It doesn’t bother me. We all have our vices. I take notes, you take shots. We are who we are.”

————————————————————————

They take the first train out of the Capitol, after they’re dismissed by President Snow. It takes about a day and a half, straight from the Capitol to twelve.

Haymitch keeps mostly to himself. His own room or the bar car.

Y/N realizes that he values space more than anything. She keeps that in mind when they return to victor’s village. Going their separate ways.

Y/N slides the key into the lock, turning it open and flicking on the light. Home sweet home. After a while she takes the stairs up to her bedroom on the second floor. She turns the knob…and then she screams.

Cameras, like the ones in the honeymoon suite. Folded away neatly against the far wall. No envelope. No threat. Just a promise, that they’ll have to use them one day.

She stumbles back into the hallway, colliding with something firm. “AHHH!” Y/N turns, ready to fight off her intruder.

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s me.” Haymitch hushes her.

“Haymitch?” She breathes.

“What happened?”

“They’re in there,” Y/N tells him, burying her face against the crook of his neck. “They’re in my room.”

“Who?” He’ll kill them.

“The cameras.”

Fuck. Haymitch tightens his hold. “Then you’ll stay with me.“ Snow must’ve had them placed strategically, to set her off. He wanted the cameras to be the first thing she saw, the second she felt an ounce of comfort, returning to her own home. “Stay right here, with me.”

“But my-”

“I have spare rooms, we can clean one out for you. Until then, you can stay with me. We’ll make it nice for you. Whatever you want.”

“You wanted to keep your house.” He asks for so little. “I know you need space.”

Haymitch draws back slightly, cupping her face in his hands. “It’s big enough for two, we can figure it out.”

Y/N nods, as he thumbs tears from her cheeks. “Thank you.”

She can’t go home, back to the house in town, she grew up in. This was made clear the day she became a victor, but she can come here. To him. And Haymitch would welcome her with open arms.

————————————————————————

Haymitch is used to sleeping with a knife under his pillow. But with Y/N landing in his bed night after night, he is forced to retire the blade for her safety.

He still has nightmares. Just like Y/N. Twisting in the sheets restlessly, waking her as he does.

“Haymitch,” Y/N whispers. Shaking him, lightly. “Haymitch, it’s Y/N. I’m here with you, in district twelve. You’re safe now.”

Haymitch startles awake, to soft fingers carding his hair. “Angel?”

“You’re safe.” She says, a second time.

————————————————————————

President Snow is quite pleased with the results of his latest stunt, the cameras in Y/N’s room. The closer his problem victors become, the less likely they will be to cause a fuss.

Haymitch has proved, time and time again, that he will go to great lengths to protect his former tribute.

Coriolanus remembers that feeling well. The way a woman like Lucy Gray or Y/N Undersee could make a person feel. Especially a mentor. The need to save a dying bird is strong, until they inevitably bite the hand that feeds.

Y/N will bite Haymitch eventually, deep; to the bone. Snow is sure of it. Because that is what pretty little birds do.

Part 3

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