#nor do i want to have an extra wheel

[swagging-back-to]

sooo i just had the thought of putting mochi and sushi in with the main colony instead of getting any more mice and adding them to the future 30 gallon colony....

[gnohomotho]

HEAR ME OUT

This request that i have is so cheesy but sounds so good in my mind, forgive me 😭😫

Junho and reader doing like a private first impression thing like u know where the bride and groom are standing back to back and then they turn around. And like Junho is mesmerised has tears is his eyes

Like i literally only have the most cheesy and romantic ideas in my mind i CANNOT help it

Btw love your works 😜😚😚😚❤️❤️

I did my best, Anon, your message truly made my day. ♥ :D I hope I didn't overdo it, then again, cheese is my livelihood. Sorry for any oddities or spelling mistakes, I'm a bit in the trenches today. :c

It's a bit longer with some wedding dress backstory and getting ready, but I think the good part is there. :3 I hope you enjoy! ♥♥♥

.

.

.

The Moment I Saw You

Pairing: Jun-ho x almostwife!fem!reader Summary: And you thought the dress shopping would be hard. The first impression you wished to give your husband-to-be went differently than expected, and you are swimming in a sea of love and bliss. Warnings: Remember that one modded Skyrim playthrough where the player accidentally glitched the cheese-wheel summoning spell and drowned the whole town in cheese? Well, that's what's happening here, but worse. Fluff! Fluff! More fluff! Word count: 2.7k

Everything should have been perfect.

You were picking the dress, and it was taking long. You were standing in the bridal shop, unable to choose, tired, wanting to go home. The person looking back at you in the mirror didn’t look like a bride to you. Even though everything was in place, it felt…wrong. Fake, somehow. Ill-fitting. The shop assistant was very kind, you thought her patient – but even she could see you were not exactly the glowing bride-to-be she was used to. Nor anything like the shiny photographs littered across the front desk.  

Your close friend was there with you, trying her best, you could hear her rummaging through the dresses again, muttering – “puffy sleeves, prom dress, no, no, no, form fitting…” She had the fervour of a very hungry owl searching for that one mouse that got away. “Dumb…long…short…dear god do people actually wear this…oooh, shiny…no…hmmm…” She was already buckling under the weight of all the new ones she picked out for you.

“Hey, Y/N, are you sure you don’t like this one?” She held up a gorgeous gown, white as snow, silk, smooth, reflecting light with a soft plunge of a neckline, and a revealed back. The skirt fell in a mermaid style, you could look like a gorgeous datura flower at the bottom.

“No, no, I’m not sure…not…” You think of yourself in the dress and frown. Your husband to be…Your Jun-ho…should he see you like this? He should see the most beautiful version of you on such a day – and yet you felt more like he was going to run away the moment he laid eyes you.

“Please? How about this one?” Your friend holds up her second choice. The dress is half lace, intricately woven with flowers and soft curling patterns, with off-the-shoulder milky sleeves, a lovely bodice and a small ribbon on the back. The veil would hide more of you, you think. But still. You eye the skirt, its velvety material falling almost straight down. You know you’d be leaving nothing to the imagination and wonder, what if this is all a mistake? What if he made a gigantic mistake, from the very first moment he met you? The first date? The first touch? What if you’ve been unknowingly deceiving him, and now he’ll see you for what you are, what you look like, inside and out? You can’t hide in white.

Your friend walks up to you and gently takes your hand to help you off the platform. She guides you away from the mirrors. As she walks you to the changing room, she is slowly stroking your hand, noticing you are beginning to resemble a vibrating ball of nerves.

“Y/N, if you keep frowning like that, I’m pretty sure you’ll have to pay for extra retouching of all the new wrinkles.” She tried to joke but immediately noticed that it was neither the time nor place and changed her demeanour. You sit, feeling the small bench weigh down with you as she does too, and gently hold your stomach as you speak. You’re unsure which one of you will get the hint first, but you’re pushing it out into the back of your mind as far as you can.

“I just…” You try to speak but the words come out all wrong. “I don’t think he’ll…he’ll be so disappointed.” You sigh and trace both hands down your face to calm down and wipe the stress away, but it clings to every molecule of your skin. “Jun-ho isn’t the type to…” No, all wrong. “It’s not the dresses, it’s me.” Gosh darn it, the tears begin to form. “It’s just me.”

“Hey, hey…darling…” your friend begins stroking the back of your hand as she holds your palm. She is warm and reassuring, but you struggle to believe her.

“It’s ok. It’s ok to be nervous. But you’re beautiful, no matter the dress. To be honest,” she looks around with added drama, as if feigning trying not to be heard, “I don’t think any of the dresses could do you justice and you should just walk out there stark naked if you want them to see how gorgeous you are,” she laughs and squeezes your hand, you look up and let yourself rest with her reassuring, peaceful smile that reaches her lowered eyes now directly resting on you. Although you’re not hugging, you feel held.

Her eyes move to your hand resting on your stomach and you could swear you saw a glint sparkle in their corner and her lashes seem to fall far slower as she blinks, but says nothing. She is so very thoughtful, you think.

“Look, if I know anything about Jun-ho, which isn’t much” she continues, “that man is head over heels for you and the moment you said “yes” I don’t think he’s heard any other words of any language since.”

You let out a small chuckle through another tear. She continues, knowing she’s on a the right path, knuckle punching every guard on the proverbial way.

“I know you’ve walked past this shop year after year, before any of this, and I know you loved the dresses for their beauty, their, elegance, their promise. Y/N, you told me yourself, what was it…winter…”

“Winter dresses,” you chime in quietly. Barely a whisper. Breathing in, you try to remember those cold walks.

“I walked past, and I tried to look at the winter dresses when I knew the shop was closed. The ones with those gorgeous, long skirts, heavy velvety fabric where they met the skin, forming an A shape towards the waist.” You didn’t tell her that you liked both their protectiveness and the fact that if you decided to dramatically fall into a dark body of water, their puffiness and beauty would truly make the moment worth it. You continued after another less shaky but still reserved breath: “Hugged it and up there, the white enveloping the chest – perhaps with lace across the collarbones, but skin hidden, just a touch away…” you let yourself sink into the memory, far before you met Jun-ho, your husband to be. “With that veil that resembled a winter cape from a Russian fairytale.”

“There’s my little Vasilisa,” your friend laughed and stood up. “I’ll be right back, no eloping!”

You sat there, hand still resting on your belly, worried, excited, feeling as if you’re living someone else’s life. Thinking of what Jun-ho must be doing and feeling. Feeling worse and worse, as if you don’t deserve this life.

You quickly pull out your phone to check the time and melt. You have no idea how Jun-ho's timing is always so perfect, but only a minute or two ago, the words:

"Hey, sweet [diminutive version of Y/N], are you ok? Sorry, just wanted to check on you. I hope the dresses are treating you well! Tell [friend] to look after my wife!” light up your screen.

Another message lit up immediately after: “*wife-to-be, I just can’t stop saying it, sorry! I love you, Y/N.”

The smile that spreads from the corner of your mouth and butterflies that saunter from your stomach almost pushed all the anxiety off a cliff. But it still clung to the edge.

Your friend waltzed in and to your utter disbelief, she held up the perfect dress.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The click of your pearl-white heels was the only thing to be heard across the grass. You focused on their soft step and keeping your balance. Your heart was fluttering out of its chest, your stomach was doing its best to leave the building in excitement, in fear, in anticipation – the train of your dress followed you with a soft sliding murmur and the skirt gently touched each flower on the way. You were so glad he chose to do it this way, away from others. Flowers, a shield of wise oak trees. Bird chatter, a gentle breeze on your flushed cheeks, that’s all you truly needed. That, and him.

“I want to be the only one to see you, Y/N. The only one to witness the first sight of my wife.”

The sweetheart neckline clung to your collarbones, the off-the-shoulder fabric neatly stacked in on itself was cuddling your back and shoulders, light and nearly translucent. It rested on your skin as a light lover’s touch. The beautiful, laced veil, floating with you as well as behind you was hiding, yet still accentuating your shining hair with small white flowers nestled between locks. It fell periodically across your back and your shoulders, resting on your collarbones with each step. The heavy fabric of the dress which clung to your waist and fell once more felt cool and warm at the same time, giving you an air of ethereal slow motion. You looked like you belonged in a winter forest. A vision of indescribable, untouchable beauty. The wind gently played with your hair, as if longing to caress you as much as the man in front of you.

As you walked, the form of your husband-to-be materialised in front of you, facing the other way. Although there were many other features around, each quite beautiful, you had no eyes for them. Slowly, meticulously, as if not to scare him, you walked up the small hill towards him and lingered behind him. He hasn’t seen you, but he knows you’re there – his back is giving away the quickness of his breathing and his attempts to steady it down. Please breathe, my love…” Your thoughts leave their nerves at bay and soften into nothing but care and love for him. Finally, as lightly as a feather, you rest your back against his, feeling his breath quicken once more and his entire form tense and release, as if wishing to melt into you.

Jun-ho almost hesitates, but slowly, in what is trying to be a level manner, speaks.

“On the count of three, Y/N?”

You breathe out a tiny chuckle. Ever the pragmatic yet meticulous man.

“One…” you say almost in unison.

Your breath quickens, your heart is racing ten miles a minute, the dress seems to be tighter and tighter and the birds louder and louder yet so far away.

“Two…” he says alone and you whisper with him, mind turning to mushy cotton but enveloped in such a warm feeling of bliss.

Jun-ho takes in a last, heavy breath and as he lets it out…

“Three.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You turn around in unison and both stand frozen in the moment.

Your eyes meet.

Jun-ho stands utterly transfixed, trying to take you in, all of you, in your entirety at once. But his eyes cannot contain you, so he keeps glitching, his hands that he wished to extend to you the moment you turned, are shivering and tense.

His soft gaze tries to dart and look at you from a different side, angle, but he cannot. You’re…you’re a vision that he cannot and will not disentangle from.

As his eyes are trying to take in every inch of you and warming his heart with every molecule he manages to snatch from the photons reflecting your form, his heart is firmly on its way out of his chest.

You hear nothing but your breath now, you’re looking up into his eyes, inches away from his face, which is frozen and beginning to tear at itself. As if a mask was cracking in nothing but a barrage of indescribable beauty and feeling.

Jun-ho slowly lifts a shivering hand to his mouth and rests it across his face, fingers almost up to his eyes, as if shielding both you and him from the raw, sheer affection that has swept him off his feet – and you, you are both the waves he’s drowning in and the only lifeboat on the sea.

“Y/N…” he barely chokes out in a whisper.

“Y/N…you…you look...” his hand is joined by his other, slowly laying each palm and finger against themselves under his lips. Jun-ho doesn’t know why he cannot control his expression, a wide smile is fighting to be seen, his eyes and heart are tearing at him in springs of bliss and absolute adoration as he wishes to scoop you up to him and melt into you, squeeze you so tight you won’t know where you stop and he begins.

But you are…untouchable as this vision before him. As he steadies himself, he tries to breathe, getting a breath caught in his throat. He finally looks away and you worry, worry your worst fears came true. Worry that the girl sitting in the bridal shop holding her stomach was correct.

But on second look, he is…oh gosh…” The mixture of worry and unexpected relief, bundled up in nothing but affection and deep care threaten to drive you to both laugh and tear up.

“Jun-ho…!” A hushed whisper from your tender lips brings him back to you, turning his head slowly back. He meets your gaze with reserved fear, one eye – look away – second eye – look away – both – remain with you. You see now, with warmth growing in your chest and flutters dancing across your skin, why he was shielding his mouth, then face, then needing to look away entirely. You take both his hands into yours, caressing each finger lovingly as you lower them down to your waist. You envelop his hands, still caressing each knuckle with the ball of your thumb.

“Jun-ho, my love…” you say slowly, levelly, in a low whisper. “My sweet love…it’s alright.”

Jun-ho cannot help it, the sides of his eyes are fully sparkling now. Your eyes are fully transfixed on his own and guide his gaze into you, and he smiles that wide smile you have grown to love so dearly. Jun-ho’s eyes are now fully glistening like still lakes under a full moon.

“I cannot believe you’re here. I---I---cannot believe…it’s…you…with me…My…My…”

Jun-ho cannot speak further but you feel the hands in your tender embrace reciprocate a grip far more secure and loving than you could ever wish for. As protective as it was reassuring. Jun-ho always held you as if you could slip away at any moment, but so tenderly that should you do so, you’d be protected and enveloped in loving warmth to the very end.

“Your wife. My darling. My husband.” Your face softened as you let the words slide across your lips and into the chasm between you, creating the gentlest of bridges.

“My---wife…” Jun-ho lets out an untangled breath of relief, the full smile finally taking over his face. Sparkles turning to tears fall at the same moment, as if a weight both descended from and knocked the air out of him in a single moment.

“You’re…you’re so beautiful. My love. My everything. You are…you are everything.” He’s still smiling as the small specks run down his cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. I love you. I’m so glad. So glad. So happy. I don’t know how to---can I…can I touch you?”

As the lightly shivering voice in contrast to his imposing, beautiful form reached your ears, you lightly caressed his cheek, and he leaned into your palm immediately.

“Of course, Jun-ho.”

Without a second to spare, he lovingly, gently, as lightly as he could in his given disposition, cupped your face and gave you the longest, most tender of kisses. Slowly his hands trailed to your waist, brushing, as if making sure you weren’t going to disappear or turn into a beautiful dream.

Finally, Jun-ho everso carefully took you in fully. Without warning but still tenderly, Jun-ho lifted you up to him, as if you and your dress were as light as the breeze playing with your hair. In one movement he twirled around with you, letting your dress get caught in the moment and carried by motion, his gorgeous wife, his Y/N, nought but his – giggling in his arms, a vision of angelic beauty in his embrace – and he caught himself laughing with you, in nothing but pure bliss. As he let you down just as gently, his touch lingered – he didn’t want to let you go for one second.

Squeezing his hand, you nudged your face closer to his, beckoning without words; he covered the remaining distance.

You felt his lips brush against your own – top, then bottom, then both – before resting on yours fully. Tenderly. Reservedly. Lovingly. You placed a soft kiss where they lingered and Jun-ho finally let himself melt into you fully, kissing you as if you harboured the last bastion of oxygen in the depths of the ocean, as if you were the only thing on this Earth that he wanted, needed, yearned and lived for.    

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[lizzy-luvbot]

Hiya! I was wondering if you could general relationship headcanons for the marble hornet guys? Thank you!

YIPPIE FIRST REQUEST!! And ofc I can! I hope it’s as good as you expected!

Character’s- Tim Wright/masky, Brian Thomas/hoodie, jay Merrick, Alex Kralie + bonus character!

I tried my best to make it as gender neutral as possible!

Tim Wright/masky:

Would be like INSANELY AWKWARD at first

You met through Brian, him being your siblings best friend

Your sibling invited you to explore an abandoned building with him, Brian and Tim(who at the time you didn’t know)

I don’t know if it’s just me but he would definitely call you his wife/husband when you come up in conversation

“How many people are your party?” The hostess of your favorite restaurant asks, “just me and my wife/husband” Tim says without thinking.

He will be slightly embarrassed but you think it’s so fucking cute

Not big on PDA👎 but literally ALWAYS has to be holding your hand no matter‼️

I picture him to be kind of traditional, like you walk on the inside of the sidewalk away from the road, he holds doors open for you, pulls out your chair for you and pushes it in.

A MASSIVE cheek(the ones on your face…) kisser.

Like boom just got home? He’s grabbing your chin and kissing both of your cheeks then asking you how your day was.

Masky:

You probably won’t see him much but he always seems to be there when you need him…

Brian Thomas/hoodie:

Y’all knew eachother all through your school years, elementary, middle, and high school.

So you basically knew anything and everything about eachother.

He’s like the bestest friend you could ever have

And yes Tim is a third wheel… but not the severely excluded one, the one that you’d probably kill your self if you even got the smallest hint he felt left out.

I feel like he’s not a hater nor a huge fan of PDA, it’s like he will have a arm around your shoulders, and while your talking to your friends/strangers you decided to strike up conversation with, he will randomly lean down and kiss the top of your head

Or when your holding hands he will kiss the back of your hand.

When I say you two can’t go anywhere I mean it.

You’ve been kicked out of Walmart so many times for thinking you can jump over the cardboard crate’s of Powerade.

And don’t think he’s stopping you, in fact he eggs you on by saying he doesn’t believe you can’t and your gonna have to prove it too him.

“Fuck yeah I can.” You said irritation radiating of you, “no you literally can’t.” “Yes I ‘literally’ can.” You two go back and forth for like three minutes until he smirks and says prove it. And prove it you do.

You cleared the Powerade’s no problem but too bad a Karen with a fuck ass bob saw it and snitched on you.

Hoodie:

(Like masky) you don’t see him a lot…but he sure see’s you…

Jay Merrick:

The absolute sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for… but very sassy.

Ask him for some water?

“Baby, can you get me some water?” “No” NO?!?!

Then 30 seconds later he walks around the corner with a glass of water.

Now unlike the other two he loves PDA, it’s like the fact he knows he bagged a baddie and he’s about to make it known to everyone.

Loves having his hair played with and vise versa, you definitely teach him how to use a hair straightener/curler just so you don’t have to do it yourself.

You two play just dance. And definitely do karaoke using the instrumental music videos on YouTube.

CLINGY BRO SO FUCKING CLINGY.

You gotta pee during the Friday movie night session at home? So does he.

You don’t want to cuddle because it’s 80 degrees?? Do you not love him?? You guys cuddle anyway.(you turned down the air conditioning because you didn’t want him to be sad)

He calls you anything but your name. Once you started dating you were no longer [name] you were baby, babe, honey, girlfriend/boyfriend when he’s feeling extra sassy.

He loves to be a hater with you. You don’t like one of your coworkers, he gives them the most DIRTY look when he sees them when he’s visiting you.

Alex Kralie:

He’s such a nonchalant dreadhead.(please don’t kill me) joking but fr he acts like he doesn’t care as much as he does(which is SOOOOO much btw)

A member of the sassy man apocalypse.

He’s a play fighter, like “body slam”s you into the bed.

Has a gun collection in the garage. And gives you pop quizzes about them. He will never say it but he thinks the dumbfounded look on your face when asks you a question about a gun that is the cutest thing ever.

You called him snookum cake one time. ONE TIME. And now he never calls you anything else but snookum cake.

Out in public? He doesn’t give a fuck.

“Alex. Please don’t.” Your terror clear on your face. He smirks, tilting his head down, the dim blue lights from the aquarium In front of you causing shadows on his face, he takes a deep breath, “are you liking the aquarium SNOOKUM CAKE.” His voice raised from a 3 to a 7 at the nickname. Causing people too shoot you and him dirty and confused looks.

You never called him that again.

(Bonus character)

Jessica Locke(my cutie patootie):

PDA QUEEN.

She doesn’t care if y’all are eating at McDonald’s or a 5-star restaurant. If she wants to kiss your entire face, she will damnit and fuck what everyone else as to say.

She’s your biggest supporter, literally doesn’t care what it is she’s on your side 10000%.

Y’all definitely slow dance to Lana del Rey In the kitchen while the frozen pizza cooks.

I feel like she’s such a alpha male😜

Like she’s willing to fight for you, fist fight and her comebacks are like the best you’ve ever heard.

Y’all definitely wear matching socks and ugly Christmas sweaters during the holiday season.

She slaps the fuck out of your butt. You live in fear of her surprisingly powerful butt smacks.

You guys wear matching Clair’s bff necklaces.

Im sorry is this is Probably so bad😭😬 anyway I actually bought a Jay plushy not too long ago and it’s finally shipped so I’m super excited for that🔥‼️ NOT EDITED‼️‼️ as soon as I saw the request I got so excited so I wrote it ever tho I should be asleep right now so I’ll have to edit another time😓

[thefanficmonster]

Piss off your parents pt.1

PART 2

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: You just wanted to rebel a little, how did it get to this?

"Y/N, you're fucking insane." Colby grumbles, struggling as he unbuckles one of his best friends out of the backseat of his car. She, however, seems completely unbothered by him maneuvering her into an upright position. She's giggling, actually, a direct contrast to her mascara streaked cheeks. She's drunk, wasted. Three sheets to the wind, if you will.

He already had to put two other drunk messes to bed tonight, Y/N's his third. He should be getting paid per person and per difficulty. Nate was the easiest to subdue, followed by Sam who put up a brief 'I'm not even drunk, dudeeee' kind of fight. And now her.

The party was at Sam's house so the previous two didn't require any special treatment other than being dunked into Sam's bed. Y/N however...

She'd pleaded with Colby, the most sober one of the bunch, to just let her be. Let loose, get drunk, flirt around a bit. That being said, four hours later - two hours past her curfew - when he tried prying her away from the drink table she put up one hell of a fight.

"You have the balance of a newborn giraffe! You're done! I'm cutting you off!" He'd yelled over the music, hearing his own parents' scolding in his tone but he ignored it. He had to take on the parenting role with his friends, it was his turn after all. He knows they'd do the same - they've done the same - when he was plastered. He owed them the same curtesy. Especially Y/N.

She's usually on parenting duty, not really on the heavy drinker side. But after the fight with her parents she told him about earlier, he can't blame her for wanting to drown it out with a few extra shots.

A few too many extra shots.

He was planning on just safely storing her in one of the guestrooms for the night and playing nurse the following morning when all three would undoubtedly have a hangover. But that's when Y/N's cognitive thought kicked in.

"My parents are gonna kill me if I don't make it home tonight! I can't sleep here!" She was - and still is - heavily slurring her words but the thought of further pissing off her folks drove her into an almost sobering panic. "Call me an Uber while I find my shoes. What time is it?"

Colby had carefully dodged around answering that question, knowing it would send her into a full blown heart attack knowing she was running so late. He tried telling her on time but she'd blown him off, saying she didn't care about the stupid curfew or at least that's how much he'd caught from her string of slurred rambles.

"You're not getting an Uber at this hour. Come on, I'll drive you." He'd said reassuringly as he picked up one of her stray shoes.

They soon found the second one and her missing purse and within fifteen minutes they'd gotten in his car and were gliding down the road with the speed of a tortoise. At this point in time Colby was neither drunk nor tipsy but that didn't stop him from sweating bullets as he operated the vehicle.

"I don't wanna go to Barton!" He'd believed she was asleep after the long stretch of silence following their departure so her sudden exclamation was quite startling.

"You won't, Y/N. You're coming with us to LA, remember?" He believed in that lie as much as she did, but he needed to soothe her somehow.

"Not according to mom! I'm gonna be stuck here in Kansas all my life!" Her anger was now engulfed by sobs Colby gently offered tissues for.

He stayed quiet and let her ramble, only partially listening to the words spilling directly from her heart. He especially tried drowning out the part where she went on a whole rant abut her massive crush on Nate.

But, alas, he wasn't successful, seeing as how he was white-knuckle-gripping the steering wheel more than half the way to her house.

That's how they've ended up here - one a giggly and mascara stained drunken mess and the other a bitter and regretfully sober babysitter. Well, babysitter, Uber driver and therapist all in one. He really should start charging for his services.

He wraps one of Y/N's arms around his shoulders, securing it there by holding her hand while his other arm fixates itself around her waist to keep her upright and at least semi steady on her feet.

With a silent prayer, he tries pushing the front door open with zero luck. It's locked.

He's cycling through all the stages of grief as he comes to terms with the fact that he will, unfortunately, have to ring the bell and alert Y/N's parents of their arrival.

He does just that, although quite begrudgingly, sighing heavily when he sees a light turn on through one of the windows. The sound of oncoming footsteps follows.

His eyes are soon met with the unpleasant glare of Y/N's mom who - as he's picked up on from their handful of interactions - already isn't very fond of him.

Just him!

She's lovely to Sam and Nate, but he's not extended the same curtesy. You can visibly see the air around her get colder when she approaches him whereas she's always been so kind and welcoming to the other two people in their friend group. He hasn't been able to figure out why. Bringing it up to Y/N proved futile as she just shrugged and shook her head.

"No clue, Colbs. But don't take it personally. She's just like that." She had said, but it didn't sit right with Colby. It made no sense. And it continues to bother him.

And unnerve him, specifically now as he's being stared down by her icy gaze.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Y/L/N....just bringing Y/N home. She had a little too much to drink." There's no way in hell he could've concealed her drunkenness. She's hanging off of him with her head bowed, her hair forming a curtain over her face. He wouldn't be surprised if he were to find her already asleep.

"You know where her room is." There's an edge to her scoff that could slit a man's throat, but Colby chooses not to dwell on it. Truly, he can't, seeing as how she's already moving away from the doorway and down the hall into the living room, leaving him to deal with the mess she thinks he caused.

He can't find it in himself to be offended right now, although he probably will be later. He has bigger fish to fry.

And so, with his options limited, he opts to pick her up bridal style so he can easily carry her up the stairs. He hopes to God her parents don't see this and get the wrong idea.

Oh if he only knew what's to come...

As carefully as he can, he settles his unconscious best friend on her bed, tucking her in. He's murmuring reassuring words under his breath as he does so, not sure if they're meant for her or him but in the end it all works out.

"Night, Y/N." With that whispered in the darkness of the room and a gentle kiss on her temple, he makes his exit, briefly stopping at the bottom of the stairs to peek into the living room, "Good night, Mrs. Y/L/N."

"It's almost morning." Her reply is on-par with most of their interactions so he just pushes past it, shaking his head slightly before leaving out the front door.

As he does so, he notices the sky has taken on a brighter shade of blue, signaling Y/N's mom really wasn't exaggerating. With a sigh, he gets back behind the wheel, heading to Sam's house to check on his other two patients.

* * * * *

Her head is pounding but you'd never be able to tell from the giant grin on her face as she sprints through the neighborhood, skipping through backyards and hopping the occasional fence to cut the trip short. The strap of a duffle bag is slung over her shoulder, she's clutching onto it tightly. It has all her belongings in it, after all. It's of upmost importance she doesn't lose it.

That's be rather unfortunate right after spontaneously moving out, wouldn't it?

She wouldn't say she got kicked out of the house per-se. That would indicate that she was thrown out against her will. Quite the contrary actually. She was more than happy to leave. Had she known those were the magic words, she would've said them so much sooner.

She catches herself before she can make a face-first collision with Sam's front door, stopping to catch her breath and knock a couple of times. And a couple more times. And a few more times.

It's safe to say she's impatient. But with the news she has, you can't blame her.

"Stop! Stop!" A disheveled Sam finally opens the door, one hand partially covering his pale face, "Too loud..."

Y/N gives herself a moment to feel guilty and hug him apologetically before dashing inside. "Colby's here, right?"

"Yeah!" She hears his voice coming from the kitchen and immediately makes a beeline in his direction, dropping her bag in the foyer.

Upon entry, she finds Colby and Nate sitting by the kitchen island, both in different stages of 'the morning after'. Despite the crippling headache, however, the latter finds it in him to give her a genuine smile, sliding off the stool to envelop her in a hug.

"Aww, is someone hungover?" She mocks Nate, sneaking a sip from his Gatorade.

"Hey!" He complains, reaching over to snatch the bottle from her, "Give it back! I need it way more than you do."

Colby, unable to stomach their interaction - for reasons he doesn't want to get into right now - busies himself by looking down at his phone.

He's known of Y/N's little crush on Nate for months now. At first it was only speculation based off her demeanor around him. And then it was more like a punch to the gut when she tipsily confirmed it one night.

"Colbs?" Her voice snaps him out of his brief bitter spiral, forcing him to look up, "Can I borrow you outside for a sec?"

He's struggled with saying 'no' to her since the day they met. Not that he wants to turn her down, he just wishes he could.

And wishes she didn't. Without even knowing it. Turn him down, that is.

With a nod, he follows her out to the patio where the sun isn't kind to either of them, adding gasoline to the fire of their raging hangovers.

"Sup?" Try as he might, he has never been good at feigning nonchalance around her.

It's surprising to see her nervous. For once, he believes their playing field to be even. "So...I've got good news wrapped up in bad news."

Her words would panic him a lot more had she not come in like a force of nature with a gleaming smile adorning her face. Still, it's not at the top of the list of things he wants to hear on a Saturday morning. So, with an exaggerated sigh, he signals for her to continue, "I'm all ears. The last twenty four hours can't get much worse."

He watches her face twist as she cringes, well aware she's about to prove him wrong, "Well...." With a deep breath, she finally spits it out, "The good news is, I'm coming with you guys to LA."

Colby doesn't spare a second, momentarily forgetting the bad news she'd mentioned as he scoops her up in a hug, "No fucking way! Hell yeah! I fucking told you!" He can't describe the immense joy and relief he's feeling right now. "Kiss that Barton College shit goodbye!"

Giggling, Y/N kicks her feet, looking for solid ground beneath them. Not that she's in a rush to be set back down. In fact, for a split second, she wishes this moment could last forever.

But, she's aware it's impossible.

Suddenly, she feels guilt creeping in for even letting that thought run loose in her head. She doesn't even know how or why it popped up.

She just knows she's about to ruin it all.

"One problem..." It's actually far more than one, but they'll dissect that later on. She just has to get the main one out the way, "You see, how that came to be...."

"You have no shame! You get wasted at parties, break rules, come home past curfew." Mrs. Y/L/N's voice is shaking the house, echoing twice as loudly in Y/N's head as she's just trying to eat a bowl of cereal. "Random people are bringing you home at dawn!"

She has the gull to argue back, "Colby is not just some random person, mom!"

"Oh yeah, he of all people was the one bringing you home! What the hell, Y/N?!"

Her mom has never liked Colby. The problem is, no one knows why. Y/N isn't sure if her mom even knows why. She tried asking once, it didn't go over so well.

But that's when two and two click together into a four in her head - a bright idea. Actually, 'dim' would be better. Nothing bright is welcome within her proximity with the splitting headache she's nursing.

Without a second thought, she blurts out: "What's so wrong with having my boyfriend take me home after a party?"

Her words ring out like a gunshot in the quiet house. Yet they are nothing in comparison to the explosion of her mother's anger in response.

Colby's mouth is hanging open, his gaze piercing through more so than focusing on his friend.

She, on the other hand, is sweating bullets, anxiously waiting for him to say something and break the long silence that has fallen upon them. When he doesn't, she wills herself to whisper a mousy little "I'm sorry."

Finally, a voice leaves his parted lips: "Y/N, you're fucking insane."

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

It Had To Be You

Before I get into my big explaining rant, reblogs are very much appreciated! I know this is usually a rant blog but when I spend so long on a drawing I want to have people see it and stare at it like I do LOL

Also for the ALT text, a lot of the details are going to be explained below so if you’d like extra details please read!

So, my designs! I really hate Husk’s design; as in I hate drawing it. It’s too red and tiny for me, Husk is very orange and round to me, he’s like a really chubby cat that you flip over in the bed and smack their belly and kiss em. He also kinda reminds me of Tigerstar from Warriors but like if he was a more morally correct person. Kind of. I removed all of the red from Husk and replaced it with little motifs of orange and brown like in his ears, his eyebrows, wings, and the little patch on his snout. For his wings I tried to base them around a Brown Thrasher because they fit the colour I needed and they’re very defensive birds which is a trait I’d like to see in Husk more. Seeing him protecting others with his wings in Episode 8 was a very cute touch and I want more of that. Oh and the little orange bit on his snout was based on one of my old cats named Whiskey and I thought that was fitting cause yknow. Whiskey. 🥃. Also it’s cute!

Part of Husk’s orange colouration also falls under some inspiration I received from @bluehazardanonymous whom you may see on my blog again. But they sent me a very interesting colour chart and it made my brain go funny

Husk’s design has a lot of orange, yellow, and small hints of red like his undone bowtie and hat band/ace of hearts card. The orange for gluttony is mostly related to alcohol and such, meanwhile the yellow in his eyes, shirt patch, and on the button on his hat are to show greed from things like gambling and possible leftovers from being an overlord. I don’t think you can just go from being all powerful to some random bartender and NOT have some kind of thirst for power right???? That also bleeds into the red parts (haha cause blood red) to keep his design on the warm side and have a little bit of anger in there.

His clothes are also supposed to look a bit sloppy and kinda sad cause I mean. He is. But they are also all relatively formal items of clothing. By the way I’m never drawing this guy shirtless, sorry you need to beg and pay for that/j

Now for Angel. With Angel being pink-ish and how I usually draw the rest of Hell, I try to make Hell more gross looking and greenish/sickly, generally unpleasant, so that Angel is more eye catching and pops out more like a celebrity would. A lot of the cast in my head is more orange/maroon coloured, not a lot of pink or salmon colours. Of course pink is under lust on the colour wheel, but I personally don’t like chalking Angel up to just his job, nor do i really like using “true” pink. I always keep him in this range:

Also that white is not for him it’s for other things, I always make him a cream-ish colour. I like pink with red undertones always, especially for Angel. It shows his job very blatantly if you take a simple glance at him, but if you’re nuts like me and colour pick from these that I use, you’ll see a lot of them are closer to red, rather than the bright pink-ish-purple colour for lust. And also closer to his original more purple design!

I think it goes without saying that Angel has a lot of pent up anger and frustration that he hides with his persona and humour, and I think trying to show some of that in his colours is a lot more interesting than just haha pink gay spider. I dunno.

Also I thought these little cowlick flip thingies on the side were really cute

I was originally going to make the sign in the back purple since that’s usually the colour of most XXX signs in Hazbin, but the yellow makes everything else look a lot more dingy and gross while still being bright and I love that. Also the yellow is kind of a shallow jab of my own at the adult entertainment industry, a lot of this stuff is just people being exploited for money but I will go on a tangent about this if I don’t shift topic!! Anyway. A lot of the background isn’t super visible, but based on the colours I was kinda going for a more envy & wrath & greed section of the pride ring. Just seems like a good place to smoke. The rain doesn’t hold much symbolism to it but it is there to make the area seem more unpleasant. Yknow how it rains sometimes and the sewage in the street comes up? Like that.

Im really happy with a bunch of stuff in this art. 10 hours, 184+ layers, and 11751 strokes is probably the most I have ever done for.. anything????? Even if you don’t like the art I hope you appreciate the long rant LOL

Be sure to have a good day and drink something ‼️

[skele-bunny]

You know... Thinking back to my narcoleptic & fatigued Dewdrop post....

(*note: writing this based off some reddit posts in the r/narcolepsy subreddit with users who have chairs. I am not narcoleptic nor a wheelchair user, and I apologize if there's any misinformation.)

Dew finally getting a wheelchair as his episodes started getting more frequent and not only did it provide safety for him to pass out in his chair, but it also kept him a bit more regulated and able to focus better. He's always had issues trying to keep himself upright and find help as he could never get his legs to work before eventually having an episode. But with his chair he can get his arms to roll forward or just settle him against a wall before the inevitable.

Ohhh he's an asshole once it's recommended. Aether tries convincing. Mountain tries convincing. Zephyr, Mist, Phil, Sunshine—basically anyone that Dew was close to. They couldn't get past that stubborn wall until Aether made him sit and just use it for one day. For him? Pretty please? Dew has always had a hard time saying no to Aether when he pulls out the puppy eyes.

He's still so grumpy about it, moreso the fact he has to ask one of the others to get him things. It's later in the day during practice where he just gets that lightheaded feeling and that repetitive blinking. But when he wakes up, he's not aching. His head slumped to the side, still settled in the chair, feeling Copia rubbing his shoulder and waiting for him to come back.

After that, he's still a bit stubborn but starts entertaining the idea. Aether is so happy when Dew asks him to get his chair. He's SO SO happy Dew is taking his health, safety, and mobility seriously.

The chair itself is a manual, but Dewdrop wanted it to be HIS and represent that!! Got rainbowchrome wheels, and asked Rain to crochet him a bag for the back (which Rain was more than happy to do!). Usually has his medications, extra guitar strings, picks, and a tiny plushie for the ride. Also gloves! Definitely gloves, Zephyr gifts him a pair but he eventually got his own. Still keeps them as backup tho :3

[night-market-if]

Hey! I'm loving NM so far and can't wait for book 2! I'm planning on going for the M&M poly, but then I had a.. revelation, maybe? So, you've said it's possible to start a romance with only one of them and then for it to turn into either a triangle or V poly, but! I've also seen it said that it's possible for your MC to not be comfortable with that, which would then end whatever romance is going on bc Mal and Milo will always romance each other. Doesn't that mean that they love each other more than they love the MC? Because they're going to dump the MC if they're not comfortable with them also being with the other one (say, because of what Milo did in book 1 for example)? Because that's definitely making me rethink playing book 2, I'd absolutely hate playing a game where my character ends up feeling like the spare or the extra or what have you. And that's 100% how it would feel to me, if I knew that "in another life" (aka in a non-triad route) they'd choose each other over the MC.

You are kind of going off the assumption that it would be Milo or Malcolm that would dump the MC if MC was uncomfortable with everything. They wouldn't dump MC. I don't think there is anything MC could do that would make those two leave other than maybe start being abusive. If there is one thing about Milo and Mal, it is that they will always try to make their relationships work. But, if MC's personal boundary is that the two can't be together at all, I don't see how MC would continue to stay with them. MC would most likely break up with them then. Which, is fair. If a monogamous person does not want to be in a relationship with someone who identifies as poly, they would be the ones breaking up with the poly person.

Now, the argument could be made that because Milo and Mal don't leave each other for MC, that means they love each other more. But, in all honestly, I don't think that means they love each other more. I think it just means there is a messy and convoluted relationship happening between all three of them, and they are trying to figure things out before going further.

We also need to keep in mind that just because I say Milo and Mal will always come back to each other, doesn't mean they are jumping each other's bones at the first chance they get, or even being romantic with each other. Honestly, if MC was to dump them, they still wouldn't be together for a while. Malcolm is a slooooooow burn character and Milo is emotionally inept. A lot has to happen for them to get together.

As for you feeling like your character is the third wheel? I can't really answer that for you. I don't feel like it's the case, but I am not you. I'm not coming from this with the intention that Milo and Malcolm love each other more than the MC. Nor am I wanting to write a poly where someone is left out (because that's not a poly). But, I also cannot dictate how someone might feel. I can only put my work out there and hope that it finds the right audience.

I do hope this helps.

[whichstoodonrockyshores]

"Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal."

Happy holidays to @iristhepng, I'm your Secret Santa for the @gtafest exchange.

There was a reason Niko was the designated driver for his loved ones. Inside of Packie’s damned red Comet, two men roared down the streets of Liberty.

His hand gripped the overhead handle, so tightly his knuckles were white. Niko felt his back crack as Packie turned harshly yet again. The tires squealed as they struggled to make traction on the wet road. Snow was falling, barely enough to stick to the ground, but enough to get the ground slippery. Liberty Rock Radio was blasting; something by Mötley Crue, and Packie loved it. He whooped and parked the car in Star Junction. He had a huge smile on his face, a rare treat. Niko finally let go of the handle, gripping his chest as he took a deep breath. 

And Niko thought he was a questionable driver, fuck.

“Only place open on Christmas is Cluckin' Bell, Niko. You in the mood for that?” Packie asked, looking in Niko’s direction. He turned the radio down and buttoned up his coat, ready for a Christmas walk around Star Junction.

“Sure. Maybe I should drive us home, though?”

“If you wanna. Just don’t crash my Comet. I spent my hard-earned cash on this, don’t want some Slav totaling it so soon,” Packie said, patting the steering wheel of his car. Niko rolled his eyes… This was Packie’s big purchase after the bank robbery. A brand new red Comet. Niko would never understand the American obsession with flashy cars. His favorite cars were ones with low gas mileage, cheap to fix, and simple to hotwire in a pinch.

“I won’t crash.”

“How am I supposed to trust ya, though? You don’t have a license.” Packie tried to hold the car door open, but Niko wasn’t having any of that. He shook his head and got out of the Comet by himself. 

“And you do. Enough said.”

“Can’t argue with you there, Niko-boy. Fuck me, it is cold…” Packie blew onto his hand, in a futile attempt to warm them. The other man grabbed his hand, not allowing time for doubt or hesitation. Niko knew how shy Patrick could be about the softer side of their relationship. He often insisted they weren’t even a real couple, just friends with benefits. 

That would only be true if the benefits stretched to include pizza dinner dates at Niko’s penthouse, or romantic walks around Meadows Park. Not that Niko didn’t see those as benefits… but he would never do that with a fling. Or even a friend. Nor would he do this with a friend. Holding hands while walking around Star Junction. 

“This place has changed a lot since I was a kid. Used to feel…realer, I guess,” Packie said, speaking in a quieter voice, looking at the painfully bright advertisements. The snow almost made the screens harsher to look at, the colors bleeding into Niko and Packie’s eyes, “Now it’s a fucking playground. Fake. And I heard they’re making it pedestrian-only soon. Fuck that.”

Niko nodded along. He didn’t care much for Star Junction, one way or another, but Packie clearly had some nostalgia for it. This was his home, after all, “Really? Why is that?” 

“Hell if I know. Change the city some more, why don’t they? Maybe next, they’ll replace the grass in Middle Park with astroturf. Go all in on the fakeness.”

Niko stayed silent, and simply nodded along with Packie’s complaints. The two entered the Cluckin Bell and ordered two Fowlburgers. It tasted like chemicals and shame like it always did. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, these things suck ass,” Packie stated firmly, chewing with his mouth open. He hardly even realized he was doing it, manners were never his strong suit, “But with you, it almost tastes good.”

“They do. I think that is just the extra Christmas chemicals they put in.”

“Damn right.”

They finished eating and returned to the cold, harsh outside. Packie stole Niko’s hand this time, neither commenting on the action. He led the way, past the red Comet, and further up the sidewalk. His lips were pursed, nervous, as he walked with Niko.

“Patrick, where are you taking me?” Niko queried, with a small grin growing on his lips, “You passed the car.”

“I know that! Just follow me. I, uh, want to show you… somethin’.”

Niko watched the shorter man walk swiftly. The wind blew directly in their faces, the snow in their eyes. Packie heaved onward and stopped at a small store. A small, decorative version of the Nativity scene, the kind both Niko and Packie had seen many times before. This one was not spectacular, or noteworthy at all.

“This is it?”

“Yeah. I’m an artist, Niko, I see things different.”

Niko coughed, shocked at both the man’s words and behavior, “You have never called yourself an artist before. What is it, Packie? Is this your way of asking if you can come to my apartment?”

Packie looked on, then away, like Niko had caught him in the act. So that was it. He wanted more time with his boyfriend, not wanting to return home to the chaos and vitriol that was waiting for him. Packie had skipped Christmas Mass and dinner to even be here with Niko; no doubt his mother was waiting back in Dukes to give him a long lecture about the importance of church, family, and Christ.

“You could have asked. Let’s go back to the car, warm up a bit.”

“Sorry. You know I suck at askin’ for shit,” Packie mumbled, walking swiftly with Niko back to the car. The wind was at their backs, this time, “Didn’t wanna get in the way of your Christmas. I thought you and Roman were gonna do shit together.”

“No,” he stated simply, “Roman is with Mallorie’s family. You know I don’t mind having you over, Patrick.”

“Yeah, but…” Packie groaned, “Fuck you. You’re too nice to me, damn prince, how am I supposed to act around ya?”

“Like yourself. How else?”

Packie had nothing to say to that, and nothing to say at all until the two returned to Niko’s Algonquin apartment. It was warm inside, and somewhat decorated. Roman had insisted on a Christmas tree, despite Niko’s protests that once it was put up, neither cousin would remember to take it down after the holiday season. The colorful fairy lights set the mood well.

“Nice tree, Niko,” Packie commented, taking his jacket off. He made himself comfortable on Niko’s couch.

“I don’t understand how your mother puts up so many decorations. I was sick of them after just putting this tree up with Roman.” Niko sat next to Packie.

“Ha, she usually makes us do it. Says it’s good for family bonding. Like us kids at home can get more fucking bonded,” Packie rolled his eyes, “Derrick didn’t show, shocker, I know. He’s done nothing but break Ma’s heart since 1988.”

“Still getting high on park benches?” Niko asked, always curious about Packie’s family. 

“Who the fuck knows. He doesn’t even answer my damn calls anymore.”

Niko nodded. Finally more comfortable on the couch, he wrapped an arm around Packie. Packie’s eyebrows tilted, anxiety-ridden, as he did the same. 

“You don’t gotta do all this…fruity shit with me, Niko. The touching and kissing, I mean. I don’t expect it from you,” Packie explained, “I’d almost prefer it if you didn’t. Then it’d be less real. This ain’t supposed to be real.”

Niko observed him. Tried to get a read on what Patrick was thinking. 

“I ain’t gay. Or, or maybe I fucking am! I’m so damn confused, about this, about everything! Fuck!” Packie yelled, irate at himself. He leaned on Niko, wanted his comfort, even if the desire was subconscious.

Niko was one to give him that comfort. He rubbed Packie’s shoulder, pulling him closer. Packie looked away, frustrated.

“I know you are confused. You’ve told me before,” he said, sounding tired, “I don’t have the answers you’re looking for, Patrick.”

“Of course you don’t. It ain’t ever that simple…” Packie leaned onto Niko. Their whole bodies were pressed up on each other, now. Niko nodded, picked up the remote, and flicked his television on. Neither felt like conversing at the moment, and the sounds of obnoxious commercials and a young Macaulay Culkin attempting to murder two bulgers filled the silence well.

“Is this a Christmas movie?” Niko questioned, not having seen many Christmas movies before. Especially not one that seemed strangely violent.

“Yeah. Home Alone,” Packie explained, looking a bit less frustrated, “Was always the only Christmas movie I could stand, ‘cause the kid is so violent. Every other one is too sappy and full of shit for me.”

“I could see you doing something similar as a child,” Niko said, smiling a bit. Packie chuckled, finally calming down and closing his eyes. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small box.

“I got you a gift. For Christmas,” Packie mumbled, handing Niko the box, “Take it before I change my mind.”

Packie looked embarrassed. The color in his cheeks darkened to pink, and his eyes darted away from Niko. Whatever the gift was, it was poorly wrapped. The other man was shocked, Packie had never mentioned exchanging presents before.

“I didn’t know you would buy me something,” Niko said, smiling a little as he took it.

“Yeah. It’s a surprise, numb nuts, just fuckin’ take it.”

Niko rolled his eyes, ripped off the paper, and opened the box. It was a Swiss Army knife, small and practical. He couldn’t help but smile a little. An actual thoughtful gift was the last thing Niko was expecting, but…

“Do you like it?” Packie asked, a bit nervous, “I thought someone like you would appreciate that sorta thing. I know I do.”

“Yes, I do. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The couple made eye contact. That only lasted a few seconds before their lips smashed together. Packie was aggressive as always. His hands wandered to Niko’s shoulders, gripping tight. Niko groaned and pulled back after a moment. Packie had a cheeky grin on his face.

“You kiss like you want to suck my tongue out.”

“Yeah, and I’m amazing at it, ain’t I?” Packie said, smirking cockily.

Niko rolled his eyes, and kissed Patrick again, smiling into it. He kept it gentle, or he tried to. Packie pulled back this time, groaning.

“You kiss like a fucking queer.”

Niko didn’t respond to that accusation. They just looked into each other's eyes, a certain tenderness to the look. Packie had no more quips. He stayed quiet, for once, simply contemplating. He frowned, and hugged Niko, his head resting on the crook of the man’s neck.

“Merry Christmas. Don’t know if I’ve said that yet today,” Packie’s voice was softer than usual. Sincere in its meaning. 

“Merry Christmas, Patrick.”

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 28 “Ass Kisser, Ass Sniffer” [Episode List] Thanks to Dave and his farting skills, a certain ass-kisser learns the hard way that some asses can be quite dangerous.

POV: Dave

Ass Kisser, Ass Sniffer

It was late night, around 2:30 AM.

I parked the car in the middle of a big parking lot just out of town, lots of trees and bushes hiding the whole place from the busier streets only a few blocks from us. I admit I felt a bit nervous for a moment, but overall I was quite confident everything’s was gonna go according to plan. 

A co-worker from Dana (my girlfriend)’s law firm, a 30-something guy, is being, well, kind of a big asshole and, ironically enough, a big kiss ass too.

Now, I know my girl can fight her own battles, but I kind of had to step in once we found out that this guy was a slicker, selling confidential data to other law firms, basically hijacking every case for money. Also, he’s being a nuisance to Dana and other co-workers, going as far as framing them (including her) for whatever scam (or other bullshit) he was doing.

I’m not a vigilante nor I like the idea of being one, but come on, this guy needs to be taught a lesson. And since he always gets away with everything because he’s an ass-kisser, well… I thought it’d be fun giving him a fitting punishment.

Yes, I’m going there. You know what I’m talking about.

And you know what I’m capable of.

Also, I’m aware this is a very stupid and irresponsible thing to do… so it’s fun, right?

“He should be here any minute now.” I said, hands on the steering wheel.

I was wearing a black face-mask to hide most of my, well, face, the cold dark night hiding the rest of me. 

In the last couple of days I’ve been messaging with this wannabe criminal, pretending to be someone interested in buying confidential data. Not rocket science, and this guy wasn’t a criminal mastermind… like he addressed himself as multiple times.

Seriously.

“Really, Dana? This is the guy?” I remember asking her a couple of days ago, with my girlfriend being as confused as me about how much of a kiss ass you need to be to even look like a competent person in front of your boss and co-workers.

“He’s an idiot!”

But now I’m here, waiting in my freezing car (I really need to fix the damn A/C) for this man to show up so I can properly give him a lesson.

You all know that I’m very good at this and I’m quite confident myself about my skills; still, I wanted to throw in some extra fuel, so I had some chips and a very tasty, spicy taco… which I actually needed ‘cause I was starving.

What’s nice about my talent is that my farts are not as big as they are because I have a weak stomach. On the contrary, they’re as huge as they come because I have a very strong one.

Your belly hurts after eating at BellTaco? Sucks to be you, because I don’t know what that is: it all gets nicely converted to gas, dry powerful gas that I can effortlessly get rid of as if I’m breathing (from my ass… ok, you get the idea). 

Then yes, I will take a good shit after a while, I too am a human, but we’re not here for that.

All you need to know is that whenever I face-fart my bro Tim, as disgusting as that is, I’m actually impressed by how he’s able to endure it. Not all my farts smell horrible, I’d say that I can roar very loudly… without biting too much, or not as much as you might expect, especially considering that I can fart like crazy even without any “fuel”.

But when they do smell, unless you’re as strong as Tim, you’re not gonna survive them. 

I won’t even need to face-fart you directly: my farts have a quite wide, high DPS AOE.

And to be honest, that’s what the food I ate is for: flavor. 

Yes, that’s a sentence I just said.

I can always rip long, loud and big ones, and while they do smell… they’re easy to endure. But throw some beer or some junk food into the mix, then you’re up for a good time.

And again, unless you’re Tim, with “good time” I mean “your nostrils will burn.”

“Here’s our guy.” I whispered, my eyes glued on the figure approaching the car.

I signaled the man with the car’s headlights and he responded with a quick gesture.

He quickly got into the vehicle and looked at me, looking serious… but not serious on purpose: it’s as if he was trying his best to play the part of a shady businessman.

“Are you… Scorpion?” 

I almost laughed like an idiot.

Yes, I actually used a code-name and I knew it was silly, but I wasn’t ready for how ridiculous that was gonna sound during the meet up. Thankfully, the face-mask successfully hid my cheesy grin, so my eyes could (tentatively) do the serious talk. To avoid any further risk, I simply nodded.

“Good.” he said. Then he proudly patted his chest. “I’m Dura Lex”.

I started coughing, a deft way to hide the fact that I was now laughing. What the fuck did I get myself into? Who’s this guy?!

“Are you okay, Scorpion?”

Somehow that didn’t kill me and I managed to get myself together, fully aware that I was looking and sounding as ridiculous as him anyway.

“Sure.” I simply replied.

“That’s a good meeting spot. The darkness shall hide our deeds.”

Please, stop talking like this.

“I got the documents, if you’re still interested.” he pulled out of his jacket a folder and handed it to me.

“You can keep it… Dura Lex.” I had to pause for a few seconds, and not for dramatic effect. “For now.”

“Come on man, my ass is freezing.” he lamented, in a more nasal voice than before.

This guy’s “shady criminal mastermind” facade sure wore off quite quickly.

“You’re freezing, Dura Lex?” I asked. “Do you want me to… heat things up?”

I went for “tough guy”, but I’m pretty sure that sounded “unnecessary flirty” instead.

“Get to the point, Scorpion!”

You only had to ask. 

Eyes glued on him, my right hand on the steering wheel, as if nothing weird was happening, I broke the silence by producing a muffled, rumbly sound with my ass. I was wearing a pair of jeans, but no clothes can stop my gas from reaching your nose.

“Are you…?” 

The man was baffled, confused, surprised. Truth to be told, I can understand that.

I can’t blame him… but I will blow him… err… blow him away with my farts I mea- never mind, you get it.

The fart was warming my seat up and my face mask protected me from my own stench (which I was immune to anyway). I still had my eyes glued on Dura Loser or whatever his codename was, waiting for a reaction, which showed soon.

A disgusted facial expression appeared on his face. “Oh m-my God.” he stuttered, he coughed.

I leaned a bit to ease the fart out, and it got louder.

“What’s happening, Dura Lex? Something bothering you?” I said, pretending nothing weird was happening, almost yelling, so he could hear me over my loud fart.

“You’re a sick person, Scorpion. I’m outta here.” 

My first blast ended after like 6 seconds. It was loud, airy, disgusting… and it was burning my asshole a bit. Spicy food tends to do that, but that also makes the stench more nauseating.

The man was trying to hold his breath already as he tried to open the door, but it was locked.

“Open this damn door!” he asked. Or rather, he begged.

“What?! Leaving so soon?” I replied, the mask hiding my smirk. “I thought a professional ass kisser like you would love this!”

I ripped another loud, quick rip, leaning a bit more, so he could hear it clearly. A taste (or a threat) of what’s to come in a few minutes.

“Would you please stop with those damn toots?!” he screamed. Never seen a person so terrified of my farts.

Also, that was very offensive. Dude, I'm barely getting started! I carefully stretched my right arm towards him, my hand now firmly holding his mostly bald head.

“You thought those were toots, Dura Lex?” I firmly asked. 

Now he was the one nodding.

“My bad!” I slowly pulled his head towards my ass. I leaned a bit more so I could more easily plant this man’s face where he belongs. “Allow me to fix that with the next one.”

The man tried to resist but my grip was strong enough to keep his nose as close as it needed be, right into my ass, which started to roar as soon as I finished talking.

A loud, deafening fart instantly hot-boxed the entire car. 

“Oh my God!” he screamed, retching over the stench that burned his nostrils. “Let me go you asshole!”

I could barely hear him over my fart. “Yes, that’s where this is all coming from! Of course a kiss ass like you would know!” and I pulled him even closer to my denim-clad anus.

Tim usually just stays there and takes it, because of his fart kink, but I was struggling keeping this man where he belongs, as I kept farting right onto his face. 

After 12 seconds, my blast finally ended.

Actually, it stopped ‘cause I wanted to. I wasn’t done.

“So, Dura Lex…” I started talking, pulling his face up, out of my ass, so I could look at him properly. “What were you exactly gonna do with those confidential documents?” 

The man looked more confused than nauseated. “What are you talking about?”

“Wrong answer. Enjoy kissing my ass.”

I pushed him down again and I immediately resumed farting, the blast being even louder than before, as if the fart itself was mad it got interrupted. 8 more seconds of pure flatulence Hell, as I could tell because the stench was now so strong it even got past my mask.

I once again pulled the idiot up, who at this point simply accepted that he was basically my puppet as he stopped fighting back, probably startled by my gas too.

“So, I’m gonna ask again: what’s up with those confidential documents?”

Dura Lex shook his head. “Kiss my ass, Scorpion!” he managed to reply.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to say that.” I replied. "Like, at all."

And again his face was planted into my warm ass, which I made sure it was sagging, his nose rubbing on my denim and my blue underwear, which only made the stench more unbearable for him.

“Well, now you’re in the position to say that.”

I ripped another loud fart, which was greeted with more retching from my newest victim. As much as the small space of the car let me, I tried to stretch me left leg up, easing the fart out, and also because so I could more easily glue this man’s face into my cruel, farting ass.

The spicy junk food I ate earlier turned my anus into a fire-breathing gas weapon. I gotta say, I’m surprised this man hasn’t passed out yet because even the car windows are fogging up. 

I wasn’t instead surprised at all by how big my farts were instead. I told you I’m good at this.

It kept going strong, as if Lex’s face wasn’t even there. I gotta say: he may be a jerk, but he was taking it like a champ… if we don’t count all the annoying whining at least.

“What the fuck!” he tried to get away one more time, but I kept his face down there, where it belonged, so he could breathe all of my gas in.

14 seconds and the fart finally started to lose power. For him it must have felt like hours.

Again we did our little “dance”, with me pulling his head up to question him.

“Just tell me what I wanna hear, Lex.” I said, with an evil smirk he couldn’t see because of my mask.

“I’m not talking.” he replied.

“That’s wise. You shouldn’t speak when your mouth is full.” 

I pushed him down again, firmly planting his nose between my asscheeks, only a thin layer of clothes protecting his nose and mouth from the deep burning Hell that my asshole was becoming. I ripped another fart, as loud as the previous one, but much shorter.

Indeed, a very loud toot, 2 seconds long.

Still holding his head still, I spoke to him.

“Say it!”

“No! I'm not gonna say any-”

Another fart silenced him.

“Say it!” I insisted.

“Never!”

“Congratulations then! You just found one ass you’d never wanna kiss!”

Another loud, long blast followed and rumbled all over this man’s face. I could do this all night: I knew I had gas to spare. He was gonna break soon.

I made his nose rub on my sagging clothes so much so that it lowered my underwear as well, so the jerk's nose was in direct contact with my bare asscrack, right as I kept blasting him, basically wiping my ass on his face, the stench of my gas being mercilessly shoved down his throat.

15 more seconds of loud noises, a loud chainsaw-like sound making the entire car shake. Then, finally, silence again.

“Just say it, you bitch.”

“Fine!” he whined.

I pulled him up, his face sweaty and as smelly as my ass.

“I’m selling confidential documents.” 

“And?” I threatened him by pushing him towards my ass again.

“And I’m making sure my co-workers get blamed for it.”

“Clever bitch.” I replied, satisfied with the answer.

I vehemently pushed him back on the passenger seat, his back hitting the door on his side of the car. 

“Did you get that, bro?” I said, looking behind me, towards the back seats.

My friend Tim, who was lying back there the whole time, hidden under a black sheet, revealed himself. To keep his face unseen, he chose to wear a lobster mask which, to be honest, looked unnecessarily terrifying. 

“Got every word, chief!” he said, holding his smartphone up, which he used to record everything.

I stared back at the man, with a smug, satisfied look.

“Fuck off. Both of you!” he yelled, pointing at us.

“Hey. Manners!” I said, as annoyingly as I could.

“Fuck you!” 

Alright. One final lesson.

“Do you know why they call me Scorpion?”

“What?”

I once again reached for his head.

“Come here!” I shouted, in the deepest voice I could make.

I pulled his face down and the moment his nose touched my ass, I blasted him with another loud rip, or ‘toot’ as he dared to call them.

It was short (for my standards at least, about 5 seconds), but dense and stinky. My asshole was burning.

Once I was done shitting gas, I shoved him back to his place.

“So…?” I asked.

“I’m… I’m just gonna leave.”

I unlocked the car doors so he could get the fuck out of my car.

“You ruined me, you… you gassy, sicko monster!” he yelled. “I’m gonna lose my job and my damn money you bastard!”.

“Aw…” I said, mockingly slapping his cheek. “You’re a criminal mastermind, Dura Lex, you’ll figure it out.”

Both me and Tim laughed at him and he left, taking the documents with him.

After a few minutes, once we made sure Lex left for good, my bro Tim got on the passenger seat next to him.

“That was incredibly stupid and irresponsible.” he commented.

“Awesome, right?” I replied, even though he was right.

“Totally.” he admitted.

We removed our ridiculous masks and I drove the two of us back home. I rolled the windows down ‘cause even though my bro had a fart kink… even him couldn’t handle the stench I produced.

“Come here? Really?” Tim asked, all of the sudden.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t get the reference.” I said.

“I did, that’s why I’m cringing hard.” he joked.

“Oh I know you’re hard.” I teased him.

He just remained silent, which I found hilarious as usual.

“Don’t worry bro: you’re still my favourite fart victim.” I teased him again, like the annoying bastard I am.

Tim laughed a bit, shaking his head, as if he was still in disbelief about me being so chill about his kink.

“I guess you just love destroying my nostrils then.” 

I winked at him in response, a smug smirk drawn on my face.  I leaned towards him and whispered:

“Clever bitch.” 

The End

[jinxxangel13]

Phantom of the Night

Chapter 3-full

I've been so excited to post this chapter that I actually forgot to post it on time. I'm not surprised anymore! Hope you enjoy! Tw: blood, gore, death, minor character deaths, injuries, inaccurate military and medical terms (I tried to research as best as possible, sorry if they're wrong!)

~Masterlist~ ~Prev~ ~Next~

Heavy set boots were all that could be heard around the hangard. Soldiers moving quickly on and around a transport plane, giving a wide berth to a large man with a completely black tactical gear, black skull balaclava and hard white skull mask cover the top half of the face mask: Lieutenant Ghost. 

“Wheels up in five.”

Some soldiers rushed faster to get their seats on the plane and double check their gear, but a few remained rooted in their spot, Ghost included.

“Roger.” His gruff voice cut across the radio back to General Shepherd.

“Marines are loading in now. You and the Sergeant are leading the way on this.”

Ghost tilted his head, annoyance in his voice lost in the neutral tone.

“Sergeant?”

A 6 foot tall man walked up to Ghost with an enthusiastic step. His hair shaved on the sides with a sort of mohawk down the center of his head, blue eyes sharp and full of excitement.

“Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, L.T.? Save ya a seat, sir.” 

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.

Soap fist bumped Ghost’s shoulder before making his way up the transport plane, making eye contact with another soldier walking up to the plane looking oddly out of place.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost grumbled.

“Ghost- do you copy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Any issues?”

“Negative, Sir.”

“Good. Captain Phantom will also be joining you on this mission. Get it done.”

Just as Shepherd finished his statement, the mystery figure Soap saw previously made their way towards Ghost.

The figure was wearing black tactical cargo pants with multiple knife straps and holsters on the thighs, a black long sleeve with a hooded overlay on top, tac vest full of frags, flashbangs, extra ammo clips and other things in pouches unknown to anyone except the figure wearing it, as well as a short black scarf around their neck and tucked into their vest. They had a balaclava across the lower half of their face with a thick black metal tactical mask over it, grey eyes almost gleaming as they stopped in front of Ghost, and their hair was underneath the scarf and out of view so he couldn’t identify this mystery person. When they stopped in front of Ghost, they had to look up quite a bit; being less than 6' compared to the 6'4" man didn't seem to be a deterrent for them at all. 

“Lieutenant Ghost, good to meet you. Captain Phantom.” The figure, the female, stuck her gloved hand out towards him.

Ghost shook her hand briefly, keeping in mind the strong grip each of them had on the other’s before they let go.

“On your move, sir. I’ve been requested by the General and Station Chief Laswell to accompany you and your men as backup on Alpha Team. I’m familiar with the mission and have been read in.” Her voice was deep, partially muffled and grainy from behind both masks, but she didn't seem to mind nor care.

Ghost nodded, turned away from her and walked right up into the transport plane with her at his heels to grab a seat and buckle in just as the door sealed shut for takeoff.

The teams spent a while in the air, not much conversation going on except for Ghost to introduce Phantom to Alpha team briefly. 

“Bravo Team offloads here. Alpha Team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill.” Ghost's strong voice echoed through the radio in Phantom’s ear as well as directly in front of her.

She watched as Bravo team got ready to unload as the plane landed momentarily, nodding to Ghost as they made eye contact and accepting a first bump from Soap as they got off.

Phantom pulled her goggles down over her eyes and gripped tightly onto her M16 between her legs as the plane took off again to head to their final destination. She kept herself strapped in on instinct, as if something was telling her to brace herself and she was never one to ignore her instincts.

Another minute in the air and it grew more tense as she exchanged glances with her other team members after the plane made a sudden drop on the right side.

“All stations- Razor-1 is bracketed, we're getting lit! Incoming- Flares! Flares!”

Phantom’s eyes grew wide as one of the soldiers stood up to go help the pilots. She could hear the flares going off outside of their plane as it righted itself once again.

“Shit- that was fucking close.”

She chuckled, agreeing with another soldier in front of her and letting her shoulders relax themselves slightly.

“Second missile!”

Phantom barely had any time to brace herself and her weapon before a loud crash sounded on the right side of the plane, throwing anything or anyone not strapped down off balance. She grappled a soldier about to crumple to the ground, pulling him down onto the seat next to her.

“Razor 1 going down! We're going down!” That was the last thing Phantom heard in her ear before she felt the plane plummet down to the ground, grinding and crunching metal the only thing anyone in the vicinity could hear. 

The sound was deafening; a ringing in her ears as she slowly came to. Everything was blurry and she couldn’t make out the garbled voices in her ear before a shrill let off through her radio. With a heavy hand, she ripped the contraption out of her ear before taking a moment to regain her bearings. 

Phantom could barely register her own coughing, let alone the one or two soldiers near her as she struggled to unbuckle herself from her seat.

“Alp--immobile. -Critical! Taking effective fire!” 

Phantom shook her head a little, running her hand across her head, hissing as she brushed against a gash over her temple; must have hit her head on the headrest or something. The piercing sound of bullets from around them was grounding her enough to be able to open her eyes, finding her gun still hooked around her foot.

“Still alive there, Cap?”

Phantom’s eyes were unfocused as she looked around the voice, jolting when a hand steadied her as she stood up. Her legs almost collapsed from underneath her, but she knew they’d be dead if she didn’t stay upright.

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was harsh as she spoke, finally able to get her hands to stop shaking enough to lift her gun up.

Muscle memory started to kick in as her mind caught up with the fact they were in the middle of the battlefield. The man in front of her she didn’t know except his radio callsign.

“Just you and I?” 

Alpha 0-2 and Phantom looked around.

“5 KIA, one wounded, you and I standing. Get your gun on that treeline. Gotta hold them off until Bravo team can clear those buildings.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Phantom leaned heavily against the right wall, windows blown out, and raised her gun to help drop as many AQ members as possible.

She could barely hear the other man over the sounds of gunfire and rpg’s going off in the background, but she could tell that he was talking to Bravo team over his radio.

“I don’t have coms! What’s going on?”

There was a lapse in firing, so Phantom took the moment to reload her gun as quickly as possible; easier said than done when her hands were still shaking from adrenaline, but it at least distracted from the headache.

“Bravo team is on their way. Keep your eyes peeled!”

“Copy!” Was her immediate reply as she leaned her back against the metal siding.

Barely 30 seconds had passed before she heard footsteps fast approaching the opened back of the plane. As she turned her sights towards the entrance, she heard a familiar voice hastily calling out to the two of them.

“Blue, blue, blue!”

Her posture relaxed slightly as Ghost and Soap ran into the plane wreckage.

“Damn good to see you both.” Phantom groaned out, repositioning herself against the corner of the window, switching to her rifle and pointing it out as she focused her eyes on the treeline but still listening to the men.

“We got five KIA, one wounded. It's just my gun and I'm low on ammo. Help me move him-”

“No time.” Ghost cut him off, sliding behind Phantom to pat her shoulder and set himself up at the next window. “Get your gun on that treeline.”

Soap set himself up in a crouching position at the plane opening after placing down a few proximity mines a few paces away as a last resort.

Phantom's eyes narrow through her scope, catching Ghost’s attention at the tensing of her posture.

“See anything?” Ghost’s voice was heavier than previously.

Phantom kept her hands steady as she zeroed in on something in the distance.

“Got movement.” 

“If you have a shot, take it.”

That was all that she needed to block out any further conversation between her teammates and take initiative: headshot.

A smirk made its way across her lips from under the mask as she set up her next few shots. Phantom wasn’t registering what they were saying around her even though she could hear them until she felt the plane rock back from the force of an RPG. If it wasn't for the quick reaction time of Ghost grabbing onto the back of her vest, she would have been flung backwards from the force.

When the dust settled, she straightened herself back up, switching back to her M16.

“Thanks, L.T.” Phantom nodded to him, switching places with Soap at the opening instead. 

“We clear?” Soap kept looking out of his scope, even after Phantom gave him a nod.

Ghost huffed, reloading his gun. “For now.”

[viperwhispered]

Aunt Nerine: inspiration and design thoughts

You can find more information on aunt Nerine in her intro post

Character inspiration

Figuring out aunt Nerine was a very different process to Emi, since this time I actually was pulling inspiration from Disney (and other) sources. Like, you could pretty much say she's twisted from the general concept of a fairy godmother.

Putting together her main influences, the collection would look something like this:

Which would be:

The Fairy Godmother from Cinderella

The three good fairies from Sleeping Beauty

Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty

Fairy Godmother from Shrek 2

Cadsuane Melaidhrin from The Wheel of Time (can't believe she snuck in smh)

and finally, Cupid

(so, is now a terrible time to admit that I've seen neither Cinderella nor Sleeping Beauty? oop)

So, looking at aunt Nerine, I'm sure you all can spot the visual similarities.

(as always, this particular art belongs to moonyasnow)

A vaguely historical dress (I'll get back to this later) like the fairies from the Disney movies, hair similar to Cadsuane's, wings similar to Cupid (& Shrek's Fairy Godmother to a lesser extend), a wand, but the end is a heart like Cupid's arrow sometimes is portrayed as. She also kinda shares the sparkliness with Shrek's Fairy Godmother.

Personality-wise – she thinks she is being helpful, but she is wilful and doing what she herself wishes to do or thinks is the best course (Cadsuane anyone?). She's also... not above being petty or getting back at you if she's slighted, and also has magical power in spades. These are all traits that certainly tie to at least one of her influences.

Plus just the obvious fairy godmother -like character she has in general, even if somewhat twisted in true twst style.

More detailed design notes

Not gonna lie, I had a lot of fun putting together aunt Nerine's outfit and looks. I wanted to pull from something historical, even if I wasn't necessarily going to stick to the historical styles too closely. Still, finally putting to use all those hours watching historical costuming youtubers, lol.

A fair few pics and stuff in here, so putting this below the cut for length.

Her hair actually started off with me thinking of like an Edwardian school teacher. So very voluminous, with a nice proper bun on top. It was only later that I realized that I was kinda going for Cadsuane's hair, too, especially once I realized that I wanted to add some extra bling.

So, this was the vibe I was going for when thinking about the hair:

Y'all can find more pics from this set here

The wings, as I said, were pulling mostly from Cupid imagery. And while it doesn't show in her design, there's just something very funny to me in the wings being something she just wears for the looks, instead of them being an actual part of her.

Gotta have some whimsy when you've been around as long as she has, you know? (No wonder she and Lilia get along, can't remember anymore if it was dio or moony who first suggested this point but you were so right.)

For the pink collar / chest piece I was thinking of a some sort of an partlet + Medici collar combo. A partlet is basically a neck/chest covering and its own garment, so I'm thinking in aunt Nerine's case it wouldn't be a part of the dress, but something that she can swap out. The same swappability goes for the collar and for the sleeves, to keep with the vaguely 16th century fashion vibes she's got going on.

This pic is what I mostly referenced for the idea, though with a lower collar that'd still give room for Nerine's earrings & hair.

The dress itself is definitely pulling from Elizabethan vibes. This is the particular image I used for inspiration, as it shows the shapes well. A conical bodice with a curved upper edge, narrowing out to the waist with a point that emphasizes the illusion of a narrow waist – especially when combined with the full, layered skirts.

I did decide to forego the shoulder rolls and Elizabethan ruffles, tho.

As for the spider web pattern on her skirts...

Since Nerine has a bit of a sona in her too (to let out my impulses to meddle with charas getting together, lol), I wanted to give her a name somewhat reminiscent of what I go by here. I originally thought of Nerrie (a name I've used elsewhere), but in the end figured maybe we could do with a bit more separation between the creator and the creation, lol.

So, I looked for flower names starting with ner – and found Nerine, aka spider lily. And with the name the spider webs became pretty much an obvious motif to include – both because she kinda tangles people in her webs, and because she's not just all sunshine and roses and love love joy joy.

And if you wanna find out what Moony had to work with (other than the reference pics & my rambles), here's the sketch I sent their way:

It really is wonderful what people can do when they actually know what they're doing, huh?

Tagging @diodellet (ty for enabling me to ramble!) @moonyasnow @scint1llat3 @bibi-cha

If anyone would like to be added to / removed from aunt Nerine's tag list, just let me know!

[loopy777]

Is Zuko a Gary Stu? A lot more people are becoming anti-Zuko especially after the comics. Thoughts?

Well, it depends how we're defining "Gary Stu." I tend to prefer a strict definition for it and "Mary Sue," that of a self-insert wish-fulfillment character. I also don't personally consider it to necessarily be a negative; one of my favorite fictional characters is George Lucas' Flash Gordon Gary Stu, Luke Skywalker.

But the common internet usages for the term typically translates to "character favored by the narrative and/or storyteller(s) to a degree that harms the story." So I'll address both definitions.

I don't think Zuko is any kind of wish-fulfillment character in the AtLA cartoon, nor do I think the narrative shows him any favoritism. In fact, I'd say the story goes out of its way to make things harder for Zuko than the basic character arc demands. It could've had him switch sides at the end of Book Earth, and I don't think there would have been much complaining. Likewise, the story could have had gAang come around to him a lot sooner in Book Fire, rather than spending entire episodes (and in Sokka's case a two-parter) reconciling him with the gAang one-by-one. I think his character arc is improved and given more impact by the desire to cover this extra rocky ground, although I also think 'The Boiling Rock' didn't need to be a two-parter and all of early Book Fire's filler episodes with the gAang should have been relocated to after Zuko's defection so that they'd have the added interest of showcasing the expanded gAang's new dynamic.

Ah, but then we get to the comics. I'm going to assume we're talking about Gene Yang's comics specifically, since Zuko has not appeared substantially in anything written by anyone else. It's easy to harp on these comics' use and treatment of Zuko, but I want to be clear that they're poorly written on pretty much every level. The dialogue is bad. Major plot threads are abandoned without comment. Everyone is mischaracterized. The humor is more juvenile than anything in the cartoon. What stories are told spin their wheels until they get wrapped up in a rush. There's bad, racist, pro-colonialism messages baked into them all. Etc and so on.

And yes, I do think these comics favor Zuko to their detriment and his. Gene Yang has admitted that Zuko is his favorite character in the cast. But even if he hadn't, we can see in 'The Promise' that the presentation has a lopsided preference for Zuko over Aang, the other main character of the story. Zuko is not portrayed as wrong for pressuring Aang to promise to kill him, despite Aang being uncomfortable with it and the whole idea being against Aang's major beliefs; compare that to the cartoon, where Zuko was portrayed as wrong and bullying in his attitude to try to get Aang to kill Ozai. In the matter of the former Fire Nation colonies, Aang and Zuko have opposing approaches, but rather than the story taking the stance that they need to compromise and mix'n'match their ideas, Zuko gets to utter the line, "I was right all along," while Aang has to be lectured by Katara, admit to being wrong, compromise with the Air Acolytes, and break off his relationship with his ghost mentor.

In 'The Search,' Zuko goes on to find his mother and learn her backstory, something that ends up not troubling or challenging him at all. She gives up her new identity to become his doting mother again and Zuko doesn't have a single doubt about it. He gets an adoring little sister in the form of Kiyi, despite her having a real problem with her mother choosing to become Ursa instead of keeping her familiar form. And his questionable treatment of Azula is not addressed; like Aang in 'The Promise,' she's the one who has to compromise (or in this case refuses to compromise).

You can see the pattern here of Zuko's presentation. This is where we can start to question if Zuko is Gene Yang's self-insert, but to do so, we would have to assume a lot of stuff about Gene Yang. For example, he breaks up Zuko's romance with Mai and then starts hinting at something with him and Suki; does that mean Gene Yang wants to date Suki? Then why bring Mai back so prominently in 'Smoke & Shadow' and then both go easy on her mistakes and break her up from Kei Lo at the end? Maybe Gene Yang wants a harem with both Suki and Mai, but if that's the case, then it's pretty odd that he ends his run on the comics with Zuko dating neither.

We could do the same for other aspects of Zuko's presentation (Does Yang want a tiny powerful Firebender as a little sister? Does he think all colonizers are awesome? Does he advocate denying first-amendment rights in times of danger? Is his favorite food to eat at winter time extra-spicy fire noodles?) But we'd probably run into similar questions we can't answer, leaving us to either assume way too much that would likely be wrong or admit that it doesn't matter.

Which brings us back to the much simpler idea of the character being favored beyond what is warranted. That helps with examining 'Smoke & Shadow,' where Zuko is actually portrayed as making some wrong choices for once in all of Yang's run of comics, like ordering his people's homes invaded and trashed on a vague hope that he'll find some information about Azula- but before that, he's somehow enlightened enough to make rainbow fire, and afterward, he solves everything with a quick apology to his people.

Usually, the narratives ignore Zuko's flaws and twist themselves into weird shapes to justify things. It's like Gene Yang started with the intentions of having Zuko make mistakes and grow over the course of the various stories, but then chickens out, so we're left with themes that feel incomplete or outright harmful. Zuko doesn't need to grow beyond his desire to have a Fire Nation elite (and their pet Earth Kingdom spouses and servants) rule over the former colonies forever, he gets to say, "I was right all along." He starts by locking Azula away in a straight-jacket, but then doesn't find a way to reconcile with her and treat her more humanely, because she goes fully homicidal and then runs away so he doesn't need to deal with her. But in 'Smoke & Shadow,' we get one example where, probably because Yang doesn't see it as that bad in the first, Zuko is allowed to temporarily be wrong before returning to a state of grace.

I think Gene Yang is trying to tell good Avatar stories. But, among his (many, many, many) mistakes, I think he's letting his favor for Zuko influence the stories he's trying to tell. He's trying to give his favorite character juicy dramatic material that lets him grow into an even more awesome character- but then he shies away from depicting his favorite in too harsh a light, ruining the whole thing.

The stories don't feel like they're going anywhere with him, despite him being a main character.

So if that fits with your definition of "Gary Stu," then yes, Zuko has become one in the comics. But he didn't start as one in the cartoon, and I don't think Gene Yang writes stories out of a desire for his favorite to marry Suki because Sword Girlfriend > Knife Wife.

Perhaps that's why he never got Maiko back together; he likes Mai too much to make her the one in the wrong, but then that would mean Zuko needs to learn and grow, and that can't be right. ;)

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Matthew | There Is Something Behind Your Eyes | Platonic

Requested: Yes

Matthew is convinced that the stranger at his booth must be an angel.

One, two, three.

Matthew turns his key three times. 

Maybe a fourth time for good measure? No, he decides against it. After all, he has to catch the cart driver lest he arrive too late and has to walk all the way to the other side of the village. He cannot risk it.

He gulps in disgust as a few rats scurry barely past his feet. Pressing the rag clutched in his hand against his nose, he tries to block out the smell.

Everything inside of him has been on edge lately. He cannot put any words nor reason to the odd and unfamiliar feeling, but it is there, and he is not sure what to make of it. For now, he blames it on the current dynamic within the fishing village of Capernaum. Things are tense and uneasy, as if something massive is about to go down. 

Matthew remembers the riot around here about a year ago, and hopes that this time around it will be extinguished before it can break loose. After all, he left the last revolt against the Romans unscathed, but this time around, he cannot be so certain.

“You there, public-anus!” The man with the cart Matthew has made an arrangement with already stands waiting for him just outside the street near his house. Attempting to not retch at the stench of sheep dung, Matthew approaches him slowly, trying to keep his sandals clean to his best ability. “Hurry up and get in!” 

Matthew does not correct the wrong pronunciation of his professional title, instead hops inside the cart with uncharacteristic haste. He does not want to risk being seen, even if it means potentially getting his expensive garment stuck on any rusty nails in the process. He pulls over the cover, laying down inside the hay that the salesman transports in spite of its dampness. Once down, Matthew feels the cart shift into motion. Neither of them speak to one another whilst the tax-collector watches the street underneath him through a gap between the planks on the bottom, the sound of squeaking wheels filling his ears.

Perhaps he could ask Gaius to become his daily escort, Matthew wonders. If his calculations are correct, people wouldn’t even try to bother him while he is on his way to work, then.

Suddenly, the cart halts - halfway through the journey, Matthew knows - right before the market square. “Get out!” the merchant hisses at him, “I can’t be seen with you. I need to drop off my goods here and I cannot take the risk!”

Matthew is momentarily blinded by the sunlight as the man lifts up the cover. “Out, taxman!”

“I-If you want to take risk into consideration, I’d say that there would be more of a risk of you being caught if I were to get out here rather than if you were to bring me directly to the booth–”

“I don’t want to hear it! Out!”

Apprehensively, Matthew exits the wagon and pulls up his shoulders, making himself as invisible as he can. His cream-coloured tunic makes it difficult to miss him. He stands out like a sore thumb. If the tax-collector wanted to remain unseen, he should have picked a different outfit.

An impatient palm appears in his field of vision, and Matthew fishes a leather pouch of money from the satchel on his hip. He pulls it open and counts the money inside, taking out a few denarii, then counting on his fingers, eyes lifted up in thought. 

“What are you doing?” the merchant queries. 

“Counting how much I owe you. Technically, you brought me about halfway through the village, so that is half the amount agreed upon. However, when taking into consideration the liability that I will now have to undergo due to me having to travel further on foot, I will have to withhold about twenty percent of the amount owed–”

“Just give it to me!” the man snaps, grabbing the pouch of money from his hand before Matthew can realise it, “You’re costing me money as you speak. Consider the extra as collateral due to the risk of being seen with you.” 

Matthew opens his mouth to protest, but he is not intimidating enough for the merchant to not just walk away with his cart. Knowing that fighting it will make things even worse, Matthew sighs and lets it go, thinking about the safest route to take through the city in order to be exposed to the public eye as briefly as possible.

Once the transaction has been made, the man grunts and walks off with his cart, muttering under his breath that this was the final time they’ve done business. Matthew tilts his head slightly and calculates the best direction to go into to avoid conflict before starting his trek towards the booth. 

He ignores the scornful glares sent his way; after all, he is so used to it at this point that he’d be more taken aback by actual kindness. Gaius is already waiting for him, his usual scowl on his face, as if he doesn’t want to be here. Perhaps that the Primi Ordines doesn’t necessarily like guard duty in a place of such regular unrest. 

Matthew greets him with a short mumble and enters his booth, laying out his necessary tools in front of him. Everything has its own place, and he enjoys the feeling of a tidy desk. It’s one of the few things he can control at all times, and Matthew takes great pride in keeping it clean.

The morning goes on as usual, with occasional displeasure from tax-payers as well as tears streaming down pockmarked, hollow faces, but Matthew stoically goes through with it. The sun is past its highest point when it becomes a little more bearable in the booth, and Gaius leans against the wall, sighing as he eats an apple. Matthew vaguely remembers the Primi mentioning that the change of guard was coming up soon, but the publicanus wasn’t sure how long ago he had said it.

The amount of customers is declining as the day carries on, most people heading to their homes to prepare for Shabbat instead. It gives Matthew a rare moment of peace and quiet in his booth, and he takes some time to sort out his ledger, checking for any errors in the calculations and–

“Shalom.” 

Matthew startles a bit at the sudden voice and looks up. A young woman about his own age stands in front of the booth, a kind smile on her face. Her (e/c) eyes slightly glitter as she watches him curiously.

“Sh-Shalom.” Matthew stutters, putting his current chore aside. “How may I help you?” He doesn’t recognise you from around here.

“Just here to have a chat.” 

Matthew grabs his ledger. “What’s your name?” 

“(Y/n).” you introduce yourself, and tell him where you are from. “So no, I don’t have any open debts to pay you.”

The way you’re looking up at him is not very familiar to him. There is a gentle expression on your face, and he isn’t sure what to make of it. 

“Then what do you want?” Matthew wants to know.

“You’re Jewish, right?” you query.

Matthew nods, looking at Gaius from the corner of his eye. The Primi doesn’t seem to mind your presence, instead gazing out over the empty streets, unbothered by the conversation going on right beside him.

“I am.”

“So, what are you doing here?” you ask.

There is no accusation nor malice in your voice, a tone regarding his profession that is quite new to Matthew. 

“My-My job.” he mutters, “If I can’t help you with your taxes, I’d like to wish you a good day.”

You let out a hum and watch him curiously. “Shouldn’t you be home, preparing for Shabbat? It’s almost sundown…” 

“I… Don’t. I-I think you should go, though… Otherwise, you won’t be home in time, either.”

Your smile is soft. “Don’t you worry about me, now. You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“That’s not important–”

“Matthew–” Gaius pipes up, “Can you get her to hurry? That change of guard is apparently not happening and I am really in need of a break, so I want to close up this booth for a while.”

Matthew sighs and you hum. “Matthew, huh? Don’t worry, Primi, I’ll be here just for another minute or so.” You turn back to the tax-collector.

“Listen, Matthew, I know a lot of people loathe you and shame you for the work you do. You chose to work for the Romans, so part of their indignation is justified. However, I crossed past your booth and was overcome with the conviction to share something with you today. A word.”

“A word?” Matthew looks at you a bit puzzled. 

You hum in agreement. “I’m with this group of people. With a Rabbi. I think you’ve heard about Him, too, haven’t you? I can feel that you have.”

Matthew feels his throat run dry - yes, now he faintly recognises you walking alongside the followers of this infamous Rabbi. He had indeed heard about Him causing quite the stir, but he had never investigated it. 

“What about it?” He tries to sound indifferent, but something wavers in his voice. You give him a kind smile and reach out through the gap in the booth. You do not touch him, but lay your hand close to him. Gaius eyes you a bit suspiciously, but when Matthew does not display any sign that you’re assaulting him in any way, he looks away again. 

“I think Jesus is going to call you out of the darkness and into the light.” you whisper. “That is His name, by the way. The name of my Rabbi.” 

For a few moments, Matthew rapidly blinks, staring at you dumbfounded. “What do you mean by that?”

“Because whenever we pass by this booth while in town, I get this feeling inside my heart to come over and talk to you. One of the other followers always hisses something under his breath about you, but I think it’s not totally justified. Sure, you’ve chosen this profession and thus betrayed our people by working for our oppressors, but…” your smile grows a bit, “I think you’re more than that.”

Matthew feels his face heat up slightly with a hint of shame. Why are you being so kind to him without even knowing who he is? Even though the sole thing you know about him is that he betrayed your people?

“I think you feel that sentiment towards me just because you’re not from around here. I suggest you leave me alone and go to pay your taxes in your own county.” Matthew moves away, but you lean a little closer.

“Matthew,” you pipe up, “Why do you think I’m meeting you here minutes before Shabbat? I am here for a reason, and I need you to know this. If… If you choose to follow Him one day, because I am convinced that He will call you one day or another… You will need a friend, someone to stick up for you. Know that I’ll be that person.”

Abashed, he shakes his head. “I don’t have friends and I don’t need them, either.” 

The smile that grows on your face is nothing short of angelic. 

“And yet, the offer still stands. Just had to let you know, okay?” You look at the sky, thinking for a long moment. “If I want to be at my friend Mary’s place before sundown, I’ll have to go now. Shalom shalom, Matthew. I have a feeling we’ll see one another soon.”

At a loss for words, Matthew replies a soft “Shalom,” as you give him a friendly nod and walk off, and he leans closer to the iron bars to keep watching you until you disappear behind the corner. 

“Well,” Gaius huffs, “Believe it or not, I think that’s the nicest way I’ve ever seen someone talk to you.” 

Matthew does not reply, instead stands in silence, his mind racing with questions. 

_ 

A few weeks later, Matthew is standing in his booth, going about his day, when a familiar group of people enters his field of vision as they pass by. A few wisps of (h/c) hair draw his attention and you look over your shoulder, making eye-contact with him.

As soon as Jesus halts, a smile forms over your lips. Matthew tears his gaze away from you to settle it on the Rabbi, Who looks at him with a determined look on His face. 

“Matthew, son of Alphaeus.” 

Matthew blinks, wondering for a second if there is another person with the exact same name standing right behind him, and he leans closer. Your eyes glitter as you gaze at Jesus, and then back at the tax-collector in the booth.

“Yes?” he breathes. 

“Follow Me.”

[aboutcustardcreams]

Can't hide you the truth

Wilhemina Venable x reader

I've got no warnings for this os, it's essentially fluff and a bit silly. I wrote it down using these two prompts "Please, stay on the phone with me." & "Stop telling me you're fine." I've been watching a lot of Modern Family recently, so it's not exactly angsty as one would expect. I hope it's decent anyway. Lemme know <3

It was the third time that I tried to reach out to her, but no answer. I know I shouldn't worry, but it wasn't like her to avoid my calls, especially if insistent. I start thinking about every little scenarios, from the worst to the least worst, with my mind focusing on the first ones obviously. What if she isn't feeling well? Maybe I did something bad without noticing? Could be? I quickly check the date on my phone, think a couple of seconds and no, it wasn't neither our anniversary nor any other special date worth remembering. I squint my eyes in thought. What was happening, then?

I tighten my grip on the wheel and let out a long sigh. On top of all of this, I'm stuck in the traffic, and visibility is partially limited due to the light haze covering the surroundings. I groan, after waiting a couple of extra minutes, "Siri, call Mina, again." I'd have tried to reach out to her on and on if I had to. I silently beg that she answers me, counting each second passing inside my head. In the meantime, I turn on the heating, because my fingers are getting cold due to their stillness on the wheel.

Finally, she answers. When I hear her voice, murmuring a soft "hi, little one", I let out a long breath, I didn't know I was holding. "Mina, hi! I've tried calling you for a while, is everything okay?", I wonder aloud, "Also, I'm stuck in traffic, " I make a face, "I go at a snail's pace if you're wondering and-", I stop a moment, realizing that, as per usual, I'm speaking on and on without giving my girlfriend the opportunity to answer any of my questions. I hear a faint chuckle from her part, when I mutter a faint, "Sorry."

"I was taking a shower, sweetheart, that's why I didn't answer," I frown at the sound of her voice, that appears to be a bit off, tired maybe... but also, kind of restrained. Normally she would tease me, use one of her sarcastic jokes to tell me how silly I am, but none today. "Are you sure it's just that?" It's not that I don't believe her. On the contrary, it's essentially because I do, that I believe there is more to it she isn't saying. Plus, she normally waits for me to take a shower, because it's our thing. One of the moments we share to enjoy the intimacy of one another. Each and every time she reminds me how much she loves to lather and rinse my hair, occasionally leaving sloppy kisses here and there on my skin. Her hands make my stomach flip and my head fly into outer space.

I avert my gaze from the street ahead of me to the phone, tempted to activate the camera, when she hums without giving me a verbal response. "Wilhemina...", I insist, in a sing song tone. She knows that when I use her full name, I'm either concerned or mad. I hope she knows it's not the latter. "Y/n...", she mimics my tone, probably wriggling her eyebrows too. I can't immediately tell if it's an attempt to take the edge off or not. Truth is, she gets particularly annoyed when I insist on asking her how she feels. I've learned to know that the last thing she wants is to feel a burden to me. It doesn't matter how many times I tell her she could never be, that my asking is simply a way to show her I love her. Yet it still doesn't stick in that stubborn head of hers for some reason.

"We have been on the phone for ten minutes and you haven't made any sexual innuendo yet," I point out. I start worrying for real, when she doesn't even chuckle at that. Perhaps, she has a bad back pain? Or maybe those dickheads at work did something bad to her? I need answers or I'll go crazy, "Little one, how many times do I have to tell you I'm fine to make you believe it?", I can tell she is trying to use a more cheerful tone, but it breaks my heart that after all this time she still tries to hide from me. I sigh tiredly, as i slowly massage the root of my nose, "we can continue for all the time you want, or you can just tell me the truth," considering I move at the pace of an ant carrying ten thousand times its weight, I let my guard down and rest my chin over my  arm.

I don't hear her tapping her cane, so I suppose she is sitting somewhere, or maybe she is lying down. She normally would have after an answer like that, but purposefully avoids what I just said, to ask, "Are you still long away? Where are you precisely?", her voice seems to crack a bit when she pronounces her second question. Or maybe it's only my imagination considering she insists on saying she is fine. I blink softly, still taking a mental note on that. "Uhm," I look around me, before answering, "I'm pretty close. If it wasn't for this traffic, I'd be there in five minutes at max. I just passed the florist on the 14th street, " I inform her and she hums. I can almost hear her breathing through the phone. It's like she is clinging to it, keeping it super close to her ear. I can almost see her frowning, her slow blinking.

If the camera was on, I'm sure I'd recognize it in a split second. "Mina...", I voice out softly, "are you in pain, love?", she takes a while to respond, giving me the further proof I didn't need. Yet, she decides to keep lying to me. "No, of course not, why would you think that?"she says flatly. As she speaks I shake my head in slow motion, without beliving a single word that is coming out of her. "Babe...", a bitter smile cracks my lips. I'm hurt honestly, but I push past that pain to focus on hers, "I told you, I'm-", "Stop telling me you're fine." I interrupt her, my voice laced with urgency and deep care. I'm pretty sure she's just rolled her eyes at me now, which puts a brief smile on my face. Wilhemina can be the most stubborn woman in the whole world, when she tries.

I lost count of all the times I reminded her that hiding, lying, pretending serve no good in a committed relationship like ours. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to be in pain and tell your girlfriend about it. There is no shame in it, but Wilhemina is still so proud to let go to such vulnerabilities without a little fight. "Do you want me to lie to you?", I scoff and say, "You're already doing that, that's why I'd like you to stop," I grin softly, when I hear her groan on the other side of the phone.

Without noticing the car before me has come to an halt. I almost bump into it, but I manage to help it by hitting the brake by force the very last minute. My car boings off a bit and as consequence I bounce on the seat, "Woah, shit!", I curse under my breath, but loud enough for Wilhemina to hear. "Y/n? What happened?", she questions, her voice an octave higher, "Are you alright?", I can't help but melt at her caring tone, "Yeah, all good, still alive unluckily for ya, " a hint of a smile graces upon my lips, when she scoffs and calls me imprudent for getting distracted while driving.

I know how much she hates it when I multitask while on the road, but in my defense, she is giving me enough reason to worry about her with all those unnecessary mysteries. "You should keep your eyes on the street, little one. We can talk once-" I don't let her finish, letting out a loud and urgent, "No!", instead. I sigh and move my finger over my smartphone to activate the camera. When she can see me but in return I'm still facing a black screen, I snort again, "I mean it- I will not let you change the topic, Mina," nothing changes yet. "Can I see my girlfriend or should I speak to a black screen?", I pout and she hums in thought, "Come on!", I insist.

"I'd very much prefer you focused on driving, little one," she says as I hear her sigh, and slowly shift position. Something tells me she was lying down by the sound of the sheets moving underneath her. Now she is sitting up, I'm sure, "Please, stay on the phone with me," I whine, displaying my infallible, fine as hell, pickle lips. I hear a faint chuckle from her. She is probably shaking her head too. I'm dying to kiss that face once I'm back home, "Besides, I can multitask," I add to prove my point. I hear her click her tongue in response, a clear sign she doesn't agree with me, "Like that time you tried to make french toasts and record the episodes of 'Orange is the new Black'?", she teases and I gasp in shock. Each and every time, she uses that story against me to prove a point. "Stop using that story! It's as old as the birth of Rome!"

She chuckles, "It doesn't make it less efficient, though," she retorts making me snort, "If you don't turn on the camera right now I'll scream," I'm playing all the cards at my disposal now, and this one beyond my wild expectations works, "Fine! I wouldn't want to arrange your funeral for bumping into a car that goes about eight miles per hour," I squint my eyes towards her and fake a chuckle. When I finally see her, a sense of guilt rushes over me. She looks... exhausted. Her soft red locks, loose on the shoulders, are still partially damp from the shower. Her eyes looks weary, not fully open either, probably because they carry a mild headache along with the back pain. Her lips, however, are stretched in a placid smile. It feels like she is trying to force some vibrancy out of her. But she doesn't have to, especially when she isn't in the mood. I wish she knew.

"It's the back, isn't it?", I say tentatively and she simply gives me a nod of her head. "m' sorry. I'm almost there, alright?", she cracks a smile, ready to diminish her pain, but I hear none of that, "I'll take care of dinner when I come back. Lie down on the left side, I remember it's the position that is most comfortable to you, then uhm— medicine's in my bedside drawer," I continue, remembering to having put a tin of pills there. She raises an eyebrow at that, "Should I run to the drugstore to get you anything else?", if it wasn't for Wilhemina, I'd probably never stop rambling, especially when it comes to her, "Y/n, for the love of God, just relax," there is some strictness in her tone, that makes me obey like a puppy to her owner.

"I'm a big girl. I don't need a babysitter doing things for me," I know she doesn't mean to be harsh with me. It's the pain speaking for her. Instead of answering to the provocation, I simply smile at her, "Oh I know, you certainly don't need a babysitter, but I do, look--" I point out at the greenish spot on my once white and immaculate blouse, "I stained it with the avocado cream," I feel like coming back to life when her eyes soften and she lets out a quiet, low chuckle, while shaking her head, "Why am I not surprised?", she hums amusedly, and I stick my tongue out at her in response. "Have you been working like that all day long?", she wonders in disbelief, while I nod solemnly, "Yep, ma'am," I say, popping the "p" childishly, "Add the laundry to the list of things you have to do once you come back," she teases and I giggle softly, "Fist things first," I say, with a wink.

"Oh, I wonder what those would be?", I pretend to think a couple of seconds, before saying, "Kissing my girlfriend for a start, brushing her hair, giving her a massage, make her some tea, kissing her again--", Mina hardly stifles a laugh and says, "Alright, fine, I got it. Get your ass over here, I've waited long enough," I nibble on my bottom lip as I recognize the familiar twinkle in her eyes. "Oh, my, my, looks like I've arrived," I chant and before we know it I find myself stopping the car right in front of our house. She smiles and a light blush comes coloring her cheeks, "At last," she mutters, looking at me with nothing but pure love in the eyes.

[seeyouonsaturn]

WILDSIDE!

creature of chaos, child of mischief

Verse: Transformers Animated [TfA]

Designation: Wildside [named after the writing on her left door/arm]

Pronouns: primarily she/her, but any are fine, she doesn't really care.

Faction: Neutral. Earth-born and not interested in all that.

Alt Mode: She's one of these thingies ⬇️ Not the exact model but close enough

The hind wheels are on her pedes and can be used as built-in heelys for extra zooming purposes, and the front one is on her back.

Notable Relationships:

Wreck-Gar – roomie, bff, boyfriend [they are my precious children I will never shut up about them]

Bumblebee - good buddy, first bot she ever met [read about her first day here!]

Summary: Wildside was given life when a fragment of the Allspark became lodged in her frame. She is exciteable, impulsive and reckless, and known to get into all sorts of mischief. Wildside has no time for thinking things through. She lives her new life to the fullest, doing whatever pleases her, and though she's only a minibot – even shorter than Bumblebee – she does not seem to be too aware of that fact. Fitted with dubiously-legal upgrades to her frame and engine, she's much faster and tougher than she looks!

While neither Autobot nor Decepticon, and entirely uninterested in all that conflict, Wildside generally means no harm. She's young, inexperienced, and doesn't yet fully grasp that her actions may have consequences, but she just wants to have a good time.

After meeting and befriending Wreck-Gar, who's equally as new to being alive as her, the two of them made their home in the local dumpster. It's really not as bad as that sounds! There's a ton of really cool stuff lying around there, and it never gets boring.

Backstory under the cut!

Backstory: Before coming alive, she's been around a long time, though she was only a machine then.

After being a once-modern vehicle and having gone through a number of owners, the three-wheeler eventually wound up dumped near a scrapyard. It spent many years rusting away, until its eternal parking spot became a popular hangout for some of Detroit's teens, who made it their own. Some of the more handy kids not only fixed it up but also installed a new engine and a bunch of tune-ups, and would spend their afternoons learning to drink and drive on the empty lot. Those were the real fun times. Wildside may not consciously remember any of those events, but just as visibly as her frame is covered in graffiti, rust and dents, her processor has clearly attached itself to her past purpose.

Upon receiving life, the young bot did not waste much time with being disoriented, and immediately went on to have fun. Which is most if not all she cares about; living her life much like the teens that made her: loud and fast, with no regard for anyone else. Seeing the words Wild Side painted on her left in bold graffiti, she deemed it to be her name, and it truly does suit her well.

[professional-benaddict]

next part of the omegaverse au 🤍🤍 link to previous part. everything will be up on AO3 as well, so keep an eye out for that😌😌 @winterspiderpurrs

A month has passed, and Tony has not gotten better. He hasn’t gotten worse either, which Peter sees as a bonus.

The Alpha is still overly aggressive due to his high testosterone levels, and the doctors they have been consulting do not have any straights answers. The only thing they can offer is that Tony takes some pills, in the hopes of it slowing the testosterone production and thus helping Tony’s overall health.

But, Tony has not been consistent when it comes to taking the pills. And since they are dealing with hormones, it will be weeks or months before the medication will work properly. It is hard to stay focused and motivated to take them.

Besides, the Alpha is too busy tending to his Omega and his family.

Peter has been scheduled for surgery to have his ovarian tubes tied, which will leave him sterile. It will be done laprascopically, so he will only get a few small scars on his belly. The recovery time is drastically shorter than if he were to have his entire uterus removed.

Peter is happy with his choice. Tony and Peter are more than ready to settle for the three kids they have. Besides, Peter’s body could not handle another pregnancy. Nor does it seem like Tony can handle the extra pressure of another child.

Tony takes time off from work for Peter’s surgery, and for the week after. Ben and Harley do not have classes on Peter’s surgery day, and they both said they wanted to come with to support their dad. The boys also promise to visit often to help out, but they do have some classes they cannot miss later in the week. Morgan will be staying with Pepper and Happy again, at least for a few days.

Everything is settled and ready, and Peter, Tony and the two boys head to the hospital.

The Omega gets checked in and soon enough he has his own room to wait in. Tony helps him get changed into the gown.

“You nervous?” Peter asks his Alpha.

Harley and Ben went to get some snacks, so they have a moment to themselves.

“No. I mean, yes, but you’re the one going under the knife. Aren’t you nervous?”

“No, not really. It’s just a few snips, they said. And I’m excited to have one less thing to worry about, you know?”

“Yeah.” Tony sighs, leaning down to smell at Peter’s neck. The Omega leans into the touch and rubs at his Alpha’s neck. “I just want this over. So we can be okay.”

“We will be okay. We’ll get you fixed too.”

Peter feels Tony stiffen and pull away. But, before he can ask about it, the boys return with snacks. And a short moment later, a nurse arrives saying she will take Peter to get prepped.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait here, so say your goodbyes. Just for now.” The nurse smiles gently.

Tony, Ben and Harley all kiss and hug Peter.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry!” Peter smiles brightly.

Harley, Ben and Tony remain behind, watching as Peter is wheeled out on his bed and away from them. Ben gives his younger brother a pat on the back, then looks over at their father.

“Papa, he will be okay. Yeah?” Ben says.

But, Tony’s not listening. The blood rushing in his ears is too loud.