#one is blunt and comes across as an asshole and the other desperately craves a nap

[citrine-elephant]

probably said to death but...

struggling to get into my original story, right? i've got the world planned out, basic outline and backstory.

the character i wanted to focus on... is drifting from me a little bit.

... i guess when you've got a world build, you can tunnel into any of your character's heads and write from their perspective, huh? that's what spinoffs are, ain't they lol

[miyagihawk]

why’d you only call me when you’re high? pt. 2 | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

part one

here’s part 2 by popular demand! based off the arctic monkeys song and amazing request by @deadbeatharlz <3 thank you guys for the support on part 1 im so happy you liked it :)

warnings: self harming behavior, LOTS of swearing, alcohol and drug abuse, sooo so angstyyyy buckle up

summary: it’s been 3 months since your last night with hawk, and you haven’t been yourself.

word count: 3,062



The past 3 months have been rough. Maybe the worst you’ve ever been. You fell into the deep hole that you dug yourself. The hole of loving Hawk Moskowitz.

You never thought you’d be one of those people who let unrequited love devastate their whole being. In fact you always thought the whole heartbreak thing was pathetic and melodramatic. Until it happened to you.

You hate yourself for letting him have this effect on you. But there’s a pestering voice in the back of your mind that reminds you: it’s all your fault. He didn’t ask you to love him. It’s just easier to blame him for your downfall.

Parties, drugs, alcohol. Sex with people you don’t even know. High on the same drug that compelled him to call you in the night.

You’ve become so desperate to forget him that you ruined yourself. It hurts your pride to be the whiny heartbroken girl who let a stupid boy’s rejection shatter her self worth. But the hole is too deep and there’s no hope trying to grasp onto the dirt walls to get out.

The worst part of it is that he sees it all. At school, (if you even go) he looks at you like the scum of the earth as he passes by with his little karate gang. When you end up at the same party, he’ll have a disgusted expression on his face and leave as if he can’t bare to look at you. 

Tonight is one of those nights, and you watch him from across the backyard as he goofs around with his friends. He hasn’t noticed you yet, hence why he’s even still here and not on his way out the door to get away from you.

“If you stare at him any longer, I think he’ll shoot up into flames,” your best friend Robby hands you a cup, and you don’t hesitate before downing its unknown contents. The burn in your throat makes you hum with content.

“That’s the plan,” you take your eyes of off Hawk to look at Robby. You gesture to his own cup in his hand, “Are you gonna drink that?”

“Easy there, Y/N. We got here 5 minutes ago,” he warns, but holds out the drink towards you anyway. Robby’s always been worried about you and your habits, but he knows how you can be when you’re told no.

You swallow down the drink in a few seconds, ignoring his remark. “5 minutes? I can beat my record!” you cheer sarcastically, and start walking to the kitchen in search of a keg. Robby follows closely behind you, a wary look on his face.

The fuzzy feeling starts to take over your body as you throw back drink after drink. It’s the buzz you crave every second of every day because it just makes you feel so good. Everything is happier and your cares feel so far away. Hawk feels so far away.

You sit on the couch next to Robby in your dazed trance, drunkenly rambling to him about random things. He glares at anyone who comes near you and looks like they would take advantage of you in your state.

Robby really hates you like this, but he can’t help but feel protective over you. He’s not even a fan of parties; he really only goes to keep an eye on you. You’re grateful even though you act like you hate it when he babysits you.

“Heyyy pretty Y/N! Want some?” Yasmine approaches where you sit, a joint held between her fingers. Her eyes are drooped and she sways as she stands.

You reach out to take the blunt, but you feel Robby push your arm down. “You’re already drunk. That’s enough,” he says sternly, making you roll your eyes.

“I can do what I want, Dad,” you taunt, and take the joint from Yasmine. Smoke fills up your lungs, immediately giving you pleasure. Robby just shakes his head in disapproval as the air around him becomes hazy.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Stay here,” he orders, getting up from the couch.

You nod, but of course, you don’t listen. The sound of splashing from outside sets off a lightbulb above your head and you feel like you’re floating while you walk to the backyard.

Right as you step out of the house, you make eye contact with none other than Hawk. He gives you a distasteful look like always, before turning back to his group. Asshole.

You just scoff and stumble towards the pool, where a couple is making out and a few people are drunkenly playing with the water like little kids.

Reaching the edge of the pool’s rim, you let yourself fall in with a splash. You feel the pressure in your ears start to build as you sink to the bottom. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re cross faded, but being underwater feels like a world of bliss.

The loud music of the party is muted, creating a sense of serenity. The legs of the other people in the pool make you laugh to yourself, sending bubbles from your mouth to the surface. It’s glittery and pretty and you want to stay forever.

You don’t know how long you’re under there for, but you don’t notice your lungs running out of air. It just feels good to be alone for a second. Next thing you know, you feel your eyes start to droop closed; a strange peace overcoming your body.

A loud thrashing noise in the water makes you wake up with a gasp. You swallow too much water as you feel someone grab hold of your arm. It’s all a blur and you’re being pulled up to the surface, taking you away from the tranquil world you were just in.

The music is pounds against your ears again and the air is cold on your skin. You feel your body being laid down on the concrete of the poolside, but everything feels numb. You just feel sleepy and you want to close your eyes again.

“Y/N, hey, wake up. Wake up,” a voice makes your eyes shoot back open. Someone is looking down at you, with a hand shaking your shoulder. Your vision is somewhat blurry, but the mohawk gives it away. It’s him.

You suddenly become aware of the large amount of water in your lungs and you turn over to your side to cough it up. After you get it all out, you notice the people at the party looking at you with eyes of pity mixed with judgement.

“What the fuck were you doing? You could’ve died, are you fucking stupid?” Hawk curses, but even in your inebriated state you can hear a hint of worry in his voice.

You sit up to face him. He looks angry; his clothes and hair are as wet as yours.

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen in your brain, or maybe it’s the marijuana and alcohol, but you just feel the urge to laugh. So you do. Like a complete maniac. The way he probably just saved your life like he cares is sickly comedic to you.

His face twists in confusion as you break out into a fit of giggles. “Are you serious? You’re fucking insane, Y/N,” he gets up, shaking his head at you. He gives a glare to the people staring, and they look away in fear.

You think he’s going to leave like usual, but he surprises you by grabbing your arm to pull you up. People whisper amongst themselves as he drags you through the backyard, going through a gate that leads to front of the house. You trip over your own feet, still feeling dizzy from almost drowning, but he just pulls you along.

“What are you doing?” you ask, tugging on your arm to try and release it from the tight grip he has on you. You’re both dripping chlorinated water, leaving a track of drops on the concrete below.

“You’re going home Y/N,” he says sternly. You two arrive at his car and he opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

“Hey!” a voice yells from the house and you both turn to see Robby rushing towards the car. He looks pissed, and now you remember him telling you to stay put. Shit.

“Robby I-”

“Don’t get in there with him Y/N,” he says, sending a death stare to the boy next to you.

“I’m taking her home, Keene, so back the fuck off. Get in Y/N,” Hawk snaps, clenching his fists.

You keep quiet, not wanting to add to the fire already starting. They loathe each other; if not because of the karate rivalry, then because of you. To Robby, Hawk broke your heart and made you spiral. To Hawk, Robby is the piece of shit who he thinks is your boyfriend, and he won’t admit it but he’s jealous.

“You’re not driving her, asshole. You’re probably as drunk as her,” Robby reaches to take your arm, but Hawk pulls you back.

“You don’t know shit about me, Keene. I’ve been sober for three months, so yeah, I will drive her,” Hawk picks you up like you’re a doll, placing you in the passenger seat and closing the door. You don’t resist, you just feel tired and your head starts to pound as if the mix of drugs in your system are punishing you. The window’s down, so you can still hear the two boys loud and clear.

I’ve been sober for three months, his voice echoes in your head.

“Oh so now you care so much about her? It’s your fault she’s like this!” Robby raises his voice even more, starting to move towards Hawk threateningly. You begin to feel scared that a physical fight might actually break out, but you don’t know what to do.

“I’m not the one who almost let her die a few minutes ago, am I? Just fuck off, we’re leaving,” Hawk dismisses him, walking around the car to the driver’s seat. You’re surprised by his self control to not throw a punch, especially with his reputation.

“Robby, it’s okay. I just want to go home. I’ll call you, alright?” you reach your hand out of the window in reassurance and he takes hold of it. Hawk clenches his jaw as he turns on the engine.

“Promise you’ll be careful? I’m sorry I left you,” Robby furrows his eyebrows in worry. When he came out of the bathroom, someone filled him in on what happened to you and he almost had a heart attack.

“Promise. And it’s my fault,” you hook your pinky with his, before the car pulls out of the curb and separates you from your best friend. He watches you guys drive away, an anxious expression etched on his face.

The whole situation has sobered you up pretty well, and now you’re left with a throbbing headache, wet clothes, and awkward tension. You hate it. Being sober. You miss the foggy feeling that prevents you from thinking too hard about things. But now you’re inches away from the boy who broke your heart, all by choice.

You don’t know why you agreed to go with him, but did you even have a choice? You’re confused by his actions. He acts like he hates you but he jumps in a pool for you. He yelled at you but he’s driving you home. It all makes you overthink and it causes your head to ache even more.

You hold your head in your hands to try and ease the pain as Hawk drives quietly.

“You good?” he breaks the silence. His voice is softer compared to how he talked to Robby minutes ago.

“Head hurts,” you mumble.

“What were you doing back there? If I didn’t get you out, you’d probably be in the hospital right now,” he says. You peek at him through your hands and his eyes are on the road.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It was just peaceful. I didn’t really even think about breathing.”

He scoffs. “Well that’s just fucking stupid. You’re lucky I noticed you were under for so long.”

“Well thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling like a little kid being scolded.

There’s a couple beats of silence before he speaks, “What happened to you?”

The question makes you sit up and look over at him. “What are you talking about?”

“The old Y/N wouldn’t even touch a drink. You’re different,” Hawk taps his finger on the wheel in thought. His icy blue eyes quickly glance at your confused look before returning to the road.

“You happened, Hawk.” You pinch your temples in frustration. Anger starts to bubble up in your stomach at his criticism. At the mention of “old you”.

“I didn’t do this to you,” he shakes his head, as if trying to convince himself of his own words.

“You did,” you raise your voice, making him flinch. “You know it.”

“What, because I stopped sleeping with you? I didn’t make you fall in love with me, Y/N. You did that to yourself,” he spits, sending a knife to your heart and making you see red.

“You knew I loved you way before I said it. But you still stringed me along, didn’t you? You knew I would pick up everytime you called. You knew that I would let you into my bed because I was the girl who loved you no matter how fucking shitty you were!” you fire back, vomiting out words that you’ve wanted to say for months. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder than usual, but you’re grateful for it.

He’s at a loss for words at your outburst so you continue, “I didn’t ask for this Hawk. Loving you. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden and that you hate me so much that you can’t stand being in the same room as me. But please just answer me this and I’ll leave you alone forever. I’ll leave when we show up at the same party and I’ll even hide in the halls so you don’t have to see my face.”

You pause, choking on your words. You didn’t even realize that the car is already parked in front of your house and your clothes are halfway dry.

“Why don’t you love me?” your voice cracks as you spit out the question that has caused you to throw yourself away. The question with an answer that could dissipate your self worth in a mere moment.

Hawk finally looks into your glassy eyes with shock. He could’ve never anticipated what you asked him and his mouth runs dry.

“I told you, I- I don’t deserve someone like you loving me,” he swallows, but you shake your head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He blinks slowly, trying to come up with an excuse. Any excuse, to avoid telling you the truth. You can see the inner conflict on his face, the panicked speed of his running thoughts.

“You should go home, Y/N,” he deflects, turning away from you. Putting on his mask to keep you from reading him like a book.

“I’m not going until you tell me,” you demand.

“Just get out of the car, fuck!” Hawk yells, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel. It makes you jump a little, but you’re too angry to fear the flames in his eyes.

“Why can’t you just tell me!” you fire back. “You came to me almost every night, so why do I feel something that you don’t? Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?”

“What do you want me to fucking say Y/N! That I do love you? Fucking fine. I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear? Just get out.”

I love you.

The same words you said that made him leave.

“You don’t even mean that,” you blink back your tears.

His voice is softer now, more gentle. “If I didn’t mean it then I wouldn’t have said it.”

“You said you needed me and then you left me,” your voice shakes and you hate how pathetic you sound.

“I-I didn’t leave you,” he stammers before taking a deep breath. “I left because you wanted something more than I could give you. I would’ve felt like a selfish asshole if we became more than just sex, Y/N. You deserve someone like Keene and yeah he’s a pussy but he’s good. Better than me.”

It feels like every piece in the puzzle is being put together. Everything makes sense. He does love you, but he was just afraid. He can’t be near you because it hurts too much to see someone he can’t have. Somehow, you can’t find the anger you’ve held against him for these past months; you just understand him now.

“I’m sorry, alright? For everything. For treating your feelings like shit. All of it.”

You swallow, thinking about his words. It all feels too much and the truth is now looking you in the eye, demanding an answer. You love him, but he dropped your heart on the floor for you to pick up every shard. Is one sorry going to magically fix everything?

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit, and he nods in understanding.

“You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just... move on. And you get better... I hate seeing you like this,” Hawk scans your red eyes and dilated pupils. “We’ll get to a better place and you and me, we’ll be good.”

It’s bittersweet, but he’s right. Being together now just because he loves you back would be a huge jump that would only end in broken hearts and toxic cycles. It would be foolish. As much as you want him, the only person who can fix you is yourself.

So it’s a meet up at the top of the mountain, when you’ve both made the journey from opposite sides.

“A better place,” you reiterate, before placing a light kiss to his cheek and leaving the car with a new sense of closure.

a/n: that was longer than i planned and a freaking roller coaster!!!!!!! im not sure if there should be a part 3? lmk what you think maybe it’ll just be short. but hehe i added robby into the mix he was so cute. ty for reading!

taglist for people who wanted part 2 :) ty friends for the support <3 @littlered6307 @deadbeatharlz @spiderman-berries @axastasiasstuff @r0-xie @estupidteen @hawkwhore @idkwhatishouldput4

[joshslater]

Appointments

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I can understand why they don't trust people here, a lot of them are real criminals after all, but it still feels a bit humiliating to down the crushed pill and empty the entire glass of water while the nurse is watching. I have to show up fifteen minutes before the scheduled appointment to take the first drug, whatever it is, and then sit down and wait for it to take effect. The fifteen minutes doesn't even count towards the reserved time. It's three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, up to three hours each, for four months. That's the sentence to stay out of jail. Miss an appointment, straight to jail. Don't comply with the treatment, straight to jail. Still a pretty good deal. Nine hours per week I don't have any control over, or ten hours if you count this sitting and waiting bullshit, compared to all hours all the time in jail.

I have no idea what the pill is for. Some sort of sedative I'm sure, because I always feel a bit dull and agreeable after. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have followed all the doctor's instructions so readily if I wasn't drugged somehow, at least not the first few times. Now it is kind of a routine.

I show up, take the drug, and wait a bit. Then she shows up and asks me to join her in one of the procedure rooms. She tells me to remove my shoes, jeans, and underwear and place myself on the chair. It's not really a chair. It's like a Z-shaped thing where you place your legs on the padded lower bars so you are kneeling, and then bend forward so your upper body is flat with the top with your head looking down on the floor past the edge of the padded top surface.

She walks behind me and asks if I'm comfortable. Not really. It's demeaning to sit there and expose my ass to her, legs apart, but I guess that is the point of this therapy. How it will address my supposed anger issues is beyond me. Better than jail though. When I tell her I am she secures my hands down by my hip with straps and then proceeds to strap my legs in place by securing my ankles. She says it is for my own safety, so I don't fall off. It's probably bullshit, but she is right in it's not very secure, but tricky enough to wiggle out of. Not that I have tried. She then tips the entire thing forwards. I had a bit of a scare the first time and audibly gasped as I thought I was about to crash face first into the floor with arms and legs tied. Turned out it's just a secondary position of the thing, positioning my ass up in the air.

"Are you comfortable?" she asks again, every time. Again I say I am, strapped to chair, face almost touching the floor, my naked ass high and exposed. She then slowly inserts something into my asshole. It doesn't go that far in, but feels heavy and has some wires or tubes going to it that I can feel draping my leg. It enters easily. I don't know if it is the same device as the first time, but I wouldn't be surprised if they have been scaling up the size slowly. All I can do is look down the floor while she sets me up and then starts the machine.

Just before leaving the room there is a little pinch in the ass as she injects something in my butt cheek. Then she leaves, promising to be back once it has run its program, never explaining what "it" or "the program" is. The first minutes I feel nothing. Then there is movement, though different between appointments. It can expand in width, it can penetrate deeper, it can vibrate, it can rotate, it can change temperature. It often runs through a series of configurations.

I don't know which of the drugs, if any of them, is making me horny but it doesn't take long until I can hear the soft tapping of precum dripping into the metal tray at the bottom of the chair. It's pointless to try to stay alert. You're stuck in the chair for hours with nothing else than looking at the floor and listening to the hum of the machine and the drip of body fluids. You can just as well close your eyes and let yourself drift away in machine-induced bliss.

It's affecting me for sure. The Monday session is the one I'm craving the most. I start getting anxious already Sunday afternoon, feeling like something is missing. So far I've resisted the temptation to buy a vibrator and explore my ass on my own time, but there is little else I can think of on Mondays before the appointment.

It always feels like no time at all has passed, certainly like too little time has passed, when she comes back into the room and gloves up. I'm just zoned out like a stoner and sometimes don't notice her until she removes the thing from my ass. She then proceeds to unlock the dick cage from my dick and balls. Given my horny bliss the dick will shoot up like a bamboo rod. She has some sort of wand that feels pretty thin that she then puts into the ass right up to the prostate. It never takes many seconds of vibrations for me to shoot a load. It feels like they are bigger than ever before. I'm certainly pulsing more times than before, like 6-10 ropes.

She then washes my butt, dick, and balls, and massage them with some sort of cream. Perhaps different ones. Then she picks up a new, probably sterilized, dick cage and locks everything up. She tilts the chair back up again and asks if everything is OK before undoing the straps holding me in place. I answer that everything is OK, but that really undersells it. I'm like a stoner in a post-orgasm haze for at least ten minutes. Then she reminds me to put on my underwear, pants, and shoes before leaving and reminds me of the next appointment two or three days later.

"You're next," she tells me from the other side of the waiting room, interrupting my read of top sexiest men on Love Island list from Cosmopolitan. The selection of magazines is rather limited. "Afternoon," I reply, putting away the magazines and walking towards the door.

"How was the weekend?" "Hot, as you well know. I didn't do much." I don't tell her I was spending all of Sunday considering pushing blunt objects up my ass to relieve myself. "It doesn't invite to activities, does it? Go ahead and make yourself comfortable."

In a now well-practiced routine I kick off my shoes, take off my jeans, fold them and place them on the chair just inside the door, remove my boxers, and put them on top of the jeans. Then I kneel in place on the procedure chair and give my dick cage a quick jiggle. Nothing worse than being strapped to some medical equipment and having your scrotum pinched. Then I bend forward over the shelf, and position my arms back, along the sides of my body.

As always before the doctor secures my arms and legs, and tips the entire contraption forward.

"Are you comfortable like this?" "Yes."

She then deviates from normal procedure by wiping down my ass with some sort of wet wipes and then inserts the automatic douche. I can feel liquid being pushed in and sucked out of my ass a few times, after which she removes the equipment and leaves the room. I'm starting to become anxious. This is the longest I've been in two months without anything vibrating in my ass. I try to flex my butt cheeks to no success.

After way too long someone enters the room again. "Good afternoon, I'm James." I can only move my head a little and can't see much more than a pair of sneakers and the lower part of sweatpants.

"Hi."

He rifles through some papers.

"I understand you've been under this treatment for two months now, correct?" "Yes." The whole thing feels absurd. Whoever this dude is, he's talking to my exposed ass. "So you now have a fully developed prostate massage addiction?" "What? No!" "No? So, you would prefer to be released and go home now?"

No, I need my treatment, but that is totally different.

"No. You have to do what you normally do." "You want me to massage your prostate?" "Yes! Or whatever is normally done."

I can hear the snap of a rubber glove and within seconds a finger is with ease pushing into my ass. He is probing around carefully and deliberately. I want to move my butt to get it deeper, to have it flick across my prostate, but I'm too tied down. He fumbles around like that for minutes.

"You need to get in deeper," I say almost desperately. "I'm sorry my fingers are only so long," he says, continuing with his ineffectual rummaging. And after a few seconds, like he was carefully considering it, "My dick is longer, though. I can use that if you like." "Funny," I say, dismissing his joke.

While he continues doing what I must now assume to be deliberately the wrong thing, the thought continues to linger in my mind. Would it really be a big difference between having another man's fingers or his dick up my ass. Yes! Yes, I decide. But why? This is covered by patient confidentiality, right? HIPPA or HIIPA or HIPAA or whatever. No one has to know.

"What if you did?" "What if I did what?" He was forcing me to say it. "What if you did use your dick instead?" "Would you like me to?"

He must be right. I must be addicted to prostate massage. Why the fuck that happened is a later question. I feel like a soda bottle being lazily shaken by someone. I need to be unscrewed.

"Yes. Yes!"

He pulls out his finger and I can hear the sound of latex, him fiddling with his pants, and then without warning feel something thick and warm moving up inside me. I have a slight shiver as it moves past my prostate and further in. It sure is longer than his fingers all right. I can feel the warmth of his body as it touches against my butt cheeks when he finally gets balls deep. He stops there, leans over me, and asks "Are you comfortable like this?"

"Yes," I say automatically before realizing I really am.

[knivesareout]

Day and Night For You

Pairing: Steve Murphy x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut! (18+ ONLY!) Fingering, Oral (fem receiving), spanking, ass play, squirting, breathplay, cock warming, unprotected sex.

A/N: Aaaand another one. Started this on Tuesday and now we’re here. Am I a writer now? Who can say at this point- it’s only two fics and a couple drabbles. You can also read it on AO3 here.

Summary: Settling in to watch a movie with Steve takes a turn when you can’t stop your mind from wandering and he confronts you about it. 

Your husband coming home with enough time to eat dinner, watch a movie, and go to bed at the same time as you had become a rare occurrence lately. Having Steve sitting next to you on the couch was something you wanted to soak in, your body pressed tightly against his side as you two watch a movie. 

You were vaguely aware enough of the plot playing out on screen that if Steve were to ask you questions later on, you could answer, but your real focus was on him. The steady breathing of his chest, the roughness of his fingertips tracing along your bare thigh. The atmosphere had lulled you into a comfortable feeling- at least until you heard someone yelling on screen, your head perking up at the loud voice.

Watching as the male character pushes his wife against the wall with his hand around her throat, you swallow slowly. The scene was something you were no stranger to in your personal life; not with how dominant Steve was in the bedroom. But lately you’d barely managed a quickie most nights before he was out like a light, exhausted from work and snoring lightly in your ear. The fault was hardly his own; trying to catch Escobar was proving no easy task and you were willing to do whatever little you could to help Steve in supporting him.

Your thighs rub together as the scene escalates, the couple moving to the bedroom and you sigh, biting at your lip. The movement of Steve’s hand on your thigh stops and you peer up at him, a question in your eye.

“What’s wrong?”

“Could ask you the same thing, honey. You’re over there making all kinds of noises and I’m just tryin’ to watch this. Everything alright?”

You simper with a nod, looking pointedly at the screen. “I’m okay, promise. Let’s just finish the movie.” Patting his thigh, you turn your focus back to the screen where you’ve managed to completely miss the passionate scene between the couple and you make sure not to make a disappointed noise, less Steve question you again.

—–

The film ends an hour later and you’re no less horny than you were before. Nothing but images of Steve’s hand around your throat fill your mind and you can feel the stickiness between your thighs as you stand up and stretch, the oversized t-shirt from your alma mater lifting up around your hips before dropping down again. Steve’s yawning into his fist and looks exhausted, his body heavily pressed into the couch and if he could sink into it, you’re sure he would.

“Come on then big guy, let’s get you to bed before you fuck up your back by passing out on the couch,” you tease, offering him a hand that he takes gratefully. 

Steve grunts, reaching out to pinch your hip. “That was one time, damnit. Will you ever let me live it down?”

You bat his hands away with a grin, moving around to turn off the lights in the living room before heading towards your bedroom. “Nope,” you tell him easily, turning around as you stand in the doorway and wait for him to stand in front of you. “You alright though?” Steve’s looking at you with an expression you’re not familiar with, his eyes bright and posture stiff, almost like he’s vibrating with the need to move.

“You know I can smell you right?”

Your posture falters and you almost choke on your tongue, glancing up at Steve with a question in your eyes. The blunt query has your mind in a scramble as you try to find the words to answer him and he doesn’t seem to like that as he steps closer and you’re toe to toe. 

Steve inhales deeply before speaking, his hand coming up to take your chin between his fingers and lock your gaze with his. “Can’t even enjoy a movie without you being a needy little thing,” he tuts, dragging a thumb across your bottom lip and you have to stop yourself from pulling the digit into your mouth. “Have I been neglecting you?”

The question is a genuine one, no teasing tone to be found, and you’re almost hesitant to answer, hoping that maybe your explanation will shed some light on how you’ve feeling. “No, not really. I just miss you. Miss when we used to take our time with each other is all.” You shrug, hoping you give off the appearance of being aloof rather than touch starved like you actually were.

It’s clear Steve appreciates the honesty as he nods in understanding, gripping your chin a bit tighter. “M’sorry about that sweetheart. How about I make it up to you, yeah? Let me take my time with you tonight.”

Your head nods so quickly it’s almost comical, your body shaking with a need so overwhelmingly intense you could cry. The promise of relief, no matter how long it’ll take to get there, is something you’re willing to do anything for and Steve can see it written across your face as you watch his every move.

Steve walks you back into your room, your steps careful as you maneuver towards your shared bed, feeling the back of your calves hit the foot of the bed frame and you fall onto the mattress, hands reaching behind you to catch your fall. 

“You’ve been teasing me all night, honey. Shorts so short I can’t even see them under your shirt, your nipples hard all night. And then I realized half way through the movie I could smell you. What part turned you on so much that I’d bet you’re soaked between those pretty little thighs of yours, hm?”

The low timbre of Steve’s voice makes your whole body warm as he looms over you, waiting for an answer. His large hands are sat on his hips, gaze trained on you and the way your body shifts to seek any sort of friction. His eyes follow your every move and it makes you nervous, teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

Normally you would play coy with him, shrug and say you didn’t know, but with how worked up you were it seemed silly to do anything but be completely blunt. “His hand around her throat,” you explain, placing your hands on your thighs and moving them up until you reach the top of your shorts and tug them down along with your underwear. “It made me miss your fingers pushing into my neck, Steve. Squeezing so hard I’d soak the sheets when you make me cum.” Kicking the material to the side, you spread your legs wide for him, head pushed into the plush pillows behind you.

You watch his eyes as your hands trail along the soft skin of the inside of your thighs, anticipating his next move. It’s hard for you to tell what he’s thinking, his facial expression neutral and the lack of light in the room has you at a disadvantage. 

“Steve, please.” 

In a flash, Steve grabs hold of your ankle and yanks you down the bed as you yelp in surprise, your legs hanging off the side as his hand comes around your throat. “Still want to be a tease?” He growls, thumb pressing into the skin so hard you’ll be surprised if there isn’t a bruise there in the morning. 

The pressure is electrifying. Your whole body is lit up, every nerve at attention as he holds his hand there. You crave this feeling from time to time, the clear show of authority that Steve has over your body the biggest turn on. Managing to shake your head, he loosens his grip around you and you try to catch your breath before he’s on you, turning your body around and pressing your face into the mattress. 

“You know all you have to do is ask for what you want, honey. I know I haven’t been the most attentive husband lately but I’ll always make time for you,” Steve promises, words sweet and contrasting with the way he’s man-handled you on the mattress; your ass up high and cheek squished into the comforter below you. 

You don’t dare move as you hear the rustling of fabric, assuming Steve’s undressing behind you. It’s torture as you wait for him to do something, anything, your hands curling into the blanket beneath you so they don’t stray.  

Steve’s hands are rough against your ass as he palms the flesh, pulling apart your cheeks only to slide one of his hands away to slap it, jolting you forward at the contact. You whimper as he touches you, both of his hands back on your bottom and fingers inching closer towards where you need him most. The inside of your thighs are sticky with arousal and you push your ass out for more, a silent plea for Steve to do something. 

“So god damn needy, aren’t you?” Steve runs a dry finger across your exposed asshole and you let out a shaky breath, the feeling unexpected but pleasant. It’d been too long since you both had time for something like that but you don’t hold out too much hope as the finger then drops lower to slide between the lips of your soaked pussy. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, sweetheart. It’s all down your thighs. Pussy actin’ like I haven’t touched it in days.” You whine as he pulls his finger away but it quickly turns into a moan as his hand hits your ass again, the flesh stinging from where his palm hit you.

“Steve, please. Please, please, please,” you beg him, your voice desperate and needy as your hips sway in a taunt for him to give you more. 

His hands grip your hips tightly as he turns you over and presses you higher up on the bed, your body trying to orient itself as he crawls up the mattress towards you. It’s like a hunter stalking its prey, the way his eyes follow your every movement and you whimper, holding your body still as you wait for his next step.

Steve parts your thighs wide for him as he settles between your legs, the warmth of his mouth instantaneous on your skin when he drops his lips to kiss along the sensitive inner part of your thighs. The hairs of his mustache scratch along your body and you sigh into the feeling, your hand reaching out to card through his blonde hair. 

“Tell me what you want,” Steve murmurs quietly against your thigh, his mouth close to your throbbing cunt and you can feel the heat radiating from his breath as he speaks.

“Want your mouth on my pussy, want you to make me cum so hard I cry.” Your words are quick and almost sound like they’re meshed together, your tongue heavy in your mouth. 

You can feel the vibrations as Steve hums against your thigh, sounding like he’s considering your request. His fingers part the lips of your pussy, exposing your heat to the cool air of your bedroom. Your fists clench into the comforter beneath you, trying to ground yourself as you anticipate his next move and once his tongue laps at your clit in broad strokes, you cry out in relief. 

The feeling is like a match to gasoline, your body arching into his mouth in search of more. It’s hot and wet, the sounds of him lapping at your sex filling the room and you wail once a finger slips into you. Steve is relentless in the way his long, thick finger fucks into you and he easily slips in another two, stuffing you full. The pressure is too much, his hands working you like an instrument he’s played his whole life, plucking at your body like strings. “You gonna soak me baby? I can feel the way you’re tightening around my fingers.” Steve moves to sit up and you gasp as his fingers find the angle that you’d been desperate for him to touch. 

There’s a pressure building in your lower stomach, the feeling familiar. It swells, threatening to crash over you. You will your body to let go, to welcome the tidal wave begging to consume you.

It’s too much and not enough all at once as his pace picks up, your body all but forcing his fingers out as you gush over his hand, on the sheets, and across his chest. Your body shakes as you come down and you blink quickly, trying to clear your vision. There’s a dull throbbing between your thighs that are now coated in a light wetness and you sigh in satisfaction.

If you had the energy to reach up and smack Steve, you would’ve. The smug smirk on his face was infuriating but your orgasm had left you boneless and it was clear he knew that. 

“You’re not tapping out already, are ya?” He teases, fingers lightly trailing across the inside of your still trembling thighs. “Cause I was thinkin’ of how much I wanna slide inside your pussy and fuck you until I fill you up and just stay there, plugging you up with my cum until it takes hold. Do you want that, pretty girl?”

His words render you still. It wasn’t something you both had talked about recently- going bareback. You weren’t on birth control, something with your insurance getting mixed up on the move down to Colombia. And if condoms weren’t used, or Steve didn’t pull out, there was a high probability of you falling pregnant. The last time it’d been discussed was right before your move and how you two wanted to wait until you were back in the States before you started trying to start a family, not wanting to add a child into what was an already high stress environment.  

Tilting your head in question at Steve, you wonder what he’s thinking. He seems so nonchalant about what he’s said, his hand stroking along the hard length of his cock while he waits for your answer- almost like he’s thought about it before now. God, do you want it. There’s nothing better than the feeling of Steve’s cum dripping down your thighs, him stuffing you full of his seed and marking you as his. 

You nod slowly in answer, a breathy sigh passing your lips at the thought of him filling you up after months of shitty condoms. “I want that. I want you to fill me up, Steve. Please.”

The sound of him stroking his slick cock fills the room and you watch as he shuffles on his knees until he’s close enough to rub the wet head against your clit, your body instinctively scooting down in search of more. You’re still sensitive, chest shuddering as he continues to torture you. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked baby. Could just slide right in,” Steve teases, the head of his cock catching on your entrance only to slide back up to your clit.

“I want it. I want your cock. Fuck,” you groan, fisting the sheets in your hands. “Want your cum so bad, Steve. Come on.” 

The hand that was resting on your hip comes up to press against your throat again, your head tilting back to give him more room. Your body arches into his touch and Steve slowly puts more pressure against your neck as he finally slides his cock into the soaked walls of your pussy, the feeling nothing but euphoric. 

Steve’s cock fits inside of you like a glove. Long and thick, stretching you in the most delicious way. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of him buried deep inside of you and you relish in the feeling until he starts to move.

His thrusts are slow at first, the long drag of his dick making you shudder beneath him. The palm of his hand is still pressed to your throat and you push down on the back of his hand a little, silently asking for more. 

A dark chuckle escapes Steve’s lips and he hunches forward, pressing down against your neck. “My dirty little baby, aren’t you? Just wanted a dick inside of ya and my hand pressed to your throat, that’s all.” 

It’s difficult to nod but you manage, sucking in a breath as he lets off a bit and starts thrusting in earnest. Steve’s movements are languid, meticulous. He’s hitting every spot that makes your body feel electric, like a live wire ready to explode at the right touch. 

“Steve, touch me. Fuck,” you draw out, his hips pulling out just enough to leave the tip of his cock inside of you before thrusting back in to start a more brutal, rough pace. 

“You like that honey?” He asks, the hand not around your throat coming down between your thighs to rub at your clit in slow strokes. “You wanna cum? Want me to fill you up and put a baby in ya? Stuff you so full of me you’ll be dripping all night?”

Nodding, you cry out in need. It’s too much, the push and pull of his cock coupled with his hand around your throat and the rough pad of his thumb on your clit. Your body locks up and you start pulsing around him, your orgasm crashing around you like a wave, drowning you. There’s a ringing in your ears and you’re vaguely aware of Steve’s rough grunting as he plows into you in search of his own release. 

“Fuck, gonna fuck you so full of my cum that you’re leaking. You feel so good, baby. Pussy so tight,” Steve rasps out, his hips stuttering as he falls apart above you. Mouth open, eyes clenched shut, your husband is a sight as he cums deep and hot inside of you, shuddering through his release.

Your hands run up and down his back in a soothing motion as he comes down, his own hands falling to the sides to catch himself above you, head dropping to your shoulder. “Fuck that was good,” he laughs, lips kissing along your collarbone and up to your cheek where he rests the tip of his nose.

Turning your head slightly, you brush your nose against his. “So. A baby huh?” The question is teasing, light, but deep down you really want to know what was going through his head to bring that up in the middle of some long overdue sex.

“Just been on my mind a lot,” he sighs, sliding a hand underneath your back to pull your body with his as he rolls over, his cock still nestled inside of you. “With everything goin’ on it just makes me realize that shit isn’t guaranteed and I want that with you. Always have. A family; little ones with your hair and my nose.”

You listen, running a hand across his face- up the slope of his nose, smoothing out the furrow between his brow and then up into his hair where you scratch gingerly at his scalp. 

“I should’ve said something before instead of springing that up in the middle of sex but it was like something snapped in me. ‘M sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, baby. Was just a bit of a shock is all,” you promise, hand sliding behind his neck and rubbing under the base of his skull to further relax him. “You know I’ve always wanted that with you too.”

Steve nods, pushing his head into your touch. “I know.”

Shifting your hips, you grimace at the sticky feeling between your legs but make no effort to move beyond trying to get more comfortable as you sprawl across your husband’s broad chest and glance up at him, a fond look written across his face as he looks back at you.

“You know, if we sleep now I might wake up in time for another round before I have to go in for work,” Steve grins, wiggling his eyebrows. 

You don’t even reply, just lay your head against his chest where his heart lies beneath your ear and start to snore over exaggeratedly, giggling to yourself.

“I love you, baby,” he reminds you quietly, arms wrapping tightly to your middle. 

Yawning, you close your eyes. “I love you too.”

[thethespacecoyote]

I just wanted to write a thing where mob Jack saves pregnant detective Rhys from a burning building, thats all this is

Jack was about ready to go home.

He hadn’t even bothered to dress up in his usual duds for this job, merely slinging one of his blazers on over a shirt. After all, a little evidence-burning wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. Even if said “evidence” was an entire warehouse down at the harbor.

Whatever. Jack had the dockworkers union paid off anyway. No one would suspect a thing until the cops came to investigate the smoking, burnt-out ruin.

Jack watched idly as his men moved in and out of the warehouse’s entrance, laying explosives and salvaging anything of value left inside before they blew the whole thing sky-high. The damp, night air kissed his skin, making him crave a cigar to warm himself up, but he hadn’t brought any with him. This was supposed to be a quick job. Torch the warehouse and anything left inside so Jack could curl up in bed for the rest of the night.

It’d been a little harder to get proper sleep lately, and Jack had always slept decently enough for someone with countless murders on his conscience. Didn’t help that the new detectives nipping at his heels were a hell of a lot less fun than their forebear. Jack pursed his lips at the memory of the last time he’d seen his sorely-missed Detective Somerset, who’d just had to go and get himself knocked up and thus ruin Jack’s fun by taking leave of his job. Jeez. Total buzzkill. Jack was really gonna let him have it as soon as he came back.

If he came back.

Jack hissed into the night air, feeling a little antsy. He watched as one of his underlings moved the last crate of explosives in through the door, before turning to his guard. Wilhelm grunted in response and cocked his eyebrow.

“Gonna take a walk. Keep an eye on these doofuses and make sure they don’t blow themselves up, huh?” Jack opened his jacket to show off the golden handle of a pistol shoved into his coat pocket when Wilhelm looked at him skeptically.

“I don’t need a frikkin’ babysitter, I can handle myself for a couple minutes,” Jack growled as he turned on his heels away from his guard and the rest of his scrambling men, walking down one side of the warehouse. He kept a respectable distance from the walls, just in case someone screwed up and detonated the explosives a little too early. Considering Jack only really trusted himself to do anything right, it seemed a valid concern.

He stuck his hands in his pants pockets, slouching into his stride as he walked through the misty night, the streetlights above him foggy and casting less light than they might usually. He tried to keep his mind clear of any unpleasant or annoying thoughts, idling casting his gaze about the deserted docks in front of him. There wasn’t much in this particularly spot apart from the warehouses, and the only noises he could make out were the distant sound of sirens and the hum of the freeways.

Jack was about ready to turn around and walk back to properly wrap this night up, when something near the end of the warehouse glinted in the faded moonlight. Jack stopped, recognizing the gleam of a car fender, then the short length of a grey-blue hood. He slid his hand into his jacket, fingering the handle of his gun as he started to approach once more. As he grew closer, got a better look at the car it became more and more familiar, sending a prickle of apprehension into his gut.

It was definitely Detective Somerse—Rhys’ car. Jack knew the license plate well, from pictures his men had snagged of the omega’s personal life. But Rhys wasn’t inside. In fact, as Jack looked around, he couldn’t see him anywhere. What the hell? Had something happened to him?

Jack peered through the dim window, eyes landing upon a sheaf of papers clipped onto a manila envelope. Was Rhys on a job?

No. That couldn’t be. Rhys was supposed to be on maternity leave. Jack hadn’t seen him out in the field in weeks now, for good reason. He was supposed to be away, tucked in his home nice and safe and getting chubby on ice cream pickles.

Jack’s heart plummeted as he turned away from the car, a sick suspicion rising up from his stomach as he raced back down the length of the warehouse back to where his men were gathered. He waved his arms and shouted, trying to grab their attention.

“Hey, assholes, wait! Don’t set it off yet, don’t—“

Jack couldn’t get any more words out as the building besides him suddenly detonated. The sounds of shredded metal and shattering ground blasted into his ears, nearly knocking him off of his feet. He stumbled forward, his stomach twisting itself in half as he watched flames explode out through the windows, littering the ground with shards of glass. Jack’s heart leapt up from the pit of his stomach into his throat, choking him as he watched the warehouse go up in flames.

“Damn it…damn it!” Jack snarled, deaf to the shouts of his men as they raced towards him. He wasn’t about to give up now, not when Rhys could still be inside that frikkin’ place. If Jack didn’t go and check if he was still alive, he would never forgive himself.

Jack stripped his blazer off his body as he raced into the warehouse’s side entrance, the heat emanating from the burning walls already too much to bear with the additional layer. He wrenched open the door and stumbled his way inside, coughing at the smoke that billowed out.

“Rhys!” He called, his voice scratching against his throat. The interior smelled awful, of burning raw materials and blast residue. He prayed that he was crazy, that maybe Rhys had never entered the warehouse at all—or that if he had, he’d been far enough away from the blast as to not render Jack’s rescue futile from the start.

The alpha dodged some broken glass and rounded a pile of wooden crates knocked askew in the explosion, only to find a pallet stacked high with reinforced concrete slabs standing in his way. Some pieces had already fell and cracked onto the floor, covering it in scattered rubble. Flames licked around on the other side, quickly eating at the structure holding them in place—yet even the smoke pouring in from all around couldn’t mask the figure lying limp and prone on the floor besides the stack.

“Shit, Rhys,” Jack scrambled forward, voice muffled by the hand clamped over his mouth. His leather shoes squeaked as he skidded to his knees besides the body, knocking away the bits of debris laying over the detective’s legs. For a moment Jack’s eyes swam too much to see whether he was breathing, but a press of fingers beneath Rhys’ jaw thankfully confirmed a fluttering pulse. Moments later the detective’s eyelids twitched, revealing bleary eyes that looked up at Jack without full understanding.

“Wh…what happened…” Rhys moaned before a rough cough cut across his words. His stomach, noticeably rounded beneath his uniform, shook with each gasp. Jack’s heart clenched with worry—smoke and blunt-force wounds weren’t exactly good for unborn pups—as he stripped off his shirt and pressed the balled material loosely over Rhys’ mouth and nose.

“Easy…easy cupcake, just breathe, I’m getting you out of here, ‘kay?” Jack assured as he slid his hands underneath Rhys’ legs and back, supporting him the best he could while remaining mindful of his belly and any potential injuries. Jack’s muscles strained as he heaved, swaying to his feet with Rhys cradled in his arms. The omega moaned into the shirt as he tried his best to hold it to his face. Jack turned his head and coughed, his lungs starting to hurt now from the heat and oily smoke as he rushed back towards the entrance, desperate to get back out into the cool night air.

“Boss!” Wilhelm grunted as Jack shouldered his way back out of the warehouse, his hands grabbing onto Jack’s shoulders and pulling him away just as a second, earth-shattering explosion burst behind him. Rhys cried out and flinched in the alpha’s arms as the building’s door nearly blew off its hinges, sending debris and busted glass scattering out over the ground.

“H-holy shit,” Jack gasped, casting a look behind him at the burning warehouse, before returning his attention to the omega in his arms. Rhys curled into Jack’s chest, cheek pressed up against one tattooed pec as he took deep breaths of the damp air. He held Jack’s shirt balled up in his hand like a teddy bear, something for his trembling fingers to cling onto.

“Rhys? Rhysie, you okay?” Jack crouched, laying the omega carefully down on the ground while keeping his back supported. Without thinking, Jack rested his hand atop the omega’s stomach, cupping the ample swell beneath his clothes.

“I…I think so…” Rhys gasped, his hand too coming to touch his belly, not bothering to push away Jack’s palm. “The…the baby…”

Jack ground his teeth together, his neck prickling with instinct. God. Rhys and his pup could’ve died in there. If Jack hadn’t been in just the right place at just the right time, the kid would’ve been frikkin’ toast. The thought made him want to cling on to Rhys and never let go, even if he was supposed to be on leave. Even if they sat clear on two opposite sides of the law.  

But he decided instead to do the next best thing. He looked up at Wilhelm who hovered above them, awaiting a command.

“Bring the car. We’re going back to my place. With him.” Jack slid his arm back underneath Rhys’ legs, managing to pull him up into his arms again even with the adrenaline starting to drain from his body. He could hear sirens off in the distance, steadily growing louder as the flames consuming the warehouse licked higher.

Jack moved in the direction of the car as Wilhelm raced on ahead to start it. He really wanted nothing less than to tangle with the cops tonight—especially as the only one he really cared about needed his help.

Whether Rhys wanted it or not.

[hamstermastersamster]

So... What are these tmnt parallels to ff xv that you were talking about in your tags? ;D

Why would you do this to me D:

My usual “I don’t like Gladio sorry lol” warning applies in the below, so don’t read if you don’t wanna see people talkin’ shit about your boy:

I think the main overarching parallel is pretty obvious - you’ve got a tale of four ‘brothers’ trained for combat, operating as a team, fighting in self-defence against self-appointed villains. As the ‘brothers’ progress they find other helpful allies and you can see the beginnings of the found family concept that is such a crucial ingredient for success in TMNT … although IMO FFXV doesn’t spend enough time developing or getting the player to care about these allies to really make the cut. It’s all about the bros.

In terms of character parallels, I think there’s room for debate but personally I run with the following:

Prompto - by far the easiest. Prompto is warm, empathic, caring, emotionally sensitive, socially needy and overcompensates for low self-esteem by overrunning his mouth and acting like a joker to distract from his flaws and make people like him. This is Michelangelo all over. He certainly ‘does machines’, however, so as the tech geek of the group he stole Don’s trait there.

Prompto also loves animals as much as Noct does. Given that Mikey adopts a kitten in several turtleverses, this is totally a Michelangelo thing.

Gladio - gruff, unforgiving, believes in tough love and challenging rather than nurturing/coddling, outwardly self-confident, frequently an asshole to their leader. This seems like a pretty clear-cut Raphael on the surface … but I hate this parallel because I feel like it does Raph such an injustice, and as he is my favourite turtle …

See, the reason I say that he’s like Bad Fanfic Raphael is that bad fanfic Raphael is 100% gruff asshole with no empathy and no acknowledgement of his own flawed behaviour. Canon Raphael has kind of a mushy centre obscured by his bad temper. He’s prone to emotional outbursts and easily manipulated because of it. He pretends not to care about shit but he actually cares about EVERYTHING a WHOLE LOT at 200% INTENSITY ALL OF THE TIME. He especially cares about his bros and would die for them a thousand times over, whether it was necessary and whether they wanted him to or not, because his extreme emotional volatility makes him tend towards self-destruction. Now, different turtleverses have handled this differently, some badly and some well. The worst show off Raph’s bullying tendencies in ways that make him the clearest parallel to Gladio, quite frankly. In his worst presentations he can come across as abusive and awful.

The best, however, make Raphael actively try to deal with his temper and sincerely try and make up for his wrongdoings, especially when they were wrongdoings against his family. His outbursts aren’t usually within his control but there’s a strong sense of striving for self-improvement there, and trying not to take out his problems on the people he cares about. When he does, he feels bad about it and is prone to blaming/hating on himself. That sense of constant struggle with himself and his behaviour is what makes people root for him.

I very rarely, practically never got that sense with Gladio - perhaps only recently in Episode Ignis where he yells at Iggy about answering his phone, and then repents a little in the very next line. He’s generally all hard, rough edges, and when he’s an unsympathetic arse to Noct and Prompto (admittedly he’s less hard on Iggy, but how can you fault perfection), it all feels targeted and deliberate to shame them and manipulate them into performing better. He’s not a shield - he’s a blunt instrument that he thinks can be used to beat perfection and diligence into those he cares about and I really dislike him for his often bullying tactics. Besides a love for cup noodles I just never feel like there’s anything to him besides aggressively fulfilling his duty and driving Noct to drink.

TL;DR he is Raphael with nary a sign of the necessary mushy centre to make him as empathetic.

Ignis - Left these 2 until last because I find there’s a lot of room for debate on exactly how they fall. Ignis is disciplined, highly intelligent, pragmatic, efficient, strategically-minded and a motherlode of righteous sass. His level of dedication to his bros is also several layers of heaven above anyone else’s. He’s also definitely the ‘mom’ of the group, making sure everyone is well fed and their clothes are darned because damned if everyone’s showing him up running around in tatters. We’ve also seen in the recent DLC how much and how quickly he’s willing to sacrifice everything for Noct.

This isn’t a straightforward match. His logical thinking, book smarts, clever strategies and legendary sass make him a good match for Donatello, but there are a LOT of Leonardo parallels to consider: for starters, he arguably shows much more leadership and initiative than Noct throughout the entire game. Being the nagging mom of the team is classic Leo behaviour, as is (I reckon) the idea of unthinking crazy self-sacrifice for a brother (personally I think Donnie would be a little bit more rational and cautious about things, though if push came to shove, he’d certainly do the same in desperate times). The fact that Ignis gets blinded halfway through the game is also an uncanny match for a particular version of Leo that I’ll get onto in a bit.

It leans so far towards Leo that I have a hard time classing him 100% as Donatello, but there are a few things that I just can’t ignore in aligning Noct to Leonardo. Just let it be known that I was very torn on the decision xD

Noctis - lazy, undisciplined, resents his responsibilities, craves junk food, muffles his true emotions behind a screen of indolent apathy, has to be dragged kicking and screaming into fulfilling his role as leader and King. Absolutely none of this says ‘Leonardo’ … or does it? Leo is the leader of the turtles but he does struggle with the weight of the responsibilities dropped on his shoulders by his father (and the universe I guess). There have certainly been canon occasions when it’s all become too much for him, or he’s reacted badly to the pressure. Also, as much as he hates it, Noct rises to the occasion eventually. As this is such a core theme of his character, it’s too strong a point for the Leonardo match to ignore.

Noctis is also pretty quiet, guarded and introspective (or at least comes across that way in the English version of the game), which lines up nicely. He clashes frequently with Gladio over whether or not he’s doing a good job. He tends to deal with problems internally rather than try and talk them out. All fine for the match.

There are few real Donatello links here (aside from one plot-related thing, which again I’ll get to in the next section). It makes his character parallel a matter of necessity in one sense. Noctis is the de facto leader, not always by deed but certainly by destiny, and by the significance of this role alone he shuffles into Leo’s spot … although the better turtleverses don’t glorify Leo into main character spot quite so much.

Same As It Never Was

So, if you’ve ever watched the 2003 series of TMNT, you may remember an episode called Same As It Never Was from season 3. In this episode, one of the turtles gets spirited out of time and off into an alternate future where he literally disappeared on that day, the Shredder has taken over the planet, everything is awful, lots of people are dead, and humanity is clinging on by way of a desperate resistance movement. Only when the prodigal turtle returns can they band together with enough momentum to finally defeat the enemy.

Sound familiar? >:3

Now, in SAINW (as it is affectionately known by everyone it emotionally destroyed), it’s Donatello who gets pulled into the future, not our Leo-parallel, Noct. Leonardo is also generally assumed to be blind in this ep, although it’s never explicitly stated but suggested by behaviour and his dark glasses. More fuel for the Ignis-is-Leo and Noct-is-Donatello debate perhaps!

Anyways, that’s all I got for the moment. You asked for it D:

[facrytalcs-blog]

TIME TO SLIDE IN THE NEW BBIES

reverie clarke, daughter of penelope ‘poppet’ murray and bailey clarke

has the night circus aesthetic DOWN okay, complete black and white clothing with hints of red, mostly dresses and skirts

ethereal as fuck

always wears gloves and stockings, even if it’s not winter. there’s no particular reason for it other than the aesthetic, which she’s vERY dedicated to

she has the same power as her mother to see the future via the stars, and she gets all mysterious about it and in the zone, and she usually does readings for free now that she’s not in the circus, since her parents send her money monthly

she also lives in her own apartment and it’s decorated in fairy lights and glowing stars and stuff

she can use basic technology, but prefers not to, simply because there was no need for it at the night circus

she’s very vague, like ask her about how the night circus operates and she’ll basically quote the beginning of the book “it simply appears where it wasn’t before”

she’s studying astronomy and astrology bc u know, stars

people assume that she’s against love because she’s so stereotypically aloof, but she’s actually super down with love, and loves love stories, and when she was little she dreamed of a love story like her parents’

she has several kittens and is an excellent cat tamer, though she can’t tame lions like her grandfather can

krystelle oogie, daughter of oogie boogie

self-proclaimed ‘queen of halloween’ ( not princess, because that doesn’t rhyme )

she would make sure she knew when it was halloween on the isle and would go ALL OUT. the schools ?? completely decked in old halloween decorations that auradonians threw out. krystelle would literally sneak into the school and deck the place out and everyone knew it was her, and she would just toss out whatever candy she could find on the isle

she ironically hates bugs but was always forced to eat her snake and spider stew

she has a really witch-like aesthetic, like she loves the stripy socks and the dark dresses

she knows how to gamble okay, she had to learn because it was one of her father’s favourite things, and when she was little she was very desperate for her father to like her

she’s never celebrated christmas because her father hates the holiday, for obvious reasons

on a more serious note, oogie is a highkey asshole, and the only reason krystelle knows how to gamble so well is because, while gambling with his buddies, oogie would bet his own daughter and lose since he’s actually a really shitty gambler. she would have to make bets with his opponents and win her own freedom

a party girl, very friendly, always looking for a good time, which is part of the reason she loves playing pranks

she plays pranks because that was how oogie started raising her, as a sort of stepping stone to the criminal acts he committed, since he wanted her to be like him, but she never got past the pranking stage, and in the end, oogie began to neglect her. this sometimes makes her crave attention from other people

magnus mouse, son of mickey and minnie mouse

PRES MOUSE JR

magnus is very aware of the talk of a democracy and how his father is favoured to be president and whole-heartedly endorses the idea, though he says ‘no comment’ to the press as to not ruffle any beastly feathers, as his goal is for auradon to live as harmoniously as possible

that being said, he is torn on what to do with the isle. on one hand, he wants the VKs to be given a chance in auradon, but he also doesn’t want to bring the actual villains themselves closer to the mainland

he’s a highkey heartthrob i mean look at him he’s fly af

he’s a very generous and gracious person, but he can also act impulsively if he thinks someone is in danger, whether it be physically or otherwise. while this can be seen by some as hero-like behaviour, others ( mostly adults ) often criticise this and say he’s too irrational to be the future president, which isn’t even close to being in the cards

despite being high-profile, he’s very lowkey?? like if his family wasn’t famous, he would absolutely blend into the background

he’s doing a double degree in business and human services, as even if his father doesn’t get elected as president, he still wants to help others

he and olyssia are childhood friends and he views her as a younger sister

people tend to flock to him and listen to him, and people have often called him too perfect

he isn’t good at asking for help AT ALL, even if he has 239084032984 things on his plate at one time

while mickey has the ability to wield a keyblade, magnus does not, and he tries to convince himself that he isn’t disappointed about that

olyssia oxley, daughter of oswald and ortensia

a brat, but like.... a lowkey brat ?? sort of ??

her family is almost as highkey as the mouse family, and when she was younger, she was always asked about them, especially magnus, and she hated it

she was resentful towards the mouses, but at the same time felt guilty about it because mickey always let her hang around the house and minnie was a sweetheart and magnus let her play with his toys

she eventually grew out of it and instead decides that she stands beside the mouses rather than behind them and detests people who tell her otherwise

EVERYTHING ALWAYS ON FLEEK

although she’s a little haughty and full of herself, she’s very honourable in an eye-for-an-eye sort of way. if you do something nice for you, she’ll remember that forever, until she’s able to repay you in some way

people assume she’s stupid because she’s all dolled up and pretty and doesn’t speak much to the press but she’s actually very intelligent when it comes to political matters

she tries ( and fails ) to stop magnus from acting irrationally

people have tried to kidnap her for ransom before

like oswald, she can detach her limbs, but only when she’s in her rabbit form, which she never uses when in public, so according to most outside sources, this is only a myth as it is an ability she keeps under wraps

olyssia tends to have strings of good luck, then strings of bad luck, rinse and repeat, and she blames her father for it completely

electra hook, daughter of captain hook

ALL HAIL THE PIRATE QUEEN

she really wants to be the next captain, automatically assuming shakes is going to get it, but tries anyway

a complete and utter daddy’s girl, ( almost ) always gets what she wants without having to kick up too much of a fuss, but this behaviour doesn’t extent outside her family, as she doesn’t bother asking anyone else for permission for anything ever

she’s a complete pirate, loves getting drunk and singing old sea shanties until she passes out

she uses pirate slang in regular conversation, no matter who she’s talking to, and expects them to keep up no matter what

she LOVES leading treasure hunts, as soon as she knew she was going to auradon, she started planning which treasure she was going for first, even though she’d only heard rumours of what was there

that being said, she doesn’t steal. she’s more of a digging up treasure and stumbling across long abandoned items girl. she isn’t about to sneak into someone’s house and take their stuff

she can be very blunt and tends to have no manners, really, she’s just so used to being around pirates

she’s always wearing jewellery. lots of bangles, a couple of necklaces, earrings, rings, a pocket watch, a studded belt, she’s always got sOMETHING like that on her person

she knows how to sword-fight, but tends to depend on that too much, and as a result, her hand-to-hand combat is lacking