#so proud of you t.v man

[xexedraws]

He asked him on a date!!!🥹🥰✨✨

[syrma-sensei]

→ Hush Hush Behind The Shield.

gif credit.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Wife!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Warnings: Vought's ungodly shenanigans, mentions of cheating, couple fighting, angst, misogyny, antiquated mentality, dub-con, power imbalance, fingering, forced orgasms, angry sex, cock riding...

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Being america's greatest hero's wife has its perks, but they don't come for free...

A/N: I'd like to thank my two pretty moots, @kaleldobrev who's been always there for me, listening to mental blurbs and chaotic spews of unhinged ideas and continuous mind dump ❤️ and @zepskies who bares my energy, which can be a bit much, each time I spam her dms with life cringing memes and awaful reacts ❤️

Kneeling down on one knee, your mitted hands hoisted the oven door close as you hummed a melody to yourself. Turning on your heels, you stood up and gave the dining table a once-over before allowing a proud grin slip on your lips.

��Perfect.”

Then your eyes glanced at your watch. It was half an hour past seven in the evening. Perfect. There'd be enough time to pamper yourself in a relaxing shower and spruce up with no rush before your husband was home.

You gave the dining room another glimpse to make sure everything was in place before you headed to the bathroom upstairs, walking through the living room where the T.V. displayed a Soldier Boy anti-drugs commercial.

A snore escaped your nose upon hearing the phrase: “Just say no.” Remembering how your husband threw a fit behind the scenes at how stupid it was, to the point of getting Stan Edgar himself on the line for him to find an alternative to it. Because no way he was saying that shit.

“God, I sounded like a fucking douchebag,” He'd told you in his dressing room, a smouldering reefer hanging between his lips — the irony, after they wrapped filming up.

You'd giggled, playfully plucking it from his lips to take a drag of your own, “No, baby, you did just fine.” You purred, and his mouth curled up into a small grin, “The public needs that y'know…” You tipped his chin up, your polished, long nails grazed lightly to his skin, “You're America's golden son, right? You're the man everyone should look up to.”

“Damn sure they should.” He'd chuckled, leaning down for a kiss which you gladly welcomed.

Being Soldier Boy's wife came with many many perks, but it also had its downsides, one of which was to have to deal with his short temper. But what could you say? You loved the man. Ardently so; you literally fought the world to have him all for yourself despite Vought's disapproval of your nuptial.

You savoured the victory when you married Ben in a small ceremony without Vought's blessing. It was like a slap to them when Ben imparted upon them the happy news, he delivered them a severe black eye, especially the vainglorious bastard Edgar. Who had once told you that you and Ben wouldn't work out, for it was simply "inconvenient" for a superhero like Soldier Boy to be involved in a serious relationship with a mere… human; it'd be a "disappointment" in the public eye, as he put it. Like he had a say in the matter.

But here you were, with a ring on your left hand to swagger about, and happily married to America's first hero, Edgar and Vought could say hello to your middle finger.

To nobody's surprise, you resented Vought, and held such abhorrence against them for not letting you and your husband live the life you wanted for yourselves. Despite your personal efforts, your proclaimed triumph was soon cut short because Vought declined to go public and endorse your marriage. Not that you and your husband gave two shits about their approval, but the rules were rules. And their lawyers affirmed that a public exposure of your marriage might damage Soldier Boy's rep, therefore, Vought's; given the fact that you were more than thirty years younger than him. They couldn't have it said that the hero of heroes was a creep even though they'd tried to conceal his age when he and Phoebe Cates starred in Love And War because it started to seem fishy. It was expected, though. But what you didn't see coming was Ben's response, or lack of response as to put it.

Despite being even more obdurate about this marriage than yourself. You felt terribly abjured by your husband. You'd thought he'd fight for you, for what you both had, and he'd want to let the world know about you. It'd broken your heart when it dawned upon you that Ben wouldn't risk his fame and glory for anyone, for you. Reluctantly, you bit the bullet, you had to, for him, because you loved him, and would do anything to keep this marriage intact. If you had to compromise for it, then so be it. You didn't care.

To your solace, Ben never changed after the frustrating incident; he was still the man you fell in love with. He might be smug, crass, and insufferable to everyone but you could still perceive the tender side he had though he'd never actually admit it, and you never pushed him too much. You were subtle enough to know when to stroke his ego and when to tease it. He was a man, after all. But it was obvious; he was a doting husband who cherished you in his own way. He showered you with gifts, and pampered you when he could. And he was eager to have babies with you. He never ceased to express how rapturous he would be if he were to have a son. A child with you.

Sure, you had your own qualms about that particular day, and there was more than a time you wanted to have a conversation with him about it. But you couldn't bring yourself to screw it up with stupid doubts. If Ben hadn't truly loved you, he wouldn't have treated you the way he did, he wouldn't have brought you to his workplace to have you at his side — and to poke Vought's eye every single time. He wouldn't have let you in and told you about his family and his dad, about his fucked-up childhood and how he became a hero.

No, your bond was bigger than any fleeting thoughts of incredulity.

You crooned softly as you wrapped a towel around your body after you finished your shower. Stepping out, you rubbed your hair with another towel and made your way down towards the kitchen to check on the pie.

Oh, Ben liked pies. You found it amusing how he'd swallow a whole pie alone and wouldn't affect him one bit; a supe sure required a lot of calories. Sometimes, you wished you had his great metabolism.

The moreish scent of baked dough and chocolate told you it was ready. You opened the oven door with a protected hand and placed the delicious pie by the window to let it cool down while you dressed up.

On your way back to your bedroom, you padded through the living room again. Your eyes glanced fleetingly at the screen only to stop abruptly in your tracks. A slight frown made it to your face as you saw a picture of Ben and Crimson Countess together. You never liked Countess. Something about her always disturbed you, and your guts were right.

Your eyes roamed the headline over and over, dilating in stupor.

Breaking News: Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess are officially together, Vought announced.

You shook your head in disbelief, hand grasping the remote control from the couch, shivering fingers shuffling through the channels.

Soldier Boy finally found the one!

Your heart paced up with each press.

A long awaited power couple is now here!

Vought just shocked the world by—

And here's Soldier Boy and Countess's statement…

It was hard to quell your simmering anger when you saw your husband smiling face with that bitch between his arms. Camera flashes and clicks swarmed around them with an entourage of reporters and interviewers.

“Hey, Soldier Boy, now you're together, what can you tell us about the first time you saw Countess? Was it love at first?” A reporter asked.

Ben scratched his beard with his gloved hand, drawling “First time I met Tess was when Vought concocted a hero collab years ago, remember that honey?”

You did remember that event very clearly. You were still Ben's secret girlfriend at the time, and it was exclusive to superheroes, yet Ben brought you there as his date.

Ben grinned as if dreamily reminiscing about the memory as he continued, “And lemme tell ya one thing, this one is a firecracker.”

Countess giggled playfully, gazing up at your husband in the most flirtatious way, it made you gag with disgust.

You scoffed bitterly at the blatant lies spurting right in your face. That specific night, Ben had childishly grumbled and complained about how much he wanted to be out of there. And to spice things up, he playfully dragged you from the pristine hall the event took place in, and fucked you raw against one of the wall of some other hall, keeping your panties as a souvenir for the rest of the soirée. He kept teasing you through the entire night, riling and messing you up. At the time, it was thrilling and venturous. Now, however, it knotted at the tip of your stomach. His focus that day was solely on you. He wasn't even aware of the bitch's presence for all you care.

“And when I first saw her… knew she was the one….”

You couldn't comprehend what Ben said after that point as a deafening buzz bolted through your ears. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and soon they were streaming from your eyes as you stood numb on your spot. Your tears splattered on the ground along with your heart.

“Honey, I'm home.” Ben announced once he stepped in the house. He sighed, putting his shield down and making his way to the kitchen where you usually would be, making his dinner. He didn't take his boots off though he knew you'd throw a fit about it, but let's just say that teasing and screwing with you was his favourite hobby. His anticipating grin soon dropped and a small scowl knitted his brows when an odd mixture of scents wafted into his nose. His eyes dilated at the unusual messy scene in the kitchen; the table was flipped over, glass splints scattered all over the floor, freshly-cooked food covering the carpet beneath the dining table, and a chocolate pie was squashed into the wall.

With a pacing heart, Ben cried your name, and hurriedly climbed up the stairs. His feet darted to the bedroom when he heard you sniffling and weeping.

An audible sigh of relief flouted out of chest when he saw you. Your hair was wet and a damp towel wrapped around your body, but his eyebrow quirked up when he noticed you packing a bag on the bed. The fuck?

“(Y/N), the fuck is going here?” You scared the shit outta me. He wanted to say, after the shitty day he had, he just wanted to have you in his arms and play with your hair.

You startled for a moment when you heard his southern accent. You used to be fond of it, but today you were certainly not.

“I'm leaving.” Your answer came out curt, your hands tugging your bag zippers close.

You heard his footsteps getting closer until you felt his hand on your bare shoulder, “What happened to you, sweetheart?”

You pulled yourself away from his hold, hissing, “Don't you fucking touch me!”

He didn't seem to heed your warning as he reached a hand to your face. Gritting your teeth, you spun around with your hand ready to deliver a slap to his cheek. However, and no matter how fast and pissed you were, he was always quicker and alerter. Fucking supe.

“You don't get to touch me ever again you asshole!” You shrieked, yanking your wrist from his grasp, your wet hair stuck to your face, chest heaving with each breath. 

“The fuck is wrong with you, woman?!” He growled with a deep scowl, “Just left you all happy and giggling in the morning, is it here? Your time of the month again?”

“Fuck you!” You spat, clenched hands rising up to his chest, “You're my fucking problem,” You jabbed a fist to chest, though he didn't move an inch, but damn didn't it feel good! You blew another punch to his stupidly firm chest again and again.

“Fucking Christ!” He grumbled, and with one strong arm, Ben wrangled your back against his chest and caged you in his steel hold, one hand securing both of your wrists above your head, “Calm the fuck down!”

Legs kicking and hands tugging, you tried to wriggle out of his arms but to no avail, you felt so helpless against his raw strength. Your anger and frustration poured out of your mouth in a wailing, broken voice, “Leave. Me. Alone!” You bellowed, “Go to your fucking Crimson Bitch!” Two rivulets of tears drizzled from your eyes again, “Go to your fucking Tess and let her fire-crack your nuts, you fucking pussy!”

“Christ on a cross, do you hear yourself talk, woman?!”

His eyes widened before his eyebrows scrunched deeply. He took you off guard when he brought you down to the floor as he crouched on one knee. Your towel unwrapped at the sudden movement and you were naked beneath his eyes. His hands were still holding you in place.

Two green eyes regarded you softly, “You really took that marketing shit for real?” He thumbed your lower lip, and his free hand trailed down your naked form. “Fucking hell, thought you were way smarter than that, sweetheart.” You shivered from both the cold and his touch, his sinful reaching your mound, “You really think I'd fucking leave you for her?”

You couldn't suppress the moan when he stroked your throbbing clit. A shot of arousal seeped out of your opening much to Ben's satisfaction. Anger made the colour of your face rise, “Fuck you! Fuck your bitch! Fuck Vought!” You spat, your eyes burning holes into his as he proceeded toying with your flesh until your voice broke, “Y-You want me to buy your shit — Ah!” Two of his thick and expert digits entered your slit, massaging your love spots thoroughly. “After you didn't stand up for our marriage?!” You groaned, hips rolling to the rhythm of his fingers.

“Is that so?” His brow quirked up amusedly. Was this funny to this bastard? Was your marriage some kind of a joke to him?

You gasped as he deliberately hit your weak spot; sweet, delightful coils fluttered at the tip of your stomach, “I was under the fucking impression that you had your pretty, little head wrapped around how this fucking business worked!” He snarled.

“Fuck you! I hate you!” Your body snapped as you came abundantly on his fingers which made him grin slyly down at you.

You felt his grip on your wrists loosen, so you took your window and jerked yourself free. He was shocked when you pushed him down on the floor and straddled his hips, your dripping cunt was drenching his pants with your cum. He raised a playful brow at you but soon was replaced by a shocked frown when you slapped his irritatingly handsome face.

“Fucking hell, you fucking little ballbuster—”

You shushed him with a finger on his lips, “You're fucking mine, Benjamin, you hear me! You're fucking mine!” You hissed, having no idea where your vigour came from as you tore his shirt off of his chest. His length poked you when you gazed with searing fire in your eyes at his, “You. Belong. To. Me.” You furiously tucked his pants and boxers down, his cock springing out with life.

A wanton moan came off your lips as you sunk yourself down his cock, whereas he grumbled in pleasure as you hugged him tightly with your wet and warm insides.

You snapped your hips harshly and he growled, “Fuck, doll—!”

Another snap, your voice was laboured, “I own you. You're married not to that whore, not to Vought, but to me!”

Your skin slammed against his meat vehemently as you gritted your teeth when another orgasm was spiralling in your body. You paced up your movement, a hand banging demandingly on his chest, “Say it! You're fucking mine!”

“Holy shit!” You watched his eyes roll backwards as he rasped, “Yours, babe,”

“Holy fuck, Ben! Ben, I'm coming again!”

That was his cue to take control again. He sat up, cradling you in his warm hold, “Cum to me, babe, fucking soak my cock.” You wabled his name, clinging to his shoulders as your climax stormed out of your body like a mad hurricane. You whimpered pathetically when his two large hands on your hips kept making you ride him through your high.

“Fucking stupid girl,” He growled, shooting his seed up your insides.

With laboured breaths, you glared at each other. You felt his cock softening inside of you, “Fucking idiot man.” You scoffed.

He chuckled with a boyish grin on his sweaty face, “That was fucking hot, think I like this wild side of you, darlin'”

You snickered, “You bet, wait until you see what I'm gonna do with that little fuck, Edgar.”

Ben rumbled a deep chortle, much to your annoyance, would this man ever take you seriously? “I swear to fucking Christ, Ben, if they—you don't break off that stupid shit with Countess and go public about us, I'll fucking burn that fucking tower to the fucking ground, because I'm fucking done with this—mhmmm!”

He cut you off with a scorching kiss and its heat made you thaw against his lips. His cock twitched inside of you.

“Jealousy looks pretty on you though, sweetheart” He teased, his lips brushing to yours.

God, damn this man and his endless ego! “Ben!” You nudged him playfully.

“Can't wait to see you wanting to snatch some ladies' heads off when we go to balls together.”

You smiled at him, biting on your bottom lip. The idea of finally being acknowledged as Ben's wife warmed your heart, and his willingness to do so made your heart race. However, disturbing thoughts loomed in your head again, “Think Vought will let us be?” You asked with hesitation. Fuck, that shit really got too deep into you.

He rolled his eyes, “Try not to work your pretty head hard 'bout this, doll,” He tucked a tress of your hair behind your ear, “The man who fucking beat the Nazis can handle some sweaty fucknuts at Vought.” There was something warmly reassuring about his smugness.

“See? All that shit wouldn't happen if you didn't stay silent while they fucking tried to play their fucking game!”

Ben chuckled, “Well, the fucking was totally worth it.”

You groaned in frustration, “Ben… I thought you abandoned me.”

Your husband furrowed his brows at you, “You women hardly think sometimes, don't you?” You scowled at his remark but he sighed, cradling your cheeks in his warm hands, “I fucking fought to make you my wife. I fucking put my whole career and name at risk for you.” You blinked at him, “The day before we tied our knot, I fucking told the boardroom that I was marrying you, that I'd fucking walk off if they tried anything funny… they didn't, till fucking today.” He sighed, “They fucking announced that bullshit before I was even told.”

“Assholes,” You whispered.

“After that pathetic act, I fucking stormed to Edgar like I stormed Normandy. Let's say that he and I did a little bit of chatting,” He gave you a conceited smirk, giving you no detail of how he got scared shitless when he saw the mess in the kitchen. He thought Vought dared to fucking do something to you. And when he heard you cry he feared the worst. But of course, he wouldn't tell you anything about that. Because he was the fucking man of this house; if his feelings of fear appeared, the sense of security he provided to this house, to you, would crumble. And he wouldn't have that. Ever.

You, on the other hand, had a weird combination of pride and happiness sprouted within your chest.

“I'm so sorry, Ben…” You said, cupping his face in your hands, “I-I don't know what came over me when I saw you with her,” You couldn't even say her name.

“Couldn't have your man stolen away, could you?” He teased you.

“Never.” You answered, “And I'm sorry for what happened, husband.”

“I mean you did make it up for me, wife,” He flashed you a cheeky grin, “Though, I don't feel particularly in a forgiving mood… yet.”

Head tilting to the side, your raised an eyebrow, rolling your hips teasingly on his cock, “Don't push your luck…”

“Try me.”

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist.

taglist: @zepskies, @deansbbyx, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deans-spinster-witch, @venus-haze, @thebiggerbear...

[thehealthyfearofeverything]

The Kitchen Sink

SINOPSIS: “ No surprise family members?” you asked Mama. She laughed, light and airy and filled with genuine mirth.

“Not while I'm alive.” She said before kissing your head.

Or 

You died and were reborn into the DC universe, simple enough.

Chapter One || The View From Halfway Down.

Warnings: Death, suicide, depression, child neglect, violence, murder, untreated postpartum depression. The first part of this details a suicide please do not read this if it’s triggering, prioritize your mental health. If you want to continue but don't want to read the first part, the next scene starts here: “Death is surprisingly peaceful.”

You're standing at the edge of an incomplete bridge, a construction project that must’ve been abandoned a few years ago. Nature has reclaimed the old metal construct. The ground is still dewy and slick, and you caught yourself before you tripped when your foot slid against a particularly wet patch of moss.

It’s ironic how you caught yourself from falling considering what you’re about to do. A bitter chuckle fell from your lips. You’ve walked way past the old weathered warning signs and rusty railing that were placed there to keep people from falling. 

Or jumping. 

Now here you are standing at the very edge with your feet half off of the ledge. You lean over to look down, and a pang of fear bounce your gut. 

Yeah, that’s a long way down. You’d probably die on impact, or get swallowed by the current and drown.

A gust of wind blows through your clothes and hair, whistling softly against the shells of your ears.

The air smells like rain and wet earth, and you can see and hear thunder clouds rolling in the distance. You breathe in a painful breath of air, filling your lungs until they ache and emptying them again. The cold evening air makes the hair on the back of your neck stand, and you still feel chilly despite the layers of clothes you’re wearing.

You swallowed thickly, peace was slowly falling over you, calming your racing heart and cooling the burning blood in your veins. The sound of the rushing river sounded a lot like white noise, or the thrum of static. It reminds you of your grandpa, that blind old man with a smoker’s voice and a failing body, of how he’d sit in front of the T.V. and just listen to it, refusing to turn it off even when the scene went white and nothing of use played. 

Grandpa died in front of the T.V. and it was Mom who found him. It was mom who mourned for him.

Who would report your body? Who would mourn for you?

You know that it probably will be a few days, maybe weeks until your body washes up on the riverbed and a bit longer until someone finds it and reports it. You probably would be found sooner if you offed yourself in your apartment, but it certainly wouldn’t be by your friends.

It’d be by neighbors complaining of some smell or your landlord serving an eviction notice. You've skipped rent a few too many times. Whatever. It’s not like it mattered.

You weren't meant to live anyways, something has always been wrong with you. You were born wrong and it’s only taken 22 years to realize that you don’t fit into this world. So of course it all comes down to two choices: Live and kill yourself later, or just fucking jump and get it overwith now. 

A slow breath leaves your lungs, a cloud of condensation swirling in the chilling air in front of you. The breeze carries your breath away and disburses the cloud into nothingness. You lean forward and look over the edge again, staring down into waters that you’ll be throwing yourself down. You hope it’s a long enough drop to kill you on impact.

It’d fucking suck if it didn’t.

It's probably better than going back to what you have… Maybe.

You have...had an okay job behind a counter at a local mom-and-pop store, your coworkers are kind enough and the pay isn’t so bad. You also write in your spare time and some of the stuff you make you’re proud of. You wanted to pursue a career in it, but it just didn't turn out that way. 

You used to go to college. You’re still technically enrolled, but it’s been a year since you’ve stepped foot on campus and your financial aid has dropped you. Somewhere along the way you just busied yourself with a 9-5 job just to not feel useless, but you still are.

You make barely enough money to cover rent, ramen packets, coffee and on occasion fast food. When you aren't working your life away, most of it is spent just sitting at your desk staring off into space as a blank word document stares back at you.

You used to love writing, but it’s slowly become a chore to you and you find little interest in it anymore. You know that’s by-the-book depression, but what else did you have to look forward to? All you do now is go to work, sit and stare into space for hours, and drag yourself back to bed. You’re so tired.  All. The. Fucking. Time.

You feel sad that you won’t be around to enjoy the things you used to, like reading or writing. But let’s be real here, the only thing you’ve written lately is the suicide letter tucked under one of the rails. 

You’re going to really miss all the little things in life that you enjoyed. Sadly there aren’t enough little things to make you want to keep breathing. You wish there was, it isn’t like you hate living. You love it when it’s enjoyable, but living is just too hard for you. You should feel angry that you don’t have the will to live in this world, and that there doesn’t seem to be a place for you here, but you don’t.

You don’t feel as angry as you used to be.

You used to be so, so angry at everything. You detested the ground you walked on, cursing the planet for making you this way. You were angry at your friends, jealous of their success and happiness. You were angry at yourself for not being enough to keep up in this world. You were angry at things that happened to you. Angry for the way you were born. Angry at what you were born with.

As time went on, that anger fizzled into contempt, and then indifference. Wherever that anger went, wherever had it gone, you only know that it was replaced by a deep sadness that sits in your chest everyday. It wasn’t only anger that left you, though. It was every fiery emotion. Passion, motivation, etc. It's all gone. 

That was probably the first step towards giving up. Whenever something does manage to piss you off, it doesn’t last long. It sizzles out just as fast as it happens and it leaves you feeling empty. You are used to it by now, but that doesn’t make it any less bearable.

And it’s not like you didn’t try to be happy. You did, you really did try to be happy. To make friends, to get a good job, and to finish college. You tried to fulfill the promise you made to mom, to live a good life and become something more than her, to do better.

You made a promise and you broke it.

At least it’s a nice day to let go. You always enjoyed dreary weather more so than sunshine and all that bullshit. Darker weather always felt like a break, like the world was slowed down for that day. Slow to match your pace for once. You take in a slow breath. The sky is dark with heavy rain clouds now, and the sound of wind blowing air into trees is almost as loud as the sound of your heart in your chest. 

Okay. Shit. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Maybe you are more scared than you are letting on.

You loved the rain. You loved making a fresh pot of coffee. You loved reading a new book you found. You loved watching cheesy hallmark movies. You loved all the little things that life has to offer. But life can’t all be little things. 

You would love nothing more than to just write, and read all day, and enjoy the weather, and all of the small oddities that make you happy; but you’re too weak to work for them. You’ve tried. You've tried so fucking hard. 

The only thing that was keeping you going for a long while was your cat, Rukabella, and hanging out with your friends. But Rukabella passed away last December, and your friends stopped calling.

A bird flies past you and into the sky, as you watch it in peaceful silence. 

It soars into the sky, swaying with the pulses of wind before it nestles itself into a nearby tree. You wonder if it’s just taking shelter from the oncoming storm, or if it’s home is there.

You’d like to think that it’s going home to wait out the rain with other birds.

God, you're scared, though. You didn't think you'd be this fucking terrified. Dying is the hard, painful part that you’ve always chickened out of.

Until now

You stare down into the deep river, clear rushing water just waiting to sweep your body away. A thrum of anxiety buzzes in your gut, but your mind feels barren of emotion.

 You close your eyes and jump.

Death is surprisingly peaceful, It's warm and comforting and you never want to leave if this is the afterlife. You're free from pain and all of the nasty complex emotions that come with living.

‘It’s so hot. It hurts. It hurts so much. Why me? Why me? Why do I have to hurt? I hate this so much… mama please….’

A child’s voice cried out directly into Your head, weak, whimpering, and full of pain. What were you supposed to do about it? You were never good with distressed children, and you were out of touch with anything that had to do with empathy.

A warm darkness enveloped your body, and the child’s voice grew increasingly quiet. The child’s sobbing complaints faded into hushed pants. The moment when you realized you couldn’t hear the child’s voice anymore, the bubble-like  cocoon that had surrounded you disappeared with a pop.

You felt yourself waking up, and at the same time, a painful hot fever branched throughout your body, as if you had come down with the flu.

Your eyes snapped open and you shot upwards, the image of the ground rushing to meet you melting into the plain white walls. You groaned. Eyes screwing shut against the harsh light spilling through the room. You brushed your hand against your hair, leaning  forward over your legs.

The scratchy, heavy blanket that had been draped over you dropped to your lap. The fierce pounding in your head did not abate for a long minute, but as it slowly ebbed away into a dull ache, you released a deep sigh.

Your body was still hot, and there was a deep itch that made a home in your bones. You mindlessly scratched your arms.

You cracked your eyes open, mindful of the light, and stared at the room you're in.

“… A room?” You murmured, voice thick. It had been so vivid, so real. As if you had been the one to – your stomach clenched as more details from the dream solidified  in your mind. you shuddered, feeling the lingering  memory of ice cold water running over you. Brutal, frigid water that knew nothing of warmth. 

A hollow ping of disappointment  ricoshade through your body… It was only a dream.

A dream. 

You had only dreamt of jumping, of killing yourself.

Shaking your head, casting the dream from your mind, and moving to pull the blanket back. You froze when you caught sight of your hand properly for the first time.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the small callus-free limb, turning it over to see the same on the other side. You held the other one up, chest heaving when you saw that it too was wrong. Thin and frail, too small to belong to an adult, it was the hand of a small malnourished child. You took an unsteady breath, dropping  your arms and ripping  the blanket off. Your feet were the same, and the sight of them – not your own, what was going on? – had you springing from the bed in panic.

You had nearly collapsed under your weight, your knees shook as red-hot pain ebbed its way into your chest. You found it difficult to breathe. Your breath was coming out in short sharp huffs.

There was another bed, right beside the one you were in, an old stained blanket covered it, along with sad-looking  pillows. 

A nightstand  in between the two beds. Trunks were at the foot of the beds. The silence of the room was filled with white noise. You backed away, but you could not escape your own body. You knocked against the side table making the pitcher wobble, and then slammed into a wall, feeling something dig into your head.

You spun and realized that it was a door. You shoved it open and rushed inside, but came to an abrupt stop when you were confronted with a beautiful young woman. The woman set the tray she was holding on the ground, her eyebrows narrowed.

"what are you doing up?"

“Ah!” The moment the woman’s speech touched your ears, the mental dam burst open, and a flood of memories that wasn’t your own yet felt familiar  rushed through you. You fell to Your knees, the fever growing hotter. You were an inferno  burning from the inside out. The woman let out a concerned shriek. In a span of a few blinks, you were scooped up in the woman’s arms, your head pressed into her bosom.

The memories belonging to the girl, 'Birdie', crashed through your mind like a flood. You reflexively clasped the fabric of the woman’s shirt as you let out a weak whimper.

“Oh, Birdie...You’re  burning up.”

no, no, no! I’m not Birdie! You wanted to protest, but you couldn’t. Every time you opened your mouth to say something all that came out was a weak half-sob-half-cough. You were overwhelmed  by the sensations of the strange dirty room, the weak small hands that were becoming  yours, and goosebumps formed as the thrum of something buzz under your skin.

The flood of information sent you into a panic, as everything screamed one thing: you were no longer yourself anymore, you were this sickly five-year-old  girl.

“Birdie? Birdie?” The woman called out to you, aggressively stroking your back in her panic. Worried, she was worried, but she was a stranger. Or she would have been, but this body knew her. It even felt like you loved her.

The love felt gross and foreign. It wasn’t yours. You couldn’t accept that the woman holding you was your mother. Your body’s love and your mind’s repulsion  fought  against each other, the woman kept calling out the disgustingly comforting pet name.

“Mama”

When you looked up at the strange woman you never met before and called her ‘Mama,’ you fully became her Birdie.

“Shush, dear. All will be okay.” Her hands, warm and rough, smoothed down your hair. You didn’t want to touch your mother, who existed in your memories yet was someone you didn’t know. And so, when you were being placed down on the disgusting, hard bed, you threw yourself into the stinky pillows and rolled onto your side, closing your eyes.

“…My head hurts, I wanna sleep.”

“I’ll wake you when dinner's ready.”

You waited for Mama to leave the bedroom, and stiffened when you heard the door open again. Mama put something onto the nightstand  and left the room, this time for good. You licked your lips as you pulled yourself into a sitting position, getting up in stages and groaning as you did so. Your body was still hot, but it wasn’t the raging inferno it was earlier.

You glanced around the room again, on the nightstand was a wooden tray, with a cup of something in it. Nothing stood out, it was a bare-bones room that tried to look well-lived in.

You bowed your head as you laced your hands onto the back of your neck and tried to control your breathing. Big emotions in a small body were bound to end in a tantrum; you did not want to have a tantrum.

Calm down, calm down. There’s no way what I think happened, happened. Think, all you had to do was think, there was an explanation.

You slowed your breathing, and cast your mind back; The bridge, the river, the rush of wind in her ears.

“I jumped,” You announced,  astonishingly  to the empty bedroom. You actually killed yourself and were brought  back. Now isn’t that a cruel joke?

“Okay, no time to dwell on that. What’s next?” You muttered to yourself. This body still had memories; Mama or someone else would get suspicious if you didn’t use them to your advantage. You tried to look through your clearer second set of memories, going as far back as you could, but this body was that of a very young girl with a weak grasp of the language. She didn’t understand  everything  Mama had said.

Over half of these memories were useless.

“Oh God, what do I Do?”

You could determine a few things: One, your family consisted of you and your Mama, Rosetta. It seemed like you didn’t have a dad, and Mama worked as a waitress or something along those lines. Second, and the most shocking, this world isn’t your own. You were in the DCU, in Gotham 

“Haaah,” There were no mirrors in this residence. No matter how much you explored your memories you couldn’t find any details on your appearance.You tugged on a lock of your hair, thick, coarse, and dry— poorly maintained  Afro-textured  hair. You pulled the lock in front of your eyes, black. If Mama looked pretty then you must be too. Not that it mattered, you didn’t look amazing in your past life, you could live without being cute.

It’s the little victories and all that jazz. You pressed your hands on the hard mattress when they began shaking minutely, willing the tremors to stop. Your mind was flooded with noise and you bit your lip, pushing through the confusion, fear, and many other emotions, and focused on what was important. One thing at a time.

You looked down at your hands and clenched them repeatedly. They moved on your command, without  a hint of pain or any delay. You slowly started stretching, noting the lack of injuries. There was not even the slightest twinge.

You fell onto your side, what kind of isekai- reincarnation  bull shit was this?

You coughed. Your fever was subsiding.

“Birdie, are you awake?” As if to purposefully  interrupt  your thoughts  Mama stepped lightly into the room. You looked at the woman from over your shoulder. Mama looked out of breath and your lips twisted into a frown. 

“Dinner's done?” You asked, your voice sore and mouth dry.

“Yeah.” She whispered, and in the quickest moment, Mama sauntered over to your bedside and sat down.

Mama’s hands were rough and calloused, her nails were short and dirty, and she had the hands of a worker but she held your smaller hands with such tender care. Mama’s thumbs traced up the bone, curving over your little pointer fingers.

You stared in uncomfortable  breathless  wonder. You don’t remember… Has anyone treated you so gently?

Mama curled her much larger hands over your small frail ones. You pulled your hands away and tucked them under the filthy blanket. Mama frowned, the back of her hand now flushed against your forehead.

“Your fever’s gone down, that’s good.” She said softly. Mama was always gentle with you.

"Now, let's eat, I made a hearty soup that would kill the rest of that nasty fever of yours," Mama said, picking you up. You couldn't stop yourself from burying your face into the crook of her neck breathing in her earthy scent. 

Mama was nice and warm. You didn’t want to compare, but she was much more attentive than your previous mom was. Mom—not Mama—tried her best. You were aware that she never got over the ‘baby blues’, and it had gotten worse over the years. Being a single mom, working a dead-end job, and eventually taking care of her elderly smoker of a father, it was no surprise she did what she did.

And it was no surprise you followed her footsteps, despite promising not to.

Mama cradled you and kissed and hugged you without restraint, giving you affection as easily as she breathed. It took you two years to get used to the affection, you were touched starved and touched repulsed. Mama also noticed your aversion to physical contact, she didn’t force you to be affectionate, there was no manipulation  or guilt tripping. 

It was just you and Mama, like how it used to be just you and Mom.

You were poor in this life as well, living in the Narrows. It wasn’t much but it was enough, the rent was paid, and food was always on the table. You were twenty–two when you died, and now you were mentally twenty four, physically you were seven. You started school and now Mama could pick up more shifts, earn more money, just a little extra for holidays and emergencies.

It was fun having a mother that wouldn't lay in bed all day, or get mad when you got a little too loud. 

You bounced into the apartment throwing your backpack on the floor after saying bye to Toby, a brown haired second grader that started to walk you home after school. He lived down the hall from you, he was nice, cute too with big brown doe eyes and a face full of baby fat. You didn’t know why he started to hang around you, but you didn't mind it. You needed friends and Mama was starting to worry.

A win-win so to say.

“Mama! I'm back!” You yelled, taking off your shoes and jacket. The apartment was warm, so Mama was home early. Mama was in the bedroom, sitting on her bed. Music played from the bluetooth speaker on her nightstand. She looked up from the book she was reading with a soft smile on her face.

“Hey, Birdie, how's school?” she asked. You hummed in response before climbing onto her bed and snuggling against her side. Mama let out an amused huff before tapping your nose with her index finger.

“ School’s fine, I have to do a family tree thing for class… And I'll need my birth certificate.” You muttered, picking at a loose thread of her sweater, a wordless jazz song drifted from the speaker.

“Why do you need your birth certificate? Aren't these assignments done with crayons and paper?” You could hear the teasing tone in her voice. Mama was acting like she was reading her book, but you knew she was watching you. Wanting to catch every little emotion.

So fucking attentive.

“It's only me and you, I don't need to make a family tree.” Mama hummed, and finally stopped pretending to read her book. She placed it on the nightstand and pulled you onto her lap. Straddling Mama you gripped the slides of her sweater and looked Mama in her eyes, warm, soft and searching. 

Ever since you became Birdie Mama began to look at you differently, looking for remnants of her real daughter. It was to be expected you were mentally twenty four stuck in the body of a first grader. Of course she’d notice that her daughter had changed and would on some level miss the real Birdie.

It’s why you tried so hard to be good, to accept her affection and not draw too much attention to your little family. So far you managed to keep your depression at bay, and sure you had your bad days. Where you could barely get out of bed, barely had the energy to eat and had little to no tolerance for physical touch. And Mama handled it the best she could, accepted your mood swings with little to no questions.

A part of you thinks she might know that you're depressed, but she didn’t have the money for a diagnosis, therapy or medication. So Mama is just trying her best and you are too.

You don’t want to kill yourself, not again. You want to fulfill the promise you made to Mom, live a good life and be better than her. You want to learn to be happy again, to learn to love writing again, and find that fiery passion and motivation you had so long ago. 

So you’ll try to be better for both Mom and Mama.

“ Huh, I guess I never did tell you about our family. They're all dead but I think they still  deserve to be on our family tree.” Mama said before nuzzling her face against your neck, you let out a high pitched squeal. Mama blew raspberries against your skin and still giggling with laughter you wiggled out of her hold. 

You rolled onto the floor before pulling yourself up and leaning against the bed frame of your bed. The rush of energy makes you feel lighter. It took a moment for you to regain your breath.

“ Who were they?” You asked. In your first life Mom never mentioned that she had any living family, you had assumed that they were all dead. It surprised you when Grandpa came to live with you. One moment it was just you and Mom the next it was you Mom and Grandpa.

“ Well there was granny May, she was my dad’s mom, but she died four months after you were born, and… How about we take this to the living room, so you can write and I can talk.” Mama asked. You nodded and moved to get up. It was only when the both of you were in the hallway that the question popped into your head.

“ No surprise family members?” You asked Mama. She laughed; it was a light and airy thing filled with genuine mirth.

“Not while I'm alive.” She said before kissing your head.

You had convinced Mama to let you have a photocopy of your birth certificate. Next, her name was Batman—not Bruce Wayne, but Batman. You had asked her if Batman was really your dad, but she just shook her head.

Batman wasn’t your dad. Thank fucking god. You had read too many fics where the reader insert was neglected by the batfam then they become obsessive and possessive. The Batman thing was something that some single mothers do, they put Batman on their child's birth certificate for their child to feel special later on in life or as a joke.

Mama however put Batman as your father because she was delirious and embarrassed that she didn’t know who your father was. You could forgive her for that, it's not like you faulted her to begin with anyways. You were a happy accident.

As it turns out two other kids in your class had Batman as a father as well, a boy and a girl. They started to say that they were siblings and you guess you were an older sister now. 

Anessa and Jamie were fun, high energy and loud, but that could be forgiven since they were children. Mama was happy that you made more friends. And as Children they kept you busy, from your depression and other troubles with being an adult in the body of a child.

Birdie’s birthday is arriving soon, physically you’ll be eight, mentally you would be twenty five.

And that was fine. You’ll have Mama invite Tobey, Anessa, and Jamie, you’ll eat cake and ice cream, and then life will continue.

The Batfam isn't in this chapter but they will be in the next

[halfetirosie]

▼✧♦ "Enter this contest!" they said. "It'll be fun!" they said. ♦✧▼

(Exercise 21 - 24 React-os!)

1) WILSONNNN!!!!!

Yes, I know I already made this joke, but I don't care. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Funny coincidence tho; Cast Away was actually playing on T.V a few days ago! I of course had to watch it---I realized I haven't actually watched it in probably over 8 years---and it's a good-ass movie, ya'll!!! If you ever get the chance to watch it, you should!!!!

I also think it's neat that Eiden has canonically seen Cast Away...Or at least, he's aware of its existence through memes.

2) Fuckin hell bro, Quincy is so endearing, I can't handle it!!!!

It's so Dad Energy™ to zonk out at the beach and get buried in the sand, tbh. ♡

And Eiden's really living up to his Little Devil nickname! 😈

3) Premium Sooley + 🐾 Cat Dad Dante 🐾 content!!!

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡♡♡♡♡♡

Dante: "Ha, look at you guys playing around! Pathetic!"

Dante: *Is literally playing with his cat*

Now watch, Dante's gonna claim this isn't "playing" but is just training Sooley to get used to the water---

PFFFT!!!! (≧∇≦) Called it!!!!

I mean, you do know it can be both playing and training, right, bub? 😅

He's such a prideful little stinker!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡

4) GUYS, IN THE AUDIO AT THIS PART

🚨🚨🚨DANTE LAUGHS!!!!!!🚨🚨🚨

*Obnoxious squealing*

*Swoons so hard I fall down the fucking stairs*

*static*

🎶 We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please wait for us to fix the problem. Thank you for your patience. 🎶

🎶🎶🎶

🎶🎶🎶

*static*

Dante is seriously having so much this event, and it's such a joy to see!!! This dude might have been borderline forced into participating, and he might be using "research" as an excuse, but this is the happiest we've seen him in, like, a long time!!!

No, seriously, think about it! The previous 3 event he featured in (Sunburst Fever, Blood Secret, and Desert of Dusk), Dante was busy with official business. They were pretty damn stressful for him.

But my mans has finally caught a break!!!

(⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ◡ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝)

5) ASSIGNED DORITO AT BIRTH!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I know that the lil' symbol is probably supposed to actually represent Dante's tattoos, but I'mma just pretend that they're his sharp-chin head on a Dorito body:

6) This can be interpreted in two ways---

Extremely horny

Extremely threatening

7) A WHOLE NEW MEANING TO THE WORD "LUMBERJACK"

(⊙ ㅁ ⊙)

BITCH BE FELLING TREES WITH HIS BARE HANDS!!!!

😱😱😱😱😱

Sometimes I kind of forget that Quincy has the potential to be really fuckin scary... He's so likable, but he could crush somebody's skull without even breaking a sweat...

8) I also kind of forget how excellent all of the clan members are in combat scenarios...

These dudes are literally sending lethal attacks back and forth, dealing with them all seamless.

On the one hand, it makes me proud of our bois, being so talented and all. But also, seeing them go all-out against each other is kind of a harsh reminder of how, at least in this respect, Eiden really is the odd one out...

9) Wait, did he have his tail out during this event????

THEN WHY DIDN'T THEY PUT IT IN HIS SSR?!?!?!

WHAT THE HELL, WE WERE ROBBED!!! 😡😡😡😡😡

10) Oh, come on! Really??? (◔_◔)

Did they really need to turn this into an "everybody wins" scenario???

Look, I love a happy ending as much as the next guy, and I know that the stakes of this event weren't exactly high. But this ain't a kids show that needs a squeaky-clean non-controversial ending. I want someone to win! Give us a clear winner!!!

Fuck it, I'll say it;

🔥 DANTE SHOULD'VE WON!!!! 🔥

I mean, COME ON!!! He absolutely crushed it this event!!! And he wanted to win more than anyone else, too!!!!

My dude finally had a mini-vacation for the first time in ages---LET HIM HAVE THIS!!!!!

DANTE GOT ROBBED!!!!!

11) Damn, poor Eiden! :(

Our boi was so close!!! I was really rooting for him!!! (I know I said Dante should've won, and I still think so; but if anyone else were to be the winner, it should've been Eiden. He really put a fuck-ton of effort into this event; gotta love an underdog!)

😂 Eiden really is being a great sport about this!

(And that was probably the funniest way of congratulating those three on their great performance in the competition.)

⚠️WARNING: GLOOMY COMMENTARY AHEAD!⚠️

But idk, man...

Maybe it's because I get way too immersed/empathetic when reading, but I feel way more sad about Eiden's loss than I probably should be.

Like, obviously, losing doesn't feel good. Nobody likes failure. And since Eiden is the protag, we're all sorta on his side by default.

I guess I boils down to what I said earlier; in comparison to the clan members, Eiden really is the odd one out. He doesn't even come close to their power; and even when he was trying his hardest in this competition, the odds were so insurmountable, there was no way he could ever win.

🤷 It just pokes at an inferiority complex that feels shitty.

🌸 End of report! 🌸

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Birth of the Lone Swordsman

Scenario: Meta Knight passes his exam to become a Star Warrior but is rejected in joining the Holy Knights (A.K.A Knight of the Round table). Arthur claims BS that his student wasn’t allowed to join his squadron by the Ancients and elite but Meta has made up his mind. 

I tried to give the comic an old flash back feel sorry if colors look weird. listen to “ I will make you proud” from tangle the series for emotional effect to fit the theme...

Yeah I know I keep writing MK Angst Kirby ain’t happy either.... (reaction at the bottom/ lore explanation at the bottom.

In the story, I gave a prelude to MK’s past of almost getting killed the moment he was born, because he was born from the fountain of dreams without a warpstar but they find out later that he came from N.M.E which MK was his first attempt in destroying the Fountain of Dreams. When MK didn’t obey Nightmare he sent him through the fountain as a living bomb and was supposed to be dead on arrival. The Ancients and other Star Warriors saw this and were going to kill him off N.M.E’s mistake.

But one lone Star Warrior seeing that he was a young boy stood up for him and plead for his life, Sir Arthur. The leader was someone else at the time Sir Uther  (an OC who I will introduce into the story). He was one of the four legendary warriors and was the first winged astrals to be birth from the fountain of dreams. His persona is based off the Uther from Merlin the T.V. series (which was my fav. show back then) And if you watch you know that he’s basically the @sswhole of the series basically just replace his hatred of magic with N.M.E and we have yourself the corrupt leader of the GSA. But unlike in the series he is not Arthur's father but his mentor and when he stepped up to defend Meta he was pissed.

He straight up told him that if MK turns corrupted or a traitor he’d kill him personally. The Ancients agree to this and assigned him guardianship of MK... which was a first. Usually when a puffball is born education is done by the Ancients (MK wasn’t a baby like Kirby I’d say preteen) and are assigned a senior knight when they are ready. But none of them wanted to raise him since his birth did not come from Void so it was solely up to Arthur. 

Little MK was still shivering when he was out of the fountain, so the red cape was what Arthur wrapped around him to keep him warm. Unlike Uther who was strict and cruel to him when he was his protege; Arthur tried his best to be a good role model for MK. Though Uther influence was strong and to this day Arthur still fears him which is why he made sure to keep MK on the right path... unintentionally hurting him. 

You see the whole time he was training MK he always would encourage him to just hide and conceal his wings. And when MK’s “dark powers” would peak he would immediately correct him (especially if Uther was watching) while he knew he meant well MK couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by his teacher’s action. But Arthur promised him that this was the right way to do it and if he continued they’d surely see that he was capable of being a great hero. And Arthur made sure to nourish and nurture that little hope in his heart to motivate him through the hardship. But unintentionally putting pressure on him to be the perfect soldier. (Similar to Tai Lung and Shifu) But instead, MK is fueled by a lack of self-worth to do better rather than out of pride like Tai Lung ... 

MK already knew of the pressures that were on Arthur so not to burden him MK just kept quiet about his feelings. So what if his teacher winced a bit when his wings peaked out~. While his intentions were good his methods were not right.  Still, MK adored his teacher and was extremely grateful to him.  And promised him that “he’d  grow up to be his right-hand man and fight right by his side.” He knew Arthur cared about him, but still felt upset he would ignore the other side of himself... This was also fueled by the fact that part of Arthur still feared Uther, but also wanted his old teacher’s approval (Uther is truly the worse).

Which got worse over time MK’s powers got stronger which made it more difficult to hide them. This brings us to this seen in the comic, MK takes is final exam he passes but the Ancients and the higher-ups don’t want MK to join the elites. During this time they were looking to make the next generation of legendary warriors which would be under Sir Arthur (basically Arthur’s knights of the round table).  But they didn’t feel comfortable that the cursed star would represent them. So they passed him, MK was indeed a Star Warrior but his position was up in the air. 

Arthur was ready to fight for him but MK had enough and the feelings he had bottled up all these years ago come out. (shout out to MK's old design) This was a very significant turning point that broke student and master.  MK’s red cape while mismatched to him was supposed to be a symbol of hope for him; which was the intention Arthur meant to give... but to MK which became something he could never be. It breaks Arthur’s heart to realize how much he failed his boy... MK felt ashamed and thought he failed Arthur in turn.

He completely shut down being accepted by the higher up/ the Ancients and not wanting to trouble his teacher any longer... he continued on as “the Lone Swordsman” of the GSA. Basically acting as a bounty hunter doing sole missions... Eventually when the GSA started accepting drafts/volunteers.

These made up the front liners of the GSA (the first to be killed) which MK is tasked to train them, this becomes a blessing in disguise on both ends for this is where MK meets his first real friend Jerca and his future-found family. Hope nothing bad happens to them...

[wonkaseviltwin]

I decided to also be my second favorite Jervis after the one in the Gotham T.V. show because I think in some ways they are similar as seen on the last panel of this concept art.

Jervis looks very much like his T.V. show counterpart when he had hair. The only difference is that this Jervis has mind control technology but as seen in Arkham: Knight he has a pocket watch dangling on his waist so he obviously still uses it.

I have hair so it makes sense for me to only be Origins.

No im not dirty blonde like Arkham Jervis but I still have all my hair.

His hair looks dirty blonde but I only have a blonde wig.

I still think Jervis is handsome even when he lost his hair. Not many are so he can proud of that.

Its such a shame how no one sees that hes actually a kind man and is just broken and wants to point out that no one is sane and shouldnt pretend to be.

''Darkness lurks in every mind.''

I love that quote during the death taunt in Arkham: Knight.

The man needs a lover. I can relate. Im a rather lonely man myself but I manage.

Anyway; moving onto younger Arkham Jervis. I hope you all enjoy him as he shares this account with T.V. show Jervis.

Jervis Tetch

Arkham: Origins

''Greetings and Salutations! I am Jervis Tetch!''

Talk to Mad Hatter

Concept Art Image belongs to Warner Brothers and DC.

[sushywritez]

Stranger Danger | Older!Eddie M. X Fem!Reader | Intro

PLOT: Eddie is a loving single father and a busy man, he hires you on occasion to watch his child. Sometimes he wish he had the courage to ask you out, but one terrible weekend will prove to him he hasn't got much time. WARNINGS: blood, slight gore, language, suggestiveness, angst, fluff, thriller, slasher, divorce, and adult humor.

Tonight Hawkins Police are baffled by yet another series of brutal murders, claiming that no evidence has been found. All suspects appear to evade local officials leaving Hawkins' residents terrified; citizens have dubbed this mysterious stranger as The Night Walker–

The booming voice on T.V. is interrupted by the sudden blaring of the house phone. You quickly set aside the bowl of snacks and toss aside the blanket. You scoot to edge reaching for the phone. As you snatch it off the reciever, the caller I.D reveals it to be Eddie. He was a father to the sweetest little girl, whom you ended up babysitting for purely by mistake, but you loved it.

"Hello?" So deep in thought you forgot that'd your thumb had pressed the answer button. Oops.

"HI! Hey, Mr. Munson I'm sorry." You quickly apologized. "I dropped the phone." Scrambling to hold the device up to your ear, to be graced with that sweet laughter. Eddie has such a beautiful laugh, a kind souls, and even better heart. Not to mention how well he rook care of his daughter, not only that, Violet was respectful and energetic just like her Dad. How any mother could just drop out of their life is beyond you.

"Silly girl, always dropping stuff." He teases.

You scoff, "I do not always drop stuff."

"Oh, really?" Eddie inquires, a light chuckle escaping him.

"Yeah." You defend, unable to hold back the smile that spreads onto your face and Eddie can tell. "It's only sometimes."

"Okay." He agrees, enjoying your rather playful nature.. "Well, I didn't call you to just chat, Sweetheart. I need a favor–"

"Anything for you, Sir." You eagerly admit, and even before he can finish.

"Great." Eddie sighs in relief. "Now, I know I said you could have weekends off if you needed it, but I have to go out of town this weekend." He explains and you understood how busy his career kept him. Violet would miss him terribly and sometimes she couldn't sleep without him. "So I need you to stay over the weekend, Friday to Sunday, and take care of my little princess."

"Well, of course I wouldn't say no to that." Eddie is relieved and equally eased by your response. "I love Violet, she's a sweetheart." You add, already listing the many activities in your add and that she shall surely enjoy.

"That's great." Eddie sighs relieved. On his end he's engrossed in the activity of staring down at the little toddler playing at his feet. Her chin lifts up and a pair of bright green eyes find his. "She'll be excited." She tilts her head and he can tell that her little mind was working hard to figure out just exactly who was on the phone. Violet was incredibly sweet, but also intelligent in ways Eddie was more than proud of.

By the smile on his face and rosiness on her father's cheeks, there was only one answer. "Is that Miss (L/N), Daddy?" Violet drops her dolls and pulls herself to her feet, curling her tiny fingers in the fabric of his jeans to climb up into his lap. She's already reaching for the phone, Eddie laughing as her hands reach for the phone. "Daddy!" She whines, "Let me talk!"

You join in on the laughter, "I don't mind, Mr. Munson." You only encourage and he gives in mumbling something about spoiling you both then hands over the phone.

"Hi!" Violet squeals into the phone excitedly to which you respond with an eagerness.

"Hey, cutie. You keepin' him outta trouble?" She giggles and crawls off her dad to run off and converse with you. Eddie sighs, but is still smiling. His little girl was always so happy to see you and that should have been enough proof for him to make the leap. However, the last time he let his heart out to a girl, she left, and refused to be a part of the child's life. He should know you better than that but he worries. He needs a sign and maybe it'll come soon enough.

"Vi!" He calls out to her, "It's night-night time!"

Little did this family know there were forces, darker than light at work in his favor. Their life would change forever.

TAGLIST:

@yaspillz @dahliamae @munsonloverblog @off-phelia @strangerthingsstories5255 @fujiihime @puppy-coded @damon-loves-pie @seratoninsickness @k0urti @thatlonelypieceoftoast @phantomxoxo @wittlewowa @rollergirlworldwide @allithewriter @gothguitargal @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @ali-r3n @harrys-tittie @yearwalker96 @lipglossanon @thepastdied @jessevans @dullsocietyy @littlelimb @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @3rriberri

I will continue the story if it is enjoyed and people want to see more.

[edupunkn00b]

Decoherence, Ch. 6: I Howl

Creative Commons 1.0 Public Domain

Prev - I Howl - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] - Playlist

“in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night” -Howl by Alan Ginsberg

WC: 3318 - Rating: T - CW: swearing -

1980, August 16, Astoria, NYC, US

An express train barrelled down the elevated track outside Remus’ apartment, rattling the windows and the bookcases’ glass doors. It was an effective alarm.

Remus stretched before he opened his eyes, moving carefully so he didn’t jostle… who the fuck was he being careful about? His empty bed? His eyes snapped open and he squinted against the sun that shot right through the big window in his fifth-floor walkup. He’d forgotten to close the blinds again. 

Didn’t matter much. Facing the train tracks, the only view into his apartment would require flying twenty feet above them, and the developer of his building was the only one dumb enough to build so close to the elevated tracks. On the other side was the East River and if some horny ass tourist on the cruise lines wanted to waste their time trying to catch a glimpse of him in the buff as he got out of bed in the morning, more power to them.

Now that he was up, the sun was kinda nice. It was gonna be a scorcher, sure, but the morning was still cool, and he could enjoy the gentle heat coming up over the water.

Entire days can be cool and fresh like this. Golden morning light spreads over a grassy field, brightening the plains and painting color over the mass of dark brown brush and scraggly trees. Rich yellows and greens fill the landscape. And spots of bright white and silver dot the clover patch next to the creek, meandering sheep munching the fresh growth as Virgil keeps watch.

“He’s so proud to have his task,” the raven-haired man next to me murmurs, taking my hand. His skin is soft in my callused hand, but still strong. Lithe with a steady grip.

“Mm-hm,” I nod and raise his hand to my lips for a kiss. He laughs when I tickle his knuckles with my mustache, big baritone bells ringing out. I look up, but before I can meet his eyes, he disappears and I’m left standing alone on a big, wooden porch.

Virgil waves from the clover field and calls out to me, but his words are lost to the wind.      

Shaking his head, Remus’ eyes snapped open. Fucking dream. He watched the shadows from the train tracks shrink for a little while, then his clock radio crackled to life, the DJ announcing the greatest hits of the 60s, 70s, and today and blaring out that new Queen song.

Before he’d even registered what he was doing, Remus had made the bed, diligently fluffing up the pillows and arranging them artfully against the headboard. Frowning, he kicked aside the jeans he’d thrown on the floor last night and shuffled into the bathroom to start a shower. Once the water was hot, he stepped inside and let the spray and the steam melt away the fuzzy remnants of a ranch he’d never seen and a husband he sure as fuck didn’t have.

No more late night t.v. for him.

~

The phone in the lab was already on the fourth ring by the time he got the triple-locked door open. “Hello?” he said, fumbling with the receiver, hoping to catch it before they gave up.

“Good morning, Re!” Ro’s husband cheered over the line. There was a muffled sound, doing little to hide his little sing-song away from the receiver. “Kiddo, finish up your milk, okay? Then Papa will walk you to school.”

“So that’s how you’ve got him growing like a weed,” Remus laughed and took a sip of his coffee. The lab assistant had left a stack of files on his chair, an annoyingly effective habit to get him to approve them when he first got in. He cleared the chair then sat down, opening the top in the stack. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Pattycake?”

“Janus was wondering if you have a preference for dinner tonight. He was thinking manicotti.” The sound of dishes and running water punctuated his words, as did a little kiss. “Have a good day, Kiddo!”

“Uh-huh, Janus wanted to know what I felt like eating?” Remus shook his head, a smile still pulling up his cheeks. He signed the requisition form on the first file then moved to the next. “And this isn’t Ro trying to make sure I show up tonight?”

Patton giggled and spoke away from the phone. “I told you he’d see right through it,” he said. There was another muffled staticy sound and the telltale crick of a phone cord being untangled before his brother’s voice poured over the line.

“Can you blame me for wanting to see my little brother?” Ro muttered in mock offense. “Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time you stood us up.”

“That was one time sixteen years ago!” Remus protested. “You weren’t even married yet!” The silence on the other end told him just how much Ro cared about that technicality. “I’ll be there, I swear…” His voice trailed off as the words single photon wave interference pattern popped out in the third proposal’s abstract. A team wanted to test their theory on wave field probabilities. They just needed to find some funding for a trip to CERN.

“Hel-lo-o? Re?” A tinny version of Ro’s voice came from his lap and he realized he’d dropped the phone receiver as he was reading.

“Yeah, yeah… Ro,” he fumbled to retrieve the receiver and pressed it to his ear, still reading the research proposal. “I’m here, just dropped the phone. Listen, uh, Lo and I have something to check out and then we’ll be by at six.”

“Who?”

“What?” Remus’ head jerked up, the proposal had snagged his attention and didn’t want to let go. “I said I’ll be at your house by six o’clock, wouldn’t miss it.”

“O—okay, great,” Ro said slowly. “See you tonight.”

“Mm-hm, see ya, Ro Bro,” Remus managed to get out before blindly hanging up the phone. It took a few tries but he finally got the receiver set back on the plunger and the blap-blap-blap-blap stopped. Mouth agape, he read the entire proposal, nodding and making little notes in the margins as he went. He moved it to the top of the stack of files he planned to bring before the board that afternoon.

He’d get them their trip to Geneva.

~

Tasha rapped on the open door. “Dr. Prince ? I’m headed out,” she said. “Are you still visiting your brother this evening?”

“Hm?” Remus stopped writing long enough to turn and face her. She tapped her watch. “It’s a quarter to six,” she smiled.

Remus dropped his chalk and dusted off his hands. “Oh fuck, we’re late!” He snagged the chalk before it rolled under his desk and scrawled three more symbols on the board, circling them, then absently stuck the chalk in his pocket and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “You ready, Lo?” he asked, fishing through the bag slung over his shoulder. His hand came up with the keys to his office and a polished gold ring. Remus froze, staring down at his palm.

“Dr. Prince ?” Tasha stepped closer. “Are you…” She looked around the small office. With the rolling chalkboard pulled away from its usual spot against the wall, there was scarcely enough room to move between his desk and his files, nor the stacks of treatises and books on the floor. “Were you meeting with someone?”

He closed his hand around his keys and the ring and pushed in the desk chair, his one concession to the judgement in her gaze. The office was… well, it wasn’t neat by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a known chaos, and Remus could tell you what every stack of books, every collection of journals, every half-smudged calculation that had run off the edge of a page meant. Tasha had long ago stopped nudging him to make it look organized.

He looked around the office now and everything was in the right place, but… his eyes lingered over his big desk set in the corner with the two chairs. Hey, extra place for Tasha to leave files for him.  He’d even remembered to draw the shade on the big window, but that had mostly been to protect his eyes against the glare of the setting sun. 

Everything was in its place. But everything was wrong.

“No,” he said at last, shoving his keys and the ring into his pocket. “Long day, I guess,” he mumbled, fighting to shake off the sense that something was… off. “Would you mind locking up?” He flashed her a crooked grin. “I know you have a key.”

“You don’t actually expect me to let you leave your half-drunk coffees to molder all over your desk, do you?” she laughed, pulling the door closed behind them and locking all three locks. 

“Thank you,” Remus nodded and pushed the stairwell door open. “I’m gonna walk down. Work some muscles besides the one up here,” he tapped his temple and jogged down the steps, his fast shuffle echoing against the cement and cinderblock stairwell.

“Goodnight!” Tasha called after him, her voice abruptly cut off by the closing door. He stopped on the landing between floors and pulled the ring from his pocket to hold up to the caged bulb that cast a harsh glare up and down the stairs. The ring was smooth and warm from his pocket. Too small for his own finger but… He tapped his sternum, thinking. After a moment, he shook away the imagined sense of another ring under his shirt, round and smooth like this one, the metal warm against his skin. 

What the fuck was he doing with this ring? It didn’t look anything like Ro’s and his partners’ rings. Their rings all matched each other, some cutesy little three-strand braid things. This one, though… He knew this ring but…

Shaking his head, he shoved it back in his pocket and dashed down the remaining three flights. Luckily, Ro’s place wasn’t far from the University.

~

“Uncka Re!” Virgil’s little shout was audible through Ro’s apartment door. “I’w get it, I’w get it!” Remus threw his head back and laughed, the cold knot in his stomach unfurling at the sound of the little boy’s exuberance.

“Kiddo, we don’t even know—”

“Yeah, Pattycake, it’s me,” he called from the hall and repeated his knock, three quick and two slow. “Vee knows.” At the sound of the locks disengaging, Remus set down the bag from La Guli’s, crouched and opened his arms wide.

As soon as the door opened, Virgil barreled out from the doorway and flung himself into Remus’ arms. “Uncka Re!” he squeezed his little arms around his neck and Remus stood, lifting Virgil with him. “I was scared I wouldn’t see you tonight.”

“Nothing could keep me away from my favorite nephew!” he promised, raising him up over his head and laughing along with his delighted giggle. “Besides,” he winked at Patton, grinning from the doorway. Remus picked up the brown paper bag he’d set by the door. “Somebody had to bring the cannolis!”

Virgil’s eyes widened and he grinned hopefully at Patton. “Can we, Poppy? Can we have them with dinner?”

“Yeah, Poppy,” Remus joined in, mimicking Virgil’s pleading eyes. “Can we?”

“Just like your brother,” Patton laughed, ushering both Remus and Virgil into the house. “Yes, we’ll have the cannolis tonight—” 

“Yes!” Virgil erupted in a cheer and wiggled out of Remus’ arms and dragged him toward his room. “C’mon, Uncka Re, wet’s p’ay.”

“For dessert!” Patton called after them, shaking his head with another little laugh when Remus’ only response was a grin and a shrug. ~

After dinner, Remus helped Roman clean up while Patton and Janus tag teamed getting the four-year-old bundle of energy ready for bed. He dried while his brother washed, fiddling with the small gold ring in his pocket while he waited for Ro to rinse each dish.

A particularly sudsy one slipped from Ro’s hands and Remus leapt to help catch it. He caught the baking dish before it hit the floor and shattered but the ring fell from his pocket. It rolled across the floor and spun like a top under an empty chair before settling onto the linoleum with a final jingle.

Remus rushed to pick it up. Sitting on the floor, he rubbed the ring between his thumb and forefinger and his eyes suddenly widened. “It’s Lo’s,” he whispered, more to himself than to his brother. 

Leaning against the table leg, he sat on the floor, legs criss-crossed, and fumbled under his shirt before pulling out a thin gold chain that carried a matching band. “I don’t wear mine because I’d always drop it down the sink when I washed the dishes.”

He looked up when Roman joined him, brow furrowed in confusion. And worry. 

“Lo and I had to buy our own pipe wrench because Mr. Singh threatened to make us pay to borrow his every time we had to take apart the sink to get it out.”

“Re, what are you talking about?” He reached for his brother’s hand and there was nothing around his neck. “Hey listen,” Ro began in his reasonable voice. “Why don’t you spend the night?” He pulled Remus to his feet then steered him out of the kitchen and down the hall to the living room. “We’ll have some tea or hot chocolate or whatever you want. I’ll make up the sofa bed and you can have an early night.”

He let himself be led, patting his chest. There wasn’t anything under his shirt. “Maybe… yeah,” he said, sinking down into a chair.

“Jus’ wanna say goodnight!” Virgil’s laugh dopplered down the hall and the rubber-bottomed soles of his fuzzy Spider-Man onesie squeaked as he scampered back to the living room. He climbed onto Remus’ lap and smiled up at him. “Are you staying?” he asked, patting the collar of Remus’ shirt the way his uncle had just a moment ago. He frowned, just a flash, then he looked up again with a sleepy little smile.

“I’m staying,” he said and the little boy’s grin grew. 

He flung both arms around Remus’ neck, little fingers twisted in his shirt, and whispered, “Good.”

Janus’ quiet murmur from the other hall loosened Virgil’s grip on Remus’ shirt. “If you go to sleep early enough you two can even have breakfast together,” he promised. Remus didn’t miss the way Janus caught Ro’s eye as he scooped up the little boy. Ro nodded and moved closer. 

“Poppy’s making french toast tomorrow, too.” Roman ruffled Virgil’s hair and grinned at his little giggle. “See you in the morning, little knight.”

“G’night, Daddy,” Virgil said and rested his head on Janus’ shoulder. The little boy’s race down the hall seemed to have been his last hurrah for the night and he blinked sleepily at Remus. “G’night, Uncka Re.” His sleepy gaze drifted to the spot next to Remus and he frowned again, a soft, worried pout, before curling into Janus’ arms.

“I’ll see you two once this little spider is asleep,” Janus murmured, stroking his head. “I don’t think you’ll have long to wait.” He waggled his fingers and murmured as they moved down the hall. “What story would you like to hear tonight, my little spiderling?”

“The chameyeon, Papa,” his soft voice traveled down the hall.

“Hmm… that’s a good one,” Janus’ low voice purred just before the door clicked shut.

Roman snapped the sheet open and over the pullout mattress. It caught on the side table’s edge and Remus got up to help. They worked in silence for a few minutes before Roman spoke again. “You haven’t sounded like this in a long time, little brother.”

“Yeah.” Remus lifted the mattress to tuck the blanket underneath it.

Roman watched him for another long moment. “What brought this on? You…” He folded the sheet over the top edge of the blanket and glanced up. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

“Fuck no!” he hissed. “Of course not.”

“Okay,” Roman reached over the bed and clasped his shoulder. “Okay, I didn’t mean anything by it, just… you know… The last time…”

Ro didn’t need to remind him the first time he drank he’d woken him up screaming the world was wrong and had gone off on a week-long bender. He still didn’t remember most of it. “I don’t fucking drink anymore.”

“I—I know that, Re, I just…” Ro went quiet again, stuffing a pillow into a fresh case. “That was the last time you sounded like this, man.”

“I…” He couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. “I had a ring, Ro. Not… not just this one.” He closed his fingers around the bit of gold, the hard metal proof he hadn’t imagined it all. Or at least hadn’t imagined the fucking ring. “This other one, though… I—I can’t remember where it came from, it just…”

He closed his eyes and blew out a sharp breath. Probably some one night stand. You really that bad, Re, that you can’t remember who you slept with the night before?

A flash of indignant anger shot through his chest at his own imagined voice and he shook his head. “Re?” Ro’d been watching him. 

He sank down on the side of the pull-out bed, metal frame squeaking with his movement. Ro came over to his side and sat next to him. “What can you remember?” When Remus didn’t answer, Ro squeezed his hand. “I’m your brother, Re, you can talk to me.”

Remus looked up into his brother’s eyes. He wanted to tell him everything. Tell him about the flashes of dreams that didn’t feel like dreams anymore. That fucked up not-quite deja vous when he got to work or took a shower or…. 

The empty arms and the gnawing, gaping hole he woke up to every morning.

“I…” 

Janus walked down the hall and joined them, sitting quietly at his other side. He took his other hand and patted it, eyes full of sympathy.

“I think maybe I’m just overdoing it at work,” he finally said, giving first his brother, then Janus a weak smile. “You know how I get.”

Ro looked at him for a long moment then finally nodded. “Okay, Re.” He squeezed Janus’ hand and they exchanged a little look. “Get some sleep and we can talk more in the morning.” Ro and Janus stood as one and he gave Remus’ hand one more squeeze before slowly releasing his grip.

“Thanks,” he muttered and managed to give them both a smile before peeling back the covers. Patton appeared with a cup of tea and a pair of Ro’s pajama pants and an old Brooklyn College tee shirt. “Can’t believe you still have this, Ro Bro!”

“What can I say?” he winked, a touch of actual humor in his smile. “It’s my color.” Remus held up the shirt and the faded logo morphed into a frosted glass door, Brooklyn College Physics Department. He blinked away the vision. He hadn’t gone to Brooklyn. He’d gone to UAF.

Patton set the cup down on the side table and gave him a half hug. “Go on and get changed so you’re comfortable.” He exchanged another little look with Janus and Ro. “We’ll leave the lamp on so you don’t have to make your way through the dark.”

“Thanks Pattycake.” He stood and smiled at the worry they tried to hide in their eyes. “I’ll be fine, just need a little sleep.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “And I heard the morning might bring French toast?”

“You betcha,” Patton grinned, smile bright. He still didn’t lose the little pinch between his eyebrows, though. “Good night then,” he nodded and walked with Janus down the hall.

Ro lingered and pulled Remus into a hug. “Tomorrow we talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he promised. “Tomorrow.”

[muttonchopsalley]

Today marks the 30th anniversary of the tragic suicide of legendary actor, Herve Villechaize, who overcame his physical limitations and language barriers to become a Hollywood star. He was also intensely committed to charity work involving children who had birth defects or had been abused.

However, by 1993, his career and life were in freefall. Having lost his coveted job on Fantasy Island ten years prior due to a pay dispute, Villechaize had been financially destitute, having to take bit parts on T.V. shows and commercials just to stay afloat. By the year of his death, he had been divorced twice, and moved from a luxurious ranch in the countryside, to a modest house in North Hollywood, even having to resort to drinking water from his neighbors' garden hose.

In addition, Villechaize's health problems, the result of the medical condition that had stunted his growth, had left him in excruciating, unbearable pain. His internal organs, which were the size of an average human's were crushed into his body's small frame. Things like breathing and sleeping required great effort for him, and he eventually couldn't take it any longer.

On the afternoon of September 4, 1993 he and his girlfriend, Kathy attended a Directors Guild screening of the film, The Fugitive, which is recounted in the memoir Crossroad of the Stars.

Afterward, the two returned to the house, where Kathy went to sleep. Herve went into his office and penned a suicide note, stating:

"I have to do what's right. At 6 years old I knew there was no place for me. Who believed my (illegible) best friend girl will not call my mom to answer the Q's. I hope she does not hurt. I'm still alive. Please know Kathy has the right of attorney over my health and my belongings belong to Kathy Self including the right to a script and movie and writings, etc. I love you all too much, it's one of just of my problems. Mom! My brothers you didn't exhist to my heart you never care only about yourselves since 1955, you remember??? Kathy did her best, you didn't so she deserves everything.

3am I can't miss with a dum dum bullet - Ha! Ha! Never one knew my pain - for 40 years - or more. Have to do it outside less mess."

He then took one of his handguns, two pillows and a portable tape recorder into his backyard and recorded himself saying:

 "Kathy, I can't live like this anymore. I've always been a proud man and always wanted to make you proud of me. You know you made me feel like a giant and that's how I want you to remember me."

After speaking about not wanting Kathy to be blamed for his death, he concluded:

"I'm doing what I have to do...I want everything to go to Kathy...I want everyone to know that I love them."

Then, sitting and bracing himself against the concrete wall of the house facing the sliding glass patio door, he stated

"I guess I just need to pull this."

He then cocked the hammer back, placed two pillows against his chest to muffle the sound. Aimed towards his chest, and fired.

The tape recorder then picked up Herve moaning in pain

"It hurts.. It hurts.."

It appears that despite his mortal injury, he then attempted to awaken Kathy by firing through the patio door with a second shot. This did in fact awaken her, and she can be heard on the tape shortly afterwards approaching him and asking

"What happened?!"

Herve responds by moaning

"I'm dying.. I'm dying.."

Kathy tries to assure him, not aware of the extent of his injuries

"No, you're not. You're going to be okay."

Before running back into the house to call 911. An ambulance arrived and despite attempts to save his life, Villechaize was pronounced dead.

[garrulousgeologist]

[S] Kells: Return.

I read too much Homestuck and now I have several posts queued.

So initially I put off reading more Homestuck because I care about Dave Strider too much. Seeing him in his room filled me with so many emotions it’s kind of ridiculous. But then when I did start reading I kind of just didn’t stop.

I keep a google doc open each time I sit down to read where I just dump my thoughts as I go and then edit and post them here later, it’s usually a few pages long. Right now I’m editing 25 pages of thoughts. Sooo posts to come, but back to Dave.

I just love this kid.

All parental complications in HS aside, Dave is such a cool kid. I get overwhelmed with the feeling that if he were my kid I would be so, so proud of him. He is so full of anxiety and is fucked up as a result of his environment, aren’t we all, but look at him!

Interest and talent in music, engineering, photography, design, graphic art, katana combat styles, literature, preservation and taxonomy, pop culture, web design, social media literacy, history, cinema, computer science, and the list could go on much longer. He seems genuinely interested in all of this, not just for show, though he plays the irony of everything.

Also, apple juice is one of my comfort foods and has been since I was like 5 years old. I have a huge soft spot for this guy. 

So why did that make me hesitate to read his introduction for a week? For the same reason I never end up finishing teen superhero comics, anime or T.V. shows; I have a hard time watching kids get manipulated and abused. Yes they are usually predictable pieces of media and I know they’ll end up “happy” most of the time, but I can’t help that I take it a little too seriously. The adults in any ‘hero’’s life utterly fail them.

No kid should feel like they have to excel at all of this to merely survive, and yet here Dave is.

Grand snack fuckyeah is what I’m going to say every time I enter a 7/11 from now on. 

Hello??? I had no fucking idea midnight crew was a webcomic on Dave’s Internet. I knew it was on mspaintadventures.com of course, I read it, but I never registered that he would have recognized them. I wonder if he gives any indication of this when interacting with them in person, which may or may not happen later due to circumstances that arise. 

"You push against the MANHOLE COVER, but it seems some unbelievable jackass has parked your GETAWAY VAN on top of it.

A familiar feeling stirs. That feeling is overwhelming, soul-blackening rage.

It's the sort of rage that'll make a man feel totally justified in sporting an unnecessarily elaborate assortment of fancy blades."

Something  I’ll try to keep in mind- Spades Slick has anger management issues. One thing goes un-according to plan and it’s immediate, inconsolable, violent rage. Surely this won’t become relevant in the future.

I miss the interactions between these two. Sibling energy in the best way possible. Some distant memory is telling me my favorite pesterlogs to read back in the day were between Rose and Dave, like specifically seeing the red and lilac chat logs triggers a happy feeling. Excited for more of this. 

Got me straight giggling. 

Something about genuine concern this early on in Dave’s story reads as particularly endearing. That being said if I accidentally killed a crow that caw’d at my bedroom window at 13 I would be deeply troubled. 

Skips back to rose- 

Each kid has immense amounts of blind respect for their respective guardian. John believes his dad to be doing important and responsible things at all times. Dave believes his bro is the most amazing person anyone could ever have as a brother. Anything he does must be either objectively sicknasty, or ironically hilarious. Bro is just doing what he can to make Dave strong, right? Well, yeah, maybe he is, that doesn’t negate the irreparable damage his methods cause, though.

Rose, someone I think might be the most likely to recognize her parent is just as human as she is, has the same perspective. No amount of hyper intellectualizing can change the fact that a kid is a kid. 

There is nothing to psychoanalyze. Your mother clearly has no real affinity for these damnable things. She only collects them to spite you.

If anything, she finds them even more repellent than you do. She's just a committed woman.

She hates the wizard statues and paintings, and her conclusion is that her mother can’t actually like these ridiculous motifs, so she must be placing them strategically around the house to spite her. The passive-aggression as Rose sees it could just as easily be her mom genuinely trying to connect with her daughter(sister,mom) but failing due to alcoholism and an unhealthy work-life balance.

In all cases, the kids assume their guardians' behavior is the way that it is because of their own interests. This is despite each guardian having a particular interest that particularly freaks out their respective kid. And, at the same time, have their interests and aversions because of their guardian’s behavior.

(And later it comes to light that these interests and behaviors are reflected in the alpha kids’ experiences, making the topics each human is savvy to a loop).

Homestuck is many things all at once. This is part of the reason it is so difficult to describe to someone who hasn’t experienced it! (hot take)

One of those things is a coming of age story. 

This is reflected in the human kids idolizing their guardians and then growing to realize they were just people doing their best and made any mistakes that the kids now have to grapple with. A similar situation can be said of the troll kids idolizing their ancestors and then coming to recognize similar things about them as they age.

Both species have a strong sense of separation between adolescence and adulthood, eventually growing to see the lines are extremely muddled. What is that if not a coming of age concept? Who among us (sus) has not suddenly recognized the flaws in our guardians? Don’t answer that I don’t want to go that deep outside the media.

Oh my GOD I forgot about the Lalonde home fridge magnets. I need some. W.

Right after that is the first pesterlog with Jade!! I remember her being way more in-the-know about certain things like the frog ruins, etc, but I completely forgot she just kind of like knows things.

Hmm alright

Back to John chasing the ink monster. In hindsight I think I recognized that Dave messaged John a little differently than everyone else, but reading it now he’s very clearly got a crush. The in-his-DMs version of scrambling. The guy is just throwing all he has out and living off the vapors of combusting hope that something sticks.

. . .

I’m using this as an insult in my daily life now. That one stuck, Dave.

H

H-Hom..

Anyway. Put the bunny back in the box.

I just realized echeladder is a stupid fucking word. Weird fight to pick out of everything I could criticize at this point in HS, but echelon means ladder. Why..Why make it Echeladder. For to make Kells angy?

EVERYONE SHUT UP!

NANASPRITE!!! <3

Jfc The Medium. There is so much I need to re-learn. 

Me too, John. Sorry to have so many pesterlogs in this post! I don’t mean to cheapen my own reflections. I just don’t see the point in rephrasing this copied-homework style, especially when I don’t fully understand what’s being said. It’s really nice that someone is finally asking direct questions and getting direct answers though! The funny thing is in high school I thought John was lame for being so blunt and basic with his communication with his sprite, and now I’m like oh thank fuck there’s at least one logical and non-convoluted conversation between a Sburb mechanic and a player character. 

I’ll leave out the [S] GO ON. text but needless to say: Skaia.

I don’t think I ever processed the game of chess being forces of light vs. dark, but I don’t think that changes my perspective at all. That’s kind of a basic concept and in this case seems to be literal anyway. 

[S] Dave: Retrieve dead bird.

The red hot swirling sun over Texas zooming out to be Dave’s eye in some not-so-subtle foreshadowing never gets old for me. Love the imagery there.

Rose is updating her walkthrough again, so far the only text I’m just unwilling to give a thorough read-through. I skim it, okay? 

I also JUST put together that the imps’ jester hats, the jester themed chess pieces of Skaia and other imagery is part of a shitty paradoxical loop that continuously forces clownery upon every aspect of this fucking comic. I guess previously I assumed that’s just how they were as opposed to a blank canvas imp with jester imagery added to it.

"So don't change the dizzle, turn it up a little

I got a living room full of fine dime brizzles

Waiting on the Pizzle, the Dizzle and the Shizzle

G's to the bizzack, now ladies here we gizzo

When the pimp's in the crib ma

Drop it like it's hot

Drop it like it's hot

Drop it like it's hot..."

-English Romantic poet, John Keats

I’m not even going to correct this one you should know who said that. 

Tl;dr

Dave and Rose are Kell’s favorite kids, it’s a hard decision but it’s Kells’ truth. Jade deserves more credit!! Nanasprite is helpful but Kells has dumb babby disease and continues to do research. Clown culture in Homestuck is weird. It’s weird that there’s a Homestuck clown culture.

[fandomscraziness22]

F, M, T, and H for the fanfic asks? <3

hi friend!!!!

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

con au my beloved! this is from running with fire, i live like a liar

“So, who did I have the pleasure of running into? You got a name, sweetheart?” the man calls back to her. Julie peeks around the bin, but he’s still watching the entrance of the alley. 

She smirks. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she says, and can feel his eye roll all the way from here. She’s not stupid – Julie’s not about to use her real name with someone she doesn’t know, who was also running some sort of hack on Wilson, Inc.

“Sam Cartright.” 

Julie takes a second to digest that, wondering why it sounds familiar. Then she laughs. 

“Samantha Cartright, aka the famous T.V. news anchor. Also, a woman. Try again.”

i had so much fun writing the back-and-forth of julie and luke who are both on the run but thrown together, helping each other get out of their sticky situation! witty banter is my favorite thing to read, so i was glad for the opportunity to write it!

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

so many! i have a huge list of bright sessions ideas that i would like to get to eventually. One of my favs is "caleb taking other people's emotions from them and feeling them himself" inspired by Zeke from the show Manifest. i have no solid ideas for it lol but i want to do something with that!

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

hmmmm, i'm not sure! i'm not a huge fan of children fics (like the characters have kids) but if it's done well i don't mind it!

H: How would you describe your style?

oh boy! uhhh, actiony angst? i like physically dangerous or exciting situations for my favs (sorry not sorry lol)

send me fanfic questions!

[f10werfae]

Sleeping Patient

pairing: Chris Evans x Doctor!Reader

Summary: After a tough time at work Y/n goes through another episode of sleep paralysis, just when she thought it was getting better. Chris takes it upon himself to go over the top to solve this, as usual.

- Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Evans Masterlist✨

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(Y/n's P.O.V)

It’s a well known fact Doctors do not have the best work-life balance, and it’s for good reason. For years even when I was training as a junior doctor, things like sleep paralysis was a constant nightmare, quite literally. It usually happens a couple of times over a range of months, so luckily not daily.

“Y/n you should really head home girl, you’ve been up for 36 hours straight. That’s not ok” Steph groaned taking the clipboard out of my hands, working in the emergency department did that to you. Days of just staying up late, nights of restless work and reports.

“But the patient in room 305-“

“Calm down girl, I know your man must be waitin for ya at home. Don’t drive home, i’ll call you a cab okay?” With one ring of a cab, Steph handed me my coat and duffle bag from the locker room and stood with me outside to wait for my taxi.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright tonight-“

“Yes hun, go home and relax, I know you’re off for the rest of the week”

Nodding my head I stepped into the yellow cab that had just arrived, telling the driver my address I just let my head fall onto the rain stricken window. God I had forgotten what it was like to finally be in a somewhat peaceful environment, no more ringing sounds in my ears, or the constant rush of adrenaline.

(Chris' P.O.V)

Getting off the phone from one of Y/n's coworkers Steph, I stood outside of our front door, sitting on the chair on our porch.

My poor girl has done nothing but work tirelessly these past few weeks, especially with COVID on the rise again. With me being away for multiple projects this year, like Ghosted, I knew she used work as a distraction from staying alone in the house.

I walked down the path once I saw the yellow cab pull up, handing the driver some bills, I opened Y/n's door who was clearly dozing off in the back. Looking at the cute sleepy look on her face, I took her bag from her and basically carry her into the house.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“ ‘m sorry Chris, i’m such a mess” She mumbled as I set her to lay down on the bed, her head lifting slightly while I took off her shoes and started taking off her work scrubs.

“Don’t apologise sweetheart, i’m so proud of ya” I cooed watching a sleepy smile grow on her face as she somehow found the energy to crawl under the covers. Pulling back my side of the covers I slipped in beside her, her body slowly moving towards mine and wrapping itself around me.

Within seconds Y/n was knocked out on my chest, light snores leaving her lips, her face looking much more rested and calmer. Deciding It was still too early to sleep, I turned on the bedroom T.V and switched to some random channel for some background noise.

(Y/n's P.O.V)

'What the fuck? Not again’

I felt a continuous weight pushing down on me from somewhere, my eyes half cracked open yet I couldn’t speak or move. Sleep paralysis.

For years I had continuous spurts of sleep paralysis episodes, recently not really but I knew it was coming at some point.

Moving my eyes about I could see Chris was awake yet his attention was on something else in the room. Then the worst part started, a dark figure appeared in the dark corner of our room, it was always faceless and resembled a shadow. It never moved or anything, just stayed there silently torturing me as I lay there helpless.

I felt my breathing start to quicken out of my nose, the feeling of anxiety bubbling up horribly in my chest.

(Chris' P.O.V)

Mindlessly watching the screen, I felt a major shift in Y/n's breathing. Looking down I saw her pretty eyes dart around the room crazily,

“You awake Y/n/n?”

No reply.

I repeated my question only to see her eyes meet mine, it instantly giving my chills as I watched them tear up. Shaking her a bit to no avail, I now sat up and shook her a tiny bit harder; then all I heard was her breaking into wrecked sobs. Her breathing was all over the place as she held onto my shirt tightly, her face hidden.

“B-baby what the hell just happened? Are you alright? Did ya have a nightmare?”

“Water” She croaked out gasping for air,

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(No one’s P.O.V)

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’m pretty sure t-that was another episode of sleep paralysis” Y/n breathed out handing back the cup of water for Chris to set back onto the bedside table.

“You’ve had this before?”

“I mean not recently, it was before we got together it was really bad, so I thought it had gotten better” Y/n shrugged tugging up the covers to her neck

“Bub why didn’t you tell me? You know I would have helped you with anything?”

“I don’t know I didn’t see it as a big deal, plus I know how busy you’ve been I don’t wanna add onto that ya know?”

“Y/n what did I say when we first got together?”

“I’m your number one priority” Y/n breathed out feeling Chris' arms wrap around her even more, both of their bodies smushed together in a bundle of blankets.

“Will ya sing for me?” Y/n asked, with Chris starting to him ‘The Carpenters - Close to You’ into her ears softly, his large hands rubbing up and down her back gently. Y/n's eyes were still tired with sleep, even with the episode she was desperate to fall back asleep again. That sense of happiness filling her when she realised she was off for the next four days, and Chris was too.

“Sleep tight baby”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Chris hummed holding onto Y/n's hands tenderly as they sat outside the bed store, mattresses filling the furniture store they were currently at. Reading up on sleep paralysis, Chris read that one of the main ways to help was to ensure a good night’s sleep. With a rich man like Chris by your side, he insisted (forced) that you actually buy a whole new mattress for your guys' bed.

“Chris we don’t actually need a whole new mattress”

“Shush honey, after we fixed your working hours, I am making sure your bed is practically heaven” He said pressing a finger to Y/n’s lips to stop her from talking, standing up when a store attendant headed their way

“N' it means we get to christen the thing, any way we want” Chris whispered bending down to Y/n, his fingertips dancing over the small of her back.

———

Taglist Tags (form is up there^^): @pandaxnienke @patzammit @seren-a-ity @thereisa8ella @mrspeacem1nusone @evanstanwhore @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @chrisevansdaughter @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @tojisbabymommy @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly @sairsei @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chrisevansangel @royalwriteroftheuniverse @mysticfalls01 @taramaria @mirikusashes @marvelgurl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @caps-shield1918 @uwiuwi

[mad4turtles]

big bro michelangelo

part 2/2

(part 1 here)

---

Mikey understands why Splinter gets pissed whenever they wake him up from a nap.

Sleep is amazing. 

After rolling out of bed and treating himself to the longest shower he's ever had, he returns to the t.v room to find the toddlers and Splinter all asleep in the fort. They'd left it up overnight at the behest of the kids, and Splinter hadn't complained once about the room being overtaken or missing his shows as he'd sat with them, picking up from where Mikey had left off in the Wizard of Oz. Mikey had been herded to bed early by April after wolfing down a whole pizza courtesy of Cass—a not completely rare bout of kindness—and Splinter had still been in the fort when he left, the little ones taking up his lap and shoulders as they listened to him read with wonder in their eyes.

He's just in time to watch as Draxum carefully removes the book from where it'd fallen over Splinter's eyes and lifts the blanket to cover all four of them. Leo shifts in his sleep, brows furrowing until Draxum hushes him, gently stroking his head until the little slider settles down again, cuddling against Donnie. Automatically, Donnie shifts to cling to Leo. Draxum leans back on his heels with a smile.

Mikey has never whipped out his phone so fast in his life.

Draxum still notices, though, and the poisonous glare he sends the box turtle is dampened only by the pink blooming across his cheeks. He points a warning finger. “Not. One. Word.”

Mikey waggles the phone in his hand. “Get Dad to double my allowance, or this baby goes viral.”

Draxum splutters. “Wh—why in the—why in Spirits' name should I bend to the whims of—?”

“I took care of three screaming mutant ninja toddlers by myself four hours before your woolly ass got here,” Mikey says with dead eyes. Draxum goes very still. Good, 'cause Mikey ain't playing. “I deserve a little somethin'. Even if I gotta blackmail my way to get it.”

Draxum stares. “I'll talk with your father.”

“Thanks, Papa!” Mikey chimes, skipping over to give his step-father a hug and a kiss on the cheek he can't dodge fast enough. The sheep yokai rolls his eyes and pats Mikey's hand.

“I'd say I'm proud, but quite frankly, Michelangelo, you frighten me.”

“Dr Delicate Touch can be a petty bitch.”

“Language.”

“You don't really care.”

“I really don't.”

They leave the sleeping tots and Splinter in the fort and head for the kitchen where April and both Jones' are waiting. April smiles when Mikey steps through and pulls him in for a cuddle. “Sleep well, big bro?” she asks.

“Like a baby, sis,” Mikey says, squeezing her waist and lifting her off her feet to make her laugh before setting her down to take the plate of fresh pancakes Casey offers him, He knew he'd smelled something good. “Thanks, Jr. Damn, these look fine!”

Casey smiles in that shy, thoroughly pleased way that melts Mikey's insides like goop. “Learned from the best,” he says. “Figured you'd be happier going over a game plan with a full stomach.”

Hopping up to sit cross-legged on the table, Mikey takes a big bite out of the pancake stack and sighs, blissed. “A man after my own heart,” he says around the mouthful. “Bless you, Casey Jones Jr.”

Draxum huffs a laugh poorly disguised as a scoff. “Let us continue with the plan. As Michelangelo told April over the phone, Hypno-potomus supposedly picked up a book of spells and cast a random one during battle. He had no idea that it would result in... well, that,” he jabs a thumb at the doorway where their napping charges lie, “which means tracking him down and forcing him to reverse the spell would be pointless.”

“What if we persuade him?” Cassandra asks, playing with a kunai with a terrifying grin splitting her face. Mikey has learned to stop asking where she keeps them.

April glares. “Cass, put the knives away. We're not torturing him.” Cass obeys, not without muttering and pouting. “Drax just said there's no point. What would beating the answer outta him do if he don't even got the answer? The spell was random, and besides that, he's kinda hard to find.”

“He's roommates with the worm guy, is he not?” Draxum asks. “Or am I mistaken?”

“Pretty sure they're married now,” Mikey says after swallowing.

“Oh. Congratulations to them, then.”

“Back on topic,” Casey cuts in, hands splayed on the table the way Mikey has seen Leo do a dozen times, and it makes him smile. “Hypno might not know what he did, but we can find out how to undo it without him. All we need is the book of spells or another book on how to break this one spell.”

April perks up. “Oh, right! Then Draxum can do his Mystic thing and bring our boys back!”

“And bring an end to this adorable torture!” Cass declares, waving her kunai (again) until Casey puts her arm down with practised patience. Draxum rolls his eyes again, and Mikey—

Mikey feels torn.

He misses his big brothers. He misses Raph's big booming laugh and hugs, Donnie's dry humour and the tangents he goes on about whatever special interest he has that week, and Leo's stupid jokes and reassuring smiles. He wants all that back, so bad it hurts. But...

Mikey sets his empty plate on the table. He needs his team and his big brothers back. He wants them back. But not at the cost of their happiness, this new (old) innocence...

“Mikey?”

Mikey realizes with a start that everyone's looking at him expectantly. Except for April, her brows furrowed in concern.

Right. Game-plan. Get his brothers back, and get the team back.

He shakes himself and smiles. “Sorry, zoned out. What did you say?”

April regards him a moment before smiling. Of course she knows. Big sisters just know everything. “I asked if you knew where we might find a spell book like what Hypno used? Or something that'll tell us how to break it?”

Mikey freezes. “... I may have an idea,” he says slowly. “There's... um... there's always the Mystic Library—”

“Of course!” Draxum exclaims. “The fountain of all mystical knowledge! How could I forget? I know exactly which section to look... but I cannot accompany you there as I am still not entirely welcome in the Hidden City, let alone the library.”

Mikey feels sweat gather along his brow. “Yeaaahh, about that—”

Draxum's smile falls like bricks. “Spirits above, Michelangelo, so help me—”

“We maybe kinda sorta might be banned?”

Draxum sighs, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Of course you are. I'm surprised you've not been barred from the entire Hidden City at this point.”

“You're one to talk, goat man,” Cass snips. Draxum ignores her.

“I'm sure they'll let you back in for an emergency, right?” April ventures. “I mean, who bans someone from a mystic library?”

“Library?”

Every head spins to face the doorway. Donnie, rubbing his eye with the heel of one hand, the other holding a droopy-eyed Leo, stares up at Mikey on the table. He hadn't heard them get up!

Baby ninjas. No wonder Dad went grey so fast.

“Mike's goin' to library?” Donnie asks, more awake now as hope and excitement sparkle in his eyes. He hops from foot to foot, jostling Leo. “Can I come? Can I, can I, please, please? Can I see library, Mike?!”

Oh hell no.

Desperate, Mikey turns to the other adults and teens in the room. None of them look at him, suddenly very interested in their phones, claws or, in Cass' case, the damn kunai, whistling loud and tuneless.

Mikey feels rage.

He turns to Donnie with a beaming smile—“Sure thing, Donnie D!” he says through his teeth.

“Can I come, too?” Leo asks, which throws Mikey for a loop until Leo continues with a yawn, “don' wanna let Don go 'lone. Gotta... gotta stay together. Rahpie comes, too.”

That breaks Mikey's heart and warms its shattered pieces all at once. Now he really can't say no.

“Of course, Little Blue! Go wake up Daddy if he isn't up already and let him help y'all get dressed! We're goin' on a feildtrip, baby!”

Leo and Donnie cheer with their whole bodies, throwing their arms up and stomping their feet before running off to find Raph and Dad. Mikey watches them go, love and warmth in his chest.

He turns to the others and the warmth turns to ice. “Expect a visit from Dr Delicate Touch in the next twenty-four hours.”

The sound of four people gulping has never sounded so sweet.

~0o0~

The bat yokai librarian doesn't look overly happy to see him as she peers over her desk.

One look at the three wide-eyed, slack-jawed toddlers holding his hands and clinging to his back softens something in her gaze, but her soft tone is strict when she says, “I don't even want to know, do I?”

Mikey smiles and shrugs helplessly, shaking his head.

“If I allow you to browse, I trust you will be quiet?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Mikey whispers.

“And your young charges?”

Mikey looks down at the little ones. “Remember our talk, lil' bros?”

Three heads bob in rapid nods, putting their fingers to their lips. “Library voices, shh,” they whisper.

Mikey beams. “Rad.”

The librarian almost cracks a smile. No one is immune to turtle tot cuteness. “Very good. You may proceed. But one word and all of you will be in the Kiddie Room.”

Mikey's pretty sure he's the undisputed ruler of the Kiddie Room, but he's not going to chance it today. He salutes and turns to scour the shelves Draxum told him about, but Donnie hops off his shell and races toward the desk. Mikey bites his lip against a shout, but he hisses Donnie's name frantically. He goes ignored.

Donnie carefully taps the pedestal. “S'cuse me, miss library lady,” he whispers.

She raises a brow. “Yes?”

Donnie beams, hands flapping by his sides. With his glasses on, sizes too big for his face, he looks younger than he is and far cuter than he has any right to be. “Thank you very much for letting us come to your beau—bootiful—boot—pretty library,” he chimes quietly. “I love books so much!”

The librarian stares, eyes slightly wide. And then her smile is small but real. “You're quite welcome, young man. Take as long as you need to.”

Donnie flaps his hands again, excited. “Thank you, I love you, buh-bye!” he chirps and trots back to Mikey, hopping onto his back and clinging, muffling giggles against Mikey's hoodie.

It's all Mikey can do to keep from squealing, eyes welling up. The librarian doesn't seem to be faring any better.

It takes forever, especially with three excited babies all wanting to do their own thing and trying to run off, barely evading the Hush Bats' wrath, but he finds the section he's looking for and has the boys sit in a reading nook with colouring books he'd brought with him. Donnie forgoes them and settles in a massive armchair with Sherlock Holmes's complete collection on his lap.

Mikey finds the book he's looking for after half an hour, and by then, he's exhausted, eyes burning, limbs aching as he plops onto the floor with Leo and Raph. They're quietly discussing who would win in the ultimate fight between Lou Jitsu and Jupiter Jim, with Leo on the side of their father. He smiles as he skims the index and flips through the pages.

Ah-ha! There! De-Ageing Spells, hell yes!

Grinning, Mikey reads. And reads. And...

His smile falls.

Oh.

He lifts his head from the book, turning to face the toddlers smiling and softly giggling in their own little bubble, safe and sound from reality's sharp, unforgiving needle.

His heart sinks.

Oh, man.

~0o0~

The good news is the spell is easily reversible; no blood oaths or sacrificial virgins required. All they have to do is want to be big again, remember who they're supposed to be and let go of who and what they were.

The bad news is it's been three days since they went to the library, four since they were changed.

Mikey knew from the moment he'd read the article. They don't want to change back.

He doesn't blame them.

It's easy to forget sometimes that they're teenagers. Mikey is fifteen, for crying out loud. Raph is—should be—seventeen, a kid in a law that will never touch them, not really, as they are. They've saved the world from evils beyond comprehension, have nearly died on many occasions, and they're not even legally allowed to drink! Much as they hate to hear it due to whatever dumb hormones tell them otherwise, they're children. They shouldn't have to do any of this. That's why most superheroes in media are adults—severely messed up adults, but still!

Why should Mikey take this away from them? Why should anyone take it away or force them to want to let it go? The world will always be in danger, so why can't someone else 'rise to the challenge' and defend it? Why does the world have to fall on the shoulders of kids who barely get the chance to be kids? Why can't they be selfish for once?

Tensions were high in the two years following Splinter's decision to make Leo the leader—a position Leo had never wanted and Raph was doing so well in despite the challenges—and then things change after the Krang. Leo cracks fewer jokes and trains more often, Donnie triple-checks and quadruples his time in the lab pouring over defences, upgrades and fail-safes, and Raph is twice as jittery at night, can't sleep without a light on or checking on his family several times each night. Not that Splinter is much better—Mikey hears him every night, feigns sleep when his father tucks him in and kisses his cheek, lingering a moment before moving on to the next room.

This is the happiest he's seen his family in what feels like forever.

But as much as Mikey wants his brothers' happiness, his true wish is just as selfish. And he feels horrible for it, he does. But—

“I want my big brothers back,” he says, muffled in the folds of Draxum's robe on the night of day five. Sitting on his bed, he clings to his stepfather with all his strength and lets the tears fall. Draxum holds him with one hand on the back of his head, the other rubbing circles along his shell. It's a show of affection he's still getting used to two years down the line, and as much as it's appreciated it only makes Mikey cry harder.

Raph used to do this. Used to pick me right off the floor and crush me with all the love he had in him.

“I don't want them to hurt anymore,” he says through his tears, “I don't want them to fight or, or carry everything all the time 'cos they feel like they have to. I want them to be happy. But... I miss them! I miss my big brothers and I want them back! I don't wanna be the big brother anymore!”

“Hush,” Draxum soothes, holding Mikey tighter as he cries himself out. “I don't know your brothers as well as I'd like to, but I do know how much they care about you. A part of them knows and remembers who they really are. A part that knows this can't last, no matter how much they want it to. The past is in the past, and all that's left is the present and what we have to look forward to. They won't stay like this forever, Michelangelo.”

Mikey sniffles messily, not that Draxum seems to care about the mess he's made of his robe. “That's... that's prolly the wisest thing you've ever said, Papa,” he says. Draxum huffs fondly, but Mikey's smile dims quickly. “What if they do? What if they... what if they love being kids again more than—?”

“Don't you dare,” April hisses from where she's suddenly materialized in the doorway, “finish that sentence, Hamato Michelangelo.”

Mikey stares at her. Draxum loosens his grip and stands in time for April to take his place on the bed, taking Mikey's face between her hands and giving him a firm shake.

“Mikey,” she says, eyes burning like coals into his. Her worry is buried deep beneath, but Mikey sees it through the cracks. “Your brothers adore you. If you asked for the moon in a basket or the sun for a night light, you bet your little ass they'd find a way to make that happen. Ain't nothing in this world more important to them than you. No amount of Jupiter Jim marathons, bedtime stories or piggyback rides could ever hold a candle to having you as their little brother. They'll break this spell no matter what it takes or how long. You know this, I know this—hell, Draxum knows it!”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“So hang in there, okay?” She smiles, pressing a kiss between his eyes and wiping his tears away with her thumbs. “Give 'em time. They'll be back before you know it.”

Mikey breathes in deeply and tries to believe. He nods. “Okay,” he croaks, throwing his arms around his sister's neck when she pulls him in.

(Outside the door, a pair of tiny feet quickly scurry away.)

~0o0~

He takes his eyes off them for a second.

They're playing in the park, hanging off the monkey bars and the swing set, and Mikey, sitting on the bench, reaches for the buzzing phone in his pocket.

Then Leo shrieks his name, and terror freezes Mikey's blood.

Hypno has Leo and Raph by their hoodies. Donnie screams at him to put his brothers down, kicking the mutant hippo's shin to little effect.

“Aw, aren't you lot adorable?” the magician coos. “Can't believe you're still so tiny, but, I'll take what I can get. Which is you lot, to get Orange over there to come running right into my trap! You won't be much of a nuisance if you're all pint-sized tots!”

Mikey doesn't hear what the fat creature says over the ringing in his ears. His body moves on its own, faster than he's ever moved in his life, and even then, he's too late. Hypno vanishes in a puff of purple smoke.

Leo, Donnie and Raph are gone, too.

Mikey stares at where they'd stood. Donnie's glasses lie forgotten on the wood chippings, the lenses cracked. Carefully, Mikey scoops them up. He shuts his eyes and grits his teeth.

When he opens his eyes, the world is red.

~0o0~

He uses Donnie's tracker to find them—thank god for Donnie's paranoia and mildly invasive meddling tendencies. They're holed up in some run-down warehouse, empty save for boxes no doubt filled with Hypno's assortment of traps, support pillars that creak ominously to the time of dripping pipes.

And, of course, Hypno and his little-big brothers, tied up and crying out for him from the little cage behind the magician.

The world is still red around the edges, and Mikey ignores whatever villainous spiel the hippo spouts, nunchaku ablaze and spinning.

“Give. Me. My. Brothers.”

Mikey's voice sounds foreign to his ears, and whatever look Mikey has on his face makes Hypno stammer into silence and take a step back. “Whoa, nelly, that's quite the look you've got on your face! I-I'm actually starting to regret my decisions leading up to this moment.”

“Mikey's gonna kick your big fat butt!” Leo cries, struggling against the ropes binding him shell-to-shell with Raph and a sniffling Donnie.

“Yeah! He's gonna beat ya up, good, ya—ya big butt head!”

“B-Bitch!” Donnie says through his tears.

Hypno looks at them flatly. “Right, I'm over the regretting thing. Let's dance, shall we, Orange?”

Mikey scowls. “Gladly,” he hisses, and charges.

(He understands Raph's rage, now, barely hidden under layers and layers of love. He wonders if it's this scary to him, too, knowing how much of it he has and what it does to you when the people you protect are in danger.

Perhaps that's what ultimately freed Raph from the Krang that day. It's what led Mikey to Leo, after all.)

The fight is as messy and chaotic as usual. But Mikey's not having fun, and Hypno won't let him get close to the tots until he's one of them. He must've finally studied the book, which is just great, really, and adds fuel to Mikey's growing fire. Figuratively and literally.

An explosion gets too close to the kids, and Donnie wails at the loud noise.

Then Mikey gets angry.

He traps Hypno in the extended chains and swings him straight through a pillar. It's the straw to break the camels' back as the whole building crumbles around them.

Mikey remembers himself and nearly chokes on his horror. What did I just do?

He hears his brothers scream his name. He shakes himself and sprints to the cage, tearing it open with sheer adrenaline and slicing the ropes away with the jagged piece of metal that bites into his skin. He ignores the sting and pulls the crying tots into his arms.

“It's okay, guys,” he says, dizzy with relief—he's got them, they're safe, he'll get them out, and they'll be safe, they'll be okay—“It's okay. Big bro Mikey's here.”

Something gives above their heads. Mikey looks up in time to see the giant slabs of concrete hurtling towards them.

He doesn't think twice. He shoves the boys as hard as he can, and—

And he blinks awake to a ringing in his ears and copper in his mouth. He feels numb from the waist down.

He's buried under the rubble.

His vision is spotty with hints of actual red—blood, most likely—but he can see the boys. They're not hurt. Covered in dust and soot from the collapsing debris and crying their hearts out, but they're fine.

They're okay. Good.

“Go on, guys,” he coughs. Raph stops tugging his arm to stare at him with open horror. It's not something he ever wants to see on a toddler's face, but there's not much he can do about it now. “T-There's... not much time. Y'gotta get outta here, the buildings' comin' down...”

“NO!” Donnie shrieks, stomping his feet, big fat tears dripping down his chin. “No no no! Not leaving Mikey, no! Not leaving you!”

“Stay together!” Leo sobs. Mikey wants to reach out and hold him, but his left arm's buried under the rubble, the other clutched in Raph's trembling hands. “Gotta help, Mike, gotta—gotta get back to normal 'n be big together again!”

Ah. It was Leo who overheard. Heh. Baby ninjas.

Mikey huffs. “S'okay, Little Blue,” he says, words slurring together as it gets harder to stay awake. “You guys... It doesn't matter how big or small you are. I love you anyway. I'll always love you because you're still my brothers.”

He smiles big and wide, fighting tears. “Big Bro Michelangelo loves you. Always.”

They stare at him, masks soaked with tears. It's not the best thing to see right before you die, but Mikey thinks it could be worse.

He can't keep his eyes open anymore. He feels Raph drop his arm. Good. They're leaving. He hopes Donnie can still work a phone to call Dad. Hopes they don't blame themselves.

He hears another pillar give above him, and he knows it's over.

They'll be okay. Mikey did what every good big brother is supposed to do. He did good.

There's a familiar whirr of machinery, a crackle of energy that Mikey knows as intimately as his own, a flash of purple—

“FIBONACCI!”

Mikey's eyes snap open. He looks up.

Donatello stands over him—sixteen years old, a pillar of armour, defined muscles and gangly limbs—a mystic shield keeping the worst of the debris from crushing them. He meets Mikey's gaze and grins through the strain.

Mikey's jaw hangs. “... Donnie?”

“In the half-shell!” Donnie declares, and Mikey could cry.

Lightning crackles against the stones pinning Mikey. A circle of brilliant blue sparks to life beneath them and pulls them under. The world spins until it rights itself in the form of Leonardo catching him before the portal can spit him onto the asphalt. Mikey blinks the white spots away until the striped face of his grinning older brother remains, his smirk set at an angle that's equal parts arrogance and affection. Behind them, the warehouse collapses.

“Leo?”

“Were you expecting DiCaprio?” Leo quips. It's not even remotely funny, but Mikey throws his head back and laughs.

Then he freezes. “Wait, wait!” He squirms in Leo's arms, but Leo settles for dropping to his knees and setting him on the ground. Mikey paws at his shoulders desperately. “W-where's—?”

“SAVING LIKE A BOSS!”

A red goliath bursts from the rubble in a shower of brick and twisted metal and leaps out of the wreckage, leaving small craters in the ground as he lands superhero-style. He drops Hypno off to the side before re-calling his ninpo.

And then there's only Raphael, smiling right at him as he lumbers over to kneel before them.

Mikey shakes. Leo's arms wrap around his shoulders and hold him close. “Raph...”

“You did great, little brother,” he says, reaching out with one massive hand to gently cup Mikey's cheek in his calloused palm. His eyes shine with unshed tears and pride. “You really did. You saved us, buddy. I'm proud of you.”

“Same here,” Leo says, nuzzling his cheek against Mikey's. His mask is still damp. “Sorry it took us so long to come back, little bro.”

“Indeed,” Donnie adds, typing something onto his holographic before joining them on the floor. “Though my memories of being toddler-fied are hazy at best, I do recall enjoying elements of it. However, no amount of piggyback rides or weaponising cuteness for a mystic library pass could satisfy my need to reach the freaking kitchen countertop by myself and slice my own goddamn fruit, thank you very much!”

Raph rolls his eyes with a smile that's equal parts fond and exasperated. A smile that Mikey gets now. “I think what Don's tryin' to say, is that, yeah, being kids again was fun while it lasted. And spending time with Dad like that again was really great...”

“But Draxum was right,” Leo adds, drawing back enough to wipe the soot and blood off Mikey's face with his mask tails. He smiles. “We gotta let go of the past. That's done. What matters now is what we do in the present—”

“And the things we have to look forward to in the future,” Donnie finishes, reaching out to rub the top of Mikey's head. “For instance, I am most looking forward to wiping every single freaking picture and or video you've taken these last six days. Tech gods as my witness, I will leave no SD card unturned, no RAM un—oh. Oh, Mikey...”

Mikey doesn't realize he's crying until Leo pulls him back for a hug, holding tight. Then the floodgates burst as he gives way to heaving sobs, curling into Leo's chest. Donnie drops all pretences and joins the embrace, his snout nuzzling Mikey's head. Raph gathers them all up and squeezes.

Through the haze of bone-deep, exhaustion, aches, pains and relief, Mikey smiles.

They're back. My big brothers are back. April and Draxum were right.

Just when Mikey thinks he could stay like this with them forever, there's a groan near the mound of rubble. A ripple goes through the (now) older trio as they lift their heads and turn as one. Mike follows a beat after.

Hypno rubs his head and looks around him, rumpled and rough-looking as Mikey feels, but mostly intact save for a nasty black eye. Both eyes widen when he sees the turtles staring back at him.

He blinks. “Um. I can explain.”

Raph, Leo and Donnie narrow their eyes to slits at the cowering hippo mutant. Mikey stifles a giggle.

Oh, he 'bout to get it.

Raph looks back down at Mikey and smiles. “You sit tight for a sec, Little Man,” he says, kissing Mikey's forehead before letting them all go and standing, cracking his neck.

“Yeah, we'll be right back,” Leo pats his cheek and joins Raph. His claws peek out, hands fluttering at his sides.

“I've sent April a message. She and The Parents are en route, E.T.A three minutes, so keep an eye out, m'kay? Cool.” Donnie nudges his shoulder against his and extends his battle shell, hovering over Hypno.

Mikey, for once, is content to sit on the side and watch. He's already given Hypno a piece of his mind. Now it's his big brothers' turn.

“So,” Raph bumps his fists together, red armour encasing his arms. “You shrank us.”

“You kidnapped us,” Leo's swords flash into his palms.

“And you nearly crushed our baby brother,” Donnie's bo extends into a mini-missile launcher.

Hypno goes white. “A-Ah, hey now, let's not be hasty! It was all in good fun, we had a few laughs—!”

“Not only that, but you owe Mikey so much child support!” Leo cries, raising his swords. “You goddamned—”

“Big-mouthed—” Raph pulls his fists back.

“Blue gumball, simpleton—” Donnie spins his bo and lifts it high.

“Wait, wait, wait—!”

“SON OF A BITCH!” they holler and bring their weapons down in a burst of soot, brick and screaming hippo.

Grinning hard enough to hurt, Mikey throws his head back and cackles.

“That's my boys!”

[daddyhausen]

• the ink in your skin — roman reigns •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ warnings } – smut, 18+ { minors do not interact }, teasing, fem!reader, dominant/sumbmissive dynamic, cockriding, jealous sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, male + female orgasms, squirting, creampie, cockwarming

{ word count } – 1.2k

{ genre } – smut/ tattoo artist au!

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

you admired the glorious work inked into your skin, how some lines were more subtle that others, how black would soon disperse to grey, mixing in with the colour of your flesh. the skin was still tender, still red but that did not take away from how breathtaking the piece was. you kept the design strictly black and grey in accordance with the rest of the ink that lined your skin. the design, a broken victorian style street lantern, a candle burning and dripping wax in its centre, flowers and other various fauna blooming in its surroundings. there was something very regal about its decaying state, how intricate each line was, the shading to the highlights, it was probably your favourite piece to date!

“thank you, seth! it looks amazing!” you praised the younger artist as he was beginning to disinfect and clean the piece, smiling to himself, seemingly proud of the several hours of work he put in.

“only the best for you, my friend” his response was cocky and smug, yet playful. despite his age he was already such a talent, such a prolific artist, you’d come across his portfolio through your boyfriend, roman, another talented tattoo artist. most of your skin was inked by your love, however seth’s art was something you’ve wanted to get inked in your skin for a while.

seth did not have his whole body inked like yourself or roman. he kept his art simply on his right arm, starting up at the top of his shoulder, working its way down to the tips of his fingers. his tattoos were detailed, intricate, each one held specific meaning to him. he began wrapping up the piece, taking extra precaution to not irritate the skin further. you paid him, handing the boy two one hundred dollar bills for his troubles, despite having lowered the price significantly for you.

“i can’t accept this much-“

“nonsense, you deserve it! the piece is beautiful and you deserve to be paid as such!” he tried handing the money back before you interjected, cutting him off mid sentence. hesitantly he accepted, offering you a gracious smile as he placed the money in the register.

“make sure not to put too much pressure on that leg, don’t want the ink bleeding everywhere” he chuckled at his own comment, resting his hands underneath his chin.

“i’ll be carefull. thanks again” you smiled softly in thanks, making sure to keep your steps light as you made your way back to your car. seth offered you a small wave of goodbye as you left.

-

“roman, i’m home” you called out to your boyfriend, his head popped around the corner from the living room, cocking an eyebrow slightly at the fresh ink that graced your thigh, seeing that it was definitely not his artistry. you kicked your shoes off, placing your coat and bag beside the couch, sitting next to him. his mannerisms seemed dismissive, keeping his eyes glued to the t.v

“what’s that?” he eyed down at the ink, impressed by the artistry but he would not let that show. you stared at him confused for a moment before speaking.

“uhh, my new tattoo?” you responded, although your voice did not hold much confidence, you would see the wrath glowing underneath the surface of his irises. did he not like the piece?

“it’s not my work” he retorted, flicking through different t.v channels in an attempt to distract himself. his muscles clenched, you could tell by the way the ink in his skin would move so subtly.

“uh yeah, i got seth to do it for me” you responded, taking the moment to once again admire the younger man’s work.

“seth?”

“yeah, i’ve been wanting to get a piece done by him for months now” you shot him a questioning look, noticing how he was avoiding your gaze.

“i thought you were saving that place on your thigh for my work?” he retorted, words almost a bit abrasive along with his tone.

“you’re jealous, aren’t you?’ you teased, ignoring his question as you wrapped your inked arms around his own, tracing the monochrome lines within his skin. his muscles only tightened, your touch had that effect on him. your boyfriend merely scoffed, turning to face you, a smug expression crossing his lips.

“y/n…”

“you’re jealous that i have another man’s art tattooed on my skin? that another man’s hands were all over my thigh? so dangerously close to what’s yours?“ your words rang in his arms, you crawled onto his lap, straddling his waist as you began to pepper light kisses across his jawline, the extent of where his tattoos reach. you could feel him grow hard against your inner thigh, a signal that your tactics were working.

he hummed in response, his inked digits making their way up your thigh, tracing over the freshly wrapped tattoo, still furious that is was not his work gracing your skin. he bypassed it, hands heading for your hips, slowly making their way around the curvature of your ass, gripping, squeezing the flesh roughly.

“your body belongs to me, babygirl. it’s evident by my work etched permanently into your skin.” he groaned into your neck, pushing your hips lower against his clothed cock. “i’ll prove that your cunt also belongs to me”

he practically threw you off of his lap, commanding you to strip in the process. he watched on, loving the way with each piece of clothing you removed, a new piece of artwork by him was revealed. the sight of you, bare, covered in nothing by the black and grey he etched into your skin, ignoring that one spot on your thigh, wrapped securely from his gaze. it never failed to make him hard.

he simply remained on the couch, pulling down his sweatpants, along with his boxers. His size springing up against his stomach as he simply motioned for you to come join him. he pulled you back onto his lap, the tip of his cock teasing your already soaked folds, easily able to slip himself deep inside your walls.

“fuck, ro-“ you exclaimed breathlessly. he slammed into with a relentless pace, barely giving you any time to adjust to the size of his cock. he held your hips still, his own hips bucking up against you. every thrust he gave was pure bliss, it sent you spiralling.

“you’re mine” he growled into your shoulder, loving the way your moans filled the living room, how your mouth hung agape with his name. “your body, your pussy, all of it is mine”

“i’m all yours” you repeated absentmindedly, feeling the buildup of your orgasm slowly rising. you buried your head into his shoulder, slamming yourself down onto his cock, loving the way he deliciously stretched out your walls, leaving you throbbing around his size.

“let me fill your pretty pussy up, babygirl,” he lulled, chasing his own orgasms, his length pulsating within your walls, painting your insides with his hot seed. your own juices exploding around his cock, both your moans flooding the living room. he pulled back for a moment, keeping you on his cock as he examined your new tattoo.

“you know what, i actually kind of like it”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

[thewritingginger]

AoT Boys - Preferences

This is something... I have nothing else to say about it lol

Also it may be a bit all over the place idk 

Fandom: Attack on Titan Characters: Reiner Braun, Armin Arlert, Eren Yeager & Jean Kirstein Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Fem! Bodied Reader, Mentions of sex, Swearing, lot of boob, ass, & thigh talk, also switches b/w saying s/o and you I'm a mess :)

 Enjoy ~

Reiner

Reiner is a simple man that loves dem tiddies!

Big or little doesn't matter

Man has giant hands and if it fits it ships

“You fit so perfectly in my hands.”

Loves to lay on your chest - #LittleSpoonReiner

When he had a particularly rough day all he wants to do is nizzle into your chest and breathe in your scent

Likes to massage them over your clothes when y’all make out

Can’t keep his mouth off of them, licking and biting them as he also plays with your nipples

He may give them a few smacks here and there if that's the mood 😉

Honestly would so happy to just play with your chest and nothing else, especially if you really like it

Likes when his s/o rides him - not only cuz it gives them more control of the pacing but also bc he gets a full view of their breasts

If you want to make this man nearly combust send him a saucy pic while he’s out/at work and can’t get to you

Man is weak for some lacy lingerie - really likes pastels and white (to him if makes it almost feel naughtier cuz of how sweet it looks)

“I was thinking of wearing this to our date tonight, do you like it? 😇” - w/ a mirror pic of you in a matching lacy set, wearing one of his large button up shirts and make sure you put your hand on your cheek sweetly, pressing your breasts together

He would call you so fast!

“Sweetheart, I am at work! Please-”

“And change of plans, instead of going out Imma need you to be on that bed when I get home tonight because we will not be leaving that room till you’re completely fucked out.”

Really likes clothed sex - why would he just rip of that pretty lingerie you put on for him when he can continue to enjoy it on your beautiful body while he rails you?!

He just overall enjoys seeing and feeling your chest and bonus points for it also feeling good for you though he doesn’t really touch them w/o your permission/ when y’all are getting it on

However, in his sleep his hand can become a bit of a wanderer

So he is a perv but not so outwardly so

Really likes lacy or mesh shirts where can see your bra/bralette  - though sometimes it can make him feel some type of way

“Beautiful, I always love what you wear but you gotta stop doing this to me, my heart can’t take it.”

Man just melts for you! ok?! 

Armin

Armin is a Thigh Man! and I will die on this hill!!!

He loves to hold and squeeze them - in both sexual & non-sexual situations

Laying on them is prime time for him, he may even leave a few sleepy kisses behind before falling asleep on them

Also Thigh fucking is his jam!! And you can’t convince me otherwise

Not only does he love the feeling of your thighs jerking him off but also it’s about that teasing he loves to give his s/o

May even taunt them about it

“You like feeling my cock slide between your thighs?”

“My Angel wishes they had my cock inside them, huh.”

He also just generally loves kissing, licking and biting your thighs, he likes to take his time especially when he is about to go down on you

He likes to have his hand on his s/o’s thigh while sitting next to them, whether at home or out for lunch with friends - not necessarily in a sexual way well… unless you want him to 😉

Want to make him excited? Wear some thigh high stockings

If you are wearing a skirt and at some point in the day you lift the hem to show the garter strap holding up your stocking he’ll let out a little low hum of approval and needs to get his hands on you soon 

That also goes for if you want to send him a little pic in the day to show you miss him just a little

“Thinking of you bb 🥰” - w/ a picture of your skirt raised or just in a pair of cute panties while sat on your knees with your thighs pressed together would do the trick

He would blush a little at the initial shock -especially if around others-  but would be quick to excuse himself before responding

“You’re so beautiful, when I get home I’m gonna spread those pretty thighs open and have you screaming for me.”

Boy really likes not only shear tights but also fishnets

Whether you wear them under a skirt/dress or under distressed jeans and it peeks through holes and over the top he’s in for it

Has 10000% had sex with a pair of fishnets on - the ones with the extra large holes that he can fit his dick through - yes ma’am

Also just plain old ripping them open so make sure you don’t spend a lot of money of your tights cuz they might not last too long oop

Eren

Also a Boobie Man!

Whether he is just chillin on the couch watching t.v. with his s/o or making out and getting down to business, his hand somehow always finds its way to a boob

He will just put his arm around your shoulder and snake his hand down the collar of your shirt and just cup it - maybe will begin to give a few squeezes here and there mf treating it like a stress ball smh

Will motor boat you - he doesn’t care if there isn't much to your chest either cuz he will go for it anyway

If he is having sex in missionary best believe both his palms would be kneaded his s/o’s breasts

Or if from behind he will lean over and wrap his arm around their front to hold them

But lets need not forget the tiddie bounce when his s/o rides him

So many choices baby boy doesn’t know which one he likes best 🤔

Loves some tiddie-fucking

And cumming on dem boobies as well

“You look so good with my cum drippin down your tits.”

This bitch will be at work and ask for nudes smh

Of course he wants boobie pics - loves when you are topless and holding your breasts with your hands or simply just your cleavage down your shirt

“You’re always so good to me Babygirl. I’ll see you when I get home 😉”

Likes when you wear revealing tops

Of course he’ll about throw hands if someone's gaze stays a bit too long but he is proud of his baby and knows they are beautiful

Eren, unlike Reiner, is more outwardly pervy

Always encourages you not to wear a bra

“Your nipples are so cute, why wouldn’t you want to show them.”

Also you know he aint afraid to stare and when you catch him he’ll just give you a wink and a cocky smirk

Jean

Bonafide Booty Man!

Like Reiner, the size doesn’t matter!

Big or little - if he can grab he can vibe with it

This boy always has his hand on the butt any chance he gets

Cuddle Time? His hand will rubb and hold the booty

When y’all are making out? You best believe he’ll pull you real close and squeeze your ass

So safe to say that taking his s/o from behind is great booty access

Also reverse Cowgirl is a nice view as well

“Fuck, I love seeing your ass bounce on my cock.”

Loves to squeeze, jiggle and spank your butt

Also kissing and biting the cheeks are a yes in his book

Likes to bend over his s/o and go down on them from behind, having is tongue covered in their taste as his hands grope and smack their ass - sign him up

Likes days in at home with you, especially if you opt out of wearing pants - Pants are always optional in his household  😉

If he sees cheeks he’s a happy man

Expect to get little booty love taps &/or pinches while around him - mostly when it’s just you two at  home

If you want to fluster him a bit give his ass a little smack/squeeze of your own 

Likes when you send him pics but when he’s at work? He’ll have to breathe for a minute and leave the room if others are around

“Baby, should I get these?” - w/ a pic in a dressing room wearing a silky “pajama” short set that leaves little to the imagination; booty on full display of course

“Yes! 😍😍😍”

“My sweet girl, I want to see you in that when I get home.”

Big fan of leggings and high waisted pants on his s/o - all about extenuating that booty

Just tight pants in general tbh

If you ever come out in a little number and the booty is poppin he’ll grab your hand and make you do a little spin for him to get a full 360 view

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you liked that! Want more? Let me know. 

My requests are open for both regular and Kinktober - Make sure you read my guidelines :3

💛 ~

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Angel has Kai’s baby in their 3rd (last) year of highschool and Kai has no idea since she hid her pregnancy so 2 years later Kai breaks up with angel to focus on his “experiments” when Kai is sent to Tartarus the guards tell him that he has a visitor and there’s angel and his child and Kai starts to tear up

"Eh...?" you could only mutter in disbelief as Kai read some papers with an unbothered expression.

"I know you for about five years (Y/n). I know you dont have any issues with your hearing." He muttered coldly before sighing and placing the papers on the desk.

"You... want to break up...? Why? What did I do?" You asked with trembling lips as he stared at your eyes.

"Is more about on what you can't and won't do." He pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose before waving it in the air "You know I am the future leader of the hassaikai. And having you near would be only a distraction to my experiments to give this place more credit. You would be like a rock on my path to gain some knowledge."

"You're kidding right?" You almost sobbed "You always told me I was like a safe place for you to go. What the hell happened to that? Or the promises you made for me for us to get married?" He blinked before answering.

"I was foolish. We have a life ahead of us and well, having you being clingy on my back would be a nuisance while working."

The ground could swallow you for all you cared... what the supposed love of your life just said was enough to leave you with eyes red and legs felling like they were trembling.

"Please dont cry. You're dropping them on the ground. And I dont even know if you're clean." You gritted your teeth before breathing in and looking at Kai Chisaki for what you swore for one last time.

"Very well. You want to break up because I'm only a bother to your path to greatness oh punny God? So be it." You walked until you felt him grabbing your wrist until you snatched it away from him.

"When the time is right, we can get back together." He spoke like he was in a fucking meeting in a company.

"No." You hissed "Chisaki I loved you, and I gave you everything of me even supporting your ideas. But then you want to break up with out of no where saying I would ruin your plans by simply existing neat you and to top it off you call me clingy and a nuisance?"

You could see a tad bit of remorse on his eyes as he pondered for a second his own words maybe, but before he could speak you sobbed and opened the door.

"Don't ever look for me Chisaki. And for your information..." you hesitated and gulped down the urge to just yell what you had discovered just earlier while clenching your purse where the pregnancy test lied on.

"What?" He asked, now no longer seeing to be bothered by your sadness and outburst.

"... good luck on your life. I hope you're happy with this obstacle getting away from you." You muttered before closing the door and walking out until you cursed and screamed while you ran as the rain started to make an appearance.

Not noticing the germophobic himself running out of the house with an umbrella to give it to you and soaked as well as he watched with a dread expression your figurine run away...

.

.

Ten years later...

.

.

"I swear Kaiyo... you gonna drive me crazy one of these days." You spoke heartedly as the boy with brow hair laughed in embarrassment while scrubbing the back of his head as you caught all the pieces of the broken chair on the ground.

"Sorry ma! I got carried away." You scoffed but soon smiled at his tiny hands and focused face morph the pieces and piece them back together and with a proud face show you the new constructed chair with a 'tad a!'

"Wow. Impressive sweety!" You patted his hair as he "complained", golden eyes shinning brightly at looking at you with a huge smile on.

Life sometimes was cruel to give the child you loved the exact same face as their father which teared your heart at pieces. But your love for your son was stronger than this stupid thing.

Kaiyo was your son. Not his.

"Ne ne ma? Father's day is coming up!" Kaiyo said and you froze for a moment before sighing while washing the dishes.

Here we go...

"Yes it is coming." You muttered as the boy sneak around and looked up at you.

"You know I dont really care about what the other kids say about me having only a mom but..." he rested his face on his crossed arms on the sink while shyly looking up at you "I was just curious... if I am going to meet mine..."

You sighed while placing the now dry plates on their place before giving your son the best smile you could get.

"Kaiyo, your father is just a very busy name. When we were together he had.. uh.. family business to take care of, so that's why we cant see him much." Kaiyo seemed a bit dissapointmented and it tore you apart.

You could have your own issues with Kai but that didn't mean you would make his son hate him...

"Well... Sato's also got a busy dad but.." he shook his head, messy brow bangs shaking along with his head, until he gave you a bright smile "That's okay! I just hope I get to meet him one day! And that he gets back to you and apologize foe being a dork! So us three can live together!"

A child can dream, right?

But you knew that Kai needed to know the existence of Kaiyo... you werent ignorant...

"Yeah kiddo. Let's hope for the best." You carresed his cheek before kissing it "Okay. Enough talk. Time for bed young man."

"Awww already?" He pouted as you giggled.

"How about that? You go get ready and I tell you stories about me and daddy while we were together?"

"Can I get my plushie of mr Nighteye?" You giggled. Something Kaiyo definitely wasn't equal to his father was his fascination with heroes.

"Sure honey. Now shoo! Go go go!" You squished his cheeks as he laughed and ran towards his room on the apartment.

You snorted at sign before preparing yourself for digging the past once again for the sake of your son.

.

.

.

"MOM!" You almost chopped your finger along with the carrot at the shout of Kaiyo before looking at him in worry to se ehkm pointing at the T.V with horror "The heroes-! The green hero with the girl-!"

You immediately went to his side only to widened your eyes at the image in front of you.

Chisaki..?

"Ma! He is a villain! A BIG ONE!"your son whimpered while going for you for a hug while stared in shock... "Ma? Why are you trembling?"

"H-Huh?" You let out until you gasped at seeing this teenager punching Chisaki square in the face...

"Ma?! You're okay?!"

You didn't know what to feel, but surely you weren't expecting tears to fall when this girl hand cuffed your ex boyfriend and the cops and heroes to put him into a van to surely got to the prison. Tartarus you bet.

You felt a hand rubbing your cheek and soon looked at your son wide teary eyes.

"M-Mommy...?" You hugged him close to your chest and holding his head close as your heart almost slammed out of your chest. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I-i... I'm okay honey." You inhaled before looking into Kaiyo's golden eyes to see worry on them. "Hey, mommy's okay."

"Ma...?"

"Hm?"

"That man looked like me..."

.

How long was he here? Months?

Didn't matter. Nothing mattered more... everything was taken from him. Including his own arms. Now he was just as useless as a cockroach.

Worst of all? His own father figurine on a damn hospital because of him...

Pathetic.

'Is funny how things change' is what you used to say... he found himself scoffing while pressing the back of his head on the wall.

He hadn't stop thinking about you ever since the day he made the decision of breaking up with you. He did tried inumerous times to contact you when he took leadership of the Hassaikai... but he just gave up.

"Probably married with kids already... why are you even thinking about her on the first place..?" he murmured to himself as he felt his chest tighten in sadness.

Everything was just... what he deserved.

He sighed. Closing his eyes for just a split second until he heard banging on the door of his cell until a guard opened the window on it to glare daggers at him.

"Get up. You have visitors."

"Leave me in here. I thought your job was to take seriously enough to not make jokes." He spoke on a hoarse voice until the cell opened with two guards already on it.

"I cant understand why you have visitors as well but get your ass up already."

He just blinked until he got up, two guards in front of him and one behind as he walked.

He just hoped it was fast.

He entered the room, mirrors which surely was where cops were hidden as he sitted down on a chair and waited until the door of iron opened by another guard.

"Right here ma'am. And remember the rules please."

"Of course." His eyes widened and he snapped his head up to see if he hadn't got crazy.

But no. You were there.

Gosh.. you didn't change at all... was even more beautiful than what his mind could have remember.

He stood there in shock as you got in but along with you... holding your hand, was a boy. Dressed with clothes but he surely didn't looked content about being in here.

His face dropped at seing the kid... you had moved on.

"One hour." The guard said locking the door as you stood there awkwardly, while the kid holding onto to you was glaring at the ground.

He wanted to say something but nothing came out as he was still in shock at seeing out of all people you decided to visit him.

The heels you wore clicked on the ground as you walked towards the table and sit down and the boy right by your side on the other chair... not even once you made eye contact with him.

"... (y/n)..." he whispered, still looking at you as if you were some angelical creature.

"Hey... long time that we dont see each other right? Chisaki." You spoke... not with a smile but not with hatred.

It was a start.

"You... hadn't changed a... a bit." He spoke, voice scratching at his throat as your eyes finally met his, his heart was beating loudly on his chest.

It felt like he was in high school again...

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

"I.. I didn't meant to offend you. Apologies." He bowed his head a bit as you sighed, looking at him with wide eyes out of the sudden.

"Oh God what happened to your arms?!" You almost screamed as the kid also seemed to notice.

"Long story... just.. a business that went wrong." He explained with dread as you seemed to relax a but while nodding.

It remained quiet for a bit only for the sound of the clock on the wall until he decided to break the silence.

".. so.. er.." gosh he was horrible with this "how is your life? Any.. uh.. you got the degree you wanted? I remember how you talked about it..."

You sighed with dissapointment as you looked at everywhere but him.

"No. I haven't... but I see you got what you wanted before being arrested though." You muttered and he let out a bitter chuckle.

"Almost.. yeah." He tapped his foot twice until he spotted the kid glaring at him with similiar gold eyes... "Married?"

"No. I thought it would be a distraction while taking care of my son." You spoke abruptly... as you looked at the boy beside you... "Anyway... I need to give you this."

You showed to him a paper before putting on the desk.

"What.. what is this?"

"Is a DNA test." You spoke coldly "To prove that you do have a son."

His eyes widened at that as he looked at the paper... and then to the boy whose was glaring at him not moments ago...

"Wha... but... "

"Remember the day when we split off? Yeah... was the day I discovered."

"W... why didn't you said something?" He asked in oure horror as you giggled in sarcasm.

"For what? This would only trouble you right?" You said with such venom on your voice that he felt a sting to his chest before you breathed in slowly before exhaling "I'm here because I thought you had the right to know... even after ten years.."

He looked at the kid and soon could tell the similarly between him and the boy... you had to raise a child with his face on it alone and he had broken things because of his own selfishness...

"What... what is his name?"

You pondered for a second before sighing, caressing the boy's hair.

"Come on honey... introduce yourself to your dad..." the boy huffed before opening his eyes and looking at him.

"I'm (L/n) Kaiyo. I cant say is very nice to meet you but my mom told me to say it for respect." He almost cringed at the introduction as he saw you looking at him with anger.

"Kaiyo." You warned as the boy scoffed.

"Dont need to scold him. He is not exactly wrong..." he ended up saying while you looked at him.

"I raised Kaiyo to have respect though."

"Why should I have respect towards him in the first place?" He looked at the dark brow haired kid "Not only he abandoned you ma but he is a villain! A very bad one! That girl on the Tv should be the same age if not younger than me!" The boy gritted with a few tears escaping his face.

"Kaiyo please... "

"Incredible..." you and Kaiyo suddenly looked at him "Despite having my features you are just like your mother... I would be proud of it..."

"... I'm not proud of being a villain's son." He muttered while sniffing "You abandoned us. I know ma hadn't said a thing to you but now I do."

You bited on your lips as he looked at loss of words at what he just heard from a child...

"... I know it doesn't change a thing but... I never stopped thinking about... your mother. About you (Y/n)."

"DONT REFER TO MY MOM AS HER FIRST NAME!" Kaiyo banged his fists on the table before you took him in your arms as the boy sobbed "You never cared! You-You-! Grandpa said you called my ma a bother! You are a MURDER!" The kid cried.

"I'm sorry about that..." you mumbled as you cradled the crying boy in your arms "He didn't take well Mr. Nighteye death..."

"M-Ma-! I wanna go home!"

"But Kaiyo, your da-"

"He IS NOT MY DAD!" he cried in you as you sighed as Chisaki seemed to be dying little by little at each second this visit had.

"I'm... going to go. Another day we will visit. Take care, Chisaki." You spoke before he could hear it and he stood up abruptly from his chair.

"No! Wait-!"

The door closed...

.

Months later

.

"Ma look. Hawk's wings are healing." The kid pointed at the news and you smiled.

"That's amazing! We could use some good news!" You chirped as Kaiyo smiled until both of you heard the door bell of your apartment ring.

"Huh. Weird usually grandpa or grandma visits us on-" you opened the door and you almost screamed at the sign of that same green haired kid on your door but now he seemed so... broken...

"Ma'am.. I'm sorry to bother you, but he said he can crash a bit in here... later cops will come to get him. I'm sorry but I need to go." Your son walked and squealed at sign.

"A hero!" Your son smiled brightly at him and for once, Deku had showed a smile for real... until you saw Chisaki leaning bruised to the core resting on the wall next to your door...

"Chisaki..." you breathed out as your son looked at him in shock.

"I'm sorry. Both of you..." he muttered while looking at the storm outside.