#its cute so far and i like the little additions here and there
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Okay, so initial thoughts just to catch you guys up to speed.
1. Why the fuck does Gabe look so nasty??? 😖🤧
2. I appreciate that they are sticking to the original French translations for different bits instead of the English dub
3. LADRIEN CURMB 👁👄👁
#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug manga#cat speaks#cat reads#its cute so far and i like the little additions here and there
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sigh okay this year i have actual mob vote opinions. disclaimer: my MAIN opinion is that if i see too much mob vote salt on my dash i'll just block the relevant terms again, and that all three mobs are adorable and i'd like any of them. however, my vague thoughts on them:
crab: i have inherent vault hunters-based crab grudges. the coconut crab appears in my nightmares. however, past that, the crab as an animal is fun, i like crabs alright. the fact it's shown crawling up trees sideways is neat. i'll say mangrove forests are ALREADY one of the loveliest, most alive-feeling biomes, so i don't know if they need an exclusive mob? but it's also realistic for the crab so i'll take it. when it comes to the crab claw itself... many questions. is it an off-hand item? or like create's extendo-reach thing? or what? how MUCH additional reach does it give you? even just two blocks can be wildly useful in my modded experience, but like, is it one or two blocks, or does it double your reach, or what? and does that reach extend to mining at all? the video says it's just block placing, which would make sense from a balance perspective, but does sort of hamstring the claw's usefulness if that's the case; if you misplace a block you're going to have to scaffold over there anyway. if it DOES include mining reach... oh boy, that's a whole new ballgame.
armadillo: cute! i like armadillos! seeing it curled up as a ball, i wonder if it has a block-like form like that? that sounds really fun! like a shulker, or something else you could stand on. (that is PURE speculation, nothing else to suggest that is shown in the video.) it being found in "warm biomes like the savannah" i like more than the mangrove-exclusive crab, especially since the savannah can feel a little sparse and lifeless. i wonder if it's in other warm biomes? as for its effect, it has the most straightforward one: when it gets scared it sheds its scute, and you can use that to make wolf armor. i like wolf armor! wolves have needed some way to make them more survivable for ages! it's not like, got potential to be a massive gamechanger or anything, but it doesn't have to, it's fun!
penguins: by FAR the cutest design. i love that they chose macaroni penguins, excellent choice. the fact they're native to stony shore biomes is also an excellent choice (and far better than choosing a snowy biome; more penguins live in places like the stony shore irl!). the stony shore having penguins also gives it a bit more of the life stony shorelines have irl. their secondary effect, though... honestly, "make boats go faster" doesn't really speak to me? i am enjoying imagining a world where this effect works while iceboating (prepare to rubberband ALL OVER THE PLACE), and i think it would be fun, it just personally compels me the least. which is a shame, because i think the penguins are ABSOLUTELY the cutest!
overall, i think i land towards the armadillo. i like that none of them really have any big, exciting, game changing feature, just nice-to-have. makes it feel less like we miss out on something huge when two of them lose, just miss out on something potentially cute. i still wish the old mob votes could still be added to the game and that the losers here would also be added to the game. i wouldn't be mad if any of these guys won honestly they're all cute and have mildly interesting effects.
and this will be the last time i discuss the mob vote, except maybe to reblog cute art.
#minecraft#wanted to ramble my thoughts#anyway yeah i am Mildly Interested in all of these guys#i think the crab claw has the most potential to be gamebreaking but that it probably won't be lol#and that i understand what the wolf armor would do best#so. armadillo for me i think.#mob vote
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Spilled Ink
Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader
Word Count: 7.5k
Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.
Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it
A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3
Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.
Masterlist
It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.
A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.
No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.
Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.
All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.
“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.
“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested.
“Why?”
“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”
“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.
“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”
“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights.
She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly.
“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”
And here you are. Checking it out.
The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort.
The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.
He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.
Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.
“Um.”
While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.
“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.
“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”
“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly.
“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”
“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”
“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”
The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”
Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.
You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.
“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”
There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it.
“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”
You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”
“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”
“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”
Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”
“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”
Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty.
A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.
“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”
“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.
“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”
“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”
Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”
“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.
“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”
“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”
“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”
“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”
“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”
You nod eagerly.
“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”
“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.
“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside.
You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.
“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”
“I trust you.”
His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”
“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.
“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”
Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him.
“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.
And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant.
“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.
Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.
“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.
“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.
“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?”
You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.
“That’s perfect.”
“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm.
“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin.
“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”
At your nod, the camera clicks one last time.
“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”
You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.
“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”
Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.
“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.
Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.
Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.
Subject: Initial Sketch
Hello,
Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!
Best regards,
Marcus :)
Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.
It’s beautiful.
Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet.
At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.
Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.
Subject: Re: Initial Sketch
Marcus,
I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.
Thanks again!
Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.
Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch
I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.
Marcus :)
You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email.
Subject: Final Design
Hey there!
Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.
Best regards,
Marcus :)
Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection.
Subject: Re: Final Design
Marcus,
If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.
Thank you so much.
After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out.
You can’t wait.
As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.
You’re really doing this.
Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely.
“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner.
“I’m okay for now.”
“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”
“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table.
“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”
“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair.
“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.
You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you.
“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”
“Yep,” you nod.
“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”
At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve.
“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.
Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.
You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up.
Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”
“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”
“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction.
Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.
“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning.
“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”
Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”
“What made you leave?”
He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.
“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.
“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”
And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk.
Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.
“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully.
“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”
Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily.
“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where.
“Okay.”
The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.
“...That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.
Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”
You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”
His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”
His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.
“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.
“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly.
“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”
“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly.
“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”
You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.
In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.
After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.
“You like art, huh?”
It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious.
Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”
“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.
“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”
“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”
Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root.
“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”
He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”
“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.
“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”
“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”
“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”
You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”
Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”
“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.
“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you.
“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.
Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”
You shrug.
The gun switches off.
“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”
“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.
“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”
You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.
“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”
You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.
No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine.
"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."
"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it.
"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing.
"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement.
"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"
"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.
"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"
You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly.
"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.
"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you.
“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.”
The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.
You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you.
Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.
Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh.
“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”
“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.
“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.
His fingers brush yours.
If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…
You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.
Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’
Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.
“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”
Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.
“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”
“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.
“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”
“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”
“So you just… quit?”
“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”
“Did it work?”
“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.
“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”
“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.
An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Wanna keep going?”
Breathlessly, you nod.
In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.
“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”
It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.
“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest.
“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.
“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”
You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.
“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.
“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”
You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.
“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”
“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.
Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response.
“Yes.”
As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.
“Break time?” you ask.
Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”
“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right.
“How’s it feel?” he asks.
“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”
It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.”
He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.
After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch.
“Yes,” you whisper.
“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.
“You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”
“Don’t pick the scabs.”
“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.
“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.
“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”
“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly.
Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”
“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”
“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”
Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.
“Marcus…”
“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.
“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”
“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.
It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.
The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.
All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him.
When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–
He can’t seem to stop kissing you.
You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.
“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so.
“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”
To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.
“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”
“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.
“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”
“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”
Another kiss.
“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”
“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.
Another.
“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”
#marcus pike#marcus pike x you#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike x f!reader#marcus pike fanfiction#the mentalist#pedro pascal
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Something about helping frat!blonde! Peter touch up his roots. Like he calls you and reader must think its for hooking up purposes - then he surprises her w “can you. uh..retouchmyrootsplease” and she’s like “??? 🤨wat” and you just go over to his place and spend time with him, washing his hairr, he making eye contact with reader through the mirror, etc. But he’s still stubborn about his feelings so he’s like “this was a one time thing only don’t let it get to ya head”
sorry if this was jumbled I just had this in my head for a while now
Yes this idea is so so so so so cute. I have written something vaguely similar before but I love it so much I don't care to write it again
please reblog or comment in place of liking/hearting this post 🫶🏼
“Pete?” You questioned picking up your phone, your eyes locked on the clock that read 4:00pm. “It’s far too early for a booty call..what’s up pretty?”
“Ya flatter bashful.” His chesty laugh could be heard on the other end of the phone. It sent your heart doubling in speed, your cheek pressed lovingly into your shoulder.
“You still with me bashful? I need you to do me a favor.”
“So this is a hookup call..you only ask me that if-” You're cut off by him rushing out a string of words. None of which you caught. “Pete..baby. I need you to breathe and say that again.” You laughed softly, already gathering your stuff up to head over to the Theta Tau. Regardless if this was a hookup situation or not you were tired of your homework and Peter always seems to take any type of stress away.
“Can you uh..” There's an awkward cough and sigh. “Retouchmyrootsplease?”
The questions still came out as one word this time around but at least you actually caught what he was saying.
“Sure, Pete.” You tried not to laugh. “Do you have what you need or do we need to run by Sally?”
“No, no I have everything here for you. Thanks for this.”
“Course Pete, anything for you.” You hung up before you could get any type of snarky reply.
Peter’s blond locks were a new addition about three weeks into your situation ship and you absolutely loved them. They flattered his face, and made his little baby deer eyes even more baby deer like. Which made you want to kiss him even more, and made it hard to say no when he’s asking you for another round.
“You’re literally the best for this. Just moved up to like number two in my ranking.”
It was a joke, you were easily number one if not the only girl in Peter’s ranking but you have to play along or else you’ll scare him away.
“Offended, whose number one.”
“May..sorry.” Peter sighs dramatically, leading you up the stairs to his bathroom. Tossing a few nods and hey’s to his brothers walking down the steps.
“Mhm can’t be mad at that.”
Peter laughed sitting on the chair he’d tucked away in the bathroom, pulling off his shirt.
“Awe did you go ahead and set everything up for me?”
“No I was gonna do it myself but that's how we ended up in this scenario in the first place.”
Peter would never admit to it but he had set everything up for you. He’d done it before he even picked up the phone: not that he knew you'd say yes but he could hope.
“Mhm I see.” You hummed running your fingers through Peter’s hair. He grabbed his phone starting his music, looking at you in the mirror as you started sectioning his hair out.
Admittedly the whole time he was locked on you. Every move you made he was locked on you, not wanting to miss a moment. His head lolled back as you ran; you painted the bleach on his roots. Earning soft little ‘stops’ and ‘hold your head up’ from you as he relaxed. Your eyes were fixed on his hair making sure you’re applying everything evenly and correctly. Peter held his phone up in the mirror snapping a quick photo of the two of you. The photo falling amongst the others he’s sneakily taken of you or the both of you that you had no clue about.
“Okay you gotta sit for a while and then I’ll wash it, tone it, all that after.” You said sitting on the toilet lid next to him taking the gloves off, tossing them in the trash can.
“This is nice.”
Peter's comment threw you off, you two only really hung out in the context of having sex or it being mutually beneficial for both. You hated to admit you had more moments like this.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm no pressure, at least not for you. I still gotta make jokes and keep you entertained.”
“Tragic.” You tsked resting your arm on the sink hand to head as your free hand started a 30 minute timer.
“Come on, we have enough time to watch some of that Hulu cooking show you like.” Peter stood taking your hand in his walking to his room. You flopped down on Pete’s bed watching him sitting next to you. “Careful you’ll get bleach on your..”
“No no, I'm good sitting up.”
You nodded and laid your head on his lap watching The Bear, Pete’s fingers combing through your hair switching between watching the TV and you.
Pete’s head was tilted back in the sink, a towel under his neck for comfort. “Stop looking down my shirt, Parker.”
“I’m not…I’m not.” He lied, turning his eyes up to look at you as you shampooed after toning his hair. “Do I look fabulous?”
“Oh absolutely.” You laughed wrapping his hair up in a towel helping him sit up. Ruffling the towel through his hair you laughed watching it sticking up every which way. You blow dried it for him smiling and singing under your breath as you fixed his hair perfectly.
“How do you feel Parker?”
“Amazing..I look great thanks bashful.” He says turning around, capturing your hips in his hands. “Let's get dinner, and then we can come back here.”
“I hate sex after dinner.”
“No, no we come back here and finish the show.”
“Oh I get to come back to the Theta house? And not have sex?” You fake a gasp of shock.
“I know it’s a rare occurrence. This is a one time thing though, don’t let it get to ya head.” Pete taunts, hand rubbing your side grabbing his wallet off his dresser.
“Oh baby it has.”
Peter knew and even in his playful disdain and stubborn personality you were slowly craving a spot out in his chest and making a home in it, and at this point he had no say in it.
___________
tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @moonyslove78 @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn
#tasm peter parker x reader#tasm andrew garfield#tasm!peter imagine#tasm peter parker#bambi writes#tasm fanfiction#tasm peter#tasm peter smut#tasm peter x you#tasm peter x reader#tasm!peter x reader#tasm peter parker imagine#tasm peter imagines#tasm peter fluff#andrew peter parker#tasm peter parker smut#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x reader#frat!peter
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This Week in BL - Thailand surprised me
Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.
May 2024 Wk 1
Ongoing Series - Thai
My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 2 of 12 eps - I love love love Sol! Pink-haired baby idol blast from the past nursing a crush = absolute catnip for me. This is def my favorite Thai BL currently airing. And it’s probably because it has a sort of odd queer authenticity to both its gayness and its rep of the film industry. I mean, of course it’s sanitized into BL fantasy-landia, but there’s an underpinning of something real, for lack of a better word. Normally I prefer the fantasy of my dumb BL worldview, but in this one I’m kind of liking a little chew and grit.
All of which is to say: this is very fucked up messy gay, which normally I’m not wild about, but for some reason I’m really enjoying this version.
On the other side of the BL coin we have:
Wandee Godday (Sat YT) ep 1 of 12 - And I like it a lot. It’s fun and I’m enjoying it (possibly more than it deserves). I like how it’s a little absurdist. I like that it starts with a one night stand. I like all of the side characters. I love the asexual representation. Bonus LUBE! It’s a fun show. More FUN that GMMTV usually goes for.
Two Worlds (Thurs iQIYI) ep 8 of 10 - The sketching in the cave scene was v sexy. And I’m enjoying this BL, but not for any other reason than MaxNat being MaxNatty all over my screen.
1000 Years Old (Thurs iQIYI) ep 12fin - I don’t know what I feel about this one. Mostly just indifferent. It was meant to be the paranormal Thai BL pulp about vampires that we were all waiting for, and it ended up just being boring. Frankly, I'd rather be pissed off than bored. 6/10
Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 4 of 12 - I truly love the naked lust on our side couple's pining friend's face. Usually only Japan get this thirsty.
Book is perfectly cast as Moo's older bro. They even look a bit alike but it might have been a mistake, because he’s so damn charismatic. Stole all the breath from the show for a bit.
We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 5 of 16 - No report until next week.
Ongoing Series - Not Thai
Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 11 of 12 - What a fantastic ep. This show really is killing it. I’m so happy with Taiwan right now.
Carry on.
Blue Boys (Korea YouTube) 3 of ? - It remains lovely and I remain enjoying it immensely. It’s very Strongberry feeling. That's always a welcome sensation.
Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - They are so cute and pretty much just boyfriends already regardless of what they each think. I'm scared that next week is the final episode, it doesn’t feel like it’s gone very far.
At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - I liked it a little better this week. I guess I’m warming up to this one?
Boys Be Brave AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) ep 3-4 of 8 - Ah poor lonely neglected child. They are all such weirdos. I don’t understand any of these characters or their motivations except they are strange kind of cartoons of... something.
Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 9-10 of 12 - The guy who plays the vet should be playing a vampire. That's it. That's all I have to say.
It's airing but...
Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.
Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - 6 eps, when it's done, tell me if I should bother?
You Made My Day (Thai YT) ep 1 of 5 - supposed to have started on Friday but I couldn't find it, I also didn't try very hard.
In case you missed it
GMMTV announced the second half of their 2024 line up. I got excited and picked my favorites, details + trailers here.
Next Week Looks Like This:
Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.
May Releases
5/10 A Balloon's Landing (Taiwan movie) trailer - A frustrated Hong Kong writer, Tian Yu, meets a Taipei street gangster, Xiang (Fandy Fan from HIStory2: Crossing the Line), and the two of them embark on a journey to find the Bay of Vanishing Whales. Along the way, they discover unexpected twists and turns and close bonds, which brings out the message that "there is always someone like you in this world who is waiting for you.
5/16 Blossom Campus (Korea Thurs Gaga & iQIYI) ep 1 of 6 - Strongberry doing classic BL! Weeee!
5/19 OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ????) ep 1 of 10 - LeeFrank are back - not unlike the undead (as it were). But how do we feel about it? Unsure given their track record.
5/25 The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer - HoTae & DongHee are back but unfortunately not in a cinema near me. Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names. I love them. I NEED TO SEE THIS.
5/28 My Biker 2 (Thai movie YT?) - trailer
5/31 The Time of Huannan (Taiwan movie) - May not be BL
THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS
I love a shrimp peeling moment in my Thai BL. (Only Boo)
Unquestionably the best moment in BL this year. FIGHT ME. (Unknown)
(Last week)
Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.
The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire
If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.
#this week in BL#BL updates#My Stand-In the series#WandeeGoodday#Two Worlds#Unknown the series#My Stand-In#Living With Him#Kare no Iru Seikatsu#1000 Years Old#At 25:00 in Akasaka#25 Ji Akasaka de#Love Is like a Cat#Boys Be Brave#BL series review#upcoming BL#BL news#BL reviews#BL gossip#Thai BL#Japanese BL#live action yaoi#Taiwanese BL#Koren BL#BL starting soon#BL coming soon#Blue Boys
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Words Like Honey
siren!Geto x GN reader
cw: mind control/manipulation/hypnosis, non-con/dub-con (reader is mind controlled), praise, cult leader!Geto, soft dom, slight dumbification/bimbofication, begging, penetration (unspecified anal or vaginal)
nicknames: darling, pet, baby
part of monsterfucktober!
"Come in." Geto's voice called to you through his office door. Although you were a recent addition to his cult, he already noticed how easily you were enchanted by his voice.
"Hello," you smiled nervously. Your heart raced as you took in his appearance up close. You briefly wondered if he was responsible for the clean look or if he had assistants to make sure he was presentable. Either way, you couldn't keep your eyes off him.
"Curious why I invited you here?" He asked, a playful lilt to his voice. It sounded so nice, his honeyed tone drawing you in much more than the usual sermon. Perhaps it was the intimacy of being in an office alone with him.
"Yes, very." You quickly nodded.
"I've noticed you're quite the enthusiastic member of my little organization." He smiled softly. He'd carefully crafted this speech and tested parts of it on a few other cult members, but he'd been waiting for the perfect candidate to utilize its full powers. And now he had you.
Geto had been watching you during his sermons for a while now. It was incredible how quickly and deeply you succumbed to the sound of his voice; it was truly adorable. He'd been biding his time, waiting for the perfect excuse to get you alone.
"I like to meet with passionate followers such as yourself who share my beliefs. This conversation can be as short or as long as you like." Geto watched the telling glaze of your eyes and your now relaxed expression. His pause in speech pulled you out of your daze before he added, "what do you think?"
You attempted to piece together his words, thinking you must be really nervous to have forgotten them so quickly. You weren't aware the man in front of you was a siren, enchanting you with his honeyed voice.
"Sorry, I'm a little nervous, to be honest." You smiled sheepishly. "What was the question?"
Geto chuckled, his laughter gently pulling you back in. "Never mind. Just relax, my dear. I can do all the talking if you want." He grinned when you nodded. "There's really nothing for you to be nervous about. I don't bite." He watched the haze reappear in your vision, your body relaxing again.
"Why don't you come a little closer?" He tilted his head, eyes on you as you moved forward. "Don't be shy. I'd have you right on my lap if it was up to me."
"I'd like to be on your lap, too." The words fell out of your mouth before you could think. In fact, you were having trouble following any train of thought at all, but your response pulled you out of the haze enough to feel the embarrassment of that response. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"
"Don't worry about it." Geto's words instantly calmed you. "It's kind of cute, actually. I love it when people are honest with me about their feelings." You relaxed again, his soothing words the only thing echoing in your head as you mindlessly moved forward. "It shows trust. Do you trust me?"
"Yes." This time your answer didn't break your trance.
"Then come here." He smiled. "Come be my mindless pet for a little while and sit on my lap, hm?"
Your body moved itself to him, taking a seat on his thighs. His hands instantly found your hips, his warmth seeping into you.
"You just fall so deeply for me, don't you?" He whispered into your ear. His speech was now saturated with his siren sound, far more intense than anything you'd ever heard. You didn't have a chance of resisting even his normal voice. This was certainly far more than you could handle. But that was the point. To have you stupid and horny and bouncing on his cock because he told you to.
"You're so easy to manipulate. Just a few short sentences and you're on my lap." His hands slipped under your shirt, feeling your bare skin. "You wanted this, didn't you? You were desperate for me to notice you. For me to take advantage of you. Nod your head, darling."
You obediently nodded, your mind nothing but a swirl of his essence. His voice, his touch, and his scent amplified as you fell deeper into the trance with every word he spoke. Your vision was blurred, your mind no longer processing anything that wasn't the siren whispering in your ear.
"That's it. So good for me." Geto chuckled softly as his hands roamed up your torso. "You're horny, aren't you? You want to give yourself to me?" You simply nodded, allowing him to touch you wherever he pleased.
"Take your clothes off." He watched as your body stiffened, removing your shirt, then standing to remove your pants. You turned to face him, obeying again when he commanded you to straddle him.
"Just look at how hazy those eyes are." He held your cheek, and you nuzzled into it. He could practically see the little hearts in your pupils as you hung into his every word. "You're so pretty when you're like this. Did I ever tell you that? How fucking pretty you are staring at me like that?"
Geto began touching you again as he spoke. "It was driving me crazy to watch how deeply you fall during my sermons. God, I've been wanting to fuck you ever since you first attended." He toyed with your nipples, watching your expression become even more lustful. "Did you know how focused I was on you?"
You silently shook your head, your whole body tingling with pleasure the longer he spoke. His hands found your sex, rubbing you as you gasped. He smirked in response.
"Of course you didn't. You're always so attentive while I speak. Even now, you're a lost little lamb, and I'm a wolf dressed as a shepherd." Geto gathered the essence from your slit on his fingers and brought them to your lips.
"Open." He commanded. You obeyed, parting your lips and sloppily licking his fingers clean. Drool decorated your lips and dripped down his hand. He grinned at how far gone you were.
"Wouldn't you love to fuck yourself on my cock?" Geto smiled, slowly tugging at his robes to show more of his chest. You nodded eagerly as he guided your hands downward, exposing his dick. "Go ahead, darling. Make yourself cum."
His body was so warm. Touching him felt so good. Hearing his voice was like ecstasy. You let yourself fall deeper and deeper under his spell simply because it felt amazing. Your body was alight with desire, yearning for more of him as you lined yourself up with his cock.
His hands pressed on your hips, digging into your skin as you slowly pushed onto his cock. Pleasure rushed through you, although you couldn't pinpoint the source with your mind scrambled like this.
"That's it, baby. Just a little more, you can take it." Geto stroked your cheek, watching your lust-heavy eyes as you hung into his every word.
"God," he hissed as you bottomed out, feeling yourself stretch around his cock. "It's like you were fucking made for me. You feel so fucking good." Geto thrust his hips, sending a wave of bliss to your core.
"Did you forget?" He chuckled. "Your instructions were to make yourself cum." Your expression was blank, but you nodded slightly. "Or do you need to fall deeper for me? Don't tell me I'm not enough for you." Geto laced his words with more of his siren enchantment, your head finally dropping onto his shoulder, completely entranced.
Your mind swirled with the desire to please him. Your body felt heavy, but the touch of his deft fingers kept you buzzing with pleasure. He was everything. This feeling was everything. You would do anything for him. Just his smooth voice was enough to make you twitch around him, your eyes flickering open at his next question.
"How does it feel to be mine, darling?" He grinned, watching your head slowly lift.
"So good." You whined, slowly lifting your hips and bringing them down before setting the pace to bounce on his dick. His head fell back, basking in the pleasure the friction created.
"You're so good for me, darling. Keep going. You feel amazing." Geto's fingers found your arousal, rubbing you as you pistoned on his cock. Your pace was quick but erratic. You were extremely sensitive, as heat quickly piqued in your core.
"That's it. You're so close, aren't you?" Your sex pulsed with need, desperate for release as you moved faster. Your core coiled in tension. He was right. You were so incredibly close, but your mind was too far gone to do anything but bounce and let the tension build until it was almost painful.
"You know what's next. You ready?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded and whimpered, weak unintelligible begging slipping from your lips as Geto smirked. His cock throbbed, close to the edge himself as he let you speed up again. He chuckled as your whining got louder, his power over you making him moan into your ear.
"Ok darling. Cum." His voice was hoarse, enchantment thick in the final word as ecstasy exploded within you, obediently cumming all over him. Geto's seed spilled into you shortly after, feeling the clench of your aftershocks as your movement slowed and the mind control faded.
Your body relaxed in his arms as the haze in your mind began to clear. He ran his fingers up and down your bare spine, his cock still buried deep within you.
"Remind me, darling." As he spoke, you drifted back into his trance. "Who do you belong to?"
"You." Just after you spoke, the trance completely dissipated. Your memories since walking into his office were fragmented at best. Panic briefly flew through your brain, unsure of how you ended up stuffed with his cock.
"I'm so glad you feel the same way." Geto's honeyed tone instantly calmed your mind, and you relaxed in his arms once again.
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Vash's Moving Castle (Vash x Reader)
Plot: A strange building made up of old spaceship parts, moving around on two legs across the wasteland of the desert, it hisses and creaks and fills the heart of many with fear... That castle is home to the magnificent tech wizard Vash, infamous for both his gunmanship and for being a womanizer—or so the rumor goes in your city. You're the eldest child of a gunsmith and as such don't expect much from your future. However, your simple life takes a turn for the exciting when you're ensnared in a disturbing situation, and the mysterious tech wizard appears to rescue you.
Pairing: Vash x mostly GN Reader, occasional she/her pronouns, the use of "girl" etc from quotes directly from the movie. I tried making it completely GN, but my flu ridden brain short circuited on some very specific parts so I gave up.
Raiting: Everyone
Tags: Howl's Moving Castle style AU, no use of "y/n", Vash is a tech wizard, I have both brainrot and the flu, idk what else to put here, Howl is cute, Vash is cute, I tried my best.
Word count: 3.7k
Author's Note: Got the idea yesterday, yall seemed interested and the flu ridden brainrot I had to endure all day today was simply debilitating so I wrote a little something. I hope you like it, not sure if I will continue or not even though I have quite a few HC-s for this little AU situation.
The 6th city, May, is decorated more than usual. After all, May Day has arrived. Even though it is still early in the afternoon, the streets are bustling with people. The aroma of baked goods reaches your nose through your open window, and it makes you think about your sister, Meryl, who is working at the very popular doughnut shop on the other side of the city. She must be very busy today with the rush of customers coming in for their celebratory pastries. For you, it's a free day. Today, your little weapon's repair shop, which you inherited from your father, is closed. You decide to take advantage of the downtime and visit your sister, whom you haven't seen in a long time.
You put aside the little handgun you have been tinkering with and stand to close the window. Your little shop is situated quite high, and the workshop has the perfect view to look out over the roofs of all the other houses. Your eyes glance over the familiar sight—the scrappy buildingd made out of old spaceship parts and in the distance, you see the wide open desert. But today it is slightly different. You heard the commotion this morning when the people first noticed the addition to the landscape. With fearful and hushed voices, they talked about the monstrocity looming on the horizon and the kind of calamity it might bring.
"It is Vash's Moving Castle!" The people on the streets whispered and pointed. "Do you think the horrible Typhoon has come to lay waste to our city?"
You knew very well the rumors about the gunslinger and tech wizard named Vash the Stampede. He is said to be a ruthless demon specializing in murder and wide-scale destruction. Apparently, he kills without mercy—men, women, and children alike. He has wiped whole towns from the face of the planet, and his infamous castle is created with the sole purpose of being a weapon of mass destruction.
As you pull the window closed, you look at the mass of metal outside of town. Calling it a castle is a gross overstatement. You can't imagine how such a heap of scrap gets to be called anything so magnificent. It consists of layers upon layers of old spaceship parts, jutting out at odd angles and covered in rust and wires, its massive turrets and spires reaching towards the sky. It has two large legs underneath it, much like a tomas, that the building uses to move across the desert. This is not the first time Vash's fortress has passed by May City, and you think the excitement is unwarranted. Sure, the gunslinger has a reputation, but nothing catastrophic has happened so far. You can't help but wonder why everyone gets so worked up every time the castle passes by; he would surely go to the bank or somewhere else where he can get easy money. You are just a small shop owner; as long as you don't get in his way, it seems unlikely he would take any interest in you. He might be a womanizer, but he only has eyes for pretty girls.
You get quickly ready and close the shop. The streets are decorated with colorful ribbons, and you hear cheers coming from all over town as the annual parade begins. You have chosen a truly awful moment to try and make your way across the city, but you are determined to see Meryl. As you push through the crowded streets, you catch glimpses of the parade. People are showing off their inventions and talents. You see giant hydraulic pants marching down the street. Exo-suits and new kinds of weaponry. On other streets, you see entertainers dancing and singing in colorful costumes. Some are juggling fire, and others are performing daring acrobatics. This world truly is a marvel.
You make it to the gondolas and squeeze into one with some other people. It takes you over the winding roads, and you see the flags and market stalls lining the streets. The smell of freshly cooked food wafts up to you as you take in the sights and sounds of the bustling marketplace. May is filled with all kinds of people; for days, the sandsteamers have brought in travelers from all over, and it shows. The whole city is alive with excitement and energy.
You get off your ride on the slightly calmer side of the town, and you know the familiar route you need to take to get to the doughnut shop. The quiet side streets are nearly empty; just a few people mingle on the sidewalks. You try to avoid them as much as possible and turn to an even smaller ally as a group of drunkards head your way. You hold your breath and hope they don't notice you, looking nervously over your shoulder as you hurry along.
"Hey, it looks like a little mouse lost its way," you suddenly hear, and as you look back ahead, you see you nearly ran into a man who has just come around the corner. He is grinning mischievously, blocking your path. He is a lot taller than you, and you can see his rifle slung across his back. Surely he is a bounty hunter; you see them a lot, and with all the people flowing into town, you would think they have their hands full.
"Oh, no. I'm not lost," you say, shaking your head and recoiling a bit, leaning away from the man.
"This little mouse looks thirsty. We should take her for a cup of tea." The man continues like he didn't hear you at all. You try sidestepping him, but as you do, a second man appears from behind him. He is just as large with a big mustache, and he looks at you curiously as he leans closer, blocking your way further.
"No thanks. My sister's expecting me." You avoid looking directly at them, instead trying to think of a way to escape. They make you very uncomfortable.
"She's pretty cute for a mouse." You try to keep your cool and find a way to politely excuse yourself from the situation, but the mustashed man is leaning even closer, his face level with yours.
"How old are you anyway? You live around here?" The first guy leans toward you too. Neither of them sounds menacing, but they fill you with dread.
"Leave me alone!" you say with as much bravery as you can muster, taking a step backwards.
"You see? Your mustache scares all the girls," the first man nudges his comrade.
"So? I think she's even cuter when she's scared." the other replies, not taking his eyes off you.
"There you are, sweetheart." A different, smooth male voice speaks up behind you, capturing the gaze of the bountyhunters before you. "Sorry, I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you."
He speaks close to your left ear, and a hand gently rests on your right shoulder. It's not a voice you recognize, and his touch makes you stiffen up. Your body had been ready to run for your life, but now you find yourself sandwitched between two unknowns. Yet something about the man behind you is comforting, or maybe it's just that you see the upset glint in the eyes of the men before you.
"Hey! Hey! We're busy here!" The man you had run into first speaks and looks like he is puffing himself up to look more menacing. His companion, too, straightens his back, ready for a violent confrontation.
"Are you really? It looked to me like the two of you were just leaving." The calm voice beside you speaks with a hint of amusement. You feel him shift slightly, but you don't turn your eyes away from the bounty hunters in front of you. You see their gazes move over the man, their eyes widening at something where his left arm would be, and you see them freeze up and then nudge each other. They look very uncomfortable.
"This is not worth it," one of them whispers nervously to the other.
"Yeah, we better get going," the other answers with a whisper, and they start to shuffle away from you, back into the alley they had come from. As they get further away, their step hastens until they take off running. You watch them disappear into the darkness, wondering what caused them to have such a reaction.
"Don't hold it against them," the soft voice next to you says, and you finally turn to look at him. He is a tall young man with a soft smile on his lips. You see his pretty blue eyes behind orange tinted round glasses, and his blonde hair is about shoulder length. A tight golden hoop hangs from his left ear. He is truly very handsome, and his expression is warm and inviting. He wears a pillowy white blouse that flows down to his slender waist. A pendant hangs from his neck, and a red coat covers his shoulders, but his arms are not in the sleeves.
"They aren't actually all that bad," he says, continuing his thought from before, and his eyes capture your gaze again. "Where to? I'll be your escort this evening."
"Oh, I'm, um, just going to the doughnut shop." You pull back a little from his closeness, but feel his hand firmly on your shoulder.
"Don't get alarmed, but I'm being followed," he says, leaning closer to you. His hand moves from your shoulder and instead hooks around your arm. "Act normal."
You avert your eyes, but he ignores your awkwardness completely and starts walking along the street with your arm intertwined with his, like it's totally normal. Your body is still stiff, a slight fear lingering in the back of your mind, yet this is exciliating in a way you never expected. You find yourself surprisingly comfortable in his presence, despite the fact that he is a total stranger. His pace is somewhat brisk, but you can easily keep up. The unknown of who could be following him is a bit frightening, and you find yourself pressing into his upper arm for reassurance.
As you walk past some dark and narrow alleys, you start to suddenly hear commotion.
"There he is! Go! Hurry!" You hear shouting, and it sends a shiver up your spine. Yet the man beside you keeps the same pace and, for the moment, seems unbothered.
"Sorry. It looks like you're involved," he says calmly as you try to glance into the alleys where the commotion stems from. You see a mob of gunslingers squeeze themselves hurriedly into the narrow gap between the buildings and start to rush towards you. It is frightening to you, and you grab a tighter hold of the man's arm. Your right hand grasps his shirt, your heart pounds in fear as your body stiffens. More voices start to echo from up ahead, and a few people stumble onto your street.
"This way!" he whispers insistently, and the man pulls you into a side alley, his pace getting faster as he leads you away from the gathering crowd. You struggle to keep up with him so you have to start running, your mind racing with questions, but you hold onto him tightly, and you feel certain that everything will be alright. He keeps going faster and faster, and you can see the main street ahead, but suddenly your view gets blocked by more armed men appearing to block our path. You feel a surge of panic rising in your chest, and the reassuring hand sliters out from your weakened cluth as you have trouble holding on while you run.
"Come on!" The mystery man's voice is soft and insistent, with a hint of amusement as you feel his arm wrap around your waist, both of you running straight towards the angry looking mob. You see that some of them have drawn their guns and have them pointed straight at you, but the thundering footsteps behind you tell you that they are unlikely to shoot here in this narrow alley to avoid hitting anybody else. Your confidence in getting out of here wavers, but suddenly you are tightly pulled against the man's side, and his other hand takes yours. It feels cold and hard; you catch a glimpse of blue, but you are too distracted by the fact that your feet are no longer on the cobbled street. You rush through the air, seemingly kept up by the mysterious blonde.
Instinctively, you curl up, looking around for an explanation. The coat that covered his shoulders before hangs over his left arm, and from his back protrubes a pair of giant feathery wings. You've never seen anything like this. Is this a new invention? Has he come here to present his masterpiece to the masses during the parade? Who is this man? He has to be a brilliant inventor. Your mind is captivated by him; you want to understand his mysterious contraption, and your gaze moves along him, down his left arm, and you see it's not a real arm at all; it is made out of strange blue metal, the hand holding yours is made out of the same material. The forearm is mostly covered by his coat, but you're sure that everything from at least his elbow down is a prosthesis; the rest is hidden by the flowy sleeve. You feel his fingers move so organically that you're sure this must be lost technology. What a strange man! You've never seen anything like this.
"Now, straighten your legs and hold on tight," you hear the man say gently, and you follow his command. You relax your legs and grab tightly onto him. His strong arm around you presses you into his side, and you wrap your legs with one of his to make sure you cannot slip away from his grasp and plummet to your death.
You are still mesmerized by his wings, how large they are as they stretch out behind him, allowing him to fly effortlessly through the air. You feel a rush of adrenaline as you soar higher. The streets beneath you look so small; people are just specs moving around. You let out a gasp of amazement, and it makes the strange man chuckle. He flies you both over some rooftops, and you see the familiar doughnut shop come into view.
"You're a natural." You hear him praise you, but to you, it makes little sense; all you do is hold onto him for dear life. But you can't deny the exhilarating rush of flying through the sky. You have never felt so free. The wind whips through your hair as you soar above the city. You feel like you could touch the clouds. You relax a little bit in his grasp, hearing his feathers rustle in the wind as they allow you to glide through the air. To your surprise, very few people pay any attention to you. Most of them are too focused on the parade passing by. The ones who did notice you stared in awe, not believing their eyes or perhaps mistaking you for a worm.
You get closer and closer to the familiar shop, and you realize he is aiming for the second floor balcony. He lands gracefully on the bannister and gently guides you onto the floor, like you weigh nothing at all. His hand holds onto yours for a little longer as he bows closer.
"I'll make sure to draw them off, but wait a bit before you head back outside." His voice is low and gentle, with a soft smile dancing on his lips and in the glimmer of his eyes.
"Okay," you say, still stunned by what had just happened. Your fingers gently grip his as he straightens up and pulls his hand from you. His wings fold down behind his back and disappear before he takes his coat and drapes it over his shoulders.
"That's my girl," he says with a low and husky voice, a hint of pride in it. He smiles brightly and takes a step back, making you gasp as he falls into nothingness. You rush to peek over the railing, only to find that he has disappeared into the crowd with no hint of anyone noticing him at all, so he must be alright. You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that he is safe.
You linger on the balcony for a little while longer. It all seems too incredible to be true—almost magical. Never would you have thought something like this could happen to you; you are so used to your dull life of being the eldest, but then again, that's what it means to be a responsible and reliable older sibling. Or perhaps you have caught some nasty disease and are just imagining all this during a fever dream. Either way, you enjoyed this. The realization prods you in the side as you remember that you didn't even ask the gentleman's name. Perhaps you will get lucky and see him introducing his invention at a parade in the future. Or perhaps this encounter will just remain a peculiar memory in the back of your mind.
You turn to enter the hallway and see a wide-eyed young woman staring back at you. She is frozen, like she has seen a ghost, and she looks at you with a hint of mistrust.
"Hello," you say, trying to strike up a conversation. "I'm here to see Meryl; she's my little sister. I'm sorry to have just barged in to the staff's quarters. Could you tell her I'm here? I'm in no rush; I'll wait till she has time."
She still stares at you and seems too frozen to say anything, only giving you a stiff nod and heading downstairs, where you hear a lot of commotion. You turn back to look out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man again, but he's nowhere to be seen. The sweet smell of doughnuts and jam fills your nose as you patiently wait for your sister.
You fall deep into thought, only to be awoken by some loud running footsteps heading your way and Meryl's voice calling out your name. She rushes to you and grabs your hands, so you turn to face her.
"Meryl!" you say with slight apprehension as you see the surprise in her face.
"What's going on? Someone just told me you flew down into our balcony!" She says it with disbelief. It takes you a moment to process her words before responding.
"So that did happen. That wasn't a dream," you say with a mix of confusion and sadness. You hear a different voice speak to Meryl as you turn your gaze out the window again, not registering what they talk about. You relive everything that has happened to you within the last half hour in your head, trying to commit every detail to memory. Meryl looks at you with concern as you look away so apathetically and then drags you with her to the backrooms of the kitchen to sit down with you on some boxes in the storage room. She presses you until you open up and tell her everything about your track here and the strange man who saved you.
"Wow! He must have been an inventor then!" Meryl exclaims as you finish your story with how he disappeared into the crowd.
"But he was so kind to me. He rescued me, Meryl."
"Of course he did! He was trying to seduce you! You are so lucky! If that inventor was Vash, he would have done much worse right then and there! He is an awful womanizer!"
"No, he wouldn't. Vash only does that to beautiful girls."
"Ah, don't give me that! You need to be more careful! It's dangerous out there! Even the infamous Millions Knives is back on the prowl." She looks at the side of your face and leans closer. "Are you listening?"
But you are so consumed by your thoughts, you barely realize what she is saying. Your gaze had been fixed by a giant tub of custard.
"Huh?" You finally turn to face your sister again.
"Argh!" Meryl lets out a disgruntled sigh. You see it from her face that she's about to start lecturing you, but a young man informing her about a new batch of dougnuts being done saves you from it.
"Okay! I'll be right there!" She turns a touch more cheerfully toward the cook.
"Alright! I better get going then. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay." You stand up, ready to leave, to both avoid getting Meryl into trouble and getting an earful from her about the horrible danger that is lurking outside the city walls.
Meryl sees through you immediately but chooses not to lecture you this time on that topic. She leads you to the backdoor, where a man is carrying bags of flour.
"Now," Meryl comes close to you again. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in that gunshop?"
"The shop was just so important to father, and I'm the eldest! I don't mind." You try to keep your tone cheerful as you look into her concerned face. But deep down, you know her words stir something up.
"I'm not asking what father would have wanted. I want to know what you want," she continues insistently.
"Well," you start to answer, not sure about what to say, but the man who carried in the flour comes back to say goodbye to Meryl, and your sister turns to him to wave goodbye. You take the opportunity to start to walk away and say, "I better get going."
"It's your life! Do something for yourself for once, will you?" she says, hoping that you will finally prioritize your own happiness.
"Bye, Meryl!" you say over your shoulder with a slight smile as you head home. Your head is still filled with a million thoughts, and Meryl only added to them. Yet you are glad she seems happy with her new life after she left your family's gunshop. You can't help but wonder if you'll ever find the same peace and contentment. But it matters little; you're the eldest, and you have a duty.
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#trigun#trigun stampede#trigun manga#trigun 98#trigun maximum#fanfiction#fanfic#tristamp#plant boi#writing#humanoid typhoon#vash the stampede#x reader#vash x reader#cashxreader#studio ghibli#howl's moving castle
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the progress report!! #3
happy march 1st!! kit9’s third progress report dropped today with a special bonus from nemlei!!
firat things first, we have The Entity in the thumbnail!! are they a little bigger to anyone else..? just me? anyways, the lights are a fun addition to the demon/dream world. i’m sure this has no importance whatsoever (lying)
next, we have… this. our dear protagonists caught in a compromising position, oh no!! seriously, though. what are they doing here? were they going to fuck in the car? good for them!! they don’t look very pleased to be disturbed by whoever this is, or disturbed at all. hopefully this isn’t anyone they used to know.
here, we have… the chapter two decay route vision area. you know, the one where andrew is chasing down ashley to murder her or get murdered.
yeah, that one.
it’s very interesting that we come back here. i wonder if this is still the decay route? also, why are we only seeing andrew’s little pixel sprite here? is she on one of the other sections? is this her vision or andrew’s? it seems to me that it’s ashley’s, considering we’ve been here before, but who knows!! there’s an axe and a signpost missing, and the tone of this preview reads a whole lot differently than the vision did at the end of chapter two.
i wonder what has prompted ashley to ask andrew what he wants? i wonder if he’ll be honest? i wonder if this is an important moment, or if it’s just them fucking around? god, i’m SO excited
little andy spotted!! and mrs graves. she is clearly unhappy about something, and i’m thinking it has to do with leyley. doesn’t it always, when it comes to mrs. graves? my guess is that she’s asking him to keep her out of trouble, but it’s just a guess. we’ve seen before that he only curls up in a ball like this when he’s really upset (and still does it as an adult). poor thing.
here, we see andrew with the entity in the thumbnail area, with the lights and everything. shout out to the little darkened souls in the far corners of the picture. our dear andrew is trying to negotiate with the demon.
i think that this is a huge moment in the game and the plot going forward!! assuming this is the burial route, ashley’s been asked to bring him along, AND he has that hex mark on his hand!! this demon is going to steal his soul!! ashley’s gonna be mad.
this could potentially happen in the decay route, too. if we assume the earlier dream/vision sequence is decay, this could be decay. maybe he’s going to meet the entity on his own regardless of what happens with ashley. again, who knows!!
[id: a screenshot of steam. the text reads “Next Episode. From the work completed so far, this episode will be the longest yet. Even in its unfinished state, it is roughly the length of both previous episodes combined. / Once finished, this episode will be released as a major content update, and work on the final episode will begin. / It is still too soon to give any release dates.” end id.]
before, nemlei had said episode three will be split into two separate chapters (one for each route), but maybe this has changed!! the length is… beyond my expectations, truthfully!! it’s longer than both episode one and two combined. holy shit??? that’s So Much Content. i think i will officially be losing my mind upon its release, and even more so when the game is finished. omg!!!!!!
finally, we have THIS!!!!
thank you nemlei. she knows what her fans want to see :33
(i think i need to set this as my phone background or something. it’s SO CUTE!!! i don’t even know where to start expressing my absolute JOY with this image!!!)
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Catboy nonny again
Desmond with a collar with a bell.
From @auroramoon-draws16
Consider: Desmond also in a collar, a cat collar with a lil bell
The catboy!Desmond ask, the Desmond hates baths sequel and additional ideas of catboy!Desmond for those unfamiliar with it.
.
Desmond hated the damn thing.
Sure, it was padded so it didn’t leave a mark and it was the right size that he didn’t feel like it was choking him.
But the problem was…
the little bell.
The fucking bell that makes a cute chiming sound every time Desmond move.
Assassins should be required to wear this damn bell. Let’s see them try and be stealthy-
“Desmond, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
Desmond froze.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He had kept a hold of the bell the entire time but Ezio’s Eagle Vision was already at the level that his hearings were more enhanced than usual.
Was it possible that he heard the bell anyway?
It wasn’t like Desmond could stop the little ball inside the bell from jingling-
“Desmond…” Ezio looked worried as he asked, “Are you planning to chase the guards again?”
Desmond blushed.
That had been an embarrassing moment in his life.
It had been the middle of the night and Desmond saw the light of their lamps and…
He couldn’t explain it.
He just felt the need to chase it.
Why?!
He wasn’t a fucking moth!!!
Desmond quietly nodded, believing it to be the lesser of two evils.
“Then it’s not that.” Ezio said, rubbing his chin, “There’s no way you would confess your plan.”
Desmond glared at Ezio.
So it was a trap then.
Ezio hummed before he looked around.
There was nothing in the garden that Desmond would want to hide as far as Ezio could remember which meant…
“You were planning to jump over the walls again, weren’t you?!” Ezio said as he walked towards Desmond who took a step back, “Do you remember the last time you left without telling any of us?! We looked for you all day and where did we find you? In one of the farms outside! Getting chased by dogs!”
That was one time!
The other times, he was able to return before they even noticed he was gone!
That was an anomaly!
But…
Desmond didn’t say any of that (since it’ll come out as meows anyway) and simply…
… ran.
“DESMOND!”
He knew Ezio was chasing him and his entire body honed in on the very thought that something was chasing him.
And ran even faster…
.
.
Desmond chasing (and freaking out the mercenaries on patrol) is inspired by @supercomicgirl’s replies:
Pointing out, you can make lasers with any crystal. Not necessarily a very sharp light dot. But you can make a beam and have it move around. Cats will chase it. and dogs too… don’t do this unless you want a dog with potentially hyper fixation on light beams. Which, you know, kind of works??? So imagine Altair or Malik holding a crystal up to the light and its refractions causing a little rainbow colored beam. They won’t even notice, but Desmond sure does. Suddenly, flying catboy
It’s not a laser but I kinda like the idea that Desmond’s catboy instincts makes him see ‘lamps’ as something that must be chased.
#ezio is suffering what cat owners suffer from#assassin's creed#desmond miles#ezio auditore#ask and answer#teecup writes/has a plot#fic idea: assassin's creed
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— APHRODITE; DIVINE BEAUTY
itoshi sae x female halfblood!reader
— HALFBLOOD MASTERLIST
— notes ;
welcome to my first work of my halfblood series hehe. very surprised with myself that i decided to write for sae, but you know what they say… why hot when evil? and he was evil for breaking rin‘s heart :( anyways, enjoy this madness, idk what i've been thinking when writing this nothing so uh yeah...
— genre ;
meet cute but the meeting was actually not cute, manager x famous!character trope
— word count ;
1.3k words
— warnings ;
fem!reader who is fixated on beauty, hints of both being possessive with each other, not edited nor proofread (i finally wanted to post this work dear lord), background story on relationship between sae and reader (there may be a part two to this one)
Beauty was something you held dear. Something you held close, after picking it up as if it were a lost treasure, hidden behind rocks and eons of dust.
Beauty was something many children of Aphrodite loved. They chased after it, they wanted to own it, they wanted to share it with the world. Most of them were satisfied with the classical beauty of a human, their appearance and looks, but there were some with more special tastes.
They chased after beautiful things, may it be clothes, flowers, weapons... people. You did that too. In the youngest generation created by the goddess of love and beauty, you were an oddball. While you admired the appearance of others as well, had an impressive amount of clothes in your possession, you loved especially the beauty of football.
Oh, not the one, where little boys kick a ball between them, of course not! You only saw the beauty in the best, the best football games, the best play, the best goals, the best players. All of them beautiful in their own way, fascinating you to the core and keeping you focused on one task.
With the blessing of your mother, one of the most present gods in the lives of their children, for she is the goddess of love after all, you've made it far already. As a scouter for the European League and the U-20 teams, you've already seen much of the world and saw its beauty and its ugliness.
You've seen glorious football players, still in their youth and unpolished diamonds, ready to shine on the world stage. You've seen them rise, most of them fell, some never quite made it and the small rest... achieved what most mortals couldn't. They climbed high, with steady feet and a strong body, their eyes always on the ball, ready to shoot the next goal, ready to be the next victor.
And when they made it, when they finally made it, the one moment, where everyone was overwhelmed with emotions, with victory, with the beauty of it- then you felt as if you've been blessed with godhood by Zeus, sitting next to your mother and gazing from Olympus, watching mortals to do the impossible.
You may not get high on adrenaline like the Ares kids, when they were bashing their heads in a good fight, or be filled with positive emotions like the children of Poseidon as soon they were close to the sea. Oh no, it was passion, it was beauty, it was love, that fulfilled you like nothing else in this world.
This is why you were here now, watching how boys of your age were fighting for a spot in the team of Royale Madrid Youth. The team had to fill in several spots, but only in the next season, when the eldest would climb to the seniors. They were preparing and they were counting on you, the girl with golden eyes.
It was a stupid nickname, but it was also close to the truth. All the talents you picked and recommended, brought gold in the form of medals home, in addition of more money.
Greedy they were, the mortals walking on earth and you were greedy too. But instead of searching for materialistic things to own, you and many other halfbloods were greedy for the proof of life. And this was yours. Football, soccer, kicking balls. Destroying dreams and futures of foolish mortals and blessing those with your honeyed words who were worthy in your eyes. Not once were you wrong and you wouldn't be wrong this time.
Because when you saw him, you were breathless. You immediately knew- yes, it was him. Pretty he was, beautiful, his face without any mistakes, his hair so soft and eyes so delightful. He instantly had your interest, the Japanese striker called Itoshi Sae.
Passion burned brightly in him, lighting up his face with a beautiful smile when he scored, victory shining in his eyes. But then someone else would come along, older and faster, take the ball and leave him behind.
The light in his eyes slowly dimmed, over the days, over the weeks. Not once you've spoken to him, but you kept a close eye on him, seeing how he slowly seems to be... less. Less beautiful, less passionate, less him. He dimmed, the fire in him slowly going out and it bothered you. Normally you wouldn't care, you shouldn't care, but something about him has awoken the divine blood in you, calling for you to cast your blessing.
You didn't. Not yet, he still wasn't ready yet. He still didn't see the whole world, he still wasn't broke, he was still foolish and naive- Itoshi Sae wouldn't be able to survive the way he was and acts now. He would be left behind, burned out, nothing more, but a small footnote besides heroes writing history.
But there was potential in him, there was potential he would evolve. And maybe you would help him, lead him towards the right path, whisper the right words in his ears.
In the end, you decided to help Sae, taking in the lost lamb and showing him around in the city, showing him the world. His eyes were wide, taking in the beauty of Spain, where the fates have decided for him to be, with you by his side.
His dreams have long been crushed, you had watched them, when another striker had beaten him without even really trying, fully knowing he would kill Sae with his actions. And it almost did. But you caught him, showing him the brilliance of the rest of the battlefield called football and Sae set his eyes on a new goal dream.
You became something akin to his manager and trainer in one, even if he had both of these more than enough. You were there to witness his rebirth, you were there when he started remolding himself, you were there, guiding and blessing him.
You were there when Itoshi Sae debuted as midfield, ascending to the world's best, leaving his burdens in Japan behind and becoming your blessed little mortal.
He was yours and you were his, by his side, always, you followed his path of victory, watched him and how his heart grew cold, until he owned the heart of a true warrior.
Itoshi Sae was one the new heroes, loved by so many, but he only gave his heart to you. You protected it like a treasure, almost possessive, with a keen eye on everyone who comes close to him.
"You're doing it again," he murmurs, not looking at you, but he knows you're standing right behind his seat. The makeup artist, that has been powdering Sae's face for a while now, tilts up his chin and starts applying mascara on his insane lashes. You were almost jealous, if it wouldn't be for the fact that you're a daughter of Aphrodite.
You just hum, typing away on your tablet, planning Sae's schedule for the next three months. There is much to do and you plan to make Itoshi Sae a household name. It was necessary for his career, and while he didn't like doing all these photo shoots and interviews, he could already see the fruits of his hard labor and your manipulations.
He was one of the most followed footballers in his generation, he had more fans than many older football players, which also affected his reputation. Itoshi Sae was the THE Middlefield player everyone wanted, and he could decide where he would go from now on.
"And what if I am?" You ask, and he just lets out a scoff. He can't say anything against it, you're being possessive of him, when he does it too. Keep you close, a blessing of the gods, close to him and his heart.
"I would tell you to stop, but are you going to listen?,” he asks, and already knows the answer. You wouldn't and so you just smirk, drop a kiss on his cheek and leave him behind. He knows you so well.
— taglist ; @stellumi , @keqism , @wanderersbell , @venexus , @lilikags , @kuminarim , @mael-0 , @dervaaas , @aly4a , @yanfei-kisser , @keyz-writes, @obsidianjewel @isentsworld , @tsukishiro-yue2402 , @him3ru , @horologiumwise , @kamiiyaka + more to be added!
-> if your name is bold, this means i can’t tag you!
-> if you wish to join the taglist, please read this infopost! thank you for reading
ASTRANNE 2023
#blue lock#sae itoshi x reader#sae itoshi x female reader#sae itoshi x fem reader#itoshi sae x reader#itoshi sae#itoshi sae x female reader#itoshi sae x you#sae itoshi x you#blue lock x reader#🪐 galaxy milky way
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Thinking about that one post about the 5000 year old teenager girl found buried with her collection of 180 sheep ankle bones but specifically the addition of how ankle bones were used as dice back then and she was a gamer.. what I'm getting at is: would clan cats make bone dice and Are They Gaming
First let me teach you a little bit about Knucklebones: The Game.
You probably know one of its variants better as Jacks, that game you play with a rubber ball and little metal spikes. There's a version of Knucklebones in nearly every culture, where the basic idea is to throw an object up in the air, pick up as many of the smaller objects as possible, and then catch the larger object before it hits the ground.
In cultures with a lot of access to livestock, usually the hand and ankle bones of sheep would be used. Places that don't have them might use rocks, seeds, shells, whatever. It was Ancient Greece that had such an extreme take on the game that it eventually evolved into dice-throwing-- a totally chance-based game where you would just throw the biggest foot bone of a sheep (the astralagus; equivalent to the talus in a human) and see how they landed.
So the girl they uncovered in Kazakhstan with the 180 sheep bones wasn't really buried "with dice," make sense? It's more like being buried with jacks. Central Asia is actually jam-packed with knucklebones-types games. Mongolian Shagai is recognized by UNESCO.
And it makes a TON of sense, because those regions are grasslands absolutely ideal for raising sheep.
SO. CLAN CATS.
There's two major considerations here;
ONE: The access to, and size of, sheep bones.
Clan cats don't kill sheep. TRIBE cats actually have access to sheep and kill one or two a year! I would actually like to give them a bunch of special uses for various parts of the sheep. I think the eagle-killing thing in canon is actually pretty ridiculous for several reasons
BUT THAT SAID, an astralagus is the size of a cat's paw.
[ID: A human holding an astralagus in the tips of its fingers.]
You'd need to play a different sort of game with this. It's more like a square softball to a cat than a little rubber ball.
Boar also have bones like this, though. A muntjac probably produces bones that are sized properly for a cat. Hares and rabbits are probably the BEST bet here though, which, somehow feels right. I'm not sure why, but WindClan seems like the gamerclan Clan that would think up these sorts of cute games.
Something about it fits their whole savvy culture, tunneling, emphasis on trade and invention pre-Heatherstar. ShadowClan and WindClan share a cultural value of innovation, but ShadowClan seems more... chemical and competitive.
Hard to explain it. ShadowClan invents flax retting and WindClan invents the drop spindle. There's overlap but it has a bit of a different flavor between them.
TWO: Range of motion
I've made BB!Cats have the same range of motion as the cats in canon, which is higher than a real cat. They're able to WEAVE, you can't do that without a basic pincher grasp. They're also able to mix herbs, wrap things up in leaves, and apply bandages.
I haven't actually given my reworked cats much more ability than they already had, I just codified rules based on what we already see.
But that said, they DO have less range of motion in their hands than humans. They have little thumbs and a better ability to grab, but can't twist their paws completely upwards. There's no way they can toss an object straight up, then catch it again.
So any games they do play would need to accommodate that. So far I've got Scratchstone, Teeterstrike, and an unnamed rhyme game. The bone game would need to look more like a game of marbles than jacks. Or, maybe more modified to accommodate swipes and strikes, somehow? Or a two-person game of catch?
Gotta think about it.
#Partner and I had a super cool food idea for the tribe where they make a sort of like... flavored bone lolly out of sheep bones#Called a Sucker#And they'd soak it in juice before leaving on a hunt and gauge how long they had been out based on the fading flavor of their sucker#And have a cool phrase like ''where have you been?? My sucker's gone bland you spanner''#And if they go into something dangerous like a cave or down a river#they actually leave their sucker behind#so if they run into danger and someone comes looking for them#they'd see their sucker unattended#The sucker would also get holes carved in it to feed a brightly colored string or something through it#So it's very bright and conspicuous#And you can tell what sucker belongs to whom based on how they bedazzled it#But I couldn't find anything on flavoring bones or replenishing their flavor#Since humans aren't dedicated carnivores#The string has the added value of making it easy to pull out if they accidentally swallow the bone#But it's all still wip#clan culture#bone babble
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Yoongi: 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬 (3)
In which he just didn't even realize life could feel like this when spent with someone like you.
Tags/Warnings: Vampire!Yoongi, Human!Reader, mentions of 'being high' (drug usage in a way), friends to lovers, blood (duh), red haired Yoongi, Listen I am Jungkook focused but I will put Vampire Yoongi on the menu and you'll better finish your plate
Additional Chapter Warnings: tension, mutual pining in full force
Chapter Length: short/mid
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"Wow!" You say, almost tripping and falling outside the van, giving Yoongi an almost heart attack as he watches you almost hurt yourself in your hurry. You run towards the campground, inspecting the fairy lights and all the other things already set up by Yoongi while you stayed asleep in the car. "Its so pretty!" You cry out, looking at Yoongi who's bringing another blanket to the chairs around the little fireplace that's not lit up yet.
The sun is barely starting to set, after all.
"I'm gonna start making food now." He informs you, not looking your way as he opens the door to the van. "...you wanna help?" He asks quietly- and you nod, eagerly so, jumping up to stand close to him, awaiting any form of instructions.
It's cute.
"Here, you can cut this." He offers, putting everything close to you inside the van so you can do just that, while he washes some vegetables in the small sink. The space really is very small- his shoulder is pretty much touching yours at a constant, if you were at the same height that is.
But he doesn't mind it.
It feels oddly domestic and comfortable to just quietly be together like this, silent comfort of the other person next to you offering him feelings he's never really felt before. The birds outside, the sound of the knife on the cutting board, or the running water in the sink.
It feels.. surreal.
"Ah!" You yelp, having cut your finger by accident- something he notices immediately, hands on your hips moving you to stand near the sink now where he helps you wash your hand. "Sorry.." you mumble, but he shakes his head.
He's got different problems right now than scolding you.
He's always liked the way you smell, as weird as it sounds. But never has he ever gotten an idea of how your blood smells- and suddenly it breeds thought of your taste in his head, making him swallow thickly as he concentrates on controlling himself. "There, hold it for a bit. I'll get a bandaid." He mumbles, walking around to search for the said item.
He can't be like this, not with you.
"You okay.?" You ask, quietly, hesitantly, and he nods silently. "Uhm.. do you want me to leave maybe..?"
"Why would I want you to leave?" He asks, turning around to look at you, bandaid in his hand as he asks the question he worried about.
"Are you scared of me?"
He's never thought about it, but considering your past, he knows you should be. You've got every right to resent him and who he is, even if his own condition isn't his fault at all. You've had nothing but bad experiences with vampires so far- so it would make sense if you were to be scared right now.
"Of you?" You ask, raising your brows. "Never. Why would I?" You ask, tilting your head to the side.
He's relieved, stepping forward to unwrap the bandaid and secure it around the side of your hand where the cut is located. "I'm glad." He quietly says, almost whispers, fingers gentle as they run over the protective item now secured on your skin. "I'm completely fine. That little bit of blood isn't going to make me go all crazy in the head, don't worry." He chuckles a little.
"No, I wasn't actually worried about that-" you tell him, looking at the way he still holds your hand. "-just... I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, you know?" You explain.
"What would make you think I'd be uncomfortable around you?" He wants to know, walking back to where you've both abandoned your cooking utensils, resuming your activities.
"Hm.. you, I don't know, sometimes seem on edge when I'm around." You say, now more careful with the knife.
"Thats not true." He lies, well aware that he is indeed on edge around you sometimes. "Its just.. I don't want to- aish.." he shakes his head, unsure how to voice out his thoughts. "Just don't worry about it." He finalizes, making you nod your head.
Well- if he's telling you not to worry about it, you won't.
Yoongi knows best, after all.
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(I have two (2) additions to the ask about omega Hob summoning an incubus to take his virginity, but I'm sending them separately so they don't get too long. Answer in whatever order suits you! 🦇)
So in the first ask you mentioned that Dream could tell Hob would probably fill out when he got older, but at the time he's a sweet twinky little virgin.
Well. They end up staying together, and Dream gets to SEE Hob fill out. Hob grows up, and not only does he become more confident- more comfortable in his skin and more sure of himself- but he bulks up too. He's got strong, thick muscles and a healthy layer of padding to support them. And suddenly Dream is drawn to Hob for a new reason.
Hob is still an omega, so he still technically bottoms, but I'm a fan of Dream and Hob both being very "fuck societal expectations", so when he's older Hob starts experimenting with being a more dominant force in bed. Dream finds a certain thrill in being manhandled by Hob, even if he still ends up begging for his knot by the end.
I just love the idea of them starting their relationship with Hob so young and not fully developed, and so as he grows their relationship (and sex life) grows with him.
Ooo yes! Here's the original omega Hob & incubus Dream post!
I love Hob growing from cute, twinky teen with his big brown eyes and teeny tiny waist... to fully grown, hairy, broad shouldered man. He frequently gets mistaken for an alpha, which always makes him laugh.
Dream has been aware of Hob changing over the course of their acquaintance - who couldn't notice the newly hairy chest and thick thighs? But he sees Hob so often, he doesn’t appreciate exactly how much Hob has changed. Not until they go out together and he sees Hob through other people's eyes! People look at Hob a little oddly. Like he's a curiosity. A confident, thickset omega who isn't afraid to speak his mind is... strange.
But Dream loves it. He loves being pressed down into the mattress by Hob’s big hands, and he loves it when Hob takes hold of his cock like its his personal plaything. Of course he's still a cute little knotslut like he's always been, but he enjoys playing at being in charge. He wants Dream to put him in his place! He wants to make sure that Dream deserves his cunt by the end of the night.
As far as Dream is concerned, whatever he might look like, Hob is Dream’s sweet, darling omega. However big and hairy he gets, however much people stare, to Dream he will always be perfect.
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The WHB devil/angel/human boys with an MC whose personality is similar to Eiden’s from Nu: Carnival
Okay this is going to be a long one.
Now, from my knowledge of Eiden's personality. He loves teasing (shown with Edmond and Dante and maybe Quincy though he always lose with him), And be sweet, (With Blade, Garu/Karu and Yakumo), and Knows them while (Kuya... at times XD) and Horny. Eiden is a person that knows what his clan (Partners) need or is dealing with.
So I'm going to spilt the WHB boys by how MC would act with them.
I might do a part 2 with the other characters I didn't do here (I'm drawing a blank cause I want to make them different from each other.)
Teasing
Dantalian- Oh boy, this little boy loves getting angry and just throw himself in danger, so what better way for MC to keep him from his suicidal path is teasing him. Instead looking down at him for wearing the school boy uniform, MC calls him cute. That got him all flustered.
Stolas- Another Angry boy. But he's is as obvious cause he just wants to be king (Insert Lion King song XD) When Stolas start ranting, MC listens, and when there's a flaw in his reasoning MC smile and say something on the line "Do you really thing that they'll take you seriously if you do that" And that's how the two go back and forth, with MC have this smug grin on their face.
Bimet- MC can't not with his self-importance attitude, when he start talking about his job and how Mammon relays on him. But soon turned "Me talk" MC has this blank start, and when Bimet Notice he calls them out and MC does is act dumb, in the back of their mind they can just walk circle around Bimet.
Leraye- He mention that he doesn't miss and MC know it. So when MC ask for him to teach them some tips to have as good of a accuracy as he does, MC can see him huff his chest proudly. But Leraye guide MC, him leaning from behind, both hands are over MC's with they are holding his sniper. MC seductively ask Leraye if their doing it right and he get's all flustered within a second and BOOM! MC pulls the trigger, cause Leraye to be hot and bothered. and that want MC wanted. And Leraye tries to keep his composure.
Sweet/Being a softy
Eligos- Good boy? He is a Good boy. When he returns from a battle, he immediately goes to MC. Why? cause he knows that he'll get all the praise and head pats he wants from them. MC sees him and he tells them all the things he did. MC's hearts melt with how adorable Eligos is. Additional cuteness, if he as if he lay his head onto MC's lap while they stroke his head. MC can't say no to him.
Paimon- Well Paimon just love chilling with MC and vice versa. Its either they talk about their interest and Paimon loves styling MC (either messy like putting sticker on them or love seeing MC in the clothes he choose for them) And MC love every moment of.
Bael- Give this man a hug, MC they might not say it but they know that Bael is a bit conflicted with his current situation, MC feeling sorry for him. So whenever they meet MC talks to him or just hangs out.
Knows them well
Sitri- As being Satan's right hand, Sitri at times stress (either having to give Satan update about the region and the other nobles or dealing with the other nobles antics) So that's when MC comes in, MC ask him but he won't say anything, but they know by just seeing how is his, they immediately knows what to do. subtly they suggest having tea and just talking.
Gusion- If MC is good at math, Gusion would put them into the test with how good their math skills are, but increasing the difficulty every time. And MC as stubborn and determine they are proves that they can do it. You might see a fade blush on Gusion cheek.
This is so far I can write for now, but again I want to do the others, but my writing juices is almost dried up XD
#spark's answer#hi anon :3#whb ask#whb headcanon#whb dantalian#whb stolas#whb bimet#whb leraye#whb eligos#whb paimon#whb bael#whb sitri#whb gusion
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inspired by @strawberrystepmom and their Pokemon AU with Gojo (Which you can read here ITS SO GOOD!) also this is pretty self indulgent, and the reader is Pokemon Champion of multiple regions kinda like the games)
divider made by @cafekitsune
"Kats-"
"(Y/N) I'm sorry but it's creepy-"
"He's not creepy! He's just a baby!"
Katsuki smirked and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe of the sliding door leading out into the expansive backyard of your home. He watched as you pouted, even going as far as to stomp your foot down. It was almost cute seeing the Pokemon Champion of Galar, Alola, and Paldea act like a bratty child. His Arcanine slept in the sun while your Luxray slept beside it, its golden fur bristling slightly with the breeze. It was nice to have you back home from your travels, even if you did manage to bring home some questionable new Pokemon.
One of the new additions to your roster was a Pokemon from the Paldea region named Tinkaton. When you gushed over the new Fairy/Steel type you had picked up to him over a late night phone call (that you had called The Hammer), Katsuki had expected a fierce looking Pokemon. What he wasn't expecting was a small pink Pokemon lugging around the biggest hammer he had ever seen in his life. Suddenly the name made sense.
Or the new electric type from Galar named Toxel (which you affectionately named Rockstar). Katsuki's expectations were high; he was expecting a strong looking Poison type with crazy moves. But instead, you came home with a pouty looking baby Pokemon that clung to you and had the audacity to electrocute Katsuki when he got a little too close to you (which is how he also figured out they were electric typings).
But his current argument with you stemmed from the Alola Pokemon you managed to catch. The one who's wearing a makeshift Pikachu outfit and brings a wave of unease to Katsuki's body. The one that had been on your team from Alola to Galar to Paldea, the one he's trying to like just because he sees just how much you care for it. The one who's currently shoving Pokemon food under its costume.
"He's been my partner since Alola," You said, looking down at your Mimikyu with such fondness it made Katsuki crack a soft smile. "Found him in a warehouse thinking he was a Pikachu. Poor thing was starving and wouldn't leave my side when I gave him some berries." Katsuki watched as you crouched down, the Mimikyu slithering immediately towards you. You patted the top of the makeshift costume gently and the Pokemon let out a chipper "Kyu!" in response. "The team really likes him." You said as you scooped the Pokemon into your arms. Katsuki let out a soft chuckle and ran a finger against Mimikyu's costume, a rare smile adorning his lips.
"You look cute with him in your arms like that."
"So are you saying he looks cute?"
"Don't push your luck Princess. He's still weird looking-"
"Kats!"
#this is so self indulgent#i LOVE IT#pokemon au#katsuki bakugo#katsuki bakugo x reader#my hero academia#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia#I would 100% be trying to convince Katsuki that Mimikyu is cute
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Valentine, you're a
horse
(rain code pony au. design notes under the cut!)
just as a note, i haven't seen my little pony since i was like. 11. and also i don't think i watched beyond twilight becoming an alicorn. my knowledge of later seasons mostly comes from horsecomix. so if i say anything that contradicts the Horse Lore, sorry about that.
ok now for individual designs.
yuma is a unicorn, mostly because mystery labyrinths require him to be able to hold a sword and talk at the same time. in addition to his memories, he lost his cutie mark in the pact, so everyone who sees him is like "damn you're an amnesiac AND a blank flank? pick a struggle". he doesn't have any accessories by default, but he probably gets a little hat in the rain + his cape in the mystery labyrinth. he was the first pony i drew, so his face looks a little janky. i struggled with drawing the ponies from any angle other than a perfect sideview, and the snouts/mouths were the hardest parts by far. the front view i did for yuma was a bit easier than the 3/4 view i did for most of the cast, but it was still tougher than i expected. pony artists who mimic the style of the show have all of my respect.
shinigami's spirit form was changed a little bit, although it was already so abstracted compared to a real human that i didn't feel i needed to change much in order to make her fit into the pony universe. i just swapped her horns out for wings and gave her a horn. i also removed her thumbs and made her colors closer to her human (er, pony) form. she's no longer a "death god" in the traditional sense, now being the "princess of death" in the same way twilight is the princess of friendship or cadence is the princess of love. she was sealed away because she was shit at her job (just killed a fuckton of people for no reason) but anypony who stumbled across the book she was sealed in can make a contract w her just like in rain code canon. obvi this is a little dark for the actual mlp universe, they wouldn't be putting a trigger-happy murder princess in their rated y cartoon, but this is the same fanbase that made fuckin. cupcakes and rainbow factory and a whole slew of others that make the main characters of mlp infinitely more fucked up than canon shinigami ever was. so i feel like we can have a little suspension of disbelief here.
shinigami's true form is an alicorn, obvi. she's a god princess, she's gonna be an alicorn. i tried to refrain from giving the characters too many accessories to better mimic the simpler mane 6 designs, but shinigami looked so naked with just the crown. so she also got her flower and little necklace. i didn't even attempt to put her hair in braids, since drawing her face at that angle was such a challenge already. upon posting this, i also realize i forgot to give her a tail. just imagine any tail you want on her. pin the tail on the shinigami. her cutie mark has the same dark void effect as nightmare moon's, although i can't remember if luna also has it as well. regardless, it's a visual tie-in to nightmare moon, who has a similar "princess banished to an inanimate object" thing going on. the actual cutie mark itself is two bones, representing death in a cutesy cartoony fashion. i was gonna do a skull and crossbones but then i realized. no one knows what a human skull looks like. there's no people. and i am NOT about to draw a fucking horse skull. so, bones it is.
yakou is probably the one i'm proudest of! i feel like i really captured the essence of the background pony in him. i feel like i could see him hanging out with lyra heartstrings and dr. whooves and i wouldn't bat an eyelash. his hair is a little longer than in the original design but i think it looks cute so it's fine. his cutie mark is an umbrella because his calling as a detective leads him to protect others like an umbrella protects you from the rain, plus kanai ward has its whole Thing. and he can be kind of a gloomy person at times, very pessimistic. he's an earth pony because he's just a normal guy, no forte in canon and stuff like that.
makoto was probably the trickiest to actually design. the element of mystery is super important in the original character design, but he was able to still have some skin exposed since almost all of the character designs in that game have a skintone of "homestuck white". in mlp, where coat colors can be any color of the rainbow (and the colors outside of the rainbow), makoto would lose that element of mystery. so, while i generally try to avoid putting the ponies in clothes, makoto kind of needed them. he's got his full suit and a set of gloves and white shoes for his hooves. instead of being a sort of "paper plate" mask, he's got a rubber halloween mask that extends past his neck instead. don't ask how the mane comes out of the mask. we don't ask how canon makoto's mask stays on with no straps, so don't ask about this one. the mask goes over his horn, so it blocks out most powerful magic, but basic spells like levitation are still possible with a bit of effort. the pants of his suit hide his cutie mark, and when asked about what it is, he gives a different answer each time.
kurumi isn't a super complicated or in-depth design. just a cute lil earth pony with a cutie mark of a speech bubble, since she does a lot of information gathering via talking to others. in hindsight, i should've given her freckles in the same color as her body outline. imagine she has freckles please. thank you.
fubuki is the design where i actually got the courage to attempt a braid. no idea if it looks good, i didn't use a reference and my hair is too short to braid it myself. i wanted an earth pony in the core group of nda members, and i was sort of torn between her and desuhiko. however, i'm a personal believer in the "all ponies can use magic on some level" theory, and that theory posits that earth ponies have a tendency to be able to use the intrinsic magic of their planet in subtle ways. applejack can enhance her physical strength without really doing anything consciously, and most importantly, pinkie pie can bend the laws of reality for The Bit. i think time travel is kinda like bending the laws of reality for The Bit. plus, desuhiko's disguise ability is kinda like an illusion, which feels like more of a unicorn ability. her cutie mark is a clock. because. uh. you know.
desuhiko is a unicorn for reasons i mentioned in fubuki's notes. his backpack is worn like a saddle, but he can still use it to disguise himself like in rain code canon. his cutie mark is the bag with a star on it, hinting that there's a superstar (him) in the bag. not much to say about him other than that.
vivia is a pegasus. since his forte allows him to fly, it makes sense for him to be able to fly in his base form as well - he'd get used to the flight powers inherent to his ability a lot quicker if he could already do it. he's definitely more of a fluttershy than a rainbow dash in terms of how he uses his ability to fly. he prefers to walk, but if his legs get tired, he'll switch to flying for a little bit. but then both his legs and his wings get tired and he takes a little nap. that's what the pose is meant to be, altho it does look a bit like he's flying. his cutie mark is a disappearing flash shape, as his spirit form is invisible and he tends to disappear into the background in general. someone in the rain coat server told me he looks like stoney pony and i haven't been able to get that out of my mind.
halara was the last pony i drew, because i love them and wanted to get as much pony-drawing experience as i could before turning them into an equine. can't have my pookie bear looking like shit! they are also a pegasus, but not for forte reasons like vivia. rather, they just do impressive feats of athleticism on the reg, and i feel like they would be a great flyer as a result. imagine the scene where yuma calls for help while being detained by seth and the peacekeepers. a blue and purple bursts onto the scene from the fucking clouds and halara is divebombing the peacekeepers. that'd be sick as fuck. their cutie mark is an eye, because postcognition is all about sight.
erm ok thats everyone!!! i'm bad at pony names so if anyone has any ideas leave them in the comments or the tags ☺️
#rain code#mdarc#yuma kokohead#halara nightmare#vivia twilight#desuhiko thunderbolt#yakou furio#fubuki clockford#kurumi wendy#makoto kagutsuchi#shinigami rain code#my little pony#mlp
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