#I have so many ideas running around my head

[jgracie]

THE MONSTER’S GONE, HE’S ON THE RUN AND YOUR DADDY’S HERE

masterlist | rules

in which jason is a hero in more ways than one

pairings jason grace x fem!reader

warnings reader is afab/can get pregnant

on the radio . . . beautiful boy (darling boy) (john lennon)

an my blog has become baby fever central so naturally i had to deliver 🫡, shoutout to anya ( @puffoz ) for helping me name the eldest grace daughter <3

The night after you told Jason you were pregnant with your first child, you’d woken up to the sound of sniffles coming from a certain someone sleeping right next to you. At first, you were confused - Jason had been ecstatic a few hours ago when you broke the news to him, why was he crying now? Then it hit you.

He was scared.

Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, champion of Hera, ex-praetor of Camp Jupiter, Pontifex Maximus and so many other titles you never cared for, was scared. Tenderly, you’d coaxed him out of the ball shape he was currently in (arms wrapped around his knees, head sitting in between his legs) and asked what was wrong, even though you already had an inkling of an idea as to what the matter was.

When he didn’t answer, you didn’t ask again. Knowing Jason like the palm of your hand meant staying silent and waiting for him to be ready to tell you, as expressing and talking about his emotions has been a struggle he only recently began to deal with.

With your hand gently rubbing his back, Jason replied, his voice barely above a whisper, “do you think I’ll be a bad dad?” Only after the question left his lips did Jason make eye contact with you, his eyes glistening with the tears they once held. 

Anyone who grew up the way Jason did would naturally have their doubts about their parental abilities: how was he supposed to take care of a baby when he didn’t even know what it was like to be taken care of as a baby? However, you knew the truth.

“No,” you said. It was a simple answer, full of certainty and confidence, “no, Jason, I don’t think you’ll be a bad father. In fact, I know you’ll be a good one. You aren’t your upbringing - you’re kind, caring and hold so much love in your heart for everyone and everything around you despite the circumstances the Fates put you through. Trust me when I say you’ll be the best dad.”

You were, of course, right. Despite all the hardships that come with pregnancy, yours was a breeze thanks to Jason. Throughout the entirety of the nine months you spent carrying your child, he was nothing but supportive. He’d always buy you whatever food you were craving at whatever time (no matter how strange it was), he’d give you massages, he’d comfort you when you were feeling down and so much more.

The next time Jason cried was in the hospital when your baby had arrived. Natalia June Grace was born at 9:47AM and was everything you wished for and more. As Jason stared into her eyes, the eyes she’d inherited from him, he was filled to the brim with conviction: he was going to be the best dad he could possibly be for his precious Talia.

Despite this, Jason would be lying if he said he didn’t have his hard times. He’d be lying if he said he never woke up in the middle of the night, sweaty as he reached for his glasses and reminded himself that the nightmares aren’t real, they don’t define him, he is not Zeus, he is not Jupiter, he is Jason.

Being Jason meant being an excellent father. In Natalia's eyes, Jason hung the moon and the stars - no one could compare to her father. They had a bond like no other and were inseparable from the minute they met. Everywhere Talia went, Jason followed. Dance recital? He had front row tickets and lots of storage on his phone to film every second of it. Impromptu tea party with her barbies? Jason was there, clad in a tutu as he poured invisible tea into their cups. To you, the fact that Natalia viewed him as her hero was no surprise. Jason, however, tended to need some reminding.

“Mommy!” You heard your daughter yell as soon as she and Jason made their way inside your cozy apartment. While your husband locked the door, your daughter ran to the kitchen and gave you a bone crushing hug. Immediately, you let go of the whisk you were holding and hugged back, unable to believe it was now almost six years since she had been born. Time flies when you’re having fun!

Running your fingers through her hair, you said, “Talia, how was school today? I really missed you!” She replied with a quick ‘good’ before going to sit on the dining table, princess themed bag clutched tightly in her little hands as she yapped to you about everything that had happened at school that day. You smiled, admiring the way your daughter managed to breathe life into the most mundane things.

Just as she was beginning to tell you about her current crush, Mikey, and how he shared his KitKat with her during lunch, Jason appeared, bouquet of flowers in hand as he took your own and pressed a kiss onto the back of it.

“Hi honey, I missed you loads today. Got you these ‘cause I noticed the others started wilting,” your smile widened at this gesture: only your husband would be paying that much attention to the flowers scattered around the house. You gave him a peck on the lips before taking the bouquet from him and going to place it in a vase. While you were doing so, you could hear Jason and Natalia having a conversation.

“Do you want me to put your bag in your room, baby?” He asked.

“No thank you daddy, I wanna show you and mommy something first,” she replied. Then, turning around, she yelled, “mommy, come! I wanna show you and daddy what I did at school today!” 

You obliged, and you and Jason watched as she rummaged in her school bag before pulling out a single piece of paper and handing it to you. On it, in big bold letters, was the title, ‘My Hero’.

“Read it so daddy can know too!” She squealed, nearly jumping out of her seat in excitement. You stared at the picture of a tall, blond man and a little girl in pigtails she’d drawn to accompany the paragraph she’d written on this topic and felt your heart swell with warmth.

Glancing at Jason for a second, you read, “my hero is my daddy. He is my hero because he always plays with me and gets rid of the monsters under the bed when I go to sleep. I love my daddy very much.”

After you’d finished reading, Natalia looked up at Jason expectantly, a big smile plastered on her face as she waited to hear his reaction. However, her smile dropped when she saw tears roll down his cheeks.

Now pouting, she turned to you for answers, “why is daddy sad?” 

You smiled, delicately cupping her face in your palm, “daddy’s not sad, babes, he’s actually really happy. Sometimes, when people are super happy, they cry. Your worksheet means a lot to him, he’s very touched,” at your words, she brightened up.

Natalia then took the paper from you and gave it to Jason, “you can hang it on your wall, daddy, since you like it so much!” She proceeded to give him a peck on the cheek and ran off to her room, not fully understanding exactly how much her simple worksheet meant to Jason.

That was the third time Jason cried: when he realised he wasn’t his upbringing, or Zeus, or Jupiter, or any of the other monsters that lived under his own bed. He was Jason - a great, loving father who put his family above all and was a hero in more ways than one.

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #jason grace fanfic #jason grace drabble #percy jackson x reader #dad jason grace #dad jason grace x reader #cynwrites

[crguang]

wasted with longing

You and Kafka have a simple, superficial relationship that benefits you both. You should have known that nothing is ever simple when she’s involved.

friends with benefits, smut, afab!reader, gp!kafka, vaginal penetration, blowjob, dom!kafka, 4.5k words

A/N: fuckboy kafka is real and we should all be running… towards her🤣 this will be a series! i’ll fine tune it when i wake up but this is for my very excited anons and mutuals <3

this is the collective playlist, i’m still adding songs as i go: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4fNHJsbeJLC49Fa8ACVOwW?si=pgaCSUzVTgmXZ8OuQJWLKA&pi=u-9uwba0QiQlWH

You push open the door to your apartment with a tired sigh and step inside. Freeing your feet from the new boots you bought days before feels heavenly, you’re still breaking them in and the process is almost torturous, often leaving you sore by the evening. You put on the slippers you discarded that morning as you shrug off your jacket, placing it back into the tiny closet near the front door. The lights are off but you don’t bother turning them on, instead, you make a beeline for your bedroom and flick that switch on. It’s late, around 11 PM, and you’re itching for a shower before collapsing into bed after spending the afternoon on your feet. You open the window a crack to let the breeze in, seeing as the summer nights tend to leave you sweating. You discard some of your clothing on the way to the bathroom, holding onto them to throw them in the laundry basket next to the sink. Standing in your underwear, you turn on the shower and adjust its settings to room temperature before removing your clothes. You’re grateful for the peaceful moment when you step into the shower, simply letting the water hit your face and soak your body.

Today was particularly challenging; your boss was a jerk your whole shift, more demanding than usual, and you’d promised some friends that you would go out with them after work even though you just wanted to be home by then. Forcing yourself to socialize is mentally taxing and often leaves you with a headache at the end of the night, too. Under the refreshing water, you feel the knots of your muscles loosen slowly as if smoothed out by warm, gentle hands. Your head tilts towards the shower head. For a few minutes, you wash away the weight of the day, focusing on the pitter-patter in your ears deafening you to all but your thoughts. An impulsive one passes by, meant to be fleeting but it solidifies in your head until you can’t help but entertain the idea.

You wonder what Kafka is doing, if she’d come running if you called the way she often does once the sun sets. She’s been busy lately, you think; you haven’t heard from her in around two weeks and you’ve been too preoccupied with work to bother checking on her. You don’t know what she does for a living, only that your palms brush against new cuts across her skin every once in a while. The acknowledgment of their presence goes unsaid like many other things, locked in a messy closet to which you both hold the key yet refuse to organize. Still, she’s skilled in the ways of your body and works you out like no one else can, so you ignore a lot about her to prioritize how relaxed you feel after a couple of hours with her. Some parts of you, your heart and fingertips, twitch to understand her absences and inconsistencies. You try not to dwell on that confusing desire for too long lest you come to a conclusion you don’t like. Kafka’s enigmatic, she’s mysterious and rehearsed as to always keep the upper hand in whatever war she’s implicated in like the world is an open minefield and she can’t afford a single misstep. Every semblance of genuine conversation about her turns into a game she has to win and you’re getting tired of playing along. However… you have to admit that you could use the distraction tonight.

The thought doesn’t leave you as you finish washing yourself and step out of the shower with a clean towel around your frame. You look for your phone once in the bedroom, picking it up from where it was discarded on your dresser, then sit at the edge of your bed. It takes a bit of scrolling through your recent conversations to find Kafka’s contact. You refrain yourself from rolling your eyes at the last texts you’ve exchanged. She can’t be relied on for your impromptu needs and you wish the opposite was true as well, but you’ve learned to make yourself available whenever she seeks you out. It’s pathetic, you tell yourself, even as your thumbs hover over the screen’s keyboard. You recline on the mattress with a sigh and hold your phone above you, wondering if you should do this. It’s late, and though that’s usually when you see each other, Kafka has the habit of not replying until hours later. It’s irritating, especially when you scroll up to her last messages and notice how quickly you always answer them. You toss your phone on the bed and cover your face with your hands. You swallow a scream.

“Embarrassing, embarrassing,” you mutter to yourself, “no dignity at all.”

As you question your life choices and consider blocking Kafka’s number to make yourself feel more in control than you are, your phone buzzes with a notification. You turn on your stomach to pick it up, tapping open the screen.

You stare at the most recent text for almost a full minute before closing the device and sitting up straight. The coincidence of her messaging you while you’re debating whether you should text her first leaves you reeling for a moment. You hesitate, fiddling with the phone in your hands. You want to leave her waiting like she often does to you, but… Excitement creeps up your spine at the thought of seeing her. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Why not take what you need from her and send her on her way? This is what she’s good for, it’s how she regards you as well, so you give in to your impulses and craft the perfect text. Kafka’s reply comes almost instantly.

You can’t deny the flutter in your gut but you sure as hell can ignore it.

You make sure to be ready before Kafka comes knocking at your door. You lather yourself with your favourite lotion before pulling a tank top over your head and putting on pyjama shorts. You clean up around your apartment even if she never lingers long enough to get a good look at it, picking up dirty laundry and clearing the dishes. You don’t see the minutes tick by as you do your best to seem presentable. You check your teeth in the bathroom mirror, decide to brush them because you don’t have any mint, then tap your cheeks a couple of times, tilting your chin this way and that. You’re looking at your nails, wondering if you should clip them since they’re getting a bit long, when the doorbell rings.

You take measured steps towards the front door so as not to look too eager and shake your head at your antics. You turn the handle, revealing Kafka’s nonchalant expression on the other side of the door. She smiles at the sight of you, clad in her usual tight clothes and custom-made coat, and you have to suppress one from betraying your thoughts as you take her in. She does the same to you, gaze appreciatively raking over your figure before she even greets you. She still has makeup on, hiding the fatigue you know rests under her eyes, and she’s holding on to her pair of gloves instead of wearing them. You think she probably wrapped up whatever it is that she does and came to your apartment right afterwards.

You open the door wider and step to the side so she can come in. “You look tired.”

Kafka walks in and closes the door behind her with a foot. Her smile widens a touch, a self-assured edge to it. Her head tilts— you watch the loose strands of hair follow the movement— and her eyes drop to your chest for a deliberate second then lift to meet yours. “You look beautiful as ever.”

You don’t hide the annoyed roll of your eyes. You turn your back on her to lead her further into the apartment. She follows, slipping off her coat from her shoulders and discarding it on a sofa in the living room.

“You got rid of the painting?”

You look at where she stopped in front of the couch. She points to the far wall with her chin as she lays her gloves on top of her coat. You stand, dumbfounded. You used to have an abstract painting hung on that wall but stored it to install a TV instead. You’re mostly surprised she noticed; her lips are usually on yours instants after she’s stepped through the door.

“It’s here somewhere,” you gesture vaguely to the room.

“Mm… This coffee table’s different, too.”

“You broke the glass of the other one the last time you were here.”

Something in the way she glances at you, a cocky glint in her eyes, tells you she remembers.

“Right. What was it you said that night— ‘Don’t you dare stop?’”

You know Kafka revels in the flash of irritation that creases the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t remember that.”

“No?”

She makes her way to you, fingertips trailing on the back of the couch and amusement shining through her contacts, dusty pink swallowing the lilac at their edges, reminding you of carefully plucked calla lilies. Her slender fingers cup your jaw to tilt your chin, the nail of her index sliding across your skin, and you meet her stare with practiced ease. You hate how easily the anticipation of her touch heats the embers in your belly and you can’t stand knowing that she’s aware of her effect on you. Kafka brings you closer until all you care to see is the lustful, rosy shades of her irises. Her gaze lowers to the curves of your mouth.

“Need a reminder?” Her murmur is felt on your lips like the warm, inviting breeze wafting through the open windows.

You hook a finger under the waistband of her shorts and tug her forward. “Guess so.”

Her low chuckle is cut off by the kiss you plant on her lips. Kafka indulges your control over her, lets you back her up against the wall and pull her close with a hand around her neck. Her arm snakes around your waist, your body pressed to hers. She tastes sweet, like a sugary drink or a juicy fruit, and your tongue slips into her mouth to taste her fully. She welcomes it readily and allows it to swirl around hers before you feel her fingers curl around your throat. The pace shifts, hungry and hurried, as she effortlessly takes over the kiss, momentarily taking your breath away. You’re forced to follow her lead and exhale through your nose when she doesn’t release you. The hand on the back of her neck travels down her collarbone, pulling on the leather strap of her outfit so it slaps against her once you let go, and the hum that sounds from her throat softens your bones until you’re putty in her hands. Her shirt crumples in your grip while your fingertips tease the buttons of her shorts. Your world is reduced to the soft caress of her tongue in your mouth and the growing bulge beneath your palm.

Her hold on your neck relaxes slightly and you pull away enough to regulate your breathing. You stroke her over her clothes, drawing a sharp intake of breath from her. A pleased smile makes its way onto your face and your eyes blink open to stare at her swollen, peach lips.

“Someone’s happy to see me.”

Kafka traces the hollow of your throat with a rounded nail, smiling amusedly at your teasing tone. “Mmm.”

“Two weeks and a little kiss gets you worked up?”

“Were you counting?”

“Please. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” You unclasp the buttons of her shorts and pull them down her waist to reveal the band of her pantyhose, toying with it and sighing in faux exasperation. “I suppose I could help.”

“Yeah?”

Kafka stares at you, anticipation in the way her lips unconsciously part, and you retain her lustful gaze as you withdraw from her body to put your hair up using the hair tie on your wrist. You raise a playful eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, and her eyes narrow a touch at your cockiness. She doesn’t say a word, though, simply watches you lower yourself to your knees with that smile that says she’ll wipe that expression off your face soon enough. You start with her thigh-high boot, zipping it down to get it out of the way, then grip the edges of both her pantyhose and shorts to slide them off the rest of the way at once. Her layers annoy you on nights when your need is greater than your patience, but you enjoy teasing her like this; testing the elasticity of her boxers’ waistband, running the pads of your fingers over the thin fabric and along the thick of her bulge, pressing leisure, open-mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Kafka is a patient woman, her hand tangles in your hair but doesn’t pull. Her heavy stare makes you feel powerful despite being the one on your knees, she either doesn’t bother to hide her desire or she can’t— regardless, you’re her only way towards sweet release and she has no choice but to grant your petty wishes.

Your lips trace the outline of her length over her underwear. One hand cups her between her legs while the other kneads her plush thigh. You delight in the little hums Kafka doesn’t care to contain as you pepper kisses on her clothed cock, a thumb gently massaging her balls until you feel her twitch under your lips. Still, she doesn’t tell you to hurry along or pressure you in any way. Knowing that her cool demeanor is an act fuels the satisfaction in your gut. You pull at her boxers and free her hard cock, refraining from biting your lip at the sight of its prominent vein. You follow its pattern with your mouth and use a hand to curl around her base, eyes fluttering shut. You’ve done this so often, licked long stripes up to her tip and stroked her sensitive skin with teasing touches, that the feel of her against you is engraved in your gray matter. Your tongue swirls around her leaking tip to collect her pre-cum before taking her into your mouth. Kafka is so big you have to use your fingers to stroke what can’t fit past your lips. The weight of her cock on your tongue makes you so incredibly wet, you feel arousal trickling down your inner thigh. Her hips buck forward and her hand caresses your hair in a manner so fond you’d mistake her lust for care if you didn’t know any better. You work her up with quiet, muffled moans around her dick and she guides you down her length with one hand, unable to tear her eyes from your pretty face as you suck her off. You take as much of her as you can, feel the head brushing the back of your throat every few thrusts of her hips, and revel in the short, throaty moans spilling from Kafka’s lips.

“Mmhh… How pretty you look with your mouth full,” she manages to tease you in between low gasps, smugness dripping from her words. You give her sensitive tip a particularly harsh suck and bask in the uncontrolled jerk of her hips.

You look up at the crease between her brows and the rapid rise of her chest, her audible pants intoxicating you. With her head tilted to gaze down at you, strands of magenta hang in the air like threads of silk. You squeeze her base once to draw a longer moan from her. The taste of her bypasses your every thought, and you can only focus on her throbbing, wet cock filling your mouth. You stroke her with the same hungry pace, occasionally squeezing your thighs together to appease the heat between your legs. She’s so hard, so needy, you can’t help the indignant whine that escapes you when her fingers grip your hair and pull you away from her dick. A thin string of saliva connects her head to your tongue and breaks with the distance, falling onto your chin.

“Don’t pout, you’ll get your fill,” Kafka smiles despite her heavy breathing, urging you to stand with her hold on your head, “I’ll make sure of it.”

A tinge of irritation surges in your bloodstream at the cocky edge of her tone and the way your pussy aches for her touch. Her nose brushes yours once you’re on your feet, warm breath fanning over your lips. You hate that you want her, that your body responds to her by melting into hers as she steals the air in your lungs with a single heady kiss. You hate the way your thighs part almost immediately to allow her wandering hand better access to your cunt. You hate the amused chuckle that leaves her when she realizes you’re not wearing any underwear and rubs between your slit with a finger. And yet, you only get wetter under her ministrations, brows twisting with the pleasure she’s giving you. Her digit withdraws from your slick pussy, glimmering with your arousal, and Kafka stares at you with lidded eyes as she brings it to her lips to suck it clean. The wet sound of her mouth sends a jolt straight to your core. You need her to fuck you so badly, you can barely think before grasping the leather strap under her collarbones to pull her forward.

Your lips meet in a messy, heated kiss, her salty taste on your tongue and your slick on hers. You stumble down the hallway, losing pieces of clothing along the way, until you reach the bedroom and Kafka firmly pushes you down onto the bed with a hand on your bare chest. Her mouth is locked with yours and you feel her touch on your hips, across your waist, over your ribcage where your heart drums for her. Her thumb applies pressure on your erect nipple, drawing a needy sigh from you. You sneak around her chest to unclasp her bra and she assists you in sliding it off her arms to discard it on the floor. Her cock presses against your thigh while she teases your nipple between two fingers. You know you’re ruining the sheets beneath you but you can’t bring yourself to care; you get more desperate with every minute she’s not buried inside you, unable to contain the quiet whimpers that escape you.

“Kafka…” you breathe out in a whine, aware of how much it turns her on to hear her name out your lips. Her cock throbs on your thigh at the sound.

She plants kisses down your jaw and pinches your nipple a couple of times, the feeling delicious yet not enough. Her hum rumbles through her chest, “Mmm… Pleading already?”

Aeons, she’s infuriating. You wrap a leg around her waist and her length rests on your slit, but you bite the flesh of your cheek to keep in a breathy moan, not wanting to inflate her ego more than it already is. Kafka reaches down to rub her tip between your lower lips, almost groaning as your slick mixes with the saliva from your tongue. Your lungs stutter and you suck in a breath, nails digging into the expanse of her back. Her head grazes your aching clit, you arch further into her to repeat the action. It feels so good you forget all about who you’re dealing with until she speaks up again.

Kafka’s licks a broad stripe up your neck, then her mouth brushes the skin of your jaw on its way to your earlobe, pressing a kiss just below.

“You’re dripping…” Though her voice is close to your eardrums, you barely register the words she utters, lost in the pleasure of your clit sliding against the thick of her cock. “How much do you want this, mm?”

There’s a lick on the cartilage of your ear before she pulls away to look at you through the dull pink of her irises, eyelids heavy. The movement of her dick on your pussy comes to halt and it takes you losing that relieving friction to understand that she expects an answer.

“W-What?”

“Did you miss me this much?”

Your heel digs into her lower back to pull her closer, but her lips simply stretch into a knowing, teasing smile. She presses her tip against your twitching clit once, delighting in the flutter of her eyelashes and the beginnings of a needy moan that you refuse to let her hear.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but even you have to admit that your sentence lacks conviction or venom.

“Mm…” Kafka guides the tip of her cock to your gushing entrance and your next inhale gets caught in your throat. “Is it flattery if it’s true?”

“You w— Hah—!”

She pushes the head inside you, feeling you clench instinctively at the intrusion, and lets out a sigh of pleasure as your warm, tight cunt welcomes her cock. She watches a quiver go through your bottom lip and briefly bites her own. One hand digs into the plush of your love handle, the other sinks into the bedsheets next to your head. She slides another inch into you and your fingers tangle in her locks, tugging at the sensation of her length inside you, stretching you so well a breathless gasp spills from your mouth. Her smile is smug, pleased at your silence, and you swallow as you muster the strength to speak. Kafka leans closer, the tip of her nose against your cheek and her breath warming your skin. Slowly, she bottoms out completely and gives you a moment to adjust to the fullness. Something in the way her pants falter occasionally tells you that she needs that pause too. Her lips are on your jaw in a kiss way too soft, too gentle to be from her; her who means nothing to you aside from the pleasure she provides you.

“I missed you.”

You feel a buzzing sensation in your lower belly that has nothing to do with her cock nestled in your cunt. The words are murmured like a confession but you know they aren’t one, Kafka means to provoke you so that she can put you in your place, a game you’ve played since the day you met. You can’t explain why it’s as if your heartstrings are plucked and manipulated like those of an instrument, its melody disorganized and disharmonious. You don’t understand the sudden irritation that mixes with your arousal, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tug at her hair and her head follows the movement backwards, lips parting.

“I hate you,” you manage to utter through gritted teeth, and you’re frustrated to find that there’s no truth in what you’ve said.

Kafka’s growing grin turns mocking. “Aww. But you’re sucking me in…”

To prove her point, she withdraws from you just to thrust back in, her tip hitting that sensitive spot inside you. Her length rubs your walls with every thrust of her hips, rendering you speechless aside from the quiet whimpers that fall from your tongue, and your anger fades away, replaced by the desperate need to come. Your fingers messily swipe at your clit and your nails paint crescent moons on her back from how tightly you’re holding on to her body. Despite her own need, Kafka is determined to pull more lovely sounds from you. Her pace is tantalizingly slow but harsh in the way you prefer as she fills you to the brim. You feel her all around you, her lips on your jaw, the pads of her fingers sinking into your flesh, her cock buried deep inside your fluttering cunt. Her low moans and short groans hit your ears in sinful sounds that only make you wetter. Her breasts are flushed to yours, following the rocking of her hips.

“Fuck, fuck—“ you babble breathily, lost in the pleasure, “more…”

You don’t register Kafka manhandling you with an arm around your waist so that you’re straddling her lap instead, only that the change in position allows her to drive deeper into you. You moan brokenly as she grabs your hips and guides you down onto her cock in one go. Your thighs tremble, aching, and your orgasm is imminent. Kafka groans into your shoulder, bouncing you on her dick, the taut coil in her belly begging to snap. Your slick trickles down her length and your wet pussy swallows her cock, you clench around her like you dread she’ll pull out before you can come. She uses a palm to apply pressure on your lower stomach, feeling the faint outline of her bulge inside you, and the sensation pushes you over the edge. You cream on her cock with a cry. Your head tilts back and Kafka leans away from your shoulder to gaze at your cum drenching her girth. She knows how sensitive you get after an orgasm, can feel you twitch against her with the aftershocks, but she can’t help jerking her hips upwards to fuck your cum back into your pussy. She wants to see her own cum merge with yours until you’re so full of her that you’re gushing.

“Kafka—!” You gasp out, fingers gripping her loose ponytail, “W-Wait…”

She shushes you with an insistent kiss. She’s close, guiding your hips up and down her throbbing cock. With a particularly harsh thrust, that familiar coil in her stomach finally breaks and her cum spills into you in hot, intense spurts against your inner walls. It’s too much for you to handle even as her thrusts stutter, yet a second orgasm builds inside you, quick and desperate; your body moves on its own accord, further stimulating you and drawing a long, drawn out moan out of you. Kafka’s lips are parted and you miss the sheen in her eyes as she stares up at you unashamedly riding her until you come around her dick a second time.

You’re both coming down from your high some time later, your eyes are shut and the pace of your rising chest slows down enough for you to take deep breaths. Kafka is a comforting presence beside you on the bed, and like you do with many things, you ignore the warmth that is born from your chest and spreads across your torso. A welcomed kind of exhaustion creeps up on you, almost pulling you into a dream, but you hear Kafka move next to you so you turn your head to look at her. She’s fixing her hair, putting back locks of magenta into her ponytail. She feels your gaze on her and meets your eyes with a small smile. There’s that twitch of your heart and fingertips again at the sight of the soft glow of her sweaty skin under your bedroom lights.

“You look exhausted,” her tone lacks its usual teasing edge but you’re too tired to notice, “I’ll use the shower and lock behind me with the spare key. You should sleep. I’ll message you tomorrow.”

You don’t say anything to that. You stare at the ceiling as the shower is turned on in the background.

Kafka doesn’t text the next day.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #hsr #hsr x reader #kafka x reader #kafka x you #hsr x you #hsr smut #kafka smut #dom!kafka

[anadiasmount]

aftermath bliss - jb blurb.

quick sum: your champions league winner taking it all in with you alongside.

masterlist | jude’s masterlist

you quite frankly had to pinch yourself many times throughout the night. to ensure if this was reality or just a dream. it seemed like a dream. not just for you but for your dear boyfriend as well.

the endless nights. endless games. endless trainings. endless happiness yet disappointments. despite it all, he made it. the bubble of proudness never left your chest. the moment from when he stepped onto the pitch, to now where he is now with the similar smile as a kid as he lifts the trophy into the air.

you genuinely could not believe it whatsoever. and all you wanted to do was tell him how incredibly proud you were of him. what he succeeded and made history on this very night. despite it all you let him have his moment. the dream he wish and promised himself as a kid. this was his moment and you didn’t dare for yourself or anyone to ruin it.

you and his mom spoke endlessly as you waited for jude. where she express just how equally happy she was, especially since she was his mother and it was another level of emotions. “my baby… he did it,” she said turning to you, tears bliming her waterline. you saw him approaching you “go and give him the warmest and tightest hug ever,” you encourage, watching the moment breakdown.

“you two as well!” you push jobe and his father towards him where they laugh.

once again this was their moment as a family and you respected that. you watched closely, hands interlocked and watching your boyfriends face twist from so many faces as he spoke quietly with his family. you had some of the wags approach you and take pictures, making small talk with them and reminiscing the whole evening.

“there he is!” you cheered as your boyfriend approached you, grabbing your face before leaning down and kissing you desperately. to show you how he felt in the moment. his lips molded with yours for a few seconds, making your tummy flutter with butterflies and excitement. jude pulled away, resting his forehead against yours as he stroked your cheek.

“walk with me.”

you didn’t say anything else. you followed as he led the way, helping you over the barrier as he tucked you in close to his side, your hand finding home around his back, stoking his spine lovingly. the two of you walk around the pitch thanking the last bit of fans and taking pictures since jude begged for them. wanting to share the moment with you.

the two of you sat on the pitch, jude’s hand helping him stay up and legs spread apart as you came between them, your back resting on his chest, feeling the cool metal that hanged around his neck. “i’ve dreamed of this as a kid y/n… and to win it here in my country? with you and my family supporting me? you have no idea what’s running through my head,” jude suddenly says grabbing his face, the shock and aftermath present still.

“i feel like it all went so fast! from birmingham, to germany, then boom, now i’m at madrid? it feels too good to be true,” jude confessed. you turned swiftly holding his face, his dear brown eyes and bright smile immediately softening and relaxing against your hold.

“look around jude, you wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for the dedication and overall achievements in the sport you’ve done. you’re here today because you put yourself through it. the hard work, sacrifices. i’m so incredibly proud of you jude,” you relish, jude scoffing a happy breath, tears wanting to run down his face. “i can’t express just how much i am. you know i always am, but this? this is your moment jude. you did it for the baby jude, you made and completed his wish to come true.”

so many times where he expressed as a kid what meaning this title would mean to him. and you with by saying that it would make it surreal for him. his eyes went everywhere, looking at you with pure adoration and love. the adrenaline and rush returning through his veins when you smiled for you, granting jude a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

no words needed to be said or exchanged. the moment itself was enough to speak actions over words. maybe it was still the shock present, or the fact that in this moment it was all said and done. “i love you jude,” you reminded him, grabbing one of his hands and placing a kiss against his knuckles, laughing at how you left a mark thanks to your lipstick.

“i love you more darling. have no idea what you mean to me, how thankful i am for you to be put into my life,” jude gulped deeply, closing his eyes when you giggled. “is it strange i don’t want to leave?” jude said after another couple of minutes where it was shared in either pure silence or tiny sentences. you looked around, the wembley stadium almost empty. “nope. wouldn’t blame you either,” you laugh.

“but you still have tomorrow where you will celebrate this beautiful trophy with the fans who also brought you here,” you point out watching jude nod, agreeing with you. “will you call me silly if i wear my hat?” jude pouted, grabbing your cheek once you laid your head back onto his chest, just below his shoulder, “when aren’t you being silly?” you retorted.

“you’re right,” jude hummed cocking his head to the side as he capture your lips in a soft kiss, lingering them there as every ounce of love was shared, feeling you smile against his lips. “are you gonna wear it?” you ask, playing with the medal, your champions league winner.

“im in england after all.”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣ #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

[arisewanekosuki]

TLH -Extra-: Love Potion! - Lisa (Feat. Aether/Diluc/Venti/Gorou x Fem!Reader)

-"Lisa.....it is possible to make a Love Potion?" The librarian took a sip of her tea and then smiled at you. -"Oh my....is the little cutie having feelings for someone?" After that, you heard some glass hitting of one another and a gasp -"Aether! Watch out!!" You looked behind Lisa to see Aether who almost dropped a new batch of potions and Paimon holding a bottle and scolding him for not being careful. After making sure they don't need your help, you look back at the librarian. -"It's not that I want to use it on someone... After making so many potions with Aether I just started to wonder if it's even possible to make Love Potion too." You tilted your head, wondering. Love Potions are a popular concept in fantasy stories. You saw the magic of the potions you made with your companion, so you couldn't stop wondering if it's possible to make one that will bring two people together in this world too. The purple witch closed her eyes, with a smile not leaving her face. -"Then I want to ask you... How would such a Love Potion work in your opinion?" You hummend. -"Something like, the person who will drink it will feel more relaxed around the other person? Or maybe the person can use potion on their skin and the smell will make other people attracted to them?" Lisa giggled. -"Oh my....are you planning to make all the people in the city fall in love with you?" -"Wha-!? N-no! ... Alright, the potion used on skin is a bad idea..." -"But I like your ideas... most people  would say that a Love Potion should make someone immediately fall in love with the first person they see. A potion like this is possible to make of course but it is morally wrong to use one like this." Lisa poured more tea to her and your cups. You thanked her and asked. -"Have you ever made one before?" -"Oh? Are you interested in my love life?" -"W-well..." You played with your fingers, Lisa laughed. -"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't but coming back to the subject... I won't mind for you to try making your own 'Love Potion', you can consider this as a small test from me. She was still smiling, but you felt a chill run down your spine. You gulped. -"Before you start you have to promise me that you will be the one testing the effects of your Love Potion, alright?" -"A-alright..." You nodded, maybe this wasn't a good idea to ask about it, but you won't lie, it's exciting to try to make such a new potion.

....

Aether watched you working on this new potion. He knows this is a bad idea and yet deep down he wishes for it to work even for a moment and have you shower him with affection and love. You promised Lisa that you will be the one testing it and Aether is there to make sure you won't be jumping on random people to kiss them or something. -"Are you sure about that?" the blond boy asked. You looked at him with a big smile. -"Of course! It's really fun! I used Zatyun Peaches, Marcotte, Dandelion, Glaze Lily... let's see..." You put the mixture into heart shaped glass. The color was pink mixed with purple. "Okay... let's try it!" You took a sip. -Oh! Is (Y/n) testing the potion now?" Paimon flew towards you, wanting to see how it would go. You licked your lips. -"So how are you feeling?" The little girl asked. -"Hm... normal." You shrugged. "The taste is a bit off though." -"So the first one failed? Don't worry (Y/n)! I'm sure the next one will work! ... (Y/n)? Why are you looking at Paimon like that?" -"..." You placed your hands on Paimon's cheeks and then started to pinch them. -"Uwaaa! Paimon!!! Your cheeks are so chubby! So cute!! Like a hamster!!" Paimon tried to run away from your grasp but you held her tight and started to hug her. Nuzzling your face into a little girl's head. -"Why are you so cute?! This should be illegal!!" -"Aaaa! Aether!! Help me!!!" But the boy didn't do anything. He stood there watching all of this with a pout. "Why couldn't this happen to me?" he thought. ... You sighed. Thankfully the potion worked only for 5 minutes. After drinking the potion Paimon started to look very cute in your eyes and you got the urge to hug and smooch her cheeks. -"This...wasn't the effect I was looking for..." -"Next time do that to Aether! Paimon felt like some toy!!" the little girl pouted still hiding behind the golden haired boy. -"I'm so sorry Paimon! I didn't expect to lose control like this!" Paimon only did small 'hmph' and went to gather more flowers. -”I have to buy Paimon some Sweet Madame later…” you scratched your head, looking at an angry, little girl flying over the garden. “Okay, let’s go back to making potions!” Aether watched you putting ingredients into the pot. You look so cute when you concentrate on something, he really wanted to leave a kiss on your cheek now. And maybe he will be able to, if the potion works of course. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t realize that you finished your second one. -”Oh! Master Diluc! Welcome back!” Paimon shouted. Aether looked over where the red haired male stood. He wondered if there was some problem with the batch they sent to Dawn Winery, so he went to ask Diluc about that. -”Welcome back, was there any problem with potions?” -”No, I wanted to commission you to make another one with different effect-” -”Diluc!!! Welcome!!!” You jumped on the red haired man, holding on to him tightly. Both guys were surprised. Diluc didn’t know what to do, after you jumped at him, he stopped moving. “Ah I missed you so much! My heart is in pain without you!” You nuzzled your head into his chest. -”(Y/n)! Let Master Diluc go! We are sorry! (Y/n) was trying to make Lo- testing new potions, so she ends up behaving like this! Aether don’t just stare! Help Paimon!!!” The white haired girl shouted at Traveler who was standing in place, too shocked that again your affection was given to another person. And the worst part is that it is given to another guy! You held tightly to the young Master of Dawn Winery. -”No! I won’t let go! Diluc is so warm! I want to stay with him! Oh? I knew it! You feel the same, right? Your face is so red! Hehe~” You giggled, seeing the red cheeks of Diluc. He tried to cover his face with one hand and turn his head away from you, but with your hold on him it was hard. -”That’s it!” Paimon shouted and then started to tickle you, hoping it would make you let go of Diluc.  And it worked, even too well. You tried to run away from Paimon but you ended up falling on the ground with the little girl not showing any mercy. 

When Paimon stopped tickling you, you needed some time to take your breath. -”Are you alright?” Aether that was crouching by your side, asked. -”Ha…ha…y-yeah… I’m better now…” Aether held his hand for you to help you get up from the ground. “Thanks!” You smiled and then looked at the red haired man. “I’m sorry Diluc for that. The potion I was working on didn’t go well as it seems. Ah! I have to write everything down!” And you ran off to the table where you are making potions. Aether sighed. “Next time I have to stay close to her no matter what.” He thought. Meanwhile Diluc finally calmed his fast beating heart down. He coughed into his hand. -”It seems you both are busy… I’ll come another time.” -”Wa! But Master Diluc! We can still take your order!! Oi!” Paimon shouted but Diluc already left. Right now he wished he had Cryo vision to cool down his red cheeks. 

… -”Done! The third one should be a success!” You held up the potion to show to Aether and Paimon. The little girl already hid behind the Traveler. -”How does this potion work?” the boy finally asked. -”Hm? Oh! I want to make a potion that fills you with confidence! Like you know, if someone is planning to confess! If I lost control over my emotions and stuff that means I failed…Ok! Let’s try this one!” You drank it. -”So…how are you feeling?” Paimon asked, still being behind Aether. -”Normal… the taste is at least better!” And you three just stood there in silence for a moment. -”Weird. I don't feel different either…” -”Hello there my good friends!” you all heard a sing-song voice. -”Wa!! Tone-Deaf Bard!! Don’t scare Paimon like that!” the little girl pouted and crossed her arms. -”Ehe~!” -”Ugh Paimon have enough! Why are you even here?!” Venti make sad face -”Aw, I just wanted to check what my dear friends are up to…but it seems you don’t want this poor lil old me here…” The bard turned around “Ah how sad that I’m not welcome here…” he said with a sad tone. The truth is he wanted to tease Paimon a bit, but what he didn’t expect is that your arms would embrace his torso from behind. Your head on his shoulder. -”Don’t say that, Venti. You know we are always happy when you’re with us. I love hearing you sing or recite poems or play on your Lyre. And of course we love hanging out with you!” you said, your cheek pressing towards his one. It’s hard to surprise Venti, he is not moved when someone tries to charm him either. And yet there you are, making Anemo Archon’s heart beat speed. -“Oh? Is that so? So you won’t mind if I stay for awhile then?~” You turned him around and grabbed his cheeks. -“Of course we won’t! Stay as long as you want!” your thumbs started to do small circles on his cheeks. Venti was stunned because of such close contact.  “Did anyone said how pretty you are?” You continued while playing with one of his braids. But before the bard could say anything, someone took you away from him. -“It seems the potion works….but not in a way it should.” Said Aether, glaring at Anemo Archon while hugging you from behind. You looked surprised, but then smiled and pat the golden haired boy’s cheek. -“Aww, is someone jealous? Don’t worry Aether…you’re pretty too!” Paimon flew over Venti to explain your behavior.

… This time the effect of the potion lasted longer. You spend one hour complimenting the boys, holding their hands or caressing their cheeks. They didn’t complain, they decided to just bath in your affections. Even when the potion stopped working and you were apologizing for all those stuff you did, they were smiling saying “Don’t worry!” in their heads they wished the potion lasted longer. Venti had to go, he promised Diona to help find some more stuff for her new drink. But he didn’t mind to leave so soon, your attention towards him and touches brought him to such a good mood that even now he is coming up with new songs and poems. He hopes that you’ll listen to them later.

Meanwhile you were feeling burned out. None of the potions worked the way you wanted and you’re not sure what you are doing wrong. You were looking at your notes but feeling a bit frustrated you just closed the notebook and sighed. -“What’s wrong (Y/n)?” The boy asked who was sitting by your side. -“I.. I’m just angry I failed so many times… we did so many potions that I thought I can make something like this…” Aether patted your back. -“How about a small break? Maybe you’ll get an idea how to improve it after you relax a bit?” -“Yeah!” Paimon flew over with flowers in her hands “We didn’t eat anything in some hours!! Your belly is empty and this is why you can’t come up with anything!” You giggled. -“Alright, let’s go to eat then!” Paimon fly higher like she wanted to jump in the air shouting “Yay!!”. Your group decided to go to Good Hunter for a meal.

After filling your bellies with good food, you come back to working on the potion. -“Alright… this is my last attempt… if it won’t work then I give up.” You said to your companions and started working on the mixture.  You were writing something on your notebook, Aether is always curious what you write there but he can’t read it at all, even if he visited so many worlds he didn’t know your language (or maybe he doesn’t remember it anymore?). The connection between him and you helps you to understand and speak in Teyvat language but you can’t read Teyvat alphabet and people from here and him can’t read your alphabet. He is really wondering why this connection can help with speaking but not reading, there are many mysteries about it. -“I finished it!” you suddenly shouted, surprising Aether. “Okay…here we go!” and drank it immediately. “It tastes sweet…too sweet…ugh…”  you said, closing your eyes. -“Hey everyone!” Everyone turned toward Gorou who was approaching your little group. -“Gorou, wait! Don’t move--!” But before Aether could finish his sentence you ran towards the Watatsumi General. -“Hm?” Gorou stopped moving and looked at you. The both of you looked at each other without saying anything. “Is there a probl-“ -“Marry me!!” you shouted. Kneeling in front of him and holding his hand. -“WHAT?!” everyone shouted. Gorou's ears and tail were standing up. -“I know it’s sudden but Gorou! I want to spend the rest of my life with you!” You put his hand where your heart is. -“B-but (Y-Y/n) this is…this is too sudden!” he said but anyone who was behind him could see his tail start wagging. -“I know! But I don’t want to waste any more sec- uwah?! “ you were interrupted by Aether who tried to take you away from the cannie warrior. -“Sorry Gorou! Don’t take this seriously, she drank a weird potion and is…a bit crazy!!” said Paimon and then helped Aether to take you away. Gorou stood there stunned, his face was red. -“So…does it mean you and (Y/n) are married now?” Kirara asked, approaching him. -“Wha- N-no…” his ears fall. -“You look disappointed.” -“I’m not!” But yes, he is.

When you come to your senses you apologize, you’re so embarrassed that you proposed to someone. You think you won’t be able to look Gorou in the eyes for some time. This was a big failure and you gave up. When talking with Lisa, she said to not worry, even if the potions didn’t work how you wanted you still learned some things. You decided to take a small break from making potions and took a nap under the tree, while Aether continued to make potions that people commissioned. Lisa watched from her table and sighed. -“It’s a shame Razor wasn’t there…” then she chuckled “But oh well, at least I had some fun watching all of this~” and then she took a sip of her tea.

-Bonus- In Inazuma, the pink kitsune laughed loudly. -“Ah I wish I could see this with my own eyes~” said with a smile, trying to imagine the whole scenario. -“Paimon said it was because of potion…at first I thought (Y/n) was serious about that nya! -“Hmm… I think this gave me some ideas. Thank you Kirara for sharing about your trip with me.” Yae Miko eyes’ looked like a predator finding it’s another meal. -“A-ahaha! You’re welcome!” Kirara at this moment started wondering if it was really alright to tell Yae about her trip with Gorou to Mondstadt.

------ Thank you for reading till the end! And sorry for mistakes >.< You can guess I had the idea when I played the potion event but because I couldn't use my PC I had hard time to finish it in peace... But now I can use my PC again so I'll try finish other things! I'll post other short thing today or tomorrow that I started to write in that time without my PC. It may not be that great but I hope you'll still like it!

#Genshin Impact x Reader #Genshin x Reader #Traveler's little helper #Genshin Impact x You #Aether x Reader #Diluc x Reader #Venti x Reader #Gorou x Reader #Platonic Lisa #My stuff #Platonic Paimon

[lavouredior]

Sooo..

I read all of your fics (AMAZING) and in a Vox x bunny reader I saw that it said she got in trouble for talking to Alastor and uhmm…. You should so write the story of that happening 🤭🤭

i been hoping someone would request this !!

warnings: SMUT, 18+, oral ( m receiving ), bunny’s way of apologizing, punishment, spanking, female reader

Stay Away Bunny

“conejita.” you looked up to see valentino staring at you, in a surprisingly good mood. “i need you to do a favor for me and your little boyfriend okay’d it already.” you just looked up at him questionably.

“i need you to go to that stupid hotel and get my angel dust back okay?” you just nodded, you loved angel dust and were around him a lot when he was staying at the studio. “okay conejita i need him back before nighttime.”

you got up grabbing your stuffed animal from next to you before heading off to go find angel.

it didn’t take long for you to get overwhelmed by the sinners, there were so many staring at you. although maybe you should’ve been paying attention to where you were walking instead.

you walked into a taller demon, when you looked up he had a big smile on his face. “well if it isn’t the infamous vee bunny.” all you did was smile back at him, thinking the smile was him being nice instead of something he always had.

“where you headed little bunny?” he asked crouching down slightly to your height. “valentino wants me to go get angel dust and bring him back home.”

he just nodded, “oh and what a cute stuffed animal you have!” you giggled before holding your stuffy up to him. “she a bunny!” he nodded again “quite a cute bunny you have their dear.”

vox for one was not a fan of val making you his little errand bunny. but he allowed it because val promised he wouldn’t do anything mean to you for the rest of the year if you did it.

what he wasn’t an even more fan of is him looking at his cameras and seeing the radio demon with his little bunny.

vox was furious, immediately using his electricity to be by you guys. “bunny.” he said lowly getting your attention and causing you to run over to him. although when you lifted your arms up like usual for him to pick you up he didn’t.

“alastor. stay away from her. she doesn’t need to be roped into your problems.” alastor simply stood straight again then disappeared into the shadows.

vox walked back to the vee tower with you, doing nothing but holding your hand to make sure you didn’t wander off like you sometimes do. “go to your room, wait there. i’ll come get you when i’m ready.” you nodded heading off to your room

an hour had passed before vox walked into your room and sat on your bed causing you to sit up hoping you were gonna get your normal attention from your boyfriend.

he pat his thigh and you immediately went and sat on his lap. “bunny. no.” you just looked at him confused which caused him to roll his eyes before moving you so that you were laid across his legs.

“bunny i’m gonna need you to count okay?” you didn’t reply, confused about the entirety of what was going on before you felt the first smack. “one.”

that went on until you counted to thirty. then vox simply picked you up and laid you down on the bed before heading back to his office.

you knew he was mad. he used to tell you about alastor and rant but you didn’t know what alastor looked like and thought a friendly sinner was just talking to you!

that’s when you had the bright idea to go visit vox in his office. “bunny i’m not in the mood for you.” is all he said before returning to his paperwork.

you felt bad, whenever you got in trouble with vox ( which was rare ) you had your own way of making it up to him. you walked over to his desk then crawled under and placed yourself in between his legs.

first thing you did was rub ur chin against his thigh, a false security for vox as he just thought it was you doing your usual way of telling him you love him.

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to next start undoing his pants. “bunny.” he said sternly but at that point your mouth was halfway down his length with your eyes staring up at him.

he sighed, he wanted to be mad at you but it was hard when he knows you’re trying your best to make it up to him.

he put his hand on the back of your head and started guiding your head up and down, something he usually did for you when you decided you wanted to give him head

what he wasn’t expecting was you to close your mouth when he went to move your head back down and press a kiss to his tip.

he just looked down at you and smiled “my bunny gonna be a good girl now?” all you did in response was stick your tongue out and let him guide your head back down onto his length.

that went on for about ten minutes before he came in your mouth and then pulled you onto his lap. “show.” you stuck your tongue out. “good girl, now swallow.” you swallowed then stuck your tongue out again to show him proof.

“that’s my good girl.” he said before moving your body so that you laid your head against his chest.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x bunny!reader

[regular-gnome]

Absolutely /adore/ your art and overall take on the Demon Realm world + it's history and the Archivists. Especially coming from someone who adores speculative biology and trying to find logic/science in magic (I'm not sure how to word it so it makes sense - basically almost everything you are doing here)

Curious if you have any ideas on how the titans managed to inhabit the planet, because Papa Titan's hand managed to reach the atmosphere just from lying down. There's no way that planet was big enough for a bunch of titans to walk around comfortably.

Idk much about planetary stuff, but is there some way the planet may have changed? Maybe the Archivists did something?

Sorry this ask got kinda long, hope you have a lovely day doing little gnome things :}

glad you like them!:D

So, one of the gnome things is overanalyzing things and avoiding doing math, but here we are, you actually made me read my biophysics notes from 4 years ago. There are a few things to really focus on and think about, but I gotta preface this by saying I am very much not an expert on speculative biology xD I just have the internet and some books I am basing my theories on

Titans:

First the titans themselves. A while ago, I made an approximation of how large the Boiling Isles titan is and got that it would be around 27 km in height post-mortem. Buuut if the titan was this height during its life is another question because it would run into some biophysics issues

Issues like the atmospheric pressure. At ground level, it is 101.3 kPa, but at 27 km, it falls is 1.6 hPa (titan bless wolframalpha for counting this as exp funtions are the death of me). That is 63 times higher pressure on their legs than on their head! Blood circulation would be shot to the moon. The blood is liquid that in general transports gasses so travelling fron upper body parts to lower ones where there is diffrent dissoving of oxygen would end up in gas bubbles, which are NOT GREAT. Additionally, their ability to stand up or lie down quickly would be pretty much non-existant as that would be super fast change of pressure and more bubbles. But okay, lets say they are like some kind of abyss fishes and keep constant internal pressure.. that would still mean their hearts would need to be either massive or they would have multiple pumping mechanisms to handle their size (maybe like the single-chamber hearts in fish??) And the thing is we saw their heart, it was big but not THAT big so unless it was just one of many, maybe the last beating heart there might be diffrent explanation. And Im not gonna even go into how temperature changes every 100m around 0,6C, lets say their fur makes them warm and cozy and blue blood avoids freezing problems like some arctic critters

bringing those graphs up again cause they show the altitude change nicely

All of this to say the titans during life were probably smaller. They would still have been massive, but maybe not three times the size of mt Everest massive. So next thing to consider is their magic. Their powers are closely tied to life, healing and creation and so, the demons on the Boiling Isles are said to have originated from it and their evolution waas likely sped up a lot thanks to it. Next we saw size-changing spells affecting King in the carnival episode, so it's not a stretch to believe that all titans could be affected by this kind of spells, with the strength depending on the particular titan's magic. So anyway as the titan was activly dying, its magic could have desperately attempted to save it by rapidly generating more cells to repair its failing systems, ending up in expansion of all tissues and their overall size. (Maybe thats why the vains were so big and empty in the mines, you cant create more energy so maybe the magic going with simmilar concept expanded everything around but not made more of blood?) However, despite these efforts, the magic would ultimately fail to save them. When it reached a critical point, maybe after using up most of its magical energy, the process would stop or change focus. There are some fun grusome possiblities on how that might have went down but this is already pretty long

So in short, I think the titans during life were big but only got island sized after death, otherwise theyd have some wild biological mechanisms battling physics and them becomming bigger would explain where did most of the blood go after death. Not to mention how much food they would need

Planet:

Next the size of the planet. While we don't have many clues to determine whether it's bigger or smaller than Earth, one clue is Luz's lack of reaction to changing gravity after passing through the door. If the planet were larger (or denser I know), she would feel change in g-force, so like the feeling of being on a lift going up in case of bigger planet or down in case of smaller. If the diffrence was significant she would develop issues with circulatory system and fatigue. But thats not the case and I do not have the energy to calculate min change xD

So let's say the planet is Earth-sized. This is still a lot. We don't know if there are any continents on the planet or their sizes, but even if there were same like earth, the scale is immense. If the Boiling Isles were the size of New York (based on titan's height) or even larger, say the size of Hawaii, compared to the world map, that's tiny. If Earh is 510 100 000 km², while NYC covers 1213,3 km² to cover the same area, we'd need 420423 titans lied up neatly next to each other. And thats if they are isles sized their whole life. There can also be landmasses where they can lay on, oceans deep enough to cover bodies, they can be stacked.... I don't think the planet necessarily needs to be much larger to accommodate creatures of this size

TOH as a show:

One thing to remember while analyzing shots from the show is that we we will run into contradictions because it's a show, one that is not focused on speculative biology. While most elements are well-constructed, some details may show inconsistencies. For example, determining the direction of north on a titan becomes challenging when one shot shows the sun setting in one direction and later another. Finding the titan's height poses difficulties when one shot shows their arm reaching the atmosphere while another barely shows them reaching it while standing. But its not due to carelessness, its more about serving purpose of the shot, conveying the atmosphere. They both show the titans are giant, the view from above is beautiful and if they were more focused on keeping them some arbitrery size it might have taken away from it

And Im pretty sure that I'm wrong around a lot of aspects here, how it wasnt supposed to be interpreted like that or its more convoluted than I realize. Thats just my take on this. World we live in can seem small as we can only see a tiny part of it but Earth is so amazingly vast. It's larger than we can comprehend, and yet, it's nothing compared to the vastness of the universe. So, yeah, some of my thoughts on titans and the demon realms planet xD peace

#died during writitng this #i spend 6h on this i dont know why its already light outside #toh #the owl house #owl house #toh archivists #toh titans #toh papa titan #toh analysis #ask

[violet-bruises]

Baby Lay Your Head Down

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x OFC (SSA Sophie Carter)

Warnings: Established past relationship (kind of), mild suggestive language, mentions of grief, mentions of death and almost death, mentions of suppressing emotions, excessive longing, angst

Author's note: I've had ideas for Hotch swirling in my head for months years, and this is the first time I've managed to get anything down on paper. In my head, my OFC is a little more fleshed out, as is her relationship to Hotch, and their story is much larger. This is just a small blurb taken from a point in their story that was swirling in my mind recently. I hope it makes sense lol. ALSO! This is my very first time posting to tumblr, or publicly at all for that matter.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN AARON HOTCHNER AS A CHARACTER! ALL CREDIT TO THE CREATOR! (did i say it right?)

Word count: 2,474

Summary: Aaron is usually the first one in the office. Usually.

Once upon a time, Aaron loved mornings. In law school, he’d wake up while it was still dark, squeeze in an early run around campus, shower, and enjoy his coffee all before the sun ever began to show its soft colors. When he and Haley were newlyweds, he’d surprise her with breakfast in bed—which quickly grew cold as they entangled themselves in their straight from the registry sheets. And once Jack was born, Aaron would wake up just to hold him, rock him in the cushioned chair in his nursery before work. But soon, slowly and then all at once, his life grew darker. A thick shadow cast over his days, no matter how high the sun sat in the sky. He and Haley drifted apart. He’d wake many mornings to an empty apartment—no longer a home, much less a house. He spent his mornings in the confines of the BAU. And then Haley died, and Jack almost did; Aaron started sneaking into Jack’s room to watch him sleep just to reassure himself that his son was still here, alive and breathing.

But eventually, mornings became bearable, until they were even enjoyable again. The thick smog over his days lifted. He stopped going into the office early and started having small moments with Jack. Aaron got to enjoy his coffee again, squeeze in the occasional early run, and, for the first time ever, eat breakfast in bed, made for him. For the first time, Aaron’s small apartment felt like home; the soft colors of the sun were no match the vibrant warmth Sophie carted into his life. But clearly Aaron was cursed long ago to fulfill the same prophecy over and over again, because, just as he was finally happy again, truly and utterly, deeply and joyously, he managed to fuck that up, too.

So, once again, Aaron arrives early at the office now every morning. Some occasional mornings, he’s not the first one to wake the floor. On those mornings, he’s grateful—a pot of bitter hot coffee almost certain to be residing in the carafe, singing his name. Most mornings, however, Aaron arrives to a dark and empty bullpen, and he’ll trudge to the small kitchenette in the break room before doing anything else to start the coffee. While the coffee brews, Aaron will make his way to his office, setting down his briefcase and unloading the files on his desk. He’ll file away papers he’s finished with, creating a pile for JJ and Garcia to review. By this time, his coffee has dripped enough that he can pour himself a decent cup. Black. No cream or sugar when in the office, not that any amount could truly save the monstrosity. He’ll place the files on Garcia’s desk, then backtrack to JJ’s. Once he returns, he’ll sit at his desk, pouring over case files, old and new, as the sun rises outside and the city wakes and people begin to pour into the office, a trickle, then a flood.

The same routine for the past three months. Every morning. Everyday.

Except for today.

Today, when Aaron manages to pull himself to the seventh floor and into the BAU, he stops short. The usually quiet and dim office space is punctuated by a soft glow, right at its heart. As he approaches from the entrance, he expects someone to be occupying the lit desk, but its chair is empty. Scattered across the tabletop are case files. A file on the missing twin girls in Arizona from last week (paperwork the responsible unit chief in him is praying is finally done) is open on top, but more lie underneath. He can’t quite read the labels in the shadows that escape the desk lamp’s light. Aaron reaches his hand out to thumb through the papers.

“Oh!”

Aaron swivels to find Supervisory Special Agent Sophie Carter, sock-footed and grasping a massive cup of coffee, standing before him, clearly having just emerged from the break room. Aaron briefly, traitorously, wonders what the ratio of actual coffee to sugar to cream she’s decided on today.

“Good morning,” Aaron greets her, gruffly. He hasn’t spoken since waking up, really only just above a whisper when dropping Jack off at Jessica’s. His voice is rough with unuse. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning,” Sophie responds. She diverts eye contact and brushes just past Aaron to reach her desk chair. Aaron watches her. “And I work here.”

Aaron’s lips purse displeasingly. After a moment, Sophie glances up at him then sighs. “I, um, couldn’t really sleep. Figured I’d turn that into being a model employee and finally finish all of my paperwork.”

Aaron documents the subtle red tinge bloomed across her cheeks. Still avoiding his questioning and concerned gaze, she raises her coffee mug to her soft lips. I’m Down To Just 1 Cup A Day in big block letters written on the side. The mug is as big as his head.

“I wish you’d chosen that philosophy about ten years ago. Would’ve saved me a few headaches.”

Sophie finally meets his eyes again. Warm and dark, nearly midnight when cast away from the light on her desk. Aaron is reminded of the night skies that cover all of the small towns he’s seen; far enough from the city, awash with billions of tiny dots of light—stars that create impossibly beautiful and intricate patterns in the sky—the vastness could swallow him whole, and he’d welcome it with open arms.

“Ha ha,” she intones, but her eyes never lose their warmth. Aaron chuckles but doesn’t respond. Instead, he watches. Watches her shuffle through papers, write things down on a sticky note, tuck papers away in folders, pull more papers out. Finally, with tight shoulders, she turns to look up at him. “Can I help you?”

Aaron scans her face. “What are you doing here so early?”

She frowns. “I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”

Then, Sophie sighs, slumping back in her chair. Aaron knows she’s tired. But it’s not the discoloration under her eyes, or the heaviness of her lids that gives her away. It’s how quickly she caves to telling the truth. Too tired to be stubborn, Aaron muses. The fight and irritation drain from her in an instant. “I don’t know, Hotch. Genuinely, I really haven’t been sleeping well, promise. But. . . yeah, it’s been more than just a few sleepless nights.” She flops over, forehead resting on her folded arms. “I haven’t had insomnia like this since college.” Her words come out muffled and pitiful, wrought with exhaustion.

“How long has it been this bad?”

“Um, I guess. . . since the serial in Montana.”

“That was three months ago.”

She doesn’t answer; her head stays buried. Aaron frowns, though he pretty much has been since he realized it was her desk light on in the dark office. Since his discovery, the sun has risen a tiny bit beyond the brick of the building, the sky a cornflower blue. Aaron reckons it’s about 5:30—about an hour and a half before anyone starts arriving—two and a half before the bullpen is officially alive for the day (and three before Morgan manages his way in). Aaron’s noticed Sophie’s tiredness. Of course he has. He catches her blank stares and heavy lids easily. He would’ve said something by now, but her exhaustion had, remarkably, not yet affected her job. The minute duty calls, she springs into action, like she’s been a tightly coiled spring finally allowed to burst. But, it’s more than just that that holds Aaron back. Because that wasn’t part of their arrangement, was it? Because asking her if she’s been sleeping, or feeling well, or eating okay, or taking care of herself, or seeing anyone— those questions were off limits. Wasn’t that what they’d decided? The rules they’d laid down?

Aaron never really was good at following the rules.

“C’mon.”

Sophie lifted her head, eyes wide and round. “What?”

“C’mon,” Aaron repeated, holding his hand out for her to take. She looked between him and his outstretched palm, gaze wildly skeptical.

“Aaron. . . we talked—”

“You talked, I listened, and this—this isn’t about that. This is about ensuring all of my subordinates are in appropriate shape to adequately perform their duties.”

“Last time I checked, I perform my duties far better than adequately.”

“Sophie,” he pleads. It’s a mistake and he knows it, but she broke the rule first. She called him Aaron. Not Hotch, or Agent Hotchner. His resolve was weak enough as it was; her so easily tossing around his first name like that, when he hadn’t heard it from her in months, when he had grown so used to hearing it when she lay next to him, or, when she whispered it, breathlessly, under him. “Please just. . . humor me.”

Her icy look melted, trickling down her body as exhaustion quickly crept up on her. She didn’t take his hand, but she did stand, shuffling papers in folders and stacking them neatly on top of each other. Aaron waited patiently for her to finish tidying and wondered if he’d ever unlearn her. If he ever wanted to. Arranging papers and cleaning off the desk cleaner than he’d seen it since before it was hers—she was stalling to fully accept his offer, and he knows it’s a punishment, her not giving in. For whom, he’s not quite sure.

Finally, after ages, she turns to him. Her eyebrows raise.

Aaron simply turns on his heel, slightly tipping his head for her to follow. He leads them up the short staircase and as they cross the threshold into his office. Aaron places his briefcase down on his own desk before turning to the couch pressed against the opposite wall.

“Hotch—” So she did realize her mistake, “—really, I’m fine. This isn’t the first sleepless night and early morning I’ve had. I can manage on my own.”

Aaron doesn’t respond right away, busying himself with gathering blankets and pillows.

“Hotch.”

“I am very aware that you are perfectly capable of managing on your own. But, Soph,” Aaron can see the miniscule pinch in her brows. Small, but powerful in the painful way it tugs at him. He sighs. “Friends, right? Don’t friends. . . take care of each other?”

Aaron knows, knows all too well, that an argument boils on the tip of her tongue. But he also knows the heavy dangle of her limbs and the soft glaze of her eyes means she’s close to nearly collapsing. It’s not fair, what he’s doing. He knows that and yet. . .

He watches her study the makeshift bed he’s made for her. And then, “I suppose. . . Penelope would do the same for me, too.”

Aaron suppresses a smile. “She would.”

“She’d do more, actually. Penelope would have freshly baked cookies waiting for me, too.”

“That she would.”

“Penelope is a better friend than you are.”

Aaron hears the jest in her voice, but he doesn’t smile. “That she is,” he says, softly.

Finally, Sophie drags her feet to the couch. Without meeting his gaze, she climbs under the covers and settles in. She inhales deeply as her eyes flutter shut.

It should be studied, Aaron thinks, the mercurial rush of affection that overcomes him. He wishes he could control it. Tamper it down and bury it under the crushing weight of all the other emotions he has buried and ignored. He’s usually quite good at it, actually, with years of careful experience under his belt. Though maybe that’s the problem; he’s attempting to add to something already overflowing, and the erosion of it all has chipped his self-control down to nearly nothing.

Aaron’s surety is bone deep: he’s destined to love her until the day he dies. Even if she doesn’t want him to, even if she doesn’t love him. He’d use his dying breath to confess his overwhelming and all-consuming truth. His throat grows tight.

He’s about to turn on his heel, afraid of what he’ll do if he lingers any longer, when Sophie softly calls out to him.

“Thank you,” she tells him, her eyes opening to finally meet his again. Like an electric shock, the urge to touch her races through him. To caress her warm cheek in his palm, to cradle her face and pull it closer to his own, to press his lips to hers. Aaron feels his fingers twitch under his thinning restraint.

He allows his lips to curve in a faint smile. “Of course,” he whispers.

Aaron finally retreats. With his back to her, he swears he can feel Sophie watching him, but when he turns back as he reaches his desk, Sophie has flipped onto her side, her back facing him. It’s for the best, Aaron reminds himself. If he’d caught her eye again, the ghost of his resolve would haunt his office forever.

As the hours ticked on, the BAU bullpen slowly comes back to life. Just as eight o’clock slips by and the trickling morning light catches the ends of Sophie’s hair ablaze, a knock sounds on his door. Before Aaron gets a chance to stand and answer, the door opens and Garcia swiftly steps in.

“Good morning, sir! I sent over the background profiles you requested from the Jefferson City case—”

“Thank you, Garcia. I—”

“Also, I got that police chief in Wichita to finally send over the files on that cold case Rossi needed—”

“Garcia—”

“You wouldn’t believe the sweet talking I had to do, I mean, Morgan level—”

“Garcia!” Aaron couldn’t resist glancing at Sophie, still fast asleep.

Unfortunately, Garcia caught his slip, and she followed his gaze.

“Oh!”

Garcia looked between Aaron and Sophie, once. Then twice.

“Oh, sir,” she started, much softer than when she’d entered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize!” Garcia began to back out of his office. “See! I saw her desk light on but I hadn’t seen her since I got in. I thought maybe she just forgot to turn it off, ya know, but then she didn’t respond to my text! Which I get now why, you know, given that she’s, you know—”

“Garcia.” She stopped at the entry way. “Let’s just— please don’t—”

She nodded rapidly and mimicked zipping her lips shut, locking them, and throwing away the key. “Of course, sir.”

Just before she closed the door, Garcia poked her head back in.

“Oh! Also, I brought leftover cookies I baked for the counseling center. They’re in the kitchen!” And the door clicked shut behind her.

“See,” Sophie mumbled, voice muffled by the pillows. “Told you.”

Aaron laughs. Maybe these new early mornings weren’t so bad after all.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x ofc #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds #Spotify

[ariaste]

Did you have to do a lot of nautical research for this book? What was the weirdest thing you had to learn?

Actually I did almost NO nautical research for RUNNING CLOSE TO THE WIND! This was for two reasons:

1. I grew up sailing on a boat around the Bahamas until I was 10, so a lot of the Vibes of what it's like to sail and the setting descriptions are drawn straight from personal experience! There's a line about bougainvillea bushes growing up some of the houses in Scuttle Cove, descriptions of goats wandering around and eating the scrubby grass on the hillsides, the smell of the sea, the fact that seagulls are rats of the sky -- all of that is direct experience. Also, the name of the pirate ship, The Running Sun, is taken directly from another childhood memory -- I used to hang my head over the side and look at the reflection of the sun flashing in the water and watch it "keeping up" with the boat as we were sailing, and I used to pretend that it was racing alongside us :D The running sun! (Looking at the sun's reflection was probably a bad idea and might explain why my eyes are a bit fucked up now as an adult. Don't do that, kids.)

2. The main character whose POV we're in doesn't know shit about boats (or at least likes to pretend that he doesn't -- he doesn't like to have too many things in his head, he likes it to be really clean and uncluttered in there, he's a minimalist. Head Empty No Thoughts is a lifestyle choice for him). I HAD started to research things like what the different parts of a Big Tall Ship are called, but then I realized that being in Avra's point of view meant that I could get away with calling the yardarms the "sticky-outy bits". So the only actual research I had to do was things like "how long does it take a tall ship to tack" (like 5-20 minutes depending on how good they are) and the names of all the different sails when other characters need to talk about them. (The only sail that Avra remembers the name of is the spanker, because it makes him giggle)

(RUNNING CLOSE TO THE WIND comes out in ten days on June 11th! It's a comedic fantasy novel about queer pirates stealing and trying to find a buyer for the most valuable secret in the world and fighting back against oppressive institutional powers! You can read a review of it here and the first chapter of it here, and you can preorder it here.)

#alexandra rowland #running close to the wind #books #comedy #booklr #sailing

[akwolfgrl]

I'm a great fuck but better lover

Zoro had no idea what to do. Sanji wanted to have a mini date night, and he couldn't show up empty-handed. He ducked as Nami swung her staff at his head. Usopp had asked them to spar for a bit so he could observe how she moved. Something about improving her weapon. Cook was busy hiding in the galley, pretending that this wasn't happening. Luffy was watching them sitting cross-legged by the mast sucking on the first attempt at meat candy. Mr. Noodles preached on his shoulder like a parrot.

“Curls wants to have a mini date! What do I do!?” Zoro asked, swinging a sheathed Wado at the witch. “Romance is fucking difficult,” He wasn't going to back down though.

“Really? It's obvious you shower and wear that green button-up, duh,” Nami counted his sword with her staff.

“That's not what I meant! I can't show up empty-handed! Last time, I had roses in hand!” Zoro grumbled in frustration. “You're the one who said I should give gifts! But in case you hadn't noticed were in the middle of the sea,”

“What even happened to those?” Nami asked, stepping back from his sword.

“He turned them into jam, he had it in the morning with his tea,” Zoro honestly had no idea how he did it but he was glad that they had brought his cook joy in more than one way.

“I suppose you have a point. A fish wouldn't really do it since well. Usopp catches the most fish,”

“Umm guys? I think I have an idea. Give me like two seconds,” Usopp said from where he was sitting on the steps. He took off running towards the boys' bunk room.

“Why does Zoro have to shower?” Luffy asked. “He already did this week!” Luffy chimed in, Zoro was rather inclined to agree. A dip in the sea was enough to wash the sweat away, and a shower once a week was all he really needed.

“Idiot! Sanji, like myself, enjoys being clean, Zoro washing shows Sanji that he's putting in effort to make this work,” Nami explained, clearly annoyed with them going by the way she was huffing and rolling her eyes. “Honestly it wouldn't kill you to be clean,”

“Found it!” Usopp came stumbling up with a thick book in hand. “I bought it by mistake in Loguetown, tried a few but didn't care for it, you could make him an origami flower! The book said tulips were easy,” Usopp handed Zoro the book.

“I know how to make origami,” He had tried to fold a thousand cranes, and there was an old saying about folding a thousand cranes and being granted a wish. But when living with a bunch of other boys, it was inevitable that they would end up step on, sat on, crushed, and thrown away. The many stray cats had taken to batting them around, so Zoro eventually gave up when Koushirou told him that it was time for him to move on. “The flower is a good idea,” He flipped through the book, looking for the tulip. Luffy, at some point, got up and was also looking therw the book.

“Ooo use the one that looks like waves! Sanji likes water!” Luffy pointed to a blue paper that indeed did look like waves.

“Wow Luffy who knew you had good taste,” Nami teased their captain.

“Of course I got good taste!” Luffy laughed. “I picked all of you to be my crew!”

#one piece #fanfic #sanji #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #zoro #zoro x sanji #zosan #straw hat luffy #monkey d. luffy #cat burglar nami #nami #god usopp #usopp

[betweenbreaths]

So, can I request number 14 or number 17 with Rafayel? Whichever sparks your interest. I'm not asking for both, btw! 😭 Just can't choose between them. Thank you :)

A/N: Hi Anon! I went with number 17 ("Suck on my fingers") for this one. Gotta love 'em fish sticks~ Hope you enjoy!

Rating: M

Prompt list

++++++++

You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious.

Rafayel's hands have always been attractive to you. Not that the rest of him isn't already drop-dead gorgeous (you can already hear his dramatic complaints in your head), but his hands are particularly beautiful somehow. It could be that you've spent an unhealthy amount of time staring at him while he paints (while on duty as his bodyguard, of course), eyes zooming in onto his long, slender fingers wrapped around his paintbrushes. You'll trace the contours of his knuckles, the veins in protruding from his skin, wondering how it would feel like to the touch.

Despite disliking physical contact, every now and then you'll have the chance to hold his hand, whether it's to forcibly drag him out of his studio to attend an event or to pull him aside to safety when you sense that he's in danger. Then there are instances when Rafayel just asks to hold your hand because "it's cold" when it's really not, and you get to feel the warmth of his palm seeping into yours and spreading to your cheeks.

Soooo yes. You might have a little crush on your employer.

It wasn't at all part of the plan originally. You had gotten closer to him only because you needed him to cooperate and give you the name of the suppliers that sold him that peculiar red coral stone; it was purely for work; for the safety of Linkon City.

Which meant that accompanying him on day trips to various scenic locations in search of inspiration for his next masterpiece, fetching him late-night snacks for his sudden cravings and accompanying him as his bodyguard to the many events he'd attend, was all for the greater good.

But now, you're not so sure that even this can be justified as part of your job.

"Suck on my fingers."

Yeah, there's no way you're including this in your work report.

Rafayel has you cornered on the edge of the couch in his studio, one hand on your lower back while you lean as far back as you can against the soft cushions, and his other hand raised so that his index and middle fingers are pressed to your lips.

You're not sure what to make of this. Just five minutes ago you had been celebrating your win at arm wrestling and Rafayel had complained about his fingers hurting. As always, he rejected your offer to take him to the hospital, and insisted that you administer emergency first-aid before his hand became unusable and he was forced to retire from his job.

And apparently, Rafayel's idea of first-aid measures is sucking on his fingers.

You push his hand away, freeing your lips to speak.

"That's not how first-aid works," you tell him with a pointed glare to mask how flustered you're getting, but he's quick to grab your chin between his thumb and index finger, trapping you in place before you can run.

"But when children get hurt, don't you humans always 'kiss it better'?" There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he smirks at you.

"That's not the same as sucking, is it?"

"And the injury to my fingers is far graver than a typical knee-scrape for a human child."

"The grip you have on my chin suggests your hand is perfectly fine, Rafayel."

The veteran actor's grip on you loosens right on cue, and he feigns a pained expression.

"What a barbaric city we live in. I guess deepspace hunters are in the habit of wounding innocent civilians and leaving them to die."

Rafayel continues to ramble on, and his words fade into the background as you consider your next move here. There's really no winning this man-child, and your only way out of this is to beat him at his own game.

"Fine."

"—Thomas will never let you hear the end of— Wait, what?"

"I said, 'fine'," you repeat, before removing Rafayel's hand on your chin and uncurling his fingers, much to his visible bewilderment. He starts to panic when you open your mouth, bringing his hand closer and closer. He watches without uttering a word as your tongue darts out, licking up the length of his index finger before enveloping it with your lips, teeth grazing his skin.

Your eyes don't leave his face, and you watch with some satisfaction as his eyes seem to darken and his ears begin to turn bright red.

Without warning, Rafayel withdraws his hand.

"H-Hey, I was just kidding. Since when did you take me so seriously?"

"Since you claimed you were gravely injured, I figured I should take you seriously."

Rafayel is momentarily at a loss for words, and he pauses to search your eyes, perhaps to see if you're actually mad at him for taking his joke too far.

"Besides," you add, "you seemed to like it."

You're not sure where the courage to utter such provocative words are coming from, but the expression on the usually chatty artist's face is priceless.

Rafayel's lips are parted, but no sound is coming out. His dumbfounded state continues for a few more seconds that feel longer than they should, until he finally asks a question in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"And you... Did you like that too?"

He already knows the answer; it's not like you're making much of an effort to hide how turned on you are at this point, not with his body pressed against yours and your breaths growing shallower by the second.

Your hand finds his, and raise his fingers to your lips once more. His fingers are long, slender, beautiful...

And they taste so good.

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to try again to be sure."

#Anonymous #asks #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace #lds #lds rafayel #rafayel fanfiction #rafayel fanfic #my writing

[totallyunidentified]

Auntie Omega

A/n This is dedicated to my best friend who gave me this idea and let me run with it.

Omega lives to see the fall of the Empire and the rise of the First Order. She joins Leia and helps train pilots for the resistance. 

This is a part one of what I’m hoping to make a longer series

I hope you enjoy!!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Leia, I'm just about done.”

Omega looks at her old friend who she had been fighting alongside since the early days of the Rebellion. In the years between the Empire’s fall and the first order’s rise the two had always been friends. Wrinkles had started to show on her face as much as they did on her own.Growing up and old together. Leia had accompanied Omega to visit Pabu many times, and was with Omega when she returned home the three times when it was the hardest. She had held her as she cried and reminded her that, though her brothers were gone, she was not alone. She would always have her fellow Rebels and she’d always have Leia.

“I don’t know why you would think that, You know as well as I do these pilots aren’t gonna train themselves. I need you here, Mega.”

“I know, I know,” Omega chuckles. “I just want to retire to Pabu, like my brothers did. I’ve had twice as many years as they got, I want to be able to put fresh flowers on their markers and watch Batcher’s great grand pups play on the beach. Wrecker’s kids aren’t getting any younger, I want to see them grow.”

They’d had this conversation before, sitting at this very briefing table. Omega felt done. The First Order was relentless and she didn’t want to lose any more people she loved. She fiddles with the necklace around her neck as Leia speaks.

“How ‘bout this? I’ve got this one kid — huge pain in my ass,you’ll love him — he needs training. He’s already good but you can make him great.”

“You are trying to appeal to my ego,”

“Is it working?”

“….yes,” Omega grumbles as Leia laughs

“Listen Megs, this kid is crazy. You were trained by crazy.”

“Hey!”

“You said that yourself! Crazy knows crazy so I need you to train him. You’ll like him, I promise. You’ve trained all my best pilots. Who was that last girl? Hillary? Holland? Oh, Holly! That’s it. You made her one of our best. She’s just about as good as Luke was, you know.”

Omega sighs, leaning more onto the table.

“Fine. But if he's a little shit then you owe me dinner.”

“Add it to my tab,” Leia laughs and stands up, motioning for Omega to follow her. They walk out of the briefing room and down the hall to the hangar, passing many who either greet or salute them as they pass. Both women smile and salute in return. Everyone on base had almost grown up with Aunt Omega and General Leia. If they hadn’t then they were surprised to find that Omega would adopt them eventually.

If Omega didn’t personally adopt you then she found you others who would be your family. She knew what it felt like to be isolated while surrounded by people. If she saw you sitting by yourself then she made sure to send someone else over and would make you start talking to each other. Omega always had an uncanny ability to bring people together exactly how they needed it.

As they walk into the hangar they squint as the bright sun comes through the open hangar doors.They hear it before they see it. Two figures, one man and one woman, both human,both in flight suits. Pilots. The space between them narrows as their voices get louder.

“You can’t shut off the karking engine mid-flight!” the woman yells up at the man in front of her.

“With enough altitude and, oh I dunno, life and death, then yes! I can!” the man yells back.

The pair is nearly nose-to-nose by the time Omega steps in.

“You two! Holly, you’ve got a cooler head than this.Tell me what's going on.”

“This nerfherder thinks that shutting the engines off would make for an effective escape strategy.”

“In the sky, or out in space?”

“In the sky, Aunt Mega. He’s got a kriffing death wish.”

Omega looks at the young man,standing there with his arms crossed and chest heaving. He’s ready for a fight.

“Well? In the sky would you turn your engine off?”

“He said tha—”

Omega holds up her hand, quietening Holly immediately.

“No. I want to hear this from him. It is his idea after all. So Mr. Trouble-maker…”

“Poe.”

“Gesundheit. Mr. Trouble-maker, care to explain why you think killing your engines in the middle of a battle would help you in any way?” Omega questions.

Poe thinks over his answer before beginning what she knew would be a long-winded speech bloated with chest-puffing and exaggeration. She knew both well.

“Well, as I was saying to my lovely acquaintance — Holly, was it —,if you’re skilled enough, a pilot could kill your engines only halfway and dropped behind enemy fighters and become the one doing the chasing.”

He finishes his explanation with a nod to a glowering Holly and turns his gaze back to the woman in front of him.

Poe had heard of the “Aunt Omega” of base camp. In her eyes there was a sparkle that spoke of wisdom, kindness, and love. Her hair is white as Hoth, held back by a red bandana,her face covered in laugh-lines that were evidence of a good life full of happiness. Everyone said that she was kind, loving, caring, and more. They also said she was hard-headed, extremely quick, and took no bullshit from anyone.

“Your response, Holly?” Omega turns to Holly looking to create a discussion instead of an argument.

“I said bullshit because your engines wouldn’t be able to turn off and then back on quickly enough to escape.”

“Half off,” Poe snaps back.

“Oh yeah well I’m gonna cut half your—“

Holly isn’t able to finish her sentence before Omega stops her once again.

“Thrusters.”

“Pardon?” Poe looks at Omega incredulously

“Not the engine but the thrusters. You have to lower the thrusters and pull back if you even hope to dream of finishing that tight of a turn.Technically, it could be possible if you lowered your thrusters to slow down already but kept the engines primed when you shut them off. And then turned them back on and immediately throttled all the way up.” Omega says, rubbing her chin in thought, though she already knows the answer. Her brother had taught her this years ago.

Poe turns to Holly and very maturely sticks his tongue out. She flips him off in return.

“All right, all right. Since you two have decided to be as immature as possible, why don't you test this out?”

“Mega, I don't know if that's a good idea,” Leia tries to start before Omega shoots her a trust me look.

“Those two x-wings have your names on them. Troublemaker, you get to test your theory and if you’re wrong, Holly you get to take out your frustrations in a game of tag,”

“Tag? What are we, twelve?”

“Did you play tag in x-wings at twelve years old?”

“Wouldn't you like to know, flyboy”

“Real mature.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Leia and Omega watch the two bicker before looking at each other and laughing, grinning at the next generation of youngsters who would be taking their places.

“If you two are done, I want to see what you’re made of. Go.”

The pilots shoot one last glare at each other before racing to their x-wings,throwing on their helmets, each one trying to beat the other to their ship. They carefully race through their pre-flight checks obviously safety is a large concern when playing tag with an X-wing.

“I’ll give you a couple seconds head start, Troublemaker.” Holly can be heard throughout the hangar, Omega turns and sees that there is a group starting to form around a radio connected to the com systems.

“The name’s Poe.”

“Is it?”

“Fifty credits the new kid eats it, Holly’s got this,” one mechanic says as he and another pull up crates for the growing crowd to sit on.

As Holly takes off she makes eye contact with Omega, giving her a two fingered salute.

“See? Crazy needs crazy,” Leia comments as they turn their attention to Poe who had been doing some tricks to warm up.

“You said he could fly, what is it that he's doing now? That's just fancy flippage and twirling.”

“Meh, he's got the foundation. I need you to help build the rest.”

They both practice for several minutes, getting comfortable in their fighters before hearing Omega’s voice through the speakers.

“Alright, I want a nice clean game. The guns are set to simulation so you can shoot as normal without messing up those beautiful paint jobs. Three tags and you're out. Got it?”

“Affirmative Auntie.”

Silence…

“Troublemaker?”

“It's not— ugh! Nevermind, yeah got it,”

The two fighters swing away from each other. The crowd on the ground cheers as Holly spins and hits the accelerator immediately closing in on Poe,

“Tag! You’re it!” Her joyous shout can be heard over the coms. The responding muttered string of curses isn't heard as clearly over the audience’s cheers for their friend.

“That’s one for Holly! Troublemaker, I’m still waiting to see that fancy trick of yours.”

The two fighters round back at each other, playing a game of chicken before they pull away and turn in opposite directions. This time it’s Poe chasing Holly as they zoom through the sky. She manages to evade him for a while as the sun gets lower and lower.

Leia and Omega sit by the radio as more people drop off, leaving to go finish work or rest in their quarters. Finally, after ages of cat and mouse, Holly makes a mistake and Poe lands a tag on her.

“Ha! Tag! How's that feel?

Holly scoffs in frustration as they return to the starting points.

“Alright kids this is taking a while. Next point wins, free for all. Go!”

At first Holly has the upper hand and chases Poe across the sky. Both pilots maneuver their fighters through tight turns and large loops, trying to get the other in their sight.

Eventually Poe gets tired of being chased. It’s time to test his theory.

He makes sure Holly is still behind him before opening a private com channel to her.

“Ready for that special move?”

“Never gonna work, I’m gonna have to fish you out of the jungle after this,” she says confidently as she narrows in on him.

Poe grins under his helmet as he locks the brakes slamming the throttle back, cutting the thrusters off, killing the engine, and spinning around full force before tagging Holly and slamming the thrusters back on and shooting right past her. Spinning around 180 degrees and tagging her before she can even turn her head.

Holly’s frustrated yell can be heard as Poe whoops in celebration.

“Great flying kids, come back in for a landing. We need to talk,” Omega says into the coms.

“That's totally not the scariest phrase in the galaxy.”

“I’m sure you hear it a lot, Troublemaker,.”

“You know what, I'm gonna come up with a name for you and you are not gonna like it.”

“I'd love to see you try.”

The two continue to bicker as they come in for a landing, parking side by side.

Holly jumps out of the x-wing and holds her helmet to her side. She walks towards the two older women still sitting on crates, now the only spectators left.

“Ho-ly shit,” is all she can say as she shakes her hair out and joins Omega and Leia as the sun starts to envelope the room in a golden glow.

“I have to admit Aunt Mega, he is pretty good.You could make him great though,” Holly admits, grinning and giving Omega a hug.

“Not you too! Leia put you up to this didn't she?” Omega realizes she walked straight into a trap as Leia and Holly exchange a knowing look.

“Who, me? Conspire with our favorite General to make sure my Auntie stays here for a little while longer? I would never.” Holly keeps her eyes wide and pouty for Omega who can't help but laugh.

“You little shit, you lost on purpose didn't you?” Omega shakes her head as Poe lands and hops out of his own X-wing. He saunters over, helmet on his hip, winking at Holly as he joins the group.

“Seeing as I won and my nerfherder theory was correct, what’s my prize?”

Holly looks from the General to Poe smirking.

“Lessons with the best.”

“If the lessons are with you, Pretty girl I will never be late to class.”

“Pretty Girl. That's all you got?”

“You don't like it? How about—smart girl?”

“Funny, the lessons are with Auntie Mega. She’s the best around here.” Holly informs Poe who spins to look at a smug Omega who simply waves at him. Holly waves goodbye to the small group as she runs to escape Omega’s glare.

“Alright then, what kind of lessons are we having? You gonna teach me any more tricks? I like that spin, you got a name for it?” Poe questions Omega, rapid fire.

“First you are gonna go get cleaned up, then you are gonna meet me up on that cliff in 15 minutes. I need to destress after dealing with you children.”

With these words Omega turns headed towards the end of the hangar, ready to go to her special place. Her shadow long behind her as the sun continues its descent into the horizon.

#the bad batch #star wars #bad batch #omega #tbb #poe dameron #leia organa #Auntie Mega #Omega adopts an entire rebel base #I don’t really know much about this time in star wars but bear with me

[frogs00]

Yellow roses

Summary: Janis has a bad time. It’s hard to explain.

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT- Angst, mention of cutting, use of marijuana, crying, Regina gets hit by a bus, mentions of shit home-life! Swearing! Read at your own risk.

Pairings: Janis has a date to the dance, Janis x Regina (Not really)

Janis heard a bus screeched past her along with a large thud. Her eyes flashed. Thousands of thoughts passed her mind.

Who was behind me last? Cady? Shit! It was Cady!

She swung around, and saw Cady safe, she also heard screaming, and yelling and….

Regina was hit.

Her mouth fell open and she felt her stomach drop. 

She had been praying for Regina’s downfall for years, years of trauma. Years of cutting, crying, hating. Years wondering what she could do to end her.  Because her best friend, her lifeline, the only thing that was ever hers, betrayed her. 

But not like this, never like this. She didn’t want Regina to die, she couldn’t die.

Janis suddenly felt her previously stapled to the ground legs break into a run. Clawing her way through the mass of people, she heard ambulances blaring in the far distance.

“Regina! Gina!” She basically screamed and she pushed through the crowd, she felt tears spring to her eyes.

She was almost there, she saw her, she was laying on the ground, she saw blood…

She felt someone grab her by her waist and haul her back, she thrashed in their arms.

“I need to get to her, she can’t die!” She yelled, but it was no use, “That bitch can’t die!” 

“Janis!” Damian’s voice rang in her mind. Somewhere distant, she realized she was now clutching her chest, holding her breath.

“Janis!��� it yelled again.

Focus on the voice.

“Janis!” she went limp in their arms, realizing now it was Damian.

“Janis! Janis, breath!” She exhaled, her eyes glued to the mass that was disappearing among many, many people.

The Ambulance cut through the now dispersing crowd like butter, and she felt herself being dragged out of the way. Paramedics filed out of it instantly.

Thin tears ran down her face, she felt weak, she felt hopeless, she felt numb.

“Janis,” Damian said again, sitting her down on the nearby grass, now holding her face, “Janis are you there?”

She wasn’t, she hadn’t been for awhile, she was blinded by this idea of revenge and now…

“This is my fault.” she croaked. Damian shook his head and brought her into a hug, which she didn’t return. She was frozen.

“It’s not your fault,” she distantly heard his voice whisper, “Regina will be fine.”

It’s my fault.

—

Janis straightened the tie on her suit. She looked good. She looked amazing. Did she feel amazing? Sort of. 

Regina was alive. Thank some deity of some sort for that. 

She was not to blame for her 15 second death. Not to blame for the incident at all. When she thought that during her very public breakdown, she was delirious and grieving… Totally.

(The bags under her eyes said otherwise.)

She had comforted herself with that idea for weeks. She had a beautiful date, and was going to forget it all for the night. The bus-incident, Cady, everything.

She didn’t even want to see Cady, and she wouldn’t see Regina, since she most likely wasn’t going to the dance.

Still, she visited Regina at the hospital for closure, and brought her her favorite flowers. Yellow roses. They were a symbol of friendship. Although, she didn’t think that’s why she liked them so much.

Friendship.

She didn’t want that from Regina. Though she couldn't hate her anymore, completely at least. 

Plus, Regina could never know she was there, when she was there she was zonked on painkillers, and in agony. A state she never thought she’d see the blonde in.

She took half weed gummy to clear her mind.

She picked up the corsage, checked herself in the mirror once more, and headed off.

She would be okay.

–

She wasn’t okay, she was standing in a corner, her date was dancing with another girl at the moment (She didn’t mind so much, though.)

She was having fun, and she had almost gone the whole thing, throughout Cady’s speech and all, without even glancing at Regina. 

Yet, now, seeing the blonde struggle with lifting her glass to her lip was both funny, and heart-aching.

She rolled her eyes, tapping her foot.

Decision, decisions.

Her feet took her before her mind did, walking towards the blonde, and taking the cup from her hand gently. The tall girl looked up at her without tilting her head, confused and surprised. 

The surprised aspect was more evident though.

“Need some help?” She asked, trying to sound playful (and failing).

Regina grunted in response, and Janis brought the cup to her lips which Regina drank earnestly and made a very weird face that Janis snorted at.

Her smile faded instantly when she saw her glazed eyes.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered.

Regina looked at her again, “For what? Why is everyone saying that?” she said, her words slurred.

Janis shrugged, “I should go, bye G- Regina.” She felt a hand grab hers as soon as she turned away, and a hand on her hip pulled her closer.

“Don’t.” Regina huffed.

She froze awkwardly, as Regina pulled her closer to her. All the way to a point she was almost sitting on her lap, which she was careful not to do completely, but let it happen.

She felt a tug on her jacket, her eyes flickered that way before returning back to the high blonde. Janis patted her head gently, the closest she’s been to her in a long, long time.

She felt like a little kid. Which may sound pleasant, but all she could remember was whispering on the phone to Regina while hiding it her cabinet as her parents fought, with tear stained cheeks.

Crash!

She heard, and snapped to attention, pulling out of her embrace, looking around, panicked. 

It sounded like glass was dropped. Like the time her father threw a vase at her mother and it missed her by an inch, hitting the wall beside her.

She saw some idiot had just dropped the punch  and looked down at a startled Regina.

“Sorry.” She laughed and relaxed. Offering the blonde a small, yet genuine smile. Regina acknowledged her with the wave of her hand.

“I got the roses by the way,” Regina murmured, after a moment of Janis standing awkwardly in place, “Yellow, my favorite. Thanks.”

“Yeah, Yellow roses.” She croaked and trailed off with a sad laugh, realizing she had left her name on the tag. She wasn’t supposed to know. 

A song, one she’d never listen to on her own, played, and someone grabbed her hand, “Come dance!”

It was her date.

She froze and looked at Regina as if asking if she could leave, who knows why she did that. The blonde nodded and waved her away, and she left.

Yellow-fucking-roses.

Please enjoy! Tag: @idontplaytrack

#janis imi'ike #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george #rejanis #regina x janis #damian mean girls #Tw cutting #tw marijuana #tw crying #mean girl fanfiction

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#it's an old frustration. an old pattern of thought. #i just feel that i have a brain that doesn't hold information. that lacks the discipline to gain knowledge. that is incapable of deeper #thought. and i cant teel you how maddening that is. to sit in a room and listen to other people discuss a paper you read in depth 5 times #like it's the 1st time you ever heard anything about it. how is that possible? how do i work with that? i read and nothing sticks. #nothing stays with me. how??? i was talking to a prof recently who ive heard is hard on her students with disability accommodation. and she #was saying how she doesnt see these things as a disability. how we're just different not disabled. ive heard the phrase differently abled #a lot of times. and i get what she's saying. i do. ad i get why she's hard on them. she wants to push them. but there comes a point where #you are quote unquote differently abled and you run into a wall that other people dont have. then what are you supposed to do? work harder? #but what if that doesn't help? what if that just compounds the hurt that's always been there? what if that leaches away all the wonder? what #then? at what point does a thing become too much of a barrier? i think there's a reason i dont run into many other dyslexic grad student. #everyone has adhd. it's a place where those with adhd prosper. but dyslexia not so much. at least not with the level of hanicap i have #and everyone's really nice. they want to help. but there's nothing anyone can do for me at this stage. it's up to me to compensate for my #leaky head. and i kno im not stupid. ive got a piece of paper stating my iq is above average after correcting for uneven intelligence. but #i dont feel very smart most of the time. i feel more like my uncorrected iq score that comes out at just below average even with me trying #my very best. iq is bullshit but there's something to be said for that gap. im smart if unconstrained by language and time. but were bound #by language and we're bound by time so what am i supposed to do? is there anything i can do? im stuck with this forever. theres no getting #better or making it easier. my brain is wired in a way that gives me the reading skills of a child. forever. and i just have to accept that #and im trying to swallow around that idea easier because the only other option is to choke on it. but maybe i chose the wrong career path. #one of my lab mates said she wants challenges all the time and ive chosen a path that's challenges all the time but im jsut trying to do #what everyone else can without a second thought. it's deeply demoralizing. yet here i am. trying to be easier abt it. #maybe im just nit cut out for this. doing a job im not built for. #unrelated

[caffeiiine]

one more thing thats been rotating around my head:

my school anime club hosts an anime con in the spring and i am genuinely so excited bc club members are staff amnd we are hsoting it! and i can host a panel!!!

#itd be my first anime con] #and also why part of the reason im trying to homemake a cosplay so i can have a cool one to wear #so many panel ideas are running around my head #i wanna make it bsd themed but im unsure how popular that would be #so i was thinking since im planning to go in dead apple fyodor cosplay #fyodor has that one line i really love “welcome to happy group counseling hour!! Im your host-- Fyodor Dostoyevsky” #and it sounds like hes introducing a game show (im not gonna force the panel goers into a counseling hour sobs dwdw) #SO my idea was anime themed game show w/ good prizes corresponding to the animes i picked the questions from #like itd INCLUDE bsd but it wouldnt be only about bsd is what im saying #therefor making it more appealing to the general con goers!!! #god its in may and im beginning to prepare for it now help me #of course i have a fuck ton of time to prepare but ive always liked to have my details in check long before the actual thing happens #i feel sorry for you and am deeply thankful if you read through my mess of thoughts #ily! /p :D #actually goodnight now its like 1:30am and id prefer to sleep earlier than i did last night <3 #sodaramblestoomuch

[sashimiyas]

tis really all about the little things, ain’t it

#reinas.inretrograde #felt like i could conquer this world this morning after arm day. #was like. i’m gonna get home and clean my bathroom and cook and fulfill marital passions #and then i get tasked to get a mail key and then im spiraling #i’m like running laps around the office cuz i need to #and then i’m driving home and it’s 8pm and there’s still strays of sunlight in the horizon and im like whoa. this season is so wonderful #truly a summer girl bc this bitch loves her vitamin d #eeeeeyeck #you’d only get that last tag if you know how i talk #i have been fantasizing this iwaizumi fic for the longest time. i wish i could write it #there’s so many scenes in my head filled with love. #and i’ve also been fantasizing about this shinso fic. particularly this scene where he and reader are walking home and he switches to the #outside part of the sidewalk. saying something about being careful. and she has no idea he’s a hero. she just gives him this puppy dog smile #and goes ‘don’t worry! i’ve got a knife! :D’ and pulls it out bc she’s also a bad bitch hardened by life

[kakusu-shipping]

Another big Mario Self-Insert sketch page I’ve just been doodling on for the past few days. I’m obsessed.

#Emile's Arts #Mariocest #YES it gets the tag leave me alone #I haven't even made like a proper POST for this S/I yet I've just been making things for him #I have three different decent references already posted but no actual about #I'll get to that in the next few days. Hopefully #The whole thing is eating my brain it's 4:30 in the AM and I am just #Running thoughts around my head #I put him in the first two Paper Mario games AND Sunshine already (not a big roll just there) #I'm also running with Partner's in Time because I LOVE that game also not a big roll just there but the concept is so cool I keep going bac #Because you know. Babies. #I have no idea what else to do honestly I don't have a lot of other thoughts about other Mario games #So it's unique scenarios time. Like babysitting Junior and such. #I want to isolate and color the Uncle Mario sketch so bad you have no idea #I love Mario and his many many children that he's not the DAD of per-say but he IS in their lives forever now #He takes them to McDonalds and Orders Pizza and Shows them cool secrets in Video Games #And also chucks them like 20 feet in the air he's the kinda guy to just throw a baby around #I love him so much #I also love Toadsworth I love you Toadsworth please come back sir #Nintendo really wants that old man dead it's unfair to me who loves him