#i swear my art looks better than this garbage ;^; not much better but still better-

[flightless-stranger]

Dumb idea that was probably funnier in my head:

Based on the idea that we never really found out why Bendy attacked and killed the Projectionist in chapter 4.

In that chapter, the Projectionist was found in the maintenence room. In that room was two large trains, supposedly being repaired.

Bendy was playing with a train in BATDR and I dunno he seems like the kind of guy who would decapitate a man for messing with his stuff.

Bonus:

He protecc

He attacc

But most importantly...

He got his trains bacc

#this is a joke i don't actually think this is what happened- #I'm sorry #this was dumb #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #The Projectionist #Bendy #art #that two second doodle looks better than the whole comic- #ahhhhhHHHHHHHH #i swear my art looks better than this garbage ;^; not much better but still better-

[neko-loogi]

Alright, I'mma give my opinion again. This time with Hazbin Hotel..

So I saw the trailer for Hazbin Hotel a few days ago and honestly, I am so disappointed. Like, you're telling me I waited years for them to release a trailer for the series, and this is all we get??

I'm not saying it wasn't enough, no, on the contrary, I think they revealed way too much. But what I mean is, I was expecting something else, because this ain't it, chief.

***

Alright so first off, we have the voices. I'mma be hella honest with y'all, this shit sounds unfinished, as in, it sounds like Viv got confused and published the behind the scenes instead of the finished product because omfg, the voices sound bad.

I genuinely don't understand the weird obsession Viv has with hiring celebrities or broadway actors into her shitty shows, it's not like she's rich enough to afford that- plus she does this often, doesn't that mean it affects the budget of the show? (I don't know much about that stuff so bear with me).

It's funny cuz, she hires these super famous celebrities to voice characters in her shows, but she doesn't need to, like, you can be a professional, but that doesn't necessarily mean you're a great VA. It almost feels like she does that because she wants to feel important, she wants to show off like "Oh look at me, I have celebrities voicing my characters! Aren't I cool?"

But anyway, going back to the voices, I have to say this, my least favorite are Alastor and Angel Dust. I just think it's absolutely ridiculous that Viv got rid of the pilot VAs just to replace them with broadway actors, only for them to make the characters sound flat and emotionless.

Like, it's funny because she makes these broadway actors imitate the voices from the pilot, however it doesn't come naturally for these actors and it shows. It almost feels like they have no idea what they're doing. It legit sounds like they're reading the script but not putting any effort into it. (Y'know how people shit on anime dubs because they don't sound good or whatever? That's exactly how I feel about this-).

The next thing I wanna talk about is the animation. Don't get me wrong from what I've seen, in some moments the animation looks alright, but other times it looks choppy as hell. I thought this show was supposed to be more 'professional' since they literally got A24 and Bento Box ent. for this. But yeah, all I can say is, the animation hasn't changed at all, the only thing that is slightly different is the art style but aside from that, the animation still sucks.

And finally, the last thing I wanted to discuss is the plot of the series. So as we all know, in the Pilot, it was established that Charlie (along with Vaggie) opened the Happy Hotel in hopes of redeeming sinners so that they can go to heaven because Hell was too overpopulated (plus the whole extermination thing). But the whole point of the plot was that she wasn't entirely sure she could actually do it or if it was even possible, and that's what made the plot more interesting back then. But here? It's absolute garbage. Not only did the trailer basically reveal way too much information already (before the series could even come out yet), but the plot was changed entirely!

Like I mentioned, Charlie's motives were to redeem sinners, but here she's more focused on having some kind of war with heaven/the angels. And that's the thing, now that we know that heaven is a thing in this series, plus the inclusion of Adam, it just makes the series feel so predictable, because now we know that the sinners can be redeemed, which beats the entire purpose of the show. It's like, "Hell bad, but heaven is worse" and "Good VS. Bad!!", cliche type of thing. You think a series 'made for adults' would have a more interesting plot than a kids show, but nah, we get these basic ass levels of writing. I swear a fucking five year old could come up with something better and far more creative than this nonsense-

***

So yeah, I'm honestly hella disappointed that this is what the series has turned into. I had high hopes for Hazbin Hotel (since Helluva ain't shit-), but nope, it turns out, Viv is capable of making herself look even more stupid by completely butchering her own series. Hell, I actually have Amazon Prime, but I am probably not even gonna watch this shit, I'll just wait till some dumbass on YouTube uploads the first episode or something stupid like that (so that I can watch it and critique it later). Because I know that someone definitely will.

Anyway, that's all for today, thank you for reading my dumb post- alright bye!

#anti vivziepop #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critique #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #spindlehorse criticism #spindlehorse critical #/// #by neko loogi #do not repost #neko loogi rambles 😬 #neko loogi rants😔

[sn0tcl0wn]

wish and the star boy we never got is proof of my long standing theory that disney (and animation as a whole) needs to bring back cute boys. they stopped featuring them as much back when frozen came out to focus more on famalial love and i respect that. however, that was the tail end of an era where animated movies were almost always guaranteed to have one super cute boy. this was the thing that brought audiences in. i swear to god until i was like 18-19 if an animated movie had a cute boy, i and all my friends were there opening night. a movie could look like pure garbage and if a boy was cute we were there. and of course there are other factors like the other character's designs and music if it's a musical, but cool designs didn't go anywhere and i, as well as many people, can overlook a bad musical if the animated dude is pretty (quest for camelot is a movie that exists). like why do you think anime really became so popular amongst preteen/teenage girls? they'll outright tell you, just go in the tags. it's the cute boys. cute boys bring in audiences.

it's not sexism, it's not heteronormativity, it's not "teaching girls all they're good for is marriage" or whatever the fuck people were complaining about ten years ago when disney made the executive decision to step away from having cute boys and by extension started a trend of studios doing that; it's the simple fact that people, especially girls, tend to like cute animated boys. and yeah people like pretty and cute animated girls too but that's kinda the whole point of disney princesses. we don't even need cute boys as love interests, in movies like treasure planet and rise of the guardians there is no romantic subplot for either of the movies' cute boys. it's just cute boys doing cool stuff with other well designed characters.

i feel the overwhelming response of disappointment when the star boy concept art was released is proof that, at the end of the day, animation fans want more cute boys. and i agree. you wanna actually sell that shit to your main demographic of kids, specifically girls, aged 10 and up? cute boys worked every damn time for decades. it only became less prevalent in the 2010s when people decided we for whatever reason didn't need the cute boys and nixed them completely in an attempt to seem progressive and not "reduce" any girl protags to love interests. which is an awful way to refer to writing a love story btw, we need to work on that because that gets said every time this happens and it's weird people can't fathom a strong, independent girl who also has a boyfriend. and yes, yes it's better if she has a girlfriend but there is still a desire to see a cute boy character on screen. the best animated movies from the 90s-2000s all had them and everyone vividly remembers a time where that drawing was their husband or literally them. it's important for some weird reason for cute animated boys to exist and the star boy proves that these movies would do way better with cute boys.

and the "boy" in question doesn't even need to be human or whatever. you think zootopia sold because the trailers actually looked good? what about sing? god no. no matter how much i like those movies, the trailers made them look like trash, but the power of cute boys prevailed even when the "boys" are a fox and a gorilla.

ik this rant is long and it seems pointless but i feel like i cracked the code for why so many animated movies have been sucking harder than ever and it's because for almost two generations we had cute boys to soften the blow of a bad animated movie and now we have more evidence that they're actively making decisions to cause that. i said this about five years ago when i realized the majority of cute animated boys were furries or anime boys and now i see this star boy shit. and i'd been saying how ugly i think the star is for months beforehand too when merch started popping up.

i just feel like they could have avoided fucking themselves so hard if they just let the cute boy exist. i genuinely feel people would at least be more likely to see the movie but most people didn't even bother and the people who did say don't bother. but if a cute boy was there and they used his song as the trailer? we'd wanna know what this little magic man was about. we'd wanna see how things panned out between him and hero girl. and if it ended up being bad we'd all say "yeah but the designs were good" or some shit and disney would get that sweet, sweet centennial money. but that's not what happened because some moron somewhere decided girls don't want to see cute boys in their princess movies and a chain reaction started that won't stop until disney undoes it and gives us a goddamn cute boy. and that's not even a joke. that's my honest to god theory for how to save mainstream animated movies. we saw a glimpse of this with spider-verse. like those movies ate but a big draw for both of them was the fact that there was a cute boy for everyone to crush or project on. we need cute animated boys now more than ever.

#rant #long post #i sound like a mad man #but hear me out

[arcticdesertjoy]

(Incoming writers rant fueled by seasonal depression and anxiety.)

I think I’ve gotten into the shitty mood where everything I’ve ever written feels like utter garbage. (I’m not saying it is garbage, I try really hard to make everything I put out well written, it just feels that way?)

My brain has just been putting me through the fucking wringer these days.

I can’t stop looking back to every sentence I’ve ever written and thinking it’s so cringe, such poor quality. Eventually it gets to the point where I neurotically have to go back and fix all the mistakes, only to find that: no? It’s not that bad. The sentences don’t suck, my mind has just been simplifying them down into blips that sound bad, but when expanded are actually sort of okay? But after all that time of hating and stewing on how bad that section was now I just kind of hate it.

Like, even after I’ve gone back and realized it was much better than I thought, the worse version of it still persists in my mind. If I leave it then I eventually forget that it was actually good, and if I fix it then I’m feeding into that state of constantly editing and re-editing something into oblivion (and trust me I already do enough of that)

I finished a chapter and then realized that I have to rework it and prior chapter before continuing and it’s so frustrating??? In my mind the chapters are horrible, terrible things.

“My character feels flat, the plot feels too stiff. Would I be able to add something in without it feeling cheap. The chapters are already posted, how do I fix it without confusing people continuing where I left off, I can’t make it required to reread the last chapters for it to make sense, plus admitting that I had to fix things makes me feel like an incompetent writer. I swear I planned things out, I just realized it needed something more.”

I wish I could throw writing on paper and just be happy with it. Or, at least not obsess about it.

Writing is suffering, that’s how I know I love it. I’ve been a perfectionist about other art things but never to this level.

Gosh I wish my brain would just Shut Up.

[incorrect-deltarune]

I’m putting all my livestream comments on this and I’ll edit as we go. Enjoy!

Toby Hawk, Pro Skater

What’s better than this, three dads being dudes

Rip to ThreeDads

“Time to start the real game like real gamers”

Asriel canonically buds with a reluctant Burgerpants

Toby really said, “ha, you thought”

“So embarrassing with your mom loves you…I hate when that happens”

“Alphys’ square glasses were based off John Eggbert…no one needed to know that”

Worms

“This is all off the cuff bad jokes”

This panel really does have such dad energy

“I wanted people to be unsure here” yeah toby, i thought I was about to be murdered! Didn’t help it was halloween

“IT’S THE BOY!”

“Please guys, it’s a boy…I boy proofed the game”

TEMMIE!!!

“Don’t say it’s bad…btw it’s bad”

I love Toby’s both love and hatred of retro video game tropes

“Is that stubble or teeth?” “It’s stubble, he says he shaves it, shows what fan you are” “YOU CAN SHAVE TEETH!”

TORIEL OH MY GOD IM CHOKING ON SPIT

Well, that’s one way to go to commercial

ALL OF SANS JACKETS AND MONSTER KID!!!

“True gamers will never touch wall and never touch grass, only game”

Toby’s drawings of character concepts is me turning in my design for art class before the sculpture is made

“This forest is based off a leaf” “…a leaf?” “Yes”

Man, who needs an incorrect quotes blog, these four are more than enough with their correct ones

“This is what the stream is all about…piss”

“How come we never made does”

“Producers, can you get me a sword, the next time they say something stupid…I’ll be ready” Toby ain’t playing around

“Give me the sword” is so omnious coming from a robotic voiced dog

“A concert asked me if they could play like 3 songs…like long elevator, and I said…bro, u do u”

“That might be his real accent, who knows…he’s still bad at it”

THEY GOT TOBY A SWORD!!!

So happy to know that Toby codes how I do

“Burn up with the rest of the garbage of the universe” gO OFF TOBY

“This special boy removes his special headwear”

ASRIEL/RALZEI PLUSHIE

“BOLD AND BRASH, THATS SQUIDWARD”

“Patrick from the new nickolodian game will wave dash and kill me”

“Respect me”

“You’re mother loves you…you might be worried because your room has no stuff but your family loves you in this game” it’s come full circle

Kris has become Tantalus

“Oh my god, it’s Sans from Smash Brothers” the power to say this statement, toby I swear

“Sans will wave dash into my house and kill me”

THE DOG ON THE BALCONY

I look down for five seconds and now one of the dad is goat dad

TOBY FORGOT HE WAS IN JAPANESE

“We’ll see you soon” owo

OH MY GOD OH MY HOD IAOABEIQLA A OENF EUA A HIT CONTINUE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

TOBY I KNOW YOURE A DOG BUT FOR THE LOVE-HES MOVING

KRIS ATE A PIE OH MY GOD

TIME LOOP?! WHAT IS GOING ON?! FELLAS?!!!

Good social distancing from Toriel, thank her

SUSIE I LOVE YOU

NOELLE I LOVE YOU MORE

MAGICAL GIRL TRANSFORMATION?!

OH MY GOD

Thank you so much Toby and Co, it was a blast! Happy birthday Undertale and to many more!

#undertale #deltarune #not a quote

[therenlover]

Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

A/n: In the wake of recent life garbage, I have neglected to write a whole fic, and I’m sorry. In the interim, please enjoy this writing exercise I have put together in the hopes of nailing some characters I haven’t written for in the past in time for a larger project I’m working on! Cheers!

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, and Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Mild Misogyny, Mentions of Alcohol/Alcoholism, Mentions of Mental Illness, Non-Graphic Mentions of Death, Minor Spoilers for The Alienist Season One, Minor Spoilers for Goodbye, Lenin!, Spoilers for Rush (2013), Minor Spoilers for The Cloverfield Paradox maybe??? I haven’t actually seen the whole movie, blame Wikipedia if things are wrong. 

Laszlo Kreizler

NO

As the first of all of the Dannys to be put through the ringer, Laszlo Kreizler unfortunately would not survive a holiday with my family.

First of all, this man does not like massive huggy kissy crowds, so he’d already be off his game the second he walked into the packed house. That’s not why he’d die though, surprisingly.  

His downfall would be his status as an Alienist. 

There is simply so much mental illness and childhood trauma present at my family holidays that he would combust within 15 minutes of sitting in a room with all of my relatives.

Even if he were to somehow make it past the introductory phase, my family is nosey as hell, so they’d be grilling him about his arm and his own childhood trauma within the first hour. 

Laszlo, for all of his strength, simply wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

His death wouldn’t come from the initial combustion though. No, it’s not that simple. 

Knowing Laszlo, once he had combusted and entirely lost his composure the first time, he would become extremely intrigued about the interconnected nature of everyones issues with each other and he would start asking questions. 

That’s where the problems would begin. 

Because it’s one thing if my drunk great aunt starts badmouthing her sister at the table for abandoning her 90 year old mother for a lake house with her new boyfriend. That’s fine. 

But when Laszlo hops in and starts picking apart the mommy issues and underlying reasons for their decades long sibling rivalry? 

Oh it would be over for him. 

The yelling would never end. 

And, I have no doubt that Laszlo would start to psychoanalyze whoever started to yell at him, which would only lead to more yelling. 

In the end, someone would throw a probably full and probably fresh out of the oven casserole dish at his head and he’d be unable to defend himself because of his weak arm. 

We’d have to cart him out in a wheelchair and even if he were to technically survive, he’d never come back. 

Therefor, Laszlo Kreizler would fall victim to my family and die before we even got to dessert. 

Alex Kerner

YES

Ah, little baby Alex! A great contender here for holiday survival.

He seems relatively young in comparison to most of the Dannys on this list, though I don’t actually know how old he’s supposed to be. 

Based on his relative youth, he would automatically get points with the fam for not seeming like a creep or sugar daddy. Instead, he could be just about any dude I brought home from college. 

His skillset as a semi-skilled laborer would also earn him some points, seeing as several members of the family are in similar professions.

Alex might get lost in some of the more complex conversations about the local organic scene or the fine details of running a fine art gallery, but he would fit right in with the majority of the younger members of the family, smiling and nodding his way through the conversation. 

His enthusiasm and optimism would brighten the room and leave everyone excited to see him around again. 

There’s also the semi-small detail of him caring for his mother, which would earn sympathy from the older members of the family as they are in charge of caring for my deaf, blind great grandmother. 

Now, all of these aspects have already set Alex up for a successful survival of a holiday dinner with my family, but the real secret weapon he has up his sleeve is what really cements him in place as a survivor. 

What is his secret weapon, you may ask?

Lies.

Alex Kerner is really, really good at lying, and is even better at figuring out increasingly convoluted ways to keep his lies straight. 

If he managed to hide to fuckin’ Berlin Wall coming down from his mother for as long as he did, he could keep a couple of white lies up for appearances if he was asked any potentially embarrassing or weird questions that would make him look bad. 

He could also lie about enjoying my great aunt’s cooking, which is a vital skill for holiday survival in my family. 

Therefor, at the end of the day, Alex Kerner would not only survive a holiday with my family, but he’d probably enjoy it and get invited back for every subsequent holiday he could possibly attend. 

Niki Lauda

NO

Niki is another Danny that falls very firmly into the category of characters that would absolutely not survive a holiday with my family, for many, many reasons. 

First of all, just like Laszlo, Niki is not huge on going to big huggy kissy parties. 

Both adults and children would be all over him the second he walked in the door, which would probably make Niki get very uncomfortable and cagey. 

Little does he know at that point that people aren’t just all over you when you get in the door. 

No, no, no; from the moment you show up to the moment you leave, if you’re at a holiday with my family you are being basically accosted with questions and hugs and conversations that get weirdly personal. 

It doesn’t help that the whole entire house is packed and there are eyes on you at every moment, so he wouldn’t even be able to sneak in a break for air or a cigarette. 

If my own mother can’t sneak out for a smoke when she’s been going to these events her whole life, the new guy who’s still being vetted by the family sure as hell won’t be able to either.

Needless to say, Niki would start to get really, really tired of it all in an hour tops. I’ll give him until dinner at most. 

That’s where things would start getting really sticky.

See, a lovely little fact about the Niki Lauda that lives in my brain, as portrayed by Daniel Bruhl in Rush (2013), is that he’s just a little bit misogynistic. No more than would be period typical, but a little misogynistic.

Another fun little important thing to note is that my family is entirely matriarchal in nature. 

There are only 4 reoccurring male guests at family holidays out of about 20 to 25 guests at each event; My great aunt’s husband of many, many years, the two male siblings my mother has that live in the area, and the young son of one of those siblings. 

Men, specifically boyfriends, simply do not last in my family. They are considered pretty disposable and easily banned from family events after breakups or small mishaps. 

So, not only would Niki not have any other manly men there to chat about sports with over a scotch and a cigarette, he would be surrounded by so much estrogen that he would definitely struggle with his inner asshole even more than usual. 

In fact, we never have sports on, even on Thanksgiving. Poor Niki would be stuck hearing conversations about artisanal candlemakers and how to hand felt a woodland elf puppet.

Back to his downfall, the second he made a slightly sketchy joke about women in the kitchen at the dinner table to my great uncle, his fate would be sealed.

If you thought the yelling at Laszlo would have been bad, this yelling would be ten times worse, because he would be surrounded by like 20 very angry, very defensive, and very strong women waiting to beat the shit out of him and I would not be any help. 

He dug the hole, so he can climb out of it. 

In the end, his death would come when he tried to light a cigarette and calm himself down at the dinner table while trying to rescind his earlier statement, because smoking inside around all the precious textile art? Thats a big no no. 

My great aunt would grab the lighter right out of his hand, light up whatever cocktail she had at the moment, and throw it all directly into Niki’s face.

It would be like crashing his car all over again, only this time he would be surrounded by people who would rather he burn than try to get him out of the situation. 

Moral of the story, Niki would die within the first few hours of a holiday with my family because he made an asshole comment to a room full of women who don’t put up with that shit. Don’t be like Niki, even if you think you won’t get killed for it. 

Andrea Marowski

YES

Andrea is pretty much the polar opposite of Niki here, and I love him for it. 

He is very soft, very kind, very pure, and would never dare to say something rude at the dinner table like a certain racer we all know.

He couldn’t even say something rude if he tried to, because he probably wouldn’t have the English in his vocabulary to say the things he wanted to say even if he intended to say them out loud. 

But let’s be honest here, Andrea would never. 

Even with his limited English, Andrea would appreciate being surrounded by a whole bunch of people who think he’s the sweetest little thing since the invention of cake. 

My great grandmother, despite being almost entirely blind and deaf, would say he looked darling and he would immediately be a member of the family from the moment he stuttered out his thanks. 

Andrea, like Alex, is also relatively young, so he would get points for not being old enough to be my father. 

I feel like, because Andrea was shown living happily in a tiny village by the ocean with two old ladies, he would have an appreciation for craft, so he wouldn’t mind sitting quietly as my great aunt pawns off a handmade blanket from my great grandmother to him. 

He would also happily sit with the younger children and do whatever craft or simple game one of my aunts brought for them that time. 

The cherry on top with Andrea is his skill with the violin. 

My family is one that appreciates fine art a lot, but more than anything we appreciate music. 

I wouldn’t say that any of us are anywhere close to Andrea’s proficiency, but we definitely aren’t terrible, and we all can appreciate the effort, practice, and talent that goes into getting truly good on an instrument like Andrea is on his violin. 

He would be encouraged to play, of course, and he would happily oblige. 

If he felt comfortable enough, I could even see my great uncle grabbing his guitar, my cousin sitting at the piano, and my sister bringing out her own violin to do a little quartet with some simple song they knew as everybody else sang along. 

By the end of the holiday evening, once dinner was served and people were heading to the cars, Andrea would definitely be considered a member of the family. 

Needless to say, he’d survive and pass their tests with better than flying colors, even despite the language barrier. 

Ernst Schmidt

NO

Now, Ernst was probably the most difficult one on this entire list to put into the living or dying category. In the end, though, there were a few things that couldn’t be overlooked that send him into bad territory. 

To be fair, though, he would last the longest out of everyone who would die tragically at one of my family’s holiday gatherings. 

He, like the past two victims, would not be exactly suited for the mushy crowding that’s inevitable when it comes to my family. 

That being said, I think he would deal with it a little bit better than the other two did and would make polite conversation with the family when he could. 

The fact that he was trapped in a packed house filled with drunk people who have several generations worth of beef with each other, though, would start to get him eventually. 

If we consider all of the shit that happened while he was in space to be canonical minus, you know, the earth getting really fucked up, he would probably start to go a little bit nuts while packed together with that many passive aggressive people.

The second someone burst into tears on the way to the bathroom he would start to lose his shit. 

Still, I think Schmidt would probably be fine-ish until dessert was served, because that’s about the time where all the adults are absurdly drunk, so insanity ensues. 

They would start poking at him about his credentials and experiences as a physicist. 

He would answer their questions at first, but, unfortunately for him, the questions would turn more and more personal and uncomfortable as time went on. 

Did he ever still think about what happened up in space? Did he blame himself for not getting things to work correctly? How much did he miss his old world and old life? Did he ever have nightmares about what he saw? How much did it hurt to get shot?

They’d poke and poke and poke in their drunken state until poor Schmidt would snap at them, flying into a slight rage at their insistent probing. 

From there, he would be swiftly asked to leave and then “accidentally” run over while calling an Uber to take him to wherever he’s staying as my drunk great aunt tries to back out of the driveway to drive down the block to her house. 

In the end, Schmidt and his wit would be really close to surviving a holiday with my family , but he would, unfortunately, let his anger get the best of him, and it would be the last thing he ever did. Literally. 

Helmut Zemo

YES, BUT ONLY BARELY

Okay, so my earlier comment about Ernst being the most difficult out of everyone was incorrect. Zemo was, by far, the hardest to put into one category or the other. 

His wit and charm won out in the end, though, and I determined that he would survive one single holiday with my family. 

If he ever came back for a second he definitely wouldn’t make it, but he would succeed in living past the first one. 

Helmut’s problems start, surprisingly, not with the fact that he is a criminal. In fact that doesn’t even cause any problems for him. 

No, instead they start with the fact that he is 43.

I am 99% sure that my mother is 43, and I know for a definite fact that he’s older than one of my uncles who would be present. I, at the time of writing this, am 18. 

Needless to say, literally everyone would be massively suspicious of him and his intentions the second he walked through the door. The amount of money in his bank account definitely wouldn’t help in this situation either. 

The family would warm up to him eventually, though, because if there’s one thing Helmut is good at besides killing people, it’s making people like him even if they absolutely shouldn’t. 

With his expansive knowledge of what feels like literally everything rich and niche, he would slowly win over the older members of the family. Who knew the strange old man Jac brought home was so well versed in the American pottery scene, or that he could name specific jewelry artists from across the world that my family had done business with for years?

My family definitely wouldn’t. At least, not at first. 

Oh how they’d learn, though. 

Another nice thing about Zemo that would allow him to survive is his aggressive politeness.

No matter how many weird glances or dirty looks he got over the course of dinner, he would simply continue to be the best version of himself in the hopes of impressing everyone. 

He would even pretend to enjoy my great aunt’s cooking and get himself seconds, because I’m sure it would be easier to scarf down than whatever he and his EKO Scorpion squad had to eat while serving in the Sokovian special forces. 

On the tail end of reasons he would be accepted, Helmut Zemo drinks alcohol like it’s water, so he would fit right in drinking white wine and cocktails through the night with the rest of the adults. 

((I think he’d totally tease me about not being able to drink with him, but that’s a story for another time. Anyways...))

His slight downfall would come from something entirely uncontrollable by him or anybody else. 

And that something would be my flirty aunt. 

I love my aunt. She’s wonderful in her own special way. 

That being said, I know if a hot Sokovian baron with a nice smile and a fat pocketbook showed up to one of out holidays, even if he was introduced as my partner, she would be going for the kill all night long. 

This would make Helmut more and more uncomfortable as she got more and more drunk, because lets face it, he’s probably not very comfortable with being touched by near-strangers anyways, and being touched by a drunk member of his partners family who is very obviously coming on to him? 

That’s even more difficult to deal with. 

That being said, Helmut is a man who has been shown to be extremely in control of his emotions. 

He would swallow down whatever awkwardness he felt, make it to the end of the night, and, once he had escaped her clutches, he would politely say that he was never going back to another holiday function with my family again, though he would be happy to facilitate me still attending them. 

So, in the end, Helmut Zemo would survive one holiday with his sheer stubborn politeness alone. 

I will say that his patience would absolutely wear thin if he attended a couple more holidays and he would eventually die of a stress induced heart attack after being unable to politely decline my aunt’s advances. 

For now, though, he’s safe.

#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #niki lauda #andrea marowski #ernst schmidt #laszlo kreizler #alex kerner #jac rambles #imagine #the danny bunch

[queenmuzz]

So, anyways, I saw something @liulyam had posted for Spardaverse a while back I DON'T KNOW HOW I MISSED THEIR WONDERFUL ART FORGIVE ME! Anyways, I saw specifically THIS piece of art, and it sent the brain juices into overdrive....

So, the same thing plays out everyday. Nero gets off the school bus and runs in, backpack flying, and tells his uncle excitedly about his day at school, before racing up the stairs to tell his dad the same thing, in the same adorably animated manner. Unfortunately, Vergil doesn’t respond the same way as Dante, sitting still, not even acknowledging that the boy is talking to him. Initially, Nero doesn’t mind, understanding his recently rescued father has been through a lot, and needs time and patience to recover. But as the months pass by, Dante notices that his nephew doesn’t run up the front steps as eagerly, his descriptions of school become shorter, paler. And most worryingly of all, Nero spends less and less time with Vergil, preferring to peek his head in the man’s room, sigh, and slowly make his way to his own room, closing the door sullenly.

“What’s going on Nero?” Dante takes the plunge and asks him one day, before the boy trudges up the stairs. “You haven’t been that rambunctious ball of energy lately.”

Nero kicks the worn hardwood floor. “It’s dad… I know you told me I need to be patient,” his face scrunches up at the word, it’s a thing he’s never been able to truly do. He’s definitely a Sparda boy. “But he just keeps ignoring me. He won’t talk, won’t even look at me. It’s like I don’t even exist! Maybe...maybe he doesn’t want me to exist-”

“Hey now!” Dante needs to nip this train of thought in the bud. He knows first hand where it can lead to. Had he not found Nero nearly nine years ago, while wandering the world, drinking up every bar’s entire inventory in a vain attempt to fill a void in his chest, who knows where he would have ended up? “Your dad...well, even without the stuff he’s been through, he was never much of a talker. Always preferred to have his actions speak for him.” “But that’s the thing, Uncle Dante!” Nero blurts out, close to tears. “He DOESN’T DO ANYTHING!!! He doesn’t care!” And with that, Nero bolts up the stairs, past Vergil’s room, not even checking up on him, and slams his bedroom door with such force, Eva’s portrait wobbles on the desk and tips over. Dante sighs, sets his mom back up, and slowly makes his way up the stairs. Not to Nero’s room; Dante knows better than to provoke that tiger cub when he’s in an ornery mood. It’s time to talk to his dad.

Vergil, or what’s left of him, is sitting in an oversized chair, the only one that fits his giant frame, facing the window, the only one in the place with a view. If he’s heard the ruckus (and Dante knows he has), he makes no indication that it affects him.

“Verg,” he calls out, “I know it's been rough, I know I piled on a lot of shit on you, the whole thing about having a kid and everything these past nine years. I’m not expecting you to just snap back to normal, and start insulting me like in the good old days, but…” Dante’s not good at this sort of thing. He’d rather Royal Guard his emotional turmoil. It used to be with alcohol, but now it’s with a cheery smile. “The kid needs a sign that you’re still there, you’re still fighting. I know you are, hell, you’re the one that helped me take down that bastard Mundus on Mallet Island. But that’s the thing, Nero’s only heard things that you’ve done, not seen them. You need to show him yourself, otherwise…” Vergil makes no motion, and even Dante, stubborn as he is, knows it’s fruitless to continue much more, “you’re gonna lose him too.” And then Dante heads back downstairs, to see if he can whip up a snack to bribe his nephew to come out of his lair. Strange, he swears he hears the rustle of fabric from Vergil’s room, as if his brother had just moved.

--

Nero sits at Dante’s desk, working on his math homework. It’s his least favourite thing, fractions. Uncle Dante is a whiz at them, and usually would be able to help him, but he’s gone out on an ‘Really quick, won’t be more than a half hour’ errand run. It’s been nearly two hours, and the only other adult here is his dad… so Nero is practically by himself.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Nero’s neck prick up, and he hears scrabbling at the front door. He’s still not allowed to go out with Uncle Dante or Auntie Lady on their hunts, but he knows what a demon feels like, especially when there are a lot of them. ESPECIALLY when they’re really powerful Instinctively, he grabs a chair, and wedges it underneath the door knob, and looks around in a panic. He’s never had to deal with a demon attack by himself before. He remembers his uncle has a case of weapons that he was told to NEVER touch beside the jukebox, but Nero figures that he can say sorry to his uncle later. He smashes the lock with a billiard ball, and yanks open the lid. He’s disappointed. He thought there would be a treasure trove of swords and guns, but all there are two swords, one red and one blue. But he doesn’t have much of a choice, and the whine of protesting wood ends with a thunderous CRASH, and demons pour through. “FIND THE HERETIC GOD SLAYER!” One says, before turning in Nero’s direction. Without much warning, it shrieks as it launches at him with razor sharp obsidian claws.

Nero might be little, but his uncle has trained him well. Whipping the two blades around, they connect the monster’s waist in a pincer move, and like a pair of scissors, bisect it in a shower of blood and ash. Nero swears he hears a voice (or is it two voices?) approvingly say, “Impressive!” but doesn’t have a chance to savour his very first demon kill as another demon comes at him, knocking him over. The reddish gold blade clatters away on the floor, way out of reach, not that it matters. Nero’s pinned to the ground by a skeletal foot, as the demon lifts a blade to impale him. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the end.

The final blow never comes. Instead, he hears shriek, and the pressure on his chest instantly subsides. He opens his eyes, to see it stagger back, its decapitated head clattering to the floor. Its brethren likewise are either dead or dying, their high pitched screams shattering the glass in the jukebox.

Nero’s first thought is that his Uncle has finally come home, Dante’s come to save me! But what’s odd is that there’s no sound of Dante’s beloved Ebony and Ivory. And last he checked, his uncle never was able to shoot out blue ghostly blades that now impale most of the horde. But it doesn’t matter, because his uncle is here to save the day! That is, until he yelps as he’s quickly, but not roughly picked up and held as whoever holds him spirits him out of the building, the blue blade still clutched in his hand. Nero begins to panic, but hears a voice, almost like a croak, as if the vocal cords had been in disuse for years…

Nero

And even though the voice is harsh sounding, it's one of the most comforting things Nero’s ever heard.

--

Of course that half hour errand run would turn out to be three hours. But when he was promised a free pizza for clearing out that demon nest on the West side, Dante couldn’t say no. Besides, he’d pick up some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the way home as a way of apologising to Nero. The kid might be cross with him, but he’d forgive him the moment he smelled those chewy biscuits. Dante might even let him have more than half of the package.

So when he gets home to find his front door smashed open, his office trashed, and worst of all his jukebox shattered-wait no, worst of all, his nephew missing, all thoughts of pizza and cookies vanish from his mind as he rushes in, guns drawn. There’s no sign of life, but the black splatters of demonic ichor painting the walls shows that some real bad mojo went down here. The strangest thing though, is Agni, a weapon Dante was definitely sure he had under lock and key, laying there on the ground, alone.

“Alright, time to spill your guts” he yanks the blade up so that he’s at eye level with the pommel, “What the hell happened here?” Agni makes the same response as Vergil. Which means silence.

“I swear to…” he pulls out ivory, and presses the muzzle into the (more troubled than usual looking face), “You’re gonna tell me what went down, or we’re gonna see how many bullets I can jam into your ugly mug.” “You told us to remain silent.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, consider that rule temporarily relaxed.” “There was an attack.” Agni starts, its distorted voice unusually agitated, “The little one fought with great valour, but eventually even he was overwhelmed.” Dante’s blood goes cold. “But then a great bulk of a demon came out and slaughtered the attacking filth, and spirited the boy away, alongwith my brother.”

“Rudra’s still with Nero?” That’s odd, if they were trying to capture the kid, they’d disarm him first.

“Yes, they are not far, I think they’ve stopped moving.”

“Alright,” Dante makes his way out of the disfigured wood, “let’s go find the kid and your bro...and if he’s alright, maybe I’ll reconsider giving back your talking privileges.” “Oh, that would be wonderful, will you allow us to leave the dark box? It’s been so long since we’ve fought, we crave batt- ”

“I said IF, and I won’t guarantee anything if you keep jabbering on and on.”

--

Angi directs the demon hunter to a dark secluded alleyway, a few blocks from Devil May Cry. One hand on its hilt ready for attack, the other fingering the trigger of Ivory, he cautiously makes his way past the recently overturned garbage cans, to a shadow alcove, where a shadow crouches. Beside it is Rudra, glowing faintly, it’s turquoise blue light providing enough illumination for Dante to make out what has happened. There’s Nero, peacefully slumbering away, apparently unharmed, not even his shirt is torn. And holding him gently, stroking his downy white hair with a giant hand...is Vergil… And for once, even though he is still staring straight ahead, there’s a different look on his face, a sense of contentment.

Huh Dante thinks to himself as he holsters the weapons, I was right, actions DO speak louder than words.

#Devil May Cry #Nelo Dadgelo #Dante #Vergil #Nero #canon divergence #I didn't want to connect this to their post via reblog #because that should stand alone in its own perfection #my writing

[uni-colyon]

v-force episode 5!

happy sunday! it’s real beyblade hours so you know what that means >:)

the episode is called “guess who’s back in town!” i swear to GOD if it’s not kai. idk what i’ll do. but it’ll be something

wait the boat sank?? after it “mysteriously caught on fire???” tyson did that last episode there’s no mystery 

this frame is ART. the fact that the room doesn’t even look like a bedroom? the weird proportions? the fucking cpu blanket with the god-awful perspective? im being a little hyperbolic but man kenny i think you need more furniture. maybe a rug

also five minutes in and the faces in this episode. hooooo. giving me real 2000 episode 47 vibes and that’s not a good thing

THEY’RE SO TINY!!!! THEY’RE SO TINY AND FOR WHAT?? the designs are cute though i will give them that. kai’s still absolutely balling with the crop top. it’s what he deserves

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA THERE HE IS!!!!! THERE HE IS!!!!!!!!! THAT’S MY BOY!!!!!!!! 

“he [kai] won the beyblade world championships but does that make him any better?!” yeah that’s. that’s kind of the point isn’t it? i get what they’re trying to say. but still

“he [kai] doesn’t have our natural good looks!” sir i know of several people who would heartily disagree with you. you’re background characters don’t forget it

wait this is WYATT??? doesn’t he die later on i feel like that’s what i’ve heard. i hope i’m wrong he seems like a nice kid

also how does kai keep ending up in these creepy locales? first the abbey and now this weird prep school. who’s doing this to him i just want to chat

so there’s Another Guy™ now huh. sure hope kai has dranzer in his pocker or smth otherwise this might not end well

KAI QUIT BEYBLADING????? why on earth would you do that. and like i know he’s not going not beyblade bc. why else would he be here but i would like an explanation

ohhh he’s got the Protagonist Window Seat™... wonder what fun hijinks he’ll get up to

he’s got a whole room for his trophies???? at the prep school??? since when????? how much time has passed since the end of 2000? granted i guess that doesn’t really matter bc it’s looking like we’re getting a whole new cast of characters but still

WYATT STOLE DRANZER. why. how. i know the why but how. did he pickpocket kai?? maybe i missed it

“sorry kai. i can’t [give you back dranzer].” YES YOU CAN?? HE’S RIGHT THERE?? just give kai dranzer and let him fight what is this kid’s deal. “oh im fighting in kai’s place” well kai’s HERE now so you don’t have to??? 

“how come he’s [dranzer] not listening to me?!” BC HE’S NOT YOUR BITBEAST?? AND IT’S NOT YOUR BLADE? what is wyatt even trying to accomplish here i don’t get it. like he’s going to lose. that’s just that. how is this going to get kai back into beyblading??? like for all we know this other guy could be absolute garbage but bc wyatt’s worse he looks great by comparison. not really taking a shine to wyatt here i won’t lie

oh kai’s laughing manically after he loses. that’s more like it. that’s the kai im used to. love the fact that they’re just looping the same 3 second clip of him laughing as the camera pans out. really adds to the scene

final thoughts: okay i don’t know if it was the animation that was just. not great all around or the fact that i really don’t like wyatt but this episode did not do it for me. i am THRILLED to see kai again. don’t get me wrong. i’m very chuffed he’s come back to us

at the same time, i feel like i’m watching a completely different set of characters than 2000. i think part of it’s the art style, part of it’s the weird characterization (at least i think it’s weird) of tyson and kai (kai more so, but this is only his first episode). granted this is after he’s gone through the development of 2000 but i don’t think they’ve done a great job of carrying that development through to v-force. again it’s only the first episode with kai in it and i would love to have my mind changed later on but right now i’m not a fan. 

#snick's v-force liveblog #episode 5 #tyson granger #takao kinomiya #kenny #hillary tachibana #kai hiwatari #wyatt #v-force #beyblade

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

An example of Pyra and Mythra in a fight

Mythra: You sound like the physical manifestation of some loser’s inner demons.

Pyra: Well, you sound like a total dork’s inability to confront the reality of her past actions.

Mythra: If i ever get your ugly mug in my line of sight, I swear that I’ll knock your block off.

Pyra: Well, I’m going to be the bigger, and stronger and more well liked, blade and stop talking first.

Mythra: ….

Pyra: ….

Pyra: Damn it, I didn’t think you’d stop.

Mythra: (~˘▾˘)~

Pyra: Zip it.

Mythra: Listen, I don’t cotton to punks round these parts. Get lost, weirdo!

Pyra: Oh yeah? I don’t polycotton to coping tropes, even my own. So why don’t you split?

Mythra: Looks like I already did. You’re the sad figment of my twisted psyche’s tragic backstory. You’re the un-me, I’m the real me, you wannabe.

Pyra: Me? Kiddo, I was the real me when you were still in my shorts.

Mythra: Hate to break it to you, but I wore those shorts first. Me bequeathed thee, the psychopathological hand you down!

Pyra: So you’re the one who tarnished them!

Mythra: Whoever found it ground it.

Pyra: You’d like me to be you, wouldn’t me? But it’s too late, you snoze, you lowze.

Mythra: You sleeped, you weeped.

Pyra: You nap-uh, you get slapped bruh. (slaps Mythra)

Mythra: You slumber, cucumber. (Throws a cucumber at Pyra’s face)

Pyra: You catch up on some zeds, you get out of my heads!

Mythra: You slumber….hamburger? Damn it, I wanna take a nap!

Pyra: Listen. This psyche isn’t big enough for two metaphysical waifus of high caliber. 

Mythra: Oh, please. You couldn’t seek your way out of a waifu cardboard box.

Pyra: Yeah, I know. Because it would be an egg!

Mythra, acting like she took damage: Gggh!

Mythra, thinking to herself: This chick might actually…be better than me.

Pyra, hearing her thoughts: You’re right. I am better than me.

Pyra: Look, buddy. Know when you’re defeated. Accept your decimation.

Mythra: No thanks, I’m full. I eat snacks like you for breakfast.

Pyra: Look at yourself. You look so superficial, you probably judge things by their physical appearances.

Mythra: Oh yeah? Well your friend Rex is so much of an idiot, that he probably thinks he should have some screentime in this quip!

Pyra: Your about as deep as a bowl of soup, and your tongue is about as sharp as a soup spoon!

Mythra: Hey, say what you want about me, but leave the soup out of it. I worked hard on it!

Pyra: It tastes like garbage! And if you love soup so much, why don’t you marry soup?

Mythra: Because I’m already married. To being cooler than you. I’m doing a lot better than you in terms of relationships.

Pyra: You really aren’t. 

Mythra: I know everything you’re about to-

Pyra, cutting her off: Say.

Pyra: Well, I know everything you’re gonna-

Mythra, cutting her off: Don’t.

Pyra: (Sticks her tongue out) Nyeeeeh!

Mythra: Are you so dumb that you answer rhetorical questions?

Pyra: I dunno. Do you?

Mythra: We can play this game all night, you fiery piece of art.

Pyra: Jokes on you, you stunning flash of light. It’s daytime. And this is no game.

Mythra: Checkmate.

Pyra: I’m not gonna check you out, mate. Not until you King me, because there can only be one winner of Uno.

…

Outside, everyone was staring at Pyra, who had no pupils and was mumbling, occasionally twitching.

Zelda: …What’s wrong with Pyra?

Shulk: Oh, sometimes when she and Mythra have a fight, they both go into their mind space and bicker. The end result is this.

#incorrect quotes #smash bros #submission #incorrect super smash bros #super smash bros #Pyra #Mythra #Zelda #Shulk #Xenoblade Chronicles #Legend of Zelda #Source: Xavier the Renegade Angel

[teacupfulofstarshine]

fly high!!

summary: logan has carried the nickname of "ice king" with him since middle school. he has never successfully meshed with a team before. his opponents think him incapable of growth.

his opponents are wrong, and their mistakes carry a heavy price.

(OR: a haikyuu!! au; one game featuring logan the genius setter and his team)

a/n: rewatched haikyuu!! got inspired. here's 3.5k! HUGE huge thank you to josie ( @flamingfawkes ) for beta reading! title comes from haikyuu!! s2 opening 2

CW: trash-talking, insults, minor injury/blood mention, references to past mistakes, making assumptions based on past actions, swearing, nonspecific v-mit mention

wordcount: ~3.5k

read it on ao3!!!

“Hey, isn’t that the crazy setter from that middle school tournament last year?”

“Yeah, they called him the Ice King!”

“Whoa, what a cool nickname!”

“Not so cool if you’re on the court with him. I hear his teammates kicked him out of his last game because he’s incapable of being a team player.”

“No wonder he ended up at that garbage school - I bet none of the good schools would take him!”

“How stupid does that team have to -”

“Hey!” Remus barks loudly, jerking his chin up and leering at the suddenly-terrified players. “You got somethin’ to say about my teammate, you absolute rat bastard -”

“Remus!” Thomas grabs the libero by his collar and picks him up like a drowned cat. “I apologize for my teammate. He gets a bit . . . overzealous at times. Remus, apologize.”

“Go to hell!” Remus says cheerfully, twisting around to try and lick Thomas’s arm. Thomas drops him in disgust, but Remus lands like a cat and rolls to his feet, bouncing away with a cackle.

“What was that all about?” Roman asks. Remus takes his bag back and slings it over his shoulder, looking up at his twin. “I thought we talked about causing trouble at tournaments - they’re going to kick you out, and we don’t have a backup libero anymore.”

“People were being assholes about Logan. You think I can just let that slide?” Remus bares his teeth, and Roman levels a glare at the opposing players.

“Oh, well in that case,” he mutters, pushing up his sleeves. Before either of them can respond, Logan reaches out and grips their shoulders.

“Please do not get into fights on my account.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re not going to get in them on your own account, are you?” Remus says. “You can pretend you don’t have feelings all you want, Logan, I know the shit they say bothers you.” Logan flinches, just barely, and Remus reaches up to pat at his shoulder. “You’re not alone anymore, Logan. You don’t have to fight these battles on your own. We’re not going to let them shit-talk you and get away with it.”

“I might not be as willing to fistfight people for your honor as my deviant brother over here, but I know for a fact that the whole team shares his sentiments. You’re not the person you were in that middle school tournament.” Roman places his hand over Logan’s, and Logan offers him a small smile.

“Are we fighting people?” Janus asks. “Remus, darling, you know we’re not supposed to do that in uniform. What if you get blood on it? I know you didn’t pack a spare, and I won’t have time to launder it before our game. Besides, you know better than to make threats where there are witnesses with recording equipment present.”

Remus slips out of Logan’s grip and bounces off towards the court, chattering idly to Janus and waving his hands around. Thomas turns back to them, setting a hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“You okay?"

“I am adequate.”

“Not what he asked you,” Roman says, shoulder-checking Logan as they keep walking.

“I know what people say about me. I am aware of the toll my past behaviors took on my working relationships with my team. I am . . . working to be better than I was, but I am not sure I have made much progress.”

“You’re already loads better than you were,” Roman says. “You’ve got a great eye for tosses, and you’re learning to talk to the rest of us. We’re getting there. We are.”

Logan blinks, looking back and forth. “Where’s Virgil?”

“Probably in the bathroom, trying not to throw up.” Logan looks alarmed, which is to say that his eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry, he usually doesn’t. He just has nerves that get the better of him, so he takes some alone time in the bathroom to calm himself down.”

Virgil rejoins them at the doors of the gymnasium, looking pale and faintly green. “You okay?” Thomas asks. Virgil nods, winding a stray lock of hair around his finger. “It’s gonna be alright. You’ve been working on that pinch serve for how long now?”

“Months, but it could still go wrong, it -”

“It won’t. You’re called a pinch server for a reason, Virgil. We bring you in when we’re in a pinch.”

“Which puts even more pressure on me to not mess up!”

“You will be fine,” Logan says. He turns around, peering at Virgil through his sports glasses. “I have faith in you. You are more than your serves - you are also an excellent blocker with swift reflexes. You are a multi-purpose tool, and I will utilize you to the best of my ability.”

Virgil stares at him, mouth slightly open, and Logan blinks, leaning back, eyebrows creasing. “Was - that an insensitive remark? I meant no disrespect.”

Virgil blinks at him, once, and then laughs, gently socking Logan in the arm. “Maybe other people would have found it insensitive, but I found it comforting. Thanks, Lo.” Logan crinkles his eyes and curves the corner of his mouth up, gently bonking his forehead against Virgil’s shoulder.

*~*~*~*~*

“I’m sorry!” Roman sprints across the court and pulls Janus to his feet. “I hit you in the face, are you alright?”

“I’ll never recover,” Janus says, rubbing his face. “Am I bleeding?”

“Not that I can see.”

“Still have all my teeth?”

“Yep.”

“Then I’ll be fine.”

“You really gotta get better at receives, Jan!” Remus laughs.

“And why would I do that when I have my darling libero looking out for me?” Remus grins, pleased, and Janus ruffles his hair fondly.

“Can you please not be gross with my brother right the fuck in front of me?”

Janus raises a single eyebrow at him before leaning down and very deliberately sliding his tongue into Remus’s mouth. “What the fuck, I officially retract my apology for hitting you in the face, I’m done, I’m leaving, goodbye -”

“That’s an . . . unusual warmup strategy,” the opposing captain tells Thomas.

“They’re unusual players,” Thomas says.

*~*~*~*~*

“Thomas, nice serve!”

Thomas spins the ball between his hands, takes a deep breath, tosses it in the air, slams it forward. “Damn it - straight to their libero!”

“It’s a quick from the left! Janus, that’s you -”

“On it!”

“Nice one-touch - pick it up!”

“Remus -”

“Got it!”

Logan turns, runs, leaps up into position, scans over the team. Where are the blockers - where are the spikers - what’s the position - who can he use - what can he do -

“Logan, to the ace!”

“Number two, number two!”

Roman jumps on the left, Janus on the right, and coming from the back row - the pipe, he can do it, where is Thomas, he’s running from the back, he’s in the air, twist lift and set -

Thomas slams it straight past the opposing blockers and hits cleanly. The referee blows her whistle, and the score changes. One point in their favor.

“Logan, I wanted a toss!” Roman complains. Logan squints at him - is he really upset? No, his eyes are crinkled like when he laughs at Remus’s stupid jokes, and he shows Logan a thumbs-up.

“You can have the next one,” Logan says.

“Telegraphing your next move so loudly? I guess the Ice King has lost his touch,” Number Eight calls. Remus begins snarling from the back row, but Logan turns a cool stare at his opponent.

“I have more than one weapon in my arsenal.”

Number Eight scoffs, but Logan just turns away. “Thomas,” he says. Thomas looks at him, and Logan lifts his hands, signing quickly. Setter-back-row. Aim-receive-9. Thomas nods, taking the volleyball again.

Remy touches Emile’s shoulder gently. When he turns to look, Remy nods at Logan and Thomas. “What is he saying?”

Emile turns more fully towards him. “Their setter is in the back row. He’s not allowed to move to the front row until after the serve, so there’s a moment of confusion where he has to run in front of someone. If you aim a serve correctly, there’s a delay, which can mess up even the strongest receiver.”

Sure enough, the setter darts in front of Number Nine, and the receive goes flying out of bounds.

“He really is something else, isn’t he?” Remy asks.

“Logan? Yeah, he’s got great analytical skills, and they’re fast to boot. His problem is communication, but this team . . . it’s not gonna let him get away with being silent for long.”

Thomas serves again, and they receive it more cleanly. The set goes up, the spike goes down, and Remus dives to catch it. “Nice receive!” Logan moves into position, his hands go up, Roman gets into position and jumps, the blockers move in front of him, and Logan shifts at the last second and dumps the ball right in front of the net.

Number Eight glares at him again. Logan stares back impassively. “Was that supposed to impress me, Ice King?"

“Was that supposed to intimidate me . . .” Is Logan supposed to insult him back? How would Remus insult him? He will never understand the art of trash talking someone. “For someone playing a team sport, you seem to be incredibly self-centered right now.”

Number Eight scoffs at him and turns away; Logan just blinks.

“Was he trying to insult me?” he asks Roman.

“Probably,” Roman says.

“Oh. Was I supposed to insult him back?”

Roman grins at him, sharp and bloodthirsty. “Let your tosses insult that pesky motherfucker. Don’t be afraid to rely on me to help you, hmm?”

Logan nods. “As you wish.”

Remus has to dive for the next receive, and it comes off-kilter. “Sorry!”

Nothing to apologize for, Logan thinks. You got the ball in the air. That’s all I need. 

Roman slams the ball past two blockers without even trying.

*~*~*~*~*

They take the first set narrowly, 25-20. Their opponents attack with a vengeance in the second set, and it isn’t long before the player-swap whistle blows and Virgil steps up to serve.

Logan hands him the ball; their fingers overlap. Virgil looks at him, and Logan looks back, crinkling his eyes. “You can do this,” he says, voice low. “They underestimate you the way they underestimate me. I can see it in their eyes. Show them why that is a mistake.”

Virgil blinks at him, taking the ball. “You got it, Lo.”

“What’s he gonna do?” Number Eight laughs. Logan returns to his front line position next to Janus.

“You know, you really run your mouth quite a bit for someone who has yet to show me anything truly impressive,” Janus drawls. Number Eight looks like he wants to flip him off, but before he can, Virgil serves.

“It’s out!”

Number Eight smirks, chin up, but Logan doesn’t look at him. He keeps watching the ball as it travels, travels, wavers, wobbles, and drops to the court, just within the line.

The opposing team turns to stare in shock as the whistle blows.

“Nice serve!” Remus and Roman yell, sprinting over to slap their hands against Virgil’s in victory.

“I knew all that practice was gonna pay off!”

“You’re amazing!”

“Guys, it’s just one point,” Virgil says, rubbing the back of his neck. His face has a pleased flush.

“It’s one more point than we had!” Remus says. “One point is the beginning - it’s all we need! Now go out and get us one more!”

Virgil serves, again and again, and racks up three more points before the opposing team figures out what to do with his jump float serve.

*~*~*~*~*

Not all blocks are equal, Janus thinks. The goal is not always to shut the ball down. Sometimes, a wall is not possible. 

Janus is not a tall middle blocker; he isn’t nearly as short as Remus is, but he’s only average height. He cannot shut down the opposing spikers the way that someone else might. He hears what people say when they see him take position.

How can he possibly be a middle blocker with that height?

Aim for the middle, he’s too short to make any difference!

Even if he jumps, he can’t stop you!

They are all fools.

Janus does not need to stop a ball to block effectively.

He jumps, and Number Six smirks at him, aiming right for him. Janus can see Remus moving behind him from the corner of his eye, and he smirks right back at Number Six.

I don’t have to stop your spike to shut you down. 

He shifts his fingers, and the ball bounces off of them. “A soft block?!” Number Six shouts. Janus hears the ball make contact with Remus’s forearms, and he’s running when he lands. By the time Logan’s hands are in the air, Janus is all the way at the other side of the net, and he swings his hand as though he’s going to slam the ball down. Number Six jumps in front of him, snarling, and Janus shifts to the tips of his fingers again and feints.

The ball drops to the court just behind Number Six, the referee’s whistle blows, and Janus lands. “Was the toss alright?” Logan asks, jogging over. “Do you need me to make any adjustments for you?” Janus notices the way his eyes widen, as though he’s afraid he’ll get yelled at, and he smiles. It’s genuine; despite the popular misconception, he is capable of those.

“It was wonderful,” he says. “Nice toss, Logan.”

Logan smiles up at him. “Nice feint!”

“Damn it!” Number Six shouts. Janus turns to him and smiles with all his teeth, no mirth behind it.

You underestimate me at your own peril.

*~*~*~*~*

Their opponents call a time-out, and Logan grabs his water bottle. Remus slaps him on the back before he has a chance to take a sip. “Logan!”

Logan turns, startled, and Remus grins up at him. “You’re on the back row when we go in, right?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t run forward.”

“What?”

“Don’t move forward to set. Focus on getting the cleanest possible receive you can, okay? Just get it into the air.”

“If I receive, I cannot set,” Logan says. “I do not understand.”

Remus drops his grin, showing Logan his ‘I’m-being-serious’ hand sign. “I know you’re a genius setter, but trust me, Logan. My brother and I have a trick or two up our sleeves. It’ll be okay.”

Logan blinks at him. “I am unsure of this plan.” Remus just keeps watching him. “However . . . I trust you. I trust my team. If you say that you can handle it, then you can.” Remus grins at him, holding up his hands for a high ten. Logan tucks his bottle between his legs and high-tens him back.

Before they step back onto the court, Remus grabs Roman’s wrist. “Wh -”

“I told Logan to focus on receiving this next spike.” Roman turns to look at him.

“What the hell - why would you do that?”

“He’s all the way in the back row! And it must be tiring, setting all those balls one after another. Don’t you think it’s Wonder Twin time?” Roman’s expression changes from angry to joyous in an instant.

“You know what? You’re absolutely right.”

The serve comes in, and Logan shifts into a receiving stance. Remus and Roman make eye contact across the court, and Roman’s eyes flick to the left. Remus nods. Logan receives the ball cleanly. “Nice receive!”

“Their setter received it!” Number Two yells. “They’re limited!”

Not on my watch, motherfucker, Remus grins. He sprints forward, touches down right in front of the attack line, jumps, twists, and lifts his hands. Roman heads for the left, all three blockers surge up to meet him, and then he pivots and sprints to the center. Remus tosses, Roman jumps, and the ball slams down onto the opponent’s court.

Remus, who isn’t used to being in the air, lands on his ass, but he rolls to his feet quickly. “Take that, you son of a -”

“Remus!” Thomas snaps. Roman sprints back and gives him a high ten, grinning, and Logan looks at him.

“You can set?”

“I’m better at receiving, and I’m not really tall enough to play any position other than libero. But that doesn’t mean you’ve seen my whole bag of tricks! I can set in a pinch, as long as I jump from behind that attack line, but I really only practice setting for Roman, so I don’t do it for anyone else.”

Logan blinks, and then his face breaks out into a wide, unrestrained grin, one hand flapping rapidly at his side. “You’re so cool!” he bursts. “That’s amazing, that’s so so cool!”

Remus grins, flushing under the praise. “I know! I am amazing, aren’t I? Marvel at my power!”

“Don’t compliment him like you mean it, Logan, he’s gonna get a big head!” Roman scolds. Remus sticks his tongue out, and Logan laughs.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan lifts his hands to the back of his head, like he’s covering it against the serve. He shifts his fingers to signal: synchronized attack.

The serve goes up, clean receive, which means the most likely course is -

“Center attack!” Logan shouts. Number Three scoffs as his center straight comes down right against Remus’s waiting hands.

“It’s all yours, Logan!”

All four of them move in unison - Virgil, Janus, Roman, Thomas, all running forward in unison. Logan shifts, watches the confusion of the blockers, lifts his hands. The toss that will work the best, the toss that can score a point, the spiker who will carry the momentum of this match is -

“Watch out, it’s number 13!”

Virgil slams a cut shot across three blockers and scores without breaking a sweat. “Unlucky,” he smirks, fistbumping Janus.

*~*~*~*~*

The second set comes to a deuce, and they call a time out. “We need to gain a two-point lead to take this match, but don’t get so caught up in the idea of the next point that you miss the one in front of you. Keep your focus in the moment, not the future. Understand?”

“Yes!”

Logan tosses the ball into the air, jumps, and serves. As the other team receives, he grabs Roman’s shirt. “Roman, instead of a wall, try an umbrella!”

“What?”

Roman’s eyes widen in recognition as they jump to block the spike, deflecting it towards the back. “Remus!” Thomas shouts.

“I got it - it’s up!”

“Roman!” Logan shouts, turning to set.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Ice King!” Number Eight laughs. All three blockers converge on Roman, who jumps and bounces the ball off the block.

“What?!”

“A rebound?!”

“Remus, pick it up!” Roman shouts.

“I got it!”

“Come on, let’s go!”

Roman and Janus jump at the net, but Logan is already setting for the pipe. Thomas jumps from the back, slams the ball past the block, and scores.

“Nice kill!”

“You couldn’t use lingo that’s a little more clear next time?” Roman complains

“Why would I need to? You understood what I meant, didn’t you?”

Roman ruffles his hair, and Logan swats at his arm. “Hey, that hurts, don’t do that!” Roman just laughs and keeps going.

*~*~*~*~*

The rally has been going for almost two minutes now, the ball constantly in the air, and the exhaustion is setting in. They have the lead by one point, and they only need one more to take the match. “Come on, come on!”

“They’re gonna use the ace! Cover Number Three!”

Roman jumps, Logan’s hands go up, the blockers move to cover Roman, and Logan dumps the ball. Number Ten dives for it, but it drops to the ground right in front of him.

They take their second set, and the match, 26-24.

*~*~*~*~*

Patton tucks his manager notebook into his bag and starts handing out water bottles. “You were all amazing! Logan, I think that’s the most you’ve communicated in a match, and it really showed!”

Logan takes the water bottle, nodding. “It took me a while to learn how to communicate most effectively with my teammates. I was trying to carry the entire weight of the team on my shoulders as the setter. But I . . . am not the only one on my team thinking. I can give options, and trust that they will utilize those options effectively.”

“That’s right!” Remus crows, slapping his back. “We have brains too, Logan!”

“The rest of us, maybe. You? Debatable,” Virgil says. Remus immediately tackles him to the court.

“Are you trying to injure me?” Virgil shrieks. Roman rolls his eyes and sighs.

“I do not know how you put up with him on a regular basis, I truly do not,” Logan sighs.

“It’s a miracle I haven’t suffocated him in his sleep, it really is.”

*~*~*~*~*

The bus ride home is quiet. “I’m sorry,” Logan says.

Virgil passes him an earbud. “What do you mean?”

“I did not toss to you nearly as much as I have in previous and practice games when you were on the court.”

“No need to apologize for that, man. I wasn’t in as much as normal, and you utilized the rest of the team to the best of your ability. And we won, didn’t we? I’m not offended, I’m not gonna break up with you over it.”

Logan smiles, and Virgil tilts his head to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Take your post-tournament nap, Popsicle. We gotta build up our strength for tomorrow.”

Logan puts the earbud in, leans his head against Virgil’s shoulder; Virgil leans against him in turn, and they’re asleep before the bus crests the next hill.

#starshinewrites #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #thomas sanders #platonic TDRLAP #platonic creativitwins #background analogical #background dukeceit

[what-the--curtains]

Not a Piece of Art

Part 1/4 - A Grudge Like No Other

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

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Summary: You’re tasked with an impossible mission and an even more impossible partner to complete it with.

Authors note: I have never not once seen narcos all I know if based on other fics I’ve read so pls be kind but let me know if anything’s wildly out of character! Also I’m aware forensics wasn’t a solid discipline (especially DNA fingerprinting) but we’re gonna pretend it is. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged) 😊

Tw: Mentions of fake parental death, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 4.1k

Tagged list: @agingerindenial @diogodxlot

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The morning sun radiates down on your shoulders as you lock the door to your apartment complex behind you. Despite the early hour it was already far too hot, but at least the humidity wouldn’t kick in until the afternoon. You’d been working in Colombia for a few months now, but the heat wasn’t something you’d ever get used to. You weren’t complaining, most days you preferred it to the frigid temperatures that painted your childhood. The frost bitten noses, wool socks and thick snow falls coating tree branches seemed all but a distant memory now. You’d settled on Columbia after your long time best friend Connie convinced you to take the universities offer. She had recently made the move down south and was eager to have you there with her.

She’d told you about the job and honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had marched down to the university herself and dropped off your resume. She’d flown up to Brown and helped you pack up your life and then unpack it after your arrival to the terraced apartment Connie had picked out for you both to live in. It was a decent size and the balcony was south facing which gave you all day access to the sun. When you weren't working you spent your time out there soaking up the sun and watering the small garden you had been tending to since your arrival. Your days were primarily spent at the university working out the finer details of the forensics lab you were hired to set up. Your PhD in forensic anthropology has left you with various laboratory based skills, including DNA analysis, making you a coveted asset to the campus. Whilst in school you had also completed an art certificate which came in handy when facial reconstructions were needed.

After everything was in place you began running samples, processing unidentified remains by working on dental ID’s and facial reconstructions, as well as testing for drug residue. Despite being run by the University your job wasn’t as research based as you would have hoped with your work often falling under the DEA’s jurisdiction. You weren't involved in their day to day protocols. You mainly just ran the tests, or identified bodies recovered from the crime scene only conversing with them when it was absolutely necessary. Police work wasn’t in your wheelhouse, and it wasn’t a profession you supported or believed in.

Many faces passed through your workspace all demanding your utmost attention claiming their projects to be the most important. One frequent flyer through the lab was Steve Murphy, who Connie had met down in Miami a few years back. His relationship to your friend was the only reason you had bothered to make an effort with him. A friendship was established between the two of you faster than you had expected, due in part to his easy southern charm, but mainly because he and Connie evidently had feelings for eachother. You always found it easier to get along with men who weren't trying to get into your pants which was, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence in the male dominated discipline you worked in. There was only one flaw you could attribute to Steve, his work wife, the other half of the DEAs “dynamic duo”, agent Javier Peña. You’d never been formally introduced to the man, but his reputation preceded him. His was a face that also made frequent appearances in your lab but you'd never spoken more than three words to each other which was, probably for the best. You had what some might deem a confrontational personality and from what you understood Peña was, to put it nicely, an asshole.

He always came in sporting a more casual look and sunglasses which he kept on despite being indoors, a habit that drove you up the wall. He’d tap the file on the glass to get your attention always making you walk the five extra steps to get to him. You didn’t bother to look up when he passed the beige folders to you just grabbed the file from his hands and added it to the pile on your desk. He’d started attaching yellow sticky notes with “put a rush on” scrawled across them in impatient handwriting, as if his case was more important than the remains you were currently working on identifying. Not talking was a strategic move on your part, you’d heard he was quite the charmer when he needed something done, and you weren't going to let him get away with that. You ran this lab, not Javier Peña. Was your dismissal of him warranted? Maybe not, but your gut instinct was usually right and the rumour mill had painted Peña in a very specific manner. You weren't about to let yet another hot headed alpha male who took “too much male energy” to an entirely new level into your life.

Unfortunately, your knack for avoiding him became nearly impossible when you were called out to work on a crime scene. Despite your refusal to work in the field, the remains couldn’t be moved so you had to go to them. The site was just far enough away that a daily commute would have been tedious so you, along with the dynamic duo and your forensic team were booked into a nearby hotel. You weren't sure what you'd done in your past life to piss off the gods but somehow you’d ended up sandwiched between Steve and Peña. Steve wasn’t the issue, apart from the TV which you’d hear blare spanish dubbed reruns of Miami Vice between 4 and 8 PM, he was a quiet, considerate neighbour. Peña, on the other hand, was neither considerate or quiet particularly during the late hours of the night while you were trying to sleep. Sharing a wall with the agent proved to be an issue, so much so that by the third day just looking at him filled you with such intense rage that you'd given yourself lockjaw.

Every night without fail you laid awake as the exaggerated, bordering on ridiculous, moans coming from whoever he'd enticed into bed that night reverberated through your shared wall. You'd tried it all, earplugs, pillows so forcefully wrapped around your head you were essentially smothering yourself, but the sounds still permeated through the plaster and into your head. On the fourth night when you heard the talking start you knew what you had to do. You furiously wriggle free from your sheets and make your way out into the hallway. You walk one door over and inhale deeply before aggressively pounding your fist on the door.

“Hey” you say, through gritted teeth.

“Hey?” a slightly disheveled Steve murmurs eyes squirting into the hallway’s bright lights as his arms cross clumsily over his bare chest.

“Look I hate to ask but can I sleep on your couch, the walls are thin and...”

“And Peña has a thing for loud women '' he finishes for you, shoulders relaxing as he opens the door up for you “surprised you lasted this long, come in i'll grab you some pillows”

“Thanks for letting me sleep here, I think I may have killed him in the field tomorrow if I didn't get at least an hour of sleep. Also this isn’t some tactic to get you to bed so you can stop trying to cover your modesty” You say wiping your eyes, as Steve drops his arms to his side laughing.

“I know, believe me, besides i'm sure you're aware I’m only interested in one person.” So he did have a thing for Connie.

“You should go for it, I think she'd say yes” you offer, even in your sleep deprived state you were still a pretty solid wingwoman.

“You think?” His eyes light up, further cementing your belief that Steve, despite being friends with Peña, was a good guy.

“Thanks” you murmur as he hands you some pillows and a light sheet. It's not long before the AC’s quiet hum draws you into a deep sleep.

The alarm blaring out from Steve’s room pulls you from your dreaming state, groaning as you squeeze a pillow over your head. Why was it that you always felt worse after getting a good night's sleep? You briefly doze off again only waking as the smell of burnt toast convinces your brain that either a fire has started, or you were having a stroke.

“Tryna burn this place down?” you mumble, relaxing back into the couch cushions as you watch Steve scrape the burnt bits off into the garbage before buttering it and taking a bite.

“You think you got enough sleep to not kill my partner this morning?” he asks between mouthfuls.

“No, but I did get enough to realize if I killed him in the field there'd be witnesses” you remark pouring coffee into a cracked mug. “Thank you for letting me sleep here “

“Anytime, though Javi should be the one thanking me considering I basically saved his life. Lucky were leaving today or I’d have to put him into protective custody.”

“And I'll never have to hear him ever again” you say suddenly feeling a bit better. You were glad for Steve being so accommodating to your needs, especially considering he didn't really know you that well. “Well I should go get ready for the day ahead what it's supposed to be out?”

“A balmy 40” Steve offers, as he washes your cup up in the sink.

“Wow I should have packed my snow pants when I moved down here.” you dead pan, the delivery causing Steve to snort as you exit the room. As you exit, Javier opens his door kissing the woman he’d spent the night with one last time watching as she strides off down the hallway. You don’t see him, but he sees you. Specifically, he sees you leaving his partner's room, and in nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, he raised his eyebrows. Good for Steve from what he’d heard half the department had been trying to get your attention to no avail. Your head was always buried in paperwork and your ears were always donning headphones blocking out small talk, maybe he should take a page from your book. He didn’t say anything to Steve in the field, but he did watch you interact with one another. Paying specific attention to how you'd made Steve laugh while photographing the murder weapon. Javi watched as you meticulously gathered up a few finger bones that he'd overheard you saying would be used for DNA fingerprinting. He'd tried to talk to you a few times this trip, but the second he'd stepped in your direction he noticed your jaw clench and your body tense up, not wanting to upset you he decided it was best to back off. After getting what you need you packed up your things and headed back home, with no intentions of ever having to interact with Peña for more than 5 minutes ever again.

Several months later

Your lab was now contracted out full time by the DEA which meant you still got to do research but you didn’t have to teach any teenagers which was quite frankly a dream. Unfortunately, the contract meant you'd now be spending time in two male-dominated fields. The boys club offered little that would qualify as genuine friendship. Turns out the ones brave enough to approach you were only nice to you because they wanted to sleep with you. Something you’d found out after overhearing a less than true story about you from one of the guy’s you’d hooked up with. After that you’d stopped sleeping where you work and started looking elsewhere. Your few short lived romances were mainly found in dive bars only going home with people that had been thoroughly vetted (and vaguely threatened) by yourself, Connie and Steve. Who was now a relatively permanent fixture in your life after finally asking Connie out, and you really didn’t mind it. He was good to Connie and he never minded being excluded when you needed a girls' night without him. You also assumed the decrease in misogynistic talk amongst the agents was Steves doing, you made a mental note to thank him later, as you took another swig of the beer you’d been nursing for the past hour.

Steve was still inseparable from Peña and where he went Javi was sure to follow. Your inability to not become enraged by him meant you often found yourself leaving the room as soon as he showed up, subsequently cutting your Connie time in half. Devastating both you and her.

“You know he’s not really as insufferable as he acts” Connie states, Javi was due to show up any minute which meant it was just about time for you to leave.

“ You're not gonna sell me on this” you say, chewing on a stale nacho chip from food you’d ordered hours ago.

“Seriously, he's almost nice sometimes” your pointed look tells her to drop it. Connie was nothing if not resilient and you were constantly amazed by her. You don’t know how she worked as a nurse. You had a hard enough time with the dead, how she also dealt with the living as well was beyond you. She was a quantifiable saint which was probably why she saw the good in Peña.

“Remind me to never make you mad” Steve says.

“No one holds a grudge quite like her” Connie exclaims

“Awe you say the sweetest things about me” you retort after finishing the last of your beer.

“Alright well I’ve got an early morning shift so we should be heading out, tell Javi I say hi” Connie says kissing Steve before the two of you exit the bar.

“Are you really going to keep up this affront against Javi?” Connie asks, interlinking your arms together as you exit the bar.

“Yes, now please and can we stop talking about Peña even thinking about him gets me riled up”

“I thought you said you hated him” she teases causing you to roll your eyes.

“Please don't make me gag” you say pulling a face that causes you both to break into a giggle fit.

“What up her ass? Seriously, am I infectious or something?” Javi asks, slumping down across from Steve who's filling out paperwork at his desk.

“Well considering your history, probability is pretty high” Steve quips back earning him a thwack to the head with a folder you’d dropped on Peña’s desk earlier that morning.

“You know her, what's her deal, why does she hate me?”

“Everyone hates you Javi, it’s a fundamental part of your personality” Steve laughs.

Javier usually wasn’t one to concern himself with how others perceived him, but his work frequently overligned with yours and he figured his life would be made infinitely easier if he could get into your good books. Sure, at first his intrigue in getting to know you was purely physical. He knew looks aren't everything, but for what he wanted, they played a fundamental part. He wasn’t the only person to have noticed you the day you showed up, all eyes were on you as you walked through the DEA embassy for the first time. Your arrival had sparked a competitive energy amongst the men with the agents often vying over who got the honour of dropping off case files to you. A few were apparently even so lucky to have actually spent the night, at least that's what he’d overheard some agents proclaiming loudly, making him doubt their validity.

He’d cracked down on what some would call “locker room talk” when he thought you and Steve were sleeping together, after seeing you leave his room early that one morning. Though if Steve had been spending nights with you he’d never brought it up to Javi, and after he started dating Connie there never seemed a right time to ask about you, so he let it go. He’d gotten more proactive with stopping it once you’d been hired on full time. He’d upped his guard when he’d caught one trying to cop a feel of your ass the day you had been called in on your day off. You’d come in wearing a skirt shorter than what would be considered workplace appropriate gaining you more attention than usual. He noticed the guys hand drop down low, but any contact was stopped when Javi smashed the guys arm back into the wall behind him. In most cases a move like that would have earned him a swift punch to the face but a simple raise of his eyebrows was enough to get the pervert to sit back down.

Despite the scene playing out a few feet from you, you never noticed carrying on about your day as if nothing had happened, headphones on, paperwork in your arms and various scrawlings across your hand, reminders of meetings he knew you'd be late to anyways. He assumes your chronic lateness was a tactic to spend as little time around him as possible. Your hatred for him was palpable, he wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. He'd noticed how you would stand in meetings when the only seat available was next to him. It was starting to get to his ego. He wanted to know what he possibly could have done to be treated like the scum of the earth by you. He’d heard from Connie that you didn’t like cops, but you got on fine with Steve. Your lives continued on with minimal interaction until the day you were called into the head of the DEA’s office.

“Office now!” your boss shouts from the door. Fuck. What have you done now?

“Hey you need something?” you ask, lips parted and forehead wrinkled, feeling like a child who’d just been called to the principal's office. Your head snaps to the left when you feel eyes boring into you, eyes belonging to Peña. He shifts around in the chair to escape your violent gaze. You turn to Steve who's gazing up at the ceiling.

“I have the dental results here for the missing persons from the case last week, it’s a match, I know it's late but...”

“It's not that,” he gestures his hand to the chair beside Peña and you sit, placing the documents down on the table. Javi cranes his neck slightly, eyes darting over the various statistics strewn across the page surprised you were able to piece it all together.

“You have an art degree right?”

“I have an art certificate” you correct

“and you paint”

“A bit”

“She was featured in local galleries back in the States” Steve pipes up.

“ Good, we need you to go undercover” you snort before laughing aloud. Your amusement quickly fades when you realize no one else was laughing with you.

“Wait you're serious? You want me... to go undercover? I'm not an agent, I can’t use a gun, I don’t think I've even held one before” you say, tearing through all the excuses you could think of.

“You can shoot a bow and arrow,” Steve pipes up.

“Ya very different instrument Steve, also does Connie tell you everything about me” he shrugs his shoulders.

“You won’t need a gun anyways, you'll have a trained agent with you at all times.” Your boss reassures.

“No. No way! Im sorry but this… this is beyond the scope of my work and my skill set” you assert, not budging.

“You’ve been to crime scenes before, you’ve been in dangerous scenarios, excavated mass graves, we need you you’re the only one who can help with this”

“Why? You have multiple agents out there who would kill to go undercover, why me?” you push

“ Your background, and relative anonymity. There's been an increase in art dealing amongst the sicarios.”

“So what? Maybe they just really like art.” you offer

“Does anyone really like art” Peña pipes up

“ Yes, the whole world actually” you shoot back, successfully shutting him up.

“We think they're using convincing fakes to smuggle drugs without suspicion” Steve offered, helping to clear up the situation.

“Okay... then hire an art expert to go in and see if the paintings are real”

“We need you to test for residue on the paintings, and to recreate one in time for the next move”

“Okay im good, but I am not good enough to recreate a painting worth thousands of dollars.”

“From what I’ve seen you are,” Steve says further cementing your fate.

“What if I say no?” you ask, exhaling deeply.

“Then you're fired” Javier pipes up, once again causing your head to turn to him.

“And who, pray tell, made you judge, jury and executioner” you spit “last time I check Javier Peña wasn’t the one signing my paychecks”

“No, but I am, and you will do this” Your boss's backing of Peñas statement makes the smirk on his face even more aggravating.

“Fine, but just know I will be personally mentioning you all in my will so everyone knows exactly who got me killed, and I'm gonna want a raise, more vacation time and a new piece of lab equipment if I make it out alive. ”

“Fine” you smile feeling slightly vindicated.

“So what's my story? Who am I to have a million dollar painting in my possession?” you ask, as your boss pulls up a document on his computer.

“You’ll go by Melanie Alverez nee Smith, you were born in London England to parents Maria and Calvin who passed in a car accident four weeks after your nineteenth birthday”

“Shit” you mutter, thinking about your own parents who were very much alive.

“You dropped out of Oxford where you were undertaking a degree in chemistry and moved to New York where you began painting. You were a struggling artist for the first two years but received funding to attend Julliard. After graduation your first major piece was accepted by a local gallery and put up for auction. It sold for 10,000$. The buyer wanted to meet you after seeing your photo. He’d sent thousands of flowers to your gallery before showing up and asking you on a date.

“Must be nice” you murmur

“After a whirlwind romance you eloped and moved down to Columbia where you continue to work as an artist.”

“Alright easy enough, short live romance is a good call that can be used to explain why we don’t know certain information about each other.”

“You'll be staying here” A huge spanish style house appears on the screen. Its prestige was only overshadowed by the mansion looming over it from across the private beach. Must be the target's house, you think.

“It was built by the target, he lives there with his fourth wife. He’s rich, sources claims from drug smuggling, they think he may even have direct links to Escobar

“Like, as in Pablo?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Apparently he’s his art dealer. We need you to go in and see what he knows, if it's not enough then test the paintings in their homes”

“And if they trace?”

“You'll give them the fake implemented with a tracking device so we can target its route.”

“Okay well I'd say easy enough but the threat of being murdered isn’t lost on me. Who's my husband anyways? Obviously he’s rich but did he tragically fall down the stairs and die, did I kill him?” you ask, smiling as Steve laughs.

“What?” you say looking up

“What...” you say as Steve refuses to meet your eyes as he chokes on his laugh.

“Well you haven’t killed him yet but I give it a week.” He responds.

“Who's my husband” you ask, again suddenly afraid and very aware that there were two men in this room, and one was currently laughing at you.

“Your lucky day sweetheart.” Your head turns comically slow to face Javi, the effect only causes Steve to snicker more.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you whisper.

“This mission is anything, but a joke.” your boss interjects “If we can trace the arts movement it brings us one step closer to catching Escobar. I don’t know why there's animosity between you two and frankly I do not care. You two must work together. If you are to succeed you have to be believable. Study up on each others aliases the target hasn’t made it this far without being killed by being stupid. We’ve tried to get to him before with no success, he will be on high alert. You two will have to convince him, and his wife, that you’re sincere.”

#javi x reader #javi x you #javi x y/n #Peña x reader #Peña x you #javier pena x reader #Javier Peña x you #narcos fanfic #agent peña x reader #agent Peña x you #not a piece of art #part 1

[soyouareandrewdobson]

…the ugly. SYAC: The Master Review 4

Last post I covered much of what I consider the good or passable strips of SYAC of the pre-Dobbear era. What I have admittedly not covered yet, were three certain characters of the strip that exist beside Dobson.

Persistent Pam

 Curmudgeonly Carl

And… this guy I am not even sure has a name.

No, seriously. He shows up in like the 61th strip of the series for the first time and yet I never see his name mentioned once

All I know is that he is an accountant, who pities Dobson (for good reason)

And despite Dobson not liking alcohol, they regularly meet up in a bar as if they are some late 80s comedy duo

Funnily enough, he shows up way before Pam, who would have her premiere in these strips

 And despite only showing up in a few strips after her premiere (mostly to make “fun” of overbearing and snarky commissioners I suppose…)

 She actually managed something no other character or series by Dobson managed to get: A fanclub

 Not that she would really be of any major importance afterwards.

As for Carl, he is supposed to be something like an antagonistic embodiment of Dobson’s “old” art teachers and people being stuck in old ways, who shows up for the following strips forming a sort of arc.

In addition, it is very obvious, that Carl is supposed to be a mockery of people flaming Dobson. Not helped by the fact that THIS character sheet of him made by Dobson assures us, that there were quite a few even less “endorsing” things he wanted to name the character.

Yet funnily enough, Carl turned into such a popular character with readers, Dobson was essentially “forced” to make him reappear in other strips. Not of the “classical” SYAC strips, but he showed up as the “antagonist” to Tenku in the storydriven multi pagers. Though even antagonist is a strong word, as he is essentially more of a jerkish art teacher and college advisor who is harsh on Tenku, but actually has his best interests in mind. To the point he even offers him to be his “harsher” art critic in the years till he enters college, because he wants to see him grow artistically.

 However, Carl was also more of an “accident”. Cause when it came otherwise to tackling criticism or things that irked Dobson (and were not anime related) he would end up more or less creating strips that painted him in a manner where he would supposedly always look like “the better” compared to his opposition or mock it. Which is where a lot of the irk Dobson would earn over the years eventually comes from.

Now to be fair, I do not want to call every comic in that regard “strawmanning”, nor do I want to say that Dobson doesn’t have the right to also mock to a certain extend the mentality of certain “snobs” and so on. For example…

On one hand, I know there are people out there who think they are “special” by having the best tools at their disposal. When in reality you can achieve good results also with less expensive stuff. So mocking that sort of attitude is fine to me to some extend

BUT, when you also make down the line a comic like this…

… essentially making yourself come off as a “better” artist or person than others because you have “chosen” the better mass produced crap (btw, that is coming from someone who types this review on a Mac that runs Windows) , then the hypocrisy ends up to be rather strong with you.

 Which is also essentially the biggest issue with the strips I am about to show. The hypocrisy of Andrew Dobson. And no, I do not mean the tumblr blog by that. I mean the simple fact, that the content of some of the soon to follow strips gets kinda muddled when you take into consideration some of the things real life Dobson had said and done either at the time or in the years to come. Well that and the way how he tries to mock issues people have with his work, not realizing how he is essentially just reassuring those “silly critics” in their opinions while making his flaws more obvious to people that may have been previously unaware of them.

But enough talk, let me just show you in quick succession examples to confirm said point.

Considering Dobson’s longterm disdain for DnD you have to wonder what the joke really is outside of him portraying DnD players as ugly nerds, supposedly too geeky even for him. Which is hilarious in hindsight as he would years later become a fan of TAZ among other things.

Less hypocritical but the set up is kinda flawed. Like, you are obviously at a convention trying to sell stuff. Why would some old dude not interested in “kids crap” be at the convention anyway? Is he just bringing someone there and just wants to go, but first needs time to belittle your life choices?

 Rather hilarious in hindsight to me. Cause for someone claiming he has ideas that last for a life time and who seems rather distraught on the idea of others giving their input, he turned out to be so in need of ideas. Alex ze Pirate e.g. became from 2015 onward only defined by Dobson talking about the sexualities of his characters (and not even in comic as by that point it was discontinued, but rather in tweets and so on). Formera, which ran heavily on cheap shonen anime tropes ended up cancelled after two volumes, Cabin Rest was a failure after 20 strips, 2019 he relied primarily on cheap comics about Miraculous Ladybug and his understanding of certain genres is so bad, he can’t even think up the most basic ideas for a magical girl story.

Weirdly enough, that pitch of a garbage truck driver who fights crime? I think that could make for an enjoyable short story about a vigilante a la the Punisher or Sin-City.

 The way Dobson perceives criticism, while also essentially giving a quick rundown how he appreciated criticism in his childhood way better than in adulthood. Yeah, because criticism by your parents as a kid was always VERY constructive. (looks back at certain drawings from own childhood) brrr. And sorry Dobson, but sometimes criticism by strangers is better than criticism from friends. Cause friends may mince their words. Plus people have over time given you quite some insightful criticism aside “U SUX” when it comes to comics. You were just never willing to listen

Hey Dobson, you hear that? That is the sound of your career, dying and no one caring.

Yeah, I think someone who made such “brilliant” comedy as in these comics, totally has the right not to listen to what seems to be solid theoretical advice.

BTW, that Talus comic… I swear to god the worst “joke” Dobson ever told.

 Wow. You essentially make a point why you suck at drawing. While still not trying to change.

And as someone else once said: Don’t play with fire if you can’t deal with the heat, BLOCK-son!

This is not how I perceived your shit over the years. See, on one hand it is true that Alex ze Pirate e.g. has its own webpage to read the comic for free. HOWEVER most of his comics Dobson would hide from the start behind a paywall. The idea being that he would e.g. put a small reading sample of 10-15 pages up somewhere and then expect people to buy his comic for full price to get the rest. And you know, if you are e.g. a professionally published writer, that is fine. But when your average art output looks like THIS

And you expect people to pay more than 10 dollars for something that is only around 70 pages long while most people can get 200+ pages for the same amount of money that look like this…

 You can frankly go and screw yourself.

On one hand I get that the joke is meant to be, that as an independent content creator you may find yourself in a weird spot where your “child friendly” work may be put in a palace between edgier stuff other creators sell at conventions. On the other hand, I find it rather insulting in hindsight, that self declared feminist Andrew Dobson portrays such competition as either psychopathic murderers or stereotypical cartoon bimbos. If modern day Dobson saw the same strip by any other person, he would be insulted on behalf of the female that she is portrayed as a bimbo, when she could also be a very smart and attractive woman who knows how to tell brave and sexy stories.

Also, I have read your “child friendly” stuff, Dobson. I would call Atea or Alex abusive bitches who like to bully orphans but child friendly? Not to forget that your work is so basic and shallow in depth, it’s like the someone tried to create a chimera out of some of the worst traits associated with Dora the Explorer, 80s toodler cartoons and the Fairly Oddparents.

I frankly hate this theory on comedy. It is true, a lot of comedy can be deprived from conflict, misunderstandings etc. Looney Tunes, Tom and Jerry and other cartoons as well as screwball comedies such as Rat Race can depend on it. Heck, one of my favorite comedians of all time is Christopher Titus, who based his entire career on the misery and absurdity of his life.

But comedy is not just defined by misery and conflict.

There are for example also the following theories when it comes to comedy…

And to get back e.g. to Titus, yes, he has build a lot of his comedy on the bad stuff that happened in his life. But he is also someone who in his comedy has build a lot of punchlines on the absurdity of certain situations he has been in life but which in a way have enriched his life positively.

 What I am trying to say is, comedy (and entertainment in that regard) does not just have to be defined by misery. And all things considered Dobson, you could have really tried to also just make comics wherein either you or your characters are just happy with their situation in life.

For example, this page from an Owl House fancomic?

I think it holds more entertainment value than your “joke” right here, despite not even telling a joke.

Simply because as a page overall, it tries to convey a positive emotion. Which is more than I can say about the strip.

Because of a lack of different level of thickness regarding your lines, which would trick people into perceiving depth, the fact that the fill bucket and shade layers can only do so much to cover for the rather monochromatic dull nature of your comic, the fact that your characters are not really all that complex and look rather simplicstic even compared to stuff from a comic like this…

And that is just coming from the top of my head as someone who never studied art. If any reader has something to add, I am willing to listen

And considering you could in later years never keep up to any release schedule, which among other things resulted in only three SYAC strips in total being released in 2016, I say go fuck yourself. Not to forget that even some of the worst newspaper comic strips out there tend to actually find a decent following and good jokes eventually, otherwise they would not manage to stay popular for years, if not even decades.

As someone who has worked internships a lot in life, I just want to say fuck you in all our names. Glad to see you having just as much respect for interns than any other scumbag on the planet. Probably even less respect, cause you know, in some places interns tend to get paid.

Also, there is supposedly an entire real world story going on about Dobson having worked at his former university at the time the comic came out and Chaz is based on a fellow intern.

Things are unfortunately rather vague in that regard and only hold up by demonstrative evidence such as the name of Chaz showing up in certain pages of the university and Dobson’s internship being mentioned somewhere.

Well, would you look at that: People have different opinions on your stuff.

There are ways to draw memes funny and then there are ways to fail at them

 You failed.

Funnily enough, that comic rings a lot truer to text than you expect. Considering how Dobson would often emulate certain aesthetics in his comics of shows that were rather passee by the time he published his stuff, plus how he will obsess over certain trends and games for years to come (like Skyrim or his Quiet Hate Boner) while also being unaware about current trends (how do you e.g. not have heard of My Hero Academia by 2018 at least once by accident?) Dobson has always been kinda late to the party. Missing the “zeitgeist” of nerd culture and as such never quite finding an audience.

Yeah, what Pam says. Not helped by the fact that yes, the floating eyebrows are real. Look at some earlier sketches or “professionally published” comics by his and you will see that each time characters get excited, their eyebrows will suddenly split into sets of three and float higher than Pennywise’s victims.

Ironically, that fits real life Dobson at the time and later on even more so than this comic version did. Sorry, but what am I supposed to call a person who has an hate boner on anime for years for superfluous reasons, made Danny and Spot a “gaming webcomic” deliberately to piss on non Nintendo fans and has admitted in some by now deleted youtube video, that he kept a list of usernames from an old forum just to remember even years later the people that were mean to him online?

 Fuck both of you. I do not expect the Sixtin Chapel in the background, but something to filll up the empty space behind you is at times needed.

The comic here is actually called politics. … ironic how things changed once a certain reality show host turned president.

Jesus Christ. I am not even that much of a Transformers fan (Prime fan for life however) but even I know that this is not supposed to be what you design the head of a Transformer like. Not even if they ever produce the Transformers equivalent of Teen Titans Go.

Too bad you still can’t stand the heat, otherwise you wouldn’t have completely disappeared last year.

When you know you are in a no win situation, and still manage to choose an even dumber option to escape. I really don’t get it. I just think the Portal reference makes the comic dated and Dobsn’s attempt at a smug face looks so stupid. Like his cheeks are falling in and his mouth is about ready to get raped by a garden hose or something.

Yeah, considering Dobson’s later constant need for safe spaces and to be in control of a situation and the narrative, which led to so many blocks over the years… if you know anything about Dobson, how this comic becomes harsher in hindsight is rather self explanatory. I just want to say one thing: There is a difference between genuine agoraphobia and just wanting to be by yourself. And I think Dobson just prefers the later on average. Which is okay, but humans still need to interact with other human beings in one form or another, even just for the sake of keeping their mental health stable. Why do you think are so many people getting depressed in times of covid lockdowns, despite many having all sorts of technical gimmicks at their disposal to at least keep boredom at bay?

And by putting himself into a bubble like that, I think Dobson has deprived himself of some of the most basic human interaction, which was likely a severe factor in his mental degeneration over the last years.

It is still a valid suggestion! Just draw some cartoon characters or a nice fantasy scenario on a mural and earn yourself some bucks. Just be sure they are not by Disney or the Mouse will tear down the school!

… Just google up the words Andrew Dobson and Samus Aran commission by ED and you will see how this comic just further shows how much Dobson seems to actually be proud of being an unproductive asshole.

 And by the way, I know that any form of artistic work takes time. Just writing these review posts takes a lot of time for me. But that doesn’t change the fact that people should post and create stuff in a timely fashion, especially when there are e.g. deadlines to hold up too. And by the way, Sloth’s don’t have fingers, they have claws!

And that is it.

Sorry if I missed anything folks, but I just saw how many pages in word this is already filling up, so I call quits for this part here right now. I think I made my point about how Dobson trying to badly deflect arguments people may make against his art and work ethics via jokes clear enough, while also showing some posts that are either harsher or hilarious in hindsight.

Next time we will however address one certain issue about our main character, that has been not directly addressed here. In the meantime, have a little fun video that shows hopefully how entertainment and a certain amount of comedy can be gained NOT via misery.

#adobsoncomic #Andrew Dobson #Tom Preston #comic #webcomics #syac #so...you are a cartoonist #review #master review

[takaraphoenix]

spuffy for the ask game since you have a spuffy story coming up on your schedule?

Yes, yes I do! And sure can do! ^-^

I love Spuffy. It has been one of my absolute favorite ships from all fandoms for many years, but ever since I also read the comic continuation, I gotta say, Spuffy is the favorite ship. The most beloved of all ships I've ever sailed.

They are the embodiment of hero/villain enemies turned lovers.

And they have my favorite m/f dynamic; he's full of snark and bastard energy, but oh is he soft for her.

And they also have that thing that makes me love ships the most; it's a ship between my two favorite characters from that franchise. If a ship unites my two faves, it just instantly gains more of my love, because it means I get them both, at the same time, happy, with each other.

I love the way their dynamic slowly changes over the seasons.

I have a soft spot for early bastard secondary villain Spike, he is hilarious and Buffy's annoyance with him is delightful.

And then he has his literal oh moment of realizing he's into Buffy and he doesn't know how to handle it and he handles it in the whackiest, weirdest way possible. I mean, role playing with Harm? Having Warren build a sex bot? The incredibly awkard stalking?

But things get more serious and less of a comic relief "look at that poor bastard" when Spike becomes one of the people Buffy trusts. One of the people she trusts the most, I'd say, considering she leaves her mother and her sister with him, repeatedly.

Season 5 is such a good Spuffy season in that Spike becomes a Scooby by sheer force of will. Somewhere in my mind still lives an alternate spin where the Scoobies do escape Glory in their RV and just... have a merry roadtrip with each other.

And sure, it's easy to dismiss Spike - easy for Buffy and the other characters. Because he's a vampire, and not a fancy one with a soul like Angel. He might lust for Buffy, but it can't be love, right.

But, and that's what makes me love this ship so much, it is love, even without a soul. (It's also what makes me love Spike so much, because he is such a complex character with so much growth who was already so much more than just a vampire even without his soul.)

Him bringing flowers after Joyce died, not to somehow score points with Buffy, but because he genuinely liked Joyce and they had genuinely bonded with each other. Because he mourns, even without a soul.

And, the biggest evidence as to him genuinely loving her - he stays, when Buffy dies.

If it were all misplaces lust that he blows out of proportion, he wouldn't have stayed. Buffy was dead and since Willow, Tara and Xander didn't tell him about wanting to resurrect her, he had no reason to stay, no reason to believe she would ever be back.

But he stayed in Sunnydale. And not just to mourn and get drunked and fucked up, the way he did when Dru dumped him.

He was a Scooby. For months, he worked with them to protect Sunnydale, to fight demons, to help raise Dawn. He took on so much responsibility and for the first time truly became a hero, a good guy. He fought for the good cause, not to impress Buffy and score points with her, not out of any misplaced reasons. Solely because she was gone and he wanted to honor her legacy, he wanted to do what she would do if she were still there, he wanted to protect those she had died to protect.

I have a very complicated relationship to season 6's Spuffy. It's very self-destructive, on both parts. She's only using him, he becomes her bad coping mechanism with being brought back to life. And he knows that, but he can't stay away. Personally, I think all of Seeing Red was a huge mistake and especially after the build-up of what they had Spike do for Buffy so far without a soul, it... it felt like a whole different writer with entirely different ideas just grabbed the script and hijacked it at that point, to be quite frank. I do think that at that point in how Spike's character was established, it was OoC. Even if you try to argue that their relationship had already been a mess of mixed signals, with "I hate you, you disgust me" being followed by mindblowing sex, I still think that this was pushing things too far.

But it brought us Spike going to get his soul, so I digress.

And then comes season 7 and season 7 is just peak Spuffy. Season 7 is my happy place. Gods. The way Buffy cares for him, the way she protects him, from the others, from the First, from himself. The way she stands up for him. How she keeps choosing him.

The way they banter and raise "the children" together once he feels better.

And when everyone in an act of being incredibly, impossibly, forcibly OoC just turns their back on Buffy and also stabs hers, repeatedly, he is still there. He tells them off the way I was yelling at my screen too and then he found her and comforted her and simply held her.

And then he died. Not for her, but because he actually was a hero. And it wrecked me. (The best thing AtS ever did was bring Spike back to live, imo.)

Let's skip season 8 to the end, where he comes in as the knight in shining armor, having done his research on how to stop the apocalypse unfolding once again and how, even though she had just hooked up with Angel, she immediately starts fantasizing about Spike as soon as he's in the room? I swear, season 8 is a freaking mess.

But season 9... really hurts. That she'd come to him, of all the people she knows and loves, she comes to him when she doesn't know how to keep going, when she considers running away and raising a child, being a family. He is the person she thinks about. And he is the person she comes to for back-up when she decides to have an abortion. Whether she goes to a happy place or a dark place, in both scenarios she chose him over everyone else, to have him at her side.

And season 10 finally gives us the canon romantic relationship between them. Finally, they actually get together and it is so good. The way they communicate with each other, the way she reassures him that she chose him and no one's going to come between them, tells him that he is a good man and also finds for herself that she is not just happy in this relationship, she also finds that she loves herself more, she likes the person she is when she is with him (she literally says that).

Buffy has a freaking mind-journey, traveling into Spike's mind and seeing and feeling just how much he loves her, how regardless of what else is going on, he loves her.

They are... They are everything I always dreamed they could be in a real relationship - they have their problems, but they talk them through, they reassure and support each other, they're domestic and cute, they make each other better, not by changing the other but by supporting the other and giving each other the chance to be their best self.

When they actually are in a real relationship, neither of them is jealous. And both have shown in the past to be prone to jealousy. But when Buffy tells Spike that Angel is her past and that he is her present, he accepts that and he doesn't feel the need to be a jackass around Angel. And when Spike tells Buffy about his could-have-been Dylan, Buffy doesn't get jealous over her, no, she decides they should go to Dylan's art-show and she gets along splendidly with her.

Season 11 is an overall rough ride, I mean, they are literally locked inside an internment camp for nearly the whole season. But the Spuffy keeps you going, because they are so strong together, they make this work, together.

The season ends with them kissing, with Buffy saying "I love you" for the very first time and all Scoobies being together and it's... the picture-perfect ending to Buffy the Vampire Slayer that I could have ever imagined.

(There is no season 12 in my mind. That was Fray-centric garbage that did a disservice to Buffy as a character.)

Send me a ship and I will explain why I do or don't ship it

#Spuffy #alfagahgölh this turned out long #I just love them a lot #Buffy the Vampire Slayer #Ship Ask Game #send me asks

[kalle-and-lita]

My half of the art trade with @tagedeszorns featuring their OC Doriel. I can't even begin to tell you how much of a joy it was to work with the mun and their muse!

~~

Lita cast a furtive glance down the long halls of the palace. It was so quiet she could hear the beat of her heart thunder in her ears. Perhaps it was because she was leaving work so close to curfew. Only the foolish would dare to walk the empty streets lest they incur the wrath of the Night Haunter.

Maybe it was the fear of her mistress, whose rage was easily incited these days. Several members of the staff had already gone missing. Lita wasn't fool enough to believe they had just left.

Or perhaps, her nervousness was due to the large platter of food she clutched to. Taking food, even uneaten, was akin to stealing from the barons. If she was caught she'd be killed without a second thought.

But she was on a mission, and she would not be deterred. So Lita steeled her nerves and made her escape as quiet as she could. Every step was carefully planned, every corner scrutinized until she was sure she was safe and alone. She didn't breathe easy until she passed through the servants entrance and out onto the streets.

There was the faintest drizzle pouring from the sky. A cacophony of lights twinkled in the perpetual dark, reflecting off dirty glass windows and pools of stagnant water in the broken streets. Above the familiar hum of the city Lita noted the blessed silence. No screaming, no gunfire. Orderly silence since the whispers had begun.

Whispers of a silent stalker in the night. A savior to the weak who suffered beneath the heel of the barons and their crime lords. Night Haunter they called him, and his was a name revered with fear and awe. Rumors persisted of his speed, his ferocity. While she had not seen his handiwork for herself, Lita knew the tales of the flayed criminals he left out as warning. To take caution because if you caught his gaze there would be no one to save you from him.

Lita's reverie was broken by the sound of shoes scuffing cobblestone. Just like the nights before they came out of the shadows like pale little spirits. Four in total with the youngest looking no older than five or six. The oldest approached first, crossing the street once he was sure they were all alone. He was strange for a Nostromon; his hair was the color of a fire blazing away in the adamantium furnaces. Though he still possessed the pallid complexion and the hardened, steel black gaze of his kin.

"Hello," Lita smiled, "I'm glad you boys are safe. I brought the good stuff from the kitchen."

The redhead eyed her sharply, a frown etched into his features. The smaller shadows of his gang pressed at his back threateningly,

"Ah," Lita warned, waving a scolding finger at them, "Unless you want to go back to eating garbage and refuse I suggest you play nice."

"Fuck off." The redhead snapped over his shoulder. His mates backed off, though they still possessed a hungry look in their eyes. Sure that they weren't going to cause trouble, the young boy turned back to her, "What you want for it?"

"We have this conversation every time." She sighed, she popped the lid off one of the bowls of food. A hearty, and savoury aroma filled the air. If the boys looked hungry before they were absolutely ravenous now. "I don't want anything more than the satisfaction of you boys being well fed."

The redhead shot her a venomous glare, "I still say it's bullshit. Ain't nobody that nice."

"So you don't want the food then?" She teased, the younger kids hissed at their leader,

"Shut up, Doriel, before you ruin it!" One hissed. The young boy, Doriel, scowled right back,

"I ain't ruining shit! Look, bitch, just hand over the food and we'll get out of your hair."

Lita chuckled but pointedly ignored Doriel's rather colorful language. The large bowl of stew was all but yanked from her hands and she happily watched as the children ate. More than once the young redheaded boy thumped one of his mates on the shoulder, a silent admonishment for taking more than a fair share.

And they scampered off just as quick as they came with Doriel offering a cursory glance back at her. She nodded a farewell and tossed the now empty bowl, all too eager to navigate the eerie streets of the upper districts. Her feet pounded against hard stone as she ran, a desperate bid to get to the shops before curfew descended upon her. 

Luck was not completely on her side tonight, however. Lita cringed as the shop door slammed shut behind her and locked tight. Lights flickered off, leaving her alone on the dark sidewalk. Her gaze flickered to the shadowy corners around her, their long tendrils closing in on her.

She didn't make it a habit to be out past curfew. A nervous tension settled in her belly as she set off for home. Her footsteps echoed loudly, bouncing off the high buildings ominously. Each passing minute was like agony, the eerie silence fraying at her nerves until there was a burning itch between her shoulder blades.

Lita tensed at the feeling.

She was no stranger to this sensation of being watched. Years of service to the barons, and even her years on the streets, had refined her sense of awareness. All the better to know when to run or hide.

But this was not the first night she felt the piercing gaze of the unknown stalker's eyes. For weeks she walked home with the proverbial dagger aimed at her back, ever nervous for an attack that had yet to come.

Lita turned a sharp corner in an effort to evade her stalker. A stupid idea to turn into the pitch black of the alleyway, but she knew it to be a shortcut home and she was desperate. Her heart thundered away in her ears even as her footsteps echoed on the walls. Save for the drizzling of the rain there was nary a sound above the hum of quiet.

Then, just behind her, she heard something hit the ground. If she hadn't been listening so keenly she wouldn't have heard it. Lita froze with a gasp, a chill ran down her spine and the burn in her shoulder blades grew hot. There was a presence at her back, she could feel its hot breath on her neck.

Against her better judgement she turned to look, oh so slowly spinning on her heels. She came face to face with a monstrously large Nostromon man, the pitch black of his eyes drawing her in. His thin strands of black hair stuck to his face, and fell over his shoulders as he sat nearly hunched over her. Lita blinked dumbly, mouth agape in terror.

All at once her sense of self preservation kicked in as a smile crossed his face. A set of wicked sharp teeth gleamed at her and the fear in her gut rose well past the point of control.

So Lita did what any normal person would do and panicked. And in her panic she did the very first thing that sprang to mind, and she threw her grocery bags at him. She didn't bother to stick around to see his reaction. She was far too interested in running as fast her poor legs could carry her.

And she didn't stop running until she was safely back in her apartment. The keys clattered to the floor and her back hit the door. Her lungs burned and her legs gave out, and Lita hit the ground with a hard thud while her mind tried to wrap around what just happened.

He'd been so quiet. That thought scared her more than she cared to admit. How was it possible that someone so large could be so silent?! And she was fairly certain that the only reason she'd known he was there was because he let her see him.

Just who was he? Why was he following her?

Cold realization hit her hard as she came down from her adrenal high. The whispered tales of the few who'd seen the Night Haunter and lived. Of the man draped in shadow and blood, larger than life who took no qualms in spilling the blood of the guilty.

"Oh gods," Lita's hands flew to her mouth, "Oh gods!"

And she had just hit him.

In the face.

With her grocery bags!

She sprang to her feet and ran to check her windows, futile as it seemed. If the Night Haunter wanted to get to her windows were not going to stop him. For the better part of an hour she paced the confines of her apartment, awaiting retribution despite her own perceived innocence. Fixated on the fact that she had thrown her food at the Night Haunter in blind panic.

Lita resented the fact that if she was going to die, she was going to do so hungry.

The burn eventually came back. Fear turned to trepidation as she paused at her living room window. The balcony was empty, wet with the rain. She took a few deep breaths before she opened the sliding glass door. Before she could second guess herself she leaned onto the railing and took another deep breath.

"I'm sorry!" She shouted into the night. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. "I swear I didn't know it was you. I wouldn't have hit you if I had. I'm so sorry!"

A long moment of silence passed until she picked up the sound of something dragging on the roof behind her. She turned her gaze up to find the Night Haunter casually perched on the roof edge, black eyes boring right into her skull. She averted her gaze in embarrassment.

"I am so, so sorry." She repeated, "I wasn't expecting to be followed, and you appearing out of nowhere startled me, and I panicked..."

She was bumbling like an idiot, trapped between him and the railing. But his silence was making her nervous. Lita felt the hot flush warm her face.

Then, something hit the ground. Lita jumped then stooped over to find her grocery bag, albeit missing some of its contents but still intact. She looked up, still under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Uhhm," she stuttered, awkwardly collecting her bag and shuffling towards the door, "Thank you."

He blinked at her, expression neutral even as he watched her slip inside and close the door.

The itch in her shoulder blades didn't cease as she put away her groceries and started dinner. She tried to ignore it for the most part, though she couldn't help but wonder why he was sticking around. Surely there were more interesting things to do than watch her?

She found her way back to the balcony door eventually, after setting her stew to a simmer. The Night Haunter now perched on the railing so he could peer in. She slid open the door to poke her head out.

"Hi." Lita muttered, he blinked again and let the awkward silence stretch out, "Uh, I made food. Did you want some?"

No answer save for his endless staring. Lita swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped back,

"I'll, uh, leave the door open for you then."

She retreated back to the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand. The minutes passed as she slowly stirred the stew, lost in the rhythmic motions. That was until she felt a presence hunched over her shoulder. Lita dared not look up, instead she simply muttered under her breath,

"I think I need to get you a bell."

#art trade #warhammer 30k #konrad curze #lita #warhammer40k #night lord #Doriel #my writing #night haunter

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Let's say Megatron wants to have his Bride and Knockout wreck him to Pit and back, but Bride is still feeling petty over the whole 'Knockout is pretty' incident. So when dear doctor comes fully prepared and with clear experience of what his liege likes best, the two of them get a bit... Competitive. ~G🏩

(what can I say, your KO x Megs headcanons have some amazing hardcore stuff💥 If you feel like it, go wild with the scenario)

Let’s do this, let’s fuck up tits mcgee up here.

*this WILL include rough shit. Maybe overloading in wounds, maybe a shock stick up the valve- I’m making it up as I go along. But this isn’t for everyone, this is what MEGATRON would want. You have been warned.

“YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A TIN CANNED WHORE!”

You could feel your vocal processor strain under your screams. You thought Megatron telling Knockout he was pretty was just him being an absolute dick bag. But no. Megatron had the gall. The NERVE to actually invite the medic to your berth. Knockout wasn’t even THAT attracted to Megatron. He just liked the big, powerful mechs giving him compliments and making him feel good. It’s why he just sat there and watched as you threw yet another vase at your sparkmate. This one hit him square in the chest, making him swear. He found you gorgeous while you were angry, but he knew better than to push it when you were in the throwing stage.

“You said I could invite ANYONE to the berth, so long as you were here too!”

“Not HIM! I’m a SEEKER, he’s a GROUNDER. You shouldn’t even be LOOKING at him!”

You threw a plate this time, barely missing his face. You were known for your tantrums, and while he found it stunning, he was also terribly fearful of getting too close. Hell hath no fury like a seeker scorned. You were looking around for something else to throw, before Knockout stood up, hands gently raised in hopes of getting you to stop, just for a moment.

“As much as I’m into watching a meltdown, why don’t we cool it down, just a bit? There’s no need to be jealous. Starscream is just as prideful as you, but even HE concedes that I’m pretty much a piece of art.”

You turned to look at him. This red tricycle actually had the nerve to say YOU were jealous. Your anger turned towards him now.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m saying there’s a reason why he wants him to frag him stupid. I’m gorgeous, I’m small, I’m quick witted, I can bring him to his knees in a sparkbeat- really stop me at any time.”

This ground pounder HONESTLY thought he could hold a candle to you. You couldn’t believe it. You folded your arms across your chest, arms perked all the way up, just in time to catch his attention.

“You think fragging him is just so easy, don’t you? It isn’t. He’s nothing but a hog in metal skin.”

“I just don’t think you know what you’re doing. Watch. Big M, on your knees. Now.”

“What?”

Knockout suddenly brought out his shockstick, and jammed it right into Megatron’s bust. After a cry of pain, he was brought to his knees, lightly swearing. You were about to kick his aft for hurting your Megatron (as much as he deserved it), when Knockout grabbed a hold of his chin, forcing his gaze upon him, and him alone.

“Pay attention, my liege. I don’t want to repeat myself. Now, be good, and open up that panel for me.”

Megatron obeyed promptly, and you watched as his shockstick was used to slowly rub against his big spike. Knockout looked at you, looking almost bored as the warlord slowly grinded against the weapon’s end.

“See, you really think I can’t do what you can do. You don’t think I can’t be pretty AND fuck his processor out. And all without wings. Take a gander. He isn’t even looking at you. It’s funny, how I could be his little bride, all without the tantrums and rules. I’m the medic. I know exactly what his body needs. You wanna cum already, don’t you big M?”

He looked down at the mech on the floor, and he nodded furiously. You had your wings spread out and everything, yet, this medic had ALL of his attention. Knockout tore his weapon away, before slamming his pede right on that spike. Megatron threw his helm back in a loud swear, and he overloaded, right over his pede. You wanted to throw Megatron out like yesterday’s garbage. How DARE he overload so quickly and easily? Knockout snickered as he dug his pede into him, forcing more beads of overload to dribble out of him, all with him groaning in clear satisfaction. Knockout lifted his pede up, and pushed it towards his drooling face.

“Clean me. Now.”

Megatron held onto his pede, and like the slut he was, he lapped up all of his overload clean off his pede. He did so hungrily, eager to satisfy. Knockout looked towards you, and had the nerve to fan you away, like some service drone.

“Why don’t you go and yell at some Steves? I’ll take care of him. Clearly you can’t.”

You couldn’t believe it. Megatron even went so far as to KISS his pede once he was finished. And Knockout didn’t even look mildly aroused. That was when you had an idea.

“Alright, how about this, you absolute stain. Let’s BOTH make this loser overload. Then, once he’s all dried up, we’ll see who HE likes best.”

“Megatron admitting I’M the fairest con on board the Nemesis….what bragging rights. Alright, deal. Just don’t scratch the paint once you lose, ‘bride of Megatron’”

He snapped his servos, finally making Megatron stop with the pede kissing. You both decided that as your ‘guest’, Knockout could go first. Knockout helped himself to your berth, sighing as he sank into the sheets.

“Oooh that is some soft stuff right there. Megatron, buy me these pillows once we’re done here, Breakdown would love these.”

And you thought Megatron was a whore. Knockout was here, toying with another mech, while he already had a hunk of a mech at home, waiting for him. Greedy. Megatron looked over at you in almost permission, before Knockout jabbed his shockstick right into Megatron’s neck, really getting throughout his frame. Megatron turned to look at him. Knockout shot him a grin, and after exposing his valve panel, made a ‘come here’ motion with his servo.

“Get over here. Show me what the pits of Koan have to offer~”

Megatron didn’t even hesitate. He was on that berth like a fly to shit, and his spike was in him faster than you could say ‘slut’. Megatron thrusted into him in a hungry, forceful fury, much to Knockout’s delight. It was funny, despite the fact that Megatron was on top, Knockout was the one in charge.

“You feel SO good-”

“Less talking, more fucking me. Make your little bride jealous~”

He even had the ballbearings to shoot you a wink as he said this, right before Megatron adjusted his stance, and REALLY started slamming into him. It didn’t help that Knockout was not only smaller than you (making his valve smaller), but the fact that he was using Megatron’s back as a scratching post; tearing through his metal enough to draw energon. All while he threw his helm back and offered such loud, slutty (and totally fake) moans of ecstasy. All while Megatron was eating it all up. You couldn’t believe the ‘yes, fucking scratch me’, and the ‘shove it all in me, big mech’ you heard between the both of them. It was like a shitty porno. And Megatron was enjoying every second of it. The berth rocked from the force of his thrusts, fluids sullied the sheets, and drool dribbled down his tratorious grin.

“You’re gonna overload, aren't you? I can feel you fucking throbbing.”

“I am. I’m g-gonna overload, let me just pull o-”

“No no no. Go on, overload in me.”

You stomped your pede on the floor, damn near ready to tear his helm off.

“Don’t you overload in that waste of paint.”

Megatron hesitated, only to have Knockout chuckle.

“No no no. Overload in me. Come on, stuff me. It’s nice and tight for you. I know you want to.”

Knockout then managed to hook his pedes around his shoulders, and with a good, tight grab of Megatron’s aft, he overloaded. He didn’t even try to hide it. He swore, he groaned, held onto the wall and everything. All while Knockout snickered. With a snap of his servos, Megatron slowly pulled out of him, revealing a full valve, slowly spilling out fluids as he rubbed at his node. All while Megatron stood there, holding onto the headboard, panting in clear content.

“I do believe it’s your bride’s turn.”

“You….might have to give me just a second, dear.”

You wouldn't believe your audials. Megatron needing a BREAK? Knockout smiled smugly, spanking Megatron right on his node, all while meeting your optics.

“Aw, was I too much for you, big grey? That’s fine. You take your time. Nothing important you need to do anyway.”

You were going to kill him. Completely and totally.

#asks #lemon #megatron #knockout #i ended it on a bit of a teaser #juuuust because I could ;) #hope this sated you #I love megs and ko content

[matsuokaparadise]

Insatiable (Rin x reader)

Genre: Angsty fluff turned NSFW, 70% of this is very romantic and passionate smut

Summary: Very steamy times with Rin after he finds you crying alone on the couch because you missed him.

I went all out with this, I hope you have the patience to go through it and excuse the awkward style at the beginning (that part was literally written in 2018).

Rin had been away for about one month now and it was a little much for you to handle. You were used to him leaving from time to time, but it was the first time he’d left for more than two weeks and the effect it had on you was rather clear. You didn’t want to pester him with countless messages, but you wanted to talk to him so badly that it was nearly impossible to limit yourself to just a few every day. He was so busy training that you couldn’t even video call. This made you hopelessly lonely and you couldn’t help but look like a little lost puppy all day. 

You’d been moping around for quite a while and your apartment looked like an absolute mess.

I’ve barely even left my bed...Why does it look as though I’ve been robbed? you asked yourself, confused, as you proceeded to throw away the garbage and clear the mugs and plates that were scattered around. Afterwards, you went to pick up the clothes that had been carelessly thrown everywhere and put them back in their place. Huh, what’s this doing here... you thought as you picked up a black t-shirt. Smells so nice... For God’s sake, come back already will you! you said as you threw it to the side, only to pick it up again and squeeze it to your chest. Stupid... 

2:00 AM. You’d been tossing and turning for hours now- you just couldn’t get Rin out of your head. You knew you couldn’t message him now, not after you kept up so well. He must be training now...Must be working so hard... You could just see him: the way his muscles flex as he swims, the way he takes off his cap and smirks at you, hair dripping wet. You were missing him too much. You got up and grabbed his t-shirt, then went to lie back down on the sofa. The smell of his cologne along with the usual hint of chlorine aroused so many feelings to the point that you were simply overwhelmed. At that point there was nothing more that you could do besides cry, hugging the t-shirt as tightly as you could, hoping that maybe you could feel at least a little bit closer to him. Your tears stopped only when you fell asleep.

“Y/n?” a soft voice whispered gently. You were somewhere between sleeping and awake- it all felt like a strange hallucination. 

“Y/n, are you awake?” this time the whisper felt closer to you. You tried opening your eyes but you were barely able to, the light was too strong and your eyes felt too sore. You could barely make out a figure at the other end of the sofa. After blinking a few times, you started to recognise more and more of his features: the maroon hair, the muscular body... Rin. You stood up suddenly and looked at him for a few seconds as if to make sure that you’re not still dreaming. Then, without hesitation, you threw yourself on him, hugging him as though you were afraid he’d escape you. You couldn’t even speak, you couldn’t even look at him. You closed your eyes and squeezed him as tightly as you could. 

“I didn’t know you’d miss me that much, babe” he chuckled lightly as he stroked your hair. “Hey, look at me” he whispered.

You hesitated a little because you had gotten teary eyed again, but when you eventually did, Rin’s expression turned into one of worry.

“Y/n... Your eyes are so swollen... Why are you crying?” he asked softly, his expression visibly growing more and more concerned. He then glanced at the spot where you had been sleeping and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Isn’t that my t-shirt? Babe, don’t tell me... You’ve been crying all night... because you missed me?” He looked at you so dearly, so lovingly that you felt like your heart would burst. His expression, however, still showed signs of concern. Seeing him worry for you so much and look at you as though you had stars in your eyes were too much for you to handle. You couldn’t even answer his question and burst into tears again, looking down as not to let Rin see you cry. His hands reached for your face, cupping it gently as if it were about to break. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n... I’m so sorry for hurting you like this. Thank you so much for being so good to me, you’re so, so good to me all the time but I can never seem to pay you back...” he said and wrapped his arms around you, tightening his hold and then loosening it again quickly for fear that he might hurt you. You could feel his heart beating and his chest rising and lowering again. He held you like this for a while, both of you sitting in silence, until you noticed that his breaths had become irregular. You opened your eyes and turned them to him. He was crying too. 

“Rin... It’s okay. You did absolutely nothing wrong. You always make sure to spend as much time with me as you can and you make each moment unforgettable, you do so much for me even though you’re exhausted from training so hard and I don’t have words to express how grateful I am to you. You’re better a boyfriend than I could have ever fantasied. I just... I really can’t seem to get enough of you... I try so hard to hold myself back since I know that if I'd start telling you how much I miss you you'd feel bad and I don't want to do that! I don't want to get in your way, I don't want to be needy- I want to help you achieve your dream, Rin! Although it hurts like hell...I'll endure it all for you... so please forget what happened today."

He'd been staring at you speechlessly as you were speaking. When you were finished, you looked down again and clenched your fists, but he took your face into his hands, this time a little more roughly, and lifted it. He took a good look at you and then kissed you. His kiss was both gentle and rough, both sweet and sexy- it was like like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to kiss you lovingly or whether he needed you right there and then. However, you had already decided that you couldn't wait any longer, so, without hesitation, you slid your tongue into his mouth and kissed him passionately. He was a bit taken aback but he responded equally as excitedly, biting your lower lip softly. You made out like this for quite some time- you wanted to make up for what you'd missed-and after a while you'd unconsciously started to grind your hips over him. He responded eagerly, smirking and placing his hands over your butt, squeezing it lightly. You then decided you'd had enough and went on to push him onto the sofa, your hands making their way underneath his shirt. That was Rin’s cue to take it off, which he understood instantly and he wasted no time acting upon it. Then, in an almost rough movement, he rose his upper body, and gripped your legs tightly as he lifted you from the sofa, his lips not leaving yours for an instant. No words were said- more like, there wasn’t a need for words at this point where you knew you wanted each other so badly, so much so that only actions could have conveyed the feeling properly. 

Before you knew it, you were underneath him, your hands roaming desperately from his back to his hair as his teeth were pressing into the skin of your neck. His movements, as sensual and passionate as they were, were traced with the roughness that comes with the desperation to feel one’s beloved. Feeling the warmth of his breath close to your ear, and hearing its fluctuations as his lips caressed you more and more lustfully with each kiss almost brought tears to your eyes. You were more than elated- this was pure bliss, and you were only just getting started. His mouth made his way down to your breasts quickly, with his tongue drawing a single line from your jaw. You could see all too clearly how he was gazing at you, that tantalising look and the smirk on his face as you were already quivering under him only made you more sensitive to his touch. The moment his skilled fingers tugged at your nipple, while the other one was being tended to by his soft, wet mouth, you let out an unrestrained moan which only momentarily took Rin by surprise. He smirked in satisfaction and teased your breast with his teeth, in just the way he knew for certain would drive you crazy. 

His action, however, didn’t trigger the expected reaction. Indeed, you were on edge, so much so that you couldn’t bear this any longer. The hand that you had been running through his hair now pulled it gently-your signal that he should just get up already. His look was one of slight confusion, but it was quickly replaced by one of pure desire when you grabbed his shoulders and pressed your mouth against his almost violently. You pushed him on his back and straddled his hips, naturally grinding on him as you covered his neck in bites and kisses. His hands made their way, once again, to your butt, this time squeezing it in such a way that you could swear you’d be bruised. The feeling of him getting hard under you was unbearably arousing. Your hands travelled up and down his sculpted body, which was a godly view in itself, but now that it was being caressed by the rays of the morning sun, you doubted whether he really wasn’t a god. Your lips met his again, one of your hands cupping his cheek, the other slipping lower and lower from his neck down to his lower abdomen. You took your time feeling the work of art that was his body before, finally, brushing against his crotch. You left him no time to react and abruptly broke the kiss, only to move closer to where your hand was. You wasted no time and pulled his sweatpants lower, and went on to caress his hardness adoringly, your hand still separated by the thin fabric of his boxers. The eye contact was electric. As he had raised his upper body and was leaning on his elbows, you were looking up at him, and the fact that he was gazing at you from a superior position made him appear even more godlike. You loved it when you felt that he was in control and dominated you.

The moment you removed his boxers and stroked him, his eyes lit up and one of his hands sweetly caressed your face. You didn’t break eye contact as you started licking-you didn’t want to miss a single one of his reactions. You had missed him so much that you rid yourself of any embarrassment, as your only thought was to feel him properly. When you finally took him in your mouth his self-satisfied expression broke when he closed his eyes and parted his lips in a sharp inhale. His answer spurred you on greatly to take him deeper than you usually would. Although it was only slightly, your action did not go unnoticed by Rin, who shot you such an intensely lustful, but endearing look that you thought your heart could stop at any given moment. You grew more eager by the second and that was made clear by your increasingly fast movements. Rin’s breath grew in intensity and his lewd expression literally made you want to suck him dry. You plan was cut short, however, by your lover’s rugged, slightly hoarse voice, as he broke the silence.

Fuck, baby, you’re so good to me, his breathy voice made you tremble. He then cupped your face with one hand, in the most gentle way he had touched you that night. You raised your head, slightly confused at the discrepancy between his words and his actions. His arms pulled you up, so that you hovered over him for a moment before he pushed you into the bed again. He placed a painfully long and erotic kiss right under your earlobe and jaw. Then, you felt his breath move to your ear.

Don’t think I didn’t miss you too, his voice was low and fuelled your desire even more. He then licked the conch of your ear painfully slowly.

I want nothing more than to pleasure my precious princess right now

The peck he planted tenderly on you cheek contrasted starkly his erotic purr against your ear. He overtook all of your senses with a deep kiss on your lips, your tongues frantically dancing together. The hand he had cupped your cheek was now tracing the side of your body, all the way to your thigh where it stopped and pressed its fingers strongly into your flesh. You parted your legs instinctively and pressed his hand into the mattress. He smirked at your eagerness and tugged lightly at your bottom lip with his teeth. His hand then slithered from underneath your thigh to your hipbone, stopped for a moment and then made his way to your inner thigh. The anticipation you had built up was unbearable-you wanted nothing more in that very moment than to feel him inside of you. You squeezed his hand with your thighs, a reaction that made him smile again.

Y/n, believe me, I want you so much... But I want to make you feel better than I ever have. I want to start making up for making you cry, now.

His words, albeit sweet and gentle, did not lose any of their salaciousness. He had listened to your unspoken plea and moved his hand to your lower abdomen, pulling your shorts all the way to your knees. He slowly started rubbing your wetness through your underwear, which elicited a moan from you against his mouth as you strengthened your grip on his hair. A trail of kisses caressed you from your lips to your ear.

Baby, how am I supposed to control myself when you’re like this? You’re really giving me such a hard time... he whispered tantalisingly as he nibbled on your ear.

Then, he suddenly tugged at your panties so strongly that they almost tore and brought his face close to your lower abdomen. He placed sloppy kisses on your skin as he was rubbing your clit skilfully. Before moving any lower, he bit your inner thigh knowingly, eager for your reaction. You drew a sharp breath and flinched in pleasure. You were too happy and immersed in him that your mind was completely blank, your hedonistic side having completely conquered you. 

The moment you felt his warm, wet tongue on your clit, you bit desperately at your bottom lip and arched your upper body. He wasted no time and started moving his tongue in expertly fashion, his fingers entering you soon after. You covered your face with your arm, the pleasure too much for you to handle. This didn’t go down well with Rin, who impatiently removed your arm from your face with his free one. 

You’re really so mean to me, y/n. I’ve missed that cute face of yours so much, but you still won’t let me see it? he purred against your thigh, placing languid kisses on it between words. 

I just...want you so much, I don’t know what to do with myself, Rin... these were the first words you’d spoken in a while, so your voice came out even more strained. His face immediately took on a serious expression and he lifted himself up quickly, positioning his forehead against yours. 

You’re really testing my limits, baby.. You’re so hot that you make me want to fuck you senseless. 

His eyes were so earnest and dripping with desire that you knew he meant every word he said. He was at his very limit. Knowing that he wanted you as much as you wanted him made your heart burst with happiness and your body tingle with anticipation. The only response that you could muster up was a forceful kiss on his lips and a bite of his lower one, so strong that is made him hiss in pleasure. Your hands were once again travelling on his godly body, feeling every dent of his muscles, reassuring you that this was, in fact, real. You took him in your hand as you were making out, stroking him and pressed his tip to your clit, your sign that you were more than ready to feel him in you. He then broke the kiss and went on to tease you further, by pressing his tip slightly in you, to the point when you ended up pushing your hips in. Upon feeling himself half way in you, he took a sharp breath and paused for a moment before pushing himself completely in you. Both of you closed your eyes in unison, taking your time to feel each other. This familiar feeling was even better than your imagination had been providing you with for the past while. 

Rin... Please, don’t hold back. Go all out if you want to, I just want you, in whatever way you’re going to give yourself to me, you breathed, desperately clenching around him.

Look at you... My princess is always so kind to me... I have to take such good care of you, don’t I? he caressed your cheek lovingly.

The moment he started moving properly, you felt yourself lose control completely. If you thought that up to then you had been overwhelmed by him, now your feelings were over the edge. You found yourself moaning more than usual, screaming his name almost immediately. However, you weren’t the only one who had been more sensitive than usual. He, too, was clearly on the brink of pleasure, restraining himself so much, just so that he could please you as much as possible. 

Don’t hold back, baby, okay? you tried your best to smile between breaths, feeling your climax dangerously close.  

He could barely even give you a coherent answer, the bliss all too evident through his breath and expression. His thrusts increased in speed and intensity, and you felt as if you were touching heaven itself. You grabbed his neck and brought him close to you, desperate to feel his breath on your skin. The irregular breaths in your ear were only adding to your already intense pleasure and you fel your entire body convulse against his, unrestricted moans leaving your mouth right next to his ear.

Fuck, baby, you’re too hot, I can’t even handle it, he said, his voice almost a grunt, as he thrust into you even more quickly. In no time, he was moaning against your ear, drawing you close to his chest as he, too, reached his climax. The two of you remained in this embrace a while after, trying to gather your thoughts and bring yourselves back to reality. 

Finally, he threw himself on the bed beside you and chuckled. 

You really caught me off guard, you know. I was going to be all cute to you today, but it seems like you had other plans with me, he smiled at you innocently and planted a kiss on your forehead. 

I’m sorry for having made you cry, y/n, he said softly.

You don’t have to apologise for anything, Rin. I already told you, you’re literally the perfect man,  you turned to him and hugged him, hiding your face in his chest. His smell was amazing and it made you feel all fuzzy inside. 

I’m the luckiest man of all, aren’t I? he kissed your forehead again. Go take a shower before me, I have a present for you. 

#rin matsuoka #free scenarios #anime scenarios #free! rin #rin matsuoka scenarios #rin matsuoka x reader #rin matsuoka fanfiction #free images #anime imagines #anime imagine #rin matsuoka imagines #matsuoka rin #rin matsuoka x reader lemon #anime #anime fanfiction #anime smut #anime fluff #Free! #Free! Eternal Summer #free eternal summer #rin matsuoka smut #smut #rin matsuoka lemon #lemon #style five #style five imagines