#still july in my timezone but fuck it.
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august's noin pic! a spiritual successor to the kaiji parody i did some time ago. wouldn't noin vs washizu go crazy?!! its old man vs old man! and noin needs the money!!! until haruhara tells us what is going on i am going to keep putting him in situations. (lying, i will do it no matter what)
been really into playing mahjong lately, maybe i'll continue reading ten (after 3?! years) or rewatch akagi. i didn't tag the last pic with fkmt, but a really nice fkmt fan somehow hunted it down and reblogged it with funny tags so i'm dropping this in hoping people enjoy it (for some reason)
#senyuu#戦勇。#neun september#akagi#fkmt#not fkmt but i just read through tetsunaki no kirinji today and enjoyed it a lot.#if youre wondering about my favorite fkmt manga its ukai zero and def part 2 even if its a bit half baked#senyuu fans this parody may be out of scope but its not too late to become mahjong addicted nothings.#btw my majsoul id is 123690222 add meh#missed a yakuman chance i need women to comfort me but pity reblogs also work#still july in my timezone but fuck it.#アカギ#caren art
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INTRO POST
(Please read this)
Hi :D welcome to this dumpster fire of a blog :D
Info about me :D
Names to call me:
Fizzy (sure)
Fizzerz (why not it silly)
Dumbass (lol okay just be joking)
Fuzzy (okey :])
BIZY (dis is ur fault irl fwiend 😡/j)
Cereal (uhh okey?)
Atlas (uhhhh okey? Sure? I mean I'm not Atlas but i wouldnt do anything if you do)
My legal name (no)
Pronouns: ANY PRONOUNS >:DD(I do personally prefer they but go wild ig :]) + AROACE 🧡💛🤍🩵💙 (romance and sex repulsed >:DDDDD
Birthday: July 30th 😎
Timezone: CST
I'm actually Hispanic/Latino! (My parents are both from Mexico 🇲🇽, sadly I can't speak Spanish anymore but I can only understand it)
I get stressed out pretty easily (I am a big over thinking and I can get overwhelmed easily) + I'm a gigantic procrastinator :') + I am a bit paranoid (I can get very stressed/I start to panic when I think someone is mad or I made someone sad at me)
I have a bit of a stutter + I'm pretty sure I have a bit of a lisp too
Idfk how to talk to people :')
Romance+physical touch kinda makes me uncomfy
❗I'M A MINOR❗❗
I personally use guys, dude, man, ect. as a gender neutral term if you aren't fine with that please tell me
I really like to play DND (I have only played like twice but if you guys want to show me your characters please do)
Please use more masculine phrases on me (I just prefer them)
This blog will have swearing so beware 😰
I do think I may have ADHD( intensive or mixed) or autism :P
(User boxes :3)
Fandoms I'm in
OSC (I'm just grouping all of the object shows together)
Be more chill
Heathers (again, not really that active on it)
Moral Orel (I FUCKING LOVE THIS SHOW AND IT DESERVES MORE)
Nerdy prudes must die (oh my fucking god. I NEED IT)
DnD (not sure if you'd call it a fandom
Eddsworld (used to be very into it still am)
Metal family :P
Riordanverse(UPDATE: WHOOOHOOOO BABYYYYY I'm on the dark maze >:D and now starting Magnus :3)
Smiling friends
Hazbin hotel/helluva boss
Scott Pilgrim (I have read the comics now, you can't best me mortals/j)
AND WAY MORE (to much to list 😔)
I only have Tumblr and a wattpad (it's @/FizzyCereal it's dead)
Sorry if I make any spelling or grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language :']
DNI LIST:
The basic criteria of a DNI list (transphobic/homophobic, racists, pedophiles/MAPS, Zoos, anyone who supports them)
Nsfw I'm a fucking minor (If your account is all NSFW or it's just straight up porn please don't follow me)
People hating on people for just "cringe" (you are in thin ice if you do this)
PEOPLE HARASSING PEOPLE (please kindly eff off)
Kids who go to my school (this isn't including my friends)
People who support problematic ship (it makes me feel uncomfortable)
Please respect this or I won't hesitate to block you.
❗PLEASE ASK QUESTIONS FOR @ask-salt ❗
(This will be updated)
Also sorry if i am annjoying to you guys :')
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My Tumblr keeps glitching out, sorry if it's sent more than one ask xox I was just wondering (since it's Oikawa's brithday) if you had any Oinoya headcanons for when either one of them has a birthday :D
omg hi kit~!! how are you?? ♡
don't worry, i noticed that tumblr is being weird with asks but i've only gotten this one from you. and sure thing, i do! so—
oinoya & birthdays, huh?
okay, psa that in the long-chaptered fic that plays in my head like a movie they meet by chance, fall by accident and get together during the time-skip. which means, long-distance relationship.
they try their best to make plans and accommodations so that they can be in the same place for oikawa's birthday in july and noya's in october.
best case scenario: they spend oikawa's birthday in san juan, then noya leaves, and when october comes along — and if oikawa's schedule with the volleyball team allows it — they spend noya's birthday somewhere else. as in, oikawa flies himself there.
a personal example of mine? ireland. during the fall season. they had so much fun!
of course, it depends on schedules and finances. traveling isn't cheap, noya works around backpacker-level earnings, and oikawa is a professional athlete. if anything happens, even though obviously it is sad, they still text and video call each other.
no timezone will stop oikawa from being the first to say happy birthday to his boyfriend and shower him with love and a certain kind of attention, just like no distance will stop noya from ordering a huge-ass bouquet or cake or breakfast to be delivered to his boyfriend from literally the other side of the ocean, either.
speaking of, noya is very extra and spot-on with gifts as in general, but he also has a witty and mischievous sense of humor so joke's on you i'm positive oikawa got serenaded by a music group under his window once. it was fucking hilarious, especially because of the words, but he also kind of wanted to go become a hermit lol.
he shouldn't have introduced his bf to his team's libero. libero affinity knows no border, you fool!
another thing i'm sure of is that noya popped up at oikawa's doorstep unannounced to surprise him even though they were both sure he wouldn't make that time around.
also, i mentioned cake before, didn't i? well, let it be known i have the hc that for noya's 26th birthday last year they did celebrate with a homemade cake at oikawa's place. it was made by the old lady who lived next door, to be clear, as tooru is a hazard to any kitchen. and it also... well, it only had six candles because he only had six in his house. noya literally didn't give a shit though, if the kisses he gave him were anything to go by.
last but not least, not to be crass — and mind the nsfw here! — but their libido is so high birthday marathon sex is 101% their thing.
all in all, they're two stupid mfs who try their best to celebrate each passing year together. because they are in love, obviously, and also because they don't want the other to feel lonely with how far their families and friends live. they'll never say this but heh, i know it. you guys know it too now.
#oinoya#HERE THEY ARE DEARIE <3 i typed them all out in one go putting my faith in timezones#it's already july 21st here and i am. sleepy. so i hope they're not too bad written#these are my most common birthday-themed hcs. surely i forgot some but oh well :) please have them anyway#and THANK YOU for the ask! i'm always very happy to provide hcs and rants about my children so. yeah :3 this was fun#nishinoya yuu#oikawa tooru#haikyuu#asks
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Fanfic ask game- B and F 💚
B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?
My life overall is pretty boring and uneventful. But there are two fics that maybe aren't exactly inspired by personal experience but definitely have a personal connection.
'Happy Birthday to you and me' is entirely self-indulgent and combines one of my favorite au's aka soulmates with a real-life occurrence. My birthday is on July 5th! I was actually born a couple minutes after midnight, so was almost a July 4th baby and since I live in a different timezone than the us timezones, I share a couple of hours of birthday with Steve Rogers! The fic was quite literally a birthday present to me (and him) 😁
And now, I also share the sentiment of the Reader from 'Spelling Mistakes' about the frustrations of having your name misspelled. I get missgendered because of it even more.
F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.
This was truly a hard question for me to answer because I have something I jokingly call 'post-writing amnesia'. I still perfectly remember the plot of all my fics but I can't remember how I wrote them and what certain passages say. Remembering the dialogue I've written is a nightmare for me.
Luckily I do remember one of my latest fics, which is 'Reunion' and I felt so proud over Ari's confession at the end:
I didn’t deserve you then but my god, you were the best thing to ever happen to me. You were what made me happy. The biggest fucking treasure of my life. I realized it too late, only when I had already lost you.”
And since I also just finished writing it this morning, the amnesia also hasn't yet set in for 'My Kingdom, Your Kingdom | two', where I was insanely proud over this part:
Haven’t you listened when they taught us about it in history class? How that country is nothing more than a barren and broken ruin anymore–”
“– devastated by the financial ruin of their greedy King, blundered by his dark and dangerous knights that won’t hold back even against their own countrymen, women, and children’?
Thank you so much for asking me these Amber 😘💚 Answering was really fun
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it’s really you (on my mind)
by ridiculousinconvenientlove
Instead of a summary of the fic, have a melodramatic summary of the creation of the fic:
One month before Rizzy Week, I get an idea for a Rizzy Week fic.
One week before Rizzy Week, I started writing said fic.
Rizzy Week hits. Life gets busy. I realize I will not finish Rizzy Week fic.
Three days until the end of Rizzy Week. I get the bright idea to fill the bingo card in a single fic, in the fewest words possible (forgetting I am incapable of writing short fics).
One day until the end of Rizzy Week. I’ve written 100 words so far of a fic wherein Roach and Izzy are lesbian vampires unwillingly cohabitating together, with a pet dog named Pete. They fall in love while gaming together.
Final day of Rizzy Week, I get off work 5 hours before the end of Rizzy Week my timezone. I spew this nonsense (in far more words than I initially planned to) and pretend I live on Hawaiian time so I still technically published this during Rizzy Week. I managed to hit a bingo but not my goal (yet). I promise you I will do all the squares in a single fic that kind of makes sense. Soon.
....Enjoy.
Words: 2166, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Israel Hands, Roach (Our Flag Means Death)
Relationships: Israel Hands/Roach (Our Flag Means Death)
Additional Tags: Canon Era, gender swapped izzy, gender swapped roach, gender swap, Trans Roach, sort of hand wavy gender for izzy though, fucked up power dynamics but that's probably a given huh, idk what happened to lucius in this verse sorry, Mutual Masturbation, really reaching for those bingo squares ngl, it's july 21st somewhere (hawaii), no beta we die like hollywood steve, that tag is for u randy xx
source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48772450
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HELP I WANTED TO ASK YOU REAL GENTLE REAL SWEET WHY YOU DIDNT JUST CHECK MY NAME FROM THE COMMENTS ON YOUR FIC BUT THEN I REALISED THAT I NEVER REALLY MENTIONED ANYTHING IN THOSE COMMENTS ABOUT BEING THE WRITER OF THE OTHER FICS THAT WOULD HELP YOU JOIN THE DOTS EHRJEJFJDUDS IM SO SORRY??? I LEGIT THOUGHT THAT YOU'D HAVE KNOWN FROM THEREEEE
WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE NEXT POINT- I KEPT YOU IN THE DARK FOR A YEAR? I KEPT YOU WAITING THAT LONG? I CHECKED AND THE FIRST ASK I SENT YOU WAS ANSWERED LAST YEAR ON JULY 14 😭😭😭😭😭 IT'S BEEN MORE THAN A FULL YEAR SUENRKSKDKDKDSKA
Third: omg us in july is truly a miracle because turns out that you posted your fic in july 2016
FOURTH!? SEVEN YEARS???? IT'S BEEN ONE FULL YEAR SINCE I FIRSTFOUND THIS BLOG OF YOURS SO THAT MAKES IT SEVEN YEARS THAT WE'VE "KNOWN" EACH OTHER??? IM GOING TO SCREAM BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT???
Fifth- that friend from whose fic you found me is one of my besties and I've known her for 8 years minus ONE DAY 🥺🥺🥺 tomorrow (based on timezones) is our anniversary and AHHHHHH GOD THATS MY LONGEST FRIENDSHIP THAT I STILL KEEP UP WITH. to think that I've known YOU for seven... omg?
Sixth! You detective! You are so cool
Seven !! Dw about finding my old tumblr LOOOOLLL I did mean to delete it but am just lazy and avoidant,,, but it's okay really! Not an invasion of privacy considering /my/ behaviour with your blogs JDAJDJSJDJSKSKDKA your "invasion" of my privacy is warranted LMAO let's catch each other up on our misadventures 🥳 jkjk
Eight- although yes I dont use that account anymore and have had four more since then 💀💀💀💀 I planned to contact you through the fourth, you see 🤡 (god this clown emoji looks terrifying on my phone I hate it suddenly, it's NIGHTTIME i dont want clown nightmares even if I'm not scared of them 😭 hard to be scared of something you've never seen before except in a mirror shdhfjdndnjsksa)
NINE - YOU WERE SUBSCRIBED TO ME?!?!!?!??!! SHAJSJSJDJSJSJSA HELPPPPPP?? OHMYGOD? YOURE ONE OF THOSE 66 PEOPLE... WAHHHHHH IM SO EMOTIONAL
Ten- "HAHA DW YOU DONT HAVE TO TALK TO ME IF YOU DONT WANT TO HAHA" these haha's killed my soul a little OF COURSE I want to talk to you I'm just SHIT at having energy for conversations lately (for like 3 years now LMFAOOOO) BUT THATS NO EXCUSE !!!!!!!!!!!
omg i didn't know you hurt your foot 😭 is that why you're bedridden?? SENDING YOU GOOD HEALING VIBES SJDJDJSJS I hurt my feet too because i got overenthusiastic with exercise 💀💀 and then just skipped a day like no MY STREAK! But they're fine rn I guess, maybe the rest was good ehrjejdjsjsa
omg I'm a proper carat 🥺🥺🥺 am I a proper carat if I barely know their songs because I'm fond of them but I probably don't know more than ten songs DHEJEHSHDNSKS??? Help. I must be an improper carat (can you tell I have dumb jokes)
THIRTEEN! I realised after seven entire years that your name basically translates to cheese on toast. That was a revelation. I hope you've brien well. Yes. I actually just did that.
Fourteen- caratumblr abo verse.... I havent written smut for two years and I havent even been writing but this was such a tempting offer JRJERJSJDJ LMAOOOO I'll support you in your endeavours 😌🥳🤩🥰
Fifteen - also same I LOVE SENDING ASKS DISKSKSKS
Ok this was a long ask hehe whoops <3 enjoy your day! I hope you have a good one!!! I think our timezones are far apart so I must zzz now ❤ I think I covered everything I wanted to say rn!!
--- spn anon (oh look! This can double as point number seventeen 🤩)
YOU KNOW IM KINDA ANNOYED I DIDNT FIGURE THIS PUT A YEAR AGO LIKE…. What the fuck was a doing all those other times i tried it wasn’t THAT difficult to find… this is ridiculous i’m so dumb sigh
A FULL YEAR OH MY GOD…. THATS INSANE…. But SEVEN YEARS FOR US?! THAT WOULD BE MY LONGEST ONLINE RELATIONSHIP. I would never EVER imagine that any online relationship I would find would transcend fandoms ESPECIALLY NOT SO DRASTICALLY as going from supernatural to kpop and ao3 to tumblr… what a migration… seven YEARS… damn that means we only just missed our anniversary haha
HAHA SAM 🫵 SCARED OF CLOWNS although tbh… clowns are fucking terrifying… THERE WAS THIS SCARE IN NORTH CAROLINA WHERE THERE WERE CLOWNS IN THE WOODS FOR A WHILE BRO IM STILL SCARED OVER IT
I WAS SUBSCRIBED TO YOU!! OBVIOUSLY I REALLY LIKED YOUR WRITING CAUSE I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING BASED OFF ANYTHING EVER AGAIN
DONT BE STRESSED ABOUT MY HAHAS THEY ARENT LIKE haha… 🥲 THEYRE LIKE REALLY HAHA THATS SO FUNNY LIKE REALLY ENTHUSIASTIC HAHAS AND NO THATS A PERFECTLY FINE EXCUSE i just went through a phase where i didn’t want to talk to anyone so i GET IT
I think that if seventeen brings you any type of comfort you’re a carat, no matter if you listen to one song or all of them. You know their names, that’s MUCH more than i knew when i knew that amount of songs. So i think you qualify as one, even if you don’t go further into liking them or listening to their music
BUT STOP YOUR JOKES ARE SO FUNNY YOU ARE GENUINELY SO FUNNY
YES CAPTAINBRIEONTOAST IS LIKE THE MOST CLEVER THING I’VE EVER COME UP WITH LIKE IT’S DEVASTATING TO ME THAT I AM NOW SOMETHING ELSE… people on this blog don’t even know my roots… WHO I WAS BEFORE (that’s probably a good thing) I actually only started going by brie even offline when i gave myself the captainbrieontoast name for writing. I HAVE BRIEN WELL 🤣
Come on sam… dad’s on a hunting trip and hasn’t been home in a few days…. DUST OFF YOUR SMUT WRITING SKILLS I can’t do this without you 😫 (just kidding don’t feel pressured) what if i actually did do a caratumblr abo verse collab that would be crazy i don’t think i have the confidence or influence to start that alone
I HOPE YOU SLEEP WELL!!! I’LL TALK TO YOU LATER!! I just woke up (but it’s almost 4pm where i am and i should’ve woken up sooner)
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july 5th 2022 6:17am 2 years and 4 months into the pandemic and i have no life?
as of writing this, i just stayed up another morning and will be expecting myself to sleep the whole day off once again
currently summer. i go back to school next month. in a new school in an ultra cool university! but rn i really have nothing to do but literally lie around
very lucky to not even worry about anything else rn apart from the dread of workload that this ultra cool university will give me but idk i really do feel i dont have a life apart from school rn
dont get me wrong i have best friends and acquaintances, i just dont talk to them a lot or even hang out with them despite our free time because of a multitude of reasons. we havent even spent time as a complete quintet for 2 years now. we only had that one prom night—which was very fun dont get me wrong though it was underwhelming for my little ambitious movie making brain— but one of us wasnt there. she even pops up in my dreams every once in a while and its great i still remember her face. our friend group just doesnt converse a lot online because it's just the way it is. we don't always have the energy to message and reply to one another and we have a mutual understanding of that. though i wish it was a bit diffferent.
in another universe, we would make use of our summer by playing in the local timezone and make memories and collect memorabilia, but that's just not the case.
to go back to the main point, i basically do nothing here. i did apply to mcdo last week (?) in hopes of a one-month summer job to fuel my spending bursts though i havent gotten anything back.
i tap through my friends' friends' insta stories and just see everyone doing something. theyre getting licenses, theyre hanging out with their friends, joining contests, doing stuff they like, celebrating birthdays, even partying, all of that stuff.
not that i have anything of interest. actually that's one of the things that upsets me the most. i lack passion haha. i don't have a good hobby that gives me a drive or eagerness to improve in. i feel like a speck more than ever.
a heavy speck at that. along with this little "i've officially wasted two years of my life" thing i have going on, i've gained weight. from 90lbs to 120lbs this summer. i know, still quite thin but to put that on a barely 5'2 teenager, it's got impact.
though, can you blame me? ive barely been able to go out of my family's condo unit and who am i to reject the food just staring daggers at my direction whilst they sit in the closed pantry.
my self-image has gone a different path as well. don't know how in-depth i'll get on here but let's see.
first, my arms. it's now as wide as... something. can't think of anything to compare to it rn but certainly not the twig i want it to be so badly (meant lightly though kinda not? not sure). hate wearing sleeveless tops and anything that would wrap around it snugly, adds onto the weird feeling it gives to my armpits because of the arm holes.
secondly, my face. a good circle with flabs on the bottom. i look like the fucking moon emoji. ruins my day right when i see it in the mirror outside of my door. that added to the constant ridiculing my parents do as a hobby. it's like they want me to hate myself? of course it's all for jokes. but cmon.
ill keep the last item short but lastly, my tummy. just envision it as one of a fucking tito who drinks religiously.
—
it's just very funny—to me, at least—that i've grown into someone lame. not that i dream of becoming the stereotypical cool kid who parties like it's a 9-5 job but it's just not the way younger me wanted things to go i guess. i just hoped to be someone happy in something they do and is enjoying life in whatever way it may be. just not the case rn.
—
a song i like at the moment:
swaying with #the one as this plays while we watch the sun go down yeahhhhhhhhhh
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The day before the party, thoughts, updates, rambling, etc.
I got a package from Will and Paula. I will share its contents in its own post but I am so excited and happy. Thanks to them I was able to get Cazza a rare toy that I wasn’t sure I would have been able to get for her before, you know. I’m feeling a lot of relief. (She loves it by the way)
The heat is starting to get really bad. I am struggling super hard not to overheat and I know that it’s only going to get worse. Currently doing an experiment to see if putting a car window shade (what I did last year) has a better effect than just opening the window as wide as I can. I think the window shade is going to win. I am also debating whether I should bring out my last fan. The one I don’t use anymore. Will it make any difference? (I already have four running in my room lol) Climate change is deadly for me. Hate the heat. I miss winter so bad. I wish we could have winter with more sun. Winter but it doesn’t snow. Winter but it’s green. Cazza has almost completely shed. I have been collecting as much as I can.
Fishy sent some goodies my way and I have just been trying to relax between chores and eat them. I found out macadamia nuts are toxic to dogs so sad I can’t share. But I always love getting the Hawaiian candy ever since he first sent me some and I became addicted to the chocolate covered macadamia nuts lol. It’s like crack to me I have to put other things on top of the box so I don’t go at them all in one go. (And this is why the pandemic made me gain weight)
For my birthday I got Cazza some fancy treats that she really likes. I wish we could have a pool party. That we had a backyard and all my friends could come over and play in the pool (with Cazza) and that we had sprinklers (like the Spot sprinkler) and a slip n slide. The one big thing I got growing up was a massive (unkempt but lol that makes it more fun) backyard. Summer would be easier to deal with if I could just spend 12 hours a day sitting in a wading pool but the closest I can come to that is the bathtub until my roommate gets mad at me.
All things considered I think this is going to be a relaxing birthday. And good because my friends care about me and because Cazza is here. Fishy also sent me a card (and one for Cazza) and I tried setting up some doofy little clothespin line thing to hook them up by my bed. It’s very much still a work in progress but I’ll try to share soon. I love decorating my room in a maximalist sorta vibe with little treasures hanging off of every surface.
Not mental health meds so less of a pressing issue but there’s something wrong with my disability assistance because I went to the pharmacy and they wanted an extra $150 dollars after I switched from the name brand so I gotta talk to my doctor about why the fuck that’s happening.
The meds are to fix my hormone imbalance so it’s not life or death but still very annoying. I’m due for a checkup anyways but I have to do bloodwork in july and this is going to give me a bad score in blood.
I am waiting until this week is over to worry about it. Because I have my birthday and then I have Cazza’s next appointment and then I want to rest. I want to rest and rest and rest.
Andy very sleepy tired and weak.
I’m positive it’s just a misunderstanding and I won’t have to pay but it’s still so annoying that this is happening in Canada when healthcare is supposed to be free even though it very obviously isn’t. They won’t let you die but other than that pay up motherfucker.
(I say that but I know everything is a whole lot cheaper on average than it is in the US but it’s still pretty frustrating)
I missed Will and Paula’s art stream today because they did it early and it was before I woke up which I’m kinda upset about but it’s not the end of the world. Living in timezones sucks. Illinois is so far away that “noon” to them is still finsterhund sleepytime. Granted I don’t get up these days before noon and our “morning” walk but same thing. It’s usually in the afternoon on my end so I’m more likely to make it.
I’ve seen a few stores, more than last year, have pride collections and while I’m happy that being LGBTQ is being more normalized even if it’s consumerism I do wish that some of the stuff was more gender neutral because so much stuff is femme and I’m never gonna be one of those guys who expresses in a femme way. Had a phase as a teen that was tainted by a significantly older partner trying to push the femboy aesthetic on me and just never wanted to again afterwards. Maybe with age my masculinity won’t be super fragile but can’t say at the present. it’s weird because part of me does want to wear sparkly rainbow bead bracelets and such and it’s not that I’m closeted I’m very out lmfao but idk. Religious trauma and stuff really damages your brain. That’s the sort of stuff I give to my stuffed animals and Cazza. Cazza’s collar literally looks like a flag. I call it the Cazza pride flag and I made a fake flag moc up of it that maybe I can find somewhere in my files.
This year I’ve been struggling with labels again and after reading several resources that say being asexual isn’t because of trauma I’m no longer identifying as being under the asexual spectrum. I have no real way of separating if I’m “asexual” exclusively because of abuse and trauma and I don’t think I will until I actually start healing through therapy (it is a long journey) so I think I’ll just be open that despite being gay I’m sex repulsed due to child abuse. If I think too hard about it me being aromantic may be influenced by my childhood trauma as well but I wasn’t really abused in a way that would affect “romantic relationships” (I think?) so I’m more comfortable saying that I’m aromantic still. It’s hard to tell if I experienced romantic interest or if I just thought it was normal and mirrored it. Like I had a crush on another boy I was close friends with in third grade but I’m very conflicted about how I process relationships and how much of the romantic aspect at the time was actually romantic. If that makes sense. So much of my identity is interwoven with my trauma and it makes everything very difficult to unpack. Shout out to my birth father for not being able to cure my queerness but absolutely making me more confused about my own identity anyways.
All I can really say for sure is that I am gay and a childhood trauma survivor. You can’t really slap childhood trauma on a pride flag though.
Gonna go for evening walkies now and settle in for the night. Talk to you later. Maybe there will be birthday shennanigans tomorrow.
Cazza loves you.
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cousin: hey can you help me build things for a fnaf minecraft roleplay
me who’s never played fnaf: :flushed:
cousin: you’ll be playing chica because you’re the only girl (besides your little sister) i know who has minecraft bedrock and chica is a girl
me who’s actually nonbinary and hasn’t told him yet: :flushed: :flushed: :flushed:
my brain: why does a girl have to play chica anyway
#im still doing it though#because 1) who gives a fuck if i play my agab#and 2) he’s my cousin#and 3) i want to build cool things for it because i like building cool things#fnaf#five nights at freddys#minecraft#minecraft bedrock#usually i use Java edition but he made me download bedrock#man bedrock pvp SUCKS#minecraft roleplay#cousins#nonbinary#afab nonbinary#afab enby#enby#closeted trans life#my cousin has autism#he’s doing his best#he hasn’t seen me since july or smth because were 2 timezones apart#<3
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ayyy i'm so glad you wanna write something for ifwad!!!
Can i request ⌓, ⬤, and ✈ (or whatever combination of those floats your boat) for platonic Alex and Julie? thank you!
send a whump scenario and i will write a drabble (and if you send in alex related ones before midnight in my timezone, i will write them for international fuck with alex day)
⌓: tissues
⬤: being called soft things like baby, sweetheart or honey
✈: reaching out for someone [bonus points if they mumble! their! name!]
can be found on ao3 here
Julie wasn’t sure exactly what she was expecting to see when she entered the studio after school, but it’s safe to say the sight she was met with had been far from anything she could’ve been expecting.
Alex was laying on the couch, blankets pulled all the way up to his chin, and surrounded by so many tissues they could make a whole other blanket. His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed with bags so deep under them, they looked like bruises and his cheeks were flushed, but the rest of his skin was an almost deathly pale. Plus, he was covered in a sheen of sweat that had his hair practically plastered to his skin. And Julie had never felt more concerned in her life.
Ever since the boys had come back to life, she tended to worry ... a lot. A lot more than was probably necessary. But she couldn’t help it, they were in just as much danger now as any other human being and she now knew that anything could happen, life could do the unexpected at any time. They may have been given a second chance, but there was no guarantee they would have any more than that. And this was the first time any of them had been sick, or anything out of the ordinary. She was maybe a little beyond worried.
But, she told herself, she needed to stay calm. Alex was the most anxious person she’d ever met, if she start freaking out, it would only make things worse. She took in a deep breath, told herself to calm once more, before she carefully made her way into the studio and called out to him.
“Alex?” She spoke gently, stopping in front of the couch and kneeling down slightly. “Hey, are you okay, love?”
Alex looked to her, as if noticing her presence for the very first time, and gave a weak smile. “Oh, hey, Jules. Yeah I’m fi - ” But no sooner had the words started to leave his mouth, was he suddenly cut off by a coughing fit that had Julie quickly helping him sit up, one hand gently patting his back and trying her best to just hold him through it as there wasn’t much else to do. He sounded bad, wheezing in between coughs, and when he was finally done, his head came to rest on Julie’s shoulder and the worry she was feeling only increased.
“Oh, sweetheart. I think you’re anything but fine.” She spoke, voice still gentle, and Alex made a small, non-committal noise, accompanied by a shrug. She pressed a hand to the back of Alex’s forehead and almost immediately pulled away, letting out a hiss. “Lex, baby, you’re burning up. Do you know what your temperature is?”
Alex gave a shake of his head. “No, been pretty much laying here all day. Haven’t felt like getting up to check.”
Julie frowned, looking around the studio, realizing it was just her and Alex in there. “Where are the boys? Do they know you’re sick?” There were still certain legal issues to be sorted out before the boys could be enrolled in school, so they pretty much stayed at the studio all day. It felt very unlike them to just leave Alex in a state like this.
“Reg w-went with your dad to that photoshoot and think Luke went busking or something. But they don’t know, haven’t been home all day.” Julie noted how hoarse Alex’s voice sound, like he’d spent the entire day coughing. She let out a sigh.
“Okay, okay.” She responded quietly, trying to weigh her options. She knew the best thing to do would probably be call her dad, but she also knew that ‘shoot was three hours away and by the time she got a hold of him and he got home, Alex could be even worse. Going to look for Luke would mean leaving Alex and she really didn’t think he needed to be alone a second longer. Carlos was supposed to be going to a friend’s house after school and spending the night, plus, as much as she loved her brother, she wasn’t sure there was much a twelve year old could really do.
After a bit more thinking, she made her decision. She would do what she could for Alex and just hope it could be enough until her dad, or someone else, was home. She turned to look at Alex now and noticed his eyes had fluttered shut, she couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not, but her voice was still quiet as she carefully said his name. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes, they were still glassy and he just looked so miserable it practically broke her heart.
“Hey, sweetie. We’re going to go inside the house, okay?” She gently ran a hand through his hair as she spoke, noting how he leaned into it with a look of relief on his face.
“Why?” He breathed out, his voice hardly above a whisper and if Julie hadn’t been so close to him, she wouldn’t have heard it.
“The studio is too cold for you to stay in while you’re like this, it won’t help you get any better. I’d prefer to have in a house with central heating and cooling.” She explained carefully, softly. Alex did nothing more than give a nod in response, which she took as a good sign that he was at least acknowledging her answer. “Do you think you can make it into the house?”
Alex lifted his head off her shoulder now, blinking blearily as he looked around. “Uh, yeah ... think so.” Though he didn’t actually sound too sure.
Gently, Julie maneuvered her way around him, standing up and offering a hand out to him. “Alright, well, I’m going to help you, okay? You can lean on me as much as you need to, I promise. Don’t be worried about squishing me or anything.” Alex just gave another nod, and the fact that he didn’t protest this any further was just a sign of how sick he must be.
Once Alex was up and leaning against Julie, the two of them thankfully made it into the house with little incident, aside from another coughing fit from Alex that had been so bad he’d almost passed out. But either way, Julie was relieved once they made it throw the front door and into the safety on the house.
She carefully led Alex into the living room, as much as she would prefer to have him in her bed she knew there was no way Alex could handle the stairs right now and she wouldn’t be able to get him up there on her own, and helped him onto to one of the couches. Once he was laying down, she grabbed a blanket and tucked it around him, pulling it up to his chin like he had had in the garage.
“Hey, love.” Her voice was still soft and gentle, it hadn’t been anything else since she’d first found Alex. It took a second for Alex to focus on her, and his gaze didn’t even seem that focused. “I’ll be right back okay? I’m going to go get some things for you, but I promise I’m coming back.” And just like all the other times, Alex simply gave a nod in response. Which, Julie was kind of starting to a hate. A quiet and non-responsive Alex felt weird and unnatural. While he was never quite as chatty as Luke or Reggie, one thing that could always be counted on from Alex was a sarcastic or witty response, none of which was happening now.
It took for a few minutes to gather everything she needed for Alex, a thermometer so she could actually get an idea of what his temperature was, a cool washcloth for his forehead, and a glass of water and some Tylenol, and when she came back, she realized Alex had actually drifted off to sleep. The last thing she wanted to do was wake him up, but she knew it was very important he take the medicine and she got an actual idea of what his temperature was so she knew if a hospital trip was necessary.
She pushed her dad’s computer chair over to where Alex’s head was, sitting down in it before gently beginning to run her hand through his hair, softly calling out his name. After a few seconds, his eyes were blinking open and it looked like he was literally fighting to stay awake and she couldn’t help the tiny sigh that escaped. “Hi, baby, I know you just want to sleep, I know. But I need you to take some medicine for me and I need to take your temperature, okay? I promise it’ll only take a few minutes and then you can go right back to sleep. Can you do this for me, baby, please?”
To her relief, Alex nodded again and she helped him sit up, passing him the Tylenol and the water. Once he swallowed the medicine down, she took the water back (after urging him to take a few more sips) and stuck the thermometer under his tongue. It only took a minute for it to beep and once it did, she breathed the tiniest sigh of relief. His temperature was 102, which was high, but not high enough that she needed to call 911 or anything. Thank god.
She helped Alex settle back down, laying the wash cloth across his forehead. She then took her hand and began to run it through his hair once more, feeling him begin to relax under her touch and it was only a few minutes before his eyes were drooping shut and he was drifting off once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Julie wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed, when she was jolted awake by the sound of someone whimpering and calling out her name. It took her brain a few minutes to catch up, for her to realize she had fallen asleep in the chair next to Alex.
Alex, who was sitting up but his eyes were still screwed tightly shut. Alex, who was reaching out, presumably for her, and letting out small whimpers, calling out for her.
Immediately, she sat on the couch next to him, placing a hand on either side of his, noting that at the very least he didn’t feel as warm. “Hey, hey, hey, Lex. Alex, baby, love, wake up. Open your eyes, I’m here. I’m right here. Come on, baby, I just need you to open your eyes for me, okay? I’m here, honey, I’m here. I’m right here.” She was speaking softly, though there was slight hint of franticness to her tone, and she began to brush her thumbs back and forth across Alex’s cheeks.
After what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only about a minute, Alex’s eyes fluttered open and he locked eyes with her. “Julie.” Was all he said, before he was practically diving into her arms and she was catching him, wrapping her arms tightly around him and holding as tight as she could without hurting him.
“Hey, shhh, Lex it’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I got you. I got you.” She began to move her hand in soothing circles on his back, while she angled her head enough to press a kiss to his temple, hoping to just provide as much comfort as she could.
“Do you want to try to lay back down?” She asked gently and she felt him tense in her arms. “I won’t go anywhere. I’ll lay down with you, I promise.” She then felt him nod against her chest.
Carefully, she laid them both down onto the couch, and though it was a bit of a tight squeeze, she refused to let go. She wouldn’t break her promise. She continued her motions on his back, and it wasn’t long before the both of them drifted off once more, cuddled as close together on the couch as physically possible.
Which was how exactly how Ray, Reggie, and Luke found them a few hours later. None of them had the heart to wake either up, so they just figured they would get the information they needed once both fully were.
#{pluto answers}#{pluto writes}#chickwiththepurpleguitar#{show: julie and the phantoms}#alex mercer#julie molina#jatp#julie and the phantoms#ifwad 2021#{thank you sm for sending this in! hope you enjoy this!}#{will be posting this to ao3 and will rb w a link once i do}
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Ah look it's the first day of Spooky Month/October (in my timezone—) and i've signed myself up for a challenge... And hopefully i can keep up with it for the whole month
Lets start things off shall we?
More info and stuff under the cut
Name: Agatha
Type: fire
Gender: non-binary
Pronouns: he/him or they/them
Height: 2'2" (or 66.0 cm)
Weight: 9.5 lbs ( or 4.3 kg)
Nature: quite
Evolves into: N/A..... Yet
~
Meet Agatha! Some of you have probably seen me roleplay as them under the "🔥[Flames of Honour]🔥" tag
And under the cut of every post of OC-tober i make, i might spew some lore for this fella...
So for the first one, im gonna talk about how Agatha came to be and some scrapped backstory for him
So... It all started when i joined @/lilfunkers-fnf 's discord...
It so happened to have a poketwo bot in it... And then i jumped right into the ~✨World of Pokemon✨~ /pos
I picked out a litten (the sun and moon animated series made me appreciate the fire kitty- though im definitely not drawing a buff wrestler cat. Oh nonononono, definitely not, because i can't even draw muscles; and i dont wanna draw Incineroar as a beanpole either. So alt evo for all of you... Which i have yet to design— okay im getting off track-)
And after trials and tribulations on figuring how to rename the litten using the bot
Agatha eventually came into existence by July 30...
Now after all that, they're kind of my OC now. And every OC needs a
Backstory and Lore~
Though the one im gonna tell you are the scrapped ones, not the official one (even now, i am still figuring things out... So nothing's set in stone right now!)
So originally, Agatha was gonna be a emo cat who's all
"grumble grumble, all humans are bad because ONE human (my trainer) hurted and abused me, grumble grumble. But kids are okay i guess"
And.... Ya see, that was all thrown out of the window... Mostly the "all humans are evil" demeanor, the only thing from the original concept that really stayed was that he had a soft spot for kids-
Getting off topic- again-
So at first, i wanted to be edgy and all that shit with Agatha's trainer being a fucking jerk to them because y e s (and like previously mentioned, i threw it out of a window). They then ran away from the trainer, and is assumed dead by them.
And because all of the abuse, he's being all hissy-fitty at people and wont hesitate to bite the shit out of them...
And thats as far as the scrapped backstory and lore goes...
You know, im happy i didn't go with that route.
Because im perfectly content with the litten i have now
In which is a total sweetheart (once they get comfortable), who's kind of a parent...? I think- canonically they've adopted 2 poke-kids (they're both are pretty much muse's available on my blog, though i haven't used them much...) so- oh, and they would definitely wreck some terrible parents within his presence—
Okay thats all i have for today-
#art#random art#spacebunprince's oc-tober#🔥[flames of honour]🔥#(?)#admin's bullshittery#pokemon oc#litten
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So... Dergun Town's gone, at last - Temp. Tester Rant.
To be frankly honest, I was waiting for it to end. I stopped playing after the weird ass Pet update and sudden, unnannounced Hair Change due to “legal reasons” because the game was just getting utterly confusing, a mess of minigames with clunky customization options and systems, and whatnot. Plus, my time as a tester was when I hit the breaks on the game and realized "man... they really are dicks".
I never ranted about it because I knew if I did, they'd definitely come for me and ban me from the game or from the server because "I shittalked about the game" or “I’m unveiling the tester server”, but now that it's over - it's time for a rant.
So, think it was around May 2020 that I decided to go for Tester to better prepare myself for the future updates, the chat itself was basically... like the lobby, just mainly memes and the Dev fanatics, who will defend them 24/7, chatting with the Devs.
One of the first few things that was asked for is the Timezones so that we could test the server together - the Timezones thing is literally thrown out the window after the very first test. From there on, what they would do is ping the Testers to announce an update - at the time, we had no changelog, no proper bug report channel, it was all crowded in one place, and because they disregarded the Timezones, imagine if you will the chat being both filled with players spamming the chat with all the new shit like some happy toddlers, and another half are people who are reporting to be in class, asleep, dinnering, ect.
A chaotic mess that makes it near impossible to actually report something. Eventually, they added a bug report but once again, no proper check list - if any, the changelog and the checklist only appeared around the Argoras or Minigame Update (June-July). And, as always, the checklist was never updated, so you'd be testing something that's already been checked and other listed things wouldn't be checked at all. Organization, which is something a Tester needs, was never a fucking thing in that horrid mess. They would occasionally do polls, one of which was if the Update should release now, nearly everyone said No - they released it anyway. :^)
Then, there would be some bugs where they’d blame us for it - the /hitme was a command that was restrictedly used in the test server because the Devs somehow don’t know how to add a small quantity of resources to all of us, so he instead made a command that gives, what? Over a million of each of the resources? We ALL made sure that wasn’t toggled on the “beta” server, and yet, somehow, it got released with the commad functioning, and instead of admitting their fault, they blamed the Testers for practically saying folks not to use it - one of the testers was literally STRIPPED OFF of their Gil and other resources, and mind you, they didn’t even used the command at all, all they did was accidentally say the command.
The Moderators would also be rather cruel, everyone likes memes, that's granted, but it shouldn't mean you can willingly change our nicknames like that. Imagine switching over to the chat only to find out your name, along with all the other testers, has been changed to "Todd Howard"; you rename it, and a couple of days later, they change it yet again without your permission or consent. This isn't fun, this is just annoying. I had to walk around with "Stop changin my name" on my nickname because of them.
And like how it has been told, these Devs cannot take criticism at all. The Argoras Update will haunt me down as the Update where I was literally fighting against other testers and the Devs over something that needed to be changed. In the Test Server, the Skill Points had a Clover table, meaning you used clovers for Skill Points, the thing is in Pony Town, the rewards are remain unlocked even if you go down the unlocking mark - Dergun Town does not. So players who are unaware of this would've wasted 1k Clovers and then realize that their prizes have been taken away because they're no longer above the unlocking mark. So as a Tester, it should be my duty to warn the Devs about it and come with suggestions.
I told them without mentioning Pony Town at all (because they have a stupid policy of “if it’s close to PT, we can’t do it”) about how the Clover option will result in players losing their reward if they go below 1k and 500 Clovers respectively, which is the equivalent to hundreds of players putting all those days collecting Clovers to waste. They would ABSOLUTELY rant about it in Bugs or Help Desk. I suggested them to either:
Make the rewards unlocked still even if you left the mark.
Remove the Clover option
Add a warning when about to select Clover
Those are the ones on top of my head, what did they do?
Tom just kept ignoring what I said on the first suggestion and exclusively focusing on the second one, as if it was the only option available. Meanwhile, Q was guilt tripping me into bidding to their commands, "37,500 gil per skill if you the 50 points pure,," it's horrible, sure, but do you really want to deal with a hoard of players coming to the server to scream about how the Skill Point system stole their Clover rewards? And having to deal with a patch or two to make them happy, or worse, having to ban more players because they’re angry WITH REASON that their prizes were taken away because you idiots refuse to add something that allows the players to keep their rewards while below the mark?
You know they would do that, everyone knows they would do that. And worse is with exception of one or two Testers, the other users, specifically folks like J*y and D**r, just kept defending the Devs even though I was literally helping them prevent a future problem that everyone knew it would fucking happen. What's the point of testing a game if the Developers will fucking refuse to take your advices?
They did removed the Clovers from the options, but kept the Dandelions and the Bones, which, you guested it, STILL DIDN'T HAD THE PRIZE LOCKING! And the best part - NO WARNING REGARDING THE LOST OF THE PRIZES WAS ADDED EITHER! So players who had the Dandelion Rune and the ability to get the special items from the Bone would end up in losing them without them knowing - though it’s not as bad as the Clovers, a resource that restrictedly spawns in areas with Clovers as opposed to be map-wide and the last prize needs 1k of those, and the recent-ish Spring Update changed the green to a shade that blends with them.
I singlehandedly helped them avoid a hoard of angry players, and not a singular thank you was given.
The Quest Cap is also a thing, if the mobile users are in such a disadvantage with the Clovers being gone, then why are you adding the Cap anyway? Everyone knows that if a game is relying on the player to grind, it should not cap the Quests to a fucking T - only 20 Quests per hour?! And the NPC's Gil is both dependant on Bootleg Flight Rising Dominance... and dependant on a Clan that YOU CAN'T ACTUALLY CHANGE even if you request for such?! It's like if in Flight Rising, because Fiona has Light eyes, Light Flight would gain extra bonus treasure from here as if Dominance wasn't enough. "It's to balance the Economy", how is that going to balance, it just restricting the mobile users even further, as if the shitty battle controls on mobile that makes it impossible to battle wasn't enough.
The game was also just turning into a weird, funky, Flight Rising bootleg - fitting how the game that Q also worked on was a bootleg hybrid between Dragon Cave and Flight Rising - the release of pets with these genes and barely any use but to literally do the exact shit you do in FR. In FR, you exalt Dragons to gain a upper hand at Dominance, in DT, a rather recent-ish? Update allowed you to sell the Magikins (the gened pets, the other pets are literally useless) for Clan Tokens, giving you a boost to gain Dominance. It’s exactly like FR, I’m surprised no one ever bothered to contact the FR folks about this ripoff. The pets did had a use and it was to gain more gil but a nerf was done because, once again, they released an update were we made SURE that wasn’t happening, but somehow, it happened - the Pet-Gill Machine Glitch that allowed you to gain infinite Gil.
My pets got bugged because of it - the level got reset (it’d only reward 1-2 gil) but the price of the upgrade did not (750 gil) - I asked if that was a nerf or a bug, and as expected, they said it was nerf when it was clear as days it was a bug given how people had pets that requried 700+ gil and rewarded 30+ gil.
The game’s just a mess of minigames and FR Ripoff, I could go on and on with just how bad the game is, but the Devs are even worse.
It's really bad when they're once straight up muted someone for speaking their fucking opinion.
(You may need to zoom)
(From PMs)
This user would constantly bring the flaws in their shit without insulting, they'd argue with reason, give suggestions, everything, in hopes of improving the game. and they instead just argued back, if not, criticized them for even bringing an opinion and tried to justify themselves as to why they didn't need to change - and the users would absolutely defend the Devs like literal ass kissers, to the point of being happy they got muted.
As the user rightfully said in PMs:
I wanted to make contributions that could help improve it, but it seems like the staff just want people to do as they say without question instead of looking for ways to improve. And they desperately need to understand that the game is not just about what they want, what kinds of designs they think players should make. It should be encouraging players to try new designs and be creative, but all the devs want to do is shut that down.
I just wish they didn't have absolute power over the server. If they were accountable to their community in some way, it'd be possible to convince them to make changes when it's really necessary. Not all the time, just when their stubbornness is getting in the way of something that absolutely everybody except them wants.
The fun in these games has always been in the community. If you stifle that, you stifle the game. And unfortunately, I now can't say any of this. Making demon combat even harder for those without skill points was wholly unnecessary, too. I don't know what their obsession is with making the game so heavy on grinding.
Back when I first arrived, Dergun Town was mostly just Pony Town with more customization options, plus a few special prizes you could earn by gathering items. Nowadays it seems like the devs are more interested in forcing players to grind for literally everything than they are in adding new stuff everyone can enjoy and use.
But worse than that is how they always respond to criticism. The mini-events were the biggest example of that. Players didn't like being forced to spend all day on Dergun Town just for any chance to win an award in mini-events. It was damaging people's ability to have a life outside the game, and a lot of users complained. How did they respond? They basically threatened to remove the mini-events altogether and make all the items from them unobtainable, rather than improving on anything. This is how the staff responds to all complaints and suggestions. It's either the exact thing they want or nothing, and if they make a mistake big enough that everyone complains, rather than admitting fault, they basically punish the community for being unhappy. Their entire mentality is "play by my rules or I'm taking my toys and going home".
Reminder that when the garden update broke and erased a ton of players' houses and items, they blamed the players and said they had to do all the work to get everything that was lost back themselves.
I swear, all of this "you complained now you get nothing" and "we work hard, so be thankful to us even for terrible content" we hear in the user suggestions channel is just conditioning their player base to accept being taken for granted and mistreated. They're basically trying to induce Stockholm Syndrome.
Someone who’s also on Tumblr got banned for saying that the new design of the hairs made their characters look ugly - it was a change that was NEVER ANNOUNCED, specially considering it’s a change regarding “legal issues”, the playerbase should’ve been warned about this before they updated it. But instead, they got pissy that some people have complained about the drastically changed hairs and once again, shit down on them for complaining.
Dergun Town is an excellent example of how some people are not and never were meant to run a game - the guilt tripping, the “accept this or get lost” attitude, the behavior they had and occasionally have regarding Pony Town (search “Let’s Talk About Dergun Town” and you’ll get the document), to the point of banning the actual word “to avoid drama” aka keep folks from talking about their real fucking nature.
I am honestly happy that Dergun Town got shut down while Pony Town keeps improving and growing, karma was indeed well served.
#dergun town#pony town#pony.town#ive been keeping this for so long and i needed to let it out#dergun was bad but yall havent seen the how bad it is#or how bad it can get
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OOC + Rules
Name: Julie
Nicknames: Julie or Vide
Age: 34
Pronouns: Any but It
Orientation: Ace (sex positive)/demiromantic
Birthday: 05/09
Zodiac: Taurus
Timezone: EST (GMT-4)
RP Experience: 20+ years
Triggers: Suicide/SH (IRL only)
Squicks: Fat shaming, (irl) Preg talks
Important Note: 18+ only
MORE ABOUT ME
My native language is French (Canadian). Typos and mistakes in English are common. If that bothers you, I understand and wish you the best!
I am no longer a freelance content writer but I still work 40 hours a week and have several hobbies that I try to keep up with and severly fails.I Know Not™ what self restraint is so I have 300 fantrolls, 100+ fandomless ocs and several canon muses.
DESPITE MY PROFICIENCY AT CREATING NEW CHARACTERS, I PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY CANNOT MAINTAIN MORE THAN ONE BLOG.I CAN FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT WITH OVER 500 DIFFERENT PERSONALITIES BUT NOT 2+ BLOGS, SUE ME.
I’m usually super friendly and welcoming, but I don’t talk a lot. I struggle with social anxiety, so I’ll talk to you through tags but most likely won’t initiate convos on Discord and stuff. I don’t ignore/hate you, social interactions just drain me.
I aspire to become an author and have begun to write several stories, but work+rp+art is stealing 99 percent of my time. Maybe someday I’ll sit down to finish them. All you need to know about me is that I LOVE WRITING.
I would love to go on and on but uh I’m not super good at talking about myself. And now, onto the rules.
DNI
MINORS.
ANYONE WHO HAS SKEWED, NON-INCLUSIVE VIEWS TOWARD THE LGBT COMMUNITY.
RACISTS.
TRUMP SUPPORTERS (yes, even if he’s out of office, and yes it matters even if this is just fictional barbies we’re throwing at each other)
IRL PEDOPHILIA APOLOGISTS
COMPULSIVE/PATHOLOGICAL LIARS, SUICIDE BAITERS, MANIPULATORS.
PEOPLE WHO POST A CALLOUT A WEEK. I DO NOT PARTICIPATE IN CALLOUT CULTURE, UNLESS A CALLOUT IS BUILT ON SOLID EVIDENCE.
General Roleplay Rules
Don’t feel obligated to pick a muse! If you don’t, I’ll pick one for you c: Just specify if you are interested in OCs or not in your ask, though, if you are a canon muse! If you specify no oc’s, I’ll pick a canon muse from your fandom if I have one available c: I am also SUPER THRILLED about crossovers and oc/canon interactions c:
No godmodding, no forced shipping, no killing unless discussed first, etc.
Mun =/= Muse
Don’t reblog asks for new roleplays, make a new post please!
I rp on discord on demand. You have a direct link to my discord on the home page, but please, let me know before adding me.
I DON’T MIND ROLEPLAYING WITHOUT SPRITES/ICONS
I GREATLY PREFER PARAGRAPH/LITERATE ROLEPLAY to crack and one liners.
Good grammar is appreciated but English is not my native language so I’m not too picky. Just make sure you are readable.I usually give everyone a chance but I reserve the right to drop a roleplay/partner. I will politely notify you if that’s the case.
Shipping
I do not instaship nor do I do pre-established stuff. I just can’t. My muses are their own and will fuck up a perfect plotline no matter how much I want them to stay in their lane. I will try if we’re friends and you understand this might not work.
Due to past experiences that left me very uncomfortable, I will not practice ship exclusivity. If the thought of me being a multishipper bothers you, please do not attempt to ship with me. Thank you for understanding.
Triggers
There might be triggers appearing from time to time on this blog. Nsfw and triggers will be tagged/readmore’d. I do what I want, this is my adult blog in my adult space. Of course, if you want specific things tagged, let me know. I usually am pretty good with tagging, but if something I don’t tag need a tag, just ask/IM me about it.
PLEASE TAG IRL SUICIDAL POSTS, SELF HARM POSTS AND ANYTHING THAT HAS TO DO WITH SUICIDE IN GENERAL. I ALSO APPRECIATE TAGGING #PREGNANCY AND ANY DISCOURSE RELATED TO BODY SHAMING, BODY POLICING OR FETISHISTIC BODIES DISCOURSE WITH #BODYCOURSE, #JULIE DON’T LOOK, OR #VIDE DON’T LOOK. I MIGHT UNFOLLOW IF THESE THINGS ARE NOT TAGGED, FOR MY MENTAL HEALTH, AT LEAST UNTIL THE DISCOURSE IS OVER.
Following/Unfollowing/Blocking
IF YOU UNFOLLOW ME, I WILL UNFOLLOW YOU AS WELL.
Not out of spite, I just take it as a sign you are not interested in roleplaying with me and would rather keep my dash for mutuals! As a side note,
IF I BLOCK YOU DON’T BLOCK-EVADE TO ASK ME WHY I BLOCKED YOU.
I block for a multitude of reasons and I do not owe you an explanation. I block liberally and curate my experience, I encourage everyone to do the same. However, I don’t usually do that to people I’ve been interacting with for a while. I will always talk to someone first if something bothers me before blocking. If we never interacted and I block you…deal with it.
Drama & Callouts
Please don’t come to me if you have drama with anyone else, unless it’s serious claims that you can back up. I might be 30+ years old, but I’m credulous and I’m quick to act on emotions. I’m trying to fix that, but it won’t be done in a day. If you have beef with someone, don’t include me in it UNLESS IT’S SERIOUS AND YOU CAN BACK IT UP.
Thank you for understanding.
Reblog Karma
never thought I’d put this down as a rule but PLEASE, DO NOT USE ME AS A MEMES SOURCE. Reblog Karma is a bitch and I will not notice if you occasionally reblog memes from me without sending anything, but if you do it for let’s say, 2 months straight and never try to interact with me, I will notice. Reblog from the source instead.
Changed my mind about this. I’m so little online that it really doesn’t matter anymore if you rb from me without sending anything. It used to bother me but not anymore considering I don’t have as much time as before to rp.
Interactions & Replies
Activity will vary according to my schedule. If it’s been more than a month since my last reply, feel free to notify me because sometimes it’s tumblr not showing me replies. I can take a while to reply though, fair warning.
Please do not flirt with me OOC, I’m happily taken and it kinda makes me uncomfortable.
ALL MY MUSES, EXCEPT HITOSHI SHINSO FROM BNHA, ARE 18+. Shinso also has a verse where he is 21 because I highly prefer roleplaying adult characters. The reason I age him up is not for NSFW, but because I am more comfortable thinking of my characters as adults. However, since he is underage in his canon, I will not be having any NSFW interaction with him, even in his adult verse.
ONE LAST RULE, IF YOU ARE A MINOR, PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW ME.
I have nothing against you as a person, I would just prefer not to interact with someone who's over a decade younger than me. Just like a 30+ years old wouldn't hang with teens IRL, I don't do it online either. I also do not interact with people whose age (or adult status) is not indicated on their blog. To understand what I mean when I say no interaction with minors, please read THIS POST.
I don’t think I have any more rules. And I don’t have a password so if you are reading this, thank you for reading my rules!
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This Week in Gundam Wing 12-18 July 2020
Here’s this week’s roundup!
Remember to give your content creators some love! And join in on the events at the bottom!
~Mod Hel
Fanfiction/Snippets/AU Ideas:
@anaranesindanarie
Man Lion Thing Dude (Ch. 11) https://archiveofourown.org/works/22449241/chapters/61250557
Mature
Trowa Barton/Duo Maxwell, Triton Bloom/Duo Maxwell
Duo Maxwell, Triton Bloom, Heero Yuy, Quatre Raberba Winner, Chang Wufei, Relena Peacecraft, Dorothy Catalonia, Rashid Kurama, Catherine Bloom, Original Trowa Barton, Treize Khushrenada, Zechs Merquise, Lady Une, Sister Helen (Gundam Wing), Maxwell Shinpu | Father Maxwell, OC's, Original Characters, Hilde Schbeiker, Lucrezia Noin, Solo (Gundam Wing), Long Meilan
Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Were-Creatures, Angst, Alternate Universe, Supernatural Creatures, Family Problems, Arranged Marriage, body guards, mentions of torture, Smut, Wizards, Magic, spells
Duo Maxwell is estranged from the last of his remaining family who are demanding that he return home for an important announcement. Meanwhile, Duo has been having strange encounters with 'wild' animals, all of whom seem to be hunting him.
@bobo-is-tha-bomb
Bad Publicity https://archiveofourown.org/works/25358377
M/F, Heero Yuy/Reader
Heero Yuy, Reader, Hilde Schbeiker
Romance, Drama, Reader Insert, Alternate Universe
You stared, eyes wide with horror, at the front page’s headlines. You quickly made your way to the kitchen, sitting down at the table to scan the article’s content.
@chronicwhimsy
Strangers (Ch. 7) https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357013?view_full_work=true
Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell, Background Quatre x Relena, Background Heero x Trowa - Character
OC - Oliver McGann
Long Lost Twins, this was meant to be hijinks but then I got reminded these boys have Issues, Pining, Duo is a stressed-out jerk who needs a holiday, Post-EW, Frozen Teardrop can do one, sex in later chapters
If you said the word "brother" to Duo Maxwell, he'd think of the other pilots.
If you said, "no, your long-lost brother" to Duo Maxwell, he'd think of Solo and be very confused.
If you said, "no, your twin brother you were separated from at birth, and he's now working with the Preventers as a lawyer" to Duo Maxwell, he would go and punch his doppelganger.
Duo Maxwell isn't good at dealing with things, but unfortunately this particular thing isn't going to go away that easily.
@doctormegalomania
Your Body’s Poetry (Ch. 21) https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438891/chapters/61448776
Mature
Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner, Chang Wufei/Original Female Character(s), Relena Peacecraft & Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell/Original Male Character(s)
Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner, Chang Wufei, Sally Po, Relena Peacecraft, Lucrezia Noin, Zechs Merquise, Hilde Schbeiker
Past Relationship(s), Slice of Life, Post-Break Up, Slow Burn, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence
Long after the wars, long after peace is established the Gundam Pilots discover one immovable fact: Relationships are hard work.
@duointherain
Beneath: Leprechauns and Clovers (Ch. 8) https://duointherain.tumblr.com/post/623591090469191680/fic-beneath-leprechauns-and-clovers-8
Note: I am taking wild liberties with Irish lore.
“I sorry,” Duo said, genuinely sorry he couldn’t give them what they were asking for, “but I don’t speak Banshee. I barely speak fucking proper Earth English and fuck does that piss folk off sometimes. Why can’t I just kill him? He can’t fuck Rey if he’s dead.”
Beneath: Leprechauns and Clovers (Ch. 9) https://duointherain.tumblr.com/post/624032787912114176/fic-beneath-leprechauns-and-clovers-9
Note: I’m doing Google’s CSSI this summer and one of the cool things they gave us was like an hour long lecture by Dr. Adia Gooden on unconditional self-worth. So that’s where the good advice comes from in this chapter. Link at the bottom.
Fingers on his forehead, thumbs on his jawbones, Duo applied pressure and tried to force back the confusion and irritation. For one thing, he was very, very tired of being outside of his body. This shit wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be real, but there he lay on the hearth, hair undone like some maiden in a story with the defense rating of an unattended pastry.
@lifeaftermeteor
LAM!Verse https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/624025327508832256/private-island-location-redacted-fiji-south
Private Island [location redacted]
Fiji, South Pacific
12 August 211
“You’re in my sun,” Quatre said with a grimace, his eyes still closed, to the shadow looming over him.
Respite https://archiveofourown.org/works/25361758
F/F, Lucrezia Noin/Sally Po, Sally Po/Lady Une, Lucrezia Noin/Lady Une, Lucrezia Noin/Sally Po/Lady Une
Romance, Slice of Life, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Post-Endless Waltz, Non-binary character, Non-Binary Noin, Polyamory
Noin, Po, and Une take some time away from their responsibilities and daily lives to take a much-deserved romantic retreat out into the woods.
Pride https://archiveofourown.org/works/25361545
Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy
Post-Canon, Post-Series, Post-Endless Waltz, Fluff, Pride, Gay Pride, Short & Sweet, Slice of Life, Asexual Character, Asexual Duo Maxwell
Duo has only recently come to terms with his asexuality. It took him a long time to understand it, and even longer to embrace it as inherently part of himself. To celebrate, Heero takes him out onto the streets for New York City’s Pride.
Yoiko
Ai no Gekisen (Ch. 12) https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947910/chapters/61463575
Explicit
Gundam Wing, Ai no Kusabi
Zechs Merquise/Heero Yuy
Zechs Merquise, Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton
Rape/Non-Con, dark themes, Sexual Slavery, Bondage, this is not BDSM because there is no consent, Spanking, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Literal objectification, Aphrodisiacs, Chastity Device, Non-Consensual Drug Use, stress positions, Threats, no actual incest happens in this story
"Given your condition," Zechs said, opting for amusement, "I can't really ask you your name. I think I'll name you 'Heero.' "
katopiyo
Answers https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370617
Duo Maxwell/Quatre Raberba Winner, Duo Maxwell & Quatre Raberba Winner
Post-EW
Duo and Quatre try to kill time on the shuttle back from the former pilots’ and the Preventers’ annual Christmas bash.
Fanart/Crafts/Photo Manips:
@bobo-is-tha-bomb
https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/623923080739340288/i-really-need-to-take-up-art-again-gundamwing
WuFei Chang, fanart
https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/623975050404642817/went-in-and-made-a-water-color-version-i-dug-up
WuFei Chang in color, fanart
@cynfinnegan
https://cynfinnegan.tumblr.com/post/623545925500010497/a-couple-more-gundam-wing-memes-this-time
Relena Darlian/Peacecraft, memes
@gundayum
https://gundayum.tumblr.com/post/623787099348402176/here-have-grown-up-hilde-in-a-god-damn-wedding
Hilde Schbeiker, fanart
@gwfrozentears
https://gwfrozentears.tumblr.com/post/623589386981949440/the-others-gundam-pilots-i-love-duoooo
WuFei Chang, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner, & Duo Maxwell, fanart
@janaverse
https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/623375597101596672/i-am-duo-maxwell-is-done-and-contains-as-much
Duo Maxwell, edit
@lemontrash
https://lemontrash.tumblr.com/post/622889139332956160/gundam-wing-art-party-had-a-voice-chat-party
WuFei Chang, fanart
Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:
@cuteciboulette
https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/623474633219424256/cynfinnegan-super-robot-wars-dd-no-relena
@cynfinnegan (for the original game trailer)
Ok so I might have gotten a tiiiiny screen cap heavy here on Heero and most of all Duo…
(Also, the Gundams are so damn cute!!)
Here is Heero & Wing
https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/623475306697801728/cynfinnegan-super-robot-wars-dd-no-relena
And here’s Duo & Deathscythe Hell (for whom and which I had to make a selection because I took 20 cap of DS, 12 of Duo + all 6 “avatars” variations).
https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/623628937542680576/i-cant-remember-if-i-ever-own-this-sheet-of-gw
Gundam Wing Stationary page
@janaverse
https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/623994461266034688/every-activity-in-the-household-is-up-for-grabs
Duo Maxwell, Sims, screencap
https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/623555650802401280/duo-is-thinking-about-a-what-to-do-next-b
Duo Maxwell, Sims, screencap
https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/623552160137953280/heero-playing-refuge-and-dodging-arrows
Heero Yuy, Sims, screencap
https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/623551604048723968/i-titled-this-one-holy-crap-poor-duo-because-it
Heero Yuy, Sims, screencap
Head Canons:
@jinsai-ish
https://jinsai-ish.tumblr.com/post/623456882470928384/random-thoughts-on-gundam-wing-and-coffee-not
Random Thoughts on Gundam Wing and coffee
Fandom Discourse:
@lifeaftermeteor
https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/623926733835583488/worldbuilding-in-the-ac-univere
World building collection on AO3
Quotes:
@helmistress
https://helmistress.tumblr.com/post/623998635640815616/duo-goth-clowns-are-just-mimes-quatre-my
@incorrectgundamwingquotes
Quatre & Duo
@incorrectgundamwingquotes
https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/623557208176754688/trowa-i-dont-really-like-this-mission-peer
Trowa & Heero
MoodBoard/Aesthetics/Playlists:
@lifeaftermeteor
https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/623995934438752256/respite-lifeaftermeteor
Noin/Sally/Une compilation
https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/623995413604810752/pride-lifeaftermeteor
Heero/Duo compilation
Calendar Events:
@gwcocktailfriday
Cocktail Fridays!
Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.
Here’s the prompt for Friday, July 24th! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/623987548985966592/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-july
In need of SUMMER & FALL/AUTUMN prompts!
@gwoc-october
GW OC October 2020!
Help pick out prompts! https://gwoc-october.tumblr.com/post/621130082429337600/hello-gundam-wing-folks-thats-right-gw-oc
@seasons-of-gundamwing
Summer of Hilde!
Needs more prompts! https://seasons-of-gundamwing.tumblr.com/post/622567839387271168/summer-of-hilde-prompt-call
@thisweekingundamevents
Events Calendar
https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/624053314842230784/event-calendar-update
If you are hosting an event currently, or are planning on one, hit us up with links and dates! We’ll add them to the Calendar and reblog your notices to get the word out!
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Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of BRUTUS. Admin Rogue: There is always something about the way you write unvarnished truth that gets me, every single time. Boris is not a likable character by any means, but I still find myself curious about him when seen through your lens. You want to make ruin of him, or maybe for him to make ruin of us, and it’s so attractively despicable that I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know if we’ve ever had a character this unapologetic, not just to some but to every single person in Verona. Let them try and eat him, let them spit him back out, let them realize he will not be swallowed no matter how much he deserves it. I can already see the way he’ll burn across the dash, a torch-song I want to touch, and I couldn’t be happier to welcome you back to us in this new and exciting form! Please review the CHECKLIST and send your account in within 24 hours.
WELCOME TO THE MOB.
OUT OF CHARACTER
Alias | Julie
Age | 20
Preferred Pronouns | She/her
Activity Level | Given that I’ll probably be stuck at home searching for a job for the next month, I figure my activity will be okay. The usual reply every other day or so situation, I hope!
Timezone | MST
Triggers | Already listed!
How did you find the rp? | Two years ago I went diving into the LSRPG tag because I was curious and now here we are. :)
Current/Past RP Accounts | Santino, Loretta, Lucien
IN CHARACTER
Character | Brutus / Boris Kovrov
What drew you to this character? | Brutus, I think, is one of the most human characters in Diverona by default, without development, in the sense that he is so selfish it makes you want to tear your eyeballs out. It’s the same with most people: we encourage each other to take time to themselves, to put themselves first, but can feel rebuffed or insulted when they actually do that. Boris has taken that to the ultimate extreme: everything he does is for himself and no one else. He didn’t ascend within the Montagues because he wanted to further his family’s social standings, he did it because he alone wanted to succeed.
He’s not apologetic about it, either, and that’s what makes him so interesting. At all times, Boris is fully aware he is perceived as underhanded and generally disliked among the mob, but he’s so good at what he does that it doesn’t matter. He returns to Verona with a searing brand of shame in the form of his personal betrayal, and anyone could see that if they just fucking looked close enough, but they don’t. That’s where his talent really lies, and that’s what makes him so weirdly endearing to me: he makes himself valuable, and even when he does the worst possible thing a person could do in a mob, it still doesn’t undercut his worth. He makes himself out to be a friend, lies and lies and lies, and because most people don’t want to make the effort or choose not to, it’s believable.
Some might call him cut-throat, or a coward, a backstabber, potentially even brutal: he’s not ashamed of sprinkling rat poison into the food of his competition if it means he’ll succeed. He’s an opportunist at best and a manipulator at worst, and if there’s anything to be said about Verona, it’s that the manipulators usually come out at the front of the pack. The last sentence or so in his bio are what really sealed the deal for me: “The historians fail to mention that the traitors are the ones who survive, who outlive empires and kingdoms, who lay their sovereigns to rest and spread their ashes like trail markers.” God help him, Boris will come out of Verona alive, no matter how much of it he feeds into and how much of himself he lets it consume.
What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |
• Fly not; stand stiff: ambition’s debt is paid. I’d love to see some real-time consequences for Boris’ betrayal of the Montague family. Others have been ousted for less, but somehow he gets to remain? That doesn’t seem particularly fair, but Boris couldn’t give a shit about fair if he tried. He sold his information to a mob in Russia for the purpose of a safety net. Other emissaries also deal with Russia – it’d make sense that one of them might hear about the dark dealings and try to use it to their own advantage, were they so ambitious. Or maybe it will come from someone higher up, like Castora, who knows more than they’ve let on. Maybe this will lead to his demotion, his death, Damiano’s assassination, the ushering in of a new era – who knows? These things don’t play out without someone paying the price, and I want Brutus to pay in full.
• I kill’d not thee with half so good a will. In my head, Boris has been out of the picture for some time now, working on relations between the American families and the Montagues to keep business booming. I’d love to explore the Verona Boris left a little over a year ago (totally headcanon, by the way! I’m happy to adjust wherever necessary) and how it’s changed in comparison to what it is now. Roman Montague has failed as an heir, the Witches hung in a public trial, all illusions of neutrality or working towards peace have been shot right through the middle. Damiano is unraveling at the seams, and the question of who will lead the Montagues lacks an answer entirely. It’s complete and utter chaos: messy, bloody, exactly the kind of environment Boris thrives in. I want him to wreak as much havoc as possible in his own way, and if he can’t do that, then I’d like to see him secure his seat closest to the throne when the concept of a coup becomes inevitable.
• But hollow men, like horses hot at hand / Make gallant show and promise of their mettle. He hunts Tomas Sabello and Bernadette du Pont because they are the easiest openings into both sides of the mobs. Bernadette is croquettish and manipulative but still naive, in Boris’ eyes, to the difficult path which lies ahead. I could see him trying to sway her to the Montagues if she would only listen. Grace Daly had done it for less, after all. Sabello, on the other hand, is Boris’ favorite target: throat exposed, head leaned back, weeping tears of sorrow over his wife. Boris has experience with the follies of the heart and he can see that Celeste has never loved the man, and frankly, Boris doesn’t think there’s much to the man to love. He’s hollow on the inside, scraped out with a metal spoon. His arrival so late into the act poses some difficulties, but he’s hopeful he’ll be able to pick up where he left off.
Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Absolutely!
IN DEPTH
In-Character Para Sample:
Valentina Gallo dies a violent death. An inextricable, unforgiving death. An ugly death. When they take pull her body from her brother’s arms, and she is taken in to be seen by Damiano’s own eyes, witness the violence which has laid itself across the barren field of a corpse –
This is when Boris is called home.
Exit, Viola.
Enter, Brutus.
He bids Lorenzo and the rest of the Gambino family farewell that same night over the phone: Lorenzo calls him a bastard for not shaking his hand before saying goodbye, but Boris has other things on his mind: A plane. The brisk cold mornings that give way to blustery sunshine. Damiano greeting him as a member of the family instead of an extension of his long reach, like he had a year ago. He can remember the phone call well. He’d run it through, night after night, dissecting and picking apart intonation and tone and the speed with which Damiano had dismissed him, like a dog begging for scraps hastily shoved away from the dinner table. He lets the familiarity of the conversation wash over him as he settles in his plane seat the night of the twenty-seventh. He’ll be there by morning.
I’ll be there to greet you, Damiano had said. Boris had tried not to read into it too much.
New York was intended to be punishment and apology wrapped up into one. Damiano sent him off to deal with the budding crime syndicates and crush them under the imaginary Montague heel. He would spread seeds of dissent and terror: most fall silent when he enters a room for good reason, and it is in this way that he gets them to listen when he speaks. Most would not expect a man as imposing as Boris to speak so passionately; he’s always been a fan of turning ideas on their heads. By weaving tales of just what the Montague family has at its disposal, he alone would stamp out the passionate flames of greed and light his own small fire of fear.
In his younger years this would have intimidated Brutus. When he’d received the call a year ago, he’d only felt dread.
But he’d done well. It took him five months to chase down every single lead provided to him by men paid under the table, and after that, all there had been to do was clean up the mess and socialize. Shake hands with the shattered fragments of the once-powerful mob families, reach out to the contacts he’d had in Canada and New Orleans, as they were perhaps the most influential, the ones who could sway the boat with weaponry and other fun and exciting goods that still had his heart pounding when he looked at them.
He’d thought about calling Evgeny once, and only once: when Damiano had chewed him out over the phone for something that was not his fault and hadn’t been in his wheelhouse to begin with. Boris knew, that night, what Evgeny would say. Patience, Kovrov. We’ll be here when you’re ready.
When you’re ready. Whatever that meant. For all Evgeny knew, Boris would never be ready. He’d die with Verona just out of reach.
He startles awake as the plane hits turbulence coming into Verona, heading towards the landing strip. It’s a bumpy landing, but he’s never done well in planes to begin with. He thinks, often, of his father, who had marked to Boris that all would be well just before returning to Russia. The flight wouldn’t make it, of course. Damiano had ensured it: Sasha Kovrov had been dead weight long enough. All he could’ve hoped for, Boris thought, was that his son would prove worthy of something.
And he had. He’d crawled on his hands and knees across glass and gravel, waded through blood and sweat, and tears – never his own, if he could help it – to see the Montague family through to the other side. Could he really have been blamed for wanting to ensure he had some sort of future laid out for him, even if it wasn’t in the name of the two old bloodlines of Verona? In return, he’d gotten: a usurpation of a position that should have been his, a pound’s worth of rat poison that he couldn’t use, distrust among his peers and disgust from the one man who should have seen his dedication, and a promise he couldn’t act upon until he was ready.
враки.
He exits the plane, meets Damiano on the tarmac, and just as quickly they are swept away by Damiano’s driver. There is no discussion of previous business, tasks he has completed. Craven is mentioned offhandedly, but Boris had to admit some time in September that whatever illicit ties Everett Craven had to the Capulets when it came to his dealings in America, the man kept them wound up tight. He’d been impressed. Instead, they set their eyes on the future: Damiano speaks to him of the failures and successes, trials and tribulations, and Boris takes note of the way his brow knits together when he speaks.
It is like Damiano cannot bear to look at him, but is forcing himself to anyway. Surely his betrayal had not burned so badly. It wouldn’t have left a mark.
Valentina Gallo died for less. She didn’t give nearly as much away. She’d given what she had to give. Boris had given Evgeny everything, and then offered the grounds of the coffee to Damiano in return.
Boris is lucky to be alive, seated across from a man he might have once considered a better father than his own, who looks at him with poorly-veiled discuss and tells him what to do. Boris had sold his soul – this might just be the devil’s recompense.
It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, watching the city pass them by, nodding where appropriate and watching the sun rise over the river as they drive alongside it. If he gets his way, Damiano Montague will be sooner dethroned, and Brutus will have his rightful place as second-in-command to some poorer, less competent man. If he is anything, it’s stubborn. They drive by the Castelvecchio, and he’s saddened to see it is still a work in progress, not at all the shining beacon it had once been of unity or pride within a place being torn in two, right down the middle. He feels a pang of something hit him in his chest. Homesickness? He’s home, but—
Boris’ flat is small, modest, tucked away in an alley. Close enough to the library that he can be there within minutes just by walking, if necessary. All the pedestrians on the street avert their eyes when they see Damiano’s car pull up outside. He grabs the one bag he’d taken with him on the plane: he’s hopeful the rest will arrive within the week, but that’s an if at best. Before he slips out, Damiano clears his throat.
He stops, and finds a single piece of paper pressed into his hand. He can only assume what it is, won’t open it – it’s deliberately folded closed. It could be anything: a name, a number, a place, a threat, a promise.
“When you’re ready,” Damiano murmurs, like some sort of sick joke, which is to say that it will be when he asks, because Boris ceded any hope at control over his own life the minute he sold all he possessed to the Russian mob, heart and mind and soul, only to crawl back to Verona just after. Some might’ve called him a fool, but he’d only seen the future, then. If only others could see the eclipsing horizon always in his sight.
It’s here that Boris is left: a small alley, out of sight of the rest of the world, the morning sun shining on his face. The future in his hand. He opens it before he has the chance to breathe in again, the vitriol in his heart already beginning to sear out through his ribcage.
Extras: N/A
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One night only
FANDOM: DCEU, but I guess more specifically BVS.
SERIES: -
RATING: Explicit for safety.
WORDCOUNT: 7 333 words
PAIRING(S): Superbat
CHARACTER(S): Bruce Wayne & Kal-El
GENRE: Brief encounters of the sexy kind. One night stands.
TRIGGER WARNING(S): None that I’m aware of, but it does contain sex and the vaaaaguest hint of strength kink. Also touch!starved Bruce.
SUMMARY:
Bruce crashes on an unknown planet as he returns from a League-related mission. Fortunately for him, he manages to survive the accident with nothing more than big bruises to show for it. Even more fortunately, he finds himself rescued by the hottest alien he's met so far.
OR: Bruce Wayne rescued by beefy alien.
DEDICATION(S): To obviously, who provided the very sexy prompt for this fic, and also to @lorata, who handled the SPAG betaing of this. I, sleep deprived and unused to GDocs on mobile, may have clicked on the “refuse” button on a couple of corrections so assume any typo left is my fault :P
NOTE(S): I don’t know why I was convinced my posting date was July 18th, but I was, which means that the final version of it got finished at 11pm on the 17th, which was a bit of a cardio workout. Thank fuck for timezones giving Lora enough time to hunt my typos without too much pressure :P
ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3
The cockpit almost looks like a Christmas tree: it blinks in increasingly bright and urgent colors, the high-pitched beep of panicking instruments loud enough to drown Bruce’s thoughts as the jet plummets toward the ground. There are interminable seconds of falling, Bruce’s soul scrambling to think of Alfred, Dick Jason MomDad—
Lead on his eyelids, a ton each at the very least. When he finally maneuvers them to half-mast the light around him is loud enough to hurt. He closes his eyes. Tries again. The bright gold echoes like a bellow between his ears. Wince. Persevere. The world around is too much and too little, loud light and bright noises. He blinks and blinks and blinks until something warm licks at him, and then another noise, salt in the air and oh, Alfred, I really messed it up this—
Blue, blue, blue, blue, the world moving—a voice above, deep and tense, dark fringe over a frown…Jas—
When Bruce wakes up for the third time, there is something floating above him. An oblong shape, dark against the light, and close enough to touch if Bruce’s arm had any strength left in it. It remains there for a while, trembling until Bruce’s eyes finally shape it back into a face. It seems calm for now, not attacking or moving in a suspicious way, but it does stay where looking at it makes Bruce’s eyes water, so it’s probably best not to discount the risk of hosni—hossi—ill intent. Bruce blinks, slow and sluggish, while the head moves and melts into some kind of silhouette.
Bit by bit, the light grows quieter, and Bruce sighs, squinting to make out limb-like shapes—only four, thank fuck—as the presumed-head leans down—and then recoils as Bruce’s hand strikes at it...or, well. Tries to. It gets stopped halfway through, easy as breathing—Bruce winces, breathes in. Blinks until the shape moves around him, the hold on his wrist firm but not painful. Once it’s out of the backlight, the head looks human enough: curly black hair, eyes just a shade too blue to feel real. The kind of jawline you could sharpen a battarang with.
Bruce blinks harder and, in a bout of stupidity barely excusable even in his state, he glances down—wool-like garment, reminiscent of a sweater, but close-fitting enough to let him know he wouldn’t blush at having abs like that—and says:
“I always thought I’d go to Hell.”
The world fades again.
*
The fourth time Bruce wakes up feels like it’s the one that’s going to stick. He’s healed up enough to remember what he said last, for one, and while that’s embarrassing enough to make him groan—religion, really Bruce?—it’s at least a sign of progress. For two: fucking ouch.
It’s a good thing that he can feel the hurt. Bodies that don’t feel it are either traumatized or permanently damaged, or both. Still, if there is a superior entity somewhere, Bruce is determined to make them pay for the fucking nervous system. Aside from his feet, pretty much everything hurts right now—nothing Bruce isn’t used to, though. Healing bruises, decades-old stab wound acting up in humid weather...all in a day’s work for Batman, really, so much as he dislikes the sensation it really isn’t that hard to find a semi vertical surface to prop himself against. The move makes his head swim, predictably, but at least now he can see the person-shaped thing move around when it comes back to the currently-empty cave. If it comes back.
Rather than sit and wait for an answer on that question, which could keep him there a long time, Bruce gives his nausea enough time to subside—he is pushing fifty there, and surprisingly interested on keeping going—swallows around his cardboard-thick tongue, and sets about slowly taking stock of his surroundings.
He can feel rough stone behind his back. There’s another natural wall at his front. Stalactites line the stone ceiling and, to Bruce’s right, slope down until they meet the ground with only a narrow conduit squirreling away under the bedrock. No exit there. Turning back to the left, Bruce discovers the cave widens for about fifteen, maybe twenty feet—depth perception: still AWOL—until wet-dark stone gives way to the sun-bleached gray of fist-sized pebbles and the ruckus of them rolling through the waves. The sea beyond offers a dull brown color tinged with silver, shining under the sleek pewter of the sky.
Bruce thinks, unhelpfully, of Gotham.
He doesn’t dwell on it too much: he’s unbound and, as far as he can tell, alone in the cave. If he’s going to figure a way out of here, now is the ideal moment, though he knows better than to make it too obvious he knows that, just in case there’s some surveillance he hasn’t found yet. There’s no fire, but the air isn’t cold, and when he looks down at himself he realizes there’s a blanket draped over the Kevlar that means he won’t be catching a cold just yet. It also means that whatever found him either has no malicious intent towards him or is very interested in pretending it doesn’t.
Obviously, he doesn’t trust the thing—person? Alien, definitely—that got him here. He’s lived through more than his fair share of people treating him exceedingly well for nefarious reasons, both as Batman and as Bruce; he’s not about to fall for it. Every second he pretends to, however, is more time to recover and plan his escape. It is with that certitude in mind that Bruce leans back against the stone and, keeping his ears focused on the sounds around him, closes his eyes to fake sleep.
He nearly curses when he wakes up to the sound of footsteps on rocks. Obviously, he’s well trained enough to reign the impulse in, but he’s got more than enough brainpower to recriminate himself while he checks out the entrance of the cave. It’s dark by now, which, assuming the days here are roughly the same as Earth’s, means several hours have passed, during which anything could have happened. Fuck. If Alfred learns about this, Bruce will never hear the end of it… At least he’s still up against the wall. Nothing’s coming at him from behind.
The alien doesn’t attack, though. It walks into the cave, familiarly bipedal, dressed disturbingly like the upscale version of a Hollywood fisherman—the sweater even sports a pattern reminiscent of a cable-knit. When it’s done setting up a rough circle of stone near Bruce—with its back to him! If he were at full capacity, that alien wouldn’t stand a chance—and dumping wood into it, it busies itself lighting a fire. Only when it’s done and the first licks of warmth reach Bruce does it turn around.
Bruce, shamefully caught with his eyes open, allows himself to swear internally. An alien it might be, but if Bruce weren’t profoundly aware of this fact it could have passed for a human easily: aside from the too-blue eyes, there’s nothing to make the alien stand out in a crowd. Or, well. There is, but GQ models aren’t generally considered dangers to the general population...although judging from the way his guts twist when the alien smiles at him, right now Bruce is rather inclined to review that particular assessment.
Come on, Batman. Get a grip.
The alien, blatantly oblivious to Bruce’s internal battle against his...heart...approaches him with an easy smile and a soft voice, moving slowly, like it’s trying to calm a spooked animal. It makes Bruce want to show his teeth, but considering he’s not exactly in a state to follow up on the threat if the alien reacts aggressively, he decides against it. He does grunt though, just enough to show his displeasure at his current predicament, low enough that it doesn’t fall into outright aggression. Not that it matters: genuine or faked, the alien’s current persona seems too cheerful to mind, and it smiles as it speaks.
At least, it sounds like there are words in its voice. Bruce’s Green Lanterns-issued translator is on the fritz, though: all he can do is assume the emotion projected actually is relief, closely followed by concern. It’s...not often, that Bruce is confronted with something like that after an injury. Neither Dick nor—Dick has always been the type to joke, and English blood means Alfred’s physical expressions of concern come in the form of tea and a duster served with the stiffest upper lip on the planet. To be the focus of eyes that blue, with that sincere-looking an expression on that face with that jawline is...Bruce swallows. Hard.
The alien says something else that Bruce, of course, doesn’t understand, and then it turns away to reach inside its bag and produce something round, purple and leathery looking. It might be a gourd or a fruit, Bruce has no way to know. He is parched though, and so he tries to dip down for a drink.
What happens instead is a hand on his shoulder, the pressure dulled by the suit, but there enough to realize he couldn’t easily get out from under it. Slowly, gently, Bruce is pushed back against the rock, intense blue eyes crinkling with a smile that, on a human, Bruce would almost describe as apologetic. One of the alien’s hands comes up to tip Bruce’s head back, fingertips lighting long lines of fire against his throat, catching his breath right in the middle of his chest until he’s tensing without meaning to. Bruce can still feel the path of those fingers against his skin, the phantom sensation pulling at his attention even as the alien’s other hand raises the purple sphere above his head. Bruce’s hand snaps up, catching on a wrist. There is a pause, as if the alien had sensed Bruce’s brief burst of fear through his touch—what if the liquid inside is acid? What if he’s about to be bludgeoned to death? —until their eyes meet. Something shifts in the alien’s face, and he stands up straighter somehow, resumes his movement with a slow grace that somehow makes Bruce want to get up on his knees. He allows the grip of his fingers to soften, thumb resting on the alien’s pulse point—it feels fast, under the thin skin—and watches the purple thing rise above his head.
It pauses right above Bruce’s face, the alien looking at him with something almost like a question in his eyes. Bruce meets his eyes head on, wishing he could think of it as defiance. Then, with his chest heaving and his body straining in the confines of his suit, Bruce tips his head back and opens his mouth.
The alien gasps when the juice—it’s too sweet to be water, despite the clear color—falls into Bruce’s mouth, the blood in his wrist speeding up. Lowering his head a fraction, Bruce meets his gaze again—or tries to. A few drops made their way past Bruce’s lower lips, dribbling down his chin and along his throat, and the alien is clearly too caught in tracking their path to meet Bruce’s gaze. He licks his lips, making Bruce shiver, and just when Bruce is starting to consider releasing the moan bubbling inside his chest, the alien takes the purple thing—the fruit? —away.
Juice splashes on the bridge of Bruce’s nose and he splutters, moment broken and yet still out of breath, fingers still clasped around a wide wrist. He takes his hand away, acutely aware of all the places where it’s not touching skin anymore, and breathes in deep, trying to calm his heart rate as fast as possible while the alien clears his throat and tosses the empty fruit shell away into the water.
He speaks again then, motioning upward with his hand, and although he’s clearly trying to look casual there is a faint dusting of pink over his cheekbones. Given the circumstances, Bruce decides to go ahead and provisionally interpret it as having the same meaning as on Earth. Once that’s done, he tries to follow the other man’s request: he barely makes it to his knees before he topples over, legs reduced to jelly despite his clear mind. For a moment, his rescuer—for lack of a better word—seems almost disappointed. Then he speaks again, slow and soothing, as he steps closer with his arms extended.
Bruce is caught in a bride’s carry before he can even attempt to protest.
For one hysterical second, Bruce’s mind provides an image of Alfred’s—or anyone from the league’s—face should he find out about this. It is mortifying and he vows to take the incident to his grave—but the thought only lasts for that: one second. Right after that, Bruce finally catches up with the fact that his companion is showing no strain whatsoever while carrying him and his thirty pounds of armor and— oh come on Batman, get a grip.
Batman does not get a grip. In fact Batman, who is feeling decidedly less Batmany than usual, slowly unravels as his companion carries him out of the cave and into the open air, the smell of clean seafoam assaulting Bruce’s nostrils while a gentle breeze blows the occasional droplets onto his cheeks. For lack of a more dignified solution Bruce lets himself be carried out to the beach, the view swiftly blocked by a tall cliff of white stone fringed with green at the top, fist-sized gravel crunching under the alien’s feet. There’s a short climb up a gentle slope to a wooden platform, and then Bruce watches as the beach grows smaller under them. The ocean, of course, is endless, but a look to their left reveals a badly damaged piece of rock, deep gouges in the ground leading the eyes to a short stripe of bent metal. There go Bruce’s hope of refurbishing the ship and using it to get off planet. Sure, Bruce is extremely lucky to even be alive right now, let alone as unscathed as he is, but even Batman is allowed a bit of hope now and then. As a treat.
Well, no use crying over spilt milk—or sulking about being stuck on an alien planet without a reasonable means of transportation. Bruce keeps looking. To the right, as far as he can see, is a forest. It rises from the ground in bushes and tall grasses at first, quickly shooting to the sky with ever taller trees that, aside from the height, wouldn’t look all that out of place in the English countryside.
Behind him—under him? Bruce is going to have to figure the logistics of this at some point—Bruce’s companion takes a turn toward the forest as soon as they reach the top of the cliff, and as they come close Bruce finally notices it. It being a tall dome-like structure made of wood and what he can only assume is something similar to glass. It rises out of the ground as if grown there, slender limbs turned to the sky in elaborate latticework, a band of colored windows circling the dome about halfway through.
The whole thing looks airy, the kind of place designed to create refreshing breezes and cool shades, which makes it look entirely incongruous in an environment where cold and damp seems to be the motto. Still, odd choices or no, there’s something appealing about the building. It feels...well, structurally, it is leaning more into something like the Taj-Mahal, which is impressive considering a touch reveals it is made of live wood. Yet as Bruce is carried outside and discovers the furniture—rich embroidered carpets of wool thick enough he could fall asleep there, luxurious piles of cushions in red and blues with the occasional gold accent—he can’t help but feel a little like he’s just entered a large, very elaborate treehouse. Everything, from the sitting space to what seems to be a cooking area to the central staircase—and how did Bruce not see any of that through the windows? He’d love to ask some technical questions about it—feels like it wants Bruce to lie back and relax, maybe even fall asleep. God, this house could probably have entire conversations on this very topic with Alfred—and Bruce is just about exhausted enough to let it.
The air inside is warm but not stifling, like a windy summer day: it chases the chill out of Bruce’s limbs, warms him up from the inside as he’s settled down on a cushion even he has to describe as ridiculously large. Bruce...kind of wants to lean into it. Sure, there’s still a chance he’s about to be hurt, but also it’s not like his host is lacking in strength. Why bother waiting when all the power is on your side? It seems probable that the alien is either genuinely uninterested in hurting Bruce, or playing the long con. Either way, there’s no reason for Bruce not to take the opportunity to rest a little.
“You can lean back, you know.”
Bruce blinks as the gentle golden glow fades from the windows, the seaside landscape once more unobstructed as he looks ahead of himself. It takes some effort to twist around enough to see his host, but when he does it’s—well. It’s worth it. The man has changed out of his Englishman costume and into a pale gold tunic that hugs both his arms and his chest before loosening just a little around the waist and falling past his hips down to his knees. Bruce notices the bottom of fitted crimson pants hugging absolutely lovely calves, and swallows before he asks:
“Is the house translating?”
“Yes,” the alien says with a wide grin. “I am quite relieved that it could do anything for us: you do not seem to hail from a well-known region of the universe.”
“You sound extremely formal,” Bruce remarks without thinking, and swallows again when his host laughs:
“Not to my ears, I assure you. I suppose, however, that where outdated technology is concerned, we had better be grateful we understand each other at all.”
Bruce inclines his head in acquiescence. Sure, he’d like the comfort of his usual translator better than having to deal with the whole house filling with his host’s words—if not his voice—but the perceptible delay between his host’s voice and the house’s isn’t enough to make him wish for the alternative of not being able to communicate at all. Even if going back to that after using the Lanterns’ translators feels a bit like trying to stream a movie with a poor internet connection.
“I guess you’re right,” he agrees. Then, because his mask was already lost in the sea and this is an alien, anyway, he adds: “I’m B.”
“Bee?” his host answers, evidently testing the sound. “That is an unexpected name. Still, I suppose different worlds have different tastes. You may call me Kal.”
Bruce pauses, eyes narrowing.
“Oh,” Kal says, as if guessing what Bruce is thinking, “I was not—names where I’m from are quite...long. Much longer than yours. ‘Kal’ is only a diminutive.”
“How long is ‘long’?” Bruce asks, eyebrows raised.
In front of him, Kal blushes, and Bruce refuses to admit it’s not exactly an unappealing sight.
“Well, they build up with our history,” Kal explains, still tinged pink but relaxing enough to step closer and sit next to Bruce on his humongous, satiny cushion. “As a man of thirty-five who has not been idle, mine has grown quite long… I am not reluctant to share it, Bee. I am merely aware that many cultures do not share our patience for it.”
“Mmmh,” Bruce says.
It sounds fair enough.
“Now that is sorted out,” Kal asks after watching Bruce’s lips a few seconds too long, “may I interest you in a change of clothing? I assume your uniform is meant to protect you, but it hardly looks comfortable and it seems to me like your body could use something softer to rest in.”
“I have to get off this planet,” Bruce replies.
Kal nods, accommodating, and leans back against the cushions. It’s Bruce’s imagination that provides the sensation of their arms brushing, the warmth of skin on skin—the batsuit won’t allow for anything less than a full punch to be felt. That knowledge doesn’t change anything to the sensation, though, and Bruce shivers with it, all his senses focusing on the area entirely against his will. His brain, for some reason, reminds him that it’s been at least ten years since he stopped playing the incorrigible playboy and sex-enthusiast.
“This is a vacation moon,” Kal says, voice perfectly even despite the heat creeping up Bruce’s neck. “There are daily shuttles for arrival and departures. When the next one arrives tomorrow morning, I can ask them to send you to the nearest Green Lanterns’ outpost, and from there you should have very little trouble going back to….”
“Earth,” Bruce supplies, and winces when that causes Kal’s eyes to widen.
“I have heard of this planet! Some of the more famous Green Lanterns hailed from your world and—ah. Forgive me, I can see you do not wish to be questioned. That is fair, you must still be quite tired from your ordeal.”
Bruce nods, careful not to look too relieved at the prospect. He is tired though. Not as much as he should be by any right, but enough that the prospect of having to balance and measure what he said about Earth to guard it against potentially hostile aliens sounds like more trouble than it’s worth.
“Well, then,” Kal says, still smiling, like nothing Bruce says can possibly alter his good mood. “Shall I renew my offer of clean clothes then? I promise not to touch or alter your belongings in any way. And after that, perhaps a light supper, and then to bed.”
Bruce swallows. Kal, it’s already been established, is not hard on the eyes. At all. He’s tall and broad shouldered, and in a human he’d be pretty much exactly Bruce’s preferred type. As an alien, he still is, but then there’s also the strength, and the entirely unembarrassed curiosity, and the possibilities provided with potentially different anatomies that Bruce has never considered before in his life but now...now Bruce is wondering if it’s a good idea to dress himself in loose fabric.
Then Kal’s eyes catch his, and Bruce decides if he’s only going to spend one night here and never see the guy again, he might as well enjoy it. He says yes, and keeps a very close eye on the way Kal’s ass pushes against his tunic as he gets up, and then retreats toward the stairs.
Of course, Bruce should know better than to let himself get distracted, let alone so easily. He’s still technically on a mission—well, on his way back from a mission—and if anyone on Earth realizes what transpired here, even if nothing else happens, he will absolutely never ever hear the end of it. Ever. And yet….
Well, frankly, maybe Bruce is just getting old, but he thinks he’s allowed to indulge himself here. He’s recovering from injuries that are frankly ridiculously light for the kind of accident he was in, he’s on an unknown planet light years away from home, his transportation is most likely assured—unless he’s really losing it and missing red flags in Kal’s behavior—and he hasn’t had sex in over eight years. He gets to indulge a little. It’s only one night.
“I took the liberty of picking night clothing as well,” Kal calls after a few moments, appearing at the top of the spiral stairs. From below, it looked like the bedroom was empty the whole time, which Bruce must admit is a neat trick. “I figured you would wish to change before retiring for the night.”
Bruce, clinging to the last of his fraying dignity—he’s indulging, that doesn’t mean he has to be proud about it—manages to hum instead of saying something that could be misconstrued as flirting, but Kal doesn’t seem to mind. He says something about preparing the meal while Bruce changes and ‘do not worry, I shan’t be looking your way’, and then leaves Bruce alone.
Peeling himself out of the suit takes more effort than Bruce would like, but it’s also far from the hardest he’s had it, and he gets re-dressed in a decent amount of time. By then, his legs feel less like jelly, and he’s actually able to sit up and scoot on the ground to gather his things in a manageable pile and set them aside in a corner where they should, hopefully, not be disturbed.
After a while, Kal reemerges from the cooking area with a large tray filled with over a dozen bowls of colorful meats and fruits, several things that look like root vegetables, and even a bowl of something that could be a sort of love-child of wheat and rice. It looks both perplexing—Bruce has never had a purple savory dish before—and familiar, which is probably why his hands twitch toward the food before he can remember to ask:
“Anything in particular to eat with?”
“Merely your fingers,” Kal says, rinsing his hands in a silver dish of lightly fragranced water. “Do clean them beforehand, however.”
Bruce makes sure to give him a “duh” look as he reaches for the dish and rinses his own fingers.
“According to the available information, these should be safe for you to consume,” Kal says, grabbing what looks like a grape but turns out, upon tasting, to be a piece of meat.
“Unlike that purple thing before?” Bruce asks, the back of his neck heating up when he thinks back on their interactions in the cave.
“The shell is dangerous,” Kal agrees, “and I didn’t have any way to explain. Doing the pouring myself seemed to be the safest option.”
“I assume you won’t be feeding me for this meal then,” Bruce says.
Then gives himself a mental slap in the face because, really? For anyone else, that would be one thing, but Bruce is, without false modesty, one of the best martial artists on Earth, an honors graduate from the best university the USA have to offer, and the fucking Batman...and there he is, making an ass out of himself just because it’s been a while since he got sexed up and he just happened to fall in the backyard of the most fuckable alien in the universe. Un-fucking-believable.
Kal, either oblivious or going for coy, gives him an amused smile and nothing else, although he does readjust his position until one of his knees points to Bruce, the other leg extended on the other side in a way that must stretch the crotch of his pants under the pooling fabric of his tunic. Bruce is kind of glad for his own, vivid-red flap of fabric at the moment.
“So,” he asks after he’s eaten enough to settle the growl of his stomach, “where are we exactly? You mentioned this was a vacation moon.”
“Indeed. Cidaris orbits around an uninhabitable planet, yet somehow retained an atmosphere for an extremely long amount of time. Kryptonian architects started thinking of kryptoforming it a few centuries ago… It has been a favored vacation post for several decades, now.”
“Are you Kryptonian?”
“I am,” Kal replies, a piece of the grape-like meat resting against his lower lip and staining it purple. “Although I don’t suppose someone whose family possesses as much as mine does can fairly call himself an ordinary one.”
Oh god. He’s a rich alien—for all Bruce knows, he could be a real life, genuine Brucie Wayne with the wits to match, and he sounds like he’s just escaped a Ren Faire. And the worst of it all is, none of that has any dampening effect on the burst of heat that goes through Bruce when their knees brush. There are times when Bruce hardly even recognizes himself.
“What is your home like?”
Bruce throws Kal a look, but he neither looks nor feels like he’s trying to wriggle information out of Bruce...and even if he were, it’s not like he can’t answer without giving away vital information about Earth. He takes a look around before he answers though: the tall, organic and yet intricately carved arches of smooth wood, the invisible shields that leave the eyes free to roam over the infinity of the ocean and a truly spectacular sunset. The quiet, the scent of salt in the air—the kind of atmosphere that makes you want to breathe deeper but quieter, as if it stole all the stress from your lungs and replaced it with a good mouthful of rest.
“Not like this,” Bruce says to start with. “It’s a lot more angular. The buildings aren’t see-through, and you can’t see the stars at night. It’s...an old city. A wounded city. Frankly, with all the terrible things people do to it and in it, it’s probably a miracle it’s still standing.”
That’s...a staggering understatement, Bruce knows. But on the other hand: how do you even begin to explain Gotham to an alien? People who live less than fifty miles outside of it have enough of a hard time trying to grasp its essence as it is—they think it’s a blight on an otherwise very fine state...which, to be fair, it is. In some ways. That’s the easy part, though.
The hard part is trying to explain all the good side, like diamonds in the mud. The way so many people try to turn things around still, in little ways—insignificant ways, but also in the ways that matter most. How do you explain the dirty alleys with their gang fights and their kids laughing around firecrackers in summer? There are no words to convey all of that in a way that even begins to scratch the surface of what the city is—of what it means to Bruce. He knows: he’s tried. Even Dick never quite seemed to get it though—not enough to stay, at any rate. The only one who came close was—Bruce doesn’t have the words to explain it.
And yet, something must show on his face: by his side, still sprawling over the cushion like a particularly content cat, Kal smiles.
“And yet, you would not leave it behind.”
“Never in my life,” Bruce replies.
There’s something trying to creep in his throat as he speaks, and he manages to tamp it down but not before it pokes at his chest in a way he’s wholly unfamiliar with. it’s such a simple statement, and yet somehow, it’s something even his closest friends—inasmuch as he has any—have rarely heard from him, if at all. It’s an unexpected thing to find himself saying to a one-night stand, and Bruce would sigh if he hadn’t accepted the most likely outcome of the evening already.
“If this is a vacation moon,” he asks in a bit to shift the attention, “how come you’re here alone?”
Kal stiffens, and Bruce...deliberately doesn’t wince. He can’t truthfully claim that he hadn’t expected a sensitive topic, but Kal was more than polite about Gotham when, Bruce is very aware, it would have been easy for him to be less than polite about it. It seems...petty, in retrospect, to answer that with a barb.
“In the interest of not spoiling the good mood,” Kal replies with forced levity, “I will say that I was in need of some personal space, and ask that you allow me to stop there.”
Bruce nods. Even if he disagreed, he’s got a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t be all that hard for Kal to overpower him. The thought may leave him a little warmer in the neck than he’s ready to admit, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get rude about it. The real surprise, however, comes when Bruce hears himself ask:
“Would you like me to give you some?”
“Space?” Kal asks. He laughs, incredulous, when Bruce nods; the shift of his body making them sink closer into the dip of the cushion. “And waste all the good works of physics when I could just as easily have brought you to a bench?”
Bruce snorts, but it comes out short, almost surprised. He hadn’t realized he’d leaned in too, hadn’t realized how close they were to touching, and now his elbow is resting against Kal’s shoulder and even through the fabric it feels like that’s setting his entire torso on fire, the warmth of it slowly baking up his arm, his shoulder, his neck, until every breath of air on exposed skin feels like a caress. Bruce breathes in, deliberately slow, and then allows himself to sink back, just a little. He does, after all, know how to do this.
“You’re right,” he says, faux-nonchalant, “let’s not be rude.”
Kal smiles, bright and brilliant in a way Bruce has only ever seen on Diana before—it’s the kind of smile you don’t often see on adults, and it’s all the more precious for it. Not that Bruce would ever admit it. Still, combined with Kal’s jawline, the blue of his eyes, the circumstances...Bruce leans in closer, half expecting another witty exchange. Kal responds in kind instead and, after a heartbeat’s pause, presses their mouths together. Part of Bruce, up until then, had been expecting something a little different from the usual, but Kal’s mouth has a regular mouth taste, with a thin echo of that purple meat hidden in the flavor. Other than that, and the acute awareness of the damage he could inflict with those teeth of his, it’s no different from kissing a nice, smiley, really good looking human.
It has been roughly a decade since the last time Bruce indulged, though, and he is begrudgingly forced to admit that maybe that’s what makes it so intense, lips so sensitive they almost hurt with it, his chest heaving just from that one point of contact, the rest of his body tensing not to go overboard right away. Around them the lights dim a little, highlighting the transparency of the walls, and the heat spreads from Bruce’s head to his chest, to his groin, and every other extremity he has.
With a sigh, he goes back to kissing Kal, one hand coming up to push at his shoulder...and be met with resistance. He pulls back, body cooling fast enough to feel cold, and asks:
“Did I misinterpret?”
“Not at all,” Kal replies with a satisfied smile and a shrug. “I merely had a different image of the proceedings and failed to consider you might have your own opinion on the matter.”
“I can’t fucking believe I’m about to sleep with a guy who speaks like he’s in a Jane Austen space novel,” Bruce mutters.
If it wasn’t enough to stop him before, though, it’s certainly not enough to stop him now.
“What did you have in mind?”
Kal’s grin turns impish and, in the blink of an eye, he’s on his knees and hovering over Bruce’s lap.
“Do feel free to stop me at any time,” he says. “Things are so much better when both parties feel properly enthusiastic.”
Bruce kisses Kal again as a way to make him stop talking—he does have limits—and it works perfectly except for the part where it sets his skin ablaze again. He doesn’t complain about it though: he may be sensitive to the point of near pain, but he has no intention of giving up on the feeling, and revels in the intensity of it, the feather-light feel of Kal’s fingers against his wrists, Kal’s lips on his neck, Kal’s knees around his thighs.
Bruce sighs when he’s pushed down on the bed, and pushes his hips and erection up against Kal’s ass when he is given a few seconds to object. From there, the heavy weight of another body settles over him, and he pushes up again—the friction against Kal’s clad crotch sends sparks flying all through Bruce’s nervous system, pulling every hair on his body to stand as goosebumps overtake him before there’s even been a move made towards removing his shirt. Bruce really needs to do this more often.
He’s distracted from the thought when, after some awkward maneuvering that almost has them toppling to the side, Kal finally manages to get his hands under Bruce’s tunic and on his waist, barely waiting long enough to get consent before he pulls it off Bruce’s shoulders—Bruce is fairly sure he catches a smug look in his Suit’s direction and...well. Fair. He still reaches up to worry at a nipple in retaliation, satisfied with the reaction he gets right up until he receives the same treatment. Evidently, the days when he was perfectly capable of ignoring his own body until he was sure to leave his partner satisfied are long gone.
He can’t say that he minds too much.
It feels like an eternity before Kal’s mouth finally moves past his pectorals, kissing and caressing his belly, his arms, until it feels like Bruce could come just from that and he makes an impatient noise and pushes down on Kal’s shoulder. It feels a bit like pushing a brick wall, which turns out to be an extremely pleasant sensation, and so Bruce doesn’t even bother with performative annoyance when Kal lifts his hips off the mattress and slides the back of his pants over his ass.
“Oh,” he starts, pleased when he finds bare skin there, “I must say I find this detail very—what is that?”
It’s a good thing no one is here to witness Bruce blink dumbly at the transparent ceiling, or turn around to look past the furniture into the night, where there’s nothing but trees and grass to look at him. Eventually though, he does turn back to Kal and finds him staring at his crotch with a perplexed face. Bruce looks down at where his erection is flagging under the jockstrap he favors with the special fabric of his undersuit. Back up at Kal.
“Problem?”
“Where I am from,” Kal replies with the slow diction of someone trying not to offend, “one may go with underwear or without. This seems like a...an interesting in-between.”
“Do you want me to keep it on?” Bruce asks.
He’s done far more adventurous during one-night stands, and with people he found far less pleasant than Kal. It wouldn’t even be that big a deal. After a moment of consideration, though, Kal asks:
“Is your species capable of climaxing more than once during the night?”
“Yes.”
Given how his body has been reacting so far, Bruce is even cautiously optimistic about attempting a third round, should they be inclined.
“In that case, I should like to admire you in full just now, if you are amenable.”
Bruce has to roll his eyes at that, otherwise he runs the risk of getting caught in the moment and finding this way of talking sexy when it’s anything but. He does dispose of the jockstrap, though, and makes sure to leave it on a nearby cushion where it’ll be easy to retrieve. After that he lies back down on the cushion and gestures for Kal to proceed.
He’s half expecting Kal to take him in his mouth, the break having diminished but not destroyed his erection, but instead the man dives straight for Bruce’s balls—he licks and sucks at them, makes them roll over the bridge of his nose in a way that leaves searing burns over the skin, fills him with heat like a cup in long, slow licks until finally, with one long pull of mouth around his length, he tips over and comes with a silent shudder.
He stays in place for a while, lying down and breathing hard while Kal massages his muscles into a more relaxed state. Eventually—a shorter length of time for him than for most men his age—Bruce’s heartbeat is back to normal, or close enough. Only then does he allow himself to sigh again, and sink even further into the giant pillow.
“Am I to understand you are—”
“Do not say ‘amenable’,” Bruce warns, and Kal chuckles. “But yes.”
“Oh, good. Would you like to proceed as you first intended?”
“Not if you want a third round.”
Kal smiles like a kid at Christmas, and Bruce tries very hard not to groan, even though he knows he’ll get there at some point of the night. He might as well fight for what little dignity he has left, right? Right.
Somehow, he gets even less sleep that night than he’d anticipated.
Bruce wakes up well past sunrise the next morning, the sound of waves in his ears and the smell of salt on his tongue. He still aches in a myriad of different ways, but a lot of them have turned pleasant, and his legs aren’t made of jelly anymore. He takes advantage of the fact to get up and walk to where Kal is seated at a small table turned toward the ocean. The shields, or windows—whichever it is—are gone from between the wooden arches, allowing Bruce to spy the hints of a very large net in the platformed bedroom above before he steps up to Kal. The young alien hasn’t noticed Bruce’s presence, yet, which gives Bruce time to notice he looks extremely pleased with himself.
To be fair, Bruce would be too if he’d managed to bring a near-fifty-year-old, injured man off four times in one night. Not that he’s told Kal about the exceptional aspect of it, but it is possible he was a little too well fucked to hide his own surprise entirely… Either way, Kal is very satisfied, breakfast is still waiting for Bruce, and the mist is only just clearing from around the trees. The air around them is crisp, bracing in a way that makes Bruce half-heartedly wish for Kal’s ridiculous sweater. At the table, Kal still looks entirely oblivious to Bruce’s presence.
Bruce clears his throat, and laughs when that surprises Kal enough to send him sprawling down onto the wooden deck.
“Good morning,” he deadpans while Kal throws a napkin at his head.
“Is that how people on Earth court one another?” Kal asks in mock outrage. “Mind-shattering sex and then heart attacks?”
Bruce doesn’t smile at that, too aware of where he’s going and who he will need to be soon, but he does allow his lips to quirk up.
“Maybe I didn’t think you’d be so affected by something so...inconsequential.”
“Oh, it was plenty consequential enough,” Kal replies without missing a beat with a saucy glance at Bruce’s crotch. “I might even consider letting you know if I ever visit Earth, someday.”
“You can do that?” Bruce asks, satisfied when his sudden spike of stress remains inaudible.
“I do work with the Green Lanterns,” Kal shrugs. “I wouldn’t call it probable, but I suppose it isn’t entirely impossible.”
Bruce hums and, to his relief, Kal doesn’t take offense to it. They share a peaceful breakfast instead, with fruits, fresh water and some kind of crackers that Kal dips into what must be a Kryptonian equivalent to coffee. Bruce tries to get some of it, the house encyclopedia informs them that it might not be safe for humans, and between one thing and the next the time for Bruce to get dressed and follow Kal to the shuttle.
He’s not reluctant about it by far, but if he’s being honest with himself—which he usually tries not to be—Bruce has to admit he’s also not quite as impatient to leave as he thought he’d be.
It was an excellent night, after all.
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