#//i made this kind of vague so your character can decide WHAT room it is in

[weirdsht]

I really love characters with the tendency to bleed and be some human sacrifice. Tysm kdj and krs. 😭 i have a new idea altho I'm not sure if somebody's already done this. Cale and the group with someone who coughs out blood everytime they spill spoilers from the tcf novel? Like she's been transmigrated/reincarnated (whatev you desire (⁠^⁠^⁠). Bro is trying to help so bad bc they hate war so they do it subtly and carefully (imagine having to be careful with your wording, I can't even--) but can't help but shit out blood sometimes or most of the time cos they forget and get frustrated

Forgive me for i love miserable characters...

Hardbound (Paperback pt. 2) - Cale x Reader

notes: I decided to link it to another oneshot I did before because I think it fits. I hope that's okay!

tags: blood, like the whole fic is blood, heavy cursing, Cale might be ooc, NOVEL SPOILERS (near the end of book 1)

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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Crimson, the colour of Cale’s hair.

That was the colour Cale can see right now. However, he is not looking at his hair.

“Ugh!”

Instead, he was looking at the blood dripping from your mouth.

“Stop speaking. This is not good for you.”

“Why not? You cough up blood all the time. Why can’t I do the same?”

You joked lightly but Cale didn’t like how weak your voice sounded. Indeed, he always coughs up blood. Especially whenever he overuses his ancient powers. But the blood he coughs up is dark red. Dead blood from his regeneration powers cleansing his body.

Not the vibrant crimson blood dripping from your chin. Blood from a beating heart, a sign of vitality as Eruhaben would say.

“I need to continue, you need to know about this. We must hurry up so just- ugh… so just listen.”

When you told Cale you were going to pull a “World Tree-nim and a Cale combo”, he didn’t know what he expected. 

It certainly wasn’t you trying to give out spoilers from your beloved book and coughing out copious amounts of blood.

“There will be monsters. Ones too hard to– Ugh! Fuck! I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

Drip

“That’s two out of five. Those things will be in a pit. It’ll look like statues, you will also see… you will also see an altar there…”

Drip

Drip

“You don’t need to speak anymore. Please, the rest of us will figure it out.”

“No, no. I’m fine really… Bear bastard, you know who it is, hostages. He’ll– Ugh!”

Drip. Drip. Drip

“It’s Tasha’s people. For a summoning– Fuck that one really hurts! I'm trying to speak as vaguely as possible already, what the hell…”

“Please… I’m going to tape your mouth shut if you don’t shut up.”

Drip

Drip

Drip. Drip. Drip

“I’d like to see you try. The tape won’t stick with all– with all this blood.”

“Haaa”

“Enough jokes. The fourth and fifth ones are connected. In Endable, watch out for bears and black– watch out for black mages. And avoid– Shit! Avoid using instant. But I'm not sure if it's… if it's possible… I need to speak… to speak to Raon. The last spoiler is for him– ugh..!”

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Cale wanted to refuse. He wanted this to end.

At first, it was just from your mouth.

The blood that is.

Then it started dripping from your left eye. Naturally, your right eye was next.

Then your nose. Then your ears.

Before the commander knew it, your entire face was covered with blood. He tried to wipe it, but they were dripping so quickly that it did nothing.

Cale doesn’t know how are you still conscious. He isn’t even sure if you’re still breathing. That was why he wanted you to shut up. That was why he desperately wanted this to stop.

But it can’t

Cale can’t refuse nor can he end this.

It was because you already made up your mind. And since you did, there’s no stopping you now.

So he gets Raon. Warned the toddler that the sight inside the room would not be pretty, but he must listen. Because their futures are resting upon the words you are about to say.

Upon the words written in your beloved book.

“Human…”

“I know… If you can’t listen I’ll listen for you and rely on the message.”

“No… I’m great and mighty. Because I’m great and mighty I shall listen to this conversation myself.”

Raon flew over to where you were. Placing himself on your lap as he uses his stubby paws to hug you.

“Ah, it feels comforting to have such a great and mighty being comforting me. But you’ll get blood on you– Ugh..!”

Drip. Drip.

The black dragon didn’t care about the blood. He just hugged you tighter at the sound of you coughing up more blood.

“Raon Miru-nim remember this well. Things might get messy and despite my meddling things might still go awry. So I’m telling you right now. In Endable, Cale might become incapacitated to fight– Fuck! Ugh, I promised to not curse in front of you…”

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Drip…

Drip..

“It will be hard, you will need to do everything yourself, without Cale. In fact, you will have to do his job– ugh… but you must do well. Remember, the first thing you have to do is have Mila-nim on standby. She can heal him.”

Cough

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip

“I want to say more… but I’m reaching my limit…”

Raon tightened his hug and you weakly reciprocated it. You aren't sure if the wetness you feel in your shirt is from your blood or the dragon’s silent tears. Nonetheless, you still tried to hug Raon tighter.

In the meanwhile, Cale was already calling for servants and healers to attend to you as soon as you admitted your limit. His voice was laced with unusual panic. It made the others who didn’t know what was happening move with urgency.

“Raon-nim…”

“Yes?”

“You are strong, smart, great and mighty, always remember that.”

You weakly stroked Raon’s back, trying to comfort him in advance for the things about to come.

“Young master what’s going on–”

Beacrox and Ron stopped in their tracks when they saw the condition you were in.

“Ahahaha, you guys are right on time. I think… I’m going.. To…”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence for you already fell unconscious. Your body dangerously swaying to fall off from your sitting position on the couch. Luckily, Cale was nearby and managed to catch your falling body.

Cale glanced at you, then he glanced at the open book on the table.

As usual, he couldn’t see what was written on the pages. He could only see the cover title at the front and the synopsis at the back.

But that doesn’t stop him from hating that damned book that put you in this state.

If only you haven’t read that book before coming here.

If only there wasn’t a restriction placed on you by that damned book.

If only…

“Fuck, after this war is done I’m going to try and burn that shitty book one way or another. I don’t care anymore if it’s your favourite.”

note: in case it wasn't clear, the placement of the drips signifies how fast the reader's blood was gushing out

[divine-donna]

lovin' me

part 01

a continuation of my previous set of headcanons. i wanted to write something more romantic. less pining. maybe a bit more...steamy. i got inspired after showing my friend the movie.

yes i am continuing the fifty fifty vincent renzi interpretation. he's sooooo fifty fifty coded. he's just like me fr

character: vincent renzi

for vibes: "lovin' me" by fifty fifty

"you have not changed. not a bit."

"stop." you can't help but laugh. you know it's...predictable of you. to get the same order you got every time you guys came to this cafe. but familiarity called to you.

habits were hard to break.

vincent leans back, placing a cigarette between his lips. he pulls his lighter out and tries to light it. it fails after a minute of trying. he must be out of fuel.

"you got a lighter?"

"always." you pull it out and place it in his hand.

his hand is soft and slightly cool. your fingers linger, trying to warm his hand with your own. he pulls away too quickly. you wanted your fingers to linger against each other just a bit longer.

he looks at the lighter. it was decorated. he recognizes the little line of pearls, going up and down with roses at the points the arches meet. he did it himself. and then he had given you the lighter as a gift. you laughed, brushing off the blush dusting his cheeks. you thought it was the wine.

the lighter you decorated at the time was a little more crude. less pattern like. it was chaotic, with a variety of charms that you thought represented him. he remembers how you cursed when the cross charm moved. it was crooked and you were too frustrated to try to fix it.

all while your friends' laughter filled the room and more wine was being poured into your glasses.

"you still kept this?" vincent lights his cigarette with the lighter. he takes a drag and blows the smoke away from you. it comes out as a steady stream.

his jawline. the way his hair framed his face. his turtleneck. his laxed posture. he was charming, your vincent.

charming and attractive.

"why wouldn't i?" you take your lighter back to light your own cigarette.

"i just...i would have expected all the pearls and roses to have fallen off by now."

"you were...generous with the modge podge."

he laughs. "i was, yes."

"what about you? just decided to throw the one i made for you away or...?"

vincent shakes his head. "no. i've...in truth, i've never used it. it's locked up in my desk drawer."

part of you felt a little offended. you place a hand over your heart, feigning offense. "vincent! how could you!"

"it's not like that! i swear! you put so much stuff on it that it...is kind of unusable!"

"it is not!"

"well...it isn't. i've used it. once." he puts up his index finger. "one of the moon charms came off. and i didn't want to spoil the art piece you had made for me. so it sits in my drawer. because i don't want it to be destroyed."

you watch him take another drag and blow away from you. your heart beats faster and you feel your cheeks warm.

he was sure he had the right address.

was this too much?

bringing flowers to you? properly prepared, put in a vase already. a balance between the vibrant colors of the flowers and the greens.

you seem to sense that he's there, because he raises his hand to knock and the door opens.

you're holding a wine glass and dressed casually in some loungewear.

"you're early! and with flowers!"

he looks down at them. "think of them as...a homecoming gift?"

you smile widely. "just come in!"

you had made dinner. a simple steak and frites. nothing special. vincent reminisces about how often you made this for him while you guys were in university. while on a budget, of course.

the meal is delicious. and then you introduce the big thing you invited him over for: baking and cake decorating.

"we always joked that we could do better than the people on cooking shows."

"can we?" he rolls his sleeves up. "do we even know how to...start?" he had a vague idea. baking wasn't exactly his specialty. he preferred to cook.

the last time he baked was in university. and you were there to help him clean his oven, which took over three hours to do.

"if we follow a recipe, we should be fine."

except it wasn't that simple.

there was flour and cocoa powder everywhere. you were pretty sure you had gotten some in vincent's hair, making it look whiter than it was.

he looks so cute though with flour on his nose.

the wine kept coming as you guys pushed the cake pans into the oven. in your drunken stupor, you both forget a timer. he's paying more attention to you, following you into the living room. he sets his wine glass down, half full with red.

you pull a record out of its sleeve and set it down on the player. it rotates as you drop the needle and music begins to play.

he raises his eyebrows. "you still listen to this song?"

"hey. it's great. and totally american." you giggle, taking another sip of your red.

you move towards him. drunken but effortless. there was a purpose in your movements as you walk towards him. you put your hand out.

vincent smiles and takes your invitation. he puts his hand in yours, feeling its warmth. your warmth. you pull him over and dance.

i think we're alone now. there doesn't seem to be anyone around. i think we're alone now. the beating of our hearts is the only sound.

somehow, you don't spill your wine. you finish it and set the glass down. you spin in his arms. they wrap around you, like a warm blanket.

he smells good too. coffee, pear, and white florals.

his sweater is soft. his touch is gentle. he looks at you with those big, puppy dog eyes of his.

and then you fall.

you bring him down with you.

the plush carpet holds your head. you look up at him. he looks into your eyes and you see your face reflected in his pupils. your cheeks are flushed red.

there's something unspoken between you two and you pick your head up, trying to meet him.

vincent meets you halfway, his lips soft. he tastes sweet, like honey.

his hands cup your face as you move in sync. he's in tune with your rhythm, letting you take the lead and guide him on what to do.

your fingers play with the ends of his hair, wrapping it around one of them. you press your hand against the middle of his back, pulling his body closer.

a small moan escapes you when he moves his hips. he grinds softly, your crotches rubbing against each other through your clothes.

you kiss him harder, deeper, sliding your tongue past his lips to caress his own. vincent moans into your mouth, one of his hands resting on the carpet and digging his fingers into it. he could feel himself beginning to slip and lose control.

and then, the smell of something burning reaches your nose.

you pull away, face flushed. his face was completely red. and not from the wine either.

"fuck the cake!"

vincent's brief feeling of happiness dissipates as he smells the cake burning. his lips curl upwards into a smirk. "leave it." he goes back in, pressing a small kiss against your lips. "we'll try again."

you kiss him back, giving into the bliss. "i think we fucked up the measurements anyways."

he laughs.

it feels like home.

[yuri-is-online]

And Your Name Is? (Jade, Leona, Riddle)

Synopsis- After successfully resolving whatever was causing NRC to be trapped in an endless time loop of overblotting and disaster, one last reset should give him a chance to experience a normal school year with you. But instead you find yourself trapped in the here and there, appearing as a vague shadow around the school that vanishes as soon as he catches up to you. The kind thing to do would be to allow you to be forgotten in the chance it lets you return to your world.

But this is Twisted Wonderland where the kind thing is seldom done, and he wants you back as much as you want to find him again.

a/n: Look, I don't know who decided to make MICKY MOUSE a sadman deadwife in Disney's attempt at animal crossing but it gave me ideas. This is shamelessly based off that questline, feel free to request other characters. Everyone deserves a chance at angst. This probably won't be the last time I'll write something with this sort of premise meh

notes: angst with the intent of comfort, Jade is a red flag. Otherwise mild.

Jade Leech

It’s a wonder you ever lived here.  Ramshackle is cold, Jade can’t bring himself to say lifeless for fear of speaking a crueler fate into existence, but the word’s on the tip of his tongue nonetheless.   It’s a pity this is where you call “home,” but he can work with this.  He can sweep up the cobwebs, dust every broken surface before popping the timbers back into place, figure out how to repair the upholstery so long as he sees the shimmery light that forms your shape begin to fill in.  He knows if he reaches for you that you will disappear, so he lets you observe as he keeps you in the corner of his eye.  Jade is careful, methodical, even as his hands shake as he launders your sheets and fluffs pillows on a bed he really wants to burn for its audacity to be so uncomfortable.  He vaguely recalls requesting you make one room of this place into a giant terrarium once, a silly request he’s sure he’d make again if he could just speak to you, for no other reason than to hear you laugh.  But, he supposes as he slips himself into your bed reaching out towards the in between as if he can pull you from the here and there with the sheer force of his longing; he is already sort of doing that.  Just like the Sea Witch keeping creatures in glass bottles he’s trying to replicate the perfect environment for you.  

“Jade?”  

“I’m here.”  he murmurs, not daring to open his eyes just yet, instead reaching for where he thinks your face should be.  “Do you hear me?  It’s past your bedtime, prefect.”

“Jade.”

“It’s awfully lonely here.”  He hates the way he sounds.  It’s too raw, too clear with his intent to be the tease he wants it to be.  “Won’t you come to bed?”

“Jade!”  His eyes open, his hand lands on you, the real you, not a shade made up of his memory, he manages to crush the urge to cry and pulls you up into his embrace. Your eyes are unfocused, confused but moving towards his touch as if you were searching for it.  “W-who.. I have to find…”  You move, on instinct towards his heartbeat, as he slowly strokes your arms to soothe your shaking.  “Jade… I’m looking for-”

“You found me.”  Jade is gentle, careful as he searches over you for any sign of distress or injury, sighing in relief when he only finds confusion. It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember specifics.  It doesn’t matter to him if you’ve forgotten your own name, Jade’s known and loved you for three timelines now, he’ll remind you of who you are if that’s what you want.  In the meantime, he slowly encloses you in the safety of his embrace and tries not to smile too wide as you naturally relax into him.  He will build you a beautiful garden in this world, and nothing will ever harm you this badly ever again, he swears it.

Leona Kingscholar

How many times has he been forced to watch you die?  He’s not sure, his memory clearly doesn’t want to cooperate with him out of fear he’ll consider the failures a waste of energy, consider you wasted energy.  Give in to the self-sabotaging part of him that never wanted to love you in the first place and abandon you to your fate, and yet no matter how many times he held your limp form in his arms he never had.  There was something mildly addicting in the realization that you chose him in every lifetime.  Not that stupid lizard or stuck up diva, him the second born, grumpy, lazy lion.

“Leona?”  Your shade has always been able to speak, and Leona’s always been able to hear it.  It’s like you’re trying to retrace your steps through time, starting with your meeting in the botanical gardens up to your stay in his room.  He tries to tell himself you’re like a flea burrowing its way into his skin, irritating in your presence, unwelcome.  He tries to tell himself if you didn’t mean enough to this world to keep a corporeal form that you shouldn’t mean anything to him.  If Twisted Wonderland rejected you then so should he.

“Leona.”  He hates how alone you sound.  He hates how he can see you around the gardens but can’t hear footsteps, see you sitting on the edge of the balcony but not smell you.  He really wants to hate you.

“I have to… promised… Leona…”  

“I’m here you know.”  he mutters, half asleep under the heavy curtain of vines in the botanical gardens.  “You wanna keep your promise?  Then quit runnin away.”  Silence.  Always silence, even in his dreams no matter how hard he tries to will you back into existence.  He wants to stare you down, he really does, but how is he supposed to be anything but shocked when it's really you in front of him, listless and confused.

“Leona?”  You’re confused, that much is clear.  He wonders, smugly as he rises without complaint for once, if his name is the only thing you remember.  The flicker of fear in your eyes is something he can do without, but if you know his name then somewhere inside that empty head of yours should be the same memories that have been plaguing him.

“I hope you’re prepared.”  his tail swishes in excitement, and though you remain confused he delights in how you remain unafraid.  “For just what you signed up for by callin my name.”

Riddle Rosehearts 

Your shadow likes to sit in the Heartslabyul rose garden.  Riddle is thankful for that, his gaze is hard to avoid here.  He can keep an eye on you this way while he tries to find a solution for… whatever this is.  It’s sickening, really, how useless he is without a rulebook or a study guide to follow.  His memories of the past time loops might be blurry but he wonders if you ever felt frustrated with him in any of them.  Someone as beautiful and wonderful as you constantly choosing someone as boring as him, he wants to be proud.  He wants to point out that he is clearly in the right, in some sort of way, he has to be if he was loved in any way by you.  It hurts him all the more to be so useless to you, to find so little concrete about the here and there and be told by every adult he reaches out to that the only thing they know is that no one who goes there ever comes back.

His dormmates like to keep a degree of distance from you.  Riddle knows that they don’t know it’s you, he’s tried to explain to them multiple times and seen as they fight hard against whatever magic is trying to erase you from Twisted Wonderland to remember clearly who you were.  It’s especially hard to watch Ace and Deuce loop through their worry over you and their anger at having forgotten only to get lost in the fog once again.  He had to stop himself from trying, causing your best friends pain wouldn’t bring you back to them, to him.  Riddle’s stubborn, he can take the confused looks of his house when he insists they let him have a private tea party with the strange ghost that’s taken up residence in their maze.

“I’m uncertain if our professors remember what happened, but I can say with certainty some of the material has changed.  It’s a relief that the quality of our education hasn’t regressed.”  He pours you a cup of tea, working off of muscle memory he can’t recall the context for anymore to make it in a way you must have liked.  “I’ve been taking detailed notes on what my freshmen have been learning, when you return-” his voice cracks in panic as your shadow’s outline flickers “when you return…” he tries, softer this time focusing on gently setting down the tea pot “I’ll make sure you aren’t left behind.  Ace and Deuce will keep their memories this time and we’ll all get to hang out together again, you’ll always have- you always have had a place in Heartslabyul, so please, please come back.”  Riddle likes to think of himself as an adult, but he pouts and cries so easily.  He can feel the tears bubbling up and obscuring his vision.  Hiding the view of your shadow’s shape filling in.

“Riddle?”  He hiccups, undignified, unbelieving the sight he’s seeing.  You look so small, so confused but still so concerned for him, pausing to reach for a napkin to wipe his tears despite how unfocused you otherwise seem to be.  You reach for him, shaky but still determined. “Are you Riddle?” you whisper.  “I’ve been searching for him, I promised not to let go of his hand.”  Riddle reaches for your hand with both of his, leaning into you.  “I’m worried he’s lonely.”

“I was.”  He isn’t crying anymore, Riddle likes to think he never will again as he presses a kiss into your palm.  “You can rest now prefect, you’ve made it home.”

[moonswolfie]

HQ!! Boys with a poet S/O

hey hey hey guess who's back with a super self indulgent piece of shit fic (i am joking, this is my humour)

also let's just say the reader does not write about cute lightearted things (but if you'd like to see a version where the reader writes cute stuff lmk!!)

so, yk TW for implied mental turmoil and an overall angsty hurt/comfort mood for these

Characters featured: Oikawa, Akaashi, Kageyama, Bokuto, Iwa chan

OIKAWA honestly wouldn't believe that those poems were written by you at first. When you excitedly gave him some of your poems to read, he thought they would be cutesy love poems dedicated to him and only him, not this. "What...? Are they bad?" You seemed worried at his wide-eyed expression. "Baby, are you ...okay?" He asked out of the blue, the genuine worry in his tone knocking the wind out of you. "Hahaha, it feels so weird hearing you say that...!" You tried your best to not let any more laughter escape you. "What?! Am I not allowed to be a good boyfriend now?!" He was offended by your reaction, slightly clutching the poems in his hands. "No, it's just... unusual to see you this concerned about me." You said with a half-smile. You had gotten so used to Oikawa's light-hearted flirty attitude, that you sort of forgot just what kind of person he is. "Just what do you think of me?" He sighed, suddenly pulling you in for a hug. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" All you did was nod, feeling relieved that he understands.

AKAASHI 's eyes would widen gradually as he read the contents of your poem. You gave him 5, but he already feels horrible, and he's only on the first one. He almost doesn't want to believe you wrote this. He becomes worried about you, doing a deep analysis on your poem since he wants to understand every part before approaching you with his worries. The next day when you greet him happily, he simply hugs you. "I'm sorry for not noticing..." is all he says, and though it takes you a bit to understand what he means, you feel overwhelmingly relieved he isn't judging you for what happened. "It's okay, I didn't tell you, you couldn't have known..." you assured him, knowing your boyfriend's tendency to overthink, he would beat himself up if you said nothing. "Next time, please please tell me about things like this. I can't stand the thought of you suffering alone." He squeezed you tighter.

KAGEYAMA is confused. Reading and understanding poems was never his strong suit, but yours are especially confusing to him. You laughed a little at his concentration face, and he handed you your poem back, still confused. "What does this even mean...?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Ahaha, don't worry about it too much... I wrote it like that on purpose." You made your poem vague and messy on purpouse, something you knew Kageyama probably couldn't understand properly. Awkward silence filled the room, and Kageyama silently hugged you all of a sudden. "I don't get why, but I got the random urge to hug you just now..." he mumbled silently, squeezing you in his grip. He must have noticed the sadness behind your voice and just doesn't know how to properly comfort you. "You said that out loud, Tobio." You smiled. "Shit..."

BOKUTO 's smile drops suddenly as he reads your poem. When he found you writing it, he insisted that he must read it no matter what. But what in the world was this? Why were you writing about all this sad stuff? "Babe...." his hands trembled slightly as he looked at you while you were smiling as you usually do. "Why would you say that about yourself?" He was very very saddened right now, and you weren't sure who's going to end up comforting who. You felt your bones being crushed in his impulsive hug. "It isn't true!! You're literally the best person I know!! So don't you dare say that again!!" He put his forearm over his eyes, tears stinging at his eyes. He has to be strong for you, he can't cry now. "Kou-" "I've decided! From today on, you're getting complimented every day!! No excuses!!" He looked very determined.

IWAIZUMI understood the content of your poems very well. And it angered him. Why didn't you tell him this happened?! "Idiot." He let the word escape his lips, clutching the paper in his hands. "You should have told me. I would have protected you." He looked to you. You weren't scared since you knew that your boyfriend was genuinely concerned right now, and that was just his way of expressing it. "Dammit, why do you always insist on keeping your problems to yourself..." he pulled you to his side, looking ahead. "I'll tell you next time..." you looked down to the ground. "You better. Or I'll beat you up." He huffed, but you saw the relief flashing in his eyes. He didn't really show it, but somehow, you could tell his heart sank when he read it.

I'm okay :)

[topsytervy]

Santa Looks Familiar

So, I thought of this while on my drive home yesterday from work. I decided it was finally time to listen to Christmas music willingly and so I put on my playlist, appropriately named tis the season bitches, and I forgot I had Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy (Travis Tritt version courtesy of my mother) on it and this came to be.

I just couldn't think of who I wanted it to be so I made it as vague as possible so you can imagine whoever you wanted it to be. Sports player, video game character, movie character, whoever. I'm just going to add some tags so this can make it's rounds.

Happy Holidays folks.

synopsis: your daughter notices that Santa looks kind of familiar. Almost kind of like daddy?

warnings: none except probably grammar/spelling, and one mention of beer

word count: 1,075

~~~

“Asher, wake up, wake up.” The young boy groaned, flipping onto his side as he pulled the blanket up higher. “Asher, come on. Santa’s here.” 

Asher’s eyes shot open as he sat up, “really?” He asked his older sister and she nodded, putting a finger to her lips. 

“We gotta be really quiet though.” She whispered before motioning for her little brother to follow her.  

The two of them creeped out of the bedroom and into the hallway, keeping low as the peeked through the banister, looking down into the living room as the man in the red suit put the last of the gifts under the tree, standing up afterwards. 

“That’s the last of them,” the siblings heard him say and Lily furrowed her eyebrows. 

The voice sounded familiar to her, but she shook her head. 

How many times had she thought she heard their mother’s voice, but it turned out to be a complete stranger? 

“Look, Lily. He’s going for the cookies.” Asher nudged her and she watched as he reached over, snagging a couple of the cookies, taking a bite of one. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” 

The two trained their eyes on their mother who was walking over to Santa before stopping in front of him, hands on her hip. 

“Santa tax,” he shrugged before holding a cookie out to her, “you really outdid yourself on these. They’re amazing. Here, open up.”  

Their mother rolled her eyes before opening her mouth, the kids' eyes widening as Santa popped the cookie into her mouth before his arms snaked around her waist pulling her close. 

“Uh oh. He better be careful or daddy’s going to beat him up,” Asher whispered to Lily and Lily squinted at the two. 

She watched the two adults for another minute before grabbing her little brother's arm. 

“Come on. Let's go before they catch us.” She whispered, softly tugging him back to his bedroom.  

She tucked Asher back into bed, saying good night before shutting the door until it was only open a crack. 

She glanced between her room and the stairs before heading towards the stairs, going down them as quietly as she could. 

She didn’t see her mother, but she did see Santa, his back turned to her as he drank the milk. 

The little girl cleared her throat and the man in the red suit froze, swallowing the milk in his mouth before turning towards her. 

“Well, if it isn’t miss Lily. What are you doing up and out of bed?” he questioned before leaning down, dropping his voice to a whisper, “you know, I take away presents from kids who aren’t in bed when I come right?” 

Lily stared into his eyes, the eyes that seemed oh so familiar with the same twinkle and color. 

“Daddy, is that you?”  

Santa raised an eyebrow, “now why would you think I’m your father?” 

“Well, you sound like him, and your eyes are the same,” she started. 

“A lot of people share the same eyes and voice as your dad.” He shrugged and she cocked her head. 

“And you’re not fat.” Lily was blunt with her words. 

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, Lily May.”  

“And you know my middle name. No one knows my middle name except mom and dad.” She stated matter-of-factly and he narrowed his eyes. 

“I’m Santa. I know everyone’s middle name. I know your middle name and Asher’s. I even know your parents' middle names.” 

“If you’re not dad, then why did you hug mom?” 

Santa waited a second before responding, “because all your dad wanted for Christmas was for your mom to make sure she was very loved and in order for that to happen, I had to hug her very tight so she could feel the love from you guys.”  

Lily blinked at him, “really?” 

Santa nodded, “yep. There’s no way to wrap love up and just hand it to someone. You have to give it to them through hugs.” 

“Oh,” Lily said, her eyes casting downwards before she turned them back towards Santa, “I’m sorry for getting out of bed and eavesdropping but between us,” she leaned in close, “my dad would’ve hurt you if he saw you hugging mom like that. He’s very protective of his family so I was just looking out for you.” She whispered. 

“Ah I see,” he smiled before reaching behind him and grabbing a cookie from the plate, handing it to her, “well, since you were looking out for me, I think I can overlook yoy being out of bed this one time.” He told her with a wink, and she grinned, nodding her head as she took the cookie from him and turned back towards the stairs. 

“Merry Christmas Santa.” She told him before heading back to her bedroom.  

“Merry Christmas Lily.” 

** 

Your eyes moved from your book to your husband as he came into the bedroom, removing the fake beard and hat.  

“Did you enjoy your milk, Santa?” You teased and he shrugged. 

“It was aright but between the two of us, I’m more of a beer guy.” He grinned before beginning to get changed from the costume to his pajamas and you bookmarked your page, setting the book on your bight stand. 

“What took you so long anyway honey?” 

He took a breath and looked over at you. “A very close call with Lil.” 

Your eyes widened. “Oh god.” 

“It's okay. I’m a fast thinker.  Explained any suspicions of Santa being daddy away. Many people have the same eye color and voice. Of course I know her middle name, I know everyone’s middle name.” he chuckled as he came over to his side and climbed into bed, “and that Santa was hugging mom because all dad wanted was for mom to know she was loved,” he pulled you into his chest and pressed a kiss to your head as you blushed, throwing an arm over his waist. 

“I love you,” you told him, pecking his lips. 

“I love you too.” 

“You know she’ll figure it out eventually, right? Two years from now she could look back on this moment and put two and two together. That Santa and daddy looked an awful lot alike.” You told him. 

He shushed you as he closed his eyes. “Let's push that thought far away from us and just enjoy the fact that our kids still believe in Santa.”  

~~~~

[ragnarokhound]

omg sweetie pie don’t talk about chains I’ll BLUSH. definitely never been into that…

How do you think the rest of the Batfam reacts to Jaytim finally happening (something along the lines of your secretary fic) ?

I think Cass knew how they felt before them, Damian is disgusted (but secretly pleased), Dick found out by walking in on them at Tim’s apartment, and Bruce had no idea and has none until Jason tells him point blank. Alfred? Somehow orchestrated the whole thing.

I'll keep that in mind babe ;) (*adds 'Spicy Hardware' to the budget)

Ohoho, that is a fun question, and one that I often have trouble answering because I am like a horse with blinders on when it comes to my hyperfixations and my ships OTL Jason and Tim usually get the brunt of my obsessive analysis, leaving only minimal room for other characters to squeeze their way in. RIPeroni you two ❤️

That being said, I'm a huge liar because I do actually have some Thoughts lol

It largely depends on the state of the verse we're in and how involved the others were in watching their courtship go down, so without further adieu, here's how I think the batfam would react to finding out about jaytim's newly minted relationship in my secretary!au fic:

So in Secretary!AU in particular, the others weren't involved to an almost suspicious degree 😳 Tim is losing his mind for a month over Jason daylighting as his secretary, and he never finds out anything resembling the truth from anyone? What??

Which of course means some of them were simply unaware because they don't give a shit or assume Tim isn't suffering (Damian, Duke, Bruce) and some ARE aware to some degree that this is unusual and came to their own conclusions. And promptly decided to stay out of it (Dick, Babs, Steph, Cass, Alfred - Duke might actually be here, it depends lol)

In particular, Steph hears Tim's mini rant/breakdown Day 1 and is simply too amused. Because she watched him suddenly start deflecting Jason's attention 3 months ago, and oh boy does this feel like a comeuppance. She's got popcorn and is asking things like, 'i dunno Tim, why do you think Jason followed you to the office where you have to reliably be?' and after all of it, when he shows up with a hickey after patrolling with Jason that night, she golf claps at him

Cass shrugs at Tim when he vents where she can hear, because she's been waiting for them to figure this out for like. A year now. She is surprised when Tim had his Jason-shaped epiphany because she knows that Tim has been Into Jason ever since that time in the park with Poison Ivy, and Jason called him a princess for getting particular about decon. (Similarly, Cass also knew that Jason has been low-key into Tim since the time before that, when Tim ugly laughed so hard at a joke Jason made at Dick's expense that he nearly inhaled a french fry). When they get together, she is standing next to Steph, also golf clapping because Steph told her it would be funny

Dick had to listen to Jason complain about Tim ghosting him a month or two into it (Jason and Dick were in each other's vicinity and Jason asked how Tim was doing. Dick said he was 'fine, why?' And Jason scowled and muttered, 'No reason. Feel like he's been dodging me, is all' and a tiny red alert pinged in the back of Dick's head) so when he hears that Jason is at Wayne Tower and that Tim is having vent sessions about it with Steph, his eyebrows shoot waaaay up. He kind of hopes that the Tower is still standing after Jason's done getting whatever vengeance he has in mind (Jason's prank war game is both legendary and unhinged). When he finds out what actually transpires (or rather, guesses what transpired), he has a small moment of relief because 'oh phew, is that all?' and then immediately BSODs because 'WAIT WHAT, IS THAT WHY YOU GUYS ARE CLAPPING--'

Babs quietly figured out why Tim was panicking pretty early because no one ghosts someone for having a good, fun, tbh flirty relationship for literally any other reason. She wondered vaguely if Jason was going to a) clock it and then b) do anything about it, and then equally quietly paused auto-uploads on Wayne Tower office footage so that she could make Tim review it instead. She simply Will Not be the one to log the data from Monday morning, thanks.

Damian did not and does not give a fuck. He briefly questions Todd's sanity. Then immediately discards that thought because it's Todd. He would like Grayson to quit yelling at that octave though, because his 'i'm secretly happy for you but also hurt that you didn't confide in me' shouting is very grating and makes Damian nervous.

Duke I'm on the fence about, but I lean towards 'i was sitting over on the bench' for him. He was so busy Staying In His Lane that he simply did not notice that this was happening. 'Uh, congrats, I guess?'

Bruce was keeping tabs on the situation. He does not plan to review the footage either. He has ten more gray hairs than he did yesterday, and is pondering how their relationship might affect their performance in the field, but trusts that Tim has likely thought through the ramifications and likely scenarios that should need to be compensated for. (Being involved with your teammate can be frightening and stressful; it could lead to strain between the two of you, and opens new vulnerabilities up for exploitation. But it can also be deeply, deeply rewarding. Hm.) (also shout-out to the one commenter who theorized that Bruce was the one on the other end of the phone call that Jason yanked the cord on. LMAO. ROFL, even.)

Alfred defuses the tension in the cave by reminding everyone to please finish their reports, and that there are refreshments in the dining room upstairs when they are finished, should anyone be joining the household for dinner tonight. He is very pointedly looking at Jason and Tim when he says this, because they Will be joining the household for dinner tonight, because it is the duty and privilege of a grandfather to tease his grandson (Jason) for having a boyfriend (Tim). Idk if Alfred called it in quite the same way as Cass, but he knew there was something interpersonal they needed to work out, and also that Tim has had a crush on Robin for his Entire Life, so he's not exactly surprised.

...aaaand sorry if I skipped anyone, but that's my list lol

[togglesbloggle]

I get nightmares, sometimes.

I know specifically where they come from. Second grade. My elementary school would gather kids up in the cafeteria and read some short-ish book to a large-ish crowd. I don't know why they did it that way instead of the classroom; it might have been some kind of after-school activity instead of during normal hours. The circumstances are pretty vague to me, this long after the fact.

I don't remember the title of this particular story either, or any of the names of the characters, most of it's long since lost in the fog. I was probably a bit bored for most of the reading. The book was a pretty generic little thing, until it wasn't. There was this caterpillar, it wanted to be a butterfly, a convenient and kid-friendly shorthand for overcoming obstacles to self-actualization through friendship and wisdom. One of the more common allegories out there.

But anyway, what made it weird was, the author decided that the catharsis of becoming a butterfly was a bit too straightforward to carry the climax of the story all on its own. So instead, most of the other bugs- the ones, I have to assume, that represented the forces of conformity and social pressure, or whatever- all became envious of the butterfly's ability to reach the sky (or sun?). When they saw the beautiful butterfly soaring through the air, in a rage they all started climbing on top of one another, and forming a big teeming pile of bugs, each one trying to get just a little bit higher, demanding to touch the sky just like the butterfly did. It became a giant, squirming mass, larger and larger until the inevitable occurred, the bugs at the bottom of this horrific mass were crushed, and the entire thing collapsed to its inevitable doom. The butterfly, armed with wings of its own, flew onward to the sky.

It's a little hard to pinpoint exactly what these nightmares are about, in a symbolic sense. They're about the anxieties of social conformity and peer pressure, certainly; my recurring fears of being molded by the community around me in to compliant and useful forms without consideration for my own happiness. But they're also about hierarchies and the meaning of social power, and even about conformist pressures in epistemic and ontological frames. It sort of slips from one analogy to another, untethered. It's a basal, animal fear that gets carried forward to many walks of life, both practical and philosophical, one that takes the particular form it does just because that story happened to be the first thing to hit this fault-line of mine at the right angle and crystalize my fears in to something I could understand.

On those nights when I find myself trapped in that pile, buried under the weight of hundreds of bodies, forced to crush the victims below me and claw my way through the airless, squirming heat and death of it all, the analogies don't really matter so much. Sometimes the beings around me are humans, sometimes they're all bugs, sometimes I am too, but always it's just about the simple, awful terror of living in that world of flesh. Things that might once have been fellow-travelers, trapped underneath and above and on every side with no room to move. When the agonizing pressure bearing down on you drives through your body without interruption, and you become an instrument that empowers and transmits that same violence to the animals that you're crawling over, with no relief from the pain except to drag somebody down from above you and get just a bit higher. Suffocating, always suffocating, gasping hot breaths where nothing's left to breathe.

But it is very potent grist for any number of metaphors, that's why I keep dreaming the damned thing. And it's not at all uncommon to be moving through my normal, waking life and find myself in circumstances that trigger this fear. I can always feel it coming on with that vague sense of suffocation, usually even before I understand consciously that I've found myself in one of those situations.

Being in the crowd at a sports stadium will usually get me pretty bad, of course. Driving in traffic does it sometimes, a little. But the merely physical crowds are pretty tolerable in the short term. Being at a protest or political rally is much worse; chanting with a crowd is more likely to trigger these nightmares than just cheering with one, because chants are semantic. More buy-in, you see? You have to conform with your ideas as well as your body.

It's there in more abstract ways as well. If I'm in a chat group or social community that brings in an applause light (or shared enemy) that is meant to unify everybody and create a sense of shared identity using public consensus, it can get a little hard to breathe; I sometimes have to go hide in a private room during dinner parties, when they go in the wrong direction. I've avoided employment in big, mission-statement-y corporations my whole life, for much the same reason.

I know that there are people who find a great deal of joy and meaning in this stuff, in being a part of social movements and organizations larger than themselves. I don't mean to say anything objective about such preferences, this isn't even really about my considered opinions so much as the animal parts of me. But man, the animal in me is so frightened sometimes. So much of our world seems to be made of these ziggurats of flesh, teeming piles of human life all trying to reach for something divine by crushing the souls below.

I have, I think, mostly avoided the worst failure states of contrarianism; better not to let the crows dictate my opinions at all, even by inversion. And actually I do better living in large cities than you might expect. Modern city life is 'dense' in the sense that you're often near a few people at a time, but not often to the point of actually restricting movement. Merely having a loud upstairs neighbor doesn't trigger my phobias at all, and it's usually pretty trivial to have basic personal space; I suppose I might struggle in places like Manhattan or Tokyo, though. It's a marked part of my life, but not a disabling one.

And like I said, this isn't a philosophical or a moral stance per se, though it's clearly part of the 'state of nature' that's upstream of my ideological commitments. Mostly, I'm writing this out because I think a lot of people tend to be annoyed by the kind of separatism I reach for reflexively, and treat it like a threat or a form of dissent. Which I guess it sort of is; I and people like me are pretty bad at forming coalitions and doing that kind of important work in the polis. But still, I'm hoping that my nightmares can do a little bit of good on that front, by providing vivid and terrible imagery to help others understand subjectively what it's like instead of just rounding it off to an easy-to-dismiss "Reddit bro" or whatever Type Of Guy is common parlance on the internet at the time.

And I guess, also, I'd like to help communicate something of the beauty of the alternative- of being the butterfly, I mean. And to the extent that it's possible, to communicate the urgency that I feel in chasing tools and institutional patterns that can help people to build their own wings and fly through the open air. There are things that help us rise under our own power as individuals, without victims. Curiosity, creativity, patience, mutual appreciation; so many kinds of strength that don't demand sacrifices. And the greatest of these, I think, is the pursuit of truth, and the sincere desire to understand the structure and consistency of the world around us.

Failing all else, during this election season please have a little patience for those of us who fall silent or slip away instead of lending our voices to the chanting of the crowds, or who seem to care more about picking apart ideas instead of organizing around them, or who otherwise never seem to miss an opportunity to make ourselves the odd one out. There's power in numbers, and this is a moment when power is desperately needed; but I don't think you can touch the sky that way. The higher goals, the things that will allow us to transcend our present difficulties outright and to achieve something really great, are too far away and too alien to reach merely by stacking bodies or echoing the doctrines of the present. Hope comes as a stranger, and we need hope right now for the same reasons that we need power.

[ghostlynighty]

You want request?

Can I get uhhhh PtN Cinnabar (and/or Zoya) with a fem!chief (or gn) who is insecure about their body weight?

Zoya with sinner fem!reader who is insecure about their body weight.

parings : Zoya x sinner fem!reader

requested? : yup

warning(s) : talking about body insecurity, i might have not talked about it well in this fic, might be ooc zoya

uh hey there, thanks for the request! I decided to make reader a sinner since I would like to make chief her own character. I also only picked Zoya since I do not know much about Cinnabar yet. I hope that is okay.

also, please do tell me if i wrote anything wrong with this. making fics with these kinds of topics is really hard for me.

The monthly check up, the moment you don’t really like. It's where the MBCC would conduct a routine check up for all of the sinners to see if something is wrong. This monthly routine check up is mostly for sinners but staff get check ups too.

You are a sinner that has been arrested by the MBCC and unlike sinners who resisted, you did not. You are going to be locked up forever and be “used” by the chief sure, but at least the food is free and there is a not so comfy bed to sleep on. There are so many of these “routines” that the bureau conducts, one of them is this medical check up. This was no problem to you at the start, you actually wanted to know if something is wrong with you and is always compliant but as of the recent ones however, you started to feel nervous about this, anxious even. It's not like the doctors and staff abuse you, it's just that recently, you’re starting to feel a little insecure about yourself, especially with your body and weight. You guessed that being locked up alongside these beautiful sinners with amazing bodies made you like this.

Your girlfriend, Zoya, the commander of the Legion, has started to notice this. You no longer wear your usual outfit that shows your skin, you now wear sweaters and long sleeved clothes which is not a problem to Zoya, she finds you really adorable in these actually. Her only problem was, it gets very very hot in the bureau, especially in the afternoon when you and her would go to the outdoors area to hang out. Zoya noticed right away what the cause was and she was determined to let you know that you shouldn't be thinking about those things. 

At the moment, you were waiting in line for the check up, you tried hiding your anxiousness. You tried not to think about the doctors weighing you or only being in your undies while they check up on you.

Oh god, please make this stop-

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt someone pull you away and lead you to a room. Looking up, you saw that it was your girlfriend.

“Zoya? Why are we here?” Your body acted into its own accord, hugging Zoya to calm yourself down. Your girlfriend could feel how much you were shaking and instantly wrapped her arms around you.

“I saw you were having a hard time there, is everything okay?” Zoya asked you as gently as she could, knowing that this topic is sensitive to anyone who is going through this. Your girlfriend does not want to force you into telling her what’s wrong, but you can see from the way she looks at you that she already knows your trouble.

“I’m just…I just don’t feel…good?” You tried to tell her vaguely, hoping that she would get it immediately. Zoya pulled away from the hug, looking into your eyes.

“Babe, it's okay, you can tell me and if you don’t want to, that’s also okay. I just want to help you in any way I can.”

Closing your eyes with a deep breath, you released it all to Zoya. How you don’t feel confident in yourself and in your body anymore, how you think you’re so heavy and that you need to lose weight, everything. You told Zoya everything while she listened, wiping your tears from time to time.

When you were finished, you two just stood there, arms wrapped around each other.

“Look and listen to me, you are beautiful. You always have been. There’s nothing wrong with having a little weight, you know? Believe me when I say you’re so fucking hot. I mean, have you seen some of those sinners who look at you?” You chuckled, wiping your tears as you remember those moments when random sinners would flirt with you, making Zoya annoyed that she would always let them know that you are hers and hers only.

“I’m not really good at these, but what I’m saying is, there’s nothing wrong with you. You are perfectly fine, perfectly healthy and…perfectly beautiful.”

“Thank you Zoya and I’m sorry that I only told you about this now.”

“There’s no need to apologise, but know that I am always here, okay? Now let’s go for your check up. If you want, I can come with you during your turn.”

It took you a couple of seconds to reply, not believing that a violent person like Zoya could be so gentle with you. You grabbed her cheeks, placing a soft kiss on it.

“I would love that.”

[vibingandwriting]

Demonic Courting Rituals

~~~~~~~~~~

Synopsis: The demon brothers try to woo you with little bloody gifts. It works far better on you than it should on any human in their right mind.

Genre: Horror, I guess?

Characters: GN! MC, demon brothers

TW: Blood, severed body parts, dead animals, MC is very not normal

Word Count: 1,368

A/N: I had no idea what genre to put this under. I finally decided on horror just cause there were some traditionally scary themes in here. If you have a better genre for this to be classified as, please let me know.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first gift was innocent enough. It was a somewhat cute, somewhat ugly stuffed voodoo rabbit that you had been eyeing later. The demon who gave it to you was blushing, going on some rant about how it didn't mean anything, but as your first man he should be the one who makes you happy and so on. You appreciated the gift and made sure the flustered demon who gave it to you knew that.

The second gift was as unassuming as the first. It was given to you by Satan this time. He had come to your room one afternoon with a book in hand. Satan had insisted you read it. The main character had reminded him of you, he said. You were intrigued by that. Satan hadn't yet opened up to you much, so you were curious as to what kind of character would remind him of you.

The third gift from one of the demon brothers was when you remembered that your demons are, in fact, demons. You were sitting in an empty classroom at RAD, frantically finishing an assignment while the others were at lunch before you had to turn it in next class. You had foolishly chosen to game with Levi the night before you had a big assignment due, telling yourself you could finish when you were done.

Now here you were, facing the consequences of your own actions. You were definitely rushing as you tried to finish this before lunch ended but you figured a bad grade was better than no grade.

You were almost done when you heard footsteps entering the classroom. You looked up to see a demon you were vaguely familiar with. You knew you had a few classes with him but you never spoke to each other. Honestly, if it wasn't for the big hideous ring he always wore, you probably would've forgotten about him entirely.

You paid him no mind, turning your attention back to your unfinished assignment. You figured he probably forgot something in the classroom and would be heading to lunch as soon as he got it. It wasn't until you heard his footsteps stop right beside you and you could see him in your peripheral vision did you look up again.

"Can I help you with something?" you asked. Although the demons outside of the brothers usually had nothing nice to say to you, you still wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. After all, if you managed to find your way into the brother's hearts, it wasn't impossible that you'd grow on others as well.

"You're awfully cocky, aren't ya little human?" he responded, and just like that all your faith flew out the window.

For a moment you were too unsure of what to say to come up with an answer. The demon before you took your silence as an invitation to continue speaking, going on to say, "Sitting in this classroom all alone. It's almost as if you're begging for some demon to come along and eat you up."

The demon took another step into your personal space with a big smile on his face. You were beginning to worry you'd have to summon one of your pact mates when another set of footsteps entered the room. You looked toward the door to find a very unhappy looking Beel standing there. The threatening demon's expression suddenly shifted from one of pleasure to one of worry.

The demon tried to come up with a decent lie to explain that it wasn't what it looked like, but before he could get out a coherent sentence Beel interrupted with, "I heard enough. Get away from them. Now."

The demon didn't need to be told twice. He left without a word, obviously trying not to make eye contact with Beel on his way out. As soon as he left the room, Beel came over to make sure you were okay. You assured him you were uninjured just as the school bell rang, signaling lunch was over and you still haven't finished your assignment. Oh well, that's what you get for gaming when you shouldn't be.

The next morning you found a small box outside your door with a sticky note attached to the top. You picked the box up. It didn't weigh much, but it smelled. It was a smell you grew familiar with the more time you spent in the Devildom.

You picked the note off the box. It read, This is for you. I'll make sure no one bothers you like that again.

Bubbles of anxiety popped in your stomach as you opened the box. Inside was a severed finger, still wearing that ugly ring.

You felt several things in that moment. Surprise, for one, because who wouldn't be surprised to find a finger gifted to them? You were also concerned that Beel may get in trouble for this, but above all else you found yourself feeling oddly thrilled.

You knew you shouldn't be. This sort of thing may have been normal for demons, but for humans like yourself it should've been frightening. You just couldn't help, however, the giddy feeling it gave you to know a demon (one of your demons) would do this for you.

A few days later you were lounging around in Mammon's room and Beel's present was still on your mind. You ended up telling him what happened, admittedly without really thinking it through. Mammon nearly choked on his own spit when you finished your story.

Though Mammon's jealous rambling was hard to discern, you were able to make out the words, "Damn Beel, trying to court you behind my back. . ."

You stopped listening after that as blood began to rush to your face and your heart picked up the pace.

Oh.

He was trying to court you.

You were so flustered that you almost didn't notice the way Mammon looked at you when he finally stopped talking, as if considering something.

You asked him what he was thinking, to which he replied, "I thought humans were supposed to be weirded out by demon courting rituals."

"Oh," you said, "yeah, I guess I'm just built different."

Within the next few weeks, you would receive several more gifts from all the brother's except Lucifer. You got a few mutilated animals and several body parts from demons you didn't know the names of, such as their horns and tails. Each present was given to you in progressively more elaborate ways. It started with Levi presenting you a hydra skull under a Death Blossom tree, and ending with Asmo hosting an extravagant party where he handed you a box with two gorgeous emerald eyes in front of hundreds of demons. Each gift left you as speechless as the one that came before it.

Eventually, Lucifer stepped in to put an end to all the gory gift giving. As much as you absolutely adored the things the brothers had given you, you were grateful that Lucifer stopped them. You were running out of places to put them and it was starting to cause your room to smell. The brothers, all clearly disappointed, had no choice but to stop or else they'd spend the rest of the week hanging from the ceiling without food.

Life went on as it did before the severed finger incident. Just as you started to think you'd (sadly) never be given another bloody animal carcass again, you found something special on your bed.

It was the decapitated head of a demon with mighty horns quite literally served to you on a silver platter, paired with a note from Lucifer that read, I've always felt these superficial courting rituals to be unnecessary, but being near you awakens certain instincts in me I can't resist. I hope you know what is means to be able to do that to the avatar of pride.

Once again it occurred to you that being ecstatic over receiving the head of a demon you didn't even know was not normal, but you simply couldn't bring yourself to care. You loved your demons and the extents they were willing to go to prove their devotion to you. If that made you odd, you didn't want to be normal.

[demigodsanswer]

Finding out I can prompt you is a dangerous game: what about that dinner conversation between Annabeth and Fred we here he plan in chapter 8 and maybe Fred telling Luke if he didn't leave them all alone he would go to the police?

((probably going add a little more to this and post to ao3 in the next few days, but here's the conversation! It's emotional. I hurt my own feelings with this one. I hope you all enjoy.

Content warning for several mentions of suicidal ideation/intention, although no characters go through with it. ))

Annabeth poured two fingers of whiskey into her glass, took a sip, and decided she needed a little more than that. She downed the rest as a shot. When she turned around to face her father, he was just staring back, concern clear on his face.

She'd tried to tell him some details over dinner, but she'd nearly cried, excused herself, and determined this conversation could not happen publicly. So instead, they looked over her lease, figured out how to get out of it early, and discussed vaguely where she might like to live next.

They went back to his hotel room. Annabeth still wasn't sure she wanted to risk going back to her apartment, even if her dad was with her. On the way, they'd turned into a liquor store without saying anything to one another. They reached for the same half-way decent bottle of whiskey. Like father, like daughter.

"Annie --"

"I hate when you call me that," she said. She turned and poured more whiskey. She usually didn't drink at all during huge performances like Sleeping Beauty, and she certainly didn't want to be hung over tomorrow. But she wasn't sure she'd get through this without some kind of buzz.

"I've always called you that," he said.

"It's not my name. My name is Annabeth," she reminded him.

"Your name is Anna. I named you myself. Your mother called you Annabeth," Fred said to her.

Annabeth sat down in the hotel room's armchair. "Do you love her?" She asked.

"Your mother?" Annabeth nodded. "I loved her more than I could make sense of. The day she left, it was ..." He looked down at the floor and shook his head. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Annabeth sipped her whiskey. She felt hollow.

"Do you love me?" She asked.

Fred looked up at her as if she'd asked if he wanted a hot dog she found on the ground, or if the sky was made of pudding.

"What? Of course I do. Annie--beth, I am so proud of you," he said.

Annabeth pressed her glass to her lips as she smiled and shook her head. She took another sip.

"I'm one of the best ballerinas in the world. Of course you're proud of me. But do you love me?"

"I love you," he said. But it didn't sound like love. It sounded like he wanted to prove a point to her. That was, in her experience, her father's most constant tone. "Why would you ever doubt that?"

Annabeth held his gaze and her courage. "You didn't want to raise a daughter on your own. You wanted a family. We weren't a family," she gestured back and forth between them. "You got your family when you married Kathy and had the boys, and I didn't need to be a part of that."

Fred scooted closer to her. He was still on the bed, too far away from her to reach out and comfort her, but closer nonetheless. "Annabeth, that's not true."

"It felt true. When I was a kid it felt like you sent me to all those great dance schools just to keep me out of your way," she said.

"I did all that because you loved it," Fred protested. "Do you regret it?"

Annabeth shook her head. "I know. I know you did it out of love. But I was a child. I couldn't just be shown love. I needed to be told." Annabeth sighed. "There were kids at SAB who called their parents every day. The girls I lived with would spend hours talking to their moms every week. Some kids, their parents moved to New York to be with them. You hardly ever called, and when I called you, you answered with 'What's wrong?' As if I couldn't just call you to tell you about my week. Yes, you let me move to New York and live my dream, and I will never not be so grateful that you did. But it started to feel a lot like I'd been sent off to boarding school so you and Kathy didn't need to deal with me."

It was her father's turn to stand and take a long drink. Annabeth sat back in her chair and thought about drinking what was left in her glass. But she still had a lot to get through, and so she held back.

When her father sat back down, fresh drink in hand, he just looked straight ahead, never at her, and asked, "What do your childhood feelings have to do with what you told me this morning, Annie?"

"My childhood feelings have everything to do with it. Because I was a child. I became a professional when I was sixteen --"

"Don't dancers usually start that young?" He asked.

Annabeth laughed. "Are you joking?" He looked at her, confused. She leaned forward. "In the history of the New York City Ballet, only one other dancer was taken into the company that young, and she was chosen by Balanchine himself. She was his last great dancer. And then there's me."

"Well, how did that woman cope with it?" He asked. It felt like he was asking her Is she normal? Maybe you can ask her how to deal with your problems.

"I have no idea. I've never met her," Annabeth said.

"I thought you might have danced together," her dad suggested.

"Well, she's sixty and lives in Miami."

"I don't know why you think I'd know that."

"Well, I thought you'd at least know I'd done something impressive and almost unheard of!" She said, gesturing with her hands until her whiskey threatened to slosh out of the glass.

"Is it an impressive thing or a bad thing, Annabeth, make up your mind!" He yelled back.

"Can't it be both!? Can't be a bad thing that happened to me and a cool thing to be on my Wikipedia page?" She pointed at him, this whiskey finally making its way to her head and mixing with her anger. "Hey, isn't it cool that your daughter had a fucking Wikipedia page?"

"I already told you that I'm proud of you, now will you tell me what any of this has to do with calling off your wedding?" He said, scolding her more than yelling.

"Because I was a child, don't you understand?" This time she did finish her drink. "I was taken into the company at sixteen and lost all of my friends at SAB. I was suddenly a professional working with thirty-year-olds. I was dancing forty-six shows of Snow and Flowers. And I wasn't coming home for Christmas. I thought maybe you guys would come up and see me dance. By early December you hadn't said anything. I thought maybe it'd be a surprise. But instead you just sent me a text that you were moving. To San Francisco. In a week. You asked if I wanted anything." Annabeth took a deep breath, trying to keep herself from crying for at least a little while longer. "I wanted my Molly American Girl Doll, but I was so angry and sad I just said I didn't want anything."

She took a deep breath, and he stayed quiet, his eyes glued to the floor, his glass still in his hands.

"I was backstage at the theater, dressed as a goddamn snowflake, trying not to cry and then that show's Cavalier walked by. He saw me. For the first time in two months someone saw me. He asked me what was wrong, and when I told him, he cared. He told me it wasn't fair. He gave me a hug. And after the show, he introduced me to some other company members. He started ... taking care of me." She smiled. She couldn't help it. "When we had shows together, he'd bring me lunch or dinner. We'd talk. It never occurred to anyone that a twenty-three-year-old was spending a lot of time with a sixteen-year-old. I certainly didn't care. He meant everything to me."

Fred turned to look at her, but his gaze wasn't on her face. It hovered somewhere around her knees.

"Annabeth, what are you telling me?" He asked. She knew he'd figured it out.

Her voice was steady. "I'm telling you that after my first Nutcracker season, Luke took me on my first date. He was my first kiss. And after that first, perfect date, he took me back to my apartment and gave me a glass of wine."

There was a long horrible pause. Her father drained his glass and looked away from her. "Did he have sex with you when you were sixteen?"

He looked like he was going to be sick, and it made Annabeth smile. "Yes. And seventeen, and eighteen, and nineteen, and every year expect this one." The memories still made her feel good, until she started to feel guilty for feeling good. "The worst part --"

"There's a worse part?"

"--Is that I don't hate him for it. That's not why I left him. I loved him. I loved him every day for nine years. I know it was wrong. I knew it was wrong then, I wasn't stupid. But it never felt wrong. It felt like he was my family. That's what he promised me. That we would be a family." She set her glass down hard on the desk next to the whiskey bottle. "So that's why it matters. Because he knew from the moment we met that I was so lonely, and my family was on the other side of the country, and I didn't think my dad cared if I lived or died."

Fred dropped his empty glass on the bed beside him to fully rest his face in his hands. She was pretty sure he was crying. Despite her best efforts, she was too. 

“He got really comfortable really quickly agreeing with me when I said that you didn’t love me. It wasn’t long before he was saying it first. Because he knew I needed to believe it was true, so that I would never tell you what he did to me. The night I left him, it was one of the last things he said to me. ‘He doesn’t love you Annie, not really.’ 

“Do you have any idea how smug he looked last night? When he realized I hadn’t told you? That he had gotten away with it? Or how happy he looked when you left me alone with him? He was confident enough to call you this morning!” She cooled her anger into a soft, accusatory voice. “And you were going to sell me out to him. You wanted me to work things out.” She wiped the last of her tears away before drinking what was left in her glass. 

Fred looked up and wiped his own tears as he stared at the wall. “I don’t know what to say.” 

Annabeth leaned back in her chair. “You’re a smart man, Daddy. You can figure it out.” 

He moved closer to her now, close enough to take her hands in his. “I love you, Annabeth. You’re my girl, my only girl. I have loved you since the moment I found out you were going to be in my life, and I have never stopped. Of course you’re my family. You were the only family I ever needed. And I’m so sorry that I was never very good at making sure you knew that.” 

Annabeth nodded, her tears returning, welling up in her eyes and falling without her permission. “And I’m sorry I never told you what he did. I’m sorry I believed him.” 

“Of course you believed him. Why wouldn’t you? What have I ever done to prove him wrong?” 

Annabeth was a smart woman, but she didn’t have a thing to say to that. 

“Did he hit you?” Her dad asked finally. 

She figured she needed to tell him why she really left Luke now. 

“No. Ballet is a full contact sport. People would have figured it out.” Her father let out a sigh of relief before she could ruin him again. “But he’d throw things in my direction, or just break things. That started when I was twenty-one. It got worse as the years went on.” 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. 

Annabeth’s hands started to shake, and she stood to get water from the bathroom. When she came back she sat on the bed next to him. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and went on. 

“The breaking point … he,” she swallowed hard. “He did something to really humiliate me. Something I never even imagined.” 

Her father took her hand, but wouldn’t meet her eyes. Annabeth pressed her eyes closed tight, as all the shame and humiliation of it washed over her again. 

“He was showing nude photos of me to other dancers.” When she opened her eyes, her father was still looking forward, but she could see the confusion etched in his profile. “He showed them to my friend Beckendorf. And he told me right away. A few days later, after I’d kicked him out, I told Chiron what happened. The … circumstances of my relationship with Luke was enough to get him fired. But Chiron did some internal investigation. Two other dancers confessed to seeing the photos at some point. They’d been my friends. Another one of Luke’s friends, one of my friends I guess, denied everything. But I don’t believe him. I think he was protecting Luke. 

“When Beck told me about the pictures, it was like a scrim lifted on my life. Before that moment, I could see that there was bad stuff behind it but it was obscured. I kept waiting for it to go away. I kept thinking about those early years that were so good, where he was so kind --”

“The years when you were a teenager?” Her father asked. 

Annabeth sobbed. “Yes! And that makes it so much worse. I am so embarrassed. About everything! It's why I never told you, it’s why I haven’t told most people. It’s humiliating! I remember standing in my kitchen as Luke confessed to what he did and just knowing I couldn’t marry him. For the first time in nine years I saw my life for the absolute fucking mess I’d made of it. And I knew I was either getting away from him finally, or I was going to kill myself and that was it.” 

Her father sobbed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t want to die then, and I really don't want to now. I’m safe, I promise.” 

 He patted her hand. “Good, that’s good. I wouldn’t .. if I lost you … “ Annabeth rested a hand on his back, inviting him in for a hug, which he accepted. He held onto her tight, and for a while the only sound in the room were their twin cries. 

When he pulled away, he said: “Your mother said almost the exact same thing.” 

Annabeth sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled a confused, “What?” 

“She had depression. You know that,” he said. 

Annabeth forced a smile. “Her depression and her eyes, it’s all she left me.” 

“And your name,” he reminded her. 

“Right.” 

“When you were born it got worse. We kept waiting for it to get better, but it never did. And treatments back then weren’t as good as they are now. Some days it was like I was living with two different people. I’d wake up and my wife was there, and by nighttime, I was living with a stranger.” Annabeth knew how that felt. “And one day she said she needed to leave, or else she was going to kill herself or …” he let out a deep breath, “or kill you.” 

Annabeth couldn’t find a single word to say, not even a question. 

“I just scooped you up,” he continued, “I held onto you so tight. I got your mother in the car and drove her to the hospital. When she got out three days later she said she still wanted to leave. I was okay with that. I didn’t want her anywhere near you. I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you. I held you the whole time she packed, and then I called her a cab to the airport, and I just kept holding onto you. I didn’t put you down all day. For weeks after she left, I hardly slept. I just stayed awake looking at you. You were so little. And it was just you and me. But you were all I needed. All I ever wanted. You were always enough.” 

Annabeth let her tears fall and splash onto her pants. 

“I’ve thought about how, and I think about this with your brothers too, how there was one day I carried you to bed or put you on my shoulders to watch fireworks, and then I put you down. And I never picked you back up again, because you’d gotten too big. You especially. You grew like a weed.” He laughed a little. “I remember getting you four new pairs of pointe shoes, and you coming to me the next day and telling me they didn’t fit. You’d grown out of them overnight.” 

Annabeth laughed too. She’d been so nervous to tell him that, but he just laughed and drove her back to the dance store.

 “I didn’t care. All your teachers told me you were one of the best, but they didn’t need to tell me. I knew. And you won that big competition, and all those schools offered you scholarships. London, San Diego, Houston, but you just looked at Chiron’s offer and said to me --” 

“I’m going to be in the New York City Ballet,” she finished for him with a smile. 

Her father shook his head and smiled for the first time all night. “No you said ‘I’m going to be a principal dancer with the New York City Ballet,’ and I said --” 

“‘Of course you are,’” She finished for him, suddenly ashamed that she’d ever believed he hadn’t loved her. 

“That’s right,” he said. “I wanted to give you everything. Whatever you needed, whatever you wanted, I’d’ve gotten it for you. I’m just sorry I forgot to say ‘I love you’ along the way, I’m sorry I ever led you to believe I didn’t.” 

She took his hand. “I guess I never really said that I love you too.” 

“It wasn’t your responsibility to say it first,” he said. 

“But I still could have.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

He pulled her into a tight hug. They stayed like that for a few long minutes, as her dad continued to whisper apologies. 

When they pulled away, he asked: “Can I call that ex of yours?” 

“What are you going to say?” She asked. 

“I’m going to tell him the truth. That if he ever comes near you or the ballet again, I will have him arrested.” 

Annabeth smiled the whole conversation. 

~ 

Her father checked out of his hotel early and traveled with her back to her apartment. She tried to get him to take the bed, but he refused and made himself comfortable on the couch. 

When she got home from rehearsal, he was setting up plates of takeout for them. 

“How was your day?” He asked. 

“Really good. Rehearsals went well, and Chiron is so happy about that first performance. I really think he’s going to promote Percy soon,” she said, not able to help her smile. 

Her father looked at her knowingly. “He’s a nice boy isn’t he?” 

Annabeth nodded. “He is. Maybe next time you’re in town, I could introduce you?” 

“Okay,” he said. “But Annabeth … just be careful.” 

“I will be,” she promised. 

“You trust him? He won’t hurt you?” He asked. 

Annabeth shook her head and almost laughed. “Yes, I trust him. No he would never hurt me. We’re not dating yet, but I think he really likes me. And even if he doesn’t, he’s a really important friend.” 

“Then I’m happy for you,” he said. “I got you something today.” 

“What?” She asked as he walked to her bedroom. 

“I know that I shouldn’t only show my love for you with gifts,” she followed him to her room, “but that’s not exactly what this is. This is something that I owe you.” 

“What --” 

He stepped out of her room with an unwrapped rectangular box. The size and magenta color were recognizable right away. 

“Stop,” Annabeth said, reaching for the box. She turned it around, and sure enough, it was Molly. She started to cry. She set the box on the ground and threw her arms around her father. 

“I love you,” she said. 

He squeezed her tight. “I love you too, Annabeth.” 

“You know, it’s okay if you call me Annie,” she said. 

“I thought you hated it?” He asked. 

“I don’t mind it so much, actually.” 

~

((this fic is set in a universe where the American Girl brand didn't discontinue most of their historical dolls, and also a world where they didn't do a Harry Potter line of dolls.))

[faunusrights]

murphy's guide to uuuuuh writing objects/places/locations and things (because two whole people asked)

greetings. this guide may or may not help you, as is true of all guides and advice and tips and tricks. but it helped me, and since i'm the protagonist of this blog this is my definitive guide. it shrimply may not be yours. mileage may vary. that said, allow me to give you said advice in the hopes that it does, in fact, aid you,

so when i was a tiny tater tot you know what i hated writing? descriptions. a lot of people really hate it and so did i, because descriptions were just these big blocks of text that got in the way of the FUN STUFF. you know; the plot! the dialogue! the characters! and i see a lot of writers who, to this day, find themselves writing reams and reams of dialogue with no way of knowing where characters are or what they're doing/holding/interacting with, and even if they do explain, it tends to be a few lines like 'they're in the living room' or 'they're sitting on a chair' like we're directing a film.

[INT. CAFE] they are sitting in some chairs by a table. i'll let the props department decide what kind.

the reality is, you are trying to weave a world in which your reader can step into, and a big part of that is writing the uh. the world. and a few years ago i had a revelation that made writing scenes and descriptions so much fun that it's honestly now my favourite part of writing, and a huge part of this realisation comes from my work as a visual artist. so, i'm going to explain The Box.

now, i want to stress that The Box was not my creation. rather, that honour goes to eric hibbeler and his tutorial eric's thoughts on drawing backgrounds and props, which i'll add a link to in a reblog/reply so tumblr doesn't cast this post into the shadow realm (thanks, tumblr!) but the guide he made also applies to writing with just a bit of tweaking, and i'm gonna explain how.

this cardboard box is just a cardboard box, and it's likely the sort of box you're imagining if i say the words a cardboard box. it's nondescript and pretty generic, and in a scene that calls for a cardboard box, it'll do the job! when we write, describing stuff like the chair or the window or the carpet is vague enough that the reader will, usually, just fill in the visual gap with what their interpretation of the chair or the window or the carpet is. for all you know, their mental image of the scene uses the carpet from the shining! but the thing is, YOU, the writer, may have a WILDLY different vision on the carpet (or chair/window/box etc.) and that's where you need to step in and get SPECIFIC about details.

here is a different take on the same box. we've gotten much more specific about the box's history here; it's been used in a move or for storage at some point, it's been kicked around, taped up, taped down, put a in puddle at one point, had a cat give it a few scratches... it's not that many changes, not really, but the box has--say it with me--character.

character, by definition, means the aggregate of features and traits that form the individual nature of some person or thing. what some writers tend to do, however, is forget this word applies just as much to inanimate objects as it does to the people in their stories. we give characters a lot of, well... character, and forget entirely about the things around them having just as (much if not more) to define them.

in essence, what changed my approach to writing places and locations and backgrounds was the realisation was these are also characters in my scene, with just as much contribution to the plot and the information being provided as any individual person in the same instance. it was only when i realised how important adding such character in visual art was that i realised the same applied to writing!

let's take, for instance, a bedroom in which two characters are holding a conversation. you may be tempted to keep your details sparse except for things that are directly plot relevant because you want to get on with the good bits, i.e. the talk itself, but what you can use the bedroom for is to tell information about the owner or resident without having to outline it in exposition. this is where getting good at giving character to spaces becomes very powerful as a tool.

Velvet's bedroom wasn't much to look at; a double-bed, a desk to edit her photos at, and a few pictures of her family and friends on the walls. Still, she sits down on her bed and invites Blake to do the same.

In this instance, a reader gets the general gist of the location--it's a bedroom with bedroom-typical things in it--but the room lacks any characters or specificity, which sticks out for narrative reasons because velvet is full of character; her bedroom would be the same! so, we have to build on what her bedroom would actually be like in order to build its character and define velvet without directly saying what she's like as a person:

Velvet's bedroom was in disarray, as ever; she hadn't made her bed because she wasn't really expecting guests, and her desk was littered with all her photography gear from SD cards to lenses to all her cleaning supplies. A few last-ditch attempts to make the place look a little more organised took the form of straightening out all her framed pictures of her family and friends that took up all the wall space she could spare, dusting off her big pride flag over her bed before she plopped herself down, straightening out her duvet before inviting Blake to sit next to her with a smile.

now, the bedroom has prominence as its own source of information: we understand that velvet isn't really a tidy person by nature; photography is a big enough part of her life to dominate her personal space; her family and her friends are important to her; her identity is also a large component of her personality; she likes to try and give her guests a better impression even if it's half-assed. and we covered all that without velvet actually having to say any of that information out loud! wow!

normally, of course, i'd lace that information in a little more subtly and over a few paragraphs rather than in one big dump, but the effect is the same; when a space has character, you can treat it as a character that has just as much importance to a scene as the dialogue or the interactions two people have.

this concept can be applied to a single prop, like a box or a camera or a desk or the like, and can also be applied to a much bigger location, like a park or a school or a house or more. the idea is that often, things are never just in their generic form, but have history that impacts the way it looks or defines the person or people who interact with it.

you wouldn't write these two playgrounds in exactly the same way; they both have a swing, a slide, a bench, a sign, and a tree... but depending on how you write it, one has a kind of character for a setting, narrative, or larger location that's way different to the other! this ends up defining your wider world, too; maybe one playground is nice and new because the council got the funding they asked for, but the other is in an area known for having little investment? in the end, were these two parks humanised, they'd likely be people with very different personalities; that's the sort of approach you should have!

the TL;DR of this whole thing is that description is not the part where you start listing off items in the room or the building or the location just so your reader has a vague idea of where they are, but an opportunity to turn that space into a person who has a whole bunch to say about the people who are frequently present. you can even see this in action by writing the differences between, say, your bedroom and the bedroom of your sibling/parent/friend; chances are, they're VERY different spaces that represent two very different people! this is also true of a kitchen, your home, your school, your campus, or your workplace; the office of someone who works in IT won't look like the office of someone who works in accounting, even if they share a lot of qualities and items.

ultimately, think of the humble Box; sure, a regular cardboard box might suffice to give the reader an idea of what's in a scene, but when we give that Box a personality of its own, suddenly that Box has a lot to say about the person who owns it--and not all of them may be good!

[mikanotes]

— hanabi

arisu x gn!reader

genre: fluff bcos i’m being nice, implied soulmates, shortfic

warnings: canon divergence and mentions of death, hospitals, injuries, blood, underage drinking and alcohol.

synopsis: It’s New Years’. You take some time to think about your closest friend and how nice fireworks are.

author’s note: happy new year! thank you for all the kindness this year again. i hope you can continue to enjoy my works as i hopefully improve even more! thank you again. enjoy the fireworks as well as this fic featuring one of the characters that bring me most comfort! arisu ryohei. cheers c:

“How long has it been since you last saw fireworks?”

“Since that day.”

You looked up as the fireworks found by a group of hopeful teenagers set off and fired into the sky. They exploded into what felt like millions of colors from this up-close, floating above the hill you laid on. The grass was cold but the breeze was light.

It was New Years’, according to someone who’d managed to keep count. In the Borderlands, you didn’t think you’d ever celebrate that. But as old habits die hard, so do traditions. So when a group of high-schoolers giddily yell about having found nice alcohol and fireworks to celebrate, you can’t really do anything about how much their anticipation rubs off on you.

“I didn’t think I would feel this happy watching fireworks.” Arisu hummed in thought, before nodding to himself with a tight-lipped smile, “In here or ever, really.”

“Did you watch them before all of this? We didn’t talk much back in high school.”

“If Karube and Chota managed to pull me out of my room, then sometimes, yeah.” he said and cracked a bright, nostalgic smile. “Did you?”

“Maybe.” you sighed, smiling to yourself.

“So vague.” Arisu chuckled, “But really. This is kind of nice.”

You hummed in agreement. “It is. Surprisingly so.”

You heard cheering from further away and watched as the lights flew closer to the stars again. Arisu’s hand slowly moved over yours, and then clung onto it like it was the most important thing in the world. Truth was sometimes it did feel this way. Maybe you were the most important thing in each other’s worlds. Maybe you cared about one another more than you did anyone else. Maybe you would never admit it alive unless you’d fear one of you would die. But sometimes even while unsaid, some truths are spoken silently— Like in this case, through the touch of your hands holding each other.

You ignored the pain of the open wound under the bandages on your finger and Arisu did the same. Blood seeped through the white fabric and you knew you’d have to redo the whole bandage soon but in this moment not a part of you could worry or care about that. Maybe the comfort of holding each other’s hand was enough to numb the pain.

A new year didn’t mean much here. Maybe it didn’t mean much at all, even in the real world. But you made a wish to the stars for things to be okay this time around— For you two to be together, always. And Arisu silently hoped for you two to survive and somehow get out of this happy, and together.

Months since the meteors. And since the hospital.

You met Arisu Ryohei again.

You two were in the same class for a few years back in high school but hadn’t really talked much since. Somehow, seeing each other again while walking outside the hospital and realizing you’d both survived what seemed like the impossible brought you back together. And as of now, he was probably your closest friend.

As his closest friend, you decided it would be nice to spend New Year’s together to watch the fireworks or maybe fall asleep before it even reached midnight. Whatever it was, Arisu seemed to be on board. He liked coming over and staying with you, anyway.

The sun had long set and the stars were bright.

“Has it been a while since you saw fireworks?”

“Logically, yes. Somehow it doesn’t feel that long.”

Arisu hummed in agreement. “Same. Weird, huh?”

You laughed. “After everything? Honestly, not that much.”

Arisu chuckled and leaned back against the couch on your apartment balcony. It was a funny feeling to be thankful something as unbelievable as meteors crashing down on Tokyo and nearly killing you happened. It was a funny thing to love someone so much you’d be alright going through all the pain again if it meant meeting them again.

Arisu felt it too. Something way longer than the minute the doctors had told him about. Something like a lifetime of suffering spent alongside someone he held dear. Someone who helped him stay alive and not give up. Someone who sat at his side, watching fireworks in comforting silence. Someone he always felt close to without knowing why.

There was something both nostalgic and comforting about the fireworks. You couldn’t tell why exactly.

When Arisu’s hand timidly reached over to hold yours, you felt like it always belonged there, telling you all the things he didn’t dare say out loud.

I think I love you.

You tightened your hand around his and took a deep breath.

This is stupid but it feels like I’ve always known you.

Maybe the stars shining alongside the light of the fireworks had been kind enough to make the two of you meet again. Or perhaps the red scars that circled around your pinkies like rings were made with fate. Either way, you were meant to be.

[smuttyfang]

The Ghost Team Bunny

Chapter 1: The Contract

You are contracted by Simon "Ghost" Riley to "comfort" him and his men. You'll be their ear, their kindness, their warmth as they suffer the harsh realities of war. Oh, and you’ll be sleeping with them too. They will all come to meet more to you than you could ever imagine. And they'll come to care for you, too. And Simon.. what will he come to think of you?

Will include some of the original story characters from time to time. Also includes men than I have created for Ghost Team. Simon is older in this, and commands his own team of men more than going on missions himself.

Words: 4,407

As you sit in your favorite little coffee shop drinking your usual favorite, you look at the contract on your phone screen. You looked at it occasionally, then looked away for a while. Only for your gaze to return to it. To be drawn back to it. Were you seriously considering this?

You stared at the application, realizing how vague it was. However, considering you always looked at your own contracts for OnlyFans and never felt the need to hire your own lawyer, you knew the application was hinting at something more.

It was a military contract, yes. Supposedly for a ‘mental health advocate’. The application stated that you would have to give yourself to a certain group in the military. You’d be their ear, their comfort. There to listen. Always on the base with them when they need you. But it was more than obvious to you that it was more than that. How did most men like to deal with their emotions? Sex. You knew that better than anyone in your time doing OnlyFans.

Something about the whole thing piqued your curiosity. Not only was it interesting, but the application was sent directly to you. You assumed someone had found your email through your OnlyFans and decided to contact you. You hated to admit it, but being a sexual comfort to a bunch of big military men was honestly a huge fantasy for you. All those tough and powerful men desiring you.. it made you feel anxious and excited. And truly.. you felt something for those poor military men who paid to talk to you on the site. They’d always tell you the most horrific things that have happened to them in their time serving, and they’d usually just want you to listen. They didn't seem to have anyone that they could talk to. You imagined ‘talking about your feelings’ amongst those military men was probably frowned upon or not taken seriously. You felt for them. You liked helping them.

You sigh, just giving in and telling them you were interested. You send the email, taking a few more sips of your coffee. Within a few minutes, you were getting a phone call. It was an unknown number. You answer it.

“Hello?” You say. A voice speaks from the other line, a dark, deep British accent.

“This is the one who contacted you about the job.” He says bluntly. “Can you come by and meet me this evening?” He asks. You were a bit shocked, listening to this happening so quickly already.

“Yeah, absolutely. When should I be there? And.. where?” You ask. You hear a bit of rustling in the background and another man speaking.

“You’re at the coffee shop downtown, right? The one with the red roof.” You should be surprised, but these people are the military. It’s not shocking at all that they would watch you if they were interested in you.

“I am.” You say, looking around the room and wondering if anyone inside was the one keeping an eye on you. Everyone looked fairly normal..

“I have someone who can pick you up. He will be there in five.” The man tells you, bluntly. He seems very cold and off putting. His British accent intrigued you.

“Alright.” You tell him. He immediately hangs up without saying goodbye. You shake your head, sighing. You knew from your OnlyFans that military men could be.. odd sometimes. You couldn’t exactly find it surprising. Exactly five minutes pass by, and you see a sleek black car park right in front of the shop. A man exits the passenger side. He’s wearing military gear, but doesn’t seem to have any weapons on him directly. He points at you through the window and motions his finger for you to come to him. You toss your coffee cup into the trash, walking outside to meet the man.

“Hello.” You say to the man. He is wearing sunglasses and you’re unable to tell where he is looking. He walks to the back of the vehicle, opening the back door for you. You awkwardly smile at him as you get inside. He gets back inside, and motions for the driver to take off. Neither of them seem to pay much attention to you. You want to talk, but aren’t sure if you should. You can’t tell if either of them are looking back at you in the mirror or not. With the sunglasses they were wearing, it felt like they could have been staring you down the whole time.. You do your best to stay composed in front of them. It doesn’t take long for you to arrive at what was clearly a military base outside of town. It was well lit, with soldiers walking around and lining the tips of the walls holding their guns. The car pulls up to a checkpoint. The man in the driver's seat talks to the man at the checkpoint. The man outside peeks into the back of the car to look at you. You see a slight smirk on his face as he tells them to go on inside. The car then pulls up to a huge guarded front door. Both men step out, as one of them opens the back door and allows you out.

“Follow me.” The man says coldly. You follow the man through the large doors, past the guards. You feel their gaze on you, their heads following you every step you take. You follow the man through long hallways, up flights of stairs. You notice the men you pass by just staring at you. Staring at you like they hadn’t seen a woman in ages. They looked hungry . Like.. animals . Something about it excited you to the very core. You gulped as you watched them all. You smiled and waved sweetly at some of them, who would then practically eye hump you as you walked by. Some of them even began stepping closer to you, but then the man leading you would shoo them away. He suddenly stops in front of a door in the middle of a long hallway. “Boss is in here.” He motions his head toward the door. You nod your head.

“Uh, thank you..” You say quietly. You silently open the door. As you step inside, you find a man with a skull mask sitting at a desk. The room is barren, only having two chairs and the desk. It’s all gray and plain. The man’s gaze is so cold and almost unnerving. His arm is covered in tattoos. You step inside fully and shut the door behind you. The man is sitting there, unmoving. It makes you freeze.

“Have a seat.” The man says. You compose yourself, smiling and walking to the opposite side of his desk and sitting down in the other chair. You can tell by his accent, this is the one you had spoken to over the phone.

“It’s nice to meet you..” You trail off, wanting to know his name.

“Ghost.” He says, still cold. Still unmoving. You nod your head.

“Okay, Ghost..” You clear your throat. “How did you find me? I mean.. why are you offering this job to me?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Few of my men like you. They told me about you.” He admits. “They’re quite fond of that.. stuff you make online.” He still isn’t showing you much emotion. You smile, trying to be friendly.

“I’m glad to hear that.” You say, sweetly. “Have you.. looked at my stuff yourself?” You asked curiously.

“No. Real thing is better.” He is.. confusing. He says it like he’s hitting on you, but it still just sounds so cold. His eyes still don’t move. He was incredibly hard for you to read.

“Okay..” You say, breathing out shakily. “I can tell by the vagueness of the wording in the contract there’s something more involved.” He nods his head.

“We knew you were capable of reading between the lines.” They must have spent a lot of time researching you.

“Tell me what’s between them, then.” You say. He still looks at you, it’s unnerving how still he is.

“You’re going to be a comfort to me and my men. You’ll also be a reward for them, if they do well. You can interpret that however you like.” He says, bluntly.

“I’m going to be sleeping with them?” You ask.

“Sleeping with them. Talking to them. Letting them vent. Whatever they need.” He tells you.

“Okay..” You say slowly, trying to process the whole situation. “Military men are dangerous and downright scary sometimes, Ghost.” You tell him. “You don't see the things some of them say they would like to do to me.” You’re reminded of some horrifying comments you have seen from military men on your videos. Some of them have really gory and horrifying fantasies that make you shiver when you think about them.

“I assure you, that was not any of my men. I made sure of that first. My men.. like you. Some of them tell me you’ve comforted them online before.” You think for a moment, remembering chatting with some military men who had been through a lot.

“Yeah.. not sure which ones of course, but I have. I enjoy.. I like helping them feel better.” You tell him. You truly did. It broke your heart when you’d get a message from a man who admitted he had lost his friends in a war. Sometimes they didn’t even want to talk to you sexually. They just wanted you to listen. Ghost stays silent. “So.. it says I’ll be staying here.” He nods his head. “Where?”

“In my quarters.” He says, bluntly. “You won’t sleep in any other bed but mine. You may have other men in my bed, but you will never sleep elsewhere.”

“Will I have protection when walking around the base?” You ask. He sighs.

“Let me make it all clear to you. You will belong to me before anyone else. You’ll never leave my side. None of my men will talk to you or spend any time with you without my permission. You will please me, before anyone else.”

“And if you have to leave the base?” You ask, just trying to gauge your situation here.

“I don’t leave very often. I'm getting old.” He admits. “If I ever do, a few of my most trusted men will protect you.” I think for a while, watching his eyes. He did well hiding any emotion he was feeling.

“Why do you want me near you all the time?” You ask.

“My men respect me above all else. If you want to be protected, and respected, you would do best to stay with me.” You think again for a long time, weighing your options.

“What about my things? My home?” You ask.

“My men will get your things for you. You can keep your home, we know you have it paid for already.” You smile, impressed at their research into you.

“Okay.. what about my OnlyFans?” You ask.

“That will have to end, for the time being. We need to discuss that later on, once I know I can trust you. But you will never post anything that exposes any of my men. Or that you are on a military base. Period.” He says, almost looking at you angrily. It sent shivers down your spine. You quickly compose yourself though.

“That is understandable.” You tell him. “I can.. tell my followers I’m just taking a break so they don’t worry.” He nods his head.

“If that’s what you choose.” You both sit there in silence for a while. It seemed like he was giving you time to think.

“I..” You find yourself at a loss for words.

“All your needs will be met.” He starts. “It might not be luxurious, but you can make a difference in the lives of these men who need someone like you around. My men are the strongest out there. They have the most grief alongside that.” He pulls at your heartstrings with those words. Comforting people always made you feel like you had a purpose in life.

“It’s.. very kind that you want to do something like this for your men.” You tell him. He seems a bit taken aback by your words.

“Kind?” He repeats the words like he’s never been called that before. Something in his eyes changed in that moment. He quickly returns back to his cold demeanor, and his eyes go icy again. “So. What do you choose?” You think for a moment, sighing. You pull your phone out of your pocket. You see that your signal is entirely gone. “Your phone won’t work here.” He tells you. “I’ll have one of my men make a post on your fan thing.” He didn’t seem to know much about the internet. “Post a picture you’ve already posted before, tell them you’re taking a break. Right?” He asks.

“Yeah. I’ve done it before a few times, so.. it won't seem too strange.”

“So you say yes?” He asks. You breathe out shakily, feeling like you might be crazy for this.

“Yes. I'll do it. If I can offer some comfort..” You tell him. He stands up, taking your phone from your hand. He opens the door, giving it to the man who led you there. He talks to him quietly before closing the door and returning to you.

“He will go off base and do it. Your phone will be kept safe, but you can’t have it for now. I need to know I can trust you.”

“I understand, Ghost.”

“Simon.” He tells you. “It’s Simon, now.” You smile at him sweetly.

“Okay.. it's nice to meet you then, Simon.” He looks you up and down before motioning for you to follow him. He shows you through another door past his office. It opens up into a quaint little living room. He has a small kitchen connected to it. Beyond that, he shows you to another room. It’s a nice little bedroom with a connected bathroom. He had the bare minimum of comfort in every room, not a single decoration anywhere. The only unique thing was his bathtub, which was quite large. The rooms were gray and simple, just like his office.

“My men will bring all your things here tomorrow. After they disable any possible internet connections to any of them.” He says. “You got anything like that?” He asks, watching you as you look around.

“Just some gaming consoles.” You tell him.

“You can have ‘em. Without the internet.” He says. You nod your head.

“Yeah, I get it. I understand.” You say. When you finish looking around, you return to him. “You have a large tub.” You say, smiling. “I like it.”

“I’m a large man.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. Boy, was he right. He had a large frame, and you were just now realizing it. He clearly catches you eyeballing him.

“Would you.. will your men bring my furniture?” You ask. He looks at you a little strangely.

“Why would you need that? I have a bed and a couch.” He says, crossing his arms.

“I know.. my bed was very expensive though. If you’d.. like something more comfortable.” You clear your throat. “My couch was, too..” You add on. You swear you could have heard him chuckle just a bit, but you weren’t too sure. His expression was still hidden by his mask, and you could only see his eyes.

“I’ll tell them to bring both, then. I’ll see how comfortable this expensive bed is.” You smile at him.

“I’m grateful. Thank you Ghost.. I mean, Simon.” He nods his head, going to sit on his couch. He sighs, resting his head back.

“Well? Show me.” He says out of nowhere. You look at him strangely.

“Show you what?” You ask.

“I need your comfort.” He says. Is he.. teasing you? “So comfort me.”

“Okay..” You say, walking over to him as he sits on the couch. His legs were spread open. You get down on the floor between his knees, placing your hands on his thighs. “I’m assuming this is the kind of comfort you’re really looking for.” He looks down at you, a hint of something in his eyes.. something like.. playfulness.

“What gave you that idea?” He says, pushing his hips closer to you. You chuckle.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” You slowly move your hands up his muscular thighs. He sighs at your touch, letting his head rest against the back of the couch again. His eyes close. You move your hands up, softly rubbing him outside of his pants. He groans at your touch, moving his hips just slightly. You were determined to get a reaction out of this seemingly emotionless man. You press your lips to the outside of his pants, teasing him. You kiss and lick him through the pants, making him still shift his hips a little. He looks back down at you, his gaze still just as icy and cold. He watches you as you take his zipper into your mouth, slowly tugging it down with your teeth. You smile up at him as you take out his cock. Your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s.. incredible. A perfect length and size. He still watches you silently as you take it into your mouth. You tease the head of it with your tongue before sliding as much of it as you can into your mouth. You fit as much of it as you can, still having some left too. You use your hand to take care of the rest of the length as you begin bobbing up and down on him. You close your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of it. Soon though, you hear him snapping right in front of your face. It makes you open your eyes suddenly to see him glaring.

“Don’t look away from me.” He demands it. Demands it darkly. You nod your head quickly before you continue. His complete and total domineering attitude over you made you feel more excited than you had ever felt in a long time. You kept your eyes on him, pleasing him. You felt that he was getting close soon after you started, feeling him shifting more and grunting. He soon came into your mouth without much warning. The warm liquid seeps down your throat, and you happily swallow every bit of it. He throws his head back, riding out the feeling of the orgasm. He then slowly looks back down at you, with glazed over eyes. “Good girl..” He coos. You feel yourself clench hearing those words come from his mouth. You audibly moan, just slightly. Making him chuckle. Just a little. “Like hearing that, do you?” You nod your head. He motions his head toward the bedroom. “Good to know. Go on. Get undressed.”

“Okay.” You say as you stand up. He suddenly grabs you by the wrist.

“You should hear how I want you to address me.” He says, with his icy gaze still watching you. You nod your head. “For now.. you call me sir. Or Simon. Do you understand?” You nod your head again.

“Yes, sir..” You say. For now? Maybe it could change in the future. He motions his head for the bedroom again. You nod your head, walking in and beginning to undress. Once you started, you realized he was just standing in the doorway, leaning and watching you undress. You never felt nervous getting naked. Not in a very long time. So why did you feel nervous now? Knowing he was watching you filled you with excitement and anxiousness. You fully undress yourself, now naked in front of him. He motions for you to get on the bed.

“On your knees..” He says, almost purring the words. Something about it made you feel so turned on. So excited. You complied, getting on your knees for him. You feel him behind you, and you can feel his eyes on you. You never hear him remove his clothing fully. You only feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh as it drips on you. “You belong to me before anyone else. Do you understand that?” He asks, rubbing his cock all along your slit. It makes you shiver with anticipation.

“Yes, yes.. sir..” You barely get the words out. You begin wiggling your ass at him.

“That desperate are you? Maybe my men were right.. you’re going to be very well liked around here.” He begins slowly pushing his cock into you. You gasp out against the bedsheets for him, then moaning loudly as he sheaths himself inside of you fully. You feel so full and overwhelmed with the sensations of him. His dominating presence behind you made you feel even more turned on by him. You were already soaked, dripping all over his cock, and down to the bed. He chuckles. “My god, you’re soaked already.” You were unable to respond, reeling from the pleasure as he began thrusting in and out of you with force and speed. He grasped your ass with his hand, pulling you back against him hard. He was not gentle. Not in the slightest. But god it felt good. It felt incredible. His strength was immaculate. He forced you wherever he wanted your ass to be, and it was so exciting. He thrusted against you almost painfully so, smacking against your backside hard. His tattooed arm reaches forward, grabbing you around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, he only pulls you back so that you aren’t hiding your face in the bed.

“F-fuck..” Is all you can choke out.

“Don’t hide those pretty noises. Let my men hear you.” With his hand around your throat, you were unable to hold back any noises you made. You screamed out for him, cursing and swearing over and over again. He went for what felt like hours.. the man had the stamina of a bull. It felt so good even so. Even though your skin was stinging from the slapping of his skin against yours, even though the sides of your throat became bruised by his fingers, you’d never felt so phenomenal in your entire life.

“S-siiimoonn..” You call out his name, only making him work even harder. Without any warning, he pressed your backside against him hard one last time. You felt him cumming inside of you. His seed filled you completely, spilling out of the sides. You lay there breathless as he doesn’t move, finishing out his orgasm. He pulls out of you slowly, grunting as he does so.

“Good girl..” He says again, making you smile and clench once again. He chuckles a little seeing this. “Go clean up and then come to bed.” He says, returning back to that cold man he was to begin with. He leaves the bedroom completely, returning to his office. You were now left alone, still breathless and shaking with pleasure. You gather your composure after a minute, dropping your legs and trying to stand. Your legs wobble as you walk to the bathroom. You run a bath for yourself, sitting down in the water. Only when you sit do you realize your skin is still stinging on your ass.

“Ow..” You whimper as you sit down more slowly. It hurt, but you really honestly liked the feeling of it. It made you feel accomplished. You bathe yourself, enjoying the large tub and the hot water healing your sore skin. Once you were finished, you realized you didn’t have any clothing to wear. You looked around to see if Simon had returned. He still seemed to be in his office. Afraid to open the door, you return back to the bedroom, lying down on the bed. Your body feels tired after that session with him, and you start to drift off to sleep. Before you do though, you hear Simon return. You pretend to be fully asleep, wondering what he was going to do. He walks into the bedroom and finds you there.

“I know you’re still awake.” He says, making you sigh.

“You’re not easy to fool are you?” You jokingly ask. He pulls most of his clothes off now, leaving a tank top, shorts, and his balaclava. “Don’t you want to take that off?” You ask. He glares at you.

“No. I don’t.” He says, blunt and cold like always. “I’ll return in a minute.” He goes into the bathroom and locks the door. You hear the water running for a few minutes before he quickly returns to you. Still wearing the same thing. He must have taken his balaclava off to wash, as his face looked wet. He climbs into bed next to you, resting his head on his arm. He closes his eyes, facing the ceiling.

“Okay..” You say, curious but also afraid to ask more about his mask and make him upset. “What will I be doing tomorrow?” He keeps his eyes closed as he talks.

“Giving a reward to two of my best men. Your comfort, if you will. They deserve it.” You nod your head.

“Okay. Both of them? At the same time?” He breathes out in a huff.

“Yes. And I’ll be observing.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re going to watch me fuck your men?” He shakes his head.

“No. I’m going to watch them fuck you.” He opens one eye again to look at you for a moment. “Nobody will be with you unless I’m watching. Do you understand?” He asks, looking dead serious with that icy cold stare. It sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes.. I understand.” You sigh, letting the tiredness finally take over your body. You scoot closer to him, wrapping your arm around his. He opens an eye and looks at you, but then closes it back. “Is this okay?” You ask him, wanting reassurance.

“Do whatever you like.” He says nonchalantly. You stay like that, cuddling his arm for your own kind of comfort. You both fall asleep like this, barely.. kind of.. cuddling. Something about his coldness made you feel the desire to break down his shell. Get past his walls. There was more to him than he was letting on. And you were determined to find out what it was.

And.. did he say two of his men? At once?

AO3

Tags: @abbiesxox

[miss-andromeda]

Standing Alone In A Crowded Room

Universe: TMNT 2012

Turtle of Choice: Donatello

Prompt: Character A is found by Character B crying themselves to sleep.

Song Inspirations: The Story Of Us (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift, What If It Doesn’t End Well by chloe moriondo

This is non-canon, though if it were, it would take place in season 2, so Andi and Donnie are in a relationship.

----------

A gentle knock at the lab door didn’t stop Donnie from welding together the pieces of scrap metal as he merely called out a “what is it?” That earned him a snicker (which immediately made him put down the blowtorch) and a “wow, way to greet your girlfriend, Don.”

That made him look up at the girl in the doorway, making him subconsciously smile. “Hey, you, how was school?” He asked, standing up and going to kiss her as a greeting. 

Once he pulled away, Andi smiled up at him as she put her backpack down and put her rosy pink cardigan on top of it. “Pretty good, though I have something to ask.” She told him, making Donnie nod and lead her over to the lab desk so she could sit next to him. 

After they were both sitting down (and Donnie was giving her his full attention,) she took a breath and smiled softly at him. “So, uh…Roosevelt’s hosting a dance this Saturday at 7 pm, and I figured, since, you know, we’re dating, that…maybe you could, um…go with me? You can use that watch again and be my date.”

Donnie was immediately about to nod and smile, but then he remembered the day and gave her an apologetic look. “Hon, you know I absolutely would in a heartbeat, but I can’t. We have patrol in the evening, and then I need to finish working on this new upgrade of the shuriken stars we always use. I’m thinking of seeing if I can add a type of oxidizer, kind of like a smoke bomb and a throwing star rolled into one.” He explained, but sighed at the sad look on her face. He hated seeing her like that. “You know I would absolutely go if I could, but it’s super important that I have them done by then.”

“I know.” Andi mumbled, standing up to grab her backpack so she could start her calculus homework. “I was just…looking forward to going with you.” She admitted, making Donnie lean in and give her an apologetic kiss on the cheek. 

“I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

----------

The next day found Andi walking alone to lunch - April had decided to stay after biology for extra credit and knowing Casey, he was being chastised by Mrs. Biers, his and April’s trig teacher, for being on the fringes of failing…again. 

Ah, she’d deal with him when the time came. 

She spared a glance at her purple binder (she had decided to bring some work while she waited for her friends…well, friend and Casey) and smiled to herself at the little picture she’d taken of Donnie, where he was in the middle of reading a book to her on the rare time they decided to have some downtime. 

Even when she was a little upset with him, she could never stay mad at him for too long.

“Hey, Andi! Can I talk to you?” 

She was stopped from walking as she caught a glimpse of shaggy, light brown hair running toward her. He looked…vaguely familiar, his name was…Josh, right?

“Hi.” His smile reminded her of Donnie, maybe it was because of the slight dorkiness of it or the fact that just like him, he had a gap as well. 

“Uh, hi, um…why did you want to talk to me?” She asked, slightly confused.

“Oh, right! I wanted to ask you something! About the dance this Saturday! Um, do you have a date?”

Andi’s heart dropped at that. “I, um…thought I did.” When Josh gave her a sympathetic look, she shook her head. “Long story. So what, do you want to go with me or something?”

At the question, Josh’s hazel eyes lit up and a smile graced his face. “Yeah, I do! You seem like a nice girl, and I wanna get to know you a little better! And what better way to do that than to take you to a dance?”

Andi hesitated at that. It sounded and felt wrong to agree…but at the same time, she wasn’t going with Donnie anytime soon. 

But she needed to make one thing clear. “If we go, we go as friends. I have a boyfriend, and the last thing I want him to think is that you and I are going as a couple.” She then looked directly in his eyes. “And if you try anything, you’re a dead man, you hear me?”

Seemingly unphased by her bluntness, Josh gave her a confident smile. “Got it! Yeah, we’ll just go as friends, no romantic motives here!”

Andi stared at him for a moment at the odd choice of wording, but finally nodded and gave in, writing down her number and address on a piece of scrap paper, then handing it to him. “Pick me up at my apartment at 6:30, okay?”

Josh gave her another smile as he pocketed the paper. “Yeah, sounds like a plan!”

“Cool, okay, um…well, I’ve got to get to lunch, my friends are probably waiting for me. Bye.” Andi gave him a slightly awkward wave as she walked away, immediately staring at the picture again. It somehow felt gross and weird again…but at the same time, there was only so much she could do in a situation with this. She already told him that they were strictly going as friends, so if he made any moves on her, that was on him. She could just hold her gun to him and that would get him off her back, and then she could just leave and tell Donnie what happened.

And speaking of Donnie…how was she going to explain it to him? She wasn’t necessarily cheating, but still…it just felt weird.

She let out a little sigh at the thought. This was going to be interesting to spell out…

----------

Standing in front of the lab door never felt more intimidating. But she had to be honest with him, the worst thing he could do was get frustrated with her…

But that was the thing. She hated when he was frustrated with her, especially because of something she did. 

A deep, quiet sigh left her lips one more time as she bit the bullet and knocked on the door. Once again, another “what is it?” was heard from the other side, making her smile weakly. “Can I come in?”

She could practically hear his lips quirk into a smile as he replied, “Yeah, of course, hon!” She held her breath as she pushed the door open, meeting his bright eyes with her guilty, green ones. “Hey.”

Immediately, Donnie’s eyes shifted from joyous to concerned - and so did his tone. “Are you okay? You look pensive.” 

Andi’s automatic response was to say she was fine, but she knew if she did, Donnie would tell her she was hiding something - and that would make things even worse. She shook her head and walked over to the lab desk, sitting next to him. “I, um…need to tell you something.”

His gaze then became more concerned as he placed a hand on her back comfortingly. “Of course, what’s going on?”

That little touch made her want to cry. 

“I, um…” She sighed and bit the bullet again, looking down at the table. “There was this kid earlier today, he, um…came up to me, and asked if I had a date to the dance this Saturday. I, uh…I said no.” At that, she could feel his touch leave her back, making her want to start crying again. “And then he asked if I wanted to go with him, and I said yes, but I made it clear that we were going as friends only.”

When she looked back up, Donnie was looking away from her - his eyes stormy and misty from unshed tears. “But…you still said yes?”

“Yes, but we’re only going as-”

“I don’t care what you’re going as!” His tone turned angry as his head snapped over to look at her. “You’re gonna be some other guy’s girlfriend for the night?”

Stunned, Andi shook her head. “It’s not like that! I explicitly told him that he’d better not try anything with me, and that I have a boyfriend!”

“That’s right, you have a boyfriend. But I guess you forgot about that when you agreed to be that guy’s date! What, just because I told you I couldn’t do something with you this one time, that means you have the right to be some other guy’s girlfriend for the night?!”

Now Andi was starting to get irritated as she angrily stood up. “What part of ‘we’re going as friends’ do you not understand, you idiot?! I only agreed because I knew he was going to bother me about it, and I made sure he knows that it’s only platonic! It doesn’t mean anything!”

Donnie stood up next to her, his eyes blazing with anger. And out of anger, he said the one thing that he knew would hurt her:

“Sure doesn’t seem like it.”

Immediately, her face dropped and tears filled her eyes, but her face got red with anger. “Are you actually accusing me of not loving you anymore?” She told him, her voice quiet but filled with rage.

While Donnie’s heart split at seeing her cry (especially because of him,) he was still more hurt and angry than remorseful in the moment. “If you really did love me, Andromeda, you never would’ve accepted that guy’s offer to take you out.”

She scoffed and shook her head, tears now freely falling. “You know what? Forget you, Donatello. I’m going with him. I bet he’d be more fun than you would ever be.”

More hurt and anger controlled what he said - even if he knew that he would never mean what he said in a million years. “You know what, he probably is. If anything happens, don’t bother letting me know. Clearly your new boyfriend has you taken care of.”

Andi only scoffed, grabbed her bag and stormed out of the lair.

----------

And before either of them knew it, Saturday evening was here. 

They hadn’t talked since the fight - no calls, no video chat, no texts, nothing. Both of them were practically waiting for the other to just give in and reach out - and when that wouldn’t be the case, they would both do their best to try and go on with their day, their hearts breaking as they did so. 

As expected, Donnie had filled the void with experimenting - but it felt a bit more empty without seeing Andi alongside him. Her witty humor, sarcastic remarks, bright laugh…she added a new layer that Donnie had gotten comfortably used to when he was working. 

Without her, it felt like a piece of his scientific mind was missing. 

But then he glanced at the time and, seeing it was 6:30 pm, he rolled his eyes and went back to his work. Andi’s date would likely be picking her up soon…just the thought filled him with jealousy again. Someone else, touching his beautiful girlfriend…

He shook the thought out of his mind before he got even more distracted. She made her decision, and now he was making his. 

And even if he knew that he was being petty, he didn’t necessarily care at the moment. 

It was the principle that mattered…even if it was a pretty stupid principle.

----------

Meanwhile, Andi had just finished getting herself ready (the makeup took her longer than expected) and had just walked into the living room, her 2-inch heels clacking softly against the wooden floor. She looked nice - even if internally, she felt conflicted to the fourth degree. 

She still felt guilty about accepting Josh’s invitation, but at the same time…Donnie had said he wasn’t going with her. And why was she about to stop herself from enjoying her night when someone else (and seemingly, a perfectly normal someone else) offered to be her date - even if they were just going as friends?

It was the principle that mattered. 

And besides, there was something oddly cathartic about going to a party (or in this case, a school dance) after getting in a fight with him. Obviously, she wasn’t going to do anything she would really regret (and risk losing him for good,) but the idea of seeing her friends (or rather, friend and Casey - again) dressed up, dancing to the most popular songs and getting to know someone in Josh…didn’t seem like a bad idea. 

Maybe after the night was over, Donnie would wisen up and send an apology. 

Taking a breath in the mirror, Andi did a final one-over at herself. Her dress was cute; a pink hem dress with a high a-line - even if seeing his necklace made her heart crack. Her hair was teased and in a high ponytail, and a matching pink ribbon was tied into a bow to secure it. And her makeup…it took time, but she pulled it off. Much like what April normally did for her, a neutral look was the way to go for her. Foundation, concealer, pink lip gloss - but what was different (and what she was surprised that she pulled off) was the winged eyeliner and mascara that made her green eyes pop.

It made her look even better than she thought she would. 

She checked her phone (and after rolling her eyes at no contact from Donnie,) she saw the time - 6:40 pm. While she was a bit miffed that he was late, she could excuse it. He was probably running late and was on his way now. 

Still, it would’ve been nice to have a heads up. 

Deciding not to check her phone again, she grabbed her copy of War and Peace and continued reading; maybe by the time she finished a chapter, she would get some type of heads up from Josh, or better yet, he would be knocking on her door. 

“In the count’s room, which was full of tobacco smoke, they talked of the war that had been announced in a manifesto, and about the recruiting. None of them had yet seen the manifesto, but they all knew it had appeared.”

----------

“Gone? That’s all right!” said he; and looking angrily at the unconscious little princess, he shook his head reprovingly and slammed the door.”

10 chapters later, and still no Josh. 

Angrily closing her book, Andi grabbed her phone - for two reasons this time. The time (which was now 7:45 pm), and to demand some answers. 

She saw the missed messages from April, stemming from ‘Aren’t you on your way?’ to ‘Want me and Casey to come get you?’ to ‘Andi seriously, let me know what’s going on’.

She only responded with, ‘I’m calling him now. Don’t think I’m gonna come, because if I see him, I’ll beat his face in.’

She then used the number Josh had used to text her days before and called, her face red with anger. She was just about to start demanding where he was when he answered with a “hello?”, but then stopped when he heard another voice next to him. 

A girl’s voice. 

“Uh, did you forget we were supposed to go together? What happened to that?” She told him, her tone inches away from boiling over into full-blown anger.

“Oh, yeah, uh…look, Andi…I wasn’t really serious when I asked that. Uh, can I explain?”

Andi rolled her eyes and scoffed at the wording. ”Yeah, I’d like an explanation.”

“So look, I only asked you if you’d go with me ‘cause…well, then I could tell everyone I got another girl to be my date. And it spread to Becca, you know her, and…well, she told me yesterday that she wanted to get back with me, and she missed me, and I ended up askin’ her. I didn’t really know how to tell you, so I just…didn’t.”

At the explanation (and the half-baked way he said it,) Andi had to hold back from calling him as many expletives as she could think up. “So I was just a-”

Before she could say ‘rebound,’ Josh hung up on her, leaving her stunned for a second. 

And then she started to cry.

Throwing her phone aside, she grabbed a pillow to stuff her face into it (she was so relieved it could be washed), sniffling and whimpering pathetically. It wasn’t that she was angry because she had feelings for him - honestly, she couldn’t care less about him. 

It was two different reasons: she hated feeling used (and for such a dumb reason as being a rebound,) and that this was the reason she and Donnie had gotten into that fight. 

Donnie…just remembering him made Andi’s head shoot up, her pillow now stained with mascara. 

Now it was being used to catch more mascara-laden tears as she grabbed her phone again and went to the messages app. She was tempted to text April first and explain what was going on, but she stopped herself. 

Right now, she needed her turtle. 

So instead of going to April’s contact name, she went to Donnie’s and typed in a message for him:

‘Hey…look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but hear me out. I’m so sorry for what happened, it was really selfish of me to accept his offer to the dance. I was too focused on having a good time that I didn’t even think about you. Makes sense why you would think that way, it does look a little bad when your girlfriend is going as someone else’s date, friend or not. 

The other reason I’m sending this is because…I’m home. That boy ended up being a real jerk, and he flat-out told me he was just using me - and then ended up standing me up. I understand if you don’t want to, but if you could come over…it would really help. 

And if it helps…I love you.’

She sniffled as she sent the message, then immediately put her phone down and curled up on the couch, closing her eyes.

It wasn’t like she expected a response.

----------

Donnie read the message three times over just to ensure that he wasn’t hallucinating. 

All of his frustration and anger towards her faded away as he read it over - she apologized (which he was appreciative of,) but then it came back as he kept going. 

But not to her, to that simpleton who thought it was okay to stand her up. 

He was about to send back a reply, but went against it - deciding it was smarter to do what she asked and run to her. 

Hopefully she was still in a mood to see him.

----------

By the time he made it, his heart split at the sight.

Andi was still in her dress, but her makeup was smudged and messy and her ribbon had been discarded on the table. Her heels had been tossed to the side - right by the door, And she looked to be…quietly snoring.

And if he looked closely, he could see faded mascara lines on her cheeks and on her pillow. 

If he didn’t feel like scum before, he absolutely did now.

Quietly opening the window, he crept inside and walked over to her, gently shaking her shoulder. When she jumped awake, he gave her an apologetic look. “Hi.”

“Don…?”

“It’s me, enchantress.”

The room was quiet as Donnie stepped in front of her, then kneeled down to face her and grab her hands. “I got your message.”

“You did?”

He only nodded. “I am so sorry for what happened. I was being jealous for no reason and I wasn’t bothering to listen and hear you out. I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt…believe me, I know you would never do anything to hurt me in a million years. It was just…the idea of you being with someone else, even if it was only platonic…it hurt. But instead of telling you that, and having a normal conversation about it, I just…” He sighed as he squeezed her hands, his gaze averting to the floor. “I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“It’s okay, I forgive you.” She whispered, letting go of one of his hands to tilt his head back up to look her in the eyes. “You mean everything to me, professor, and I don’t want one stupid fight to end us. Especially when we can both make sure that it doesn’t get to this point. I need to be more considerate about your feelings, and not just act on my own volition, and you need to remember to trust me. I understand where you’re coming from, but I mean it when I say I never want to be the source of your pain. You’re the center of my solar system, and the last thing I want is to lose the sun that all my planets revolve around.”

Donnie gave her a weak smile as he grabbed the hand resting under his chin, then pulled her in to rest their foreheads together. “I love you. More than anything.” He whispered, making her tearfully smile back. 

“I love you too.”

He leaned in to kiss her, the now sticky lip gloss being as apparent as ever. But in the moment, he didn’t mind it. Normally, he wouldn’t love the feeling lingering on his lips after he pulled away from her - but after what they had gone through in the past few days, he welcomed it with open arms.

Anything that told him that Andi forgave him and that they were going to be okay.

After what felt like forever, he finally pulled away and gave her another little smile. “Do you want me to stay over? You can change into some pajamas and we’ll just hang out for the night.” 

For the first time that night, she smiled back. “I’d like that.” She replied, then gasped to herself when he helped her off the couch. “I’ll be in my room in a little bit.” She said, then took a breath as she went to grab some pajamas, and then went to the bathroom.

----------

And after an exceedingly long amount of time (the makeup had taken much longer to remove than she intended - and she wanted to take a shower to ensure that any residue was washed away,) Andi was finally finished. 

Wearing a white lace cami and pink shorts, and with her hair in a bun, she walked out of the bathroom and hung the dress up, looking at it pensively. “Shame I never got to wear it out, it’s a pretty one.” She commented, then walked over to Donnie, who was now sitting on the side of her bed. Giving him a little smile, she got under the covers and gestured for him to follow - and the pink tint on his cheeks made her giggle under her breath. “I’m not gonna bite, Don.”

“I-I know, it’s just…I’m never gonna get used to doing stuff like this.” He only replied, making her roll her eyes fondly. 

“Just come here and cuddle me, dummy.”

That finally made Donnie crack a smile and cave, getting under her bubblegum covers and pulling her into his arms. 

As if by magic, Andi let out a yawn as she snuggled closer. “I’m glad you came over…” She mumbled under her breath, closing her eyes. She hadn’t realized how tired she had become until now - and Donnie’s warmth and overall presence was absolutely not helping.

She subconsciously smiled when he kissed her on the forehead. “Go to sleep, hon, we’ll talk in the morning.” He softly told her, then bit back a laugh as she lightly nodded - falling asleep almost immediately. 

When he heard her softly snoring, he glanced over at the dress and smiled the same way she had before. If what had happened tonight…well, hadn’t happened, she would’ve looked beautiful in it. 

While he could breathe at the idea that they were able to talk about what happened, that didn’t mean that he was happy that such a nice outfit was basically wasted on a night like this - and he was doubly bothered that they couldn’t go to that dance together.

So that got him thinking.

She deserved to have a great night, wearing a beautiful outfit, and having her boyfriend right by her side. She especially deserved it after he was such a jerk to her the entire week…seriously, getting that jealous over some kid that would never have a chance with her in a million years - especially after that same kid turned out to be a dirtbag too?

Yeah, she definitely deserved him making it up to her. 

And that’s when ideas started to form…maybe a nice dinner in the lab? Or on her rooftop? And he could give her that dance that she likely wanted if they went tonight.

And it’d be even better because it would be just them. No brothers, no stupid kid to stand her up…just the two of them. 

He glanced at her sleeping face and managed a little smile, kissing her on the forehead again. 

That was definitely something to talk about in the morning.

----------

STS Takeover: September Edition! Hope y'all enjoy 🩷🩷

@thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @tinkabelle19 @eveandtheturtles @happymoonangel @kikithedreamerwriter @android-cap-007 @raphsmuneca

[masked-and-doomed]

heya do you got any oc's or anything? like funger oc's n stuff? i'm obsessed with oc's

*since this post mentions her relationship with pocketcat, implied csa warning. also she's depressed so suicide warning ig*

Also. this is 2k words. waow.

Not specifically funger OCs, but I do have a self insert character that I've put in the funger universe!

(the hair is supposed to be black btw it looks more brown to go better with the colour pallette)

I welcome you to- uh. Right. *Turns to face her* You don't have a name. It's been what, fuckin' 3 years? You still haven't decided anything? Oh, now it's kinda maybe meaningful for your character to have no name? Poetic shit? Yeah sure. *Turns back to face you* So, no name. For our sakes, I'll call her Unnamed Girl(ie). UG for short.

She was a human that suddenly got snatched from Earth and put into a white void. And she was trapped there. With memories of nothing. Why she has no name. Well she has some vague memories of her previous life, like her being fatherless, she doesn't remember any names, faces. Just some interactions.

We dunno what the hell happened to Earth nor her, really, all we can assume is that there's probably some sadistic ass higher being that's putting her through that shit? Watching her suffer every moment here. But, we never got to know. They don't really matter to us really, they've never showed up. Not important.

In the white void, she also gained. Some sort of Godhood? She got powers of some sort. So that's one upside. Downside with this is that she's immortal. And as you see, a white void. Is well. A white void. Nothin in it. Sure, she's made a room for herself to get comfy but then you start to go insane with the fact that you're isolated and that there's no one to talk to and you have no purpose in life and that it feels like you were an unwanted part of the universe that wasn't meant to ever be existing but yet you still do, and then erm she can't take it anymore and tries to. Off herself. Multiple times, in fact!

Too bad for her, immortality exists. Or perhaps better called, eternal youth. She hasn't aged since she got here. Perpetually 12, what a hell to be in, huh buddy? Fucked up thing to add on, the way her immortality works is that she suffers the wounds, damage, pain, before her body starts to regrow it back. (Usually like a minute but if she pushes it, it can be instantaneous.)

After a few days in the white void she starts conjuring up friends in her head to try and combat the eternal loneliness. Barely works. She's got three guys in her head, that talk to her from time to time. They're pretty flat and 2D in personality, UG really isn't that much of a creative girl.

(Oohh tumblr compression...)

So, with these characters, let's show you how horrible she is at naming, hm? We got the furry one, Kats. Sadistic and mean one. Guy with the hat is Meowzerz. Cheerleader, also tries to advise UG to be kind. Gas masked fellow is Koolmeow. Wild card, she does whatever she finds fun. Mostly burning things up.

Really shitty names for those last two. No wonder she hasn't picked a name for herself if these are the names she gave these mfs.

...

Well, fuck. Friends aren't really friend-ing great unfortunately. What to do?

Oh, lookie that. That's a buncha.. games and anime. Huh. Well, might as well get through them. All this white is awfully boring.

So after some days of hell, she got to see stories she's vaguely familiar with. Must been stories she experienced back in her previous life. Entertainment is entertainment.

With nothing else in the void really, she gets heavily attached to these media. Filling her time with making fanart and obsessing over the characters. Three in particular she got attached to, but only one of them is of importance considering where we're headed to in this timeline.

Ahh the cat. The horrid horrid cat. I mean she's a young child, having a man tell him she loves her even when it's just a character written by someone else to be a creepy piece of shit is. Well a charming and interesting specimen such as him sharing affection? She can't help but reciprocate back.

With all the time in this non-existence, she makes a whole shrine of shit. Plushies, posters, figures. She loves recreating his likeness and having something physical to hold. Well, she is most well versed in digital art. That she does remember about herself. She was an artist. And most of him is drawn in a computer over and over again. She has no other way to show her love other than to put him in silly situations and emulate how he reacts. Yes I do mean fanfiction. She has a lotta files of just art of him she made, you don't wanna know how big it is.

Even besides him, she's pretty enamoured with this world of Funger. She'd much rather go through that hell than this hell. At least you can die there. And things actually happen.

...

Oh? We can finally go out? After all this time?

You really did get to find a way out, Kats?

It's.. Ahah. The multiverse thing does actually exist, doesn't it? This.. this is the dungeon...

...

Ah, so much explaining her backstory and I haven't gotten to her personality! Well she's. Seriously mentally ill for one. Isolation for god knows how long and all that. I can only conclude Depression or some variation of it for now, though there is definitely another mental disorder at play here. Erm. We might never know. I don't think she'll ever go to therapy or a psychiatrist.

Due to her being in that void for so long, and with barely any memories, there's some things that she's real bad at. Of course, she retains her memory of how to walk, how to speak and communicate, and most basic human things.

However, this bitch cannot social interaction. How unfortunate, my friend.

She can be very blunt and clear with her words. Oh she also has this stupid thing where she's either really crass and informal or just talks fancy and with a thesaurus. Fucking weirdo. can't talk normal ever.

Next note, she has no respect for anyone. That's not to say she doesn't appreciate anyone's company, she definitely likes a good amount of people. Thing is, since she saw this all in a game she played and saw as fiction. Little dolls for her to play with. She never really got to get out of that thinking. Also that with her being some sorta higher being? Yeah, she thinks a little high of herself. Sometimes. Sometimes. (She also think she's the worst thing ever that existed lmao)

Adding on, she also possesses no self respect. No shame. No dignity. No regrets about anything ever. She just lives on. She's a very YOLO it is what it is kinda gal.

UG has a very normal perception of love. She thinks of violence as a sort of love language to her, she just wants to rip her beloveds to shreds. She also has an intense hatred for the cat, despite him being the one she loves most. The hatred plays along with her obsession of the cat. Also. Um. Yandere. yeah. She's obsessive. Isolation and all that. Makes you intensely crave affection and attention. And also being a child. Forever. Yeah she's quite an attention whore. (self label)

Other effects from the isolation also happen to be extreme boredom. She wants to do anything. In her life. And hey, she's got a lot if it to spare.. plany of time. It is mildly boring her that she knows she's most likely gonna win any battle with enemies but still, the experience of fighting is pretty banger. The adrenaline... Thrill seeking. Ahh... She loves fighting.

So um, with those last two paragraphs, she does normal things to both the party that dared step into the dungeon, and the termina contestants. She's normal about them. She is both heavily protective and extremely violent murder maim.

Ah, next thing! She's quite the contradictory thing. Mental disorder again, she can go from one extreme scale to another. Like her love and hatred, protecting her allies to killing them. High self confidence and self praise to self loathing. Sometimes a little bit of a hypocrite. She's weird.

Her morals are. Eh. Eh. Again, she both cares about everyone's lives yet is also apathetic. She doesn't mind murder too much, as she'll dirty her soul a lot through experiencing the funger universe. This. Image.

Everything might as well just be a game to her.

With all o' this. There's multiple timelines of her doing many different things because of how much she can vary and still be in character (well to me, at least). She can do so much. Silly girl.

--

That's all I can think of for now about personality! Little tidbits about her powers before onto the brief timeline. She has some future telling. If the future is far, she can see more possibilities it can go in, not giving an exact determined route of what will happen. If the future is soon, as in, will this guard swing at her right arm or her left arm in 5 seconds? She can check and the future will be certain, that it will be her left arm that will get cut if she doesn't prevent it.

Most of her powers stem from the other media she watched during the isolation period; she rarely uses the Gods' powers in funger purely to fuck around with it and also confuse smart asses. (enki)

--

After finding an escape from the white void, she wakes up in front of the.. dun dun dun... funger dungeons...

She does what any sane person would do and explores with glee.

They aren't really all that scary to a creature like her, only serving her to activate fight mode and get a rush.

She recruits everyone possible with her knowledge of these dungeons, and decides to change some things.

She approaches Pocketcat as she is done with her journey. There are no more battles to fight. No more exploration to be done in this dungeon. She is satisfied. The girl wishes for Pocketcat to eat her, since she hasn't tried that method of killing herself. (Also because she is crushing hard on this man and she knows he loves her too)

He instead gives a different proposal...

...

Remember how she's a sort of 'god' (but not in the funger way) and has OP ass powers? Well there's actually 2 drawbacks to them.

First one, it is quite exhausting. It is also exhausting just living and breathing in fact, but that's the mental disorders. She can go on long without rest but she will be extremely fatigued if she pushes. And my, she pushes a through a lot.

Second, there's one thing that nullifies her powers. Fear. But ah, with a soul like hers, it is quite difficult for her to fear anything. With problems in her way, she either brushes it over, gets enraged, or drowns in sorrow. How on earth could anything scare her?

Ahaha... Well a few actions made by a specific person could scare her...

(he soo gets off being the only one that can get her into such a submissive state, btw)

The one thing keeping her heart from total darkness, now entirely painted black. What a sad soul.

...

So, he didn't kill her. big whump. Fine though, she thinks about the termina festival in 350 years. She wouldn't mind living for that long to see more silly people. Plus, the dungeon took a lot out of her. A lot more magic she used than usual. This period will be... A nice and long break, she thinks positively. One hell she has endured in here, she will prepare to live through and enjoy another. Plus, if it's all adrenaline rushes, how is she meant to savour Termina?

She occupies her time by living with Pocketcat, and.. His usual activities. She joins in on his child murders from time to time. Not as fun as killing monsters that are fully intending to end her life but snuffing another life is still somewhat satisfying, nevertheless. And hey, fun bonding activity, right?

She also does the same as she did in the void, making a bunch of art and stuff. But this time, she actually has someone she can show it to! Speaking of the cat, they do typical lover activities time to time. Dates, and stuff. Doing things together. Fun!

Both of them had their fair share of isolation for a long period of time and needless to say, their 'eternities' are much more lively and worth living through with a like-minded being by their side.

She also.. has a little fun with the contestants before they enter the worst period of their life..

(This part is totally not because of recent events) After spending 350 years with Pocketcat, she picked up some of his mannerisms to her misfortune. Her hand feels like it should be doing something within conversation, so her subconscious makes her jack off a ghost dick. She's gonna have a fun time with talking to people.

...

Now we're at the festival, one meant to end all festivals! And boy it'll end more than just festivals, alright! Hehe.

At the end of this festival, she has one plan.

And that is to finally rest.

She will not be returning from this trip.

...

So, some stuff were left vague because. well. yeah. I don't fully expect to write this into actual fanfiction, but no worries, I'll reveal the gist of what happens at some point. Whether I actually can find it in me to write it out or just make a post about what happens, we shall see.

Extra stuff to mention:

This is basically her. In every universe she visits.

You can check out the '#unnamed OC core' tag to see. More of her vibes.

I also got a playlist.. of her..

(Also, since this is a self insert about half of the traits mentioned are. me. so. yeah. I should try getting diagnosed for something but idk man I can't find shit)

Got any questions! Feel free to ask anything!! >:3 Hell, I'll even answer in character for fun.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Alright! That's the first time I send an ask message to someone I don't know and probably the last one (because, honestly, is kinda scary) but listen, baby, you had NOT the right to make me addicted to a fic where the mass-murderer-nightmare-of-the-south Major Jasper Whitlock is a whole ass baby daddy!!!! Seriously, I'd never imagine I'd read something like that and LOVE IT??? I mean, I could picture Alice being a mom in some aus, since her character seems to be very attached to the idea of having a family, but Jasper???? The one who killed a thousand of vampires and non-vampires with no mercy???? I have only one thing to say: I need more.

There is no way you're as scared of me as I am of you. I think we should just agree to be scared together. 

Anon, THANK YOU for your message. All my messages mean so much to me, and to know that I've written something that you didn't expect to love? Ugh, made my day. My week. 

The thing about babyverse is that I smashed out like 8k words of it during a Bad Time; I was having some kind of mental breakdown and writing the OG version was my way of mainlining a carton of ice cream and a bucket of fries to cope with my woes. I actually fucking hate baby fics because Jasper and Alice are not parents. Every single baby-related fic that I read on FF.Net pissed me off. But my brain ran away with me and then I decided to riff on the concept and we ended up with five or six variations on a theme, one of which you guys *love*.

I think the thing that is important to remember about Jasper is that he is an ice-cold killer, one of the most dangerous vampires on the continent with a strong reputation even though he walked away over *eighty* years ago. 

In Hybrid-verse, this means there are people in the known that lie away at night wondering exactly what happened to Maria's Major because his reappearance would be catastrophic. None of his past changes because he has a son and a partner; it arguably makes it worse. He still suffers from depression, he still has guilt and shame, and now he's somehow ended up with a mostly-human son to raise.

And the fact that he wasn't close to his father, and has vague memories of Civil Era parenthood has him crazy unprepared for being a dad (he is totally stunned the first time Alice just casually breastfeeds Ollie in front of him one night; she teases him mercilessly that they can have sex and have a kid, but breastfeeding shocks him.) 

As for Alice, she's just always an agent of chaos. I have a very, very hard time imagining her as a mother - baby-verse and the AH tattoo fic are the only two I ever bothered attempting that (and tattoo-verse is kind of a riff on a lot of the AH fics written in '05, so it doesn't really count.) Alice is always going to be authentically herself, and being a mother doesn't change her. Ollie is just the best-dressed kid in the room. 

So have a little snippet of the OG, Official (if there ever is such a thing) Babyverse

“Oh my god, Jasper.”

I gaped at him as Ollie babbled at me, his chubby hands patting at my cheeks. 

It had been two months since the Cullens had arrived back in Forks, since Jasper had come home to me - and to Ollie. It had gone by faster than I thought possible, honestly. 

Edward and Bella had decided to get married in the last weeks of August - the plan was the wedding, a quick honeymoon somewhere in South America (a surprise for Bella, apparently), and home just in time to start freshman year at Dartmouth. Well, ‘home’ would be the house that Esme had picked out in New Hampshire. I didn’t know if they were even planning to come back to Forks after the wedding. 

It felt like a strange and rushed choice after being apart for a year, but I had congratulated them and was pitching in with the wedding planning. They were happy about it, and that was the most important thing. 

My own college plans were a lot more diaphanous than Bella and Edward’s, and I was mostly content just to work out my new normal with my son and my quasi-boyfriend. The summer wasn’t over yet, and I knew I’d have to have a few hard conversations before it was over - mostly that if the Cullens wanted to go to New Hampshire and play college students, I would be staying here in Forks with my family - Simon had suggested taking a bunch of community college credits online to stretch my college fund a little further and to keep me close to home for a while. 

Adjusting Ollie on my hip, I gave Jasper a Look, as he tried not to meet my gaze. Since we’ve gotten home, he’d been… well, amazing. No one had ever taken co-parenting as seriously as Jasper was, and I had never seen as many parenting books as Jasper had somehow collected that first week. The Cullen house suddenly boasted an unnecessary amount of baby paraphernalia (right down to the framed photographs that Esme had asked Dad and I for - I had been mildly horrified to see my first photo with Ollie framed on the upstairs console table; my sweaty, disorientated, and white as a ghost face with Ollie on my chest immortalised next to Rose and Emmett in a Venetian gondola had really done a number on my self esteem.)

But Jasper had give me an insane amount of things since he’d gotten home. First it had been a new baby swing when mine ended up dying spectacularly. Then - when Esme found out that Ollie was an unenthusiastic sleeper at the best of times - there had been an insanely expensive cot that was meant to encourage him to sleep. Then there were books and toys - most of them under the guise of bonding with him. And then a second set of everything at the Cullens because Jasper didn’t want me lugging so many things with me every time we came over. 

(Rosalie had - with all the subtly of an infomercial - asked me if I preferred bracelets or rings, and I had had to squash the idea of any kind of jewellery as a gift. Both of the Cullen women had grown up in an age where the birth of a healthy son and heir would have come with a sparkly piece of jewellery and I thought that was so gross. Jasper had listened to me rant for nearly fifteen minutes, bewildered, after Rosalie and Esme had been insisting he had to gift me some kind of diamond for Ollie - preferably in blue - for weeks. Cynthia had thought I was insane to refuse. The first and only gem I would accept from Jasper would be an engagement ring - when we were ready.) 

And now, there was the latest - and most expensive - of his gifts. 

“You bought me a car?” I said dumbly.

The blue SUV parked out the front looked perfectly normal; shiny and new but not out of place. It was no Mercedes Guardian or Aston Martin or whatever BMW Rose was driving. And I kind of liked that - no one would give it a second look in Forks. 

The thing was, a car had been a much contested item in my family - the ancient little car Cynthia and I had been sharing had finally crapped out beyond repair and we had ended up pooling our savings to save for a new one. We were about three thousand dollars off something decent - Dad and Simon were vetoing anything that they didn’t deem safe enough. Simon and Dad were generous enough to occasionally loan me one of their cars, and Jasper had been more than willing to chauffeur me around. 

Until now. 

“I know you and Cynthia were saving for one,” Jasper began, reaching out to tuck one of Ollie’s curls out of his eyes. I was putting off getting his hair cut because his messy hair was too cute to lose. “But I was thinking…”

“Jas.”

“Cynthia has so many co-curriculars, and spends so much time on the Res that it felt like you’d be spending a lot of time in the car - or not getting to use it as much.”

I was still giving him a Look as Ollie had moved on to grasping at my necklace, fascinated. 

“…I wanted to make sure you were safe,” Jasper said finally. “Rose helped me pick it out - and the carseat. Both have the best safety ratings on the market.”

Walking closer, I could see the carseat already fitted in the backseat. It was, frankly, perfect. I was concerned about the qualifier ‘on the market’ - I wouldn’t put it past Jasper to try and get some kind of unreleased bomb-resistant baby carseat. 

“The car or the carseat?” I asked, looking back at him - he was finally looking a little bit guilty. 

“What?”

“Which is the safest you could find - the car or the carseat?”

“Both.” Jasper looked at me and offered out the keys. Ollie reached out for them with a squeal of delight. “Let me do this for my family, Alice. I want to make sure you have what you need.”

It was hard to argue with him when he called us his family. It always made me melt a little, that he thought of us that way. I had had to squash more than one of his old-fashioned ideas of babies and parenting over the last two months, but his staunch determination to take care of us always made me give in. 

The car was staying. I didn’t have it in me to argue when he was looking at me with that oddly hopeful gaze. And he wasn’t wrong - I did need a car, I wanted it to be a good and safe one, and it wasn’t like he’d gone out and gotten me something ultra expensive… 

“HE BOUGHT YOU A CAR?”

The front door banged, Cynthia bolted onto the street, her eyes huge and her hands on her hips.

“All your brothers are married, right Jasper?” She asked before darting over to the car to inspect it. 

“Nearly.” Jasper was trying very hard not to laugh; he really did get a kick out of Cynthia’s Teenage Drama Queen brand of dramatics. 

“I am doomed to forever have to work for my money,” Cynthia sighed, pulling back and looking over at us. She’d gotten a job at Forks’ bakery slash ice cream slash coffee shop and had spent the last month acting like she was being forced to work in the mines in the dead of winter. It was eternally entertaining, and she was keeping the house supplied in free pastries, ice cream, and bread. “Give the baby to Jasper, Alice.”

I looked over and Jasper looked so hopeful, his hands already twitching.

“He always just stands there with this half sad-puppy, half-hopeful look that you’ll read his mind,” Cynthia said bossily. “Every single time, you wait for her to offer. Just take him - I do.”

Ollie let out a crow of delight as Jasper took him, babbling happily and waving my new car keys in one hand. Jasper had a look of such tenderness on his face that I felt bad he thought that I had some kind of ownership over the child we shared. That he felt he couldn’t just ask to hold Ollie. 

“Hello Oliver,” he said, holding him so carefully. “Are you being good for your mother?” He got a spit-bubble reply; it had only taken two months for Ollie to recognise that Jasper was one of his people.

“You can ask me for the baby, Jas,” I said softly, leaning against his other side; his arm wrapping around my shoulders automatically. “You can hold your son, you don’t need my permission.”

“I don’t like to upset him; he’s always so happy with you,” Jasper murmured, nodding as Ollie brandished the keys at him importantly.

I rolled my eyes fondly. Ollie was happy when Jasper held him. Our son had taken like a duck to water at the sudden reintroduction of the Cullens to our lives; Esme was good for cuddles, Emmett was the one that would give me a heart attack by tossing him in the air and swooping him around until Ollie was red in the face and laughing, and Rosalie was someone that he was entranced with - something about the way that she was with him made Ollie go all soft and angelic when he was with her. Little ratbag had Auntie Rose wrapped around his little finger - probably why she had helped Jasper with the car. 

Ollie still held a grudge against Carlisle for giving him his shots last month, hiding his face every time he saw him. Edward and Bella were terribly awkward around Ollie, but kind to him. Ollie adored Edward playing the piano, and every time Edward had played for him, he had been transfixed. 

Whilst Jasper might have been one of Ollie’s people, he was only just grasping the concept of ‘Daddy’ and Jasper being one and the same. We would get there eventually. He was only a baby. 

“Thank you for the car,” I said softly. “You didn’t have to, but I love it.”

“You do?” Jasper adjusted his grip on Ollie, before pulling me closer. 

“I do. But you don’t need to buy me or Ollie all these things.”

He really didn’t. About two weeks after he got back, Cynthia had read him the riot act and pointed out that since he didn’t sleep, he could be pulling the nightshift, and maybe slip me the occasional twenty so I could buy diapers. That had resulted in him giving me a credit card, the acquisition of the sleep-training cot, and him literally expecting to sit in the tree outside my bedroom and watch over me and Ollie. He’d been surprised when I’d given him a set of house-keys, and allowed him to bring books and a laptop over so he didn’t have to actually watch us sleep. More than one night, he’d ended up in the living room giving Ollie a bottle and reading him back to sleep. There was nothing cuter than going downstairs in the morning to find Ollie passed out asleep on Jasper’s chest, as Jasper read some heavy book over his head. 

“I want to. I love you both so, so much. This is nothing, Alice. This is just a car,” he said softly. 

“Can you two kiss so we can go inside and I can make Dad and Pa feel bad for me?” Cynthia called and I started laughing, Ollie cooing at us before giggling along with me. 

The rest of the Cullens had given no indication whether or not they would be relocating to New Hampshire any time soon, and I hadn’t asked because it wasn’t a conversation I wished to have: I was staying in Forks with my family and my son for the foreseeable future, and no amount of bribery would make me budge. 

Not that Jasper would even try, I knew that. We had talked in through and he understood that I wanted this time with my father and with Simon and with Cynthia. 

Jasper had been spending every spare moment with us, and desperately compensating for leaving me; I knew that Carlisle and Esme had given my parents half of the cost of my medical care for the pregnancy (which neither of my parents wanted to accept until I pointed out that the financial hit would affect Cynthia’s college options, not to mention finishing the house renovation. It might have been loose change to the Cullens, but that money made a difference to us.)