#'he wants to stay anonymous but also wants us to know he's ripped'

[spazoutloud]

Peeled & Wet

x x

[rowarn]

there is not a single man in 141 who doesn't make out with your pussy btw. not anonymous i die like caesar

SO TRUE !!!

and they've all got different styles !!!!!

simon is meticulous and controlling. he pins you down, spreads your legs open and EATS. he knows exactly what he's doing and how to use his tongue. he uses his fingers in combination, sometimes he ducks you with his fingers while he sucks your clit sometimes he pinches and rolls your clit under his fingers while he fucks you with his tongue. but make no mistake you will only take what he is WILLING to give you, you won't be greedy and take from him. he's only willing to give if you're good for him!! he's also not afraid to punish you by depriving you of his tongue because he's so good with it that you crave it. so it's best to just behave and let him do as he pleases <3

soap is sloppy and intense. he wants you to sit on his face so he can drown in your cum. uses his whole mouth and face when he eats pussy. engulfs your pussy whole with his mouth, slobbers all over your clit and licks his tongue into your hole to taste everything you've got. you don't even need to be greedy with him because he's already giving you whatever you could possibly want. all you can do it lay there and take it, moaning and twitching as he rips orgasm after orgasm right from your little cunt. doesn't really use his fingers but he doesn't need to because that devious mouth does ALL the work either of you need !!!

kyle is generous and sweet. eating you out is a whole event for this man. it's sometimes just the main event. he's not selfish, he doesn't even need to fuck you to feel good. your pleasure is always at the forefront of his mind. his top priority. hell, he'll light some candles, sit with you in the bath, caressing you and kissing you, working you up and teasing you. all so when he's finally got you spread on the bed, you're needy and pliant for him. he focuses on your clit, loves to worship that little bud because he knows that's where it feels best for you. but he'll follow any of your cues; if you need more deeper pleasure, he'll give you his fingers. if you want it sloppy he'll fuck you with his tongue. you can ride his face if you ask nicely but he prefers to have you laid back, spread open and relaxed so he can just worship you. will eat you until you're cumming as many times as you need. he doesn't care if he's there for 2 hours, jaw aching - if you want him there, he's staying. he is born to please and worship. he's sweet with his words too, telling you how pretty and soft you are, how good you taste, how gorgeous you look cumming for him. when he starts to get real fucked out he started begging into your pussy, begging for you to cum while his voice breaks and he humps the bed, boxers messy with cum he'd already spilled all over himself.

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.

Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.

And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.

Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.

They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.

When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.

Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.

When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.

"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.

"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.

Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.

Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.

Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.

When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.

Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.

because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far

when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)

danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.

and god help him, he's going to help people.

[lovecoree]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐊𝐓𝐇

pairing: painter!tae x black fem!reader

synopsis 🎱: taehyung doesn’t tolerate your attitude, especially when he’s not in his right mind for his next painting. punishing you is the only way for you to know he’s serious about that.

warning: SMUT ! mdni , oral ( m receiving ) , filming ( with consent ofc ) , huge d!ck tae ( yes this is a warning ) , reader is black coded , dom!tae , brat!reader , brat taming , let me know if there’s more !

a/n: this was an anonymous request, also my first time writing smut so it’s probably trash, but hope you enjoy

Taehyung was an amazing artist, the art ideas he had in mind came easily to him, wrist moving swiftly as he painted on a blank canvas, but today was a bad day for Taehyung. He couldn’t seem to stay focus nor come up with ideas that seemed new and interesting. Everything looked the same leaving him more angry and destroying countless of canvases— left ripped or thrown all across the room.

Taehyung was busy mixing up paints in a container with aggression, grey sleeves pushed up and veins protruding on his hands and arms, and glasses on the tip of his nose. He was pouring his anger out on mixing that he didn’t hear your footsteps nearing the door, not until your voice stopped all his movements.

“You’re still going at it” Your voice came out in a sarcastic tone as you took in the sight of the messy room and your boyfriend standing in the middle. Your voice got stuck in your throat when taehyung only turned his head and not his full body, eyes boring into yours as his expression was blank. “What do you want.” His cold tone was nothing new to you, you knew Taehyung can be cold towards you— or anyone when he’s angry about his work not coming out the way he wants it to be, but that doesn’t stop you from letting your true sarcastic comments slip out from time to time.

Your feet thud against the marble floor on purpose as you moved closer towards Taehyung, slightly kicking the half used canvases out of your way. Taehyung hated when you thud your feet, always telling you to pick your feet up when walking. He eyed your movements before slowly looking up at you with an intense look— a warning look that you did not take seriously. First mistake.

Folding your arms over your chest, wearing nothing but Taehyung’s grey shirt that’s oversized on you. “You’ve been in here for five hours, you promised me you’ll only be in here for two hours tae.” Which he did promise, the sincere promise he made right after giving you a kiss. Taehyung sighed as he fully turned his body around to face you. Small container and paint brush still in his hand tightly.

“Y/N sometimes promises are meant to be broken, you’ll be fine. I’m busy.” His blunt comment made you mad as you rolled your eyes. He didn’t tend to be harsh with his choice of words, but the lack of creativity and your sarcastic tone was making him annoyed. “Then why the fuck did you make the promise in the first place tae?” Taehyung jaw clenched as he looked at you with a hard glare. The bratty behavior and talk back is something Taehyung never liked, especially when you cuss. “What I say about cussing?” Taehyung stepped closer to you, towering over your body, but you wouldn’t waver. Second mistake.

“Boy I don’t care what you said, it’s my mouth. Now like I said fuck you make—” The gasp you let out as Taehyung finally broke his calmness, throwing the container of paint and paint brush on the floor— thank god it was washable paint. He gripped your neck pulling your body closer to his as you looked up at him. “Baby I told you I don’t tolerate disrespect or you cussing me out, apologize and I’ll let it slide.” Taehyung’s tone was deep, deep to the point you felt your panties start to dampen.

The look he gave you was telling you to utter something slick again, so what you do? Utter something slick again. “I’m not apologizing for shit.” Third mistake.

“That’s it take it all.” Taehyung groaned deeply glancing down at you as he gripped the back of your neck holding you still as he fucked your mouth. Loud gaging noises was music to his ears. “You look so pretty with my cock down your throat.” He smirked loving the sight of your tears pooling down to your puffy cheeks, spit and precum glistening on your chin and down on the floor, balls slapping on your chin repeatedly from Taehyung’s hard thrust.

“can’t bitch now, can you?” Tilting his head back, gripping the wooden table from behind him tightly as he bucked his hips. You looked up at him as you tried your best to breath out your nose, griping his thick thighs to slow his movements. “Nah, be the brat you wanted to be and take it.”

Taehyung’s girth had your mouth stretching painfully, but you enjoyed it. His tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly as you moaned around his length sending vibrations to taehyung’s cock causing him to moan. “Fuck baby, just like that.” He loved seeing your eyes filled with tears, made him weak in the knees. “S-Shit baby let me record you being good for me, hmm?” You nod your head yes as Taehyung stopped his thrust.

You could finally catch your breath as Taehyung slipped out your sore mouth. Cock drooping low from being to heavy to stand on its own. You hear him unlock his phone and pressing the record button. Gripping the base of his cock you stick out your tongue to let him slap his fat red tip on it. Pretty wet eyelashes blinking up at him as he slide back in, going back to his brutal thrusting.

Taehyung gripped the phone tight as he looked at the camera catching the pornographic scene. Biting his lip trying hard to suppress the smirk seeing you gag around him as he held you in place, nose hitting his freshly shaved pubic bone as he stuffed his cock down your throat. What felt like minutes he finally let go of your head causing you to pull back completely. Taking a huge gasp of air as spit connected from his swollen tip to your now puffy lips.

“You look a mess pretty.” You whimpered looking up at him breathing hard. He wanted to ruin you completely as punishment. Normally he would edge you on, but since you ran your mouth so much he decided to put it to good use. “Cock drunk already?” He slightly tapped your face with his free hand before gripping your jaw to look up at the camera.

“Apologies for being a brat baby and maybe I’ll go gentle.” Your hands rubbed up on his thighs as you looked up at him so pretty. “I-Im sorry for being a brat, it won’t happen a-again tae.” Voice practically raspy from the stretch, Taehyung smiled. “Good girl, finish me off.” He moved his hand from your jaw, allowing you to finally take control. His cock felt heavy in your hands as you jerked him off placing him back in your mouth, bobbing your head back and forth.

“Oh my— fuck you’re amazing.” To be honest this is exactly what Taehyung needed, from all the pent up stress he had today, fucking your throat was the only option in his mind to release it. “Fuck baby I’m close.” Taehyung’s moans turns into whimpers as you pulled away to jerk him off faster sticking out your tongue.

“shitshitshitshit.” Taehyung’s jaw dropped as his eyes rolled back, stomach caving in as thick ropes of his cum splattered all on your tongue, lips and cheeks. You looked pretty to him.

Taehyung turned the recording off, placing his phone on the table behind him. He watched as you scooped the remaining cum off your cheeks and lick your fingers clean.

“You are truly amazing baby.” Helping you up off the floor Taehyung kissed you passionately, tasting his own bittersweet cum. The kiss was sloppy yet loving. “No more distractions, ok?” Placing a harsh slap on your ass you smiled. “Ok.” You giggled as he picked you up bridal style carrying you to y’all shared bedroom.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

PLEASE can you do part 2 of jealousy with tommy lee

Jealousy (part 2) » Tommy Lee

Pairings: Stepdad!Tommy Lee x Stepdaughter!Reader

Summary: Tommy is jealous when he finds out that his 18 year old stepdaughter is going on a date.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, age gap (reader is 18), dirty talk, kissing, fingering, blowjob, unprotected sex, rough sex, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, spanking, orgasm denial, use of pet names

A/N: This is part 2 to @marvelobsessed134 request and thank you to the lovely anonymous person who asked for a part 2🩵 part 1 can be found in my Tommy Lee (Sebastian Stan) Master List

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You walked in the house with a smile on your face, quietly closing the door behind you. You froze when the living room light turned on.

“What time is it?” Tommy asks, taking an inhale from his cigarette.

“Almost 1am.” You answered.

“I thought I told you to come home before midnight.” He says, blowing smoke out of his mouth.

“You did, but mom said I could stay out late.” You tell him. “Besides, I’m 18 and I can do whatever the hell I want.” You say with attitude.

Tommy chuckles, putting his cigarette out in the ash tray that’s on the coffee table.

“Come here.” He says.

You slowly approached him. You yelped in surprise when Tommy grabbed your wrist and laid you across his lap. He bunched your dress up above your hips. You gasped when he ripped your panties off.

“Since you think you’re a big girl, then I’m sure you can take a spanking like one.” He says, rubbing his hand on your ass cheeks.

A whimper left your lips when he landed a harsh smack on your ass, your skin stinging. Another harsh smack was landed on your ass. He did that sixteen more times. By the time he was done spanking you, your ass was red as a cherry and your eyes were teary. Your pussy was also dripping wet. He practically manhandled you to get you to sit upright.

“Get on your fucking knees.” Tommy demands.

You practically scrambled off of his lap and got on the floor in between his spread thighs. You watched as he unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans, pulling down his jeans just enough for his hard cock to spring out. You couldn’t help but stare at his size. You knew he was big from what you felt earlier, but you didn’t know that he was this big.

“It’s not gonna suck itself.” He says, gesturing to his cock.

Your hand wrapped around his cock and pumped it a few times before you licked the underside of his cock from his base to his tip. You moaned when his precum got on your tongue. You wrapped your lips around his tip and slowly took his whole cock in your mouth. Tommy grew impatient. He placed his hand on the back of your head and pushed your head the rest of the way down. You gagged when his tip hit the back of your throat. The tip of your nose was practically touching his lower abdomen. He gathered your head, putting it in a ponytail. He helped you bob your head up and down on his cock. You placed your hands on his thighs, your nails digging in his skin. Tears rolled down your cheeks every time his tip hit the back of your throat. Drool pooled inside of your mouth and dripped out of the corner of your mouth.

“Tell me, baby girl…” Tommy starts. “Do you enjoy making me jealous?” He asks.

You tried your best to shake your head no.

“Then why did you make me jealous by going on that ridiculous date with that boy?” He asks.

A small laugh left Tommy’s lips.

“Oh that’s right. Your mouth is too full to answer.” He chuckles.

You whined around his cock, looking up at him innocently.

“Fuck…” Tommy panted, tilting his head back against the couch.

His grip on your hair tightened causing you to whimper. Tommy felt his orgasm start to build up. His hips moved upwards, thrusting in your mouth to chase his high. Soon his orgasm was nearing and he came in your mouth. Tommy let go of your hair and pulled his cock out of your mouth, tapping his tip against your lips.

“Swallow.” He says.

You swallowed his cum and opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to show him that you swallowed all of it.

“Good girl.” Tommy praises. “Hands and knees.” He demands, pointing at the spot next to him on the couch.

You stood up from the floor, your knees red from being on the floor for so long. You got on your hands and knees next to Tommy, patiently waiting for him to make the next move. He maneuvered himself so he was face to face with your pussy. A loud gasp left your lips when Tommy licked a stripe from your clit to your entrance.

“God damn, I knew your pussy would taste good.” Tommy says.

You expected him to eat you out, but he didn’t. He unexpectedly slid two fingers in your pussy, earning a moan from you. You quickly grabbed the couch pillow in front of you, moaning into it so you didn’t wake your mom. Tommy’s fingers fucked you relentlessly. His fingers curled inside of you, almost immediately hitting your sweet spot. Your hands clutched the pillow. Tommy’s other fingers rubbed your clit fast. Your arms gave out on you and your chest was against the couch while your ass was in the air, on full display for Tommy. That created a new angle for Tommy’s fingers. You already knew that you weren’t going to last long with his fingers fucking you like this. Before you knew it, your orgasm was beginning to build up. Your pussy squeezed around his fingers, letting him know that you’re going to cum soon. Tommy stopped his movements with his fingers and abruptly pulled his fingers out of your pussy, making you whine in frustration. That earned you a smack on your ass.

“Stop your fucking whining.” Tommy says.

You felt Tommy moving behind you. He lined his cock at your tight entrance and thrusted his cock inside of you in one hard thrust.

“Tell me, baby…” He starts. “Did you let that boy touch what’s mine?” He asks.

“I let him kiss me.” You say quietly.

Tommy wrapped your hair around his hand and pulled you up so your back was against the front of his body.

“Daddy can’t hear you. Speak up.” He says.

“I let him kiss me.” You repeated, saying it a little louder.

“Is that all you two did?” He asks.

“W-We made out in his car.” You stuttered through a moan.

Tommy chuckles before letting go of your hair. His hand pushed you forward, your head hitting the couch pillow. His thrusts were relentless.

“You have no idea how much fucking trouble you’re in, baby.” He says.

Tommy grasped your hips tightly and began thrusting harder than he did earlier. The smell of sex filled the living room. You could feel every vein of his cock rubbing against your walls. Your moans were muffled by the couch pillow.

“You really thought you could get away with going out with that boy, huh?” Tommy says with jealousy in his voice.

“I-I- oh fuck!” You moaned in the pillow. “I can do whatever the hell I want.” You say, trying to sound confident which didn’t last long.

Tommy leaned over you, his chest touching your back.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Tommy whispers in your ear. “You’re fucking mine.” He practically growls.

A loud moan was muffled by the pillow when his cock hit your sweet spot. You felt your orgasm building up again.

“D-Daddy, please let me cum!” You whimpered desperately.

“I don’t think so, honey. You’re not cumming till I do.” He says.

You whined in frustration again which earned you another harsh smack on your ass.

“What the hell did I say about whining?” He asks.

“Not to.” You say.

“Then quit your fucking whining before I give you something to whine about.” He says.

Pleasure took over your body and your legs began to shake. You felt your orgasm coming closer and closer to the edge, but you knew Tommy would deny you again if you said anything. His thrusts got sloppier when his orgasm was building up.

“Fuck…” Tommy moans.

After a few more thrusts, Tommy came inside of you. He reached his hand around to your front, blindly finding your clit and began rubbing it. Your pussy clenched around his cock.

“Cum.” Is all he says.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you moaned loudly into the pillow as you came harder than you did earlier. Your cum dripped down your inner thighs and soaked Tommy’s cock. His thrusts came to a stop and he pulled out. He watched as his and your cum mixture dripped out of your pussy for a moment before pulling his jeans up and buckling his belt, along with zipping and buttoning his jeans.

“Go get cleaned up and go to bed.” Tommy says, patting your ass.

You stood up from the couch, your legs a little wobbly.

“One more thing…” He stops you in your tracks. “You’re not seeing that boy again.” He says.

You just scoffed and went upstairs to your bedroom to change out of your dress and to clean up. Little did Tommy know that you have another date with that boy next Saturday. You were definitely going to enjoy making your stepdad more jealous than he already is.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

-Bucky’s Doll

[sturionic]

In the course of spiralling down an internet rabbit hole today, I found a truly excellent essay about the trials and tribulations of fandom: How To BNF Without Tears, by Walter A. Willis

If you are familiar with the term BNF (Big-Name Fan), you may have heard it in the context of early-aughts fandoms, or some configuration of superwholock. But this article is from 1954!

Please enjoy these excerpts:

Very well, let's consider a day in the life of this wretched Neofan. Brighteyed, the little fellow wakes early, listening for the tread of the postman. His ears are so sensitive to this faint sound that he will leap out of bed, every nerve quivering, when the man is a hundred yards away ….. whereas before he became a fan a whole battery of alarm clocks barely fluttered an eyelid.

It's me, I'm the wretched little fellow refreshing my AO3 inbox, nerves a-quivering

Consider now a day in the life of the BNF. He too is driven from pillow to post, but since he was up to two o'clock in the morning finishing an article he had promised for ten days ago, the postman has to knock twice to waken him. He staggers down the stairs, observing with a sinking feeling that the porch is covered with a layer of various sized envelopes[....]Some of the letters are from his friends, and he puts those in his pocket to be enjoyed later. Some are from self-appointed enemies, and he puts those aside until he feels stronger. The rest are from Neofen. Some of them want subscriptions to his fanzine. Some want information. Some want material for their fanzine. Nearly all of them are rude.

1954 equivalent of "RIP your inbox"

Now, on the way the BNF handles this mail depends whether he shall stay in fandom or retire suffering from chronic disenchantment like so many others[...]So I am going to suggest some rules which you might consider following when you become a BNF. (All that is necessary to become a BNF is to maintain a reasonably energetic standard of fanactivity for approximately two years.)

And then our friend Walter goes on to advise BNFs to "comment on as many first issues [of fanzines] as you can, and always find something to praise," "Always be polite and kind to Neofans," and to take the piss out of yourself: "Humourous attacks on you should be encouraged -- they add to the interest of fandom, rank as egoboo, and might give you something to write about." (Walter also warns on the dangers of attending conventions, and advises that you wear a false beard to maintain anonymity.)

Of course, I had to know: what fandom were these guys in?

So I did a little digging. Walter mentions a "Ken Potter" in his letter. Turns out Ken Potter ran multiple science fiction fanzines through the 1950's and 60's, including Brennschluss, Triumph and Scientifiction.

A scan of Brenschluss, containing such gems as "tho I did once kiss a girl" and "Isn't Fandom romantic!"

Additional glossary for some terms used in Walter's essay:

"Egoboo": A colloquial expression for the pleasure received from public recognition of voluntary work. Originated in science fiction fandom as early as 1947

"Hectoed" fanzine: A method of copying text and illustrations that fell out of fashion after the 1940's. It involves involves making a bed of gelatin, transferring a special carbon ink to the gelatin and then laying on and picking up pieces of paper.

"Faned": Slang for "fan editor," aka the editor of a fandom publication, usually a zine.

[riewritten]

𝐎𝐈𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 · CHAPTER THREE · AO3

˚ · .─ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: YOU, a college student in Frankfurt, start receiving emails that embarked the dim of normalcy you worked so hard to build on your own; starting from a message claiming you as the light amidst the hell of Kinderheim, who came just in time to bring a paradise of doomsday and grime, something that pleased the monster inside him. Initially, you thought of reporting the email as spam until another ding came: the monster, so pleased and full, is aiming to return the favor—something to flesh out the paradise you had granted him back at Kinderheim.

˚ · .─ 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎: Johan Liebert/Fem!reader | 3.9k words

˚ · .─ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: explicit language, canon-typical violence, stalking, manipulation, obsessive tendencies, paranoia, abduction, threats of sexual assault, among many things that might arise.

The fine young blonde who'd help you erase your identity—as Anna had claimed—was formerly affiliated with the state security council. His stay was recent, short, and even Anna didn’t know the scope of his job, but this very background gave him the expertise and network to agent people who need to change identities in pursuit of securing their lives.

Anna gave you the basic physical description needed to recognize him, the meet-up location, and a warning: don't bring too much, don't wear too much—the last thing you want to happen is attract attention when your main mission is to vanish.

The warning was supposed to be intimidating, but the rustling leaves and bustling cars of evening Frankfurt brought you solace somehow. Indeed, you might be disappearing for everyone who had known you, but the little things you could still see either way would be as persistent as your existence.

Somewhere, somehow, despite this being your first time, you're so used to doing it. 

The ripped paper which contains Anna's pretty handwriting of the meet up place slipped from your fingers. You rush to it, albeit in a fluster. It is until a man catches it with his hand that you stop.

You catch up to him and profusely apologize, “My hands seem a bit cold. I didn't expect the weather today. Apologies.”

He hums, gently so, and hands you the piece of paper, “At least I caught it.”

Just as if the cold evening air couldn't get any cooler, his voice did its wonders. And you also perk up upon realizing he looks exactly like… “Anna?”

But no, it's not Anna. His hair is short, parted in the middle, and it's a much lighter shade of blonde. His eyes are bluer and his skin is quite paler.

This is the exact same description Anna had given you. It didn't take long for him to realize it, too, “So you're the one I'll be spending the evening with, aren't you?” 

The next thing you feel is a very uncanny familiarity that you quickly brush off because, well, of course he'd look familiar because he almost bears the same face as Anna.

“She didn't tell me I was about to meet a relative,” you shake his hand and tell him your name. “And you are…?”

“Pleasure to meet you,” he smiles, and yet he doesn't bother giving you his name.

His job is niche, and as much as you’d like to talk and know more about his line of work, this man seems to prefer anonymity. You are yet to adjust to that, hence you let him lead the way first. Futilely, you're not able to help yourself as you walk together towards a nearby restaurant. “What shall I call you, mister…?”

“I'm someone who must remain distant from you,” he responds, looking your way, wondering if you immediately get his cryptic point. But you don't—not at all—so he instead prompts, “Want a clue?”

“Uh… yes,” you raise a brow, “make it make sense for me.”

“The things we're about to do in pursuit of your goal doesn't make any sense in the eyes of a normal person either.” Well, he's right. “Pray tell, why were you referred to me?”

“I'm running away from someone. Anna said you could help me erase my identity and start anew.”

He chuckles lightly, “Yes, that's the most common reason I get.”

And the walk goes tormentingly silent again. You want to ask more, but for some reason your brain couldn't articulate it. Why the lurking uncomfortability? Is it because of how poised and graceful he walks? Of how chivalrous he seems when he ushers you to your seat and arranges the meal after the waiter placed it on your table? Or is it because he resembles Anna so much? It's unlikely for you to act like a moth too entranced with the light, unbeknownst how it could potentially burn your wings into a crisp. But in your defense, it's also rare to encounter a person as enigmatic as him.

“A longer look and I might not be able to hold my fluster,” he quips without dropping his food nor looking up at you. You're not convinced he's actually starting to get flustered. The comment is surely intended to fluster you instead.

“I'm sorry,” you avert your gaze away, “but you see, I think I might need to know more about you so I could trust you enough with what we're about to do. E-even the simple name telling would be fine for me.”

“But exchanging names is the first step to develop attachments and mark existence. Given my job to eradicate every trace of you in this world, wouldn't it be counterproductive of us to get to know each other?” Why is his way of talking a bit too uncanny? You almost blurt out. When minutes pass and the befuddled look on your face still doesn’t subside, he offers a proposition. “Let's see… to make things easier, do you perhaps have a name you quite disdain?

“I quite disdain…?”

“Call me by a name you quite disdain in order to keep your distance,” he concurs. “I’m sure you’ll benefit from this, too.”

Something that will benefit you. Something that will benefit you. Something that will benefit you—a ding of light clicked in your brain. You sigh defeatedly and say, “Johan. I'd like to call you Johan.”

His reaction to that, albeit subtle, ran shivers down your spine. The unreadability of his smile scares you. As if Johan sensed it, he gulps the urge to chuckle by nodding and asking, “Is that a name you're most uncomfortable to use?”

“Very much so.”

“How strange. Why, when Johan is such a wonderful name?”

Despite knowing the reason very well, you refuse to answer. See, if you’re fearing the name Johan because of your sinister childhood friend, then what if you take this first step? Disassociate this name away from the Kinderheim boy. Project it to a perfect stranger. Maybe, by the end of your time with this agent, you’re already over from fearing the measly name.

Indeed, that is something that would benefit you above anything else.

The rest of the night went with Johan briefing you about certain protocols when meeting him, all the while expertly dodging your questions about him. Johan might have a point why he prefers not to expound about his identity, but perhaps, even moths do not understand the danger of flames waiting upon their curious and entranced heads until they finally have it, and it just so happens that you're no different from them. And so you expertly track the conversation into asking something personal about Johan.

It is until he chuckled defeatedly did you halt, “I understand, I understand. At least I'm confident you wouldn't be easily swayed by anyone once you settle in a new place with a new identity. But didn't Anna tell you enough about me? I'm certain I told her to orient you before meeting me tonight.”

“She didn't tell me that much, otherwise I wouldn't be this curious.”

“You see, how much must you know about a person enough to trust them?”

“Mr. Johan, I just want to make sure you're not here to murder me along the way.”

Johan seems amused at the remark, to say the least, “Perhaps you should just arm yourself while you're with me then. Who knows when I'd pull my shenanigans at you.”

“Oh well, I suppose you watch me run my heart off later as soon as we finish eating.”

“Why not now? You can’t tell how much mercy I could share tonight.” 

If not for Anna's humor, you would certainly not be chuckling right now. “One of your mercy included bringing me to a place like this. The food you've bought for me melts in my mouth quite nicely. If I start running only to be caught, at least I'll die a happy girl.”

“You can say that's one of my ways to entice my clients. Savor my mercy by all means.”

You roll your eyes with a smile. Needless to say that the uncomfortability subsided quite a bit. At least you were able to know that Mr. Johan, whoever he might be, is someone who holds the same vibe as your friends. Perhaps the journey with him would be a little less lonely.

A week after, Johan laid out five steps you have to do alongside him.

Target a place to settle down.

An unpopulated town would be the best choice. They usually have landlords who don't require much legal documents before accepting tenants. Johan will arrange the needed documents for your new identity, but that doesn't mean you'll flaunt it wherever. You must only show them when absolutely necessary.

Accumulate a huge sum of money.

Johan doesn’t care how and how much. All you have to do is ensure that it will suffice your expenses while adjusting to your new place.

“But honestly, you don’t need to worry about that too much.”

“Why?”

Johan shrugs, “You could say a special friend wants you to be at ease, hence they took care of it in your stead.”

Anna!

You beam upon realization. It's been a while since you've seen Anna. You rarely even go back to your apartment complex. You're starting to be absent oftenly at school, too. “Does that mean—” you couldn’t help but be excited at the premise, “even if I managed to leave everyone who knew of my identity, Anna would be an exception? Oh, how lovely that'd be.”

Johan, as usual, does not give an answer. Perhaps it’s because your question is quite a given already, but deep inside you—a voice begging to be heard but dismissed for reasons unknown—there’s something in Johan’s reaction that needs to be pointed out. His features twitch; he looks like he’s about to laugh, sardonically so, even though his face barely moved at all. “Do you like Anna that much?”

“I do. I wouldn’t have found myself if not for her.”

“Why?”

“We're similar in so many ways. I'm not the type of person who could easily bond with others, but Anna made it seem so easy. You could call us a match-made in heaven, maybe?”

“And you wouldn't mind ceasing your existence if you get to be with her nonetheless?”

“Yes.”

There, you see Johan's face gleam. It is perhaps akin to satisfaction. In one glimpse you'd think his expression is similar to Anna's when she laid down beside you that night.

“You two must be siblings if not twins,” you blurt out, with which you immediately regretted. Shit, Johan doesn't like being asked personal questions!

Surprisingly, he shakes his head instead of dismissing you, “It's more complicated than that, but yes, that could be perhaps the nearest term to use.”

You nod, smiling, already satisfied that Johan entertained your question with a smile lighter than his usual blank one. You wonder if you had said something that pleased him so much, or maybe he just appreciates your wholesome relationship with Anna.

Step one and two were easily accomplished within two months. Hence, the succeeding steps pushed through.

Banish all your digital footprints.

Erase your email. Bother no more with the Monster spamming you there. You let out a chuckle. All the terror these emails have caused could finally be a memory to look back to. 

Write letters to the people who could potentially look for you if you're gone for too long.

Every loved one who would potentially go beyond measures to find you (and lose their heads while doing so) is a threat that must be tamed. The most important thing when you want to disappear without a trace is to minimize people's urges to search for you. The letter must include telling them that you want to do this, that this is something you decided for yourself, and that even if you're gone, you wouldn't be in any sort of danger.

This step finally resurfaced the reluctance of it all, albeit it's still not strong enough to cancel the whole plan. You don't want to be alone. The reluctance is coming from the irony of it all. Anna was right, you've been trying so hard to earn people's affection so you could stay with them, but the very reason for that is your attachment.

“Then leave them before they do it first. That way it would hurt less,” Johan replies.

His remark made you remember something about your childhood friend before the Kinderheim flames. Well, almost everything that's happening in your day could be a trigger to dream about him. 

Back in childhood, as much as you were glad that your little friend wouldn't be able to leave you so easily because of someone he mustn't forget, you started getting anxious by the fact that once Johan is together again with that person, he'd drop you alone all over again. You knew deep inside that once he granted your wish, he'll leave the sanctuary to be with the person he mustn't forget. Letting him do whatever he wanted was perhaps your own way to detach yourself—to lose the tiny bit of hope that you'll be friends forever.

This recollection intensified your guilt. Had Grimmer and Lunge known this side of you, they'd certainly regret trying to help you. You are an irredeemable monster, a voice inside you repeatedly mutters.

“You're right,” you smile defeatedly. “It's always been that way for me.”

The car halts to the apartment complex you started renting as a safety measure whenever you're out with Johan. That way, Johan coming across people like Grimmer, Lunge, and Frieda could be avoidable. “See you tomorrow, then.”

You heard him right and yet you're too conflicted to get off the car, fidgety and all, because of the unkind voices lurking inside your head. They are extra louder today.

“Would you—” you stammer, “would you like to have dinner upstairs before you go?”

You feel Johan's driver, Roberto, give you a quick glance as though your offer surprised him. He then gazes at the younger blonde, and eventually nods as if he understood him immediately.

“I know how clear you are with setting personal boundaries. I-I just feel bad for making you do this much as my agent,” you lie. “Don't worry. I'm not gonna ask anything personal either. I'll cook you a simple dinner and that's it.”

Johan, much to your surprise, gets off the car, opens the door by your side, and offers his hand with a smile. Now that you think of it, this is the first time you'll be feeling this agent's hand—that's how distant you two were for months of confiding in each other. It is until you touch him for real that you realize how familiar this feeling is. This certainly happened before, the sentence ringed in your head, even if this is the first time you've had his hand on yours. 

The dinner was silent. Johan knew exactly what you needed. A squint and everything would've felt quite intimate. Johan — as though showing you that he's human and not some ethereal being eating with you — picks up the table napkin from his lap and dabs it to the corner of his lips, yet it's still so poised, so refined, that you wonder if this dinner is actually with an agent and not a blind date Anna has set up for you.

It paved the way to imagine how things would've been if you knew his real name, and you two met under circumstances where you don't have to erase your identity.

“...my name.”

Your vision was blurry with tears, heart in deep pain you could've just chosen death, but Johan's cryptic begging was what kept you awake.

He mutters as though you're the only one who could grant what he wants. “My…my n-name…”

Not that he's wrong. Only the two of you are inside the room at this moment. Daddy said Johan's quiz today would need someone outside Kinderheim, and who else would be most enthusiastic for the job if not you?

The quiz, as how you see it, is just you and Johan being left alone in a room. There's a huge mirror—Daddy said that you shouldn't worry because the mirror is actually a window where they could watch you. You were excited at first. You thought he and his workmates would just watch you play legos together.

Only now did you realize how awful these quizzes actually were. This is the first time you'd seen him wearing a mere t-shirt, and you feel utterly sick in the stomach seeing so many bruises on his arm—most of which are injection shots. This is the reason why Johan always looks like he had just woken up—so fragile, lethargic, but still smiling whenever you two hang out together. 

“What are you talking about, Johan?”

“My name,” Johan, finally sounding like someone his age—a literal child who lived not beyond ten—mutters weakly, defenseless, and about to faint. “Call me by my name.”

Out of desperation, you follow, “Johan! Stay with me, Johan!”

Why is Johan so weak and begging? Why does he have a fresh injection wound on his arm?

This particular memory was blurred by your tears, with loud crying blocking your hearing, but it felt so raw, so genuine, so painful not for yourself, but for Johan, for everything he had gone through.

How tragic it is, indeed, for Johan was more talkative during this moment. Despite his weakened state, he was using all his energy left to talk to you—as if a toddler yapping to its guardian about how awful his days went, or perhaps a best friend ranting about a very unfortunate incident. But you couldn't remember! Of all things, why would this memory be the blurriest of them all?

“Please,” he breathes, already lying down. “Please call me by my name.”

“Johan,” you cried. “Your name is Johan!”

“My name…” your little friend's eyes are now empty, as if he's reliving a memory only he knows. You're not even sure if he could still see you, let alone if he knows where he is. “Call me by my name.”

“Johan.”

“My name—”

“Johan!”

Much to your horror, the last words uttered by the little boy before closing his eyes was, “Chomp, chomp, munch, munch, gobble, gobble, gulp.”

“Johan!” you scream.

And that was the needed signal for Daddy and his men to enter. They were smiling at you in gratitude while you looked at them in horror. 

“He said a lot of things today. That's the most talkative Johan we had encountered. Good job.” Daddy's workmate pats your head.

They attempt to carry his unconscious figure, but you stubbornly swat them away to protect him. When their patience ran dry, they grabbed you away, muttering apologies because even though you really did well, Johan needs to go back.

They spoke as if this would be the last time you'd see him.

“No! Give Johan back to me!” you scream. “Get away from him!”

You were thrashing all over the place, albeit futilely, and you felt a needle being injected to you not long after.

The rest of the dream was just black. You could hear your Daddy talking to you, but for some reason your brain couldn't grasp it visually.

“Would you like to know what Johan's quiz was about?”

“Johan… give him back to me…”

“It's you. You were the quiz.”

“Johan…”

“The only reason you were introduced to him was for this quiz.”

“H-huh…?”

“Johan is such an interesting child. They were wondering if there could ever be a way for him to lay himself bare, but Kinderheim kids are not allowed to befriend each other, so I suggested you instead.”

“Why…?”

“Because you two are both special,” Daddy answers, “but how sad. Now that the quiz is finished, you'll never see him again.”

“N-no, please don't do this…”

“You still want to see him, no?”

“Give Johan back to me.”

“I'm sure Johan feels the same. After all, the quiz wouldn't have been successful if Johan didn't feel extreme attachment towards you,” Daddy solemnly said. “The plan was to make him so emotionally vulnerable to a subject, then abruptly cut it off. In other words, you two wouldn't see each other again.”

“No. Don't do that to him.”

“Frustrating, isn't it?” Daddy sounds a little sardonic this time. “It makes you want to punish them, no?”

You sob.

“You poor thing. You want to see Johan again, don't you?”

You nod.

“I could help,” he suddenly sounds eerily positive. “See, you told me before that Johan wants you to see fireworks up close…”

You nod.

“Could you tell me more about it?”

Surprisingly, as soon as you open your eyes, the blonde agent is looming above you. You're lying down on the couch; he's seated in front of you. With sheer guilt, you ask, “Did I sleep for too long?” Hell, you don't even remember sleeping after dinner. You should've let him leave first before slacking off.

“You don't feel well, so I ushered you to the couch to sleep then washed the dishes,” he blankly replies, neither smiling nor scorning. 

“I'm sorry. The previous days have been quite tiring for me.”

Silence envelops the room, tormentingly so. Johan looked grim as he sat there—it's as if you had said something in your sleep that bothered him.

“Are you okay?”

“Do you remember now?”

Huh? “Remember what?”

Johan does not say more. And that made you remember something.

“I don't think I could call you Johan anymore.”

If the agent was curious, he shows no sign of it. “Why?”

“It's…uh…not really a name I disdain.”

“Oh? Then what is it?”

“I prefer not to tell.”

“What is Johan to you?”

This is the first time this agent sounds so pressing, so curious, one squint and you'd think he knows the whole history between you and Johan, which would be weird because not even Anna knows the whole story.

“You were never this curious,” you nervously laugh, “I thought we had established about personal inquiries.”

The tormenting silence pushed through for five minutes or so, with which he eventually stood up and thanked you for the lovely dinner. The agent looks grim this time around for reasons you couldn't decipher. Hence you try to ask when you still have a chance. “Please. Tell me your name.”

“My name…” the blonde agent whispers, albeit to himself. You couldn't see his face, but you definitely saw the wind beautifully sweeping his wavy hair. It's as though it's meant to accentuate the forlorn in his voice—which again, you couldn't seem to know why. Suddenly, he asks, “The final step we have, do you remember?”

Oh, you do.

Give farewell letters to those who need it. Schedule a heart-to-heart talk to those who wouldn't take no for an answer.

This is the only step this agent refused to involve himself with, but he assured you that come what may, he’s just someplace watching idle. If things go dire, he’d personally come to you. 

“What about it?”

“Finish all of it tomorrow.”

Perhaps he sensed you're procrastinating on it, hence you mutter an apology, “Don't worry, I'll get back to it soon. It's the hardest step, to be honest.”

“No, it has to be tomorrow.”

“Why…?”

Finally, the agent turns his head to you, this time with a smile. “It has to be tomorrow, so I could reward you by telling my name.”

What a peculiar behavioral activation there is, but oh wasn't that an effective one.

<<< PREV CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER >>>

🏷️ @bianca4evers @lyneyenthusiast @suntizme @hyejohann @onasvigo @hannn-iee @bisexualgirlie @eurydiceofterabithia @hopingggforthebest

i am yet to edit this whole thing. i feel quite sorry for not updating, so i decided to just publish a barely-proofread chapter (and unfinished, tbh, if we were to base on my story plan). here's a looming johan to compensate. 

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes-General Miyuki, Kuramochi, and Mei

Return to File

Recovery date: September 17th, 2024

Description: Gotcha gotcha! If you're comfortable, can you do nsfw headcanons like when they're in a relationship for Miyuki, Mochi and/or Mei

Includes- Aged up Character

Notes: Recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions. I will say this was actually really difficult, but it was also kind of interesting. That is to say, I'm not sure how I feel about it (the execution, not the prompt itself)

Back to directory

Miyuki Kazuya

A tease, but not a brat

The kind to put his hand in your back pocket and when you point it out says “it’s an accident” but doesn’t move

Runs his mouth, always teasing about the face you’re making or your reactions

Praise him, he shuts up so fast

At least at the start of your relationship, eventually he gets used to the praise and you consider buying him a gag

Until then, oral keeps him pretty quiet

Giving, I mean, when receiving this man is loud

I think it’s pretty agreed upon that Miyuki deserves to be taken care of

He also does not like giving up control, DO NOT restrain him

That’s the easy way out and he will tease you

Instead wine and dine him, draw a nice bath for the two of you, and then treat him to a night of praise and ecstasy

Assuming he doesn’t fall asleep before you get that far, sometimes he just needs a night of pampering

In the same vein, likes showering together; would love to try shower sex but is terrified of injury

Like, I feel like he’d be pretty adventurous with sex if he wasn’t worried about hurting himself and not being able to play baseball

He pulled a muscle once and almost had a breakdown (you know, the kind where you know you need to flex the muscle but it feels like that’ll rip it in two?)

Miyuki just needs someone to care for him, if you can do that he’ll do just about anything for you

Kuramochi Yoichi

Great stamina, I mean it is Mochi

Strikes me as someone who likes his hair pulled

Also seems like he’d fluster pretty easily

He’s a tease, but he does not take teasing well

“Would you shut up?” “That’s not what you were saying last night”

He goes red

I think he also likes trying out new positions

Kind of like Miyuki where he wants to be adventurous but is kind of afraid of injury

But he’ll start suggesting something and then realize that it’s probably not the best idea

Someday, he tells you

I can see him being pretty romantic, not a huge tease

The amount of times you two have been play fighting and it’s turned into a makeout session and escalated?

You have damn near ruined wrestling for him, and it’s entirely his fault

Discovers sex is a much more interesting way to work off excess energy than swinging a bat, and he has a ton of excess energy

Seriously, once after a really bad game he did 100 swings after and then chased you through your house into the bedroom and fucked you, hard

He didn’t get on base once that game, like I said, bad

Bonus points because it means he’s not over exerting himself

Kuramochi needs someone to match his energy and playfulness, and even if you can’t always keep up he’s more than happy to cuddle up with a videogame

Narumiya Mei

Be surprised, he’s such a brat

And a pillow Prince

I could totally see him trying to pretend you’re doing things “wrong”

But you can also see the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek to stay quiet

Narumiya Mei not running his mouth? A baffling concept

Don’t get me wrong though, he still runs his mouth

Like I said, he’s a brat

He also doesn’t ask for sex unless he’s suuper pent up

He just, riles you up until you catch on

Also, not necessarily NSFW, but he walks around shirtless a lot if he knows you’ll stare

To quote Deadpool “Put your greasy tits away you preening slut”

Anyways, I don’t think Mei ignores is partner’s pleasure by any means

Will, on occasion, treat you like pillow royalty but there has to be a trigger

Like jealousy/ the fear that he’ll lose you

And even though he’s a brat, sex isn’t always rough

Honestly I don’t ever see Mei out growing his overconfident facade and that bratty streak of his

But, as he outgrows his insecurities they become less abrasive in his day to day life

[once-upon-an-imagine]

It's been a very long week and it being that time of the month definitely did not help 😂 I've had more mood swings than I felt in a while and I am so exhausted! so I am going to bed but I want to write and update Smile this weekend but I only have a few sentences and ideas written down so far (anyone who wants to come into my inbox with suggestions or ideas is more than welcome!)

I also have some stories that I already started and are either half-way there or literally only one part missing 😂 so I wanna try writing one of those next!

thank you for always voting and for all your patience and love, dearies! summaries   and descriptions of each request are below!

Argyle - Cielito Lindo

[Byers!Reader] Argyle is staying with your family when his parents are out of town. You know he’s been feeling down because he has to celebrate his birthday without them. So, you try to do something to cheer him up. (Sequel to Build Me Up, Buttercup) [Not requested]

Billy Hargrove - A Little Death

Anonymous - Where the reader is known to break hearts. Not because its fun for her but she does it to protect herself and the person. She is convinced that whoever gets close to her heart either ends up hurting her or she ends up hurting them so she always ends it by leaving them - ultimately hurting them before they can hurt her. When Billy starts getting interested in her and she suddenly leaves just when he thought things were going good, he doesn’t back down to find out why and once he does he makes it his mission to show her that he is there to stay and protect, despite being known for leaving and destroying. 2. Anonymous - since you are taking requests, could i request a Billy fic with the following prompts from the prompt list you talked about in your latest post ? “Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me.” “Just, please don’t leave me.” “I don’t want you to die for me. I want you to live for me.” + “As you begin to fall asleep, you feel a gentle kiss pressed to your temple and a blanket draped over you.”

Billy Hargrove - RIP, Love

1. Anonymous - Where the reader breaks up with Billy because he has been toxic and Billy goes and tries to find love in other women. But he gets frustrated because they don’t touch him (physically and mentally) the way the reader always did. He gets angry trying to teach them but none come close to the actual thing until he gets so frustrated that he crawls back to her and tries everything to fix it. 2. Anonymous - “I feel like I’m falling apart.” with Billy Hargrove?

Billy Hargrove - Highway To Hell

[Munson!Reader] When you are tired of your brother and your boyfriend arguing all the time, you come up with a plan that finally makes them work together and at least not murder each other.

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Pink Shirt

This was not requested is just a small thought I had based on the fourth pic of this post

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Any Way You Want It

Against your boyfriends’ wishes, you decide it’s what’s best for everyone if you are the bait for Vecna. You stay back in the attic with Max and Lucas. Steve and Eddie try to make it back as quickly as they can but it might be too late. (Warning: reader is cursed by Vecna and gets hurt) [I have renamed this story like 50 times 😂 ]

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Everyone in your group could feel the sexual tension between you, Steve, and Eddie. Which is probably why they all ganged up and planned to have the three of you share a bed to see if you would finally admit your feelings. 

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - A Sunday Kind Of Love

For six months, you had been fine with having a secret relationship with Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. But that changes when a very special day for you approaches and you want them both by your side and for that to happen, a few rules might get broken. [Not Requested]

Sirius Black - Just Give Me A Reason (Ch5)

[Snape!Reader] Coming back for another year in Hogwarts meant you and your brother were away from your worst tormentor. But when your school tormentor finds out about it, things are about to change and you are not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. (Warning: mentions of abuse)

Charlie Weasley - Jaded (Ch2)

Charlie Weasley had been the biggest pain in the ass for the majority of your life. Especially now that you had to survive two weeks with him, and four dragons.

Evan Buckley - Brave

[Not requested] something I’ve been thinking of where Evan notices something’s making you upset when you reveal your new haircut to the team and it leads to some confessions (a bit angsty but happy ending)

[francesminos-tt]

I think we don’t have enough lucemond hp au, so here is my contribution.

Professor Velaryon is well liked by most of the Hogwarts population, students, faculties, even house elves. The only one who falls out of this category is Professor Targaryen, potion master, consultant of the Duel Club and head of the Slytherin House, which is not all that surprising because Professor Targaryen just doesn’t like people, period.

Professor Velaryon, or Luke, as he insists to be called, was the star seeker of Dragonstone United. He has three championships under his belt before he retired at the young age of 26. He has been teaching flying lessons in Hogwarts for just over a year. Hufflepuff is thrilled to learn he will couch the quidditch house team for the coming school year. We have Lucy! Hufflepuff captain exclaimed, Let’s beat them losers. He was caught by Professor Targaryen while swearing, and 5 points were taken from Hufflepuff.

Professor Targaryen (he doesn’t accept to be called otherwise despite there are at least 3 Targaryens in school), or Aemond (only Luke is allowed to call him that), is the youngest house head in a century. He only has one eye due to a tragic incident in his final year at Hogwarts that no one is allowed to speak of. He is able to spot me sneaking chopped beetles into that Gryffindor’s cauldron with only one eye. Who knows what he is capable of with both eyes. Reported an anonymous source.

Hufflepuff and Slytherin are not nemesis, no, but Luke and Professor Targaryen seems to be. They sit at the opposite side of the faculty table at meal times. No one dares to engage them in one conversation. They either want to kill each other, or fuck, commented by a Ravenclaw in her fifth year, current chief editor in the most popular school magazine, the gossiper.

Lucerys strides to the quidditch field, broom in hand. He is a little nervous about his first coaching session, but a certain someone assures that he will be just fine. Hufflepuff has booked the field from 6 PM, so Lucerys is not surprised to see his team gathered around the field. What surprises him is that several Slytherin players are also there, cornering a dark-haired boy in Gryffindor uniform

“What happened?” Lucerys asks his team captain.

“Apparently that boy tried to spy on the Slytherin strategy. As if they have enough brain capacity to actually use strategy.” The captain replies.

The boy is a first year, and Lucerys knows him. God. He hates Slytherins sometimes.

“OK, gentlemen, break it off.” Lucerys inserts himself between the group, shielding the boy from the snarling Slytherins.

“Playing favor here, Professor Luke?” One of the Slytherin beaters, a bulky seventh year boy says sarcastically. “Maybe you should ask why he spied on us.”

“I didn’t spy on you!” The boy shouts. He tries to stand up to three teenagers despite his small size. He reminds Lucerys of his own younger brother Joffrey.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, Stark. Didn’t your muggle dad teach you how to be respectful?”

Rickon Stark looks like he’s about to pounce and rip that Slytherin’s face.

“Stand down, Rickon.” Lucerys says, but his gaze is on the Slytherins.

“Yes, stand down, mudblood.” The Slytherin beater sneers. His lackeys bark out a laugh.

Lucerys pinches his nose, trying hard to stay calm.

“You crossed a line here, gentleman. I won’t tolerant such behavior.” Lucerys says with incredible authority, “Come with me. Let’s see what your house head will say about this.”

The Slytherin boys noticeably flinch from Luke’s serious demeanor.

“And you, Mr. Stark, don’t think I didn’t see the broom you hide under the stand. First-years are not allowed to fly by their own. Put that broom back immediately before I write to your parents. Believe me, you don’t want to get a Howler two weeks in the new semester.”

“Sorry! It won’t happen again!” Rickon Stark pales and runs at top speed before retrieving said broom that no one noticed, “Please don’t write to Jace!”

 Aemond is about to finish the wolfsbane potion when the door to his personal dungeon opens. Lucerys matches in, followed by three Slytherin boys on the quidditch team.

“To what do I owe the honor, Professor Velaryon?” Aemond says, continuing to stir the cauldron. He’s the only one who calls Lucerys that.

“Your boys called someone mudblood today, Aemond.” Lucerys replies, throwing those boys a dark look.

Aemond’s hand pauses for a second before resuming stirring. The boys duck their heads, not dare to meet their house head’s eye.

“That is inappropriate, I reckon.” Aemond throws in finely grinded snake skin and give the potion a final stir.

“Inappropriate? It’s a serious offense!” Lucerys stomps to the work table, stopping just inches before Aemond. He leans in, ignoring the acrid smell that stings his eyes.

“Let me finish this, Lucerys.” Aemond doesn’t seem to mind the proximity, which is odd because Professor Targaryen is allergic to human being.

Lucerys wrinkles his nose, but says nothing. He doesn’t step back either. 10 minutes later, the potion finally turns to the right color.

“Well?”

Aemond lets out a small chuckle before pats Lucerys on the head. The Slytherins gasp as if they just witnessed hell. There is no way, no way at all, that Professor Targaryen is capable of that fond expression.

“You three will serve detention for two months. And you won’t be attending the house cup match this weekend.” Aemond says in his usual soft but menacing tone.

“But we have to- We need to defeat these Gryffindor scums! “

“And the match next week. One more word and you will be expelled from the team. Don’t test me.” Aemond begins to fill the vials with wolfsbane potion.

“Professor, we know you don’t understand quidditch but- “

Lucerys breaks out laughing. He laughs so hard that his stomach hurts. This is easily the most hilarious thing he hears so far. Aemond? Not understanding quidditch?

Aemond huffs while running a hand down Lucerys’s back.

“Oh, you Slytherins. If only you look at your house medals.” Lucerys finally manages to speak.

The three unfortunate boys do get a look at Slytherin house medal in the end as they spend all their detention time polishing said medal which reads, Aemond Targaryen, Most Valuable Player in House Cup. There are four of them.

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

🌸 If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog. 🌸

Thank you for tagging me bb @jamdoughnutmagician ✨

I feel like there’s sooo many things about me I’m trying to decide three solid ones that truly show who I am hmmm… 🤔

1. I’m a stay at home MILF, most of my mutuals know that already but I have a son, he’s about to be 5. He loves Spider-Man and Pokémon and Asking Alexandria. AND he is named after Fox Mulder. He’s pretty fuckin cool if you ask me.

2. I’m super into collecting things. I have like 100 something Funkos, lots of Figurines, dolls, and plushies. I also collect DVDs (like fr if you’re trynna have a movie night I have it ALLLL), I also collect clothes/accessories, specifically hoodies, I used to work at Hot Topic so it all just kind of got out of hand bc of my discount 😅 My room looks like my brain exploded and all the stuff inside it came out tbh.

3. I’m a definition homebody. I don’t really like going out much. I’m not into going to bars or drinking or partying (I did all that in my early 20s I used to be a dancer lol). As I’ve gotten older my sensory issues have gotten worse and worse (she’s a neurodivergent baddieee) so If I do go out I go to the movies or go to lunch with a friend every once in a while. I’d rather have people come over and I can feed them and watch movies and play games ✨and smoke✨in my enclosure together.

No pressure tags (tagging mutuals instead of people in my notifs): @gravedigginbbydoll @chrissymjstan @mmunson86 @bettyfrommars @taintedcigs @melodymunson @bimbobaggins69 @lesservillain @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiemunson95 @the-unforgivenn @rip-quizilla @layla-loves-ed @emsgoodthinkin @storiesbyrhi @lokis-army-77 @strangelysupernatural & anyone else who wants to.🖤✨

[mlmxreader]

All Hope Is Gone | Simon Ghost Riley x trans!m!reader

Anonymous asked: So my first request was for simon riley x pakitani!ftm reader where they both have recently gotten married/ had their nikah and after their time off simon had been given tons of paper work to do which reader understood but it just kept Simon away from him longer on the days where they could just be alone by themselves with the prompt “Would you stop trying to distract me?”.

Sorry if this is confusing

-🦝

summary: so shortly after having your nikkah, Ghost is ripped and torn from you

tws: swearing, brief mentions of violence/blood

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

The speakers were turned up loud enough to make the side shake and vibrate, 'All Hope Is Gone' by Slipknot playing as Ghost glared at the thick and hefty stack of papers that had been given to him, a heavy sigh falling from his lips; he knew you understood why he would be home late, why he wouldn't be there for tea and why he would probably miss the first few minutes of the six o'clock news, but he wished he didn't.

It seemed like the very second that the plane had landed, Ghost had been torn from you; so shortly after your nikkah, so shortly after returning from your hometown in Pakistan, and he had been wrenched from you already.

He could be at home with you doing this shit, he could be spending time with the man that he had loved, the man that he married not even three weeks ago.

Sure, Ghost knew that you understood better than most; given the fact that you worked for the Pakistan Air Force and you were an accomplished officer, decorated and praised by high command, it was a given that you would understand Ghost's current situation.

Field assessments and reports were never fun, but they were even more tedious when Ghost knew that he had a husband waiting for him; when he knew that the husband he adored with every fucking inch of himself, was waiting for him.

But then the door opened, and Ghost sighed with relief when you popped your head in, daring to smile at him as you held up a bag of takeaway food; the smell of it was enough to make his stomach grumble as he met your gaze and licked his lips from behind the mask. He couldn't remember when he had eaten, if at all, that day.

"I figured," you started, "since you can't come home yet, and I don't wanna be in that house without you... I'd stay here."

Slowly, Ghost nodded and used his steel toe cap to gently push the chair opposite him, returning to his paperwork as you set the bag down and started to take everything out; he was more grateful than he could say, not just for the food, but for the company, too.

He was a firm believer that your company was the best in the world, and he always appreciated being near you.

'Gehenna' by Slipknot was playing, now, and you hummed as you dared to steal a quick look at him.

"You playing the All Hope Is Gone album?"

Ghost nodded, not taking his focus from his paperwork even though he desperately wanted to; he felt guilty, more than anything, that he had such a wonderful and devoted husband who he would literally kill for, and here he was doing fucking paperwork.

Filling out fucking formal bullshit.

He wanted to be yours again, the way that he had been when you were in Pakistan together. He craved being yours again, your Simon, your favourite ghost, your best friend, your husband. He wanted it more than anything, the ache even stronger than his hunger.

But he also knew that as soon as he was done with paperwork, he was completely done with work until his next deployment; nothing would be able to take him away from you, then, and nothing could stop him from being your Simon once more... only, that was a lot easier said than done, as when you pushed a plastic tub across to him, he was forced to look up at you.

"King prawn chow mein," you told him with a slight smile. "I know it's your favourite."

Tilting his head to the side, Ghost was all too eager to take off his mask and start gathering food on his fork, licking his lips as his stomach growled once more. "Would you stop trying to distract me?"

"No," you grinned, shaking your head as you started to tuck into your own meal. "C'mon, Si, I feel like I haven't seen you since we landed."

"I know," he admitted with a huff. "I'm sorry."

You shook your head, clearing your throat as you wiped a little bit of sauce from the corner of your mouth. "It's not a huge deal, just... I miss you. I miss my Simon."

Ghost smiled, nodding as he dared to reach a hand across, letting you take hold of it as he rubbed his thumb across your knuckles; comfortable silence while you ate together. Just like home, even down to the way he cautiously swiped the pad of his thumb across your knuckles, as if he was scared of accidentally breaking your bones.

He was always scared of hurting you, always scared of doing something wrong and upsetting you; he was always scared of causing you to get hurt. The anxiety laid deep within his stomach, nearly dipping down his hips as he swallowed thickly.

"I should be a better husband," he admitted quietly.

"You're doing the best you can," you reassured. "That's enough for me... if anything, my frustration is with Price - he gave you those fucking papers, knowing we'd just got married."

Relief flooded from his shoulders, and washed some of the anxiety from his stomach when he heard you say that, say that you didn't blame him and you weren't upset with him; his posture changed slightly, a little more relaxed. He even dared to gently wipe your lip when something got stuck to the edge of it, his thumb resting on your bottom lip for a moment; he decided against it, though, and pulled back.

Maybe later.

The music was the only sound in the room aside from chewing and swallowing, but you and Ghost didn't mind; you enjoyed the silence between you, just holding hands as you carried on eating, exactly how you would at home. Except by now, the news would be on, and Ghost would be insisting that the local news had their facts wrong about something or other. It was nice.

'Butcher's Hook' played, and you couldn't help but to smile fondly; when you and Ghost had first started seeing one another, he had nearly killed an American soldier for making some raunchy comments about you when they found out that you were trans, and when you wiped the blood from his knuckles, he made you listen to that song.

"I love you," you told him.

"I love you, too," Ghost admitted. "Did you get this from the same place we ordered from last time?"

"I did," you confessed with a nod. "You said you liked it last time, so I made sure to keep their leaflet."

Ghost damn near grinned. He would get that paperwork done as soon as he was finished eating, if only so that he could be yours once again, so that he could actually be a husband.

if you enjoyed this fic, REBLOG IT; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM level of support. do not interact if you won't reblog.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Book Five: Section Three

Dapper's psychosis worsens as he goes on without treatment, and the others try to figure out what to do while still trying to maintain a feeling of safety. Masterlist

Tws for self-hatred, past abuse, and psychosis and treatment discussions, including institutionalization. Marvin also snaps at the audience a couple times. Tws may not be completely exhaustive - keep in mind the heaviness of the fic and look out for yourself.

Thank you to @lehhoh7822 for taking the time to compile this book!

.

Blue wakes up alone.

He rubs at his face and turns over, considering just going back to sleep. He’s tired. But he’s hungry, too, and if he’s hungry than his brothers are hungry, and if his brothers are hungry, he needs to make breakfast.

“Jackie?” he calls, hoping his twin is just getting ready in the bathroom, but there’s no answer. The house is cold. He drags himself out of bed, shuddering in the chill. Ugh. The football jersey he threw on as a sleep-shirt is sweaty and unwashed, not unlike his dead white hair. He picks at a scab on his neck til it bleeds, frustrated from the moment he wakes up.

There’s a note on the bedside table in his brother’s struggling, messy handwriting.

Blue, I went to town because I found out about some people who can maybe help us get a place to stay and food and a job and things. I will get some stuff we need at the store. I checked last night and you and me and Chase are registered as Irish citizens in the health care system acording to the website but Dapper and Dok are British and German so it maybe costs some money to take them in to see someone but if they need appointements right now I will find the money. I’ll be home later and hopefuly we can go stay somewhere else. Love Ro

“You’ve got to be kidding, Red,” protests Blue, gripping at his hair. “None of us should be out alone. He hates crowds and public transportation but he just goes out alone… determined bastard. How will I find him if something happens? Dammit!”

He crumples the paper and throws it at the wall, slumping back into bed. Maybe he will just go back to sleep. But then again he feels so disgusting. This goddamn skin. He pulls the blankets over his head and groans into his pillow.

Anonymous asked: Blue, I think it might be possible some of Anti's magic or his 'soul' or anything might remain in you. Not that you are not your own person, but you've been showing signs that some of his magic might have stuck in you when Dark ripped him out. I mean, the anger, the love of Trick, the possible accidental hypnotism. I think it's something you should consider.

“Ah, right, yeah,” says Blue, slouching out of bed and washing his face in the bathroom sink. “Forgive me for having some shit going on right now and a friendship with one of my brothers. Must be a demon in my soul. Glad to know I look that much like my abuser to the lot of you.”

He throws the towel down and stares back at you, eyes flashing. “You sound like Dapper. Anti is DEAD. Move on.”

scunneredzombie asked: Jackie, did you bring a camera with you?

“He probably didn’t even bother to think of that,” mutters Blue, checking the bag to count how many cameras they have with them. “Maybe he at least took Anti’s phone if he really needs anything. He’s having so much fun with his new independence he’s starting to get sloppy.”

Blue shifts through some of his clean clothes for a minute, but what does it even matter? He drops his bag and gets up, heading to the room next door.

“Chase, Dok! Do you want breakfast?”

There’s no answer. He cracks the door open quietly and finds only one sleep-tousled twin laid out in the stolen bed, eyes closed, breathing soft and even. For a second, Blue feels a little better. He shouldn’t be so grouchy. They’re fighting a lot lately, sure, but what matters is that Anti is gone and they’re all together and alive. They’ll go from there.

“Where’s your twin, though, huh?” he sighs, closing the door. “Dok? Chase must be tired if he’s sleeping through you sneaking off. Henrik?”

Anonymous asked: I didn't say you look like your abuser. I said it's seriously a possibility some of his magic stuck to you. Blue, he is dead, and he is gone. But this is a serious thing to consider, you shouldn't brush it off so quick. You looked Chase in the eye and possibly hypnotized him a bit. That can't be just tossed aside like it doesn't matter.

“What are you talking about?” mumbles a sleepy voice behind him, and a second later, Chase is creaking open the door, blinking at him.

“Just something stupid,” snipes Blue, setting the camera down on the shelf beside him. “Forget it.”

Chase hums sleepily.

But the more he thinks about it, the more it starts to eat at him. He’s nauseous. Anti still here? Anti still inside him, moving him, controlling him? He remembers -

Ink in his mouth, and blood on his face -

Laughter. Not his laughter, but from his mouth.

Dapper stares up at him like he’s everything he hates and loves at the same time.

Henrik is splayed out beneath him, screaming for help, but all he does is keep hitting him, again and again, beating his fists against his head, his chest, his arms, til his knuckles are stained with Henrik’s blood.

“Do you think Marvin’s going to fucking wake up, you little bitch, is that what you’re screaming for? Do you think big brother’s going to save you? No one is fucking coming, Henrik, no one is going to save you, and all your brother can do is fucking WATCH - ”

“Blue,” comes a steady voice, and then Chase’s hands are cupping his cheeks, trying to draw his gaze. “Blue. I’m here. Just breathe.”

Blue leans over and grabs his stomach, shaking so hard he can’t stay on his feet. His knees buckle and Chase grabs him, holding him tight and helping him to sit down.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. Blue, you’re okay.”

These hands, these hands, his hands, his hands. He can feel - he still remembers -

He grabs his throat and wheezes, crumpling in over himself, letting Chase fold over him and hold him, making reassurances to him again and again and again.

Anonymous asked: You are you, even if his magic does remain. You were you and he was him. Nothing he did is your doing, nothing he said is your fault. You are Blue/Marvin and you have been through all of this. He stole from you, stole your body, but nothing he used it for is your fault. Do not shoulder the responsibility of your abuser, love.

“I need - I need to talk to Henrik - why won’t he talk, Chase, why doesn’t he talk, I need - ”

“I know, Blue, I know.”

“And Dapper looks at me like he still sees him in me, I hate that, I hate him, I hate all of this. I can’t ever fix anything, I’m just - ”

“It’s not your job to fix anything, Blue, just breathe.”

“He took everything from me!” screams Blue, jerking so hard Chase pins him down slightly, scared he’ll slam his head into something. “I wish I had killed him slower! I wish I had chained him up in that barbed wire and tore through that fucking cut on his throat once and for all!”

Chase takes long, slow breaths, trying to get Blue to follow.

“It’s not your fault, Blue, what he did.”

“I can still feel him crawling inside me, fucking parasite.”

“It’s just the trauma, Blue. He’s gone.”

“What if I did hypnotize you?”

“What?”

“What if I did? The other day? We made eye contact and you - you got all - kind of dopey, you know?”

“I’m not Trick anymore,” says Chase firmly. “Nothing like that happened. Just forget it, Blue. It’s done.”

scunneredzombie asked: Chase, any idea where Henrik got to? Outside maybe? Take your time with Blue, he needs you, but finding Dok should be the next-up.

“Oh, shit,” says Chase, sitting up. “Oh, fuck, he must have snuck off while I was asleep, fuck.”

It puts fear in him immediately, and he’s on his feet, calling for him. “Dok? I’m here! Where are you? You don’t think he ran off, do you? Blue, I’m going to go grab him, just quick, I’ll be right back.”

Blue lets him go without protest, slumping back against the wall. It’s Chase’s job to protect his brother the same way Marvin was supposed to look out for all of them. He buries his face in his hands and closes his eyes, flowers curling out from one sleeve of his shirt in woeful blue petals.

Anonymous asked: None of you have jobs anymore, you all deserve to relate with and help each other at any time, like a family. Not Antis dollhouse, but an actual family, all of you to all of you.

“I gave up Marvin for a chance to save them someday,” Blue tells you quietly, running his fingers over old scars. “But all I could do was kill him and that fixed so little. I still have to see them all breaking in half and I can’t do anything about it. Can’t even get a hold of myself. You’re right, Red and I are just going to end up being the new version of him. Controlling because we think we care, unlike him, but controlling anyway. Maybe I do still treat Chase like Trick. I wish so badly that one of them could just be… okay. Could just be himself again. Happy and healthy and fine. But we’re all just fucked up and tired. How am I even supposed to start fixing any of this? I think even if Red gets us everything we need, we’ll still all just be shadows of the people we used to be.”

He pauses, breathing more even, more slow. Okay. Okay.

“I wish my hair would grow back,” he adds, voice small. “I really wish this body was mine again.”

scunneredzombie asked: And are shadows not still worthy of love and care? You, all of you, need to stop trying to be the exact people you were before he was in control. Trauma /changes/ you. Trauma changes your brain, physically and emotionally. But those changes don't take away your value or your personhood. It's okay to change, and it's okay to feel like shadows for a bit while you heal. Don't give up, you lot!

Blue is quiet, staring down at his feet, his knees drawn to his chest.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “They all still deserve a lot. I… deserve better. A lot better than the way he treated us. I just wish I could give it to them. I think it’s so ingrained in my head - and in Ro’s too - that we have to make sure they’re okay before we can be okay. I guess maybe I should be focusing on myself but I just want them to be… ugh. What a mess all of this is.”

He feels bad all the way down to his heart, doubly exhausted now from his freak-out, and embarrassed that Chase saw him like that. His little brother is coming back towards him now, Dok in tow and a worried look on his face, but Blue doesn’t want to see them right now. Doesn’t want to see Henrik silent and blank from the things that Blue - that Anti did to him. Doesn’t want to risk looking too deeply into Chase’s eyes and realizing that you might be right, and some part of Anti remains inside of him, enough to mess with Chase’s brain. Doesn’t want to be looked at at all, not while he’s… this.

“Can I just get some alone time?” he asks, rubbing his face.

“I could be alone with you,” offers Chase quickly. “But, um, also - ”

“Chase, I just - I just want some alone time.”

Chase glances back at Henrik, who blinks at him. He sighs.

“Um, okay. Yeah, no worries. But if you need anything, Blue… you know I’d do anything for you, right?”

“I love you too,” answers Blue softly.

Chase’s mouth flickers with a small, taut smile. He leads Henrik back down the stairs.

Anonymous asked: Blue. You're putting shields up against people that don't want to hurt you. You have a right to your privacy always, but you don't have to deny the fact that you need help and you want to get better. You're a problem solver but it's okay to ask for help and it's okay to accept it as well.

“Yeah, well,” grouses Blue, getting up and heading back towards his room. “Consider this one more shield.”

And he closes his door and leaves you in the hallway.

Downstairs, Chase flinches at the sound of the door shutting. He squares his shoulders and lets go of a deep breath, stepping out onto the porch.

“Okay, Dap,” he says unsteadily. “Blue is taking a break. But we can figure this out between the three of us, right?”

Dapper doesn’t reply. His hands are coated black with charcoal, which he has spread across the entire back wall of the house, repeating drawings of eyes over and over and over again.

Anonymous asked: JJ, are you alright? Another paranoid episode?

“Hey, Dapper,” murmurs Chase, sinking to his knees beside him. “Hey, look at me. Are you okay? JJ? Can you look at me?”

He just keeps drawing. Henrik is already on his other side, right where Chase found him this morning - trying to pull the charcoal out of his hand and touching the back of his head like he’s somehow holding him in place. It’s the most independent reaction Chase has seen his twin offer in weeks, but it isn’t doing much. Henrik tightens his grip on the charcoal and Dapper shoves his hand away, curled low over an eye on the corner of the house.

“Dapper,” says Chase, louder, putting a hand on his chin and trying to draw his gaze to him. “You didn’t sleep, did you? You have to stop. Jameson, hey.”

Henrik blinks at him from the other side of their brother. Dapper doesn’t stop.

“Okay.” Chase chews on the nail of his thumb. “Okay, so not listening. Maybe not hearing me. Dapper, can’t you just tell me what you need? What are the eyes for?”

He’s been scrawling so hard and for so long that there’s blood on the ends of his fingers.

scunneredzombie asked: Offer a reality check, Chase? Like reminding him where he is, his name, your name, that he's safe, etc. Reminders of truths and things that would provide comfort.

“Dapper? I’m here. It’s me, Chase, and Henrik, too. That’s who’s touching you. You’re safe here, yeah? Dap. Look at me, okay? Can you please? Can you tell me what the eyes are for?”

Dapper scrapes at his ears for a second. They’re black with charcoal and red with how hard he’s been scratching at them, cupping them, striking them. Chase pulls his hand down from his ear.

“You’re going to make yourself bleed. JJ, talk to me.”

“Can’t talk.”

“Hey! Yeah, here I am, okay, I know you can’t talk, I just mean - you know what I mean, right, you - ”

“Nobody’s listening. Just talking talking talking.”

“I’m here, it’s Chase, I’m listening.”

Dapper keeps drawing eyes. Or Chase thinks they’re eyes. They seem to just be devolving into ovals with circles inside them. Dapper rocks himself forward with a sudden intensity, letting himself slump against the back wall like he’s trying to collapse into it, but still drawing, still drawing.

“I’ll get you some water, okay?” offers Chase, drawing back from him, unnerved. Dapper’s posture is distinctly uncomfortable-looking, like a mannequin with cut strings left splayed against the wall, but he doesn’t try to adjust. His pupils are shrunken dots.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whispers to himself, hurrying into the house to get him some water.

Henrik stays outside, staring at Dapper as he draws. After a second he sits down beside him and starts tracing over the eyes with his finger, smudging it in charcoal. Dapper pushes his hand away and corrects the lines he’s marred without comment. Henrik has a hand on his knee, quiet.

Anonymous asked: Is Anti talking to you, Jay? He's just a ghost now, don't fret. He can't hurt you, and he can't see you. He's a hallucination. You're very paranoid and scared right now, I understand. Try to bring yourself back to reality. Focus on the water's coldness, on Henrik and Chase being there for you, on the friendly, brotherly hands that touch and try to bring you back. You will be okay. No one is watching besides people who love you.

Chase is good with him by now - knows what to say, how to hold onto him, what to look out for when things are getting bad. But no matter how much he speaks reassurances in calm, even tones and short sentences, or how gently he repositions his shaking body, or how carefully he’s trying to look after him, he’s not coming out of it.

“How long has he been like this?” asks Chase, looking up at his twin like he’s hoping he’ll start talking again in this exact moment and give him all the answers like he used to. “What are we supposed to do? I need Red or Blue.”

He gets to his feet, stalking in circles as he tries to think. There’s a sudden dry yelp and he turns, alarmed, to see Henrik reeling back, gripping his nose.

“Dapper!” Chase howls. “It’s Dok, not Anti! Did you hit him?”

He reaches down to grab his wrist, but Dapper thrashes free, teeth gritted, eyes watering with fear.

“He’s everywhere, he won’t leave me alone, I can’t get out of my room…”

Chase pulls Henrik to his feet and leads him inside, sitting him down on the couch. This is out of control. He knows what he would do next, but - well, he’s not in charge. He needs Red or Blue.

scunneredzombie asked: You're in charge right now Chase. You're the most functional person around currently. Try doing what your idea was, it could be helpful. JJ just needs people to be cautious and gentle to him right now, remind him he's free and not in that prison of a room. Turn him around and let him see the grass and forest behind the house, take him onto the soil if you can. Literal 'grounding'.

Chase sits with Dapper a while longer, looking at him. He tries touching him, pulling at him, trying to turn him around, but Dapper just yanks back towards the wall with increasing desperation, his fingers smearing blood across charcoal. It’s been a long time since he’s been this stuck in his head, but the truth is that he’s been struggling for weeks now, and there are a lot of things Chase wishes they would have done for him a long time ago.

Okay. He’s in charge right now.

He’s not little brother. He’s just a brother. No more hierarchy. Okay.

He gets to his feet and goes up to Blue’s room. He opens the door and steps inside, and his sibling looks up at him in confusion from beneath a pile of somebody else’s blankets.

“Dapper needs to go to the hospital,” says Chase. “I’m going to take him to the bus stop.”

Anonymous asked: Good call, Chaser. Do you know if there's any behavioral clinics near to you? JJ would have a difficult time in the hospital, what with all the strangers, but it might be just what would help right now. He need his medicine and he needs a safe place with people who know what to do.

“Hold up, what’s going on?” demands Blue, hurrying out of bed. “Let me see him. I’ll handle it.”

“Blue, I love you, but you and Dapper aren’t really best friends right now. He’s been hallucinating and erratic for days now and now he’s almost totally unresponsive, drawing eyes on the walls and scraping at his ears because his voices are so loud. Blue, he’s having a psychotic break, and if it doesn’t get handled, not only is he going to keep suffering, he could snap the timeline. I know we’re used to Dapper being kind of - well, weird. But we can’t pretend any of this is normal.”

“Okay, but Chase, if we take him to a hospital, they might put him in a psych ward.”

“What if he needs to be in a psych ward for a little while?” asks Chase, exhausted. “With professionals? Or what if they just give him some medication and let him come home with us once he’s stable?”

“We need to run this past Jackie,” says Blue, pushing past Chase to go find his little brother.

“Jackie’s not here. And even if he were… you know he wouldn’t let us do this. He’s so scared of losing control he would never let someone else take care of his baby brother. He’s paranoid too right now. Dapper needs to see a professional. Now.”

Blue pushes out onto the porch. Dapper doesn’t look up at him, but when Blue reaches out to touch his shoulder, Dapper gasps and cowers from him, wrapping his arms around his head and curling in on himself, panting.

“Oh, lovey, oh, love,” moans Blue, tugging at his hair, stressed. “Um, I - I don’t know. I just wanted to take him to a clinic to get a prescription.”

“That’s all Anti ever did for him,” mumbles Chase. “It was never enough. Let’s at least look for behavioral clinics like they said.”

“We don’t have any way to do that. No phone or computer or anything. And we are not talking to the neighbors - we’ve already fucked up this whole house, don’t need to be any more suspicious.”

scunneredzombie asked: Blue, I know it hurts, but there's not much you or Chase can do for him right now. Going to an urgent care or a hospital is what he needs right now, or something bad could happen to him. When people become unresponsive there's not much to do - if they don't have their medicine - besides taking them to a doctor. I've had to do it before, there's no shame in it. Psychosis is a serious thing and needs serious help.

“What’s the stress here?” asks Chase wearily. “What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” snaps Blue, trying not to cry. “Maybe that we’re broke and he’s not in the health care system? Or that he’s mute and psychotic and they might treat him badly? That he might be scared, that he might be violent, that he might talk too much about his abusive family and all the people we’ve murdered? How about the fact that Jackie is going to be pissed and terrified? Chase, this isn’t going to work.”

Chase stares down at his feet for a second, eyes tired.

“Blue,” he says after a moment. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life sick and hiding.”

Blue sighs, closing his eyes.

“You’re good, right, Chase?” he asks. “That’s not true what Jackie said. That you’re just acting like the sunshine kid to make me happy.”

Chase cringes slightly, looking away. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Fuck,” Blue curses, rubbing at his face. “Fuck…. fine. Okay. Okay, yes, we’re doing this. Jackie will flip his shit, but we’ll deal with it. Dapper, honey. We gotta go. Come with me, okay?”

Still just drawing. Just drawing in circles.

“How are we doing this?” asks Blue.

“I don’t know,” sighs Chase. “Carry him?”

“I’m going to pull him a little here,” warns Blue, reaching down. He ends up wrapping his arms tight around Dapper’s shoulders and heaving him to his feet even as Dapper starts to struggle, alarmed. Once he’s up he’s a little less steady, but less angry too, just blinking around at the world with tears in his eyes and a shaking piece of charcoal in his hand.

“Babe, we’re going to the hospital,” says Blue clearly. “Come on, okay?”

“I’m not allowed - ”

“You’re allowed. It’s okay. Chase, you ready?”

“What? No, I have to stay here with Dok.”

“You’re sticking me with him alone? You were the one who said he doesn’t like me that much right now!”

“What are we supposed to do, bring two tortured brothers into the ER? That won’t look suspicious!”

“So I’ll stay with Dok, then!”

Chase flinches, shaking his head rapidly.

“Chase - ”

“I’ll stay with him,” says Chase, creeping back towards the house. “I have to stay with him.”

Blue groans and turns to Dapper, who stares back at him with his huge, terrified eyes.

“Fine, fine,” he breathes out. “This is going to be a trainwreck. This is going to suck. Come on, buddy.”

“I’m not allowed.”

“You’re allowed.”

“I’m stuck in my room… he’s going to hurt me…”

“Come on, Dap.”

Anonymous asked: Chase, let Blue stay with Henrik. You need to be able to trust other people to take care of him. Get away from the twin hierarchy and let another brother care for him. JJ is scared of Blue currently, he needs someone he fully trusts to guide him. Henrik will be okay without you for just a few hours. Everything will be alright.

Chase shifts back towards the house, clinging to the doorway. He can hear Henrik playing with an old game of dominoes on the coffee table, clicking and placing the pieces together. He doesn’t want to go.

“Don’t you trust me?” asks Blue.

“It’s not about that,” says Chase.

“So what’s it about.”

“He’s mine,” snarls Chase, face darkening. “Not yours. Not anybody else’s. And when he wakes up, it’s me he’s coming back to.”

He turns on Blue and shuts the door.

Anonymous asked: He doesn't belong to you Chase. Henrik is his own person, and he is not to be treated like he's helpless just because he can't speak. Don't be possessive in that way, it too reminiscent of Anti.

Chase chews on his nails, staring at his brother. Henrik is putting the domino pieces together right, or at least in a way that makes sense. Matching colors and numbers. He’s there, just… far away.

“Sorry, Blue,” he calls through the door.

Blue snorts on the other side. “That was fast. You have a temper like a bunny rabbit. Go get Dapper some shoes.”

Chase moves off to find the nearest pair of torn-up sneakers, tired of the day already. He hands them over to Blue and watches him help lace them onto Dapper’s feet, sinking down onto the couch beside Henrik. He moves one of his dominoes and Henrik’s eyes flicker up to him, slightly narrow in a way that makes Chase think maybe he knows he’s being played with. He laughs weakly and touches his brother’s cheek. Henrik gazes at him, blinking.

“I should never have left you alone, man,” whispers Chase. “I wish you were here to forgive me. I just don’t want you to be alone again when you come back.”

Henrik stares at him. His glasses are a little crooked on his nose. A little broken and a little crooked. His twin.

Henrik reaches slowly out and wraps his arms around his neck, letting his head fall down onto Chase’s shoulder. Chase feels a shaky breath escape from his chest. He tries to move slowly. Tries not to startle him. Can’t break this.

He hugs his brother back slowly, his hands pressing into his back. They seem to fit just right.

“I’ll take him if you really want,” Chase tells him a few minutes later, sliding back towards Blue. “Dok’s okay. Dapper’s not.”

“I almost want to take him now,” sighs Blue. “That’s my job, right?”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“He’s already upset with me. If you take him, he might be mad at you too.”

“Either way will be okay with me.”

Anonymous asked:

Would either one of you be more confident dealing with medical professionals and paperwork and all that to get him admitted? I'd lean more towards Chase just because JJ and Marv are still having a hard time, but of course it's up to y'all. There's practical bits to taking him to a hospital that y'all can consider too.

A

“Oh, hell,” says Chase. “I don’t even know my fake name. Or his.”

“I gave you your ID, how can you not know that?”

“I don’t know where it is, haha.”

“Chase!”

“I’ll find it…”

Anonymous asked: You are allowed to go Dapper. You are free, Anti is gone. You can finally have therapy and doctors and medicine. No one tells you what to do anymore. You are 'allowed' to do anything at all, especially if it's helpful and beneficial for your health.

“Do you want to pick, bud?” asks Blue, putting a hand on his back. “You can make your own choice now, they’re right. It’s okay. It’s allowed.”

Dapper stares at Blue. Stares at Chase. Stares at Blue.

“Okay, this is going nowhere,” crabs Blue, taking his hand. “Chase, bring Dok and come with us on the bus. You guys can go for a walk or something while we check in. It’ll be good for Dok to get out and about. We’ll leave Jackie a note. Come on.”

“That works.”

scunneredzombie asked: You are allowed to get help, buddy. Anti is dead. You're free from your room. You can finally get the help you need, it'll all be okay. I know it must be terrifying, but you can finally have your medicine and have therapy and people to help you through it. Repeat to yourself. Anti is dead. Anti can't control you anymore.

They go for a walk and sit on the bus with what little cash Blue was keeping from Jackie, exhausted together, though Dapper is a buzzing ball of nervous energy beside Blue, staring out the window like he doesn’t understand how they’re moving or what they’re moving past. Chase and Dok are behind them, Chase’s eyes fixed on his little brother’s head. Dapper flinches every time someone coughs or shifts or yawns around him. Like everything in the world is waiting to hurt him.

“Look at you, all mussed up,” sighs Blue, licking his thumb and trying to wipe some of the charcoal off his brother’s face. “All that curly hair growing out and all these old cuts and bruises. And so skinny. I should have made sure you ate last night. I just hid from you all. No wonder you ended up freaking out on the porch all night. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Dapper clings to the window, leaning forward to trace a dog passing by. Blue tries to smooth down his hair, stroking across the mess of his locks, scratching at his short beard.

“They’re right, okay?” he murmurs, trying to clean him up, though he knows the lot of them must look like disasters. They are disasters right now. “You control yourself. Just a little sick right now. Anti is gone. He’s gone, Dap. It’s just you and - ”

Dapper whirls on him and grabs his face between his hands, staring at him dead on. Chase’s nervous hand reaches out to grab Dapper’s wrist. Blue waits, frozen.

Dapper draws back again, still looking at him.

“You’re okay,” says Blue softly, because if he loses it on the bus, they’re screwed. “You’re okay.”

“Is it you?” asks Dapper.

“I’m whoever you need me to be right now, Dapper.”

Dapper blinks, apparently considering this. After a second he nods and sinks down in his seat, looking back out the window.

Anonymous asked: Sorry, I haven't been here for a bit - do any of you have phones? Can you contact Jackie? I'm a touch concerned that he could come home to an empty house. Is there a camera there for us to talk to him, at least?

“He did that to me this morning,” grouses Blue. “And he took the only phone. But yes, there are extra cameras at home when he gets back. And maybe he’ll actually have found us somewhere to stay… now that we’ve messed up the porch and eaten most of the food, I don’t think we’re exactly discreet.”

“Is it you?” asks Dapper again, looking back at Blue.

“I don’t know,” answers Blue. “Who do you think I am?”

Dapper shakes his head, blinking. “I’m… not sure. I don’t think we’ve met.”

Blue laughs weakly, smoothing out an extra strand of his hair.

“Weird, I was just thinking that too. Maybe we haven’t met.”

“No?”

“We really don’t know each other at all, huh? When he was still alive, you were just the brother in the basement I was supposed to save. His twin, wrapped around his finger. I think maybe that’s why I’ve been so ticked off. You still remind me of him. It’s all I’ve ever associated you with.”

“Do you want me to be something else?”

“No,” says Blue quickly, squeezing his hand. “No, just yourself. Just healthy and yourself.”

“Is it you?”

“It’s Blue, Dapper.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Okay. We’re friends?”

“We’re siblings. But I’d like to be friends sometime too.”

“You’re being funny with me, Anti,” says Dapper, laying his head on his shoulder. “You always laugh at me when I’m sick.”

Blue lets it go, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“We’re almost to help, JJ.”

scunneredzombie asked: JJ, try to stay calm at the hospital. Strangers will have to touch you to check you out and keep you healthy. Strangers will have to watch over you to make sure you don't hurt yourself/anyone. You'll be perfectly okay and none of them mean you harm. They should be understanding if you lash out, just try your best. I believe in you, all of you!

“Ready?” asks Chase as the hospital comes into view, leaning forward.

“Where are we?” Dapper asks.

“He’s talking now. Maybe we can just go back home?”

“Blue, no,” chides Chase. “Dapper, let’s go get you to a doctor, okay?”

Dapper looks up at Blue in alarm, gripping his hand. “It’s okay,” offers Blue. “Don’t sweat it. People are here to help.”

“This is a test,” signs Dapper uncertainly. “You’re testing me.”

“No.” Blue switches to signing, hoping to avoid as many odd looks as they can. “Dapper, you know that you’re paranoid when you’re off your meds. You know that’s what those thoughts are. No one’s testing you and no one’s trying to hurt you. Some people are going to come help and they’re probably going to touch you and maybe have needles and that sort of thing, but you need to stay calm.”

“You’re going to leave me here, then,” Dapper says, his breath hitching. “You - I did something wrong and you’re going to have me locked up. I don’t even remember, you can’t do this to me.”

“Nobody’s leaving you here.”

Dapper’s shaken, eyes flickering around the bus. Blue takes his arm and pulls him carefully to his feet. “I’m going to stay right with you,” he says clearly. “I’m going to stay right here.”

“You don’t want me to take him?” asks Chase.

“He thinks I’m Anti,” mumbles Blue. “I think that’s the only reason he’s not attacking us or running for his life right now.��

Dapper clings to him in return, shaking. They help him off the bus amid a crowd of people. Dapper cowers against Blue’s chest, scrambling for a knife at his side, but there’s nothing there.

“Why are we out in the open like this?” his hands snap. “You’re just being reckless now.”

“We’re allowed to be out in the open. No one’s coming for us.”

“Make them be quiet, Anti, make them be quiet!” He clutches his ears, knees buckling, and Blue grabs him, keeping him on his feet and hurrying forward with him.

“Dapper,” calls Chase, worried.

“Chase, just take Henrik to the park or something. Keep calm.”

“You stole me and now you’re putting me back,” protests Dapper frantically, his feet scraping against the ground as he tries to pull against Blue’s grip. “Like you said you’d put me in an asylum and I’d never get out.”

“Anti told you that?”

“I know I can’t handle it without you, I know, don’t punish me!”

“Dapper - ”

“I’ll break everything if you’re not around,” he sobs, gripping at Blue’s shirt between signs. “I don’t have any control of myself, of my magic, when you’re not around. You have to keep me in control.”

“Dapper, you can handle this on your own! He just wanted you to believe you were helpless without him, he just - ”

“You’re not even real, why are you still hurting me?” He strikes Blue’s chest, crying in earnest, his face swollen in red. “If I didn’t need you so badly do you know how long ago I would have left?”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t!” shouts Blue, grabbing Dapper’s wrist. “And don’t you dare fucking hit me! You could have run from Anti like I did! I let him take me for the sake of the others, but you! Why did you ever let him keep you like that? Huh?”

“Sir! Hey, do you need help?”

Blue barely hears it. “Why don’t you tell me that, JJ?” he screams, shaking him. “Why didn’t you fight him?”

“You liar,” sobs JJ, pulling away from him, near crumpled in half. “You promised me. You said you would let the others go. I wasn’t enough for you. I hate that Blue got to kill you. I hate that I was such a coward. You took everything from me. I should have killed you slow and painful. I loved you too though. I don’t know what I was holding on to. Maybe if I had been the one to do it you wouldn’t still be here haunting me. You don’t know how much I hate myself. Coward. I should have been the one to do it.”

Blue feels a sob in his throat, his eyes burning. He crashes back into Dapper, grabbing his face and shoving their heads together, meeting his gaze, and his little brother looks back with his tortured eyes, and Blue is sorry for everything he’s been through and everything they’ve lost together.

“He sucks, doesn’t he?” he manages finally.

Jameson sinks against his chest, closing his eyes.

“I hate myself lately too, little brother. We’ll get through it.”

“I’m always going to be dangerous. I can’t control myself without Anti in my head. We’re twins. We can’t survive without each other.”

“Nah,” offers Blue, shaking his head. “No, that’s just more of Anti’s stupid brother system. The cameras were right. It all has to fall apart. We’re going to help you figure out how to stay in control without needing him. Okay?”

JJ stares up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. You must have done it before Anti came to take you. When we were living in the house in the woods. When things were kind. Things will be kind again. We just gotta take some steps.”

Jameson watches the sidewalk, thinking.

“It just starts with this, okay?” says Blue, taking his hand. “With getting some real help.”

“I’m… I’m going to get left here. Stuck again. Stuck.”

“No. We’d never leave you behind.”

“Even if you get mad?”

“Yeah, even if I get mad.”

“Even if I remind you of Anti?”

“Yeah. That’s my shit, not yours. I’ll get past it. Cause I love you.”

Jameson looks up, and for a second, his eyes are clear.

“Oh, silly,” he says, laughing faintly at himself. “Sorry, I just realized it’s you.”

“There you go,” beams Blue, relieved. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.”

“Marvin,” signs JJ fondly, touching his cheek. “Yeah, I see you now.”

[hskinhome]

I DONT REALLY KNOW IF THIS WILL WORK BUT I WANT TO TRY

MIGHT BE LONG SO SORRY IF IT IS, IM SUPER CANON DIVERGENT IM SOME BITS

IM KARKAT VANTAS, IM A HOST IN A SYSTEM (BODILY 15 BUT IM 16)

IM HONESTLY LOOKING FOR ANYONE BUT ERIDAN AND ESPECIALLY DAVE, GAMZEE, SOLLUX, TAVROS, EQUIUS, KANAYA ,ROSE AND KANKRI

IM FROM A DOOMED TIMELINE WHERE I DIED AT THE END OF THE 3 YEAR METEOR TRIP, JACK CAUGHT UP TO US AND WE FOUGHT HIM BUT LOST.

I WENT GOD TIER BUT HAD MY WINGS RIPPED OFF, SO I WAS REALLY PROTECTIVE OF MY BACK MOST OF THE TIME

GOD TIERING FOR MY TIMELINE WAS WHERE YOUD GET TRAITS OF WHATEVER YOU PROTOTYPED YOUR SPRITE WITH, SO I HAD SHELL PLATES ON MY BACK AND EVERYONE HAD FEATURES RELATING TO WHATEVER THEY PUT IN IT

I DIDNT HAVE A LUSUS OR HIVE UNTIL ABOUT A SWEEP BEFORE THE GAME AND THEN I GOT ADOPTED, MY CRABDAD DIDNT REALLY HAVE A NAME EVER AND LOOKED MORE LIKE A LOBSTER OR KRILL (LOL CRAWDAD TOO)

MY GAMZEE AND I BECAME FRIENDS WHEN WE WERE REALLY LITTLE, ID STAY AT HIS HIVE A LOT WHEN IT WAS COLD OUT AND HE PROTECTED ME FROM WHEN PEOPLE FOUND OUT ABOUT MY BLOOD AND TRIED TO HURT ME. WE NEVER SPLIT UP AND STAYED MOIRAILS EVEN IN THE DREAM BUBBLES AND WE GOT "MARRIED"

MY DAVE WAS ALBINO AND WORE SUNGLASSES BECAUSE HIS EYES WERE SENSITIVE TO THE LIGHT. HE HAD BLACK CROW WINGS ON HIS BACK AND HIS HANDS HAD TALONS, HE COULDNT FLY WITH HIS WINGS BECAUSE THEY WERE TOO SMALL BUT BEING GOD TIER LET HIM FLY STILL. WE WERE MATESPRITES GOT MARRIED IN THE DREAM BUBBLES TOO, ALL OF MY QUADRANT MATES AND I GOT MARRIED

MY EQUIUS WAS MY KISMESIS, WE DIDNT START OUR RELATIONSHIP UNTIL WE WERE BOTH DEAD THOUGH. WE GOT "MARRIED" TOO, THOUGH IT WAS MORE OF US THROWING RINGS AT EACHOTHER LOL

ME AND MY TAVROS WERE MATESPRITES, HE HAD HIS LEGS CUT OFF AND CRAWLED ON HIS HANDS SO HE WAS SUPER BUFF, HIS ARMS WERE COVERED IN SCRATCHES BECAUSE OF HIS ACCIDENT AND HOW OFTEN HIS ARMS WOULD GIVE OUT WHEN HE FIRST LOST HIS LEGS. HE WORE HIS HAIR SPIKED UP LIKE A MOHAWK WHEN IN THE DREAMS BUBBLES BECAUSE RUFIOH HELPED BOOST HIS CONFIDENCE. WE GOT MARRIED TOO.

SOLLUX AND I WERE VASCILATING FLUSHED AND PALE, HE WAS SUPER NERDY AND I SWEAR SAID "UM ACTUALLY" UNIRONICALLY. WE GOT MARRIED TOO, THOUGH HE ONLY REALLY DID IT FOR THE FOOD BUT ITS THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS. WE HONESTLY WERE MORE FLUSHED, BUT WE HAD OUR VERY PALE MOMENTS.

KANAYA TOOK CARE OF ME A LOT WHEN WE BOTH DIED, SHE HELPED A LOT. WHEN WE ALL DIED IT WAS LIKE EVERYTHING BROKE, AND EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS ALSO SO SCARED TOO SHE HELPED ME THROUGH IT AND HELPED ME THROUGH THAT BAD TIME. SHE TOOK CARE IF ME LIKE A LUSUS DID, AND SHE HELPED A LOT

ROSE WAS LIKE HER PARTNER IN CRIME (AND LITERAL PARTNER) IM BABYING PEOPLE ISTG, SHE WAS LIKE LUSUS/MOM 2 FOR ME, I SWEAR THEY BOTH BASICALLY ADOPTED ME FOR A WHILE AFTER WE ALL DIED

KANKRI AND I ACTUALLY GOT ALONG REALLY WELL, HED LISTEN TO ME WHEN I NEEDED TO RAMBLE AND ID LISTEN WHEN HE WANTED TO. HE REALLY DIDNT CARE IF ANYONE WAS LISTENING, HE JUST WANTED THE PRESENCE, BUT I TRIED TO LISTEN ANYWAYS. HIS RAMBLING WAS BORING AT FIRST BUT IM PRETTY SURE HE WAS JUST TRYING TO BE GOOD BUT KINDA NOT FIGURING OUT HOW HE WAS BEING TOO CAREFUL. I MISS HIM A LOT TBH, AND I DONT REGRET LETTING HIM RAMBLE TO ME ONE BIT

SOME OTHER IMPORTANT STUFF IS HOW IN MY MEMORIES, THE DREAM BUBBLES INCLUDED ALL VERSIONS OF EVERYONE. SO EVEN ADULT ME AND THE SIGNLESS WERE THERE, AND I REMEMBER SEEING GRANDPA HARLEY A FEW TIMES!

I REMEMBER BEATING BRO STRIDER UP ONCE TOO, ALMOST TO "SECOND DEATH" BECAUSE HE WAS HORRIBLE TO MY DAVE. GOOD BROS ARE COOL THOUGH 👍

I THINK THATS IT. SORRY IF THIS IS TOO LONG, I JUST AM A BIT DIFFERENT AND ITS KINDA SUCKY

IM DOING THIS ANONYMOUSLY BECAUSE WE HAVE A FEW OTHERS WHO MIGHT DO CANON CALLS LATER, MY @ IS @xarcinogeneticist

Go message it if this sounds familiar!

-Mod Nepeta

[erabundus]

anonymous &&. said... Ren what would happen if Dottore meets Kazuha?

it's  as  though  they've  pulled  his  most  reviled  nightmare  from  the  depths  of  his  subconscious  and  put  it  in  the  form  of  such  a  deceptively  INNOCENT  question.  what  would  happen  if  dottore  meets  kazuha?  nothing  good  —  though  the  same  could  be  said  of  anyone  UNFORTUNATE  enough  to  catch  the  doctor's  attention.  (  he  would  know  better  than  most,  wouldn't  he?  )  ren  doesn't  want  to  allow  what  raw  terror  such  a  thought  evokes  to  show  on  his  face,  so  he  tries  to  settle  for  fury.  eyes  narrow,  flickering  a  faint  blue.  lips  curl  in  a  snarl  —  a  flash  of  teeth,  not  unlike  a  predator  mere  moments  from  sinking  wicked  fangs  into  an  awaiting  throat.  aggressive.  protective.  threatening.  ANGER  is  such  a  convenient  emotion;  endlessly  useful  for  blotting  out  the  ones  he  finds  too  weak  and  ugly  to  bother  with.  ❝  it's  never  going  to  happen.  ❞  the wanderer  declares,  hoping  (  perhaps  pointlessly  )  that  if  he  only  sounds  assured  enough,  he  can  somehow  MANIFEST  his  desired  reality.

... though truthfully, he can only think of three possible outcomes.

the  first  option  —  they  don't.  obviously  this  is  the  route  ren  would  much  prefer.  he  hasn't  mentioned  the  doctor  to  kazuha.  he's  only  vaguely  alluded  to  his  life  as  the  balladeer  at  all.  originally,  the  human  never  asked.  then,  he  worried  the  truth  would  be  grounds  for  rejection.  and  now,  he  simply  doesn't  want  to  give  kazuha  a  reason  to  do  anything  unwise.  the  wanderer  doubts  he  would  ever  be  so  reckless,  protective  streak  aside  —  but  the  ronin's  life  is  something  far  too  PRECIOUS  to  risk  on  even  the  fraction  of  a  chance. he  won't  drag  his  other  half  down  into  whatever  depraved  depths  this grudge  takes  him.

the  second  option  —  the  doctor  kills  him.  perhaps  slowly.  perhaps  quickly.  perhaps  he  converts  him  to  a  test  subject  and  dissects  him  piece  by  miserable  piece.  perhaps  he  rips  his  still-warm  heart  from  his  chest  in  a  twist  of  cruel,  deliberate  irony  —  because  there  is  absolutely  no  reality  in  which  dottore  does  not  RECOGNIZE  kazuha  as  a  descendant  of  niwa.  their  hair.  their  mannerisms.  the  peaceful  warmth  that  seems  to  envelop  their  very  beings.  the  resemblance  is  far  too  uncanny  to  let  slide,  and  that  is  without  ever  needing  to  know  his  name.  if  they  meet,  the  human  will  die.  any  struggling  on  his  part  will  no  doubt  be  as  effective  as  a  fly  writhing  about  in  the  spider's  web  —  its  efforts  only  ensure  that  it  becomes  all  the  more  ENSNARED.  kazuha  is  strong,  but  a  candle  has  a  better  chance  of  staying  lit  in  the  middle  of  a  hurricane  than  he  does  escaping  the  doctor.

it's  sickening.  it's  repulsive.  it's  depraved.  yet  even  that  isn't  the  worst  possible  option  —  because  kazuha  is  a  WEAKNESS,  and  part  of  accepting  this  relationship  was  accepting  the  ronin  could  be  used  against  him.  surely  dottore  is  not  so  FOOLISH  as  to  let  such  a  perfect  opportunity  slide.

he  swore  to  himself  that  he  would  never  be  reduced  to  a  test  subject  again.  he  swore  that  he  was  done  with  the  fatui.  yet  he  also  knows  there  is  no  level  he  won't  sink  to  if  it's  for  kazuha's  sake  —  and  the  thought  of  his  human  being  used  to  CONTROL  HIM  may  very  well  be  his  greatest  nightmare.  not  only  for  the  horror  inherent  in  being  once  again  reduced  to  a  puppet  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  but  the  knowledge  he  has  dragged  kazuha  into  this  fate  as  a  direct  result  of  his  affections.  punishment  for  wanting  that  which  he  was  never  supposed  to  have  —  one  that  they  would  be  forced  to  SHARE  despite  the  sin  being  solely  ren's  doing.

it ... scares him more than he wants to admit.

❝  it's  never  going  to  happen.  ❞   the  wanderer  repeats,  and  tries  to  ignore  how  his  throat  goes  just  a  bit  tight  as  he  does  so.

[todayisafridaynight]

ohoho you have opened the gates of hell... (you dont have to reply to this btw!! im just spouting hcs at you via ask to stay anonymous heehoo)

so i think aoki realized he was a guy when he was pretty young, was very insistant on it, and the dilf arakawa was fine with it ofc he just wanted his kid to be happy (sawashiro didnt really understand it at first but was never shitty about it.) he probably started hrt pretty young (clearly didnt learn much about syringe safety though). at some point ichiban finds out and hes supportive as hell but he also doesnt know that much so he is like a little over the top but its okay because he just wants to let his brother know people support him!! not that the bitchboy really appriciates it. aoki binds, probably for unhealthy long amounts of time despite his family's protests, and eventually gets top surgery when he goes to america for his other treatments. also as a trans daigo truther, i like to believe they bonded over that :)

im taking notes in my funny little spiral notebook and im ripping the page out and sticking it to my brain because this will surely be a surprise tool to help us later