#BUT I'M TOTALLY MAKING A CON LIST FOR THEM

[thundertide-a]

The absolutely amazing @yoroiis made me constellations for three of my OCs on this blog and I’m still just- I love them so much??? <3 She’s nothing if not incredibly talented and I love her so much for these and will be eternally thankful for them - Especially since there’s actually more coming! We’re still looking at doing up ones for not only two more OCs here, but also Sera @sakurarisen​!

In this batch though is Neofelis, Aceline’s Clouded Leopard anemo con, Rubeum Lupus, Cettra’s red wolf pyro con, and Tempestas Caprae, Kagota’s electro storm goat con! I’m so over the moon right now I legit can’t even, double especially since she also made me the wonderful new banners I’m using here too TWT <333 Version with the stars/actual constellations under the cut:

[sugoi-and-spice]

Taking Care, Taking What's Mine - A "Play Nice" Commission

Summary: A Play Nice AU Chapter, in which, rather than taking the high road and trying to build a real relationship with the girl he's been sextorting for weeks, Tomura Shigaraki baby-traps her instead.

CW: Quirkless!AU, Dub-Con, Smut, Extortion, Baby-Trapping, Forced Pregnancy, Love-Bombing, Manipulation, Power Play, Possessive Shigaraki, Yandere Shigaraki, Morning Sickness, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

AO3 Link

A/N: Happy fucking Father's Day readers!! Lmao! I got this AMAZING commission a while ago to write an AU of my AU (a fanfic writer's dream come true honestly), of Shigaraki baby-trapping MC and well, while it took longer then I meant it to to come out, I'm so glad that I could post it on Father' Day of all days lmao.

Anyway though, this was so much fun to write. Shigaraki has been on the journey of bettering himself for so long in Play Nice now, it was a total blast returning to form and writing him nice and scummy again.

I'd love to do more of these honestly, so as a reminder: I give discounts on Commissions that take place in my AU's.

Play Nice, Burnt Bridges, Step by Step -- all of them. They're super fun for me to write and most of the heavy-lifting of ideating and plotting has already been done for them, so I'm happy to write fics like this for cheaper. :)

Anyway, enjoy some forced parentification on this day of dads. xD

“Hey, hey— are you alright?”

She lifted her head from where she’d been resting it against her gym locker, the coolness of the metal being the first thing to even remotely ease the headache she’d been fighting for the last three days. 

“Yeah, of course,” she tried to force a weak smile as Nejire approached her, clearly concerned, “Why do you ask?

The captain was dressed in her practice suit. And she quickly realized that so were all the other girls, most of them already making their way out the doors to the pool deck. She was the lone straggler who hadn’t even managed to undo her uniform tie yet. Nejire looked over at these girls, and then back to her, wordlessly demonstrating why that should be obvious.

She laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head, “Okay, I guess I’m feeling a bit under the weather today…”

And that was the understatement of the century. She felt like absolute shit . Piling on top of that stubborn pounding in her head were a pair of really sore tits, a lethargy that stuck with her no matter how much vending machine coffee she chugged, and cramps that had shot straight out of hell and directly into her uterus.

But to be honest, she couldn’t complain too much about these ailments. In fact, she was pretty damn relieved. These were all her tell-tale signs of PMS. They were a little worse than usual this time around sure, but if that was the tradeoff for the relief of not being pregnant, she’d take it in a heartbeat. Her period was only one day late at this point and it had all but paralyzed her with fear.

Of course in retrospect, the fear did seem a bit silly. After all, Shigaraki’s creepy family doctor had warned her there might be some changes.

“I never start patients new to birth control immediately on a Long Acting Reversible Contraception,” he explained, “Especially not teenagers.”

“Why not?” she demanded, “It’s reversible, right? It’s not like you’re tying my tubes or anything.”

“No, but you never know how your body is going to react to the hormonal shift. You could develop acne, weight gain, hair growth—”

“I don’t care about that superficial stuff.”

“... Migraines, blood clots, depression,” he continued, looking at her pointedly.

She looked away, feeling a bit stupid for interrupting him now that he’d listed the more serious side-effects.

“I’m not saying you have to stay on the pill forever. But give it a few months, see how you feel on it. It can help us better determine which long-term birth control is best for your body without any unnecessarily invasive procedures.”

She shuddered at the very thought of being stuck in this set-up with Shigaraki for months. She hoped he’d get bored of her sooner rather than later.

Well, on the brightside, at least this sketchy-ass doctor seemed to be as interested in looking under her skirt as she was having him down there. However, this still left the ever so pertinent issue of:

“Okay, but there’s still the issue of getting the pills. No pharmacy is going to give me these without signed parental consent.” She had the always convenient Japanese purity culture to thank for that.

Ujiko simply smiled and pulled out a wheel of birth control pills from his medical bag right then and there.

“Consider these the same as this appointment,” he said, cupping his hands over hers and placing the wheel firmly into her palm, “ Off the record. ”

And then the rest of the “appointment” had descended into one of extremely thinly-veiled intimidation that bizarrely enough, she’d relied on Shigaraki of all people to save her from. By that point, she’d been scared so shitless she had very little argument left in her to try and reason him into just giving her the damn IUD.

The regret of not standing her ground on the issue did hit her later that night on the train home. Particularly when she thought over the fact that the way they were keeping these pills off the record was by having her pick up her refills through Shigaraki. The idea of giving him even more power over her like that made her feel sick to her stomach. And yes, while logically she knew that he had just as much motivation to keep her from getting pregnant as she did (she had a feeling All for One would not take too kindly to his star successor knocking up a lowly commoner such as herself), she still just had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

So she’d resolved herself on her first refill day to completely lay into Shigaraki for any level of tomfoolery he may get up to in this situation. There would be no forgetting, no being too busy to pick up the pills for her, absolutely nothing. She was ready to rain full fire and brimstone on him if there was even a hint of bullshit.

But to her surprise (and relief), she hadn’t even crossed the threshold of his bedroom before he was tossing a new pack to replace her wheel with. Simple and nonchalant, and then he was just as quick as always to badger her about getting her clothes off already, get on the bed already, break up with your boyfriend already.

It was the same old, same old — for better or for worse. Even if she couldn’t trust Tomura Shigaraki himself, that action had at least ensured that she could trust his own desire for self-preservation.

And that was better than nothing she supposed.

Back in the locker room, Nejire asked her, “Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

She smiled at her friend, joking, “Nothing I don’t come down with every month.”

Nejire tilted her head in confusion for a moment before the lightbulb visibly lit up in her head.

“Ohhhhh,” Nejire nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, Aunt Flow can be a real meanie sometimes, huh?”

She laughed, then winced as the action worsened the throbbing in her head,  “Damn it— you can say that again.”

Nejire’s brows furrowed and she brought a hand to the small of her friend’s back, “Hey, why don’t you take this afternoon off?”

She looked back to her, surprised, “Oh no, I couldn’t…”

“Sure you could!” Nejire chirped, “And honestly, you probably should. We’re working on our weakest strokes today. I had you down to work on your fly.”

Visible dread filled her as she thought about doing that much undulation in her current state.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Nejire laughed, “Seriously, go home. We’ll miss you, but we love you too. So we want you to take care of yourself.”

She debated a little more internally, one other loose thread dropping into her mind’s eye.

“If I do… Do you mind—”

“I’ll let Mirio know,” she shot her a wink as she clarified, “ After practice. I’ll let him know you just need the peace and quiet.”

She smiled at Nejire, genuinely grateful. This. This right here was what made all of the bending over backwards she did to fit in and please others worth it. To be cared about by such a good person. 

The warmth of that care stayed with her all the way out to the school gates, where she was then immediately filled with dread upon realizing that she’d need to go in one of two directions depending on where she was going after school: the train station home, or the walk to Shigaraki’s.

And just which direction she was scheduled to go today.

She let out a long groan, anguished and loud enough to startle a couple members of the going home club that passed her. For once though, she didn’t care about her reputation, she was too focussed on what a goddamn nightmare she was falling into.

She pulled out her cellphone with a sigh. Yes she knew the effort was probably futile, but damn her if she didn’t at least try.

Yup. She could’ve seen that coming from a mile away. She sighed as she shoved her phone back into her bag and started the very slow trek over to Shigaraki’s. 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Shigaraki said as he looked her over his doorway, “You look like shit.”

She shot him a wholly unimpressed look as she shoved past him into his bedroom.

“Yeah, I fucking told you.” 

Shigaraki, surprisingly, didn't have anything to say about her tone, even with her brusqueness towards him being more than usual. He just watched her drop down face first onto his bed and curl her legs up into her chest.

She sighed at the slight relief the position gave her. While dealing with Shigaraki’s antics was about the last thing she wanted right now, she supposed that at least she could be grateful for how much closer his apartment was to her school then her own home was. It saved her a good fifty-minutes of white-knuckling a train stanchion to keep down her groans of pain. Now at least she could get the relief of laying down much sooner.

If only for a little bit.

“What’s going on?”

She bristled at Shigaraki’s voice, the unwelcome reminder that she wasn’t going to be able to truly relax right now. And while there didn’t seem to be any entendre or even impatience in his question, the fact that his voice was getting closer to her was enough to make her suspicious.

“My head aches, my back aches, my boobs ache — everything aches,” she grumbled down into his sheets, “And I feel like I’ve been donkey-kicked straight in the uterus.”

“You start your period or something?”

He didn’t sound sarcastic when he asked it, not that typical boy way of asking any time a girl did something they considered “moody”. It was a genuine question. But it irritated her all the same. 

Everything seemed to be irritating her these days.

“About to,” she answered, “It’s like a day late, but it’s definitely coming.”

She felt the bed shift a bit as he sat next to her.

“Are you nauseous at all?”

Her brows furrowed, a bit confused by the interest.

“I guess a little,” she answered, because even though it was mild, there was a certain turn in her stomach that wasn’t unlike motion sickness, “But honestly, I think it’s just from the pain. This has been going on for like three days.”

“Have you taken anything for it?”

She could’ve laughed if she wasn’t so annoyed by the reminder of all her futile attempts to alleviate this. Because of course he was looking for a quick fix so they could fuck already.

“I’ve taken everything for it,” she groaned, “Nothing’s working.”

He just hummed in response, and then she could feel the sheets behind her dip a bit as he repositioned himself. Into what orientation, she wasn’t sure. She was about to turn her head back and ask him what he was doing when she felt his hand featherlight across her hip.

And between her legs.

“No, Shigaraki please,” she whined, pulling he knees closer into her chest, “I’m not kidding, I’m seriously in a lot of pain—”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Tell that to your hand then,” she snapped as his fingers tried to wiggle their way between her clenched thighs.

“I mean I’m not doing anything for me. This is for you.”

“Oh is it now,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he insisted, more irritably this time, “Orgasms help with cramps, right?”

She stilled, sufficiently stumped by that particular statement. Because yes, she could say from experience that they absolutely did. She’d spent many a nasty period with her fingers latched to clit to chase that particular path of relief. 

…but why the hell did Shigaraki know that?

She gasped as she suddenly felt the gentle roll of her clit under three fingers. Apparently, in her moments of distracted deliberation, Shigaraki managed to push his hand past the plush lock of her thighs and under the hem of her panties.

“Sh-Shigaraki…” she whined, pushing her elbow blindly and weakly back towards him.

He caught it gently in his free palm and, rather than trying to pin or strain it in whatever which way he desired, like usual, he just held it there. Didn’t even hold it in place really, just shielded himself against its determined path towards his ribs.

“I’m serious,” he said, uncharacteristically soft, “I’m trying to help you.”

She finally mustered up the strength to — despite how much her aching abdomen hated her for it — turn and glower at Shigaraki.

“No funny business?” she pressed.

He settled his own flat expression on her, “When have I ever been funny?”

More times than she’d like to admit honestly, but she got what he was saying here. He was a pretty serious, straightforward person on principle. He didn’t bullshit, he didn’t pull cheap tricks, and, shockingly enough, he didn’t typically lie. Frustrating as it was, Tomura Shigaraki was pretty much always unapologetically himself and he always did what he wanted.

So if he said that he was doing this to help her, then she supposed that she didn't actually have a lot of reason to distrust him.

Plus, his fingers hadn’t stopped their soft, but affective ministrations between her legs, and the pleasant sparks of heated relief they were sending through her were undeniable.

She turned back onto her side with a sigh that was half-exasperation, half pleasure.

“Fine,” she said, throwing back quickly before he got too victorious, “But fuck around and I’ll kick you.”

Shigaraki just chuckled, a soft throaty sound that shouldn’t have sent the chills up her spine that it did, “Yeah, yeah…”

In one motion, careful not to jostle her too much, Shigaraki both pulled her back and scooched himself closer, until her back was nestled snug against his surprisingly firm chest and her head laid in the crux of his bicep.

With this new closeness he was able to be a bit more deliberate with the angle and pressure he used to rub at her swollen sex. And, while she hated to admit it, the increased blood flow between her legs was causing the pressure within her to build quite a bit faster than usual. Enough so that it had her letting go of the tension in her neck and joints — the automatic stress reaction she had to any of Shigaraki’s displays of intimacy — and letting the weight of her head drop fully into his embrace.

A shuddering sigh left Shigaraki at that clear relinquishing of control, of the way she truly let herself lay back and relax into him. It gave him the encouragement he needed to enjoy her to the fullest extent that he wanted her as well, burying his nose deep into her hair. 

He started to stroke wider circles around her, the flats of his fingers never leaving her clit, but now allowing the tips to dip softly into her entrance. He didn’t push them in at all past his first knuckles, just enough to catch some of that growing wetness and spread it all across her fluttering lips.

“A-Ah—” she gasped out, “Sh-shit…”

“Like that?” he rasped, hot against her ear.

She bit her lip, nodding needily, “Mm— Mm-hmm…”

He groaned at the response, doubling down on that motion as he started to stud long, hot kisses down the back of her jaw and neck. The feeling, so gentle and intimate and good in combination to the way he worked her sex, had her unconsciously rocking her hips into his touch, and back into his own.

Vaguely through the haze, she could feel the familiar outline of his stiff cock against the cleft of her ass, but shockingly he didn’t try to grind it against her for relief. If anything actually, when her own hips moved unconsciously back against it, he actually shifted his own hips away, anglind them down so his erection pushed into the bed instead. As if he didn’t want her to feel it, that he was concerned about her feeling pressured by its presence.

She didn’t have the chance to think too much into that though, not when his fingers were coaxing her closer to the edge by the second. The mess between her legs was obscene at this point, through teary eyes she could see the overflow of it spreading wide across her thighs and pooling down in the sheets. 

“God look at you, so fucking wet,” he groaned, lips having made it down to her shoulder and staying there so that he could have a better view of her writhing under his touch, “You needed this, huh? Fucking needed me…”

She buried her face into his arm to muffle her moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but also not wanting him to stop.

By some act of God, Shigaraki didn’t push for that answer either. She wasn’t sure why he’d abandoned his typical demands and taunts, didn’t threaten to stop until she gave him the verbal submission and begrudging praise he always wanted. Nor did she stop to think about why, she just let the gratitude course through her, spurred further and wider by the waves of heat rushing through her body, threatening — promising — to overflow.

Shigaraki could feel that axiomatic tension in her body, the boiling point it promised, and sped up his hand to stoke the flames.

“You’re close aren’t you? Oh yeah, you’re close…” his kisses turned to nips at her neck between progressively more demanding growls, “Gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

Fuck, hearing those last words spill from his mouth should not have done what it was doing to her. But it was speeding up her peak, and it was speeding it up audibly.

“Yeah, yeah that’s good, really good. Let it go. Go ahead, be a good girl and let it go.”

She cried out, her arching back forcing her face forward and mouth unmuffled as finally, finally her body went blissfully loose, the pain of the past few days overtaken by waves of heat and pleasure. One after the other, her hormone-driven sensitivity wrung out multiple orgasms, and his frantic fingers were happy to work her through each one until she was begging him to stop.

“Good girl, yeah, yeah, just like that. That’s a good girl,” he continued to praise, returning time and again to that phrase he could feel her getting unconsciously excited over, “That’s my good girl…”

It was just a few blurry moments of consciousness after that. She was pretty sure she whined something like “too much” to him at some point, and he whispered back something that she was sure was just utterly debauched right back. Or maybe it was sweet nothings, he had really favored those by the end of this escapade after all. 

Whatever it all was, she supposed it didn’t matter. All that mattered in those seconds of labored breaths and fluttering lashes was the beautiful bliss and relief that finally overtook her body. That allowed her to immediately fall asleep in his arms.

Shigaraki held her there for a long time after. He raked his eyes greedily across her body, letting himself carve every detail deep into his memory. He knew he didn’t need to, not anymore. Her boyfriend, her parents, hell, whether or not she got into Todai with him, it was all a non-issue now. There was no reason for him to lose this anymore. She wasn’t going anywhere in life without him. He was going to be able to revel in this sight for the rest of his life now. And he just couldn’t believe how lucky he was for that.

He chuckled a bit at that. Well, maybe lucky wasn’t the right word. This was all by design after all, weeks of very deliberate planning and deception. It was just like he’d always been taught. It didn’t matter what hand you’ve been dealt — and Tomura Shigaraki had certainly been dealt a shit hand in a lot of ways — a real winner made his own luck. 

Sensei would be mad, Shigaraki knew that much. Everyone would be mad in fact, but he didn’t care. He was just following the fundamental lesson Sensei himself had instilled in him the day they met. 

Take whatever you want, and fuck all the rest.

Several minutes into hearing those sweet deep breaths of unconsciousness from the beautiful girl in his arms, Shigaraki finally peeled his fingers away from her cunt.

And slid a wide hand up to cradle her tummy.

It was dark when she woke up, not a single one of Shigaraki’s many monitors or television lit the windowless room. That was odd for a couple of reasons, the first of which being that the overhead lighting had definitely been on when she’d dozed off. The second of which was that any time Shigaraki wasn’t preoccupied with helping her study or studying her, he was chronically attached to at least one screen, if not multiple, so it was more than a bit odd for him to have zero on. The reason for the lack of blue light however became quickly apparent as her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.

Shigaraki wasn’t here.

She was totally alone in his room, alone and tucked into his bed. Had he gone to the bathroom or something? But then why would all the lights be off? It seemed like he’d probably been gone for a while. Weird…

She threw off the covers and flipped her legs around with much more ease than she’d done anything over the last three days, much to her relief. However long she’d been out, the sleep had clearly done her some good. The pounding in her head and pelvis had finally ceased, perhaps just in time for her to actually start her period. She did feel some dampness between her legs after all. Although…

Her face heated up as she remembered the much more likely cause of that.

Damn it, she thought with a groan, dropping her head into her hands. She couldn’t believe that she actually let him do that to her, for her. He was going to get entirely the wrong idea from it. The idea that she might actually like him and want to spend time with him, that there was some kind of connection between them that extended past the time she was required to spend with him to keep him satisfied. And she absolutely could not deal with that.

Being his little sex toy was one thing. A demoralizing thing, yes, but a manageable one. She’d seen the way Shigaraki treated things he objectified — games and magazines and the like. He got bored of them quickly. And if she was one of those things in his eyes, then eventually he’d get bored with her too and she’d be free.

If he was attached to her though? Had found connection in her and a desire to keep her in his life? She didn’t even want to consider that nightmare scenario.

She made her way out into the hallway, looking up and down from the empty bathroom on one end of the hall to the top of the staircase on the other. She didn’t have to contemplate the lack of presence on this floor for long though, when she heard Shigaraki’s voice echoing up from downstairs, talking emphatically to Kurogiri, she assumed. 

She couldn’t hear exactly what he was talking about, but whatever it was, he was being particular about it. “Don’t overcook” and “perfect” were a few of the words she managed to catch, so it was about food, maybe? The accompanying sounds of sizzling pans and clanking cookware would certainly support that. As would the smell that suddenly hit her.

It wasn’t an unpleasant smell by any means. In fact, it was salmon, one of her favorites. But for some reason at that moment, the smell hit her with a particular intensity that made her feel overwhelmed.

And really fucking nauseous.

She just barely made it to the toilet at the end of the hall, not even fully down to her knees by the time she was emptying her stomach into the bowl. It wasn’t just a brief moment of sickness either. The bouts were loud and long, she was sure that it echoed throughout the entire apartment. It left her red-faced, skin covered and hair clumped with sweat, not to mention still gagging long after she had nothing left to gag on.

A hand she barely even noticed came to rest on the small of her back in the midst of it all. It was only in the aftermath, spent and dry-heaving that she could process the fact that it was Shigaraki, kneeling at her side, patiently stroking small circles into her clammy skin and encouraging her softly.

“Let it out. Just let it all out.”

She groaned once she finally seemed to have a solid thirty seconds of dry, steady breath. And Shigaraki used that respite to nudge a glass of water into her hands.

“Here.”

She didn’t argue or agree, just took it from him with shaky hands, tossing half of it just into her mouth to swish around and spit the remaining bitterness from her tongue.

 “Drink some of it too.”

She nodded shakily, still too drained and disoriented to be irritated with his telling her what to do, or suspicious of the fact that he was being so nice. 

And still, as she took entirely too long to finish the rest of her water with timid little sips, he just knelt on the ground with her, moving the hand on her back to rest on her knee, thumb rubbing circles into the spot where a bruise would undoubtedly form. 

Finally, after a long, silent stretch, she managed to croak out, “W-What time is it?”

“Only seven,” he answered, “Kurogiri’s got dinner almost ready downstairs. Seared salmon, brown rice, avocado salad—”

She whined, shaking her head roughly at the very implication of food.

“Don’t like salmon?”

“I-I do… It’s just—” she gagged a little as she remembered that smell that had set this all off in the first place, “Th-The smell right now. It’s too much…”

“Oh yeah…” he nodded understandingly, muttering something to himself that she couldn’t quite make out. It sounded kind of like, “Heightened” and “Read about that…”

Her brows furrowed a bit, frustrated and confused. She was getting the feeling that he was really not telling her something.

“W-What?”

Shigaraki just waved her off, “No, that’s fine, that’s fine. Salmon’s not the only thing he made. There’s sauteed spinach, wakame tofu soup, toasted—” 

Jesus Christ, was Kurogiri cooking for an army down there or something? 

Well, whoever it was all for, and as delicious as it all sounded in theory, imagining those foods in practice right now was making her feel sick all over again.

“Mm-mm, Mm-mm!” she whined, shaking her head again.

She didn’t want to risk opening her mouth right now, lest she blow chunks all over the front of Shigaraki’s shirt. Although wouldn’t that be a nice little serving of karma for him…

“You need to eat something,” he insisted, more lecturey than she’d ever heard him, but with a strange gentleness to his voice as well, “And you need to drink some more too. You’re totally dehydrated.”

She shook her head more emphatically at that, which only resulted in her falling forward into his chest. 

He caught her before she could fall any further, scolding her not too harshly, in fact, a bit whimsically, “Is this how you’re gonna be the whole time?”

She pulled her head back to look at him, a confused furrow in her brows that brought the corners of his lips up.

“It’s not a bad look on you to be honest. All weak and petulant,” he brought a hand to pinch lightly at her cheek, “It’s kinda cute actually.”

Her eyes narrowed, finally feeling her stomach steady enough in her to be annoyed. He chuckled, just as amused and endeared by this look as the last. 

“Well how about okayu?” he offered with a patronizing little lilt, “And maybe some ginger tea?”

He clearly wasn’t going to let this go. And infuriatingly, he was right not to. She definitely was in no shape to go home on this empty stomach. 

She sighed.

“Yeah… Yeah okay.”

Going at her own shaking, snailish pace, Shigaraki helped her up onto her legs, pulling her immediately into his side as he led her back towards his bedroom. Normally she’d protest, stick an elbow right into his ribs and storm on ahead of him, but honestly she needed the help right now. So she sucked it up and let him lead her back into his bed. 

But that didn’t stop her from eying him suspiciously as he propped his pillows up behind her and tucked her back in under his comforter, the overall way he doted and fretted over her, even stopping to look back at her one more time from the doorway before he returned downstairs to give Kurogiri the new marching orders.

She dropped her head back against the pillows when finally alone, a bad feeling settling heavier and heavier in her stomach. This was beyond weird, the way he was acting. Sure, the guy was overbearing and constantly demanding of her attention, stupidly needy even. But doting? Not only willing but eager to put her needs ahead of his own? Caring deeply about her actual well-being and not just what he wanted to be her well-being? This was all way too out of character for him.

“…You can tell me. If he bothered you, I mean. N-Not just the Doctor either… If um… If anything’s bothering you.”

She sighed at the memory. Alright, maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. He’d shown at least some��capability and even interest in her wants and well-being, he wasn’t a complete monster.

But still, all of this? The cooing and the caring and the, erm, servicing even that he’d done? It felt like too much. Like she was missing something really key about it all.

Like something was wrong .

Whether she ended up getting lost in that train of thought for long, or Kurogiri had already had some okayu whipped up downstairs, she wasn’t sure, but she was startled by how quickly it seemed that Shigaraki returned with a breakfast tray in hand. She cocked her head as he set it up over her lap, this was a lot more robust than she was expecting, and, she realized as she examined everything on the tray, a lot more stocked as well.

There was okayu, front and center for her, yes. But also on the tray was another small bowl of soup (looked like the wakame that Shigaraki had mentioned, a thing of plain yogurt (the really fancy kind that came in the glass jars), a glass of orange juice…

And a little dish of four pills. 

Painkillers or antiemetics maybe? They looked more like vitamins…

“Go ahead and start with the okayu if you want,” Shigaraki explained as he climbed up into the bed next to her, “But I want you to try and get some of the wakame and yogurt down too…”

As he settled down, his legs flush with her own, he continued to rattle off instructions and explanations for the rest of her tray, sending her mind completely spinning, faster and faster, like a goddamn Gravitron.

And she was ready to get the fuck off.

“...if nothing else though, take the vitamins. You need the folate, calcium, iron, and the omega-3 especially, since you don’t want the salmon—”

“Okay, stop, stop, stop !”

Shigaraki paused, having the audacity to look at her like she was crazy for snapping. 

“Jesus—what the hell are you even talking about Shigaraki?!” she demanded, “What’d you say, folate? What? What is all this?”

He cocked his head, clearly playing innocent. Whatever this was, he was clearly enjoying the slow unraveling of it all.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” she snapped, “All this attention and doting and food stuff! What the hell is this all about?!”

He just smiled back at her, taking in how pretty she looked, even when mad (especially when mad sometimes), God, to think that this really was his forever now. He wondered if they had a girl, how much she’d look like her. He hoped a lot…

“I just want to make sure you’re getting all the vitamins and nutrients you need…”

He reached over then, spreading his hand flat against her stomach.

“ Both of you .”

She froze.

No.

No, he couldn’t mean—

She tried to speak, tried to ask what the ever-loving- fuck he was talking about, but her mouth had seemed to go dry. She tried several times to open and wet it a bit, but every time she did, it felt like her throat was closing too. It took at least four desperate attempts for her to finally force out one rasped:

“... what? ”

Shigaraki’s grin widened, and he started to rub circles gently across her belly.

“You’re gonna look so cute, all big and round with my kid,” he giggled suddenly as he remembered something, “Oh, and your tits too. I wonder how big they’re gonna get…”

She stared at him, unblinking, unbreathing. Everything but un-fucking-existing.

He couldn’t be serious. He was fucking with her. He had to be fucking with her!

“Th-That’s not funny.”

His grin evened a little, not disappearing outright, but settling away some of its blissful excitement into something more coyly victorious.

“I said it already,” he reminded, “When have I ever been funny?”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“N-No. No, no, no this isn’t— there’s no way—”

“I’ve got the tests ready when you need to pee, but I think it’s pretty clear. These are all the symptoms I read about.”

“No!” she insisted, “N-No, no— this is, it’s my period! It’s just a day late, it’s not—!”

He chuckled, “I know the symptoms can be similar, but come on. When’s the last time you’ve hurled like that thanks to your period? And the sensitivity to smell? You know this is different.”

Crumbling, every argument she could possibly think of was crumbling to dust before she could even get the thought fully formed. And cruel, vicious reality was more than happy to take its place.

“B-But my birth control pills…”

“Fertility pills,” he explained, his splitting-grin returning in full, “I would’ve preferred to get Clomid from the doctor, but it looks like the over the counter stuff and tracking your cycle worked just fine.”

Her stomach dropped. Pieces of memories, peculiar behaviors and nagging thoughts she’d had over the last two months falling into place. How there were stretches of times where he’d cancel their sessions, only to insist they make them up a few specific days in a row. How he wanted to go multiple rounds a lot those days. How he’d stopped wanting blowjobs from her entirely. How he seemed to only want to fuck her from behind or with her knees pressed hard into her chest, positions he could fuck her the deepest in.

And how he’d have her stay still with his cock buried in her after he came. 

Back then, she just thought he was being weird and pervy. And in a way she was right.

Horribly fucking right.

Shigaraki shifted his legs away from her so that he could bring his head down to her lap, laying his cheek blissfully against her belly. 

“Was so easy,” he hummed against her skin, “Like your body was just waiting for me to knock you up. Waiting for me to make you mine…”

His hands moved across her body, one coiling behind her back so that he could pull her tighter into him, the other lacing his fingers through her own. The fingers on her trembling left hand.

“Both of you, forever,” he growled happily, a predator who had finally and definitively sunk his teeth into his prey, “All mine.”

[wandagcre]

What about Sam having a hyper energy golden retriever gf??

sam with a hyper golden retriever girlfriend

(gif not mine, credits to who owns them)

OH BOY. you weren't only a sunshine for sam but fueled with an unmatched high energy, you were basically a deadly combination for her

deadly in a way where sam sometimes can't keep up with you BUT tries hard to do so because she absolutely adores how you light up the room! she refuses to make you uncomfortable or ashamed in any way <3

it's like, she's sleepy? but you're still rambling and tugging on her arm? NOT ANYMORE. you can see sam fighting it off and you give a hearty chuckle because she's reaaally close to dozing off she looks so silly you can barely see her pretty brown eyes anymore 🥺

seriously, sam can't remember the last time someone made her smile this MUCH. all of her facial muscles are working overtime whenever she's around you!! it's so infectious it warms her heart ;(

texts between you two are the funniest 😭

sam: Good Morning ☺️❤️

you: OH MY GOD

you: the absolute love of my freaking life.

you: my precious girlfriend. finally you have graced me with your existence. i could not be anymore glad about this thank you, thank you 🥰

sam: We have been dating for 2 years now? And I'm coming to your house later BTW

you: your point????

sam: Ha. I love you, silly goose :,) 💐

[also you: had been bombing her notifs over cute pictures and videos for the past hour and sam will check them religiously and react one by one on her free time, ASAP]

would kill (considers it in literal sense) if someone was responsible for your mood drop in an instant. sam is worried and already beside you to try and comfort you because?? who dares to disrupt your sunshine self?? it's equivalent to kicking a cute puppy for her!

keeps you away from energy or any caffeinated drinks 😭 besides that it was a death sentence given your nature, she'll insist how they're super unhealthy and you're shocked that sam's literally listing all of the cons of it - you're surprised why she is ranting about your kidneys and all? 😭

AND YOUR PUPPY EYES? no, sam will not cave in. (sam totally would) (she will end up doing a deal with you to balance things up)

in return, she'll check on your daily water intake because that's more replenishing for your body

LOVES YOUR BIG GESTURES. the way you talk with your limbs involved and all the sound effects, it's pleasing to her honestly sam has never seen someone look so endearing and highly entertaining of a storyteller as you are

you probably see the goodness in people and tries so hard to understand that and sam admires you so sooo much for that ;( literally, you're her angel

she probably has you saved on her contacts as "(y/n/n) ☀️🥰🐶"

and that trait of yours probably what made sam to be at ease with you. usually she's closed off but even with you knowing the truth about her life, how she had this grim upbringing, you just sat there soaking all the information up with attentive eyes and comforting touch on her hand

sam doesn't expect that it will lead to an eventual romantic relationship between you two or how your soothing presence has made her try her hardest to open up more and more to you!! ;(

and what she likes is that you match your words with actions. whether it's good or bad, she loves the transparency and honesty. it proves that you're not faking anything. sam thinks that's rare to have these days and you being like that? makes her love you so sooo much even more ;((

like literally, it's 3/4 core four + you on the top of her list oh my goddd

sam would be surprised at your bursts of energetic moments especially in public for the first time, sometimes even later on, but embarrassed? never! it's new to her and you're just there beaming and not caring about what others think. she thinks you're the cutest for that!! <333

[onlyyvette]

Megatron's Tramp-stamp thoughts?

Megs with a tramp-stamp...🤤

In my honest opinion, Megatron is totally a MILF, so him having a tramp-stamp makes so much sense. Just imagine him being this terrifying, all-powerful warlord, hell-bent on getting his way, crushing everyone who dares to oppose him with a little help from his fusion cannon...

Now imagine that same Megatron, with a new frame update, making him stronger than he previously was, much sturdier... and much more appealing with a new decepticon tramp-stamp.

As he makes his grand entrance into the main deck of the Nemesis after his new frame change, Megs has a smirk on his face; he knows that every con in the room can feel a new air about him, can feel a newfound power thrumming through his powerlines. Little does he know, most of the decepticons are gawking, more focused on at the tramp-stamp decorating their leader's backside.

Everytime he moves, his wide hips make that damn tramp-stamp move back and forth, a near mesmerizing thing. It makes it much easier for mechs to pay attention to his repeated, tiresome speeches on how they'll take down the autobots. Well, more like they're laser-focused on how the tattoo moves so fluidly along with his back and forth pacing and how much longer they can stare without getting their helm blown off.

Megatron doesn't get the big deal about it anyway. It was just a little additive that he thought was nice, but he knew how easily things like this could get mechs riled up, especially how inconceivable it seemed on mechs like him. He uses it to his advantage too, knowing that having soldiers that were incredibly down bad for him would strengthen their loyalty and in turn, ensure that less defect to those disgusting autobots. Much more effective than putting them on The List. Though if it was so easy to make the decepticons stay loyal to him, maybe he could entice powerful autobots to abandon their cause...

Don't mind the fact that I'm posting again a month later😋

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (11)

She ever thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Her involvement in the case becomes more crucial than she lets on. wc: 2.7k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: I know this part is long overdue, I've been very busy lately and I can't seem to write anything good for me to post. But do not fret, I am back and better than ever before (lol) Also, thank you for patiently waiting for this update🤍

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"I WOULD HAVE STRANGLED HIM IF I WERE YOU."

Y/n frowned as she watched the slight furrow on her friend's brow, adding an element of emphasis to her words.

A moment of silence passed between them before Sandy rolled her eyes, leaning against the plush couch in the living room with a tall glass in her hand. "I'm just saying," she explained. "He was being a total jerk."

She let out a sigh. A slight confusion weaved itself whenever she contemplated him. She thought that voicing out her emotions on what occurred these past few days could ease her, yet thinking of him was only making her question her sanity. It was as if her mind was attempting to decipher a language it didn't fully comprehend, leaving her caught between curiosity and apprehension.

She honestly didn't know what to think anymore. One minute she felt like she was head over heels for the guy, and the next minute strangling him didn't seem like a bad idea after all.

She could even list all of the things about him that riled her up, yet somehow the thought of having her hands wrapped around his throat reminded her of something entirely different, which was why she found herself saying, "You know, he would actually enjoy that."

Sandy raised her brows. "What? Getting choked to death?"

She scoffed. "No, not to that extent. But like, in another context." She then narrowed her eyes. "If you know what I mean."

The subtle innuendo didn't go unnoticed as Sandy's eyes widened in surprise. "No way."

"Way."

"Damn," her friend mused before taking a sip of her drink. "Smart and kinky. If only he wasn't such an ass to you."

Smart and kinky weren't exactly words she considered using in one sentence, but the sound of them put together surprisingly sounded enticing. It sounded enticing enough that her mind was starting to play tricks on her. It sounded good enough that she found herself starting to miss him, even when logic dictates that she shouldn't.

And now it sounded compelling enough that she couldn't help but weigh in the pros and cons when it came to the man, putting the cons on his ability to switch attitude in a span of seconds into a completely different person—not to mention his tendency to assume biased reasonings based on poor judgment.

On the other hand, the pros were very hard to ignore. There was a certain charm in his awkward demeanor, especially in his shy and uncertain smile every time it was directed her way. Then there was also his intelligent mind she was definitely drawn to.

But above all that, he was, without a doubt, a certified freak in the sheets.

And that was on top of her list.

A subtle sigh escaped her lips, revealing a hint of her internal struggle. "I mean, he did have a good point, don't you think?"

"Y/n," Sandy warned disapprovingly.

"What? He was only doing his job..." She glanced at her. "...right?"

"This is the alcohol talking," Sandy dismissed before standing up. "You would never forgive a man this easy if you were sober."

"It's Margarita Night, what's the point of being sober?" She proved her point by finishing the last drop of liquor from her glass, the vibrant notes of freshly squeezed lime and tequila playing across her taste buds.

Sandy simply scoffed as she took her glass and disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking together following behind as she started making them a refill. 

Y/n leaned back and closed her eyes, her body poised for a moment of relaxation. But just as the first tendrils of calm began to envelop her, a sharp interruption pierced through the air—the sound of the doorbell ringing.

A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she rose from the couch. "Our pizza is here!"

Light steps carried her to the door as her stomach grumbled in anticipation, the scent of cheesy goodness already wafting through her imagination. She slowly wrapped her hand around the doorknob and swung the door open, but instead of being greeted by the delivery guy clad in his familiar uniform, the last person she thought would be on the other side of her door stood right in front of her.

Her eyes widened, capturing the shock that rendered her momentarily speechless. Time seemed to slow as her heart raced with caution while she attempted to process on what was happening.

What were the chances of seeing him again right at the moment when she had her friend coming over just so she could rant about the guy?

It was as if the universe was playing a trick on her, presenting a twist she could never have anticipated. As the seconds ticked by, she then finally found her voice, a mix of caution and confusion lacing her words as she muttered, "You're not the delivery guy."

"I'm not," Spencer—god, she still couldn’t believe he was here—responded, his eyes scanning along her features. "Sorry to disappoint you."

There was a fleeting moment where their gaze met, an unspoken wariness passing between them. The memory of their last meeting surfaced with a wave of tension that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She watched as his expression shifted, the space between them seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the weight of their unspoken words.

Then a throat being cleared cut through the silence, a soft disruption that broke the spell of their locked eyes. Startled, her gaze broke away from his, shifting to the source of the interruption. And there, standing beside him was another figure—a woman she hadn't noticed until that very moment.

Recognition flashed in her eyes as she glanced at the familiar face, recalling the blonde-haired lady as one of the agents she met at the bureau the other day. Agent... Jareau, was it?

Yes, that was definitely her name. She was one of the few agents who actually treated her without judgment, checking in on her from time to time, which was why she focused her attention on her instead.

"Agent Jareau, what brings you here?"

"Sorry to barge in this late," she replied with an apologetic smile. "But we'd like to have a few words with you."

"It's fine." Y/n stepped aside and pulled the door wider. "Do you want to come in?"

"No, it's alright, we'll be quick—"

"Yes."

Her gaze turned back to the other man and narrowed her eyes.

"I think it’s better to have this conversation inside."

She studied him for a moment before nodding, letting the two agents step inside her home. There was a clatter coming from the kitchen as she closed the door before walking down the hallway, expecting them to follow behind. "We can talk in the living room but—"

"We're putting you on protection."

She abruptly turned on her heels. "What?"

Agent Jareau sent a disapproving look towards Spencer as if trying to say this was not how they usually handle things in this situation. The woman turned back to her and gave her a reassuring smile before explaining, "We've been investigating the situation thoroughly, and it appears that the Unsub we're dealing with might have developed an unhealthy obsession with you."

Her heart slowly raced, a mix of fear and disbelief coursing through her veins as the words finally sink in. "Obsession?” Her brows furrowed deeper. “What do you mean?"

"As you may know, all of the victims were related to you in one way or another, where you received some kind of mistreatment by them all. We believe the Unsub might be doing this out of his way to protect you."

She felt a knot tightening in her stomach, a growing sense of vulnerability she had never experienced before. "P-Protect me? But why?"

Agent Jareau's expression softened as she continued, "We're still working to understand the motives behind their actions. But given the escalating behavior and the potential danger it poses, we've decided it's best to put you under protection."

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. "Protection? Like... witness protection?"

Spencer, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "Something similar. We're proposing a protective measure—having an officer discreetly follow you during your daily routine."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You want me to be followed?"

Agent Jareau interjected, "It's for your own safety. We believe that having an officer close by could deter any potential threat and give us a better chance of identifying the Unsub."

Her mind raced as she considered the implications. "But how will I know? Will the officer be obvious?"

"Officer Anderson is currently outside in a separate car. He's trained to blend in while keeping a watchful eye on your surroundings."

"I..." she trailed off, then shook her head. "Will he be there all the time?"

Spencer nodded. "Yes, but we'll do our best to be inconspicuous. You won't even know he's there most of the time."

The idea of having an undercover officer tailing her sent a mixture of emotions coursing through her veins. Safety, yes, but also an unsettling feeling of being under constant scrutiny.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes, it is."

Her thoughts suddenly spun like a whirlwind, torn between disbelief and grim realization. She had always taken her daily routines for granted, the simple act of going to work or meeting friends devoid of apprehension. Now, each step she took seemed laden with an invisible weight, as if unseen eyes were tracking her every movement.

And to top it all, was she actually the sole reason behind these murders? She wasn't exactly the one acting out these gruesome crimes, yet it might as well happened because of her. Who could harbor such an unhealthy fixation on her? What had she done to attract this unwanted attention?

The unanswered mysteries gnawed at her.

Agent Jareau reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she read the familiar look in her eyes, it was the same look whenever a witness was starting to blame themselves. "This isn't your fault, we're here to support you through this. Your safety is our priority.”

With a deep breath, she nodded, silently accepting the protection they offered. The blonde-haired woman then gestured for her to open the door, which she did, and pointed towards a car parked a few blocks away with its window down, revealing a normal-looking guy sitting behind the wheel.

"That's Officer Anderson, he'll be trailing behind you at a safe distance. You won't even notice he's there."

The officer caught them staring and lifted his hand, a gesture of his greeting. Y/n waved back at him. "Great, I've always wanted a personal bodyguard."

Unfortunately, none of the two agents standing beside her caught the sarcasm in her voice. Agent Jareau turned back to her. "You have our number, right? You can call us anytime if you need assistance."

She did have her number, she also had Agent Prentiss' number who constantly assured her to call if she ever found anything new that could help with the investigation. But surprisingly, out of all the agents she met, the one agent she didn't have their number was the one she had been sleeping with all along.

Not that she was ever going to call him. She simply nodded out of politeness, and as she did, she could feel watchful eyes staring at her intently. Agent Jareau's keen eyes also caught the subtle interaction unfolding before her. She caught the way Spencer's gaze fixed with unwavering intensity on Y/n, who seemed determinedly oblivious to the weight of his stare, or rather, she was purposefully attempting to ignore his scrutiny.

Sensing the tension in the air, she took a step back, offering a fleeting glance to Spencer before turning to leave. "I'll wait in the car."

Her footsteps softly echoed in the night as she disappeared, and Y/n wasn't sure whether being left with him was a good idea.

She could feel the subtle shifts of his movements, the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest, as they stood just inches apart. She could also feel the warmth radiating from his body, a tantalizing contrast to the cool breeze that brushed against her skin.

"You okay?"

The air felt charged with tension as he spoke, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and sincerity.

"It's safe to say I'm far from being okay," she decided to say.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers curling and then relaxing by his sides. His lips parted slightly as if he were on the cusp of forming the words he had carried within him for so long. His gaze, intense yet searching, traced the contours of her face as if trying to find the right entry point into a conversation that had been left untouched.

And then he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry."

She finally dragged her gaze on him with an expression that betrayed little emotion. "Are you sorry because a serial killer out there has an unhealthy obsession with me or are you sorry about your misconception of me?"

"Both." He seemed to search her eyes for a reaction, his uncertainty palpable. "But you must understand I was doing my job, it was never my intention to hurt you."

"But you did hurt me," she answered, her gaze dropping momentarily before returning to meet his. "Whether it was intentional or not."

He seemed to struggle for words, a mix of emotions playing across his features "I know. I'm sorry."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression remaining impassive. After hearing the new update on the case and how much she was actually involved, she wasn’t in the mood to be having a serious conversation.

"It's getting late,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. “You should probably leave."

Spencer let out a sigh. "Listen, I—"

"It’s getting late,” she repeated, her voice sounding severe. “We can have this conversation another time.”

His shoulders slumped, the weight of his remorse heavy on his chest. He had hoped for a reaction, a sign that his apology had made a difference. Instead, her indifference left him feeling adrift, as if it was a barrier that he couldn't breach, a shield that rendered his efforts to make amends ineffective.

There was nothing else he could do as she turned to face him fully again, her eyes meeting his with a calm finality.

"Good night, Dr. Reid."

He reluctantly took a step back.

"Good night," he murmured.

Then with a nod, he slowly turned away, leaving her standing there all alone. Her gaze remained fixed on his receding figure, his form gradually blending into the night.

Doubt suddenly gnawed at the edges of her consciousness—Had she made the right choice? Was her choice to distance herself a shield to guard against potential heartache, or was it a missed opportunity to rebuild what had been lost?

She shook her head and went back inside, closing the door behind her before leaning against it. It wasn't until she heard footsteps emerging from the kitchen that she realized Sandy was still here.

"What was that all about?"

Y/n glanced at her friend. The two freshly filled glasses in her hands were calling out to her and drowning herself in heaps amount of alcohol seemed like a good idea, even when she was probably going to regret it tomorrow morning. But she needed to feel numb by all of these emotions.

She watched as Sandy offered her a glass, waiting for her reply. There were a lot of things she could answer with, but the only matter that stood out to her was the new revelation on her involvement on the case. So she took the glass from her and pressed her lips around the rim as her mind drifted toward the disguised officer sitting right outside her house.

There was no other way than to explain it as it was.

"I think I might be in danger."

>> NEXT PART

.

taglist #1

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Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[mypoisonedvine]

Ummm if you’d feel like writing it, I would go absolutely fucking feral for some Jackson Rippner content by you!! Maybe him revealing he’s been stalking reader or something of the like?? Honestly just whatever wanna write! It would be amazing either way

oh ugh I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to revisit this lil monster!!

warnings: con turned noncon, degradation, skanky club sex, jackson being creepy as hell

"I swear I never do this," you blurted out alongside a giggle as he pulled you into the mostly-empty coat closet, pressing you up against the wall before the door was even shut.

"Me either," he replied as he started to pull up the bottom of your dress, but you couldn't know if that was true-- it didn't really matter now, did it?

You bit your lip as he groped your ass, strong fingers pulling your panties down to your thighs; you arched your back, hardly believing this was happening but insanely turned on that it was.

"God, you need it so bad," he noticed with a little laugh, and you whimpered from being called out like that. But you sighed with relief as you heard him quickly opening his belt and pants.

You gasped when you felt him press right up to your, his thick head sliding between your folds. "F-fuck, a condom," you reminded him, and he laughed a little.

"No time," he replied before sliding in, and you would've protested if you weren't too busy moaning from the stretch. "Shit, baby, you're soaked."

"O-oh, fuck," you purred as he slid all the way to the hilt, your eyes rolling back from how deep he was. You got pretty lucky that the handsome stranger you'd been flirting and dancing with tonight had such a perfect cock. And yes, you were plenty wet-- he'd been turning you on just with the way he danced with you, little teasing touches and his body pressed to yours... obviously you had to be pretty turned on to agree to this.

He pressed his hips to yours and held onto you tight as he started to thrust. "God," he groaned, moving pretty quickly already, "fucking dripping. Such a desperate slut."

You gasped, wondering if you should be offended by that; but it just made your walls clench on him in encouragement, so you really couldn't act mad about it now. "Fuck," you blurted out instead, "I-I said I don't do this--"

"I know you don't," he smiled, moving in closer to speak beside your ear. "I know you don't, baby, you're a good girl."

You smirked a little, wanting to remind you both of how deliciously wrong this was. "You don't know me," you breathed, "you don't even know my name."

"I know your name," he replied. "I know your address, your license plate number, that shitty password you use for everything--"

You laughed awkwardly, not sure what he was getting at... until he started to list them. Everything he said, he told you in a low moan by your ear, and the longer he went on the more your smile fell into a gasp and you fought to push him away-- but he just grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the wall as he growled and fucked you harder.

"Such a good fucking girl," he said again, sounding meaner this time though. "So good and so naive... I just had to see you let loose, baby, I'm sorry-- I wasn't supposed to break cover, but I had to see how easy it would be to get you to let out the little whore I could tell was hiding underneath. I have to admit, you were a lot easier than expected."

"What the fuck-- get off me!" you yelped, trying to squirm away, but it was totally useless, and he fucked you harder against the wall as he bit down on your neck.

"My name, by the way, is Jackson," he groaned. "I want you to say it when I make you come."

[serickswrites]

I’m a huge fan of your writing. I was hoping you could tackle a trope that I always come back to.

Whumper tells whumpee they’re free to go but the catch is whumper just drugged whumpee and they have limited time to try and drag themselves to the open door. Whumpee tries their best and nearly makes it but their time runs out and whumper shuts and locks the door.

Hello, Anon! Thank you so much for the compliment!

I can 100% write this for you. I absolutely love this trope. I hope this is to your liking.

(I'm also trying out my new tag in everything list lol)

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, non con drugging, failed escape, cruel whumper

Whumpee was hazy. They had bee hazy the last couple of hours after Whumper had strapped them down to a table in the center of the room. They had struggled against the restraints, but Whumper had quickly injected them with something.

And then it didn't matter.

They knew they should be afraid. They knew they should try and get away. They knew that Whumper would start torturing them soon. But they were so hazy. And the room was spinning.

"Oh, would you look at that, I think this finally worked," Whumper said with a twisted smile. "I should have tried this with the others."

"Please," Whumpee whispered. They didn't want to be tortured. They had to get away. But no matter how much they wanted to, they couldn't muster the energy to fight Whumper.

"Tell you what, Whumpee. I'll let you go. If you can make it to the door, you are free to leave."

Whumpee's heart beat quickened. They were free? They could leave? Surely this was a trap. "Please," they tried again.

"Let me just unstrap you and open the door," Whumper said, their smile growing, "and you can be on your way."

Whumpee couldn't believe it. They were about to be free. They were going to be free to go. They were going to be getting out of here. They weren't going to be tortured.

The door swung open and Whumper stepped back. "After you," they gestured towards the door.

Whumpee had to muster the energy to get off the table. And then it was only twenty steps to freedom. They could do this. Whumpee listed sideways as they tried to sit up.

This wasn't good.

They couldn't let themself fail. They could be free. Freedom was right there. They were right there. They tried again, tumbling off the table with a loud thump.

"Careful," Whumper said, "wouldn't want to hurt yourself on the way to freedom."

Whumpee was too hazy to notice any pain. They were too hazy to do much. They tried to raise themself up on shaking arms, but couldn't. The room was spinning far too much.

But they couldn't not try. They could crawl out. They would do anything to get away. And so they pushed themself to the limit, cursing Whumper silently for drugging them so heavily.

It wasn't impossible. They could do this. Slowly, but surely they would make their way to the door. It was painfully slow. But they were escaping.

"Did I mention you have a total of ten minutes to escape? And you've used nine of those minutes?" Whumper said as they flicked a piece of lint off their shoulder. "I would hurry if I were you."

Whumpee's heart froze. Ten minutes. Ten minutes! And they only had one minute to make it across the room. They had to hurry.

But no matter how much Whumpee hurried, they couldn't make their body cooperate fast enough. No matter how much they willed their arms and legs to move, the drugs made their movements sluggish and disjointed.

"Please," Whumpee begged as they were arms' distance from the door. They were so close.

Whumper cackled as they slammed the door shut. "I gave you the chance. It's not my fault you didn't take it seriously."

Whumpee sobbed as they stared at the closed door. Though the drugs dulled everything in their body, it didn't dull their emotions. Didn't dull their terror. Didn't dull their profound sadness.

"And now the real fun can begin," Whumper said as they grabbed Whumpee by the ankle and dragged them back to the table. "You're going to regret not hurrying, Whumpee. I guarantee it."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal

[ladymarycrawley]

Like father, like daughter - John Stones

Not requested but I've been woking on this piece for a while so there you go 💕 and dad! John is a weakness of mine so yeah (and it's quite long). Feel like dedicating this to queen herself @footballffbarbiex 🤍

Warning: pregnancy

Tag list: @prideofpd, @johnstonesfc, @chelsealover, @masonxomount, @kathb59 (cause she was eager to read it)

Pregnancy is seen in the collective consciousness as a blessed time, where a new life is growing inside of a woman’s body and everything seems good but most people only see the pleasurable side of it, ignoring all the cons these nine long months carry with them.

Of course there’s physical pain (back pain, swollen feet, morning sickness just to mention a few), that’s something concrete everybody can see. What’s more painful it’s the hidden part of this journey, the one that takes place in women’s head: embarking on such a massive change might be scary and sometimes fear overlaps with the joy of welcoming a new human being, overcoming it most of the time.

The most common worry is about not being ready enough to become a parent (as it’s the hardest job a person can do) followed by the difficulty of giving birth: how is it going to be? What will I do if something wrong happens? Will it be as painful as they make it seem in films? 

All of this has an impact on mental health and stability, as all these fears may take a toll on a person’s mind and rely on the most disparate stimuli to give life to the most random scenarios…

"John I'm so scared"

"Of what?"

"There's people who like pregnant women but not in a good sense…"

"In what sense?"

"Like they find them hot and have a fetish for them, that's scary"

That what can be defined as one of the random scenarios mentioned above: that afternoon you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone to stumble upon an article about the most unusual fetishes and you happened to read about people who had the pregnancy kink.

"So what?"

"That's gross and what if these people steal my pics and do vile things with them?"

Your head started spiralling in panic as your hormones and your unstable state of mind was totally controlling you. Too many thoughts in that overworking brain of yours culminated in desperate tears rolling down your face. 

"Your pics are safe and you look so sexy"

"I don't, this thing is insanely big and…and the other day you called me whale" You confessed to him as sobs were making you shake.

"Affectionately though, I'd never call you a whale to insult you…" He wrapped his arms around your waist "You're the sexiest, most beautiful whale ever" John whispered with a husky voice right into your neck

"You're fake, you're just mean"

"I'm not mean!"

The sobs were getting harder and your boyfriend knew the breakdown was getting serious.

"You'll leave me for some beautiful, hotter woman that'll give you no problems and you'll be cheating on me and I'll end up as a single mother and -"

"Hold on, hold on. Calm down and take a deep breath" John tried to calm you, stressing those encouraging words and trying to take deep breaths with you as to show you the priorities you should have considered. 

"You're overthinking"

"What if something goes wrong? What if the birth doesn't go as planned? What if our baby -"

"Calm down"

"I've read a lot of stories of mums that had horrible experiences while giving birth to their babies and what if one of us dies?"

John blurted out his eyes in shock as fear and worry covered his perfect face as well.

"Don't even think about it. We're following literally what the doctor told us, I'm sure they'll do whatever it's in their power for your safety"

Your baby kicked in that moment, as if your worry suddenly became her own and she felt the urge to calm you down, coming to the aid of her dad.

You gulped and brought your hand to your belly as John’s eyes never lost sight of you.

He’d never lost sight of you, not even when you went through labour and you were holding his hand so tightly while following the midwife’s instructions, trying to coordinate your pushes with the deep breaths she was asking you to take.

You were trying not to think about all the fears that piled up during those months but it was so hard when all the contractions trampled over you so violently. He stayed there even when you were squeezing his hand so hard your nails dug into his skin, almost piercing it. 

He was the antidote to all your nightmares: someone who stayed there with you, holding your hand through thick and thin.

John only left at nightfall and only after you insisted for him to go back home to sleep on a proper bed.

You were feeling like a done and dusted whale, all bloated and tired while he was there looking so fine, surely fresh out of the shower as the unmistakable scent of his aftershave tickled your nostrils.

The sight of him entering what had been your room for the last two days made your heart swell and the butterflies in your stomach soar.

The tiredness painted across your face as well as your swollen eyes made your freshly woken up expression evident and John couldn’t help but smile as your tired smile welcomed him.

"Hi"

"Good morning"

He closed the door behind him, approaching your bed and looking at the small crib where your tiny baby girl was sleeping.

"How are you? Did you get some sleep?"

"Yep…slept a couple more hours"

"Good" He muttered while pressing his lips to your forehead.

"And how is she?"

Both your glances fell on the product of your love that was so small she could easily fit in one of John's large hands and looked so cute in her blush pink bodysuit, stretching her little legs as she was probably busy dreaming something. 

"She seems fine, we can't wait to go back home"

"I know…they said you would be good to go today"

"Yeah but they want to check in on us for a final check and then we can go"

"Okay" John was a bit disappointed he couldn't take his ladies with him and leave the hospital right away so he reluctantly nodded and got up to take you something to eat for breakfast. 

"I want a giant chocolate croissant"

"And a giant cappuccino as well?" He asked with a smirk, knowing full well your taste when it came to what to have for the most important meal of the day.

"You know me so well" You exclaimed, happy with those small things that weren't small at all in your eyes; they meant the world to you as him and your baby were now your whole world too.

John smiled, a blush pink tint colouring his cheeks and lowered himself over your seated figure, balancing himself on the mattress with his hands, his lips busy pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"See? Everything went well, you're both doing great" He whispered, referring to your fear of something potentially going wrong during the birth, your biggest fear.

You smiled back at him, watery eyes full of weariness and emotions looked up at him as you moved your head to the side to press a tender kiss to his hand that was soothingly caressing your cheek.

“I love you so much. Both of you”

“I love you more”

That sweet moment was interrupted by a nurse who knocked on your room’s door to check in on you and Iris, as it was time for the last visit before discharging you officially.

John waited outside for it to be over, using that time to buy you the delicious breakfast you have been longing for.

He really hoped they could give you the green light to go back home because that would have meant everything was okay and you were perfectly healthy. So he prayed to hear the good news he was waiting for, to see your baby in that white wooden cot you spent a whole day choosing at the store, paired with that flowery pink bedding set his sister gave you as a gift and that had you crying as soon as you opened the box.

After fifteen minutes or so the nurse opened the door followed by the medical staff who welcomed your boyfriend with a smile, the doctor holding your file in her hands. She complimented John on your newborn and told him what he was dying to hear: you and Iris’s health status was good and you were ready to leave the hospital.

He thanked her and nodded when she gave him some quick advice on how to take care of them during the delicate moments following the baby’s birth.

After saying their goodbyes quickly John rushed back to your room with a big grin plastered on his lips.

"We're going home babies" He cooed, taking the duffle bag with all your personal belongings.

“Not so fast, Stonesy” You chuckled “Help me get out of this bed so we can get ready”

The City player giggled and helped you step out of the bed so you could stand up properly. The standing posture made you feel pain in places in didn't even know they existed and the grimace on your face told it all.

“I’ll take the baby and all her things while you put all your stuff in here” He said, directing his tall body towards the crib where his princess was looking at him with her blue eyes. “Yes baby, you’ll come with dada” 

The moment you dreamt of a lot, that is to say John making his silly little voice to speak to your daughter, finally happened and it brought genuine tears to your eyes: funny how a small, tiny creature that you met for the first time no more than 72 hours earlier, that shared every single second of the last nine months of your life with you suddenly became the most important, priceless treasure you ever put your hands on. 

You thought there were some feelings it was impossible to give form to and love was one of them, but you had to change your mind the moment you took her in your arms because you  realised the human being you were holding was the embodiment of all the love you had for her dad. So some feelings, even the strongest one, had a shape and it was astonishingly beautiful.

“Oh I see you’re already taking the baby and leaving me with the heavy things” You mumbled, feigning being angry at him.

“You had her with you for 9 months, don’t be selfish”

“Me selfish?? Oh I’d have really liked you to carry her in your belly for 9 f-”

“Oi don’t swear in front of the baby”

You laughed seeing him all concerned and covering Iris’ ears as he was glaring at you. You shook your head as you slowly started to collect all your things around the hospital room.

“Give me my breakfast, I’m starving”

“See? Your mum has already changed and uses me as her butler and credit card”

His joke caused you to roll your eyes as you were trying to get dressed while dealing with your yet aching body.

You were in some baggy pants and an oversized hoodie because it was the only outfit you were feeling like wearing as John was there looking as flawless as usual even though his fit was quite simple: a pair of jeans matched with a gray jumper and a baseball cap on made him look hotter than usual. The child seat he was carrying with your baby girl in was making him even look like a real hot daddy and your heart was bursting with love. The right word to describe how you were feeling was blessed.

When you finally stepped foot in your house you sighed in satisfaction as you just wanted to get in your bed and cuddle with your new family in peace, eating some good junk food if possible.

“Home sweet home”

John smirked and carefully put the child seat on the floor so he could take Iris out of it.

“Welcome home, baby” He lifted her up to place her against his shoulder so her head could rest against it, as they showed him in the hospital. “This is your home”

“I’ve missed it so much…I think I’m going to lay down for a while”

Lying down on your own bed, on the bed sheets you chose, in the room you shared with the man of your life gave you that much needed home feeling.

You closed your eyes in the attempt to relax but the level of weariness, of emotions you had experienced recently didn’t make it any easier for you to sleep a little.

"Ok so I'm gonna go"

"I don't wanna see anyone" You mumbled when John finally entered your room, cradling Iris in his arms. When he looked down at her to see she was asleep, he put her in the wooden cot right next to your bed.

He couldn’t help but smile: that sight was the closest to perfection he had ever seen, as that piece of furniture that had been empty for all those past weeks was now full as it should have been, hosting the most important treasure ever.

"Not you, idiot. I just wanna see you and our baby" You grumbled as your voice came out feebly due to your state of tiredness.

John smiled and was about to sit next to you on the bed as your phone started ringing, much to your dismay. You groaned in annoyance.

"Who the fuck is now?"

"Your mum"

"Tell her I can't talk, I'm sleeping"

He nodded and swiped on the screen to do as he was told. You knew your mum was dying to talk to you, to make sure you were doing okay but you just wanted to enjoy the peace of the moment and keep that special moment for you only.

When he finished talking, he finally climbed on the bed and you soon were all over him, wrapping your arms around his body and letting your head rest against his chest with your eyes closed breathing in his familiar scent, the best fragrance in the world to you.

"Are you comfortable? Maybe it's better if you lay on a pillow"

"Nope, you're my comfiest pillow"

John scoffed with a half smile and kissed your head.

"Wanna watch something on Netflix?"

"Nope, too tired" You muttered, cuddling closer to his chest.

John's lips curved in a smile as he brushed his thumb against your right cheekbone.

He then scrolled through his phone, answering all the text messages the people he knew sent him ahead of your baby girl's birth.

"What are you doing?" You really wanted and needed to crack some sleep but your mind wasn't agreeing as the level of adrenaline in your body was still too high, plus you wanted to stay awake to spend some time with John and checking on Iris. 

"Answering all the texts they've sent for Iris"

"Read me some" You wanted nothing more than to bask in the sweet words of people congratulating you, saying how beautiful your baby was and how strong you've been through all the process. After all you deserved all those sweet words: bringing a child into the world is something so brave people tend to underestimate sometimes.

John pressed play on a voice note from Kyle that made you both laugh, then read you one from Jack and at that moment your own phone rang with a notification and you asked John to check who it was from.

"It's from Sasha, she answered the pic you posted with "congrats you gorgeous mama"

"Aww she's always the sweetest"

"Well, you're everything but gorgeous now…"

"HEY" You threw a fist against his bicep with the little strength that was left in you. "I just pushed your daughter out of my vagina, you should be a little more grateful"

John loved getting on your nerves, making your thin-skinned side come to surface. He giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I know I look awful and I stink as I really need to take a shower but I can't, I'm so tired" The whiny tone you pronounced those last words with was about to turn into a desperate cry but John took action just in time.

"You know I was joking" He took your face in his hands to look right into your eyes "I'd get you pregnant again right now if I could"

"Liar"

He laughed and kissed your forehead.

"I'll help you with the shower later on"

When your baby whined a little in her sleep the little yelp caught your attention as you both turned your heads towards the crib.

"There's the blanket over there, put it over her" You gestured for him to take the pink honeycomb blanket to cover your baby girl's sleeping body.

She looked so cute with that tiny blanketyou fell in love with as soon as your eyes took sight of it on the shop’s shelf and you had no doubt it would have been perfect for your beautiful baby.

“Can you believe we made her?” You asked John in awe as he was lovingly tucking her in. You got up to join him, encircling his waist with your right arm and putting your head against his bicep. "We made her teeny tiny feet, those little hands..."

“Yeah…you know what they say?”

“What?”

“Daughters tend to be more similar to their dads in the looks”

“So?”

“So if she’s beautiful that’s all thanks to me... even Kyle said it”

Another thing the collective consciousness ignored was the post pregnancy period: the danger of post-pregnancy depression was real but you knew you had the most handsome dad in the world who would have helped you along the path, even when the downs would have outnumbered the ups.

“Yeah Stones…I think you and your friend need some sleep too…you’re hallucinating”

And no, you weren't upset at all: you only wished for your daughter to be the carbon copy of her amazing father. So you hoped deep down your heart the Kyle was right.

[morlock-holmes]

Part of my confusion about "Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria" is that it's really just... not a good term? It doesn't really reflect what it's supposed to, which is the idea that some teenagers essentially take on a trans identity as a sort of social role spurred on by friend groups.

I think that this is likely to be actually true in at least some sense, so I was amazed at how unconvincing the Littman paper which coined the term actually is. The parental narratives advanced in that paper are just unbelievable on their face.

Ever since the gay rights movement I've felt that our vocabulary for talking about this stuff is deliberately incredibly stupid, for reasons I haven't quite been able to suss out.

In the gay rights battles, everybody got together and agreed that there were exactly two possibilities:

Gay people are born that way

Gay people made a choice to be gay

I think this is really dumb because those are really obviously not the only two options, and also because there's lots of biological "born this way" things we still treat or try to eliminate, and lots of choices that are still incredibly important to protect.

But also, like, okay, think about sexual fetishes. Say you have a guy with a cheerleader fetish. Cheerleaders are a contingent social phenomenon; no 12th century Breton had a cheerleader fetish. The possibility of such a fetish arose with the invention of the cheerleader.

But it's just as obvious that people do not choose their fetishes the way that they choose, say, a new car. Nobody says, "After listing out the pros and cons, I felt that having a cheerleader fetish was the best choice, because it combines a little bit of exotic spice while still being mainstream enough that it can't be used as blackmail if people find out about it."

No, one day you just realize that you think cheerleaders are really hot.

I do tend to think that gender identity is, for most people, a lot less immediately set in stone than sexual orientation is. My personal impression is that the vast majority of people start to understand very quickly whether they are attracted to men, women, or both, and that they only tell themselves differently because they fear social censure.

I'm not really convinced that the same is true of gender identity; I think that for an extremely large number of people it does function a bit more like a fetish, in that there are people who encounter the idea for the first time, go, "Huh, yeah that's cool or whatever" and after repeated encounters come to think, "Actually I am really into this."

I'm very, very suspicious of the tendency to then assert that this must inherently, then, be a discovery of something that always existed within the person since birth.

There's also the fact that gender roles exist, and people want to be legible to people around them.

For a lot of people, dressing up as a vampire on Halloween is fun, but dressing up as a vampire to go grocery shopping in June would be deeply embarrassing. Because on Halloween all the people around you understand why you're dressed that way and your dress makes you part of a larger social whole; in June you're going against the grain, marking yourself out from the people around you, probably drawing stares and hidden smiles.

Because sex roles in our society are so set in stone, there is a certain extreme dissatisfaction with not following them, even when allowed to do so.

I can wear chokers and frills and pretty hair ribbons if I want, but the women around me can do that anywhere in the country and have people think of it as normal, as obvious, rather than *a statement*.

Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, from reading the Littman paper, seems to refer to a parental conviction that their child essentially got the idea to be trans from a peer group who convinced them they were trans despite a lack of gender dysphoria in childhood.

Like I said, the general narrative is really, really hard to believe at face value, for example:

A total of 63.8% of the parents have been called “transphobic” or “bigoted” by their children for one or more reasons, the most common being for: disagreeing with the child about the child’s self-assessment of being transgender (51.2%); recommending that the child take more time to figure out if their feelings of gender dysphoria persist or go away (44.6%); expressing concerns for the child’s future if they take hormones and/or have surgery (40.4%); calling their child by the pronouns they used to use (37.9%); telling the child they thought that hormones or surgery would not help them (37.5%); recommending that their child work on other mental health issues first to determine if they are the cause of the dysphoria (33.3%); calling the child by their birth name (33.3%); or recommending a comprehensive mental health evaluation before starting hormones and/or surgery (20.8%)

So, like, the whole tenor of the paper is that these are basically very liberal parents who are sort of being cut off by their kids for no reason, but like...

This is typical of the general weasel wording used by Littman. Are the third of parents who called their kids by pronouns they used to use going, "She - Oops, he, I'm sorry" one time and getting blasted? Do they claim to be trying but just get it wrong literally every single time? Or do they just flat out refuse to call their child by their preferred pronouns?

When my brother was first entering high school, he joined the Sea Scouts, a division of the Boy Scouts dedicated to learning about sailing. He later entered a maritime college and has had a succession of maritime jobs, which will likely be his career for the rest of his life.

Is that the result of social contagion or was he born that way?

I think the question is obviously both absurd and irrelevant.

[dreemurr-fever]

Ok I can't wait til after work I need to yap right NOW because this show will NOT leave my mind

Spoilers for Earthspark season 3 below

Ok so I'm not very good at articulating myself and my thoughts are all over the place so I'll just right it down in a messy list and probably expand on it later:

Breakdown talking about the Decepticons being his family and all that pisses me off. He always referring to Bee as his brother (which is something else I'll yap about in a bit) and yet he keeps betraying him!! Also not to mention how he's basically Aftermath's dad, he literally called him son last season, and after that episode he just stopped caring about him. Didn't even react to his death or even acknowledge him after episode 1 of season 2.

SKULLCRUNCHER!!! THATS ALL!!! I LOVE SKULLCRUNCHER SO MUCH!!! I WISH THEY'D GIVE HIM A VOICE!!!! THEY BULLIED HIM SM IN THIS SEASON 😭

Shockwave and Soundwave stand next to each other and interact. I win! I win!!!! WaveWave is real and canon!!! /J

The treatment of Starscream this season 😐

Actually back to point one, with the amount of "family" talk about Breakdown makes me curious on what happened between him and the Stunticons? I wonder if one of the reasons he wants to go back to Cybertron so bad is to reunite with them?

I love the reference to the iconic Shockwave cover from the Marvel comics

I WANT FAIREMAESTRO DEAD HES THE WORST VILLAIN THEY'VE EVER COME UP WITH PLEASE HE'S SO ANNOYING

Episode 2 was eh not the worst (that goes to episode 3, I fucking that that guy) but yeah. I kinda like the subtle hints they dropped with Izzy.

Also I wanted to see the Kaiju in the movie :(

I giggled at the mole bot staring at it's reflection as and tearing up

I'm not even going to talk Abt episode 3

EPISODE 4 IS GREAT BUT ALSO UGH SO MUCH I NEED TO SCREAM ABT

IM GOING TO GET THIS OUT OF THE WAY, WHY DID THEY GET RID OF THE CONS AFTER THIS?! Like I'm actually happy the Cons actually won this time and they get to go home which totally means we finally get to see Cybertron next season. But after only ONE episode with the Cons, and one with Frenzy and Laserbeak making an appearance, THEY JUST GET RID OF THEM????

I'm so glad that this episode starts off immediately with the Ark falling. They wasted no time they KNEW we were here for Prowl and they delivered.

Speaking of that bastard, he's such a prick to everyone who's not Optimus AND I LOVE HIM

Prowl racism arc too 😭 him calling the kids organics and then asking if they're OP's PETS???

His look of disgust when Mo corrects him? I love him

I wish they referenced other bots sighs and kicks a rock... BUT!!! I'm glad we at least got some news as to what's going on on Cybertron when Prowl was last there. We know that Decepticons are in control of the space bridges last he checked.

The Decepticons being more than ready to beat the shit out of Prowl as soon as Shockwave allowed it??? They have BEEF with that guy. You KNOW Prowl is the most hated Autobot lmao

[maddsmallow]

" "con, don't you ever fuckin' relax?"

"lieutenant, i'm a machine. i don't need to 'relax'."

"oh fuck you, come on, we're on break. loosen up a little or something. you can chill out from your fuckin' mission for the three minutes it'll take me to smoke this cigarette. and shut your mouth before you go telling me it isn't actually exactly three minutes on average to smoke a cigarette or whatever."

connie closes her mouth. a small addition to her list of missions to accomplish is made: try to appear "relaxed" to appease lieutenant anderson. a raise in friendship means an easier partner to work with, so connie carefully inspects the lieutenant's posture and does her best to replicate it. being a machine of plastic and metal certainly doesn't make it easy. "

hankcon, but gorls. did i base hank off of my butch lesbian manager at my old job at a sex toy store who was covered in spongebob tattoos? absolutely yes i did

mostly i just wanted to portray fem!hank as a Large Woman because i think there is a severe lack of that. broad with muscle hidden under fat, like the kind of woman who does shot put. so uh,,, ms trunchbull basically LMAO. deep voice, raspy from smoking and drinking, all that good stuff 😩👌 also peep the button on her jacket hehe

got some headcanons and stories for them under the cut!

-hank wears cargo shorts 100% of the time. no matter the weather or temperature. like, 'bill and ted at prom in shorts, but it's her at a dpd ceremony in cargo shorts' level. but not actually because i'm totally gonna draw her in a pantsuit later, totally not with connie on her hip in a slinky dress 👀

-also yes hank's shirt is a spongebob reference

-when people ask hank why she goes by hank and not her "real name," (which i like to headcanon is "henrietta") she always says, "oh it's actually a really funny story, i'll tell you later," and the later never comes lmao. or, if she does tell you, it's some made up wacky story that actually has nothing to do with giving herself the name hank. the real reason? she just likes it

-speaking of "henrietta," this story, 'if you know where to look' by ghost_teeth, works so fucking well with a lot of my headcanons about how their characters would be like genderbent! highly recommend it, and all their dbh stories honestly!

-connie has a compact gun (i asked my brother for examples and he said sig p365 or springfield hellcat, which i think work perfectly for this) holstered inside her jacket on the left side. also, i'm stealing this idea from this post (which basically almost has the same design for fem!connor (altho like, most designs for her are basically the same lmao)) but she also has a knife strapped to her thigh

-her skirt is actually made of some super high tech flexible and durable material, and she's got specific programming to make her balance crazy good, since she'll be running in heels. she's made to hunt and pursue deviants so obviously she needs to be able to run and jump. the outfit is only made to appear like a standard "business woman" to blend in with the humans she would be required to work with, but otherwise gives her everything/doesn't hold her back from doing what she needs to complete her mission. here's a bonus conversation i had with @extraordinaryandroid about it lmaoo:

-hank met connor-51 first for the ortiz case, but connie-52 (with 51's memories of course) came in the next day when it was announced they were to be officially paired to investigate deviants. cyberlife has their grubby lil hands in everything so of course they knew their RK800 unit would be paired with this lieutenant anderson before basically anyone else, and deemed that she'd get along better with a "female model" that she would find attractive. which of course has hank like WOW that's super weird and gross of y'all! and i fucking hate that it's working you pieces of shit at cyberlife !!!! but ofc connie's like "im a machine i dont even have a gender" all the while hank's sweatin major thirsty bullets

-at the cyberlife tower, connor-51 is the one to hold hank at gunpoint. how did he get hank to trust him? idk i haven't figured that out yet lmao, but the angst of connor-51 essentially taking the place of -60 from the game in the sense that he's clearly deviant in some capacity, in this context being that he feels connie stole the life he deserved (which he'd never admit) and now wants to suck up to cyberlife and be their best boi to feel important and special again and not knowing they'd just throw him away for the RK900 model, is very good imo. that was a very long sentence so i hope it made sense lmaoo. have i worked out all the details of how all that shit would work in a story? absolutely not, im too busy thinking about butch fem!hank making her robo girlfriend bluescreen in the bedroom 🤪

also if ur wondering wtf the background is, idk. my usual plain color gradient was too simple, but i did NOT want to put in the effort to do a whole ass real background, so i settled on something in between. meh, it's just them hagin' out behind the station on a smoke break ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

consider supporting me on ☕! ko -fi. com / maddsmallow (without spaces)

[swampstew]

Kinktober 2023 ~ Raven's Bingo Board is back!

Year 2 let's go! I am so proud of how I jumped into this fandom straight with the kinks and I'm excited to finally show off what I've brewed in my cauldron for October this year. Unlike last time, the blorbos and the kinks have been pre-picked but I have not prepared a single thing! Last time I picked waaaaayyyy too many options and overwhelmed myself and even though I still managed to post over 20 posts, I definitely want get them all this time. I will NOT be posting a bingo story on SUNDAYS, just like last year. I have something far tastier in store for that :)

RULES

Every Monday-Saturday of October starting Monday 2, 2023, at 9 AM EST through the 30th, I'm going to screen record using a Bingo site to generate the numbers to pick the day's blorbo and kink. Then, I have until 11:59 PM to submit a post (ideally in by 8 PM cause I like consistency) - it will either be a one shot, head canon list, small drabble, but I gotta post!

We're playing Black Out Bingo which means we gotta hit EVERY tile in order to "win" the game. Winning the game means hitting every single tile (not posting means I'm fucking myself and everyone over) - and since the Bingo site counts how many calls are made, I've created a list of scenarios that could be the final Halloween Day story based on how quickly it takes to win the game.

The Bingo site can make total of 75 calls, so how many will it take to complete the board? Note: my bingo board's highest number is O-73.

# of calls it takes to win:

25 - 41 calls = creepy graveyard scenario

42 - 58 calls = haunted house scenario

59 - 75 calls = Halloween party/séance gone wrong scenario

The Board: Each blorbo above (or below) a column of kinks is that blorbo's tile. So in this case, BINGO becomes - Law, Killer, Luffy, Kid, Zoro as the respective letters. Law's column is Pocket Pussy, Master Servant, Dirty Talking, Forced Orgasm, Pet Play. And since its Halloween, I'm making an effort to make every story stay in theme for the season.

Bring your monster fucker permits!

Edit: added this post which has a pre-recorded video and clarified explanation of how the game will play out if this post was confusing to understand.

ALL PROMPTS ARE SPICY. MINORS DNI

OCT 2 - Killer & Partner Sharing ft Eustass Kid OCT 3 - Luffy & Anal Beads OCT 4 - Luffy & Roleplay OCT 5 - Law + Pet Play OCT 6 - Law + Forced Orgasm OCT 7 - Zoro & Mirror Sex OCT 9 - Zoro & Collaring OCT 10 - Zoro & Total Power Exchange OCT 11 - Zoro & Stuck in a Wall OCT 12 - Luffy & Stockings OCT 13 - Eustass Kid & Cock Cage OCT 16 - Law + Master/Servant OCT 17 - Eustass Kid & Glory Hole OCT 18 - Luffy & Risky Sex OCT 19 - Killer & Shibari OCT 20 - Eustass Kid & Milking Table OCT 21 - Law & Dirty Talking OCT 23 - Killer & Overstimulation OCT 24 - Killer & Cum Eating OCT 25 - Eustass Kid & Con Non-Con OCT 26 -Roronoa Zoro & Praise Kink OCT 27 - Monkey D. Luffy & Triple Penetration OCT 28 - Trafalgar Law & Pussy Pocket OCT 30 - Eustass Kid & Cockwarming OCT 31 - Halloween Bingo Story - Eustass Kid X Demon Reader, trick or treat bag of kinks.

Since we've made 60+ calls, the Halloween Scenario is going to be:

Halloween party/séance gone wrong scenario

[wromwood]

I went to NYCC this weekend for two days: Thursday and Friday. It was a fun time, and I'm so glad I went, but I thought I'd share my negative experiences from the reason why I went on Thursday, and how it could've easily become a con-ruiner if there weren't a few silver linings.

Click on the Read More if you want to hear about the Alex Hirsch signings and panel, and how NYCC made the events near-total disasters.

Warning: This story is long, but that's because its poor handling can't be condensed to a bite-sized retelling.

So, I wasn't always planning on attending NYCC on Thursday. Since all the Saturday and 4-day passes sell out before the general public even has a chance to buy them, I swooped for what I assumed was the next best day: Friday. One-day tickets are about $80 each, and once you combine those costs with both my potential cosplay and exhibit hall/artist alley shopping expenses, you can see why I wasn't originally planning to go for another day.

However, near the beginning of October, NYCC made a last minute announcement that Alex Hirsch would be at NYCC on Thursday and Friday. He would have signings on Thursday and Friday, and a panel on Thursday evening. I've never seen Alex Hirsch in person before, so this (and an NYCC-based costume contest held by Hirsch and announced only a few days after the main event announcements) was enough to make me buy an additional Thursday ticket.

Now, before I explain what happened during Hirsch's NYCC events, I want to clearly establish what information fans knew about them beforehand:

Every event involved Alex Hirsch, Joe Pitt, and Ian Worrel.

The signings were specifically for The Book of Bill. You had to have a copy of The Book of Bill to get a spot in the signing, which you could either bring yourself or purchase from the Barnes & Noble booth that would be set up nearby. You could also bring one additional item for signing.

Both signings were free and first come, first serve. They did not require any sort of prior purchase or reservation.

The panel on Thursday evening also did not require any sort of extra ticket purchase or reservation. (Reservations are only available to Empire or Main Stage panels; the Alex Hirsch panel was in one of the 400-level rooms.)

If you're thinking that this seems like too little information for something that could easily get chaotic in the wrong hands, then great! That's what I thought myself when I examined every event listing for any scrap of detail with which to prepare myself. Alex Hirsch is the creator of one of the most beloved modern Disney cartoons, and his fanbase had only increased and been given new life after the publication of his new book. And yet there was no way to reserve a spot in his two signings? I only hoped that NYCC knew what they were doing.

Thursday arrived, and so did I at the Javits Center in my Bipper cosplay. I arrived at around 11:30 AM, and the Thursday signing was at 3 PM, so I spent a couple of hours walking around the show floor, buying expensive One Piece merch, and taking pictures with the Duolingo owl. I headed down to line up for the signing at 2 PM, thinking that being there an hour in advance would be enough to secure a spot.

... No, it wasn't.

I arrived at Hall 1A to an in-progress mob of Gravity Falls cosplayers. There were Bills, Dippers, Mabels, Fords, and Grunkle Stans as far as the eye can see, and nearly everyone was holding copies of The Book of Bill. I spotted an AMAZING cosplayer who was dressed as a member of the Church of Ciphertology and holding up a huge foam puppet of Bill. The puppet had ropes connecting its arms with hers so that it looked like she was being puppeted by it. She had been standing by the wall outside the hall, but was now moving into it, and I followed her raised Bill puppet like a guiding beacon.

I was soon in the middle of a sea of costumed people. There wasn't even a semblance of a line here, at least not this far back. Fortunately, we were mostly all nice and united in our love for Gravity Falls, so I didn't experience any pushing or shoving. In fact, I even struck up a lovely conversation with the people in front of me.

Unfortunately, all of us were united in another experience: we had all been caught off-guard at how disastrous this event was turning out.

Most of us had followed the same plan that I had developed: arrive an hour early to get a spot in line. Some of us had been more careful. I later learned from the Ciphertology disciple that she had arrived closer to noon, but had been warned by security that she couldn't actually line up for this event. Lining up would only occur an hour before the signing, at 2 PM. That was why she had been next to the wall when I arrived. She had more right to be at the front than I did, and yet she was only a few feet ahead of me when we entered the mob.

While I didn't interview many other attendees, we quickly formed the hypothesis that this "no lining up before 2 PM" rule was why the mob had formed. Everyone - both the people who had arrived earlier and the newcomers who thought 1 hour was "early" - had rushed to form a line that the NYCC crew members just couldn't create.

We waited there for about 15-20 minutes. Occasionally, a crew member yelled for us to take a big step back (only some of the mob complied) and sometimes we were asked to all raise our copies of The Book of Bill in the air (for a photo? to check who was eligible for the signing? I'm still unsure).

Finally, at around 2:30 PM, we heard a crew member shout, "All right! We've run out of tickets for the signing! The rest of you have to leave!"

This was the wrong phrasing for them to use, because immediately, a number of fans started shouting things along the lines of "What do you MEAN tickets?!" "No one told us we had to have tickets!!!" "How do we get tickets?!"

Because there were only so few NYCC crew members on the floor, the announcement was mostly spread through word of mouth: a number of people at the front of the mob had been given "tickets" (wristbands?) so that they could line up for the signing. They didn't even get close to my part of the mob before they ran out of spots.

I, and so many other people, had to walk away disappointed, hoping that we could at least get into the panel later.

Before I left, I said this to three different NYCC crew members: "Hey, I know that there's another signing tomorrow, and I also have a pass for tomorrow. What should I do so that I don't miss this event?"

Every response I got was a variation on the phrase "I don't know." This is important to remember. I tried my best to learn what to do ahead of time by asking NYCC employees.

Anyway, later that evening was the Alex Hirsch panel at 6:30 PM. After the disappointment from the signing, though, I didn't want to take any chances. After spending an hour for lunch, I headed to the location for the panel at 3:30 PM, 3 hours ahead of time. I saw a NYCC crew member and asked when and where I should wait for the panel to start.

His paraphrased advice: "Listen. There's the room where the panel will be. You take a seat in there now and sit through three panels. That's how you'll have a seat later."

This may sound like cheating, and an unfair thing to do when you consider the people who may actually want to attend the panels before the one you're camping out for, but it wasn't against the rules. Only the Main and Empire stages require the rooms to be turned out for new people between panels. For the other panel rooms, you can camp out in your seat for as long as you want.

So, I followed his advice. I walked to room 406.3 in the middle of a panel about censoring non-fiction comics and found an empty seat.

I was shocked to see just how small the room was. According to the NYCC website, the room can seat about 300 people. That may sound like a lot, until you remember that 1) this is NYCC, which had 200,000 attendees last year, and 2) THIS PANEL IS FOR ALEX HIRSCH. I couldn't help but think of the mob I saw earlier, and just how many of those people wouldn't be able to fit into this room.

When I sat down during the censorship panel, the room was only about half full, and I saw two other Gravity Falls cosplayers already. After that panel, I walked to the front and took a seat in the third row (later, I even managed to move up to the second row, so I had a very good view).

An hour later (about 4:30 PM), the room was almost entirely full with a crowd that was almost entirely Gravity Falls fans. An hour after that (5:30 PM), the room was absolutely full, and we had already gotten word (and pictures) from people on the outside that there was a line of hopeful latecomers stretching around the floor.

One odd memory I have from around this point was when a woman showed up at the front of the room and addressed a bunch of us in general, saying "Hi, I'm from Disney. Are there six seats that I can have?"

All of the people near her (including myself) shot her looks and muttered replies along the lines of "Hell, no." She didn't further explain what she meant or provide any credentials, so I have no idea why she expected to get so many seats at once or what she needed them for.

I'll skip past the rest of the evening, as the panel was largely a nice time after that. I sat next to some really kind, awesome people who were great to talk to and share art with between panels, Alex Hirsch (as well as Joe Pitt and Ian Worrel, of course!) shared great stories, and I got to witness the awesome Ciphertologist cosplayer win a Bill Cipher Ouija board. It was a nice way to make up for missing the signing earlier, and I'm glad I was able to attend.

... and yet, not only did I still feel a sting of guilt about the hundreds of other fans who couldn't attend, but I couldn't stop thinking about something I discussed with the other fans I sat with: even the lucky fans who attended the panel were only able to do so because we spent hours of our con-going experience sitting through panels we wouldn't have otherwise chosen to attend. The panels were interesting in their own right, but that wasn't the point.

It's not cheap to attend NYCC. At around $80 a day (if you didn't buy a 4-day pass), time is money. There could be other panels that pertain to our interests happening during the waiting time. Guests that we might've wanted to get photos or autographs with. An entire show floor to explore. Merch to buy. Many of us only realized that we'd have to wait this long in one room earlier that day. We hadn't properly prepared for the fact that - new friendships and fun between-panel conversations aside - this time was practically wasted.

Don't get me wrong: I'm so happy I managed to attend the panel, and I'm glad I had the time to talk to such lovely people. But this wasn't fair to us as con-goers, and it especially wasn't fair to the con-goers who couldn't get in the signing OR the panel, or who were only able to get a ticket for Thursday and couldn't spend more time doing what they wanted at the convention on another day.

Speaking of the next day: I was determined to get a personalized signing from Alex Hirsch on Friday. That day, the signing started at 1:30 PM. Keeping the "no lining up before an hour ahead" rule in mind, I decided I'd arrive two hours before at 11:30 PM. Not far enough in advance to absolutely antagonize security, but hopefully far enough to scope out the scene and join other fans in making a game-plan for when and how to line up.

I arrived at Hall 1A at 11:30 only to learn that the signing tickets (which were now confirmed to be wristbands) had LONG since run out.

From what I gathered from other fans and NYCC crew members, the convention decided that the first come, first serve model would begin from the moment the convention opened that day (I think 10 AM?). Gravity Falls fans could stop by and get wrist bands for the signing until they ran out, which they did QUICKLY. Apparently, they gave out even fewer spots than on Thursday.

I definitely feel that the issue here wasn't me not thinking of getting there right as the doors opened. The fans were given one set of rules on Thursday, and just as it had been spread through word of mouth, they were changed the next day with basically no notice (apparently, some fans heard more info from staff members, but this was irregular). There was no formal announcement about the new wristband distribution, which meant there was no way for fans to know about this unless they showed up as early as possible, which was established to be a bad thing for the signing just the day before. And this is on top of me asking NYCC employees what I should do to not miss my chance at a signing! Either they changed the rules last minute, or the NYCC workers I spoke to really weren't told a thing by the convention planners.

I, and many other people, were rightfully pissed off to lose our last chance at getting a personalized autograph from Alex Hirsch.

There was one silver lining, though, that kept the day from feeling ruined. The signing was scheduled to go from 1:30-3:00. At 2:30, I decided to head to the signing just to wistfully stare at Alex Hirsch from the Barnes & Noble booth. I had a good view and stared wistfully away next to a few other fans who had hoped (in vain) that extra people could be squeezed in for the signing.

Then, after everyone with wristbands got their books signed and about 5-10 minutes before the signing was totally over, Hirsch, Pitt, and Worrel were handed a couple stacks of The Book of Bill from the Barnes & Noble booth. They quickly signed the stacks, then left.

To our delight, the employees came over to the lingering fans who weren't able to get wristbands and started passing out the copies. So I did end Friday with a signed copy of The Book of Bill! I also got a couple of sticker sheets that were being given out during the signing, which is nice. The waiting around was worth it.

Even so, that doesn't fully make up for just how disastrously the events were handled. This wasn't a case of fans not being in the know about how conventions are run. This was fully caused by NYCC either not knowing or not caring just how big of a crowd Alex Hirsch would draw. They dangled the chance of first come, first serve autographs to hundreds of people without providing the best guidelines on how to obtain them. They reserved a panel room that wasn't nearly large enough and didn't consider the implications of seat-camping. It was a nightmare.

Hopefully, you appreciated my dramatic retelling of these events. The moral of this story is: don't assume that just because NYCC is one of the biggest conventions in the country that it is guaranteed to competently run all of its events. They can mess up.

[who-is-page]

The folks who feel really strongly that online spaces and resources are useless to them should try to use that as motivation to take the active steps to join pre-existing physical alterhuman groups local to them or set up those spaces. :V If you're in college as a full-time student, you could start a club or advertise a one-time event around campus with fliers or in your school newspaper or something. If you're a working adult, consider checking the forums and social media platforms to see if any Howls are going already and if not, try to find a location-specific group chat and throw the idea out there in that. Or set something up at your nearest furry con or similar event where alterhumans are likely to wind up just because of how communities intermingle.

If you're an adult but feel like you're in a too-dangerous place to do any of this, but you still find yourself frustrated with digital environments, then get together with some long-distance alterhuman friends that you trust and start sending each other stuff! Record and document the local bird and frogsong of your area, send them a CD with a list of the animals. Write them a letter talking about your alterhumanity and how your day was and ask about theirs in turn. Take some pictures of your favorite local locations, things that get your "kinfeels" roaring, and print and send them. Make art, in whatever way you interpret that. Do mini-zines for one another. Figure out your own thing that works for you.

(If you're an adult with disposable income and a job that lets you request time off/use vacation days, road trips to see alterhuman friends are also a wonder and beauty.)

The options are out there for folks who feel trapped in online spaces and are pessimistic towards digital resources, and they should totally grab them in their teeth and seize them. I've done some of these myself and can pretty highly recommend them from personal experience, but I'm sure lots of other folks have even more suggestions.

[suzukiblu]

WIP WEDNESDAY GAME

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

call me cute and feed me sugar

when I see myself, I always know where you are

I'm all yours but you're all mine

a fake cryptid and a real romantic

when you don't believe, that's why you fail

Well, I did "think pink" last week, so it's only appropriate to do all the other DC WIPs I've got going on AO3 this week, right? There's five of them right now, it's just natural! Can't be helped! Totally has to be done!

And just to remind you all, I’m totally cool with people requesting multiple WIPs, but I’d prefer if you sent them in multiple asks! Just a little easier for me that way.

snippet from “call me cute and feed me sugar”:

Tim is pretty sure the date went well, since Kon seemed to enjoy playing with the sensory exhibits, cleaned his plate at the restaurant and finished Tim’s own entrée before going back for dessert, and spent half of the planetarium show star-dazzled and the other half of it making out with him in the back row, and then gave him a goodbye kiss he still hasn’t emotionally recovered from. Like, that seems like a successful date? Or reasonably successful, anyway. 

Planning ahead with a side of psychological analysis has once again paid off, Tim is pleased to note. Definitely worth making the fake IDs. 

Tim snuck way too many pictures, probably, but it’s whatever. Kon didn’t seem to mind, the times he’d caught him. Now he’s gone and set a standard, though, so he’s not sure what he should do for their next date. He’s got to plan it, obviously; he can’t expect Kon to. 

Tim is in his room and already three layers deep into the corkboard he’s planning date options and gift ideas and “is Kon getting enough calories?” math on when Kon texts him, and he stops in the middle of listing the pros and cons of a smart watch as a second-date present to read it. 

He may or may not have given Kon his own text alert and ringtone, but that’s his own damn business.

[whatevertheweather]

Thank you @thewholelemon @moodandmist @run-for-chamo-miles and @youarenevertooold for the tags! I'm in love with everything y'all posted, what the hell.

In other news, it seems like my recipe for success is to have a Bad Saturday, unexpectedly write an unprecedented amount on Sunday, manage nothing throughout the week, then rinse and repeat. However, yesterday was a kind of okay Saturday, and I've still written a lot today, so maybe the point is really just Sunday.

In any case, what I've written today is from the same unexpected fic I mentioned in my last WIP post. But also like that post, that's not what I'm going to share, because it's not on my hit list for this year. Instead, I'm joining in with the CORB cheer by posting about, y'know, the one I started last year, good old Bait and Switch, because that's what I was getting all my words out for last weekend. Like, the next chapter is about 2 scenes away from done, when there had only been about 3 scenes in it when I started. So that's good?

Under the cut because this is already getting kinda long and I'm not stopping at six sentences.

I don’t know the answer to that. “Because I’m better than you. Now c’mon, get your head in the game. We have a plan.” “Do we?” “Here’s the plan. You give me a good zinger to make Simon go off—” “No.” “What?” “You think I can set him off with a zinger?” he audibly sneers. “This isn’t a one-liner trick. We build up to it.” “Fine,” I roll my eyes. “You long-con him, he goes off, I get my energy back. Easy-peasy.”  Baz is silent. Maybe being a dick and maybe asleep. I can never tell. Finally, he says, “And then you’ll let me out.” “Yeah,” I say. “Totally.”

The slightly difficult thing is that there's also rather a bit of angst being threaded through a fic that is at its core quite lighthearted, but I've received some comments in my time that suggest I may be good at writing things that make you laugh and then also hurt you in rapid succession, so hopefully I can pull it off without it feeling like we're switching genres.

Here's another that's a very little bit of both.

“I would not fucking say that!” Baz yelps. “Calm down,” I swat at him, but the tips of my fingers just slide through the edge of the coffin. I scowl at them. “I saw it in a film. It’s fine. It’s a totally normal thing to say.” “It’s not! It’s really, really not!” By the time he’s run out of steam screeching at me about it, I’m thinking there’s no way this ends up worth it. I don’t feel bad for doing it, but seriously, no one has ever yelled at me for this long. His voice is wearing down. Getting scratchier, which just makes him sound more violent, but then quieter. He ends by mumbling, “I hate you.” It hits weird. I mean, I don’t know. It just sounded sad. And it’s not true.  He doesn’t hate me. We’re helping each other.

Now, tags!

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @whogaveyoupermission

@mooncello @monbons @aristocratic-otter @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart

@alexalexinii @rimeswithpurple @ivelovedhimthroughworse @martsonmars @ileadacharmedlife

@confused-bi-queer @iamamythologicalcreature @noblecorgi @forabeatofadrum @emeryhall

@hushed-chorus @onepintobean @raenestee