#Best Travel Pipe

[the-hwaelweg]

My friend: "I'd love to have radiator heat, it would be nice to have consistent temperature all the time 😊"

Me, currently living in a house with radiator heat that will only exist at 64 or 75 degrees, with no in-between: "Are you on actual drugs?????"

[songofstrawhats]

The THING about one piece and one piece fic is that if the characters are sitting down having honest conversations about their feelings I'm like 'eh its kinda ooc' which is an absolutely hilarious problem to have

[silkentine]

Me when they are the sisters ever: 😭😭😭 They came out soooo freaking well. I won’t lie, they took me a thousand years to finish but through the constant support from all of my buds (and my latent bisexuality), we made it 😤

Hopefully you guys know the deal by now: design choices, easter eggs, and (NEW!) closeup shots below the read more. ⬇️

I wanted Ace to have a very down-to-earth vibe and looked at Aussie beach-girls, coastal cowgirls, and vaqueras for reference. (IDK, I’ve just always envisioned Ace as part-Australian🌺 and Mexican 🏴‍☠️) Her clothing choices are mostly natural or utilitarian materials like the painted wooden beads on her top, her woven fabric and leather belts, and her denim jumpsuit. I gave her bikini top a zen-garden kind of feel because I read the first Ace’s Story Novel and I loved how idyllic and peaceful they made Sixis Island sound so I wanted to invoke that in some way.

Speaking of her painted wooden beads, they hang off the back of her top and represent her connection to Sabo and Luffy. They watch her back once she sets sail. She only wears one red glass bead earring because the other one got ripped out of her ear when a child, leaving her earlobe torn (don’t think about it too much 😢). Also, YES! she does wear a hibiscus flower just like Rouge (because I hate you and I want to make you cry, muhwahahahaha).

Also, I really wanted her to have super textured curly hair that licks behind her like flames. I am always considering whether or not a character should have long hair or not because I don’t want it to be a hindrance if they’re in a fight (or if they ARE a fighter with long hair, how to they avoid an enemy making use of that?). Ace is, of course, a Logia-type Devil Fruit User so I think she wouldn’t have trouble with people grabbing it LOL I get the feeling that she doesn’t take very good care of it even though it looks amazing. Like you’d think it would be soft and bouncy just by looking at it but if you ever get the chance to run your fingers through it, it’s a total rat’s nest and there’s sand and food all up in it. She still falls asleep while eating 😂 but she tries her best to only do it around people she can trust (woman moment 😔).

Honestly, her design is not that different from Ace’s canon look. It feels really vital to Ace’s character to have a lot of skin showing. And he’s always hanging all over himself with his hips all cocked like the weight of the world is too much to stand up straight. It is certainly not my OWN preference to make her an absolute smoke show. That’s just the character, okay? (I’m partially lying and the proof is that I turned the emblem on Ace’s hat strap into a sternum tattoo for no other reason than that it is sexy af.)

Here are some closeups of Ace:

Now for Sabo, I’ve made her very girly. I tried putting her in pants or something more militant but she told me that she’d wear the big poofy sleeves and hiked-up ruffled skirt. I think Sabo has always had a strong grasp on his fashion sense and individual flair and I truly believe that his personal style is one of the major influences for the rest of the Revolutionary Army resulting in the very flashy, queer, steampunk aesthetic (aside from Dragon’s plain-ass cloak). So of course I had to implement her nonconformist look when reimagining her as a woman and dress her up to the nines.

I’ve given her very ornate jewelry that is there to tell a story, even if she herself doesn’t know it. I like to think she picks up stuff from her travels that resonate with her, such as a damaged set of earrings with one stone missing or red cup-shaped shells featuring three nestled pearls. Another accessory that cannot go unmentioned is her dragon claw hat pin that keeps her top hat resting on top of her hair (and is definitely used as a weapon when the situation simply doesn’t call for trusty metal pipe). She also has a veil that obscures her prominent facial scar. I imagine she’s not very keen on the reminder of the incident from her childhood that took away her memories. I also kept her chipped toothed because 1) it’s fucking adorable and 2) is a visual reminder that she no longer aligns herself with the nobility who would have gotten such a thing fixed. She is so poised in almost every outward facet of her life from her dignified role as the Chief of Staff to the elegant materials in her clothing that it can be easy to forget she was also a rough and tumble forest dweller. Every time Koala remembers this, he lets out the biggest sigh.

Her hair is inspired by Gibson Girls and Elizabeth Swann from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I wanted it to be fussy and tidy but fall apart when she’s in moments of distress. For example, when she remembers her sisters, her hair starts to look like Ace’s flaming mane. I’m so in love with her, I think she looks like an adorable little porcelain doll that would fuck you up. I made an effort to keep her eyes a little bit manic. I get lost in her steely black orbs (and also Ace’s warm brown ones, but we’re talking about Sabo rn).

Here are her close-ups:

Plot notes for this AU:

For this series of character designs, I wanted the expressions and outfits to be aligned with the canon plot but I don’t know if I have the heart to kill fem!Ace in my AU. I’m too attached and ASL has suffered enough!!!!! But Ace’s death is also a major defining moment for Luffy so it feels disingenuous to completely avoid it. Also a huge aspect of Sabo’s character is carrying on Ace’s will and I have so many thoughts about how the Dressrosa Colosseum scene would play out if they were all women. Oh well, I’ll cross that tragic bridge when I get to it. I’m definitely going to draw some Modern AU Girl Piece ASL though. They deserve to hang out with no stakes 😭 They are sisters!!!

Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog for my other One Piece genderbends! 🥰

[stealthetrees]

Time travel au where all the Jedi wake up in Attack of the Clones after dying. The ones that died sooner just walk it off like it’s a weird dream. Everyone who died in order 66 is confused but maybe it’s a vision? Most of the inquisitors either panic or run to the nearest mind healer and burst into tears or trauma dump. Caleb Dume/Kanan is absolutely convinced he’s dead and this is the after life and no one can convince him otherwise. Obi-wan Kenobi sees smol Anakin and goes ‘shit just keeps happening huh’.

Ashoka Tano is disturbingly wise and knowledgeable for a youngling. Cal Kestis jumps up from class, yells “not today satan” stabs his crechemaster and jumps out the window (he thinks he got caught by the empire and drugged or something), he steals a ship and makes it all the way to Bogano and picks up BD-1 before Cordova find him getting his ass beat by local wildlife and drags him back to Coruscant. Cere is doing her best to comfort Jaro Tapal but he’s not reassured that Cal jumps out of windows all the time.

Plo Koon and Shaak Ti are scheming to get their sons back. Anakin is busy having a breakdown. Grogu just keeps asking for his Buir. Yoda, always ready for drama, let’s Caleb tell him all about his life and his family, asks what his padawan would want him to do. Caleb thinks about this for a minute and nods to himself. He builds a pipe bomb and duct tapes it to the bottom of Palpatines chair. And steals all the credits stashed in his desk.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo’s single and geto’s a good friend. good friends share everything.. including girlfriends

pairing: gojo x fem! reader x geto

content: crack, smut, threesome, praise, cum eating (gojo), pussy eating, blowjobs, cream pie, throat bulge, throat fucking, tag team, playful banter, squirting

Geto thinks he’s a great friend. Being willing to share his precious girlfriend with his best friend. He’s seen the way Gojo looks at you. And he’s not mad, no, he’s quite happy. It makes using you as a gift so much easier— especially when he knows you get wet at just the thought of a threesome with the white haired man.

“I am not lonely. I could go get a quick fuck right now if i wanted too.” Gojo defended, taking another gulp of the beer in his hand as he leaned back into the couch.

“Hmm, i smell lies, you’re very lonely this season.” you teased, giggling softly when Gojo glared at you with the flip of his middle finger. You gasped dramatically, turning to Geto with a pout, “Baby your friend just flipped me off.”

Geto simply smiled at you with the shake of his head, taking a quick swig of his drink before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into him and placing an especially wet kiss onto your head. “Don’t disrespect my girl bro.” He joked along, Gojo only scoffing before flipping him off too. “I’m being targeted by weirdos. Great.”

“Weirdos who aren’t single. Can’t relate now can you?” you retorted with a grin. Gojo finally letting out a chuckle, “Ya got me there.” downing the remaining contents of the bottle. “I’m gonna get another one, you guys want any?” he questioned, standing up to head to the kitchen.

“Oo, yes please.” you piped in cheerily, Geto’s head snapping towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Uh, no. She’ll just have a coke or something. But i’ll take one.” Geto corrected.

Gojo nodded, making his way past the dining area and into the kitchen to open the fridge.

Geto winced lightly when you pinched his side. “Why can’t i have one?” you whined. Geto pinching your cheeks with a faux frown, “because your alcohol tolerance is too damn low.” You simply huffed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of your boyfriend’s sweater.

“So, is it still happening?” you questioned in a whisper, a smirk forming on your boyfriend’s face as he brought the bottle to his lips to empty it out. “Mhm.”

Gojo came strolling back into the room with two opened drinks and a cherry flavored soft drink. And you fought the urge to roll your eyes when he handed one bottle to Geto and the red colored drink to you. A smile on his face as he bit back his teasing words about Geto not letting you drink alcohol.

Geto cleared his throat, setting down the drink and placing his hand on your thigh. Squeezing as he travelled it higher and higher, his breath hot on your ear when he leaned in. “That’s your queue baby.”

Your face heated up, watching as Gojo raised an eyebrow across from you, taking a swig at his drink after mumbling “fucking weirdos i swear.”

Getting off your seat, you bit at your lip as you looked back at Geto. Your boyfriend only giving you a reassuring nod before his drink was at his lips, watching as you almost shyly walked up to Gojo.

Sitting yourself on his lap with practically no warning making the man’s eyes widen. “What are you-” being cut off by your lips on his, your ass lightly grinding on his cock as you gripped his shirt. Gojo’s eyes met Geto’s in panic, the latter simply tilting his head, “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Gojo groaned, your hands slipping under his shirt to run your nails over his hard abs. Slowly bringing them down until you stopped at the bulge in his sweats, groping it through the fabric before smiling as you pulled away. “You’re already hard?” you giggled.

“Shut up.” His face flushing red as you got off of his lap, situating yourself on your knees between his legs. Your hands working to pull his pants down mid thigh, your head in his crotch as you licked a strike along his cock through his underwear. Looking up at him through your lashes before freeing him from the thin black fabric

Gojo nearly choked on his spit, watching as you ran your thumb over his tip. Collecting glistening precum before using it to stroke him, circling your wrist while you moved it up and down. “S-shit.”

Your eyes met his cock with a hard swallow at the length. Taking in a breath before sucking him into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his leaking tip then taking him in deeper. Bobbing your head up and down as your drool coated his veiny skin.

You could hear Geto standing up behind you, reaching your kneeling frame in two large steps before his hand was stroking your hair. “She’s good ain’t she?”

Gojo only letting out a cracked moan as he nodded. Geto’s hand suddenly grabbing hold of your hair to quicken the pace of your mouth. “But trust me, she can be better.” Roughly pushing you to take Gojo down your throat before pulling you back up again. Repeating the process as you slobbered onto the man’s dick with muffled moans.

Your eyes pooled with water each time your boyfriend forced you to take his best friend all the way. Gojo’s cock bulging in your throat as your nose pressed at his base. “See that?” Geto hummed.

Gojo’s mouth hung open in breathy grunts as he began thrusting his hips upwards. Head falling back onto the back of the couch with his breathing speeding up. Basking in the way his best friend used your warm mouth to fuck his twitching cock. “F-fucking hell— ahh.”

“Good girl” Geto dragged out. “gonna make him cum already.” he praised, “Wonder how long it has been since he’s felt a pretty girl’s lips on his cock.”

Gojo grunted, “f-fuck o-off, shit—” a loud groan sounding in his throat when he began to spill into your mouth. His body shuddering when you continued to suck on his tip while maintaining eye contact. His cock throbbing as the last bits of cum spurted onto your tongue.

“Now what do you do?” Geto asked with a smirk, watching you swallow the thick substance before glancing between the both of them with a smile. “That’s my girl.”

Gojo panted with heavy breaths, receiving a pat on his shoulder from the black haired man. “That’s not even the half of it.”

It wasn’t long until you found yourself on your hands and knees. Geto’s cock down your throat as Gojo fucked into you from behind. “Is this what you like baby?” your boyfriend groaned, Gojo’s rough thrusts effectively rocking your mouth on and off of Geto’s cock. “Showing this lone fucker how good your pussy feels?” Gojo being too lost in how deep you were sucking him in to even respond.

You mewled, clenching down on Gojo’s cock as he hammered into your g spot. His thick length easily sliding in and out your tightness.

Gojo’s hand groped at the flesh of your ass, the sound of his hips slamming onto your flesh only getting louder when he sped up his pace. Allowing his tip to graze your gummy walls with force. “Haah- think this might just be the best pussy i’ve ever had.”

“Hear that baby? He loves that perfect pussy of yours.” Geto breathed, his eyes closing as he used his hand to guide your head faster. “Shit. Swear that mouth of yours is made of gold.”

You let out a muffled cry when you felt a coil build in your stomach. Your body still being jerked between the two men as you drooled onto your boyfriend’s cock. Your back arching when Gojo leaned onto you, his chest against your back as he brought his hand down to rub your clit. Your loud mewl sending vibrations through Geto’s dick.

Gojo groaned into your ear. “You feel so good pretty girl. Wish i could fuck into this pussy forever.” His thrusts getting sloppy as he moaned noisily into your neck, his eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips had stretched to fit his best friend’s girth. “O-oh shit— clenching down on me so tight.” he rasped into your skin, voice cracking into a higher pitch at the feeling of your warmth ready to milk him dry.

Geto pulled you off his cock with a grin, watching as you whimpered before taking in a well needed breath, your chest rising and falling as your eyes lost their focus. “Nnhg— Suguru, ah- Satoru, ‘m close,” you cried out, feeling yourself getting closer as Gojo continued to rub small circles on your sensitive bud, his cock hitting deep inside you with each movement

“Yeah baby? Gonna show him just how good he made you feel?” Geto husked, pulling your head back onto him before you could even nod in response, using your mouth as a wet flesh light to get him off the edge.

Gojo groaned loudly, his thrusts hard and mean as they lost their speed. Rolling his hips desperately into yours to chase his release. “Shit, can i cum in ya, pretty?”

You were only able to let out an incoherent babble, feeling the coil in your stomach painfully close to snapping.

“Don’t push it.” Geto warned, your chin getting messy as he lazily fucked your face, his head falling back with a string of deep curses.

“Selfish prick.”

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Your body shook as you came, whimpering with a broken cry around Geto’s cock as your pussy spasmed. Eyes rolling back and your head fuzzy as you gushed messily. The force of your orgasm threatening to make Gojo’s cock slip out.

“There you go baby.” Geto started, Gojo finishing his words as he slowed his movements on your clit, “That’s it.”

Both men breathed heavily as their movements came to a halt. Geto holding your face down on his cock to spurt ropes of his cum down your throat.

“Suguru- fuck, please let me cum in her. Tight pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” Gojo moaned out, pleading blue eyes looking up to your boyfriend.

“You do that and you’re gonna lick it all out.” Geto growled out, tapping his cock onto your tongue a few times before he was pulling out. Watching as you moaned softly when his cum slid down your throat.

Gojo’s lips parted as his cock ached for a release. Deciding to take his chance at burying himself inside you, his twitching cock pumping thick ropes of cum into you. Looking up to meet your boyfriend’s fake grin.

“Baby, lay down, and you, better get every fucking drop outta her.”

Gojo pervertedly smiling as he willingly crawled in between your legs. Lapping at your sopping folds and swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned and mewled into the air.

Your fingers tangling in white strands as his tongue dipped into your hole, sucking a mixture of your juices and his cum into his mouth with a groan.

Geto let out a short laugh in amusement, “So this is what a lack of pussy does to a guy.” Watching as Gojo licked you clean, bringing you to another squirting orgasm in the process.

[pathologicalreid]

blue ribbon | s.r.

in which you and Spencer dedicate yourselves to helping your daughter with the best baking soda volcano the science fair has ever seen

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: chemist!reader, misuse of lab equipment i don't care, their daughter is very girly, glitter word count: 1.46k a/n: ending the post margotober drought with the very first margovember request!!! i promise i'm working on masterlists but for some reason they're exhausting.

“Why do I have to walk backward?” You grumble while trying to balance the end of the plywood on your knee, pulling at your badge reel to unlock the lab door.

Spencer nods his head in the direction of the keypad, “That would be why.”

Rolling your eyes, you push the door handle down with your elbow before pushing the door open with your foot, shuffling your feet. “Honey, can you turn the lights on?”

Lifting herself up on her tiptoes, your daughter flips all of the switches on the panel, cringing at the bright fluorescent lights.

Together, you and Spencer hoist the science project onto one of the lab tables, careful not to knock anything over as the papier-mâché volcano rests in your professional lab.

You and Leah had stayed up until eleven last night finishing the last coat of paint, even entertaining a visit from her Aunt Penelope so that the finished project could have a fine dusting of glitter all over it. Your dining room was now permanently sparkly, but the look on your daughter’s face when she saw the finished project made the mess entirely worth it.

Spencer steps to grab your jugs of white vinegar from the car, propping the door open so he can bring the supplies for the baking soda volcano in.

Obviously, you weren’t going to use the full-size volcano now, but Leah had refused to travel without it and Spencer believes that saying no to her is an impossible task. “Mommy?” The little girl pipes up, playing with the stirring rod that you had just set in front of her.

“What’s up?” You ask, leaning your hip against the counter, gently reaching out and adjusting the bows adorning her pigtails that you’d put in her hair that morning.

She looks over at the wall, minding each of the posters that line your laboratory, “What is that?”

You follow her finger to see what she’s pointing at, smiling softly, “It’s the periodic table.”

Humming thoughtfully, Leah sets the stirring rod down and walks over to the poster, “It looks like the one at home.”

Nodding, you get a step stool out for her to stand on, “They’re the same poster, the one we have at home is just a lot smaller than the one I keep at work.” You explain to her, knowing she’s talking about the poster you keep in your home office. “Come on baby, let’s go get you a lab coat.”

Setting a hand on her shoulder, you guide her to the storeroom, “Woah,” she breathes. It’s not a positive reaction, her eyes flitter all around the room, a mess of lab coats and goggles.

“Okay,” you say, shoving your way through the space until you find your locker, pulling out your lab coat, as well as safety glasses for the whole family. Holding a coat up to her and having her pull it on, you put your own lab coat on before looking back to find your five-year-old drowning in polyester. Laughing slightly, you adjust the lapels of her jacket, “How does it feel?”

Leah looks down at herself, “Cool!” She exclaims beaming up at you and giving you two thumbs up. She skips out of the closet and heads back to her volcano, almost tripping over the extra fabric of the lab coat, but Spencer grabs her arm before her knees can hit the linoleum.

He smiles at her, “Are you okay?” Helping her adjust her coat, he kneels down to her.

“Daddy,” she cheers, completely ignoring his question for the sake of being five years old, “Look at my coat!”

Smoothing her hair back, Spencer’s eyes briefly meet yours before he looks back to Leah, “You look like mommy.”

In a fit of giggles, he scoops her up in his arms in an attempt to avoid a tripping hazard, but she just thinks it’s fun. He sets her down feet-first on the step stool you had gotten out for her.

“Here,” you say, handing him a lab coat for him to wear and setting the safety goggles you’d gathered on the countertop.

When your daughter came home in tears because she felt like she had been assigned the ‘most boringest’ project for the science fair, you and Spencer quickly decided that you’d try everything to make her baking soda volcano exciting. At the very least, you’d work together to make sure she has fun.

Leah puts her goggles on and looks up at you for her next instruction, watching you divide the baking soda and white vinegar into separate beakers, “So, what will happen when we add these two together?” Spencer quizzes, watching you make careful portions.

“It’s gonna fizz up!” She responds correctly, bouncing on her feet while you gently push the first two dishes in front of her.

You nod, “You can pour the white vinegar into the baking soda,” You nudge her gently, knowing that you measured just enough to reach the top of the beaker, but not enough to flow onto the counter.

She uses both hands to grip the beaker and pour the liquid out, and the immediate reaction surprises her so much that Spencer holds an arm out to keep her upright. He trains his eyes on her amazement as the foam dissipates and the water and sodium acetate are left in the glass. “Can I drink it?” She asks, frowning up at her dad.

“No,” you both answer immediately, a sort of parental reflex. If you don’t answer quickly enough, odds are she’d pick it up and try anyway.

Disappointed, her frown remains on her face while her eyes return to the countertop, timidly, she tugs on Spencer’s lab coat, prompting him to crouch down to her eye level, “What’s wrong, lovey?”

Her eyes nervously look around the lab, eyeing some of the cabinets before she takes a deep breath, “Can we make it pink?”

“The foam?” Spencer says curiously, eyes flickering up at you while you nod frantically, already thinking up options so that you could further individualize your daughter’s glitter volcano.

She rocks back and forth, “Can we?”

As soon as Spencer says yes, it’s like a hold on you has been released, unlocking some of the cabinets so you can grab more supplies from around the lab, you return to the station with an armful of things to try, and Spencer mutters something to Leah about you being a mad scientist, leading you to maturely stick your tongue out at him.

You set up four options, taking photos as you go so you can paste them onto her presentation board. The first one is just baking soda, but you added a touch of dish soap to the vinegar. The increase in bubbles seems to greatly please Leah, so you decide as a team that the final product should have dish soap in it.

The second one has manganese sulfate mixed into the baking soda, and if the pink salt altered the color of the foam at all, it doesn’t impress your perfectionist daughter.

The third one includes phenolphthalein, which you think has some real potential, based on the way Leah’s eyes widen at the sight of it combined with the vinegar. The liquid was almost a fuchsia color, and she gasps when she pours it in to find that the foam is white, “It’s gone?”

You nod, “The phenolphthalein when it’s in the vinegar is pink because it’s an acid, but as soon as you add the baking soda it becomes a basic solution, so…” Your voice trails off when Spencer starts shaking his head, and you look down to find that you have completely lost Leah’s attention. Instead of listening, she’s trying to pronounce phenolphthalein, tracing the letters on the black countertop.

“What do you have next?” Spencer asks, eyeing the tiny dropper bottle in front of you.

Picking it up, you drop some of it into the vinegar and hand it to Leah, “It’s food coloring.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Why do you have food coloring in the lab?”

You wrinkle your nose at him, the expression makes Leah giggle, “Mind your business.”

As a family, you watch the chemical reaction, the white of the foam mixing with the red food coloring to create the desired pink lava. “Oh,” your daughter says softly, “Thank you, mommy!”

Beaming down at her, you place your hands on your hips and sigh, “If you’d like, we can add glitter to the baking soda too.”

Wide eyes look up at you in amazement, brown eyes inherited from her father, “I love science,” she whispers.

Behind her back, you hold your hand out for Spencer, exchanging a silent fist bump—a quiet celebration between two scientists.

[painted-flag]

DIES NATALIS - geta and caracalla

₊˚⊹♡ dies natalis; meaning birthday, anniversary. ₊˚⊹ emperor geta x fem!reader x emperor caracalla ₊˚⊹ masterlist. ₊˚⊹ based on this request. (3.9k words)

The rising sun cast light through the open windows and along the marble flooring of the grand room; spreading a gossamer veil of scattered iridecence into the space. A warm breeze came in, making the silk curtains billow. You woke up a while ago, still stuck on the same time clock when you had been working day in and day out. In the large bed you were in, two bodies clung to your form. 

Caracalla’s face was buried in your stomach, subconsciously trying to escape the rising sun. His arms were wrapped around your middle and he was peacefully snoring. Next to you lay Geta, whose arm was directly over your chest, holding you down to the bed. You could feel the tickle of his breath on your neck as his rhythmic breathing signalled that like his brother, he was in a state of deep sleep. 

You wondered how long it would take for them to wake up. Today was their dies natalis, the day they were both born. Endless festivities and games had been planned for the entire week to celebrate. Important people from all over the empire had travelled – many long distances – to come and offer gifts for the emperors. Yet, you did not wish to wake them just yet. They were so calm, so relaxed; such was a rarity with the amount of stress they were constantly under. 

Suddenly, you found yourself reminiscing on when you first met them many moons ago. Things were so different then and never would you have thought they would change. 

The day had been impossibly hot, more so than usual on summer days. Despite the heat, the emperors did not shy away from it. They were in one of the palace courtyards that had multiple fabric covers over the top, with some slivers of rays peaking through the cracks and tumbling down upon the stone and reflecting off of the ground and walls. A small pool was at the centre, decorated with lilypads and other flora. Fish swam about, exotic and imported from faraway lands. 

You were tasked with bringing the emperors another pitcher of wine. It had only been your first week in the palace and the imposing structure had yet to become familiar. It was grand, full of memories and secrets that you would never uncover. As you made your way to the twins, your nerves had gotten the better of you. 

You stepped out into the courtyard and were greeted by the sounds of birds chirping and water running as it was directed from a pipe into the pond. Your feet carefully moved knowing that it is best that you remain as quiet as possible. The brothers sat at a table placed upon a raised dais. A vast platter of various foods was placed in front of them and the brothers lazily picked about; the intense heat had killed a large portion of their appetite. 

Upon reaching them, you bowed, though they did not seem to notice you as they were talking. You quickly poured more wine into both of their goblets and moved to stand a few feet away. There, you would wait if they needed anything. You held the pitcher in both of your hands and gazed off to the side. Every once in a while you would glance back at them to make sure their cups were not empty. 

After a few moments, the sound of one of the emperor’s voices calling for you brought you out of your daze. 

“You, girl.” Caracalla leant back in his seat with an air of carelessness, though there were hints of curiosity in his wondrous eyes. You moved instantly, making your way up the two steps of the dais and bowing to both of the emperors.

“Is there anything you need, Caesar?” You asked. He was gazing at you, but there was something in his eyes that showed he was not entirely present. 

“You are new here,” Caracalla stated and he shared a look with his brother who sat across from him, “I have not seen you around here. Who are you?”

His curiosity struck you as odd. You were nothing but a small part of the axis that made up the chariot of the empire – only a useful tool to keep it moving along. 

You answered with your name and he hummed. While Caracalla looked content with talking to you, Geta had rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. A look of annoyance was on his face. 

“Brother, we were talking about Acacius’ movements.” It seemed that you understood the reason behind Geta’s indifference. They were engaged in a conversation when Caracalla called you over, getting distracted as he is known to do. 

“Ah, yes,” Caracalla answered, “You’re dismissed.” 

You bowed again before moving down the steps while facing them, knowing it was disrespectful to turn your back to them. Once you were far enough away, you turned and walked back into the palace. 

If you thought hard enough, you could still feel the harsh pounding of your heartbeat at that moment. It had taken you a while to calm down. Your body had already been struggling to cope with the heat, but that encounter had left you flushed for the rest of the day. 

It was a pivotal change in your life. Afterwards, Caracalla had repeatedly summoned you to serve him and his brother. The older twin had come to be comfortable in your presence quickly, coming to you for comfort. It was odd how easily he clung to you. You supposed it was because of his condition that ailed him. You did not judge him for it and came to figure out ways to help him when he had an episode. 

Geta, on the other hand, was difficult to gain the favour of. He had been wary of you from the start. There was a deep-seated paranoia in his body which caused him to be distrustful of everyone that was not his brother. He often ignored you when you were around, only talking directly to his brother even if you were involved in the conversations. 

Your hand made its way to his copper hair, brushing at the strands gently as they reflected the sunlight streaming in. His face was relaxed as he breathed in and out, content to rest on your chest. It was at that moment when you remembered the day he had opened up to you. 

Caracalla had been inconsolable for the better part of an hour. The few servants that had dared enter his quarters were left running from the scene in horror and fear. Geta had been there and struggled to control his brother’s actions. Oddly, you had been summoned to the room after hearing about the events. 

As you made your way down the hall, you could hear his shouting from behind the doors. 

“Schemers! Traitors! They are here, they are here for us! They’ll kill us!” More crashing came after, the sound of pottery smashing acting as a sharp contrast to his voice. “Where is she? I want her! Is she safe? Where is she?” 

You burst into the room and saw Caracalla brandishing a sword and flailing it about like it weighed nothing. Curtains were torn, furniture tipped over and smashed, sheets and pillows strewn about, and food had been spilled from a table. Geta was standing back and dodging his brother’s swings.

“I am here, brother! Stop this, please!” Geta was begging. His clothes were ruffled and his face was distressed. 

Caracalla spotted you at the entrance and pointed the shortsword at you, but not in a threatening manner, “You! Have they come for you, too? They have tried to kill me again. They’ll come after you soon!” 

You recognized his inconsolable state, having dealt with it several times before this. You knew that you had to act fast before others got hurt; even worse, before he got hurt. 

“Nobody has come for me, sweet boy. See?” You gestured to your body, “I am unharmed, as are you.” He was still swinging the sword around and whipped his head from side to side like a figure would jump out from behind any of the pillars in the room and go straight to attack him. 

“It is only a matter of time! They always come, you must stay safe!” Caracalla was enraged, but it was undercut by tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. 

“You wish for me to be safe, sweet boy?” You asked, already having come up with a plan to disarm him so he would not hurt himself or others. While this was going on, you could feel the intense gaze of Geta who stood off to the side, seemingly having lost all hope of recovering his brother. 

“That sword, I can protect myself with it. Right, my sweet boy?” You had learned quickly that he was very receptive to that nickname and responded well when you went along with his thoughts long enough to coax him out of it. 

He stopped swinging the sword, “I… yes. Yes, you can protect yourself.” His voice dropped and he had stopped shouting. Carefully, you approached him and reached out for the short sword. Caracalla hesitantly passed it you you. When it was in your grasp, you let out a breath you were holding. Now that he was disarmed, Caracalla hit his head, muttering things under his breath as he sat down near the only table that was not knocked over. He wished to huddle under it.

Geta was beside you and you turned to him. Gripping the top of the hilt by where the blade is attached, you held it out for him to take. There was a look on his face almost akin to awe or veneration. He took it from your hold and you bowed your head gently. 

Turning back to Caracalla, you bent down and sat next to him. There was a shattered vase on the floor that you cautiously tried to avoid. There were puddles of water and various flowers strewn about. An idea came to your head, one that you hoped would ground him back to the world. 

You gathered up a few of the flowers. A couple of shards of the broken vase cut your hands, but you paid it no mind. The iris you held out to him had a thin stem and multiple purple petals spread out in a pretty arrangement. 

“Sweet boy, smell this flower. It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Caracalla looked at the flower and hesitantly leaned closer to you to smell it. He took in a breath, his nostrils flaring. For a moment he stared off at the stone floor. 

“Iris. It is an iris.” Caracalla spoke. Geta had put the sword away and came to sit by you. You tried not to focus on how close he was and how you could smell the scent of fresh linen on him. 

“Good,” You passed it off to him so he could hold it and picked out another flower, “Which one is this?” 

“A lily,” Caracalla responded. The two of you continued the process with a few more different flowers, with Geta’s vision switching back and forth to see the interaction. The cuts on your hand bled slightly, but the pain was worth it to see how well the plan was working. 

After a few minutes, Caracalla’s eyes blinked rapidly before stopping. He glanced around the space, “I– what happened to this room?” 

“Hello again, sweet boy,” You cupped his face with your hand and swiped your thumb along his cheek to get rid of a few tears that escaped his eyes. You did not want to worry him or risk losing him to his mind again if you told him of his outburst, “Your brother is here.” It would help him immensely to see the familiar face of Geta that was next to you. 

“Geta?” He asked. 

“Yes. He wishes to see you. Why must you hide in that mind of yours? He loves you very much and misses you.” You handed him the rest of the flowers so he could bunch them up in his hands, sniff them, and hopefully remain grounded. Caracalla seemed stuck in the trance of the flowers but was clear from his delusions. His fingers brushed the petals gently.

“I will go and get you some water.” You informed him before getting up. He needed to get more fluid into his body after exerting it so much. As you exited the room, you did not notice that Geta followed you. 

“Wait!” He called out. You turned around and waited for him to get to you. When he stood in front of you, he paused. Geta’s mouth opened and closed a few times as if he was having trouble putting to words what he wanted to say. This was the first time you two were alone and you were scared he would now cast you off for not addressing his brother with the titles he held. 

“You…” He took in a large breath, “You calmed him…” 

“Yes, Caesar. It was not the first time.” You did not know what else to say. His gaze flickered down for a moment, spotting the blood on your hands. Geta took a step closer and grabbed your wrists. He pulled them up to inspect them closer. You could not deny the feeling of shock that shot up your arms at his touch. You watched his eyes flicker with unknown thoughts. 

“I’ll send for the healer,” He said. You smiled gently at him.

“Caesar, thank you but I am fine–”

“I will send for the healer.” His voice was more stern that time. There was no arguing, so you agreed to the help. He walked you back to Caracalla’s room and you pretended that you did not notice the fact that he kept his hold on one of your hands. 

After that incident, Geta was more trusting of you. He did not look annoyed when Caracalla invited you around Rome. In fact, he had begun to send for you even when he was alone. It took longer for him to begin to speak about his own troubles, but you appreciated how open he had become. 

To others, your relationship with the emperors was considered odd. Them having favoured a servant and shared your company was not like their other concubines. They had preferred to keep that part separate from one another and not share. However, what the politicians and high society found even more odd was that over time they had abandoned their concubines in favour of you. Some whispered of sorcery; that you enchanted them. Others believed you had somehow blackmailed them. 

The simple answer was that Geta and Caracalla had found an unlikely companion in you that went beyond physical attraction. Many could call it odd, but you did not care. 

While one of your hands carted through Geta’s hair to slowly wake him up, your other hand trailed down to Caracalla’s head that rested on your stomach. You began to massage his scalp and watched as he started to twitch; indicating that he was slowly coming out of whatever dreams had a hold of him. 

Geta woke first. He groaned lightly and tucked his head into your neck. He breathed out and his lips brushed the underside of your jaw. 

“Good morning. It is your special day today,” You spoke. He groaned again and shuffled closer to you. He peppered a few small kisses to your jaw, but still kept his eyes closed. 

“Don’t speak of it. Let us stay here.” His arm tightened around your upper chest while his hand moved to hold the side of your face and tilt your head closer to his so he could lay kisses on your cheek. You giggled at his movements, causing your stomach to move more and wake up Caracalla quicker than your hand massaging his head. 

“Good morning, sweet boy,” You spoke. He, like his brother, only groaned in response and buried his head further into your stomach. He peppered kisses onto your stomach and you felt your skin heat up at the attention from both of them. His arms that wrapped around your torso tightened slightly. You ruffled his hair more.

“Can we not stay in bed?” Caracalla questioned, his voice muffled by the thin slip you wore to bed. 

Geta hummed at his words, the feeling reverberating through your skin, “Agreed, brother.”

You almost wanted to laugh. They were never morning people, preferring to stay up late into the night and sleep in until the last possible moment. The habit was far different than yours. When you were still a servant, you had to be up well before the sun rose. Now, as you had since been relieved of those duties, you slowly began to get used to waking up later. 

Knowing there was one surefire way of getting them up, you spoke, “What if I told you both I had gifts for you?” The moment those words left your lips, the twins shot up. Caracalla’s head lifted and you saw his shining bright blue orbs staring at you with anticipation. Geta pulled away slightly and propped himself up on one elbow to stare down at you. 

“Gifts?” Geta questioned. 

“You got us gifts?” Caracalla joined after. 

You laughed at their enthusiasm, “Of course, I got you both gifts. But you must be up to receive them.” For a moment the two paused, weighing the scenarios in their heads. They turned to one another as if communicating in silence. Caracalla got up first, reaching for a wayward blanket and wrapping it around his body. Geta followed but grabbed his favourite red and gold robe. 

Your arms and legs stretched out to relax. As you shifted to get out of bed, Caracalla reached out to hold your hand and help you off. Your bare feet hit the stone floor, sending a slight chill to your bones. You kissed his cheek and thanked him. As the brothers moved to graze at some of the food that had been carried in earlier, you walked to the doors and opened one. 

Spotting one of the guards, you spoke, “Could you send for someone to fetch the emperor’s gifts?” The guard silently nodded and marched off. You came back in a closed the door. The grumbling in your stomach was hard to ignore as you sat down at the small circular table with Geta and Caracalla. 

Instinctively, you moved to grab the pitcher of wine and pour them a drink, but Geta reached out and covered your hand that gripped the handle. He sent you a dismissive look. There were many times when they had to talk to you about your habits and how you no longer needed to do them, but it was hard to break. Instead, he picked up the pitcher and poured your drink first before doing it for his brother and then himself. You smiled while looking down at the plate in front of you. While you may have changed over the months, they had as well. 

“What is it?” Caracalla questioned you as he shoved a few grapes into his mouth. 

“Well, that would ruin the surprise. There are only a few more hours until the games start and the senate will expect an address for–” 

“Let’s not speak on this now,” Geta interrupted while he rubbed his temple, “I wish to enjoy this morning.” 

“Of course,” You took a sip of wine before hearing a knock on the door. Instantly, you felt your nerves light up. You hoped, truly, that the gifts you picked out for them would be favoured. Today they would receive countless priceless objects from waiting members of the empire, and despite your new position as the emperor's favourite, you only had so much that you could give them. 

You left the twins at the table and approached the door. Two servants stood on the outside. One handed you a gold gilded box and the other held onto a lead that was tied to a chittering monkey that rested on their shoulder. You bent over slightly to allow the monkey to crawl onto your shoulder. 

The small creature was a sudden purchase. You had already commissioned Geta’s gift but were left pondering what Caracalla would like. All it took was an afternoon stroll in the exotic markets while the twins were in the senate; that was when you spotted the friendly little monkey poised to be sold. It felt like fate. 

A broad smile made its way on your face. You turned back into the room at the two who remained eating and in conversation with one another. For a brief moment, the memory of when you first met them flashed to mind; the stifling sun, the babbling water, and the two eating their midday meal in the courtyard. 

“Caracalla,” Caracalla turned to face you first, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the tiny monkey on your shoulder, “Happy dies natalis.” 

“Monkey!” He shot out of his seat and moved to you, instantly enraptured by the cute creature. You laughed at his enthusiasm.

“You’ll have to pick out a name for him.” You informed. Caracalla picked up a few pieces of fruit from the table and began to feed him while thinking up a name. You then turned to Geta, who was staring expectantly at you. 

You handed him the gilded box, “Happy dies natalis.” He gripped the box and flipped open the lid. Inside were four rings, each similar in design but with different stones. A lapis lazuli ring as a symbol of royalty, opal for love and hope, amethyst for peace, and one final unassuming one that piqued his interest. He picked it up and inspected it. 

“I know it does not look like much and is not as grand as the other stones,” You suddenly got nervous, “It is a rock from the lands where I was born. I thought that, well, it may… Oh, I don’t know–” Geta quickly leaned towards you and placed a kiss on your temple. 

“It is perfect, truly.” He put the box down and slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of his left hand. You sucked in a breath at the gesture; the vein of love ran directly from that finger to the heart. The moment between you two was interrupted by Caracalla. 

“Dondas!” He yelled, “He shall be Dondas!” Geta wound his arm around your waist, letting his hand rest on the side of your thigh. The coolness of the ring seeped passed the thin silk of the nightclothes you wore. 

Caracalla had walked up to you, “Thank you,” He pecked your cheek before focusing his attention back onto the monkey. Its delightful chittering was admittedly adorable and you held your hand out to gently pet his head. 

“We must show off Dondas. Everyone must know about him!” Caracalla spoke with enthusiasm. He made his way to the door, but you cleared your throat loudly. He turned back to you. 

“Won’t you get dressed first?” You questioned. A flush came over his face as he remembered he was only wrapped in a silk sheet. Geta’s hand squeezed your waist. You smiled before going to leave to get the servants to fetch their clothing. 

It was odd how far your life had come and how much had changed, but it was better than you could have ever expected. The initial fear and trepidation you had when coming to serve in the palace had been worth it. Geta and Caracalla shattered your expectations. While they may still be ruthless, hotheaded, and prone to fits of anger, you knew there was no place safer for you.

This was my first time writing for these two and it was so much fun! Thank you to the anonymous sender for the request. I hope it turned out well <3

[kaiijo]

DATES WITH HIM — [WIND BREAKER]

characters: suo hayato, kiryu mitsuki, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma, kaji ren, togame jo content: gn! reader notes: i did not come up with the date idea in suo's! also i recommend reading the mentioned works in suo’s part and listening to the song in kaji’s! obvious togame bias i’m sorry (but i’m also not)

suo hayato ✶ bookstore date

you saw the idea of a bookstore scavenger hunt date and it was too cute to resist. with your list in hand, you and suo make your way to your favorite neighborhood bookstore. the old lady who runs it greets the two of you before attending to other customers. suo leans over your shoulder to look at the first item. “find a joke to make your partner laugh.”

you make your way to the joke book shelf, where suo picks up a paperback titled 100 dad jokes to make anyone bust a side! he flips through it and lands on a page. “which days are the strongest?”

“i don’t know, which ones?”

he stares at you dead in the eye as he answers, “saturday and sunday. the rest are weekdays.”

you can’t help but snort and roll your eyes, and suo says, “we’re counting that!” and you check it off the list because you don’t know if you can take another cheesy dad joke. 

you read out the next bullet point: “find a puzzle to conquer together.”

you find and complete a crossword puzzle in a magazine (you kept the magazine with you to buy later). your scavenger hunt list leads you through the travel section to talk about your dream vacation spots; the children’s section where you find your favorite childhood books; and the cookbook aisle where you find a recipe you both want to cook together. finally, the last task challenges you to find a poem that describes your partner.

you and suo split up in the poetry section for that. you thumb through pages and pages but nothing is able to capture just how you feel for suo. you find one finally just as he walks over to you, a poetry anthology in hand. you read to him kevin varrone’s “poem i wrote sitting across the table from you” and he recites joy harjo’s poem “for keeps.” 

your heart feels like its about to burst as he finishes and you take his hand in yours, bring it to your lips for a kiss. his gaze is soft as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead.

kiryu mitsuki ✶ arcade date

you pout as you watch the final pac-man score flash on the screen in big, pixelated numbers: 150 to 170. kiryu ruffles your hair affectionately. “we’re all tied up again,” he says. “two to two. what do you want for the tie-breaker?”

you peer around the arcade, glancing at the flashing screens of various games. there’s street fighter, space invaders, and other classics but it’s the air hockey table that catches your eye. you nod at it. “settle the score over good old-fashioned air hockey?”

“sounds good,” he says and you two make your way over to it.

just as you arrive, another couple shows up. “oh, shit,” the other guy says when he and his girlfriend approach at the same time. 

“sorry,” you say. “you guys can have it if you want.”

“no, no, you two came first,” the girlfriend says.

“it’s seriously fine!”

“no, really, it’s cool!”

you’re all at a standstill, neither party willing to takeover the table. instead, kiryu pipes up, “there are four pushers, why don’t we play on teams? a friendly competition.”

“i’m down!” the girl smiles and turns to her boyfriend. “what do you think?”

“i say we crush ‘em!”

“ooh, those are fighting words!” you call, looping you arm through kiryu’s. “ready to kick some ass, mitsuki?”

“always.”

the competition is fierce — the other couple is a lot better than you thought and you’re playing best of seven rounds. it’s the tie breaker and you narrowly manage to block a shot from the other guy. the puck bounces off the sides, hurtling across the board towards kiryu, who easily deflects it back. the volley goes back and forth and there are far too many times it almost sinks into their goal.

the other couple just blocks a shot again and the puck is heading for you. you hit it at the right angle and it just ekes past the defense, sliding into the goal to end the game 4 to 3. you congratulate each other on a good game and kiryu sighs, “i guess that settled the score between us too, huh?”

“what do you mean?”

“you made the winning goal.” he holds out the tickets he’s won. “let’s go get you a prize.”

umemiya hajime ✶ farmer’s market date

“whoa! these squash look so good! how did you grow them? did you plant them in may or june?” umemiya’s eyes are wide and bright as he listens intently to the farmer’s answer. you don’t think you’ve seen him this excited before, which is saying a lot given his enthusiasm for almost anything. 

she smiles warmly at the two of you, asking, “how many would you like?”

“three,” you reply, reaching for your wallet, but umemiya is holding out the money for her before you can even open your bag. 

the farmer shakes her head, gently pushing his hand back. “it’s on the house,” she says, plucking a packet of seeds from a small wooden crate at the edge of the stall. “and i’ll throw these in too, all free of charge!”

“oh, please, we insist,” you begin to protest but she just shakes her head again. 

“it’s been a long time since someone has been this curious about my produce,” she chuckles, “and i’m not about to make a lovely young couple pay for this! all i ask is that you two raise the squash lovingly.”

“we will, i promise,” umemiya says, taking the bag of squash from her. as you two continue through the farmer’s market, umemiya interlocks your fingers, using his other hand to motion to the other stalls you pass. 

he says, “we have tomatoes and cucumbers already but we need mushrooms! oh, those look good!” he already leading you to another vendor, surveying the cartons of wood-ear mushrooms. you raise a brow in amusement as he buys five cartons, humming a cheery song. 

“what’s all this for, again?”

he beams at you. “the summer barbeque!”

“ahh, right!” you smile. “the infamous summer barbeque.” you glance around the market, pointing out a stall selling sausages and other meats. “i think we’ll want to get some protein, then, since your boys eat enough for a hundred men.”

“babe, you’re a genius!”

hiragi toma ✶ cooking date

make dinner at home for date night, they said. it’ll be fun, they said. you think anyone who said this is a fun, stress-free date is a total liar.

“alright,” you sigh as you clean the frying pan of egg residue for the third time. “well, fourth time’s a charm!”

hiragi pops a stomach tablet out of its packaging and chomps down on it. “you said that the last two times.”

“this one’s going to be the one!” you chirp, reaching for the egg carton. “it has to be, since these are our last four eggs.”

hiragi lets out a long, heavy breath before slipping his apron back on. “okay, one more time.” 

hiragi throws a large tablespoon of butter down the pan, tilting the pan from side to side as the melting butter coats the surface. you crack the four eggs into the measuring cup and beat them with a whisk, tipping a little drop of it onto the butter. it sizzles promisingly and you and hiragi share a glance and nod, then you pour the eggs in.

you stir the eggs quickly with a pair of chopsticks, stopping as you see the omelet beginning to smooth. hiragi tilts the pan to let the uncooked egg mixture start to cook, doing his best to keep the curds even and level. 

the new portion of eggs scramble and you spoon your chicken rice mix into the center of the omlet, roughly shaping it into an football-shape as hiragi kills the heat. “good?” you ask him, motioning with your chopsticks at the pile of rice.

“good.” he lifts the pan. “hot pan, coming through!” he places it on the damp rag on your counter. you slide the omlet to the edge of the pan, carefully wrapping the rice with egg on both sides. hiragi’s already moved to get a plate and you hold your breath as he slides it carefully onto the plate.

success.

you let out collective sighs of relief. 

kaji ren ✶ concert date

you had spent hours in an online queue to get kaji tickets to see his favorite band for his birthday. luckily, the venue isn’t too long a train ride from makochi but when you severely undersold how many people can cram themselves into the venue.

kaji’s grip is firm as you weave your way through the crowd, pushing closer to the stage. some guy jostles you, grumbling under his breath, only to apologize when he faced kaji’s cold glare. your boyfriend manages to get the two of you to a decent spot near the front, just off right of the center. 

“what song are you most excited for?” you ask him, speaking as close to his ear as possible. the din around you is getting louder and the crowd more electrified, so you know it’s starting soon.

“wasted nights,” he replies easily. 

you hum, “that sounds familiar. it’s on the playlist you made for me, right?”

his mouth lifts into a small smile. “yeah, i think it’s number eleven or twelve.” just as he is about to add something, the lights around you begin to flash and pulse as the ambient music dies down. the band comes out to thunderous cheers as they take up their instruments. 

even though you don’t know the band well, you can’t help but jump and dance with the crowd, and you sing along to parts you can remember. kaji’s not one for rowdiness himself but he thrives off the energy from it — you can see it in the way he bobs his head in rhythm, the way he seems completely in his element. as the fourth songs in the set transitions into the fifth one, a slower ballad this time, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pecks your cheek. “thank you again,” he says. “i’m glad i’m here with you.”

you burrow further into his side, swaying to the music. “happy birthday, ren.” 

togame jo ✶ pottery class date

you tilt your head as the pottery wheel slows to a stop, examining the mug you were instructed to make. the rim is uneven and it’s leaning towards the left. togame’s isn’t any better given that his mug looks shorter and stouter than the rest of the class and the handle is fully too long. when the pottery teacher walks over, she offers a sweet smile. “beautiful work,” she says. “they both have a unique charm to them.”

“thanks, we totally meant to make them this way,” you say and she carefully brings them to the shelf where the other attendees’ mugs sit waiting for the kiln. 

oddly enough, seeing your mugs together makes them look somewhat normal, almost like an eclectic set, and when you glance at togame, he meets your eyes and you two try to suppress your laughter, togame’s broad shoulders shaking with effort. as you stand side by side, washing your hands in the classroom’s sink, togame smirks. he reaches over and claps a hand on your shoulder, leaving a large, damp terracotta-colored handprint on your shirt. 

you narrow your eyes and do the same, this time on the side of his own t-shirt. his hand touches your back and yours grazes his chest. you could probably do this forever but someone clears their throat behind you and you apologize as you actually finish cleaning up, stepping aside for another couple to wash themselves off. 

togame drapes an arm around your shoulder as you leave the building, saying, “i think i won, babe.” 

you know he’s talking about the stains all over both of your clothes but all you do is smirk at him. “i think i won, actually, since this is your shirt.”

he shrugs. “i wish i could be mad, but you look too good in my clothes to complain.”

bonus!

you return two weeks later when your “unique” mugs are primed for glazing. you two agreed to keep the final designs on your pottery a surprise so you sit as far away from each other with your backs turned. in the end, you two had similar ideas — he chose your favorite color as a background and painted on a pattern of your favorite flowers while you glazed your mug in orange and black with an attempt at a the lion face on the shishitoren jackets, albeit yours is way less threatening and much cuter. 

your mugs sit in each of your cabinets at your homes in all their uniquely beautiful glory, your new favorites — well-used and well-loved. one day, they’ll be together again, side-by-side in a cabinet that you two shared together.

[ckret2]

Chapter 59 of human Bill Cipher possibly not being the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he got executed two chapters ago:

Everything you haven't wondered about how Bill survived his execution.

7:27 a.m.

Mabel didn't know why, but figuring out when to ask Mrs. Grendinator to pull over had felt as stressful as trying to throw a ping pong ball into a passing car's open fuel door to land in the little fuel pipe. All she had to do was ask to pull over after they'd passed everything but the last truck stop, but before it was too late for Mrs. Grendinator to make the turn into the Triple Digit parking lot. That was a large window. It wasn't easy to miss. Somehow Mabel still dreaded that she'd speak up too late and Mrs. Grendinator would say she'd have to wait for the next rest stop—by which point Bill would have splatted like a bug against the weirdness barrier while everyone else passed safely through.

But she'd managed to blurt out "I forgot to use the bathroom at home. Can we pull over?"; they'd stopped at the Triple Digit Truck Stop; and Mabel made it inside before her friends could catch her.

She locked the unisex restroom door, set her backpack on the ground, opened it up, and sighed with relief when she saw Bill sitting on her sweater. She carefully pulled him out, set him on the floor, and pointed the height-altering flashlight at him.

For a moment after returning to his true size, he remained seated on the floor, legs bent, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Worriedly, Mabel asked, "You okay?"

"Think I learned what motion sickness is," Bill groaned. "Just—gimme a sec."

"Aww, I'm sorry." Mabel surreptitiously checked in her backpack to make sure Bill hadn't been sick on her sweater. (It was a cool one. It had kissing parrots.)

After a few deep breaths, Bill lifted his head enough to look at Mabel. The first thing he said was, "'Cool big brother-slash-sister,' huh?" He gave her a queasy, but cheeky, grin.

"Shut uuup you weren't supposed to hear that!" She'd just about died with embarrassment when Candy had repeated that where she knew Bill could hear.

"I'm flattered." Bill uncurled himself from his nauseous half-fetal position; and then, gripping onto the sink for support, got back to his feet. "Being smaller again was nice, but I'm never traveling like that again."

"You're such a whiner."

"Yeah, yeah. I have a lot to whine about. I'm dead and about to be executed. Talk about... lose your cake and... not-eat it, too."

Mabel laughed. Bill mussed her hair, grinning, and said, "Hey, you've got no room to laugh, you're the one with the not-setting-houses-on-fire bit."

"Arrrgh, don't remind me!" She pushed Bill to the side so she could use the mirror to straighten out her hair again.

"You did pretty well, though! I'd say that was some of the best acting I've ever seen out of you."

"You too! They definitely bought it," Mabel said. "Even Grunkle Stan was getting worried."

"Especially back in the kitchen, wow! That was really convincing." He paused. "Really, really convincing."

Something heavy hung in the air. Mabel focused on her hair in the mirror.

Bill said, "That bit in the kitchen about me 'depending' on you." He exaggerated the air quotes around the word, distancing himself from the concept. "It wasn't on our list."

"Yeah. It just kinda... seemed right. Improv." Mabel waved unenthusiastic jazz hands.

"It bothers you."

Mabel winced. "I mean... I'm not actually mad at you. But. I want to help, but I don't know what to do for..." She gestured at Bill. "The whole being dead on an alien planet issue."

"Believe it or not, the hoodie helps," Bill said. "Listening helps." But he couldn't meet her gaze; he was fiddling with his friendship bracelet instead. He had to know how heavy even just listening to him could be.

"I'm glad, but... I just... wish you had more friends you could talk to."

Bill nodded morosely. "So do I." It wasn't like he'd chosen to only have one friend, was it? Prisoners didn't get to make those kinds of decisions.

Mabel asked, "Do you really think I think you're just a summer fix-it project?"

"I... pfff... come on, I watched you spend all last summer handing out makeovers and dating advice. You've already done my makeup, taken me clothes shopping, and tried to pump me for info on what kinds of freaks I'm into."

(Mabel quietly filed away the fact that Bill referred to "freaks" as his preferred romantic targets.)

"That's how your summer was going to end," Bill said. "You tame the monster, go home triumphant, and don't worry about it anymore. Like how you patched up Broken Heart's love life and left him to sort out the consequences."

"No!" Mabel huffed, "I mean—maybe a little at the beginning, but... you're really my friend now, I'd hate it if I never saw you again. I don't give friendship bracelets to just anybody!"

Bill kind of thought she did; but he wasn't about to argue. "Well, I've only given one person a bracelet, and I meant it." (Even more now than when he'd originally made it.) "You're never getting rid of me now, star girl. You're stuck with me forever!"

Coming out of Bill Cipher, the promise should have filled her with dread. A month ago it would have filled her with dread. But Mabel just found it comforting. "Good."

(And Ford hadn't felt any dread when he'd sworn "until the end of time," either.)

Bill took off his backpack and rummaged through it. "Now let me make sure I can keep that promise."

He took out a map of the mountains and forest around Gravity Falls and spread it out on the floor for them to kneel in front of. "You know about the spaceship buried under town? When its ring cut through the mountain, a few chunks of the ship dislodged and were buried in one of the mountains. No human has ever found them before, not even your great uncle. That's where I'll hide."

"Are the chunks big enough to hide in?"

"Sure! There's one that'd serve as a decent studio apartment. Well—the cheapest studio apartment in Manhattan, maybe. But, hey, I don't have much furniture."

On the map, he showed Mabel a route to reach the base of the cliff, tracing it with his finger. She couldn't afford to take a map with the route marked; if the adults discovered Bill's escape and confiscated Mabel's possessions, a marked map would lead them straight to him. She'd just have to do her best to memorize the route he described. "When and if the coast is clear, you can come find me there."

"How do I get up the cliff?"

"Don't worry about that. You make it that far, I'll take care of the rest."

And that was all they could afford to discuss. Mabel couldn't hide in here for long. As Bill refolded the map (and Mabel was awed to learn he was the kind of person who could refold maps correctly on the first try), and he packed the map and the height-altering flashlight in his backpack, they each tried separately to figure out how to get around to saying goodbye.

"I uh... I know you're sticking your neck out for me, kid." (Bill wasn't used to this, wasn't used to people who didn't help him due to fear or duty or lies, wasn't used to people who still wanted to help him after they knew what he was really like.) "So, thanks—"

Mabel flung her arms around him. Her voice thick, she said, "I think your manners are getting better."

"Shut up, I've always known how to say thanks." It was gratitude that was new.

"Be safe out there," Mabel said. "Don't die, or else. Remember to eat. And drink water! And do laundry sometimes."

"All right, all right. You'll find me in better health than you left me. All the sunshine and fresh air this body can take."

"I'll miss you."

Keep it together, Cipher. He swallowed hard. "Have you ever heard the song 'We'll Meet Again'?"

"Uh-uh?"

"Old war song. Look it up once you're in Portland, when you aren't busy having synthesizers pumped in your ears."

"Is it about... how we'll meet again?"

"Yes, smartypants. Look it up anyway," Bill said. "I'll miss you too."

Mabel washed her face, left the restroom, and shut the door behind her; and Bill waited in the dark while everyone left.

####

7:45 a.m.

A woman with two children opened the unisex restroom door, and gasped in shock when she saw a human silhouette lurking in the dark, one eye shining.

"Hey, thanks, lady! Couldn't get the door for some reason." He breezed past her. "Careful, it sticks from the inside."

He grabbed an empty backpack for sale, and loaded it up with supplies, food, and drinks. (The good stuff, not the weak cider he got in the Mystery Shack. He was making margaritas tonight.) He headed up to the cash register... veered to a currently-unmanned register, stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar, and timed his exit so he walked out just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

####

7:55 a.m.

It was a fair walk from Triple Digit back to the cliffs around Gravity Falls. When Bill was a safe distance into the woods, he unzipped his first backpack, retrieved his flattened top hat, and popped it out; and then continued on, behatted and using his umbrella like a cane.

Even with no sleep, even just a couple of days after the worst hiking trip in history, even tired and sore from an hour of frenzied dancing, even carrying two full backpacks with one strap slung over each shoulder, even with the sky gloomy and overcast—this was the best he'd felt since Weirdmageddon.

His steps were sure, his body was unchained, and the future had opened up for him again.

####

8:00 a.m.

Mabel kept glancing out the window, back in the direction of Gravity Falls, waiting and waiting to see the light of some kind of killer laser cut through the sky.

Maybe the Quantum Destabilizer's beam just wasn't visible from this far. Maybe they'd decided to wait to execute Bill. Maybe they hadn't wasted their shot because they'd already discovered Bill and Mabel's ruse. Maybe the "enchantment" Bill had written hadn't done its job.

But if they had discovered Bill was missing, they would've called Mabel immediately, trying to find out what she'd done and where he'd gone.

Her phone sat hard and heavy and silent in her pocket.

The butterflies in her stomach didn't stop fluttering until long after they reached Portland.

####

10:30 a.m.

Plus or minus a few trees, the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff was just how Bill had remembered last seeing it millennia ago. The Trilazzx Betan proximity sensor that had been embedded in the cliff face since the ship crash was still there and still sensing, even after millions of years and a layer of stone had closed around it. He could see it behind the face of the cliff; and it could see him.

He took out the multi-tool pocket knife Dipper had "donated" to Bill's supplies, flipped out the blade, and carved his face in a tree far enough from the rendezvous point to avoid notice by anyone who found this spot, but near enough it could see anyone who showed up. He made it as accurate as he could—hat, bow, limbs, eyelashes. That would unfortunately make it easier for humans to identify the face if anyone happened to walk by, but his ability to connect to his other eyes was still weak, he needed as much of a boost as he could get. He licked the bark, leaving his saliva to connect the eye on the tree to him.

And then he returned to the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff, and, beneath the watchful eye of the proximity sensor, began digging in the dirt with his hands.

Beneath the soil, fortunately not buried too deep, was a stone shaped like a small tombstone with several symbols carved into its surface that superficially resembled common runes. Bill brushed the dirt off of his leggings and rubbed it out of the carved lines in the stone. It was lucky that today was overcast; it would make this thing a lot easier to control.

Bill took out the flashlight, removed the height-altering crystal, turned it on, and aimed the beam at the topmost rune.

The runes began glowing an eerie green.

The ground shuddered; and then a patch of ground five feet in diameter lifted up into the air, carrying Bill with it, tearing the grass at the edge of the circle, propelled by a long-forgotten enchanted stone platform concealed in the clump of dirt.

He rose to the gouge that the spaceship had carved into the mountain; and then he moved his flashlight's beam to another rune. The platform smoothly shifted to moving sideways, gliding beneath the ancient overhang. When he turned off the flashlight, the stone stopped glowing and gently settled to the ground. Bill stepped off, fished a spare shirt out of his backpack, and pulled it over the rune-covered stone so it couldn't take off if the sun came out. There was a reason this buried stone was the only platform of its kind left in the area outside of the deep mountain caverns: leave one outside on a sunny day where the light can hit its runes, and next thing you know it's zoomed out over the Pacific and is quickly rising toward space.

He surveyed the area. Every once in a while humans climbed up here just for the challenge of it, delightful little explorers they were; but he doubted anyone had been up here in decades. He stood in front of what was, to all appearances, a completely nondescript patch of stony ground; and he said, in heavily accented but intelligible Trilazzx Betan, "Let me in, you hunk of junk. Activate emergency crash protocols."

A fragment of ship deep beneath the ground stirred awake, registered the command, analyzed itself and concluded from the fact that it wasn't in space and was separated from 99% of the rest of itself that it had indeed crashed, and activated emergency crash protocols. In acknowledgment of the dire situation, it deactivated its usual authorized personnel list—there was no sense in waiting for the captain to approve new orders if the captain might be dead—accepted the command given by the unknown being above it, and opened its hatch.

Millions of years of solid stone groaned and buckled in protest at being moved; but Trilazzx Betan engineering was strong enough for the framework of a portal capable of ripping a hole between dimensions without being ripped apart itself. The stone yielded first. A hatch swung up, revealing a tilted chamber descending into the cliff.

Bill strolled confidently down the walkway. "Cancel distress signal. Disable life support's air filtering." The fragment of a ship beeped a warning, and Bill responded, "I'm aware of this planet's high oxygen content. You worry about your health, I'll worry about mine. Disable air filtering." The ship beeped a confirmation. "Reconnect to all external proximity sensors in range and display on screens one, two, and three." This broken part of the ship had once handled communications. It had a whole wall of screens. He wondered whether he could jury rig this thing to pick up human satellite TV. Nah, probably not worth the effort.

He slung off his backpacks and started unpacking.

####

12:04 p.m.

It was time.

Dipper sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. He felt sick.

He was dead. In just a few seconds Ford would discover that Bill was gone—Dipper was sure he was gone, they hadn't heard a peep from the room, Mabel must've snuck him out or left him some escape route—and then Ford would know that someone had warned Bill and Mabel, and then Dipper was dead—

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dipper waved Ford off. "Just... didn't get much sleep. Little dizzy." Ford would never trust him again. Stan would be furious. They'd both be furious.

"You can go downstairs if you..."

"No no, I'm fine, I..." Dipper took a deep breath and lifted his head. "I'll face it." Better to get it over with now than to hide downstairs and wait for it. 

Stan nodded. "Good man." He wouldn't be so proud of Dipper in a moment.

Ford nodded, stood, opened the door—and Dipper buried his face in his hands again.

####

12:06 p.m.

Ford could see Bill up in the loft, hood up and shoulders hunched, back to the room. Ford could shoot Bill in the back without him ever waking up.

He climbed into the loft. Bill lay curled up in a ball, a small as Ford had ever seen him.

But it only took a moment for Ford's eyes to adjust to the dark; and even in the dim light through the stained glass window, he could tell:

The shape in front of him wasn't human. Just lumpy clothes.

Ford whipped around, heart pounding, clutching the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case against his chest, searching for the real Bill lurking somewhere in the shadows. No sign of him. Ford had already looked on the floor level. Was he gone? How?

He was too dumbfounded to be outraged. He walked up to the dummy to pull it apart—

And saw the paper, folded in quarters, floating in the air above it. Four symbols in a cipher were written atop the paper. Ford recognized them: it was the alien alphabet of an interdimensional pidgin used as a written lingua franca throughout the Nightmare Realm and its bordering regions; it was so widespread that Ford had learned the alphabet before he ever left Earth.

The four letters read, "F O R D".

Ford plucked the paper out of the air and unfolded it.

Stanford–

I'll cut to the chase. I need your help. I don't want to die.

I'm banking on the hope that, in spite of everything you've said and done, part of you also doesn't want me to die.

You have a choice. You can walk out there, tell them I escaped, rally an angry mob, and comb everything under the weirdness barrier for me. This town's not that big and I'll need to eat eventually. We both know I can't hide forever.

Or you can tell them you finished the job. No one looks for me. No one knows but you and me.

I don't have rewards or deals to offer. You already know what I bring to the table. If that hasn't persuaded you to side with me by now, it never will. I'm not bargaining. I'm begging.

I'm asking you, as my friend, to help me survive.

Please.

· –·-– -–

Of course.

How dare he.

Had Bill planned this all along? Was this why he'd insisted he wanted to be Ford's friend? Was this why he'd saved his life? Maybe the entire rescue had been staged—the rescue, the performance of fear over a harmless phenomenon, the mental breakdown, all of it. For all Ford knew, maybe the accursed Axolotl was in on the scheme! How clairvoyant was Bill? Had he seen this moment coming?

But if he'd seen this moment coming, wouldn't it have been easier to just let Ford, his executioner-to-be, die? Ford and Dipper both, so Dipper wouldn't figure out how to synthesize NowUSeeitNowUDontium? If he'd saved them in spite of that, didn't that make it a sincere gesture?

But implication was clear: I've been a friend to you, now be one to me. A life for a life. There was nothing sincere in that. It was pure self interest.

(For just a couple of days, Ford really had thought it was sincere.)

But if the only reason Bill had saved Ford was to save himself—then why had Bill endangered his own life in the process?

With every thought Ford's paranoia pendulumed.

He should get Stan. Call the cops, confess who they'd been harboring for the past month, tell them everything, get a manhunt going before Bill could make it any further away. Even if he couldn't leave the weirdness barrier, there were probably hundreds of hidden hidey-holes Bill could dig himself into that humans had never seen—unexplored hallways in Crash Site Omega, uncharted caverns behind Trembley Falls where Bill didn't even need light to see. They could drag him back into the light, tie him up, aim the Quantum Destabilizer straight at him...

But. In spite of himself, he could still see Mabel's drawing hopefully reassigning Bill the role of a superhero. He could still see the crumpled drawing in his pocket—"I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!" He could still see Dipper tentatively asking whether they might need Bill someday. He could still see Bill playing teacher in the living room. And for a moment, for just a moment, Bill had been so good. He could be so good.

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why can't you be this person?

What if he could be better? What if he could be decent? What if he could be a friend?

Ford didn't believe Bill was any better today than he had been the day he died. But—at some point, something had slowly turned over in Ford's mind. He believed that Bill could change. Not would change, not is changing, but could. And if Ford started a manhunt, Bill would never be a threat again—but he'd also never be better.

There was a point where the doubt and hope built up to a critical mass—when they became enough, just enough, to stay the trigger finger. Because once Ford fired on Bill, that was it. All chances were gone forever. It was over. If Bill was alive they could always try again to kill him later; but if Bill was dead, they could never try again to better him.

And for the first time in thirty years, Ford wanted Bill to be better more than he wanted Bill to be dead.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

####

12:09 p.m.

Ten minutes ago, Bill had been in the process of emptying out his backpacks and finding nooks and cubbies amongst the alien communication workstations where he could tuck his supplies, when he'd glanced out the open hatch and noticed the beforeimage of the shot lighting up the sky.

He'd come out of his shelter to watch the moment approach; but he hadn't quite believed it until it was in the present and actually happening. The blue-white beam of the Quantum Destabilizer—its one and only shot—screamed off into the sky.

"Well, what do you know," he murmured, standing at the edge of the cliff, hands on his hips, staring out in wonder over the town. "I really didn't think you'd do it."

Ford had saved his life.

Bill crossed his arms tight and tried to convince himself he didn't wonder why.

####

12:10 p.m.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done.

"Grunkle Ford...?"

He forced himself to speak. "It's done."

"So... Bill is...?"

Ford suddenly realized: Dipper knew Bill wasn't in here. He must have warned Mabel, and Mabel had arranged for Bill to be alone in their room long enough to escape.

Which meant Dipper knew Bill was alive.

(Bill had written, "No one knows but you and me." Bill was covering for the kids.)

Ford turned to look him in the eyes. "Yes, he's dead."

Which meant Dipper knew what Ford had done—and knew Ford knew what he had done.

Neither one of them needed to say anything else to know what the other was thinking. They just shared a look—the two most miserable co-conspirators in Gravity Falls.

####

12:25 p.m.

Bill sat cross-legged at the edge of the cliff and watched until the afterimage of the Quantum Destabilizer's shot had faded from the sky; and then he went inside his shelter, mixed the world's lamest margarita in a coffee mug, took it outside, sat again, and toasted toward the town and the Mystery Shack.

Here's to survival.

He sat outside until the gash the Quantum Destabilizer had cut in the clouds closed and it began to rain.

####

1:10 p.m.

Stan had come and gone a few minutes ago, and already Ford had forgotten everything he'd said, if he'd even registered it in the first place.

His fingers had itched until he'd finally had a moment to steal down to his study, retrieve Journal 5, and bring it up to the guest room; and now for over half an hour he'd been feverishly writing down every single thing he could remember learning about Bill over the last two days. The drawing of his homeworld. His lecture on biangles and psychic powers. How polygons inherited their sides. (Their royalty sounded nigh on Habsburgian; had their political system ever changed?) What little details Bill had let slip about where Edward Bishop Bishop's book was wrong. (Had he told Mabel more about their relationship? He'd have to ask when she was home.) How Bill signed his letter: "· -·-- --", Morse code for "EYM," was it an acronym, was it a code, what did it mean, why did he write it in two colors? How Bill spelled Mabel's name in alien alphabets: Mabelle, Maybell, the varying extra letters. How Bill danced: how he struggled to cross his ankles, how he turned out his feet, how his spine and shoulders never bent, how the complex ways he tilted his legs and pelvis compensated for his stiff spine.

If Bill was sticking around a while longer, then these details still mattered.

He refused to forget a thing.

####

Sunday, 12:02 a.m.

As "We'll Meet Again" finished playing, Mabel turned off her phone, put it back on her nightstand, and wiped her eyes again. Big stupid dork couldn't even say this himself, he had to hide it behind a song. 

Yes. They would meet again. Law of attraction. Believing it was the first step to making it come true.

####

10:20 a.m.

The fearful butterflies in Mabel's stomach had slowly returned during the drive home from Portland. No one had texted her—was that a good sign?—but she was afraid it just meant they'd decided to let her enjoy the rest of her trip before letting her know she was grounded forever for helping Bill escape. When they'd all greeted her at the door, looking so somber, and she was sure she was about to get the bad news, she'd just had to keep acting normal and hope she wasn't gonna get in more trouble for playing dumb.

The last thing she expected Stan to say was, "Weshotim."

"Say wha?"

"We got that—space gun of Ford's working. We shot him. He's... I'm sorry, sweetie."

Mabel stared at Stan. That was impossible—there was no way they'd found Bill. But—if Stan believed he was dead...

She dragged her gaze from his face to Dipper's. Dipper bit his lips, staring at his feet. He wouldn't meet her eyes—too afraid that even looking at her would give something away.

She looked from Dipper to Ford. "Grunkle Ford?" She tried not to hope. "Is it true?"

There was no way he'd believed the dummy was real. The moment she'd read Bill's so-called "enchantment," she'd known making it believable was never the point. Bill's only real plan had always been to get Ford on their side.

For a long moment, Ford said nothing. He dragged his eyes up to meet her stare, took a deep breath, and nodded. "He's dead."

Mabel's eyes widened. Two days ago, Ford had been the one arguing that killing Bill was their only choice. If he'd changed his mind...

If anyone said anything else, she didn't register it in her excitement. She backed out of the doorway, leaped off the porch, and ran around the shack, looking for her bike. 

She had to see Bill immediately.

####

10:21 a.m.

Quietly, Dipper asked, "Did we do the right thing?"

Ford didn't know. His stomach had been twisting with guilt and doubt since yesterday. His conscience had kept him up half the night. "I hope so."

He feared they'd have second-guessed themselves no matter what.

####

2:30 p.m.

Bill was asleep. He'd been sleeping off and on for most of the past day. This was the first time since he'd died that he had somewhere safe to sleep—somewhere nobody could touch his vulnerable body, nobody could move him, drown him, kill him.

And this was the first time he hadn't been helpless and sightless.

In his sleep, he saw his own body, curled up on the tilted floor against a wall, on top of the sleeping bag and under the Pony Heist bedsheet, from an eye he'd drawn on the ceiling.

From another eye he'd drawn on the wall, he saw the ship's open hatch, the overhang above, a small sliver of the gray drizzly sky over Gravity Falls.

And from his eye on the tree, blurry and fading as the rain washed away his saliva, he saw a human-shaped mass of raucous colors exploring the pit in the ground left behind by his hovering platform.

A human? He sat up with a gasp and looked at the screen displaying the proximity sensors. Sure enough, the sensor at the base of the cliff was displaying a Mabel-shaped silhouette.

He grabbed his flashlight and climbed out of his shelter.

####

"Kid, what are you doing out out here?!"

Mabel looked up. Bill was some twenty feet above her and quickly descending on what looked like a chunk of flying dirt the same size as the pit in the ground she'd been inspecting. "Bill!" She leaned her bike against the cliff face. Finally—she'd been wandering around in the trees forever trying to figure out where Bill's rendezvous point was hidden.

"It's pouring rain," Bill scolded. "You could lose your immune system or—or slip in the mud or something."

"Wow, nice to see you too, mom." Mabel ran up as Bill landed his floating chunk of ground.

"Hey, I don't want anything happening to my favorite human!" He scooted over to make room for her on the platform. "Just couldn't wait for a sunny day to meet again, huh?"

"Psh, come on! Like you meant that literally." Near Bill, the rain had mysteriously stopped landing on Mabel. She looked up and saw the rain simply parting in the air over Bill's head.

He noticed her glance and said, "Did I ever teach you the spell to repel rain? Remind me to do that before you go." He pointed his flashlight's beam at a rune on a stone rising from the platform, and it lifted off again. "Nice sweater today." He poked one parrot-winged sleeve, its bright colors darkened by the soaking rain. "It probably looked better dry."

Mabel smacked away his hand. "Bill, guess what! Grunkle Ford decided to protect you!"

"I know, I saw the wasted shot from here." He steered the platform onto the cliff. He landed it next to a hatch that opened into a subterranean tunnel. "Of course, I always knew he would. Didn't I say we'd pull this off?"

Sure he'd known. That was why he'd lied about what the "enchanted" paper really was so Mabel wouldn't worry.

Mabel followed him down into the metal tunnel. "Do you know what this means? You can come back to the shack!"

Bill turned to stare at her in bewilderment. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because... it's safe now? They're not gonna kill you?" Mabel squinted. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"Oh, right. You need this." Bill offered the flashlight.

Mabel turned it on. They were in a metal chamber, about half the size of the Mystery Shack's floor room and nowhere near as tall. One end of it had been torn off and dirt and stone served as the new wall. Most of the walls were dominated by heavy metal consoles, curved metal chairs, and screens, a few of which were on but flickered irritatingly. One chair still had a fossilized alien skeleton in it. Bill had put his top hat on it.

His supplies were piled haphazardly on consoles and the floor; all Mabel saw in his food pile was shelf-stable junk food and drinks. The air somehow felt more damp in here than it did outside with the rain. The chairs didn't have cushions, the floor didn't have carpet; everything was hard and cold and dark. She didn't even see a door for a bathroom in here. This was where Bill was staying?

"The Mystery Shack is safe for now," Bill said. "Just wait until Stanley decides to take another swing at me, or Dolores poisons my dinner again—or Ford changes his mind, dunks me in the bathtub, and doesn't let me back out."

"They wouldn't..." Mabel trailed off. She tried to imagine how mad Stan would be when he found out Bill was alive, and had to concede he might.

"Even if it was safe—why would I go back to that sorry makeshift prison?" Bill hopped up into one of the tilted alien chairs. There was a weird extended bit designed for alien anatomy that curved up at the end of the seat and forced Bill to straddle the chair rather than sit in it normally; it didn't look comfortable. "After almost a month and a half, I'm finally free!"

"Free inside a tiny bubble around the town," Mabel protested. "To live in a... weird little metal dirt room."

"Freely moving inside the entire barrier is a lot better than freely moving through half a shack! Surrounded by people who want me dead! I don't even get full privacy when I'm using the toilet—that's the bare minimum humans offer as basic respect! You don't know how many times I've been walked in on!"

"Do you even have a toilet here?"

Bill hesitated. "There's a—there are gas stations within walking distance."

"How are you gonna get into the restroom?"

"Fine, I'll dig a pit or something, all right? The point is, whatever I do, at least I can do it in freedom!"

He hadn't planned this through at all, Mabel realized. He'd only thought as far ahead as finding food and shelter that would last him the next couple of days. "But..." She gestured at the pathetic room around them. "The shack's got a proper roof and a shower and real food—wouldn't that be better than this?"

Bill scoffed "Only humans care about roofs and showers, and the idea of 'real' food is a social construct I reject!"

He'd be miserable here. Mabel couldn't let Bill do this to himself. "Then don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?" She gave him a pleading look. "Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?"

There was a flash of light reflected in the dark as Bill's eyes turned away from Mabel.

"Bill?"

He didn't respond. He trudged past her, halfway up the walkway out of the ship, and stopped there, his back to Mabel, hands on his hips, staring out into the rain. He sighed. "Kid, you're trying to give me Stockholm syndrome."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I'll think about it," Bill said, voice flat. "Go back to the shack."

Before Mabel could move, Bill said, "Hold on. Let me teach you that umbrella spell first." He turned and descended back into the ship. "And when's the last time you ate? Human bodies act pathetic if they don't get glucose every three hours. Get some lunch, it's a long bike back to the shack." He gestured at his meager food supplies.

She rummaged through the foil bags and colorful boxes and grabbed some Chipackers and sour gummy dolphins.

Bill sat near her, grabbed a bag of jerky for himself, and said, "And tell me about that concert you abandoned me to my doom for."

####

4:00 p.m.

Bill escorted Mabel down off the cliff—and, at her request, let her borrow the flashlight and wiggle the floating platform back and forth a little as they descended. He took back the flashlight when she nearly crashed the platform and killed them both.

"Where'd this come from?" Mabel asked, poking the stone. "Did the aliens make this, too?"

"Nope! This is good old local Earth magic. Ever hear of Caterpillar Man?"

"Is that some kind of superhero?"

"Afraid not. Well—ever hear of Grendel?"

"Uh-uh."

They were nearly at the ground now. "I think I'll tell you next time."

As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched Mabel wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

####

Monday, 1:03 a.m.

And it was even chillier in the post-midnight dark when he knocked on the Mystery Shack's door.

####

(Eager to hear what y'all think now that you've seen the full story of how Bill survived—last week once Dipper and Mabel's roles were revealed, I think most folks thought that fully explained how Bill faked his death. ;) Next week is probably a double length chapter, because there's no graceful way to break it in half and also it'd be nice to get this plot arc wrapped up before The Book of Bill comes out lmao.)

[ham-st4r]

𝑹𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒑 - 𝑳. 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈

✿Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

✿Warnings: smut, pure filth, car sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, cum eating, breeding kink, daddy kink, male masturbation, cursing, implied round 2. (Since the daddy kink won on votes, I added it 🤭)

✿Genre: smut, 18+, read at your own discretion.

✿Summary: in which a road trip leads to you riding your friend in the back seat of a minivan, that’s literally it lol I didn’t add Niki for obvious reasons, and just to save any controversy, the last thing I need is drama in here.

✿Number of words: 3,184k

Pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

Find your way around!

You’re not sure whose idea it was to invite you and your best friend on the road trip or who thought it would be a great idea to travel in a minivan given the fact it only held seven people and there were eight people, including you and you’re also not sure why you agreed, but here you sat on one of your guy friends lap on a whole 4-hour road trip and halfway into the drive it was getting really uncomfortable more than uncomfortable.

Not only that but why the hell did you have to sit on heeseung’s lap? Couldn’t someone else sit there?

You didn’t even ask cause you knew they’d give you a bullshit excuse about you being smaller and weighing less.

You wouldn’t mind sitting on him in any other circumstance cause he was undoubtedly a hottie, but right now, your mind couldn’t even travel there as the pain in your body increased.

And on top of that, Jake and his girlfriend were practically sharing a seat, so why on earth were you crammed in the back with heeseung while Sunghoon told a series of terrible jokes?

You couldn’t believe how Jake and his girlfriend seemed to be having the time of their lives while in the seat in front of you in your same position, except your best friend was only halfway on jakes lap.

You wished you were having that much fun, but your back ached, and there was still a whole hour left. “Umm, can we stop? I have to use the bathroom,” heeseung spoke up. He had been quiet for most of the ride, only laughing awkwardly when you sat on his lap after muttering a small “hey,” which you returned just as awkwardly.

And little did you know heeseung was just as uncomfortable, if not more uncomfortable than you.

“Really, heeseung, can you just hold it? We’re almost there,” Jay piped up from the driver's seat.

No.

In fact, heeseung couldn’t hold it well. There was nothing to really hold other than the erection that was about to become very evident to you if he didn’t get a break real soon. “We’re not even almost there yet!” he shouted to the front seat, nearly blowing out your eardrum in the process.

“Be a man and use a bottle 'cause we’re not stopping,” Jay dismissed, and heeseung only groaned behind you.

Heeseung was doing alright for the next ten minutes, but once Jay ran over a bump and your ass brushed against his bulge, he couldn’t help but whimper. “Fuck” he whispered and clutched tightly onto the leather seats.

You were now fully aware of why heeseung wanted to stop and even more aware of what you were feeling under you, and you didn’t know if you should feel disgusted or flattered.

You supposed you were indifferent to the situation, and you tried shifting so you’d be sitting more on his thigh, but that seemed to make it worse as he squeezed your waist to hold you in place. “Please just stop moving,” he breathed out and rested his forehead on your back. “Shit, y/n, I’m sorry” He lowered his head in embarrassment. “Can we please take a break?” He spoke up, and Jay mumbled out a curse, finally pulling off at a gas station a few minutes out, although it was too late now that heeseung had already humiliated himself in front of you.

Heeseung practically threw you off his lap and hurried off to the restroom.

It was one outside the gas station around the back, and it was more than janky, but it’d have to do.

At first, he tried to make his erection go down by rinsing his face with cold water and taking deep breaths, even going as far to try and flex certain muscles in his body to make the blood go somewhere else, but no matter what, he could not stop imagining you sitting on top of him and it didn’t help that you had to wear shorts he knew it was like ninety degrees outside so he couldn’t blame you but still.

“Fuck” he moaned when he rubbed over the tent in his basketball shorts.

He quickly dropped them and his underwear on the ground fisting his cock at a fast pace. He had to hurry if he didn’t want anyone getting suspicious of him.

He bit his lip as he swirled his palm over his wet tip. “So fucking good, y/n” He closed his eyes, picturing you without those shorts on, wondering how good it’d feel for you to sit on his lap with nothing on. He’d love watching your perfect ass jiggle while you bounce on his big dick.

He had dreamed about it so many times he couldn’t even count. He knew it was wrong to like you cause you were only friends, but you made that extremely difficult for him, especially today.

He tugged at his balls, squeezing his sack softly while stroking his warm length. “Y/n, please don’t fucking stop” He was full-on fantasizing about you jerking his cock instead, wondering how you’d do it. Would you tease him? Would you do it nice and slow or rough and fast? Just the thought was getting him close. “Feels so good, baby,” he whispered.

Frankly, he wouldn’t care how you did it just as long as you were touching him.

“Hurry up, will you! I gotta go next,” he heard jakes voice outside the door and panicked.

“Shit” He knew if the guys knew what he was doing in here, they’d never let him live it down ever.

He quickly pulled up his shorts, tucking his erection in his waistband and hoping for the best.

“Sorry about that, it’s all yours” heeseung smiled awkwardly at Jake, hoping he wouldn’t notice anything, and to heeseung’s luck, he didn’t.

Now you, on the other hand, that’s a different story.

He avoided all eye contact with you and hopped in the back of the van while you left to buy something, he assumed, but just then, he got an idea. “Can I sit up front? I can give directions.”

“No!” They all said in unison, and he couldn’t help but wonder why all the guys were being such ass hats today. Just his luck.

But he did also get them lost when he was in control of the navigation on their road trip last year, so he supposed they had a right to respond that way.

Once you came out of the gas station, you made your way to the back, and heeseung peered out the window as if the scenery was just that beautiful, which it wasn’t. It was literally a dead-end gas station with flickering lights. You figured he must have just been embarrassed, but you understood it wasn’t intentional, and that just happens sometimes, and you didn’t judge him for it.

You sat on his lap once more, and Jay hit the road again. “Would you like some?” You offered him a drink of your ice-cold water, and if he’s being truthful, his body felt like it was on fire right now, partly cause you were sitting on his lap and the burning weather outside, so he accepted your offer.

“Thanks,” he whispers and drinks at least half the bottle in one go.

“I’m not disgusted by you or anything if that makes you feel any better,” you whisper to him, and you feel him tense up.

That definitely made him feel better, but it was still embarrassing for him.

You leaned back slightly, and you’re not sure if he had gotten hard again or he was still hard from earlier. You thought that’s why he went to the restroom to relieve himself. “Are you feeling any better?” you could only hope it didn’t make him more uncomfortable, but you just didn’t want him suffering for the next fifty minutes.

“Do you actually want to know the answer to that?” He whispers close to your ear so no one else would hear as his warm breath fans lightly across your face making you feel a shiver run up your spine.

“Yes,” you reply back in a whisper.

“No,” he replied honestly, and at this point, he’s been so hard for so long that it almost felt painful.

“I can help if you want?” You said boldly and pushed up against him a little, giving him a hint in case he didn’t know what you meant already.

You and heeseung were friends, yes, but that never once stopped you from thinking he was an attractive guy, and who cares? You were all on vacation to act crazy, party, and have fun, so why not start the fun right now?

Heeseung could have sworn he misheard, but he definitely saw the way you backed your ass up and pressed it on his aching length. “N-no, we’re almost there. I can take care of it later,” he politely declines.

You knew he was just being nice, but you really didn’t mind, and you can’t lie feeling his thick cock beneath your ass was turning you on, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t soaking wet right now. “Sure?” You gripped his knee and rotated your hips on his crotch teasingly, and he said fuck it and gave in.

He squeezed your hip with his right hand guiding you back and forth on his lap, groaning softly in your ear when your clothed ass brushed over his tip.

He grabbed your waist with his other hand pushing you down on his cock. You put your hands over his stopping his movement, and he was hesitant to do anything further in case he was making you uncomfortable. “Sorry, did I do something wrong?” You didn’t say anything. You lifted your hips and shimmied out of your shorts and underwear, and he gasped at the sight, watching a thick string of your arousal sticking to your thigh. though the sight was extremely hot to him, he didn’t want his friends to see you naked. “Are you crazy?” He whisper, yelled, and tried to cover your body with his hands. He looked around and thanked the stars that Sunghoon had fallen asleep beside him. Jake, his girlfriend, and Jungwon were too immersed in their game to care, and Jay was focused on driving while Sunoo was in the front seat giving directions which gave you and heeseung the green light.

“Relax,” you giggled and tugged at his shorts.

“Fuck okay,” he breathed out once he deemed it to be safe plus, nightfall had come already, so even if anyone did wake up, he could discreetly cover you and himself before anyone saw anything.

He pulled down his shorts, and you looked behind you while biting on your lip, looking at his huge dick resting on his abdomen.

You sat back down on his lap, dragging your pussy over his cock getting it nice and slippery so he could enter you with ease. “God baby, you’re so wet,” he mumbled in your ear groggily, already in a daze-like state from feeling your warm pussy gliding on his length. Evidently, he wasn’t the only one turned on.

He pushed his cock down at the base, sticking it between your legs, making it easier for you to grind on it. “So fucking big.”

“Yeah? You like that, huh?” He gripped your waist, now controlling the movement of your hips. “You gonna let me stick it in that pussy, baby? Wanna feel this big dick inside you? Hmm?” He kissed your neck sloppily while squeezing your hips.

“Yes, please,” you whined out, nearly moaning when you felt his tip poking at your quivering hole.

“Ooh, so polite” You could tell he was smirking by the tone of his voice. “You know just how to get what you want, huh, baby?” He nibbled your ear and bucked his hips up, pushing his cock past your tight entrance.

You had to cover your mouth to muffle your moan as you felt him stretching out your tight walls. You were thankful that he started out slow and let you adjust first cause he was huge. He slowly thrust in and out inch by inch until you could take all of it. He bit down on your shoulder softly and took a deep breath while he bottomed out. “You feel so good,” he moaned out after finally getting the relief he’s been needing for the past hour.

“You do, too” You swirled your hips while placing your hands on his knees to get a good angle to ride him. “Mmph,” you moaned.

“There you go,” he whispered, mesmerized by how you were swaying your hips in such a small space so effortlessly. “Just like that” He pulled his shirt up so he could watch his cock getting buried in your little cunt each time you moved back and forth on him.

He reached around you slipping his hands underneath your shirt to massage your tits, cupping them in his large warm hands and squeezing on them occasionally, not too rough but just right.

“Fuck heeseung,” he chuckled lowly in your ear.

“Like that? Having your tight little pussy filled with daddy’s dick?” Heeseung definitely made his dirty jokes here and there, but this was a whole new side of him you had never seen before. The filthy words coming from his mouth just made you wetter by the second.

“Mmh yes, Daddy,” he snuck a hand inside your bra, rolling your hard nipple between his fingers while he kissed on your neck.

“Shit, baby, you’re taking my dick so well” His comment made you clench down on his dick, squeezing your walls involuntarily. “Bounce on it,” he commands in a hushed voice, and you immediately obey, bouncing up and down on his cock just the way he ordered you to.

He breathily moaned in your ear, making you tighten your walls around him yet again. “S-so full” You could literally feel his dick everywhere inside you. The thickness brushing against your wet aching walls was absolute heaven.

“All for daddy’s girl” He dropped his right hand from your chest, cupping your mound with his palm before using his two fingers to massage your little swollen clit.

You threw your head back on his shoulder as he tugged at your sensitive nub.

“Gonna be good and let daddy breed his girl? Come on, baby, let Daddy fill you up. I know your little pussy wants it” He matched your pace when he felt your legs giving out, and he started bucking his hips into you, helping you ride him.

Luckily Jay had the radio on, and the quiet sounds of your guys' sweaty skin clapping against each other were drowned out.

“Yes, Daddy cum in me, please” You chewed on your lip, quieting your moans in the stifling van.

“Cum with Daddy, okay?” He said hurriedly, feeling high coming up on him.

“Hee- heeseung, I’m coming,” you breathed out.

“Oh god,” he grunted out. “Me too, y/n me t-too,” He spoke softly in your ear, and you felt his cock stiffen even more while he fucked into you and eventually spilled his seed inside you.

“Shit,” your squeak of a moan fell from your lips as he rubbed your clit in fast circles tipping you over the edge at the same time as him while his cock continued to ruin your spent pussy.

“Fuckkkkkkkk,” heeseung panted heavily in your ear as you felt his cock throbbing inside you and his warm ropes of cum staining your walls.

He didn’t think it was possible for an orgasm to feel so good, and to make it even better, your pussy just kept clenching on him nonstop, milking his dick for everything he had to give, which was a lot given the fact he hadn’t came in awhile.

“Fuck your cum into me, Daddy. Please, I’ve been a good girl for you,” you begged. Even though you were sensitive, you still needed to feel more of him.

“Fuck my girl is so dirty, such a naughty baby” He fulfilled your downright filthy wish, bucking his hip and fucking his cum back inside your used hole. He swiped his fingers over his length, collecting his release before holding it up to your mouth for you to suck on as he created a creamy mess between your sweaty bodies. “Does Daddy taste good?” You hummed around his fingers, and the lewd sticky sounds in the quietness of the van just made it ten times hotter you felt so dirty but so good at the same time.

Heeseung dared to look down and saw your pussy was nothing but a mess of his and your cum the creamy white ring around his base made him groan in pleasure as your pussy lips stretched around his length, taking everything he was giving to you.

After a few minutes, his cock had begun to soften, and he pulled out of you. You could feel his cum drip from your hole, and you put your hand under the small stream catching it in your palm once it leaked out of you.

You held your hand up to your mouth, licking it clean, refusing to let even a drop of him go to waste. “Such a good fucking girl for Daddy,” he breathed in your ear.

You looked back, smirking at him and showing him the creamy white on your tongue. “Let Daddy have a taste. Wanna have you on my tongue, baby” He gripped your jaw lightly, turning your face to the side so he could kiss you. You both kissed messily, playing with the liquid and passing it back and forth on each other’s tongues until it got lost in your guys' saliva and trickled down your throats. You both gulped each other's fluids down, humming in satisfaction before eventually pulling away.

You both pulled up your shorts and underwear once the post-orgasm clarity had kicked in, and the air was now quiet and peaceful heeseung’s hands fell on your waist. He then offered you some water, and you quietly accepted, swallowing the now room-temperature water.

He traced his hands over your belly, lifting up your crop top just a little to feel more of your skin on his fingertips as he kissed your neck occasionally.

You reached your hand back, tugging him forward by his neck, allowing him to press more wet kisses all over your exposed skin.

You’re not sure who rolled the windows down, but you were both so thankful when the cool breeze hit your warm skin. Both of you released a breath from the relaxing feeling of the chilly night air.

You cupped your other hand over his and ran your fingers through his dusty blonde hair. “We should do this again when we get to the hotel,” he hums against your neck. “Want to?”

“I’d love to,” you whisper, and you can feel him smiling on your skin.

So maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all, to accompany the boys on their road trip.

FIN.

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback! - 🐹

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷: Nagi never made a big deal about the holidays, not something he had partaken in, but there was one tradition you had started with him that he could never resist. I mean what were the holidays without some sweets after all?

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻: Seishiro Nagi (Blue Lock)

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 2.3k

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼: Nagi x Fem!Reader 𝓒𝔀: Minor food play (icing), praise, use of petnames, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, marking, written with plus sized reader in mind.

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻’𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: Happy Holidays loves! This is my entry for the @pixelcafe-network's Secret Santa event as a present for @nagis-wife. The way I was so EXCITED to write this for you bambina I tried real hard to keep it a secret ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა Honestly Nagi was so much fun to write for and I hope you enjoy my love!

Nagi catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, the subtle way your tongue pokes between plump lips, a total look of concentration decorating your features as you pipe a line of icing on the border of your gingerbread house. Nagi’s parents had taken the “hands off” approach to parenting, meaning the holidays were often not something to be made a big deal of with their constant travel. Christmas had not really been anything more than some presents arriving at the doorstep of his apartment. So even into his late twenties, as he was now, he had never made the most of the holiday. The most he got was a paper star that sat on top of his cactus with some string lights.

You, yourself, hadn’t been the most festive person in the world. But the idea of Nagi having never engaged in any holiday festivities pulled on even your grinchy heartstrings. Your family may not have had much, and maybe the most you had to look forward to on Christmas was the tradition of your mom’s pancakes, but you wouldn’t give that up for all the presents in the world knowing what you could have been missing out on. So here you both sat, fully decked out in festive attire at your dining room table decorating gingerbread houses. It had become a tradition for you both throughout the years of your relationship, a little competition of sorts. Feeding into his ego to have a friendly wager to who could make the best house.

It was almost comical to look over at your boyfriend, his white hair fully pulling together the Santa suit you insisted he wore for the evening. While you looked at him with mirth, he was looking at you with a hunger for more than the sweets scattered across the table. The short elf costume dress hugged your curves in a way he couldn’t simply disregard. His mouth all but watering as he let his gaze slide down your form. The elastic of the red and green striped thigh high socks that you wore rested against plump thighs, making the flesh at the top more accentuated in such a way it made his heart race in his chest.

“Shiro? You’ve barely touched your house, at this rate I’m gonna win!”

Your voice held a teasing edge, completely unaware of the war waging in Nagi’s mind, his self control hanging by a thread. His cookie house was barren in comparison to yours, him too distracted by the way your finger slipped past plush lips to clean some icing that had dripped onto your skin. His daze broken by the sound of your phone blaring with an alarm, notifying you both that the gingerbread men that had been baking, the final touches to your houses, were ready to be pulled from the oven. Nagi watched with rapt attention as you sauntered your way to the oven, your outfit swaying with your movements, lis tongue slipping past his lips to moisten the dry skin as you bent over to retrieve the cookies from the oven. Eyes locked on the subtle lift of your skirt revealing more of the delicate skin of your thighs, the same ones if he really focused, he could see the faded markings between them that his mouth had left a few nights prior.

As if on autopiliot, Nagi stood to his feet, stalking behind you in the kitchen. You couldn't help but notice the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to drink in every curve of your body.

"Those do smell amazing," he said, stepping closer to you. He leaned in behind you as if all at once, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke. "Almost as amazing as you look right now."

His hand brushed against your lower back, sending a shiver down your spine. You straightened up, turning to face him with a blush on your cheeks.

"Seishiro, they’re hot you cant have them they’re still hot.”  you said, playfully swatting at his chest. "Now, let's decorate these babies. I have sprinkles and everything."

You said, a weak attempt to salvage your evening, knowing by the way his tone had dipped that the cookies were the last thing on his mind, You set the cookies on the counter with shaky hands as Nagi fully moved in behind you, his body pressed against your back effectively pinning you to the counter. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the strength in his arms as he reached around you to grab the icing bag that rested on the counter.

"I have a better idea," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Why don't we decorate each other instead?"

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers teasing the hem of your skirt. His large hands rested on your hips, turning you to face him. You gasped, your heart racing as you turned in his arms to face him. Your eyes met, the air between you charged with tension and unspoken desires. "Seishiro..." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What are you doing, Shiro?" He smiled at your response, lips curling in satisfaction at the tremble in your voice,  his eyes dark with desire.

"What do you want me to do, princess?"

His hands reached up as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he leaned in closer, his lips just inches from yours. He can see it, the way your eyes drop to his lips. Can hear the way you swallow heavily in anticipation before he closed the gap separating you both. Nagi’s lips claim your own, his hand curling around the base of your neck to pull you even deeper into the embrace. The kiss was filled with need, desperation to feel your skin against his own. But this wasn’t a primal need, he felt it down to his molecules. He wanted you, needed to keep his hands on you, whether that was just in a simple holding of your hand or something more he couldn’t care less he just knew that he didn’t want you to slip through his fingers. Didn’t want to risk not feeling the euphoria of kissing your lips. It almost pulls a whine from his lips when you pull away, resisting the urge to surge forwards once more.

Hie eyes stared into your own as they fluttered open once more, hands slipping beneath your knees to perch you on the countertop, reaching behind you to grasp the bag of icing A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he used the other hand to guide your head back, exposing the delicate skin of o=your neck to him, piping a trail of icing along the column of your throat. Dipping his head down, he wastes no time letting his tongue follow the work he had just created. The sweetness of the icing combined with the taste of your skin had him rolling his eyes back. The feeling of your hand pushing the hat from his head as your fingers entangle themselves in his hair. Graning against your skin, Nagi laps up all of the sweetness that once coated your skin, trailing his lips down further, his free hand curling against the hem of the skimpy dress that concealed your breasts form the descent of his hungry mouth. Tugging down the fabric in one swift motion, he groans, pulling back to admire the exposed skin of your chest.

“So fucking beautiful, bunny.” He growls, eyes devouring you as lust swims in their stormy depths. He relishes in the way your nipples pebble due to the exposure to the cold air.

“And all fucking mine.”

As if to emphasize the sincerity of his words he brings the icing bag to the skin that lay right above your breasts, sloppily writing out the kanji of his name before tucking down and capturing a perked bud between his lips, tongue lolling against it, coming to a point to flick at the sensitive area before letting his teeth capture it. Pulling his head back to tug until releasing, pupils blows wide seeing the bounce of the plush flesh he was rewarded with. He was quick to give the other nipple the same treatment. Hands trailing from your ankles to your knees, forcing your legs apart further under his strong grip. He groans into your chest as he feels your hands on him hand making a trail up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the hood of your clit before rubbing slow agonizing circles against your drenched center. His lips pull from the swell of your breast kissing up a trail to your ear, making no move to touch the icing that marked your skin.

“I was gonna be a nice boyfriend and get you all prepped to take my cock, bunny.”

He groans, pushing your panties to the side and sliding two fingers past your entrance with ease, curling them in just the way he knows would have your back arching. “But with the way this greedy cunt is sucking in my fingers I don’t think I’ll even need to do that will I baby?”

His chuckle is deep and almost cruel in your ear, Nagi wasted no time pushing the band of his sweats down to his thighs, cock springing against his abdomen, twitching at your following words. He leans forward palm resting against the counter as he cages in your form. Using is other to grab his cock at the base, rubbing it past your slickened folds, swiping the mushroom tip up your slit collecting your wetness, not that he needed the aid to slide in, being sure to nudge your clit with each pass. Having had enough of his own teasing he slides into your opening. Head falling back deep groan stumbling from his lips With one roll of his hips he was buried to the base feeling your walls suffocating all of him, head falling to the crook of your neck as he groans.

“Fuck princess, she’s sucking me in so good, god this cunt was made for me wasn’t it baby?”

Now that he was sunk completely in hie gives an experimental snap of his hips, the resulting pleas falling from your lips guiding each motion of his hips. He picks up the pace, angling his hips just right to nudge your clit with his pelvis. His hands hook under your knees, pulling you toward him until your ass was hanging off the counter so he could lay you back. Taking advantage of the new angle, Nagi presses your knees to your chest. The deeper angle also allowing you to be even more exposed to his hungry gaze, eyes locked on where you both met. Mesmerized by the mouth watering sight of his cock disappearing inside of you with each passing surge of his hips. Groaning a long growl of your name and a slew of profanities as the sound skin against skin and the squelching wetness of your cunt fills the kitchen.

“You hear that princess? How wet my cunt is for me angel?”

His hips don't falter, he keeps up his speed, though each snap of his hips hitting deeper with each pass, angling his hips just right to find that sensitive spot deep inside your walls, grinning maliciously when he does so, stealing any response you could have formed from your lips. He removes one hand from your knee, thumb swiping some of the icing that dripped down your skin. Once coated, slotting itself between your lips, eyes rolling back when your tongue circles the digit instinctually. His eyes roll back as you look up into his own, making a show of cleaning the digit and effectively coating it in your saliva.

“So sweet Sei, fuck. Need more daddy please.”

The desperation laid in your tone is more than enough to inspire his movements, especially when spoken around the skin of his digit still lodged between your lips. He slides the finger from your mouth, using the coated wetness as lubrication to rub tight circles on your clit. Hips picking up pace in time with the kneading. His lips leave your throat capturing a sensitive nipple into his mouth, sucking on it harshly, aiming to overstimulate all of your sensitive spots in tandem. Nagi out a loud growl of your name as the drag of your nails incorporated pain into the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling. The coil had been tight in his abdomen, but he would hold out, he wouldn’t allow himself to fall over the edge before you had. He picks up the pace once more, thrusts growing sloppy under the pleasure. His thumb quickens its pace pressing harder against the bundle of nerves. Gon on princess, come for me wanna feel those pretty walls clamp down on my cock.

“Fuck, bunny, just like that princess… Go ahead, come for me angel, gonna fill this pussy so good baby, gonna have you dripping. Go on baby fucking.. come. for. me.”

He accentuates every word with a deep harsh snap of his hips. He groans loud and deep feeling your walls slam down on his cock eyes rolling back as whines and whimpers fall from his lips as your own release triggers his own. His body trembles violently as he topples over the edge painting your walls white. He slows his thrusts, body shaking as he overstimulates you both just a little bit before his hips finally still. He releases your legs, quick to readjust your form wrapping you around him pressing a long loving kiss to your lips. He grips your thighs in strong hands, carrying you with ease back to the couch, resting you against him. Fingers carding through your hair as you rest against his chest, pressing a loving kiss to the dip of your temple.

“So, did I win our little decorating contest, or do you think we need a rematch?”

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics & @/cafekitsune.

[scoobysnakz]

ok but imagine loser!Miguel finding out that the reader has been seeing someone (casually, nothing physical… yet) and he has to try to put a stop to it while also having to listen to her swoon over said man RAAAAHHHH

AHHH OMG YESSS!!! LOVE THIS IDEA SMMM OMG

loser miguel who can’t help but get frustrated about the way you ramble on about him with that dopey smile on your face. normally, he’d be over the moon to see you so happy but the fact that it’s because of someone else…

it’s bad enough he can’t bend you over the break room table and pound your sweet cunt with his nose buried in your hair, now he has to contain his jealousy as well.

loser miguel who realises he can’t take this anymore and decides to end whatever silly ‘situationship’ you have going on.

loser miguel who starts pointing out all of the flaws he has, whether or not they’re real aren’t important.

“when was the last time he texted you?” he pipes in one day, forcing himself into the conversation, not that you care, you’re just happy good friend miguel is finally interested in your love life.

“i’m not sure.” you shrug, finger idly tapping the side of your mug half full with the coffee miguel made you. “sometime yesterday, i think.”

he just raises his brow with a sharp breath before walking off, praying that you start to overthink this minor flaw. but he knows you, and he knows you’ll get dragged down an endless rabbit hole of doubt.

loser miguel who inserts himself into your life, hoping that you’ll realize how much more useful he is than him. he starts making you coffee in the morning and bringing in croissants from the café over the road.

he loves the little thank you’s that you coo with a kiss to his cheek when he slides on your coat on your way out and the pretty smile that graces your face when he ‘coincidentally’ bumps into you by your house.

loser miguel who wants to know what’s going on when the two of you have to stay behind to work on something. he slides over to your side of your desk, his hand moving over the top of yours to stop your endless scribbling.

you look up at him through heavy eyes, the lack of sleep obviously getting to you. he can tell you haven’t had a good nights rest in a while and he’ll be damned if it’s not because your staying up all night texting your special someone.

“hmm?”

that soft, quiet hum resonates throughout miguel, travelling up his arms and legs and settling in the pit of his stomach. the feebleness of it makes him want to melt right then and there, pull you into a tight embrace until you fall asleep in his arms because the mere sight of you too tired to even ask a proper question is more than enough to make his heart ache.

“your eyes are all scrunched up, mami,” he sighs, a calloused hand coming up to push some of your hair out of your face. “when was the last time you got a good eight hours?”

you shrug, not even bothering to lie to him like the last few times he’s asked. “dunno.”

the next thing you know, miguel has his big strong arms wrapped you as you bawl your eyes out about how sucky this guy is. he’s not as understanding and kind and other guys you’ve been with, he doesn’t soften from your love and he doesn’t stare at you with those lovestruck eyes.

and while you feel so vain and self absorbed for expecting this from some random guy, miguel is practically dancing with glee. he knows why you expect all this, why you crave the gentleness and love of this man. he’s put these standards in your head, he’s the one who has been treating you this way because he’s who’s best for you.

you just need to realize it.

loser miguel who has to leave you alone to finish of the assignment for the evening, as much as he hates leaving you on your own, but the fear of you feeling his hardened cock digging into your thigh is much stronger.

he spends the rest of the evening relentlessly fucking his fist, imagining that it’s your tight pussy that squeezing his cock and not his thick fingers.

loser miguel who comes into work sorely disappointed to see you with eye bags big enough to hold two baby elephants and a makeup less face, not like he’s bothered but he knows how you like to doll yourself up for work.

he thought he told you to get a good nights rest !! why on earth are you so tired ??

“did you get any sleep at all?” he scolds, thick arms crossed his chest.

you look up at him, blinking slowly as you try and process his words. “‘course, migs,” you mumble while waving a dismissive hand at him.

“por dios,” he chides.

sliding an arm around your waist, miguel slots himself into the chair next to yours. you let yourself relax against him, your head nuzzling into the warmth of his chest and eyes flickering shut.

“couldn’t sleep.”

how badly he wants to pull you into his lap and let you curl up like a little kitten as you fall asleep clinging onto him like your life depends on it.

he lifts a large hand to smooth the crinkles in your shirt, smiling smugly as you let out a content sigh. “was thinking ‘bout what you’d been saying, how he isn’t good enough because he isn’t nice and stuff,” you admit scornfully, “and started thinking ‘bout things i shouldn’t.”

miguel nods, trying to pay attention to what you’re saying while also attempting to suppress his erection. “mami, you shouldn’t have been thinking about silly things so late, you need your sleep.”

loser miguel who loves the way you cling to him, sleepy mumbling an abundance of apologies as you nuzzle your head into his chest and stare up at him with those fatigued doe eyes.

he’s so grateful that it’s too early for anyone else to be in the lab otherwise he’s be too nervous to be holding you so close. he’s still trying to handle the glares he gets when he holds the door open for you.

loser miguel who whispers sweet words of reassurance as you start to bawl your eyes out all over again. you’re a blabbering mess with reddened eyes and puffy lips that he just can’t resist.

he leans down, face inches away from yours, and breathes in the comfortingly sweet scent of your perfume that he’s grown so accustomed to.

“why won’t he do all the things you say he should? how am i so clueless that i didn’t even realise he should?” you sob helplessly, “you’re always so sweet to me, why can’t he?”

“awww, poor chica,” he coos huskily. the warmth of his voice soothes you slightly, it’s like warm honey trickling past his perfect lips and dripping into your ears until all you can hear is the low rumble of his accent.

loser miguel whose heart nearly stops when you kiss him. never in a million years did he expect you to make the first move. every time he’s fantasised about it, he’d always been the one to pull you in, press you against the wall, whatever it is he’s the bold one.

but now your soft lips are pressed against his and all he can think about is how sickly sweet they taste.

his hand cups the back of your head, feeling the shape of your scalp and the softness of your hair. greedily, he deepens the kiss, cock straining against the seam of his pants. his tongue pushes itself into your mouth, hastily taking in the flavour of you as his desire for you deepens.

loser miguel who is panting and bewildered when you pull away, fingers curling up into the muscle of his chest.

“i was trying to kiss your cheek.”

loser miguel master list

[mellowsadistic]

Costume Changes - Part 1

Three college girls perform a childish prank on a woman’s house on Halloween, not realising the occupant is an actual witch. The girls are helpless to resist when she instructs them to come inside, and to their horror they find themselves being permanently altered by her magic.

***

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” said Amber, glancing nervously at the front door of the house.

“Oh lighten up,” said Lucy, handing her a roll of toilet paper. “it’s just a bit of fun.”

“Yeah, don’t be such a downer,” said Candace, pausing her examination of her nails to accept a roll of toilet paper from Lucy herself. “TP’ing someone’s house is a Halloween staple.”

“But what if that woman comes out and catches us?” Amer asked anxiously, adjusting her glasses and glancing again at the front porch of the house. Fake cobwebs stretched between the wooden pillars, plastic bats hung down on strings, and numerous pumpkins were sat around on the ground, leering at them.

“We’ll be long gone before she realises what’s happened,” said Lucy, rolling her eyes impatiently. “Besides, what’s she gonna do? Chase after us? It’s her own fault for not giving us any candy. We did things properly, didn’t we? We said trick or treat, and if she won’t give us a treat, she gets a trick. That’s how it works.”

“Aren’t you three a little old for trick or treating?” Candace mocked, echoing what the woman in the witch’s outfit had told them when they’d knocked on her door. “I’d rather save these sweets for the kiddies. What a bitch!”

Lucy put her hands on her hips. She wore a devil costume with a red vinyl bodysuit, matching boots, and a horned hairband. “And now it’s time for a little Halloween justice,” she said, tossing back her sleek brown hair and smirking.

Amber fussed with the sensible cardigan and knee-length skirt of her librarian costume. “Alright,” she conceded. “I’m in.”

“Well now that Amber’s given us permission,” Candace said scornfully, “I guess we can start.” She was dressed in a flowing blue gown with a loose, revealing bodice. A very realistic crown sat in her golden hair.

“I was just saying-”

“Ugh, stop bickering!” Lucy snapped. “Let’s get on with this! When we’re done, we’ll head to the bar, okay? I could do with a drink, and warming up a little.” She shivered in the cool Autumn air. Her costume left her shoulders, arms, and most of her legs bare.

Lucy threw the first roll of toilet paper, looping it high over the squat tree in the woman’s front garden. Amber and Candace followed suit, covering the hedges and flowerbeds with toilet paper, some of which began to melt immediately on the damp leaves. They moved on to the house itself next, arming themselves from the plastic bag of toilet rolls they’d brought with them, and tossing them over the porch and up onto the tiled roof, leaving trails of increasingly soggy paper everywhere. Soon the three college students were giggling like schoolgirls. At least until the front door opened and light spilled out onto the lawn.

“Well, well, well, looks like I was wrong,” said the woman in the witch costume. “Maybe the three of you are just kiddies after all.”

“Run!” Lucy gasped. She could feel a giddy excitement bubbling up within her, and she let out a laugh. But it died in her throat almost instantly. Something was wrong. She’d tried to sprint away towards the street, but it was as if her legs were frozen in place. She couldn’t move! She looked around wildly and saw Amber and Candace in the same situation, both gawking at their feet in confusion.

“I don’t think so,” said the witch woman lightly. She let out a sweet, tinkling laugh that sent a shiver down Lucy’s spine. “My, my, look what a mess you’ve made!” Her eyes travelled over the garden, coming to rest on the place where Candace had stuffed a roll of toilet paper into a drain pipe. “What silly, messy girls you are!”

“What have you done to us?!” Lucy demanded. She tried her best to sound confident and calm, and not scared out of her wits, but her voice shook nonetheless. There was something freaky going on here. “Why can’t we move?!”

“Just a little freezing spell,” said the woman, gently. “I can’t have you running off, can I? Now let’s see, what do we have here…” She walked up to Lucy, whose heart was thumping rapidly in her chest. “A naughty little devil!” She examined the other girls. “A snobbish queen too. And a fussy librarian!” She laughed again, shaking her head. “No, no, no, I don’t think that’s right at all! Come inside, little ones. I have some costumes that will suit you much better.”

The witch woman turned around and walked back inside the house, and to her horror, Lucy found herself following after her. It was as though her body was on auto-pilot, acting totally without her permission. Amber and Candace followed too, and Lucy could see the expression of fear on Candace’s face, and the look of shock and disbelief on Amber’s.

“This isn’t possible,” Amber was whispering to herself. “This can’t be happening. She can’t be an actual witch…”

They crossed the threshold into the house, and the woman closed the door behind them. “Follow me, girls,” said happily, leading them on into the living room. Even on the inside, the house was covered in Halloween decorations, but otherwise it looked normal. Regular chairs and regular tables and regular wallpaper. No giant cauldrons or bloodstained pentagrams, no place they might be sacrificed or eaten alive. Still, just being out of control of her body was enough to frighten Lucy to her core.

“Halloween is my favourite night of the year,” said the witch, walking over to a large wooden chest that sat against the wall and kneeling down in front of it. She lifted the top, and a gold light emanated from within. Lucy, Amber, and Candace stood in a row watching her, glued to the spot. “It’s always fun seeing what people choose to dress as. I think it reflects something about our inner selves.” The girls exchanged frightened glances as the woman rooted around inside the chest. “But some people need a little help understanding who they really are.” The witch stood up and turned around, holding a bundle of clothes. “And that’s certainly true of you three.” She handed a sparkly pink mass to Candace. “That’s for you, sweetie. You’re not a queen, I’m afraid. Just an overgrown little princess.” She moved on to Amber, pushing something white and tartan into her arms. “And you might think you’re a big, smart librarian, young lady, but I know better. You might be in your twenties, but you’re not ready to be out of school just yet.” Then she reached Lucy, and she handed over something soft and silky and pure white. Lucy’s hands reached out to take it without her say-so. “A devil is completely the wrong costume for you, little one,” the witch said sweetly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think you’re just an innocent little angel, aren’t you?”

Lucy looked down at the bundle she was holding. It was a wispy white dress, a pair of strap-on angel wings, and a fluffy halo attached to a hairband by a piece of wire. There was something else sitting on top, but for a moment she couldn’t comprehend what it was. Then the realisation came to her, and she felt her heart drop down into her stomach. Pull-ups. Soft and crinkly, with little flower designs for wetness indicators. A pair of Huggies pull-ups, just her size.

“For just-in-case,” said the witch, winking at her.

Lucy felt sick.

“But there’s nothing just-in-case about yours, is there, sweetie?” the witch cooed, looking over at Candace. Lucy followed the woman’s gaze and saw Candace looking stricken as she extracted something from the mass of pink frills she was holding. She unfurled it slowly and stared at it, horror-struck. “It’s only fitting for someone who clearly doesn’t know what toilet paper is for, don’t you think?” said the witch. “That will handle all your wees and poos.”

Candace blanched. She seemed unable to tear her eyes away from the enormous disposable diaper in her hands.

Lucy glanced at what Amber was holding. Resting on top of the tartan whatever-it-was was a pair of white panties with a My Little Pony design on the front. Amber was staring down at them intensely.

“Well come on, girls!” said the witch brightly, clapping her hands together twice. “Chop, chop! It’s time to change into your new outfits! Then we’ll see about some trick or treat candy!”

[where-dreams-dwell]

*spoilers for One Day*

For people saying ‘it’s tragic, Dex and Em only got 3 years together’ no. They got 15 years together.

Glossing over the span of their life together to sum it up as ‘only 3 years together’ misses all the love and time they had together that wasn’t solely romantic.

Why is their relationship only ‘important’ or ‘counts’ when it’s a romantic one? Maybe there was always romantic love buried in there or growing steadily but there was a whole lot of platonic love there too.

For 15 years they were the most important person in the world to one another, they described each other as their ‘best friend’ and the person they reached out to at every high and low moment. And for the last 3 of those years they were also a couple.

There are loads of examples of Dex reaching out to Em when he’s at his lowest: the last birthday with his mum, then he’s reeling from his divorce, when he’s scared people will hate him on TV. And you *could* read that as pathetic and Em being his emotional crutch, with Dex latching into her. But you could *also* see that as when you’re struggling and low, you just want your best friend. Because they *get* you. And part of being a best friend is being there in those low moments.

And Em has done the same with Dex, just in different ways. That first year out of uni Em had no idea what she was doing; in a job she couldn’t wait to leave, a relationship that didn’t make her happy, not sure where she was going in life or what she was doing. Em writes to Dex often, and doesn’t need him to reply to her, just to read her letters and be *her* emotional crutch and person to vent to.

Even at that breakup-dinner, Em has things she ‘needs to talk about’ and she’s reached out to Dex to do it. We don’t see her discussing it with Tilly, we see her trying to talk about it with Dex. She’s at arguably her lowest moment (hates her job, hates her partner, hates her home) and she wants her best friend to listen to her. Just like he did when she was 24 and thinking about giving up and leaving London, and Dex convinced her to stay and keep going.

So they are emotional crutches *to one another*. That’s also part of being someone’s best friend.

And for all the low moments Dex also wanted to share his best moments with her too: when he’s excited about the TV pilot he calls Em to say ‘the only person I want to share this with is you’, and begs Em to find a way to be there. Yes this is also him dismissing and ignoring her achievements, yes this is self absorbed and rude and at the height of his egomania, but in that moment of triumph he only wants his best friend there with him.

When they see one another again at Tilly’s wedding Em is brave and self assured when she reveals she’s ‘thought of you every day, missed you every day’, and that even though they are friends again now the fact that Dex will have a wife and child ‘feels a bit like loosing you all over again. Because people with families have different priorities…’ That’s how close they were before.

The sentiment that ‘we grew up together’ is really true, for the both of them. They were very different people throughout their lives, and if they had tried to be a romantic couple earlier there is no guarantee that version of them would have lasted the course.

Would Emma have stayed with a peak-of-his-tv-fame Dex, partying and living life ‘to the full’? Or would they have explosively ended and decided they were too different for one another for it to ever work?

Would Dex have even tried for a career in TV or a full year of travelling if he’d become a couple with Emma after Uni? Or would he have done something else but grown resentful of what-could-have-been?

If they had sorted out their issues and apologised after their fight and Em had left Ian, would Em have found the strength to turn rock bottom into a spring board and finally write her book? Would she have even hit that bottom at all? Or would the hook have remained a pipe dream while she continued as a teacher, happy with Dex but professionally unfulfilled?

We will never know what could have been, and that doesn’t necessarily make those alternatives the ‘better’ option that they ‘missed out on’.

Maybe they would only ever have had 3 years together as a couple and getting it in their mid 30’s the way they did was their most mature and peaceful version.

So yes at times their relationship feels like it’s moving toward the inevitable conclusion of a romantic partnership. But the time before they get there wasn’t wasted or unimportant or unnecessary. And they were always together.

[feralrabidcrow]

I remade the silly TF2 base that lives inside my head in The Sims 4 for the 3rd time

And this time I'm actually happy with it!

Behold, the base that I use for a reference for when I write fanfiction! Photo spam incoming under the cut as well as me yapping.......

Some basic exterior shots, in short this is the main home base that the mercenaries all live in when they aren't currently deployed at a battlefield, ex. 2Fort or Badwater. Those battlefields all have much smaller bases attached or nearby for the mercenaries to temporarily reside in while they're in between trying to kill BLU.

This is the floorplan of the basement, with its primary features being the medbay, the workshop, the laundry room, and two sleeping quarters, which belong to Medic and Heavy.

The hallway outside of the medbay has a waiting area set up. There is an elevator that travels between the medbay and the garage for convenience.

It's worth noting that I am working here within the confines of The Sims 4, and can only do so much to achieve my actual visions of this base. Where the skeleton is, would be a scale of the type you would usually see in a doctor's office (Medic prefers to keep his skeletons in the closet, you see.) And the weird set-up of counters in the middle of the room would be a proper operating table, with his Medigun attached to the ceiling above it, among other strange contraptions.

The medbay has this little side room, that Medic mainly uses for storage. Though it works well as a quarantine room, if the need arises.

Closet Skeleton™!!!

Here we have Engie's workshop, which looks as you would probably expect.

Here we have some utility areas in the basement, consisting of the laundry room, a basement-y maintenance furnace type room, and a washroom.

I would rather keep all the mercenaries' bedrooms together, so I'm gonna skip Heavy and Medic's sleeping quarters for now and head up to the next floor!

This is the main floor of the base, where most of the action happens. It features the garage, meeting room, training gym, showers, a large washroom with multiple toilet stalls, a kitchen and dining area, a small living room, and four sleeping quarters, belonging to Demoman, Soldier, Engineer, and Pyro.

The garage is a bit of a mess, and its most noteworthy feature is the armory, where the mercenaries keep most of their gear during time off. Though clearly not all of them care about the danger of tripping hazards.

There's not much to say about the gym and meeting room, at least in this physical version. Once again, I am held back by the game I built this in. In reality, the meeting room would have a large round table, more centered in the room, and the gym would just generally have more going on for it, but I tried my best to capture what purpose they served.

You'll really have to use your imagination on this one and believe those weird pipes are showers, because I don't own any packs with standalone showers. Anyways, these are the communal showers, where you get to experience the joy of pretending you're in prison and staring at your coworker's butts!

I have a feeling Tumblr won't let me share all the bedrooms in this already ridiculously long post, so I'll probably have to attach them in a reblog. If Tumblr doesn't let me do even that, I guess I'll die? I sure hope it does! I do not know how Tumblr works.

But here's a little peek at some of the sleeping quarters......as well as the floorplan for the top floor even though it's basically all personal quarters. Sniper's, Spy's, and Scout's, to be exact.

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Only One Bed (Discord Drabble)

"This cannot be right."

"Yeah, uh... I think it is."

Eddie looks down at the motel room key, its puke-green keychain shimmering as the fluorescent lighting above bounces off it.

Steve bristles beside him and Vickie paces about, looking like a lost little sheepie as she examines the room for any other possible sleeping quarters that might be hidden around the place.

"Go back to the front desk," Steve commands, folding his arms now.

"What's the point?" Robin pipes up. She gestures to the cramped room with enough force that she bounces on the double bed. A small double bed. The only bed. "The place is booked out because of this stupid concert."

"Hey!" Eddie and Vickie defend in unison.

Robin jumps up and snatches away the motel key.

"Remind me to never leave you with the travel itinerary again."

Eddie bites his bottom lip as he readies himself for either a quip about his new (well, 'new' to him) van or his driving skills. But Steve steps forward and places his hands on his hips, assessing the bedding.

"Okay, how about me and Rob in the middle? Eddie on my other side, Vickie on Robin's?"

3am.

"Eddie! Will you stop squirming!"

"Robin, be quiet."

"I will when Munson stops jostling the entire bed like he's some possessed child."

"Robin, I'm cold!" Eddie whines, "You're wrapped around Steve like an octopus. He's my boyfriend y'know!"

Vickie pops up from behind Robin.

"I'm cold too," her wide eyes glisten in the darkness as she steadies herself, clearly teetering on the edge of the bed.

"Y'know we wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't –"

"Everyone, shut up," Steve grumbles, snuggling in closer to his best friend.

He burrows his way under the stiff pillows that Robin had somehow managed to commandeer for herself in the night.

"Steve!" Eddie grits his teeth, "Hold me!"