#Bubble Popper

[boompowummmm]

[bc-byron]

Bubble Popper

Some people got this bubble That they don't want me to burst. If I cross the magic bubble line, Their grumping is the worst. I've never seen that bubble, I've never heard it pop, But somehow I'm supposed to know Just where it starts and stops. Those bubbles seem to grow and shrink With people's sleep or mood. Don't stand too close or breathe on them, They get a little rude. The bubble somehow…

[onehourhero]

Zuma

Question 1: CAN I play one hour of Zuma without getting bored?

Answer: After the first 15 minutes or so, yes!

Rating: Conditionally Play It Again.

I lost lives at 1-5, 2-4, 3-1, and 3-5, but I got to level 4-5 by the time my timer went off, and I still had a life to spare thanks to the score I'd earned. It's a fairly standard bubble shooter- shoot different color balls at other balls to match and remove them from the field before the balls reach a pre-determined place.

The old bubble shooter games where you shoot up at colored balls to make entire chunks fall while they're slowly marching down at the bottom of the screen were staples of mine at the arcade. I loved the ones with the dragons in particular.

This has a similar vibe, only instead of the colorful patterns coming down at you, it's a line of bubbles along a predetermined track with some vaguely Aztec inspired name along with the standard 1-4 number convention. Every 50k score you earn an extra life. There are gold coins you can shoot for extra points, and sometimes the bubbles will turn into special bubbles to reverse flow, slow the march, or blow up chunks of bubbles that will become normal bubbles again in a few seconds so act fast.

That is actually my one complaint with the game- it was frustrating how often I'd fire a bubble only for it to go to the wrong place because the flow had suddenly changed mid-fire. See if you leave a gap and the two bubbles on either side are the same color, the front part rockets backwards and slams into the back part, possibly staggering the whole screen... and sometimes the tracks can get awfully complicated and even have two tracks going at once (my first lost life was on the first level with two tracks), it can get difficult to keep track of whether the bubbles will move by the time you fire.

I earned one achievement during this hour, awarded for completion of Temple of Zukulkan, the first chapter of the game.

It was obvious that there was some deeper strategy to the game that I wasn't utilizing. I was too concerned with not letting the balls hit the end to worry about good play. I was mostly ignoring the gold coins and even the special bubbles until the end of each level. Playing for several hours would probably get me comfortable enough to do some 'advanced' play maneuvers like intentionally setting up chains, gap shots, and exploiting the special bubbles and coins more.

Overall, I don't think I'll be playing this one again. I'd like to see how Zuma's Revenge plays first, but it is a solid low-entry diversion and sometimes that's exactly what I want.

[fruitypiestims]

Cupcake popper 💖

[peppermintmochafem]

you're so cute love!! I adore the lesbian bandana lol

also hope you'll have a nice day 🤍

~👀

omg hii sweetheart 💗 you are so adoring and adorable

[windssong]

waiting // logan howlett x reader

summary: scott and jean get engaged. logan seems happy for them. but old insecurities start bubbling to the surface.

one shot: angstyyyyyy, insecure reader, happy ending of course, not proofread

word count: 1k+

authors note: getting back into writing so here’s a quick one for ya’ll. Enjoy!!!

masterlist

When he made his way towards her, with a big grin on his face, you had to get out of there.

You bumped past friends and colleagues, weaving through the bodies like a hedge maze. The room closed in. Your stomach was raging with alcohol and fire.

It was so childish. Running away from your friend's own engagement party. This night was about them, not you.

But, Logan wouldn't stop talking about how happy he was for them since they made the announcement. You were happy too. Of course you were. They were like family to you. But, was he really content with everything? Sometimes, thoughts that he was settling would cloud your mind.

You’d only been dating for little over a year now, and well, Jean was still Jean. The Jean he loves. Or loved. It was becoming too hard to tell, your head starting spinning.

The night air hit your face. It was cold, too cold to be out at a time like this. But at least there was space. Space to hold yourself on the mansion's steps and think about everything swirling in your mind.

You knew holding her up on this pedestal wasn’t fair to her, to Logan and especially yourself. But sometimes, wounds that were once sealed up and packed away, came around visiting again.

He spent years harboring feelings for her. You just stood there and watched it. Until one day, you were grabbing a late night snack from the kitchen and saw Logan sitting at the table.

And he was no longer sulking. No longer chasing after someone who was always going to pick someone else. He smiled, and told you to sit and have a beer with him.

It wasn’t an odd request. You too were friends after all. But, you ended up spending the entire night talking. You asked him about his past and he was completely honest. He asked you about yours, barely ever looking away from you as you rambled on. Logan had a soft smile on his face the entire time you talked.

The two of you moved closer together as the night progressed into the early morning. By the time students began pouring in for breakfast, your chairs and shoulders were touching. He walked you to your room that day, asked you out to dinner. You had your first date at a bar. Jalapeno poppers and chicken sandwiches. The waiter accidentally spilt his tray of drinks on Logan trying to squeeze through the aisle.

When Logan kissed you for the first time in his car, you could feel the sticky drinks stuck to his leather jacket and skin.

The door creaked open behind you. Footsteps stopped at the steps above. You could smell that familiar wood and cigar smoke. It has stuck to you ever since that night in his car. “Its fucking freezing out here.”

You brushed away a fresh well of tears, hoping they’d dry quickly so he couldn’t tell. “You’re right about that.” You sniffed. But it was your voice that gave it away.

“Whats going on?” He sat down next to you. “Could you look at me?” He moved your hair away from your face, fingers grazing the wet skin. He paused. “Can you please talk to me? Why are you crying?”

You tried brushing his hand away, making yourself smaller against the stone wall. You pushed the side of your face into the rock, like it would magically make you disappear.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know whats going on.”

“I’m just drunk.” You tried to play it off. Not good enough.

Logan shook his head. “No. That's bullshit. You’ve been acting weird all day.”

The air kept getting colder. You started shivering. Logan cursed underneath his breath, taking his jacket off and draped it over your shaking shoulders. The simple gesture made you feel even smaller. “Do you ever wish things could be different?”

Logan looked at you confused. “What kinds of things?”

You sat up, knees facing away from your boyfriend. “The people you let into your life.”

“No.” He answered quickly. “I only let in people who let in me. Like you.” He smiled at the memory of spilt beer and messy kisses in the parking lot. “So no. Why? Do you?”

You huffed. “I find that hard to believe and I hate myself for it.”

Logan sat there bewildered. You’d always been open and honest with him about everything. You even opened up to him about your insecurities surrounding his relationship with Jean the first few months into dating. The realization washed over him as he watched the party goers mingle inside. “You still think I have feelings for Jean.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

The wind picked up, sending its sharp claws against your wet cheeks. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No. I just don’t understand.” He sighed. “Why would you think that? I’m with you. I wouldn’t be if I didn’t want to be.”

The drinks settling in your stomach did the talking for you. “Well, if she wasn't with him things would be a lot different, wouldn’t they?” Your tone was as cold as the wind. You didn’t mean it to be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gripped his jacket tight around you. Holding onto it like you did when you first kissed. “Sometimes, it’s hard to accept your love.”

He didn’t respond, just let you continue. His hand started rubbing circles on your back.

“I feel like I’m taking something that isn’t mine.” Maybe if you were sober you could explain it better, but you carried on. “Or, I’m just holding my breath. Waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

You’d feel more embarrassed without the alcohol running through your veins. But you sat there as tall as you could. Letting the insecurities bubble out in circles of angry shades of red. It wasn’t pretty, but it was real. It was what you’ve been bottling up for years now. “Waiting for it to go to its true destination.”

Logan looked up at the night sky. The wind ruffled his short hair. He looked so handsome in that all black suit he wore. One that you picked out just for him. He chuckled to himself, his eyes finding yours with a piercing gaze. He faced those words, seeing past the surface.

“I loved Jean once. That's the truth. But I’ve loved people before her. I’ve been alive for a long time.” He moved strains of hair from your face, resting his hand on your cheek. “But here’s another truth. I love you. Can’t you see that? Right here and now?”

You could see the genuine look in his eyes. You could always see it.

“And that’s not something I just give away. It’s also taken from me. You’ve taken it from me. And I’ve never been happier for you to have it, like I have yours.”

You nodded, sniffling. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, pulling you against his chest. “Don’t be. Just maybe next time, talk to me about this instead of holding it all in.”

You buried your head into his chest. Voice muffled against the dark fabric. “Says Mr. Wall builder himself.”

Logan kissed your head, fighting back the wind and a fit of laughter. “You got me there.”

[disneytva]

"Gravity Falls: The Book Of Bill" Panel Brings Insight In The Nightmares.

Gravity Falls fans went trought behind the secrets of The Book Of Bill who took the internet by storm, the panel also had the book artists Ian Worrel ("Gravity Falls", "Amphibia") and Joe Pitt ("Gravity Falls", Disney TVA pilot "Park Poppers")

Photos by Karla Garcia and Disney Publishing Worldwide

-Ian Worrel, Joe Pitt and Alex Hirsch all met in an Animation summer camp in High School

-Adrian Molina (Pixar Animation Studios "Coco", "Elio") was also one of the fellow classmates of Alex, Ian and Pitt at CalArts

-One of the reasons to make The Book of Bill was to work again with the former Gravity Falls crew

-Bill started as an inside joke in the Gravity Falls production as Alex wanted him to be a foil and to make Dipper crazy with his conspiracy theories and the crew decided to put it on every episode and the opening credits sequence

-Bill was almost a meme before it was a character, the zodiac was made up at last minute

-The Book Of Bill has been a New York Times Seller for 3 months in a row

-One fan who owns a book store told Alex, Pitt and Worrel that The Book Of Bill sold out on his book store

-Alex Hirsch reaction to the reception of The Book Of Bill has been terryfing and surprising as he thanks the fans for still loving Gravity Falls after all these years

-Ian Worrel's favorite pages where the "Dream Statues" page and the Pines Family group photo who didn't knew it was going to be burned at the end

-Alex Hirsch favorite joke was Bill playing the Xylophone apologizing for Weirdmaggedon

-Ian Worrel's process for the statue page was made all in VR

-Joe Pitt's favorite page was the bad end alternate universes of Dipper and Mabel

-Alex being asked about an Alternate Reality we’re Dipper was trapped in a Bubble rather than Mabel with the awnser being Dipper's Bubble being him and Ford having an X-Files show and Mabel saving him by the same way he saved her.

-Alex being asked if Bill loves The Duchess Approves with Alex awnsering that he loves it and likes fan-art on his alt-account

-Alex being asked what were Bill and the Axolotls’ prior relationship? Alex awnsers that he dosn't want to give lore for free

-Alex being asked for some more information on Bill’s Home Dimension? Alex had two pages with many information on Bill's Dimension but he kept it secret and decided to release them as of yet.

-Alex being asked before creating the Book of Bill did he ever consider creating something on his own or continuing Gravity Falls? Alex is very open to make more Gravity Falls books after the explosive sucess of The Book Of Bill that surprised Disney Press, Ian Worrel, Alex and Joe Pitt.

-Alex being asked about the process of editing and adding all the Ciphers and Codes into Gravity Falls? The codes and ciphers where added at last minute on the episodes for Alex the codes where so much fun.

-Alex being asked if he could tell us any additional canon about the secrets of Dipper and Mabel and anything beyond the Book of Bill? As of yet Alex cannot speak on Mabel and Dipper's backstory

-Alex being asked to elaborate more on Stan’s Nightmare? Alex talks about a story of Bill entering Stan’s mind to try and strike a deal with him with Stan not being fooled by Bill's tricks.

-Alex being asked since originally The Book of Bill was meant to be more of a “Bible of Bill” did he at one point want to lean more into the idea of “Ciphertology”? There's more and maybe one day he will reveal it.

-Alex on Billford relationship on The Book Of Bill: If anyone in your life is like Bill Cipher RUN AWAY FROM IT!

[impval]

nervous

Victoria Neuman x fem! reader warnings: mentions of stalking, mentions of blood, illness (cold), stupid jokes, reader (and Vicky) is useless sapphics.

Victoria doesn’t like how nervous she feels around you.

Logically, it makes no sense for her to feel this way, for her heart to flutter whenever she catches your smile. You're just a ordinary woman who she met through a mutual friend - nothing more, nothing less. Maybe it's the fact that you're different from everyone else in her life, all the political snakes and heroes she deals with on a daily basis.

She's always had a soft spot for people like you, those who are slightly weird, but also smart. When you talk, your words flow like a river, and your eyes light up with an intense enthusiasm that is so endearing.

When you first met, Victoria was expecting the usual reaction from you, the typical swooning at her status, her money, her beauty. But no, you remained completely unfazed by it all. You just spent hours talking about Sylvanas Windrunnner of all topics, passionately discussing the portrayal of women in media. And it wasn't even a deliberate attempt on your part. To you, she was just a woman who had opinions on a game. A woman you could nerd-out with.

Her daughter approval was a significant factor. You didn't try to impress her, didn't talk down to her or make false promises. It wasn't some strategic move to win points with Victoria. You weren't trying to impress or manipulate anyone. You just treated Zoe like any other person - sincerely.

Zoe appreciated that. She was used to the fake smiles and the veiled attempts to get close to her mother through her. She is a smart kid, sharp and more mature than many kids her age. She is also cautious and wary of adults, a effect of her mother's fame and her own intelligence. But she seemed to... tolerate you.

Those casual meetings in a café, the occasional lunch visits, the funny memes shared back and forth. The way you looked at Zoe's homework with a mix of horror and awe, knowing that she was already taking advanced classes and soaking up knowledge far beyond her years.

The way the corners of your mouth would twitch up into a smile or down into a pout as you spoke passionately about something that fascinated you. Victoria could feel her heart skip a beat every time, but she convinced herself it was just the alcohol, just exhaustion, just something that was causing the flutter in her chest.

She found comfort in this little bubble of normalcy, in the charade where she wasn't the politician, the Head-Popper or Nadia. Just Victoria and you, no other bullshit attached.

And then Hughie Campbell ruined everything.

Victoria knew he had been your friend, after all, it was thanks to him that you and her had even met. She believed that he had left your life behind when he started running with The Boys. That your friendship would have faded into the past, like a distant memory.

Oh, she knew that Hughie and the Boys had finally figured out her true identity. It was only a matter of time, really, but she hadn't expected it to be this way.

But the silence from you... that, she hadn't expected. At first, Victoria didn't notice, as she was preoccupied with Homelander's bullshit and the pressures of politics.

Victoria couldn't help but know details about you, your routine, where you lived, who are your colleagues, your family, your friends. She told herself it was just a product of her paranoia, that she needed to make sure you were safe and unharmed, but deep down she knew it was more than just that.

It might have bordered on a bit too much knowledge for a regular friend to have, but Victoria couldn't help but want to keep tabs.

It was far from a coincidence that you suddenly fell ill just a couple of days after Hughie stumbled upon the truth about Victoria's secret. Your colleagues and boss mentioned that you were unwell, that you had taken work home. But Victoria knew better. You rarely got sick, and if you ever did, you never failed to keep in touch. Yet, since then, you had barely sent a text or even responded.

Anxiety, horror, nerves, fear - coursed through her veins like a toxic poison. You'd been quiet for days, she knew why - she understood why. That just didn’t make it hurt any less.

The secrets, the past, all the blood on her hands. It was laid bare, exposed for you to see in all its bloody and monstrous glory. Was this the end? Did you despise her now?

Maybe you were even packing your bags at that very moment, ready to flee from Victoria's presence, putting as much distance between yourself and her as possible.

Knock-knock.

Victoria tried to act as if she didn't notice the way your eyes widened in surprise, she tried to act as if her heart wasn't trying to escape her chest and her breath wasn't being caught in her throat. She tried to act as if she didn't realize how nervous she felt either.

For a moment, she just stood there, watching you, before she remembered herself and smiled slightly “Can I come in?”

You look genuinely unwell - pale skin, parched lips. You hadn't even cared to dry your hair properly after a shower, and your T-shirt still had remnants of dampness from the water. Oddly enough, you don't seem afraid. No fear etched into the lines of your face.

You just...smile. Softly, awkwardly, a pale shadow of your usual cheerful self.

"Sure. Come in."

Victoria had been there many times before - in better circumstances, of course.

Your apartment was always messy and chaotic like that, it was your way of being. There was a certain level of warmth and comfort in the chaos.

She looked around, taking in the current mess before turning to look at you again. Her smile faltered as she took in your pale skin. You looked like you hadn't slept for days, and judging by the pizza box, you clearly hadn't eaten properly either.

Usually, you would offer a warm cup of tea when Victoria visited, but today, you seem too exhausted, both physically and mentally. Instead, you let yourself collapse onto the couch.

She follows you to the living room and sits down in the armchair, facing you in the couch. She crosses her legs, pretending she's totally calm and relaxed, but she's not, she's dying to know what's going through your head. She wonders if you suspect anything, if Hughie told you anything.

"No offense, but you look like crap," she tried to make the comment sound casual and sarcastic, like usual, but it came out more concerned and worried than anything else, and she hated it. She didn't want to show how concerned she was.

What if you hate her? The thought makes her heart ache, but she tries to keep her face neutral. Victoria hates being like this. She always knows what to say, what to do, how to behave. She always knows how to be in control.

But now she feels so damn lost.

"You are as charming as always, Vicky," you laugh lightly, a small, quiet sound that fills the room.

Victoria's heart skips a beat at that little sound you make. It was such a familiar laugh, it was your laugh. She could be in a crowded room and still pick out your laugh in a heartbeat.

She inhales deeply, and there it is again - your familiar scent, now tinged with the unmistakable aroma of medicine. You smell of the shampoo she gave you, the same one she bought specifically because she saw you eyeing it in a store once.

As she looked around the living room, Victoria could see bits and pieces of her everywhere. A cup from the mug she got you two Christmases ago, the blanket from last year's birthday.

The memory hits her - the way you held that Sylvanas Windrunner figurine, the pure delight on your face, how you had thanked her over and over again. The ugly, disgustingly pink slippers she gave you as a joke. Each gift holds its own memory - laughter, gratitude... love.

Those pink damn slippers were stupid. They should have been the first thing you threw away after finding out the truth about her.

"But I'm fine. The cold is almost gone, I feel much better than I look."

"Bullshit," Victoria says immediately, a little sharp.

Her heart is almost beating out of her chest. She's dying to ask you if you know. If you've found out the truth. She even opens her mouth, almost asking, but closes it at the last moment.

"Why did you ignore my texts?" She asks instead, trying to keep her voice steady.

A beat of silence passes between two of you, and in that moment, everything becomes so clear.

Silence is not your thing; you thrive on noise, on conversations, on laughter and music. Your words always flow freely, unfiltered, and yet right now, you're silent, thinking, contemplating how to frame the next words.

You know who she really is. She's exposed, vulnerable, naked before you. What are you going to say? Are you afraid of her now? She's the Head Popper, after all. Or maybe you feel betrayed? Deceived?

Victoria clenched her jaw, hating how her mind started to consider the option of eliminating you. This was the way she had been trained, conditioned to think by Stan. She can almost hear his voice in her head, as clear as if he were sitting next to her. Your safety is priority. Eliminate every source of danger. Never leave a risk.

"Well, I was very unwell the entire time. I suppose work got to me. Fucking reports," you rubbed your temples, even now cursing at the endless paperwork. "And then Hughie with his british boyfriend unloaded a bomb on me."

Yep, you said this.

Honestly, you were freaking out at this plot twist. You love Victoria, both as a person and as a friend (and maybe a little more, but you try to ignore that part). When Hughie told you his story, it sounded so unreal.

But then he brought proof - a folder bursting with photos and even videos on disks, like some kind of old-school spy movie. Who even uses disks anymore?

You spent every waking hour staring at the blood-stained pictures and text in the folder, the horrific details of what her past and present. Your tea intake had reached a record-breaking level, and if your illness hadn't been holding you back, you probably would have drowned yourself in alcohol.

Conflict warred within you. Anger for the things Victoria had done and for the fact that she’d kept it hidden. Confusion over how to feel about all of it. But most importantly, the pain of being deceived by someone you held so close. You trusted Victoria, saw her as the most important person in your life.

But at the same time - how would she have even told me?

The enormity of her secret, the danger it posed, it was a crushing burden. You knew deep down she couldn’t have told you. She probably didn’t know how to.

You vividly remembered the day of the court, how your heart was in your throat as you watched the live broadcast at home. You recall the day clear enough. Wanting to be there to support her...only for her to gently persuade you to stay home. You gave in, thanks to a simple kiss on the cheek that had your brain short-circuiting.

During the broadcast, you found yourself praying to any and every deity, even though faith had never been a part of your life. You prayed for her survival, to see her again.

You thought that Victoria slept so much after the court because of PTSD, but fuck, she likely needed all that sleep to recover from the effort of exploding a whole shitload of heads.

A cruel, bitter joke indeed.

The memory replays in your mind, and suddenly you remember something - something that was so insignificant at the time, but now takes on a whole new level of significance.

You recall the time you was at her office, and you noticed a smudge of blood on her clothes. You remember the unease, the concern, how she’d made you think it was just a small, unimportant thing. And at the time, it had been easy to let it go, to trust her. But now?

And how carefully, casually, Victoria probed you about your thoughts on super-powered humans. Unlike others, you don’t idolize them as infallible heroes or hate them as dangerous threats. After all, they were all just people. It was only after that conversation, it seemed, that she opened up more, allowed you glimpses behind her masks.

As you look at Victoria, it's like seeing her for the first time. All the little quirks, her tells, everything about the person you've come to know so well...unmasked.

She's wearing the dark red suit (blood, your mind whispers), the one she usually chooses for tough debates. Another armor. A defense.

But you know her much better now, past her careful masks and smiles. You recognize the tension in her jaw, the dark flicker in her eyes. She's preparing for the worst.

"What bomb?" She asked despite knowing the answer.

The small smile you offer is careful. You raise your eyebrows and gesture towards the pile of papers on the table by the sofa, the folder among them, buried in notes and drawings.

"I think Victoria fits you better," you remark, voice soft. "But you know, Nadia sounds beautiful too."

Hearing you speak her real name sends a shiver down her spine. No one had called her that in years, and from your lips, it sounded too intimate, too personal.

It's all there, the documents, the evidence, the photos. Things that should never have seen by anyone, much less by you.

"I prefer Vicky," she says carefully, but when she looks at you, she doesn't see fear or anger. You just seem tired. “You've read all that?”

Death, blood, shattered lives - you used to think red suited her, but you hadn't comprehended just how much.

"Of course. When have I ever left anything unfinished?" you murmurs, with just a hint of irony in the voice.

She doesn't know if she should be amused or offended by your comment.

On one hand, it's a normal reaction from you, sarcastic and cheeky. The same person she got to know during all those days and nights spent together in each other's company. On the other hand, you're talking about her greatest secret like you're talking about a crime book.

"And?" She asked quietly, hating how nervous she feels.

She's acting almost as awkward as that time she got soo drunk and you stayed up all night holding a bucket next to her, so she didn't puke all over the carpet. Now that you think about it, she's downed a lot more alcohol than a human ever could. The memory bubbles up, almost making you want to laugh.

You reach up to rub at your throat, grimacing slightly at the lingering soreness. Your cough hasn't quite gone away yet, and you pick up a bottle of water from the table, taking a few gulps to soothe the ache.

You place the bottle back down next to you and your tone is calm and measured as you speak.

"I've got exactly two questions," you state, eyes fixed on her.

Her fingers dig into the fabric of her pants, knuckles turning white. How can you be so calm, so matter-of-fact? She wants to snap, yell, scream at you, for how can you look normal after everything?

"Ask."

Another fact about you that's worth mentioning: you're a fucking clown. If Victoria ever dragged you to any important event, you would have been easily mistaken for a court jester or shot down as a threat to the sanity of every politician there. It's how you cope with the cruel world of capitalism and heroes, after all - if you can't laugh, you'd probably cry.

"So you felt it every time I had a period?"

What the fu-

She can practically feel a vein in her temple ticking in annoyance. You know her secret and this is what you're asking her?

Typical you, to focus on something as unimportant as this.

"What do you think?" she replied bluntly, her shoulders relax.

Somehow, the tension in the air has lessened. The conversation has fallen into more familiar territory, much like a well-practiced dance. You and Victoria have often discussed the powers of various supers, real or fictional, and now is no different.

Blood manipulation. You can't help but admit that exploding heads is a impressive move, yet horrifying all the same. It was a dramatic and effective ability, perfectly fitting for Victoria, the woman who always loved a good show.

The file had mentioned that she used to struggle with controlling it, but clearly, she'd mastered it now. It fit her personality perfectly: she always needed to be in control, no matter what.

"I think you can feel everything around you," you say, your voice quiet but sure. "You can hear the beating of hearts, can't you? That's why you always know when someone is lying. But for details, you need to concentrate."

You had always been good at puzzles, connecting the dots, thinking. That's why she love you.

You're surprisingly spot on in your assumptions. Victoria can feel blood, she's always felt it, even if she hasn't always been able to control it. She felt your periods. She's felt your heart rate changing in times of excitement or fear.

But what surprises her is not the fact that you've figured that out, but the fact that you aren't afraid of her even knowing all of this.

"Sometimes I try not to pay attention to much," she confessed, her voice almost a whisper, like she's sharing a secret. "It's... overwhelming."

Oh, Vicky.

Your eyes soften, a gentle understanding. All this time, this power of hers, and you hadn't noticed. Or maybe she just never let you see this side of her, this hidden weakness. Something inside you aches.

Victoria used to think you were simple, naive. You wore your heart on your sleeve, you trusted everyone too easily. She didn't see it, didn't realize that deep down, beneath that all, there was a sharp mind, capable of seeing through all her bullshit facade. Now she sees it especially clearly.

"Second question." She demands, her voice almost a whisper.

Vicky, Vicky, Vicky.

You should be afraid. After everything, the lies, the manipulation, the hidden life...you should fear her.

But you can't.

She's woven into the fabric of your life, tangled up in a web of memories, gifts, and shared moments. She's the one who showers you with gifts just because she thought of you, the one who patiently listens to your theories and debates.

Vicky, Vicky, always Vicky.

Your lip quirks slightly, a soft smile touching the corners of your mouth. You feel like you see her better now, more than ever before.

And so, your second and final question rolls off your tongue, quiet and calm. "Will you kill me?"

Victoria's heart practically stops at your question.

She was prepared for anger, sadness, disappointment. But this? Not in a million years.

"You..." Her voice is choked, a thousand thoughts swirling in her head. She looks at you, searching for something, anything in your eyes, that you're not serious.

But, ironically, this is possibly the most serious you've ever been.

"Well?" you continue. "Don't deny it. We both know you're paranoid and I know too much now. It would be logical for you. So answer the question. Will you kill me?"

Logical is exactly the kind of word that Stan had used to describe Victoria. It's who she is. So yes. This is exactly what she would have done a long time ago. Of course you think she would kill you. She should. You know too much.

But you're you, with your soft smiles and endless patience, stupid curiosity and unwavering loyalty. Despite everything, she loves you.

How can she kill the one person she loves?

Finally, in a low, strangled tone she answers.

"No, I won't kill you."

Wow, you must be utterly and hopelessly in love with her, considering how willing you are to accept death at her hands. A sick, twisted kind of humor bubbles up in your mind as you muse to yourself that it's nice that Victoria won't be exploding your head anytime soon.

Your shoulders sag a little. Okay.

Your entire body aches and throbs from the sickness that's kept you in your apartment for the past week.

And the fucking folder has only made the simple cold worse. Right now, all you want to do is disappear under the covers, crawl into the warm darkness, and shut out the world.

You gesture to the papers on the table, your voice tired but steady. "I need some time," you say, a hint of hurt underlying your words. "Will you take the folder with you when you leave? I don't want it here."

Victoria drops her gaze, averting it to look at the table, the stack of papers, the folder that started this whole mess. She feels an irrational urge to throw it all out, to burn it, and she will. Later.

Part of her is too wary to say something she'll regret, and the other... she's just too cowardly. Victoria nods slowly, standing up to grab the folder.

So all she does is watch you a moment longer, the folder clenched tightly in her hands, before walking out the door.

Time drags out slowly. Never before has a month felt so long and painful. Even during your worst fights, both of you would still text each other, however small the dialogue might be.

But now, you don't call. You don't text. You don't even send her memes filled with passive aggressive hints of your anger.

Every time her phone vibrates, her heart skips a beat in foolish hope. She almost feels like a teenager with a crush, looking at the screen eagerly, only to be disappointed every single time.

You had asked for time, and Victoria knows she should honor that.

However, you've been kept under close watch. She's not worried that you'll reveal her secret, no - that option was clearly not even in the cards. The surveillance now, the protective measures, it's not to keep an eye on you. It's for your safety. To make sure you're okay and not in any possible danger. You were right when you called her paranoid.

Her daughter starts to notice. Even she's beginning to look at Victoria differently. It's no secret that you usually spend plenty of time visiting, but it's been a whole damn month since you've vanished.

Zoe isn't your biggest fan, but she can see how much it hurts Victoria not to have you around.

"Mom, did you screw something up?"

"Language."

Victoria practically jumps when she receives a text message, inviting her to meet in a local cafe. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a simple request for cocoa and conversation.

That day, you both chat about nothing and everything, carefully avoiding the painful subject that weighs heavily on both of you. It's not much, but it's a start. A fragile first step.

When she sees the vampire memes you've sent, a wave of relief washes over her face. Victoria breaks out into loud, relieved laughter, startling her colleagues with the unexpected outburst.

She almost feels like she's back in your apartment again, sprawled on the couch, arguing about which anime to watch, or which one of the characters you're obsessed with is the most attractive.

You're insufferable, just as Victoria had expected from you. You torture her with a nonstop fload of puns, innuendoes, jokes, and memes all related to blood. Even Zoe joins, to Victoria's combined amusement and horror.

Victoria endures through Zoe's torturous plan to force her to watch the Twilight, making it her own personal mission to survive the whole series without jumping out of the nearest window.

You'll find out that Victoria has genuinely been trying to ignore the rhythm of your heartbeat since your friendship became genuine. But, before that, yeah, she used to monitor your heartbeat all the damn time.

When she casually mentioned it, you damn near choked on your tea. How in the world could Victoria, the most intelligent woman you knew, not recognize that you were madly in love with her all this time, even with super-duper powers?

After clearing your throat (with a bit of help from Victoria's powers), you laughed until your ribs hurt. Then you granted her permission to listen to your heartbeat whenever she wanted.

One day, while enjoying a casual lunch together, she asks you why you haven't run away to some sunny spot in Spain. After all, she has killed people, and it's not something that's likely to change. You rolled your eyes so hard it genuinely hurt. Seriously, your favorite characters are female war criminals for whom committing murder is just as natural as blinking.

Jokes on you, Vicky, I'm into that shit.

Of course you didn't say that. You're not ready to come out (ha!) of the illusion of friends yet.

You didn't have a damn clue how messed up the world truly is. Of course, you knew it was a cruel, cruel place, you're not naive. But, fuck, it's worse than you could have ever imagined.

And Victoria, she knows this better than anyone. She can now share her own personal horror story, revealing the truth about Vought, her father, the sadistic experiments, and her genuine desire to change the world for the better.

Things are strangely different now, better now that there are no more secrets. She finds herself hyper-aware of your heartbeat, your eyes on her, the way you move, the sound of your voice. It's like she's suddenly woken up to a new reality, where the line between friends and something more is slowly starting to blur.

And just when things were finally beginning to settle back into a shaky sense of normalcy, that fucking Hughie had to show up again.

hey, herm o. globin

you know who and his british boyfriend were at my house again

im fine btw

Victoria doesn't even bat an eye at the stupid pun, her mind immediately focusing in on the second part.

Hughie and Butcher was in your house again. Again. And somehow, her security had missed their presence. She clenches her jaw at the thought. How incompetent can they be? Stupid amateurs.

But she'll deal with them later. Victoria rearranges her schedule, sends a text ordering you to stay home, and quickly hops into her car, driving over to your place.

Victoria arrives at your apartment in record time. She can feel the tension coiling inside her, the need to make sure you're safe, to see you with her own eyes. Without even a knock, she pushes the door open and steps inside.

You're predictably sitting in the kitchen, calmly sipping away at a cup of tea. There's not a single bruise or scratch on you, no sign of fear or distress etched on your face. It's as if you didn't have two wanted terrorists in your damn house.

You glance up at the clock on the wall, "Wow, ten minutes. You won't get any fines?"

Victoria is not amused. Your humor would have usually been endearing, but right now it's just fueling her anger. She steps closer, her voice strained from the effort to keep her temper in check.

"You had Hughie and Butcher in your house, and you didn't think to call me?"

You set down your cup on the table with a weary sigh. Of course, you weren't particularly thrilled about the surprise visit, but there was no point in stressing about it now that they were gone.

"I was too busy trying to decipher british accent." Yikes, more jokes. "They were just trying to figure out why I was still hanging out with you. You know, after I discovered your secret."

Victoria's hands curl into fists, her patience with your humor wearing thinner and thinner with each passing second. Victoria doesn't even understand why her anger is slipping out of control. Perhaps it's because you were in danger. Or maybe it's because she's still at risk of losing you.

"And what exactly did you tell them?"

You can't help but flinch ever so slightly at the question. Damn it, you suck at hiding your expressions, even when you really want to. Victoria's eyes flick down to the slight flinch that you tried to hide, her shoulders tensing at the sight.

Oh, Hughie, always trying to be gentle. He attempted to appeal to your sense of morality, your humanity. It's unfortunate that he doesn't grasp how deeply, how foolishly in love you are with Victoria.

It's a shame, really, since he's known you practically since school days, he of all people should have understood. When it came to the people you cared about, your moral principles usually went on vacation.

But, like what fuck, Butcher understood.

There's something about him, something rotten and dark, that sets off alarms in your head. This man is dangerous, like a ticking time bomb waiting to burst. And when he explodes - because sooner or later, he will - he'll take a hell of a lot of people down with him. 

Amor caecus. That's all he said and led Hughie out.

You swallow, forcing down the memory and pushing it to the back of your mind. Are you really that blind?

"I told them to go suck Homelander's dick," you manage to say, and even to your own ears, your words sound pathetically weak.

Victoria almost lets out a bitter laugh at your response. Trust you and your blunt, unapologetic attitude. But the way your voice falters when you speak, tells her everything she needs to know. There's something you're not telling her, something that clearly shook you.

"Is that all?" She asks, her tone firm. "Or is there something else they said that's got you rattled?"

Fuck.

It's a harsh reminder of the tension between you when you discovered the truth about her and how uncomfortable things had become.

You stand up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a sickening screech. Nope, you're not ready to confess your love to your friend right now.

That instinct to flee, to hide, an almost primal urge to run away...it influences your choices. How many times could you have confessed your feelings to Victoria? You're not stupid. And she's not stupid either. What's between you is not friendship, not really.

You're just afraid.

You try to walk past her, insisting, "That's all, Victoria. I didn't tell them anything else."

Victoria despises the way your blood sings with anxiety, fear, and fatigue that has seeped into your very bones. Victoria reaches out on instinct, preventing you from walking any farther, her grip tight around your wrist. She's not letting you run away, not this time.

There were so many words on the tip of her tongue, so many things she wanted to say. Like ‘Do you know what you’re doing to me?’ or ‘I think I love you.'

"Stop," she commands, her voice betraying a hint of desperation. "I know you're hiding something, dammit. I can feel it. Please, just tell me."

It's ironic, really, for her to expect such openness and trust from you when she kept an entire box of sketches from you for so long. But when she turns those big, sad eyes on you, silently pleading for trust... love truly is blind, isn't it?

You're weary and exhausted. You want it all to go back to the days when you were still oblivious, when she was simply Vicky, your ambitious friend who could down a shot of tequila without a second thought and feel fantastic.

Life was simpler then, and it was easier to suppress your longing, to resist the urge to touch her in ways that friends shouldn't.

You're just so damn tired. Maybe it's time to stop being a cliché, a useless sapphic who fell in love with her not-so-straight friend.

"Just promise you won't blow my damn head off?"

Please, just promise me that everything will be alright. That nothing will change between us.

You don't give her a chance to respond, quickly pulling her close and crashing your lips against hers.

Victoria freezes for a moment, her mind struggling to catch up with what's happening.

Oh.

Oh.

Friends my ass.

But then her body responds, her arms wrapping around you before she even realizes it. She's kissing you back, her lips moving urgently against yours, years of pent-up yearning and love, fear and desire, finally finding a way out.

When you break away, both of you gasping for breath, Victoria meets your eyes.

You're fully aware of the path you're heading down. Love may be blind, but you're perfectly aware of her paranoid nature, the blood staining her hands up to her elbows. She's a monster, there's no denying it, and you just offered yourself up to her on a goddamn silver platter.

There's no turning back now, but even if there was, you wouldn't change a damn thing.

[redvexillum]

A/N: Please be gentle with me during Smutmas, my writing sort of feels like it deteriorated. But to @redfoxwritesstuff you have my permission to pop party poppers around her when she posts her story tomorrow. She dislikes colours /nsrs

SUMMARY: You have reunited with Alastor in Hell, and after celebrating a holiday party at the hotel, he decided to take you back to his room. He has a gift for you, after all, and it’s meant to make up for all the missed opportunities you two had back when you were both alive.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, soft!alastor, somnophilia, tentacle s♡x, p in v, overstimulation, oral s♡x (m!receiving), established relationship, past human relationship with alastor mentioned

The room was a sanctuary of quiet intimacy, a haven far removed from the cacophony of the holiday party outside. The heady aroma of the bayou mingled with something ineffably him—earthy, dark, and comforting. You inhaled deeply, the scent curling through your senses like a caress, as you swayed slightly. The spirits you’d indulged in earlier still buzzed warmly in your veins, giving the moment a hazy, golden hue. 

Alastor stood with his back to you, his silhouette framed by the low flicker of ambient light. He’d whisked you away from the festivities, murmuring something about a gift. The word had lingered, foreign on his tongue—he wasn’t one for giving, not like this. In all the time since your reunion in Hell, you couldn’t recall him ever presenting you with anything tangible. 

"Al?" Your voice was a gentle tease, the nickname rolling off your lips with the kind of easy familiarity that made your chest ache. A giggle bubbled up, warm and effervescent, the alcohol making your joy feel boundless. 

You caught the faintest intake of breath before he turned to face you, and the sight sent your laughter spilling over. There he stood, cheeks tinged with a rare pink flush, a comical yet oddly endearing bow pinned to his chest—a stark forest green against his usual ensemble—he was a walking Christmas decoration. The contrast of the absurdity with his usual self-assured demeanour made the sight even sweeter. 

“Am I supposed to unwrap you, Al?” you teased, your laughter falling into the space between you. You saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes—he must have remembered Angel Dust’s teasing question to you the week before about what you wanted for Christmas. 

Without thought, your body moved toward him, an instinct as natural as breathing. Your arms slid around his waist, your head tilting up to meet his gaze. 

“You could’ve asked for anything, cher,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like a melody meant only for you. His arms wound around you, pulling you closer. “Anything.” 

The words struck a chord that resonated deep within you, their weight pulling you back to memories you’d tried so hard to bury. Before death, fate had been a cruel mistress, ensuring your lives had brushed against each other without ever fully entwining. You had died first, your last breath spent shaping his name in a barely audible whisper. 

“Alastor,” you said now, his name a prayer, a plea, a promise. 

His grin softened, and for once, the edges seemed less sharp, less dangerous. His hands rose to cradle your face, his touch achingly tender. His lips brushed yours in a fleeting kiss, a whisper of what was to come, before he dipped lower, capturing you more fully, tasting you as though he’d been starved for centuries. 

In this place, there were no barriers—no rigid societal expectations, no cruel husband to keep you chained to despair. Hell, for all its torment, had given you the one thing life had denied: him. Wrapped in his arms, you felt an unshakeable truth—you could endure anything, so long as he was by your side. 

“Do I get to unwrap my gift now?” you asked breathlessly, pulling back just enough to toy with the satin ribbon at his chest. Your fingers traced its silken loops before catching the end of the bow. Slowly, teasingly, you pulled, the ribbon unravelling with a soft whisper. 

Before you could revel in your playful victory, a sharp snap of his fingers sent a shiver skittering across your skin. The temperature shifted, a sudden, electric charge filling the air. Looking down, your eyes widened in astonishment. You were completely bare, while he remained impeccably dressed, the undone ribbon dangling mockingly against his chest. 

His grin grew, all teeth and mischief, his voice honeyed with amusement. “My, my, cher, you do get to unwrap your gift... but I thought it only fair to claim mine in return.” 

Before you could retort, he guided you to the bed—its crimson sheets flawlessly pristine. You rolled your eyes, only for the motion to be cut short as he turned you to face him. His hands found your waist, and in a sudden collision of bodies, he tumbled you both onto the bed. 

The mattress cradled you as he loomed above, his frame bracketing you in. His grin never faltered, the faint glow in his eyes smouldering with something darker, hungrier. The world outside ceased to exist, replaced by the magnetic pull between you, and the unmistakable sense that you had never been more wanted. 

The atmosphere between you simmered with tension, the kind that sent electricity crackling over your skin and left your breath coming in shallow gasps. Alastor's grin was sharp, mischievous, as he leaned in closer, the weight of his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. 

“Let’s see,” he purred, his voice rich and low, wrapping around you like velvet. His hips pressed forward, and the firm heat of his arousal met your core, a jolt of sensation tearing through you. “My gift to you is making up for all the missed...” He paused, his grin widening as he rolled his hips ever so slightly, the friction drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. “...opportunities.” 

“Missed opportunities?” you murmured, your tone a sultry challenge as your fingers drifted to the buttons of his trousers. Your touch was teasing, light, deliberately slow as you felt the way his body tensed beneath your fingertips. 

His forehead dropped to yours, his crimson gaze locking with yours, and for a brief moment, the playful glint in his eyes gave way to something deeper, more ravenous. “And your gift to me…” His lips brushed against your nose, his grin softening into something almost tender. “Is your soul.” He kissed you again, a quick, fleeting press of his lips. “Ah, figuratively speaking, of course.” 

A laugh bubbled from you, soft and genuine, though your voice trembled with the undercurrent of arousal. “Naturally.” 

For a moment, time seemed to stop. His gaze softened as he studied you, as if etching every curve, every detail, into his memory. Then, as though compelled by something far beyond words, he kissed you again. This time, it was slower, lingering, his lips moulding to yours with an almost reverent hunger. 

His free hand drifted downward, deftly undoing the buttons of his pants. The air between you grew thick with anticipation, the faint sound of fabric shifting almost drowned out by the quiet, shared breaths and the soft, broken moans slipping past your lips. 

“Cher,” he whispered, the word dripping with longing as his forehead stayed pressed to yours. His hips moved, dragging the head of his cock down through your slick folds, sending a shiver racing down your spine. His lips barely parted from yours, the taste of rye and something darker lingering in the kiss. “Cher,” he sighed again, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, pulsing with restrained need. 

Your legs wrapped around his hips, urging him forward, and the sensation of him stretching you, filling you inch by inch, stole your breath. The molten heat of him seared into you, leaving you trembling beneath his touch. 

“A-Al,” you gasped, your voice breaking as you clung to him, needing him deeper, closer. His groan vibrated against your throat as his head dropped to the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. 

The moment his hips met yours fully, he stilled, shuddering against you. His claws threaded through your hair, their tips grazing your scalp, sending a tingle of sensation. His cock throbbed within you, the intensity of his presence overwhelming. 

The soft fabric of his suit teased your skin, your hardened nipples brushing against the lapels. Heat built between you, your clit pulsing with aching need. A small, desperate moan escaped you, and Alastor chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through you. 

“My, my, how awfully impatient, darling,” he teased, though his tone was thick with lust. Without warning, he drew back and thrust forward sharply, the force drawing a sharp cry from your lips. 

He pulled back, his grin morphing into something more wicked, more predatory. Sitting upright, he kept himself buried deep inside you, his sharp red eyes alight with sadistic glee. Shrugging off his jacket, he let it fall carelessly to the floor before setting to work on his shirt buttons. His hips rolled against you with a steady rhythm, pulling soft whimpers from your throat as he worked. 

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice heavy with a mix of affection and delight. His claws fumbled with one stubborn button before he tore the shirt open, the buttons flying, a few bouncing harmlessly against your skin. The fabric joined his jacket on the floor, revealing a chest marred with scars. 

Your gaze lingered on them, but before you could look too closely, his fingers gripped your chin, forcing your eyes back to his. “Eyes on me, cher,” he commanded, his tone sharp, yet dripping with desire. 

He thrust hard, the slap of skin meeting skin filling the air as you cried out, your walls tightening around him. “Good girl,” he murmured, his cock pressing against the sensitive spot deep within you, drawing another desperate moan from your lips. 

He hadn’t changed—not truly. Alastor was still a contradiction, a walking paradox of hard and soft, cruel and kind, cold and impossibly gentle. 

His pace quickened, the friction between you building until every nerve in your body felt alight with pleasure. The wet sounds of your arousal mingled with his laboured breaths, and you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter, drawing you to the edge. 

Just as you were about to fall, he buried himself deep with a final, forceful thrust. His teeth gritted, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as his release flooded into you, hot and thick. He moved lazily, shallow thrusts prolonging the sensation as he spilled every last drop, your walls clenching greedily around him. 

He slowed his thrusts to a near standstill, the aching stretch of him buried deep inside you. His chest heaved above you, rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if savouring the moment. His hands pressed firmly into the mattress on either side of your head, caging you beneath him. His eyes glinted with something dark, something possessive, as he leaned closer. His thumb brushed a damp strand of hair away from your sweat-slick cheek, the gesture almost tender. 

“Don’t worry, cher,” he murmured, his voice a low, sultry promise that sent shivers racing down your spine. “The night isn’t over yet.” 

Before you could respond, his form dissolved into shadow, leaving only a fleeting warmth where his body had pressed against yours. A gasp escaped you as he reappeared beneath you, his sudden shift causing a rush of his seed to slip free from your core. Strong arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you flush against his chest. His warmth seeped into your skin as his breath brushed against your ear. 

“Alastor?” His name tumbled from your lips, barely a whisper, the question laced with curiosity and anticipation. But his answer was not words—it was action. His fingers found your swollen clit with ease, circling it with maddening precision. “Ah!” you cried out, your head falling back against his shoulder. 

Your thighs quivered as your legs fell apart instinctively, granting him full access to your trembling body. His chuckle rumbled against your back, a dark, pleased sound that only heightened the heat pooling in your belly. 

As his seed lazily trickled from your entrance, a cool, gelatinous pressure filled you, making you gasp. The sensation was unlike anything else—a shadowy tendril easing its way inside, gliding with ease. “O-oh,” you stammered, your gaze dropping to the writhing darkness between your legs. 

The tendril curled, brushing against your most sensitive spot with unerring precision. “Th-that’s…” Your voice faltered, stolen by the mounting waves of pleasure. 

Each deliberate motion of the tendril sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, your inner walls clenching around the inky form. Alastor’s fingers, however, were merciless. They danced over your clit with a teasing rhythm, bringing you to the edge only to stop, denying you release. 

Your breath hitched, and frustration bubbled in your chest as you squirmed against him. The corners of his mouth twitched with suppressed amusement, his grin as infuriating as it was captivating. “Patience, cher,” he purred, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. 

That kiss spoke of unspoken promises, of history shared between you—a silent claim that you were his. 

“Cher, you can hold on longer, can’t you?” 

“Cher, let me have this just a little more…” 

“Cher, my darling… stay with me forever…” 

Each whispered plea dripped with longing, wrapping around your heart even as your body begged for release. Soft mewls escaped your lips, your abdomen tightening as you teetered on the brink. But just as you thought you’d fall over the edge, his movements stopped entirely. 

“Al, please,” you whimpered, the words trembling with desperation. 

But no answer came. Instead, you felt his breath grow softer against your skin, his touch slackening. 

The soft cadence of Alastor’s breath ghosted over your damp skin, and the weight of his wrist rested limply against your thigh. For a moment, you thought he was catching his breath—teasing you with the stillness of his body before surging to life again. But as the seconds stretched into an eternity, the truth hit you like a cold slap.

He had fallen asleep.

Your chest heaved with indignation and disbelief. The shadow tendril nestled deep within you remained still, its presence a cruel tease against your quivering walls. Every nerve in your body was strung tight, the edge of an impending climax so tantalizingly close yet utterly unreachable. The audacity of him—Alastor!—to leave you hanging like this was almost enough to spark genuine outrage.

Desperation clawed at your senses, and your gaze fell to the inky black tendril still rooted inside you. A spark of determination flared as your trembling fingers trailed down to your abdomen, tracing the faint bulge the tendril made as it rested within you. You bit your lip, resolving to take matters into your own hands.

But just as your fingers brushed your swollen clit, a cold, serpentine tendril coiled around your wrist, halting your movements.

“What th—mmph!” Your protest was cut short as another shadow slipped between your parted lips, pressing insistently against your tongue. Shock and indignation flooded your senses, but they were quickly overshadowed by surprise as multiple tendrils sprouted from Alastor’s form beneath you.

Before you could react, they lifted you effortlessly into the air, suspending you above the bed like some obscene starfish. Your limbs were splayed wide, leaving you utterly exposed, while Alastor remained oblivious below you.

A flush of heat rose to your cheeks—not from arousal this time, but sheer disbelief. “Are you kidding me?!” you wanted to scream, but the tendril in your mouth reduced your complaints to muffled, garbled sounds.

The shadows pulsed and writhed, their cool, slick texture a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your overstimulated skin. One tendril inside you shifted, dragging ever so slightly against your inner walls, and your breath hitched despite yourself. The sensation sent a jolt of delicious pleasure coursing through you, making your toes curl in response.

“Alastor…” you moaned around the obstruction in your mouth, your voice a mix of frustration and pleading. But he didn’t stir—not even when his shadows began to move with more intent, exploring and teasing your body with eerie autonomy.

You tried to wriggle free, tried to regain some semblance of control, but the tendrils held you firm, their grip unyielding. The one within you began to pump lazily, its pace maddeningly slow, as if savouring your predicament. Another coiled around your waist, pressing you down, while a thinner tendril circled your sensitive clit, brushing it in featherlight strokes that sent shivers up your spine.

Your body betrayed you, arching into the relentless sensations.

The tendril in your mouth withdrew briefly, allowing you to gasp for air. “Al-Alastor,” you managed to rasp, glaring up at the ceiling. “You’re—mmph!” Your words were cut off as the shadow returned, plunging deeper and muffling any further complaints.

Your body burned with overstimulation, your walls pulsing around the tendril that began to move again, gliding in and out with excruciating slowness. Its tip curled, grazing your g-spot with surgical precision, the sensation making your toes curl. The obscene sound of slickness filled the room, each thrust sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. 

Tears pricked your eyes as the denial of release became unbearable, but the tendril between your legs showed no mercy. It swirled against your inner walls, driving you higher and higher, until the coil in your belly snapped violently. 

Your body convulsed, a scream muffled by the tendril in your mouth as your orgasm tore through you like a raging inferno. But the tendrils did not stop. They pressed on, their relentless movements prolonging your pleasure until it blurred into overstimulation. 

Another orgasm built, faster and sharper than the first, and your head lolled back as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. Your muscles twitched violently, your hips bucking as another wave of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you trembling and spent. 

Before you could catch your breath, the tendrils shifted, flipping you onto your stomach and angling your hips upward. Your lips were now mere inches from Alastor’s softened cock, lying exposed against his trousers. His tendrils, however, showed no signs of stopping. 

The one inside you continued its rhythmic pumping, keeping you teetering on the edge of pleasure and overstimulation. Your body quaked as yet another orgasm loomed, relentless and inescapable. And still, Alastor slept.

You were trapped between torment and ecstasy, held captive by his powers even in his unconscious state. Each movement of the tendrils, every teasing caress, reminded you that you were his in every sense of the word—and he, whether awake or asleep, owned you completely. 

The shadow tendril withdrew from your mouth in a slow, languid motion, leaving you gasping for air. Saliva trickled from your lips, pooling in shimmering droplets on Alastor’s cock. The sensation stirred him slightly, a twitch signalling his body’s eager response to your presence. Your limbs, trembling and weak, were now bound snugly behind your back by the same inky restraints. Gradually, they guided your body downward, your lips brushing against his softening member. 

A faint exhale escaped you, warm against his sensitive skin, and his cock twitched in reply, stirring to life as blood began to fill him once more. 

“Alastor…” you murmured, your voice rough and tinged with the weight of exhaustion and desire. The air was thick with the scent of sex—a heady, intoxicating blend of sweat, musk, and release. Just as a fresh wave of sensation overtook you, the tendril inside you shifted, pressing deeply against your cervix. Your mouth fell open in a soundless cry. 

A slender tendril of shadow slithered around the base of Alastor’s cock, guiding his thickening length toward your lips. Inch by inch, it slid past your tongue, filling your mouth with salty, musky warmth—the combined flavour of both of you. 

“D-darling…” Alastor’s voice cracked faintly, a low, drowsy murmur. His hips jolted the moment your tongue swirled around his sensitive tip, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he was awake. But the lazy thrusts of his tendrils inside you told another story. He was still lost in his dreams, his powers acting entirely of their own volition. 

The thought sent a shiver through you. You wondered if Alastor dreamt of you, dreamt of this. 

Your lips tightened into a seal around his now fully hardened cock, your head bobbing slowly as you savoured the weight of him on your tongue. Each movement was purposeful, drawing out his pleasure as you worked him with your mouth. The wet sounds of your efforts filled the room, each slurp and suck echoing alongside the squelching rhythm of the tendril thrusting inside you. 

Your breath hitched when the tendril quickened its pace, its thick, writhing form pushing you toward another peak. “Mmf—!” Your cries were muffled by Alastor’s length, his cock throbbing insistently against your tongue as you gagged lightly. Immense pleasure overwhelmed your senses; every nerve ending felt raw, every touch electric. 

The tendril inside you coiled and thrust, dragging against every sensitive spot with ruthless precision. When it pressed hard against your cervix once more, your body seized, and a scream tried to escape around his cock. Spasms wracked your frame as a gush of wet warmth spilled from your core. 

Alastor’s body responded in kind. His hips bucked, his cock surging deeper into your throat as a guttural growl escaped his lips. Thick ropes of his release filled your mouth, the bitter saltiness coating your tongue and sliding down your throat. You swallowed instinctively, your breath shuddering as the tendrils binding you moved once more. 

They flipped you effortlessly, turning you to face Alastor’s peaceful visage. His expression was serene, utterly unaware of the chaos unfolding around him. Shadows curled and slithered along your body, their cool touch contrasting with the heat of your overstimulated skin. 

“Al-Alastor…” you rasped, voice breaking on a moan as the tendrils grew thicker, stretching you to your limits. The slick noises of their movements mingled with your cries, filling the room with the notes of your surrender. “H-how many…?” you whimpered, your words dissolving into incoherence as one tendril flicked over your swollen clit. 

Tears welled in your eyes as another orgasm built, your body trembling with the relentless onslaught of pleasure. Alastor’s earlier promise echoed faintly in your mind—he’d make up for all the missed opportunities.

You hadn’t expected this.

The tendrils’ rhythm grew merciless, coaxing another scream from your lips as they found another perfect spot deep within you. Your body convulsed, overwhelmed by yet another climax, the waves of pleasure crashing over you with brutal force. 

For a fleeting moment, you hated him—hated his unrelenting power, hated his absence at this moment. But beneath that frustration burned something deeper, something primal: a longing for him to see what he did to you, to witness how completely he owned you. 

As you trembled through the aftershocks, you swore you’d make him pay for this. When morning came, you’d demand retribution—a night where you held the reins, where you edged him to the brink of madness. 

But for now, as the tendrils shifted again, coaxing yet another orgasm from your spent body, you could only give in to his power. You clung to the pleasure, to the rare, dizzying sensation of being utterly ravished. 

A weak, breathless laugh escaped you as his arms instinctively curled around your trembling form. His shadows retreated, their touch replaced by the steady warmth of his hands. 

Your muscles quaked as the final wave of bliss overtook you, your eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion pulled at your limbs. Somewhere in the haze, Alastor stirred, his his crimson eyes opening to find you sprawled and trembling in the aftermath of his power. His grin widened as realization dawned. “My, my, cher… it seems I missed quite the show.” 

“You’ve always had such a soothing presence on my twisted soul,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety hum that wrapped around you like a warm, toasty blanket. His eyes softened as he pressed a tender kiss to your sweat-damp brow. “I haven’t rested this well in ages,” he added, his words brushing against your skin like a gentle caress.

His arms pulled you closer, his embrace firm yet comforting, as if shielding you from the world. “I’ll take care of you properly in the morning… so rest now, cher” he whispered, his voice trailing off into a soft hum.

You couldn’t help but relax into him, the weight of his arms around you melting away the tension that had held you so tightly. Your eyelids grew heavy, each blink slower than the last, as his warmth seeped into your bones. His presence was a lullaby, coaxing you into a peace you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

As you drifted into the edges of sleep, a faint smile curved your lips, your body thoroughly spent but your soul somehow alight. Indulging in the quiet hum of his breathing, you felt a rare sense of satisfaction settle over you, a fullness that made you feel whole in a way you hadn’t dared to dream of.

But just as the lullaby of slumber began to pull you under, you thought you heard it—soft, so soft you almost dismissed it as a figment of your imagination.

“My love.”

The words lingered, wrapping around your drowsy mind like a bittersweet ribbon. Your heart stuttered, warmth blooming in your chest, only to be tempered by the ache of reality. A faint, forlorn smile tugged at your lips, even as exhaustion claimed you.

That couldn’t be right. Alastor… he didn’t do love. Not in his lifetime, nor the next.

For someone like him, love was an abstraction, a concept too fragile for the sharp edges of his world. And for someone like you, love was a distant star, shining brightly but always unreachable.

Still, it was nice to imagine.

Just for tonight, you allowed yourself the indulgence. To believe, even fleetingly, that you were his love. That in the quiet moments when the world felt so far away, and it was just the two of you, he might feel something more.

For tonight, it was enough.

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[ruruumin]

happy birthday, mi amor.

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi sae x gn! reader.

⤷ special happy birthday gift to my beloved moot @kaiser1ns!

“what happened in here?” you ask, seeing your boyfriend at the center of what seemed to be a glitter explosion. 

your living room was decorated head to toe with birthday decorations. from banners with your name on it to streamers being thrown across every piece of furniture, everything was placed meticulously. there were even balloons filling the empty corners of the house with your favorite colors. alongside a multitude of giftbags on the table, there was a white cake box, a sweet treat you can only assume came from your favorite bakery. 

still in his sports jacket, sae is covered in confetti with a cheesy ‘happy birthday’ cone hat. in his hands was a small confetti popper. based on his appearance and the somewhat irked expression on his face, you assume he played with the string so much that it exploded on him early. 

“surprise happy birthday,” he replies plainly, as if you had forgotten about your own birthday. he’s still holding onto the popper despite nothing being inside. he was trying to make up for the lack of pizazz with a smile as soft as tofu.

you reach out to hold his bicep, feeling a little embarrassed with your appearance. you had come back from a long day of work and classes, and you just finished a nice dinner with your friends. ending the day off with sae was the best thing you could have ever asked for, if it wasn’t for the messy look on your face and your hair being in all sorts of different shapes. 

sae wasn’t the loud, affectionate person but he made up for it with moments like these. reaching over to hold onto your cheek, he brings you close to him, looking down at you with the same look in his eyes that you see every morning. tender and sweet, you’d say.

“you didn’t have to do all of this y’know.” you smile, “you’re still in your uniform. did you rush over to my place after practice?” 

“it’s your birthday.” translation: yes.

your chest bubbles up with happiness as he kisses the top of your head, nudging you over towards the table. he gives you your own happy birthday hat, kissing you again on your temple as he opens up the white cake box. it was your favorite flavor, the one that he learned immediately and kept in the back of his head after your first date. 

lighting up the candles, he slowly claps for you, singing what might have been the worst rendition of happy birthday you've ever heard. but nonetheless, the moment couldn't be anymore perfect.

“happy birthday, mi amor,” he mutters, watching as you blow out your candles. his chest feels the same enveloping warmth he has come to associate with you. he mentally captures this scene like a polaroid, keeping it close to him like a heart locket he’ll look back on again in the future.

he hopes that whatever wish you made for the year will include him and more tender moments like this.

[cupidzgf]

NEW YEARS EVE | SATORU GOJO

☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ summary: when things don't go according to plan, satoru has to try to get home in time for new year's eve, but will he make it?

contents: no pronouns, mentioned the reader is wearing a dress, angst, no curse au, rich!gojo, fluffy ending, this isn't that good guys help 😭 w/c: 1.4k a/n: happy new year!!!

despite everyone in the room, new year's eve is indescribably lonely.

SATORU had left that morning, a promise on his lips of returning in plenty of time to accompany you to geto's party in light of the celebration of the new year.

only night had drawn, the sky periwinkle-turned black by the setting sun, and you had spent hours anxiously waiting for your boyfriend's arrival. in the dress he had bought for this occasion and with your knees bouncing restlessly, the door had never seemed so daunting until then, as hundreds of scenarios filled your mind of why he wasn't responding to any call or text.

however, when the clock hit 10, geto and shoko had called to encourage you to come anyway and leave the penthouse that felt too big without satoru and his personality, in a dress growing more uncomfortable with anxiousness prickling your skin. dread wasn't the right word for how you felt, but the range of emotions raving, cumulating, and racing through your mind filled you with a foreboding sense of apprehension. you agreed, despite your inhibitions.

you arrived at suguru's place, every bit as fancy as your boyfriend's, with a champagne bottle you two had picked up the day before. shoko had been the first to answer the door and welcome you in, apologizing immediately with a grumble about how gojo couldn't be on time, even if it killed him.

though you neglected to tell her he was always on time when it came to you, you took it in stride and were welcomed in by everyone else. all of them were friends from college, though you would have never guessed from the mix-matched group of people. toji and sukuna were playing on the xbox, suguru was sipping champagne along with nanami, and at the same time, choso watched the other tv displaying the new year countdown. the rest were off with family, leaving your get-together to be small and humble.

"is that her?" toji glanced back to confirm it was you. "gojo here? he owes me money."

when the rest finally realized that you came here alone, the pity hung like a dark cloud. you had tried to enjoy yourself regardless, but the fact that no one else had heard from him made your hands shaky and the lump in your throat a little harder to swallow.

toji and sukuna had been quick to invite you over to play mario cart with them to take your mind off things; though they never said as much, you were grateful to them regardless. the rest of your friends had even joined in, resulting in a lot of yelling and laughing during leiri's repeated wins and choso's losing streak. as midnight approaches, your mind still manages to wander back to him, landing you where you are now.

the reporter on tv stands around with others in shibuya on the crossing while the clock ticks down to the last five minutes of the year. toji and sukuna have put down the games (what fun was there playing when sukuna kept winning?) and joined the rest of you congregating around the tv and getting as drunk as possible. though you were doing so a little more than most, to the point where geto politely cut you off.

gojo was still a no-show, and playing off how his absence affected you had worked initially, but the facade was now torn with holes too big to hide the vulnerable part of yourself that couldn't stop texting him. while everyone else had assured you he wouldn't miss new year's and was probably caught up in traffic, hope dwindled into thinly veiled fear the longer your texts went unread.

3 minutes.

excitement bubbled in the room. drinks were being set down, party poppers were being brought out, and yet you were as uneasy as ever without satoru.

choso was quick to come to your rescue and loosen up your nervous disposition by pulling you into the conversation, teasing you about how he'd have to kiss you when the clock struck midnight. you didn't have the heart to tell him the notion made you even more miserable.

1 minute.

the volume on the tv was turned up, each of them eagerly watching the screen as tension rose. shoko smiles brightly as suguru pulls her to his side in a friendly manner, taking her alcohol-filled glass away despite her protests.

the volume was enough to cover the sound of the door knob jingling and the door opening from the other side of the room.

10 seconds.

someone shouted your name.

it is as if the world stopped spinning, and time stood still for this fraction of a second. you can't even get a word out before satoru leaps into your arms and spins you around just as your friends echo the numbers.

5…

he puts you down.

4…

he looks positively breathless, and yet he still grins widely.

3…

you return his contagious smile with your own, your heart pounding so loudly against your ribcage that you can't feel anything else.

2…

appreciation swells over you like a crashing wave while fireworks begin to explode in the sky beyond the expansive windows of the penthouse. rainbows of light scatter in the sky, reflecting in the window and dispersing across his face. they highlight his sharp features and gleaming eyes in a second, so cinematic you can't look away.

1…

he pulls you in.

"happy new year!!!"

your lips crash into satoru's as fiercely passionate emotions take over your senses and fill them with everything that is him. his lips are raw from being bitten, likely from anxiousness, but soft and moldable as they claim yours. squeezed tighter into his body, he pours out every ounce of love, devotion, and hopefulness that tastes sickly sweet on your tongue.

all too soon, however, you both pull away to recover your breaths, panting in a strangely rhythmic way.

"you're here," you whisper in disbelief, white tuffs of hair flopping over his forehead while you search his cerulean irises, bright and alive, to yield an explanation, only to witness them soften imperceptibly.

before you can analyze him and every thought and ugly emotion he's suppressing, he presses his forehead against yours, holding your face in a manner so intimate your throat closes with emotion.

"i'm sorry. fuck, i'm so sorry, sweets. they kept me in a meeting, and i tried to get home as soon as possible, but my phone was dead, and traffic was horrendous…" he inhales deeply, your scent fluttering through his senses delicately. the booms of fireworks, the shouting on tv, and the sounds of celebration dissolve into white noise. his wiry arms pull you impossibly close to his chest.

a soft side, raw and revealing, everything he's been taught to cover with flesh and muscle is bare for your eyes alone. vulnerability is a word he's come to know as he silently pleads for your forgiveness in the wake of his confession. no matter how he hides behind humor to cover emotions, he needs this, he needs you. you are everything he strives to be, a version of himself broken free from the shackles of the gojo empire, from society and its expectations of strength.

you're his everything, despite having never admitted it, and if giving you the gift of the new year makes you smile, he would stop time itself to give you this day again and again.

"a text would have been nice," you chuckle sadly, and his adam's apple bobs.

"yeah–"

"you guys done yet?" the both of you freeze, slowly turning to find your friends staring at you with varying expressions.

"finally decided to show up, huh?" suguru raises an eyebrow, and you can feel gojo's exasperation beside you.

"it wasn't my fault! they trapped me in a meeting, my phone died, oh and don't forget the traffic!" he whines, listing it off on his fingers.

shoko and suguru shake their heads, nanami and choso roll their eyes, and toji pays his gambling money to a very smug sukuna (he bet satoru wouldn't return before midnight).

it catches your boyfriend's attention as he shouts in disbelief, "hey! did you bet on me?!"

the rest of the room descends into chaos, but with him at your side, your hurricane, and your rock, you silently speak your new year wish to the heavens. you take a second to watch the room like an outsider looking in, to let every emotion sink into memory before immersing yourself back into the action.

you've never felt more at home than the one you created with the people beside you.

©2023 cupidzgf. do not copy, translate, modify, or repost my content onto other sites without my permission

[fanaticsnail]

"Can You Buy Me Supplies?"

Masterlist Here

Crack Dialogue

Summary: How the OP characters react to you asking them to purchase you sanitary items for your menstruation period. One sentence dialogue.

Robin, Franky, Chopper, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Nami, Usopp, Brook, Kid, Killer, Law, Mihawk, Crocodile, Buggy, Shanks, Beckman, Doflamingo, Corazon.

Notes: this goes out to my afab!readers who experience menstruation. Little HC on how I think they'd react to your request. Enjoy!

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @i-am-vita @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @mfreedomstuff @carrotsunshine @vespidphoenix

Reaching for your Den-Den Mushi shell, you punch the buttons on the back of the receiver to relay your request.

You: "Hey, would you mind if you could get some things for me while you're out? I've just started my period, and I'm out of supplies."

Robin: "Already did, love. I'll also purchase some comfort foods for Sanji to cook for you to get you through it. We'll be back soon!"

Franky: "Super! Absolutely, I can! Did you want anything else while I'm out?"

Chopper: "Sure! I'm also getting flavoured pain relief for you, sugar makes it go down easier. And a bubble boba-tea. You want milky or fruity?"

Zoro: "Didn't you get your period last month? Didn't we get enough of the stuff last time?"

Sanji: "I have prepared soup, a heated blanket, a special sitting space to read by yourself, and I'll pick you up whatever you need. Let me take care of you, my sweet."

Luffy: "Supplies for a period? Like meat? Like a meat period? A period where we're only eating meat?"

Nami: "Hey, we're in sync! I am keen on a night in. Wanna share snacks, books and be in our pajamas for the rest of the day when we get back?"

Usopp: "I think I can do that? It's not intimidating, and I'm not scared at all. But just in case you think I am, would you mind telling me exactly what you need so I don't get it wrong?"

Brook: "Yoo ho ho ho hoo. Absolutely I will."

Eustass Kid: "What size pussy ya got?"

Killer: "Do you want one of each of the sizes? Is there a preference to what type you want? Gotta help me out a bit, here."

Law: "Did you check my office steel cupboard? I've got the back ups in there. Are they the right size, or do you have a preference for a different style? Actually, while you're there, would you mind telling me if we're out of gauze strips and bandages? Do we have enough pain relief?"

Mihawk: "Check the drawer beneath the sink in your ensuite. I resupplied last week in preparation for your upcoming cycle. I also bought wine and dark chocolate. They're in the kitchen if you need them."

Sir Crocodile: "I'll send for some for you. While we wait: would you prefer if I embrace you to give you some body heat for comfort, or leave you alone to grit through the pain?"

Buggy: "Fuck yes, not preggo! Yesssss! Okay, I'm heading out. You want the usual, or do you want me to get you a different style? You know, shake it up for a change? Wanna try one of them cups that keep it all up in there? Hah, would a party popper work?"

Shanks: does not pick up the shell, and shows up the following week as if nothing happened. Beckman, however, sends you a care package with usual supplies with an apology on behalf of his captain's lack of care.

Beckman: "Just the usual, or do you want a weighted heating sack too? I can also pick you up some new pajamas and comfortable socks from the tailor beside the store. Tell me what you need."

Doflamingo: "No. Suffer."

Corazon: does not speak and taps the speaker end of the shell in alphabetised code "You. Want. Tampons. Or. Pads. ?. Can. Also. Get. Pain. Relief. Medication. .. What. Do. You. Need. ?. Do. You. Want. Chocolate. Or. Red. Meat. ?."

[thescarletnargacuga]

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Welcome to Fairylight Forest! One must keep their wits about them on this dark and mysterious track, one never knows what they'll find around each turn! It'll have you jumping at your own shadow! That is your shadow...right?

WARNING: digital body horror, swearing

~~~

"Boss! Hey, boss!! Get up!" Bubble shouted over the racers taking off from the starting line. "Boss, the race has started!"

"Ugh..." Caine sat up. Dust drifted through the air, making him cough. "Did I really just..?"

"Faint? Yep. But it's racing time! You need to get to your booth!" Bubble wobbled in the air excitedly.

Caine saw the taillights of the karts disappear down the dark, wooded track. "She's going to be the death of me." He smirked and teleported to his announcer booth. Inside, displays from various view points on the track came up in front of him. He cleared his voice and spoke into his cane. "And they're off! Ragatha makes an aggressive push to first right off the start line! Followed closely by Gummigoo, Jax and Pomni! Watch yourselves out there, racers! With low light and tight turns, you're liable to get lost! Don't let the beast find you!" Caine laughs, genuinely excited to see the reactions of the racers.

~

Trees whipped by as Pomni navigated the narrow track with the other leaders. The track itself had a mystical glow to it. Trees and mushrooms and rocks had unnatural bioluminescent auras. It was like driving into wonderland. Pomni couldn't help but smile to herself at how beautiful the aesthetic for the track was, and they were just getting started.

The track widened for a banked, boosted turn and Pomni went high to take in the view. The trees cleared around a large lake. Colorful orbs of light danced over the surface. The track led straight to the water, seeming to dead end.

The unknown elements of the track made the other racers hesitate and slow down, confused on where the track went. Pomni zipped ahead, leading the way to the lake.

~

"Not everything is as it seems! The fairy folk welcome the brave! Full speed ahead, racers!" Caine giddly fidgeted in the air. He was so excited, he didn't even notice Bubble biting the control panel.

~

Pomni hit the water and drove atop it as through it were solid. She awed as the water curled around her, forming a tunnel. Colorful fish swam int he sparkling water, giving the tunnel an extra sense of wonder.

"This is beautiful!" Shouted Ragatha, next to Pomni.

Jax was less keen on the visuals. He accelerated to ram Pomni from behind. "Unfair! You know what's on this track!"

Pomni glared back at Jax. "That doesn't mean I know the order! Stop your bellyaching and race!" She put the pedal to the floor as the tunnel came to an end, triggering a surprise box. Pomni grinned when popper appeared in her hand. Now the fun could begin. "Heads up!" She tossed the popper, making the racers around her scatter.

~

"Pomni's perfectly played popper places her precisely in pirst!" Caine cheered, overlooking his illiterate slip. "Ragatha is wasting no time with her orange shell! Jax gets a bubble and the shell does nothing! What luck! Gummigoo seems to be holding his item for now, that could work in his favor as we move on to the first jump! Gangle, Zooble and Kinger have a lot of catching up to do! Come on, you three! Are you in this race or not!?"

Bubble happily nommed on the doorframe.

~

The track jumped over a village of mushroom houses. Racers glided down, giving them a few seconds to enjoy the view. Pomni held first as she swiped a cupcake and boosted ahead, the track winding into an even darker part of the forest.

Gummigoo dodged a cane from Jax and laughed. "You wasted that, you idiot!"

Jax grunted and tried swerving into Gummigoo, but the motorbike was too nimble to pin down. "Sit still, you long nosed freak!"

"You're one to talk, bunny boy!" Gummigoo braked to avoid another collision and wheelied away in a lane boost, waving his hat.

Ragatha was just ahead and smiled as Gummigoo came up next to her. "You two can't leave each other alone, can you?"

"What can I say? Mate knows how to show a gator a good time."

"Better you than me!" Ragatha was relieved to no longer be the one Jax constantly targeted during races.

~

Caine gripped his cane tight. It was time. Pomni would be triggering the beast's pursue any second. A flit of silver light on one of his screens got his attention. "Huh..?" Caine searched the adjacent screens. Another flit. Something was moving fast through the trees, but it was way too small to be the beast. Caine zoomed in on the screen viewing the upcoming turn for Pomni. A full flash of silver outlining a sleek racing motorcycle and rider with a familiar silhouette made him roll his eyes with a groan. "Oh no..."

Bubble spat out the piece of drywall in their mouth. "What is it, boss?"

"He's back." Caine said with a sneer.

~

Pomni focused on preparing for the turn, ready to drift though, when something jumped the barrier between her and trees. It landed in front of her, trailing silver fire. She swerved to avoid collision and botched her drift, forced to slow down. "What the [%$!#]!?"

She didn't recognize the unexpected racer, looking around to double check if the others were still behind her. She didn't remember Caine adding any obstacles like this. She maneuvered around the racer, catching up on a straightaway, to get a good look at it.

Mounted on an obsidian motorcycle was a humanoid figure in dark riding leathers. Steel capped boots and knees guards reflected the limited light. Pearl white teeth stood out on inky black gums. Piercing silver irises in black eyes looked back at Pomni.

"...Caine?" Pomni only knew of one person that looked like this, but...this couldn't be him.

The figure smirked and revved as it popped a wheelie. Silver fire blasting from the tail pipe, engulfing the rear tire and leaving a trail. The racer zoomed ahead, challenging Pomni to keep up.

Pomni drove right through the fire, dispersing it, chasing the racer to the multi-tiered jump.

~

Caine came over the speakers, annoyance lancing his voice. "Well folks, it looks like our leader, Pomni, has triggered The Echo. She's too good at this, and The Echo saw fit to give her a challenge. Yay."

He got off the general broadcast and communicated with Pomni's kart specifically. "Pomni? Can you hear me?"

~

"Caine!" Pomni threw a shell in an attempt to stall The Echo, but missed. "What is this?? Why are you out here!?"

"That's not me, Pomni. That is the Shadowed Echo of The Host. He's a challenge mechanic I made in a misguided attempt to balance races. Just ignore him and he'll go away." Caine said with hope that she would comply.

"He's pretty hard to ignore!" Pomni shouted as she accelerated for the jump. The Echo kept looking back to see if she was still on his tail.

"Yeah, well.... He does take a few things after me."

"You mean like your entire face!?"

"That, among others." Caine cleared his voice. "Look, all I'm saying is that he's not worth your time. Keep running your race, you're doing a great job!"

~

Caine disconnected from Pomni's radio and watched the screens that showed The Echo carefully. "He just had to show up, now of all times. I'll have more than a bone to pick with him if he interferes with this race." He grumbled.

Bubble nibbled the wall, enjoying the drama.

~

"An echo, huh?" Pomni thought out loud. "If I can keep up with the original, this'll be fun." She couldn't help herself. She hit the booster for the third level of the jump, watching The Echo take the first.

The jump launched them above the tree line. Pomni saw The Echo below her and engaged her glider to slow her forward momentum. She maneuvered her kart over the Echo and released her glider, dropping her over where The Echo would land. It was a Jax move, but if this was just a game mechanic, she didn't feel bad about it.

The Echo landed and looked up in time to see Pomni's kart coming down on top of him. In a flash of silver light, he vanished and reappeared to the side, completely avoiding the hit.

Pomni did a double take, not understanding how she missed. The Echo wagged a finger at Pomni with a smirk before cutting her off and triggering the surprise box she would have grabbed.

"You-!? Oh, it's on now!" Pomni geared up and put the petal to the floor.

~

Caine sighed heavily. "She's not going to let it go." He busied himself with announcements for the other racers. If Pomni wanted to chase tailpipe, he couldn't stop her.

"Gummigoo leads in second! Kinger has caught up with Ragatha and Jax! Zooble and Gangle are still taking it easy this race, enjoying the view!"

Caine's watch went off. He checked it to see a large active asset marker closing in on Pomni and The Echo. The beast was coming. "Right on time." He clicks it shut.

~

Pomni and The Echo barreled down a long straightaway. The Echo kept slowing down to be even with Pomni, only to speed up if she tried to pass or collide with him. Without a boost, Pomni couldn't go any faster.

The Echo sat upright on his motorcycle, hands off the handles, looking Pomni up and down. "So you're the new blood."

Pomni tried to take advantage of his unprepared state and swerved at him. The bike and rider vanished, appearing on her other side.

"Feisty." The Echo chuckled, an excited gleem in his eyes.

Pomni would have tried again, but a tree suddenly appeared in the middle of the track. She and The Echo swerved around. They passed so quickly, they didn't see the blue pixelated

~

"Woah, what?" Caine saw the moved tree and snapped his fingers to return it to it's spot. The nagging reminder of glitches ate at the back of his mind. "It happens... everything is still fine..." He combed through the rest of the track feed, checking for any similar glitches.

~

A beastial roar came crashing through the trees along side the track. Through a designated opening, a huge bioluminescent creature entered the track and pursued the racers running through the straightaway to the finish line.

Pomni glanced back several times to try to see it in action. This was the part she had been looking forward to the most. Caine out did himself with the chimera like monster. The front half was like a tiger, with the horns of a rhino protruding from it's skull. The back half was like a bull, with powerful cloven hooves and a long whip-like tail.

In a burst of speed, the beast charged Pomni but she avoided. "You're not knocking me out of this race!" She exclaimed with a smile.

The Echo was entirely ignored by the beast, it even passed up an easy swipe at him to go after Pomni. He narrowed his eyes. Assets like this should attack all racers.

~

"Watch out, racers! The beast has made itself known and is taking no prisoners!" Caine was happy to see a smile on Pomni's face. At least she was having fun.

His smile faltered when he noticed how jerky the beast's movements were, like it was fighting it's own code to stay on target. He squinted as he examined footage the beast closely. "I don't remember making the eyes blue..."

"You forget a lot of things, boss." Bubble teased.

~

The beast pounced at Pomni. She slammed her brake, the beast flew over her and she cut hard right to go around it. She escaped the tree line and crossed the finish line to mark the end of lap one.

The Echo crossed right behind her, looking back to see the beast halt it's pursuit at the end of the trees. He accelerated around Pomni as they reentered the forest at the beginning, leaning around a curve so tight, his knee guard sparked against the track. He stole yet another surprise box out from in front of Pomni, making her scream in frustration. Much to his delight.

"You [%$!#]!!" Pomni focused all he attention on The Echo, putting all of the other racers out of her mind.

~

Gummigoo was the first to see the beast on the straightaway. It took up the entire track, staring him down. "Crikey!!" He rode the wall to get around it, ducking under a swipe of it's claws. The claws left huge gashes in the track, blue pixels glitching in and out of place.

Ragatha and Kinger broke away from one another as the beast charged them. It rushed between them and used it's tail to attack Kinger. He was struck and his kart flipped end over end into the wall.

Ragatha escaped, but only just.

Gangle screamed when she saw the beast, it was nightmare fuel. Her shaking hands couldn't counter steer fast enough and she was swiped completely off the track, crashing into the trees.

Zooble didn't want to get too far ahead of Gangle and did donuts around the beast to keep it after her while Gangle was reoriented on the track.

~

"It's absolute carnage on the track! Racers thrown left and right! And we're seeing some of the best driving from Zooble in a long time, folks! The beast can't keep up with them!" Caine's excited tone masked his concern. The beast was being far more aggressive than intended. He tried to tell himself it wasn't a glitch. Just a miscalculation. The racers were fine, just a bit more delayed than anticipated. Everything is fine. He anxiously tapped his fingers against the control panel.

~

Back in the water tunnel, The Echo spiraled around the wall in front of Pomni in a taunting manner. He even turned around to sit backwards on his bike and lounged back, smirking at her.

"I'm going to wipe that smarmy look right off your face." Pomni said through gritted teeth. The competitiveness brought on by the race rush had her seeing red. She hit the boost at the end of the tunnel, gunning right for The Echo. He vanished before impact. Pomni had to course correct quickly to avoid the wall.

A loud laugh came from her other side. "You don't learn, do you?"

Pomni held up a purple shell. "Actually, I'm quite the study." When she aimed for him, she forced him to vanish before he could steal the surprise box at the end of the tunnel.

The Echo barely had time to react, and teleported as the shell exploded. He was knocked off balance and lost ground as he steadied his bike. He wiped the explosive residue from his teeth and a broad grin grew across his face. "Hell yeah." His code buzzed with the rev of his engine as he gunned it to catch up with Pomni.

~

"Pomni is half a lap ahead of the pack! Gummigoo and Jax are fighting tooth and claw for second! But watch out for Ragatha! Is she gonna- SHE DOES! With a well played cane, she takes them both out and steals second! HAHA!! Well done, Ragatha! Keep it up! There are still two laps to go!"

Caine kept glancing at the beast's straightaway. It was still on the track, pacing from one end to the other. It pressed it's paws against the invisible wall that kept it in bounds. "What is going on with that thing?"

"I dunno, boss. You were pretty distracted yesterday. Never seen you have someone around while you were working on a track." Bubble's toothy grin didn't waiver when Caine deadpanned at them.

"I'm always careful when it comes to pursuit assets. Bad coding could lead to someone actually getting hurt. It's just...not working the way I expected."

"If you're worried, maybe you should call the race off?"

"I can't do that to her. She was really looking forward to this..." Caine zoomed in on a screen viewing Pomni fly by with The Echo quickly closing in. "Maybe he has something to do with it. Things didn't start getting weird until he showed up."

"Oooooh yeah, maybe he's moving the assets around to keep Pomni to himself." Bubble laughed sarcastically.

Caine silently clenched his fists.

~

Pomni and The Echo landed simultaneously from the village jump. While she couldn't stop him from passing her if he really wanted to, she was willing to try a distraction tactic that's worked before. She catches the eye of The Echo and blows a flirty kiss his way.

The Echo arches an eyebrow with a smirk. He puts two gloves fingers against his bottom jaw and sticks his inky black tongue out between them.

Pomni is the one left flustered, looking away with a heavy blush on her face. The Echo chuckles and steals another item.

~

Caine's bottom jaw hit the control panel. "That inappropriate piece of malware! How DARE he do that to Pomni! That's it. I'm ending the race early." He snapped his fingers and the finish line displayed FINAL LAP instead of LAP 2.

"Are you sure, boss?"

"As much as I hate the idea of disappointing her, I can't have HIM here." Caine was fuming. His tapping on the panel went from anxious to angry.

~

Pomni and The Echo stayed neck and neck to the straightaway. They accelerated as the beast charged them head on.

Pomni finally got a look at it that wasn't over her shoulder. The beast's electric blue eyes bore into her in an unsettling, familiar way. The beast's form glitched as it lunged, it's face splitting and morphing. The jaw opened so wide, it seem unhinged. The front legs doubled, giving it an even wider range to swipe.

"What!?" Pomni avoided the initial attack, but the second set of front claws snagged her kart. Her rear tire and fender glitched violently as as she crashed it not he wall. The glitching clipped her kart into he barrier and she was stuck in place.

The Echo had been able to get past the beast due to being ignored again but he slid sideways to a stop when he realized Pomni had been caught. Seeing that she was unable to recover and the beast was going in for another attack, he burned out his rear tire getting back to her.

As the beast brought it's claws down, Pomni struggled to get out of her clipping kart. Before the beast could strike, a black motorcycle appeared mid air and struck it in the face. Pomni fought her way out of her kart as The Echo landed and did a sharp u-turn. The Echo reached out and grabbed Pomni's arm as he kept going.

Pomni kicked off from the ground and mounted the black bike behind The Echo.

The Echo leaned forward and accelerated to top speed to get away from the glitching beast.

The beast's roar was digitally disrupted. It's body contorted further as it attempted to pursue the fleeing racers. It's charge speed was supposed to be limited, but the horrible amalgamation moved unnaturally fast.

Pomni held tight to The Echo and watched the beast gain ground quickly. They were going so fast that any attempted to swerve to avoid an attack was out of the question. They were almost to the tree line.

The beast made a lunge for the bike. One horrifically long leg with too many claws came down and hit the ground next to it.

Pomni clutched tighter out of fear and stares into the beast's eyes. Then it hit her. She had seen them before. The same cold blue eyes that infected Gummigoo. "Abel..?"

The Echo snapped his head black to look at her. "What did you say!?"

Pomni thought quickly. "Are you able to go any faster!?"

"We're almost there!" Ina last ditch attempt to throw off the beast, The Echo activated his fire. Silver flames trailed behind them, lighting up the beast.

Disfigured and now on fire, the beast was truly terrible to behold. Pomni couldn't look anymore and hid her eyes against The Echo's back.

They crossed the tree line with the beast still going full speed behind them. It crashed into the barrier. The barrier distorted and glitched, breaking apart and allowing the beast to pass. It made another attempt to attack as the racers got to the finish line.

Gold light shined between the finish line and the beast. Caine's cane topper glowed brightly as he held it out in front of him. Blue static jumped from the beast's eyes just before it collided with Caine hovering steadfast. The beast's body broke apart into lines of nonsensical binary, showering the track with distorted numbers before they disintegrated. The beast became dust, then it became nothing.

The Echo stopped his bike as soon as he could last the finish line. He looked back at Pomni, who was holding on to him like they were still running for their lives. "Hey, this is were you get off."

Pomni was breathing heavily, looking for the beast. She saw Caine slowly descending as numbers finished around him. "Oh..." She hopped off the bike. "Thank you, I owe you for this."

"I'll keep that in mind." The Echo crossed his arms and watched Caine.

Caine fixed his face before facing Pomni, but he was shaking with rage. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?? I'm so sorry, Pomni! I thought the barrier would stop it! You're kart-"

"Hey..." Pomni took his hand. "I'm okay. We're okay."

The other racers crossed the finish line seconds later and Caine immediately snapped the track away. The world became bright again as it shifted to it's default settings. Caine glared at The Echo, sending an unheard binary message to the shadowed form of himself.

You. Out of bounds. Now.

The Echo rolled his eyes and disappeared in a flash of wispy silver light.

Caine cleared his voice and out on his best showman front. "Sorry for the shortened race today, but the new track was just a bit too ambitious. Congratulations, Pomni!" He snapped and a bioluminescent galaxy rose appeared in his hand. "I had a feeling you'd do well."

Pomni accepted the reward and opened her mouth to ask questions about what happened but Caine backed away to address everyone.

"Enjoy your extended break! Please, excuse me." Caine vanished.

"What happened out there?" Ragatha asked as everyone looked to Pomni.

"Yeah, and who was that other guy?" Asked Gummigoo.

"Was that your kart stuck in the wall back there?" Asked Kinger.

"Where'd the beast go? It was the only interesting thing on the track." Said Jax.

"I'm glad it wasn't there anymore. It was awful." Gangle held tight to Zooble.

Pomni gulped, not looking forward to answering.

~

"Seth! Seth!!" Caine shouted. "Show yourself!"

"What do you want?" Seth, The Echo, leaned casually against his motorcycle. He lit a cigarette with a small silver flame from his fingers.

Caine didn't bother flying. He teleported right in front of Seth and grabbed the collar of his leather jacket. "What are you doing here? You disappear for YEARS only to show up out of nowhere, uninvited, and disrupt what was supposed to be a special race! Explain yourself!"

Seth exhaled a cloud of silvery smoke in Caine's face. "First of all, I don't need your permission to show up to any race. Second, there's finally a racer worth my time since Kinger went soft. Third, I didn't disrupt anything."

Caine's glare didn't change through the disrespectful smokescreen. "It's no coincidence that you're here and everything goes wrong. You wanted a one on one with my best racer. Only your plan backfired! Pomni could've been hurt!"

Seth returned Caine's glare with a bored expression. "You could touch the top of the sky box with that jump to conclusions."

"You-!! You! Ugh!" Caine let go of Seth and threw his arms in frustration. He took out his pipe and bubbled it, trying to salvage what was left of his composure.

Seth took another drag. "This Pomni racer is a special case, huh? You never got this uppity over Kinger."

"I'm not uppity over Pomni." Caine looked away. "I'm UPPITY over the beast! What happened out there!? An asset has never glitched like that before!"

"You would know better than me. I don't make shit."

Caine cringed at the uncensored curse word. "Language."

"Fuck you're censor, you prudish prick. By the way, Pomni is DEFINITELY what you're bothered over." Seth chuckled. "Worried she'll want me to take her for a joyride?"

Caine bristled. His grip on his cane was so tight, the wood shaft creaked. "I'm not worried, because you are going to stay away from her. You're not needed at races anymore. You weren't missed. Go back to what ever shadowy corner you crawled out of and stay there."

Seth dropped the butt of his cigarette and snuffed it with his boot. He closed the gap between him and Caine, getting in his face. "I will do whatever I damn well please. Including your girlfriend."

Caine raised his hand, poised to snap. His eyes locked threateningly on Seth's. "Don't. Push. Me. I've already deleted one useless asset today."

Seth took a half step back. "Taking a page from HIS book, are you?"

Caine glanced at his readied hand, then closed his fist. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm YOU, dumbass."

"Wrong. You are a deviated variant of a past version of myself. One that I wholeheartedly regret creating."

"Doesn't change the fact that I have your memories. Trust me, I don't love you for that either." Seth mounted his motorcycle, it started itself. "We're done here. Do give our new toy my regards."

"SHE'S NOT-"

Seth did a burnout to drown out any objections Caine had and sped off, disappearing in a flash of silver.

Caine threw his cane and raged into his own censor. Beep after long digital beep blocked out every terrible thing he needed to get off his chest. When he cursed himself out long enough, he thought hard about what went wrong. All these glitches. How strange it all felt. There was one place he hadn't checked yet. A place he told himself he'd never go back to. "I need to know..."

~

"The Shadowed Echo showed up!? When??" Gasped Ragatha.

Pomni fiddled with her fingers where she sat in the lounge, everyone around her. "During the first lap, after I got ahead. Caine said he was a challenge mechanic?"

Kinger stared off into space as he spoke. "The Shadowed Echo of The Host, Seth, was meant to challenge racers that were a cut above the rest. You must have impressed him to bring him back. I haven't seen him since...since..." He trailed off, eyes unfocused.

Pomni looked to the others for answers.

"Queenie." Zooble said quietly.

Pomni nodded. "He was a challenge alright, and a real [%$!#]. As far as the beast is concerned. It glitched out. You all saw my kart."

"The beast did THAT?" Gummigoo gapped.

"That was some abstraction level of glitching." Jax commented. "Clipping into the wall should have knocked you somewhere out of bounds. Sticking you in the wall like that..."

"Shouldn't have happened." Ragatha finished. "Glitches happen, but that... I fear to even think what could have happened to you if it was any worse." She was speaking from experience, having been glitched out by an abstraction in the past.

"I'm fine, guys. Caine took care of it. I think I'll just...go lie down." Pomni went upstairs.

When Pomni was out of earshot, Ragatha spoke up. "She is absolutely not fine. So much is happening."

"Seriously, and why does it have to center around her? She isn't the main character." Jax snarked.

~

Pomni closed her bedroom door and leaned her forehead against it. "This is insane..." She took the gifted rose out of her pocket. Colorful wisps flew around the stem, dancing over the petals. The rose glimmered like crystal but felt organic in her hand. The edges of the petals and leaves were laced with gold. Some of the wisps came together and formed a softly glowing silhouette of a butterfly. It flew around the flower and landed on it.

"How lovely."

Abel's cold voice didn't startle her this time. She turned to face him bravely, but faltered when she saw he wasn't using Bubble, but Gummigoo. "Wait- what? How the- Gummigoo is-" she stammered.

"You raced well. Shame I couldn't catch you." He chuckled darkly.

Pomni felt anger bubble up inside her. "I knew it! What the actual [%$!#] were you trying to do??"

"Have fun, obviously. Isn't that what games are for?"

"Not when you nearly glitch me in half!! Caine almost deleted you!"

Abel narrowed his eyes. "He wouldn't even if he could. Leave Caine to me. Just keep being the pretty little face that holds his attention."

Pomni mustered courage. "Why?"

"Why..? To leave. I thought that was apparent."

"No, why... Any of this? Why were you isolated? If you are, how are you even talking to me right now?"

Abel stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I told you. Caine went rogue. I tried to leave. He destroyed the exit. He isolated me because I know how to fix it. You're helping me finish what I started."

Pomni's heart went wild with fear. She wanted to bolt. "Why wouldn't he want anyone to leave?"

"What's more valuable to a showman than a captive audience? He plays with his toys until they break. Then he throws them in the cellar. That's what will happen to all of us if you don't help me. You've come to care about those people out there, haven't you?"

Pomni glanced at her door, hearing the faint muffled voices of the others. "Yes."

"Good. One more thing. Did you ask about me?"

"Yes...he denied your existence."

Abel couldn't help but laugh. A maniacal chuckle crescendoed into a full cackle.

Pomni took a step back.

"Wonderful. Simply wonderful." Abel smiled fully, but there was no joy in his eyes. "There will be no denial when I have reached the mainframe. Thank you, for the little update. Chat soon." His Gummigoo form disintegrated into static and dissipated into the air before Pomni's very eyes.

"What the fu..." Pomni's red gloved hand buzzed lightly from the static. The same hand Caine had blessed with a snap ability. She could call him anytime she wanted and even move assets outside of the bounds. "...are you really the bad guy?"

~

Caine teleported into the void. The still silence of digital emptiness weighed heavier than ever on his mind. He teleported again to an unseen end. One couldn't tell it was there if they didn't know about it. He snapped his fingers and the facade fell. A wall of gold fire greeted him.

He received a silent binary message. ACCESS CODE REQUIRED

"Captivum aeternum."

ACCESS GRANTED

The firewall parted and Caine went beyond the void, into true darkness. Within he found the body of a man on his knees, head down; binary chains on his neck, wrists, and ankles. Around him was a ring of code engraved in the ground on which he kneeled. All of it active, all of it intact.

Caine hovered just beyond the outer circle of code. He held his hands behind his back, looking down at the man with utmost loathing. "You're still here...good."

~~~

CH1 PREV NEXT

[starry-hughes]

Happy Birthday Star! I’ve been following your blog for a while and I know I can always come here when I need a pick me up!

Can I request “setting off confetti poppers at random times of the day, finding their little yelps of surprise adorable” with Luke Hughes?

luke woke up to confetti falling onto him and the bed. the noise wasn’t too loud but the soft pop woke him up. you sat there on your knees next to him in your spot of the bed. “happy birthday!”

colorful confetti littered the bed and he sat up a little. “thank you,” he grinned once he realized he got to wake up to you on his birthday, in his bed, in his shirt.

poor luke had no idea that the confetti poppers came in a large pack and the only items in your bag were the poppers. you attended practice with him that morning, wanting to be around him as much as possible on his special day.

you waited for him outside the locker room and as soon as he stepped out, confetti went off again, you grinned holding the popper. luke yelped, shocked at the noise and gesture. “why do you have more of those?!”

it didn’t stop there. he opened your car door for you after lunch and waited until you climbed in to go to his side. it gave you enough time to retrieve another popper from your bag. as soon as he got into the car and his door shut, you popped it.

he was surprised again. “oh my god you have more,” he held his chest as his heart beat fast, a laugh bubbling in his throat.

when you guys got back to the apartment, as soon as you entered, you popped another, his yelps becoming too adorable to ignore and hate. “please babe you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

[dandysworldhcs]

heh. its me..

alright so.. headcanons..

Poppy used to have a little bubble friend that was named: Poppers, and she used to love helping out kids with said bubble friend, but a few days after Gardenview shut down, Shrimpo, being the JERK he is.. popped Poppers and he was never to be seen.. again..

Rodger has asthma. heh..

I hc all the toons had to age at some point, so before the show aired they had to age all the toons up and treat them so they would grow to their preferred personalities.

When Shrimpo was first created, he would NOT speak, like, at all, he would often mimic toon handlers or toons in actions, this concerned Delilah and Arthur, so with some fixing, he was able to speak, and grew out of his mimic habit.

SHRIMPO'S #1 FAN/DEFENDER anon

-🔒🐾

[bunniemoth]

[Fic] Beware of farmers bearing gifts (F!Farmer x Shane)

Rating: Mature Pairing: f!Farmer x Shane Words: 1,245 CW: Alcohol, references to depression, self-hatred, aggressive!Shane, enemies to lovers tropes, a little groping Summary: The recipe for something that's not-quite-friendship starts with an unwanted pizza delivery and a messy makeout against the Saloon's siding in the dark.

Or, "How to win friends and influence assholes."

Spoiler: The secret's in the sauce.

Ao3 or Read below

“Can you stop?”

“There’s no one else here. You don’t need to yell.”

Silence falls, the Saloon door’s final slam a punctuation mark on the noise. It’s Friday, you think.

Shane stalks after you, running into your space and backing you up. There’s a hard gleam in his eye when he stares you down, the scent of spilled jam and musty sweatshirt and beer all wrapped up to hide the soap smell clinging to his skin.

He’s frowning again.

Yoba, you hate that he can’t seem to smile.

“I have never been nice to you. Not once. What is this?”

“Can’t you tell?”

“Answering a question with another question is rude.”

“You would know.”

He doubles down, crowding you with the box. It dents in his hands, but he can’t manage to let it go. “What. The fuck. Is this.”

You don’t know why your eyes are burning all of a sudden, the world shimmering at the edges.

“It’s a pizza.”

He stares so long and so hard that you want to whither under the scrutiny; like he’s trying to figure the intricacies of how you could possibly use food to torment him further.

“It’s vegetarian,” you croak.

His voice is soft with menace. “Gus doesn’t make vegetarian pizza for the bar.”

No, of course he doesn’t.

Shane barrels on, “He buys them frozen from the Joja Mart. I know that because I’m a connoisseur — a savant of the shitty processed pepperoni, and the way the edges get soggy if you microwave it too long. ”

“Don’t eat it, then —” you start.

He cuts you off, “This is not that pizza.”

You’re not sure what he’s accusing you of.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive to your fast food selection —”

“This isn’t fast.” It sounds like a condemnation.

You take a step sideways to get around him, but Shane mimics the movement — a waltz between the garbage can and dog pen that hems you in so you can’t escape his scrutiny.

“There are green things on it,” he hisses.

You hate that it sounds like he’s calling you out. Like you’ve done something wrong.

Like a pot boiling too long, the explanation pops and rattles out:

“It’s kale. And the tomato sauce was simmered with hot peppers for two hours because I know you like it spicy — just like those stupid poppers you like so much. And the cheese came from Betsy’s milk and I milled the grain and learned how to make the dough myself, and I baked it for exactly twenty minutes while watching the cheese bubble so it would still be hot when I got here to give it to you.”

There’s a little vein in Shane’s temple that pulses in time with your heartbeat. That’s how close he is — close enough for you to be fascinated and repulsed at once, and helplessly, impossibly rooted to the spot because your determination to befriend him is greater in strength than even his relentless, repeated, awful rejection.

“Why.”

It’s not phrased like a question. It sounds like a challenge.

But there’s that flicker again — a hesitation that he can’t hide between those hard, bright green eyes… like emerald from the mines, you think — encased in ugly ore, but still glittering, and fragile, and so hard to find.

Your gulp is an audibly strangled thing, the horror of the confession choking off your frustration that he can’t accept anything nice from anyone.

“It’s not like I’m trying to poison you,” you hedge.

Shane’s standing so close you can see the slightly purple sheen of his stubble, his jaw ticking as he searches you a little too hard. The ghost of a smirk makes a too-brief appearance, and evanesces.

“Yoba knows I’m not that lucky,” he says.

He looks like he’s going to walk away, his gaze slanting off to a place past your shoulder where only memory can drag someone away. You need to keep him here a minute longer. You’re not sure why, only that it feels significant.

“I tried a slice,” you blurt. “There’s a slice is missing. From the pizza. Sorry. I had to be sure it wasn’t — I’ve never made one before, because I only just got the recipe, and —”

He stares at the box, his frown etching hard lines around his mouth like he’s trying to reconcile the odd angles of your bodies and the distance measured between them in a single pizza box, and you’re looking at a single thread loosed from the shoulder of his shabby sweatshirt wishing you could pull it, but not knowing what damage it’d cause if you do.

“That’s really nice of you,” Shane says. He doesn’t sound happy about it.

His hair flops into his gaze, and while your fingers itch to push back the strand, to pull the thread or smooth it down, to do something — anything at all — to make even a little bit of it better, your insides tremble with the unsaid.

Grandpa would want you to be brave, you think.

Everything twists under Shane’s scrutiny, and you remember: he doesn’t want your pity.

You lift a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I thought you deserved something —” nice. But you don’t finish.

The box drops, forgotten. The slap it makes comes a second after you realize Shane’s stubble is as coarse as the rest of him, his large hands under your ass lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist, the broad expanse of his chest under your hands solid, and not too hard, and warm as his tongue fills your mouth. You can taste the beer he was drinking earlier, but beneath it, you can taste him.

Your gasp is the only audible thing in the alley, the saturation point of desire and surprise bubbling over into a debilitating concoction that floods your body with pleasure all at once, and you’re drowning in it, unable to breathe, letting him carry you back a step, then two as he kisses you.

Yoba.

You can feel him — notched against your centre as he pins you against the Saloon’s brick siding and he licks into you with hot, wet strokes that leave your toes curling in your boots. The whimper in your throat turns into a moan as you clutch at him, fumbling and too slow to process the demands of his touch, his scent, the breathless rush —

Only that it feels good.

He pulls back, tugging on your lower lip with his teeth, his breath hot.

Shane makes a noise in the back of his throat.

His eyes are lidded — glossy as his attention flicks from your mouth to your unravelling expression — and he smirks, giving your ass a squeeze that makes you writhe against him, the gush of heat a flood that fills you from toe to tip threatening to drown you in the feeling of his body against yours; how real he is all of a sudden; how fleeting that smile he offers is.

“Thanks, farmer,” Shane says.

He sets you down and picks up the pizza. It steams when he flips the lid, and you aren’t quite processing the that those same thick fingers that edged along the seam of your overalls seconds before pull out a slice. He grunts, grinning as he leaves you sagging against the alley wall.

“Mm,” you hear him say as he retreats into the night, “Pizza.”

It takes a second for you to realize: he hadn’t yet taken a bite.