#Cart writes

[whatacartouchebag]

“Lunch?”

“Are- are you... inviting me to-?”

“No, you idiot, it's Thursday.”

The record playing softly in the background scratched sharply to a stop, as did the rest of Aziraphale's thoughts.

“... wait, but it's...” he began in meek defence, gaze darting to his desk where a small calendar sat. It proudly proclaimed the date, and the angel could only stare at it in betrayal.

“Ah. So it is...” His gaze flitted across a couple of other trinkets and books and shelves and anything else he could find on the way back to briefly flash a smile of safety at the demon that hadn't moved so much as an inch.

“You forgot.”

~~~

A slightly belated birthday gift for one @renabe4life whomst I love and adore so very very much ♥ Also my first foray into writing these two, so please be gentle!

Reblogs and comments appreciated ♥

[whatacartouchebag]

This is why I love keeping this lil screenshot around for posterity:

That's the date of my earliest and oldest digitally recorded fic. I probably have some older journals kicking around somewhere with older stuff in them, but eh.

Is this particular fic good? Lmao no, absolutely not. But like @author-a-holmes mentions, there's still a lot of me in that document from when I was finding my writer's feet. I see world building; I see tangible plot wanting to pop out; I see some ideas that were perhaps too big for early teen me, but at some point were held onto and recycled for later use.

It also makes for a fun exercise to revisit stuff years later down the track to see if you can still capture that exact scene how it looks in your head, or hear that dialogue spoken in that precise fashion with that specific lilt and emphasis.

I just reada really good fic but halfway through I realized "oh shit this is really familiar.... didn't I write something like this once?" And as I kept reading I kept predicting what happened next and the further I went the more convinced I was that they'd ripped off my story-

like, copied the ENTIRE plot and re-written it, just better than I had? The characters were more fleshed-out than mine were, and the POV was more interesting, and the pace made more sense- but it was MY STORY?

So close to the end I was like "holy shit.. do I message them? Ask if my story inspired theirs? Should I be angry? Flattered?" Cause their tags and description didn't mention me AT ALL, which, sure, it's fanfiction to begin with, but if you're using my work than at least credit me as inspo, right? Just to be courteous?

But I get to the end of the final chapter, and it's not finished, and I'm kind of disappointed cause I never finished my story and I was really immersed in their version now and had been looking forwards to seeing how they tied up my loose ends- so I scroll to the bottom to leave a comment, and.

It's MY URL.

IT WAS MY STORY THE WHOLE TIME.

THE ONE *I WROTE*.

In *2013*.

And FORGOT ABOUT

BECAUSE I WAS SO INSECURE ABOUT MY SLOPPY, SHALLOW, AMETEUR WRITING

And I'm just sitting here now staring into space thinking about every shitty story I've ever written now like

IT WAS ALL GOOD?

IT WAS GOOD THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME??

I'M A GOOD WRITER?????

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[keys-hellscape-1020]

Sharing a Blunt with them

A/N: I honestly feel like out of all of them Tim would be the only one to smoke butttt this is fiction and I do what I want so I hope you all enjoy. Also I went to my first ever county fair today and I got licked by a cow. I can die happy now.

Dick Grayson x gn!reader, Jason Todd x gn!reader, Tim Drake x gn!reader

Content warnings: Weed, descriptions of getting high, Jason’s and Tim’s get smutty (my bad), oral sex (but it’s not detailed)

————

Dick Grayson

So this man would only get high if he’d been with you for a while. At first he out right refused to do anything with you, which you had respected. Over time however he sees how it affects you and he gets… curious.

It’s a lazy Saturday evening, Dick had gotten some of his many siblings to cover his patrol for him so he could take the night off with you. He’s watching you roll a blunt when he speaks so softly you can barely hear him.

“Could I try it?” He asks softly, watching the way you roll the paper with practiced precision.

You blank for a moment, stopping your movements as you glance up at him. When you’d first gotten together he’d been adamantly against doing it, and yet here he was… asking for a hit.

“Sure.” You say softly as you finish rolling it. You reach for a lighter and let the flame lick against the end of the blunt. You take a small hit and exhale into the air above you before passing the blunt to Dick.

“You ever hit anything before?” Dick shakes his head dumbly, like all thought had left his brain just from thinking of getting high.

“Alright.” You say as you gently guide his hand, and thus the blunt, towards his mouth. “Just suck on it like a straw for a half second, and then take a deep breath in.”

He hesitates a moment, looking at you for confirmation. When he gets it in the form of a gentle nod from you he follows your instructions and inhales carefully.

You wait a moment before pulling his wrist back, not wanting him to get to high right off the bat. You watch as he exhaled shakily, hesitating a moment before keeling over in a coughing fit. “Shit, sorry baby I forgot to warn you about the coughing.” You exclaim, rubbing his back gently in an attempt to soothe him. “You’ll be okay. Just breathe through it babe. Just breathe.”

It takes a few moments but he does stop coughing, and when he sits up he has a slightly glassy look in his eyes. “Holy shit.” He mummers. “I didn’t think that’d do anything.”

You can’t help but laugh gently as you take another hit, still gently rubbing his shoulder. “You okay baby?” You ask as you exhale, smoke billowing out of your mouth as you speak.

He nods, gazing upon you in what seems to be awe. “I uh- I really didn’t think that’d do anything.” He repeats and he leans forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder. You run your fingers through his hair as you finish off the rest of the blunt, Dick sitting still against your side.

As you finish off the blunt and toss the end into a nearby ash tray you carefully refocus your attention on the pile of vigilante that’s glued to your side. “You sure you’re okay baby?” You ask carefully, getting a half awake nod in response.

In the future when Dick gets high with you it goes much the same, he takes one, maybe two hits and he is out for the count. He gets clingy and touchy while high, not capable of doing much outside of craving skin contact and rambling about how pretty you are. Give him some water and don’t leave him alone until he’s more or less sober again and he’ll be just fine.

Overall, as long as you know what you’re doing, 7/10 to share a blunt with.

————

Jason Todd

This man has gotten high before, but he only does it once in a blue moon when he’s really stressed and his options for stress relief are either getting high or brutally killing someone. He knows it’s not healthy, but that’s never stopped him before. And besides, he still feels it’s better than the alternative.

I feel like the first time you get high with him would be on a stormy night, you’re lounging in bed in one of Jay’s T-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. You’re on your phone, waiting until your common sense kicks in and tells you to put it down and go to sleep.

You’re lazily scrolling when you jump out of bed due to the sounds of crashing, stomping, and cursing coming from your living room. You carefully creep down your dimly let hallway, the baseball bat you keep under your bed gripped tightly in your hands.

You visibly relax at the sight of Jason in your living room, Red Hood helmet thrown on the floor and fiddling with something in his hands.

“You’re back early.” You say softly, resting your baseball bat against the wall as you walk behind him, resting your hands on his leather-clad shoulders.

He makes a vague grunt of acknowledgment at you and you peer over his shoulder to see what he’s doing. You stare in shock when you see him rolling a blunt.

“Uh, you gonna smoke that Jay?” You ask blankly, your grip on his shoulders loose in shock.

“Well I’m not messing with this shitty paper for fun.” He grunts quietly, laser focused on what his hands were doing.

You hop over the back of the couch to land next to him, resting your head on his shoulder as you watch him finish rolling the blunt, light it, and take a long drag. He exhales deeply before offering it to you.

You take the blunt and take a drag before passing it back to him. “Didn’t know you smoked Jay.” You mumble, pressing yourself against his side. He responds by leaning against the back of the couch with a groan, wrapping his arm around your shoulder while man-spreading shamelessly.

“Not normally.” He explains as he takes another hit. “But people were being fucking stupid today.” As he speaks his arm tightens around you slightly

You let out a hum of acknowledgment as he hands you the blunt, taking another hit as you look him up and down thoughtfully. “I could help take your mind off that.” You comment, already moving to lower yourself between his meaty thighs.

If this man is getting high, you know he’s very stressed. Give him some sloppy head and let him rut into you tiredly to help take his mind off it.

Overall 8/10 to get high with.

————

Tim Drake

Now this man is a whole different story, this man gets high at least 3 times a week. He comes home from a hard patrol? He’s pulling out a cart and taking a blinker before researching his latest case (he’s a firm believer he does his best work while blasted).

You want to spend a night in and get high? Sign him the fuck up. He’s not really a fan of blunts, he says they’re too much work, but he only gets the best of the best quality carts.

He’s fun to get high with too, he’ll lay across your lap, eyes tinged red as he takes another hit and coughs out a laugh before going on a rant about moth man and how he’s about 47% certain that’s he’s real. Say anything that vaguely sounds like a contradiction and he’ll launch into a rant about how you’re supposed to be on his side (all the while practically trying to bury himself in your skin).

Oh and you’ll be in for a long night if you get clingy while high. You lightly run your finger tips over his hip bone, trace a finger nail over the muscle of his arm, practically anything, and the next thing you know you’re on your back, your pants are nowhere to be seen, and you’re getting head so good you’re seeing stars. Tim normally has something to prove, Tim while high sees nothing wrong with showing you just why he’s the best. And if you can barely walk tomorrow? Well that’s just an added bonus.

You should definitely get high with Tim if given the chance, he’s bound to make you laugh and otherwise enjoy yourself. But whatever you do, make sure you have no plans tomorrow morning.

Overall 10/10, hope you don’t like walking cause you won’t be doing much of it.

[whatacartouchebag]

#seriously this trend has killed so much inspiration for so many authors I know

I feel like this is an unpopular opinion, but more people should read incomplete/unfinished/in-progress fanfics.

I've noticed this huge trend where creators on tiktok and tumblr who will be explaining how to use Archive Of Our Own to new users and they always say "and make sure to scroll down and click completed only" or how people will go out of their way to mention they only read completed fics 'because they were traumatized when they forgot to check the dates and didn't realize this fic hadn't been updated since 2012'.

The thing is - I think by not engaging with and/or actively avoiding writer's WIPs readers are potentially adding to the aggregate of abandoned works. Now this obviously isn't the case for all abandoned fics, anything from major life events, to loss of interest, to getting busy can be a reason for a fic getting abandoned - but at least on some level I just know that writers are quitting while they're ahead when they aren't garnering any response or feedback because reading WIPs has become unpopular. If you're worried about reading something that hasn't been updated since 2012 then you can use the date updated function to sort out old fics.

Anyways, support your favorite fanfic writers by engaging with their WIPs.

[vintagehomecollection]

Andree Putnam's Art Deco writing desk and its companion pieces are inlaid with ivory. The lemon cream walls reflects and warms the available light, while the open room arrangement and spare placement of furniture enhance the airy feeling and create a sculptural environment.

Rooms by Design, 1989

[l3viat8an]

Nsfw content MDNI (repost)

Being bent over Levi's gaming desk, his hands holding your hips still as he matches his thrusts with the music.

Little moans "n whines leaving your lips whenever he speeds up or slows down accordingly, “Heh~ I- hah- I thought you said this was a dumb game? Looks like you're enjoying it now~”

[aweslasharc]

[whatacartouchebag]

This is honestly the most heartbreaking part about writing anything in these last few years. This perspective shift of becoming little more than a content creator that does nothing but churn out words to be consumed, when there used to be such a vibrant community of people talking, enjoying, excited to read what else was going to happen, theorising about it, but most of all, providing that kind of feedback to the author.

Any writer loves talking about their work. Whether that be what inspired it, any fun research facts along the way, what it took to get into a character’s head. There’s always a whole host of things we’re bursting to talk about because we love getting to share what we’ve written!

But the big shift we’ve had to get used to is absolutely pouring ourselves into what we create, only to be met with an absolute void of response, and it hurts like you wouldn’t believe.

We’re not asking for the earth.

We simply want to know you’re out there.

NGL, this shit is fucking frustrating as hell.

8 comment threads by a total of 4 different people. After 4 chapters posted! That means on average one person per chapter decided to leave a comment, even if some kind souls left several.

53 people liked it enough to want to keep reading. 4 of them decided to comment. And that's assuming none of those 4 people is subscribed to me as a writer or to the series or not subscribed at all.

Please, I'm begging you. Bring commenting back. We do this shit for free out of sheer love for the characters and their stories and you get to enjoy the results. Please make a habit of leaving comments on fics. I promise it's not that difficult once you've gotten used to it.

Let your fic writers know their work is appreciated, at least a little. Or at some point they will stop doing it.

[whatacartouchebag]

So holy shit, just had a commenter apologise for getting excited and commenting on a bunch of my fics, thinking they were being annoying for doing it on works that were so old.

My dude, the oldest one was posted just over a YEAR ago.

Like christ on a cracker, wrapping my head around this mentality genuinely hurts. I still get the fleeting, odd comment on stuff that I posted to an FF.net account I abandoned in 2008. I'm still posting stuff to the same fandom that this commenter is reading fics from! I literally posted something within the last month!

I get that the consumerism of fanworks has taken over fandom spaces entirely. I get it, but fuck me if I detest it dearly. If something's not sitting on the front page of a tag, it's just considered dead, and I hate it.

Not to be all old man yells at cloud, but the way being a part of any sort of fandom space means playing a number game from hell these days is honestly the worst feeling. We're not in it for the numbers! We never were! The numbers are the smallest pip of serotonin on our radar compared to actual feedback and comments.

When this person first came into my inbox, and I saw a string of four of five email notifs come in to say I'd received a new comment, my dudes, I CRIED. Teared up like a bitch, because that's something that's so rare and beautiful and I've never seen it happen before. I honestly felt so blessed and warm and fuzzy. The fact this person took the time out of their day to read it and tell me the parts they liked, tell me they passed a couple of these fics onto others, just tell me a solemn thank you for writing what I do...

THAT'S WHAT I WRITE FOR.

No, I don't crave praise. No, it doesn't fill my ego.

It's about putting something out there into the void and hearing an echo finally. It's about standing up on stage and waiting for someone in the audience to make any sort of response other than cough and shuffle out the door. It's about knowing we've hit some sort of emotional response in our readers, because that's the ONLY way we know what we're doing is working. It's the ONLY way we know how to improve.

It just... it makes me so sad to know that we're only ever seen as products these days, not people. I love creating. I love being able to write, but it just hurts so much when it feels like no one else out there cares, you know?

Because that's what fandom culture is these days.

It honestly feels like no one cares, and fans are actively apologising for existing.

Like what the fuck went wrong along the way to nurture this mentality and how do we surgically remove it with a chainsaw.

[zarvasace]

Some silly sketch comic stuff, bits of a mermaid au story. The last two are a sequence that ends in this art from earlier. :)

[whatacartouchebag]

Hey do us all a favour and keep this kind of comment style out of our works.

It's hard enough nowadays to even get any sort of comments from readers, and if they're something like this? It's incredibly discouraging to the point of making us not want to continue doing it.

As a reader, you are getting a piece that someone has poured a little bit of their soul into. Has worked utterly hard to try and complete, on top of getting through daily life. Work, school, other commitments, burnout, grief, gods knows what else might be going on in someone's life. But we still work hard on the stories we create because we love and care for the characters and the situations we've made with them. We want to share this with people in the hope that they enjoy it too.

Don't fucking spit on us like this.

Until you learn to reign in the "well, actually" mentality, stay the hell away from our works.

When did AO3 turn into FFN?

[bluenightfm]

moshang are so special to me bc it's basically mutual pining with miscommunication from the get-go. they both kept secrets from one another, qinghua literally thinking he knew his fate to die unrequitedly in love with and at the hands of mobei-jun, and mobei-jun holding how nauseatingly in love he was with his qinghua. how can you be vulnerable enough to let someone in if you're keeping these huge secrets from one another?

not to even begin to mention mr. hack author's apparent ability to forget every single plot point relating to demon courting rituals because even though he was the one that wrote that demons show affection through violence. bitch cowered in fear of his king for YEARS and didn't think that cultural clash might be the reason they haven't frotted even though they've been doing a psychosexual power play for going on ten years .

like yes airplane mobei-jun wants to fuck freaky style and he thought punching the daylights out of you would be the best way to relay the message but obviously he was incorrect. these two men are some of the brightest minds in PIDW but when it comes to each other they become total fucking airheads. why did you two virgin losers think shoving mobei-jun's monster pillar in qinghua with no lube no stretching would be a good idea? rocks for brains

[neversetyoufree]

Frankenstein—Mary Shelley

[gothsuguru]

Th....thinking about domestic!suguru who always makes his plates of food look good for his bb <3 whether it be breakfast, dinner or a snack, he always makes it look good in case his bb wants to take a pic 😊

this is making me feel so warm & soft bc you’re so right anon… i think one of his biggest love languages is acts of services and that includes making meals for his beloved! i think if you two live together then he’s absolutely perfected his recipes for your favorite meals, and if you don’t live together then TRUST that he’s toiled away in the kitchen with a stained apron, hair pulled back with wild pieces covering his face, and a small smile after he’s tasted his meal cooked with love (he can’t wait to cook your meal and casually bring it over one day — a small smirk on his face as he says “it was nothing!”)

((IT WAS ABSOLUTELY SOMETHING… satoru had to calm him down on the phone when he spiraled about if you would like the food or not)) (((satoru offered to be a taste tester and finished all the food -> suguru PROMPTLY bonked him on the head w a frying pan)))

BUT YOU’RE SO RIGHT!!!!! i think he feels especially honored and excited when you take a picture of the food he made because he PRIDES himself on plating! i’m talking abt he can do cute animal shapes one day and then elegant michelin style plating the next — my man has RANGE! <333 i think suguru ALSO has a notes app of your favorite food/snacks/beverages and ALSO an album of food he’s made for you/food you’ve made for him :’)

i think food is one of his biggest love languages :’) he wants you to eat well and bonus points if he can feed you with all the love too :’) if he fusses over you please let him, he just loves you so much & you’re too adorable 🙂‍↕️ and if you want to learn how to cook/already know, then suguru’s favorite activity/pastime is cooking with you :’) it’s very intimate and sweet, love belongs in the kitchen!

[yuri-is-online]

Hello!

Congratulations on getting 300 followers! Feel free to ignore this request if you'd like, but can you do prompt #7 with Jamil, Ace, and Trey?

7. Wearing a maid outfit during a culture fair

Thank you <3 And there is no way I am ignoring this one when you picked maybe the best possible line up for it.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, mild cringe, a bit... suggestive and light spoilers for the white rabbit event in Trey's part (i.e. Yuu references the event costumes) Check out the rest of the event requests here.

Jamil

"Welcome back master!" You cheerfully give the greeting Ortho had helped you practice and immediately wish for death as soon as you see just who the customer you gave it to is. Jamil stares at you, really stares at you, eyes shot wide cognitive thought completely evaporated from his brain.

"Do- have you-" He coughs, fighting off the urge to hide in his hood. "Have you been greeting everyone like that?"

"Um yes, Ortho said it was the appropriate way to greet customers at a maid cafe." Not that this was a maid cafe exactly, it was a booth handing out bottled water to attendees of the NRC culture fair the school nurse had insisted on setting up. You were supposed to be wearing a dorm uniform to really sell that school pride, but Ramshackle doesn't have one so you had jokingly offered to wear a maid outfit, something Ortho apparently decided was brilliant and convinced Vil to let you borrow one from the film club. You weren't sure why you agreed to this but hey, at least it was cute. Jamil certainly doesn't seem to disagree.

"Well you should stop, it's extremely undignified." That's what he says, but it's missing the usual edge his critiques usually have. If you didn't know any better, you would think that he's embarrassed, which gives you a brilliant idea.

"Maaaaaster," you make sure to whine out the title with a big pout as you move directly into his personal space keeping just enough distance between you two to be tempting, delighting in how his throat twitches at the title "I'm working really hard to make you happy y'know? It's really rude to say that's 'undignified.'" You stay like that for a brief moment, gears in Jamil's mind whirring so fast they might as well be letting off steam. Finally, the breath he's been trying to catch finally goes down taking him with it.

"JAMIL!" He huffs at your concern from his new home on the pavement in annoyance.

"Seriously, it's rude to tease."

Ace

"Oh come on what even is the point of this?" In today's episode of Night Raven Comedy, Ace is shouting in disappointment at his reflection in Yuu's bedroom mirror while they and Deuce stand hands folded in disappointment just behind him.

"Really I don't get why you are so surprised." Says Deuce. 'Wasn't this entire thing your idea?"

"What's that got to do with it?" He snaps, face softening slightly when he looks at you but returning to annoyance when Deuce starts to smirk at him. "Don't tell me you're actually excited about dressing like this?" Deuce shrugs.

"I mean don't get me wrong it is embarrassing, but honestly seeing you dressed up like this makes it worth it." The grin on Deuce's face is outright evil, and you silently sigh, searching around your room for Grim's ribbon. About a month ago, Crewel had announced that your class would need to put together a booth for the school culture fair and asked for suggestions. Someone had complained it would be useless to try and compete with the other classes without a gimmick and Ace, for some reason, had suggested maid outfits. You weren't sure what surprised you more, that suggestion or that everyone had agreed with it.

"Why did you suggest a maid cafe if you didn't want to dress up like a maid?" You ask, already annoyed and adding ibuprofen to your mental list of things to make sure to bring with you when the three of you are finally ready to leave. He mutters an answer and you sigh. "Speak up I can't hear you."

"Yeah Ace," laughs Deuce, dodging a pillow Ace throws at his head "why did you suggest it?"

"Because I wanted to see you dressed like one." He mutters, pouting while Deuce laughs before turning on you. "And don't act like you didn't go along with it! Why did you vote for it?"

"Because I wanted to see you in a maid outfit too."

Oh, judging by the judgment Deuce is passing on both of you and Ace's shock you said that out loud, didn't you...

Trey

Breathe in breathe out. Busy your hands by adjusting your glasses and fix your smile in place and take another deep breath before you speak and focus on the eyes.

"That's an interesting outfit you have on Prefect." Trey says, and you sigh in relief. Finally someone normal.

"Thanks! I was worried it would be a bit too much." Realistically speaking you know it is, seriously maid outfits are already cute enough, adding bunny ears, ribbons, and a frilly tail just makes it lethal. Cater almost made you late with how many pictures he insisted on taking before you managed to escape.

"Well I don't know about that, it's certainly extremely cute though." Trey crosses his arms and tries to avoid gripping his bicep too hard. The way you light up at his praise doesn't help. "Where did you get it if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh Deuce's mom gave it to me when we visited Clock Town." Your nod causes the bunny ears to bounce and someone takes in a sharp breath. "Riddle said it would be helpful if Deuce could wear his costume for your booth about the Queen of Hearts, but he didn't want to dress up alone so I volunteered to help."

"Is Deuce wearing a... similar costume?" It could be just you, but Trey sounds like he's feeling a bit sick.

"Well kind of? He isn't a maid bunny. But speaking of Deuce I should really get back! Wouldn't want Riddle to get angry." You are clearly waiting for him to say something, but Trey doesn't trust himself to speak. "Trey?" You reach up towards his forehead forcing him to get a really good look at the entire costume as you try checking his temperature and frown in distress. "Oh you're practically burning up, let me walk you to the hospital wing I don't think Riddle will mind if-"

"You should be a bit more careful." Trey catches your hand as you go to take it away from his forehead, keeping you close to him yellow eyes daring you to step in just a bit further. "You aren't from around here, but surely even you know how deep a rabbit hole can go, right Prefect?"