#Desert Long-eared Bat

[loveisinthebat]

Inspection of those Feratu

[donniepodsshow]

🍞DONNIE + DESERT LONG EARED BAT!!(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ *) ｳﾝ

It feels like a bit since I’ve posted some art of Don-Tron….so have him with a desert long eared bat! They’re native to the Middle East, and can be found in Palestine among other places (hope all these little guys are safe). This is for TMNT4P’s upcoming Donnie magma. The theme is ‘Donnie’s with Palestinian animals’! So I choose this goober. Do you guys think Donnie would like bats? I do :3

[flittermousing]

I think I prefer this design of her <3

[beloveds-embrace]

so i have a habit of calling be love/babe/darling as a term of enderament (even in friendships) and was wondering how the dukedom guys would react to being called love or darling by the reader for the first time? I grt it probably wasnt as socially acceptable back then but the thought still plaques my mind

Historical accuracy who? We don’t know her shhh

Original post

But they’d love it! At first, you had tried really hard to stop yourself and semi-succeeded by only calling your maids like that. Your parents always hated that habit of yours, a leftover from your nanny’s own habit. They had warned you again and again and again to not let your tongue run, to keep your words polite and demure, only fallen women working in brothels would speak so freely.

And you did keep it under control for a good while; with your interactions few with John, you could remind yourself not to let your tongue loose and call him honey right off the bat when he simply calls you by your name. It’s harder with Kyle, you almost slip and call him darling, same with Johnny. With Simon it’s easier because on the times he visits, you leave him to his meetings with John and don’t bother them. (Or what you thought were business meetings at that time lol)

But once they start getting closer to you, it’s inevitable that the nicknames start slipping out.

“Kyle, darling-“ you are rushing today, and the words slip out before you realize. You just spare a thought to wonder why he’s frozen solid like that. “Where is my hairpin? I was so sure we left it on my vanity?”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you say to Johnny when he brings you a platter of fresh deserts while working, not lifting your head from the papers in front of you other than to flash him a quick, grateful smile. You don’t notice how long it takes before Johnny stutters out a ‘welcome, m’lady’ and leaves you be.

“Simon, honey?” You ask on another occasion, voice too worried to notice what you’d called him. No maids around, and no one would question you calling you husband’s ‘close friend’ by his name in your home. “Is your leg okay? You are leaning on it too much, shall I call the doctor?” His silence is typical to you, but too busy fussing over his leg, you don’t see his face. Until you look up, eyes widening at his averted eyes and red-tipped ears. “Are you sick, Simon? You should be resting instead, you know?”

And at last… “John, love,” you sigh softly, controlling the tremble of your limbs. You look away from the newspaper, though you believe it should just be called a glorified gossip magazing, and close your eyes. Duke Price’s Duchess remains barren of a child! Is a divorce in their future? “It’s alright, it is what it is-“ you try to calm him.

Up until now, from the moment you’d both read the headline, John had been fuming. He wasn’t loud in his anger, but it was clear in his ticking jaw and clenched fists. So you expect him to continue in his anger.

“…I will deal with it.” John promises, voice low but no longer a rolling thunder. He sits down calmer now, when you finally open your eyes to look at him. He’s simply gazing at you, and his hands clench in the air before he sets them down on the table. “They won’t be slandering you any longer, wife. I promise you.”

You wish you could pinpoint what soothed him, but alas. Though you know he will try his best and maybe this news agency won’t make anymore comments like this about you, others will still continue to do so.

“It’s alright.” You repeat, but the words ring hollow and the smile on your face is empty. You push your plate away. “Now, if my husband permits it, I don’t believe I can stomach much more.”

“You never need my permission for such things,” he tells you; a sentiment he’d told you from the very first day. His face softens. “Go rest. Today, I will take care of everything that needs to be done.”

Darling, sweetheart, honey, love… they wonder if you know how much those words repeat in their minds.

[flamingpudding]

Part 3 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

<<1 Previous Next

Feral brother of mine

When Damien first saw the video from Todd's helmet he only thought of his older brother as an imbecile that apparently couldn't handle children that was until Drake paused the video on the child's face before the video cut off.

Then Richard pointed out the similarities to Damien and of course his first thought was that his mother had made another clone again that they would need to dispose of. That was until he took a closer look at the image when Drake zoomed in. It was still blurry but Damien would recognise that face anywhere and in any state.

Despite his memory being faded it was the face of someone he never wanted to forget and would let freely hunt his dreams. Even if it was to recall the good times or even the bad times through nightmares. Freckles that mirrored constellations and scar by the ear from a training session when the others' dodging ability had not yet been up to par when they were five. Hair longer than his own and less tameable.

Danyal Al Ghul.

His twin that he killed at the age of eight when their grandfather forced them into a fight to death. This was not a simple clone of Damien himself and the teen was pretty sure that his mother must have lost it. Because what else then a clone of his own brother could this be, she probably must have preserved some of Danyal's DNA if not his entire body for this. He must also applaud her cruelty, for the clone was at the exact age his brother had died at.

He does not know why nor how his mother had managed to cause glowing Lazarus green eyes. None of his clones had ever shown these before but a part of him didn't want to know. It already made him sick enough to know that his mother would go so far as to clone Danyal.

All he wanted was to get rid of this cruel clone that wore his long dead brother's face. The knowledge of his brother was something Damien held dear. It was something that belonged to him only and the burden of his death was not something he ever wanted to share either. Besides what use would it be to his family to mourn a member they never would have gotten to meet.

Even as he glared at Todd, who had let loose the feral clone. He could not bring himself to tell them that this was most likely not just a simple clone of himself.

"Come on guys, there is a child running around the Bat Cave. You can fight later about how to safely keep the boy in check."

Clicking his tongue he turned away from his older siblings and drew out his katana. "<tt> I will get rid of that thing myself."

A thing, that was what it was. Damien didn't need his personal feelings or his memories of a twin that could smile brighter than the desert sun despite their pain, get in the way of his rationality. He could not allow this mockery of his twin brother to live on.

He went for the darker areas of the Cave knowing the league trained mind and he was in luck as he was the first to find the feral child hidden away in the area that lead to the medbay. By now the thing was even armed. Damien recognised the dagger as one of his training once, he probably had accidentally left it out of its casing after training right before patrol.

The ex-league prodigy did not give the clone time to react as he attacked without warning. Chasing it through the Bat Cave as it avoided his attacks yet made no move to attack him the way it had Todd. At times the way it dodged made Damien stutter slightly something that never happened before. He slashed at it, ignoring his siblings that shouted for him to stop from the side lines. Ignoring the flashes in his mind of a fight years ago that was similar yet so different.

"I will not let this mockery run free." He muttered pointing his blade as it hissed at him in return. What a feral thing it was, he waited for it to make the first move this time. Clones were not perfect, their forms were lacking, They might retain skills of their original but they rarely were the same let alone cable of thinking outside of what their creator, his mother wanted. He pointedly ignored anything he new about certain clones. They weren't created by his mother, therefore did not count in regards to his conclusion. Yet it was painful seeing this mockery of his dead brother appearing like a perfect copy.

The stance it held with the dagger, despite the feral hissing and movements, it was the exact same his brother had. Sword stances, like martial arts stances had a basic form, every wielder learned and then developed further into their own unique one with time. Danyal had one where he tended to hold the dagger or even swords backwards in his left hand while his right arm covered his empty side with a slight tilt to the back, always ready to reach for any weapon he would carry in hidden pockets on his back.

It was painful to see this clone, this thing mimicking his brother's stand this perfectly. Damien could only narrow his eyes in determination, or was it desperation by now? This was just one more reason to get rid of it. It just hurt even more when with a quick gaze towards the hand that held the dagger Damien also noticed a bad habit his brother had always retained and the league had also never been able to train out of him. It was a small habit, unnoticeable if you wouldn't look for it, yet dangerous to the sword / dagger wielder if they were inexperienced.

Danyal tended to let his thumb rest against the guard if the blade had one or against the blade itself even if it didn't have one. He knows that his twin used to have scaring on his thumb from this habit, especially from their early training years.

This thing was even imitating his brother's habit.

He wanted it gone. Rip it apart and present it to his mother with all the anger and grief it brought to him.

"Guys stop Damien now! That is not a clone!" He heard Drake yell from where the Batcomputer was but he didn't care. This was a clone, so he lunged at the it again. Ignoring how the clone had studied him like he had it. Ignoring how its stance had changed the longer they had watched each other and how that thing let its guard down all of a sudden.

"Damien! Stop!"

It dropped all defenses and Damien could only see that as his chance to deal the final blow to get rid of it. But what he didn't expect despite the dropped defenses was for the clone to also just drop the dagger, close its eyes and smile. The same smile that still hunted his nightmares. His mind flashed back to eight years ago.

"Demon brat! Calm the fuck down!"

The blade stopped inches from the same fatal placement that had killed his brother before. Drake and Richard were right behind him while Todd was by the clone's side gripping at the blade with his bare hands, most likely bleeding already.

"Why?" Damien uttered quietly, his eyes trained on the thing. Richard must have thought that his question had been directed towards them stopping him but that wasn't the case.

"Look Dami, how about listening to what Tim found out first before we decide what to do with that child?"

"Not you." He couldn't help but snap back at them as he withdrew his katana, hearing Todd mutter something about sharp blades and bandaids as well as several curses under his breath. His eyes stayed on the thing. "Why would you let me kill you? Why drop your defence ces? Why not dodge?"

The thing titled its head its glowing green eyes were trained on Damien and he noticed how they flickered into a blue that was so familiar yet so different with the way they glowed. It made chirping noises before it whispered something.

"ahbak, Dami"

Damien froze for a moment there at the quiet words the thing had whispered. How was he supposed to react now? Was this even a clone, no he knew this was a clone. There was no way Danyal was alive let alone still eight years old. He had killed his own brother, he had held him in his own arms as Danyal took his final breath, smiling at him and uttering the same words he had just heard again after so many years.

Even if Danyal had survived somehow then he should be the same age as him. Not the age he had died at. Besides, their grandfather would have never allowed them to use the pits to revive his twin.

"FUCK!"

Intentionally or not Todd's outcry had ripped him out of his thoughts by a rather pathetic yowl of pain. It was like a switch had been flipped in the clone's mind as his brother had reached out to probably detain it again. The moment Todd had touched him, the thing had bitten into his hand before letting go, hissing and running away from them once more.

But instead of running after that thing Damien stood frozen in place, his mind still racing. He could feel Richard's hands on his shoulders, grounding the teenager with the warmth they provided. "You okay there Baby Bird? You seem rather out of it suddenly."

"<tt> I am fine." His only offered answer, ignoring the worried looks he was getting as he moved to wipe Todd's blood off his blade. He needed a distraction before his mind became any more chaotic and unreasonable. "What did Drake find out?"

"Right… you sure you want to hear that right now?" Giving Richard an unimpressed stare, the oldest sighed looking over towards Drake.

"Well I got good news and probably bad news." Side eyeing his brother Damien kept silent waiting for him to continue.

"I can safely say that the child is not a clone. His DNA does not 100% match yours. It differs too much but - and this is where it's probably bad news - it matches with you to 45%, with a matching to Bruce to about 50%, same with Talia. If I run a paternity test I am sure it would be a hit for Bruce and Talia."

Damien swallowed taking in that information, knowing what it meant. Was he horrified? Yes. Did it also awaken a strange sort of hope? Also, Yes.

"But there was a third compartment of the child's DNA structure which was impossible to test. It could even corrupt DNA samples if not taken apart from the rest. It probably has something to do with the green specs I found in his blood too. So I ran a substance analysis and - you probably won't like this - but it got a hit from a substance we have recorded in our database."

"What substance?" Damien knew, he just knew he wouldn't like the next words Drake would say. He could feel Richard squeezing his shoulder as if to help him keep stable.

"Lazarus Water. It matched with what we have recorded from the Lazarus Pits."

"Drake, are you telling me that after eight years, my mother who apparently had preserved my dead twin brother's body, dropped said body into the Lazarus Pits to revive him and then drop him off with Todd of all people?"

"Yes, wait… dead twin brother's body?"

[lemonmaid]

Imagine Alpha BootHill....

Warnings: gender neutral reader, pregnant reader. Fluff with small angst.

He meets you, a single unmated pregnant omega working like a dog at a saloon in the middle of nowhere, on a dusty abandoned old mining planet.

He is very interested in you right on the bat, I mean, you can say the same thing about him. It's not every day you see a cyborg.

He comes in everyday for the past month, from noon to closing. Always asking for you to serve him.

One night he asked you out for a date.

"Oh, come on, it will be fun! Just us two- three, I mean. " He smiles down at your stomach.

You hummed, "I mean if it meets your fancy... but where? Boothill, we are in the middle of a desert.....".

He smirks, "I know a good spot."

You raise an eyebrow at him, "you know a spot but you been here almost everyday?".

"Can't I be a gentleman?"

"Can't you do your job?".

Before Boothill could reply, a blonde hair man came storming in; blabbering about Boothill taking too long and dragging the cyborg out of the Saloon.

For the next week, Boothill didn't show up to the saloon, making your omega whine at the fact. One night after closing, you noticed him waiting for you at the door.

"Let me walk you home".

You nodded, taking his hand.

Thanks to the planet's atmosphere, the sky shined bright of stars and cosmos. It was so beautiful. What was more beautiful is how the three moons reflected off Boothill's metal body, the soft white glow, it brought out the white streaks in his hair.

"Here" you say in a trance.

Silence between you too, it was kinda awkward, I mean, here you are in the presence of an alpha.

"I wanna court you-"

"But, I'm-".

"I don't care about that, I wanna give you what you deserve".

You bit your lip, your scent filled with anxiety, "what about your job with the Galaxy Rangers?".

"I want you to come with".

"Space is no place for a pup to live in, it's too dangerous and unstructured".

"I still want you, that will never change love". Boothill sighed before taking off his hat, "I may be... a quarter of the alpha I used to be. I'm reckless, pin-headed, hell I don't even got a scent anymore, I can't even feel anything anymore. But I do damn know that you... your scent... it's making me feel something I haven't felt in a hot minute... so please... let me court you... we can make this work". Boothill grabs your hands, putting them on his face, wanting to finally feel ya, "please just think about it".

You nodded your head, allowing him inside of your small home. He wrapped his arms around you hugging you, almost crushing. "Thank you, thank you thank you". He mumbled. You rubbed his head, noticing a faint smell, you laugh.

"What?".

You smile, before taking a deeper whiff os the small and faint scent, "You say you don't have a scent, but right behind ya ear.... I smell you..... your scent is... comforting... stuipd cyborg".

Boothill went stiff before letting small tears poke the corner of his eye. He laughs too, joining your fit of laughter.

This was rushed, I had the idea had to write it down fast lol and I'm now getting into honkai 😭

[rabiesram]

Introducing the Order of the Old Faith! They're a group of specially chosen followers that are entrusted with tasks that the Bishops themselves don't have time to do. Examples being; special trades, delivering certain messages, taking out threats near cult grounds, and slowing down the red crownbearer. More about each one below the cut!

Sybil - defender of chaos - european hedgehog - she/they - demigirl | omnisexual - Bouncy! Higher-energy than the others. Loves launching into fights and riding on the line of danger. Jinn - defender of famine - desert frog - he/him - male | demisexual - Close to Heket. Tries to do his job the best he can but can get distracted. Hard to hit due to constantly fucking bouncing in battle. Strange liking to doing paperwork related things.

Victor - defender of pestilence - chinese alligator - he/him - male | bisexual - Heavy hitter and takes things incredibly seriously but has his moments. He can bite your arm off. Specter - defender of war - northern long earred bat - they/them - nonbinary | aroace - Quiet. Revived after being sacrificed by followers. Insanely quick and lethal. Stays within the shadows. Masks whatever emotions they have left.

[thesassypadawan]

Tag 2 (David x FemReader)

Summary:  Tag.  A simple fun game of back and forth, except when it comes to your ‘jumping’ loving boyfriend.  Who's bent the rules; turning it into a one-way match of ‘whenever, wherever’…even if you’re having a spooky date night.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  Public smex, fun from behind, ‘tag’, pointy hay bales, overgrown goblins, and…David's fat, long dick.

Notes: Happy Kinktober all you, lovelies! 🖤🧡 (Hope you also enjoy Tag 1!)

-  A phantom tweak of your nipples here…an invisible smack, pinch to each plump cheek there…even the occasional ghostly squeeze to your pert mound…

-  That’s how your journey through the winding, seemingly endless pathways of the haunted corn maze has been progressing.  The very one your ‘jump’ happy, horny boyfriend so eagerly and surprisingly suggested to do for a spookishly delightful date night.  Oh, how much of a foolish mortal you truly were…

-  Wandering cautiously down one of the more darkened, deserted trails; your ears strain, eyes sweep the shadows.  On guard, overanalyzing every creak of the stalks or frightful decoration you pass.  The whole time watching, waiting for the familiar…the inevitable…

-  Burst of light…warm chest presses to your chilled form…strong arms encircle your waist…and a pair of lips ghost the shell of your ear.  “Boo to you.”

-  “Vid,” you squeak.  Trying and failing miserably at hiding your surprise.  Undoubtedly giving him the satisfaction of scaring you…a little.  “So freaking cheesy.”

-  “Yeah, but ya know ya love it,” he chuckles into the crook of your neck.  Big hand squeezing your hip, wandering lower.  Fingers playing with, tugging on the hem of your rather skippy skirt.  “Bout as much as I do seein’ ya in this, with them damn stomp-stomp boots of yours.  And…”

-  You can practically feel his grin growing bigger against your skin; dick hardening, poking at your plush bottom.  And you can’t help but mimic his enthusiasm; wiggling just enough to make him twitch, wicked smile on your face.  “All right…  What else you, overgrown gremlin?”

-  “And…”  Placing, trailing kisses; nipping, leaving a blood red mark.  He winds around, captures your wrists; gripping them tightly, pinning them easily behind your back.  “…tag.”

-  Pushing you towards the nearby hay bales, David practically flings you down onto them.  Spreading your legs wide, hiking up that slutty skirt…exposing your thong-clad ass to the crisp night air.

-  “Really?  The black lace ones?”  He growls, hooking his thumb underneath the thin piece of fabric…  “With that damn bat bow?”  …pulling it taunt, letting it…  “You’re sure askin’ for it.”  …snap.

-  Teeth sink into your bottom lip, forcing back a squeal.  As another couple walks unknowingly by…as your squishy globes jiggle and bounce from the recoil.  Walls fluttering, droplets of slick trickling down your full thigh.

-  “Thou-thought they looked c-cute,” you whimper once the cost is clear.  Wiggling, trying to get yourself more comfortable.  Hoodie riding up, dried grass scrapping and scratching at your soft stomach.

-  “They are, but they look cuter like this.”  Yanking them to the side roughly; almost breaking the delicate, drenched string.  He plunges two fingers into your greedy hole; curling, pumping…teasing, hitting that small bundle of nerves.  “Don’t ya think?”

-  Despite your best efforts, a cry flies from your mouth.  “Y-yes…yes!!”  And your face heats, burns bright from embarrassment.  While you strain to hear any fast-approaching footsteps or voices nearby.    

-  Only to be met with the chirp of crickets…gentle tinkling of metal…rustle of denim.  The low whine of disappointment bubbling from your throat when he removes his digits.  The loud gasp of pleasure being punched from your lungs when he replaces them with, slams his fat cock into you.

-  One hand grasps at your hip, pulling you harshly back to meet his strong thrusts.  “What’s the matter, angel?”  Your tender flesh rubbing across the course, sharp stems; small cuts forming, appearing…stinging. “Cat got your tongue?”

-  The other grabs hold of your wrists again, using them to haul you up just enough to pound into you faster and deeper.  Bullying and bruising your poor cervix with every bounce.  “Come on, let them hear ya.” 

-  Sound of skin slapping wetly, lewdly echoing throughout the darkened sky.  Along with his heavy grunts, your muffled pants…the thuds of sneakers on dirt, faint laughter.  “Make them think there’s a fuckin’ banshee over here.”

-  Driving hard one last time, burying himself to the hilt.  Your back arches, whole body tenses.  Clamping, gummy walls flexing and clenching around him.  Moans and wails flying from your lips as you crash completely, gushing all over.  “Vid…Da-DAVID!!”

-  While he growls, paints your insides ghost white.  “That’s it let them know who bumped ya in the night.”

-  Thuds draw closer, laughter louder…

-  Bringing you in closer, pressing you to his chest.  He bucks weakly for a few more moments, coming down from his own high.  “Sorry to cut this short, but…”  Peppering your neck in warm kisses, hot breath tickling it.  “Gotta jump.  See ya at the exit, my bad little ghoul…”

-  Smacking your ass firmly, disappearing in another flash of light.  David leaves you standing there.  Scrambling to rearrange yourself…to come up with the lame lie for the blissfully unaware couple that finds you.  Trying to play off the fact that the backside of your skirt wasn’t stained with his ectoplasm…or running down your leg, dribbling onto your ‘stomp-stomp’ boots.  “It was nothing, just got scared by some overgrown gremlin.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @t03soup, @haydensbbg, @humongouscatfest, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @sythethecarrot, @xhunnybeeex, @skyguys-princess

[shamrockqueen]

Predator in the desert

Chapter 3

Pairing : Winter soldier x reader (post apocalyptic AU)

Warnings : Desperation, starving behavior, references to war, duality of the mind, emotionless man

Word count : 2020

Chapter 1

Bucky MasterList

You stopped breathing, the ghost of an echo bouncing through your ears after he’d yelled at you.

Your eyes snapped from his cutting and cold gaze, further down to the glimmer of his fearsome metal fingers as they closed around the old brass knob on the door. The only opening to the room, the only way out, and you wouldn’t be able to reach it, let alone slip past his solid stonelike frame.

You weren’t ‘calm’ by any means, but he had your attention, and even as you continued to shiver, it was all he really needed.

“Are you hungry?”

You flinched as he spoke; his voice edged only with a lack of patience as it reached out to you with heavy hands to shake you from your reeling thoughts.

You didn’t answer just yet, feeling your pulse thrum along your skin wildly. You just laid there, stunned as you stared at those metal fingers tightening around the knob of the door and trying to ease your own breathing before it made you feel numb.

“I asked if you were hungry.” He was much more stern, and even a little louder this time, watching with equal disinterest as you gasped back and struggled to answer.

“Y-yes… I‘m hungry.”

You spoke weakly, your lips shaking and your eyes welling with a wet dribble of tears. Like a small break in the smallest of bones as you gave in to the absurdity.

Of course you were hungry. You’ve been hungry since you were a screaming infant, just as everyone doomed to a life in the wasteland had been. Food in any amount was a luxury, whether it’s warm meat and grains or smashed bugs you find crawling along the floor by your bedroll.

This promise of food without a single bat of his eye should have felt like a dream come true, but something in your stomach felt heavy before clenching with a sharp cramp. That familiar pang of hunger pains morphing viscerally into obvious fear as your guts knotted together.

This was the only moment in your miserable life that you didn’t crave food, as you were consumed only with dread.

You didn’t want to take anything from this unholy amalgamation of man and metal. It was like cowering beneath the boogeyman, a monster of jagged teeth and twisted limbs that could steal your last shred of innocence, only to find an unreadable being that looked no different from yourself. He didn’t wear enough of his lethality on his skin, leaving you to spiral at the possibilities of what these chains binding you to his lair really meant for your near future.

It was no better than being a rabbit caught in a cage. There is the offer of water and now food, but the danger of your captivity, just as the chain around your leg, was a staunch reminder that none of this would be out of kindness. There is no good reason that you are here—none that could be conceived as all the terrible reasons swarm your aching head.

His expression never seemed to change as he took in every reaction you gave him, seeming to read it like new data to further his own strange purpose. When he was finished searching your jumbled tomes, whether having found his needed information or losing interest, he dragged that door open and disappeared through it before shutting you back inside that room. Only this time, you were alone with the crushing silence he had once held above you.

A silence quickly broken by the hard clack of a lock turning shut in the flimsy wooden barrier this soldier had placed between you two.

He fit the stories from old fantasies of war. An old story long left covered in dust, detailing how both sides ate away at one another until the bones were bare and empty of their marrow. He bore the red star, the mark of a demon of irradiated sands. One head severed from its ranks meant two would splinter out in its place, biting and gnashing its way through the wasteland.

The great hydra was supposed to be dead, a final rest assured long before your own birth. How wrong they all were apparently, and as you recounted those scary fairy tales, your stomach twisted harder and harder.

You tried to steady your breathing, letting it stutter and shake before it finally met an even rhythm.

‘You really did need to calm down’ The traitorous thought was the last fly to buzz through your brain before you let the muscles in your shoulders fall loose to hit the floor.

Your ankle still felt heavy with its new iron cuff, and you struggled back onto your elbows and further onto your feet, the sound of the chain dragging along the wood the only noise left to taunt you.

Your eyes narrow at the brassy knob, a small spark of defiance finally igniting in your chest only to fall short of catching a flame.

You were frustrated at best, hot tears stinging your eyes before spilling out over your dirty cheeks.

‘Why me? For fucks sake, why?”

How were you significant enough to be stolen? Did he pity you, thinking that keeping you would be better for your well-being, like a lost kitten climbing among the rocks he had scooped up?

Why would a monster want to help you? Why would he bother to care for you when he could do what any other villain would do to others who strayed too far from home?

But, this room didn’t look like a pen to keep his livestock. It had a small window at its other end, barred on the outside of the glass for your protection. The bed wasn’t shabby, only worn, and with actual blankets and pillows.

If you were to be kept, you suppose he chose to keep you well.

You turned back to the door, its knob within reach, but you didn’t jump to futilely pull or tear at it. You reach forward, a shriveled shard of hope still tearing at your heavy heart as you slide your fingers around it.

You know it was locked; you heard it happen, but you still clung to the possibility of this being a terribly real nightmare instead. Maybe your mind would let you open the door, but as you twisted the handle, it of course did not budge.

You stood closer, your head falling to your chest as you pressed your fingers to the wood. Your mouth opened with a shaking exhale of an empty scream, and new tears flooded over to wash the rest of your grimy face.

You did not expect the door to push forward on its own, nearly smacking you in the face as it knocked you back. You land on the floor unceremoniously. Still so weak and unsteady, you weren’t even a suitable match for an old door.

The man was back, standing over you with a plate in his human hand. He sighed before setting the platter of promised food on the bed, stepping over you in the process.

He spoke evenly, saying, “I didn’t mean to hit you,” but his voice didn’t carry any ounce of guilt for knocking you back on your ass. Would this have been the first time he’d knocked you down, or was it simply the only time he hadn’t meant to do so?

“Are you alright?” he asked as he leaned over your crumbled form, reaching towards your reddened cheek where the wood had initially smacked you.

You immediately shied away from his touch but didn’t fight to scramble backward.

He leaned away but offered you his less harrowing hand to help you off the floor instead of leaving you to do so by yourself again.

You never answered his last question, but as he didn’t press further, it was possible that he wasn't really interested either way.

He gestured to the plate of food he’d set on the bed and said flatly, “Eat.”

You looked over at the plate still perched on a pile of blankets. A slab of cooked meat, diced cubes of root vegetables, and a mush of something boiled, green, and leafy. It was the best thing you’d ever seen.

Actual meat the size of your hand coupled with real vegetables possibly rich with those vitamins and mineral-things the doctor used to talk about. Whatever it was, it made your tongue wet as you swept it over your cracked lips.

A small part of you still wanted to be cautious, as another balled its fists in frustration from being kept away from a beautiful plate of healthy food.

You opened your mouth, only to choke back on the words with a wet cough. You sputtered again, crying like a sad child for him to witness before finally speaking.

“Are you going to drug me?”

"No,” he answered quickly and with little care.

You watched for any signs of a farce, a twitch of an eyebrow, a quirk of a lip, anything. His eyes held their dull, disinterested blue as he waited for you to make up your mind.

You ventured closer to the plate, pressing a dirty finger against the still hot morsel of meat. It was light in color, like white meat off a rabbit, but you needed to be certain before going past this thin line you had drawn for yourself.

Your lips stuck together as you nearly whispered a squeak of a few words, “Is it people?”

The ‘P’ was sputtered by the drop of collected tears, making the sound more pronounced as it left your lips.

“No”

You looked back at him at the subtle change in his voice. With one word, one syllable, it was oddly unmistakable. He sounded a little offended, and yet he didn’t lift a finger against you.

That last ‘no’ was all you needed before throwing yourself at the plate, scooping at the wet potatoes and greens with your fingers to wipe the tasteless sludge over your tongue in ecstasy.

You tore at the meat with your bare teeth like a hungry dog in a frenzy of unending starvation.

You weren’t human anymore; no longer yourself. It was shameful how you felt. In this moment, as you tore at a lump of fat with your back molar, you wanted this more than ever.

You wanted to be a pet if it meant the promise of this minimal care. You wanted to be kept; you wanted the fresh water and food; damned be the consequences.

You weren’t thinking clearly, not until you licked the last stain of grease and green vegetable smudge off the plate with your desperate little tongue. You hadn’t realized you were panting, gasping at the air, and holding the plate with white knuckles and numb fingers as if he could fly off and never return.

His expression had shifted for only a second. A split moment where his eyes widened a single centimeter before returning to their natural steely state. His shoulders stayed stiff with new concern. It was all a subtle change you had missed during your indulgence.

“Do you want more?” He asked, his voice still tainted with that unspoken concern.

You swear you could nearly feel your heart stop at just hearing those words. You were still desperate, and you nodded frantically.

He reached carefully towards you for the plate, giving you his metal fingers instead of the soft fleshy digits of his other hand. Possibly anticipating being bitten when pulling away the saucer. You let him take it from you, watching as he repeated his earlier actions of leaving and locking you inside the room.

There was a burn of shame somewhere in your stomach, but it was greatly overshadowed by a deep desire for sustenance. And, this man, what should be a monster in your eyes, was unbothered to fulfill such a desire.

You stood in place, not reaching for the door like the captive you are, not waiting on the bed like a puppy missing its master. But, by god, you wanted that fucking food.

Chapter 4

More post apocalyptic AU

Tags : @itsswritten @cjand10 @dear-lolita @took-a-wr0ng-turn @scott-loki-barnes @ihavetwoholesforareason @potatothots @toozmanykids @wintrsoldrluvr @heletsmelovehim

[pugsleybugpug]

Day 6 of @aleielle-of-roshar’s WoF December Design Prompt

Day 6. This dragon oddly has a power not associated with their tribe

A full-body of Sunny, with the power of a Nightwings, having big fluffy ears and hearing better than the others. She is lightly based on the desert long-nosed bat and the leopard gecko, but the only traits shower were the ears and snout respectively. I like the colors but I think the right leg looks wrong.

[Start ID: Sunny from Wings of Fire, a book series about dragons, with a happy face and large eyes. Her eyes are Lime, grass, and dark green with a giant black pupil and one white hilight. Her short hair goes brown, pumpkin orange, and orange. Her horns are dark brown and her ears are light yellow. Her rattle at the end of her tail goes from top to bottom is Yellow Gray, tawny brown, brown, and dark brown. Her blue beetle necklace is blue, cyan, and blue green with a gold necklace, vibrant yellow orange and light yellow. Her scales are brown, brown orange, orange, yellow orange, and orange with spots. End ID]

[loveisinthebat]

Max Gremlin

[qibilette]

the seven tribes of pyrrhia, as accurate to my rewrite! i hope you guys like these, they took a long time & im quite proud of them :]

more design info under the cut!

icewings- inspo from wolverines, arctic wolves, and reindeer

some of the spikes in their ruff & tail are hollow quills that detach when driven into something (usually skin). they produce a rattling sound when shaken, which is part of the icewing threat display!

horns are sexually dimorphic- tiercels' are more elaborate. tiercels are also slightly smaller than hens.

an ancient animus spell gave icewings their icebreath and cold affinity; their bodies require cold weather to function normally.

sandwings- inspo from sand cats, fennec foxes, and camels

they have several adaptations for surviving in the desert - their big ears, sail, and wing membranes help release excess heat. their hairy ears & long eyelashes keep out sand.

the tail barb has two parts: the sting and the sheath. the sheath pierces in and then the sting emerges to deliver a burst of venom. the sting is usually kept inside the barb, but may flick out if a sandwing is agitated.

tiercels are a bit smaller than hens. they are the least sexually dimorphic tribe.

the second-smallest tribe.

nightwings- inspo from bats

facial whiskers help them navigate dark spaces - they grow from the brows, beak, and chin.

tiercels are notably smaller than hens.

they can echolocate!

skywings- inspo from snow leopards and birds of prey (esp. golden eagles)

their beak is made for severing spinal cords, which is their traditional method of killing prey.

tiercels are notably smaller than hens, and all skywings are relatively small dragons.

they can hover! they use the same mechanism as american kestrels.

mudwings- inspo from river otters, hippos, alligators, and kaprosuchus

all mudwings grow tusks that jut forwards from the face. these continue growing with age, but do have a maximum size.

tiercels and hens are the same size, but tiercels have several dimorphic traits: horns that grow in an arc, larger tusks, and an inflatable vocal sac.

rainwings- inspo from lemurs

the smallest tribe. their talons are uniquely built for climbing around in trees, and they have the most developed hind thumb; they can grip with their hind talons just as well as their front.

they can't hang by their tails, but the tail is utilized as another limb when climbing around.

tiercels and hens are the same size, but tiercels do have larger fins and small spikes under the chin.

seawings- inspo from sea otters and seals

facial barbels function like whiskers and are highly sensitive.

paddle-like tail is used for propulsion while swimming, alongside the wings and talons.

glowscales typically blend in with the body, but seawings may rarely hatch with red glowscales - this is merely a pigment condition and has no other health effects. it hurts one's ability to camouflage, but this isn't a big problem among modern seawings.

tiercels and hens are the same size, but tiercels have an extra barbel coming off the nostril.

you may use these as bases, but they must be credited to me & they cannot be used for nsfw or hateful purposes!

[flittermousing]

more bats ofc ofc

might edit the lil lady's design a bit then draw more of them both

[autisticvampireclub]

Finally figured out how I wanna draw Mister Louie. He’s (partially) based off the desert long-eared bat!

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Prey Drive

Astarion x F! Dark Urge

18+ violence, death, dark urges (duh), bloodlust (literally), fingering (f!), roughness, deranged shit and I'm not sorry, tenderness

Her violent needs going unfed for too long, Astarion has an idea to help...

-

"Hunting..." She sighed, exhausted. Then seemed to consider. "Would that even work? Animals?"

It had been a long time since their last battle, her last bloodshed. Consumed with more mundane but equally important tasks.

She hid it well but he could see the strain in her body, the circles under her eyes. Knew she hadn't been sleeping, faking until the rest of the their companions fell under. Getting up to walk the perimeter of camp in circles, far from them. Far from him.

It hurt him to be away from her but he understood. If there was anything he understood it was hunger.

Pulling her reluctant to his tent, just for a moment, he promised. He had an idea.

"Honestly, I dont know." Laying on his bed roll he looked up at her, her gentle hand smoothing one of his curls back into place. Her eyes dark rimmed, tired. Sitting openly but limbs stiff.

Recognized so many of his own long nights in her exhaustion.

"But Gods, It's worth a shot right? Besides," Sitting up to reach her, putting on a fake pout. "I get so lonely out there most nights."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "Oh you poor thing." Nuzzling into his neck. "How could I desert you in your time of need."

"Ready?" He asked, the glow of her eyes uncertain. They stood together on the treeline outside camp. The night air still.

"I guess so." She murmured. "It feels weird to be out of my armor." Smoothing her hands down her camp clothes.

"We'll be much quieter this way, darling."

"Yes, yes, you've explained." She huffed, the slightest tremble in her hand.

"Nervous?" He whispered, voice kind.

Her eyes fell shut, a dejected sigh. "Yeah."

He threaded his hand in hers. Thumb brushing the inside of her soft wrist.

"You aren't going to hurt me." A command, a blessing.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Gripped his hand in determination.

Though they had been careful, stealthy, there was little in the woods that night. He tried not to show the desperation on his face. He wanted to help, really wanted to help.

Between the two of them he was rarely the one to offer solutions. Often bringing in new problems. Needing to prove himself. He knew she would huff at him if she knew but it was important to him.

Her eyes didnt betray any despair as they stalked the empty forest, if anything she seemed more focused. Moving just as quiet as him, steps sure. Always thrived under pressure.

His ears picked up voices, seeing the faintest glimmer of light on the trail far beneath them. Hooded figures moving in the dark. Cultists, of course.

He sighed, no wonder there was nothing. These imbeciles stomping their way through like rothe in heat.

Turned to her to reassure her, they'd try again tomorrow.

A flash of silver hair.

Running. She was running.

Startled, he almost called out to her but had no time, planting his feet to take off after her. Ducking and weaving through the underbrush.

Gods, how was she so fast.

Like a bat out of Hells she burst from the treeline, leaping down onto one of the figures. Heard a startled cry. The three other robed men turning sharply in shock. Pulling daggers from their sides.

Glad he had the foresight to bring it he readied his bow. Firing down shot after shot into the chests of the men attempting to descend on her. The sound of many arrows hissing through the air.

His eyes still trained on the pierced men, assuring they stay dead, he stepped down onto the gravel.

A wave of blood struck the ground below the cultist she was straddling. Another. Another.

He hadnt seen her pull her dagger, had he?Confused he stepped closer. On tip-toe he skirted around her side, curious.

Her entire front drenched in blood, her sharp teeth ripped into flesh. Head wrenching side to side. Clawed hands gripping the soil. Moaning and slurping.

Gods, was she..? She was. She was drinking.

Heat spread like a fever from his pelvis, eyes wide.

She groaned in ecstasy, talons digging into the wound. Pulling open for more.

The whole front of her face, her hairline stained dark. Grinding her hips into her prey.

Unbelievably aroused he watched her, dumbstruck.

Lifting the limp body up she ripped and ripped with her talons, eyes closing as the last of the blood struck her. Leaning back on her haunches in a scattered puddle of it. Eyes closed she slicked it back into her hair. Throwing the body down, chest heaving.

Gods he needed her. Badly. But had no idea if she was sated. If he could be next if he tried to touch her. Surely one couldn't be enough.

Taking the dagger from the dead he plunged it into a chest. Sternum cracking against his force.

Glowing eyes whipped to his work. Up to him.

"Take more." He urged, his voice a pant.

Descending on fresh meat she kneeled next to the body, plunging her hand inside the hole he made. Other hand wrenching, cracking the ribcage open.

He moaned, straddling around her back. Pulling her hair from her neck. Licking long stripes up the still warm viscera coating her.

Crack, crack, crack. Her hand caressed the still heart, viscera coated up to the elbow. Expertly spinning the discarded dagger in her free hand she cut into the valves, freeing it.

Reaching his hand around her front he pushed his hand into her waistband. Finding her drenched. Plunging his fingers inside with a groan. Oh this was very wrong.

Her prize in hand she bit into it, a garbled whine of pleasure. Hips rolling into his hand, knees pushing out to give him more access.

Trailing messy kisses down her neck he was entranced. Pulling her collar from her shoulder, groaning at the line of clean skin that it revealed.

His free hand cupped her breast, the blood squelching against her, pushing between his fingers. Watching her bite and tear in awe, unbearably hard. Grinding into her lower back to get some relief.

Turning her head she caught his mouth in hers, her desperate whine filling his mouth. His other hand coming to rub hard on her clit. Blood soaked hand reaching up behind, talons digging into the back of his neck. The pain sharp, delicous.

She was already almost there, he could tell. Death, despite her best efforts, her strongest aphrodisiac. Her body rolling in waves, rising onto her knees. He kept pace with her, not letting up.

Ripping her shirt open, needing to see her breasts move with their riding. Biting and suckling on her earlobe.

"I'm, I-" She whimpered.

"Dont you dare hold back." He growled in her ear. Hand gripping her hair taut. Fingers unwavering.

Going rigid against his pull she muffled a moan. "No." He pulled her hair hard. "Louder."

She whined a handful of desperate moans, clenching hard on his fingers. Buckling into him, a huge wave about to hit her.

Teeth gnashing, a guttural growl erupted from her that slid into a shriek, her whole body erupting, shaking. Gripping his neck so hard she drew blood. Driving the dagger hard into the ground, just barely grazing his thigh. The slick gushing out of her onto his waiting fingers.

He came along with her, shocking himself. Shuddering hard against her gore slicked body. Hips stuttering against her back. Groaning a cry into her neck. The inside of his trousers a mess.

She turned to face him, catching his mouth in a hungry kiss. Fingers tangling in his hair.

The inside of her mouth still lined with blood. Licking it out of her with a growl.

The sound of many unfamiliar voices coming down the trail broke his trance, hers too it seemed.

Body stiffening she came back to herself, grabbing his hand and leaping up, moving like lightning to the cover of the forest.

Running again, he wanted to laugh. Watching both his feet and her. His love stained all red. Both of them a joined bloody blur in the moonlight.

Reaching a clearing she released his hand, fell to hands and knees. Dry heaving, coughing. Wrenching forward.

He fell in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. "Its okay, I'm okay, you're okay." A chant. Forced her eyes on his. "You're in control. You're right here."

She gripped his hand against her face, eyes wild. Took big shaky diaphragm breaths, trying to steady herself. He breathed in tandem with her, encouraging.

"You've got this, I'm here. I'm here."

She buried her face in his shoulder, gripping his shirt. Breathing him in. Relaxing into him. Coming back.

"How do you feel, Bhaal-babe?" He teased.

She groaned at the name, but he knew she loved it. "All spawned out, if I'm being honest." Paused, getting serious again. "Better, much better." She muffled into his shirt.

"I'm so proud of you." He smiled into her wet hair.

Heard her laugh. Pulling him further into her. "You're the only person who could ever say that about what I just did."

"Well, did I die?"

She snorted into his shirt. Sighed into him, body fully releasing. His hand trailing in her hair. Nuzzling, his voice soft into her. "You're so much stronger than you think."

After a moment she took a deep breath, pulling away. Smiling up at him. Her eyes so full of light it made his chest ache.

She looked down and groaned.

"Oh Gods, I'm going to have to throw these clothes away, arent I?" She pulled at them, dejected. "I like this shirt..."

"Oh please, we'll get you a new shirt. A better shirt."

"...Were we actually just fucking?" She groaned in embarrassment.

"That was my favorite part."

She hit his back in protest. "And our companions think I'm the deranged one..."

"Was it your favorite part?"

"Of course it was, you degenerate."

~

Part 4

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Desert Oasis...

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Wasted Oxygen

...

Suguru and Gojo would often lounge around this particular area in the forests near the school. Most times, they didn't really do much. They simply basked silently under the shades of the trees, the wind blowing through their hair as they relaxed like cats sunbathing belly-up.

Sometimes, very rarely, they dared to dream about their futures. The life of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was hard, and they all knew that. It was just that sometimes the thought would pop up, and it was hard as hell to stop once it was on its roll.

Gojo was convinced that he would continue to be you and Suguru's sugar daddy in the future, while Suguru mostly remained silent, silently wondering if they would even survive that long.

A thought that was quickly dismissed as Gojo threw himself into his lap, arms folded under his head while he mischievously poked at Suguru's ankle from underneath. A smirk played on his pale face when he saw his pondering friend lightly glare at him, but Suguru acquiesced nonetheless.

And so, Gojo began his rant on the endless ways you, specifically, would squeeze him dry until he had no more money left. He cited your boundless hunger for sweets and spicy foods, and what-not.

It was halfway through that interaction when you finally appeared, a sleepy look on your face as you stumbled over to the pair. A bag of mochis hung from your forearm as you settled yourself next to Gojo, laying out the contents of the bag neatly on the grass before resting your head on the silver demon's abdomen.

Your arrival prompted different reactions from each of them.

Gojo mocked, "Ah! How'd you know we were talking about your stupid ass? Hm? Eavesdropper much." Meanwhile, Suguru playfully smirked up at you, his voice suave as he greeted, "Brought me something? Always so sweet to us."

And you hated how true that was — whenever you went out, you always bought them stuff. Why did you do that? Did you think if you could just prove your worth and usefulness, they'd stick around a little lon-- "Ohhh, they got us sakura mochi, 'Toru. From that one shop you really like too!" "See, they all fall in love with me eventually," the other playfully remarked.

Too exhausted, you did the next big thing — you stole his sunglasses and put them on. (No one ever spoke about it, but whenever Gojo found you asleep, he'd put his sunglasses on you so that the lights couldn't bother you as much. A fact he found out from Ieiri after he compared your room to the bat cave.)

Lately, the higher-ups had been sending you on more missions, so much so that you barely had any time to sleep.

At first, both of them would argue for you to go to your room rather than hang around them (Gojo would be more insulting about it — "Go to bed, shit for brains."), but you refused. You were adamant about spending time with them, even if you were unconscious.

Suguru, knowing that you missed them, had a thoughtful idea to give you something of his to ease that feeling of longing (impossible tbh, we got them abandonment issues). He generously offered you one of his earrings (has spares), and you proudly wore that shit with great pride.

In truth, they both hated how the higher-ups were running you ragged; your eye bags were far more pronounced than usual. They had no idea how you kept up with them whenever they decided to visit the plaza when you seemed to always be running on fumes.

Eventually, though, you caught a break. And when that happened, everyone knew to be careful when walking near your room. You had always had a sensitive ear, so even a single loud sound would have you up and about, unable to go back to sleep.

There was a legit a warning sign, constructed by Ieiri and Haibara, stating "Beware. Sleeping dumb bitch ahead." A mini-Gojo was crudely drawn on it, flipping the reader off, and it was taped onto an orange cone. You have no idea of its existence nor will you ever. (That is until a certain pink-haired boy stumbles upon it decades later)

That's a lie; you did come across the orange cone one time. I mean, you were the one who drew the mini-Gojo in light blue crayon.

Kento was the only person who could wake you up without you getting majorly grumpy (no, seriously, a grumpy you was like seeing an actual demon claw its way out of hell ---, terrifying).

Mainly because you found his face pretty, and you would feel bad for bothering him so much, although you could never tell if he was displeased, considering he was always so freaking stoic. It scared you to no end. I mean, how the hell were you supposed to adjust your personality accordingly? Shittt.

Either way, the moment you woke up, Ieiri was already by your door with a fresh cup of coffee and books in hand -- oh god, you had forgotten you were still a student. Surprisingly, you had remarkable grades, mainly because the subject of curses and the history of Jujutsu was far more interesting than regular non-sorcerer topics.

However, there was only so much reading you could do before it felt like your eyeballs would fall out of their sockets. (In the end, you always crammed the information at the last minute before the exam, so it was what it was.)

Side fact: You once went with Utahime to one of those pottery-making cafes and made Ieiri an ashtray in the shape of a cat. (She kept it in her room, near the window sill. It was always full of ash.)

While you studied, Ieiri had a habit of ordering pizza from that one place nearby and would have one of the boys get it. Never Gojo, though, because one time, the pizza never arrived at your room. So when you both went to check, there he was, stuffing his face with your pizza. (Ugh I want to order pizza so bad)

I wouldn't say he almost died at your hands that day, but he did come rather close to it. Haibara and Suguru had to be the ones to pull you off the lanky bastard while you growled like some wild animal.

Gojo actually looked terrified for the first time in his life. (Maybe a bit disgusted tho)

Yaga had made it a rule that no one was allowed to touch your food, whatsoever, unless you offered it. (Which was ironic, considering Gojo would steal from you whenever you were out snacking in the middle of the night. Talk about mood swings!)

Additionally, when you weren't busy catching up with schoolwork or being sent out on missions, the three of you liked to visit the local waterparks

I thought about figuring out who the person was that planned the whole event with an itinerary and all, while also trying to figure out who were the ones that just sent the money (TikTok trend). But then, I remembered that Gojo would be the one to plan the entire trip AND pay for it all. Oh, how he loved to spoil you two. (Fucking show off of a bastard)

It was known that even though Gojo was willing to buy you and Suguru food for the day, you still brought a cooler filled with snacks you had spent the night before making, along with their favorite drinks.

For some reason, Gojo was OBSESSED with this one company of sparkling water. It had barely a hint of flavor, and you hated it beyond belief, always complaining about it when you saw it in his hands. But still, you got it for him because you were such a good friend meh

As for Suguru, he never admitted it, but he liked his sandwiches without the crust. It made him feel like a child again, as though there was still a sliver of innocence left in him.

(When you weren't looking, he used to pry the crust off the bread. But you noticed either way, that's why whenever you made him a snack --- you'd cut it off for him.)

Suguru had taken on the responsibility of packing the extra clothes for when you were all ready to dry off and change into something far more comfortable. The night before, he had rummaged through all of your closets, making sure everything was prepared.

(There was one time when you all had planned to go out the next day, early in the morning, to the beach or waterparks. However, the very same night, you all ended up partying. The following morning, both you and Suguru were panicking all over the place, trying to get everything ready for a day at the park while Gojo laughed with a Pac-Man animation. The one where he 'steps' on the ants) (Add-on: Suguru rushed through your closets, tripping on things on the floor as he looked for outfits you could all wear, quietly cursing both you and Gojo under his breath for having such messy rooms)

You loved going on the group water rides, the ones where they gave you a giant floaty to hang onto, and all of you held on for dear life as you plunged down the steepest of tunnels. Your screams echoed throughout the thick plastic, adding to the thrill. Sometimes, during the wild ride, one of your friends would lose their grip on the float, leading them to cling onto a limb or grab onto someone's hair for dear life.

The number of times someone had to dive down to the floor of the pool to look for Gojo's glasses was fucking ridiculous. He seemed to do it on purpose for the extra thrill (also, that someone was Suguru, since he had sensitive eyes that reacted badly to the pool chemicals).

You, on the other hand, had the privilege of choosing the floaty. It was a flamingo, your favorite (😌).

But your favorite ride of all time was the lazy river. You could just laze away as you drifted through the stream, sipping on your coca-cola. Meanwhile, Gojo and Suguru soaked each other with water from their respective floaties.

Also, you and Gojo had a thing for those really big beach hats — the ones you'd see femme fatales wear in old-timey movies. He would use his to scoop up water before throwing it over Suguru's head, who would then playfully steal your hat (you'd screech in protest) and do the same, throwing the gathered water back onto Gojo.

Moreover, sunscreen is not allowed in this group. It was an all-or-nothing situation. They either endured the burning sun together or endure the bitching of all; there was no in-between. (And if you ever needed to get rid of a burn overnight, you had the answer after the countless times you had to do it for your stupid idiots.)

(The remedy was simple: refrigerate some aloe vera and lotion. Crank the air conditioner to the lowest temperature. Methodically apply the cold aloe vera and lotion all over the burns while gently massaging ice cubes into the affected areas. Every time the ice cube melts, repeat the entire process. Additionally, a cold shower for about an hour helps too Genuinely recommend)

Gojo had obviously been the one to burn the most, his face and back all red and sizzling as he squirmed under your cold hands. He screeched at you like a pterodactyl, cursing you to stay away. But as soon as he got used to the sensation, he was literally purring in your lap. His arms wrapped around your thighs as you leaned forward to soothe the angry red of his back with the balls of your palms. (There's a meme on the clock app, the "You let whitey burn!" That's how I imagine this)

Afterward, you focused on Suguru, who had just come out of a cold shower. He didn't really have a sunburn, much like you, because the two of you liked to stick to the shade while watching Gojo run around like a maniac under the scorching sun. But he still had some on the tops of his shoulders, so you applied the aloe vera there. He gave you an appreciative hum as you did so.

You had a light burn below your ankles because the umbrella you two were under only covered just above them. So Gojo grabbed you a bucket of cold water to engulf your feet in — he was laughing the whole time as he kept you in place, while Suguru had to drag your unwilling limbs into the icy hell.

Oh, none of you made it into your respective beds. The moment all of you managed to, in some capacity, soothe away your pains, you were all out like night-lights, snoring away in the recreational room where the others could see you.

So many pictures were taken that night, especially by a certain insomniac girl who liked to smoke a lot. Later on, she sent them to all three of you.

The photo showed the three of you all messily sleeping on each other, with Gojo's long legs draped over your own while he uncomfortably curled into you, and you laid your head right on Suguru's chest, his arm wrapped around your collarbone like a very loose necklace. (Gojo was shaped like a C, you were laying vertically, and Suguru was laying horizontally by the top of your head)

Gojo saved this photo as his lockscreen

You had Gojo's sunglasses strewn over your face, Suguru's earring on the left right ear.

Gojo had your long lost bracelet on his wrist and one of Suguru's hair tie

Suguru has one of your obnoxious hair bands (you like those fabric ones that have a shit ton of decorations) and a bag of Gojo's favorite treats (on the way back, all of you stopped by for some sweets) laid by his waist

...

(A/N): 9 a.m.: I see a lot of you are liking this little series. I'm so happy you guys enjoy these little snippets of life --- I just hope you bulletproof for this about to hurt.

8: 48 p.m.: Hi hello ignore my previous comment. :) Also, I may or may have not given myself a concussion so if I die tonight...it is what it is 🤷

The Higher-Up's really seem to be running you ragged? Why is that?

How is it that you have this uncanny ability to always say the right things? Could it be related to your cursed technique?

Drop a comment

Feel free to buy me a 🦩

Hope you enjoyed!