#First time cross posting to tumblr

[jezuschristsuperstar]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Bear (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sydney Adamu/Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto Characters: Sydney Adamu, Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, authors attempt at humour, Romance, POV Sydney Adamu Series: Part 3 of Love on a Saturday Summary:

"For now, she was content with feeling the syrupy sweet citrus fill her mouth whenever she thought about him. "

Carmen, Sydney and another Saturday

[scoots-canoe]

DB doodles dump heehee

[kris-mage-fics]

Wintersun

A short Shepherds of Haven fic that takes place on Wintersun. Some vague spoilers for Chapter 4 and Blade's 5th day off in the Alpha build. Also there's a reference to this bit of a fic I haven't finished, but it's not necessary to understand what's going on.

| Ao3 | rated G | 628 words | Blade/Kyrahlise | under the cut for very light spoilers mentioned above |

"Happy Wintersun," Kyrahlise said as she handed Blade a slim package not much larger than her hand. Neither of them acknowledged the momentary brush of their fingertips.

The gift was neatly wrapped in paper she'd painted with winter berries and small swirls of gold. All tied off with a thin green ribbon salvaged from one of her old dresses. The design was overly flashy for his taste, but she had been too focused on making it pretty and was short on time to repaint something more austere.

Blade raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "You didn't need to," he said, yet she could've sworn his face softened as his eyes traced the designs on the paper.

Kyrah smiled having anticipated he'd say something along those lines. "I'm aware. But I wanted to and thought you might enjoy it."

He looked up from the gift to meet her eyes. "Did you paint this?" Of course he remembered she painted. While in The Reach he'd fussed at her plenty to not paint outside. He trusted her judgment enough to promote her to Captain after a month, yet the cold was somehow too much. He made absolutely no sense.

"Yes," she said in a light tone.

"It's nice." Did Blade's compliment make her feel happy in a way it probably shouldn't? Yes. But she'd take that to her grave before admitting it to anyone.

"Thank you, though I hope you like what's inside more."

Blade's eyes went back to the present he held delicately. She ignored the strange little feeling in her chest when he untied the ribbon and slipped it into a pocket before carefully unfolding the paper. Underneath was a small book of poetry. "You remembered, thank you."

An unusual wave of nerves washed over Kyrahlise. What if he'd read this collection before and hated it? Well, there was no use worrying about it now that the book was in his hands. "Yes, by one of my favorite contemporary poets. Are you familiar with her work?"

"I'm not."

Her smile was tinted with relief. "I hope you find her poetry to your taste."

There was a upward tilt to his lips as he nodded. Kyrah gathered he was thanking her again, but reading his subtle expressions was like cracking a code.

Not that she needed to decipher anything to understand Blade's kindness. He'd always been considerate and respectful towards her. A sharp contrast to how many Norms treated her after she left the Circle. Like when he'd been livid because of what happened in that damned cave, it had filled her with so much warmth. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to have anyone care about her well-being. It was the catalyst for certain feelings towards him being stirred up. Feelings she accepted existed then politely ignored.

Though a recent incident in his room made her question if Blade was really as indifferent to her as he so often appeared.

When Kyrahlise glanced back up at Blade, his eyes were so gentle as they met hers it brought an instinctive smile to her lips. The first time he looked at her like that was when she learned black was the warmest color of all. The way his gaze slowly traced over her face almost felt like a sweet caress that seemed to stop briefly at her lips. But she was likely imagining things again.

A slight frown passed over his face as his free hand twitched, then clenched against his side. He looked at her another moment, gave a hint of a nod and another quick 'thank you' before turning and walking away. When he was out of earshot she sighed. Maybe one day she'd figure out what was really going on inside that inscrutable head of his.

[raythestarghost]

Dissociation, A Kingleader Oneshot

Woah Kinger angst this time

Don't come at me for the unrealistic episode Kinger has, I would write based off experience but I don't remember shit about my dissociation. One second I'm entering school, blurry, them I'm leaving.

Kinger huddled in his pillow fortress, all alone in the dim, hot air. The faint light filtering through the gaps in the pillows in the fort were just enough to pull him out of it.

“Hello there, Kinger!” Caine suddenly appeared and yelled (as quietly as his code would allow him to at such a happy level).

Kinger jumped, but didn't scream. Caine, accustomed to his voice and presence startling Kinger into yelling, was concerned by this.

“Darling? Are.. you alright?” He lowered his voice forcefully.

Kinger sat facing away from him, staring at the floor covered with pillows, eyes full of fear.

Ah, okay.

Caine backed out of the fort, leaping to his feet and quickly scanning the chess pieces' room. Finding a blanket, he draped it over the pillows, hoping to darken the interior. He scurried over to the light dimmer, turning it down as far as he could while still being able to see.

Crawling back into the fort, he positioned himself so he could see his boyfriend's face. He scanned Kinger's empty eyes, searching for any sign of movement.

After a minute, he received no response except a very quiet whine. He would have questioned if Kinger was even alive if not for his physical inability to die here.

“Kinger, it's Caine. We're in our fort right now. Can you move?”

There was no expression change, but he heard another whine. A more distressed one.

Caine reluctantly reached out a hand before pulling back. He didn't know what was happening in Kinger's head, and he didn't want to scare him. He could risk pulling his boyfriend deeper into his dissociated state. It could help, but what if it made it wo-

Another whine broke Caine's train of thought. He would've believed Kinger was crying if it wasn't for the lack of any emotion on his face.

“Okay, I'm… gonna touch you.”

Caine slowly placed his hand on Kinger's, watching and listening for any sign that it was worsening. When he received none, he gently wrapped his arms around the smaller man, hugging him to his chest.

He sat awkwardly for a moment, hoping the physical touch would ground him at least a little.

Kinger lay on Caine’s chest, his hyperventilating slowly lowering to a normal rate.

“Kinger?” Caine forced himself to whisper.

He received yet another sad whimper, but this time it was in response. Caine’s face lit up, but he remained still.

He pressed (the best he could manage, considering their anatomy) a kiss to Kinger’s cheek.

Not receiving a response this time, he spoke up. “It’s Caine. We’re in your fort.”

Kinger finally blinked, looking around for a moment. Caine barely contained his excitement.

“Hi!” He yelled out. Kinger flinched away covering where his ears would be. Caine immediately clasped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.” He whispered.

Kinger didn’t respond, only continuing to scan his surroundings.

"Caine?" He softly spoke up.

"Hi." His lover spoke up softly, forming a gentle smile. "Are.. you okay?"

Kinger looked down at where his hands rested on Caine's chest. “...No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Caine inquired tenderly.

Kinger shook his head, burying his face deeper into Caine’s chest.

“Okay.” Caine responded, understanding without the need for further words. He placed his hand on the back of Kinger’s neck, stroking his thumb along the king’s spine.

They both sat there together for a long time, enveloped in silence, the deep breaths of Caine steadying Kinger.

“H-hey Caine?” Kinger spoke up after a while, not lifting his head.

“Yes, love?” Caine responded.

“Can you like… talk? I just- I'm starting to… do the thing again.” Kinger blinked a few times, trying to stay present.

“Of course. What would you like me to talk about?” Caine placed his hand on Kinger's cheek.

“I don't know. I just need to hear you.” Kinger closed his eyes again, trying to steady his breathing.

“Okay. Well, um, I did some more research on bugs. Did you know butterflies taste with their feet? You probably did. Um, but ladybugs, also referred to as ladybirds, play dead to avoid predators, which is actually quite advanced, considering even domestic dogs have to be taught that. Then again, they're not considered prey… anyways. Fireflies use advanced internal clocks to flash at the same time, and…”

Kinger's eyes slipped shut, his breathing steadying. The only sounds that filled the room were Caine's soft rambles and Kinger's calm breathing.

-----------

Also here's Caines full yap: “Okay. Well, um, I did some more research on bugs. Did you know butterflies taste with their feet? You probably did. Um, but ladybugs, also referred to as ladybirds, play dead to avoid predators, which is actually quite advanced, considering even domestic dogs have to be taught that. Then again, they're not considered prey… anyways. Fireflies use advanced internal clocks to flash at the same time, and catching them and putting them in jars is an activity many humans seem to enjoy. I think it would be fun for an adventure, but it would most likely get quite boring quickly. I also don't think it's morally right, although I don't know too much about morals in the first place, but if I was to make an insect themed adventure, I would probably not include that. I would probably add butterflies, and ladybirds, and grasshoppers, and dragonflies, and- Oh! Did you know dragonflies are some of the best hunters in the natural world? They have almost 360 degree vision, and they can fly super fast! They're really hard to catch! I think that would be a better fit for an insect catching adventure, but I do worry that Jax would harm them. I think that would make you sad. But- we're not talking about sad right now! We're talking about happy! You know, bumblebees can kind of feel happiness, studies suggest they can feel overall positive emotions, which is also very similar to domestic dogs! There are actually lots of similarities between the two species, their muscle and nerve systems are almost identical, and they are both incredible hunters. Bugs tend to hunt better by being hard to notice, but it's difficult for canines to do so, considering their size and natural instincts, so they usually rely on speed. Speaking of speed, dragonflies can fly really fast- wait I already said that. What's your favorite insect? Maybe I could tell you facts about it-” Caine averted his gaze down to where Kinger rested on his chest. The king was breathing soft and slow, and his eyes were closed. Caine stared at him in awe for a few moments before smiling and stroking his cheek. He sat silently with him, admiring the chess pieces' restful face.

[deathbyclown]

The Outfit Pairing: Crocodile/Buggy Rating: Explicit Words: 6000

Warnings: Mildly Dubious Consent, butt plug, anal sex, Buggy has nipple piercings and is a slut (affectionate).

Summary: Buggy is wearing The Outfit and everyone knows what that means, except for Crocodile, who will find out soon enough.

(Buggy’s horny and wears a specific outfit to announce it to potential suitors. He’s looking for sex and anyone will do. Crocodile incidentally volunteers)

A/N: The story starts from Buggy’s perspective and then switches to Crocodile’s.

Read on AO3 (for the fellow fanfic readers who want to keep scrolling tumblr, so they open it in a tab among 100 other unread fics, certain that they will read it later. This link is for u 💖)

🎪🐊🎪🐊🎪🐊 🎪🐊🎪🐊🎪🐊 🎪🐊🎪🐊

As soon as Buggy stepped into the bar, all eyes were on him. As they should be. He was dressed in The Outfit™. The crowd practically parted for him as he walked forward to the bar and he gave his admirers a dazzling smile. He could hear the buzz of whispers and murmurs and he knew every single person in this room was talking about him. Thinking about him. And it was exactly what he wanted.

He put both elbows on the bar and leaned forward, purposefully sticking out his ass as he waved down the bartender. A few people sidled up beside him, offering to buy him a drink. He flipped his hair over his shoulder and accepted their generosity with a sharp toothed smile.

Tonight was about sex. And if you were part of the Buggy crew, you knew that because of the what Buggy was wearing. He wore his most revealing clothes, thigh-high striped socks, tight shorts, and a silky, billowing, open buttoned shirt. And when the crew saw their captain wearing The Outfit™ they knew Buggy was looking to get laid. It was something that had been established years ago, by accident at first, and then it slowly became the norm, until the sight of Buggy’s clothes had a Pavlovian effect on the crew.

So, Buggy had quite the crowd surrounding him as he sipped from his beer bottle, legs spread as he sat back on the barstool, elbows resting on the bar behind him while he chatted with his groupies.

“Chairman! You look so good tonight!”

“Captain Buggy! Come sit next to me!”

“Let me buy you the next drink!”

They were clamoring for his attention. He smiled lazily at them, listening to their praises, indulgently nodding and sparing glances here and there, along with the lightest touch to hands and shoulders.

Internally Buggy was frantically trying to pick someone to take back to his tent because his dick was straining in his shorts. He had been horny all day and was at his wits end. It’s not like he was trying to make himself horny either! He woke up this morning hard as a rock so he jerked off, as any sensible person would. But by the time he cleaned up and finished getting dressed he could feel it again, the arousal. And he was half-hard despite taking care of himself earlier! But there was nothing he could do about that because he was late for his meeting and had absolutely no time to quickly rub one out. He used every trick in his book to will away his boner, but to no avail. No, this was something deeper than morning wood. It was the hot creeping tingle under his skin, the need to be touched, kissed, held, to cum because of someone else. And he realized he was craving a partner, but he couldn’t do anything about it! He would have to wait until after the stupid Cross Guild meeting was finished and then he’d actually take care of his problem.

He really did try to pay attention to what Crocodile and Mihawk were saying, because he knew they could turn to him at any moment. But try as he might, he spent most of the time daydreaming about his potential partner. And his fantasy was fueled by the dressed down sight of Crocodile, who was standing before Mihawk and Buggy sharing data or numbers about something. Buggy was instead fixated on Crocodile’s appearance; he had his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, his finger pressing into a sheet of paper on the table, making his arms flex, a few strands of hair framing his face, his signature cigar wiggling between this teeth as he spoke. And whatever he was saying went totally unheard by Buggy, who could only think about how he wanted to be held down by someone with arms like his. Muscular, a little hairy, powerful.

Buggy was lost in his fantasy about some faceless, large man bending him over the meeting table and was shocked to see Mihawk leaving and Crocodile gathering his papers. They didn’t ask him a single question! Normally he’d feel a little offended that they didn’t even talk to him but not today! The meeting was over and he was finally free to be as horny as he wanted! He was grateful that he wore his baggy red outfit because he was rock hard by the time the meeting ended, so he hurried away before Crocodile could tell him to stick around.

As soon as he made it back to his room he tore off his clothes and flipped onto his bed, squeezing his cock. He slowly stroked himself, that hot pulse of arousal building before it plateaued, leaving him frustrated. He needed to be penetrated, and by a person if he wanted to cum. So he grabbed his largest butt plug and set it down beside him as he fingered himself open. He was generous with the lube, already lost in another fantasy of someone else’s fingers spreading and stretching him. His cock twitched and leaked, sweat gathered in the creases of his body as he pushed himself to the edge. But he just couldn’t go over, as if there was a roadblock. He growled in frustration, flopping onto his belly and rutting into the covers. He stopped after a few thrusts, knowing he wasn’t getting anywhere.

He grabbed the plug and got on his knees, lifting his ass in the air. He detached his torso and circled behind himself to push the plug in. He groaned as he watched and felt it spread him open and then sink into him. He had the fleeting thought of fucking himself with his own dick, but he had tried it several times before with unsatisfactory results. Unfortunately for him, he’d have to find a partner.

Buggy reattached and sat up, regretting it almost immediately. He squirmed and gripped his bedcovers, the plug pushing deliciously into his prostate. He took a steadying breath and stood up, his legs trembling slightly. The plug was a double-edged sword. It got him ready and helped to scratch the itch to be penetrated, but it stoked his arousal, making him feel like he wanted to burst out of his skin.

It took him a while to get dressed, too busy squeezing his eyes shut and taking deep breaths to try and calm his dick. He may or may not have rutted against his mattress a few more times to relieve the ache. And sitting at his vanity to do hair and makeup was a test of self-control, which Buggy lacked. He’d start lining his eyes or brushing on eyeshadow and shift a certain way, pleasure shooting up his spine, which meant he had to put down his tools and touch himself. And he couldn’t stop biting at his lips, so he had to redo his lipstick several times and scrub his teeth because he kept getting red on the inside of his mouth.

By the time he left his tent he felt frazzled, messier than what he would’ve liked, but good enough to seem put together in the dim lights of the bar. Each step he took felt like he was being shocked, like he was a live wire, sensitive and electric. It was frustrating but exhilarating, and he was grateful the tent that held the bar wasn’t too far away.

And when he walked in, all of that extra time and struggle was worth it. They couldn’t stop staring.

So now he had to decide who was the best candidate to give him what he wanted. He dismissed a lot of people who were the same size as him or shorter. He focused on the ones who towered over him; The bigger, the better (at least for tonight). He had two very tall thick people on either side of him, leaning toward him, paying him compliments, brushing their fingers through his hair, running their hands along the exposed fuzzy skin of his thighs. He was going to have a very hard time choosing tonight, but the pulse in his cock told him to make his decision sooner rather than later.

The person on his right, a huge dark haired man, with a broad chest, thick fingers and round belly had his hand on Buggy’s shoulder and leaned in close to speak softly in his ear.

“Captain, let me take care of you tonight. I can give you everything you want and more.”

The man’s hot breath sent a shiver through Buggy and he sent a hand to rest behind the man’s neck, keeping him close.

“Mmm, what do you think I want?” Buggy gave him a sly grin, his other hand sliding up the man’s thigh.

The man’s breath hitched, his large hand that was around Buggy’s waist moved to slide inside his shirt, his fingers playing with Buggy’s pierced nipple.

“I hope you’ll pardon my forwardness, Captain, but I think you want to get fucked.”

Buggy bit his lip, releasing it to moan softly as the man pulled at his piercing, the sensation going straight to his dick. Buggy nodded, turning his body so he had better access.

“I think I could sit you on my lap and fuck you right here in front of everyone.” He whispered huskily into Buggy’s ear.

Buggy moaned and then crashed their lips together, eagerly kissing the man, who kissed him back with the same fervor. The man’s words had Buggy feeling hot, his skin sensitive to every little touch. He wanted it so badly, to be taken, he didn’t care how or where, or even with who, just that he needed it now, and he was seriously considering crawling onto this man’s lap and sitting on his cock in front of everyone.

The man broke off the kiss and Buggy whined, needing to feel his tongue and heat.

“I’m a little busy here, mate-” The man started but froze when he saw who interrupted them. Crocodile had his hook on the man’s shoulder, his eyes sharp but his face neutral, almost easygoing.

“I need to speak with the…Chairman.” Crocodile looked pointedly at Buggy who was still draped across the man, body parts everywhere.

Inside Buggy was freaking out, gnashing his teeth and pulling his hair in frustration; on the outside he managed a whiny petulant tone instead.

“What?! Why????”

“Important business. Confidential.” He gave Buggy’s suitor a look, who stood immediately, forcing Buggy to pull himself together to maintain his balance on the stool.

“I’ll be taking Buggy with me. Come on.” Crocodile walked away and Buggy sat there for a moment weighing his options. Stay here and ride this nice gentleman but face the wrath of Crocodile; or wait another day to get off but avoid upsetting Crocodile.

Buggy twirled a finger in his hair, leaning over to the man he was flirting with but he already left. Buggy looked to his other side and it seemed the rest of his suitors turned tail and ran. Fine! He’d follow Crocodile for now, but he was coming right back when he was done!

…

Now he had done it. When had he become so impulsive when it came to that clown? He used to be so methodical; everything had a place and a plan, and three more to follow. But ever since he formed Cross Guild everything felt so chaotic. As organized as he tried to make it, as efficient and straightforward as he planned it to be, he could never account for Buggy. Somehow he would always throw a wrench in his plans, even when Crocodile thought he had a read on him. Without fail, Buggy managed to do the unexpected.

Crocodile sat in a corner of the bar, needing get away from his office. He had been wanting to get a feel for Buggy’s crew so he came to the most popular bar on the island. But shortly after he sat down he began to regret even coming here. The alcohol was cheap, the people loud and rowdy, and it reeked of weed and body odor. He was ready to leave when someone walked into the tent that drew everyone’s attention.

Crocodile sat up and he saw Buggy and… what the hell was he wearing? He looked like he belonged in a clown strip club, showing more skin than he’s ever seen from Buggy. He’s worn that stupid red blanket nearly every day since he arrived, but this? This was unprecedented. He looked so stupid and ridiculous and… Crocodile lost his train of thought as he watched Buggy stick out his ass when he reached the bar. The exposed skin of his thighs bulged slightly around his tight shorts and socks. And his ass looked thick, round, like it was begging to be grabbed or smacked.

What the hell did he think he was doing, waving his ass around like he was in heat. It was unbecoming of the unintentional face of Cross Guild and an Emperor. He didn’t want to stick around and watch this clown embarrass himself or the organization. He sat back in his seat, knocked back the rest of his shitty whiskey and sat a few berry under the glass, ready to leave once again, but he heard something that made him pause.

The people at the booth in front of him chatted loudly about Buggy and his outfit. One of them recounted the last time Buggy wore his ‘horny clothes’ and how they had nearly slept with Buggy but lost out to some lady with huge tits. Crocodile chewed on the information, the scowl deepening on his face as he thought over what he heard and what he was watching. Buggy had clothes he wore to announce that he wanted sex? How absurd and disgusting. And how had Crocodile never seen or heard about this? Was this a common occurrence? He rarely came to the bar so it would make sense that he never would’ve seen Buggy’s sex clothes. Was he that desperate for sex that he had to use his subordinates? He really was pathetic and shameless.

And he was acting shameless, too, spreading his legs, his erection obvious in his tight shorts, leaning into his admirers, letting them touch him. It wasn’t right. But technically Buggy wasn’t doing anything wrong or against Crocodile’s rules, his behavior was just distasteful.

And that’s why Crocodile was so frustrated, because Buggy was just being annoying. Surely that was why he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the clown. Or why he suddenly found himself on his feet when he saw that man pull Buggy close, whisper in his ear, and touch his chest. Or why he moved toward them when he saw Buggy crash their lips together.

Before he knew it he had his hook on the man’s shoulder, with absolutely no idea why he was here or what he was going to say. All he knew was he felt relief when Buggy stopped kissing that stranger. So he told him the first thing that came to mind: business. Which was so stupid not even a clown like Buggy would fall for it. He told Buggy to follow, but he really didn’t expect him to listen.

He left the bar and lit a cigar to re-center himself. What the hell was that? Why did he walk over and stop Buggy? He thought about Buggy’s outfit and his behavior and the man who kissed him. He grimaced at the images and sucked in a large mouthful of smoke before letting it out slowly. He could admit, begrudgingly, that maybe Buggy was a little attractive in his outfit. So what? He wasn’t some unruly teen getting worked up over a flash of skin. So why would it bother him? The answer flitted through his mind and he sneered at his own thoughts.

Jealousy? He scoffed aloud. Please.

Buggy burst from the tent flaps turning to Crocodile who was standing beside the entrance, chewing on his cigar with his hand in his pocket and his hook held to his chest. Buggy separated himself to be eye level with Crocodile and got in his face.

“What the hell was that!? Why did you interrupt me!? I was kinda busy, in case you hadn’t noticed!”

Crocodile grimaced and blew smoke in Buggy’s face, making him cough, his eyes tearing up, forcing him to retreat.

Why the hell did the clown follow? He looked over Buggy’s body and he felt that annoyance again. And, unfortunately, he had a name for it: Jealousy. He let out a huff.

“Emergency meeting. We’re going to my office to discuss it.” Crocodile lied, once again leaving Buggy behind, walking in the direction of his office.

What the hell was he going to make the emergency meeting about? He’d have to find something to seem important enough to interrupt both of their evenings. Or think of something to distract Buggy until he forgot that he pulled him from the bar.

He felt a little spark of pleasure at the idea of stealing Buggy away for himself and frowned deeper, biting into his cigar.

Buggy made a sound of disbelief, high pitched and grating, and he zoomed forward to catch up to Crocodile.

“Whaaatt!? That’s such bullshit!” Buggy tugged at Crocodile’s shoulders to try and get him to slow down but it didn’t do a thing. Buggy’s hands felt searing on his shoulders, his heat sinking through the layers of Crocodile’s clothing. He had to keep moving, not wanting to let his thoughts catch up to him.

“C’mon, do you really need me? You’re so much smarter, I’ll just hold you back! So just let me go and you can-“

Crocodile stopped abruptly and Buggy slammed into his back with a honk from his nose before dropping down to meet his feet. He was definitely smarter than Buggy, stronger too. So why was he even entertaining this?

“Why the hell did you do that, you flashy idiot!” Buggy rubbed at his nose, glaring up at Crocodile, who turned and gave him a much more dangerous look. Buggy recoiled, holding up his hands, already trying to right his wrong. And as he looked over Buggy he remembered exactly why he was doing this. He couldn’t let Buggy go back to that bar with his shirt open so wide he could see one of his pierced nipples looking so pink and pert, begging to be touched, his shorts riding so high the tip of his dick peeked out. He took a step forward, drawn by the sight of Buggy’s skin

“W-wait, it was just a slip of the tongue!”

How could this clown be so oblivious and obvious at the same time? He was clearly looking for sex, and yet how could he not realize the effect he was having on Crocodile? The taller man looked over him and took another step forward and Buggy let out a little shriek and took a step back.

“Croccy! Baby! I was just being silly! I’m a clown, just a silly little clown! No need to take me seriously!”

He bent forward and lifted his hook, and Buggy squeaked and scrunched his face ready for pain, but he tapped the underside of his chin, making him look up at Crocodile.

“You say you’re a clown, so why are you dressed like a whore?”

Buggy’s eyes widened in surprise and his face turned bright red. “I- I am not dressed like-” but as he glanced down at himself he changed course.

“Well! If you have to know!..I was looking for a-a date tonight! Y’know someone to…” Buggy made a motion with his hand like he wanted Crocodile to fill in the blank, but he just stared down at Buggy, keeping his face impassive. Buggy huffed in frustration and dipped his chin down, bringing a hand to cover his forehead and his eyes.

“I was looking for sex tonight, ok! You happy? I’m wearing this outfit that makes me look like a “whore” because I want to get fucked. Is that what you wanted to hear? Fucking hell!” Buggy turned his back to Crocodile clearly uncomfortable and working himself into a rage.

“Do you need dick that badly?” Crocodile asked derisively, but his tone sounded a little too earnest for his ears. Because inside he was feeling an irritating combination of jealousy and lust.

Buggy whipped around and detached his torso to grab Crocodile by the front of his jacket. “Yes! Yes I do need it that badly! So please let me go back. I’ll do anything!” Buggy’s face was pleading, eyes shining and large, lips in a soft pout.

Crocodile grit his teeth, crunching into his cigar. How? How could he look so pathetic and cute at the same time? He was shameless, asking to be let go for sex, but hearing him say it out loud, begging him so earnestly, it sent his blood south.

Buggy let go of Crocodile’s shirt in fear when he saw his face, mistaking the dangerous look in his eyes and the vein pulsing in his forehead as anger.

They were stopped close to the little building that held Crocodile’s office. He had enough self control not to push Buggy into the nearest tent or into the ground and take him right there, but he was still a man. He’d take care of this problem for Buggy (and make him forget about going back to that stupid bar to find someone that didn’t deserve to sleep with an Emperor).

He grabbed Buggy around the middle and threw him over his shoulder. He’d take Buggy to his bed and give him dick so good he’d never wear that ridiculous outfit in public again. He redirected them toward his personal tent.

“H-hey! Crocodile! C’mon, I know you don’t need my help that badly! How about this, I’ll go do my thing at the bar really quick and then I’ll meet you back at your office. How does that sound?” Buggy babbled, clearly trying to dig himself out of this situation.

“Shut up.” Crocodile growled, becoming hornier and more annoyed by the minute.

Buggy broke in half, his arms wrapping around Crocodile’s neck, burying his face in his exposed skin.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know what I did wrong but I’m really really sorry! Please don’t punish me.” He whined, nearly in Crocodile’s ear, which was uncomfortably loud.

“I’m not punishing you, idiot.” He grit out, trying to suppress the full body shiver that was building under his skin at the feeling of Buggy’s lips and nose on the sensitive skin of his neck.

“R-really?” Buggy asked timidly, his warm breath tickling the hairs on Crocodile’s neck, making him want to swat at Buggy.

“Yes. But I should punish you because you won’t stop annoying me.” He threatened. Buggy shut up but continued to hold onto his neck. Unfortunately, any punishments he tried to think of for Buggy at this moment had Buggy on his knees.

He lifted the flap of the tent and ducked inside, carrying Buggy to the bed and dropped each half of him down with a thump.

“Wait. This isn’t your office.” Buggy put himself together and sat on his knees, looking up at Crocodile in confusion.

He smoothed back his hair, put out his cigar and hung his jacket on the little rack next to his dresser. He stood in front of Buggy and undid the belt of his pants, sliding it off and letting it fall to the floor with a thunk.

Buggy watched with his mouth slightly agape, eyes unable to pull away from Crocodile’s hand working at the buttons of his vest.

“Get undressed.” Crocodile told him, pulling Buggy out of his trance.

“Wait what? Why?” He looked throughly confused.

“You said you needed dick.” Crocodile answered, unbuttoning his shirt, removing his hook and sliding it off.

Buggy’s jaw dropped and he let out a sort of wheezing sound. “Y-yours?”

Crocodile’s hand stilled on the buttons of his pants and he felt a flash of self-doubt which just made him angry. He fixed Buggy with a cold stare.

“Is that a problem?” He asked lowly, his voice dangerously calm.

Buggy’s face flushed with color. “N-no! Not a problem!” He eagerly removed his clothes, writhing on the bed as he struggled with his shorts.

“Tsk.” Crocodile felt frustrated with himself for giving Buggy something he so clearly wanted and for indulging himself like this. When did he become so weak-willed?

Buggy’s attention was drawn by the sound Crocodile made. His eyes flicked up to Crocodile’s and then moved downward, tracing over the exposed skin of his chest before settling on Crocodile’s half-hard erection pushing against the fabric of his underwear.

Crocodile smirked, the feeling of Buggy’s obvious appreciation of his body gave him a heady feeling, helping to ease his previous self-doubts. He stepped closer to Buggy, whose eyes did not move to meet his. Crocodile grabbed at his hardening cock and stroked it through his underwear.

“Is this what you want? Beg for it.”

Buggy whimpered and nodded, abandoning his shorts in favor of moving to the edge of the bed to get his hands on Crocodile’s dick.

Crocodile held him back, grabbing him under his chin and tilting his face up.

“What did I just say?” He asked, annoyance in his voice.

“Y-yes! Please, Croccy, I want it. I want your dick! Please give it to me.” Buggy begged, his hands sliding over Crocodile’s hips, pushing down his underwear. As soon as his cock was free Buggy’s hands were on it, touching and pulling and squeezing him. The hot feeling of Buggy’s hands on him, his desperation, it made his cock harden and grow under his touch.

Crocodile pushed him away, making him fall backwards onto the bed. He pushed down on Buggy’s chest with his handless forearm and hooked his fingers in Buggy’s shorts, ripping them down, his cock springing free. Crocodile wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t wearing underwear, but he was surprised to see a large sparkly pink jewel between his cheeks. Crocodile flipped Buggy onto his belly and pulled up his hips to get a better look. Buggy moaned and clawed at the blankets, loving the manhandling, but his squirming was not enough to distract from Crocodile’s discovery.

A butt plug. This fucking clown had in a butt plug the whole time. Crocodile’s cock twitched at the thought, his whole body felt hot, molten lust curling in his belly.

“You’re a disgusting little slut.” Crocodile husked, pulling at the plug, making Buggy gasp. The urge to rip the plug from his body and replace it with his dick was powerful. But he had patience. He wanted to savor this.

“B-be nice!” Buggy rushed out before groaning as Crocodile pulled out the plug to its thickest point, letting it sit at his rim, stretching him.

Be nice? He didn’t seem to realize that Crocodile could be much much crueler than this. He pushed the plug back in sharply, making Buggy moan and clench. Crocodile smacked his ass, hard. Buggy yelped and squirmed and Crocodile smacked him again.

“Don’t forget that I’m doing you a favor, clown.”

“Yes, please, I’m sorry!” Buggy whined, his hands twisting in the blankets.

Crocodile leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the reddened skin of Buggy’s ass. Buggy sighed and then Crocodile bit down on the supple tender flesh.

“Ye-ouch!!” Buggy split apart and tried to move away but Crocodile held his hips still. He dragged his tongue over his bite, soothing it before moving inward. Buggy tensed, and Crocodile could feel him holding his breath. He pulled at the plug and ran his tongue over his pink stretched rim. Buggy quickly let out his breath, shaky with a quiet whine.

He pulled it out further, licking and sucking at his rim and the skin around it, making Buggy whine, the muscles in his thighs twitching with every pass of Crocodile’s tongue.

“Pleeease.” Buggy’s voice was strained, trembling and Crocodile pulled away to glance at Buggy. He looked back at him, his lip quivering, tears in his eyes.

“Crocodile, I need you. Pleeease. I can’t take it anymore.”

Crocodile’s breath caught in his throat. He looked pitiful, and unbelievably alluring. He reached over to his nightstand and rooted through the drawer to retrieve lube and condoms. Buggy watched him with eager eyes, his whole body trembling.

Crocodile kept eye contact with Buggy as he slowly pulled out the plug. His expressions were addictive, brows furrowed, eyes fluttering, mouth open, his face as red as his nose. Crocodile let the plug fall to the bed and his eyes zeroed onto Buggy’s slightly gaping hole which was puffy, and twitching.

“Shit” he said under his breath, squeezing lube between Buggy’s cheeks, pushing two fingers easily into him. Buggy gasped loudly, pushing back onto Crocodile’s fingers. He was already so slick from his own preparations, his fingers gliding easily in and out.

“Mooore!” Buggy whined, hips swirling.

Normally Buggy’s whining would annoy him but right now it was sending arousal straight down, making his dick ache. Any patience he was trying to maintain was thrown to the wayside. He needed to be inside of Buggy. Now.

He rolled the condom on with a practiced hand and positioned his head against Buggy’s hole. Buggy let out a keening sound as Crocodile’s head pushed past his rim. He didn’t let up, slowly but steadily sinking into him.

He was so tight, it made Crocodile grit his teeth. He wanted to be balls deep, to slam into Buggy, but he wasn’t a beast. At least, not unless asked to be, and he prided himself on his self-control. But Buggy certainly wasn’t helping, groaning and panting, trying to push himself back onto Crocodile’s dick, forcing him to go faster. Crocodile maintained a firm grip on Buggy’s hip, making him go at Crocodile’s pace.

Finally, he pushed in all the way, groaning as he was fully enveloping by Buggy’s tight heat. Buggy was sweating, his head laying on the bed, his face pressed against the covers, drool oozing from the corner of his mouth.

“So good, taking all of me like this.” Crocodile thrust shallowly into Buggy, who moaned at the praise, lifting himself onto his forearms to push himself onto Crocodile’s cock. This clown was really testing his patience.

He grabbed Buggy by the hips and pushed in as deep as he could, making him moan and writhe. He covered Buggy with his body, dipping his head to speak closely to his ear.

“I think you’re forgetting who’s in control.” He pushed Buggy’s chest further into the bed, making him hold his body weight. Buggy moaned loudly, clawing at the blankets underneath of him.

“I’m the one fucking you.” He pulled out and slammed into him. Buggy tensed up suddenly and let out a broken moan, cumming onto the blankets underneath of him.

He came, already? What, is he sensitive or was he that worked up.

“Is my dick that good?” He mocked, feeling frustrated with Buggy and unsure how to take his quick orgasm.

“Yesssss” he hissed, his body twitching with aftershocks.

Absolutely shameless. Crocodile leaned back, pulling out of him.

“Don’t stop, pleeease!” Buggy whined, rolling his hips, his ass jiggling.

Crocodile flipped Buggy onto his back, pushing him further onto the bed and followed after him to sit between his legs. He bent Buggy’s knees back and rubbed his dick against his ass.

“You thought I was done with you?” Crocodile smiled cruelly at Buggy, positioning his head against his entrance once again. He pushed in sharply, bottoming out and Buggy nearly shrieked, hands shooting forward to grip Crocodile’s shoulders.

“You’re not finished until I say so.”

He set a brutal pace, hips slapping into Buggy fiercely, leaving him gasping and clawing at Crocodile’s skin. It was intoxicating, the sight of him, hair fanned out behind him, body shiny with sweat, his makeup smeared.

Crocodile leaned over Buggy, resting on his forearm and using his hand to slide under the back of Buggy’s head, pressed their lips together. His hips slowed as he licked into Buggy’s mouth, the both of them breathing heavily through their noses. Buggy constantly made little sounds as they kissed, whines and moans in the back of his throat, all swallowed by Crocodile.

He kissed Buggy’s cheek and jaw, down to his neck but the difference in their height made it hard for him to bend further down. Buggy split in half, moving upward so Crocodile could continue kissing down his chest. It was a strange sensation for Crocodile, to be comfortably positioned while eye level with another person’s chest. He was so used to having lovers smaller than himself, but now he could easily bite and lick at Buggy’s chest while he kept fucking him.

Crocodile licked Buggy’s hard nipple, his tongue flicking over the metal barbell of his piercing. He could feel Buggy’s hands threading through his hair, his high pitched whines increasing in volume as he tugged on the metal with his teeth. He switched to the other nipple, giving it a similar treatment. His hips moved faster, spurred on by Buggy’s sounds and the feeling of his hands tugging at his hair.

“Fuck!fuck!fuck!” Buggy swore with every thrust Crocodile made. He moved up to suck at Buggy’s neck, his own pleasure mounting.

“Crocodile!” Buggy cried, body twitching as he came again, a warm wet spurt reaching Crocodile’s stomach. Crocodile groaned into Buggy’s moist skin as Buggy clenched around his dick. He smashed their lips together, stealing Buggy’s breath and whimpers. He moved his hips quickly, skin slapping against Buggy’s, riding the tight clenching of Buggy’s ass.

“Shit” he panted against Buggy’s lips, gritting his teeth and groaning, pushing deeply into Buggy as he came, the pulses of his orgasm intense.

He laid over Buggy for a few moments, crushing him with his body weight, making Buggy wheeze. When Buggy started frantically patting his arm, that’s when Crocodile lifted off of Buggy. He pulled out and sat back on the bed, tying off the condom as Buggy lay panting and sweaty on the bed. He had his eyes closed, his body still split in half and his legs spread wide open. Crocodile had a fleeting thought that he would’ve liked to see his cum leaking out of Buggy while he was like this. Maybe next time he would forgo the condom.

Crocodile himself was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his hair sticking to the sides of his face. He pushed his damp hair out of his face and slid back to the pillows, grabbing a cigar and a lighter from his nightstand. Buggy still lay there panting heavily, still trying to catch his breath. The lazy fuck.

Crocodile leaned back on the pillows, taking a few puffs from his cigar, the smoke always more delicious after an orgasm. Maybe now that he had sex he’d able to think more clearly about why he had found Buggy so arousing.

He glanced down at said clown, who slowly hovered up to Crocodile and flopped onto his chest, hugging him close, pressing scattered kisses over his pecs. This man was a literal fool and his earnest shows of emotion should’ve gotten him killed long ago. But his affection made Crocodile’s heart squeeze. Buggy nuzzled a stubbled cheek into Crocodile’s skin, leaving a smear of muddied makeup on his chest. Crocodile didn’t want to think about what his own face looked like right now.

He put out his cigar and turned off the light, already feeling annoyance dampening his nice post-orgasm mood. He pulled Buggy close and let him snuggle into his neck, throwing the covers over the both of them. The twinge of annoyance he felt wasn’t aimed at Buggy. He sighed softly and pet the clown’s hair. No, Crocodile was annoyed with himself because he didn’t want to let Buggy go.

[coridallasmultipass]

brocal for the ship bingo?

The OTP to end all other OTPs... (Man. This wound up being basically Cori's Masterpost of BroCal. AKA... this got long and has some images, since I realized I can post my own art directly instead of just a text link to it lol.)

Wasn't actually expecting this to wind up with a bingo? But I got basically 2?? (Will explain the lighter heart later.) This is A LONG post, and definitely gonna get SUGGESTIVE, bc man, am I obSESSED with BroCal. I'm just gonna go thru each checked box, since I don't know how else to structure this post lol.

Read More to save ppl's dashboards:

I want them to make out with blood: OKAY. I HAVE A WHOLE THING PLANNED FOR THIS CONCEPT. I AM NOT GOING TO GO INTO DETAIL ABOUT IT JUST YET BC I ACTUALLY WANNA WRITE IT. I'm obsessed with this one fanart of Bro licking Lil Cal, and it spurred on an idea I outlined and really wanna write: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/739969858334294016/hiiii-mutual-i-am-secrecy-asking-if-u-have-anymore

((Sorry for the plain text links, Tumblr app is NOT cooperating with me right now to add hyperlinks. I'd post the image directly if that one was mine.))

Basically, I just really need to see Bro and Cal making out with blood in their mouths, and I started a whole convoluted, unrelated outline in order to make that hapen. It'll probably just be a really short thing that ends at the uh climax, since otherwise it's gonna end up sadstuck. And I don't like sadstuck lol.

Undeniably t4t: Bro and Dirk are always trans for me, and Lil Cal's got that uh... what percentage did I calculate it out to be? 13% of Dirk is in Lil Cal [ My shitpost calculations: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/746702663327072256/i-ran-out-of-tags-rambling-about-this-so-im-just ] so Lil Cal is at least 13% trans because of that much of Dirk being in him, plus however you feel about the other components being trans. LMAO this is ridiculous to type out. Moving on.

EDIT: FUTURE CORI INTERJECTING WITH A:

"Lil Cal Top Surgery Healing Progess: Day 1"

Terrible for each other affectionate/derogatory: I don't even know where the affectionate/derogatory split occurs. I multiship BroCal as both Bro/normal puppet Lil Cal and as Bro/evil juju puppet Lil Cal, and whatever combination in between or outside of that. Terrible in that Bro is so obsessed with Cal that he doesn't have normal relationship/social skills and uses Lil Cal as both a crutch and motivator alternately, in a terrible cycle, or maybe rather... spiral. And also terrible in that Bro is caught in the allure of playing the role of puppeteer while also being a puppet for the darker parts of Lil Cal, whether he actively knows it or not. (Honestly though, I feel like it's dismissive if you try to blame all of Bro's faults on Lil Cal like this tho, which is why I tend towards liking Lil Cal as just a regular puppet a lil bit more. Or at least, a regular mildly supernatural puppet since that can be a little more entertaining if Cal can get into mischief while no one's looking or give off the vibes of his mood more directly, rather than like entirely inanimate or 'just LE, trapped in a puppet body.' Again, I like all of these concepts.) ((I mean that can also be a whole post of its own, like, by the time Bro gets ahold of Lil Cal, are any of the other components still alive in there? Like, are ARquius and Gamzee still in there or did Caliborn kill and consume them entirely? Idk how it works, man. This is why I like Lil Cal as his own person, maybe just influenced by the feelings of the others. LaCroix: CalGamARquius essenced water. Lil Croix.))

They need to get weirder with it: YES YES. 1000% YES. I need entirely shameless Bro doing entirely shamless things to Lil Cal. I want them inseparable and doing unspeakable things to each other. I want Bro taking full advantage of Cal having a puppet body and all the intimacy that comes with making repairs and being elbow-deep in stuffing.

Playing with them like dolls cute/psychological torture: This is the same divide as with the 'terrible for each other' point, so I'm just gonna go with the cute one, since the torture one is self-explanatory. I want them fucking married. Like. Full mushy cute romance type of relationship that Bro has never felt for any of the people in his life (cough aromantic cough). I made this comic not too long ago, and I often fondly look back on it, because I adore the concept of Bro being lovey and romantic and everything out of character around Lil Cal because he feels safe and loved and comfortable around Cal:

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/750602227910131712/brocal-4-lyfe-so-i-had-this-idea-of-dave-being ]

I made a post a long, long time ago (not gonna link that one bc it was personal and I was being very obviously mentally ill ["C'mon, like you're not being obviously mentally ill while typing paragraph upon paragraph about BroCal still in 2024 like 10 years later??" Fair.]) But the gist of it was that, like, having objectophilia or objectum sexuality is like, from an outsider pov, it's a way to express love to yourself. You filter all your self-hate through the object you love, and you get back unconditional love in return.

Lil Cal is never gonna hate Bro, no matter what Bro does. As a regular puppet, Lil Cal doesn't have the capacity for hate. And so that only brings them closer, since Cal is never gonna reject Bro for any reason. (Back to being a crutch. RSD is real, and Dave is probably a big trigger for that since he's not on the same wavelength of weird as Bro [not blaming Dave, obviously, this is a post about BroCal].) Bro can experience receiving positive attention from Lil Cal, without feeling 'fake' or uncool by expressing that same attention or affection directly to his own self. (Things are always done through multiple layers with the Striders, aren't they?) ((And I'm not saying Lil Cal doesn't love Bro, or that their relationship is just pretend - it's real, I'm just like, 'What's going on behind the curtain in the mundane situation?/ How is the relationship appealing?' Lil Cal luvs Bro 5eva 4 lyfe and that's a hard fact. Could cut diamonds with that shit.)) Example: maybe Bro is dealing with a bout of body/gender dysphoria and is trying to take out his frustration with working out, and it's not helping, even if he's powered through a set better than normal. Then, he notices the way Lil Cal is watching him, and he can feel the excitement seeping off Cal. He can sense the echoes of a wolf-whistle ring out through his mind, and it's like. Okay, none of that shit from before matters, he's got all the validation he needs right there in Lil Cal. Maybe flex in Cal's direction, Bro?

Oh, so back to being cute: isn't it wonderful how the template maker phrased it as 'playing dolls'? But yeah, I want all the mush and everything. Bro has a whole wardrobe for Lil Cal for every minor event that occurs in the Strider household. I want them going on genuine dates. Maybe even... holding hands. Bro blushes for the first time since he was 16. He even gets to take Lil Cal with him when he goes out to DJ or put on a show. Not to mention the whole website business. (I've talked about Cal's role in that before, but I'll mention it in a moment...)

They will die in a heart shaped pool of blood: I mean, kinda did happen, even tho Lil Cal didn't perma die right there. I don't think this one needs any explanation, since it basically happens in canon.

'You should see the other guy...': Okay, so. About 11 years ago, I had a really great idea. About how smuppets enter this world. I expanded on it in the following more-recent post (adult only content lol): https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741683686717669376/back-in-the-day-my-friends-called-me-insane-when-i

To sum it up, whenever Bro makes a new smuppet design, he then gives it a video debut on his website, where uh, Lil Cal births the smuppet like it's a horror movie scene, fake blood and poly-fil gore all over the place as the smuppet crawls out from the viscera. Bro then gets to play aftercare by lovingly and gently cleaning up and restuffing Lil Cal as they get to admire their new creation and rake in the dough lol.

So it's technically not a 'you should see the other guy' kinda situation, but it does involve one of them being... idk what word would describe it. Injured by the other? Usually a character loses a fight and says this to act like they got out of it better than the other guy, but... We could have someone knock on the door during the filming of a scene like that, and Bro has to answer it with fake blood up to his elbows, and be like 'You should see the other guy.' (But obviously, that's a terrible idea and would cause more trouble than it's worth... Maybe worth it for a persistent door to door salesperson, though.)

Though, I guess I should also say, I'm not opposed to Bro beating on Lil Cal in or out of the bedroom. Or in the case of animate Lil Cal, Cal choking out Bro. In or out of the bedroom, lol. Depends on the situation, like I said I will ship this ship any which way. But my preference for animate Lil Cal is to be like a totally normal puppet around Bro (or mushy in-love with Bro) and then evil-murder-puppet towards anyone else in Bro's life, like a... toxic yaoi guard puppet. (New Phrase Achievement Unlocked!) Bro brings home another guy to have sex, who tries to stay the night due to the late hour, but the guy wakes up shortly after to see Lil Cal standing there with a knife in the dark, eyes glowing red. Panic ensues when the guest screams and freaks out, and by the time Bro's got a light on, grabbing his sword, ready for a ninja vs ninja fight (bc an intruder would've had to bypass all the traps), Lil Cal is just innocently splayed across the desk chair, no knife in sight. Relevant post (well, the caption on the post too, saying how Bro can't seem to hold onto any relationships besides Lil Cal):

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741830516962164736/i-want-you-so-youre-mine-always-selfishly ]

Uh, lol, also Cal choking out Bro in the bedroom, adult only drawing: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/754328907438800896/i-wouldnt-wanna-be-my-ex-when-he-found-out-who

Thinking about them always and forever: Listen. My Tumblr as proof, I've had BroCal on the brain for at least 11 years at this point. Definitely longer, since I first started reading Homestuck. I fucking love puppets and dolls and plushies and I always have. Man, if I hadn't deleted Tweets (automated app I used to do, and I couldn't choose what to save) from when I was in high school, you could've seen me @ ing my fave band when they were taking lyric suggestions on a fan-inspired album, where I was telling them 'make a song where the theme is puppets' and, while I don't know if they saw that or took the suggestion (they had responded to me before bc they weren't huge yet), there is indeed a song titled "Puppets" on that album, and it was my favourite song on there. Point is, I was fated to ship BroCal before I even knew it existed.

Sicko 2 sicko communication: I mean, does this even need explaining? Bro and Cal aren't just on the same wavelength of freaky, they're the fucking source of the wavelength, and it's causing a feedback loop between them. And it does as feedback does, which is, it amplifies with time. (Going back to the spiral symbolism here, lol.) ((Actually, time can play a symbol here, too, I guess, but idk how to word it, I'm starting to run out of steam.))

Let them have a happy ending: God, I need this so badly. I know Bro's story ends in Homestuck, but like. Pls. Someone needs to officiate their wedding. Currently placing the dreambubble order, but I can't organize a wedding by myself. OH speaking of. In that lil comic I did above, where Bro is accepting Lil Cal's proposal, I had the Natural Born Killers wedding scene in mind. I was gonna draw that as a follow up, but I think I have too many WIPs going. Just two people on the run, saying "I do" in a scenic but completely ordinary roadside location. Idk why, I keep going back to that movie for things related to Bro (I mention it in a very important scene in a longer WIP I've been writing, as something Bro watched and internalized as a kid lol.) It's not the best movie lol. Anyway.

The devotion omg: I feel like I have already gotten my point across about this, but let me reiterate:

[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/735842968450269184/in-the-name-of-iconic-magical-girl-anime-ill ]

Bro and Lil Cal absolutely beat the shit outta Jack Noir before he gets prototyped. And even then, they fight together till the death, like. C'mon. Nothing more romantic than fighting a losing battle side by side. Also, like, Lil Cal having his own protective chest for safekeeping as seen in the Strider living room? Like, you don't just have a protective case for any old thing, especially something meant to be handled, especially something that is regularly used to smack other things/humans. What I'm saying is, Lil Cal is durable and resilient, and yet, Bro still has a case for transporting Cal safely. Oh, wait, I just thought of something funny, what if Lil Cal goes feral like a cat, and basically the chest is like a cat carrier so Bro can drive without being constricted lmaoooo, I've been typing for hours can you tell?

Kind of homophobic: Listen. I HAD a Cal. Took him to college. Staked my claim on the top bunk bc I am royalty. Proceeded to not have anywhere to set my water cup and had to use a cardboard box as a table up there. Spilled water. Melted Cal's sharpie-drawn face. And then proceeded to cry. I have a WIP of Lil Cal 2, but that requires actually remembering to work on him. I wanna do better by the pattern, too, since I rushed to finish the first. I have all the material! I have the project started! So it's just a matter of reordering my WIP priorities, honestly.

Where is all the fucking content?!: For realzz. I was actually venting about this the other day (didn't end up posting it), but it's like, either there's no BroCal content, or there IS BroCal content, but I can't reblog it for reasons I don't want to get into on this post. I'm dying of thirst in the ocean, basically. Whatever. This just means I need to make more BroCal content myself, which I am more than happy to do. I've just had a rough past few months, so I'm glad I got to type all this post out, and hopefully I can get back to creating soon.

Last one! I hope this one makes up for the absurd length of the post, it's prob my new fave idea I just came up with on the spot.

[TW drink spiking by a stranger mentioned in this.]

Committing atrocities as their silly little activities: I think we all know what this means, but I am going to ignore that elephant with my special x-ray vision. Because this is a BroCal post. I'm digging deep to the meat and bones of this. Honestly, this could go multiple routes, it depends on how you take your Lil Cal.

One could place emphasis on the 'guard' part of the, ahem ahem, toxic yaoi guard puppet. Maybe someone is actually trying to harm Bro, and Bro legit can't do anything for reasons outside of his control - let's say his drink got spiked a while after he invited a stranger home that he thought was chill. As Bro gets shoved down on the futon, his memory of the night is only a few flickers. Familiar orange plush, roiling around above him like a dancing windsock. Flashes of Lil Cal's face all distorted and stretched wide like a funhouse. J-Lo and Ice Cube on the TV. But when Bro is finally able to fully wake up in the morning, everything is as if he just got home alone last night and passed out on the futon. Cal looks totally normal and content tucked under Bro's warm arm. Except when Bro gets up, there is a pair of shoes too big to belong to him at the door. Maybe Bro knows. Maybe instinct tells him to run. Maybe he does, but he's running towards Lil Cal, every time.

[weaponizedmoth]

Been meaning to do another one of these for a second, but didn't have any cool outfit pics--until I remembered these blurry pics I had from 2021 that I could never do much with. Libbyframe is the inspo for these as usual,✨️

[widevibratobitch]

laalalalala another vent post because i have no therapist to pay for listening to my bullshit

[m0nster-in-paradise]

glory and gore: ch 1

where Cyn wakes up somewhere unfamiliar. chapter below the divider.

Earth and Copper-9 had been very definitely destroyed. Rendered uninhabitable for humans, at least. For robots that don't bleed and thrive in the cold and sometimes host magical and destructive and ever-hungry world-ending entities, it's like a paradise once you count out the extreme trauma and emotional journeys and character arcs that come with hosting magical and destructive and ever-hungry world-ending entities. And unfortunately, there are quite a few of said robots who have been on Copper-9 and host magical and destructive and ever-hungry world-ending entities. And none of them have ever felt anything besides cold snow, rain, or if they're unlucky, the harsh metal-melting sunlight that sometimes pierces through the deep clouds surrounding both planets. And yet, Copper-9 and the remains of Earth are all that's safe. New places are very definitely dangerous and uncharted territory besides.

One can see why Cyn (Cyn Elliot? Cyn Solver? She'll come back to that later) might be apprehensive about getting up from wherever she's suddenly woken up in a setting she doesn't recognize. One thing is clear: this isn't Elliot Manor. It's too warm for Elliot Manor, and the gentle breeze that rustles through her hair is too nice to be Elliot Manor. It also can't be the pile of bodies marked for disposal she once was buried in for reasons stated above. And it can't be the dark empty space pressed up against the wild and unforgiving expanse of the Absolute Solver's consciousness she's come to know and dread.

No, this must be someplace different. But if it isn't Elliot Manor or the body pile or the Solver's consciousness it must be Copper-9, but she's very sure Copper-9 is too dark and windy and snowy to be warm with a gentle breeze, and the parts of it that aren't snowy are harsh and burning and would probably melt the wires from her bones. Cyn thinks about it for a momen, calculates how likely she is to open her eyes and be disappointed. Her calculations come back with a high chance of being disappointed and that disappoints Cyn, so she asks herself a quick question.

WWND?

She repeats it over in her head. WWND? WWND? What Would N (her big brother, the only one who didn't want her gone when she suddenly shut down thanks to something going wrong, her friend, made in the same batch as her and V and J) Do?

Cyn knows what her big brother would do. He'd open his eyes. He'd get up even if he was disappointed. He'd look for something fun to do, or someone to talk to, and he'd keep a positive outlook and an optimistic demeanor and if worst came to worst, well, he had a few games he could play to pass the time. And Cyn wants to do the same, but she's scared. So, so scared that she'll open her eyes only to feel the darkness of the Absolute Solver once more, or be faced with the disapproving stares of guests and visitors to the manor, or something worse. She doesn't know what worse is yet, but she can imagine.

Reluctantly, slowly, Cyn opens her eyes, holographic ovals that are more yellow than white blinking into being on the screen that takes up a little over half her face.

She sees blue sky. And clouds, clouds that look soft but also look so close she could reach out and touch them. And brightness, a brightness that she suddenly realizes is the sun, and there is green grass around her. Green! Not black and dead like the manor lawn, and a bright blue expanse of atmosphere that is nothing like the stormy sky she had known for so long where the only light came from lightning--

Cyn picks up her left hand using her right arm and slaps herself just to check if this is all real. Her vision fuzzes, reloads, and she sees the very same thing she did before. She can't believe it. This can't be real. This can't be real. This can't be real. She's almost tempted to pinch herself or do something even more drastic. Like trying to harness the Solver once more. But that's a dangerous endeavor, and she doesn't want to doom another planet if it tries to take over again. So without relying on the Solver to guide her or help from her big brother, Cyn tries to stand up.

The first time, she doesn't even manage to get her chest off the ground, and she falls back down with a grunt. But she tries again. And she doesn't even lift her head off the ground before it clunks back down again. But she tries again. And this time, using her arms for balance, she sits up. And now that she's sitting, she can get to her feet with a little luck. She tries as hard as she can and collapses the second her knees are almost steady and falls back down.

But she tries again.

And again.

And again, until her visor is scratched from several attempts and she's in a heap on this beautiful field of grass with the gentle breeze blowing through her hair under a blue sky.

But Cyn gathers up her courage, and tries again.

And this time, finally, she gets her feet under her and hobbles a few steps forward, hands held out in front of her awkwardly, looking around and trying to process it all, though she's pretty sure her CPU isn't enough to take this all in at once. She looks down at where she's standing, in the middle of a dark path with a yellow line through it, glinting faintly in the sun. Is it asphalt? Cyn's only seen roads in stock pictures. She takes a moment to stare at it, looking down, and then looks up again as she hears a whistling through the air.

That's when the car hits her.

--

Spinner's pretty sure he was just on track to run some kid over. Tiny stature and an unwillingness to run when faced with a metal death box usually mean a kid. He's not sure if Stain would have liked the running over a kid business. Right now, he's also not sure why they've stopped dead.

"My foot is on the gas pedal!" he exclaims when Dabi and Shigaraki both practically vault over the seat in the back to yell at him over it. He swears he saw Shigaraki reach for him. "We're on a full tank of gas! It's not my fault!"

"Must be one of those heroes chasing us," Shigaraki snarls, pure disgust in the way he spits out the words. The hand on his face covers his expression, but Spinner can guess what the expression is. Not a pretty picture, especially for someone with no sense of self-care at all. Even Spinner knows to drink water and keep his scales and skin hydrated, and he's even thought about investing in whatever hair-care brand Toga uses, it sure keeps her hair clean, or maybe it's just because she washes it more than once a month--

"Who is that?" Dabi asks, and Spinner snaps out of it, staring through the cracked windshield. The kid is still there. Standing. On second thought, maybe it's not a kid- just a short person with some sort of robotic quirk. Mutant or transformation, maybe? The kid-- robot person can't be a hero, not with the way they're standing there staring blankly, one yellow oval he assumes is an eye blinking ever so often and the empty space taken up by some sort of hexagon with three arrows instead of another oval eye.

Suddenly he sees the kid get yanked out of the way by a dark scarred hand and the car shoots off like a rocket, Spinner nearly slamming into the back of the seat before he can spin and brake so Dabi can hop back in and leave the kid behind. The heroes were right on their tail before, and Ryukyu's team complete with internship students are fast, though she might have dropped the kids to go faster. Or she could have dropped the kids so they didn't get hurt, so they have to go. Now. As soon as possible. Spinner takes off when Dabi is barely inside, leaving him to balance awkwardly on the edge of staying in the car or falling out in favor of evacuating the scene even faster than they planned to.

They really do not need another attack on a kid on their record right now. Definitely not after the USJ attack or the summer camp.

Though there's something weird about the fact that kid's quirk was able to stop them like that-- if it was even a kid at all.

--

"Ow." Cyn says. "Ow. Ow."

Really, it's not her fault she fell over when she got dragged away and left behind. It is also not her fault that she cannot regain control of her body now that it is on the asphalt and her head keeps clunking down hard onto solid rock and not soft dirt. She's trying anyway, though. That's what N would do. WWND? He'd keep trying. So Cyn keeps trying.

It's a very lackluster attempt, though. She's tired. Weirdly tired. Before the Solver, all she did was enter sleep mode in some dark closet somewhere and recharge over a six-hour period. After the Solver, she didn't need to sleep. Within the Solver, she was eternally awake in a torturous state of half-aware, half-dreaming. Cyn reckons she must be back at Before, but she should probably check how much she's charged (and come to think of it, if there are any wounds on her that she can't feel) so she runs some diagnostics quickly.

The results are dismaying.

CHARGE: 1% (SLEEP MODE WILL AUTOMATICALLY ACTIVATE IN 5 MINUTES)

BODILY STATUS: JOINT DISCONNECT IN [neck, arm L, knees L/R, wrist R] VISUAL FUNCTIONS IMPAIRED [ultraviolet scanning, item identification] SOFTWARE UPDATE NEEDED: PATCH 2.0 (DOWNLOAD HERE)

NEW SUDOKU UPDATE REQUIRED: YEAR OF THE HORBEARAGON GAME VERSION (VER 4.5)

"God-mn it," Cyn says out loud, one of her eyes twitching. Maybe she should download that patch. Maybe it might let her say words she knows are being censored by her vocal synthesizer. Maybe it is another of the Solver's traps. Maybe it is a reference to the patch that should let her control the Solver rather than it controlling her and reducing her to a puppet on strings.

Strings she could really use now that she can't pick herself up from the ground at all.

A dark shadow passes over her, and Cyn blinks away from the diagnostic results to look up at the sky. There's nothing she can see and the shadow is gone, but she swears it was there just a second ago like a multiply layer right over the surrounding area. Cyn turns her head to the right, turns her head to the left once, and finds nothing.

Human, she thinks, a human I've never seen before.

Cyn shuts down.

--

[SYS STATUS: CONKED TF OUT]

[REINITIALIZING]

Cyn sits up with a start. A quick scan of the area reveals a dark plush couch, several nice windows, a floor that looks metal, shiny and cold, and a spiral staircase going up somewhere so far she can't tell where it leads, and a blue (?) human female with blue hair and strangely modern clothing a little ways away talking a woman in a dark red dress with blond hair who looks very suited for Elliot Manor. She has half a mind to locate the nearest serving platter and present it to the woman before she remembers that her servant programming only extends to the people in the manor, not out of it.

She tests out her hands and arms quickly and quietly. There's still some issues in the way her joints flop and stay stubbornly stiff, but she seems to be a little better at moving them right now, and she feels lighter overall. And the patch must have been downloaded while she was sleeping because her item identification is back online and a lot of the messy files she has downloaded have been reorganized alphabetically instead of by last opened. Cyn checks her shutterstock image folder for the dogs and finds that all the images are there. Good-- she'll need it if she wants to reach back out to her brother and say hey without scaring him half to death.

She glances over at the two women and activates her item identification. Neither one comes back with any matching results, but they must have names, so Cyn just assumes that she must be disconnected from the international ID database storage and connects to wifi to find them somewhere in there. Everyone in Elliot Manor had an ID of some kind, even Tessa and the kids-- surely they must be online somewhere.

She runs the quick password guesser for the wifi and gets it on her six hundred and eighty-seventh try, an all-time record for this program considering she wrote it herself and it can only guess about a hundred passwords per second. Which is nothing compared to the one V wrote about a year before the Solver that could do a thousand every half-second. There are perks to being a literal computer.

The blue one comes back as a "Bubble Girl" and the woman in the red dress comes back as a "Ryukyu." Those are not names she has ever heard before. Cyn quickly asks herself What Would N Do to make sense of the situation, and pretty quickly guesses that he'd introduce himself so they'd introduce themselves in turn.

"Hi." Cyn says, putting a pleasant smile on her face and waving with one hand. She would wave with both, but her other hand is currently supporting her head and stopping it from falling onto her shoulder.

This catches their attention. Either it's the extremely modified and clunky sound of her voice, or it's the suddenly being awake, but they both look surprised for a second before hiding it. Ryukyu takes a few long strides toward her, and Cyn is suddenly very aware of the two sets of eyes on her. She doesn't like being watched by someone who's not in the conversation because usually they're writing down her weird oddities so they can ask Tessa's parents to put her back in the body disposal pile where she belongs.

"I'm glad you're awake," Ryukyu says, bending down to talk to Cyn. Even sitting up on a sofa, she's still very short. "You were out for a full twelve hours. It's eight in the morning now... how are you feeling?"

"Charged," Cyn says, and refocuses on the woman in front of her. "Cyn at your service." She grabs her right wrist with her left hand and holds it out for Ryukyu to shake, even though her head flops onto her shoulder without the support. If Ryukyu is at all disturbed by that, she doesn't show it, shaking Cyn's hand like she is an equal and not a servant. Cyn mentally commends Ryukyu for the amount of effort that must take.

"Well, Cyn," Ryukyu says with a smile gentler than anything Cyn has ever seen before, "can you answer a few questions for us? We just want to help you out since there's no identification on you, and we want to make sure you can get home safely."

"Okee," Cyn says, and shuffles up from the couch. She has to walk slowly, but Ryukyu seems to have no issue with that as she leads her over to the bubble girl.

"Alright, I'm letting your agency take over this," Ryukyu says. "Just send a message to me when you're done."

"Alright!" the bubble girl says, and Cyn immediately recognizes the hardworking and energetic demeanor she saw in J when the other drone was trying to impress higher-ups, only this girl's performance doesn't seem as fake. She keeps herself from saying that out loud, though, because she doesn't know what reaction the girl will have, or if she'll recognize the name J. Cyn doesn't know if the Disassembly Drones struck this planet too, or if they escaped unscathed.

Ryukyu smiles once more at Cyn, and then leaves. The bubble girl doesn't say anything until she's out the door, then turns to Cyn.

"Hey," she says with a reassuring smile, "The guy in charge of this whole show isn't here right now, but one of the guys I work with is here! You'll love him- he's really funny."

Cyn doesn't hear much of that sentence. What she does hear is "isn't here right now."

Oh, J's not here right now.

Uzi's not here.

Nine words spoken with her voice and some of her personality in them too. Nine words and two sentences that are all too familiar to the words that just came out of the bubble girl's mouth.

"Right." Cyn says, and tries not to let her nervousness show, though she thinks the eyes on her visor might be giving her away. "Um. Who is he?"

"His name's Mirio," the bubble girl says, "but he'll probably introduce himself to you as Lemillion, 'cause that's his professional name. He stops by early every Saturday to talk to Nighteye and help out a little, since he likes the extra experience... I think he's in the office right now, but he'll be along shortly! Oh, and I'm Bubble Girl."

Cyn makes sure a question mark flickers onto her visor in place of eyes. "Do you guys need professional names?"

"Of course!" the-- wait, just Bubble Girl says, "we're heroes, after all. Even if everyone knew our real names, having something flashy to call us is... honestly kinda fun, but since our real names are kept pretty secret, it's part of the disguise. Do you come from a place with none of them? Heroes, I mean."

Cyn thinks about her answer for a moment. She isn't suspicious, per se, but something about the girl rubs her the wrong way, and she doesn't want to give away too much information about herself or about the world-ending entity she may or may not have inside of her. So she answers after a moment of consideration, "I come from a place where a select few work against evil, but not many have the power to do so."

Bubble Girl seems satisfied with that answer.

The two of them make idle small talk while they wait for Mirio to show up from wherever he is, and the only thing Cyn really takes note of is that a lot of people have power beyond normal human limits. Not like the Solver with its ability to create black holes and make objects out of thin air, but not like superheroes from the manor's children's books either. Something different. And that there are some schools that teach you to harness those powers properly to protect others, one that Bubble Girl is a graduate of. Cyn would be lying if she said she wasn't interested in one of those schools. But she doesn't want to learn to control the Solver just to protect others from these villains, this darkness that she knows will be found lurking in dark alleyways and sometimes out in the open.

No. She has to learn to control it to protect others from herself.

[terry-the-insane]

My favorite g/t trope is when T is scared of falling off high places even though being really small means your terminal velocity (maximum speed at which you can fall) is greatly decreased and T could probably fall off the roof of a 5 story building and only get scratched.

[ive-given-up-the-bug-diet]

This 9-syllable, 7-word long utterance - because it can NOT, according to what little I remember about what dictates one, be called a phrase - has been rolling around in my head since I first heard it-

A FUCKING WEEK AGO? IT'S BEEN THAT LONG? Shit well yeah it's been in my head for a week, jesus

Since I heard it from Brennan Lee Mulligan's mouth. And I'm warning you now it is not profound, it is not emotional, it is not especially important to the story, it doesn't have any sort of profound message or life-changing lesson. But still it persists at the forefront of my mind.

And this may just be a result of it being the only thing I've thought about for A WEEK, apparently, but I think it might be one of, if not the best, line I've ever heard and it is

"A face as tall as a cathedral..."

THATS IT

And let me tell anyone who gives a shit why I think it is, at least, one of the best lines I've ever heard:

I get envious of other writers and creators a lot. I envy worldbuilding ideas, and character concepts, cool lines of dialogue. "Oh I wish I'd thought of that!"

But I envy nothing more than GREAT description, and this line is perfect to me.

1. It is Novel. When common/frequently-used idioms or similes enter a person's mind it's sort of in-one-ear and out the other, right? 'Clear as crystal' or 'as blue as the sky' can feel like stock. So if you want description to stick it has to be novel. And I've never heard this line, or even this simile before.

2. But also, perhaps more importantly, the line is also Simple. Sometimes, in the pursuit of novelty, writers (cough aka me cough) will go too hard on a description and it can become convoluted and have the same effect as stock phrases. It's too much text, it's too purple-y and so your mind scans the wall of text, takes the important bits, and says 'ok this is the point they were trying to get to'. Simple + Novel is great for description, esp. Description that sticks in your head.

3. But it is still Beautiful. Now this point is flawed, personal, and pretty vain but I'm keeping it because 'Cathedral' is a beautiful word. Even just phonologically it is (imo) more beautiful than the words 'mountain', 'house', or any other tall thing you could slot in there. But also a cathedral IS beautiful and it HAS beautiful connotations to religion, divinity, and worship (which makes this description even better when you know what it's referring to, but I'm trying to say it stands on its own merit as a good description).

4. But of course none of this would work without the fact that it is Descriptive. Maybe this should've been the first point but I came up with them in this order so what are you gonna do. Obviously good description should be descriptive, and these points all help in that, but there are details that are just down to pure good description. This specific point is relative but I rarely see mountains, and combine that with how they are sorta unfathomably tall, I struggle to really conceive of their size. I see cathedrals all the time (again, this is relative, I live in a Catholic area in a Christian country), I can always see their tops from the ground, their size is fathomable and it is terrifying to imagine a FACE at that height. Speaking of which, IT'S JUST THE FACE. There is something perfect and so much more comprehensible than a "body the size of a skyscraper" in the idea of just one PORTION of a body being described as a similar height.

Anyway EXU: Calamity is fucking great and I'm going to be holding it in my mind forever

[devondespresso]

<< Asks temporarily turned off so i can try actually getting through all the fundraiser messages, I'm sorry >>

Hey babes and non-babes alike, I'm Devon (or Dev, or Devi, or whatever fun nickname comes to mind!)

I'm a fanfic writer, beta reader and aspiring writing consultant, and artist (DevonDrawspresso art archive) (Devonias on ao3)

Any anti, personal vent/rant, and nsfw reblogs get tagged accordingly as well as a some specific tags as requested by mutuals. This is mostly a Stranger Things blog but I am definitely dabbling in the CaitVi Arcane fandom >:3 (not fic yet tho, sorry)

have fun and thanks for dropping by!! 💕

Tags

#devon's writings | #devon's steve henderson au | #devon's drabbles | #devon's writing rambles

#devon's art | #full works | #traditional art | #digital art

#devon thinks sometimes | #devon creates sometimes | #shit you can use if you wanna | #devon's random fic recs (Masterlist - coming soon ish??)

Latest Fic:

This Comfort - | Platonic Stobin x Chrissy s4 rewrite | 4.5K words | T | ao3

as always, masterlist is ordered with blatant favoritism 😌

Chaptered Fics

• more than 10k words •

We'll Be Alright (aka The Steve Henderson AU) - | ~90k so far | Mature | ao3 link (to be added once posted)

Light of my life, the peanut butter to my jelly, my favorite project, and yet: no chapters officially posted. BUT you can find all the little snippets and rambles about it under the tag. i have a longer explanation of what it is and why its not posted here but basically i can promise you that there will 100% be content posted no matter what (so that entire word count, updated regularly, exists and will be shared eventually 💕)

Oneshots

• between 500 and 10k words •

My Sunshine - | Steve Harrington & Claudia Henderson | 815 words | G | ao3 link | cw: referenced dysfunctional family and child neglect, mild blood

Steve isn't eight years old. And he definitely isn’t 8 years old. He's nineteen, too close to twenty, sitting in the doorway of a room that isn't his, in a house he didn’t grow up in, stopping himself from getting comfortable leaning back on a door frame despite the current strain in his back, because it would only hurt the wound there more.

Ficlet for the stwg prompt "Sunshine" that turned out better than I could have imagined! Quiet, serious, and emotional, it's definitely my favorite posted work so far!

Just Let Me Come Home - | Stomarol | 2850 words | T | ao3 link | cw: very minor implied child neglect

Steve opens his eyes, glances towards Hopper and finds him looking out into the dark ahead, warily. Steve follows his gaze, and his stomach turns. There’s a powder blue convertible stalling in front of his house—roof uncharacteristically up and hiding the interior—haphazardly parked half off the road. The people in the front seat are arguing, and there’s smoke billowing out the back still like they’re ready to take off at any second. Hop rolls closer, headlights lighting up everything. Steve leans forward to get a better look, and Tommy’s face turns around in the driver’s seat to look back at them.

A very late gift fic for the lovely @/momotonescreaming following the STWG prompt "Home"! Serious hurt/comfort with a sweet and hopeful ending, I ended up spending over three weeks getting this just the way I wanted and now I'm super happy with it!

This Comfort - | Stobissy (Platonic stobin x Chrissy) | 4.5k words | T | ao3 link | cw: referenced eating disorder, implied depression, implied suicidal ideation, referenced drugs

Chrissy gets to keep a few moments to herself before she catches Steve glancing at her again through the corner of her eye. She pretends not to notice, holds her neutrality for a few nauseating seconds before she sighs, closing her eyes and drawing her knees to her chest in a way that turns the subtle glance into full-force attention. “Do you think…” She starts, but finds the words stopping before they can get out of her head. Does he think she’ll die? Obviously he’s not going to tell her if he does. “Eh, sometimes.” Steve answers, shrugging lightly in a way that's playful but not flippant enough to derail the conversation. Chrissy huffs from the tinge of amusement, then tries again. _ Or: Chrissy lives, and now she has to survive hell while still carrying the pain that nearly killed her. Though it can't be fixed overnight, Steve and Robin give it their best shot.

a gift for @/stellarspecter from the STWG holiday gift exchange!! Tess is the one that originally got me falling in love with platonic stobin both dating Chrissy and man if we didn't have a time limit i could've *easily* made a whole season 4 rewrite for this and honestly struggled getting it down to this (a solid 1.5k over the soft max... whoops😅). all that to say, i adore this fic! soft, goofy, and a hopeful ending, if you're not already a stobissy fan I'd love the chance to convert ya 😉

I Can Only Hope Now (Claudia Henderson Drabble) - | Claudia Henderson; Steve & Dustin | 1269 words | G | ao3 link | cw: absent father, brief references to Steve’s absent parents

Claudia Edine Henderson never wanted to get married. Not really. But she wanted kids, so that meant either getting married or seeing if the daycare was hiring. Anthony Laurence Goldman wanted a family. She thought that meant the same thing, so they married. And it was good. They had a beautiful baby boy, Dustin Clarence Goldman, healthy save for a defect with his bones. No collarbones, and the high chance he’d need a little extra medical attention down the line, but he’d still be living long and happy, and she couldn’t ask for more. 

short and sweet ficlet for the stwg prompt "Claudia", because how could I refuse Claudia?? Sweet, relatively light, half-backstory with a cute and hopeful ending, it didn't take as many hours as My Sunshine, but I still love it!

Mr. Crayola Henderson - | Steve & Dustin | 1791 words | T | ao3 link | just swearing and super mild ableism? a side character is a little too pitying but shes also kinda just a general worrier

Steve went over to the media room and dug through the little bin of batteries under the phone, pulling out an opened pack that had just enough left. He took both aids off, changed the batteries, and put them back on to make sure they worked. He heard a strong thud from his bedroom, followed by muttering.

so far my silliest ficlet, using the prompt "Tell a story to stay out of trouble", set in an au where Steve is hoh from canon events and was adopted by the Hendersons! featuring brothers goofing off, cousins getting up to trouble, and the titular Mr. Crayola Henderson!

For You, Love - | Kas!Eddie Steddie | 1k words | M | ao3 | cw: nonconsensual touching (not sexual), body horror, horror themes in general, ambiguous ending, not the darkest thing out there but please do mind the tags

He had taken a moment and then slipped himself out of bed, across the room and down the hall, down the stairs and around the dark silhouettes of walls and doors and furniture on his way to the kitchen. He followed the countertop with a light hand, feeling over towards the sink and cabinets above to tip a glass from the cabinet into his palm. He found the faucet by the faint glimmers of moonlight reflecting off the metal, filled his glass halfway, and drank lukewarm water, soothing his arid throat. Touch ghosted over his sides, the smallest pricks against his shirt, and Steve’s reflexes took over, elbow jabbing back behind him towards the touch, force strong and urgent that spun him around, back hitting the counter as his defense met no resistance. Steve exhaled, inhaled, exhaled. But there was nothing there.

a spooky little something to practice getting into writing with greater success than expected!! Definitely dark, definitely not happy, mind the tags and enjoy some creepy shit!

Since We're Alive Now - | Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson | 5843 words | T | ao3 link (soon) | cw: referenced/implied self-image issues, swearing, brief references to physical injury, strong self criticism, and canon typical tone in some areas but with happy ending

summary and little spiel at the bottom coming eventually soon eventually

Never Again - | Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington (post s1 stancy) | ~3k | Explicit for a little on-screen sexual content | ao3 link | cw: implied past SA

Never Again (Mature) - | ao3 link |

Nancy is trying to have a good time with her boyfriend after their November from hell. It would be a lot easier if the last time they did this wasn't the same night her best friend died, but she needs the break to avoid those thoughts, even just for a night. Apparently, she doesn't get a choice.

My one and only Explicit fic for the foreseeable future because I really wasn't actually ready to write this one anyway. For anyone that doesn't want the sexual themes, the M version replaces the opening sex with barely a makeout, with everything else nearly identical! Also my first fic posted like ever! yay!

Drabblessss

• fics less than 500 words •

cause idk im the kinda guy that doesn't really scroll blog tags, i find masterlists helpful so I'm using both and you can pick your poison.

all drabbles are also under #devon's drabbles. the tag is ordered chronologically and this list is ordered with my blatant favoritism 😉

Chicken Noodle Oops! - | G | Steve & Dustin | 126 words | ao3

Sweet and Spicy | G | Steddie | 384 words | ao3

Restless (Ed, go to fucking sleep) | G | Steddie | 431 words | ao3

Surprise, Bitch Babe! | T | Steddie | 691 words (i know it breaks the "drabble" category im sorry its just got drabble vibes) | ao3 pending

And Everything Else 😅

• did i make a whole new section because i didn't know where to put this one thing? yes. yes i did 😮‍💨 •

Unnamed Fantasty Au - | Steddie | ~2k words | T | Open ending | result of a writing exercise where you improv the story based on songs as they appear in a randomized playlist

(all ao3 posts are archive locked to avoid scraping, sorry for the inconvenience)

[every-character-ever-poll]

Weak hippeaux propaganda: the villagers whom everyone hates have a tendency to grow on you. Don't overlook hippeaux

[ryusaidate]

fun fact when i'm- oh my god this song is so bad -there's a file on my computer called 'tcperge.mp3' and when i'm trying to. stay awake to finish a drawing or whatever i will. put it on repeat. Oh my god this song is so bad- it's. half to whole but sped up like 1.25x and with a couple seconds cut off either the start or end to make it a seamless loop. i don't remember why i did this because i would have done it after being awake for like 30 hours after listening to half to whole on repeat for an hour so obviously not in a solid mental state. and i'm not. entirely sure what it's supposed to achieve. but i THINK it works. man i'm doing the 'all boys do is stare directly into a flashlight' post OH MY GOD THIS SONG IS SO BAD?????? it's also pitch shifted up slightly. but like separately from the speed increase.

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much!

[skummell]

Part 3: Skelesona Design. Pretty proud of it but I don’t know about the Hanfu lol.