#I got this stupid pun stuck in my head

[hopefulmuffins]

The gem glows ever brighter, the energy growing unstable, as Viktor prepared to let it consume the last shreds of his being. Almost glad it was going to be over and it might mean something for once.

Then a large hand covers his own, a hands he knows so well, scarred and callused and strong. He glances up in disbelief a desperate hope fighting his very being. And he sees Jayce his own eyes glowing with determination and a tiny bit of sorrow. Sorrow that he realizes stems from seeing Viktor still believing he needs to do this alone. Grief that Jayce is willing to share with him.

As the world around them grows more chaotic Jayce pulls Viktor closer keeping them in place while they wait for the chaos to ramp up to a fever pitch.

"You know what we have to do" Jayce says

"We have to... Crank it" Viktor replies.

Then they banged nasty in the chaos vortex until they create singularity. They End

[ranacsek]

It was a regular vacuum cleaner, so it's from a normal Earth with humans

(I'm so sorry)

[scary-grace]

hands-off, hands-on - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

This was inspired by this art and a comment left on it about the risks of trying to jerk off with a quirk like Decay. It was also inspired by @obsessedtomone and @scarlettcryptid, who encouraged me to write it and then to post it. The pun in the title was my idea and not their fault.

Shigaraki's quirk makes life difficult in a lot of ways, but there's only one he can't find a way around, and since you joined the League of Villains, it's gotten even worse. When the truth comes out at last, he's expecting it to be a disaster and nothing else. He definitely isn't expecting you to offer to help. (cross-posted to Ao3) Canonverse, one-shot, smut.

Shigaraki Tomura’s quirk is everything to him. It’s how he found himself alone in the world as a five-year-old, even if he can’t remember the details. It’s why Sensei took an interest in him, why Sensei took him in, why Sensei chose him to carry on his work. It’s the perfect tool for someone like Shigaraki, who hates everything, who wants nothing more than to destroy everything he doesn’t like. Decay is the best thing that’s ever happened to Shigaraki. And at the same time, it absolutely, categorically sucks.

Shigaraki might hate everything, but he doesn’t hate it all the time, and the times when he doesn’t hate it are times when he’d love to be able to just have whatever it is without being one wrong move away from ruining it. Name a thing he likes, and his quirk is ready and waiting to fuck it up – gaming, eating, sleeping, even reading the fucking newspaper. He can do all those things four-fingered, if he stays focused. It’s the stuff he can’t stay focused on that’s impossible.

He can’t stay focused when he’s horny, at least not enough to keep from potentially Decaying his dick off. Shigaraki doesn’t actually know if his quirk works on himself, and he’s not interested in finding out. And that means that no matter how horny Shigaraki gets or how many poorly timed boners he pops, jerking off is permanently off the table.

That’s not to say Shigaraki’s never finished. He has. He’s spent so much time humping pillows that he had to learn to do his own laundry. But there’s something really pathetic about being twenty years old with two working hands and still be stuck grinding on a pillow to make himself come, and it always takes so stupidly long. Now that Shigaraki’s got the League of Villains, now that he’s got plans to make and Sensei’s legacy to fulfill, he doesn’t have that kind of time. When he wakes up with the world’s worst morning wood after a dream he doesn’t remember clearly, there’s nothing he can do but wait for it to go away.

It fades – enough – but the feeling doesn’t, and eventually Shigaraki doesn’t have a choice but to drag himself out of bed. He slinks from his room to the bar, hoping it’ll be empty, with the rest of the League out and about preparing for the mission and Kurogiri somewhere nearby if Shigaraki needs him but not actually right there to ask him what’s bothering him. Shigaraki can pour his own drinks. Maybe he can get out of this if he gives himself whiskey dick on purpose. Kurogiri’s not in the bar, just like he was hoping, but it’s not empty, either. You’re there, sprawled out over the bar with a sweating glass of water on a coaster in front of you.

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches at the sight. “What are you doing here?” he demands, and you look up. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“I did it already.” You yawn. “Using my quirk tires me out.”

“Really?” Shigaraki can’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “Making people stupid is that exhausting?”

Your quirk is a weird one. It lets you increase or decrease a target’s ability to plan, reason, problem-solve, remember things, and learn – in other words, their intelligence. “From this distance, for as many people as you need me to hit?” You yawn again and drop your head back down to the bar. “Yeah. Remember, I have to keep them all being stupid the same way, right up until it’s too late. Or your plan won’t work.”

Shigaraki had the pieces of the plan before he made you use your quirk on him, but once you used the quirk on him, he did some fine-tuning on the strategy, and he came up with the idea of using your quirk the opposite way, too. While the rest of the League is planning to make the attack on UA’s summer training camp a success, you’re using your quirk every day on the heroes in charge of planning the camp itself. Shigaraki’s not actually going to know if it works until after the attack, and that pisses him off. “Go nap somewhere else, then.”

“I’m not going to bother you,” you say. “Where else am I supposed to go, anyway? Your room?”

Shigaraki’s this close to saying yes, just to get you to leave, before he remembers what his room looks like – and remembers that he spent a while trying to see if grinding one out would work this time. He can’t kick you out of the hideout. You look like shit, and you’ll attract a lot of attention. “Fine. Shut up.”

“Yep.” You fold your arms on the bar and rest your head on them, shutting your eyes.

Even when you aren’t looking at him or talking, your presence bothers Shigaraki. It’s bothered him since the beginning – as much as he’s bothered by the others, in a different way than he’s bothered by the others. While the others can at least manage to avoid pissing Shigaraki off, there’s nothing you do that doesn’t cause some kind of problem. If you’re talking to him too much, he’s annoyed because he doesn’t know why you’re talking to him. If you’re not talking to him, he’s pissed about that, too. If you’re not around, he’s mad that you’re avoiding him, and if you are around, he wishes you weren’t. The fact that you’re here was a big problem for him even before he started having the dreams.

Shigaraki can’t remember the details of last night’s dream, but he knows you were in it. He pours himself a drink, takes the bottle with him, and sits down at the far end of the bar from you. You don’t look up again, and Shigaraki finishes his first drink, then half of his second, with no improvement on the situation. He shifts on the barstool, trying to get more comfortable. He needs to find something else to do. Something that will distract him from how stupidly horny he is.

You’re right there, and being irritated with you for doing anything at all is as good a distraction as anything else. “If all you’re doing is making a couple of heroes slightly dumber, you’re not really pulling your weight, are you?”

You don’t stir, but Shigaraki sees your shoulders stiffen. “What else should I be doing?”

“More,” Shigaraki says. You lift your head to look at him dead on, and Shigaraki hates that so much that he loses his train of thought for a second. “I don’t want them slightly dumber. I want them so stupid they can’t walk in a straight line. You have to get closer to them for that? So get closer. Get out of here and –”

“If I make them that stupid, the heroes will know that something’s wrong,” you interrupt. “My quirk’s in the government databases. If I do anything too obvious, they’ll know I’m working with you, and they’ll change their plans. Or they’ll change who they’re using to execute those plans. For my quirk to work on someone, I need to know who they are.”

Shigaraki knows how your quirk works. He’s not stupid. “I could do what you want me to do, but it would ruin your plans,” you say. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I wanted to take a nap,” you say. You sit up straight on your stool, get to your feet and start towards Shigaraki. “Now I want to know what I did to piss you off.”

You’re coming closer. Shigaraki feels a surge of panic. “Get away from me.”

“No.” You sit down one barstool away from Shigaraki, but still way too close for comfort. Shigaraki’s skin feels hot, and in spite of the fact that he left his room wearing sweatpants, they’re getting tight. “You let me join the League, but ever since I got here, I can’t do anything right. You’re mad at me all the time, and today you’re even madder than usual.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you say. You keep staring. Shigaraki looks away, and you say the first thing he’s ever heard you say that makes you sound like a villain. “Either you can tell me the truth, or I’ll use my quirk on myself and figure it out.”

Shigaraki’s stomach lurches. “I thought you were too tired to use your quirk.”

“Not on myself,” you say. Shigaraki glances back at you. You’re almost smiling. He’s seen you smile before, talking to Toga or Magne, but not like that. “You can tell me, or I’ll find out on my own. Your choice.”

You’re not screwing around. Shigaraki thinks fast. He could Decay you, but – Shigaraki writes off the thought before he can even complete it. He has to tell you something, and it has to be convincing. But he doesn’t have to tell you everything to keep you from using your quirk. It’s going to be humiliating, but nowhere close to as humiliating as the whole truth, and he opens his mouth and spits it out. “I’m horny.”

You blink. “So jerk off.”

“I can’t.” Shigaraki sees your eyebrows lift, skeptical as hell, and loses patience, even as his face heats up. “My quirk. Anything I touch with five fingers –”

“And you can’t jerk off without –” You break off mid-question, looking just as uncomfortable as Shigaraki feels. “So you’ve never –”

“No, I have, I just –” This is way more information than you need to know. Shigaraki grits his teeth. “You wanted an answer. There’s your answer. Leave me alone.”

You don’t leave Shigaraki alone. You actually move over onto the stool next to his. “So you’re just going to be a dick to me any time you’re horny.”

It’s your fault Shigaraki’s horny. Before you showed up, he could deal with things on his own, but now instead of videos and games to fixate on he has fantasies – because he can imagine about what you’d look like under him, what you’d sound like, what you’d feel like. All of which are the worst possible things for Shigaraki to be thinking about right now. He’s completely hard, again. Maybe you can tell, or maybe you’re using your quirk on him after all, because you’re making a really weird face. “If you’re going to be a dick any time you’re horny –”

You break off. Shigaraki thinks, fleetingly, about Decaying you. At this point he’d rather Decay himself, because if even he kills you, he’ll still have to remember that this happened. You take a deep breath, let it go. “Do you want help?”

Shigaraki’s mind blue-screens for a second. “What?”

“If this is why you’re like this, then it’s easy to fix,” you repeat. Your hands are clenched into fists on your thighs, and you slowly uncurl them. “Do you want me to help?”

“Help with what?”

“Jerking off,” you say. You make an awkward gesture, and every muscle in Shigaraki’s body goes tense as he imagines your hands around his cock. You have to be messing with him. There’s no way you’re actually offering – that. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Shigaraki finishes his drink and stands up before he can think any more about it. He grimaces as his cock strains against the fabric of his pants, and feels a surge of embarrassment when he realizes you’re looking at it – but it’ll be over soon. In the face of getting some, and getting it from you, nothing else matters. “Let’s go.”

Shigaraki’s nerves kick in on the walk back to his room. Not enough to make the hard-on he’s coping with fade even slightly, but enough to remind him that this is probably a bad idea. But you’re following him, and you haven’t changed your mind. Shigaraki’s not chickening out first. The nerves get worse when he opens the door to his room and realizes what a mess it is. “Uh –”

“Where do you usually sit?” You don’t look impressed – or disgusted, now that Shigaraki thinks about it. “On the bed?”

Shigaraki sits down on the bed – which he didn’t make, because he never makes it – and you sit down next to him. You don’t do anything. “I thought you were going to help me.”

“Show me what you do,” you say. Shigaraki stares at you. His heart is racing, his pulse hammering so hard that he feels it everywhere. “Go as far as you can, and then I’ll keep doing what you do.”

That makes sense, probably. Shigaraki’s mind is startling to scramble. He decides to think about it later and catches the hem of his shirt, hiking it up and out of the way. He knows from experience that it’ll slide back, so he pins it between his teeth and reaches down to his waistband, shoving at it until his pants are down around his thighs and his cock is free.

His hard-on looks like it feels. Uncomfortable, leaking, hot to the touch when he wraps three fingers and his thumb around his shaft. Shigaraki tries a few of the same insufficient strokes as always and feels the muscles in his abdomen and thighs clench. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. A frustrated sound edges out around the fabric in Shigaraki’s mouth. Aren’t you supposed to help him? He looks at you. You’re looking away.

“Hey,” Shigaraki says, the hem of the shirt falling from his mouth, and you look at him. “You wanted to help. Pay attention.”

Your face is flushed. You nod, and you reach out – but only so you can grasp the hem of Shigaraki’s shirt and pull it out of the way again, your knuckles brushing over his abdomen in a way that makes him twitch. You’re sitting closer to him now than you were before, close enough that he can almost feel the heat of your body, and imagine how it would feel to have you pressed against him. One of your hands is holding his shirt up. The other comes to rest on his lower abdomen, fingertips brushing through his hair, centimeters away from the base of his cock.

Shigaraki squirms involuntarily, trying to move your hand lower and jeopardizing his own strokes at the same time. Even when he lifts his hips to meet his own hand, he can’t lose control the way he wants to, can’t chase the feeling he needs. He needs it. He needs it and he’s never come even close to having it, until now. Shigaraki tries to focus. You’re only going to help once he’s gone as far as he can, so he’d better get there as fast as possible.

He shouldn’t have told you to pay attention. Now you’re watching everything, your face still flushed and your eyes glued to Shigaraki’s every move, taking everything in. Do you like this? Do you like watching Shigaraki’s pathetic attempts to get himself off? Whether you like it or not, you’re still touching him when you don’t have to. Shigaraki’s fingers tighten involuntarily around his cock, his fourth finger almost coming down, and he loosens up in a hurry. But that’s no good, either. He tries again.

It’s the same as always. Shigaraki makes it one or two strokes before it gets dangerous, enough to show him what he could have and not enough to get him there. He’s sweaty and his heart is beating too hard and the same frustrated tears as always are stinging his eyes. He curses, lets go – and a warm hand slides between his legs to replace his.

Shigaraki almost comes on the spot. It takes every ounce of willpower he has, and he almost blows it again as he watches you adjust your hold on him, shaping your hand more closely around his cock. You’re slow about it, but you sure as hell aren’t hesitant. Shigaraki can’t look for longer than a few strokes. It’s too humiliating to see the intensity of his own reaction, precum oozing from the tip of his cock and his hips jerking upwards into your hand. He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes.

“Hey. Pay attention.” Are you making fun of him? Shigaraki opens his eyes and finds you looking at him. “I need to know if I’m doing it right.”

“What do you think?” Shigaraki forces the words out through gritted teeth. “Do you need me to tell you you’re doing a good job or something?”

“That might be nice,” you muse. Your hold on him loosens slightly – not enough to complain about, more than enough to read as a threat. “Since I can’t do anything else right around here, I at least want to be good at getting you off.”

Your grip tightens again, and you run your thumb lightly over the tip of Shigaraki’s cock at the end of the next stroke. Shigaraki couldn’t pull a move like that if his fucking life depended on it, which it would. He was going to tell you not to ask stupid questions, like if you’re good at getting him off when he’s two seconds away from blowing his load all over himself, but instead he moans, so loudly that people can probably hear it two streets away. You replay the same stroke, slower this time, pulling Shigaraki’s back into an arch to match the upward motion of your hand, and then you spend a few seconds just toying with his tip, barely touching him at all.

Are you trying to make him squirm? Shigaraki hates that it’s working, hates that you won’t just give him what he needs – but then you’re back to stroking his cock again, and Shigaraki relaxes, as much as it’s possible to relax. It feels good, even better than he thought it would. And even better than that, because he doesn’t have to do anything. All he has to do is sit back and enjoy it.

“Hold your shirt up,” you say, and Shigaraki grabs it clumsily. Your now-free hand traces quickly down Shigaraki’s chest, along his stomach, skidding sideways over his hip before sliding between his legs. There’s not room for both of your hands. Shigaraki spreads his legs without thinking twice.

You make a weird sound – maybe a gasp. “Stop that,” you say, but now you’re cradling his balls in addition to stroking his cock, so Shigaraki’s not interested in stopping much of anything. “It’s working.”

No shit it’s working. Shigaraki’s entire body is wound tight, so much that he can’t even twitch or thrust or squirm – all he can do is strain, agonizingly tense, every atom of his body focused on the motion of your hands. Shigaraki squeezes his eyes shut. His shirt crumbles away as he claws at it, the sheets on his bed going the same way a second later as he fights to ground himself. He needs more. Shigaraki needs to come right now, before he grabs onto something he can’t replace.

The word struggles out of his mouth sideways, twisted and strained just like the rest of him. “Please –”

You don’t answer him, but Shigaraki feels you shift closer to him. He opens his eyes and you’re right there, close enough that he can feel your breath against his skin. You’re watching him, head tilted, lips parted, so close. Shigaraki’s so close, and he needs more from you. He seizes the front of your shirt to pull you down to him, only for it to Decay when you’re halfway there. But Shigaraki gets lucky. You lean in the rest of the way and press your lips against his.

It’s not because of that. Shigaraki’s coming hard enough to see stars, hard enough that he blacks out for a second, but it’s not because you’re kissing him. His cum spills everywhere, onto his sweatpants and his stomach and over your fingers, and you keep stroking him with slick hands. You don’t pull away until Shigaraki’s whining against your mouth and you’ve drawn out every drop of cum he has to give.

And then you sit back, and let go, and look away. “I need a new shirt.”

You’re sitting next to him, on his bed, in just your bra. The sight would get Shigaraki hard again in an instant if you hadn’t just made him come hard enough to disconnect his spine. He raises a shaky hand and points to his hoodie, slung over the back of his computer chair, but you don’t go for it. Instead you get up and head to the bathroom to wash your hands.

Shigaraki needs to wash everything. His sweatpants, himself – the stupid mattress, since he was dumb enough to Decay the sheets off it right before he blew what feels like the biggest load in history. What else was he supposed to do, though? No way was he going to be able to control himself while you worked him over. No way is he going to be able to think about anything else the next time he sees you do anything with your hands. Or with your mouth.

It occurs to Shigaraki vaguely that while he’s solved the initial problem of being too horny to function, he’s set himself up for something even worse – more dreams, made all the more vivid because he’s got experience to back them up. He might be good to go for now. Probably for the rest of the day, since it’ll be a miracle if he can do anything other than clean up and take a nap. But he’ll be right back where he started the next time he wakes up from another dream about you.

The water from the sink shuts off, and a moment later you come back out, snagging Shigaraki’s hoodie off the chair and pulling it on over your bra. Shigaraki feels a faint twinge of foreboding at the sight, but it fades fast. Sure, he could wake up tomorrow morning with the boner from hell and it’ll be all your fault. But now he’s got a way out of it, and the way out of it is so good that what it takes to get there barely even matters. And he’s in a good enough mood to admit to himself that you do things right a lot more than you do things wrong.

Which reminds him – “Hey,” Shigaraki says, still humiliatingly breathless, and you pause in the act of pulling the hood up. “You did a good job.”

He might still be out of breath, but your face is still flushed. “Good,” you say, and you turn to leave. Shigaraki doesn’t hear you speak again until you’re already out the door. “Next time I’ll do better.”

Better might kill him. Next time. Shigaraki pulls up his sweatpants so his dick isn’t hanging out, makes no other effort at cleaning up, and falls asleep with something that feels like a smile on his face.

[moonchild701]

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Naughty Santa

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Elf Helper Reader sits in Mall Santa Touya's lap

Pairing: Pro Hero Dabi/Fem Reader

Content Warning: Smut, Public Sex, Crack, Horrible Christmas puns (you're a menace), Light Spanking(??it's like a single smack), Riding, Exhibition, Almost Caught, Praise Kink, Semi Clothed Sex, Mall Santa Dabi

Word Count: 2k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is the 5th part of 12 fics for a 12 Days of Christmas event. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Don't be scared to be a lil naughty this year🤭

Prompt: Sitting on Santa's lap

My Masterlist

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Touya was somehow convinced ̶b̶u̶l̶l̶i̶e̶d̶ ̶ into being Santa Claus at the mall this year.

It's for a charity event the agency hosts every year, with the heroes and sidekicks playing Santa and his elves for the hoards of germ-riddled, snot-nosed, whiny brats.

Now normally, with it being his agency, Endeavor himself is supposed to be the one playing Santa again, as he'd done the previous years.

But last year, the flaming trash's temper flared at one point, causing his stupid flame beard to appear, burning away the fake Santa beard and promptly traumatizing most of the kids who witnessed it, which then dropped the agency's ranking.

So this year, needing a new Santa, it was decided that Touya, as his eldest and the next in line to inherit the agency, is to suffer as Santa.

The suit is stuffy and uncomfortable, the beard is a horror on his skin, and the children are loud, obnoxious and annoying, as children usually are.

He wants to go home.

His only saving grace, is you, dressed in that adorable little elf costume that has no business looking that sexy.

A little red and green dress that he's pretty sure is a size too small as it just barely covers your ass, stopping at mid thigh, with thigh high, red and white striped stockings leaving a thin sliver of skin, green and white shoes and hat, and fake elf ears.

That outfit can't be kid friendly.

Looking at the other sidekicks dressed as elves too, in relatively the same thing, he decides it's just him. The others look normal.

At least he has something to look at to keep him sane. 

And that's exactly what he does right now as you greet the first swarm of gremlins into Santa's Wonderland.

Whatever arousal he'd gained watching you was instantly gone at the grating sound of the high octave of children screaming and clapping.

It's gonna be a long day.

*****

"And we're done!” you chirp, bounding over as the last of the kids, a little girl, skips away, waving at everyone. Many sticky, screaming children later, Touya is finally free.

Seeing the drained look on his face, you smile softly at him. “I’m gonna help clean up if you wanna just rest a bit, okay?”

He hums tiredly in response and you press a quick kiss to his cheek before leaving. 

The chair he's been stuck in is soft and he's exhausted, so he just unbuckles the black belt, unzips the front of the Santa jacket and pulls off his white gloves, resting his head on his fist and letting his eyes slip shut. A small nap won't hurt.

*****

He wakes up to a weight on his lap and automatically complains. “I’m done being Santa!” he groans, damn near whining, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed.

“But Santa,” you coo, gliding your hand up his chest, over the white vest he wore under the costume, feeling the lines of hard muscle beneath the fabric. Pulling the fake beard down under his chin, you press a kiss to his lips and murmur against him, “What about what I want for Christmas?” 

Well that certainly got his attention. 

His eyes snap open to look at you, feeling your cheeky smile against his lips. Straddling his lap, hands balanced on his shoulders, you hum happily when he pulls you in closer by your waist and deepens the kiss, biting down softly on your bottom lip. 

You let your lips fall open and Touya slips his tongue into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. He can feel himself grow harder and kisses you deeper, heated hands falling to trail up your thighs, under your dress, to your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh there, before pulling away, leaning back and dropping both of his hands to your thighs to pull you down onto his bulge, groaning.

“Someone's gonna see us, Dolly,” he murmurs, eyes lidded and hot on you.

You pull the beard fully off, throwing it to the side somewhere, and drag him back in by the nape of his neck, muttering against his lips, “Everyone left. There’s only the cleaners at the back of the mall. I checked”

“Hmm, so? What do you want, baby?” he asks amusedly, voice husky and low.

You trail your lips up his jaw to his ear, whispering, “Fuck me, Santa,” your breath tickling his skin. "And keep the hat on."

He breathes out a moaning curse, muttering "Weirdo.", while squeezing your waist and holding you in place as he thrusts his hips up against you, groaning at the friction.

You moan softly at the feeling, and your lips twitch with the need to grin as you get a horrible idea and decide to say it anyway.

"You wanna go up my chimney?" You giggle, laughing even harder at the face he makes. "Gonna empty your sack in me, Santa?"

“Please, not the puns,” he groans, nipping at your bottom lip. 

"Let me jingle your bells?” you whisper, smiling cheekily against his lips. He rolls his eyes, surging in to capture your lips in a kiss to shut you up.

He won't admit outloud how adorable you are right now; sitting pretty in his lap in your little elf costume, muttering horrible Christmas puns in between giggles, but he might as well play along. 

He trails his lips down your neck, pressing kisses to your throat and dragging his tongue up and over your jaw, murmuring, "Mm, you been a good girl this year?", as he grinds up against you.

You shudder, biting your lip to try to stifle a breathy moan, as you automatically tilt your head back to give him more room to your neck. "Mm, no Santa. I've been naughty."

He can't believe he's doing this. The Christmas lights are still lit for fuck's sake, though the mall had turned the main lights out. The music is still playing yet here he is, defiling the Santa chair.

As he peppers your skin in little nips and marks, he hums, murmuring, "Naughty girls don't deserve presents."

You grind down against him, raking your nails down his chest. "I can be a good girl for you, Santa."

Sucking a mark just below your ear, he purrs, "I'll have to punish you if you can't, hm?", as he pulls down the zipper of your dress, before pulling it up and off of you, leaving you in just your underwear, the shorts that kept you modest and the thigh highs.

“Can I get on the nice list if I make Santa feel good?” you ask, batting your lashes up at him while rolling your hips.

Laughing lowly, he rips the shorts off, a little fire aiding the process, nipping at your bottom lip when you giggle, and muttering, "Depends." as he drops the tatters of the shorts to the floor near the dress. "On what?", you ask breathlessly as he unhooks your bra and discards that too. You arch into his hold when he grasps a handful of your tits, kneading the soft flesh.

"On how well you take me." He grins, pinching and playing with your nipple, pulling you back down for another searing kiss, shoving his tongue into your mouth at the first gasp.

One hand remains playing with your chest as the other squeezes your ass slightly, then slides in between the both of you to palm his erection before moving and shifting you to sit up on your knees while he pulls his pants halfway down his thighs, freeing his straining erection. 

He thrusts his unclothed cock up against you, making you moan into his mouth and grind down your clothed cunt against him, the soaked panties gliding over him.

You're so wet he could probably just slide right into you.

When he maneuvers you to sit up again, you let out a little whine at the loss of friction that’s cut off by a choked moan when he pulls your panties to the side and eases two thick fingers into you.

"Greedy little elf,” he teases, curling his fingers inside you, feeling how easy you take him, opening up so well for him. 

He thrusts once, twice, scissoring them, then pulls them out, immediately lining up the thick head of his dick to your hole, dragging it through your wet folds.

It's all the warning you get before he pushes in, groaning as he pulls you down onto his fat cock, slowly but all at once bottoming out. 

Throwing your head back, you moan long and low as you dig your nails into the velvet material covering his shoulders.

He runs his hands up your sides, letting you adjust to the stretch, pushing you up and back so you're on display for him, in nothing but your elf hat, thigh highs and panties. He grips your ass, lifting you up before dropping you back down onto his lap, your cunt sucking in his dick. You moan, gripping his Santa jacket to stabilize yourself. 

“Ride me,” is all he says. But you're still shaking, still trying to adjust to the sheer size of him, so when you don’t move, the stinging slap to your ass causes you to yelp. "I said ride. Good girls do what they're told."

“I’m sorry, Santa,” you mumble out, shakily pushing yourself up on your knees. "I'll be good." You drop back down with a whine at the feeling.

“There's a good girl. Just like that,” he moans, keeping one hand on your ass while the other holds you steady by your waist.

He watches you bounce up and down on his lap, your tits bouncing with you.

He watches your head fall back as you moan like a whore as you fuck yourself silly on his cock where anyone can see if they just walk by, the filthy squelching of your sloppy pussy only barely drowned out by your moans, the jingling bells of your elf hat and the Christmas carols playing in the background.

His other hand slides down, grasping your other asscheek and kneads them both, before he spreads you.

With his feet planted on the floor and the firm grip on your ass, he holds you still as he fucks up into you, hard and fast, making your moans echo through the empty mall.

The faster his pace becomes, the louder you get until the sound of someone whistling pierces through the air, making you both freeze.

Fuck.

The security guard.

How horny could you have been to forget about the fucking mall security?!

He slows his thrusts to a deep grind, with small, barely there movements that make you bite your lip to keep from moaning and getting caught by the poor, unsuspecting guard.

Touya brings a hand around your neck, turning your face towards his to capture your lips in a slow, languid kiss that works to both turn you on impossibly more and absorb some of the noises you can’t help but make with Touya stuffing you so well.

You can hear the guard’s footsteps coming closer and for some reason, their proximity only has you getting hotter. He pulls away from the kiss with a grin, nipping at your ear.

“Naughty girl,” he whispers, kneading your ass as he rocks your hips. “I can feel you clenching around me. You want to get caught, don’t you? You want this poor guard to see you being stuffed full, and wish they're the one fucking you, hm?"

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, shaking; his hot breath on your skin where he whispers filth into your ear pushing you that bit closer the edge.

The whistling moves further away, and as hot as the danger of getting caught was, you relax when it passes.

At least until you feel a warm thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing firm circles, as Touya resumes pounding up into you, and that's all it takes.

You go rigid, clenching down on him as a string of whimpered swears leave you as you cum, slick gushing out around and on him, soaking his pants.

And the vice grip of your spasming cunt drags him over the edge with you. “Fuck baby, take Santa’s present.” he moans, cheeky, laughing and breathless, as he cums deep inside you.

Heady and stuffed full, you breathe, "Thank you, Santa."

As you come down from your high, he chuckles, caresses your back, and presses a kiss to your forehead. "You're welcome, baby."

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

[cheshirebitch]

Can i request reader who has pingu energy with making and giving alastor his valentines day card please?

I didn’t know what you meant at first until I REALIZED haha. I hope I did you justice and that you enjoy as much as I did writing it! (Here’s a gif for the people who don’t know what this lovely requester meant)

𝔾𝕣𝕦𝕞𝕡𝕪 𝕍𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕖

Alastor x Reader

I really hated Valentine’s Day. Like, I really fucking hate Valentine’s Day. You can only like the holiday so much when you caught your boyfriend cheating on you, shot him, and then got hit by a car while speeding away from the police. Hell of a way to go, I know. Alastor found it hilarious. Especially when my ex tried to stay at the hotel. The lovely deer man ended up eating him before I could get a word in. That was when I realized I really had a thing for the old fashion man.

That pretty much explains why I was now trying to make a card perfect enough to present to him. Everything had to be perfect, but it definitely was not going as planned. I have created at least thirty cards by now, none of which were good enough to give to Alastor. The top three cards so far got ruined when I spilled my paint water on them. I tried recreating the one with the deer puns, since he is always making them with me whenever he has a chance. We were both deer. I joked with Alastor that the reason I was created into a demon deer was because I was hit by a car, like how deer were commonly struck during my time alive.

The next card was completely red with different shades. With how he dresses, and his diet preferences, I figured his favorite color was red, hopefully. Inside it wrote in the fanciest cursive I could write, “You have my whole heart, try not to eat it.” I thought he would get a good chuckle out of that, just in case he doesn’t return the feelings as well.

The last card was one that had a drawing of Alastor I was actually proud of, but of course that was right when I knocked over the cup. Which, of course, stuck me in a completely grumpy mood. I grabbed the red construction paper and slammed it aggressively onto the table. I glared daggers at the cup, now empty of all its paint water, before smacking it off the table.

With the red construction paper in front of me, I glanced around the table for what I should slap onto this three hour long project. Husk walked past before stopping and back peddling.

“What are you doing?” Without hesitating, I mean mugged him.

”This stupid fucking heartfelt card bullshit.” I snatched the red glitter glue from the edge of the table and squirted it messily onto the cover of the card. I grabbed the other shade of red construction paper and started cutting out a heart shape. Husk chuckled, shaking his head.

”To who?” My eyes snapped back up to look at him. I grabbed the three ruined cards and tossed them towards the end of the table Husk stood at. He looked down at them, carefully flipping them without ruining them further than I already had.

“Al-“

”You shut your mouth, Cat.” He raised his eyebrows, dropping the ruined cards back down. The last thing I need is for Alastor to hear and come snooping around. I know him well enough that he could hear when someone says his name and always shortly swings by like the nosy man he is. I mean, he was a radio host. It was his job to be nosy.

“I will leave you to it.” He raised his hands up in surrender, walking back out of the room and towards wherever his original destination was. Yeah, that’s what I thought. Get back to making your own stupid Valentine’s Day gift for Angel Dust. I huffed before slapping my cut out paper heart in the center. My fingers rummaged around the table, ready to grip the black marker whenever I found it. I was too busy glaring at the messy card. My teeth ripped off the cap, spitting the lid somewhere next to me, and then carefully writing his name with as much patience I had left. My patience was barely there, but there was enough for the cursive to come out great.

I was still pissed.

I snatched the card off the table, scribbled my message inside, and then marched to find the deer in question.

”Alastor! Where are you?” I strode into the lobby area, searching for Alastor so this nightmare could be done and over with.

"What's that frown on your face for?” Static and a smile.

“Here.” I spun around and aggressively held out the card, still completely grumpy about everything leading up to this moment. Alastor had an amused face, looking down at the card. Waiting for him to take it, I watched how he tossed his staff into the crook of his arm. His claws delicately took the card from my hands. Glad to be rid of the card and the pressure, I marched off back into the room where my three cards sat, slightly drier than before.

“Stupid fucking water. Stupid fucking cards.” I grumbled while cleaning up the mess I made on the table. Why did I have to worry so much if he liked it? Why did I even decide to even make him a card? He probably just thought it was friendly, or something negative. Valentine’s Day has always been just heartbreak, why did I set myself back up for it this year?

”You left before I could give you my gift, dear.” I jumped out of my skin and turned around to see Alastor looking at the three ruined cards.

”These are also very pleasant. I do wish they didn’t get ruined.” He flipped the cards back over to how they were sitting before. That’s when I saw the bouquet of my favorite flowers, a beautifully decorated card, and a black velvety box. My eyes shot up to his as they looked at me over his monocle. He straightened his back and took two long strides to me.

”I promise I won’t eat your heart if you promise to stop being so enticingly sweet.” The grump look on my face melted away into a sheepish smile. It must have been infectious as he smiled wider and more sincere. He gently places the gifts on a cleared section, then carefully grazes his claws on my face.

“There’s that beautiful smile, Mon Cher.” His hands dragged down from my face to my hands, pulling one up to kiss delicately, then flashing those crimson eyes of his back up to mine.

Okay, maybe Valentine’s Day won’t be so bad this year.

(As always, the character belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over :)! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! Thank you for the love and have a great day <3!)

[gffa]

You would think, after a month of voracious reading of BATFAMILY fic, that I would at least begin to slow down, because I still primarily read I’m Having Dick Grayson Feelings And I’m Making That Everyone Else’s Problem, but I have also discovered that I have Jason feelings, I have Tim feelings, and I have Damian feelings. Which of course I knew before, but what I really learned is that other people have made this my problem now, too. And by that I mean that there’s amazing fic on all of the Bat babies and I am not immune. So, you may still have to scroll a bit, but if there’s an idiot badass with black hair and blue eyes, you’ll hopefully find something here to cry about with me, because what are any of us even in this fandom for, if not for the Feelings Hell About Vigilantes With Emotional Problems? BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ it is with my whole life by dustorange, dick & bruce, 2.2k      Nine-year-old Dick’s been kidnapped. Bruce tries not to fall apart. ✦ World’s Finest: Lake Weekend by WingFeathers, dick & bruce & clark (& clark/bruce), 10.3k      Bruce and Dick invite Clark to the lakehouse for a long weekend around Rosh Hashanah, but Dick has trouble sleeping outside the Manor, and Bruce isn’t as available as he should be. And all of this brings up a question: what exactly are the three of them, a bat-vigilante and his ward and his superhero boyfriend? Could they be something like a family? (And how will they eat with Alfred not taking care of them?) ✦ Revision by takadainmate, dick & bruce, 3.8k      New to Bruce Wayne, new to being Robin, new to being alone, Dick didn’t believe there would ever be anyone there for him again. ✦ count the stars by emavee, dick & bruce, 3.7k      He doesn’t know what to do. It’s not like he can stop the storm. If he could wave a magic wand and make the sky clear—or even if he could call up someone from his large contact list full of metas who could control the weather—he would. He would honestly disrupt Gotham’s weather patterns if it meant Dick would stop crying. Or: Dick doesn’t like thunderstorms, so Bruce takes him somewhere where they can’t touch him. ✦ cautionary tale by drakefeathers, dick & bruce & young justice, 11.4k      Q: “Why did Queen Bee want Robin taken in alive in Bereft?” A: “Think of Speedy as a cautionary tale.” ✦ batman & robin by chickenmuffinsoup55555, dick & bruce, 4.8k      The Batman has a shadow. A shadow clad in reds and greens with a smile like sunshine. Bruce is adjusting. ✦ five times someone told Bruce he was a good dad… by emavee, dick & bruce & clark & selina & cast, 10.3k      …and one time it mattered ✦ Phobias by RascalJoy (DarkQuill), dick & bruce & alfred, 18.4k wip      It was stupid. It was irrational. Dick knew that. There was no good reason for him to be afraid; he had been doing this for most of his young life. And yet… Five times Dick fell, and the one time Robin didn’t. ✦ I Hate Dick by JeanjacketCarf, dick & bruce & talia, 3.7k      “Robin wrapped his legs around the Bats’ neck and rested his head on top of the cowl. Then he stuck his tongue out at Talia. Talia felt her face growing hot with anger. She tried to restrain it. The Bat loved this child for some unholy reason.” ✦ shades of blue by thatsveryambitiousofyou, dick & bruce, 2.4k      Dick Grayson has blue eyes. Or the one where Bruce tries harder BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Withdrawal by Sohotthateveryonedied, dick & bruce & cast, 1.8k      It’s been six hours since he got dosed. The green ring around his eyes has been faded since dawn. It won’t be long before the withdrawal hits him in full force. ✦ The Post-Mission Ponderings of Brucerman and NightBunny by Ptelea, dick & bruce, 4.8k      This is just sheer (metaphorical) fluff to follow up on the (somewhat more literal) fluff of Wayne Family Adventures, season 2, episode 54, S'tel ees a cigam wohs! Heavy on the puns, even heavier on Bruce being struck by amazement at how much he loves his oldest son. ✦ gotta make a stand (but I am just a man) by CaptainOzone, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.3k      Bruce makes it back to the Cave, injured and exhausted, but remarkably alive. He expects Alfred to meet him. He meets someone else. Or: a third credit scene in which Nightwing makes an appearance. ✦ The Hand in My Hand by audreycritter, dick & bruce, 4.4k      Dick offers himself in exchange for some hostages and it does not go as planned. ✦ Yesterday by I_Have_To_Get_Off_This_Planet, dick & bruce, 1.5k      Dick was pretty sure this was what dying felt like. He was curled up, almost in fetal position, on his bed in the Manor. He was there for the holidays, and he had been looking forward to their entire family being together for once. Even Jason had agreed to come. And now he was gonna die before Christmas even arrived. ✦ I Bet On Losing Dogs by Anonymous, dick & bruce, 2.5k      (Or; Bruce’s relationship with his oldest and how it slowly starts to mend, with only a little push from his friends.) ✦ You can pick your battles but you can’t pick your poison by woodenwashbucket, dick & bruce, 1.8k      “Hey, am I bleeding a lot somewhere?” Nightwing asked. Batman gave him an unimpressed look, but Nightwing shook his head. “Seriously. I feel off.” Nightwing wobbled. Batman grabbed him by the shoulders before they could find out if he would have fallen, and Nightwing met his eyes with undisguised alarm. “Ok, maybe worse than off,” he said. BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ what’s past is prologue by Icestorm238, dick & bruce & jason & damian, time travel, 18.1k      Dick Grayson, bestowed with the memories of an alternate life, decides that things are going to go better this time. Priority number one: preventing Jason’s death. ✦ exactly how this grace thing works by irnan, dick & bruce & barbara & jason & cast, de-aged!dick, 22.7k      Dick gets de-aged. You’d think this would be a routine thing. ✦ sick day by daringyounggrayson, dick & roy & titans, 1.2k      Dick tries to power through a cold and lead a training session with the Teen Titans. It doesn’t exactly work out. ✦ The Gravity of Tempered Grace by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & selina, 10k      He’s sick, he finally catches on, and at that moment, a cough builds up in his chest, and he barely has enough energy to sit up enough to let his lungs work properly. A coughing fit later, and Dick’s breaths are making a horrible wheezing sound that makes him sound like one of Titus’ chew toys. That’s bad. He’s pretty sure that’s bad. ✦ you swallowing matches by torielle, roy/dick & bruce, NSFW, 8.2k      A month after being fired as Robin, Dick is forced to attend a Wayne gala, and is grateful for a particular friendly face. ✦ The Shape Of You (Was Jagged And Weak) by WinterSky101, dick & bruce & slade & jason & tim & damian & batfam, 40.6k      Six months ago, Nightwing died. They never found the body. Last week, Deathstroke arrived in Gotham. He brought a partner with him. ✦ You say you wanna stay by my side (Darling, your head’s not right) by wlwintersoldier, roy/dick & lian & donna, 2.5k      Dick is stupid and reckless on a mission, whats new, and Roy deals with the fallout ✦ Laundry Mishaps by JeanjacketCarf, dick/babs & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke, 3.5k      Dick’s siblings often show up unannounced and take his stuff without asking. It’s how they show their love. Or Dick’s washing machine is commandeered for Steph’s laundry, his clothes disappear, he goes to girl’s night, has brunch, gets a little shot, and picks his baby brother up from school in about a week and a half while the secret group chat has a grand old time. BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I’M GONNA THROW HIM AT DICK BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY (AND MAYBE SOME OF HIS OTHER SIBLINGS TOO): ✦ Two Dead Birds by InsaneTrollLogic, jason & dick & tim, time travel, 29k      There’s some lunatic in a red helmet running through Jason’s territory. He wants to think it’s a copycat. He’s wrong. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Won’t You Stay A While? by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian & cast, 2.8k      Ric did not expect to find a child sitting on the hood of his cab. Damian did expect to get his brother back. ✦ birdgrief by windupclock, dick & bruce & damian, 1.5k      How could you? Dick doesn’t say. Get out of my sight, Dick doesn’t say. What the hell is wrong with you? Dick doesn’t say. Tim storms out. Dick is left to deal with Damian. ✦ we’re like long lost brothers who found each other (and love each other like family) by drakefeathers, dick & damian, 9.3k      ongoing collection of scenes set when Dick is Batman and Damian is his Robin, ranging from cute to sad (hopefully not too sad). not chronological. ✦ I’ll Carry You by BrickSheep, dick & damian & bruce & tim, 2.1k      Dick Grayson will take every opportunity he can just to carry Damian in his arms. ✦ in my own imperfect way by notquiteaghost, dick & damian & bruce, 1.8k      Dick jokes, a lot, about being the only reason Bruce still remembers how to talk to people. About breaking him in for everyone else. He was Robin first, and he was Robin longest, and he’s why Bruce took in the others, he’s why Bruce isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. And the jokes are funny! He’s never trying to be passive aggressive, or guilt trip, or whatever else. He and Bruce have spent enough time, now, pointedly not actually looking at each other, pulling words out in painful fits and starts. Dick knows where they stand. They’re good. But. ✦ (Un)Fortunate Son by Syl, dick & damian & bruce & cast, 26.1k wip      Bruce reaches a decision about Damian. Dick disagrees and decides to do something about it. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies, jason & bruce & dick, 31.4k      Bruce swallows, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he takes another, steadying breath and presses both hands to his face. He just needs a moment. Needs to remember where he is, what year it is, that Jason is not actually fifteen, he only looks like he is. This is temporary. This is just a temporary problem that needs to be contained until they can change Jason back. This is not a repeat of events already passed. This is not a second chance. ✦ what’s past is prologue by Icestorm238, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & steph & cast, time travel, 84.9k      Dick Grayson, bestowed with the memories of an alternate life, decides that things are going to go better this time. Things take a few unintended turns, and the consequences of his actions ripple through his family. ✦ And the Scene Slips Away (To the Evenness I Fake) by Kirazalea, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & duke & alfred & cast, rape aftermath/read the tags, 37k      One mistake is all it took to force Jason back into the wonderful world of the Wayne family. Now publicly and legally alive once more, he’s forced to spend the next two weeks of his life stuck in the Manor with the whole family. This leads to several strengthened relationships and the realization that maybe he’s missed a few things over the years. Things that he’s now determined to get to the bottom of. ✦ now the clock is melting (so’s my mouth and so’s my mind) by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, tim & bruce & dick & cast, 4.1k      The League’s base is not built to welcome strangers. Bruce is not a stranger. ✦ what catches and who holds by victoria_p (musesfool), dick & cass, 3k      Dick never wanted to be Batman. Cass always did. ✦ Bet on it by Lysical, jason & damian & jon, 2.4k      Even Damian could admit that his older siblings occasionally had their uses. “I need your assistance,” Damian said, voice low and tense. “No,” Jason replied, and hung up. ✦ a soft place to land by unchosenone, dick & tim, 3k      Tim rubs the back of his head, trying to affect a joking tone. “I knew I should’ve just gone for the new escrima sticks.” Dick is ready to be a good big brother to his grieving little bro. Tim flips the script. ✦ Consanguineous Ministrations by Briarwitched, bruce & kon-el & clark & dick, 23.9k      “Who gave you a baby?” Dick demanded, the instant Bruce opened the front door, eyes drawn immediately to the sobbing infant on Bruce’s hip that he gently bounced to no avail. At the same time, Bruce muttered, “I told you, it’s fine, you didn’t have to come.” Alternatively titled, “Let’s give Batfleck alien baby problems”. ✦ The League of Extraordinary Bowling Bats by chibi_nightowl, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & alfred & cassandra & stephanie, 5k      “What did Dickiebird do? Steal all your other shirts?” The shirt is bright green with wide yellow stripes pretending to be a pin stripe running vertically across it. On the back, in bright red letters, “Timmy” is spelled out. “You’re next,” he spits out, shooting Jason the worst glare he could muster. “He’s got one for you too.” ✦ a cheese raspberry flavored void (except not really) by dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi), Marzue, SilverSkiesAtMidnight, Squintyfist (ErzasCake), dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & alfred & cast, 3k      “Jason.” Dick walks up to the desk, suspiciously peering around. Jason jerks and attempts to get in his way, but Dick is quick and fully willing to vault over his brother. Only, Jason immediately latches onto him, and the momentum sends them stumbling back, knocking into the desk. It’s a good thing Jason stopped him, for right behind the desk, where Dick would’ve landed, is a swirling void. ✦ The Talk by InsaneTrollLogic, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, 2k      Bruce never gave Dick the Talk. Dick was grateful for that right up until the time Damian sat through his first health class and started asking questions. ✦ Brothers in War by IaMcHrIsSi, jason & dick & cast, 3.2k      Jason, Cass and Damian ran from the League. In Bludhaven, they run into Dick. Literally. Dick just wanted to get breakfast. ✦ Baby I’m Bi Bi Bi by Sohotthateveryonedied, dick & steph, 1.5k      Dick catches her staring. “Oh, yeah. Forgot I had that. I bought it for when Wally, Donna and I were planning to go to Gotham Pride last year but a Joker thing came up and I didn’t get to go. You can just toss it. I have a ton of other bi merch and I only bought that one because Donna pressured me into it, anyway.” Steph looks down at the t-shirt and bites her lip. “Actually…I think I’ll keep it, if you don’t mind.” ✦ two attempted robberies too many by tsuchann, dick & bruce & jason, 2.2k      Dick could have knocked out the man before he had the chance to blink let alone pull the trigger, but he wasn’t dumb, and he worried his reaction would have caused the other robbers to shoot, because in the bank, at the middle of it all, with a gun pressed to his head, was Dick’s little brother. ✦ That the Ripest Might Fall by Ellegrine, TheFightingBull, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce, reverse robins, 2.4k      Jason stared at the fallen chandelier. The priceless, fallen chandelier. They were dead. They were so, so dead! ✦ the butler’s neighbor by deargalileo, tim & alfred & bruce, 16.6k      it starts with a baseball, thrown onto the wayne’s property. it’s alfred’s job to deal with such happenings, of course. but over tea and galas, it turns into so much more. after all, why should bruce be the only one allowed to adopt any child that he finds? ✦ the straw drawer by deargalileo, dick & bruce & jason & tim & alfred, 7.4k      sometimes, love is stored in the straws. a story about family, traditions, and gifts, through the medium of crazy straws. (a companion piece to the butler’s neighbor, so i would suggest reading that first) ✦ you gotta push all the doubt to the side of your mouth by danishsweethearts, dick & stephanie & cast, 1.7k      Steph practices mindfulness. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK/BABS FOREVER AND YOU CAN SHUT IT IF YOU DISAGREE, THEY’RE ADORABLE TOGETHER: ✦ Crime and… by Ladymercury_10, dick/babs, 1.7k      “Are you punishing me with glitter? That’s not a very good punishment, Babs.” ✦ the dickbabs baby au. by thychesters, dick/babs & batfam, 49.1k wip      Telling Dick she’s pregnant is much more stressful than she was hoping it would be. Them telling the rest of their families and friends? Yeah, easier said than done. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ buy back the secrets by sundiscus, tim/kon & bruce & clark & jason & cast, 48.1k wip      He takes a long, slow breath. Ignores the glares from the other students. “Superboy,” he murmurs. “It’s me. If you’re listening, I could use some help.” Or: 5 times Superboy saves Tim Drake, and one time Tim Drake saves Superboy. ✦ Grevious Misuse of TTK (or, Alternate Uses for TTK) by Cfae8, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.4k      Tim wakes up to someone touching him. But Kon’s hands haven’t moved. ✦ The Lost Art of Minding Your Goddamn Business by JpegDotJpeg, tim/kon & jason, 2k      Tim just sputtered, looking thoroughly scandalized for someone standing in the middle of the irrefutable evidence of his own fornication. If the furniture looked this bad, Jason couldn’t imagine that little Timmy had escaped Superboy’s super cock completely unscathed. “It’s not that bad,” Tim said, gesturing to the carnage, but he didn’t even sound convinced of his own words. “It looks like the fucking honeymoon scene from Twilight in here.” ✦ Practice Makes Perfect by rotasha, tim/kon & jason, NSFW, 18.3k      Kon is trying to seduce someone – he won’t tell Tim who – and he enlists Tim’s help to try to hone his flirtation skills. This surely won’t end in disaster for Tim, who’s had a thing for Kon practically since they met. BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Wait, What? by PandasandDucks13, dick & bruce & titans, 2.4k      Dick Grayson finds something interesting while applying for college. On a side note: He should really evaluate how many felonies he commits on a regular basis ✦ Dawn Breaks Through the Window by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, depression/read the tags, 14.7k      Without realizing it, Dick has fallen into a listless apathy, but when an incident cuts a little too close, Bruce and his brothers are there to remind him just how loved he is. ✦ Wisdom Always Chooses These Black Eyes and These Bruises by audreycritter, dick & bruce, 3.2k      After a severe, life-changing injury, Dick and Bruce have an epic fight and then fall back together. Sometimes, family hurts you the most, but that doesn’t stop how much you need them. ✦ your continental divides by isawet, reisling, dick & bruce & damian & barbara & cassandra & stephanie & donna & roy & wally & artemis & cast, rape aftermath/read the tags, 26.7k      When running doesn’t work and working doesn’t work, home is the place you go where they have to take you in. Dick’s home has never been Gotham; it’s always been the people.

[teamchillidogs]

Oï!!

First, I want to say, I love this comic and genuinely can’t wait to see what awaits for us next ♡♡♡

The premise is such an interesting concept– And the art is to die for, hello?? (all my ♡ to you guys, and I mean ALL of you!)

I just had two tiny questions, if it haven’t been already answered:

If it doesn’t spoil anything, is Sonic still going to be able to run at his full speed with that mechanical leg? Or is he going to be limited? I can’t imagine my poor baby stuck with average speed, but I’m not really sure that this leg is capable of supporting his sonic speed.

And second, mostly adressed to others fans... WHY IS EVERYBODY BLAMING MAH BOI TAILS FOR EVERYTHING?? Like, yeah sure he’s technically responsible but–

Why is nobody blaming Knuckles too?!

Both Sonic and Amy told Tails to come back to the ARK and let Sonic&Shadow handle things, and I think we can safely say he would have (even reluctantly) obeyed and gone back to the ship.

But noooooo, Knuckles had to chime him and told him to make himself useful.

Useful.

To the boy who literally just witnessed his BigBroTM (fake) death in an explosion without being able to do anything abt it.

The kid who just had an entire arc abt gaining confidence and learning to step out of Sonic’s shadow (pun not intented), to be his own person with his own purpose and all that jazz.

The child who’s probably still pump up on the adrealine from his fight with Eggman (which he won if I remember my SA2 correctly).

Knuckles, mah bro, best hot-headed himbo of the franchise. You could not have chosen a worst time to utter these words.

Of course Tails was going to take him up on that and try to ”MaKe HiMsElf UsEfUl”, why wouldn’t he?? He defeated Eggman in battle (Left-over adrealine and possibly cockiness?), and didn’t seem to trust Shadow with Sonic (who, again, was thought Dead literaly less than half an hour ago bc of the Team Shadow was on– Seriously, I can see why he’d like to be by his side when Sonic is again risking his life out there for them)

And franckly, how was he supposed to realize how bad his intervention would turn out to be? It never got that bad before, why now?

#StoptheTailshate #HoldKnucklesaccountable

Sorry for the rambling and the terrible english, but it had to be said, bruh. Tails ain’t even in my Top-5 favorites character, but everyones’ so harsh on the baby, he needed some backup 🥺😭

Hii @sookilini here answering as per usual!

this is the best ask we have ever received and it's honestly my favorite, thank you so much for sending this.

I always get to excited and emotional when i read these things, thank you so much for your kind words <333

ALSO THANK YOU FOR NOT ATTACKING TAILS, he has been DRAGGED TO FILTH I CAN´T TAKE IT /j

So first: is Sonic still going to be able to run at his full speed with that mechanical leg? Or is he going to be limited?

Unfortunately, the people of Marmolim (the planet he landed on) as you may have been able to tell, don't know who Sonic is and are unaware of his speed and abilities. So, the prosthetic leg isn´t capable of withstanding his speed...

Secondly

Why is nobody blaming Knuckles too?

I honestly have no idea why most people commenting did not catch onto Knuckles provoking Tails by poking at his insecurities, I'd even dare to say his ego more so... Tails got into his head "oh I don't need Sonic to get things done. I can do anything, I'm more than just the brains, I can do the action too" at least this is my intention with his actions.

We have to remember, Tails is literally just a child at the end of the day, yes he is incredibly smart but can you really expect a 12-year-old-ish kid to act rationally when put in a stressful life or death situation while getting yelled at by everyone for just trying to help?

Nobody would ever expect a kid to even be in that situation to begin with right? at least that´s what I think.

We all know Knux isn´t the smartest in hindsight...he isn't stupid by any means, but he will say what comes to his mind without second guessing for sure.

But oh well...Knuckles isn´t here to defend himself....anymore...

But there is still hope

[pursuitseternal]

“The Fourth Day” of Bats, Blood, and Mirror Smut in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x Reader |E| 2.3K of Batstarion and Self-indulgent mirror sex

Summary: He’s late to arrive back, and then you hear… scratching at your window. Bat nibbles and head scritches quickly shift into other sensual indulgences. Ones that allow him to experience other benefits to his ascension… and to your own pleasure.

CW: “Right Hand” puns, Batstarion bites, cunilingus, mirror sex, Extra Emphatic performance from the Ascendant cause he likes the way he looks, “oh yes, I see what all the fuss is about”

Previous Ch | Ao3 Link | Masterlist

A gift for @icybluepenguin

🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞🦇🪞

You lay in your bed, tossing and turning. Waiting for Astarion to return. The camp needed supplies—potions and scrolls and armor. And it was Astarion’s turn to go fetch, even as he had grumbled how beneath him it was as the Ascendant.

Of course, Wyll had only laughed all the harder, shoving the purse of coin in his pale hands and slamming the door on his ass. The goods had been sent ahead by a maid from the Elfsong’s tavern, the Ascendant adding in the message delivered along with the bundle that he would return anon, once he deemed his presence sufficiently missed.

That was hours ago… Now even sleep sounded good. Long, lonely sleep. With him somewhere out there in the dark of night.

Your stomach swirls, knowing he is powerful, knowing he is experienced in how to care for himself, but… you have so many enemies now. So many assassins and monsters and soldiers. The list of beings that wanted you dead seems to grow ever bigger.

He shouldn’t have gone alone.

Stupid, arrogant, exalted idiot.

Every sound in the tavern, every creak on every floor reaches your ears. And it’s not your heightened vampiric senses.

You’re worried. For as much as he preens and postures and bites and drinks, you can see it plainly with your eyes and your heart. You see what others can’t since his Ascension.

He’s still just the same, poor at planning, smooth brained rogue. Good with his hands, silken with his words, bad at anything to do with plots or logic or calculations or…

A soft scritch scratch at the window made you sit up from your good- humored, condescending musings.

Something… big… rests against the panes of glass. You look closer. Something largish and fluffy and… white.

“My dear consort, let me in…” he speaks in that way that caresses your mind with his own.

“You have got to be kidding, Astarion. Are you stuck again…”

“No, not stuck. I am positively famished. I need to rest, to feed, before I can use my magic to return to the handsome body you know and crave and worship….”

“Pfft,” you roll your eyes. “So you need help, is that it… mighty Vampire Ascendant?”

“You wound me, my darling…. My treasure…” he flaps against the glass again. His little claws scratch so hard as he grows clearly more and more agitated. “My right hand…” he purrs so silkenly.

You cross from the bed, your body naked as you stroll so slowly towards his blurred shadow on the other side of that pane. “It’s funny, my love, that night you offered me this…” you pause to flourish your hand the same way he had, “gift of immortality… I didn’t realize by your Right Hand, you meant things so literally.”

That made him flutter harder and bang his little bat feet against the window. “I swear when I do get in there… when I do finally feed and shift back… I’ll make that right hand do so much more for me than opening this fucking window….”

You laugh…. So adorable. So dramatic and ridiculous. So… him. “You should see yourself, my love. I suppose II would miss you if I should leave you so… indisposed.”

You cackle, reaching for that handle. The instant a gap was big enough, he flapped his way inside. Circling on his beautiful, membranous wings, you feel the wind brush your hair away before he lands on the back of your shoulder. His itty, bitty fingers hook onto the crest of your back, the only warning you get before you feel his small razor fangs bite into your neck.

So much smaller than normal, you gasp in surprise more at the sensation of warm fur on your skin. His little claws hook tightly, and his quiet breath snuffles beneath your ear as he drinks. You reach your hand around, his little ears twitching as you blindly brush them, scratching one finger in that small space at the top of his head. His mouth still contentedly suckles on your blood.

Tingles of magic wash down your back, and suddenly your hand raises with the top of his head, that silken mess of curls wrapped around your finger. Lips replace bat teeth, the wide span of his warm tongue swirls lazily over the teeny marks he’s left.

“Now… about that defiant, rebellious right hand of yours,” he rasps against the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Oh…. This little thing?” you taunt, wickedly, childishly, gripping that bulge between his legs from behind you. The “oof” that comes from his smirking mouth is music to your ears. You spin smoothly, pivoting your grip on his cock, and you give it just a few hard strokes to make it harden under your touch.

It doesn’t take much. It never has. He bucks against your palm. One of his elegant, long-fingered hands clutches underneath your chin, dragging your lips for him to consume. You taste the blood on his tongue, feel his hunger mixed with yearning. The way his tongue dances with yours hides nothing of the want you were so quick to incite in him.

You lose your breath as he shoves you against the wall. Moonlight floods from behind him, his sharpened face barely lit in the shadow. But those curls, ravaged by the winds of flying, mussed from his shifting, those silver-white curls sit like a halo in the pale light. Left hand closing around your right, he presses it against the wall, a silent command to hold still. Very still.

A single kiss on your lips, a rakish arch to his brow, and he drops to his knees. His hands force your leg over his shoulder so quickly, you have to grip that wall behind you, caught only by the way he shoves his shoulder under your thigh. His face already presses hard into your mound, fingers already prying your folds wide for his tongue to lap. Careful, you use your left hand to comb through his curls, riding the circling of his head as he licks through your seam.

The same sort of little noises come from between your thighs, little low hums of feeding, muffled grunts amidst the wet suck of his tongue on your clit. Your hips buck, catching on his nose, his hands keeping that new angle for him to push deeper into that wet.

You pound your right hand into the wall, a closed fist, and your legs shake. He drives you closer and closer, pools of heat and lightning racing to your belly and down your nerves. He laughs into your cunt, fingers slipping into your channel from somewhere below your ass. You can’t see, can only feel that rhythmic lap and suck of his perfect tongue and thick smirking lips. But those fingers crook hard to catch your spot, that itch he knows how to scratch and make you shatter.

You pant, riding the brush of his nose on your clit and the suck of his tongue as he devours you even in climax.

“Fuck me…” you groan, head smacking against the wall as you raise your hips even higher. His hands hold you firm, even as your legs twitch and threaten to go boneless in your orgasm.

“Oh yes, darling, I am about to do just that,” he stands to rasp into your ear. “You did say… if only I could see myself… a delightful suggestion, my pet. Come now,” he purrs, “but you will only use those defiant hands of yours as I see fit. And…”

He flips you around, drags you across the room to the corner, until you’re staring at your own reflection. The simple wooden-framed mirror shows every pale line of your bodies as one. You can barely tell where your soft curves melt into the edges of every hardened rise of him behind you in the moonlight. “…you’re going to watch ever little way I fuck you…”

“You mean you’re going to watch every little way you fuck…”

His hand reaches from behind you, clawing around your mouth and twisting to bring your ear against his smirking lips. His crimson eyes lock into yours in that reflection, a matching color. “Well, it was your suggestion, my love, since we both have been given such a gift. And I haven’t yet seen how ruinous I am in this process…”

“Tch,” you suck your teeth, a humored and condescending shake of your head. “Fine… it is a sight to behold. And after all, these days are about you discovering yourself, indulging in your powers.”

“And I’m so grateful it’s you who enables my indulgences, my darling,” his silken voice croons. His tongue visibly sticks out to run that warm, wet pad up the curve of your ear.

His gaze watches yours flutter, your body shivering involuntarily as you want more. “Bend,” he growls into those little circles and folds of your ear. His grip fastens on your wrist, making you reach for the wall beside you, turning you sideways to that shimmering mirror glass. You look through the messy curtain of your hair, watching in that reflection as his hand smooths down the vertebrae of your spine, his other grips and pumps his cock. That hard, veined length dripping onto the floor, twitching relentlessly as he catches your eye with a wicked grin.

“You keep those insolent hands where I can see them, darling, and you… will… watch me.” His voice drops into a deep-throated growl, his head cocked back, hips bucking into his fist. Even as he clutches the cheek of your ass, his sharp nails finding purchase, drawing blood to the surface as he marks you.

His. Forever.

Fingers leave your skin, pulling back that long, tousled mess of your hair so you can obey him.

So you can watch.

Watch as he lines himself up with your entrance, watch as he drags that blunted tip, forcefully and slowly back and forth through your slick. Watch as his hand beats his shaft against your folds, smearing your arousal up and down his velvety smooth skin as he does so.

It’s… burning in your belly, the way he’s licking his lips, stare alternating between watching his body in the mirror and your eyes drinking in his every sensual stroke.

You can’t look away, watching him shut his eyes, head thrown back in pleasure, arching as he sheathes himself until you feel that brush of his balls against you. You want to shudder and hang your head, instantly filled and throbbing and so… very… full.

“Don’t you disobey me, pet,” he hisses. “Best keep watching, or else…” Eyes still shut, he groans in deep delight as he pulls out once more only to grip your hips and shove inside again.

Deeper. Harder. More punishing. Fangs bared, he smirks down to watch his perfect shaft entering you, a slow beating rhythm to the snaps of his hips. Every little ripple of muscles in his body, you get drunk on the sight of him. Even that slight gleaming slick on his cock that you see, that base of his shaft as it glistens before it disappears to ram you full again. It makes your mouth water.

He picks up the pace now, your body so warm and wet from how he pleasured you. He smiles at himself, tilting his head back towards the mirror. You can feel it, the extra undulations of his body, a little extra shove, a little harder buck of his hips to make your ass slap hard on his body.

A performance of pleasure just for him.

Deep, subtle pants leave his gaping mouth with each thrust, his eyes watching the way his own flawless, ruinous body clenches as he fucks. Every tweak of his abs, every clench of his ass, you can see his eyes dart in the mirror to savor the sight.

You laugh, well, barely laugh. As breathless as you are, riding every pummel into your cunt, you manage to speak. “Careful, or I’ll have to get a blindfold if you can’t stop watching yourself…”

“Oh darling, I finally see what all the fuss is about,” he pants between his words. And you hear it, that edge to his voice, reckless and uncontrolled. His words catch in his throat just as stilted as his thrusts become.

Hard and random and rough.

Your cervix grows numb, your channel walls so swollen, so hot. Pounded over and over again until he finally groans and folds over you. Arms yank you back against him by your hips, slamming your body against his wild bucks. You watch that magnificent reflection as he unravels, how his knees buckle as he comes.

How his seed spills so hard from his cock deep inside you, it’s already dripping to the floor at your feet. The sight of sweating pale skin and undulating muscles bent over for you… you shatter too. And it makes another groan, a whimper come from where he’s laid his head on your back, just below your shoulder blades. Your walls milk him of every last drop, your own arousal joining the mess on the floor beneath your feet.

Breathless, your arms shake, still extended towards the wall. A naughty grin on your mouth as he looks at your lust-hazed eyes and tousled hair. His face is a matching set of post-coital mess and beauty.

You reach that right hand of yours between your legs, slowly, delicately teasing over your own slick clit, drenched in both your cum. Stroking further to brush the soaked base of his cock that is still buried inside you, he nips into the skin of your back, not hard enough to break the skin.

Just enough to make you look again in that mirror.

“Your right hand is forgiven… I’ll allow it…” he purrs one more time.

His crimson gaze still looks hazy and dunk on that sight of you coupled. And you wonder if he will ever let you stand.

[r7leee]

i have zero idea if u write for josh but if u do i would be like VERY happy <3

in the trenches rn (pun intended) so i need me sum angst WITH COMFORT

nd if u dunno what to do then u can base it off tear in my heart, the craving or formidable

- lisey 🐈

nails in skin | j.d.

PLSSSSS hon you know i deliver 🙏🏻🙏🏻

pairing: josh dun x gn!bandmate!reader

summary: you've been stressed lately; deadlines not being met in the band and family issues have been eating away at you, and it's not until blood is drawn you realize you need to calm down.

warnings: angstttt (as promised!!), cursing, hurt/comfort, mentions of death and sickness (no actual death tho!!!), injury

word count: 1,847, should take about 14 minutes to read

listen to: tired by beabadoobee

WHEN YOU WERE younger, you always thought the concept of a mid-life crisis was stupid. you thought you'd have your life under control. but, right now, that clearly wasn't the case.

ever since covid came, things had been harder. that's clearly not a shocker. for starters, there was the obvious flaw of not being able to go out and do things. being cooped up in the house was nice for a day or two, but eventually, being stuck inside made it harder to work on stuff.

before this had even started, you, your fiancée, josh, and your best friend, tyler, had begun work on a new album. but, now that you couldn't meet in your studio, things had been harder. a lot harder.

and finally, to top it all off, your grandma was in the hospital. it wasn't for having the virus, thank god, but rather a hip injury. however, you were scared to death she'd somehow contract it and she'd get worse than she already was.

all of this together, and what do you get? you'd figured a mid-life crisis.

all through this, josh was just trying to help. when this all first started, at the start of the pandemic, he was relatively good at fighting the fire that was you and calming things down. for example, there was a time just when covid started.

you were lying in bed, scrolling through your phone alongside josh. you were resting your head on his shoulder, completely content. his hand was rubbing your back as you sleepily scrolled through your instagram feed. until you got an email.

your eyebrows furrowed as you saw it came from mark. you clicked on it and the words you read stunned you.

"hey,

we can't work in the studio tomorrow or the rest of the week. covid protocols. sorry."

it was so short, yet so concerning. well, what were you gonna do? you turned and looked up at josh. "you get this email?" he shook his head as you showed him. "we can't just not record."

"it'll pass. it's okay," he tried to reassure you. "we'll probably get cleared to work there by the end of the week." you looked up at him meekly.

"you sure?"

"almost certain." he smiled and kissed the top of your head. "you always get so worried."

turns out, you were getting worried for good reason. at the end of the week, you contacted mark, asking if you were able to record in the studio. he said no and to wait another week.

that week turned into two, which turned into three, then finally a month before anything happened. a month of sitting around stressed you out like nothing.

constantly, you were caught bouncing your leg or pacing around the house for no particular reason. but, every time josh caught you doing that, he would calm you down. put a hand over your shaking leg, offer you guys to go on a walk. it was all you could really do with your current situation, but it worked.

but, when you got news of your grandma being admitted to the hospital, all hell broke loose in your mind. you had fond memories of her as a kid: baking pumpkin pie together during thanksgiving, coloring together, swinging in the tire swing in her backyard that was up just for you and your siblings. you refused to believe it might be possible that woman would be gone.

the second your mother told you, you immediately drove out to the hospital. josh was out getting groceries, but your mind was in such a frantic state, you didn't even think to call.

the drive there was a blur for you. eventually, you arrived at the hospital. after a check-in with your parents to confirm nothing bad was happening yet, you calmed down a bit. but, you still worried, as you weren't allowed to be in the room for too long.

you were the for a few hours before you decided to leave. as you checked your phone, there were at least four missed calls from josh. shit.

when you got home, you thought you'd calmed yourself down. but, when josh confronted you asking what happened, it was clear you didn't.

you walked into the door, the sound of your keys jingling as you pulled them out of the lock. you threw your purse onto a table in the mudroom and leaned against the wall for a second. "baby?" you heard a voice call out from further inside the house, followed by the sound of footsteps and paws coming towards you.

you looked up and saw your fiancee and your dog, jim, heading towards you. jim's face was so happy to see you as he ran through the hall that you almost forgot of your burdens for a second.

you crouched down to pet jim. "hi, sweet boy," you cooed as you petted him. he started to jump on you before josh stopped him. "jim, down!" he whined, but followed the order. he was a relatively well-trained dog, but he just was happy to see you.

you sighed as you started to stand back up. "where were you? are you okay?" josh rapid fired as you stood your ground.

and suddenly, the dam broke. “ya, i…i’m fine. it’s just-” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. the words physically couldn’t escape your throat. tears started to well and your eyes.

“hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” josh immediately ran to your side, engulfing you in a tight hug. you shakily inhaled and hugged him back. “you don’t gotta tell me if you don’t wanna.” his arms are warm as you stayed in that position for at least a couple minutes.

suddenly, jim started to jump at you both. you laughed as you both pulled away to look at him. “damn dog.”

you thought you’d get over it. in theory, it was easy, as your mom was constantly in the hospital, sending updates. and honestly, your grandma was doing just fine.

still though, there was something eating away at you; the thought she was in a prime spot to contract the virus.

you just didn’t want her gone.

also, deadlines for the band weren’t being met. again, it was reasonable; you guys couldn’t meet up in person, so almost all of this had to be on call. that was a major shift for the three of you, compared to meeting in studios, so it was no wonder not much work was getting done.

but, it was stressing you out like nothing. you had no schedule, no plan, no work, nothing to ground you.

about a month after your grandma was admitted was when it started to get bad.

you started losing yourself in a way. you found yourself checking your phone every few seconds for something to reassure or stimulate you, tugging at your hair, laying on the floor and just staring at the ceiling.

but, most importantly, you were ignoring your fiancée, josh.

he tried to reach out immediately when this started, being the kind person he is. but, you denied him, saying you were fine and it would pass.

clearly, it didn’t. as it got worse, he kept on trying to get you to calm down, but still, you shut him down.

you didn’t accept his help until that day.

you woke up in a bad mood that day. scratch that, horrible. you woke up with a pit in your stomach leading to god knows where and it felt like the size of jupiter.

immediately, when you went to get your morning coffee, you could feel it growing worse. josh was doing laundry in the basement, so he couldn't see how you were doing. jim, however, was upstairs, and when he heard you walk down, he scurried to you. even having his warm fur brush against you, you felt worried. his touch made you feel almost overstimulated.

before josh came up, you decided to go to the store then make breakfast to try and distract yourself.

the drive there and grabbing everything made you even more worn out. the bright lights of the store bugged your eyes, and for whatever reason, your ears couldn't stop ringing.

but, you pushed through until you got home, trying to ignore the feeling in you that you should rest. josh, at this point, was in the living room. when he saw you come home, he almost immediately knew something was wrong. but, you shrugged him off.

as you laid out the ingredients on the counter, josh snaked up behind you. "i can make you breakfast," he insisted.

"it's fine," you replied. sharp. insistent.

"are you sure? you seem...jittery."

"i'm sure." your tone was firm. you pulled out a cutting board to start chopping fruit. as you started to cut, josh couldn't help but notice the slight wobble in your hands.

"darling, seriously, i don't really trust you with a knife right now." you ignored him, continuing to cut. "you need to tell me if something's going on." no response. only the sound of the knife against the cutting board.

"i'll be fine," you snapped, setting the knife down. you stayed looking away from josh.

"i know you. you're not fine. you need to tell me what's happening." you started to walk to the cabinet, grabbing a bowl.

"nothing's happen-" you started to yell, when all of a sudden, you lost grip on the bowl, causing it to fall on the counter. you froze. "shit." you mumbled over and over again. "shit, shit, shit..." without you thinking, you tried to grab a shard when it cut your hand. you winced and pulled your hand away.

"woah, baby, hey, it's okay." josh quickly held you from behind. "let's get you to the bathroom, okay?" he rambled. "come on, let's go, let's go, it's okay, you're fine."

you didn't know why, but suddenly, you felt stiff. like a bomb about to set off. josh set you up on the counter of the sink in the guest bathroom as he grabbed a first aid kit. he was gentle as he cleaned your cut, knowing it would hurt. and it did. the sting honestly brought you back.

as he bandaged your cut, you felt tears coming out. "fuck, i'm so sorry." you wiped your eyes.

"it's okay."

"no, it's not. i acted like a bitch all of today and now i'm here hurt and you're patching me up. that shouldn't be how it is." as he stuck the final bit of the bandage down, he looked up at you.

"hey. look at me." you looked in his eyes. "it's okay. i'm not mad at you. you had a reason for feeling that way. i'm not dismissing that. all i ask is next time, you just tell me, okay? cause i don't want you getting hurt cause you didn't tell me about something."

you sniffled and nodded. "thank you." he smiled and grabbed your chin, pulling your face in to kiss you.

"of course. come on, i'll make you breakfast."

[loudhousewriting]

PLEASE PLEASE MAKE A LONI X READER X LOKI AND THEIR BOTH FLIRTING N WE ARE OBLIVIOUS TO IT SO PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏 (when you can <33)

oh my god! i never saw this lol. sometimes inboxes get lost istg Tw: Slight Language

Loki is a cheesy romantic. Lots of gifts and chocolates

^ So, for you to not pick up on his advances you have to be really love blind

Now Loni, Loni is.... Well, he's a cute lover. Compliments and words of affirmation are his love language. With him you just think that's how he is

Loki flirting is more obvious, but as previously mentioned, you're an idiot

You work at the mall, so whenever the family goes to the mall for the outings, they do everything in their power to ditch the family and see you

Loki is forced to watch his younger siblings, much to his frustration, but not Loni

Loni was thrilled when seeing you leaning on the counter chewing some gum while fiddling with your phone. He mentally prepares himself before approaching you

He is blocked though, because a customer captures your attention and they are pissed. Loni felt really bad, because they were yelling and getting aggressive, but you handled it surprisingly well. He recognized the customer-service act, because he pulled it when people were mean to him

^ He finally approached you when they [The 'Karen' ] left, but as he got closer, he could hear your annoyance and mockery and he was worried that it was a bad time. Though, when you saw him, you quickly called him over

"You just missed this crazy woman! It was terrible."

"Yeah... I saw"

You laugh, shaking your head, "She was fucking crazy"

"Yeah... Yeah, she was," He laughs and you both continue a conversation

"Hey, I'm about to clock out, do you want to hang out?"

It must have been his lucky day, or perhaps he had died and gone to heaven, and he was quick to agree

Loni tries to flirt with you, but it's mostly just stupid puns or flirts that don't land or he says the punchline wrong

"Are you from Pennsylvania, because you're the only ten I see- Wait, no... That's not right"

Lucky for him, you think he's rather funny and think it's kind of cute how he keeps messing up. He reminds you of a puppy

Loki sees you two together and is fuming

He wants to go over and talk to you, but he's stuck with the kids

He would have gone over with the kids to hopefully embarrass Loni, but he [Loki] was smart enough to know he'd embarrass himself too

Loki knows exactly how he'll get to you too. You're in Loni's grade, so Loki will offer to help you with the excuse of 'I've already done the work, so I know how to do it.'

^ Lucky him it works

He's so obvious about his flirting, calling you pretty and such

You just think he's being a sweet friend

It's very frustrating for both of them

They're siblings stay out of it, because they don't want to get involved with their brothers' love 'V' [It's not a triangle]

^ That is until they're threatened with losing certain privileges, but it's pointless, because you're clueless

You could have it spelled out that they like you and you would still think it's just a friend thing

[noodleblade]

Do you have any breakdown head-canons to share? I'd love to hear them

Of course I do:3 he's one of my silly fellas. I have headcanons for EVERYONE. Probably. Maybe. (I'm going with tfp Breakdown<3)

He's like the most normal guy on the Nemesis. However, he's so used to Knock Out's brand on insane that he is unfazed by the rest of the nuts jobs there for the most part. He knows how to stay in his lane and keep his head low.

I like the idea that he's into making stuff. I read a fic once where he made little sculptures and that's kind of stuck with me. He's probably not really good at it but he likes messin around with it.

He's very handy. Soundwave runs a tight-ship on the Nemesis and isn't keen on people Starscream messing around with things but Breakdown's proven to be useful and has been granted a limited permission to take care of any repairs.

That being said, I like to think Breakdown is Soundwave's unofficial favorite co-worker. He trusts him to do his job, keep it professional, not to try and start a coup d'etat. The ideal co-worker. Soundwave was actually probably a little saddened by Breakdown's death. One less functional co-worker.

He's not a trained medic nor nurse. Breakdown knows basic first aid which is better than nearly everyone else on the Nemesis but it's only because he's watched Knock Out repair him enough. Knock Out still prefers to do Breakdown's repairs himself but sometimes Breakdown feels guilty about coming back with injuries all the time and tries to take care of them himself. Knock Out can usually tell if he has attempted self-repair.

He's got a softness to him, especially with the vehicons and Knock Out. I like to think in his free time, if Knock Out is busy, he hangs with the vehicons. They trade stories, play stupid games, just kind of chill? He's a great boss to them.

He doesn't care all that much about racing, but he likes to watch Knock Out race and they have an open comm link so they can trade shitty jokes and bad puns back and forth. Breakdown can do this for hours if he's got a comfy spot to rest and ideally some energon to sip on.

Breakdown loves a good fight, even just sparring but can't really get that from Knock Out or the vehicons and certainly not Starscream. He always jumps at the opportunity to fight Bulkhead and doesn't want to closely examine what the hell that means. No introspection allowed there.

Breakdown is pretty selfless? Something something love language acts of service something something. He likes to treat Knock Out, is more than happy to pamper him but not so much the inverse. He feels...uncomfortable when he is the center of that type of attention. It's not...bad? but its...weird. He can acknowledge that it feels good to have someone take care of him but he can't get over the mental hurdle that he should be the one to do that for others, he doesn't need pampering, he doesn't deserve it. Again, not introspection to be found here.

He's not much into music, but he has a guilt pleasure of listening to audio books. Knock Out managed to snag him a bunch of earth novels and...he rather likes them. He'll listen to them on shift. He primarily likes adventure/action books but...the occasional romcom..is...not so..bad...and if he pictures himself and uh someone else there. Well, no one needs to know about that. Especially Knock Out.

[obae-me]

MYYYY GOSHHHH. I was the one who sent the original, Siren!Lucifer ask and I COULDN'T HAVE IMAGINED THIS!! All the things ppl added onto it is just... chef's kiss! All these mindboggling hc's got me all kicking my feet and giggling like a schoolgirl oof >.< It has made my brainrot a thousand times worse!! XD

While I am still not a 100% satisfied with my writing abilities, here- I wanted to try a lil sumn-

You keep coming back to the beach. Maybe not every day, but still enough to have you questioning your sanity for willingly walking back to danger like this. The man... or mermaid? Or whatever it was you saw that day had grabbed your interest and was holding onto it tightly with those clawed hands of his. Your first encounter with him felt like a fever dream. You had never seen a man so inhumanely beautiful with those bright red eyes, and lithe body bathed in the moonlight. It had taken you a while to actually compute what you were seeing infront of yourself; because this wasn't a man to begin with. A gorgeous red tail replaced the space where a pair of human legs should've been.

It was an awkward affair when your eyes had met his. He stared for a while; still singing in that almost bioelectric voice of his? You truly hadn't heard anything like it to compare it to, but it felt like his voice was reverberating inside your head. Only to look at you with confusion after he stopped singing; as if you'd grown 2 heads when you still stood the same distance away from him than you had been before. His eyes narrowed and you could almost feel the irritation itching under his skin through his stare. You both stood still... just staring at each other until he gave up with a huff and splashed into the inky depths of the ocean.

This was the fifth time you were going to see him. The second time you found him (3 days after the incident) went a little better. You managed to wrangle a name out of him in exchange of yours and the fact that he was a Siren. You had heard of them before, but only in folktales and never took them seriously, but the man sitting on the rocks before you clearly proved otherwise. You wondered if their existence was the reason so many people went missing at sea; their bodies never found.

You were not stupid; as down in the dumps you were (enough to keep seeking his company against your better judgement) and wanting to escape this life of yours, his sharp black claws and fangs that poked out every time he spoke were warning enough to keep you standing a good distance away from the water on the sand. He could absolutely rip you to shreds; you were sure of that, but he kept coming back yet always sat by those rocks; not coming closer yet not moving away. You wondered why, but it seemed that it had something to do with his frustration. (Unknown to you was the fact, that by you not being brainwashed after listening to his song, you had dealt a massive blow to his ego. He simply COULD not digest the fact that YOU KEPT COMING BACK and still escaped him every time. He decided then and there, that no matter how long it took, you won't get one over him. He wanted to absolutely DEVOUR you out of spite.)

After the initial rocky start (lol pun was not intended) things fell into a weird yet comforting routine. You would always seek him out, sit on the beach and just... talk about anything and everything. He was a breath of fresh air from the oppressive routine you had found yourself stuck in. Time with him was an escape from the worries and regrets that plagued your mind and you always felt disappointed when it was time to go back. You'd talk about your classes, your parents, what you ate for lunch, your friends and how sometimes it felt that things were spiraling out of control in your own life. He'd always listen attentively and in turn tell you about his brothers' shenanigans (it took a long time for him to tell you about himself in the first place), and the everyday stresses of his own life.

It greatly amused you that even sirens couldn't escape from the worries of everyday life, and the stories about his brothers made you laugh till your stomach hurt. Slowly but surely, the distance between you became shorter. You sat closer, till your feet grazed the gentle waves, and he decided the rock that was a little further ahead in the shallower waters was now his seating of choice.

You kept wanting to tell him, but stopped just shy; of how much color he had brought back to your dull life. Some days the air shifts and you both forgo the routine just a little for each others' sakes. You talk about how inadequate you felt sometimes, how you wished you could go back and do it all right, how you feel so scared and hurt from the people who were supposed to love you the most. He talks about how he wishes he could be closer to his brothers, repair the bonds he broke and take away the pain he caused them, how his family was all he cared about and how he himself ruined it. In those tender moments you feel the need to reach out him, hold his hand and to somehow lessen the burdens that muddies the brilliant red of his eyes and sag his shoulders in exhaustion.

.

.

.

Of course you should've known better. You did know better. When time and time again the world had proven to you that the only one you can truly trust is yourself. You don't know why you let the walls you spent so long building around yourself crumble infront of him so easily, because as Lucifer lied on top you; one hand pinning you down and the other posed right at your jugular, you wonder when you had gotten so careless. His eyes; the first thing you had noticed about him, brewed up a storm and his mouth set in a hard line. You didn't cry. You didn't scream. How cruel was it of him to give you hope to live, only to rip it away from you in an instance. But at the end of the day you only have yourself to blame. After all the only one you have is yourself in this world...

[Oof it got so long, I didn't expect this- sorry~~~]

Aaaaaaaah, I'm absolutely flailing and sobbing! The allure of this AU is too strong! I can't!

Thank you for writing all this out to share with me, omg, it's beautiful. It feels like a special gift that I will be archiving in my favorites tag! So sweet, I love things like this, I love feeling the passion and excitement behind people's words. It's so invigorating and is actually making me want to write again (I've been in the dumps and have lost a lot of motivation to do the things I enjoy, but that's neither here nor there).

I love this back and forth Siren ideas with everyone, it's making my week!

[yuu-loves-you]

tr characters react to ur self harm scars (gn!reader) part 2

TWs: self harm

Characters: Chifuyu, Hakkai, pah,peh,sanzu, Mucho, smiley + angry separate

A/N: the long awaited sequel. Sorry it took so long I had a massive period of writers block :(

CHIFUYU

Chifuyu had decided to surprise his s/o by just straight up showing up at their house uninvited. When he knocked on the door, their mother answered and told him they were upstairs sleeping. She then asked him to wake them up as she’d had trouble doing so ‘all morning’. Chifuyu nodded and then ran up the stairs. When he got to their door he entered and sat at their bed, shaking them softly. They groaned and pulled the covers closer. Chifuyu knew they would wake up if he removed their blanket, he’d woken them up when they accidentally fell asleep around him before. He yanked the blanket off, his heart stopping upon seeing them in a short sleeved shirt and what had been hiding on their arms. You stirred awake and glared at him before realizing you could feel your sheet with your arms. Meaning, they were exposed right there. This explained Chifuyu’s concerned and sad expression he stared at you with. Chifuyu was never good at hiding his emotions, especially when they’re negative, so you knew you had to talk to him about what he saw. You open your arms, beckoning Chifuyu into them and he lies on your bed and holds you tightly. He doesn’t say a word, so you speak first. “Hey babe, you know what the marks on my arms are?” You ask gently, almost whispering. He nods , head still in your chest. “I want you to know that they are very , very old. You don’t have to be worried about me…I’ve been sober for over a year.” You smiled softly as he was looking up at your face. Suddenly, he grabbed your face and kissed you aggressively,yet passionately, on the lips. Once he let go, you both were flustered beyond belief. “S-Sorry! The news just got me so happy I felt like I had to kiss you..” You giggled before beginning to sit up. “C'mon we can’t stay in bed all day, let’s go eat breakfast.” He nods and follows you out your bedroom door.

HAKKAI

Hakkai had always noticed the perfect lined scars on your skin and reluctantly believed it was your cat you used to own. However, Yuzuha gave him a talking to upon seeing the scars as she immediately knew what they were from. Hakkai had felt bad for simply never realizing what had gone on in your life. He had shown up at your front door, head hung low with a bouquet and a little note. Upon seeing you in your PJs, he couldn’t help but notice how cute you were as he stuck out the flowers and note as he blushed. The note was a cheesy pun about you being pretty and the flowers are your favorite type. You smiled softly at him. What snapped him out of his trance was seeing your arms again. After you’d placed things down and invited him inside, he grabbed you by the forearms. It startled you but enticed you as he gently pushed you into a wall with your arms above your head. You blushed furiously and shook nervously, expecting something like a kiss. Instead you felt him move your sleeves and hold your forearms gently. “I’m sorry. I always believed your lie and never noticed you had suffered or could be suffering now.” After letting your arms go, his head hung low as though he was almost bent over. You pet his head. “It’s okay. I actually haven’t cut since our one month anniversary.” He looked up hopefully. He then kissed you on the cheek and exploded into a blushing incompetent pile on the floor. How endearing.

PAH-CHIN

Your boyfriend, Haruki, wasn’t always the smartest. Many people joked about his intelligence, called him stupid and he often agreed and ‘jokingly’ talked down about himself. It made you sad. You knew if he saw your scars, he would probably believe any excuse you gave him. Though, you knew if anyone he knew heard about this, they’d probably call your boyfriend an idiot for not realizing. You know his friends would never be mean to him on purpose but you also knew how protective and kind they were of their friends and how in the moment they wouldn’t think about their words. They’d only be concerned for you. Because of this, as soon as you started dating Pah-Chin you wore long sleeves all the time. You decided you’d tell him when you were ready and that until then you’d wear long sleeves unless alone. It was coming close to spring which meant your school would switch uniforms soon and your arms would be on full display. You decided you had to tell Haruki soon, now or never. You felt messed up and almost manipulative doing this, but you timed his arrival so that you’d be looking for a shirt when he came in so he could ‘discover’ this himself. He forgot to knock and simply entered your room. You turned to face him and he was startled at seeing you only in your bra. He stood back and slammed the door closed. “I-I’ll be waiting in the living room…!” You then heard him run off. You hoped he’d seen the scars but either way he’d see when you came down in your short sleeved shirt. He did. “Hey Y/n what’re those scars? They recent?” You sat down next to your boyfriend and held his hand. He watched your actions before making eye contact so he could show he was truly paying attention. “They’re old, a year or so. I had depression and didn’t like myself very much at the time.” Pah-chin frowned, upset and not understanding what you could ever dislike about yourself when to him you are perfect. “So, I cut myself.” You heard Pah-Chin take a sharp inhale. “I’ve recovered so it’s nothing to worry about, but you deserve to know especially since you’re my boyfriend and I want to wear short sleeves when it’s warm.” He gripped your hand tight “you’re so strong Y/n. Stronger than I could ever be.” You frowned. “Oh Honey, you’re strong too, if not stronger.” Pah-Chin leaned in and you both hugged and held each other. It was a nice and soft moment. You’re just glad it all worked out in the end

PEH-YAN

You and Peh had a date planned for today and you were giddy with excitement , yet also nerves. In order for this date idea to work, he’d have to see your arms. This isn’t a fun story to tell right before a date, so you decided if he asked about them you’d tell him that you two could talk about it later. The date you had planned was the beach which meant bathing suits. Which meant exposed arms. You put a sweater over your bathing suit before you get there since you didn’t want to ride his motorcycle in just a swimsuit. Of course, as shameless in fashion as usual, he arrived in just his swimsuit on his motorcycle. He didn’t even bring a bag or pack anything. Sometimes you swear he’s going to give you a heart attack induced by concern. You decide to make him wait a bit longer before you go outside, as you add more things to your bag. He’s left clothes at your house before, you guys have never done anything but you’ve had sleepovers where he forgot his clothes when he left. So, you packed it for after the beach. Afterwards you headed outside and got on your boyfriend's motorcycle behind him. After setting up your things at the beach you decided to drag your boyfriend into the ocean. He watched with a red face as you removed your sweater. He was so enamored with everything else about you and how ethereal you were to him that he didn’t notice the scars. You grabbed him and dragged him into the water. You both were splashing back and forth until he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “Y/n…” you tilted your head. “What’re these? Are they what… what I’ve heard of?” You nodded. “Don’t worry. Haven’t done it for a long time.” He slow blinked, before aggressively splashing you more. “GAH-“ he laughed. “Punishment for ever doing it!!” You giggled, and joked. “Nooooooo-!”

SANZU

Your boyfriend was relatively quiet, sweet but had a secret sadistic side most didn’t know about. He asked to take you on a date to a gun range, saying he’d already forged IDs for you both and scheduled a date and time he knew you were free. People might call you crazy, but you found his effort romantic and swooned. Of course you agreed. He drives you both there on his motorcycle and he decided to be the one to teach you to shoot. He recommended you roll your sleeves up , you did so, casually. He glanced at your scarred up wrists but felt he had no right to pry for answers as you never forced him to explain the scars he had on his face. He simply gently grabbed your wrist and kissed it, mirroring what you had done when you weren’t given an answer. You blushed. Sanzu then casually went back to teaching you to shoot in an attempt to seem smooth and cool. When the date was over and he was delivering you home, he gave a request. As you got off his motorcycle, he spoke. “If those scars on your arm are what I believe they are, please contact me if you ever feel the urge to do so again, or just show up at my house.” You smiled and nodded before kissing him on the cheek goodbye and skipping back to your front door. He stood frozen with a red face for a bit before driving home himself.

MUCHO

Mucho had a surprising soft side, but it was reserved only for you. Sometimes he’d hint at it to others and do kind things for them, but with you it was a constant. He didn’t like his delinquent reputation being damaged, and if he’s being honest, being so soft with you in public at times did that. So, to counteract, he just beat the shit out of anyone who acted like his kindness to you was a bad thing. This kept anything people said from damaging his reputation. Today you simply wanted to do a calm spa day at home. You applied face masks on him and yourself. It was summer and you found the room hot. “Is it okay if I quickly go change my shirt in my room..? I’m warm.” He nodded. You smiled before leaving him in the living room to change shirts. When you came back Mucho noticed the scars. You were going to begin painting his nails but he stopped you. Noticing why he was obviously stopping you, you stuttered out an insecure explanation. “I-I’m sorry! These are just some old self harm scars. I’m clean now..! If you want I can cover them up whenever we’re in public.. I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your gang…” he sighed before hugging you. He’d kiss you but knew you’d be upset if he ruined his facemask. “Sweetheart, wear what you want. I could never be embarrassed of you, you’re strong as hell. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Try not to be so insecure, when you’re so perfect it’s a bit comedic.” You blushed bright red when he pulled away. “O-Ok!” He pet your head. “Atta girl.”

SMILEY

As much as you loved your boyfriend, he could tend to be a bit crazy. Thank god you were too! What you and Nahoya would consider dates were… unconventional to say the least. Sometimes you’d go beat up delinquents together, another example was paintball which often left you and him with small bruises, or even going to one of those ‘break rooms’. (If you’re unaware what I’m talking about, you pay to go into a room and just break shit with a baseball bat and other items.) Thankfully one normal thing you’d do together afterwards was go to dinner. Today you and Nahoya finally decided to do some running in a park that day. There was no way in hell you’d wear long pants in this weather, so you opted for short shorts. When he saw you , immediately he yelled. He wasn’t very tactful with these things if you’re being honest. “Oi! Are those self harm scars on your thighs?!” You placate him by playing with his hair as you speak. “They are. They’re old, though, so they're nothing to worry about.” Even if Smiley was always grinning, you could see the hint of relief in his eyes. “Hell yeah! You beat that depression’s ass! That’s my girl!” He yelled out while ruffling your hair.

ANGRY

Souya and yourself are absolute hopeless romantics. You guys are pretty traditional when it comes to dates and such. Despite your hopeless romantic status he’s definitely shy about physical affection. You love him dearly. Now, Souya is no cry baby but when he walked in on you changing shorts and saw your scars? He cried. Hysterical. He didn’t even realize you dropped the pants to go over to hold and comfort him. Once his words begin to make sense he apologized for failing to notice earlier. you reassured him that it was no big deal as the scars were from before the two of you started dating. He apologized profusely for you having to comfort him about such a sensitive topic to you. Despite how awkward he can be with physical affection he kissed you lovingly on the lips once you finished discussing. He then finally noticed you only had underwear on, no pants during this discussion. He realizes he kissed you when you had no pants on. Poor boy faints

[lexosaurus]

Keep Your Enemies Closer

A little Tech Hunter AU oneshot I wrote for DP Angstfest 2023! I based this off of @kinglazrus' AU fic for the @dpauzine in which Tucker is the Red Hunter. It's been stuck in my brain ever since, so I couldn't resist writing her AU for this event!

[ao3]

****

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

That's what people always said, anyway. It's what actors spouted in Hollywood blockbusters as their characters sipped their old fashioned in the dimly lit bar. It's what people typed in their chat logs online, thinking of themselves as high and mighty, very cool, not to be messed with, while they cracked open their fifth serving-sized bag of Doritos that day.

But this wasn't a Hollywood blockbuster. It wasn't Tucker talking up himself to random usernames online.

As he looked at Danny, who was animatedly chatting to Sam about some recently released video game that Tucker couldn’t pretend to care about anymore, he knew that this wasn't just a cool verse. It was real, at least to him. 

“The final boss was way too easy,” Sam was saying. “It's like the devs weren't even trying.”

“I beat it in like five seconds flat,” Danny agreed.

“Yeah, because you exploited the armor glitch,” Sam said. “If you played the game like it was supposed to be played, the final boss would have taken at least a little longer.”

Danny tsked his tongue. “It’s not my fault that I’m obviously just one step ahead of the devs. And you, actually.”

“Come on,” Sam laughed, catching onto the mood. “Stop messing with me.”

Danny grinned back at her, his fangs poking out over his lips. “Samantha Manson, when have I ever messed with you?”

Tucker ducked his head before his face could show. Though, each day that passed seemed to allow that quiet mask to slip over his face far more easily than the day before. And he wasn't even talking about the little yellow mask that lived under his skin.

He remembered the day he'd pieced it all together. The day all the lies, all the little breadcrumb clues, suddenly snapped into place.

He'd been home, as usual, watching videos of the rapidly increasing ghost attacks targeting the city. And of course, at the epicenter of it all was Phantom.

Danny fucking Phantom.

He remembered Danny calling him, his face popping up on Tucker’s home screen, and Tucker pausing the video and holding up his phone to see the two faces side by side. The same smile, the same freckles, the same jaw and haircut and they were the same. 

He couldn’t believe it. But…it made sense. And maybe that was the worst part because it meant that his friend, his best friend, was dead. And worse, he’d turned into a monster. 

But when? When had he died? Was it that “accident” that he sometimes referenced? The day he’d gotten hurt by some of his parents’ equipment?

It didn’t matter. Because now, he was Phantom. But how was he Phantom? The ghost that Tucker loathed. The ghost that Tucker had long since blamed for turning their safe city into a fucking warzone.

How did his best friend turn into…that? Was death really so horrible that it completely changed a person? 

Or was this always inside Danny, deep down in the recess of his subconscious? So deep, so hidden, that Tucker had never noticed till now.

Some people saw Phantom as a hero, and he seemed to revel in it. His cockiness was overflowing, and he took great pride in arriving at every scene precisely when the new ghost of the week would show up. He'd throw a few puns, assure the crowd that, “Don't worry, citizens! I've got this!”, and then he'd beat the ghost up, suck them in his thermos, and would disappear until the next attack.

Phantom had fooled many of the masses. But despite what Dash's stupid nicknames would suggest, Tucker was no sucker. Even if everyone else had their heads up their ass, he didn't.

Tucker didn’t do anything at first. Maybe he’d just been in too deep of a denial. After all, who wanted to pin the destruction of their city on their fucking best friend? 

But then, he started paying attention. To Danny, the “human,” more. All his little quirks, his habits. The way he seemed to jump when Sam casually put a hand on his shoulder (he’d never used to do that), the way his teeth started to sharpen (humans don’t have fangs), the way his eyes would spark green sometimes (it wasn’t a trick of the light), or how he’d always disappear right before a ghost attack (almost like he knew they were coming).

But Tucker stayed silent. Because if Danny was Phantom, then Danny was dangerous. Who knew what Phantom would do if Tucker revealed that he knew? No, it was better to stay docile, not rock the boat, not put his life at risk. Just play it cool.

That plan only worked for so long.

The breaking point wasn’t an explosion of flashy lights so much as it was a seed, planted, but not yet even watered. It was Tucker booting up his virtual computer and opening Tor after school like any other day. 

The usual usernames were chatting in his group. People working on their various projects, coming to the chat room for tips or just talking about whatever other topic was on their mind. This was typical—welcome, even—after the confusing mess that had been Tucker’s every other waking moment as of late.

And then the conversation took a turn. 

To Phantom.

Sporksmith: I haven't wrapped my head around whether Phantom is a good guy or not. ChaseK: It's sus that as soon as the ghosts started showing up, so did he. Sporksmith: That's what I'm thinking, but the guy takes so many beatings a week. I feel like it's more likely that he's crawling out of the same dimensional holes that they are because the dude has family here or something. Mole: That's probably it. He uses modern slang, so it's pretty obvious he died recently.

This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about Phantom. He was a fascinating subject and under much national scrutiny. But this time, Tucker finally stepped in.

GoldenFryer: You guys don't know what you're talking about. ChaseK: You know something then? GoldenFryer: Yeah, I have some inside info. Can't say much, but Phantom isn't who he seems. He's dangerous. Sporksmith: You sound like a guy who's got something up his sleeve.

He hadn't, at that point. But still, it needled his mind. He was closest to Phantom, wasn't he? Even if Danny himself didn't know. Of everyone, wasn't it Tucker’s responsibility to do something about this?

To set the soul of his dead best friend free?

GoldenFryer: Not yet, but maybe I should.

Of course, he couldn't do it by himself, but there was someone who could help. Someone with money, power, and a vocal hatred for ghostly invaders.

“Tucker Foley,” Vladimir Masters said, opening his door. His hair was pulled back in his signature ponytail, and he wore a gaudy green Packers bathrobe. “You’re awake early on a Saturday for a teenager. My, where's your other half?”

“No Danny today. Just me,” he said, keeping his tone casual despite the sudden anxiety spike in his gut.

Vlad grinned and stepped aside, sweeping his arm over the now open doorway. “Excellent, why don't you come in?”

Tucker followed the gesture and stepped through the door, trying to ignore the guilt that was clawing at him. Danny always talked about how much he hated Vlad, and how creepy the guy was. And while Tucker agreed that Vlad was more than a little slimy, Vlad was a businessman, and more importantly, a billionaire. Being slimy kinda came with the territory.

And besides, Vlad had only moved into the town a year ago, after Danny had already turned into Phantom. So, it wasn't Danny who hated Vlad, not really.

“Come, make yourself comfortable. You're a bit too young for me to offer you a drink, but maybe some water, perhaps?”

“I'm fine,” Tucker said. His voice echoed around the empty house.

“Then sit.” Vlad pulled out a seat at the bar. “I just brewed myself a pot of tea. Maybe you'd care for some of that?”

“No thanks,” Tucker said, his voice jilted as he forcefully remembered his manners. Even if it was Phantom who hated Vlad, Tucker wasn't too keen on being behind closed doors with the man any longer than necessary either. 

Vlad paid him no mind, of course, and poured his tea into a fancy china cup. He brought the cup up to his nose, sniffed, and then smiled, setting it down on a small plate on the counter and settling into a seat for himself. “So,” he started, clasping his hands together. “What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you on this fine day?”

Tucker blew a breath out, trying to expel the mounting anxiety in his system. “Okay, I realize what I'm about to say sounds absolutely insane. I get that, but I just need you to let me explain.”

That slimy smirk was back on Vlad's lips. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Okay.” Tucker wrung his hands in his lap. “Okay, just—just hear me out. Trust me, nobody wants to say this less than me.”

“But of course, my dear boy.”

Tucker exhaled one last time and then began. “So, I know who Phantom is. You know, the ghost? I—he's disguising himself as a teenager, and I know who it is.”

“Oh, really? My, that doesn't sound good.”

“It's not.” Tucker closed his eyes, covering his forehead with his hand. “It's the worst, really. Because the person that Phantom is pretending to be—and I know, I know, just let me explain—but it's Danny. Danny Fenton.”

Tucker peeked through his hand to see the smile on Vlad's lips widen. 

“Daniel Fenton, my godson, you mean?” Vlad said. “That's quite the accusation.”

“I know it is. Trust me,” Tucker said. “But—okay, so basically, I think what happened was that Danny was in some sort of lab accident, and it killed him. He talks about it sometimes, but he doesn't give any details. But I'm pretty sure that was it. Because only like a month after that happened, all the ghosts started appearing. And Phantom too. I—uh, here. Hang on, let me show you...” Tucker leaned over and pulled his tablet from his backpack. He opened it and went to his files, opening a pdf of his comparison photos. He handed the tablet to Vlad, saying, “This is them side by side in different positions. You can really see it there, when the photos are lined up like this. They look exactly the same. But that's not all! Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Vlad said, swiping through the pdf.

“Look, I don't really know how to explain it, but Danny's just...he's different now. He disappears before ghosts attack, he comes back all beat and sometimes bloody. He's cold, way colder than normal, and sometimes I see him—when someone's annoying him or if he's pissed—where it's almost like...like he can't even contain his human form anymore. His eyes get green, and sometimes ectoplasm sparks in his palms. It's not human.”

“And you see this as...a problem?” Vlad looked up from the tablet. “If Daniel was Phantom?”

“Why wouldn't it be? Don't you have this whole initiative to get rid of ghosts?” Tucker argued.

If anything, that seemed to amuse Vlad more. He set the tablet down and said, “But of course, I wasn't insinuating anything. I merely just acknowledge that Daniel is your best friend and that most of you youths enjoy Phantom's presence in this city.”

“Only the blind ones do. I know better. Phantom is bringing the ghosts into this town. Mr. Masters, you know how all ghosts have Obsessions?”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Well, Phantom’s Obsession is being a hero, right? What's more heroic than setting up a bunch of ghost fights to 'save' people from?”

Vlad's smile was almost impossibly wide now. “Yes, I understand.”

Something was amusing to that billionaire creep, but Tucker hardly had time to figure out what before Vlad was up out of his seat, pacing around his kitchen.

“You see, I already know all this. You understand, I'm the one funding this city's anti-ghost initiative. And I also know that young Daniel is Phantom.”

Tucker's jaw dropped. “You do?”

“But of course, I do!” Vlad pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped on it for a minute before passing it off to Tucker. In an encrypted app that Tucker didn't recognize was a video. 

“Well, go on,” Vlad said.

Tucker pressed play on the video to see a dimly lit alley with Phantom standing at the end of it. He glanced around, and then white rings appeared, passing over his body. A white T-shirt and jeans replaced a black suit, and black hair replaced white hair.

The rings disappeared, and the person that remained was none other than Danny Fenton.

Tucker blinked, and his head snapped out of the memory. His eyes refocused, and Danny Fenton sat in front of him, still talking to Sam, his posture still far too easygoing for someone who wasn't even human.

His human form was impressively detailed. His unruly black hair, dash of freckles on his cheeks, blue eyes, and pointed nose—all signature traits of Danny. He had gotten it almost perfect.

Almost. 

It made Tucker's blood boil, and he struggled to push it down, keep it in check. Ghosts could feel intense emotions.

The calm mask slipped over him once more, and Tucker was empty. Just empty.

Just how, when he stared into Danny's eyes, he could see that same emptiness too. There was no humanity left. No, that'd died almost two years ago now. All that remained was a ghost. 

He wanted his friend back. But that was impossible. The only thing that he could do now was wipe all ghosts out so no one ever suffered the way Tucker was right now.

He was a hacker, so once he got the tech, programming it was a piece of cake. Okay, so maybe it was a little bit harder than that, but he was nothing if not determined.

And he was nothing if not a damn good programmer.

And now he had the power to fix this, end the ghostly invasion in Amity, end Phantom's terrorizing reign, and set his former friend free.

“What do you think, Tuck?” Danny turned to face Tucker.

“Huh?” Tucker grunted, his elbow nearly slipping from his desk. “Sorry, what are we talking about?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you really have been spacey today. Sleep well last night?”

No, he hadn't, actually. Because Phantom had set up another attack at 2 a.m. and so Tucker had to intervene.

Danny was wearing long sleeves today. Good. It meant that Tucker's shot really had nailed his bicep.

“No, sorry,” Tucker chuckled. “Was rushing to get Lancer's essay done. I can't work on it this weekend; my cousins are coming to town.”

“Again?” Sam asked.

No, they weren't. Tucker hadn't seen his cousins since Christmas. 

“Yeah, my aunt and my mom are in this whole midlife crisis thing right now. Want to make sure we all bond properly or something.” Tucker waved his hand haphazardly. “You know how moms are.”

That was the perfect trigger for Sam, who huffed expectantly. “Oh yeah, don't even get me started. My mom is still trying to make me bond with Kate. Kate's two years older than me and was the head of her cheer team. Like, hello? You can only imagine what her playlists are like.”

“You should blast some death metal next time,” Danny said.

“Trust me, I have. It's the only way to get her to shut up.”

“Must not be death enough.” Danny flashed his teeth in a mischievous smile. “I’m sure I can help put together a playlist if you want.”

That cocky motherfucker…

Did he enjoy gloating over everyone? Did he really laugh at them when he was alone, all the stupid, idiotic, airhead humans who he thought didn’t notice anything?

Squashing his emotions was suddenly too difficult, and just before the internal tea kettle was able to whistle, Tucker was saved by the bell.

Oh, thank god.

Tucker was out of his seat before anyone else, scooping his notebook from his desk, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and racing out the door before Sam or Danny could catch up.

Still, when against his better conscience he glanced over to his friends, he didn’t miss the subtle look Danny gave him or the green glint in the corner of his eye…

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

If only it was easy.

****

[read more of my work]

[candiid-caniine]

the saga of trigger anon <3

hope it's okay that i'm posting these all at once & responding to them in bulk--they're just all so fucking good and having them all in one place seemed right<3

dear lord, trigger anon (that's what i'm calling you), these are some fucking amazing ideas.

imagining having my brain scrambled to this degree is incredible. i'd like to expand on your ideas with a potential fix for people with physical disabilities, like myself, for whom counting steps is either not possible or would take a long time; in all honesty, i'm not up on my feet very often if i can help it, and use a wheelchair part-time! i fucking love your ideas, but this was the best way i could think of to add to them, so here goes:

say you have a wheelchair user as your sub/trancee. surely there's a way to either rig a smartwatch or an arduino setup of some sort to count revolutions of the wheels instead of steps. or perhaps distance traveled?

for someone who's bedbound...they sell these stupid-fancy water bottles that have counters on the side i think. using that as your metric, instead of basing it on physical movement, might be a good stand-in as well (no pun intended >.>)

someone with a CGM or heart rate monitor could also be conditioned with triggers aligning w/ their medical equipment, only inasmuch as it's safe to do so, obviously; don't really know how i feel about that idea--but i have neither of those pieces of medical equipment so i'm not as familiar.

how about someone who stims? (obv not a physical disability, i'm now going wild with ideas in other ways lol) give them a clicky thing to stim with, maybe a people counter or whatever...they could try to keep from stimming, but eventually they'll want to...

or if they're like me and have flappy hands, attach a step counter to their wrist so that it counts "steps" when they stim >:) most of my stims aren't object-assisted, so that's how it would have to be for me ahah.

i have Thoughts on what you sent re: the "idle game" trancee situation i posted. here are some more ideas based on that:

love the idea of follower participation--that you all could send in words that make me do things <3 i saw a post once about hypnotizing someone to be a little pornbot, like, every tumblr notification they got made them hornier and happier and dumber, so they'd crave to post a lot of things that got them engagement, and it's lived in my brain ever since lol.

the best way it could work, i think, is to first condition me to avoid clicking a link that says certain words, and then to put my triggers under that link so that my followers know them, but i don't :) a person DMs me the word "trumpet" or some shit and i don't understand why im instantly moaning out loud...

that's another way of tracking "points" that doesn't rely on steps: different note numbers on my own posts = different effects on my body. for extra fuckery, make it different not numbers on any Tumblr post, and condition me to scroll tumblr anytime i get bored (wouldn't take much lol)

gosh, fuck yes to "cheat codes." the right words, actions, or sights in combination = secret level unlock ahahaha. see someone clap their hands together, on the train while seated, *and* be above 600 steps/stims/whatever? for the next week, suddenly there's an erogenous zone on my middle finger that feels exactly like my clit when it rubs against anything.

eaten an egg that day, have edged at least 12 times, *and* got a follower to cum? for an hour, i drool uncontrollably...fuck i could go on forever.

last one, since i said "egg." seen a stray cat that day, have ruined once, *and* have a song stuck in my head? i'm suddenly convinced that i'm full of an alien's eggs, and incredibly embarrassed about it.

stacking triggers this way is super fun. i think sometimes it's hard for my owner to visualize how conditioning/hypno works for my brain--still figuring it out myself--but visualization (for me) is the best mode of conditioning. imagining myself like an idle game, where the character (me) is encountering different combinations of gameplay (idle triggers), helps me be more receptive to conditioning.

[maryonmega]

Twin Stars - Chapter 5

A new thing (is it a good thing?)

{{Ah, Stars, I dropped I dropped my self control. The original chapter was posted on my birthday, the little self indulgence (Isafrin) was my gift to myself.

Speaking of Isafrin, CW for internalized acephobia and a little bit of sugestive writting.}}

You brace yourself for the next period of time. Going through the moves without Loop makes you nervous, makes it possible to contradict each other. It's fine, you're fine, you'll just have to catch it up when you two have alone time to "tell about the loops". Stars, you're being sneaky again. You might try and justify with it not being just about you all you want, but it's the truth.

Your group meet up in the dining area, and you let the smell of different foods sooth your nerves. Another way that you're weird. You've been out for over a month, made camp that were small and your tent wouldn't block the smells, yet it seens like the confort that this particular thing won't fade anytime soon. You don't like the origin, but you do like Bonbon's eyes when you happily sniff what they prepare.

Tho, this time, it's not Bonbon food. Not that it's disappointing on it's own, you just think they could use the quick fix, too. After all, you're pretty much toeing the northwest and north separation. If everything goes right, they'll see their sister again in two days. Maybe even tomorrow night, depending of the group's mood.

You're not surprised when they're the first one to talk, either. Not to you, but to Odile. You're too busy noticing their pineapple juice and thinking that maybe you should tell about that.

"Where's Sisy? It's not good to skip meals."

Oh, that got you off guard!

"Sisy, Bonnie?"

"Yes. Phus sounds dumb."

You just nod to the irrefutable argument while Odile puts her plate down carefully to not topple over the crushed boiled eggs. "Sisyphus is already in bed and I don't think they're waking up anytime soon."

"They're tired to the very soul."

You realise a second too late that it came from you. A saving throw! Now!

"I don't remenber a lot from traveling alone, but it's exausting when you only have what fits your pockets. Then we met again but still have problems with our memory. It's weird, it's like... " You think about acts and shudder. No, not going there "Like reading a story skipping random chapters."

Odile eyes you over her dinner, but decides to eat in silence. You feel a mix of relief and horror.

You see resident bookworm Mirabelle wince in pain at the idea. Just because you're a bit rusty pun wise doesn't mean you can't make funny moments happen.

Is it weird? To be lingering in their present the day you're supposed to have met with long lost family, a vague yet sweet sensation on your chest? Maybe not. No one in your little circle is unfamiliar with coping with abnormal situations by trying to act like things are normal. Specially you, as your eyepatch won't let them forget. Would that benefit you, right now, tho?

"... But, if coconuts have hair and milk, aren't they mammals?"

Stars, how long did you stay stuck in your head?! Not good, not fair. You really need to train out this bad habbit.

"I hope not, that would be nuts."

"That was lame even for you."

Hm, maybe acting as normal is not just you. Good? You dig into your memory to try and be sure. It's hard, it gets frustrating, but you're almost sure that something like that happened around the time Bonnie joined. Not quite like that, you all had to nurse them back to health, after all, but you did try to put on an image of normalcy, didn't you?

Stars, with everything that gets lost in the way, it's like a miracle that you didn't forget their names.

One thing that sticks out is when Mira cuts the casual air in the table in a way very reminiscent of her speech in the sleepovers, before... Well, before you torn the script to shreds because you felt like they were messing it up.

(Bonnie was right, you were being quite stupid)

It's not about walking out this time, it's about the elephant in the room that you were trying to avoid for so long: everyone hoped that Bonnie's assumption was right, but there was always the possibility that taking them with you wouldn't happen.

The others join in to present ways you can stay connected, even if not traveling together, but Mirabelle os still at the center. She doesn't look nervous when she smiles at Bonbon and says that she wants to see them grow up and become taller than herself.

You want, too. You want to see if their dream of having a restaurant will stick. How handsome they'll be and how far they'll let those unpolished smarts take them. If they'll settle for good or still carry that drop of wanderlust. What type of person they'll befriend beside all of you, if they'll one day date, get bonded, or go through the realisation Mira is yet to right now.

But Mirabelle is the one that puts those thoughts into words that won't pratonize them too much. If Mira was better by the end of your journey, medicated she was like a goddess.

You all go back to your rooms after the meal. It has been quite a full day, after all.

You and Isabeau change into your night clothes with your backs to each other, only getting in bed after both are confirmed ready. Isa rolls to his side by the wall, and you pull the sheets up to your nose so your smirk won't betray the fake annoyance.

"You didn't even call dibs this time."

"I already took it, you'll have to live with that."

You mock scoff, and hear a softer laught than usual (maybe because it wasn't as funny, maybe because he's tired too). You let your body and face relax, and, before your dumb brain has a chance to overthink, you get your hand out of the sheets and almost into Isabeau's personal space. He places his hand on yours, and it's soothing. 

There's still a lot of thoughts to sort out, some including him, some not, but, right now, the contact is soothing. You want to close the gap and bury your face in his chest, to give him a kiss, like you itched to do so a few times but froze before you could (rich of you to call anyone a coward, Siffrin). But the objective is to sleep, and going further than hand holding still can be overwhelming. Maybe it's not just with you, by the way a darker shade crept all the way down his throat.

It's odd, to have at the same time limited time and more than you could hope for before. One month feels like so long and so little at the same time. You're not sure what really would count as slow, or would cross the line to too slow. You're thankful that Isa is a patiente man.

Is that enough, though? Even before your rough talk, he hasn't pushed, hasn't rushed. You haven't returned fairly. You haven't been fully honest with him.

You're vaguely aware of Loop in the room next door, and that's oddly motivating. Gross. Doing the right thing isn't enough motivation, you need wanting to avoid being confronted about not doing it as an extra push.

...

You know the way he's looking at you now. You know he noticed your shift in mood.

You open your mouth before he can.

"Isa?"

"Sif?"

"There's... Something I haven't told you." Wow, how specific, don't you want to broad a bit more? "Remenber when you asked if I love you the same way you love me?"

"Of course. What about it?" His tone is so soft, but the worry is clear. Of course it is. You are about to give bad news.

"I-I don't think I can." You gently squeeze his hand and hope it draws attention to them "I'm fine with this, and hugging. I'm almost sure I'm fine with kissing, too, but..." Just say it. You could say it to Mira, say it to him. Stop leading him on "I can't... do things past that. I don't think I ever will."

You can't look him in the eye. That phrasing felt like an understatement. The thought of hands on your skin with that kind of intent makes it crawl. The thought of taking him in such a way makes you shudder. The thought of him taking you like that is terrifying.

You feel a gentle caress over your knuckles, and that brings you back to reality. In this moment, you wish hope that he thinks the shudder was nerves. You gave him the info, it's up to him what he does with it. You don't get to think things of what chooses.

"That's the thing?" You nod. "Then it's fine."

What?

"What?" You look at him. You can't quite read his expression, but you do know it's not any less found.

"Are-are you sure?"

He's still caressing your hand. There a warmt in your stomach, but not a bad one.

"Sif. Sifarooni. Siffrin. What I meant was if you love me romantically"

"I know, but- isn't that part of being a couple?"

He looks pensative. Maybe this time it finally sunk in. You wonder if you still can hold hands as friends, and smother that thought as soon as it comes to light. That is Isa's choice to make.

"It can be, but doesnt have to. I'm fine with not being."

You're not so sure.

"Are you not going to miss it, though?"

"Siffrin," no nicknames. Bad sign? "think for a minute. Untill the day before I confessed, I was sure you hated touch, but still wanted a relationship with you. If I can live with no touch at all, I can live with no sex."

... How in the Universe can he say the word so easy?

Not the point here, Siffrin!

"Will you miss it?"

"A bit, but it's nothing unhandleable. I'm fine just being with you."

Your face feels hot. Your eye stings. There's still the chance of being too much, but the craving is stronger. You crawl a bit closer, and get your other arm out. Isa gets the memo, and puts his arm around you, slowly, giving you a chance to pull back. It makes your belly feel warmer. You want this to last, and that allows you to smother the question of how he would "handle" it with the same mental wet towel.

"Then, I think I do love you."

~★~

Sunlight brings a dull ache to your head. You protect your eyes with your hand and blink a lot before sitting up and getting your hair out of your face - oh, right, you're sharing a room with the Researcher. 

You slip out of the bed and change back into your awake clothes, with that sleeveless turtleneck that you haven't had for so long but already is kind of attached. You know Stardust wouldn't dare (the reason is not the point, the point is that you do). It is blinded that you have to put on the effort, you were there first, but clearly it doesn't matter to whoever is the author of your life, so it falls on you the burden of showing that you're not just another one, regardless of technicalities.

Even under this dumb masquared, didn't the Researcher herself say identical twins doesn't mean the same person twice? You don't have to stay tethered.

The loops are over. You don't have to stay by him. You don't have to stay by this party. If you want to dip out, you can.

Even under the ache, the thought gives you some sort of confort. Not having a script anymore... is one of the reasons you've been carrying those bottles. Your newborn-like body also has fresh, newbie to drinking sensibility. Isn't that sweet?

You brush and tie your hair, then turn around, and start to make your way out of the room before you hear her voice.

"Come with us. We need a second table anyway."

Oh, no.

"How long were you awake?"

"A bit. I didn't peek, I swear."

You know she didn't. Your Researcher wouldn't either, and this one seens to be a little nicer. Unlike just enough to be uncanny.

Your head throbs. You really need some water.

"I see you at breakfast, Madame." You're not drinking while hangover, as mild as it may be, let alone in an empty stomach.

You find your way to a bathroom to splash water in your face after drinking your fill, and the face in the mirror taunts you, worse than back in the first day. It's you. It's not you. It's not Stardust. You're not Stardust. Except you are.

You wipe your face dry before putting on a nice smile and going out for the dining area. Is the Kid's temper being influenced by losing one of the main ways to release tension?

You make it there almost at the same time as your roommate. Uncanny. The Kid and the Housemaiden got there first. Of course they did. You're not surprised the Traveler isn't here yet. The Fighter is another story. Something the Fighters seen to have in common is a body still working on a Defender's internal clock. Maybe Stardust will notice the lack of company and go after him. You can and do feel sympathy and amusement at the same time. Still a baby, aren't them?

"Good morning, Madame, Sisyphus." The Housemaiden says, fidging her fingers.

"Good morning." You respond. You don't want that name on your tongue so early on, directed at her.

"Good morning, Mirabelle, Boniface."

"You skipped diner. It's not good to skip meals." The Kid pouts. They're clearly annoyed over inn food. You think they would hit you with the wok if it was their food.

You think of a grilled fish head in a nice napkin. You wouldn't skip on their food if someone offered gold coins.

"I know, Bonnie. I was just really, really tired. It's very draining to travel alone."

"Hnf, I can forgive you. But you'll have to not let that happen again."

"I'll try."

"Don't worry, Boniface, I can help with that."

The latent comic relief instincts tell you it means no more drinking before bed. Beautiful. Speaking of beauty

The Traveler and the Fighter arrive at the same time. Curious. 

You look at the arrangement. The Fighter between the Traveler and the Housemaiden, you next to the Researcher, and the Kid in the end. You could almost believe you're part of this, couldn't you? Such a shame you know the truth. They're only being receptive because you supposedly have a connection to Stardust... A normal one, that is.

Breakfast is nothing lavish, pancakes and a few pieces of fruit, but the time since your return have not been enough to make you take food for granted. Specially food with salt. Getting used to the gross stuff like sweat and potty is a fair price for the chance of enjoying such thing.

The tension that the Kid could release cooking, they did stabbing the poor food like it owned them money.

"Today's the day! You're all meeting Nille! And I can show you my favorite places! Everyone must be unfrozen, so it's gonna be good!"

Nille... Nille... Oh, right, the sister. They... wished to see her again, didn't them? And now this Kid can.

It's not the best of thoughts, but, right now, you kind of also have more selfish reasons to want to meet. It's your second day, and you'll be recieving another person. A stranger, but with a connection that makes not feels like it with the intensity it should. Is this what the others are feeling like with you?

In the corner of your good eye, you notice the Traveler and Fighter moving calves together.

You'd think that would make you angrier, but... Right now, you mostly feel empty. Not numb, a sad type of empty. You think of hands around yours, sweaty to the point of feeling throught your gloves, but still warm and comforting.

And give your signature grin in their general direction. You're not dealing with that right now.

"Touching their ankles? Before bonding? You dare defile my sibling in front of me, defender? Shameful!"

This is easier. No need for a pun and that weird display stopped. Stardust glared at you, but you don't give it the dignity of a reaction.

If he wants you to play a role again, then you'll do it your way.