Sub!Felix Brain Rot
sub!felix
Rating: 18+. MDNI
cw: hand job, male whimpering (👀)
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Okay, but hear me out. Sub!Felix would absolutely sit on your lap facing you while you jerk him off. His cute little freckled face would be so red and he is definitely whimpering in your ear about how good you’re making him feel.
When he’s not in your ear, he’s trying to kiss you and match the speed you set, but he has such a hard time because your hand is dragging so slow on his cock. His mouth would be hanging open as he moans, making it hard for you to kiss anything but his teeth (it’s cute tho).
His deep voice? Yeah, he’s using that even while he’s the one being taken care of. But you already know when he’s close, his voice is getting at least 2 octaves higher as he begs you to let him cum.
NOT TO MENTION! This mf would be so fckin cute after he finishes. He’d look up at you with doe eyes and ask:
“Can I please help you now? 🥺” HEAR THAT? THAT’S ME C R Y I N G.
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a/n: hey wtf my brain is not okay I’ve been thinking about this for WEEKS.
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this just in: danny fenton is just as much of a mask as Brucie Wayne? - another danyal al ghul au
Turns out, being placed in a civilian family who have no knowledge of your background is actually detrimental to the health and development of a child assassin due to lack of proper support! Surrounded by strangers in a foreign city, Danyal Al Ghul does as assassins do best. He hides. Espionage is one of many teachings one learns in the League, and it only takes half a day for Danyal to construct a new persona to hide behind: Daniel Fenton.
By the time dinner rolls around, Danyal al Ghul is safely and securely tucked behind the face of Danny Fenton; brand new adoptive child of the Fenton family who came from overseas. A shy, quiet little boy with a thick accent and curly hair, with brown skin and blue eyes, and an avid interest in the stars. The best fictions are always cobbled together in a little bit of truth, it's some of the only truth he ever lets through. He apologizes in a meek voice for his behavior early, he didn't mean to be rude, and he watches the three of them eat it up with coos.
Lies roll like silk against his lips, he struggles to meet their eyes and offers them his weakest, shyest smile. It's too easy. It's easy to go from there.
Danny Fenton, adoptive son, shy and awkward and unconfident but friendly. Who struggles in his classes and isn't the brightest, but tries his hardest. He makes bad jokes and has a quick tongue and a sarcastic mouth. He wants to be an astronaut. He's got the best aim in school, and is a terrifying dodgeball player. He's one of the least athletic kids in his grade.
It's like playing two truths and a lie, but there's only one truth, and the rest are lies. It's easy to pretend when he knows it's insincere.
Danyal Al Ghul, grandson to the Demon Head. Deadly, trained assassin. Has spilled blood, has had blood spilt from. Environmentalist, animal activist. He loves the stars. He owns a calligraphy set. A sharp tongue, an even sharper blade. He's clever, quick-witted, he would be top of his grade if he tried harder. He purposely doesn't.
He misses his family. He misses his mother, and he misses his brother. Mother visits a few times a year, so few times that he can count it on both hands. He cherishes every visit, as brief as they are. It helps remind him who he is.
Sam and Tucker are Danny's best friends. They've never met Danyal, but Danyal's met them.
It becomes routine to become Danny Fenton. As familiar and as easy as pulling on a shirt in the morning. Danyal wakes up and is always first to the bathroom in the mornings; stares at himself in the mirror until he can finally see Danny staring back at him. At night, he locks his door and sheds the mask.
Dying throws a wrench in his mask; splits a crack straight through the porcelain. He's able to smooth it over with sandpaper and liquid gold, but it's a little hard keeping his ghost form under wraps. It instinctively wants to shift to show his true self. Danyal can't have that, he's spent four years as Danny Fenton, he'll spend another four as him as well. Even if the feeling of the hazmat suit in his ghost form feels restrictive, like a too-small shirt suctioned to his skin that needs to be peeled off.
He'll live. Er-- well, you know what he means. It's frustrating however, trying to keep his Danny Fenton mask up even as Phantom - fighting in the air is something he needs to get used to, and the sudden propping of powers throws him off. But he is nothing if not adaptive, and he hates that he needs to slow his own skills down in order to keep pretenses up in front of Sam and Tucker.
The first time Danyal summons a sword when he's alone, is one of the few times Danyal gets to grin instead of Danny. He's fighting Skulker, and from an invisible hilt he draws a katana from thin air. It startles them both. Skulker takes a step back at the smile that spreads across his face.
They're both silent as Danyal examines his new sword.
"Do you know what people like me do to people like you, poacher?" Danyal finally asks him, the accent he began to hide a few months in slipping through. He drops all pretense, dragging the flat end of the blade slow and appreciatively against his palm. It's a good make, and when he cuts it through the air, it slices through like butter. He looks up at Skulker with a smile; "are you ready to find out?"
When Sam and Tucker ask about why Skulker seems so skittish around Danny now, Danny shrugs at them and says with a playful smile; "I don't know, I guess I kicked his butt too hard after our last fight." and he watches as Sam rolls her eyes exasperatedly, and Tucker snickers with his own joke.
By the time he reunites with Damian before their 15th birthday, Danyal is buried beneath so many layers of Danny Fenton that his brother will need a shovel to dig him out. He's not sure what he'll find.
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crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.
i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.
in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.
i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.
i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.
plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.
the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.
we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.
i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.
a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.
today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.
loved beyond thinking.
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Learned recently that the Xianzhou Luofu apparently uses a different script than Belobog and that's so cool, I love little worldbuilding things like that. ♡
And then I nearly keeled over imagining Gepard going for a daytrip with Caelus and Asta to the Luofu; Caelus is taking Asta so she can run errands (and go shopping, of course) and Gepard is tagging along because Bronya found out he'd been falsifying records about his paid time off-
(Bronya: You have two years of overdue pto?! Out!
Gepard: But-
Bronya: Go on vacation or something! Out!!)
-and. It's all a little overwhelming for poor Geppie.
Everything is so weird and different there. A part of him is curious and enjoys it, but he just doesn't really have that same pioneering spirit as his sisters and it's not as fun for him as it would be for them. He wishes they hadn't been busy and could've come along, he'd feel a lot better with Serval and Lynx. He can't even read most of the script, he's mostly reliant on Caelus and Asta or the translation function they put on his phone for him. He kind of just wants to go home. He misses his city.
And then he catches sight of a head of blue hair in the corner of his eye, snickering and messing with the script on one of the signs.
Gepard: Wh- You!?!?
Sampo: !!! :D
Sampo grins wide and darts off, Gepard launches after him out of habit, and somehow, even with Gepard being new and alien to the Luofu, Sampo always seems to stay juuuuuuust within sight, just close enough not to lose him or get lost completely.
Gepard is lead all the way out near the starskiff building grounds when he finally has to stop, because Sampo somehow scales the damn wall like a nasty little lizard, gets all the way to the top, then winks at him over the roof and tells him he'll see him later, have fun, give Serval a kiss for him back home!! Gepard flips him off even though Sampo has already turned around and left skxjkdkdmfkf
But then he finally sits down and looks around him and realizes that oh. He feels kind of. Better now. More on even footing. Stable ground. There's no snow, but the high steel walls and corridors here are more familiar to him than all the wide open space and brightly colored buildings of the main tourist section he'd been in. The background hum is quieter and gentler here, and it reminds him more of Serval's shop, as opposed to Starskip Alley's throngs of chattering people and fast-flying ships. The little pangs that made his chest feel hollow have eased up. ♡
Caelus, carrying a Certain Courier Package: ...We've heard from him, yeah.))
((Asta: Sorry it took us so long to get out here! I found this sword that Arlan would like and-
Gepard: It's fine, don't worry about it. Hey, did you know Koski is running around out here?
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