#I will also probably be editing bits and pieces of it over the course of the next day for coherence so apologies if you find an error lol

[defmaybe]

Sticky

ITZY’s Shin Yuna x Male Reader

1.9k words

Prequel to Party Police

See also: Not Shy, Bahama

A/N: I write this in two sittings for probably the only mommy Yuna fic lol - BFH-type shit. No editing, no beta-reading, just pure lust again.

–

The clickings of the keyboards displace silence. Again, you’re stuck in the mundane cycle of doing another proposal for the project you’re going to lead. Sighs and sighs don’t keep you from drowsiness building up inside. Others don’t seem to do better even, some even folded on their desks already. The chilly breeze from the conditioner really is relentless right now, so damn perfect for a nap.

“Miss Shin wants you,” the secretary says, keeping you from falling into slumber.

You quickly get up from your desk, pacing towards the glass-paned office. You see your other co-workers dreading their assignments, clicking on their keyboards with blank eyes. On the opposite side, you can see, through the horizontal blinds, the vibrant office with your boss, Shin Yuna, doing the decorations inside. She’s tall (well, taller than you, at least), often confident, and so energetic, contrary to the department she just got handed over a few weeks ago.

You knock on the transparent door, seeing her putting on her Lady Bird poster on the wall. She’s wearing a one-piece raven black dress, one that hugs her slim, otherworldly curvy body so well. You can see her wide hips being so prominent, stripping away your fatigue.

“Come in!” she says, looking over her shoulders as she’s finishing the touch-ups.

You open the door, greeted with the scent of her air purifier—spring. The white fur carpet on the floor welcomes you with the sensations on your soles. Her office is spacious, and the colorful decorations fit her attitude and personality so much.

“Please, sit down,” she says with a smile, hand pointing to the seat in front of her desk. Even the cluttering trinkets on her table never look crowded, they are so meticulously placed to give her a perfect amount of space left for her work.

You accept her invitation, walking towards the seat. Yuna also retreats from her sprinklings back to hers, sitting down in her chair gracefully—a charming boss.

The air hangs heavy for a while, as Yuna takes some time to clear her desk. You glance around the room like the other times. The crucial difference being the Lady Bird poster, of course, and a few more band posters that you can’t quite recall from your listening history.

“So…” Yuna breaks the silence, tapping a finger on her chin, contemplating. “I see that you’ve been looking a little tired. Is that true?”

You blabber out, “N-No! I’m not tired a-at all.” You even put your hands up to deny the allegation.

“Those eyes don’t lie, baby.” The utterance of the last word alone freezes you. Is she flirting?

Let’s pause for a bit. Shin Yuna just got promoted to being your department’s manager—now three weeks in tenure. Her bubbly and kind personality receives multiple acclaim from your co-workers. And combined with her insanely high performances in projects, you cannot see how she wouldn’t get the position. 

Now, that friendly personality can be a bit, to say the least, slightly invasive. Yuna has always been so eager to fire up a talk with people, even if it means robbing someone’s silence. She’s also always happy to help those around her, no matter the methods. You’ve heard some complaints about her vivacious nature, but with the results saying otherwise, you just cannot dislike her for that.

“A-Are you suggesting I should go home or s-something?” you ask, unable to register how she’s getting up to close the blinds, as if she’s asking for some privacy from the outside right now. The room seems to shrink.

“Oh, does it look like that? Not at all, baby,” there it is again, baby.

“As your boss, I have to make sure that you stay productive for the day’s work!” Her smile lights the room up, as she walks towards her chair and sits down again. “I can’t have my employees dreading their jobs and expect a satisfactory performance.”

“Y-You’re very kind, M-Miss Shin,” you stammer out, and she seems to be happy with your words.

“Now tell me.” Yuna leans in closer to you, giving you the fine details of her face—doe eyes, minty breath, rose-colored lips. “Are you familiar with… mommy kink?”

You freeze, not expecting such a question from your manager. The gears in your head are working their best to seek the best answer you can give her, let alone making sense of the peculiar situation.

“A-Aga-”

“I’m certain of what I’ve said, mister,” she cuts you off, stern. Her expression reduces into an emotionless state. “Mommy kink, yes or no.”

“Uh…” That’s the only answer you can give her. The prospect of fully submitting to Miss Shin Yuna seems too enticing. Yet, perhaps it’s your inhibition that’s stopping your desire from falling into places.

“Come, sit on my lap,” Yuna instructs.

You glance around the room—left, right, back—as if to delay the inevitable of her pleasuring you.

“Now,” Yuna now commands, her voice steps down a few notes. 

“And there’s no camera hidden here, I promise,” she says with a smile, comforting you a little.

You slowly get up from your seat. What if I don’t do well enough for her? You walk around her table to land at your destination, your back against her face. She adjusts her position on her chair a little to accommodate your ass.

Her thighs feel… strong—definitely a result of workouts she has had after work. The images of those sweaty, skimpy sessions are making your mouth quiver—the fluid dripping down her body, just for you to taste.

Her hands start from grabbing the both sides of your slutty hips, earning a small whimper from you.

“So yearning for mommy’s touch, aren’t you?” Yuna giggles, moving her frisky fingers to unbutton your blue shirt.

“Y-Yes, mommy.” Your breath comes out in a false rhythm.

With your abdomen being gradually exposed, she uses a hand to feel it a bit, sending shocks and shocks through your faltering body.

“F-Fuck.”

“Hmm, so needy for mommy~” Yuna then continues her groping, until the last button is freed. Your upper body is bare under the cold air of the conditioner right now, as she brings the fondling hand up to your throat.

“Do you want my lips on you, baby boy?” Yuna asks, breaths warming the back of your neck. You can only nod at her.

Consented, she plants her lips on your body, and you are sure that the rosy prints are going to stick with you until the end of the day. Still, is it a fact that you should care right now? Getting groped by your goddess of a manager, with her being your mommy, on top of it.

You shiver at her kisses.

She frees your throat  before drawing her hand down to play with your raging bulge. She can definitely feel your cock aching to be freed right now.

“Need a hand, baby?” again, she asks, hand fondling the tent in your pants.

You become a stuttering mess at this point. “Y-Yes, m-mommy, please.”

“Please… what, baby boy?” She’s playing coy with you for sure.

“P-Please use your hand on my c-cock, please,” you utter out.

She whispers into your ear, “Good boy.” 

She unzips your pants, hand then slithering into the hole. The sensations are even stronger right now, with your underwear being the only barrier between you and her.

She keeps kissing your moaning neck, printing roses wherever she can reach. Her hand is stuck in fondling your cock through the slim cloth.

“Mommy, p-please,” you whimper, desire burning too brightly.

“Say please again, baby boy, and I’ll touch your cock.” Yuna giggles, enjoying how you’re submitting to your boss so damn easily.

“Please, m-mommy.”

Yuna wastes no time to push all of your lower garments down in a single motion, exposing your throbbing, twitching cock in glory. She hums in satisfaction at the sight.

“Hmm~, baby boy, so hard for me already?” she asks, finger drawing a line on the back of your cock from the bottom to the top. It twitches in response.

“Ngh, y-yes, m-m-mommy.” Yuna seems to be happy with your answer as she strokes your cock leisurely.

Her slender fingers only do what they have to do: sliding up and down to make you shatter under her touch. She starts at a slow pace, only teasing you about what’s coming. Her other hand roams under your shirt, moving down onto your juicy ass.

“Ngh, mommy,” you utter, pleasure building up in your loins. The sensations become stronger as seconds passed.

Yuna giggles at your whimpering, “Yes, baby boy?”

“I-I-, ngh,” you cannot form any words under her spell. Fuck.

Yuna cannot hold her chuckle inside, clearly satisfied with her baby boy melting under her touch. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Faster, please,” you finally respond, slightly out of breath from the overwhelming sparks all over your body.

Yuna listens to your plea, quickening the strokes, bringing you closer to the edge. Fuck, your slutty moans are probably heard by the people outside now.

The squelches of Yuna’s strokes are filling the room, along with your needy whimpers and her satisfactory hums. “I just wanna spend the whole day jerking this cock~” Yuna expresses, your heart flutters at her words.

“And I mean it, really,” she continues, still keeping the moderate pace of her hand from behind. 

“The size, the curvature, the thickness, god, I’m sure it can stretch mommy’s cunt out so well,” she whispers, and your length just cannot get harder at this second.

“M-Mommy, would you berate me i-if I- fuck.” you struggle to lead your words out, stuttering everywhere you can. She’s still jerking your cock, nursing you with another hand roaming over your body to over stimulate.

“Fast cummer, baby?” She chuckles at your apprehension. “You’re doing well, baby. I think this is the perfect pace for us.”

“T-Thanks, mommy,” you say, feeling the tightening of your knot already. “M-Mommy, where c-can I cum?”

“Ooh, that’s an interesting question, baby boy,” Yuna laughs. “I don’t think the higher-ups would mind a few stains from us~,”

“W-Wha-”

“Shh, let mommy handle this,” she affirms. “Just stay on my lap and let me milk your cock, okay?”

Your mind goes feral, aching for release. Her hand relentlessly stroking your length and another traversing your compact frame just overloads your mind. “Y-Yes mommy.”

“Good boy, now, cum for me, please.”

And it hits, you become undone at her touch, like a lightning. Your sticky cum is shot everywhere—on her desk, on the floor, hell, even on yourself. You moan in the pleasure of her touch and the mind-shattering orgasm. “Mommy!” you shout. Yeah, everyone is going to hear that.

“Wow,” Yuna pants, before planting a kiss on your neck. She doesn’t seem to mind the fact that your seed is on her precious report right now. “You came so much for mommy.”

You try to catch your breath, before speaking out, “Thanks, mommy.”

–

[nanenna]

Jeez Louise This is a Mess

Sleepy King (Nenna edition) Master Post

Apologies in advance, I'm not very familiar with John Constantine, trying to do anything from his perspective is definitely an unwise decision. I have chosen it anyway. He's almost definitely OOC.

---

John watched the Fentons and the mayor just saunter through the brand new hole in the mayor’s wall like this was just a normal Friday for them. Considering how weird the town was as a whole, it probably was. And he meant that by the old meaning of the word and as literal as one could possibly interpret it. He’d never been anywhere where the veil was so thin over such a large area, with æther so thick in the air of course it was affecting the locals. Probably had something to do with whoever or whatever had cloaked the whole town.

John turned to Tall Dark and Broody, “So, what happened to all the bugs and trackers you put on them originally?”

Batsy frowned, “Danny’s are still in the Fenton residence, expected since he clearly changed his clothes. His parents’ trackers and bugs all went offline not long after arriving home, the ones I placed inside the residence are malfunctioning.”

“And that’s not the least bit suspicious?” John asked.

“It’s incredibly suspicious,” Batsy said with a completely straight face before turning and also walking right out the brand new hole. “I suggest you actually use the comm I gave you earlier, they’re explaining the situation to Masters.”

Unfortunately Mr. Gargles Gravel for Breakfast had a point, John sighed and did put in the comm, though he knew it would be spotty with the use of magic to follow the group. Batsy and Wonder Woman could follow however they liked, John did not have the energy for that.

The comms were staticky, cutting in and out even without John’s abuse of the thin veil to quick step around town. Not surprising, the amount of pure death magic radiating off the two dead-alive people in that tank would be enough to mess with most electronics even if the veil weren’t practically non-existent.

“Somehow this place feels cozy,” Boston commented as he followed John.

“You would think so.”

The conversation on the comm was getting worse, the bugs were clearly slowly giving up the ghost. John only caught a few words here and there, and those were only because they were Ghost Speak, something that shouldn’t be possible for flesh and blood mouths to speak. It’s just bits and pieces, names and titles mostly, but if he’s understanding this right…

“Huh, that may change the situation a bit.”

“What are you going on about?” Boston asked.

“It sounds like Pariah isn’t the Ghost King anymore. But Batsy’s bugs are losing the war against æther, so when we get there you’re gonna need to go spy on them.”

“Will that work?”

“Try to keep out of sight, but even if you get caught the worst they’ll do is kick you out. Undead solidarity.”

Boston grumbled, but when John met back up with Batsy and Wonder Woman staring through a window right to where the group was talking, Boston did as he was asked and slipped right through the wall and inside. John cast a quick spell to spy through Boston.

Boston floated slowly into the room, seemingly becoming braver as the Fentons looked right past him without reacting. Unfortunately, he got a little too close to the one person in the room that could definitely see him. The kid jumped out of his seat in surprise.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” The kid whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at Boston. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

“Oh, you can see me? And ghost sense?”

“You don't know who I am?”

“Uh… Daniel Fenton?”

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“How about you tell me your name first?”

“I’m Deadman.”

The kid burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?” The sister asked.

“Huh?” The kid looked to his older sister, then back to Boston. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

The Fentons all shook their heads.

The creepy mayor came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

“I’m Deadman and I’m uh… lost?”

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” the kid added. He turned back to Boston, “Are you even a ghost?”

Batman, who’d spent the last few minutes getting into the perfect position while he waited for the most dramatic moment chose then to crash through the window. John started cursing as he rushed to climb in after the loon, already prepping a spell. The moment he had a clear line of sight he shot off the revelation spell at the kid.

It did… well not much.

Really about all it did was give the kid a couple extra accessories. He expected them, but he also expected it to somehow reveal the kid’s undead status too. Make him look all glowy and ghostly like he had when he’d first arrived last night, because John was pretty sure the kid hadn’t been kidnapped after all. Or at least not how they originally assumed, he was pretty sure some spirits considered an unwilling summons a kidnapping.

Still, there the crown was. Just floating over the kid’s head, toxic green æther flames around it like a death energy aurora. And like any teenager the kid seemed completely oblivious, having to be told the crown was even there. Once he got a hand on it though he said something odd, “Okay, crown retrieved.”

John just tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting to see what they were doing. Why did they think they needed to find the crown?

“We may have a problem,” The creepy mayor said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” The kid looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in the creeper’s. “Why are there two?”

And, well, John agreed. Why the fuck were there two? He already started muttering an identification spell as the kid turned to him.

“What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything,” John protested, “that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” The kid’s mom said while glaring at the him.

Of course things got dicey after that, the kid and the creepy mayor got into a fight over the second crown, things turned into a right mess, and John was quite content to let them squabble among themselves. He moved to go stand next to Batsy and Wonder Woman, Boston with him, waiting to see how this went.

Of course the tussle then turned into fighting over the ring on the kid’s finger, still blaming John for just revealing the crown and ring the kid had apparently had this whole time.

“Alright, that’s enough. Shut up!” John may have put a bit of intent into that, and it worked beautifully. The whole group stopped and stared at him, finally shutting up. The parents managed to get between the kid and the creeper, each one still with one of the crowns.

The crowns he now knew were both, somehow, legitimate.

John pointed at the kid, “Just call the crown, it’ll listen.”

The kid gave him a disbelieving look. “Oh sure, I’ll just,” he hunched forward a little bit, clapped his hands, and whistled like he was calling a dog, “here Crowny, Crowny, Crowny.”

For a brief moment nothing happened, then the creeper mayor jerked forward as the crown yanked itself from his hand. It went to go join the other crown floating over the kid’s head, one of them grew wider so the other could nestle inside it, both spinning in place but in opposite directions.

Everyone was staring at the display.

“What uh… what are they doing?” The kid asked nervously.

“They… like each other?” The sister asked skeptically.

“Great, wonderful, fabulous, just what I need in my life.” The kid sighed and turned to glare at John. “What. Did. You. DO?!”

“I didn’t do shit,” John replied, much to the parents’ combined horror. “Looks like somehow they’re both legit, my best guess is one of them isn’t from this timeline.”

“Oh,” the sister said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The Nasty Burger explosion happened after the fight with the king, right?”

“The what?” the kid’s parents asked.

“Oh,” the kid responded, “I’m starting to see why the council of eyeballs hates my guts.”

And wasn’t that a concerning sentence. John desperately needed a drink, thankfully he had a flask on him and chose that moment to take a swig. “Alright, so there should be a second ring too, no point leaving that on Dark’s finger in case he gets out again.”

“Vlad did it,” the kid said while pointing at the creeper.

“Excuse me!” Creeper actually put a hand to his neck, like some fainting Victorian lady.

“Vlad tried to steal the ring and crown, so he let Dark out of the sarcophagus and I had to go clean up his mess, like always.” The kid glared at the creeper, it was starting to paint a really concerning picture.

“I’m sure Vladdie was just trying to keep these powerful artifacts safe,” the kid’s dad said loudly and happily. Yeah, there was the concerning picture again.

“I’d believe it if all he took was the ring, but the crown was safely sealed away with Pariah and he let the guy out to steal it.”

“Just call the ring,” John said gruffly.

“Here Ragey, Ragey, Ragey.” The kid whistled and clapped his hands again. The ring showing up on the kid’s other hand was expected, the glowing green hell hound that came sprinting through the wall and practically tackled the kid wasn’t. “Cujo! Hi! Who’s a good puppy?!”

Keeriest, John needed a stiffer drink.

[kneelanders]

sid x late 20s!gf x first trip to cole harbour

a/n: writing this tipsy as shit in the bar but i hate seafood so i wrote this also this is NOT EDITED AND I'M SORRY

you're both sitting on the back deck of sid's lakefront house. natemac is there with his girl, obviously, along with sid's entire family and nate's too. you're feeling so intimidated by everyone; everyone is so nice, but you're a bit overwhelmed.

troy calls everyone to the picnic tables out back for dinner, and that's when you realize: oh god. every single dish is seafood based. it makes sense, this is coastal nova scotia, but oh my god you do not do seafood. you're a picky eater at the best of times, and this is decidedly not the best of times, so you're feeling like if you have to choke down a piece of crab meat on top of all the meeting and greeting you've done today, you'll pass out.

sid notices your apprehension, of course -- he's observant like that. always one step ahead of you; knowing when you're uncomfy before you even do.

"hey," he murmurs in your ear, hand still warm on your thigh. he begins rubbing circles into the meat of your leg with his thumb. "you good?"

you swallow, loudly, you feel like everyone can hear it. "of course, why wouldn't i be?" you smile at him, fake as can be, and he immediately sees the fear in your eyes.

"babe, seriously, what's wrong? are you not hungry? i haven't seen you eat anything since breakfast, are you feeling sick?" sid begins his sid-terrogation, as you call it, he's just trying to get to the bottom of the problem. he always wants to get to the bottom of the problem. he's a problem solver. always has been. probably always will be.

"no, i'm fine, swear," you try to smile normally at him, but you've never been good at hiding your emotions. you feel overwhelmed and kind of freaked out and you definitely won't be able to take a bite of fish without gagging in front of all these people. "let's just go sit, huh?"

"no way," sid says, standing up abruptly. "c'mon, come inside for a sec," he pulls you up out of your adirondack chair, motioning to his dad who's manning the scallops on the grill, "dad, we'll be right back, just need to grab something."

troy smirks at him like he knows something you don't. i'm not running off for a quickie with your son! you want to shout, but of course that would be insane.

sid pulls you inside the sliding doors, sliding them shut behind you and pulling you into the open concept kitchen. he grabs your waist as you let out a squeak and hoists you onto the counter, no problem. dating a professional athlete who lifts five times a week has its perks, you think.

"tell me what's wrong, please," sid demands. he's a man used to getting what he wants.

you wilt under his strong gaze. "you're going to think i'm being ridiculous," you mutter in warning.

sid frowns, serious as ever. "i would never think that," he says emphatically. "i always think the world of you."

you roll your eyes. "okay but i am being ridiculous...right now," you mutter.

"okay..." sid says, confused furrow taking over his brow. "then tell me anyway."

"i just," you sigh. "sid, i don't eat seafood! like at all! i'm a vegetarian! i've been a vegetarian for the last year and a half we've been together! and the twelve years before that!"

sid's eyes widen. "oh jesus," he murmurs to himself. now he looks dumbfounded, like he knows he forgot something. "baby..." he reaches for you, putting his hands on your hips and rubbing soothing circles into the flesh. "baby, i'm so sorry, i didn't even think about that. i'm an ass."

you shake your head, immediate, people-pleaser-mode initiated. "no, no, it's not a big deal. i just...i'm so overstimulated right now i don't think i can fake it in front of all these people. i don't know what to do," you whine a little, not afraid to leverage your big pouty eyes to get sid to do your bidding. (he'd do it anyway. he lives to do your bidding.)

sid shakes his head, determination back in his features. "don't worry about it," he says. "i've got you. stay here."

sid leaves you sitting on the counter and slips outside. you can see through the window that he's talking to his father, but you can't tell what they're saying. troy claps sid on the back before sid nods and heads back inside.

"c'mon," he says simply, jerking his head toward the front of the house.

you're confused. "what do you mean? we're leaving?"

"just for a little while," sid says with a smirk. "c'mon, trust me."

you do. of course. you trust sidney crosby with your life.

he drives the two of you all the way into downtown halifax to a cute little vegetarian restaurant and juice bar. he buys you a bowl and himself a green juice (health freak), and the two of you sit in the car with your spoils.

"you did not have to bail on your family barbecue to buy me a rice bowl, sidney," you say sternly. "i wish you hadn't, actually, because holy shit they probably think i'm such a brat now!"

"they don't think you're a brat," sid rolls his eyes. "i told them you didn't feel good and we needed to go to the pharmacy to get you some dayquil. not a big deal, okay?"

you stare at him. "why did you do that?"

he stares back, unblinking. "because you were uncomfortable and you said you were overstimulated and i wanted to fix it?" he says it with an unspoken duh at the end of the sentence.

you carefully put the lid on your rice bowl, place it in the footwell of the car, and launch yourself at sid in the driver's seat.

"you're my favorite, you know that?" you murmur in his ear, arms wrapped around broad shoulders.

"i know," sid chuckles. "you're mine too."

[sleepynoons]

nagumo yoichi x gn!reader, sfw, not beta read

cw: slight suggestive content, explicit language

notes: wait if you catch several typos/grammar mistakes, that's not on me, that's on ellipsus for constantly glitching out today and preventing me from making edits. this is a drabble, too, and i don't proofread those oops. anyway, i thought it'd be funny if nagumo also got into a relationship the same way sakamoto and aoi got together. i also think it's hilarious that the npcs in this series don't give a fuck lol. nagumo also comes off as weird af at first LMAO wait this was kinda meant to satisfy my belief that nagumo has a sleeper build iykwim - wait i'm realizing there are several references + tidbits in this piece so it'd be funny if y'all catch anything hehe

"WELCOME!"

greeting customers is arguably the least rewarding thing about your job. most people who walk in ignore you, some even look annoyed, and you hate public speaking in the first place. you think you lose five minutes of your life every single time you raise your voice, and those five minutes have probably accumulated to years by now.

you sigh. it can't be helped. another part-timer recently quit, and you can't possibly let the manager of this convenience store, an elderly man in his 60s, take on additional night shifts when he's already handling the early mornings.

besides, there are some pros. since the store is located near a university and a residential area, there are familiar faces. there's a group of computer science students that often drop by, and they play the occasional harmless prank on you. there's also that mother-daughter pair that buys frozen taiyakis every saturday as a reward for the daughter for finishing her weekly violin lesson. and perhaps the most intriguing of them all is a man that pops by every three days around midnight.

he wears the same tan trench coat, along with a loose patterned button-up and black pants. before winter set in, he always went straight to the freezer to fish out a popsicle, bar already in his mouth as he walked over to pay, but in the past two weeks, he's been opting for a cup of hot coffee and small packets of candy instead.

it seems he's craving sour gummies today. with a swift swipe of your arm, you grab and scan the barcode on the back of the plastic bag, and type in the amount for his drink.

"your total's ¥600."

"no discounts for your most loyal customer?"

startled, you freeze, determined to avoid eye contact. you've had conversations with other customers before, but never with him. he's always left as quickly as he came, so you're caught off-guard by this unexpected interaction.

"u-uh, not this time, sorry. i can ask the manager if we have a loyalty program, if you want."

the man hums as he nods happily and hands you two ¥500 coins. his unbothered smile unnerves you a bit, so you count the difference and return the loose change in personal record time.

but he doesn't leave, and instead, asks, "any thoughts on getting hitched?"

your spit-take's almost comical, but the absurdity of the situation takes precedent. "w-what now?"

"one of my co-workers recently got married to a convenience store worker, so i'd thought i'd give it a try, too!"

you're practically shaking from how anxious and overwhelmed this person's making you feel. it doesn't help that he's clearly not disturbed at all, which almost makes you doubt your own ethics and gut instincts. but, the more you think about it, the more you're sure there's something wrong with this man and not you.

"i-i, uh, well, i'm not interested in-in getting married right now."

"oh, that's a shame! guess i'll try again tomorrow!”

–

you wake up with a jolt, almost knocking the crown of your head into nagumo's chin. though, of course, there's no actual need to worry about that.

"hm, what's wrong?"

with a workbook on bayesian statistics in one hand, a pen resting on his ear, and his other arm folded behind his head, he looks down at you curiously. despite having just woken up, your head's never been clearer, and you sit up between his legs before looking behind your shoulder and shooting a glare at him.

you ask, "can i punch your face?"

nagumo laughs, probably already imagining your futile attempts. "sure! but can i ask why?"

"i dreamt about our first conversation, and it reminded me that you're kinda fucked up."

your boyfriend chuckles more, amused by your moral qualms. "you could say that."

the thought that your relationship is weird has never left you. you're (still) a simple convenience store cashier, and nagumo gets filthy rich by murdering people. you were never that interested in the world around you, having been too busy paying back student loans and applying to other jobs throughout your early adolescent years to care about other things, so when he told you about the JAA and the establishment of the assassin industry as a whole, you were shocked. but that's always as far down into the rabbit hole as you let yourself go.

from this view, with nagumo spread out before you, he doesn't look dangerous at all. if anything, he resembles a nerdy graduate student, thanks to his obvious passions for mathematics and reading. moreover, his short-sleeved t-shirt exposes his tattoo-riddled arms, and the bottom of it has ridden up, giving you a pleasurable view of his hip bones and happy trail. in fact, when the two of you got into bed together for the first time (don't ask how he succeeded in seducing you), you were surprised by his physique. his outside clothes certainly don't do his abs or biceps justice.

anyway, the point is, he looks like your fantasy of a dreamy, hot, geeky boyfriend, not your local professional hitman-for-hire.

you sigh. you're not going to punch his stupidly attractive face. you lie back down onto his chest, burrowing your nose into the crook of his neck. you do let yourself get away with a pinch to his cheek.

then, you mutter, "don't hurt me."

"i won't," he chirps.

nagumo presses the knuckles of his free hand into the knots around your shoulder blades and flips his book back open.

he knows you mean more than in the literal sense.

[toonice113]

Foolish one  ⋆ ★  A.Matthews

Pairings: Auston Matthews x Fem!reader

Summary: After a year of hooking up with Auston, it takes him getting a girlfriend for you to realize he just wasn’t the one

Warnings: mentions of sex but nothing explicit, no happy ending.

Word count: 1.4k

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ I wrote this at 4am while being extremely sleepy and edited it a little bit just now, but i can’t promise it's well edited. This also started up being inspired by siren sounds by tate mcrae but then turned into more of a foolish one vibe and i just leaned into it.

The whole situation with Auston had been going on for about a year now, a whole year of hooking up. It was never meant to be something more and you knew it, only a few of your friends knew about it, and they had warned you about keeping this going on for so long, pleading for you to not get too attached to him when the relationship wasn’t going anywhere, you swore you wouldn’t.

Then things changed, slowly you and Auston became closer, what once was just meaningless sex where he would leave straight after turning into him staying, pillow talk about superficial stuff turning into deep conversations where you got to know more about Auston that you ever had about any ex.

You could feel yourself falling as time went by, and while Auston never gave you any implication of wanting more from your arrangement, his attention was enough to keep you around. You knew he was seeing other girls, and while deep inside it killed you, you would never admit it, telling yourself that it didn’t matter because you knew parts of him he would never show anyone else, because you were the one he always found himself returning to when things got rough

.

Sometimes though, the thought of sharing him was too much for you, and that hurt translated to anger, moments where you let him see really how much power he had over you in the relationship, moments like the one you found yourself in right now.

“I don’t know what you want me to do” Auston sighed.

“It’s not that hard Auston just don’t feed the cat your dinner” Your voice raises.

“I didn’t feed him!” His voice is steady but frustrated, Auston never raises his voice, not for you. “The food fell from my plate and he ate it before I could pick it up, it was only a piece of chicken he’ll be fine” 

“He’s been throwing up for days, he’s not fine” You argue.

“Is that what’s got you in such a bad mood? the cat being sick?” He asks, the half eaten food now forgotten, the cat looking up waiting for more, unaware of what’s going on.

“Maybe you should call one of your other girls, they’re probably in a better mood” His face breaks into a smug smile as soon as the words leave your mouth and you immediately regret the sentence you never meant to speak in the first place.

“I don’t want any other girls baby” He gets up and walks towards you, his arms trapping you between his body and your kitchen counters. “You’re the only one for me and you know it” 

But you don’t know it, you can’t, not with certainty, not when he says this one night and then you see rumors of him hooking up with a random girl while he’s on a road trip. Still you let him charm you, ending up in bed once more, because you can’t resist Auston and he knows it.

This is it, you tell yourself that two nights ago was the last time, you’re done with Auston, and it’s not because of jealousy, it’s the fact that you can’t stand to have your heart broken once more. Just two nights ago he was in your bed, whispering sweet words into your ear, just for you to wake up on your own on a cold bed the next morning and seeing pictures of him with some girl out for lunch later that same day.

You could have blocked him, it would’ve made things easier, but you don’t, you just avoid him, an easy task while he is away on a road trip. He messages you a couple times throughout the days he is away, you open those messages, of course, but you manage to keep yourself from replying to any of them.

It was two days after he arrived back in the city that your absence finally hit him, you had managed to keep yourself distracted enough with work to worry too much about him and tonight you were finally taking a night for yourself, you’d finished all your work for the week and your cat was finally back to healthy, so you poured yourself a glass of wine and turned in a romcom. You were halfway through the movie when your doorbell rang, opening the door without checking who it was first, you came face to face with the man you had managed to avoid for about a week.

“Go away Auston, I’m done” You said trying to keep your voice firm.

“What?” he tilted his head, confused on why you weren’t letting him in like you had so many nights before.

“I can’t do this anymore” You gestured between the two of you “It’s over Auston” 

“Baby” his hand reached out to yours and you tried, you really tried to hold it together, but you could never resist him, so you let him take it “What are you talking about? Let’s talk about this” 

His thumb rubbed your hand in a calming notion and you just shook your head, knowing that your words would only betray you “Baby please, don’t do this, you’re too important to me and I can’t lose you”

“You can’t lose something you don’t have” Your voice comes out in something barely louder than a whisper “And I’m not yours Auston, just like you were never mine” A lie, you know it and he knows it, you have been his from that very first night.

“But that’s where you’re wrong” He moves his other hand to wipe the tears that are starting to flow “I’m yours baby, have been from the moment we met, let me show you just how much I’m yours” 

You wish you could say you stood your ground, said goodbye and closed the door finalizing the relationship, but you’re not that strong, and just like that he was back in your bed and in your life. It was almost perfect for a bit, you convinced yourself that maybe this was the time, this was it, you and Auston were finally on your way to more, this time it was real. You had just let yourself believe when the texts and calls became less and less, but you chalked it up as just him preparing for the upcoming playoffs.

It took a bit for it to all come crashing down, you’d watched game 1 at a bar with friends, texting him a congratulatory text after the win, expressing how proud you were of him and how you couldn’t wait to see him, his response had been warm, just enough to keep you from overthinking about his lack of communication over the past few days. Then, game two came around and you found yourself at a friend’s house, sitting at the table ready to gossip about whatever was going on at everyone’s work, but your friends had different gossip they were interested in, for the first time in forever Auston Matthews had made a relationship public.

One of your friend’s phone was being passed around, in it a picture of the Toronto Maple leafs wags in their playoffs jackets, one of them proudly wearing the last name Matthews, a 34 printed in it. Your friends were joking about it, one or two of them who knew about you and Auston looking at you expectantly, waiting to hear what you had to add to the story, because surely you’d know something –you didn’t–  and suddenly the food in front of you no longer seemed appetizing, and your friends laughs sounded like nails on chalkboard, and your clothes were too tight and you just needed to get out of there.

Back in your apartment you knew this time you had to do it, you had to be strong and stand up for yourself, so you sent one last text, wishing him luck on his future, thanking him for the past year and telling him to go fuck himself for playing you before you blocked his number. You knew he would come looking for you, or maybe he wouldn't. You couldn’t be sure, so you packed a bag, packed your cat, and drove to your brother’s house, where you slept in your nephew’s twin sized bed for a week before deciding to go back to your life.

You were heartbroken, yes, but you knew you had to move on, because while you would get those secret smiles and loving stares in bed, she was getting his jacket, and he was publicly expressing his love for her, announcing their relationship proudly when he couldn’t even make it official for you two, so you were ready to finally learn your lesson. And it would take time, but you knew there would come a day when you would find someone to love you loud and proudly, because after all, he just wasn’t the one.

[byte-your-tongue]

How They Wrap Your Presents Pt. 1 (Obey Me! SWD Brothers)

(Platonic, GN Reader)

AN: Recently got access to my old obswd account after over two years of not being able to play!! ₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ im excited about that + the holidays so here yall go take some sill lil hcs. these are pretty christmas focused but if anyone wants an edited version where i remove that and make it more generic what holiday is being talked about just let me know! part two with the other characters will hopefully be up soon!

Lucifer:

His presents look neat but maybe a little bit boring compared to some of the others on this list

They are tastefully wrapped in a simple solid color metallic wrapping paper with no ribbon.

He wouldn't pick out a wrapping paper with a pattern because he thinks it looks sort of silly or childish or "too much"

He doesn't use sticker labels, instead attaching a small piece of paper or card with his elegant cursive handwriting on it addressing it to you from him.

He will leave your present under the tree in the HOL and look on with pride when you open it christmas day.

He may get onto you if you try to shake it to figure out what it is early, telling you to be patient and that it will be worth the wait.

Mammon:

He could have taken the easy way out and put your presents in a bag but he wants to wrap them himself.

This of course leads to a disaster with wrapping paper scraps everywhere and him covered in tape. He probably also somehow manages to cut himself with the scissors at one point.

Your present may look like a disaster but it's wrapped with love.

Sure he could have asked someone like Asmo to help him out but he selfishly wanted the present to be only from him alone, with no one else helping him.

He would probably pick out a very basic pattern like snowflakes or something.

He doesn't put a tag on it (which is probably for the best, his handwriting is atrocious)

He's sort of embarrassed of how it turned out and doesn't put it under the tree before christmas, choosing instead to hand it to you directly on christmas morning.

If you tell him you like the wrapping despite how it looks he will be over the moon and blushing like a tomato.

Mammon is overjoyed to see you so happy because of him, and commits this moment to memory forever.

Leviathan:

I don't think he would be very confident in his wrapping skills, instead choosing to give you a gift bag instead.

Plus it's just easier that way! No fiddling with wrapping paper and tape.

It's not like a gift bag is an any way less good than a wrapped present, but after seeing Asmo's gorgeous gift to you sitting under the tree he gets worried you won't like his.

So he decides to customize the bag for you, drawing your favorite character on it.

He puts your gift inside, adds some simple tissue paper, and adds it to the small pile of gifts already under the tree.

On christmas day when you finally open his gift he's anxious you won't like it. When you beam at him and tell him you love it and compliment the drawing on the bag he feels like he could pass out from joy.

Satan:

Satan for sure is going to make your gift look good.

He is careful and meticulous with the wrapping, not an inch out of place with perfect folds.

He might pick out a simple pattern that just has holiday colors on it. Nothing too intense but still festive.

He is the first one i've talked about so far who would add a ribbon. Something thin and shiny wrapped across both axis of the present and tied up with perfect curls.

He adds a simple tag that has your and his names on it in neat print.

He will add his present to the pile, admiring the other ones already there.

When you finally get his present you almost don't want to open it, admiring how it looks.

He will be happy if you like his gift, smiling warmly at you.

Asmodeus:

You KNOW Asmo is going all out on wrapping your presents.

Your present is wrapped in the most adorable sparkly paper he could find and topped with a big bow and ribbons.

Your presents from him are very cute without being over the top.

He is very excited for the holidays, picking out your presents and wrapping them before anyone else had even found anything for you.

He spends a lot of time wrapping your presents perfectly and making sure not a single piece of ribbon is out of place.

Beelzebub:

He doesn't really know what do so he goes to Asmo for help. Beel is one of the only people here who doesn't mind asking for help, and he knows Asmo would be perfect for this.

Beel picks out the paper and gets Asmo to help him wrap it so of course it comes out cute looking.

The first paper Beel wanted to use had a cute little pattern with gingerbread men on it, but he did in fact eat some of the paper while Asmo was trying to wrap.

After that the two of them decided another choice of wrapping paper might be better if they want your gift to survive.

Beel adds a sticker to it that addresses the gift to you from him and places it under the tree.

Belphegor:

Belphie is NOT wrapping your present.

He's not even putting in in a gift bag.

The bare minimum he would do is slap a simple bow on it and calls it done.

Since your present isn't wrapped he doesn't put it under the tree, instead waiting till christmas and giving it to you directly.

He may not have put a lot of thought into the wrapping, but he did put a lot of time and effort into picking out your present so he really hopes you like it.

[elliesflower]

victory lap [ellie williams]

pairing; f!reader x ellie

cw; rich!ellie, plus-sized female!reader, degradation (kinda), mean!ellie, vouyerism, semi-public masturbation(kinda?), ellie and reader are both perverted ngl

an; syd's comeback??? and it's smut?????? i've had this in my drafts since like may and finally got around to editing it so here you go. and i swear i'm working on chapter 8. and also please don't ask why i didn't pick a sexier sport. like basketball or something. i don't know either. ok bye.

for my sweet babies @coeurify @bambiesfics @addisonnie @seattlesellie

It was yet another blazing hot day at the country club, the sun’s sweltering rays kissing the backs of your legs as you bent down to retrieve a fallen golf ball from the bright green turf, careful not to bend straight over so that your panties would be on full display for anyone who dared to walk behind you. You readjusted the visor on your head upon standing, before you wiped a speck of excess dirt off the white plastic with a perfectly manicured finger before passing it off to Tommy Miller. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, making sure to grab an unnecessary amount of your hand in his own as he took the ball. He winked at you before readjusting his own visor, and setting up the ball on the tee. After the first time you caddied for Tommy, he started requesting you by name. Of course, you knew it probably had a little something to do with the way you caught him staring at your full breasts that sat perfectly in your pink racerback, neckline so low everyone could watch the way small beads of sweat would dribble down your skin and disappear between your chest. 

The truth is, you didn’t mind that Tommy was a little flirty with you, or even handsy sometimes, for that matter—for two reasons. The main one being, Tommy had money. Like, different car for each day of the week money. And his brother, Joel, somehow had even more, you’d reckoned from the times you’ve gotten to chat with him. They were always talking about what new business venture they’d invested in this week, or what extravagant trips they were taking next week. To the average person, it might sound snobby and pretentious—because well, it was—but around the club, it was normal. But you didn’t mind, because the more money your club members made, the more money they could put in your pocket. And you had bills to pay. 

The second reason being, of course, you knew it wouldn’t get them anywhere. Not when you weren’t really into Tommy’s…type, if you will. 

“Of course, Tommy,” you smiled warmly at him, before stepping back to stand in the shade of the golf cart as you watched him line up his shot. Just as he was all set up, swinging his arms behind him to take the shot, his phone began ringing loudly from his back pocket.  

“Goddamn, piece ‘uh shit!” He exclaimed as the ringer clearly messed up his concentration. You had to hide your smile as he shot you an apologetic look before tucking the club under his arm and pulling out his phone to answer. The club was a little high and tight, with people talking like they’d just stepped off the set of an eighties classic film, but Tommy was a little…different. Coming from Texas, the money he’s made never quite washed away his potty mouth, nor his laid-back attitude.

“What is it Joel? Oh, you’re here?” Tommy glanced at you before dropping his gaze to the ground, rolling the golf ball around with his foot mindlessly. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. No, I’ll have her come pick you two up. Yep. Alright, see ya in a bit.” 

You straightened up against the cart as he approached you, ready to do whatever it was he’d ask. 

“Joel’s here?” You asked, sliding into the cart preemptively. 

“Yeah, that sonuva bitch decided to stop by after all. Him and Ellie are waitin’ at the clubhouse, would you mind swingin’ to pick them up?” 

“Ellie?” You cocked your head slightly, but slid through to the driver’s seat nonetheless. 

“Ah, forgot you haven’t met ‘er yet,” Tommy said, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed down to where your thick thighs spilled out onto the seat, your panties just barely covered by the white pleated golf skirt that rode up when you sat. You immediately averted your gaze, turning the key to the cart and feeling it rumble to life. “Ellie’s Joel’s daughter. I think she’s about your age…she’s great n’ all, honors student in college, yadda yadda…y’all might actually hit it off.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said playfully. If only he knew what he was actually implying to your sapphic brain. He just smirked at you, tapping the hood of the cart twice before walking back to the tee. “See ya in a bit,” he called over his shoulder as you drove away. You weren’t too far from the clubhouse, as Tommy had barely gotten started on his round, so it was a quick little drive over. The warm breeze tickled the baby hairs peeking from beneath your visor, and helped to cool the bare skin of your arms. 

Joel was waiting for you in the cart-turnaround at the back of the clubhouse when you arrived, and gave you a little wave as you turned around the corner. You waved back, putting on your best smile and doe eyes as you pulled up in front of him standing alone with two golf club bags at his sides. He smiled politely when you came to a stop, jumping out quickly to retrieve his bags when he started trying to put them on the cart himself. 

“Joel, you know you don’t have to worry about all that. Not when I’m around, at least.” You smirked at him as you picked up the two bags of heavy clubs with ease, loading them onto the back of the cart.

“C’mon now, I can’t even attempt to be a gentleman?” He joked, tipping his visor at you playfully. You giggled, exaggeratedly. 

“Oh, but of course, Mr. Miller. My apologies.” You pretended to curtsey for him, just barely lifting the hem of your short skirt as to not completely expose yourself—but surely you didn’t miss the completely conspicuous way his eyes traveled down the expanse of your curves, from the way your breasts practically spilled from your tank top, to the small patch of exposed skin at your midriff, all the way down to the way your white skirt flowed as you crossed your legs. I mean, who wouldn’t look, honestly? He huffed out a laugh and you took that as your cue to slide back into the driver’s seat, and Joel leaned a strong arm against the roof of the cart. 

“Tommy mentioned your daughter? Is she—” 

“Ready, Dad?” You could only assume Ellie, his daughter, suddenly appeared behind Joel, effectively shutting you up and quite literally taking your breath away. You at least had the decency to choke quietly, using Joel’s surprise as an excuse to turn your head away, bringing your fist to your mouth for a moment as you cleared your throat and tried to regain your composure. You felt the cart dip to your right, so you turned back, expecting to see Joel sliding in next to you—but no, it just had to be his daughter. His beautiful, angelically-built daughter with a perfect smile and perfect jade eyes and somehow even more perfect hands, which she was using to grip the stability bar at the front of the cart as she slid in next to you. 

You felt stunned, could do nothing but pathetically stare at her with your mouth slightly agape as you heard Joel’s phone ringing distantly, somewhere in the back of your mind, even though you knew he was sat right behind you. A half smile made the corner of Ellie’s lip twitch ever so slightly, but she looked away quickly, leaving you practically lusting at the sight of her side profile. 

“You gonna take us to Tommy? Or just sit there and stare like you ain’t got nothin’ in your brain?” Her voice was like pure sex; rich and modulated, no real Southern accent like her father, but his vernacular had definitely rubbed off. It was really hard to not show that her words were heading straight to your lower half, your thighs pressing together just inconspicuously enough that you’d probably be able to play it off if she really noticed. You had to at least look embarrassed, averting your gaze so that you could turn the small engine over. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. Tommy speaks very highly of you.” You chose to ignore her little comment, focusing instead on trying to treat Ellie just like every member you’d had the pleasure of serving. 

And oh boy, would it be a pleasure to serve Ellie. 

“M’sure he does,” Ellie all but laughed, leaning back so that her legs spread apart across the seat, her left knee getting dangerously close to your legs. You swallowed thickly, trying to watch the movement of her tattooed arm from your peripheral as she slung it over the back of the seat. You could tell it was a natural response, that she probably man-spreaded like this everywhere—but some sick and perverted part of your mind wanted to believe that she was doing it for you, that she wanted you to see her act so…

“Eyes on the fucking road, sweetheart,” she said, and it was quiet. But the weight of it made you nearly squeak—how long had you been looking over at her?—narrowly avoiding a decently-sized rock that would have gotten easily stuck in the small tires of the golf cart. “This your first day on the job or somethin’?” 

And Ellie was so fucking casual with it. Like she hadn’t even meant to degrade you. You stammered a bit, and you swear you could feel her eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. Tommy appeared suddenly as you reached the small summit of the course hill, and all you could do was huff quietly as you approached, again choosing to ignore the way she taunted you like it was second nature. Luckily, she either didn’t hear or chose to ignore you, but she didn’t say another word as you pulled up near Tommy, just as he was taking a long swing with his driver.

“You see that shit, Joel?” He asked as he squinted out at the ball flying through the air with impressive speed. “Might actually beat ya this time, whatcha think?” 

“Yeah, yeah, you just got a head start, that’s all.” You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice as you quickly jumped out of the cart and ran to grab his clubs for him, and Ellie’s, too. He was finishing up his phone call as he took the bag from you, giving you a small nod before you turned to face Ellie. Now that you were standing practically face to face, you had to stop yourself from looking her up and down. Or you at least had to find a way to be discreet about it…and that was one thing you were, was quick on your feet. 

“These are some nice clubs,” you praised, using it as an excuse to look down at her, playing it off like you were examining them. Her feet were clad in an expensive pair of golfing shoes, her toned calves running into thighs covered in a simple, black, five inch inseam short. You gulped inconspicuously, as your eyes quickly moved past her crotch. Surely, you were hallucinating that…bulge. 

“Aw, so you can be helpful when you wanna be,” Ellie snickered, taking the bag away from you with such quickness that your arm was left hovering in the air. You shook your head slightly as if to shake the thoughts away, and dared to look her in the eyes once more. 

“I sure do try my best,” you said, and it wasn’t meant to be bratty, it really wasn’t—but Ellie’s smirk quickly soured, and she huffed and slung the bag over her shoulder. 

“Get me some water, will you?” She jutted her chin toward the cooler attached to the back of the cart, and you could only nod, instantly following her blunt command like you were a puppet on her string. What was she doing to you?

Ellie wasn’t always an asshole, you see. No, no, society made her this way. Have you ever noticed how rich kids aren’t friends with the poor ones, or vice versa? It’s because they can never find any middle ground, no similarities, no common interests. The kids going to public school were happy with a day trip to the city as a vacation; meanwhile, Ellie was missing weeks of her prissy private school education to fly halfway around the world on a business trip with her dad. 

And now, she was a rich girl going to a pretentious university. But she didn’t like the fact that people saw her this way: an asshole with her nose always pointing up; getting clocked as a rich girl as soon as anyone with eyes looked at the way she was dressed; never knowing if someone liked her for her, instead of just for her money. People were going to look at her and see ‘rich, pretentious asshole’ painted on her forehead no matter what—so why not embrace it? Why not put on this stupid little act that everyone else in her social class seemed to? 

And that’s where the soul-sucking began, Ellie realized. That’s how the bratty, entitled kids from her high school ended up just like their evil, entitled parents. She didn’t want to be this way. It just…happened. 

Nevertheless, Ellie pulled the Nike-swooshed visor off of her head for a moment to run her fingers through her reddish-brown tresses, trying to shake away the heat of the sun. You couldn’t help but to let your eyes linger on the way her tattooed arm flexed as she did so, nearly tripping over your own feet as you brought her a completely unnecessary plastic bottle full of water. 

“You know, they make reusable water bottles, nowadays,” you blurted out, your sarcasm taking over momentarily, the heat nearly making you forget where you were. You were at work. Of course rich people don’t care about using plastic water bottles. Ellie raised a curious brow, perfectly groomed with a small scar parting the arch. She didn’t even have to say anything—she just stood there, giving you that…look, and your eyes widened in surprise. She snatched the water bottle from your hand with such force that you flinched, the plastic crinkling almost louder than the sound of Tommy and Joel’s banter.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” you found yourself saying, eyes immediately falling to the ground. As she took a swig of water, Ellie couldn’t help but to notice this, and file it away in her brain for another time—the way she didn’t even have to say anything to you, and you were already so…

submissive. 

“Don’t call me Miss,” she said simply as she screwed the cap back on. You nodded, folding your hands together in front of you before looking back up to catch her gaze. 

“Yes, Ellie,” and her name came out like a drawl naturally…swear. The syllables rolled off your tongue and straight to your lower half, took you to a place so heavenly—your panties were growing wetter by the second, the press of your plush thighs getting tighter as you watched her expression. Her eyes darkened momentarily (or did she just squint at the sun?), and her posture shifted (maybe she got a cramp?). It was like she was trying to read your mind, and you were pretty sure she practically could as you watched her pretty pink tongue dart out to catch the wetness that remained on her lips—you found yourself salivating at the sight, having to quite literally force your jaw to stay closed. 

She was an asshole, sure—but that doesn’t mean you still don’t want to fuck her. 

“My clubs?” Ellie broke you out of your little fantasy by invading your presence, so close you were suddenly overwhelmed. She had set her clubs down in front of her when she took a drink of water, and it was now suddenly your job to hand them to her. “Do we need to clean out your ears or somethin’? Jesus.” She was shaking her head, feigning disappointment, and you stammered. No, no, you’ve never had an unsatisfied member and you weren’t going to start now. Especially not with Ellie. You felt the urge to please her, go above and beyond and make sure she never had to lift a finger—but she was scoffing and reaching to grab her clubs before you could get out another word. 

“No, no, no Mi-” You caught yourself before you made yet another embarrassing mistake. For the second time. “Ellie. My apologies, I’ll follow you.” It was a bit proper, maybe a bit much…but you had to make it up to her, you had to. Whatever it takes. 

“I want my driver first. You do know which one that is, right?” And she was nasty, voice laced with venom as she called over her shoulder. When did she start walking away? And should your pussy be throbbing over that? You didn’t even respond as you lugged her bag over your shoulder, trailing behind her to catch up to Tommy and Joel. They were still bantering away when you approached, cursing and laughing and hitting each other, like brothers do. 

“Look who finally made it,” Ellie’s eyes rolled when you caught up, so quickly you almost missed it. You were like, fifteen steps behind her, there’s no way that was called for. You stayed silent as you unloaded the clubs off your shoulder, doing your best not to show any hint of negative emotion on your face, propping the bag up before pulling Ellie’s driver out. It was long, and heavy, like all the other expensive ones you’ve seen. All of her clubs looked shiny, you noted, like she had either never used them, or just got them polished. Either of which could be possible, as you’d yet to see her play. She grabbed it from you hastily, and you felt that familiar throb beneath your skirt. Get a fucking grip.

“Gotcha’ all set up here, kiddo,” Joel said enthusiastically, and Ellie didn’t even fake a smile. So, you just watched her take the shot. Boy, did you watch her take the shot. 

Watched the way she got so serious—okay, somehow more serious than before—the way she shuffled her feet behind the tee as she lined up her shot, the way her arms flexed and veins popped as she straightened out her arms, prepping to take the swing. The way she took a split second to glance back while she rotated her body to shoot you the most sickeningly devious wink before sending the ball flying across the course.

Tommy whistled and Joel offered a few strong claps. 

You couldn’t be quite sure that you wouldn’t melt into a puddle right here in the middle of the course. What is it about Ellie, your favorite member’s niece, that was getting you so worked up? For fucks sake, golf isn’t even a sexy sport! It couldn’t have at least been basketball, or something a bit more…normal that did it for you?

Instead, you got Ellie, in all her glory. Strong calves turned away from you as she watched her ball cut through the air, higher and faster and better than you’d ever seen Tommy or Joel hit. Not that they’d ever admit that. 

Your thoughts were getting dirtier by the minute as you watched Ellie play. You felt like a baby deer following her around the course, knees wobbling every time she barked another command at you. 

“Um, my water, please?”

“I said five iron, not six.”

“My ball is dirty. What ‘er you even good for?

You were slipping by the minute, letting your eyes linger over her frame a little longer each time you glanced her way. No way she wasn’t catching on. 

“Take a fucking picture, Princess, it’ll last longer.”

Oops.

And when you pulled back up to the clubhouse, it took everything in you to not just run off. Your heart was beating out of your chest, panties completely ruined with your slick, oh my god you were fucking perverted. You carefully helped Tommy, Joel, and Ellie load up their gear into their respective cars, keeping your mouth shut so as to not squeak out an embarrassing sound. In fact, you couldn’t be quite sure you wouldn’t just moan out loud if Ellie so much as even glanced in your direction unprompted. 

“Great game today, guys.” You smiled sweetly at Joel and Tommy who were now both leaned up against the side of the building, taking refuge from the sun. 

“Well thank ya, sweetheart! Glad you got a chance to meet Ellie today, too,” Joel smiled at you, reaching out to squeeze at your shoulder. “Ellie, why don’t you say thank you to our lovely caddy girl today?” He didn’t use your name, because why would he? You were a convenience to them. Now that you thought about it, Ellie probably didn’t even know your name. Let alone care. 

Her green eyes bore into you for a moment before she grunted out something that sounded suspiciously like a thank you, before tipping her head back to swallow the last of her water. The sight of her throat contracting had you practically running away to do something so devious, you might have to get down on your knees and pray before you went to sleep. 

And Ellie was only human, after all. She was curious, about a lot of things. But more specifically? At this moment? She was wondering where you were scurrying off to. Of course, you weren’t as good about hiding what physical reactions you’d been having to her for the past hour as you thought—the way you’d squirm whenever she caught you staring at her, or how your mouth opened ever so slightly, ever so submissively when she berated you. 

So wherever you were going must be good. 

And oh, was it good. 

Ellie couldn’t believe her eyes, as she trailed behind you. Each time you’d look back, she’d be sure to hide just perfectly out of your view around corners, behind tables….she couldn’t let you know how curious she was, no. Because you see, she was actually good about hiding these sorts of things. She was an asshole, but it wasn’t for no reason. She just couldn’t let you know how the sight of you practically drove her insane—the soft curve of your hips beneath that skirt, the rolls on your belly that led to the plush skin of your breasts that bounced so perfectly with every step you took. That would just ruin the fun of it. My god, were you a sight for Ellie’s sore eyes. 

So now, Ellie watched as you were slipping into a supply closet. Okay…? Perhaps, you had just forgotten something, then. Needed to grab something for another member, or left your bag in there before you started your shift. Nothing interesting. 

But no, Ellie was close enough now that you were safely behind the door, that she could hear the lock ‘click’ softly from inside the supply closet. 

Oh. Oh— she thought. 

And she couldn’t believe her ears, when she heard the faintest sigh. One that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than relief. 

And yeah, you were relieved. 

You couldn’t take it anymore—the last hour you spent with Ellie was absolute torture. Letting her talk down on you, and treat you like you were nothing to her…it shouldn’t have turned you on. You should be upset, embarrassed, angry, furious even. But you were wet. 

Holy fucking shit, you were wet. Your fingers trailed down your tummy as you leaned against the wall in the dark closet, barely illuminated by a tiny window at the top of one wall. Your breath was shaky, eyes closed as you lifted your short skirt, shoving your panties to the side before you felt the top of your fingers graze past your clit, sliding further and further in between your slick folds, so easily, so so easily. 

“Oh!” you caught yourself gasping as you played with yourself, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as a sickly, obscene wet sound began to fill the space of the small closet. This was so wrong…touching yourself at work, thinking about Ellie, so fucking desperate that you had to run away and relieve even just an ounce of the tension you felt inside. 

It only got worse when all you could think about was Ellie’s long fingers, the way they gripped the golf clubs so tenderly, and how you wished so badly that you could replace yours with hers as they slipped inside of you. Your head fell back against the metal rack behind you, and you had no right mind to react to what should have been pain. Instead, you pictured Ellie standing in front of you, and how her eyes would darken with lust as she pressed her body against yours, her hot breath fanning across your face as she fucked her fingers up into you…

And Ellie was going crazy, couldn’t help herself from getting closer and closer to that supply closet door. There was no one in this wing of the club, surely no one would walk by and see her with her ear pressed against a supply closet door…right? It mostly didn’t matter, as something deranged and perverted was consuming her brain. She found herself quite literally pressed against the door, she couldn’t help herself, she had to hear the way you moaned softly and gasped while you worked yourself closer and closer to your release. 

“Oh…oh Ellie!” You breathed wantonly, and Ellie could have cum on the spot. The wet sounds of your ministrations were getting faster and louder as your fingers pressed in and out of you with such force the rack behind you was beginning to rattle. Had you been in your right mind, you should have been mortified. You should have stopped right then and there, pulled yourself together and went home to the privacy of your own home and taken a long, cold shower. But all you could see was that stupid fucking smirk on Ellie’s face as she’d whisper: 

Just fucking cum for me, baby. 

And so you did, slapping your free hand over your mouth to muffle what surely would have been far too loud of a noise as you reached your peak, your body trembling almost violently as the high washed over you. 

Ellie was positively reeling, her ear still pressed to the door almost comically as she listened to you come undone. If anyone were to walk by at this moment it would look utterly suspicious, her all alone in the long hallway, surely looking suspect in her current position. Not to mention she should probably pull away before you had a chance to swing the door open, as she would have absolutely no excuse as to what she was doing here. 

Instead, Ellie continued to listen to your labored breaths as you came down, her pink lips parted softly as she felt her own wetness growing more and more unbearable beneath her shorts. Hell, had the purple silicone she had strapped to her hips been real, there would be absolutely no hiding what your sounds had done to her. She should move away, racing thoughts of oh my fucking god, and I wonder how easy it would be to make her sound like that again, but also to go back to Dad and go the fuck home, goddammit, this is absolutely sick, even for you and— 

“Ellie?!” 

She nearly fell forward from the weight of her body on the door when it swung inwards to reveal your absolutely mortified face, and even more terrified voice. Her eyes were like saucers, surely mirroring yours as you gaped at her, one hand still on the door to leave the possibility of slamming it right back in her face in humiliation. No, no no no no no way this was happening to you. 

Ellie’s mouth opened and closed a few times as she staggered backwards in her surprise, leaving you both just staring each other down in what was surely the most awkward encounter either of you had ever had in your entire life. Her eyes quickly shifted downwards and she took another step back. 

“I- I was just- yeah, okay. Bye.” 

And she was gone. 

-- 

pt 2??????

[angelpuns]

50Au Part 11

“FUCKING! I CAN’T BELIEVE- I'M GONNA KILL HIM WHEN WE GET OUT IF HERE!” Donnie growled, summoning some sort of definitely-too-big-for-the-lair-gun. 

Raph wasn't always the most cautious before, but even he knew that wasn't a good idea. 

“Dee, put that thing away! You're gonna blow the whole lair to smithereens!” He grabbed the back of Donnie's shell like he was a kitten, Donnie hissing and clawing in a much less cute way than a kitten would. 

“PUT ME DOWN RAPH I'M GONNA KILL THAT BLUE BASTARD!” 

“HEY!” 

Donnie stopped struggling so much when Raph raised his voice, which Raph tried not to think too hard about. It made a lump of guilty claw its way up his throat, but Raph cleared it away and put on his ‘ Big Brother Voice’. 

“ Look, I'm pissed at him too, but we can't go bustin' outta here willy-nilly and bust up the lair, ‘kay?” He gave Donnie a look, the softshell grimacing and reluctantly putting the gun away, “ You worked too damn hard sprucin’ this place up and makin’ it home again to just blast it to pieces. Now-”

He set Donnie back down and cracked his knuckles, “ watch your big brother do his thing”

Raph grabbed two of the bars and began to pull. He admittedly wasn't as strong as he used to be, but in his defense he'd been recovering from a lot of shit, so give him a break. 

Still, it shouldn't have been this much of a strain. Where the hell did Leo find this thing!?

“ Not to be a pessimist, Raph, but I don't think its working,” Mikey muttered, leaning over his shoulder to examine the bars, “where did he even get this? There's no way we had it lying around the lair, right?” 

Raph let out a grumble, “c’mon…Raph…Raph can bend ‘em easy,” 

He strained and pulled against the bars, but they were just a little too tough for him. 

There was a ker-chunk and a click and Raph thought maybe he had done it- until he turned and saw that Donnie had summoned some sort of saw tool. 

“ Close your eyes, gentleman. I didn't bring extra safety goggles,” Was the only warning they got before Donnie flicked his goggles down over his eyes and began cutting into the metal. 

It surprisingly worked. Raph looked down at his hands, scarred and rough from both injury and fighting. Damn. Maybe he really was gettin’ weaker. 

It took nearly an hour, but Donnie managed to cut a hole big enough for them to squeeze through. And thankfully none of them ended up getting scratched, cause that was a one way ticket to a tetanus shot. 

“ I was startin' to think that metal was too strong to break,” Raph admitted, chuckling a bit to try and tame the unease he felt. The lingering worry of him becoming weak was like a stone in his stomach, weighing the moment down despite it being s victory. 

“ Well, it was mystic,” Donnie started for the lab, Mikey following behind him and asking what the new, new plan was. Since they had technically had,like, four plans fail now. 

Raph breathed out a momentary sigh of relief. Mystic. Of course. So he wasn't becoming useless after all. 

He followed Donnie and Mikey unto the lab to hear the new, new plan, Donnie already rambling about a hundred miles a minute and cursing Leo out every few words. 

Raph, while he was definitely worried out of his mind, found that he too wanted to grab Leo and shake him til he understood what was going on. 

But of course, he wasn't gonna do that. He'd be happy just to see his face at this point. 

----

Wanted to write a fun silly part. Yes they have issues but also...whimsy.

I think this randomly writing and posting without editing and it being super super unofficial as an au is good for me probably. Let's me fuck around cause there's no stakes for me emotionally. Unless we start to like it too much then I'll probably take it too seriously like I end up doing for everything

Also the only part I have a solid idea for I can't even write yet cause I accidentally made too much lead up and I gotta finish out this first section smfh. I wanna write that part so bad but because this is so spontaneous/unplanned idk what's gonna happen between now and that plot point so :/

Part 1 | Part 10 | Part 11

[sineala]

Hi Sine,

You know comics much better than I do. Where does Bucky and/or Steve reading the Hobbit come from? Is that just fannon or is it from comics?

thanks so much

The short answer is that MCU Bucky has canonically read The Hobbit (as established in the FATWS show), and 616 Steve has canonically been a Tolkien fan since the early Avengers comics. We see him reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy over the course of a recent series.

I brought panels!

The main piece of evidence that 616 Steve is a Tolkien fan is that he explicitly says so. Here in Avengers #46, Pietro has suggested to Steve that they should go to a baseball game and Steve says he'll go as soon as he finishes this chapter of Tolkien. "I always was a sucker for far-out fantasy," he explains.

This image, which is generally the one you will see circulating, is a detail from this larger panel:

The Lord of the Rings novels were originally published in the mid-50s in both the UK and US, but -- as various reference sites will tell you -- they didn't really take off in the US until 1965, when Ace Books published unauthorized paperback editions of the novels, which then meant that Ballantine Books went and put out actual authorized paperback versions, which became massively massively popular, particularly among college students; LotR finally hit the NYT bestseller list in late 1966, a decade after its publication. I mention this because this issue of Avengers, as you can probably guess from the slang, is from 1967, which is when LotR would still have been riding the wave of extreme popularity. IIRC, 1967 is about when Marvel Comics also was starting to get popular among college students (as opposed to children), so it makes sense that they're trying to be cool and culturally-relevant to the college kids. So of course Captain America's going to read far-out fantasy.

(There are references in other comics to Steve clearly liking SF/F books and movies -- like, he reads pulp SF in MA:A -- but this is when we see him reading Tolkien.)

So, as far as I know, for about fifty years, this was the only canon reference to Steve being a Tolkien fan, but then Kurt Busiek's series The Marvels came out in 2021. (This is a twelve-issue series that has nothing to do with the 1994 Busiek & Ross miniseries Marvels. Comics names are just confusing.) If you're familiar with Kurt Busiek's comics writing, you know that he is really into putting comics references into his work. Sure, a lot of comics writers do that, but Busiek in particular does it in such a way that you wouldn't necessarily catch it if you didn't know it was a reference, but if you do, you know exactly why it's there. Like, there's bit at the end of Avengers v3 #1 where the Avengers are being magically teleported; the narrator tells us that the last thing Steve thinks is that Iron Man would hate this. The issue never explains why Steve thinks this. But if you're an Iron Man fan, you know that Tony hates magic; "I hate magic" is, in fact, a statement he has repeatedly made for decades. So if this happened to Tony, he would think "I hate magic." And it makes perfect sense that Steve would know Tony would think this. So a lot of Busiek's work has little canon references like that.

So, yeah, in The Marvels, Steve is very quietly, in the background of the series, reading Tolkien.

In The Marvels #1, we see Steve preparing to make a space-jump from orbit. While he's waiting for the green light, he's reading The Return of the King; he then hands the book to the person next to him and asks them to save his place.

Here's a close-up:

You might at this point wonder if he's still reading this book later in the series. Actually, this particular scene is set -- as the page tells us -- ten days in the future, so the entire rest of The Marvels actually predates this moment. So as we go through the series, we do see that he is actually reading the whole trilogy!

A little later in The Marvels #1, we see Steve and Carol hanging out in a park eating delicious sandwiches:

But check out what Steve is reading:

Yep, it's Fellowship. So here, ten days in the past, Steve is reading the first book. Presumably rereading it; I suspect, given that this is all because of the reference in Avengers #46, that he's supposed to have read it before.

Does he also read The Two Towers, you might ask? He does! Here in The Marvels #5, that's what he's reading:

Close-up:

He blew through the whole trilogy in, like, ten days. While also saving Earth! Go him. That's a pretty quick reread even if you're not saving Earth.

So, yes, 616 Steve is canonically a Tolkien fan, and a fantasy fan in general. Hope that helps.

I don't know if there's any evidence for 616 Bucky being a Tolkien fan, but MCU Bucky, in episode two of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, has a conversation with Sam in which he references Gandalf; when Sam is surprised that Bucky has heard of Gandalf, Bucky tells him he read The Hobbit in 1937.

As this article points out, this is actually a really weird claim for Bucky to make. While 616 Steve is reading Tolkien in 1967, at the time Tolkien's work became wildly popular in the US -- this was not the situation in 1937. Tolkien was not, at this time, a world-famous fantasy writer; he was a philologist at Oxford, specializing in Anglo-Saxon, and he was a guy who had just published this children's book, The Hobbit. The Hobbit was in fact not published in the US until 1938; 1937 is its original year of publication in the UK, and its first print run was not large. So in order for Bucky to have read it in 1937 in the US, he has to have read an imported copy at some point in the last three months of 1937, since it was only published at the end of September. So make of that what you will. I mean, my guess is that the MCU writers thought it would be a great "gotcha" moment, looked up when The Hobbit was published, and didn't think that hard.

In case you are wondering whether the Tolkien references in The Marvels were inspired by the MCU -- as you can see a Steve & Bucky themed article asserting -- I am pretty sure that Busiek was actually inspired by Avengers #46. The FATWS episode in question was released on March 26, 2021. And while The Marvels #1 was not released until a month after that, on April 28, 2021, The Marvels is actually a series that got pushed way, way back due to the pandemic. The series was originally announced in February 2020, and the announcement included, as a preview, the page of Steve and Carol eating sandwiches in which Steve is clearly reading Tolkien. So this exact page existed over a year before the FATWS release, and was probably created several months before that. So, yeah, despite what clickbait articles will tell you, I don't think Kurt Busiek was making a cute Stucky reference; I think he was being a big ol' Silver Age Avengers nerd.

But, yeah, anyway, 616 Steve has canonically been a Tolkien fan since 1967.

However, some Marvel comics writers don't actually know that. In JMS' recent Cap run, in issue #12, another character makes a LotR reference when Steve hands him a magic ring, and Steve asks if that's from Star Wars:

This is deeply weird, not just because we now have multiple comics supporting that Steve is a Tolkien fan, but also because it asserts that Steve might actually think it was a Star Wars reference. And that's weird because in issue #8, four issues earlier, JMS has written Steve quoting The Empire Strikes Back and saying it's one of his favorite movies:

Even if you accept the idea that Steve isn't a Tolkien fan, because JMS clearly did not know this deep-cut canon reference, Steve would presumably know that this was not part of his favorite movie! His favorite movie that the guy who wrote this very comic has just established as his favorite movie! I just. What. No.

So, yeah, the only way this works at all, I think, is if Steve is just trolling these kids by asking if it's Star Wars. It's one of the several things from this JMS run that are dead to me.

In conclusion, yes, 616 Steve is a Tolkien fan, and MCU Bucky presumably is as well.

[for-a-longlongtime]

WIP on Wednesday Thursday

Well, first of all, my WIP folder is currently looking like this:

But fuck it, we ball right?

I got tagged by @din-cognito and @avastrasposts this week, and @the-blind-assassin-12 and @lotusbxtch last week, so I've got some catching up to do! I've been all over the place working on different docs, so you're getting a few tidbits this week.

I've posted snippets of this before (and lo! a hozier title! I'm gonna have to change that though because the story ended up going differently than planned), and after it having been on hold for months, the pieces are coming together at last.

let me wrap my teeth around the world (working title) | Santiago x Frankie “You think we did the right thing there?” Santiago says, staring at the ceiling as he avoids Frankie's eyes. Unsure he really wants to hear the answer, because of how likely it is that he is the only person who can’t answer that with a decisive yes. Fish was the only one on their team - besides Tom - who'd had a family to take care of, who needed that money probably more than any of them did because of his pilot license being suspended. “I mean... Following his lead with the money.” No answer. The deafening silence lasts for much too long. Santi grimaces as he closes his eyes. Shit. Why did he even ask? He keeps fucking up like this.

Next we've got a WIP that I haven't worked on in a bit (it wanted to go on break, bummerrr) but that I'm hoping to pick up very soon.

Untitled | Reynaldo x Matthew It’s those large hands that draw Matt’s attention first.  That, and the golden chain partially but-not-quite hiding under that checkered golf shirt, glistening every now and then in the bright afternoon sun. It’s almost as bright as the gleam in Sophie’s eyes when she throws back a shot and listens to the older man introduce himself as Reynaldo. Matt is only vaguely aware of the prepared talk that the man launches into, a few words standing out, such as ‘exclusive members only’ and ‘the best golf club in all of Arizona’. Things that everybody wanted to hear, and that gave Sophie all the more opportunity to coo at the man how this was ‘one of the best premium golf clubs’ she’d ever been at. It probably isn’t all that premium though, considering the Scotts and Dale had been able to book this place on a budget. And truth be told, it’s still unclear to Matt why they are here on a ‘vow renewal bachelor staycation’, which seemed a contradiction on its own. Or even why Sophie showed up here, acting like one of the guys, just long enough until she found someone who was willing to give her the attention she was clearly looking for. He’d seen the pattern before, especially with the girls on the Kel-squad. None of that matters though, he tries to remind himself as they make their way up to the golf course. He’s simply glad to get away from Kelsey for a couple of days - not just for some peace and quiet, but also so he doesn’t have to wonder if she’s talking to Domingo every time she smiles at an incoming message on her phone.

Finally, this last one is still in the VERY early stages, but ngl... I'm excited. Thank you to the folks who encouraged me to keep going with it! This is hella out of my comfort zone but what the hell, that's where the fun is, right? This one is going to more filth than I'll probably be able to shove into an one shot... so it may end up becoming two or three parts. We'll see.

for glory (working title) | Harry Castillo Harry is speechless, shock painted over his features, and it takes him a moment to find his voice. "You wouldn't dare to," he finally manages to say, and what had previously been surprise in his eyes has now flipped into unmistakeable rage. "Mmm, is that so, Harry? What - you think I've got morals or something?"

EDIT: WAIT!! I forgot to add one final excerpt! This is from a yet to be decided chapter from Joel and Marcus Moreno' story. I spent way too much time trying to find the right face claim moments for them at different ages, and this is what I settled on for their mid-twenties:

Joel in his mid-twenties (a.k.a. Zach Wellison in Brothers & Sisters)

Marcus Moreno in his late twenties (a.k.a. looking like Comandante Veracruz from the Burn Notice movie).

Yes, I'm as shocked as y'all are about the latter, but I promise it'll make sense. As for the excerpt:

Untitled series | Joel Miller x Marcus Moreno Marcus folds his arms as he leans back against the wall, looking every bit the charismatic guy most people know him to be. But Joel has known him a long time and can see where the varnish has cracked, and the parts he so desperately tries to cover up.  "So you don't like it. How I look. You don't like me anymore," Marcus says after a moment, and there’s something about all that combativeness on display - as well as the bitter irony of those words - that hits Joel much harder than he was prepared for. He doesn’t have the same defense system that Marcus clearly is equipped with; the mask that he can put on and off so easily after years of practice. So he just shakes his head. "Think it's been too long since you've had someone push back against you, M." "The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Joel tries to hide his sigh by drinking from his coffee, but the beverage has gone cold, the stale taste of it now bitter on his tongue in a way that feels oddly specific to this situation. "Don't pick a fight with me because you're unhappy, Marcus," he says softly.

I know a lot of y'all already posted a WIP Wednesday, so I'm just gonna link a couple of folks, no pressure as always (apologies if you've already made your weekly WIP update):

@perotovar @sin-djarin @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem @qveerthe0ry

@letsgobarbs @gothcsz @milla-frenchy @guiltyasdave @oliveksmoked

@magpiepills @arcanefox207 @reallyrallyauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @clubsoft

@romanarose @the-blind-assassin-12

[lokibutts]

[Note from Lokibutts: I usually don’t write fics, but wanted to try out since I also write chat bots. So be gentle omg. I didn’t edit it since I just had to get this out of my head. Also still trying to figure out how to format on here LOL. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.]

Coming Home (F!Reader (Bambi) x Bucky Barnes)

It had been a long week. Bucky had gone from New York to Madripoor to Louisiana with little to no sleep. His bones and muscles ached, his body screaming at him to rest but he couldn’t do rest just yet. He was almost home which means he’s so much closer to being back in the arms of Y/N, who is probably cooking his favorite meal and making sure her had an ice cold pack of beer in the fridge for him.

God he had missed her, had thought of her every second he was away: Had she eaten today? Did she have a shitty day at work? Was she missing him?

What a stupid question, of course she missed him. If the string of texts asking him when he came home didn’t prove that, he didn’t know what would. There was one particular text that set his blood boiling when he opened it.

It was a picture of her in front of mirror in a dressing room, showing off a new bathing suit she was debating buying. Nat told her it looked fine, but she had wanted Bucky’s opinion and fuck did he wish it was them in that dressing room. She had chosen a high-waist two piece bathing suit, the top looking more like a halter top that showed just enough of her midsection to tease the former assassin. What really caught his eyes was her thighs. The bathing suit just skin tight enough to leave an indent of flesh where the hem and her thigh met, wishing he was there to peel off the bottom of her bathing suit to bury his face between those perfectly thick thighs and remind her how obsessed he was with her taste.

The sound of the cab driver telling him they were at his destination took him out of his thoughts, quickly throwing the driver a couple bills before practically running out of the cab and straight to the call box outside her apartment. His finger pressing the speaker button multiple times to get her attention. He was a man starved and only she could satiate his hunger.

“Come on, Bambi. Buzz me in.” He murmured to himself as he kept pressing the button, the buzzer noise more bothering him one bit.

A sudden crackling came from the call box followed by a voice that sounded like music to his ears even if she was saying ‘who the fuck is it?’ in an angry tone. He wasn’t worried though, he was a man on a mission and that mission was making sure his little Bambi pulls his hair as she comes undone on his tongue. He could already feel himself getting hard at the thought of it.

“It’s me. Let me up.” His voice was hoarse, a mixture of desperation and fatigue as a Cheshire grin formed on his face when he heard her respond with a “Bucky?” followed by the buzzing of the door opening. He didn’t even bother taking the elevator to the 5th floor, instead choosing the stairs since it’ll be faster. Thank god for the super solider serum, or he’d be winded by the time he got to the top.

And there she was. A big smile on her face as she stood at the top of the stairs ready to greet Bucky with open arms. A groan leaving him when he realized she was in a simple little sundress. She must have had plans today, but he’d make sure she’d cancel them.

“There’s my Bambi.” was the only thing she heard as Bucky scooped her up in his arms and over his shoulder. His hand giving her ass a harsh slap as he made his way inside, kicking the door behind him and making his way towards her room. She was the prey and he was the predator at this moment, Bucky tossing her onto the bed before crashing his lips into hers. His hands going under her dress to peel off her underwear, another groan leaving him as he balled them up in his hands and felt how wet they were. It hadn’t even been 2 minutes.

“I missed you so much. It’s so good to be home.” His voice a whisper as he attacked her neck with kisses, pushing her dress up over her waist to show off her lower half. Her whimpers and intakes of breath sounded like heaven to him and he couldn’t wait to pull more out of her.

“I swear I’ll give you a gentleman’s hello when we’re done, I just need you now.” He murmured to her as he began to kiss down her neck and chest, hoisting up her leg over his shoulder trailing kisses from her ankles to her thigh. Savoring every taste of her skin and every gasp of his name. His sweet blue eyes never leaving her to burn her flushed looked into his brain. And that’s when she looked down at him with those same doe eyes that earned her the nickname Bambi.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not going to last long, Bambi.” A smile forming on his face as he nipped the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, leaving little love bites on the skin before his breath ghosted over the heaven between her thighs.

“Can I?” His voice was pleading, the look of utter desperation in those blue irises making him look less like an assassin and more like a man utterly obsessed with the woman before him.

[nemaliwrites]

hi hi! do you have any editing tips/anything from your own editing process you could share? for either original work or fanfics. if you don't mind of course haha

hello hello! i certainly do! caveat that my process is always always changing, sometimes from work to work, so i might not always Do all of these, but they're all in my Editing Toolbox forever and ever. and regardless of the plotter/pantser debate (which...i Hate) i think a lot of these processes are adaptable to any workflow!

first, some craft books that i've read and really helped me understand What Editing Is, especially for longer works. Seven Drafts by Allison K Williams was SUPER helpful for me when i first started out and i didn't really understand what a draft was, or what its purpose was. people always talked about draft one vs draft three and i was like ?? what does that mean?? but the ideas she breaks down in this book, along with a ton of good advice, are primarily to break each draft down to address one issue (i.e. the Character draft, the Technical draft, etc). a good way to see each picture instead of getting overwhelmed by the full thing!

Intuitive Editing by Tiffany Yates Martin is probably the BEST editing book i've ever read. if you only read one of these books, i would recommend this one. or if not, she's actually got a self-editing checklist (link here) that is a really helpful reference.

Another one, which you might argue is more process than editing, is Writing into the Dark by Dean Wesley Smith. I've spoken a bit about him before, but I do think this process is worth trying out, especially if the idea of editing as you go or having one clean draft appeals to you (i am a lazy writer, so this appeals to me LOL).

and now, my one single most important editing tip. this sounds so clickbaity, but it genuinely changed my writing and my mindset. and i know you're probably gonna be like ew what the fuck but HEAR ME OUT:

rewrite the entire thing.

i'm completely serious btw. sometimes, if i keep fiddling with the same piece, eventually i end up losing sight of the whole thing and not knowing where i'm going. so (i use scrivener, but this is possible anywhere!) i open a new doc side by side with my old one, start from the beginning, and retype every single word. it is SO helpful in a way that i think rereading a draft doesn't really replicate. so many lil wordings or repetitions that i am able to catch and then fix.

it's also helpful for me mentally bc if there's something that i (lazy) don't like anymore in the first draft, i just don't type it! less work!

i've actually been switching over to handwriting my first drafts more, and the same process applies to typing it up! 10/10 would recommend.

[in-collection]

House of Leaves, by Daniel Z. Danielewski, first published in 2000.

Below the cut, some thoughts on the typeset. Warning for: very long, minor spoilers, pedantic writing, and me talking out of my ass.

House of Leaves, why the typeset is weird and what it creates

House of Leaves, book of genre indeterminate (1), is a cult book that has been talked to death, and I probably won't be saying anything new about it. Still, as a paragon of ergodic literature and of weird typesets, it certainly deserves a place here - and some commentary, for those who will discover it.

First, as it stands to reason we cannot talk about the form without talking about the content, I must confess to you that I did not read this book. I have tried - and am still trying - but so far I have failed. I can still say some words though I am sure they would be different had I actually read the whole thing.

With that said, here is a summary of the story:

The Navidson family moves into a house which they find is bigger on the inside, among other weird quirks. The patriarch takes his camera and films his exploration of it. This documentary became found footage found and described by a man named Zampanò. Zampanò's description was then organized and annotated by a man named Johnny Truant. Johnny's manuscrit was then found and edited by a mysterious editor. And thus the book House of Leaves, by Zampanò and Johnny Truant, was published.

Suffice to say this book is complex and obscure, a layered metafiction written by a fictional character who knows he is writing a book that someone will eventually, hopefully, read one day. On top of this, there are also nearly 200 pages of appendices and over 450 footnotes (2). Some footnotes go nowhere, make no sense, have footnotes of their own, are several pages long, or will talk about something else entirely, creating several narratives happening at the same time. Some passages are in braille, in morse, hidden in codes and puzzles, to the point that the french translator claimed he couldn't have translated the book without help from dedicated fans to decipher those puzzles (3). All over the book, you can find evidence for several possible theories, and all those theories contradict each other, yet they all seem to exist at the same time.

Once again... this book is complex and obscure. I don't think it'd be going too far to say that no one truly understands it, except for the author. It is purposefully obscure, and it is not meant to be understood intellectually (4). Its goal is elsewhere (5); it is a book that exists beyond comprehension.

With all that said, we can talk about the typeset (6). The first thing to say is that the typeset is visually just as obscure as the story. The second thing to say is that it is obviously not random.

The ergodic nature of the book is one very noticeable, physical layer (7). The reader will have to turn the book 90° clockwise, or 180°, or 270°; sometimes they’ll have to use a mirror to read reversed text; sometimes the text is circular - the book requires physical handling and you become acutely aware of the weight and presence of a 700-pages long book. Sometimes the text is dense and requires several minutes to go through the page; sometimes there will be one sentence stretched over two pages for an entire chapter, which requires rapid page flipping (8) - this is rhythm, created by the amount of text on the page, which is of course not random either; when Navidson is exploring the ever-expanding house, the text becomes scattered, with a sense of loneliness, foreboding, unpredictability since each page will be scattered differently. Those passages provide an entirely different reading experience than that of the denser parts.

Moving on, we have another layer created by the typeset: Johnny Truant, when he finds Zampanò's notes, described how they were in bits and pieces, some in tiny unreadable scrawl, some crossed out. He had to make sense of all of this the same way we have to try to make sense of the text on pages where it is literally going in all directions - where to begin? where to go? - or when it is crossed out. Johnny discovers some (most?) of Zampanò’s footnotes are fictitious, as he thinks is the entire Navidson record, and similarly we have to try to decipher what reference is real or fake (9), which one is important or one. There is a mise-en-abyme (10) of our reading experience.

Do not think easily Johnny is here to help us though, because much like Navidson gets lost in the house, much like Johnny loses himself in Zampanò’s notes, his own footnotes will regularly go on pages long tangent about his recent hook-ups, losing us in the plot. This of course is felt in the typeset: after a passage with Navidson that has approximately 6 words per page for about 20 pages, we reach a 5 pages long, as dense as can be footnote where Johnny describes how he got his prostate fingered. Much like the subjects of the two POV could not be more different, we the readers are also getting whiplash from the difference between the two typesetting and the two different behaviors and rhythm they demand. As you can see on the pictures, it's like this for the entire book: there never is any solid ground, neither in the plot or the typeset. The reader is lost in it: since each POV has its typeface, it can create a visual mess where it's hard to find the tiny little superscript indicating a footnote (especially since some are hidden).

Now for another layer (last one, I promise), here is a small spoiler for the ending of the Navidson record. At the end, when Navidson is lost in the dark of the house’s maze, he has a book with him: House of Leaves (11). Obviously, there is no way Navidson could have a book about his unfinished documentary, yet there it is, at the deepest layer of the story within the story; the main character of the one layer who cannot possibly know anything about any other layer has the book, which has everything, the ultimate mise-en-abyme, and this thread which goes through the entire narrative loops back to us. How? Well, what is the house, if not the book?

What is the house, if not the House of Leaves, if not the book, which is House of Leaves? And, well, of course the book is the house of leaves. The book is House of Leaves. But there is a difference between House of Leaves and being the house of leaves, isn’t there? 

There is no doubt the book looks like the house; it is bigger on the inside (12), it is a labyrinth made for people to lose their footing, it is three-dimensional (13), its typesetting is ever changing, unpredictable. 

In turn, the book's effects are like that of the house: you are lost in it, you cannot grasp it, you cannot hope to catch all of its codes and puzzles, doing so would drive you mad, much like it drove Navidson, Zampanò, and Johnny mad.

And even more, surely the house is the main character of the book - every iteration of the word house is in blue - and, much like the hotel in The Shining, it is alive (and driving people mad). Yet it is not a house, not even diegetically: Johnny strongly suspects the documentary to be fake, as do most fans of the book, and so there is no evidence of its existence. The only time the words “House of Leaves” appear are when we realize Navidson inexplicably has a copy, and in a poem in an appendix that reads: “this great blue world of ours / seems a house a leaves / moments before the wind.” Not a house. More like a world. What appears at the end of the book - Yggdrasil, the world tree, also known as the ash tree, while the house apparently sits on Ash Tree lane. And what happens to Navidson’s copy of House of Leaves? He burns it (14) and turns it to ashes (15).

And of course, it is the house of Leaves; leaves like the leaves of a tree, a book full of leaves of paper which, much like the house, is a labyrinth which would drive crazy anyone trying to get to the bottom of it for it is the House (17). And the typeset in all of this; well, could the book be the house without it? If it wasn’t bigger on the inside, if it wasn’t a maze, if it didn’t compel people to try to understand it through its uniqueness? If the first page only credited Danielewski and not Zampanò & Johnny, if it didn’t even try to look like Johnny’s manuscript? 

Without this, the final layer of the story would be broken: the layer which encompasses all other, where the reader that puts their hands on Johnny’s manuscript, finally edited and published by the mysterious Editor, is us - the house of leaves finding its way to us after going through all the layers one by one, before going back to Navidson in a complete, eternal loop, because the house of leaves does not care for logic or for what is possible. It’s a case of the form, beyond being made for the content, also creates the content; without it, the content is incomplete. Without it the book is not (the) House and the loop is broken (18).

------------

(1) Described at times as a horror story, a romance, a satire, a gothic fiction, a postmodern book, etc.

(2) Exactly 450 numbered footnotes, and then more using special characters.

(3) x

(4) When the french translator asked the author to tell him about the book's puzzles and hidden codes for the translation, Danielewski answered "have fun". x

(5) It is explicitly said to not be for us (see the third image of this post): this is not a book we are meant to grasp.

(6) A fun fact: it was typeset by Danielewski himself, who did not trust anyone else with it.

(7) In ergodic literature, nontrivial effort is required to allow the reader to traverse the text. From wikipedia.

(8) And that is without mentioning the several appendices which require you to go to the end of the book and back.

(9) While also figuring the third category, the reference that is real within the story and fake in real life. All of this can prove itself tiresome when some footnotes are two pages' worth of name listed without any breaks.

(10) A story within a story; our story is Johnny’s story. From French, meaning literally “placed into an abyss”.

(11) It is also described as a 736-long pages book, the exact same amount of pages the IRL book has.

(12) And indeed the cover doesn’t reach the edge of the inside pages.

(13) Of course the object that a book is is three-dimensional, but the words inside are too: some passages go through the page (and multiple pages at that). More specifically, in that blue square you can see above in the pictures.

(14) He burns it for light in order to read the book - plenty to say about that though I won’t, this is long enough.

(15) Yggdrasil also defies logic, is a tree of “terror” (etymologically speaking), a tree that holds up the world, that is the center of the world itself. In most beliefs, reaching the center, while illuminating, is a hard journey (16). What does Navidson do, except search for meaning by going to the center of the mysterious house’s labyrinth, which eventually drives him mad?

(16) That sentence is said by Zampanò himself in one of his footnotes.

(17) The Shining could never; it stops at the hotel being alive.

(18) And indeed, all translated versions of the book look the exact same, despite how arduous this makes the translation process. There is also no ebook version, since it needs to be paper (leaves). And though I’m sure somewhere a normie version exists, I doubt you could call it House of Leaves. In a roundabout way, it is also its typesetting which has made the book famous - making sure the two could never be parted at least in people's mind.

[chil-aglia]

𝐃𝐨 𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐦? |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

[The Way He Looks at Me]

Be sure to read the tags on my Ao3 so you guys know what you’re getting yourselves into.

Didn’t have time to draw anything for this chapter but PLEASE feel free to make your own art and idk tag me in it or something. Please I’m begging for fanart for this chapter and series in general. On my knees—

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Edit: Art above was made by @bootyshakerrr9000

ITS SO GOOD THANK YOU! I love him 😭

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Warnings: Blood, graphic detail of body horror, amputation of a limb, vomiting, etc

And of course, a quick thank you to my awesome beta reader @cimmerian1275 (who helped me out a lot with this chapter! Very talented and please, go give them a follow, like their work, etc.

I also welcome @bootyshakerrr9000 to the team! They’re my second beta reader for this series! The three amigos is what we are now—

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Caden eyed his new look, silent and deep in thought. Unable to properly grasp exactly what he was really feeling. Judging from everyone’s reaction, they were pleased, happy for him.

But Caden couldn’t quite understand as to why… why was this something to be happy about? It’s only clothes. Leo wasn’t much help either, just stood there quietly, observing his family and friends.

A sudden clap of Donnie’s hands echoed throughout the room, jolting Caden back to reality as he noticed the way the soft shell cleared his throat, “Well! While yes, this has been fun. We still have work to do. Now shoo! I need Caden to run an errand with me. You hooligans be off with you!” Donnie exclaims, already gathering his brothers, April and Casey into a group and shuffling them towards the door.

No one had time to say anything as Donnie kicked them out, shutting the door on their faces as Caden blinked owlishly at him. Donnie silently sighs, and turns to Caden, striding towards him and grabbing his arms, holding them out.

“Hey—!”

“Hm… it’ll manage. You’re a mutant, you can hold heavy weight.”

What?

Before Caden could even begin to ask what Donnie was even talking about, he let out a confused grunt when Donnie dumped a box into his still outstretched arms, filled with what looked like medical supplies, medicines and other little bits and pieces that were probably important.

“Now, don’t drop those. They’re important” Donnie instructs, walking away to grab some boxes off the counter. Caden huffs, adjusting his grip with the box to be more comfortable, unaware that Donnie gazed over at him as he did so, eyes briefly squinted in analysis for a moment.

He would have thought that Caden might’ve at least struggled a tiny bit with the weight. Those were heavy items in there, and since Caden hadn’t had proper time to fully understand the limits of his body and discover what he can and cannot hold… Donnie let out a tiny ‘huh’ in interest, before shaking his head dismissively.

“Come, we got stuff to deliver.” He announces, walking to the door as it automatically opens, Caden tilted his head at him.

“Where are we going?” He inquires, not budging from his spot, as Donnie looks back over his shoulder at him.

“Med bay dummy. Someone has to keep the Resistance alive.”

Caden narrowed his eyelids more, slowly inching his way over to him, “Okay… but why me? Mikey would have been better, yeah?” He asked, only to be taken aback when Donnie swiftly turned to face him with his full attention. 

“Because child labor!”

Ugh…

Caden shoots him a deadpan look, rolling his eyes and gesturing for Donnie to leave the room first so that he may follow. 

Donnie didn’t say much when he walked in the direction of the med bay, Caden trying to keep up from behind, turning corners and trying to not drop the box when he couldn't see where his feet were going. He wondered what kind of stuff he’d see in the med bay, he doesn’t think he’s actually ever seen it properly. Only been in one of the rooms they had, the first one he woke up in.

“Hey, Leo. Is the med bay just full of sick people?”

….

“Leo?”

“You’ll see.”

Weird…

Donnie pauses, standing in front of two large doors as he looks down at Caden, “Make sure your hood is up.” He advised, his voice firm and expression blank, Caden felt a kind of uneasy anxiety bubble up in his stomach with the way Donnie spoke.

He carried the box for a moment with one hand, using his free hand to pull up his hood, giving a nod towards Donnie who hums in approval as he steps closer to the doors, they slid open automatically, revealing their destination.

The first thing Caden noticed was the heavy and suffocating stench of iron in the air. Then the sounds of raw and pained groans, yells and whimpering. Some coughed, some gagged. Yokai and humans alike wearing white and bloodied lab coats scuttled by, tending to the wounded, helping them as much as they could.

Machines beeped, the noise grating on his ears.

Caden froze where he stood, his pupils wide and mouth opened slightly, taking in the devastating scene as he unknowingly gripped at the box tightly in a self hug, trying to find something to ground himself with.

“Come on. This way.” Donnie spoke, already walking ahead as Caden hesitated before chasing after him, deciding that the floor was more interesting to stare at. Ignoring the screams of chaos around him.

“Help me!”

“It h-hurts…”

“I’m scared… I’m gonna die aren’t I?”

Help me… help me, help me, help me—

Caden let out a startled gasp when he accidentally collided into someone, some items from the box spilling out. He clicked his tongue, feeling sweat forming at the back of his neck, he shook off any tension he was feeling in his body as he concentrated on who he bumped into.

“Sorry…” He mumbles, eyeing the figure that crouched down and picked up the remaining fallen pieces. It was a girl. One with dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, her clothes covered in dirty and dried blood. 

She looked tired. But when she noticed Caden, she gave a soft smile, “It’s all right. Just got caught up in your own world, huh?” She questioned, chuckling lightly in an attempt to ease the obviously tense turtle.

Caden blinked, looking away so as to not draw much attention to his face. “Something like that…” He responded, sighing quietly to himself as the girl curiously tilted her head at him.

She suddenly extended her hand out.

“I’m Maya.”

Caden side eyed the hand, knowing she was silently asking for a handshake. But with his situation, of both holding the box and avoiding showing his appearance to others, he just lets out a hum of disinterested acknowledgment.

“Caden. Catch up with Donnie.” Leo snapped, interrupting the moment and making Caden scowl a bit at his nagging, grumbling under his breath.

“Dude, quit it. Donnie can survive without me by his side for a second.”

Maya let out a confused hum, leaning slightly forward in curiosity. “Are you talking about Master Donatello?” She wondered, shocking Caden who mentally wanted to slap Leo for distracting him.

“Yeah…”

“Huh… you’re not one of the turtles are you? I mean… judging from your hands, you have their three fingers. But you look quite young.” She murmured, stepping closer as Caden instinctively pulled back for distance.

“I gotta get going. Nice to meet you Maya.”

He quickly weaved around her, speed walking towards where Donnie was settled. It was a small room, where a human patient lay on the bed, looking sick and pale. Donnie sitting next to them, having a wet cloth placed on their forehead.

He turns to Caden, narrowing his eyes. “You're supposed to stay with me, remember? Set the box over there.” He informed, gesturing to the table behind him, as Caden nodded silently and put the box down, looking over his shoulder as he eyed the sick human.

He didn’t see any blood, but it was clear they were in pain in some other way.

“Master… D-Dona—“ They paused, going into a violent coughing fit as Donnie frowns, grabbing a vial of one of the medicines he brought with him. “You’re going to be okay… here, drink this.” He soothed, helping them ease the liquid down their throat.

Caden watched, grimacing as he awkwardly looked away.

The moans of people in distress and the sour smell of what Caden uncomfortably realised is actually blood, made his stomach roil in a sick way.

He couldn’t stand the thought of being in the room right now, it was becoming overwhelming with everything he's seen here. When Donnie wasn’t looking at him, Caden snuck out, taking in a sharp intake of cleaner air as he cautiously eyed around his surroundings.

The tension in the med bay was intense, seeing the way people were in wheelchairs and beds, he couldn’t even stare long enough at anything that was red. Afraid it might be blood.

“Take a look, kid.”

….

“Caden. Take a look.”

He gulps, listening and looking up, observing the facility. His legs trembled but he ignored them and pushed himself to walk, taking his time to stop and stare. To absorb all he was witnessing.

The first thing he saw was a group of 4, bandaged up from head to toe, arms in slings, cuts and bruises on their faces and exposed arms and legs.

“What… what happened to them?” He mumbled quietly under his breath, gripping anxiously at his cloak.

“War. Krang. The apocalypse itself. That is what happened.” Leo noted, staring ahead at the mess he was seeing through Caden’s eyes, arms crossed over his plastron.

Caden walks forward again, his mind and body feeling heavy at each scream he heard as he passed by, at each cry he couldn't block out and ignore. Someone had knocked over a tray, making Caden jump at the sudden loudness, turning around and seeing a yokai missing a whole damn leg. They were currently gagging, actually coughing up blood as a doctor helped them pick themselves off the floor where they fell.

Caden shuddered, backing up until his shell touched a nearby wall. Staring ahead helplessly at all the injured around him.

Sudden flashes of memories that weren’t his clouded his vision. They were quick, but vivid. Clearly Leo had seen quite a lot during his time in his own body.

Caden shook his head. Not wanting to see the images that dared tried to cloud his mind. 

Leo noticed and felt the slow overload of emotions from Caden, making him feel a little off-centre himself, as he placed a hand over the young mutant's shoulder in their mindscape.

“Kid—“

He couldn’t get a sentence out when a sudden, ear-splitting scream bounced off the walls. Making both of them flinch as Caden looked up and witnessed a human man, screaming at no one in particular as they crouched on the floor, writhing in clearly visible agony.

And then… they changed.

Or at least their arm did. 

Caden watch, horrified and transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away when the man's fingers bulged and bent at odd angles. The color of their hand shifted and changed, as a sickly pink crept up their wrist.

Their arm was morphing into something unnatural, tendrils burst from the knuckles and snaked up their forearm as it spasmed. Disgusting, pink and—so many yellow eyes began blinking open. The human clasped his other arm over his bicep, in a futile attempt to either cut off the circulation or tear the growth away, Caden couldn't tell, their ear-splitting shrieks of pain were drowning out any possible thought process.

Their hand was no longer normal. It became tentacle-like, the veins bursting from the skin, visible and changing from purple to pink. As though something was trying to crawl right out from the inside.

“Shit— We got an infected! Prepare the isolation room!”

Some yokai immediately rushed over and grabbed the man, lifting him up off the ground and carrying him into another room. Caden was frozen, he… he didn’t think he’d ever see something like that in the med bay.

“Caden, I need to take over.” Leo announced, voice quivering slightly as Caden didn’t bother arguing, shakily stepping back from the controls as Leo pounced into action.

The older slider felt strange for a moment when he adjusted to being in control, but he had a job to do. He raced after where he saw them take the infected man, bursting through the door, watching as the yokai doctors were strapping the man down. He wailed and flailed about, the Krang arm having a mind of its own as it slithered wildly up and about, trying to grasp onto anything.

Leo noticed how the yokai doctors were hesitant in their movements, either from worry or inexperience, he couldn’t pinpoint. Nor did he care at the moment.

Leo, narrowing his eyes, grabs the nearby medical tray stocked full of supplies, sliding it towards the bed as he snatched a pair of gloves that thankfully fit Caden’s hands, hastily and expertly slipping them on.

“Hey, kid! What are you—“

“Hold him still.” Leo orders, quickly sorting through the items of what he needed.

“Hold him still? Kid, you shouldn’t be in here. It’s dangerous!” 

Leo scoffs, shaking his head to not snap at them as he points over to a cabinet. “Grab me the saw in there. The only way to stop this kind of infection that's already begun to spread… is to cut off the arm.” He sternly states, the room became thick with tension at his words.

“Cut off his…”

“W-we can’t do that…! We don't kn—”

Leo growls, slamming his fist down on the tray, causing a loud echo to bounce around the room and catch their attention. “Which is why I’m doing it. You just need to make sure he doesn’t grab my face.” Leo snapped in a firm but confident tone, and finally, finally—they listened.

One left to grab the saw, the other helping with having to grab the other necessary items like gauze and disinfectant.

Caden watched from the back. “Leo… you're not…” He tried to say, but his voice felt like it was caught in his throat, observing how they plugged in the saw, the straps tightening on the man to hold him down. The way Leo shoved a towel inside the man’s mouth, telling him to bite down hard on it.

Leo grabbed an untethered strap and used it to tightly and firmly tie a knot just below the shoulder, cutting the blood circulation to the arm above the slowly spreading infection. The sound of the saw that Leo was holding in his hands as it began whirring, activating, sickened Caden to his core.

“Leo…”

The older slider moved the machine closer using Caden’s physical body, with determined and grim precision etched into every movement closer.

“Leo?! Stop…!”

A couple more inches and the blades of the saw would pierce through the skin. The cries from the younger turtle trapped in the mindscape fell on deaf ears.

Caden had uncontrollable tears beginning to stream down from his eyes, his voice feeling raw from the overpowering shock and from trying to grab Leo’s attention.

“Leo—!”

…..

………

“AHHHHHH!!”

Caden shivered and shook, violently recoiling back in the mindscape, legs giving out when he heard the high pitched and piercing scream of the man in gut-wrenching agony. 

It was so deafening. So overwhelming as Leo used his body, his hands, to cut through a man's skin, to cut through the nerves and bones of another living being.

And the blood—oh god, the fucking blood—

“URK!”

Caden quickly placed a hand over his mouth, shaking, eyes blown wide as bile crept up through his throat. He had to hold it down, he told himself. He didn’t think he was even capable of throwing up in the mindscape.

Leo ignored the throbbing in his head, the emotions swirling inside him. He knew Caden was freaking out, he couldn’t blame him. He would too if he wasn't already desensitized to this routine.

But Leo had to focus. Had to focus on saving this man that wailed uncontrollably.

The whirring sound of the saw faded as Leo swiftly turned it off, placing it down on the tray, he swiftly reached for the bandages, thread and needle.

Concentrate Leo…

He disinfects the needle, his hands moving along expertly as he sews through the flesh, closing it up. Then, he wrapped a bandage around the fresh nub.

After that…it was total silence.

The man had stopped moving all together, limp on the bed. Leo worried for a moment that he was dead, that the blood loss and shock was too much.

Shakily he placed a hand over the man’s neck, waiting and waiting….

Thump…..thump…

He sighs in relief at the pulse of his heartbeat, albeit weak, but he was alive. Just passed out.

He backs up, eyeing the dismembered and infected arm with disgust, the pink tentacles had slowed and stopped moving with the loss of connection to the host. “Make sure to burn the arm outside the base. And… and make sure to check on him every hour.” He orders, not bothering to wait for their responses as he had to get out of there.

He takes off his blood covered gloves, hastily throwing them into a bin that he passed. His breathing is sharp and chest tight. Vision becoming blurred and the mind struggling to process a single thought as Caden’s emotions began overpowering Leo's subsiding adrenaline.

Leo used the wall as support, trembling as he tried to take in deep, calming breaths.

Keep it together…

Flashes of the amputation he just performed strained his mind all of a sudden. Whether it was from him or Caden, he couldn’t tell.

But it was just enough to send Leo over the edge. Unable to hold it down.

He quickly turned away and raced to the nearest bin he could find. Gagging and spewing up vomit that burned his throat as he coughs and heaves over the bin.

Caden’s emotions had greatly affected him in a way that Leo wasn’t quite prepared for. He didn’t think Caden’s own anxiety would actually make Leo throw up, let alone influence him this much.

The older turtle pants and gasps, wiping his mouth with his hand as he leans over the bin slightly to keep himself from collapsing to the floor.

“Kid… hey, kid, you okay? Talk to me.”

Caden didn’t say anything, he sat there unmoving, his eyes fixated on the voids floor as Leo looked over his shoulder at him.

“Caden—“

“You… cut his arm off…”

Ah, okay, he can still talk.

Leo nods, “I did…” He confirms, not that there was much to confirm, considering Caden was right there the entire time to witness Leo amputate that man's limb.

Caden looks up at Leo, eyes narrowed, tears in the corner of his eyelids as he glares and bares his teeth. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! You used my body to cut off someone's limb!” He screams, arms shaking with pent up emotion as he stares at his clean palms.

Leo clicks his teeth, turning around fully and towering over Caden, his own eyes just as cold as Caden’s.

“I had to!”

“Why?!”

“Because that man would’ve been dead if I hadn’t intervened. I am not letting someone die when I can prevent it!”

The two stare… tension pulled taught in the air between the two as Leo turns back away, shoulders stiff.

“Wake up kid. This is your responsibility too, now.”

Caden didn’t say anything, letting the words sink in as he curled in on himself.

He didn’t want this… why him… why did he have to get involved in this?

He thought back to the shouts of those people and yokai in pain, screaming and calling out for help as doctors and nurses responded to their calls.

He couldn’t help but think…

Where was his help…?

Caden slowly stands up, making his way to the controls as Leo watches him, wondering what he was doing. “Donnie is probably looking for me…” Caden mutters, monotoned as Leo steps back, letting Caden take control.

When Caden was back to the present, he took a moment to close his eyes, trying to ignore the burning sensation at the back of his throat as he peels himself away from the bin, legs wobbling as he uses the wall briefly for support.

He took a second to adjust, swallowing down a greedy breath as he walked away, going in the direction of where he last saw Donnie.

The trek back felt long, but he reached the room Donnie was in. Looking around, only to be surprised that it was just Donnie. The patient from earlier is no longer in the bed.

“W-where…?”

Donnie turns around, facing Caden with a stoic expression. His tech gauntlet had a holographic screen up but it minimizes the moment Caden walked in. Caden briefly grimaced, noticing the way Donnie watched him, like Caden had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be.

Well, he wasn’t wrong there if that was the case.

“I told you to stay with me, at all times.”

“I-I know, but—“

Donnie clicked his tongue in utter annoyance at Caden and his feeble attempt at forming an excuse.

“At all times.”

Caden gazed down, feeling guilty while Donnie huffs, leaning against the table behind him. “Seriously Leo… even if you have amnesia, you’re still always going off and doing your own thing.” He grumbles out loud, whether he meant for Caden to hear or not was something he couldn’t be bothered with thinking about.

Caden focused his gaze on Donnie’s gauntlet, the soft shell taking note when he glanced his way as he hummed to himself.

“Let’s get outta here. I got something back in the lab for you.”

Without saying much else, Donnie stood up, stretching for a moment and walking past Caden who begrudgingly followed.

As they walked through the med bay, a comment caught Donnie’s attention as he saw a group of yokai talking among themselves not far from him, water held in their hands.

“That Yokai kid… wonder where he ran off too.”

“Yeah, for someone with three fingers, he was skilled back there.”

“We should look for him. Get him on the medic team. Like, where has he been this whole time?”

Donnie side eyed Caden, who kept his focus on the floor, looking deep in thought, most likely not hearing that these yokai were already talking about him. With a clear of his throat, the doors from the med bay to leave open up for him and Caden.

Caden looked back for a moment as the doors closed on him. Taking a final glimpse of the med bay before rushing after Donnie.

-----

The footsteps echoing down the corridors were loud, louder than usual. Caden felt like his body was tilting. The ground wanted to swallow him up.

The horrifying screams of the man rang inside his mind on repeat. The heavy stench of blood filled his nostrils, his eyes unmoving from the ground passing by as he recalled everything he saw.

From the moment he saw that human collapse on the floor, the way his arm changed. Morphing into something alien-like. The slit yellow eyes moving around on the skin and staring at him, the purple and pink pulsing veins.

Then the room. What did they call it?

The isolation room.

He could understand why it should be isolated. After what he saw. What Leo basically forced him to do, even if he wasn’t in control.

He didn’t think someone could lose that much blood from an arm.

So much blood. So much…

The mindscape felt like it was darkening, despite its already gloomy appearance, Leo noticed the change, immediately looking towards Caden who had his shell facing him, standing at the control panel.

“Kid…?”

Caden didn’t react, he just kept thinking. Remembering. 

The blood, the unnatural noise of the saw, the screams of fear and pain, the exposed flesh, the breaking of the bones and the unprotected nerves. The stitching of the loose and severed skin that hung once the arm was separated.

Leo was able to do that so surely. So precisely. As though he’s done it millions of times.

With him now gone for the time being… fuck, was Caden supposed to be doing that from now on? Chopping limbs off!? Ordering people to hold the infected down, as he removed their arms.

The infected… was that caused by the Krang? It made sense if that was the case. Caden had yet to see a Krang, but if that was just one of the many things they could do to someone—

His throat closed up, hand trembling up to feel his windpipe.

Breathe… j-just breathe.

It was hard, he tried really hard to not wheeze on his own suffocation as he followed Donnie, who either didn’t notice his state or chose to not point it out.

They had arrived at the lab, the two turtle mutants stepping inside with Donnie yawning for a moment. “Man, what a day.” He groans, walking over to a closet, scrummaging through as Caden stood, silent and clearly distracted with his own thoughts.

Donnie peeks over for a moment, tensing at how quiet Caden was. Donnie awkwardly bit his lip, looking once more through the closet, relieved when he saw what he was looking for.

“Aha! Here it is.” The soft shell grins, shutting the closet space as he holds an older looking metallic gauntlet. He strides calmly towards Caden, waiting for a moment to see if Caden would look up at him, react to his presence. 

But nothing.

Okay Donatello, it's your time to act and be the one to distract your miniature version of your brother who is no doubt spiraling, because, well, it’s Leo, starts here…

He gently grabbed at Caden’s left arm, pulling it up towards him and placing the gauntlet over his forearm.

It clamps down comfortably, sealing itself onto Caden’s arm as the latter, who flinched at the sudden intrusion of something unexpected on his body, as he began trying to shake it off. “What the hell is this?” Caden grumbles, but his question is answered when all of a sudden a blue holographic screen pops up from the tech gauntlet.

It was very similar to Donnie’s.

Actually, it was basically identical to Donnie’s, if not looking a little worn and scuffed in a few places.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been quite interested in my gauntlet. Which I get, my tech is amazing, I know.” He proudly claims, hands on hips before clearing his throat to regain focus.

“Anyway—figured you should get one too. Help with your curiosity and whatnot. You can essentially contact anyone in the base, and by that I mean me, our brothers and friends. There’s also a couple of little apps, I suppose. Such as note taking, scheduling that you can add to, setting reminders—“

Donnie rants on, but Caden wasn’t listening, eyeing the gauntlet. He curiously tapped at it, watching the screen appear and disappear at each tap he made on the screen.

“Stop that, you’ll break it.” Donnie scolds, placing his larger hand over the new device to prevent Caden from spamming the pop-up screen.

“Wait, you’re giving this to me?”

“Well, duh. Weren’t you listening dumb-dumb?”

Caden narrowed his eyes at the soft shell, slapping his hand off his wrist before letting his arm fall to his side comfortably. “I’m just surprised is all… didn’t think you’d give me your tech.”

Donnie shrugs, turning away. “Yes, well… just trust me when I say, it’ll be beneficial.”

Beneficial…?

Caden shakes his head. It was Donnie, he could barely understand how his mind works. “Right… um, thank you.” Caden responded, fighting down the small smile that tried to inch its way across his lips.

“Yes, yes, I know I’m the best brother. All true. Now shoo, begone. I have work to do, and make sure to keep your hood up!”

Caden hums, not wanting to be ushered out like the others were earlier, as he quickly turned heel and exited the lab post-haste.

Donnie waited a few seconds after Caden left, deciding it was safe, he pulled up his own gauntlet, typing away quickly as the holographic screen lit up before him, a video appearing as Donnie pressed play, he made sure it was muted in case someone from outside were to hear.

It was the video of Caden amputating that man. He was precise, moved with ease and the body language of someone experienced in this particular task.

How…?

Was Leo gaining back his memories?

Donnie placed his hand under his chin in thought. Eyes glued to the screen.

“…I don’t know what’s scarier. The fact none of them screamed at the sight of an amputated arm, or the fact that Leo seems to remember how to chop a limb off.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So….don’t we just adore Leo looking out for this lil guy I say with sarcasm as I’m choking him

APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE PRETTY FAST AND OFTEN DON’T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER. THEN I’D TRY AND FIX ANY MISTAKES WHEN I SEE ONE.

Quotev - Do I Look Like Him?

Ao3 - Do I Look Like Him?

First Chapter here

Next Chapter here

Taglist:

@turtl3sk3tch3s

[randomrosewrites]

Book 4 re-write afterword 1/2

Summary:

Azul stops, which makes you stop. Jamil is a few paces behind both of you, arms folded, unmoving. “Hm?” Jamil looks up. His gaze is dark and cold. Your stomach churns as you gulp. “I’m sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I can’t let you both stay here. It’s time you go back to the sea.”

A while back, I finished my book 4 re-write. Where essentially yuu (you) breaks their arm mid-book and things progress from there. It was a time-consuming and fulfilling project that started as a small oneshot but snowballed into a nearly 60K long series. If you would like to check it out, you can do so here.

I have a lot of thoughts about it, reflecting back. And some things I wanted to discuss in more detail. I thought it might be interesting for others to read so I made a post about it. (more under the cut)

Part 2

On the Seafloor - April 2024

This was written as a oneshot, meant to stand alone with no continuing parts to it. It was mostly because I missed writing and hadn't written anything for over a year, and wanted to dip my toes into it. I had recently read a series on AO3 that really inspired me. I loved the way the author wrote and wanted to make something of my own, with the characters I so dearly loved. Thus, this was born, towards the end of exam season. It was close to midnight. I remember thinking how loud the sound effect for the crash noise was when Grim and MC land in the Mostro Lounge. (Look it up yourself if you're interested. It happens in Book 4, chapter 20 to be exact. The chapter title is, in ENG server 'On the Seafloor' Can you tell where I got the name for this chapter from?) Anyway, I wrote most of it around midnight, shivering in my office as I typed. I knew what I wanted to write in fragments, the beats between Azul & Yuu and Jade & Yuu, but nothing much after the twins pushed back the Scarabia students. The first draft was a mess (it always is) but in my mind, I had one concrete line of dialogue.

I went to bed and wrote the rest of it over the course of a few days. Then, I edited it a ton and then posted it. The entire process took a week total.

Okay, some dialogue thoughts, now.

Frequently in story, Azul says things he doesn't mean. For example, when he's complimenting someone (and doesn't mean it) or when he's trying to play off how he's really feeling (by trying to seem more in control/ calm/ nonchalant when he's really unsure or shaken.) He's a hard character to write because I (the author) have to make it so that the readers can pick up on when this dishonesty occurs without beating them over the head with it. At the same time, characters in the story might not pick up on Azul's dishonesty (in this case, yuu) because of their emotions or physical state.

So for this scene: Readers probably assume Azul isn't being completely serious when he says 'I don't want you making a mess of the carpet' but Yuu (MC, you, etc) can't understand that in the moment because of their emotions and physical state, etc. etc.

Every interaction with Azul is like tip-toeing on this line. It's really frustrating at times but I think I ended up doing it pretty well.

the last thing I wanted to touch on with this work is how MC is beginning to break down Azul's walls a bit. It's not much but it's a difference from the Azul in book 3, actually willing to compromise. Out From Desert's Door - May 2024 Released a month after the first installment, I remember writing most of this in 2 weeks before I went on vacation. I don't think its the most interesting out of the 3 parts but necessary. Also decided to stick with the rhyming convention. (Floor, Door, Score)

The overheating idea was something I had when I first read book 4. like...they're sea creatures...in the desert...in 3 piece suits...how did they not pass out? So I put it in the story. Plus plot. Plus drama. Etc.

I read the official and fan translations of book 4 while writing this story. In the official translations Floyd doesn't curse but in one of the fan translations he says (roughly) 'It's hot as shit here.' and I thought it was funny, so I added Floyd cursing here.

Originally I had a fight scene written in this part. Someone would try to stop MC from entering, and Floyd would end up pouncing on them with Jade having to step in to stop them. I ended up cutting it after review with one of my friends, because it was a bit too ooc for Floyd to be as aggressive over a 'not-yet-friend, friend'

Kalim thinks MC's disappearance from the dorm is because they got sick. This is not actually the case, obviously, but to tell him the truth wouldn't be great for Azul, who's still trying to figure out if Jamil is actually the person responsible for everything. I'll talk about this more later.

Azul has complicated feelings about his appearance. This scene is meant to hint at that. Even after the events in book 3, he has issues around his weight and how others perceive him. (Which...is why he wears so many layers to hide his silhouette, at least according to my HC's of him)

Jade knows why Azul's so hesitant to remove his jacket. Jade's also the only one to realize what Azul's motivation was for wanting the photograph in book 3.

Though, he never outright says any of this in either cases.

I tried to make the trio's fighting style reflect their characters. Azul doesn't fight the students directly but holds them far enough so Jade and Floyd can pick them off one-by-one. Jade is also more analytical in battle than Floyd, who throws himself into it.

I also wanted to show how analytical Jamil is, too. Azul's downfall in book 3 started with Floyd being careless with his unique magic and damaging the safe. Here, Jamil uses Floyd's own magic against him so that the spell hits Azul. I honestly think Jamil could outclass Azul if given the right resources and time to plan.

Azul's stubborn (lol) he insisted on helping out the MC when they were hurt in the previous part but now refuses when the situation is flipped. Another way to show how little Azul trusts, how he sees everything as a trade off.

Jamil's already thinking 'what's your game?'. He's adamantly against the Octavinelle trio arriving and staying because he knows they can ruin his plans, and MC was the one who got them involved.

The characters explain it in the fic but I'll do it again here anyways.

MC and Grim dug their way out of scarabia, fled using one of the carpets, crash landed in octavinelle where MC broke their arm.

Kalim is not told this, and was told (by Azul) they were sick with octavinelle taking care of them. The reason for this is that 1) they would have to tell Kalim the real reason they broke out of scarabia (because they were sick of the training camp and being forced to stay) which would cause Kalim to potentially ease off on the training camp or call it off altogether. Jamil wouldn't want that, because that interferes with his plans to turn the dorm against Kalim. So why wouldn't Azul want that? Well he does, but it would be too hasty from the get go. If the camp was called off, Jamil could either do something drastic to remove Kalim, or he could lick his wounds and lay low until he has another opportunity to scheme. Neither of these are ideal, as Azul really wants concrete proof that Jamil is behind it, and doesn't want any room for Jamil to be able to wiggle out of it. Thus, Azul lies to Kalim so things keep going on as normal and until they can gather enough evidence to confirm their suspicions and confront Jamil directly.

(Also, when i read back the story of book 4, I realize that MC's escape attempt is never really brought up by anyone after the fact. Kalim is just like 'oh these octavinelle guys are here now, cool.' Makes me believe Jamil didn't tell Kalim to begin with).

I always got this sickly feeling from being trapped in Scarabia while playing the game, and that feeling never really went away even when the octotrio joined. I wanted to make it clear how much my version of Yuu hated that.

...this is something that I'll explore in a further series, whenever I get around to writing it. Hints at a previous or potential something between Jade and Azul.

Haha, I go through some of my old writing and forget how some sentences don't make any sense. I meant to say more like 'Those guys in octavnelle didn't break your arm, did they?' but I did a bad job at it, LOL. Maybe I'll go back and edit things in the future.

AKA: you should know because you witnessed his overblot and signed a contract with him

Kalim not realizing that others around him are suffering is a trend in book 4. He never realized Jamil wasn't happy in their childhood, and he doesn't realize how much Jamil sacrifices for him because of their difference in social status. He doesn't realize how much Jamil detests their relationship until it's too late. Likewise, he doesn't realize how 'bad' the training camp is until people are desperate enough -- like the MC -- to escape it. If Jamil didn't overblot and octavinelle didn't get involved, the training camp would have continued until the students despised him enough to overthrow him.

hinting that Jamil's using his unique magic in this scene, though not necessarily full force.

Azul and Jade both are concerned about the MC, as they're the two (traditional) love interests

The trio is so tightly knit that they can basically have conversations and assume what they want from each other without having to explicitly say it out loud.

It's not that he can't remove it physically, but that he can't because of his body issues, to be blunt.

'Crowley forcing you to make a contract' when I re-write book 3 (eventually...) I'll change up some things in it. I had this idea in mind when writing this series.

So, MC plays into Azul's little games. Makes a contract that he can 'fulfil' similar to the one in book 3. MC does something for Azul, Azul does something for MC after. (In book 3, it was: MC getting the photo, Azul releasing the students trapped in contracts) this time it's MC helping Azul, Azul takes them to the sea. It's a way to let MC help Azul without his whole...well, complex getting in the way of things.

The deal isn't 'official' (signed contract or handshake) but still Azul takes the ramshackle key as collateral. It's a way to show he's changed since book 3, just a little. But he still clings to his old habits.

Azul switches into octopus form, that's basically it. Could he have done this by himself? Yes. But he's embarrassed to do it around the twins and finds the presence of MC comforting enough to allow him to transform without freaking out. (Soooo romantic.)

Even when someone tells Azul he doesn't look ugly, he doesn't truly believe them.

...I would continue but there's a max photo count per post of 30! Who knew! See part 2 for the next section.

[zooterscooter]

the people have spoken :) 7am ramble under cut tee hee

thoughts came to me while making this piece !! made coherent by a day of writing and rewriting my ideas

not entirely sure how to start this and i really hope it’s cohesive LMAO i’m really sorry if this is borderline unreadable i can’t tell

but anyway. i’ve been seeing a lot of art and thoughts about click clack and what he has under his literal and metaphorical mask and i want to throw my hat in the ring as well

firstly i think it’s a pretty clear take on masking who you are, right. as an editor you’re always cutting things out and making things better and more consumable for others to enjoy. but it makes me wonder where the story editing ends and where the self editing starts and continues ? in canon, he’s cutting out the romance from “oh partner mine!” because he can’t stand to face his own feelings for thespius, but that makes me question how much more “editing” he does on himself and his life ? even beyond his love life, his relationship with thespius ?

i think that he’s scared, obviously. along with being scared of love, i think there’s a real high possibility that he’s scared of the responsibility of being a god, even years after being one. see- he might think he has to be perfect for his followers and always have this perfect persona for them to follow, putting himself on a pedestal. being the best at what he does, making himself out to be something great- always talking about how amazing and handsome he is- but beneath that i think there’s a bunch of insecurity. it’s like.. man cmon there’s no way you’re actually like this..

i think he might choose to not deal with it- “i have issues but i also have people to watch over so idrgaf about that rn” style. even before the whole canon thing with the letters happened i think there was a high possibility that he still carried a lot of his insecurities and kept emotions from being mortal, not finding any time (or maybe any reason) to pick apart these things and grow from it.

he might think that he, as a god, cannot POSSIBLY be struggling with anything. gods aren’t supposed to feel things like that. gods don’t have to deal with things like identity issues and human emotions. something must me wrong with him and he can’t tell anyone or else they’ll think he’s unfit to be in his position. maybe thinking that if he shows even the slightest hint of not being what he pretends to be, he’ll be outed and shunned, or the . ggg equivalent of that. yknow.

but yknow going back to the original point- how much more can he do this, put on a front, repress everything that doesn’t fit this image of himself he’s created for others (that he’s now starting to believe he has to be), change who he is- how long can he continue on with this all before it gets to be too much to handle ? too much to keep track of ? what would his breaking point have been, if it weren’t for the canon events ?

who is he really, and does he even know himself ? sure, he can control what others see with both the literal and metaphorical mask, but what’s he like with all that taken away ? there’s of course a little bit of either in the other, but i feel like the lines blur so much that it’s hard for him to pick apart what is what.

i do think after the events in game, he would probably work through his. problems. with the help of thespius, the other gods etc etc. he was vulnerable enough to finally accept his feelings for thespius, so i think he might eventually get comfortable enough with it all to go through the more sinister things, especially after the whole “communication with loved ones is good and healthy actually” message of the game. recovery is sweeter with the company of those who care,,

another, less heavy idea i had about the mask was that maybe he wears it as a way to hide himself away from the spotlight partially. being an editor always meant being behind the scenes, right. so maybe he uses it as a way to have some familiarity, some anonymity. or perhaps- as a friend offered while reading this over- as a thing to hide behind looks wise. maybe be was just self conscious of his god form but then the mask is what made his brand or something and he just kept it on for those reasons.

however i had that thought a month ago and now have some other ideas. maybe that started OUT as his plan, just to use it as a way to keep his public and private life separate, or as a crutch for his self consciousness- but then he realized that with the mask he could be whatever he wanted to be, whenever he wanted. and then it went downhill from there, turning into a long and emotional wreck that would haunt him for years and years and years and years-

as a closing note !! i also think this could be taken as a transgender thing, as well as an autism thing, perhaps even both, and quite possibly all three. idk stay tuned if people like this insight i might work with it more.

but yeah anyways !! i had a lot of fun thinking about this and its has been sitting in my head for a week or so… i finally got around to making that art, which kickstarted people’s interest in this, which was nice. i’ll definitely be making more art for this all and PLEASE let me know your insight on this if you have any,,, im all ears

also obligatory “this is just what i think it’s most definitely not anywhere near canon pls be nice 💔” bc im an anxious man about to go to bed