#I’M HIS TWITCH MOD HE HAS RIGHTS

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

One of your "It's a Match" chapters gave me an idea. LOVE that series btw!

What if Gaz is a virgin so Simon let's him lose his virginity with his gf? Simon is there to guide Gaz and make sure he does it right so you get as much pleasure out of it as needed. Then you give Gaz the ride of his life while Simon controls when and where he gets to cum. The poor man whimpering beneath you from the edging and denial until he finally gets permission to cum.

Sub!Gaz x Dom!Simon x Switch!Reader

(Feel free to ignore this as well.)

Took some creative liberties with the prompt and made Switch!Reader a mean/brat tamer domme even if Gaz isn’t necessarily a brat (just felt more practical for me to do it). Sue me.

Sharing is caring. || Gaz x F!Reader x Ghost

Rating: E Words: 4.7K (this one got away from me sorry) Pairing: virgin!Gaz x gf!Reader x bf!Simon CW: smut, voyeurism, hotwifing, domination/submission, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), unprotected piv, fairly rough/forceful sex (BUT CONSENSUAL), praise, slight verbal degradation?, body mods (piercings). other tags: pre-established couple, loss of virginity, pre-agreed upon conditions, consent checks, no beta we die like soap. a/n: no thoughts, just vibes. NOT PROOFREAD

Simon first brought it up one sleepy Sunday evening, when you two were lying side by side in bed, his arms snaked around you as you read an e-book, his eyes glued to the TV on an episode of some crime show.

“You know,” He had said, Roman nose rubbing the top of your head affectionately. “I’d like to run something by you.”

“Hm?” You cooed as you rolled your head back on his chest to look up at him.

“So Kyle has this problem,” Simon began to explain as he looked down at you, brown eyes peering through his blonde lashes.

That got your senses tingling and you immediately set aside the tablet to dedicate your attention to the topic at hand, turning your body to properly face him, your arm coming to rest on his shoulder.

“What kind of problem?” You questioned, an eyebrow raising in intrigue.

Simon’s eyebrows twitched lightly, a tell-tale sign he was about to bring up something ‘embarrassing’, some good gossip. “Go on!” You immediately insisted, catching the little microexpressions on his face.

“He’s a virgin.” Simon revealed, causing you to gasp, pulling your head back and shaking it in confusion.

“NO?!” You said in shock. “With that pretty face of his?” You blinked.

“I know.” Simon says and then cocks a brow upward. “So what do you say?”

You didn’t need clarification, you simply smirked and shot him a look.

-

That’s how you ended up here.

Simon made all the arrangements, established rules with Kyle, and finally brought him over the that following Friday.

“You sure about this, sir?” Kyle asks, ever respectfully, sat on your living room couch, with you by his side, Simon sitting across from you on the arm chair by the chandelier.

“As sure as anyt’in’.” Your boyfriend replies and casts a glance at you. “You sure, da’lin’?”

“100% sure.” You answer, before glancing at Kyle. “Are you sure about it?”

“I… I am. But… It’s… It’s your relationship, I don’t want to cause an issue.” Kyle tells you, looking at you sheepishly, dark lashes fluttering anxiously over those stunning brown eyes of his.

“It’s not our first time doing this, I’m sure Simon’s told you all about it.” You reply in a reassuring tone.

“I know but…” Kyle says as he looks at you, your hand on his knee, finger drawing light circles on the denim of his pants.

“We’ll start off slow, at your pace. If ever there’s anything you don’t like, we’ll stop.” You assure him. “Simon’s here for that, after all… Not just for my sake, but yours too.” You add.

Kyle nods and gulps down a deep breath, casting one last glance at the form of his lieutenant, sat imposingly on the arm chair, legs spread open, lounging without a car in the world. One of his legs is bent near the seat, the other stretched across, foot resting on the edge of the coffee table, and arms resting comfortably on the rests, one of his hands holding a tumbler of Bourbon. His head is cocked to the side with interest.

The young sergeant nods again and slowly leans toward you. One of his hand tentatively wraps around your hip, fingers grazing the expanse of your ass in the shorts you’re wearing, while the other grabs you around the back of the neck, his lips connecting to yours.

Your warm, wet tongue swirling with his, soft breaths and gasps coming from your mouth as you let him take the lead for a moment... it’s all making his confidence grow. Sure, he’ll need guidance eventually, but for now he’s got this.

His hand slides to cup your ass, grabbing it with a greedy grasp, squeezing his fingers into the thickness, the other sinking into your hair, fingers gently clutching your scalp as they tug into the hairs.

He’s kissed plenty of people before, this isn’t new for him, and yet, it still feels completely different, in the way you’re not ‘his’ to kiss. But, somehow, that makes it all the better.

Slowly, your lips separate and you glance up at him a single look to check on his state and he nods imperceptibly, which causes your hands to slide down his chest and begin feeling him up.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you atop of him, hands sliding under the fabric of your top to feel up your back as your own find the hem of his t-shirt and tug it up to expose his chest.

Your fingers trace his pecs, his abs, nails softly drawing down atop him, making him shiver. He’s younger than Simon, his skin infinitely smoother, his body fat percentage definitely lower, not a trace of hair on him. It’s so different from your boyfriend… And you welcome the change.

You help him take off his t-shirt, throwing it haphazardly to the side and then lower your mouth onto his jaw, neck, shoulders, collarbones… You’ve barely started and the poor kid looks like he’s already seeing the universe and all its stars, his cock having sprung to attention so quickly that the bulge in his pants keeps rubbing against your inner thigh.

Slowly, you slip down from atop of him, your hands sliding down his body as you kneel before him on the floor, hands tracing over his thighs in the jeans he’s wearing, fingers squeezing his strong muscles through the fabric.

“You’ve never gotten a bj before, have you?” You ask him, eyebrows cocked and eyes locked onto his face. He shakes his head immediately, muttering something about ‘getting a handy’ back in secondary but that was the extent of it.

“Poor thing.” You coo at him. “Never got to feel a pretty mouth wrapped around that cock, hm?” Yo teased him playfully, watching how his eyes widened, eyebrows scrunching pitifully, as you undid his belt and tugged down his jeans.

“You’re in good hands, Garrick. She’ll take good care of you. Has a very talented throat.” Simon pipes up behind you. You don’t even have to look behind you to spot the smirk on his lips, the way the dulcet of his voice comes just short of a boast and a brag of how lucky he himself is, and how lucky Kyle is that Simon was willing to share you.

You help Kyle out of his sneakers and jeans before beginnin to palm him through the black cotton of his boxer briefs, his cock already peeking up from behind the waistband, leaking precum in anticipation. “Someone’s eager, hm? Are you excited, Kyle?” You quip to him.

“Mhm. Very. Very!” Kyle nods, his eyes glued to every single movement of yours, from the way your hands palm at his bulge, to how your fingers caress his smooth skin, to how they hook onto the waistband and roll down his underwear, peeling it off his body.

He’s big, bigger than Simon, even, though not as thick… He’s circumcised and he’s perfectly shaven. You wonder if he did that for your sake, or his own preference. There’s a thick vein running down the underside of him, one you can’t wait to feel pulse against your tongue.

Taking his cock in your hand, you stroke it slowly before allowing your tongue to run atop of it, base to tip, your tongue gently grazing the leaky tip, spreading the precum over the head before slowly parting your lips and guiding him inside.

The moan that escapes the boy in front of you makes you smirk, he twitches below you, fingers clenching on either side of his thighs, as if resisting squeezing into tight fists as you slowly allow his cock to slide deeper into your mouth. Then, you start bobbing it, up and down, cheeks hollowed out and lips grazing the warm skin leaving a mess of saliva around him.

Kyle’s quick to react this time, his hand grabbing you by your hair, legs trembling on either side of you. Your eyes shoot up to find his, only to find that his head is falling back onto the back of the couch, eyes screwed closed, mouth hanging open like he’s experiencing an out of body experience.

“He’s certainly enjoying himself, isn’t he?” Simon remarks behind you, receiving a finger signal from you, a sign of agreement, a preestablished way of communicating, since your mouth was busy. “That feel good, Kyle?”

“Y-Yeah… Yeah… I-It… God…” Kyle groans in between swallowed breaths. Poor thing, you want to coo at him, already too lost in the pleasure to even speak… Oh, how beautiful he’ll look soon, fucked out under you, drunk on your pussy…

You don’t notice Simon coming up from behind you until you feel his hand grip your head, atop of Kyle’s, calloused fingers digging into your scalp. His other hand shoots out to grab Kyle’s head from the back, pulling it forward so he’s forced to stare at you.

Then, your head is shoved forward, Kyle’s cock sliding down your throat with no warning Simon’s hand holding you in place, while Kyle’s eyes widen and an obscene moan escapes his mouth. Simon controls your head, pulling and pushing you onto Kyle’s hip. 

It’s no wonder that Kyle’s whole body starts to tremble, eyes widened and having trouble staying focused, or open, mouth left wide open as Simon makes him fuck the back of your throat, experienced eyes keeping watch of your reactions and signals and of Kyle’s…

He’s controlling the speed at which you go, how deep you take his cock down his throat, how much of a mess you make with your spit, and how long you get to breathe whenever he pulls you off before pushing you back on. A reminder. He’s always in control.

“Come down her pretty throat, go on, Garrick.” Simon demands. Kyle, poor thing, has already been holding on with teeth and nails to keep himself from climaxing too soon, wanting to prove himself as more than just inexperienced… But Simon’s order is so severe, he can’t keep it up… And he lets go, twitching in your mouth and shooting his come down your throat.

Simon lets go of you both, giving you a moment to catch your breaths, brown eyes staring at the result of what you just did, you, out of breath, a mess of drool down your chin, and eyes welled up with tears, and Kyle, out of breath, a mess of drool around the base of his cock, and eyes glazed over.

“Good job, da’lin’...” Simon tells you, pulling you up ever so slightly, kissing you sweetly, his tongue piercing flicking across your tongue, as if he’s looking for a taste of Kyle in your throat. 

After a moment, he pulls back and looks at Kyle. “Now, you’re gonna thank her for the favour she made ya, hm?” He warns. “Let’s take this to the bed. C’mon.” He demands, taking you by the hand and leading you to the bedroom, leaving Kyle to have to keep up.

Simon, unlike you, is a practical man. He doesn’t waste time. By the time Kyle has made it to the bedroom after barely 20 seconds, he’s already got you naked and splayed atop the mattress, a pillow placed under your hips.

He’s on his knees in front of you and beckons Kyle closer with two fingers, before he uses those same two fingers to rub over your folds and spread them open, revealing just how wet you’ve gotten from merely giving Kyle head. “You see that?” Simon coos at him while you stare at them both, holding yourself up on your elbows.

“Y-Yes, sir.” Kyle replies with a nod, his own hand reaching to touch you, carefully sliding between your puffy lips, gliding across easily through the slick. 

Simon grabs Kyle’s wrist and carefully guides it across to your clit, finding it with the speed of a man that’s been fucking you often since you two started dating. He knows your body, knows you better than anyone, and he’s about to show Kyle exactly how to touch you to get you to fall apart like he does…

You immediately stiffen up when you feel the pads of Kyle’s fingers against your clit, the pressure behind them coming from Simon’s hand as he rolls his fingers in light circles. It’s familiar and it immediately causes you to hum in pleasure and hiss, lying yourself back on the mattress.

“Ideally, you always keep something touch that needy little clit there.” Simon explains, more like he’s giving an anatomy lesson than having a threesome. “Be it a tongue, a finger, what have you.”

Simon’s hand then slides Kyle’s fingers away, making you whimper from the loss of contact. “Be patient, da’lin’, you’ll get more soon.” He quips. “Needy girl… Thought you were going to be all bossy with Kyle, now look at you…” He coos. 

Simon turns Kyle’s hand over and, using his own hand, parts your puffy cunny before helping Kyle push two digits into your slick warmth. Kyle’s fingers are no biggy, not thick and calloused like Simon’s, and they’re surprisingly easy to take on. You moan softly at them, before becoming just a bit more vocal when Kyle’s fingers pad over your G-spot when Simon curls them just so.

“Right there, you see that?” Simon beckons, Kyle responding with mild agreement that you don’t even register because, soon, his fingers start moving, fucking in and out you per Simon’s instruction, while your boyfriend’s tongue quickly finds your clit, the cold piercing rubbing and flicking at your most sensitive spot, causing your back to arch on the bed.

“Oh, fuck, Simon…” You whine, legs already shaking, more so per the stimulation, which causes your boyfriend to use both of his free hands to keep your knees spread open as far as he could comfortably get them, tongue still lapping up at you with purposeful strokes.

The shaggy blond hair of your boyfriend vanishes for a moment, as does the experienced tongue touching you, before it gets replaced with Kyle’s slightly messier and uncoordinated attempts, Simon observing Kyle and noting your reactions and how much weaker they are, upset at the lack of proper stimulation.

“C’mon, Garrick…” Simon croons. “Your tongue’s sharp enough to roast Johnny, but you get here and it gets shy?” He taunts, before using his hand on the back of the sergeant’s neck to guide him a bit.

“I’m trying…” Kyle remarks, his face feeling warm against your skin, showing he’s likely blushing despite his darker complexion hiding it, his fingers still moving in the way Simon taught him, his only saving grace.

“Scoot.” Simon remarks and pushes his head aside, ever so slightly, causing him to rest against your thigh. Simon’s head pushes in near Kyle’s, resting against your other thigh, and his tongue catches your clit again, though the angle at he’s at now, slightly at an angle, allows Kyle to spot the way Simon moves his tongue: soft circles, zigzagging side to side, lips also rubbing against you.

Kyle watches closely, eyes widened, pupils blown with lust at the sight of Simon’s face so close and going down on you so eagerly, his eyes glued to your face up top, as if checking every single reaction you have to your boyfriend’s mouth. And react you do. Your moans are louder, jumpy, desperate, your hands grabbing the bed covers and squeezing tight, your cunt seeking Simon’s mouth as you fuck yourself onto it.

Kyle wasn’t the type to watch porn often, having little time and little interest in it, more so because he knew it wasn’t a good habit or realistic to expect it to be realistic… But the sight of Simon’s lips sucking and rubbing into your slick like it was the most delicious meal he’s ever gotten to eat was better than any of the porn he’s actually seen.

Simon’s able to make you come undone in a matter of minutes, the whimpers and needy moans, the shallow breaths, the way your head was left spinning, lolling to the side as Simon eased you down from your peak and then dropped a chaste kiss to your thigh before standing up again. 

“You saw that?” He teases Kyle, who nods eagerly, no words coming to his lips after the display he just got. “You’ll get there eventually. With practise.” He assures him before patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Up you go.”

“How are you doing, da’lin’?” Simon asks, checking on you as you nod and show him a thumbs up, causing a chuckle to come from his chest before he takes a seat in another armchair in the corner, a spot he usually uses when having insomnia, right by the windows, to work on his laptop while you sleep near him… Except this time being used for something else.

“Go on, then, continue.” He demands as he sprawls out on the armchair, legs spread and already undoing his belt and fly, seeking relief from the tight feeling in his own jeans.

You nod eagerly and quickly shift to be sat on the bed, pulling Kyle toward you. “You still want this?” You ask him as you look him in the eyes… As if Kyle, needy the way he is now, after the sight of you coming undone on Simon’s tongue, would ever be able to answer anything other than a resounding ‘YES!’.

“Mhm… I do.” Kyle assures you with another nod… So, you kiss again, hands sliding over each other’s bodies just like they had on the couch before, exploring the free skin, allowing Kyle to grope you more easily. He seems fixated on your ass and thighs, fingers kneading the extra meat in them and holding you close.

His cock has long recovered from his first orgasm, now rubbing against your tummy as he kneels in front of you on the mattress. But not for long. Soon, you’ve laid Kyle on his back, and you’re straddling him, one leg on either side, slowly rubbing your folds over the length of his veiny cock.

“You’re gonna take ‘im for a right, da’lin’?” Simon asks, your eyes seeking him out in his armchair. The way you’re positioned, he can see all of you. Your pretty tits, the way your lips spread to rub against Kyle’s shaft, your legs parted open and knees digging into the mattress.

“Mhm…” You reply, your expression having shifted once again from the needy, submissive mess he had made of you, to a more dominant, playful one as you look down at the sergeant below you, looking up at you like he knows he’s in for a wild one.

“Go on then… But try not to break him, yeah?” Simon teases and winks at you, his hand already palming his cock through his own black boxer briefs.

“No promises…” You quip in return and wink back, before, carefully reaching a hand forward to lift Kyle’s cock from its resting spot against his hip.

Slowly, you sink yourself into it, his narrower build a lot easier to accommodate than Simon’s girth… But you soon regret how eagerly you did it, when you feel Kyle’s sheer size slip inside easily, his tip striking your cervix forcefully with that one swft motion.

“Bloody hell…” You grunt and bounce back a bit to relieve the pressure. “You’re big, aren’t you?” You tease Kyle who’s already unresponsive, poor little thing, eyes twice as wide as they had been when you gave him head, barely nodding in response.

Shifting your weight around, you plant your feet on either side of Kyle’s hip. “I’m gonna move, okay?” You warn him, setting your open palms on his thighs, behind your back, earning another nod from Kyle.

Slowly, you start to ride him, each bounce of your hips drawing the most delicious moans out of Kyle, his head lolling back over the foot of the bed, eyelids fluttering and his back arching.

“Gah- Fuck-” Kyle grunts, his breath already ragged before you’ve had time to do anything, just slowly moving, feeling his lengthy size rub against your walls as you force him to bottom out every time.

Kyle’s voice gets higher, whinier, his forehead dribbling with sweat with each thrust you force his cock to deliver into your slick cunny. “Feels… so… sososo so good…” He whimpers, his tone almost pathetic.

“Yeah… does it feel good?” You croon at him, a mischievous smirk on your lips, his cock drawing soft moans off your mouth as well.

“Yeah… yeah… yeah…” Kyle nods needily, his breath staggered and swallowing excess saliva.

“Yeah? Was it all you were expecting, pretty boy?” You tease him some more, earning another handful of needy ‘Yeah’s, his mind too overwhelmed with pleasure to consider saying anything else. “You don’t want me to go faster then, do you?”

“No… no… faster…” He replies, his head shooting forward, clearly eager to experience what ‘faster’ would feel like.

“Oh? Then you were lying? It doesn’t feel good, you need it faster?” You croon at him as if he was behaving like a brat and not like the good boy he really was.

“No… nO… it’s- it’s-!” Kyle tries to reply, desperate to clear the misunderstanding. Not that you give him time for it, as you speed up the speed of your bouncing, taking him in harder with each strike of your hips coming down onto his.

“GOD- YES!” Kyle shouts, eyes shot open and back curling upward, his head snapping forward to look at you and watch the way your pussy swallows every inch of his veiny cock, before letting out a huff and falling back on the bed again, desperate for more.

His hands grab onto your thighs and hips, fingers digging in hard, as you ride him, sweat beginning to slide down your forehead, down your cheeks and neck. Your eyes flitter over to Simon in the corner.

The smug fucker is watching everything with a nasty little half-grin on his lips, brown eyes darkened with lust as he watches you play with Kyle, making him squirm and whimper below you.

“Play with your clit for me, da’lin’.” His voice rings out amidst the frequent and whiney moans coming from Kyle. One of your hands slips away from Kyle’s thigh behind you, finding your clit and rubbing it slowly as you keep bouncing atop of Kyle, hips stuttering lightly as the pleasure becomes more intense.

“That’s it…” Simon says with a chuckle from his armchair, fisting his cock leisurely, as if the sight in front of him wasn’t worth any more from him. “How’s his cock feel, da’lin’?” Your boyfriend asks you.

He’s playing with your head, much like you’re playing with Kyle’s… making you go back and forth between a submissive and dominant mind frame, deriving pleasure from the mind games he’s forcing you to take on.

“It’s big…” You whimper in reply. “So big…” You murmur, your eyes soft and needy as you look at your boyfriend, watching the wicked look in his face..

“Don’t look at me, look at him…” Simon tells you. “Fuck ‘im right, he deserves it.” Simon adds. “Poor lad, been so long without experiencing a pussy…” He teases. “ow’s it feel, Garrick?” He turns his attention, and yours, to the sergeant below you.

Kyle nods pathetically. “Y-Yeah… It’s- Ah-” He whimpers, eyes glazed over with pleasure, too far gone in it, too overwhelmed with the feeling of a warm, wet pussy sheathing his virgin cock.

He’s too fucked out to think… And you’re bound to join him soon enough, with the way he looks below you, your fingers playing with your clit, and his cock swiftly hitting a spot inside you that no man’s ever reached before…

Your hips stutter atop of Kyle’s, your legs straining and tired, sore from the rhythm and position. You shift positions, leaning forward, hands coming to rest on his hard pecs, your head hanging atop of Kyle’s, facing him better.

You grind back and forth, trying to regain strength to continue, feeling Kyle’s tip rubbing deep inside of you, so deep and hard… You can’t help but whine.

“She’s getting tired, Kyle. Go on, it’s your turn.” Your boyfriend quips, his voice dripping with power and command over the two of you.

Kyle didn’t need to be told twice, his arms wrapped around your lower back and he bucked up like a bull, tossing you both aside, the bed creaking with the movement. Whatever insecurity he had is gone.

He pushes your thighs apart with his hip and starts pistoning into you with barely any regard for rhythm or how deep he’s going, his face buried into your neck as he plows into you, grunting and whining like an animal in rut. Not that you mind.

You’re used to Simon (and sometimes a few other mutual ‘friends’ of yours), men who are experienced, who know what to do, how to do it, who aren’t sloppy or erratic, who’s hips don’t jerk with each plunge into your warm cunny… It’s completely different with a bloke like Kyle. Inexperienced, green, but eager and desperate and…

You’re moaning loud and often, nails clawing at his smooth scarless back, eyes rolling as each snap of his hips claps against you like a whip, his cock burying into you to the hilt and back out before plunging back in.

Once more, Simon’s quick to come to your side, quick to crouch by the side of the bed, eyes admiring the way you both act and move, to keep a keen eye on your reactions and his, ready to pull him off you like a mutt that’ll hurt his mate if the owner doesn’t make him dismount…

But he doesn’t intervene. Not when you’re moaning like a whore, with Kyle sweating and grunting atop you, his eyes screwed shut and looking like he’ll lose every and any ounce of restraint he has in the next 3 seconds, somehow pulling the will to go on from sheer fucking air.

“You gonna flood ‘er little cunt with your come, aren’t you, Kyle?” Simon coos as he rests his forearms on the mattress, a perch to watch better.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah!” Kyle replies with an eager nod, eyes opening for a moment to look at Simon who’s so close to him.

“Yeah? Are you?” Simon continues egging him on. “You gonna fill my girl with your load?” He adds, his voice dropping to a more authoritative tone.

“Y-YEAH!” Kyle raises his voice, a bit more determined, but still deep in his natural state… obedient, ready to die for his superior, for his lieutenant.

“Go on, then,” Simon demands. “I wanna see. I wanna see you fill ‘er up.” He adds. “Tell ‘er you’re gonna do it.”

Kyle’s head turns a bit to look at you, his warm brown eyes blown wide with lust and desperation, his skin slick with sweat, his plump lips parted to let in desperate gulps of air.

“‘m gonna…” Kyle grunts as he shifts his weight lightly, his nose leaning against yours. “Gonna put my come so… deep inside you…” He warns you.

The look in his eyes, the desperation in his tone, the warning tone of his that does not at all fit his personality… Somehow it all comes together to rip the filthiest orgasm out of you, your head rolling back, eyes squeezing shut and a loud whine slipping from your parted lips as you squeeze and contract around Kyle’s cock.

Kyle can’t last not even a second longer the moment you start to come around him. His eyes fall shut, his back arches and he digs his fingers into the bed, toes curling and legs shaking as he fucks his come inside of you, drool slipping down his parted mouth.

“Good job.” Simon’s voice remarks next to you, satisfied and almost… proud, while you’re both too lost in the high of pleasure to even recognize his existence in the room or that you’re… alive, really.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Thanks for the Raid!

Fandom: Stranger Things (Gamer/Streamer/Modern AU)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Your collab stream with Eddie was a success! You thought afterwards, communication between you two would dwindle, but it didn't. You kept inviting each other to play games on stream, you two were constantly messaging each other off screen. You two became great friends so quickly. But both of your communities definitely think you two should be more than just friends. Based off my imagine here.

A/N: Eddie calls reader Cat because her username is CyberCat

Pog Champ

Eddie Munson Masterlist

"'Sup, losers!" Eddie exclaims when he Starting Soon screen transitions to his camera.

He's wearing his old high school club shirt, his hair is slightly damp from the shower he just took.

"Ready for some Fortnite?" he asks chat.

PreciousBlorboBoy: who’re you playing games with today?

Eddie perks up and smiles, “Cat invited me to a Fortnite lobby so I’m playing with whoever she invited.”

TearStainedGuitar: the way your eyes sparkled when you said Y/N’s name….

“MY EYES DON'T SPARKLE!”

Chat floods with "Yes they do" and "Lying is bad!"

He frowns, "All right you fuckers, listen here-"

He pauses when he sees your username in the chat,

CyberCat: JOIN THE DISCORD CALL YOU LOSER. WE'RE ALL WAITING FOR YOU.

"Okay, okay! Sorry! Yeesh, Nagging Nancy over here."

CyberCat: I won't res you when you die.

"When? Psh. Honey, I'm not gonna be res-ing you when you die 'cause I'm gonna live the most!"

Eddie joins the Discord call, "Sorry, I'm late!"

"Finally!" you cry out.

Eddie playfully rolls his eyes, "Impatient much, Cat?"

"Yes, but I wasn't the only one!"

"Anywaaaay," another voice cuts in, "Hi, I'm Bella!"

"I'm Jorge."

"They're my normie friends," you say.

Eddie feigns surprise, "You actually have friends?"

Bella and Jorge chuckle while you sneer out, "Fuck you, Munson."

"Just say when, baby, and I'll meet you halfway!"

Shocked, Bella just says, "Wow."

Jorge cackles, "Y/N, where did you find this guy?"

"In the depths of the internet and now he won't leave me alone."

"You invited me!" Eddie exclaims.

____________________

EchoKnight: You invited Eddie to your lobby?

You nod, “I did!" you straighten up, your voice goes up an octave, "Eddie said he doesn’t really like the game a lot but he said he’s down to try it out again!”

PuckYouLol: probably bc he just wants to hang with you more

You shake your head with a chuckle, “I mean Eddie and I are friends. He’s…cool.”

PuckYouLol: just cool! 😏mmmmhhhmmmmm

You snort, “Stop it! You guys know we’re just friends! Anyway, this loser is late! Is he streaming already?"

You open twitch on another tab and pull up his profile. He just started streaming and he's talking to his chat.

You smirk and type into his chat:

CyberCat: JOIN THE DISCORD CALL YOU LOSER. WE'RE ALL WAITING FOR YOU.

Eddie reads your message aloud and then holds his hands up, "Okay, okay! Sorry! Yeesh, Nagging Nancy over here."

You narrow your eyes at your screen and type in chat again:

CyberCat: I won't res you when you die.

You watch as Eddie smirks, "When? Psh. Honey, I'm not gonna be res-ing you when you die 'cause I'm gonna live the most!"

You then hear the familiar ding when Eddie joins the Discord call, "Sorry, I'm late!"

___________

ZeniPenny: mom and dad are fightiiiiing!

EchoKnight: i'd choose dad's side in the divorce

You mute yourself while Bella and Jorge get to know Eddie a little more.

"We're not your parents! Also, Echo, you fucking traitor! I was going to ask you to be a mod!"

EchoKnight: i'm sorry! i take it back!

"Nope. Too late. Perish, bitch!"

You unmute and settle in, "Alright, guys. Are we all ready?"

"Wait! I'm buying this skin!" Eddie cries out.

"The Metallica skins?"

"Yes! Why didn't you tell me there's Metallica skins?!"

"I didn't know!"

ZeniPenny: the banter has been bantering a lot lately. i love this for them.

PuckYouLol: honestly, i think they'd make a great couple

ZeniPenny: please don't make it weird for them. they're just friends!

PuckYouLol: you literally called them mom and dad...

________________________

"Thanks for the games!" Bella exclaims.

"Yeah, thanks for playing with us, Eddie."

"No problem, man! It was nice meeting you guys! Hopefully, we can play again soon!"

"For sure!"

"That'd be nice!"

"Bye!"

"Bye!"

Bella and Jorge left the Discord call, leaving you and Eddie.

He clears his throat, "So what are your plans now?"

"Hmmmm. I think I'll play Animal Crossing to bring the energy to more chill since we started off with high energy. What about you?"

"Think I'll end stream and work on some music."

You raise your brows, "How's that going? You said you were having a writer's block."

"I'm slowly coming out of it. My current song is halfway finished now."

"Will you let me listen to it some time?"

"Maybe...I'm not sure you'll like it. Metal Rock isn't really your thing."

You shrug even though he can't see you, "I still want to listen to it, Eddie."

"Oh. Well, we'll see. It depends how I feel about the finished product."

"I'll hold you to it." A silence falls upon you two as you switch games. Suddenly, you get the notification that EddieTheBanished raided with 1,732 viewers.

"Oh! Thanks for the raid, Eddie! Hi, raiders! For those who don't know me, I'm CyberCat. You can call me Cat or Y/N. I'm a variety streamer. Uuuhh, just finished playing Fornite with Eddie and my normie friends. Now I'm gonna play some Animal Crossing and chill for the rest of the night. So feel free to get cozy, get some snacks, and hang with me!"

You look at Eddie and see he's still in the call with you, "Eddie, are you just gonna hang out here?"

"Um, yeah? Unless you want me to leave?"

"No no! It's fine! Just wanted to make sure. I'll make sure to talk to you and stuff."

He chuckles, "You don't have to, Cat. I'll just be here. Don't mind me."

"Okaaaay."

Eddie mutes himself and you start playing your game.

____________________

Eddie kept your stream up while he worked on his music. Occasionally he'd pause and watch as your Animal Crossing character ran around the island trying to catch a bug or go fishing. He didn't want to admit it but he definitely had a crush on you. There was just something about you that made him feel all fuzzy inside. You were beautiful, funny, sweet, and your banter with him made him feel alive. But you wouldn't feel the same. You couldn't. Sure, you two would talk every day, play games together and whatnot, but you've never met in person. He couldn't-shouldn't have these feelings for you.

_____________________

CyberCat: tickets for Twitch Con went on sale! you going?

EddieTheBanished: plan to! you?

CyberCat: yes! I'm having a table there for meet and greet! so we're definitely going to meet in person riiiight?

EddieTheBanished: wooow. miss big shot over here! and if you wanna meet my ugly mug, then sure.

CyberCat: shut up! don't talk about yourself like that!

CyberCat: and honestly, my team set it all up for me. I'm just scared no one will show up.

EddieTheBanished: People will definitely show up, Cat. And if anything, I'll be there to take up your time if no one shows up...but people will definitely want to meet you.

CyberCat: like you right?

EddieTheBanished: yeah like me.

You giggle at your phone, staring at the message Eddie sent. He wants to meet you. You get to meet Eddie. Oh boy, can Twitch Con come any sooner?!

[tatteredtoby]

Okay, first actual writing for somebody on this blog! (Had this idea from basically Aliamors entire page)

Case is asked on stream at one point, “Case you should play Genshin Impact”

He slams his palms on the desk and clasps them together, sighing heavily. “Chat. I will NEVER play Genshin impact.” And doesn’t elaborate the rest of the stream.

Later in you and hims relationship, you start streaming Genshin Impact in these extremely high quality cosplays you made yourself, your set up basically right next to his. You RAGE at one of the elemental cube boss’, yelling, “OH COME ON!!!! YOURE A CUBE!!!!! DISSIPATE ALREADY!!!”

He snickers, turning to his chat.

“See Chat, this is why I don’t play Genshin Impact.” He glances over at you, who was staring at him dead in the eye with a “are you serious right now?” Look on your face. “Chat, doesn’t he respond the same way I do to this as to Fall Guys?” You remark, leaning towards your mic, making direct eye contact with Case.

His chat is CACKLING, so is yours.

“AY WHATCHU MEAN BY THAT?!” He yells, spinning his chair to face you.

“You know exactly what I mean by that.” You joke back, looking at your nails in a sassy manner.

————————————————————————————

• I have a feeling he’d like, hang over your chair/lean on it, trying to tell you how to play the game that you’ve been playing for years, and he hasn’t played the game ever.

•He’d totally see something at like a store or something that wasn’t Genshin and go “Is this one of your genshin impacts?” along with a picture of a Hatsune Miku figurine or shirt. (He knows about every character and what it looks like because of you, he just likes to see the messages being like “NOO!!!! THATS HATSUNE MIKU!!!”)

•he totally has videos of genshin impact on his fyp and likes to inch over and show them to you, and he often asks what’s happening in the clip, and you excitedly tell him.

•literally the entire game is spoiled for him. Not like he plans to play it, but he loves listening to you yap about your favorite game.

•actually bans anyone who comments on how your cosplay looks in a sexual way. Doesn’t get a mod to do it, he finds the dude himself and BANS him.

•has to be extra careful near your setup, because if he like does his hand slam thing too hard one of your figures falls and you stare at him like “:c”

•You usually are closer to Kitty, so you and him have clips together of both of you saying “KITTYUH!!!!!” When she walks into the room.

•Off topic from this direct prompt but you force him to watch My Little Pony, but it’s not really forcing, he’s happy to watch it with you.

•He can hear the game through your headphones and a lot of the time, whips around because he heard the Lumine/Aether stretch audio, or a Venti Voiceline, or a Kaeya one.

•“HOW IS TWITCH ALLOWING THIS?!!??!?”

• “chat. Say another word about the cosplay, and I will end stream.”

Literally two seconds later.

“Alright. That’s the end of the stream. See you tomorrow.”

————————————————————————————

CaseOh silly, I love this guy!! I’m getting back into writing, so this might not be the best :)! Have a nice day or night!

[adelaier]

streamer!ellie hcs

⋆⭒˚.⋆── .✦ SUMMARY : pure chaotic hcs. that’s it.

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 𝗢𝟭 ⠀ᰋ word count 803 | pairing : none

↳ CW : swearing, ellie is not a good teammate or a good cook, dina, jesse, joel, and abby mention !! ellie plays league of legends, valorant, and the sims. (also an untitled horror game)

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 𝗢𝟮 ⠀ᰋ A/N : i had way too much fun with this i am not even going to lie LMAOO anw reqs are open <3

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who loves playing horror games at night. she says it adds to the spook factor and makes the experience better.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who later regrets playing in the middle of the night when she needs to go to the bathroom or hears a sound.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who pulls up a stock photo of a bodyguard on her ipad.

“he’s gonna protect me when i get scared.”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who has a cat named cosmo !!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who hits her knee against her table so hard that the stream disconnects for a good 3 minutes.

“look, a note! ‘don’t look down’?” she reads, moving the angle to look down and see nothing. “pshhh see, chat? nothing was even there. this game is actual cheeks.” she lifts the character’s head up only to get met with a big jumpscare. “WHAT—”

stand by ! stream is starting soon …

coolusername1: aint no way bruh 💀💀

littlefirefly: look at my favorite streamer dawg we are not winning the best gamer award

dingleberrytickler: calling the game cheeks and then breaking your set up is wild

ellienoticeme: is the stream paused for anyone else?

[MOD] dina00: LMFAOOOOOOOOO

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who was playing ‘ultimate roblox obby 250 levels’ when the stream came back on. face blank like her soul left her body, quietly clicking away.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who posts thirst traps but always gets clowned for it by her fans.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who does the 100 baby challenge but makes the sims woohoo in the most unconventional locations.

“NO WAY THEY’RE FUCKING— sorry, guidelines — FREAKING IN A PILE OF LEAVES RIGHT NOW.” and then she reads the messages, “THEY CAN DO IT ON A ROCKET SHIP???”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who plays league and valorant with dina and jesse on stream. despite being the tank in league games, she’s always the first one to leave teamfights.

“I CAN’T SEE MYSELF. I CAN’T SEE BRAUM. THERE’S TOO MANY, I’M GOING BACK TO BASE.” she says into the mic as dina shouts at her, telling her to do something, and jesse fighting for his life alone until : “an ally has been slain.”

in valorant, she likes playing jett ! when she dies, she sings into the mic or talks major trash. unmuted. “broooo, oh my god. this abby person cannot play for shit. please quit the game. pleaseeeee.”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who introduces joel to the stream one day, teaching him how to play the games that she does.

“i think you’ll like brimstone, he kinda looks like you. if you were cooler.” she says, earning a small look from him.

“choose heimerdinger, he’s cool.” she says, nudging him to pick a champion with a smile.

“what the hell is a heimerdinger…” he murmurs, squinting at the screen as his brows furrow in confusion, and ellie just laughs uncontrollably.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who tries to do a cooking stream. keyword: tries. the stream ends abruptly after the smoke detector goes off and about 10 minutes later, she posts on twitter.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who watches chiikawa on stream and laughs her ass off. momonga is her favorite.

BONUS : how she started !!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who started streaming her gameplay for dina and jesse on discord mainly to provide background noise in the call and to show off her “godly skills”.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who immediately makes a twitch account after jesse tells her that you can make money from it.

“dude, you should try twitch out. a lot of streamers nowadays make more than a 9 to 5 desk job.”

“yoooo that’s actually so crazy.”

…

“okay, so my username is-”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who has the corniest and longest username known to mankind and it’s only funny and cool to her.

“so…you’re telling me…the username you went with…is xX_6elliedafcknrealestwilliams9_Xx…?”

“i wasn’t allowed to put a swear word in it so i shortened it. fucking sick, right?”

“no, ellie. it’s not sick. if anything, it’s making ME sick.”

“aw what :(“

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . streamer!ellie who eventually changes it after getting a donation begging her to get rid of the username.

intertwinedtoes just donated $150!

please change your username, i hope this is enough.

“huh…” she blinks, dumbfounded at the donation which was just for her to change her user. “…never in my life did i expect to listen to someone called intertwined toes bruh.”

[the-camp-half-blood-library]

My grandma just died and I’m in search of a fluffy Solangelo fic to cheer me up but I swear I’ve read like, everything :(

Any recommendations?

Hi! First off, we’re so sorry for your loss. Take care of yourself! Second, we’ve found seven super fluffy solangelo fics to cheer you up during this difficult time. Sending hugs!

Shitty Blinds are a Blessing by @gali-la

Nico watches, for a while. Sleep still scratches at the surface of his brain, and his blinks are long, and slow, and he kind of feels like he’s drowning. Maybe in the same honey that paints Will’s skin even more golden than it usually is. It’d be a pretty fucking spectacular way to go, he thinks, if he weren’t so aware of how he isn’t dying. He’s good at knowing stuff like that.

Still, if he’s not actually dying, he has more than enough time to be enraptured, he thinks. There’s not really an option to do different; he’s captivated by the image of Will Solace, fast asleep and peaceful right next to him.

~~

It's not often Nico wakes up before Will, but when he does, it's really fuckin gay he's extra in love with his boyfriend

Unbandaged Wounds by breakfastless_behavior

Nico's always hated physical touch. Always. And why would that change now, even if he feels a strong connection to a certain head-medic. But one mishap suddenly has him rethinking himself, and he's never been good at asking for what he needs. Thankfully, Will is as patient as ever.

The Thing About Family Reunions by I_get_around

“Now, my loyal viewers may be asking, ‘Nico, why are you back in the closet?’” he said, raising a brow at the camera. “Don’t worry, I’m still very gay. I’m only here to pick out an outfit for a reunion I’m going to.” He smirked, leaning back slightly on one hand while the other waved dismissively, like this whole event was just a minor inconvenience in his day. “And by reunion, I mean a ‘we all pretend to be civil while silently judging each other’s outfits’ kind of vibe. So naturally, I have to bring my A-game.” Nico said as he got up.

Lovesick by silent_princess14

Will was worried about Nico. He hadn't seen him since yesterday lunch, and it was now around 2:30pm. In other words, either Nico had relapsed, he was ignoring Will, he was off on a mission for his father, or he was hurt in some way. All equally bad options, in Will’s opinion.

aka

Will takes care of Nico while he has a fever and is totally out of it: fluffiness ensues.

Dreamcatcher by FoxFire16

Nico has struggled with nightmares for a long, long time. It's not until after the war that he learns that maybe, just maybe, there's someone there to help him. And maybe it's okay that Nico is so drawn to him.

Aka: A fluffy 5+1 for Nico's birthday that I finished a week ago and have been DYING to post (I had to do it on his birthday, for once). Cuddly Nico, cuddly Will, nightmares, mild hurt and major comfort, and... well. You know the drill.

Rumor has it by riddikuliz

Nico di Angelo is a famous twitch streamer, and his viewers are deeply interested in his roommate. Will Solace doesn't like to be in the spotlight, he knows all too well how terrible of a life it can be. Him and Nico can both agree, however, that they would like to keep their personal lives private. But, Nico's viewers might be just a little too nosey and just a little too good at reading emotions.

I think we could do it if we tried by Squ3k

"I told you, no more Underworldly stuff, doctor's orders. You owe me at least three days of rest in the infirmary. Starting now." 

Or alternatively: Nico makes good on his promise and spends three days at the infirmary. Shenanagins and cuteness ensue.

We hope you can find a little bit of comfort in these fics. Leave kudos, leave a comment, and happy reading!

-Mod 2

[whereispearlescentmoon]

I would like to point out that Skizz was put on the spot with that message in chat. Everybody knows he's not the best at phrasing, and he obviously doesn't hate anyone, and as long as people aren't trying to cause an argument, it shouldn't be that big of a deal. If someone really hates lgbtq people, they wouldn't be in a community that largely consists of LGBT people. The problem comes in when people decide to make an argument about something when they are aware neither side is going to change their opinion.

This is the only time I’m going to talk about this situation directly until there’s updates.

Skizz is 45 years old. Skizz chose to word the message the way he did and then word the comment he posted the way he did which was to say “I don’t like being told what to do and it’s a political statement but of course EVERYONE is welcome here”. Which. My life isn’t a political statement! It’s actually truly not! But I was willing to let that slip up slide as him being a kind of ignorant middle aged cishet white dude who lives in a red state but is trying his best.

And then I found out he has two people who post bigoted shit hired as moderators on twitch and discord. And he follows them on twitter which means he can’t claim to be entirely ignorant of what they were posting. In fact one of them seems to be backtracking hard and trying to delete all of her offensive stuff. And yeah. No you these play both sides. You can’t be a safe space for these people, and pay them to moderate your community, if you want to be a safe space for queer people and people of color.

I’m not claiming Skizz himself is a transphobe. I don’t think he is. I think he’s trying to be neutral in a situation where the two sides are Group of People Just Existing and Group who Wants that Group Dead for Existing. I think he’s trying to be tolerant so hard that he is allowing intolerance into his community because he doesn’t know that sometimes you just can’t allow certain kinds of people if you want an actually safe space. Saying Trans Rights out loud is only going to make one group of people feel unwelcome, and it’s a group he shouldn’t want watching anyways. He either makes his stance clear or myself and it seems a good amount of other trans people won’t feel entirely safe in his community. I am perfect willing to forgive him because he seems genuinely ignorant and not malicious, but the mod situation needs to be addressed first.

[fountainpenguin]

"She's gonna cut my head off... but I don't caaare! They say, 'You clean up nice... Just like a dead man! Like a dead man!'" (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 42 - “Raider Reunion (Martyn, Etho, Impulse, BigB)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

“Hey, everybody! Welcome back. My name is Josh, and we’re glad to see you here. Pleasure to meet you. Mumbo; it’s been a while. Etho! I just saw your twin and niece. He’s good with kids. She’s… not.” You both know this guy? BigB tries to sneak a glance at either one of them, but the only response he gets is Mumbo’s shrug. “I’m BigB,” he tells the enderman, still focused on the man’s neck area more than on his face. “I don’t shake. I’m an illusioner underneath the moth mods; from knox ZnHeITtk HTvkH IkItn. What are you guys doing out here?” If his terse refusal to touch hands bothers Josh, he doesn’t show it. He does, however, break into a wider smile. “Well, thanks for joining us today. We’re setting up for one of my favorite games: Is There a Limit? Specifically… Is there a limit to how many people we can have waterskiing behind a dragon at the same time?” “… What’s waterskiing?”

Scott gave BigB until sunset to talk to his old raider friends. BigB didn't bring a clock.

Meanwhile, Impulse seeks help for his goo problem and Martyn breaks into Cleo's house. Just a typical day in New Star Station...

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

InTheLittleWood

Location: Approaching wool farm, North New Star Station

🖤  🌕  🖤

Are you sure you can handle this? Every twitch in Martyn’s form screams at him to voice the question. Spikes and feathers twist inside his hearts. Nostrils flare. Maybe that’s why Bdubs blurts out his words without thinking them through: because keeping a shut jaw fills a guy with alligator wriggles. Technically, the proper way to sort out this lack of faith would be to take it to the sparring ring, but Martyn can’t do that either… Not with Rosejoy’s rippling muscles a hand’s breadth from his own. Hey, she has claim on the Fox Dragon’s turf. That can’t be an accident. And if it was, then it’d be just my luck that lightning strikes her twice.

“You did all right out there,” Martyn tells her, which is less direct than asking why she challenged Impulse in the first place. You think she knew she’d lose upfront? Huh. Maybe she gets drunk on the way people talk. They’ll have gossip and clip compilations for days.

Chunky fingers tighten around his own. Martyn looks down to the wobbly eyes of a much lower-XP phantom hybrid clinging to his hand. “What about me?”

“Aww, you too, slugger. You really showed Baker what-for. All tuckered out now, are we? Yeah…”

Lucky rubs a fist across his eye. It hides a yawn, but Martyn’s hearts spring forward like rabbits when the arrows come a’flyin’. The foxes he hatched would’ve liked to eat rabbit, actually. Martyn pats Lucky behind the shoulder, but throws a glance to Rosejoy to see if she caught what just happened there. And the stare she returns, uh… answers that question pretty dang well.

Sleepy kid. His energy’s dropping fast. The portals are still down, so there’s no dodging this by jumping AFK. We need more food. If Bdubs will listen long enough to follow orders-

“Aw, Lucky’s gonna love hanging with me,” Rosejoy butts in, thwapping him with the end of her tail. She caught Martyn on the way, which was probably the point.

And you’re sure? he wants to ask again. Lucky’s a member of the New Star flock; he’s never been alone with Rosejoy before. Mental ping after mental ping fires down Martyn’s spine. Rival captain bad. Rival captain take or kill. Brrr. That’ll wake you up in the morning. That’ll give you shivers all the way ‘til bed.

“So, what’s the big guy’s story?” Rosejoy asks, moving a few steps away. The shift of her wings and the grimace of his lips paint a picture Martyn only dares to imagine from the outside looking in: Two flock captains testing one another’s boundaries; they maintain a truce ‘cuz someone outside told them so. It sure ain’t instinct keeping the rules intact. She continues, bouncing every step. “Who would mod out of being a phantom with a wingspan like that? I bet wind resistance runs from him!”

Oh, it does. The glitter in her eye ripples Martyn to his core. The swing in her tail’s a little too lax for a guest who’s got everything to lose with raiders in her home. The soft smirk’s a little too wide. She doesn’t want to lead him aboveground… Does she? Will the Lone Spruce refugees even be allowed aboveground when the coast is clear? Unsure. And Martyn wonders then, with a quickening through his hearts… whether Impulse - if offered the chance to rejoin a flock - would actually say ‘Yes.’

I mean, I don’t see any reason Scott could refuse him, right? Impulse can fly. He’s got the wings, the strength, the speed… If the phantoms get to go, why wouldn’t he?

“Ah, just medical reasons,” he says anyway, clinging tighter to Lucky’s hand. “Nice guy. Just super pent-up, if you know what I mean. I just feel sorry for his wife. He can’t target anymore, y’know? There go the love hearts.”

“He can’t hunt?”

“Lost his soul teeth. We keep him fed.” We have a system. He’s with us. So back off. He can’t ascertain from her silence whether the implication came across, printed in his tone, but at least Rosejoy doesn’t press the topic harder. Seriously, she hovered around Impulse enough back there at the squall- Did you hear the stuff she asked him?

There should be enough souls left in storage to keep Lucky going. Martyn looked through the mess with Bdubs last night. Bdubs still has a few in his soul pouch, but whether he shares is anyone’s guess. Like Hels he will, Martyn gripes, because Bdubs already made his position quite clear when he caught Cleo offering a feed: That’s the captain’s job. And he’s not the captain.

Really, though? To refuse a kid? Technically Bdubs didn’t refuse Lucky, but Martyn’s not about to ask him to share. Not before exhausting all his options. And maybe not even then.

We prep the nest. I feed the kid. Simple, simple two-step plan. And if it comes to it, there will be no asking. It’ll be a demand straight from his mouth to Bdubs’ ears. And the boss better listen up if he knows what’s good for him.

Their first stop is for more blankets from the wool farm. Last night everyone was restless, off and on the roosting platform for hours. Martyn brought out the board games and Bdubs did a little improv show - a little open mic night - but the fewer souls they’ve got on hand, the more exhausted everyone will get. What’s wrong with a little cuddle pile? Aw, roosting’s such an effort. Nobody says that, but they could! And you don’t grow up to be Martyn InTheLittleWood unless you’ve learned to be prepared.

Mumbo used to compliment me on random stuff in my inventory. Cleo too, but this is Sad Times About Mumbo right now. Martyn is trying very, very hard not to think about Cleo. Just check the moon and her AFK status if you wanna take a crack at why.

“Lucky, keep your hands behind your back. You’ll spook the villagers, remember? They’ll run.”

“Okay.”

“That’s why I wear the hoodie,” Rosejoy says, keeping back. When Martyn shoots a glance at her, debating whether to shoo her even farther off (Because let’s be real, three approaching phantoms would get anyone’s hackles up, even if they’re on foot), she just smiles. “You go on and do your thing. I’m barracking for you.”

The villagers regard Rosejoy with way too much apprehension to approach the fence. Martyn can read it in their shoulders; not even Meriwo will get close, and it’s the village headman. Martyn pulls his hoodie sleeves over his hands and hops the fence the old-fashioned way. He can’t speak the villager language and New Star’s mobs sure as hell aren’t sparked, but he’ll find a way. He’ll use bold gestures with his arms.

“Oh, this’d be so much easier if they didn’t scramble off when they see sign language.” Or if I had BigB and Cleo out here.

❤️ Read on AO3

[lair-of-the-white-worm]

"Frequency Jammed"

Tox (c) @industrial-tox

Wittly & written text (c) Me

Artwork (c) @this-game-has-themes

Static crackled, monitors flickered, and tangled wires ran across the floor like vines in a jungle. That is, if jungles ran on outdated surge protectors and anti-mindwave insulation foam.

Wittly hunched over low at his console, his helmet of wire mesh and tinfoil sliding slightly down over one eye. He pushed it up with a jittery hand, muttering curses under his breath. His setup—a bizarre laboratory of scavenged monitors, jerry-rigged radio antennae, and several “mindwave dampeners” (old soup cans, mostly)—pulsed dimly in the stale air. The light came from a bulb overhead wrapped in aluminum foil “to block out satellite brain-zaps.”

“Alright, alright.. okay.. we got—hold on—fifteen, no, seventeen distinct encryption layers here, okay?” Wittly jabbed frantically at a terminal, his fingers clacking against a keyboard with keys labeled in duct tape and marker. “Why’s a basic packet of Magog freight shipping logs—allegedly—protected like it's an executive toilet blueprint?! Huh?! That’s not regulation! That's not even paranoia, that’s fact!”

His right eye twitched. He spun around in his bucket-seat, goggles bouncing on the bridge of his snout as he turned to the tall, dark figure lounging near the far wall. “You seeing this?! You seeing what I’m seeing?! Firewall on top of firewall! It's a Firewall Layer Cake, and I'm being force-fed!”

Tox, who had been leaning coolly against a rack of network equipment, let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a grunt. His gas mask tilted just slightly in Wittly’s direction, the black lenses gleaming with subtle judgment.

“You’re using a toothbrush to cut steel,” Tox said, voice muffled and metallic. “You’re not even in the right root directory. You’re poking at sandboxed dead data while the real files are one layer deeper. But sure—blame the mind-control microwaves.”

Wittly’s throat gurgled as he turned back to the screen, sweat forming beneath the rim of his colander helmet. “Pshhh.. I knew that. Was testing you. See if you were paying attention. You passed. Good job. For a brainwashed technocrat. No offense.”

He blinked hard at the monitor, squinting like it might suddenly spit answers at him. A new firewall slammed down over the interface. A little Magog Cartel logo popped up, flashing red and saying “ACCESS DENIED”

Wittly slammed his fist onto the desk. “That’s the fifth one! The FIFTH! That’s.. that’s not protection, that’s obfuscation! That’s deliberate! That’s Cartel psy-op design! They’re laughing at me, Tox. Somewhere, some Vykker in a bathrobe is sipping swamp gin and giggling into a test tube marked ‘Wittly’s Limit.’ And he’s gonna find out I DON’T HAVE ONE!”

Another long sigh from Tox.

Then he stepped forward.

Click.

The first sound was the heel of one boot hitting the metal floor—a precise, sharp tap that sliced through Wittly’s thoughts like a razor. The second was the way Tox’s hips shifted as he leaned down next to the terminal, arching his back with vamp-like elegance. The bodysuit—pitch grey latex—clung like it was vacuum-sealed, shimmering faintly under the low lighting. Tox bent at the waist, knee shifting forward for balance, one hand bracing against the desk.

Click.

Another step closer. Another click of those modded neon heels. The green glow from the soles lit up the wires at their feet like zappflies.

Wittly’s goggles fogged over.

“Now pay attention,” Tox muttered, fingers flying over the keys. “You didn’t isolate the sandbox. You brute-forced it into recursive loop mode. The system isn’t stopping you. You’re stopping yourself. Like usual.”

Wittly didn’t hear a single word of that.

His mind was screaming at him in a half-dozen frequencies. Part of him was analyzing the movement of Tox’s body, noting the sway, the tension in the suit’s material, the shimmer on his thighs. Another part was screaming that this wasn’t right, that something was being pumped into the air—pheromones, maybe, or electromagnetic lust radiation. Maybe there was a frequency hidden in Tox’s voice. A sultry sub-harmonic.

‘Oh no. No, no, no,’ Wittly thought to himself, backing slightly in his rolling chair-bucket. “This is a trap. This is bio-hacking. Pheromonal seduction tech. Vykker bio-sedu—seducto—brainwave.. sauce. That’s what this is. I knew that suit looked too.. sleek. It’s not fashion. It’s TACTICAL. He’s got some.. some slinky stealth enchantment running!”

Tox arched an eyebrow—not that Wittly could see it—but the beat of silence was telling.

“Something you don’t understand? Do I need to dumb it down more?” Tox asked, voice cool and dangerous.

Wittly jumped. “NOPE! Nope. I’m focused. Hyper-focused. Just gotta.. realign the.. quantum interface.” He jabbed randomly at some buttons. “Everything’s fine. Nothing to see. No distractions. Not a single one.”

Tox looked at him for a long moment, the lenses of his mask unreadable. Then he slowly stood upright, the latex creaking softly as he pulled away from the desk. The glowing heels clicked twice more on the bunker floor as he returned to his leaning position. Wittly exhaled so hard his helmet shifted again.

He spun back to his terminal, face flushed beneath his goggles. “Focus, Wittly,” he whispered to himself. “This is how they get you. First they mock you. Then they send in the sleek agent provocateurs with nice hips and death stares and suspiciously high-quality shoes. It’s all a distraction. A honeypot. A latex honeypot. Classic strategy. Saw this in the 2184 Slog Rebellion. Or.. maybe that was a dream. BUT THE POINT STANDS.”

Behind him, Tox crossed his arms. “You’re mumbling again.”

“No, I’m not,” Wittly snapped, typing gibberish just to look busy. “I’m composing mental countermeasures. Thought shields, if you will.”

Tox chuckled under his breath—a sound that Wittly swore echoed too well in the acoustics of the bunker. ‘They redesigned my bunker to amplify mocking laughter,’ he thought. ‘Vykker architectural psy-warfare. They thought I wouldn’t notice.’

As Tox turned away, presumably to check something on his own portable setup, Wittly stared at the encrypted file still flashing on his screen. The Magog Cartel logo had dissapeared. A new prompt had appeared.

“ENTER AUTHORIZATION CODE.”

Wittly narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t think I’m falling for that,” he whispered. “That’s bait. That’s code for ‘admit your thoughts are clogged and you have fallen out of focus.’”

He reached for another tin can. Just in case.

[amirs1wife]

Hey everyone! I’m really sorry I haven’t been posting much lately—life’s been super busy with work, and I’ve also been helping out a friend as a mod on his Twitch channel. He’s honestly one of the sweetest, funniest, and most amazing people I’ve ever met. His streams are always fun, interactive, and full of great vibes. Even though he has a small community right now, he’s incredibly engaged with everyone—he listens to all kinds of suggestions, whether it’s about games, music, or anything else. He plays everything from Warframe to a variety of other games, and it’s been a joy to support him. Helping him reach his dream of becoming a full-time streamer would mean the world to both of us. If you could drop him a follow on Twitch and join his Discord, it would be such a huge support! MUCH LOVE TO YOU ALL HAVE A BLESSED DAY!❤️

[anonymous-rendezvous]

You Comfort Him - ❤️ Vox

Vox Akuma x GN!Reader

✦ — Written by Mod I ✨. Beta Read and Edited by Mod S 👿. ⏌

✧ — Comfort & Care Masterlist | He comforts you ❤️

✦ — Contains: Established Relationship, fluff, & comfort

✧ — Word count: 985 | Ao3

Snippets of time showing how you and your partner care for each other.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

It has been a while since you’d last heard from your boyfriend, Vox. That is really saying something, considering you literally live together. The only times you've seen him these last few days have been when he’s left his office to eat or shower, and even that was becoming rare. This could only mean one thing: he was trying to ward off the burnout that had taken over him the past few days. You tried to warn him; you saw the telltale signs pretty early, but your boyfriend – being the ever-enthusiastic people pleaser he is – wanted to keep working.

With a huff, you get up from your spot on the couch. “Time to initiate, plan: be an annoying and sweet significant other till he stops working!” You let that sink in before shrugging your shoulders, “We’ll workshop that title…” With a nod to yourself, you steal your nerves and march towards his office. The only sound you can hear from inside is a mixture of angry mouse and keyboard clicks. Raising a hand, you knock on the wood. The clicking doesn’t stop. You knock again, calling out this time. “Vox.” A few moments pass and you still don’t receive a response. Taking a deep breath, you knock again, a bit more force behind your movement - calling his name louder. “Vox.”

The clicking finally stops, Vox calling from within the room, “What?” Opening the door, you're greeted by the sight of your boyfriend hunched over his desk. The demon looks more disheveled and exhausted since you’d last glimpsed him; hair was messy and eyes strained. When you continue to stand there in silence, he cocks a brown at you. “Do you need something? I’m in the middle of working right now, love.”

Pursing your lips, you move further into his room. “Babe, you need to take a break.” You don’t miss the way his fingers twitch over his keyboard. “Why don’t you come and eat? I can make one of your favorites. And then we could throw something on the T.V., or maybe we could play a game?” He’d already returned his attention to the computer in front of him, picking up wherever he’d left off, seemingly ignoring your proposal. “Vox.”

There’s a bit of an edge to his tone when he responds again, “Darling, I’ll take a break when I actually get some of this done. Now, can you please stop interrupting me?”

“I’m not leaving until you agree to leave this room.” He’s ignoring you entirely at this point. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you contemplate your next move. It will no doubt make him mad, but really, it was time for drastic measures. Moving to his side, you reach over and turn his monitor off.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” He reaches up to turn it back on, except you quickly switch it off again. This back and forth continues for a few moments before he attempts to swat your hand away, growing increasingly frustrated. “Stop it! Fuck! I have important work that needs to get done.”

“I’m serious. You need to step away from all of this and take an actual break.”

“Well, if I got all this work done, then I could, but you had to interrupt me. I can’t coddle you right now, so just go away!” Biting back a bitter response, you feel like you have no other choice, forcing his desk chair back and standing firmly in front of his computer. Golden eyes glare up at you, his fists clenched atop the desk on either side of your body. You can tell at least a small part of him wants to push you aside, yet he refrains from it; more than likely not wanting to risk hurting you by accident. “Fine.” He eventually spits out before standing up and walking out of the room.

Following behind, you watch as he collapses onto the couch with a frustrated huff. It’s a small step, but at least you’ve gotten him out of the room. Shuffling into the kitchen, you quietly prepare him a cup of tea and a light snack. Once done, you set them on the coffee table in front of him before sitting on the other end of the couch, flipping the T.V. onto a show the two of you have already seen.

It takes a while, but eventually, he starts to relax into the couch cushions; frustration slowly fading from his knitted eyebrows. It remains silent for a while before you hear him let out a deep sigh. Eyes drifting to the demon next to you, you see his eyes already looking at you apologetically. “...I’m sorry.” He opens his mouth to say more, but pauses, swallowing hard as he thinks over his next words. “I shouldn't have lashed out at you the way I did.”

“It’s alright, I know you were frustrated.” You give him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry for breaching your space. Honestly, I didn’t know what else to do.” Your eyes drift from him to the coffee table before you continue, “I was worried, love. You haven’t given yourself a proper break in weeks. I don’t remember the last time we shared a meal, or went to bed together…”

He lets out a deep sigh, shifting across the couch to be closer to you. “I’m sorry, sweet thing. I–” He cuts himself off before shifting to rest his head against your shoulder. “I’m trying to get better at it… clearly, I need to try a little harder.”

“It’s a work in progress and that’s okay. I just hate watching you work yourself into the ground.” One of your hands raises to gently pat his head. “I care about you, Vox.”

“I care about you too, darling.” He presses a kiss against your shoulder, and you return it by pressing one against his hair. “Thank you.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Likes are nice and we do appreciate them. However, comments/feedback is what really motivates us to continue writing. Even just a keyboard smash or emojis are a joy to see!

We do not allow our stories to be translated or reposted/shared anywhere. The only places our stories should be found are on Ao3 or Tumblr. Nowhere else.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Rated: Teen and Up

Pairing: General, hint of Dean/OFC

Tags: Witchcraft, Animal Transformations, Angst, Fluff (and Fur)

Word Count: 5500

Hello, and welcome to my very first foray into a big bang! Of course, if I’m going to give one a try, Dean Winchester will be the focus. This particular one was also much less intimidating as it was the 2023 Dean Winchester Big Bang: Mini Edition. So, the word count wasn’t high, and we had a couple of months to work on the project with our artists. My artist is TwinOne. I had such a fun time sending over suggestions and watching their artwork come to life through the process.

I hope you enjoy and please let TwinOne know how sweet and lovely the artwork is. I’m over the moon with the results, and it was so satisfying to see someone’s interpretation of my story! It scratched that itch (wink, wink).

Thank you to the mods @deanwbigbang for hosting and running such a fun challenge! Your time and effort is appreciated!

Summary - Set pre-series, Stanford Era: Dean has been sent on a solo hunt in New Orleans. He meets up with an ingenue witch, Selina, who needs his help to save her mentor from a voodoo priestess. The plan doesn’t go as expected; when does it ever? Dean, though, gets a little breather in the aftermath, and it turns out to be just the thing to scratch that itch.

Prequel to "Oh, I'll Be Anything You Want"

Tendrils of smoke. It swirls, radiating bright white, pulsing with life in an empty void. Growls. Incessant barks. Distant at first. With every passing second, the panic rises as the sound pounds closer. Suddenly, hot and foul breath chases out the smoke.

Dean’s lids popped open from the nightmare. His head tilted from side to side, inspecting the area.

He’d hoped the entire thing had been a self-constructed comedy of errors in his mind. A bad dream from which he’d blessedly awakened.

Unfortunately, the current situation he found himself in was very, very real.

There was no way Dean Winchester would ever tell his dad about this.

If he somehow managed to escape this debacle, he might die of humiliation if someone found out.

New Orleans had been a disappointment in so many ways. No booze. No beads. No boobs.

He whined at the unexpected stab of pain emanating from his shoulder. He’d been lucky to win the fight in one piece. The sparring partner’s fangs had sunk into Dean’s flesh like malleable clay.

But before the ambush, he’d at least accomplished what he’d set out to do. The hex bag had been buried in the priestess’s backyard. Selina had provided specific instructions. Dean’s sense of direction easily found the northernmost corner of the parcel lot. The muslin-wrapped ingredients he’d been charged with rested beneath a half foot of dirt. All his tasks were completed well before midnight under the brightest full moon he’d seen in ages. He hoped Selina had gone ahead with the spellwork even if he hadn’t gotten back to her in time.

He stared out between the steel bars into the pitch-black. The absence of light left him bereft of shadows to discern as friend or foe.

An itch tap-danced over his neck. Skin rippled at the sensation while he fought the temptation to scratch. Discomfort from the wounded limb took priority for a short spell. 

He hadn’t thought things could get worse but turned out jail time was the worst thing that could have happened on top of everything else. Getting caught, literally, in this condition left him vulnerable.

Dean’s nostrils flared and twitched at the overpowering stench of pungent piss and stale shit. He got a whiff of cat dander and sneezed.

The cell block buddy to his right barked to keep it down. It was lights out, after all. Just because he’d been brought in late last night, he was told with a fierce growl, didn’t mean he couldn’t acclimate himself to the way things ran around here right quick. Dean rose only to circle the middle of the floor again. He eventually flopped back down, forced by the pulsing throb of his barely treated and badly bandaged wound. He curled like a ball atop the hard surface. The bone-cold of the place sent a shiver through his body. He closed his eyes again and prayed for sleep.

A fluorescent electric buzz hummed into his ear canal. The flicker of light flashed over closed lids. Tapping into all his senses, something alien swept left to right along the surface of his eyeballs, lazy and slow, as his sight focused.

A languid yawn escaped. The clink-clack of a door unlocking bolted him upright. He scampered to the front of the cell closest to the hallway floor. Nose stuck between bars, Dean tilted his head in vain to glimpse who entered.

Whines. Barks. They echoed off the walls. The instinctual urge to join in added his voice to the chorus.

“I found one that fits the bill a few hours ago.” A raspy elderly voice mixed in with all the noise. Dean recognized it. It belonged to the dog catcher that had entangled him in what looked like a big ass butterfly net. He was the reason Dean was here. He’d done the bare minimum caring for the Pitbull bite. Dean transferred most of the front weight to his left paw. The ache of his right shoulder thrummed in sync with the beating of his little heart. Dean had to be the one to fit the bill.

All Dean could view in his line of sight were soiled, grass-stained tan pants from the knees down and dirty brown combat boots. Pride filled his lungs. The tug of war he’d put up in the net brought the dog catcher to the ground. Their scrap amidst dirt and weeds and a flounce in a mud puddle had left his mark on the human.

Human. Christ, it has to be her coming to claim me. Please.

Hope soared in Dean’s chest when his gaze clamped on the blue (which would be violet if he was looking through his human eyes) leather of a familiar pair of high-heeled ankle boots. A crepe skirt rivaling Joseph’s technicolor dreamcoat covered the boot tops and swished in time with the steps.

“I hope it’s him.” A barely audible female voice floated above, drowned out by the pound puppies’ cacophony.

Selina! Thank Christ! A tinny, high-pitched bark erupted from his throat. Down here! Down here!

Both pairs of boots stopped in front of him. “That’s him there,” the catcher added. A wrinkled finger pointed in his direction.

Selina’s figure descended. Hands gathered the skirt up as she settled into a squat.

Her big almond-shaped eyes, a tad oversized for the heart-shaped face, blinked in relief. Dean halted his bark in mid-yip. Instead of her usual deep purple irises - a breathtaking sight in and of themselves on any given day - he was met with equally captivating dark blue saucers, swirled with golden flecks. The sight of her large frame stirred up amazement.

She grinned. “Yep, that’s him!” 

The dog catcher huffed and fumbled with the key into the padlock. “You should take better care of the mutt. No collar or chip. He’s lucky I found him.”

Lucky, my ass!

“He’s not a mutt,” Selina responded in her typical curt fashion. “Purebred beagle.”

“Aint never seen a beagle with green eyes ‘fore,” the dog catcher mumbled. He fished the padlock from out of the loop. “Or one with paws that damn big.” The cage door squeaked with Dean’s nose nudging it open. Dean bounced off his hind legs into Selina’s lap. 

Selina slammed a hand on the concrete to remain upright. “Oh, thank God! Scooby!” She wrapped her free arm around Dean. 

“Scooby, huh?” The old man removed his cap to smooth down the ten wiry hairs on his head.

Dean’s pulse began to slow, nestled tight and secure in Selina’s embrace. The scent he’d connected with her, spicy incense and pink bubblegum, enveloped his now small and furrier frame.

One back paw reared up and swatted repeatedly at one of his floppy ears.

“What happened to him?” Selina’s tender touch caressed the gauze bandage.

“Got ‘imself in some trouble. Looked to be an animal bite.”

Dean’s lids clamped tight. He cocked his head and continued to flick and dig his paw into the spot behind his ears. Maybe if he used his claws.

“Does he… have fleas?” Selina asked in a tone that regrettably already knew the answer.

Fleas? Dean whined, still scratching. Why the fuck not? On top of everything else.

“We’re gonna take care of this, Dean. Promise.” Selina white-knuckled the steering wheel, hands at ten and two. Her lithe, petite frame perched on the edge of the bench. It was the only way she could reach the Impala’s gas pedal.

Dean languished on the passenger side and sunk into the center of the seat. It was still dark out. Street lamps popped overhead in a rhythmic pattern and spilled light through the windshield. Cobblestone-paved streets jostled the chassis. His baby usually drove like a tank with barely a hiccup; all smooth sailing. He wondered how much the bumpy ride had to do with the road condition under the tires or the person driving his car. 

He sighed, closed his eyes, and shivered at the pinprick, itchy tingle of his skin. 

Apparently, the spell Selina had cast didn’t include telepathy. No matter how much he wished for her to reach under the seat, feel for the damn bar to pull the bench forward to close the distance between her and the wheel, she wasn’t tuned into his mental signals.

Dean straightened his front legs and stiffened his elbows at the sudden screech of tires. His paws dug into the leather. He lurched forward with the momentum, watching Selina do the same from the driver’s seat. Once they settled to a stop, she stared over at him with a regretful frown. “Sorry. I haven’t driven in a while.”

Dean slitted his lids and yipped.

“It’s not much farther to the shop.” The pointy toe of her boot met the gas pedal and the car sputtered along again. “Once I got a lock on your location and saw how far away you were, I didn’t have a choice but to take your car. But don’t worry, we’re gonna take care of this, Dean.”

You already said that. Dean’s little barks echoed in the Impala’s interior.

“I know you’re trying to tell me something. But I can’t read your mind.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“Man, you’ve got a powerful set of puppy lungs. Want some good news? I was able to lift the hoodoo trance off Esme. All thanks to you.”

Well, at least something good came out of this mess.

It was very good news. He was in New Orleans because his father sent him on a case to help out an old friend. The old friend happened to be a witch doctor named Esmerelda. Esme for short. 

Dean’s boots had hit Danneel Street and crossed the threshold of “Step on a Crack” Magical Notions Shop, which Esme owned, one day too late to prevent the inevitable escalation. Esme had been cursed and was unsure when the fallout would take full effect. She hadn’t stepped on a crack but the toes of a powerful voodoo priestess in the French Quarter. That’s why he and Selina had partnered up. To save her teacher, who’d been rendered catatonic. Esme was currently being watched and cared for by the coven, whose members were taking shifts at her bedside.  

Glad your mentor is on the mend. That’s even better for me. She can probably zap me back quicker than you. Why aren’t we heading there?

“She’s still pretty weak, though, from what Harold told me over the phone.”

Dean huffed.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know you wanted to turn into a German Shepherd. But I did say I couldn’t guarantee what kind of dog breed the spell would transform you into. That’s not in my control.” Selina tangled her hands one over the other along the steering wheel column in a clumsy fashion. Dean swayed to the right with Selina’s left turn. “I’m pretty sure, though, the shop’s got some things that will take care of your fleas while we wait out the magic.”

It was true. Selina hadn’t guaranteed much about the spell. And it had been his idea to try it when they rifled through the pages of an ancient grimoire. The voodoo priestess had stitched some warding around her property, only permitting certain humans to cross. An animal transformation made perfect sense. 

Dean groaned and rubbed the side of his head into the backrest to ease the itch. Fleas better not have been part of Selina’s witchcraft.

Dean scrabbled paws along the slippery marble floor, trying in vain to sit upright. Every time he thought he’d achieved a precarious balance, his body toppled. He’d starfished, even done a few Bambi-on-ice skating maneuvers waiting for Selina in the tiny bathroom. Claustrophobia settled in, though it’d only been a few minutes since she promised to return and closed the door behind her.

How old was this puppy skin he inhabited? All of Dean - his mind, sensibilities, and humanity - wrapped up tight in this fur burrito felt like him, except when it didn’t. Curious instinct made its presence known. Once he relented on the sitting still attempt, his nose glued to the floor and led the inspecting. He tried to zone in on something interesting to escape the fear. And the endless itching he’d been ordered not to scratch. When Dean thought about it, it wasn’t that different from any given human day. 

Overhead, water poured out of the claw foot tub’s red copper faucet. Steam plumed over the deep basin. The impending bath temperature also drew concern. Being a beagle was terrible enough. A boiled beagle? Hell no!

Flared nostrils filled with the overwhelming scent of Selina. A sense of calm broke through the nagging flight response. He’d been in the small apartment only once since arriving in Louisiana. Perched over the magic shop, his first step into her home had flooded his sight. It was a treasure trove of textiles and trinkets blazing with gemstone brilliance. Shelves stuffed with books. Glass jars of unidentifiable powders. Vials of transparent or opaque liquids. Everything a young witch needed to learn the craft.

She smelled nice before. He’d caught whiffs of her here and there when he passed her frame on his human feet. But his canine senses were picking up every atomized particle now. He spotted a forgotten hairbrush hiding in the corner and catapulted forward to claim it. His speed and the slick marble took away any ability to stop in a semblance of elegance. He face-palmed into the rubber tines of the brush. Tangled hair in the brush tickled his nose, and rapid inhales took more of her into his lungs. Yeah. This was nice. It felt good. Safe. He debated chewing.  

The door creaked. Dean spun in a flash and let out a pathetic growl of defense, having painted himself into a corner with no way out. Selina stepped inside, paying him no attention. The giantess silenced him with only her presence. 

“Apple cider vinegar.” She held up a bottle in victory, clutching a few small droppers in the other hand. They clattered from her grip into the pedestal sink. Sitting on the tub edge, she uncapped the vinegar and emptied the contents with a rhythmic glug into the water. 

Drops splattered up and out of the tub, landing near Dean. He flinched. Doggie brain told him this was not going to be pleasant. 

“Okay.” Fingers twisted first one faucet knob, then the other, shutting off the flow. Her arm dipped into the water. Dean’s ear perked up at the sloshes. “Not too bad.”

Says you.

“Come on, Dean.” Her wet hand gestured with a come hither.

You know, I might be able to hang on until the spell wears off. I’m good.

Selina sighed. “You’re gonna make me come over there, aren’t you?” She slinked on the floor, knees stretching the fabric of her skirt as she crawled towards him on all fours.

Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with worse.

His insistence fell on deaf ears. She snatched him up in a second. The next, he dangled above the water. Her hands cupped him under whatever a dog’s version of armpits were. He kicked and wriggled. Whined and whimpered.

“It’s okay.” She submerged his hind quarters like a tea bag in and out three times until he gave in and went limp in her arms to steep. “Not gonna hurt you, no matter what you think of witches.” She leaned him forward with care. “Good boy.” When she let him go, he stood in warm water that rose up to just meet his back.  

He shivered, puppy heartbeat racing. His nose twitched at the acidity of the vinegar additive. The sound of skin rubbing together crept up behind him. “Next ingredient we need is peppermint.” A soap bar popped into his peripheral vision. It smelled of candy mints left atop a restaurant check, then absentmindedly stuffed in a jacket pocket. “Okay?” she asked.

You gonna stop if I say no? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Okay, so Dean had to admit to himself - even if he’d never cop to Selina - the bath hadn’t been that bad. Selina had a gentle but firm touch. She’d sudsed all of his coat, lifting him first from the front and then the back end. She apologized for getting a little more intimate than Dean had expected with his little puppy prick and ass. The fleas could be anywhere, she reminded him. As the tub drained, she sprayed water from the shower wand and rinsed him clean. 

Once he was taken out of the tub and laid atop one towel, another enveloped and rubbed until his fur was damp and not dripping. She communicated all of her actions beforehand. The dropper bottles contained various oils to help rid Dean of the dreaded fleas. With fabric under his paws, he sat tall and tilted his head to study Selina while she worked. She smiled at him, patiently naming each essential or botanical oil she squeezed into a water bottle: Almond, Cedar, Eucalyptus, Lavender. 

The concoction soothed immediately on contact. The mix of smells dispelled the last remnants of his anxiety. Delicate, soft fingers caressed his coat and threaded through the fur to find the skin. The blissful massage helped chase away the panic. Yet another thing he’d never admit to Selina. If he ever got the chance to admit anything to her with his human voice again. Weirdly, he seemed perfectly willing to accept such a fate. Maybe things could be much, much worse after all. 

After tidying some of the bathroom mess, Selina opened the door and ushered him forth. Dean’s legs scampered toward the makeshift doggie water bowl beside the bank of kitchen cabinets. One would have thought he’d never want to dip his snout in water again. But he gobbled and slurped with his tongue like he hadn’t drank a drop in days. He didn’t know how much time had passed before a plate of cut-up deli ham had been deposited alongside the bowl. He was greedy for that as well. Fangs hooked into the meat. He hitched his head upwards to encourage the food down his throat.

“I know human food isn’t the best for you… like this. But let’s hope we don’t have to experience the results and the spell wears off before then.” Selina commented, leaning against the countertop. “Do you need to go outside and do some business?”

Again, without any say in the matter, Dean’s head sprung upright to lock his gaze on the sweet human caretaker at the words “go outside.” He mulled it over. He’d pissed in the nearest grass as soon as they’d left the pound. An impressively long and satisfying leak. He wanted to shake his head “No” but couldn’t do it. Instead, his eyes tracked a small rug by a chair. His claws clicked along the hardwood - thank god the entire floor wasn’t marble - to what he decided would make a perfect resting spot. He corkscrewed his frame into a compact fur ball atop the cushy velvet and let out a deep, well-earned sigh.

“Good idea. I’m beat, too.” She pointed somewhere behind Dean. “Can get a few hours of sleep before sunrise. I’ll be able to find out how long the spell will last with a clearer head in the morning.” She shrugged. The motion appeared to loosen a yawn from her throat. “But, maybe you’ll wake up all back to normal.”

Dean yawned in return, finishing it with a high-pitched squeak.

Selina giggled. “You are adorable, Dean Winchester. Night.”

Too exhausted to be any more humiliated, Dean’s tail thumped softly in response. He closed his eyes. Clean. Warm. Cozy. Well fed. Watched over.

He drifted off, hard-pressed to recall the last time he’d ever been all those things.   

Dean’s running. His puppy paws gallop atop the soft, giving earth of a field. He’s darting through the wheat. His snout cuts through the crops, scraped by wispy stalks. 

He can hear how heavy he’s panting. The exertion and speed has his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

But he’s not running from something.

Dean’s just running. Because he can.

He breaks through and into a clearing. The sun’s rays warm his furry coat. He spots a quintessential farmhouse in the distance. He can see the large wrap-around porch. A pair of rocking chairs. Off to one side is a laundry line studded with freshly washed clothes, flapping in the breeze. An oak tree, taller than the two-story home, stands guard along the other side. A tire swing dangles from one of its sturdy branches. A few white cotton candy clouds rest above it all in the bluest of skies. 

He feels the farmhouse calling to him. He just knows. It’s home.

All the colors of the rainbow that his human eyes normally detect fill his vision. He zig zags between a row of apple trees, closing the distance. A fallen apple halts him. He sniffs; the sweetness is too good to pass up. He gnashes into the mealy flesh, attacking it from all angles. He tongues the juices into his welcoming throat.

“Deeaaan!”

His head snaps up. That voice beckons him home. He resumes his sprint. That voice. He hasn’t heard it in ages.

He cuts through a tall patch of sunflowers to find the voice's owner waiting for him, seated on the porch steps.

“There you are!” Sam calls out. He tosses a tennis ball a few feet in the air above his head, catching it without having to glance at his palm. This Sam is young. Thirteen or so. He’s spindly, a toothpick with knobby joints, and a smile that takes up half his face.

Just like he remembers.

“Mom said we’ve got time before dinner.” Sam juggles the ball from one hand to the other.

Mom. Mom’s here.

“Ready?” Sam asks, winding his arm back for a killer pitch.

Dean yips.

Dean yipped himself awake. 

It’s morning. 

He’s still a beagle.

Selina watched as Dean did his business in the backyard of the Magic Shop. Unlucky, she had to experience the results of feeding puppy Dean human food. But she didn’t complain, picking up after him. “All done? How about some breakfast? Eggs and bacon sound good?”

That sounds amazing to Dean. But he’s beginning to think Selina is a glutton for punishment.

The bacon sizzled in the cast iron pan. Selina explained why Dean was still walking on four legs instead of two. “So, even though the magic worked and Esme’s on the mend, I should probably have bound your reversal spell in with that enchantment to speed things along. You would have been human by the time the full moon set this morning.” She fished a couple pieces of bacon out of the pan with a fork and laid them atop some paper towels. “I’m pretty sure it’ll wear off by tomorrow. If it doesn’t, Harold said he’ll come by and see what he can do. He doesn’t want to leave Esme yet. I’ll ask one of the other witches if you can’t wait, though.”

Dean knew that Selina trusted Harold almost as much as Esme. The other witches in the group were fickle and not the kindest to Selina, from what Dean saw firsthand. Witches, man. Dean trotted over and sat by one of Selina’s legs. He rubbed his face along her smooth calf. She looked even younger in her sleep shorts and t-shirt. Still massive, though.

“I will, Dean. I’ll eat crow for my mistake. You’ve done more than anyone would’ve for someone they don’t even know.”

A friend of Dad’s doesn’t get left behind. It’s cool, Selina. How about some bacon to smooth things over?

“What does that whine mean?”

He raised up onto his haunches and leaned front paws on the oven door.

“Oh, bacon. Right.”

The rest of the day is easy, lazy. A day he hasn’t felt in a while. Not since Sammy left him.

The days without his brother have brought out more of the hard lines and jagged points in John’s countenance. Deep down, Dean wants to hope it’s not him bringing that out in their father. That it’s the void, the empty spot that used to contain Sam that no longer filters out the hate and hurt; that used to misdirect all that drill sergeant behavior. His little shit of a sibling was all of John’s fervent focus of protection for so long. Dean sees it plain as day. John doesn’t know what to do with all his feelings. So he bottles them up. Drinks them away. Or spats them out at Dean, chipping away at him.

Dean has been coping with his feelings as best as John. Realizing he’s handling the broken compass in his core the same way. Nose down. Find a job. Work the case. Kill the monster. Fill the despair with a win. Fill the despair with booze. Inflict rage on any other to empty out the despair. Stoke passion in any other to empty out the despair.

Anything and everything to kick the can down the line. Because he’s realized - Sam was his hope and lifeline as much as he was dad’s. And, without him, well, he doesn’t really know what’s left.

He’s been tossed a lifeline here and there when he’s built up the nerve to call Sam at Stanford—only a handful of times over the past couple of years. The knots and twists in his stomach unfurled when Sam picked up the phone. Accepted and acknowledged his presence. That he’s still here, he remembers he has a brother. Even when that brother had to risk the wrath of John if he ever found out a connection was made.

But this day, wrapped in fur, small, and defenseless, he’s reminded of what could be left for him. Selina softened around him in his puppy form. Her smiles widened. She shined sweet and gentle. 

They holed up in the apartment for safety. Scampered out to the backyard for potty breaks and played fetched with a tennis ball. It’s the sunniest day he’s felt in years. Warm. Light. Clear. Fresh.

It’s the snuggles at the end of that day that he loved the best. Allowed entry into Selina’s bedroom. Allowed to hop onto the mattress and curl atop the crushed velvet comforter. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, Dean. No one gets to spend the night in my bed.”

He pushed in close, nuzzled into the layers that separated their bodies. Her energy - different, charged, holding what he thinks is potential magic - gives him comfort.

He slept like a baby.

“Oh! Dean!” Selina screamed. 

Dean eyes popped open. 

He’s chilly. 

Bigger.

He’s back.

He’s naked.

“Shit!” Dean barked out in his human voice. He glanced at Selina's side of the bed. An upheld hand shielded her view. A racing heart matched the speed of his legs swinging off the bed, standing up.

But he doesn’t have a fucking clue where his clothes are.

Selina pointed to the bedroom door, still not daring to look at him. “Living room. Side table, by the chair.” She squeaked.

He fled the scene, spotted his folded clothes. Faster than a cowboy caught fooling around with a farmer’s daughter, he donned his underwear, t-shirt, and jeans. He called out, “All clear. Nothing more to see here!” His cheeks blazed with humiliation under his attempt at nonchalance.

Selina crept through the doorway. Cheeks red and flamed. Excited, amused, and happy. Remnants of the smiles bestowed upon him yesterday in his canine form. “You’re back,” she sighed.

Dean outstretched his arms for display purposes. “I’m back.”

“How do you feel? Any different? Weird?”

He stopped to actually think, taking a moment to process. “Um, kind of hungover.”

Selina nodded, exhaled. “Okay. That’s normal, from what I’ve been told.”

Dean chuckled. “Nothing normal about this.”

“For us, it is.” Selina corrected.

Selina doesn’t skimp on the bacon for breakfast.

The celebratory feast tasted sublime, well-earned. He was starving.

Sat around the small bistro table, they talked as they ate. Their conversations before the spell had been curt, filled with sass. Selina had snapped at him with every one of her responses. He’d understood, of course. Even if he hadn’t given her an inch of understanding in his smart-ass attitude. She’d been under immense pressure. The stakes were high, and the outcome relied heavily on her ability not to screw up.

Man, did he understand.

Now, they’d both mellowed with the shared experience. Relief. Success. Dean cataloged every inch of her. Human eyes took in all the vibrant colors hidden from his doggie view. Her purple eyes and porcelain skin held an ethereal quality. A tad punk with violet highlights and a nose ring. She was beautiful.

“What was it like?” Selina dolloped more scrambled eggs on his plate. She leaned in, hanging on his every morsel of information.

“Man,” Dean snorted. “Trapped in a funhouse mirror, with none of the fun.”

“But, you still felt like you?”

“Yep.” He chomped away on a strip of bacon.

“You understood me,” she stated. “I could tell.”

He tilted his head in question.

Selina giggled. “Yeah, you’d give me one of those expressions like you were thinking things over. Wanting to communicate.”

“Hmmm,” Dean nodded. Lips smacked. He wanted to ask in a way that didn’t make it seem like he was overly concerned about the answer. “I know you said there wasn’t any telepathic stuff going on… you couldn’t read any of my thoughts?”

Her head shook, matter of fact. “Not a one. Which would have been super helpful if I could’ve. You typically can’t get that kind of bond or connection at my level. And, more often than not, that’s pretty rare. A familiar type situation.”

He chewed his thoughts down.

“I wouldn’t have pulled off the reversal spell that cured Esme if it hadn’t been for your plan.” Selina sipped her coffee.

Dean cocked his head, emphasizing the ridiculousness of that statement. “You would’ve figured something out.”

“Not as quick as I needed to.” Selina shook her head. “Not without your help. Making it so that the reversal spell had to be performed by the greenest of Esme’s students and without any coven assistance… the priestess wanted it to be next to impossible.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help.”

Selina grinned. “Even with fleas?”

Dean shivered. “Yeah, that I could’ve done without.”

“I’m glad you came back all in one piece. I was really worried there would be some pet residue. Like a tail or floppy ears.”

“I don’t know,” Dean contemplated. “A tail might come in handy.”

The thought had them both laughing.

“So,” Selina began, “any chance that brother you mentioned, Sam, is gonna find out about any of this?”

“No way. Not ever.” Dean shook his head.

“Well, I hope you get to see him soon. The way you talk about him. He seems like a pretty great guy. I don’t think he’d tease you too much about being a beagle.”

“You don’t know, Sam.” Dean almost added he probably didn’t know him anymore, either, but pursed his lips shut. 

“I owe you, big time.” Selina offered.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I should get dressed and we should go out. Let me take you on a proper tour of New-or-lins.” Selina drawled, “Laissez les bons temps rouler.”

Dean swallowed hard and locked eyes with her. “I don’t know. We could probably just stay in and find some ways to let the good times roll.”

Selina side-eyed him, but Dean sensed the interest brewing underneath the show. “Didn’t you say you’d rather roll around in the mud with a pig than ingratiate yourself with a witch when we first met?”

He shrugged. “I think I can make an exception for you.”

Selina held a hand to her chest. “I’m honored.”

He grinned. “You should be.”

The moment was perfect for Dean to lean over and kiss her.

Of course, that’s when John called.

John needed him. There was no time for a tour of the French Quarter or even a half hour of good times in Selina’s apartment.

Dean stood at the door and waited as Selina packed him a breakfast sandwich for the road. “Don’t you think you’ve fed me enough?”

She waved a hand in the air, walking towards him. “Hard to tell. You never stop eating.”

He grabbed the bag she presented. “Thanks.”

“It’s the very least I could do. Thank you again, Dean.”

Instinctively, he wrapped her up in a hug. “Anytime.”

She whispered in his ear. “Next time you swing by, look me up.”

He breathed in the scent of her - wanting something else to remember her by - and placed a kiss atop her forehead. Anything more and he knew he’d never leave. “Absolutely.”

It wasn’t until he descended the stairs and was out the back door, away from Selina’s view, that he gave into the urge to paw at his ear like a dog.

Yeah, the next time he called Sam - which he felt would be soon - there was no way he was telling him about any of this.

Well, he might mention the beautiful witch he met in New Orleans with the purple eyes. And how she had been just the thing he needed to scratch that itch.

[iamshay]

Kick and parti | kick lives Rent-Free in some people head. Reality of Staying Loyal as OG of platform and Exposing Snakes 🐍

That townhall space glazing directed at kick Andrew didn’t age well, huh? Only for them to lose their kcip 🤣🤣. Karma is a bitch. Kick removes any streamer who speaks out of pocket or attacks  over two years  a bunch of viewbotters

Disconnecting myself from those snakes feels amazing. People were right about them and their involvement in my harassment of how they were in staff ears.

I will forever warn and tell people to stay away from Parti because of who runs it. Now Kick is losing toxic troublemakers, ungrateful people who only care about themselves. It’s becoming peaceful.

Imagine talking about Kick on another platform. Feeling butthurt, huh? Kick lives rent-free in some people’s heads. Stick to Twitch or Kick, stick to where you’ve built your community and made it solid. Those top three on the StreamChart leaderboard are on a relevant platform for a reason. I will always defend Kick. Your content doesn’t deserve attention from Kick, and you only have yourself to thank for that because of how much you’ve talked badly about staff members and the owner.

I’m not defending someone like thejoker or joker_Rl or any people around their circle. joker_rl has xenophobia whom put another woman againt other because he was coward do the job himself making death treats he busy sucking thecreator dick off get his signing he got 81 following and zero following on IG and botting his following. even his wife hate him enough give him only 3 nugget because that her way telling he is fat fuck. because these clown shown their true colors, and people were 100% right about them all. Livespace was run by another clown, and it only lasted two months, because viewbotter will tear down a platform. Watch these weirdos slide back to Kick when their new platform falls apart. Nobody wants anything to do with a crypto scam. By the way, I haven’t gotten a single payout. Take my experience as a good example of why all streamers out there should stay away. I post with proof on my pinned tweet also the payout tip I do not receive single shit.

*Look at this picture *

This is why, regardless of how much criticism a platform like twitch get about their ads situations or kick get about Degen streamer or troublemaker , these top three are the most relevant. People still always try to farm off their communities. Not even Rumble streamers are fully pro-Rumble; they know the real audience is with the big players. YouTube, Twitch, and Kick are very tough to beat. Rumble can’t even beat Nimo TV, even with all the bots they’re using. The Asian community is massive.

These delusional people who got kicked to the curb think they carried the platform. Bitch, bye. You’re a nobody and never have been. The platform doesn’t need you, and no matter the criticism it gets, it’s not going to fall apart just because it loses viewbotters like you and other troublemakers. In fact, it’s gaining more now with less toxicity and no drama. People from Twitch will choose Kick because:

-They have great features for chat and mod tools and live support responds quickly. 

They also permanently ban people who make death threats because, as a business, it’s a bad look to allow such individuals on their platform especially since it’s criminal activity. No investors or ads will touch companies who Condon what behavior and platform reward them with features.  Those who are actually misrepresenting the platform.  One month old platform already getting bad light because they give staff to viewbotter and fraud and recruits the worst people whom kick got rid off. You think you win people over. The moment streamers find out they got rid of those people they come back to kick. People don't mess with people constantly chasing drama and constantly harassing people and trying to go after someone else's bag.  I apologize to anyone whom I didn't listen to when they try to tell me these people I give benefits to are the actual people behind my back talking smack about me when I was direct. Mf fraud and fake. Anyways I had to let this out.  These clowns are unfollowed for the reason  they fake people whose own actions showed how fake a person they have been since 2022 we meet on kick. We kick everything they do to them. I will help them for now whoever tries the fraud kick. I do my power help them with get rid of these people whom break terms of service.  Now new law enforcement coming viewbotters try fraud get sponsorship. They will get report from me too.

Stay far away from Parti.com a scam platform. Check my pinned tweet to see why. They condone criminal behavior and don’t permanently ban anyone who harasses others or sends death threats. Additionally, I never received my tip payments. The owner lives in Dubai, which is already a huge red flag since many crypto scammers operate from there. Their affiliates are always trying to redirect you to click their links to profit from referral commissions. And i was remove from their affiliate when i was outspoken and was not messing with their shitty narrative they play the victim when you are actual victim of their shady business. Stick to your Youtube, Twitch,kick or tiktok where you at. This crypto streaming platform is scam. Its run by viewbotters and fraudsters.

If people like LauraThaExplora on X and other streamers are telling you to stay away, it’s for a reason don’t jump on a broken ship bound to sink. LOOK at the stats I just posted. Those top three platforms are where you should focus your energy when it comes to streaming.

We streamers are trying to warn people who have little to no knowledge about scammers and viewbotters on Parti, where questionable individuals have been given staff positions and random nobodies are being signed. We’re speaking out because we want to protect you from falling into their trap. These people when they follow and viewbotting that because they have zero principles and morals. Why make you think they will have morals for you not scam you. let that sink in for min.

The top three platforms on the leaderboard earned their spots for a reason. They have proper security, hold people accountable, and permanently ban those involved in criminal activity when you provide proof. In contrast, when I reported similar issues to Parti, their response was to give the person a “warning” while still featuring them on the platform. This shows why Parti is not worth your time or trust. Rumble is shit platform too. They cant even beat nimotv with all their viewbotting they do. But between rumble and parti? i say rumble second worst.

[membermentmania]

August 3rd, 1:14-2:23am 

This time when they walked up to the abandoned red house on the end of the block, no one even batted an eye. Wendy took the lead and walked inside. The chatter in the basement ceased completely as they stepped inside. “Our phones are off,” she said immediately rather than a proper greeting.  

“Straight to business, huh?” Kenny teased. 

“What do you know about our contract lengths?” 

Tweek’s nose twitched. They made direct eye contact and he nodded towards the table. The girls filed in and sat down. “So our contracts our dependent on a lot of things,” he explained, seemingly not sure of how to word it. He folded his hands together, looking at Wendy specifically. “As you guys know, everything in regards to our contracts are based on our souls. So like, everything that is us. Right?” Wendy nodded. He gave her a small nod in response before continuing. “Um, every time I checked mine, nothing ever added up, so I stopped looking. Honestly, I don’t even know where it’s at right now,” he said sheepishly. “But, like, if there is a really important time or amount of time to you, that seems to affect it.”  

“How do you know that?” 

“My mod.” 

Wendy tilted her head. “But She can’t be trusted, no?” 

“For most things, no. I’m just giving you the information I have.” 

“I don’t know how I feel about-”

“Holy shit,” Marj breathed out. Everyone looked at her. It was written all over her face that she had just pieced something together in her mind. “Bebe and I’s contract was four years. We were together almost four years around when we got it.” 

“Wait, seriously?” Stan responded. 

“How long are your contracts?” Tammy interjected. There was silence among the boys. Tammy narrowed her eyes on them. “Is this, like, some super secret we’re not allowed to know?” 

“We never looked,” Kyle said hesitantly. 

“WHY?!” A laugh bubbled out of Tweek at her outburst. 

“When we first joined, our contract length just said ‘varied.’ And we never thought to look at our terms of service. We all read it together. Then we met Tweek and pulled the plug completely. None of us have touched Trinitarianism since,” Kenny explained. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Tammy muttered. She looked at Tweek. “You didn’t make them look before they decided to do this?!” 

He frowned. “I honestly didn’t think to. I’m sorry.”

Her face softened. “Okay wait, no. Don’t do that.” 

“We all made a choice. It’s not his fault,” Clyde interjected. 

“You guys should look,” Heidi said simply. A wave of uneasiness visibly passed through the boys. “Our contracts literally range from seven months to seven years left. You really should check. Then you can just go dark again.” 

“I’ll do it if you do it,” Clyde muttered to Kenny. Kenny just nodded before looking at the other boys. 

“Okay. Before we turn on our phones, I’m just gonna say it. Obviously, things are a lot darker than we thought they were. I propose we team up. Or at least, y’know. Ally with each other. I don’t wanna see anything happen to anyone here,” Tammy said, practically commanding attention to herself. 

“I can agree with that,” Kyle chimed in. There was a small round of agreement from both parties. Wendy felt a lot less closed off to this than she originally had. So she was fine agreeing with this, despite not knowing exactly what it entailed. 

“Alrighy then. Phones on. Pull your contracts up. Phones go on the table. I want transparency here.” 

Kenny sputtered a laugh. “I didn’t take you to be the leader. Are you serious?” 

“Oh fuck no. I’m not the leader, I just can be smart sometimes.” 

“Wait… So then who is your leader?” 

A  laugh bubbled out of Wendy as she looked at her friends. “Um…” Marjorine said awkwardly. “We don’t really have a leader? I’m kinda, like, the recruiter, Wendy’s the strategy guy, and Bebe’s like… I mean, I guess Bebe’s our leader.” 

“Don’t you dare try to pin that on me!” she responded with a laugh. “We all have our roles that we fill. Everyone has their own thing. We function as a unit.” 

“God, I love how girls work,” Clyde muttered. Wendy shot him a warning glare and he immediately raised his hands up in surrender. “No! No! Not like that! Your heads are just so cool, I mean! Like, it took us weeks to get some semblance of order!” 

“So what I’m hearing is, you guys suck?” Tammy teased. 

“Oh my god, Tam. Fuck off,” he responded. 

The two started laughing at each other for a moment before Tammy remembered what she was trying to make happen. “Wait. Fuck you, stop distracting me. Phones. Table. Now.” 

“Yes, mom,” Craig drawled with an eyeroll. 

Wendy pulled up her own terms of service before setting her phone on the table. “Tammy,” Heidi said evenly. 

“Yes?” 

“Is that not your birthday?” Wendy whipped her head towards the two at the end of the table. 

“Wait.” Tammy looked at her phone. “ “Holy shit,” she muttered. 

“You really didn’t put that together?” 

“No! When I first got my contract it was, like, one year, two months, and three days or whatever. I didn’t think about it. And the only other time I checked it was recently!” 

Phones started to clatter around the table. “I’m seven years out,” Kenny noted. “No, this doesn’t have any significance to me.” 

“I’m just under six,” Clyde responded. He frowned. “My mom’s death was around the six year mark when we made our contacts.” 

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” Marj immediately responded. 

He waved a hand. “I’m at seven months and fifteen days plus a few hours.” He made a face. “Yup, that’s my birthday. Eighteen.” Wendy noticed Kyle lean into him slightly and her heart panged. She knew exactly why that was significant to him. He didn’t think he would make it that long. 

A quiet laugh bubbled out of Kyle, distracting the group. “Four months and change.” 

“Don’t tell me,” Kenny said with exasperation. 

“Our graduation date.” 

“Mine doesn’t make any sense,” Craig interjected. 

Tweek leaned over with a furrowed brow. The room paused completely when his phone clattered against the table and his eyes went wide. Wendy caught a glimpse of what was sitting across his screen. 

Contract Length: 71 DAYS, 14 HOURS, 32 MINUTES. 

Everyone looked back and forth between the two, but Craig seemed to stop fully, eyes glued to Tweek’s phone. “Can one of you explain what you’re freaking out about?” Tammy asked nervously. 

Craig turned his phone around. 

Contract Length: 71 DAYS, 14 HOURS, 31 MINUTES. 

Wendy’s eyes shot back towards Tweek’s phone. The number had changed since she first looked at it. They were the same down to the minute. “Guys, that’s like really fucking creepy,” Clyde breathed out. 

“Um,” Tweek finally said. “Do you know what that’s about?” Craig made a face and shook his head. Tweek took a deep breath. “Okay. Doesn’t change anything. It’s fine.” 

“But what if that means something?” Heidi cut in. 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know! That’s just really weird.” 

“Marj and I’s are the same,” Bebe chimed in. 

“Yeah, but you made your contracts together. They didn’t even know each other.” 

Kyle made a face. “Coincidences do exist.” 

Wendy would love to sit there and debate that argument with Kyle. He was fun to debate with. But for her own peace of mind, she was willing to let that be the answer. 

Craig and Tweek exchanged a look. “Turn your phones off,” Tweek said, face devoid of all emotion. Everyone exchanged a small nod and turned their phones back off. “Speculating isn’t gonna get us anywhere,” he muttered. He looked at the girls and offered an uneasy smile. “You guys should keep your mic and camera access off. Even if you’re not cutting contact.” 

“Yeah,” Heidi breathed out. 

“Okay. Do you guys have any questions for me specifically?” 

Wendy could practically feel the tension radiating off of him. It almost felt like she was looking at an angel. She shook her head at the ridiculousness of the thought. She was over-exhausted and overwhelmed. “No, Tweek. You’re fine.” 

He smiled softly and Wendy felt the genuine urge to reach out when she saw how much pain was in his eyes. He looked like he was a second away from losing it. Gentle sage that gleamed when she first met him looked cloudy and almost dead. “Alright. I’m gonna head out. It was nice seeing you guys. Get my number from one of them, okay? Feel free to get in touch if you need anything.” He stood up and Craig stood up with him. “You don’t have to come with,” he muttered. 

Craig shook his head. “Alright. Nice chat guys, I’m out too.” 

Silence settled upon the group for another minute after they’d heard the two leave. “I really am not trying to be a dick here. Are they like?” Tammy waggled her brows, looking at Kenny and Clyde. 

“Oh my god we literally had this conversation earlier yesterday,” Clyde breathed out. 

A laugh bubbled out of Marjorine. “Craig’s awfully cute with him.” 

“RIGHT?!” Clyde responded. 

“Wait, they’re a thing?” Stan asked with bewilderment. 

“SPECULATING!” Kenny interjected. “And no one’s allowed to say anything to either of them about it.” Tammy and Kenny exchanged a look. “I’m serious, Tam. Not a word unless one of them brings it up.” 

Tammy raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’m not gonna do anything!” 

“Okay, circling back,” Bebe interjected. She looked at her team. “I don’t know if I want to cut contact with Dovakien. Not until we have more information about him specifically.” 

“You really are attached to him,” Kyle noted. There was no rudeness or passive-aggressiveness in it. It was just a curious observation. 

“He helps us. He tells us where angels are. And he’s always been helpful to us.” 

“Shit, seriously?” Stan responded. 

“Yes.

[wordsofapanda]

I got a new tattoo weeks ago and it was an experience. I went to the same artist that updated one of my old tattoos; he was recommended because he loves anime and my tattoo was teccchhnically considered anime. My tattoo artist had his other fellow artist hang out with us the entire time. It ended up being incredibly fun because we were shooting the shit the entire time. The conversation just kept flowing and it felt natural. We joked about the new Batman movies, our favorite music, a bunch of nerdy shit and more. About an hour in, I started to be in unbearable pain. The fucking shading and coloring was starting and thank god I reminded my artist to use numbing spray. It was weirdly efficient and inefficient? The area I got tattooed is apparently a higher pain area; the numbing spray worked on most areas except the edges where it was more honey. I thought I couldn’t get through the pain, but I did it and I’m proud of myself. It’s not my first tattoo but I was scared my body was going to twitch. I took it all like a champ and everything went perfect. My tattoo healed beautifully after obsessing over accidentally peeling it. The colors are vibrant and it’s super fucking cute. I mean a joyful Psyduck in a floaty? How is that not adorable af? My tattoo artist was helpful with questions about the healing process and it didn’t help that he was super excited to tattoo a Pokémon on me. Now that it’s almost fully healed, I realized something. I perfectly placed all water themed tattoos on my left leg and on my right leg I have small black monsters/animals. Each leg has an anime tattoo or an animal tattoo. I didn’t intend for everything to look like this so it was a delight when I noticed. I’m hoping to get another nerdy tattoo soon. I feel like I’m freaking addicted to body mods - tattoos and piercings.

[thrpr0phetuseek]

ooc: for anyone following along with this rp, which I’m not sure how many of you that is, but still — these videos are very helpful to understanding Tir’s latest prophecy.

See, right now in the time of the Iliad - Odyssey, we’re still in the era of Mycenaean Greece, aka. Ancient Greece before it was Ancient Greece. Eventually, historically, Mycenae (yeaaahh those of you who read the Odyssey/Iliad will recognize *that* kingdom name) is conquered through what we can assume to be Piracy. That’s what it seemed to be, anyway.

So ancient-ancient Greece falls and there’s dark ages and golden age Greece pops up! This is the Greece where Pan and Hermes are separate deities, Dionysus is a lot more toned down, Aphrodite is less of a war goddess but still very confusing, Poseidon gives his cthonic powers to his new randomly generated brother Hades, and Zeus gets to be important! (OSP has videos for Poseidon, Hermes, Dionysus and Aphrodite, so if you’re curious about them in Mycenaean Greece or their history/mythology, I highly recommend those videos. Also their Hades & Persephone one! It’s really good, too)

Basically what I’m saying is Tir’s latest prophecy is the downfall of Greece, but he hasn’t exactly seen that it rises up yet. Only flashes, not a complete prophecy. So if anyone was like- “new prophecy??” this is the prophecy that he’ll eventually give.

The Moirai (aka. also the mod) are plotting something =]

. . . and now, back to our regular program *bleep!*

—

[ they stiffen, muscles twitching, then they relax again. The process happens for a few more times before they start to talk again ]

“I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know—!”

[ they begin to shake again, more violently now, and their voice falls down to a whisper, cracking with guilt and fear ]

“Do something? Do— I don’t know what to do. It’s— but I— I’m sorry. I don’t know, I don’t know, I— . . . ”

Can I help take over the world, then? I need something to do that isn't bothering Icey or their girlfriend. -🪷

“If you want to help, go right ahead. I’m sure Alexander won’t mind, though perhaps I’ll ask to check.”

[ they move to stand, but once barely off the ground their legs crumble and they fall to the floor, knocking their staff out of their hand. Then, as though caused by some mysterious force, they begin to shake ]

“F—”

[funky-trainbois]

Never meet your heroes, smh