#Just a guy with a cool name. That's it. They were just Some Guy

[4milly]

girl u are FREKAYYYYY. what's life like with bd!zilla? 🙄🙄🙄🙄

i really do imagine he's the type to be so nonchalant about shit tbh. like when you two decided to co-parent your 3 year old son, from that day forth zilla's always put on this act that he never cared about shit you did. you both were single.

nothing new. he did the in the relationship. act like nothing ever mattered. you'd do things to spite him to atleast see if he cared. like doing your hair a different way when you'd drop your son off, wearing a dress too short and posting it to the gram, even sending him thirst traps on "accident".

only to get a dry ass response. barely even that, sometimes he’d just heart the message and move on.

but nothing ever seemed to phase him. you'd catch glimpses sometimes - a fleeting look in his eyes when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way his jaw would tighten ever so slightly when another man's name came up. but he'd always brush it off, act like it was nothing.

one day, you decided to really push it. you showed up to drop off your son wearing that slinky red dress he always loved, the one that hugged every curve. you made sure your makeup was flawless, your hair perfectly curled. as you handed over your giggling toddler, you casually mentioned the date you had lined up for that night.

little did he know, you didn't even have one. you purposely did all this shit so his blood pressure would raise.

for a split second, you saw it - that flash of jealousy, that hint of possessiveness in his dark eyes. but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual cool indifference. "have fun, babygirl," he said with a wink before focusing on your son

"mama, look pretty?" your son said gleaming towards you

"she does, buddy. so very pretty." he simply stated giving you a once over, stopping at your cleavage.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, at the way his eyes lingered on your body. for a moment, you forgot to breathe. then you caught yourself, plastering on a coy smile. "thanks," you said breezily, "i'm sure my date will think so too."

as you turned to head back to your car , you could feel zilla's eyes on you, burning into your back. you put an extra sway in your hips, knowing exactly how that dress moved when you walked. you heard your son's laughter fade as the door closed behind you.

later that night, after your mediocre date with some guy whose name you could barely remember, you found yourself scrolling through your phone in the bathroom. your thumb hovered over zilla's contact. before you could stop yourself, you fired off a text: "date was a bust. heading home early."

you stared at your phone, waiting for his reply. the minutes that went by were agonizing. just as you were about to toss your phone in your purse, it buzzed.

u wanna come over, mama?

you knew this was a bad idea. you only wanted to spite him — show him you still had it and what he lost. but...damn, you'd be lying if you said you didn't crave to feel that long, girth, samoan dick working inside you, and those hands using your hips bouncing you like a bitch in heat, just like an addict craves their next fix. nonetheless, you responded anyways: be there in 15.

the ride to his place felt endless. second-guessing your decision with every passing streetlight. but when you knocked on the door and saw him standing in the doorway, all doubts vanished. He looked good - too good. his white tank top clung to his muscular frame, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

"hey, mama," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "come in."

you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you. the living room was dimly lit. as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you, you felt a surge of electricity in the air. the living room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls. soft music played in the background - was that the playlist you used to make love to? baby making music as they say.

zilla closed the door behind you, his presence looming large. you could feel the heat radiating off his body as he moved closer, his scent suffocating you. "you want sum' to drink?" he asked, his voice husky.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. as he walked to the kitchen, your eyes followed the broad expanse of his back, remembering how it felt to dig your nails into those muscles.

He returned with two glasses of red wine - your favorite. As he handed you yours, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering just a moment too long. you took a sip, the rich flavor exploding on your tongue.

you closed your eyes for a brief moment as you glanced over the room, "so where is our little guy?" desperate to break the silence.

zilla almost didn't hear the question, to occupied in looking at your ass in the dress.

"zilla?" you said more firmly to bring his attention back towards you

"my bad, mama. we watched that paw patrol shit he like and he crashed out not too long ago," he responded before taking a sip of his wine "you look good as fuck, y'know that?"

you felt a flush creep up your neck at his words. "thanks," you murmured, taking another sip of wine to steady your nerves.

zilla moved closer, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. "you r'member first time you wore it?" his voice was low, tinged with desire. "that night at the club, when I couldn't keep my hands off you. had to take yo ass home right then."

you nodded, memories flooding back. the way he'd pressed you against the wall as soon as you got through the door, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the dress higher, pushing his hand into your panties.

before you could respond, zilla closed the distance between you, his large hand cupping your face. "lemme r'mind you," he growled, before crashing his lips against yours. the kiss was hungry, desperate, filled with years of pent-up longing.

in one fluid motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he carried you to the wall, pressing you against it as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck. your head fell back, a soft moans escaping your lips.

"god, you so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve. he hitched your dress up higher, his fingers tracing the edge of your lace panties. "these in the way, mama."

with a swift movement, he pushed your panties to the side exposing your wet core, "shit, i missed this pussy. she missed daddy, baby?"

zilla's fingers were replaced by his hard length, rubbing against you. you didn't remember when he got the time to take his dick out his pants, but thank the stars above. you finally were about to get what you've nearly been wishing for and more, "fuck me, zilla. i missed you so much."

he slid into you, filling you up in one long stroke. your eyes rolled back as your body stretched to accommodate him. it had been too long since you'd felt him this way, inside you, claiming you as his own. the way his dick filled you perfectly made your mind go numb. you wrapped an arm around his neck bringing his lips to your owns. you let out a strangled whine as began to stroke, your pussy still getting used to the filling of being so full again.

he started moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you were nearly empty before filling you back up letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickled your clit.

"zilla!" you yelped as a particular thrust made him swipe over that special spot inside of you

"shh, shh don't wake him up, mama." he replied throwing a hand over your mouth to keep you moans at bay — careful not to wake your sleeping boy down the hall. "so fuckin' pretty just taking all this dick. I should nut all up in yo pretty ass.”

your moans and screams were muffled into zilla's hand. your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. you were in complete bliss right now. zilla's hips moved with a primal rhythm, each thrust driving you higher up the wall. your dress bunched around your waist, the silky fabric sliding against your skin with every movement. your panties, pushed hastily to the side, were soaked with your arousal — same as the floor beneath you. zilla's thickness stretched and filled you completely, your walls clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper.

"that's it, mama," he panted, his hips pounding you against the wall. "take this dick. show me how much you missed it."

you arched your back, pressing your chest against his as you sought more friction. zilla's free hand slid down to grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he lifted you slightly, changing the angle. the new position had him hitting your g-spot with every stroke, and you saw stars behind your closed eyelids. you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him on. your nails raked down his muscular back, leaving small rips in his tank top. zilla dipped his head, trailing hot kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

your breath hitched as your belly started to tighten around his dick. zilla let out a quiet menacing chuckle into your ear, "wassup baby? you wanna cum? keep wettin' this dick up. make that shit spit fa me."

tears pricked your eyes as you shut them tightly. the pressure built up in your stomach and cum dripped down your legs — unable to store all of it in your pussy with his dick pummeling inside of you. zilla groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. "that's it, baby," he praised, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. "fuck, I'm gonna cum. want me to fill you up, mama?"

your eyes were crossed and your head was spent, only focusing on the feeling of cumming all over him and the pleasure radiating through your body.

he let out a groan as he released every drop of his cum into you without thinking twice. his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed. some of it running down his dick, to his legs, and onto the floor. It felt too good to pull out and he wasn’t going to.

as you both came down from your high, zilla slowly removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with a tender kiss on your bottom lip as you continued to shake and twitch in his arms. the feeling of his warm cum so deep inside you, triggering another mini orgasm. your body continued to convulse as every nerve ending in your body exploded, "yo ass happy you finally got some dick?"

❦:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! <3 drop a comment also! i love reading those. xoxo, cleo.

(think i might make this a series tbh.)

[wrathofrats]

Caged and always provoked (By prey left unattended)

4k, explicit, Dewdrop/Rain/Aether

Merry Christmas freak @divine-misfortune ily and I hope that all the insanity I’ve been talking about for weeks now makes sense

Read under the cut or on ao3

Warnings and tags: medical examination, medfet, trans rain and tits cunt clit and all the other stuff used for his anatomy, gill fingering, virgin rain for religious reasons, a lot of religious fuckery, groping, breast exams, dew and aether are awful medical practitioners ok, pretty dubious consent but rains cool with everything and says that, it’s fuckery ok it’s 4k of fuckery and I’ve warned you

“We have to, we can’t just let you-“ Dew rambled. He set his clipboard down with a frustrated sigh before Rain interrupted him.

“I don’t have sex.”

Aether peeked his head up from his own sheet about reviewing Dew to look down over his glasses at Rain. Sure, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, and certainly not abnormal, but considering Rain was a ghoul Aether wasn’t sure if he fully believed him.

“You’re saying that you’re a virgin?” Aether asked, before looking back over at Dew.

Or rains summoned as a virgin for his papa and his doctors want to see how far they can push him

“He seems easy enough. Could’ve sicked that new multi on you, looked like a handful” Aether slid the chart over to Dew who was pulling at his scrub top. The name Rain was scrawled at the top along with his summoning date and element. The rest of the spots were blank, meant to be filled in at his first appointment.

“Didn’t think I could handle it?” Dew clicked the pen a couple of times, scribbling in the corner of the paper to test the ink.

“Actually now that you mention it, I probably should’ve let you take him since you were such a menace for us when you were summoned. It took 3-“

“2” Dew interrupted with a scoff

“2 nurses to hold you down. You’re lucky I picked the quiet one for you.” Aether flipped open his own packet of paper meant for his notes on how Dew was doing. He wanted to train to be a nurse, a better and more meaningful job for him as he learned to use his new fire element. This would occupy him for the time being, and keep him useful considering they were down some staff as the siblings were taken for other clergy needs.

Dew rolled his eyes, plopping the clipboard onto the small table haphazardly. He didn’t know what time this ghoul was supposed to show up, barely even caught a glimpse of him during the summoning. Usually the new ghouls were thrown into the arms of those who were more trustworthy, such as Aether and omega, before being whisked away to check in on their new bodies and elements top side. The rest of the pack usually didn’t get to meet them until there was an all clear from the medical staff.

Which, now included Dew. He loved messing with new summons when he got the chance. Mountain was easy to lure right into his bed, teasing the poor guy until he just couldn’t stand it. And now being placed at the front lines? Even with Aether keeping a close eye on him, he had to admit the idea of thoroughly checking up and down this new summons body was tantalizing.

“You know what to do right?” Aether snapped Dew out of his thoughts with the throw of a tongue depressor that hit him in the shoulder.

“Got the check list, besides you’ll be here to remind me. Even if you gave me a very detailed lesson the other ni-“ Dew snickered before another tongue depressor whizzed past his head.

“You’ll treat him with respect Dew” Aether closed the glass jar and pushed it away from him. He crossed his leg in front of him, staring at his watch to check the time.

“Whatever, I’m a professional, remember?”

“Yeah a professional idiot maybe”

Dew barely got through his eye roll as the door knob turned. A sibling opened the door, gesturing for the ghoul in front of her to walk in the room. He was shy, keeping his head down as he sat down in one of the chairs by the exam bed.

“This is Rain, already got him checked in” the sibling handed Aether a couple papers before closing the door with a soft click. Aether was right, the new thing was quiet. Easy, if he really wanted to go that far already. The water ghoul barely lifted his head up to look at them as Aether started to quickly glance over the papers he was given. Simple things like height and weight, just to rule out any more obscure problems.

He was pretty, Dew had to admit. Blue skin and silky gills along his neck, the lingering thought of Rain even knew how they felt to be touched yet, and if he could send him home with the desire to do so. Delicate fins along his ears with a mop of dark hair. The poor thing was already blushing, looking properly scared even though they hadn’t done anything to him yet. Maybe it was Aethers size, or the perpetual resting bitch face Dew seemed to carry. The cherry on top was what was in his fist, a long string of black knots and beads, ending in a wooden inverted cross.

Aether raised his eyebrow at Dew who was properly staring Rain down, motioning down to his paper that was already all sectioned out for him.

“Oh- uh, I’m going to ask you some questions Rain, just routine in case there’s anything we need to know, is that alright?”

“Yeah, that’s ok” Rain shoved the rosary into his pocket, folding his hands in his lap and watching Dew nervously. He fiddled with his fingers, eyes darting between the two.

“How was your sleep the past couple nights?”

“Slept well, it’s new but my room is comfortable. Maybe 7 hours?” Aether gave him a smile while Dew scribbled down his answer.

“What has your diet been?”

“Small fish, been craving shrimp I think,”

“Ok, sounds good uh-“ Dew squinted at his paper, reading down to make sure he had recorded what he said properly and if there was anything else to take note of before he moved on. “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s apart of the protocol, is there any chance at all?” Rains face flushed deeper as Dew looked between him and Aether expectantly. He hesitated, biting his lip while he tried to think of what to tell them.

“No. None”

“Good, that’s fine, uh.. any chance of an STD?” The only sound in the room for a moment was the scribbling of Dews pen on the paper. Rain once again hesitated with his answer.

“No.” It came out more tense this time. Something a little more impatient about the answer.

“Perfect, what kind of protection are you using?”

“I’m not.”

Dew looked up at him with his brow furrowed. What did he mean he wasn’t? Maybe it was one of those things, where the siblings would come in and be adamant about not practicing safe sex even after Aether begged them and wonder why their tests all came back positive. If there was another rampant case of chlamydia papa would have their asses. Maybe he was just naive, nothing an awkward pamphlet couldn’t help.

“Well- if you’re not using protection then we do need to test you”

“It’s fine, trust me”

“We have to, we can’t just let you-“ Dew rambled. He set his clipboard down with a frustrated sigh before Rain interrupted him.

“I don’t have sex.”

Aether peeked his head up from his own sheet about reviewing Dew to look down over his glasses at Rain. Sure, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, and certainly not abnormal, but considering Rain was a ghoul Aether wasn’t sure if he fully believed him.

“You’re saying that you’re a virgin?” Aether asked, before looking back over at Dew.

“Yes.”

“Any reason or“

“Dew” there was a scolding tone to Aethers voice. The question was inappropriate, even if it was burning in both of their minds.

The room went silent for a second once again. Dew looked at Rain expectantly, waiting for some kind of answer. It didn’t truly matter but the curiosity was eating at him. The pretty little thing had never been touched before? What was he saving himself for?

“The Church.” Rain continued to pick at his fingernails, “was told to, they said it would make me a better servant for the clergy. For papa.”

Summonings were a fickle thing. Some of the ghouls were plucked from down below at random when needed in an emergency like Mist or the anomaly that was Cowbell, but others were chosen for it. Brought up to serve the church, practically handpicked for the band.

“Would there be any other reason for us to give you an….” Aether looked over at Dew, grabbing his papers to take his own notes, “exam of that sort?”

“No”

“Fingers? Toys? Maybe even a pillo-“ Dews leg was promptly kicked from under the table. Aether threw him a shocked look, mentally noting needing to go over how to talk to patients at a later time.

“I’m not allowed to. It would only distract me to give into those ….. desires”

Dew finally shut his mouth. The idea of asking “what kind of desires” edging their way into his brain. He couldn’t, at least not here. Aether was still staring at him, the frustrated shock of his words melting into something more curious about the ghoul who was sitting in front of them. The idea of being completely untouched was more than tempting for Dew to explore.

“Ok, that’s perfectly normal. It’s still part of protocol to give you a full physical, but in this case we won’t do any tests, just a look to be sure” Aether grabbed a pair of gloves before sliding the box to Dew, “do you mind fully undressing and putting on the gown on the table while we step out?”

It was Dews turn to look shocked. Aether was blatantly lying through his teeth, not only was a vaginal exam not necessary anyways, it especially wouldn’t be in this case. He’s not complaining, no, but the idea of Aether having his own plans about this made his heart beat even faster.

Rain nodded while Aether opened the door and motioned for Dew to step out. He still looked shocked, brows furrowed and eyes wide as he stared at Aether.

“A virgin?” Dew exclaimed once Aether finally had the door shut. “I didn’t know they did that in the pits. Keeping himself pure to please papa?”

“It’s not unheard of. River stayed untouched until he retired. In Omegas chart he mentioned having to be extra careful with him during any full body check ups” Aether watched the clock on the wall tick away, giving Rain ample time to undress and hopefully calm down a bit from being so nervous. It was cute, the bashfulness in his explanation, if Aether had half a mind he would’ve let Dew continue questioning him.

“Must be a water ghoul thing. Do you think he knows about his gills yet Aeth?”

“You’re a professional, remember Dew?”

Aether raised his eyebrow at him before giving a quick knock to the door, opening it slowly once Rain gave a meek ok. He sat up on the exam table. Ankles crossed and gown bunched awkwardly behind him in an attempt to cover himself. His clothes were folded in a neat pile on his chair, rosary sitting right next to his shoes on top.

Dew hastily snapped a couple gloves on his hands before walking up to stand between Rains legs, a little too close to be entirely clinical.

“Do you mind if I perform a bodily exam on you? we are just looking for any abnormalities we should be concerned about after your summoning” His tone was a bit quieter, something less harsh than his usual bravado.

“Please, go right ahead”

Rain reached up to undo the tie behind his neck, keeping the gown right under his breasts in order to not expose more than he needed to. His chest was small, a cute tiny pair of breasts with dusky little nipples that Dew was trying hard not to completely gawk at. He was a pretty thing, lithe body with a couple curves.

Dew pulled down the gown completely, letting the front section sit in his lap with his arms tight to his body. His cheeks were flushed a deep purple, eyes darting around to anywhere besides Dew.

“Going to have to ask you to lift your arms over your head for me, I need to see the gills on your abdomen” Dew reached beneath the bed to pump a small amount of lubricant on his fingers, rubbing them together to spread it evenly. The gesture looked, felt, dirty. Even if Rain was still in the assumption that it was completely innocent he couldn’t help how his mind wandered as he watched the blue latex shine.

There was a second of hesitation before Rain reached his arms over his head. Dews warm hand pressed down against his stomach, moving inch by inch to his side. Gloved fingers glided delicately over the soft fragile skin of Rains gills. Practically petting over them before dipping just the finger tip in as Rain gave a quiet gasp. He twitched Into the touch before quickly pulling away again.

“Are you alright Rain?” Aether looked from Dew to Rain, noting how he almost looked flustered. Lip between his teeth and the flush creeping down his chest. Dew turned and gave him a knowing look, pushing just a millimeter further in to watch him struggle.

“I’m fine, his hands are just … a bit cold” Rains lips turned into a tight line. He hoped neither of them would push back against such a bad lie, hell Dews hands were probably just on the uncomfortable side of too warm if Rain was being honest. Something sparked in his abdomen as Dew slid his fingers from side to side beneath the thin skin, eyes focusing intently as if he were looking for something.

“No pain? They seem fine otherwise. Nice color, not too loose, some amount of lubrication.” Dew mumbled in Aethers direction for him to write down, “I’ve heard of other water ghouls gills getting dried out from summoning, yours are slick though which is good”

Aether scribbled a couple notes down on his paper while Dew shot him a cocky look and pulled his fingers out of Rains gills, wiping his fingers off on a paper towel. Rain could see whatever came off of his hands shine in the white light of the room, embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. Sure there was the thought of what would happen if he pushed his fingers into his gills himself but the thoughts always came with a night of prayer and maybe a cold shower afterwards.

He didn’t need to be thinking like that. He was healthy and he should be happy, not letting Dews words make him feel light headed. What would papa think?

Rain brought his arms back down to rest his hands in his lap. The air was cold even if Rains body felt impossibly hot. Goosebumps prickled at his skin while Dew put on a fresh pair of gloves. His instinct was to cover himself again, no one had ever seen him this vulnerable, especially not two people at once.

“Still with us? You’re quieter than most of the other ghouls we have in here” Aether spoke up after a second of watching Rain stare intently at Dews hands while he put on his gloves. Rain jumped a little, looking back at Aether with wide eyes.

“Just don’t talk much, I’ve always been told I’m quiet”

“But you’ll speak up if you’re uncomfortable right?”

Rain gave him a solid nod. Aether pushed his glasses back up his face and crossed his legs in front of him to rest his clipboard on. Even beyond Rains racing thoughts he looked devastatingly clinical, Dew as well who was dressed in blue scrubs. Something to keep him grounded, remind him why he was there.

Dew stepped in front of him once again. His hands grabbed along his arms, pushing at his shoulders. They practically rubbed down his sternum in a way that made Rain shiver. Warm hands pressed into his ribs looking for any signs of pain or discomfort.

He took a deep breath as Dew finally made it up to his breast, palms kneading into the supple flesh with a careful eye. Rains fingers dug into the paper on the table with a sickening crunch. Aether immediately noticed how he practically stopped breathing, going entirely still with his lip between his teeth.

Dew tried to pretend he was being entirely professional, every pull and knead being necessary even if the pressure lingered until Rain finally squirmed under his touch, making Dew move on to the next area he was supposed to be examining.

“Seem sensitive” Dew practically hissed through his teeth. The professional demeanor was slowly coming unraveled the more he was able to see what his touch was doing to Rain. A blushing virgin practically losing his composure beneath him just from groping his tits. It was taking all of his self control not to just push him back onto the table and hike the gown over his hips.

Dew was getting ahead of himself. A particularly rough grab as he got lost in thought had Rain writhing off the table.

“Jus- just a bit- ah!” Rains thighs clamped together, chest debating on pulling away or pushing into the rough sensation. Dew was properly pulling at his nipples now, rough calloused fingers pinching the pretty buds just to keep drawing small forced noises from the back of Rains throat.

The gown had fully slipped down and threatened to slide off of his lap if he wasn’t careful. Small neat trail of hair along his navel with a couple dark curls peeking from behind the plastic. Rain knew he was about to be exposed if he made one wrong move, but couldn’t bring himself to grab the gown to cover himself again, not when Dew was touching him like this.

Rain shot a look towards Aether in a small plea for him to do something. Aether looked shocked, pen sitting idly in his hand as he stared blatantly at Rains chest while Dew worked. He should probably step in, pull Dew off and let Rain catch his breath but god he looks like he’s thoroughly enjoying himself and he puts on such a nice show that Aether doesn’t think he can intervene.

“Soft, probably feels so good, doesn’t it Rain?” Dew was almost impossibly close to him by now, both hands groping him and breath hot on his neck, “really never done this for yourself, never let yourself feel good?”

The words made Rains bRain turn off for a solid couple seconds. Whatever air of keeping things chaste and clinical now unraveling as Dew tugged on Rains nipples. He couldn’t deny the small sparks of electricity that ran through him with the pain of Dews pinching and pulling, couldn’t deny that it made his head feel fuzzy and stomach feel hot even if he wanted to.

“Not supposed to” Rains voice was meek. Sure he wanted to, but it was wrong. Sinful. Body dedicated to his papa but oh being touched like this was absolutely delicious. Even if it was just his breasts, something he had done in the shower more than a couple times with the excuse of making sure he was healthy even if his hands lingered, much like what Dew was doing now.

“You’ve never thought about it? Never considered giving into the desire?”

“I have” the admission struggled to come out. Like saying the words out loud were enough to damn him completely. “It’s wrong- not supposed to need or want anything more than papa”

Dew felt a little bad at the laugh that got forced out of him. A bit cruel especially as he pushed Rains tits together just to thumb at the cleavage, more just for the sake of doing it and to see Rain squirm than any other reason. The whole persona of medical professionalism had been thrown out the window the second he was even allowed to touch him there, and hell, Aether didn’t seem like he was going to stop him.

“Afraid you’ll just become addicted? Won’t be able to keep those hands away from this pretty little body of yours?” Dew gave another squeeze to Rains tits before skating them lower and lower, hovering over the only thing still covering any amount of modesty Rain had left.

Rain let out a shocked gasp as Dew pushed him down onto his back, legs maneuvered to be fully spread in front of him. The flimsy gown fell haphazardly onto the floor along with Aethers pen that had been dropped as he watched the scene in front of him. Rains legs pulled apart and cunt practically on display, slick coating him in a way that could only be described as obscene. Even for a water ghoul, it was more than a bit surprising to see how wet he had gotten from Dews hands on his gills and chest.

“See? Cunts just aching for it isn’t it?” A gloved finger slid between Rains folds, practically gathering the arousal and letting it drip down the latex, “Can feel you twitching. Give in, ask for it.”

Rains body was trembling. Legs shaking as Dew dipped the tip of his fingers inside of him for him to clench around. That’s all he had ever done himself. A couple of slow pets and maybe just the tip of his finger before he could come back to his right mind and stop himself. A night trying to deny what he really wanted, how he craved for something to be inside of him in a way that prayer just couldn’t take the edge off of.

“Papa wouldn’t allow it, my bodies for him”

“But it feels good doesn’t it Rain?” Dews fingers fully pushed inside of him. He was hot, beyond tight as he clamped down and let out a strangled sound. His thumb pressed against Rains clit earning a gasp that was forced from the back of Rains throat.

“So good-!”

Dews fingers pumped in and out of him slowly, scissoring apart to see if he could get him any looser. Dew could pass out if he thought about it too hard, his fingers being the first to open up the water ghouls virgin cunt? The thought had him about to shove down his scrub pants and be the one to fuck him first as well. He tried to maintain his composure, looking back at Aether who had a hand on top of his bulge, palming himself through his pants.

“Let yourself feel good, come on baby, give into those sick desires I know you have” there was an awful wet squelching sound coming from Rains cunt, slick dripping down onto the exam table as Dew rubbed fast circles into his clit.

“Please- need more” Rains hips canted off of the table, practically trying to hump Dews hand as he pumped his fingers in and out of him “don’t tell papa please-“

“Oh but Dew, it’s not supposed to feel good, it’s just an exam” Aether had gotten up to stand by his side, white coat discarded on the chair and clearly still hard.

What was he even getting at? He pulled apart Rains cunt to get a look at how Dews fingers slid in and out of him with ease, cold air of the room only making Rain feel more exposed while Aether practically gawked at him.

“It’s not?” Dew stalled his movements, Rain giving a small noise of protest beneath him.

“No, its entirely medical remember? since we are supposed to be keeping him pure, papas orders” Aether said like it should’ve been obvious. Maybe it should have been honestly, Aether pushed a finger of his in next to Dews making Rain arch off the table with the stretch. With the way he clamped down he was surely close already, never been touched and now being stretched wide on three fingers, “maybe the poor things just too far gone if he’s feeling this good. If he was truly devoted he would be still, wouldn’t ask for more. It’s a shame that we will have to inform papa”

Dew pressed a bit harder on his clit, fingers crooking up against that sweet spot he wasn’t sure if Rain even knew he had. Before he could stop it, Rain was spasming around Aether and Dews fingers, a small cry leaving his lips as he completely soaked the paper on the table

“Oh well that’s certainly not normal” Aether removed his hand, disposing of the glove in the trash can without another beat while Dew debated licking his clean, “a true disciple wouldn’t do that, would they?”

[gabessquishytum]

Hob Gadling is good looking, fun-loving, and has a certain charm of his own, but he's never been the smartest. One day, he ends up - through no fault of his own -

In jail.

(the real murderer needed a fall guy, and Hob was just too trusting, risk-confident and convenient.)

Hob is stunned by his misfortune, but there's no time to mope. He's by no means a hardened criminal, and he's heard enough horror stories about life in prison for softies like him. He needs to find a way to survive, stat.

He gets into prison and immediately starts asking around for the gang leader in here. If he can offer his services, the gang leader might find him useful enough to keep him untouched. He figures that it's probably the only way to get some protection in here. But from the way several people eye him up and down, top to bottom, lingering as if assessing him for themselves before they shrug and offer up the name, Hob gets a bad feeling about exactly what it is the gang leader might want from him.

There's no dispute over who's on top - there's not even a second runner-up. Hob hears the same name over and over again, each time in that hushed, fearful tone that borders on reverence. Apparently even the most brutal guards are civil with him. And although Hob starts to get second thoughts through second hand fear alone, his overzealous cell mate Matthew, probably hoping to get some spillover protection, all but shoves him into an introductory meeting before he can clarify his plan. Hob ends up staring mutely at a tall, very handsome man with golden hair and a smile like a knife. Hob swallows hard and the words stick in his throat. The fucker's wearing sunglasses in prison, for god's sake. He's scary enough, but then Matthew clears his throat and clarifies that that's not the top guy. That's just the Corinthian. Hob needs his approval if he wants to meet the boss.

"Hey there, little cow. Heard you were trying to get a meeting with Dream of the Endless."

Hob nods mutely, not trusting himself to speak. Hopefully it's the Corinthian who's actually the scary one, and not Dream.

---

Dreamling prison AU because I can't help thinking that shot-caller Dream would be a fantastic spin on his canon imprisonment!

I'm now completely and totally obsessed with this anon, thank you so much.

The Corinthian gives Hob a proper once over. Walks around him in a circle, feels him up through his assigned prison uniform. At last he hums, considering, and tilts his head on one side. He can see that Hob is fresh meat, that he probably won't last long without protection. And that's a good thing - it'll make him so much more grateful and easy to manipulate. So he agrees to let Hob see Dream for a little tete-a-tete.

Dream has his own cell, of course. It's full of contraband items. He's smoking a cigarette when Hob comes in, and scrolling on a phone. He gives Hob this long, cool look, like he's just a spek of dirt. Hob takes the hint and gets on his knees. This makes Dream smile slightly. Usually those who come to him for protection are not so pretty, or so willing to submit.

Hob desperately tries to wrack his brains for a way that he could be useful to this powerful, beautiful creature. But... he's not scary or big enough to be muscle, like the Corinthian. He's not clever enough to help Dream’s "business" inside the prison. He can only resign himself to offering up his body. Which doesn't seem like such a terrible thing. Dream is gorgeous, sitting like a king in his cloud of cigarette smoke.

Now he's known to be Dream’s "wife", nobody bothers Hob - in fact, they avoid him. It's a relief to know that he'll eventually make it out with his pretty face intact. A life sentence of bouncing on Dream’s cock doesn't sound so bad either... its a very nice cock, and Dream himself has a beautiful heart under his slightly terrifying exterior. Of course it would be terribly stupid to fall in love with him, but... Hob has never been the smartest. That's why he's there in the first place.

One thing's for sure - if Dream ever manages to escape prison, he's definitely taking Hob with him.

[halfahundredcats]

There are so many times on here when I’ve seen a post where op is relating an astoundingly bad take they’ve seen somewhere, and I’ve always kind of been confused, like where are they even seeing this. I’ve curated my dash within an inch of its life, and I rarely see fandom discourse or drama except posts that (often vaguely) talk about it second-hand.

Well, I understand now, y’all. You probably weren’t seeing it on this hellsite. You were seeing it on a different, worse hellsite (namely, Twitter). Because I’m on Bluesky now, and while it so far seems to be much better than Tweeters, I haven’t yet had the chance to wield my block and filter functions as robustly, and I’m now coming into contact with some of those astoundingly bad takes.

I’ve seen comments on the DJenks Holiday Special Thread saying things like “Oh Stede understands now why Izzy was so mad all the time” and “managing Ed’s whims really is a full-time job,” and just. Fucking. No. No, Stede doesn’t relate to Izzy now because they are very different fucking people with very different fucking relationships with Ed. Being an angry dick has never been Stede’s way of doing things, with anyone, much less Ed. Stede’s brand is Sassy Bitch, and I feel like Ed isn’t even on the receiving end of that very often. Let’s not forget, it’s been two years, and they’re running the inn successfully. Ed is taking joy in setting up a beautiful dining table. He’s bragging *about Stede* when Stede breaks in to ask for his help. This is not a relationship plagued by constant disagreements. It’s not “trouble in paradise.” Ed saying he’s more of a “front of house guy” is clearly Dad slipping in a callback to the bts we all enjoyed so much. (Now it’s true that Ed is kind of ADHD-ing it in these scenes, hyperfocusing on setting the table and getting distracted in his storytelling instead of noticing Stede is slammed. I did see someone say that Stede is going to use his Captain Voice, and that definitely feels like the vibe to me.) It’s not like they’re never going to have little disagreements, but these two didn’t literally fight their way back to each other to be undone by the mundane pressures of running a small business together. And why would you want them to? Why would you want to look at this grand and beautiful love story and think “but consider how cool it would be if they ended up hating each other?” Do you watch The Princess Bride and enjoy imagining Westley and Buttercup’s eventual divorce? Not everything has to be drama and cynicism and people being terrible to each other. I especially do not think that David Jenkins is taking his Barbies in that direction in his fanfic of his own show.

I’m putting this here instead of responding to ppl on Bsky because I really *don’t* want to get involved in the Disc Horse. I’m just blocking ppl on there whose takes I don’t like. That is ultimately the way to enjoy your fandom. Focus on the stuff you like, don’t get bogged down arguing with haters. So this is probably the only thing I’ll say about this. Anyhoo!

[summerwriting]

vi's first day

this a request I got to expend this story

https://www.tumblr.com/sharpefate/769647047657783296/vi-first-day-as-an-enforcer?source=share

by @sharpefate I hope you like it.

Vi had Woke in a particularly bad mode. Today was the day, the first day as an enforcer, something she was most definitely not excited for. She dreaded the idea of that uniform, the idea that she would be Working for the people that took 7 years of her life away from her. but this was for the best. That's what she kept telling herself, all of this is for the best. Powder was Gone and tacking done jinx is the best way to bring peace between Zaun and Piltover.

“Violet,” a  woman's Voice called from outside Vi’s room. Getting vi’s atencion, her head quickly turned to the door. “Officer caitlyn sent me to get you” the lady said again.  

“Coming” Vi answered, she went and opened the door to be met with an unfamiliar face.

“Morning”the lady nodded politely. “I will be taking  you through your first day” she said, looking at Vi she was taking in her appearance; Her eyes landed on vi’s tattoo of her own name; it was a little egotistical if you were to ask her. 

“Oh i thought that maybe Caitlin would be doing that” vi said her voice Laced with hints of Disappointment.  

“No officer caitlyn is busy at the moment, but she said that she hopes that your first day is good.”The woman said she noticed the disappointment in vi’s eyes but decided not to Mention it. “My name is Y/N by the way” the lady introduces herself.

“Vi, but you already know that”vi ran hand through her hair. This was going to be a long day for vi.

“Umm yeah i do, but it's nice to meet you” Y/N said, a polite smile on her face.

A hour later vi and Y/N had picked up vi’s uniform. While they were getting it, Vi got some dirty looks from other officers. Y/N wasn't too pleased but she kept quiet.

“So you're from the undercity, umm what's it like done there now” Y/N asked trying to start small talk. The fact Y/N said now made vi confused.

“It’s Shit, crazy people everywhere and crime around every corner” Vi huffed.

“Mmm so exactly the same as always” Y/N chuckled.

“Yeah, how do you even know that?” Vi questioned,her eyebrows raised.

“Common knowledge” Y/N shrugged. She wasn't  about to let this girl know that she lived in the undercity most of her childhood.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,”Vi said, not questioning Y/N."So what's my first thing I have to do as an enforcer? I didn't agree to do this job just to walk and talk all day.” Vi asked, she got bored of the small talk. she just wanted to do something she felt like she hadn't done anything; shouldn't she be hunting down criminals and beating their asses for being criminals.

“Well, you kind of need to get into the uniform. then petrol will be the first thing you do and then if there's any suspicious activity i'll take you through the protocol of what you've got to do when you arrest someone.” Y/N explained “you'll get changed at the station, ok?”Y/N said.

“Ummm yeah, ok that makes sense” vi processed what Y/N said, nodding her head.

“Good” Y/N said, she understood that the first day was boring and a bit nerve racking so she was trying not to overwhelm her by putting her under too much pressure. Eventually they got to the station.

“We're here” Y/N said, there were enforcers walking in and out of the station.

“Wow so this is where you guys work” Vi looked at the building. it was pretty Unimpressive for Piltover but compared to the undercity it was a mansion.

“Yeah it is where we work. and know you are going to as well” Y/N smiled at Vi. vi let those words Soak in this was where she was going to work, she wasn't going to be stealing to survive, she was going to  be getting paid. 

“Cool” is all Vi said, she didn’t know how to react. She never had a job and she never thought she would be an enforcer since she was always on the receiving end of their brutality. Y/N put her hand on Vi’s shoulder.

“Let’s go in” Y/N smiled, walking in her hand falling off Vi's shoulder. she stood waiting for Vi to follow her. Vi went after Y/N, following her into the building.

“So this is the change rooms”Y/N said when they got through security. It was a pratty plane room, nothing special. There were lockers and some showers.

“Mmm ok”is all Vi said, Again. 

“Ha you don't talk much to you”Y/N lent against one of the lockers she tilted her head to the side one side of her mouth going up. what a strange girl, Y/N thought.

“I do, maybe i just don't feel like talking to you” Vi said, it sounded mean. Y/N was a little taken aback. Vi saw that “im fucking with you” Vi raised her eyebrows a awkward smile planted itself on her face.

“Oh ok, anyway you should get changed” Y/N said turning around.”Umm by the way you don’t get much privacy in here, so make sure you’re bra or whatever is covering”Y/N looked up at the ceiling fiddling with her fingers as she waited for Vi to get dressed.

“Yeah ok, you don't have to look away you know; i always have a pretty covering bra” Vi pulled her top over her head, it messed up her hair a bit.

“Umm are you sure i don't wan–”

“I don't care, I'm just letting you know you can do what you want” Vi interrupted Y/N. Y/N awkwardly turned around, her eyes went everywhere but at VI. Vi chuckled at Y/N awkwardness.

Once Vi got in her uniform which was kind of uncomfortable for Y/N."So what, we just stand here and wait for some arseholes to show up?" Vi questend. She leant against a wall, the whole experience was a lot more boring than she thought it to be.

“Umm, yeah basically” Y/N said she could tell Vi was bored and Y/N felt kind of bad, she didn't want her to be bored, she wanted her to enjoy her first day but she didn't entirely understand why she even cared.

“Mmm ok then, so if we're basically going to be doing nothing let's talk”VI shid. her eyes went to Y/N.

“What do you want to talk about?” Y/N questend, a smile spread across her face.

“I don't know, just tell me about yourself or whatever” Vi shrugged. She clearly wasn't very conversational.   

      “Umm well i like (your hobbies here) and umm im not sure what else to say” Y/N rambald she wasn't sure how to talk to people especially pretty girls so for her the interaction   was awkward.

“Mmm that's cool angel, wait I can call you that right?” Vi asked, a smile was planted on her lips.

“Umm yeah that's fine” Y/N flushed. All she thought was god i need to breathe. 

“good,” Vi smiled.

What feels like Hours pass and VI and Y/N still didn't see any suspicious activity until…

“Get back here!!!”yelled a lady, it Court Vi’s and Y/N Attention. A man was running down the street dodging Civilians. 

“That's suspicious right?” Vi looked at Y/N.

“Yep “ Y/N started running, she stopped for a second “oh we chase him by the way” she said before running again. God she's a badass vi thought. She was kind of mesmerised that the polite,kind girl she met today could become confident and jump to action the second something happens. 

“Coming!!!” Vi called running arter Y/N who was running after the thief. The man was fast, really fast. But Y/N was faster and it didn't take long for her to catch up with him, vi not long after.Vi was very impressed by Y/N’s speed. Shortly after  vi got to them Y/N already had his hands behind his back once she saw vi she handed him over to her.he was trying to get out of vi’s grip 

“Ok so do what i told you to do when we arrest someone” Y/N said. She had gone through the protocol with vi as they were on petrol waiting for something to happen. But whatever she had said had gone in one ear and out the other.

Vi noded her head in Understanding “Stop fucking resisting” she yelled kicking the man to the ground with angry enthusiasm.

“No no no Vi !!!, you read his rights” Y/N said a Panicked expression on her Face.

“Since when did we have rights?” vi questend with a confused expression.

“Yes, we went through this as we were patrolling, were you even listening” Y/N scolded in disbelief. 

“I umm yes i was, it just must've slipped my mind is all” vi mumbled quietly she wasn't quite sure what to say but what she definitely didn't tell her was that she didn't listen because she was a little distracted by Y/N and how pretty her eyes were and how she looked over what she was saying, not to say she didn't want to listen she just loved to admire pretty women. 

“Well i'll go over that with you later” Y/N said” again” she added a smile on her lips as she shook her head. 

tag list @sharpefate

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

when i met you (i couldn't measure it)

Ao3 | 2.2k Words | Treasure's POV

(A Firefigher AU one shot)

Over Solaire’s shoulder, a younger man stood, his cool, grey eyes fixed on you. When your eyes met his, his face split into a smile, all straight, perfect, white teeth. You flicked your gaze over his features. High cheekbones, perfect, light hair, a maroon suit that was fitted so tightly around his tiny waist you worried his jacket button would pop if he breathed too hard.

His smile gleamed in the soft house lights, just a bit too sharp.

__

Treasure hates opening nights. William loves the ballet. Porter bums a smoke.

TW: Smoking, shitty friends.

Lil ballet info for you guys: Treasure intentionally dances androgynous parts, ones that both male and female dancers have done in the past. They're noted as playing Clara's younger brother Fritz in their youth (a part I actually got to do once as a little kid) that is often danced by young girls OR young boys. In this production, they're part of the Mouse Army and they dance Coffee, which often has both male and female dancers. While they are noted as dancing en pointe, male dancers have been known to wear pointe shoes on occasion. So really, Treasure's gender is fully up to your interpretation still.

As another note, I used more modern names for the different dances ("Coffee" instead of the "Arabian Dance," "Tea" instead of the "Chinese Dance) since I fully believe that if you can't produce Nutcracker without being weird and racist then you just aren't productive. I saw a wonderful production in which the dancers were in costumes that mimicked the drink or treat they represented instead of loosely racist caricatures. That is the vibe for Treasure's production.

Opening night was always your least favorite performance. There was some vicious, clawing energy that you couldn’t direct, an unpredictability that you didn’t care for. When a show was well run, when you had danced it four or five times in front of an audience and knew the lines of the marley floor, what parts were raised and awkward, slick and worn, you could dance without thinking. That was always your favorite part of it, when your conscious thought could drift away and your body took over. 

Dancing was never about your brain. It was about your body. 

Nutcracker was a touch different. You danced it nearly every year, so the motions of it were never new, just distant enough to be unfamiliar. You had to settle back into the feeling of them, stretching across your skin and muscles. You danced the Mice Army, you danced Coffee or Tea or Peppermint. If it was your lucky year, you’d be tapped for the Grand Pas de Deux and dance your feet raw for six performances before the company went on break for the season. 

It was not your lucky year. A combination of guest dancers and principal promotions left you, the ugly duckling of Dahlia Ballet’s professional company, taking a backseat to the pretty young things that got paraded around in snowflakes. 

You hated opening nights, especially when said opening night heralded a visit from the Ballet’s biggest benefactor. Benefactor sounded very 19th century, but there really wasn’t another word for what William Solaire was to the place. He put more money into the Ballet in charitable donations than the rest of the donors combined, and he had standing season tickets. 

He only came once a year, though, on the opening night of Nutcracker, and took up the empty orchestra box that waited, empty for his return.  

Solaire was set to visit the stage before the performance, and your CEO and artistic director were busy entertaining his weird, rich guy bullshit. You could feel the nervous energy of everybody in the building as you ran through the motions of Coffee one more time before you were called for costumes. 

“He brought someone!” Bridget wacked you with her extended tondeuse, the box of her pointe shoe digging painfully into your hip. You turned sharply, falling out of your formation, and fixed her a pointed look. “Oh shut up, look! He’s hot!” You rolled your eyes and turned, distinctly aware of how little time you had to nail this before you had to move on. Coffee could be a challenging dance; languid and slow, mimicking the twisting steam over a fresh cup. Slow didn’t mean easy. It meant that every inch of your body had to be in your control. It meant that you didn’t get the forgiveness of speed when you fucked up. Fucking up wasn’t an option. 

You flexed and pointed your feet, rose up to releve en pointe, turned in an agonizing circle with your leg in a front attitude. Your shoe caught on an uneven section of the stage. You fell to your heel, raised your head to get your bearings to remember the spot. 

Somebody was watching you. You were a performer. Your body knew when there were eyes on you. You spun your head around until you saw him. 

William Solaire was talking excitedly to the artistic director, motioning to the set dressings with a light in his face. He looked trim and handsome in his tailored tux, and his eyes were fixed with rapt attention on his enthusiastic, if anxious, conversation partners. 

You looked to his right and found the source of your discomfort. Over Solaire’s shoulder, a younger man stood, his cool, grey eyes fixed on you. When your eyes met his, his face split into a smile, all straight, perfect, white teeth. You flicked your gaze over his features. High cheekbones, perfect, light hair, a maroon suit that was fitted so tightly around his tiny waist you worried his jacket button would pop if he breathed too hard. 

His smile gleamed in the soft house lights, just a bit too sharp. 

“Oh my God,” Bridget wacked you with her foot again, “he’s totally looking at me!” 

You turned back to stare at her, your face screwed up in distaste. 

“Jesus Christ.” You snapped. “Are you blind? Are you incapable of turning without kicking me? Should I just move a foot downstage so save myself the bruise?” 

“You don’t have to be an asshole.” Bridget pouted, crossing her arms. She tugged at the hem of her leotard, only serving to prop her bust up even more prominently. She waggled her fingers towards Solaire’s shadow with a grin before turning back to you. “You are such a buzzkill.” 

You huffed, frustrated, and ran a hand over your face before remembering that you already had your stage make-up on. You’d smeared your blush. 

“Fuck me.” You sighed. 

Opening night was always your least favorite performance. Bridget was a bitch, but she was an impeccable dancer. You fell out of a pirouette after four rotations that she took to five. She did lick you twice during Coffee, and she forgot during the battle scene that the toy soldiers and mice were only meant to play fight. You were certain the wack she gave to your ribs with her wooden sword would bruise. 

You hated opening night, but you loved Nutcracker. You always had, since you played Fritz at seven. You sat in the wings and watched the Grand Pas de Deux, counted the Sugar Plum Fairy’s rotations as Cavelier spun her like a top. 

Those fuckers. They were good. Better than you. So was Bridget. So was every other principal dancer in the company. You were falling behind. Plateauing. 

During bows, your eyes drifted to that perpetually empty box to stage right. William Solaire was on his feet, his face lit up in childlike joy, clapping incessantly as the principals took another bow. To his right, just over his shoulder, his mysterious shadow stood as well, clapping slowly, languidly. His eyes were locked on you until the curtain fell. 

Your castmates broke into laughter and applause, cheers and congratulations spread through the softly lit stage. You turned, popped en pointe to stretch out your right hip. Someone caught your elbow and spun you around.  

“You’ve got to get it together on that turn.”  Bridget bitched, her arms crossed over her chest. “You’re embarrassing me.” 

You blinked back at her, shock smacked across your face. The world of ballet could be a cruel, unforgiving one. People often spoke directly and without care for emotions, only results. It shouldn’t have surprised you when she decided to make her point in this particular fashion rather than talk to your director or find a nicer way to get it across. You could appreciate her being up front, at the very least. 

“New marley.” You said, tapping your toe against the stage. “New shoes. New show. I haven’t danced Coffee in like… three years. I’ll be fine tomorrow.” 

Bridget narrowed her eyes at you, her delicate features contorting unflatteringly around a frown. 

“I don’t make excuses.” She bit out. “And I don’t fuck up. So…” 

Another dancer caught her shoulder and she turned, falling naturally into the cheer and jubilation of the post-show. She only spared you one more look before disappearing into the crowd of retiring dancers. 

You made your way to the dressing room, only lingering long enough to snag your coat and lighter before retreating again. It was fucking cold outside and it was probably in your best interest to at least change out of your shoes before you went out for a smoke, but you thought that if you spent another second around everybody’s chatter and laughter and fucking noise you’d actually go insane. 

The costume for Coffee didn’t provide the most cover from the elements. It included a pair of sheer, flowy pains and a skimpy vest that barely covered your chest. You shivered as you planted your back against the back wall of the theater and tugged a cigarette from your pack. Fuck, you were running low. You’d have to stop on the way home. Of course. 

“Can I bum one?” A smooth, british voice called from your right. You jumped, alarmed, and turned.

It was Solaire’s shadow, the handsome, blonde man that had spent the entire night intensely staring you down. You were usually off put by guys that stared, but something about him didn’t set off the alarm bells in your head. 

“Its my last one.” You grumbled, pulled your pack back out. Your hands were fucking freezing, and you shook as you attempted to flick your lights. Thin, cool hands spread over yours, plucked the lighter and both cigarettes from between your fingers. 

“Cheers. You were wonderful, by the way.” The man smiled as he brought both cigarettes to his lips, lit them with the same flame, and took the first, bitter drag before passing one back to you. You pressed it between your lips, wet with his saliva, and breathed in deeply. It warmed you up inside almost immediately. 

“I was alright.” You sighed, smoke obscuring the stranger’s face. You introduced yourself, hand extended. He took it in his, but instead of shaking it, he brought your knuckles to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. It would have been corny if it was anybody else, but something about him was so earnest that you blushed, hot and high in your cheeks, up your neck, the tips of your ears. 

“Porter Solaire.” He supplied, stepping back and resting against the cold brick wall. He had a long, black peacoat over his shoulders, leaving his arms free from its heavy sleeves. Even though he had very little cover from the cold, he didn’t shiver or shake, seemingly unbothered by the winter chill. “And I mean it. I don’t give compliments lightly. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” 

“I was the weakest dancer up there tonight.” You huffed, tapping the filter of your cigarette against your lips in thought. “I’m not conventional. I don’t have the training that the other principal dancers do.” 

Porter snickered, looking down at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“Something funny?” You sneered. Embarrassment crept up your chest and into your throat, turning you mean. You hated that about yourself. 

“No.” Porter said softly. “No, it’s just… I don’t give a damn about ballet. It’s the old man’s favorite, I just got dragged along tonight. But every time you were on stage, I was enraptured. I have no idea if you’re a good dancer, but what I do know is that you’re… something.” 

The way he said something sounded dangerous. You wanted to watch his mouth form around the word a few more times. 

The back door creaked open. Bridget stuck her head out into the cold. 

“We’re going to get drinks.” She snapped. “Like… six of us? How big is your car? You can DD, right?” 

“I was about to leave.” You said, gesturing with your half-finished cigarette. 

“Oh, come on.” Bridget said. “It’s enough of a mood killer that you refuse to have a drink, the least you can do is come with. It’s opening night! Come and celebrate with us!” 

“It doesn’t sound much like they’ll be celebrating.” Porter’s voice rose up from behind you. You half turned to look at him. Smoke twirled around him lazily, languidly, twisting tondeuse and attitude turns around his sharp, pretty features. “More like… babysitting.” 

“Oh!” Bridget straightened when she saw him, puffing up her chest in her skimpy Coffee top. Porter’s eyes trailed over her body, but the light that sparked in his grey irises when he looked at you was absent. His eyes took on a sharp, cutting energy that made you shiver. “Hey, you’re with… with Mr. Solaire, right? Do you want to… come along?” She put on her most devastating smile, looking up at him through her lashes. Porter looked down at her, blinked slowly twice before turning his eyes back to you. 

“Do you have dinner plans?” He asked, his face and eyes lighting up. “There’s a lovely little Indonesian place around the corner.”

You looked over to Bridget, who was starting up at Porter like he’d spit at her. Her pretty face was twisted up in disbelief. 

“That sounds great.” You said decisively. “Let me go change and get this shit off of my face.” Porter gave you a sly, curling smile. 

“I’m not complaining about the costume.” His eyes slid to Bridget for a moment, as if to check that she was still watching. The corner of his smile quirked up as his attention fell back to you. One cold hand spread up your exposed ribs as the other snaked under your chin and tilted your face towards his. His thumb traced your jaw, those sharp eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he ducked down. 

His hands were cold, but his lips were warm. Soft and plush, you melted into the feeling of them. Warmth bloomed in your chest. You leaned into him, hand falling to hold onto the lapel of his stupid, fancy suit. Smoke passed between your mouths, acrid, bitter, so fucking warm. 

Bridget was gone by the time you came up for air. 

“Your friends suck.” Porter smiled into your mouth. He didn’t let you go. His cold hands began to warm on your skin. 

“Not my friends.” You snorted. “Coworkers at best. Take me to get Indonesian.” 

“As you wish.” Porter grinned.

[not-the-coffee-machine4]

CALLING ALL QUEEN FANS: PROJECT

okay idk what just came over me but I was thinking about how many panels were made for Freddie for the AIDS Memorial Quilt and then I realized Joe Fanelli probably doesn’t have one

so I looked up the submission process and it is remarkably easy so godammit I’m making one and sending one in

and then I figured some people might want to be a part of this. Aside from sending the package, it doesn’t cost anything to submit so I’m not out here asking for donations. But you have to include a letter with it about the person and aside from a short bio/backstory, I thought it would be nice if people wanted to comment nice things to put at the end OR if anyone has ideas as to what to put on the panel (aside from his name) I will gladly take ideas (please, I am starting from a blank slate). Most things I think I’ll make out of fabric but I can also get away with fabric paint and sequins and stuff so pls do give object or design suggestions

Whoever writes something or gives a suggestion I’ll include as a participant at the end of the letter. If you comment something, please also indicate your preferred name or if you want to be Anonymous (state/country would be cool too!). Any ideas with no name indication, I’ll put you down as your user so if your Tumblr username is something you’d rather not have archived in the AIDS Memorial, do consider one of the other two options 😅

I’m doing this with or without other’s participation, I just thought the three Garden Lodge guys have never really gotten enough appreciation and it would be kind of a sweet somewhat community project. Maybe it’s the spirit of Christmas taking over me or something. So please do comment with whatever!

I’ll leave this up for at LEAST a week before I start buying supplies so if you’re seeing this days after it was posted don’t hesitate to still send something! And I’ll be sure to take picture proof when it’s done haha

Reblog for a bigger audience!! Happy holidays :)

[beefscrap]

CONTEST HONORABLE MENTIONS

A total of 12 designs were submitted for this contest. Holy crap! I couldn’t ask for more. Not only that but they were all so goddamn cool and creative. It was HARD picking the top three out of all of them. So if you weren’t chosen, you should still be so proud of yourself!! Thank you to each and every one of you for your submissions.

Everyone who didn’t get first place can do whatever they wish with their designs, ofc. Whatever you choose, I wanted to do a LITTLE something to express my thanks. So I did a stupid little doodle for each of them :]

THE SUBMISSIONS

The first submission, and a GREAT start! I love your clean style, and the colors you used. Like I said before, I LOVE the birthmark

SO BADASS!!! Nugget never fails to make an amazing design. The headcanons are so silly and entertaining to think abt. Imagining a dragon who loves to walk on his hind legs for no reason like lmaooo

The colors here are FANTASTIC. The fades between each scale plate are super unique. I really love the pattern of the stars, too. Just a super cool style in general.

I ADORE the idea of nightwing scales going white with age for this dude. As I said before I loveee how he’s shaped. So many fun lore ideas were added to this guy. I love old men

Beautiful wings and awesome colors. The combo of red and blue is really cool. You have such a pretty style!!! And I love their big ears

Another baddassss designnnn. Face marking you added is something I just can’t get over. I had so much fun reading the lore.. and his name (Sickle-Moon) is so cool sounding.??! Where do yall find these names

(As I’ve said) I haven’t seen compression gloves like this for a dragon before! That’s so cool! And the pattern on them makes them even better. The blues are great - need more blue Nightwings in my life

The amount of detail put into this is CRAZY. Especially with those accessories - holy crap. They were something i particularly kept note of because of the job this character has in the story …

Love love loveddd this guy. Again, the tear drop jewelry was something I kept in mind and really liked. There’s so much care put into the scales in this drawing. Omg some of you have patience that I do NOT

[postsbycass]

GUYS!! Imagine If Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint Were Present For The Goblet of Fire, in Harry’s 4th year:

Okay, so just picture this: The Goblet of Fire is glowing, everyone’s expecting Harry’s name because it’s always Harry, but instead—boom—Oliver Wood. He’s stunned, but he reluctantly stands, accepting his fate.

But then, the Goblet glows again.

Everyone thinks, Oh, it’s Harry this time. Because why wouldn’t it be? NOPE. It’s Marcus Flint.

The chaos is immediate:

Oliver: Absolutely livid. Convinced Flint cheated somehow.

Flint: Smirking like he lives for this. Quidditch was cancelled for the year anyway… “Looks like Hogwarts needed some real competition.”

Harry: Sitting quietly, thanking every deity he knows that it’s not him…because it is always him.

The Tasks? Mayhem.

Dragon Task: Oliver’s all strategy; Flint tries to punch the dragon. They argue mid-task, because of course they do.

Lake Task: Oliver executes a flawless plan. Flint fights off grindylows and laughs the whole time, pretending to be completely unbothered.

Maze Task: Flint bulldozes through every trap. Oliver’s screaming at him to stop setting things on fire.

Bonus Chaos:

The Yule Ball: Flint looks effortlessly cool. Oliver tries way too hard but ends up standing awkwardly in a corner. Percy gives Oliver terrible advice, and Harry’s just eating hors d’oeuvres in peace—because he deserves that.

Cedric’s Death: Cedric’s not even in the tournament—he just dies because of terrible luck. The whole Fanfic would hint at it with darkly ironic jokes, and then boom, tragedy. He just somehow manages to die.

By the end, Oliver and Flint grudgingly respect each other. Percy is so done with them both. And Harry? “Honestly, this is kind of nice. Maybe I’ll skip next year’s disaster too.”

Please, someone write this. I need it. I’ll bloody write it if I have too 😭

[korshrimpski]

Dahlin is such a fascinating person and such an intresting captain, he’s had a lot of good but with that good comes a lot of pressure or stress (e.g; being draft to the nhl, but he was first which is also cool but makes it have a lot of eyes on you, he was also the second ever Swedish player to be drafted since Mats Sundin back in 1989)

Like rasmus is so scared of failure and disappointment and looks back on his younger self (younger being his 17 year old self) and sees a sad kid. In his house tour he was asked which had more pressure: being a young talent or an established NHL player. He said being a young talent and talked about how the draft was so stressful, and how he was 17 and there was something in the paper about him everyday.

And that pressure hasn’t gone away, obviously because he is an athlete, but he is a sabres and has been in the team for six seasons (this being his seventh) and he is considered a vet even though if he didn’t play any nhl game and entered this year fresh, he could still be considered a rookie. And even though most of the players are 3/2/1 year younger than him there is such an experience gap, and he had to be so much more mature for his age compared to some guys even though they are mature, ras just had to do it quicker. Along with him not being from North America and having to learn a new language and all that.

With the whole vet thing. Zach Benson lives with Ramus. And Rasmus is hoping to provide Zach with the inside and help that he wished he had during his first few years.

“I lived with Casey and I kind of wish I lived with someone like a veteran because it took me a while to understand everything outside of hockey, like getting treatment, eating right and all that,” said Dahlin. “I’m just trying to be there for him and teach him as much as I can about life.”

[source] [archived link]

This obviously does not mean Rasmus regrets having Casey live with him. Of course not. They are best friends. And Casey was one of the main people to help Rasmus with his English and they both leaned on each other for support. And then they traded Casey (for bo byram, which yayy!! But also that was Rasmus friends, buddy, guy, bestie etc etc.) and Kevyn Adams’ called Rasmus during his pregame nap to tell him Casey was traded and, he could not fall back asleep because of pure devastation. And the cherry on top of Casey getting traded, is that ras couldn’t even get to say goodbye. [source] [archived link]

But you know it’s a new season a new coach, he wants to impress at training camp and the first thing he does at camp is get injured. Specifically he hurts his back which lead to back spasms. He missed train camp. He almost all preseason the games, only coming back for the Münich game, getting named captain while in Münich. Then the Sabres opened the regular season up with two loses to the New Jersey Devils. But back in North America the sabres get good and it looks like they are doing well you know, just swept cali, 3rd in the division. But this is sabres hockey we are talking about it cannot be happy. So the sabres proceed to go on a 13 game losing streak. And 4 games into that streak, Rasmus’s back starts acting up so he has to leave in the third period against Colorado.

He was out for 7 games, and during those 7 games the sabres were falling apart. The power play wasn’t working, the penalty kill wasn’t working, tage thompson couldn’t score, alex tuch couldn’t score, jack quinn was getting eternally scratched, owen power was getting benched, there were dylan cozens, owen power, jack quinn, bowen byram trade rumours. Like it was a mess (still is). But ras came but on Dec.20 a home game against the leafs, and it looks like there was energy injected into that roster for the first time in a while. But that game… let’s not talk about it just know it was bad. But since that was a back-to-back with the team travelling to boston, the teams doctors didn’t clear Rasmus to play against the bruins because they didn’t want to aggravate his back.

But now he is officially back and his first game being back was against the New York Islanders (isles fans turn away now). That game against the islanders was beautiful, sabres won 7-1 snapping their losing streak and ras got 4 points and played for 23 minutes (the most out of all skaters that night). Anyways what I’m trying to get at here is that Rasmus might not be the best player in the world but he is the heart of that team. He has been with that team the longest and loves that team, and would do anything for that team.

I don’t actually know how to end this rant/passion text, other than: Rasmus Dahlin is a neat guy who just so happens to have anxiety.

[limelemonleaf]

Started as an idea and I had to draw them okay??

Presenting: Riding Hood!!💥💯💪🔥 Aka: Ride, Rider, and Flynn

Rant bellow ↓

AGENDER THEY/IT BBY FOR THE WIN RAHHH!!!

Their name is Devon Rene Inkwill

I didn't know initially how unmasked them would look like but jellyfish haircuts kept coming on my feed so I incorporated that. And of course I couldn't pick a gender and just didn't give them the concept at all.

Their signature weapon is a ✨meteorhammer✨ which is the yellow loops under the utility belt (they attached two small hooks on each side of the utility belt to more easily carry the meteorhammer and keep it more secure when they doesn't use it). Here's the tt I got the idea from.

Inside the bag on their hip are stored other heads for the hammer (the one they usually have on is made of thick rubber, which hurts but wouldn't usually leave long lasting damage (I don't think)) like maybe they want to switch to a steal ball or a blade yk?

I'm still contemplating whether to give them a knife or one of these as an extra weapon that's held on the back of the belt. Or they can switch between which one they carry idk.

The combat boots are steal toed and the gloves are like those indestructible gloves (I think they'd be pretty useful in Gotham– and any situation that requires fighting really).

They have armor on the front and back to their torso, as well as on their knees, elbows and forearms. The helmet also gets put in this category. Jason was like I didn't start wearing armor myself just to not give my sidekick some!

The cloak is made of very thick material, like they were made in the past to protect the wearer from the cold, and not only does it keep them warm bur they use it for defense (no Jason they will not line the bottom hem with rocks to knock people out. No not even if they're pretty rocks!).

In this au Jason wouldn't even think to have a kid as a sidekick which is why it's even funnier whan he does, and neither he nor Devon know how it happened. Like you know how you tried to remember how you met a person and cannot recall at all and it feels like they just spawned in your life one day? That's basically it.

It's more like Jason (either as a civilian or as Red Hood) had small interactions with Devon and eventually got attached and wanted to make sure the kid knew how to defend themself in case it came to it so he gave them a few tips and lessons (and then they find out he's Red Hood if they didn't already know, and they thought it was super cool).

Maybe Red Hood got seen with another often enough that the sidekick rumor started to spread and so a few times when Devon was there (they would wear a mask over their lower face and a hoodie whenever they were with "the Hood" and not with "Jason") both of them got attacked. This happens often enough that Jason makes Davon wear protective gear whenever they're with him in Crime Alley and that sealed the deal for anyone who saw them from then on out that yes The Red Hood has a sidekick now.

Rene insisted on a cloak because cloaks are cool! And some random guy they were fighting say "Who the hell are you supposed to be? The little red riding hood? Ha!" Jason makes fun of them the rest of the night and kept saying it on the occasion, and Rene was like "fuck it, fine, that's my name now I guess!"

The next time someone asked: "who the hell they are!?"

Rene: "Fucking Riding Hood, bitch!"

Jason: "Wait what??! Fr??"

Rene: "Yes bitch, and it's your fault, deal with it!"

The bats would obviously ask questions and would want to know who Riding Hood is. Jason refuses to tell them, mostly to fuck with Bruce. He told Babs as such and she agreed to help him mess with the bat (and Tim is probably on in it too) and keep any information about them tucked away from the others.

Jason only calls them either Ride or Rider because "Riding Hood" is stupid and he can't believe they actually picked that and no he didn't feel anything whenever they wanted to match with him what are you talking about.

Either Babs (& Tim) keep the information from everyone or all the kids are in on it to just mess with Bruce, but whichever it is, the bat decided to start investigating on his own and used a codename for Riding Hood's file and he chooses "Flynn" (the thought of Bruce choosing that name himself is hilarious to me because yes he'll respect the fairytale theme, everyone in Gotham has a theme, why not them too, right?).

Batman doesn't know his kids are actively hiding information from him about "Flynn". They keep it from the rest of the Justice League too, except for Superman who already heard the conversation between Jason and Babs and was later pleased with to go along.

Batman now thinks "Flynn" is a meta or some kind of cryptid for the kryptonian (and the rest of the JL) to not be able to get much information either.

Jason is very much laughing and updating Devon with what Babs is telling him. Devon thinks it's fucking hilarious.

Rene starts to call Jason "Mother Gothel" because he just loves to gaslight them for no reason. ("That's not true.", "YOU'RE DOING IT RIGHT NOW!", "lmao" ">={" )

Devon doesn't know anyone else's identities besides Jason's. They don't care much, if at all, about celebrities to actually pay attention, and that includes the Waynes. Jason finds this hilarious.

Also, did I make Devon short just so they can comfortably climb on Jason? Yes, yes I did.

[heyitsghost57]

guys i just had a cotl dream n let me tell you i’m literally Massive Monster. it was a voiced trailer n Lamb’s name was Lambert Chippington!! n in the dream i literally went on tumblr to post about it 😭

there was also a worm n new toad enemies

for some reason, my mind came up with narilamb college au n i was like “hm i’m starting college soon, i should write that 🤔”

Kudaai was replaced by a different animal (i think it was a fox?) who took away all the weapons n forced Lamb to fight with weaker weapons

Rakshasa n his wife were also on the cult grounds! they were celebrating Lamb getting stronger in combat (post-Nari boss fight)

idk i’ll be drawing this out eventually. cool dream :3

[cowboybeepboop]

Sheriff

"I want you, Y/N."

Pairing: Charlie Swan x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.6k 

Summary: Your car breaks down and the friendly sheriff comes to your rescue.

a/n: Guys please 🙏 send any twilight requests you have my way, I’m so desperate to write more 

You were currently on a road trip, alone, going from Oregon to well, anywhere really. Your car begins to stutter as you drive through the night. You pull your car over on the side of the road, your heart rate slowly rising in frustration. 

You take a deep breath, mentally counting to ten, you remind yourself that there's nothing you can do about it right now, you just have to accept that your car has broken down and that you're stranded in the middle of nowhere, you don't even recognize where you are. 

You look around, taking in your surroundings, your gaze falling on a sign that reads "Forks, Washington," located a few kilometers down ahead.

As you dial the number for the sheriff of that area, your heart continues to race anxiously. With every additional ring, the worry inside you seems to intensify, it felt like an eternity before someone picked up on the other end of the line. The line clicks as the call connects. You hear a deep, gruff voice come through the phone, "Forks Sheriff's office."

“Hello… My name is Y/N, uh, I’m not sure where I am but my car just broke down. It’s really dark,” you quickly ramble into the phone, eyes wandering the surrounding area. 

The voice on the other end of the phone responds calmly, "Hello Y/N, this is Charlie Swan, the Sheriff. Can you tell me where you're currently located?" The Sheriff, Charlie, seems to have a gentle and steady tone, attempting to help you as he inquires for more information about where you are stranded.

"Well, I'm next to the 'Welcome to Forks' sign.." you reply, the gentle tone from the sheriff helping to calm your nerves. 

"Okay," the sheriff responds firmly, his tone conveying a sense of reassurance, "Just stay where you are, I'll be there soon." There's a sense of comfort in the assurance that the sheriff is on his way. 

There's a brief moment of silence after the phone call ends, and you take a few calming breaths, trying to steady yourself amidst the darkness. Shortly afterward, you notice the headlights of a police cruiser approaching on the road in the distance, the patrol car getting closer until it pulls up behind your stranded vehicle.

Charlie, the sheriff, steps out of the vehicle, his presence is undeniably commanding yet somehow soothing, the stern expression on his face is replaced by a slight smile as he walks over to your car.

Unlocking the door you cautiously step out into the cool night air, gaze meeting the sheriffs. Charlie steps closer to you, the smile still on his face as he takes in your worried expression, 

"Y/N?" he asks, his tone carrying a hint of recognition for the voice he spoke to on the phone. 

He walks toward you, his steps measured and calculated, his tall stature towering over you as he steps closer. A small smile still on his face, he looks you over, inspecting your car, he asks inquisitively, "Car trouble?"

"Mhm, I'm not too sure what happened.." you sigh, watching as he comes to inspect the hood. You sneakily check him out, noticing how the night casts gentle shadows over his features. 

Charlie leans down over the hood, his eyes studying the engine with focused attention. He gives a few knocks on the engine and tries to look around inside as much as he can, his face becoming slightly grim as he starts to examine the issue.

He straightens himself up, closing the hood gently, before turning to you. His voice is calm and steady, "Well, looks like we've got some real trouble here. Engine seems to be overheating."

"I don't know much about cars..." you murmur, stepping closer to him and holding your coat tight around you

Charlie notices your closeness, and he instinctively reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder to keep you warm. He looks at you, a hint of a smile on his face as he replies, "Well, that's alright, not everyone needs to be a mechanic."

He glances at your car once more and sighs, "Overheating is a pretty common issue, it happens when your engine gets too hot to function properly. Based on the look of things, you won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

Your cheeks flush with his gentle touch, immediately craving more of his warm body. "I see, is there a motel or someplace I can stay for the night? Until I get this checked out?"

Charlie's eyes fall on yours, observing your blush with a hint of curiosity. He notices your desire for warmth but doesn't say anything.

He nods as you mention finding a place for the night and replies, "Yes, there are a couple of motels nearby, but they're not the most...pleasant, to say the least."

He studies your face again and his expression softens a bit as he continues, "You can stay at my place for the night. I have a guest room you can use."

Your blush deepens, the strong musk of his cologne sending your mind to inappropriate places. "Your place? Are you sure?"

Charlie looks at you, noticing your blushing getting even more noticeable, making him raise his eyebrows a bit. He smiles gently and says in a reassuring voice, "Yeah, my place. It's a lot more comfortable than any motel around here anyway. And I don't mind, really."

There's a hint of something in his voice, a subtle intensity that can't quite be explained. He looks at you again, making sure you're up for the idea.

"Alright, that sounds amazing." you grin, flashing him your pearly whites as you take a half step closer to him. "A warm cozy house, a soft mattress.. sounds like heaven." 

Charlie notices your movements, the way you step closer to him, and he can't help but chuckle softly. Seeing your toothy grin makes his heart skip a beat, the sound of your voice sending a shiver down his spine.

He responds with a smirk, "Oh, you flatter me. Now, let's get your things out of the car and head over there."

He motions for you to open the trunk, letting you help him carry your belongings to his patrol car. As you both move your belongings to his cruiser, Charlie can't help but sneak glances at you, noticing the way your skin glows in the pale moonlight. 

He holds open the passenger door of his car for you, his hand lingering for an extra second as you get in. He then walks around to the driver's side and settles in, starting up the engine. The silence in the car feels heavier than usual, the air filled with a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation.

"Thank you, Charlie," The warmth of the car causes you to relax into the plush seats. 

As you express your gratitude, a wave of genuine honesty comes over Charlie, his grip on the steering wheel loosening and his shoulders relaxing. He glances at you, noticing your relaxed state in the passenger seat.

His voice, low and sultry, responds, "No problem, Y/N. I'm glad to be able to help." He glances at you, his eyes lingering on your form, appreciating the sight of you in the warm glow of the car.

His voice is seductive, sending shivers down your spine and causing you to clench your legs together. You try to distract yourself, fumbling with the hem of your sweater as you stare out the window, heart pounding loudly in your ears. 

Charlie can practically feel the tension growing in the air as he continues to drive, the sound of your heart beating faster does not escape his ear. He steals a glance at you, noting your restless fiddling with the hem of your sweater.

His mind begins to wander and he silently wonders about the effect he's having on you. He decides to test the waters a bit, clearing his throat and saying, "You look a little cold there."

"Oh, uhm, just a little." your voice cracks slightly as you turn to look at him once again. 

Charlie smiles at the sound of your cracking voice, feeling almost amused at the way you respond. He keeps his gaze on the road ahead of him, but he notices the way your eyes meet his as you speak to him.

He decides to push further, reaching over to turn up the heat in the car. As he does so, his hand brushes lightly against your knee, a subtle but deliberate action designed to get a reaction from you.

You jump slightly, a soft surprised noise escaping your plush lips. Charlie grins at the sound of your startled gasp, his mind racing with intrigue and curiosity. He notices the way your body jerks at his touch, and he can't help but feel a rush of excitement go through him.

His hand continues to linger on your knee, his thumb gently rubbing small, almost soothing circles into your skin. "Sorry," he murmurs, his voice carrying a hint of playful innocence, "Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's.. okay.." you murmur, eyes focused on the way his finger moves against your skin. The short drive comes to an end as he pulls into the driveway of his house, you bite down on your bottom lip in anticipation as you wait for his next move.

Charlie notices the way you bite down on your bottom lip, his vision fixated on the way your teeth indent your lip. He can't help but think about how badly he wants to pull that lip between his own teeth and taste it for himself.

He parks the cruiser in the driveway and clears his throat, his mind trying to push down the thoughts of your lips. He looks at you, his eyes full of desire, as he says in a slightly hoarse voice, "We're here."

"Okay, shall we go inside?" You click the seatbelt, letting it fall back, turning at the waist to face him.

Charlie quickly notices the movement of your waist, his eyes briefly falling on the way your body shifts to face him. He lets out a low breath, trying to calm himself down, before replying, "Yeah, let's get inside."

He gets out of the car and walks around to your side, holding open the door for you. As you step out, he can't help but let his hand graze over your waist, a brief but purposeful touch.

"You're very gentlemanly," you giggle as he leads you to the door, your bags in hand. "Thank you again, Charlie."

Charlie chuckles softly as you mention his gentlemanly demeanor, feeling amused at the way you respond to him. He unlocks the front door and holds it open for you, gesturing for you to go inside first.

As you step inside, he follows closely behind, placing a hand on the small of your back, and guiding you further into the house. He responds, his voice warm and genuine, "No problem, Y/N, I'm glad I could help."

Charlie notices you leaning into his touch, your body molding into his, and his mind is flooded with thoughts of how badly he wants to wrap his arms around you. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, and it's driving him crazy.

He stops for a moment, his hand still on your back, and looks down at you, his voice soft and husky as he says, "Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything?"

"Could I please get a glass of water?" your tone is soft as he sets your bags next to the door, watching as his muscles flex from underneath his uniform. 

Charlie nods at your request, his mind briefly distracted by the way you speak to him in that soft voice. He feels your gaze on his muscular arms and chest, and he can't deny that it makes him feel a little more self-conscious.

He walks over to the kitchen, retrieving a glass and filling it with cold water from the tap. He returns to where you stand and hands you the water, his fingers brushing against yours as he does so.

You slip out of your sweater, revealing your skin-tight undershirt as you take a cautious seat on the couch, not wanting to get *too* comfortable.

As you shed your sweater, revealing the thin undershirt beneath, Charlie can't help but notice the way the material clings to your body, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he observes your every move. His eyes roam over your form, taking in the sight of your curves in the tight fabric, and he feels a wave of desire wash over him.

He watches as you gingerly sit on the couch, trying to maintain a sense of composure, and he wonders how much self-control he has left. He steps into the room, sitting next to you, and giving you a glass of cool water.

"Thank you," you murmur, sweetly smiling at him before taking a long sip of the drink. Your cleavage becomes more exposed to the man in front of you as you set the glass down, you lean back and relax on the couch. 

Charlie nearly chokes on his own saliva as he watches your cleavage become more exposed, his eyes fixed on the way the thin fabric clings to your skin, leaving practically nothing to the imagination. He swallows hard, trying to compose himself, but he can feel the tension in the air building between you both.

He shifts on the couch, trying to find a more comfortable position, as he replies, his voice huskier than before, "You're welcome."

"Are you married, sheriff?" You blurt out, heart racing as you contemplate trying to seduce the older man. 

Charlie is a little caught off guard by the sudden question, but he composes himself quickly. He gives a soft chuckle, leaning back on the couch and shaking his head.

He responds, his voice low and steady, "No, I'm not married." He looks at you, his eyes lingering on your exposed skin, and he can feel the tension and desire growing between you both.

You move closer to him, your hand falling to his thigh as you press your breasts against his arm. "A girlfriend?" you look at him through your lashes, gaze seductive as you admire his features in the new lighting.

Charlie feels the weight of your hand on his thigh, sparks shooting through his body at your touch. He can't help but let out a low breath as he feels your body pressed against his arm, the sight of your eyes looking up at him through your lashes is almost too much.

He maintains his composure, answering your question with a slightly hoarse voice, "No... no girlfriend." His eyes roam over your face, taking in every feature as he replies.

You lean forward, face mere inches from his. "Then... would you mind if I kiss you?" you slide onto his lap, gently letting your weight rest on him as your hands move to cup his face. 

Charlie is taken aback by your bold move, your body suddenly straddling his lap, the heat of your skin burning through the layers of his uniform. He can't help but let out a soft moan at the feeling of your weight on him, unable to control his own reaction to your touch.

He looks at you, his voice a low growl as he responds, "I don't mind at all." His hands come to grip your hips, steadying you on his lap as he awaits your next move.

Leaning forward you capture his lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss, hands moving to keep him close to you, hips rocking against his ever so slightly. 

Charlie responds immediately to your kiss, his lips meeting yours in a fierce yet tender embrace. He lets out a low moan as your hips start to rock against him, his hands gripping your hips even tighter, his fingers indenting your skin.

He pulls you closer to him, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance to the heat of your mouth. His mind is clouded with desire, the taste and feel of you against him is driving him wild.

Your mouth opens for him, your body desperate for more of his touch, you moan at the feeling of his erection growing against your clothed cunt. 

​

With a deep, needy groan, Charlie's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as your kiss deepens. His hands slip under your shirt, his calloused fingers skimming over the softness of your skin, making you quiver with anticipation. His mouth moves to your neck, kissing and sucking gently, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. 

You can feel his hardness pressing against you, and your own need is becoming unbearable. Your hands tangle in his hair as you rock your hips into him, seeking more friction. Charlie's grip on your hips tightens as he feels your body grinding into him, and he can no longer resist the temptation. 

His hand slides down to palm your ass, guiding you closer as he grinds back against you, his erection pulsing with desire. His kisses become more urgent, his teeth grazing your earlobe before capturing your ear with his lips, whispering, "I want you, Y/N."

You gasp as his teeth graze your earlobe, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. "I want you too, Charlie," you murmur, your breath hot against his neck as you kiss and nip at the sensitive skin there. The intensity of your passion builds as your hands explore his body, feeling the tension in his muscles as he responds to your touch. 

Encouraged by your confession, Charlie's hand moves from your ass to the hem of your shirt, deftly sliding it up and over your head, leaving you in only your bra and pants. He kisses down your neck, his warm breath causing goosebumps to form, as he gently unclips the back of your bra, letting it fall away to expose your full, round breasts to the cool air. 

He groans in appreciation, his eyes dark with desire as he cups them in his hands, thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples. Your back arches, pressing you into his touch as his mouth finds on the peak, suckling it with an intensity that has you gripping his shoulders tightly, a soft moan escaping your lips.

With a sudden surge of need, Charlie wraps his arms around your waist and effortlessly lifts you from the couch, carrying you down the hallway to his dimly lit bedroom. He sets you gently on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he starts to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the well-defined muscles and tattoos that cover his torso, making your heart race even faster. You watch, mesmerized, as he unbuttons and pulls down his pants, his erection straining against his boxers.

With trembling hands, you help him remove the last of his clothing, revealing his rock-hard body to the cool air. He returns the favor, taking his time to remove your pants and panties, leaving you nude in front of him. His eyes drink in the sight of you, silent praise for the beauty laid before him.

With a gentle push, Charlie lays you back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he climbs over you, his body hovering just above yours. He kisses you softly, his mouth exploring yours with a passion that's tender yet fiery, his tongue dancing with yours as his hands continue to roam your body. You can feel the heat from his bare skin as he presses himself against you, his erection nestling between your thighs.

You wrap your legs around him, urging him closer, your hands exploring the firm planes of his back as he kisses down your body, leaving a trail of sweet kisses from your neck to your navel. His mouth finds your clit, his tongue flicking gently against the sensitive nub, making your back arch and your hips buck involuntarily.

He moves in a torturously slow rhythm, building your pleasure until you're panting for more, your nails digging into his shoulders as you beg for his cock. Charlie chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. He kisses up your stomach, his eyes locked with yours as he positions himself at your entrance.

With one hand, he guides himself in, his eyes never leaving yours as he sinks into you inch by inch. You gasp as he fills you completely, the feeling of fullness making you whimper with need. He starts to move, his strokes deep and slow, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from your body.

Your hips match his rhythm, the slick sounds of skin on skin filling the room as you both give in to the passion consuming you. The tension builds, coiling tightly in your stomach, until it's almost too much to handle. With a final, powerful thrust, Charlie whispers your name against your ear, sending you over the edge into a climax that leaves you trembling and gasping for breath.

You cling to him as he follows suit, his warmth seeping into you as he releases his own passion, your bodies joined as one. After a moment, he collapses onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his embrace as you both catch your breath, the aftershocks of your shared pleasure still coursing through your veins.

[guilty-pleasures21]

The last of the real ones

No context, no explanations. Just words and emotions spilling onto my keyboard. Listen to the songs for the full experience.

An only child of the universe

The waves

Wet concrete pt II

This whole damn city

Does your therapist know?

Too good to be true

The only one

Warnings: eventual descriptions of grief and sex.

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

"I was just an only child of the universe ... and then I found you."

     “So what’s the deal with this Bruce Wayne guy?” X asked him, hopping from crunchy leaf to crunchy leaf as Jason kicked a pebble on the ground beside her. He shrugged, still unsure what to make of the situation. 

     “I dunno,” he replied honestly. “He’s kind of weird. But he seems nice!”

     He turned to face her, his green eyes wide with excitement as he thought about the man who’d formally adopted him and taken him in. “He has this huge house with all these books and he lets me read any of them! Oh! And he also has this guy, Alfred, who’ll cook me anything I want! It’s pretty great.” 

     He nodded knowingly, as if he’d suddenly become decades wiser than his mere eight years of age. X paused to consider his words, trying to imagine an enormous house with an endless room filled to the ceiling with books. She’d been left at the orphanage when she’d been too young to remember and would sneak away on occasion to roam the streets, begging for spare change with her wide, almond eyes and her helpless little pout. She always managed to draw the attention of passers-by with her cute and innocent demeanour and Jason had taken advantage of the distraction she provided to pick the pockets of some of the people who’d stop by to help her. She’d caught him immediately after the first time, racing after him and grabbing the back of his shirt before he could run away from her. She’d demanded that he split some of his earnings with her - since she’d technically contributed to his success - and ever since then, they’d been inseparable. 

     “Wow,” she finally replied, her voice soft with awe. “Even chicken?” 

     “The good kind,” Jason agreed, causing X’s jaw to drop even further. He snickered at the stunned expression on her face and reached for her hand, easily slipping his fingers between hers. “You should come over! Alfred’s going to be making a roast tonight!” 

     “Like the kind those rich people always have on TV?” X asked, swinging their hands together. Jason nodded vigorously and the two of them began making their way back to his new house.

“You are the sun and I am just the planets, spinning around you.” 

     The two of them sat next to each other in the batcave, puzzling over X's new vigilante name. Jason had convinced Bruce to adopt his best friend a while back and the both of them had quickly begun their training to become the next protectors of Gotham. 

     “What about ‘Batgirl'?” Jason suggested, keeping in line with Bruce's chosen theme. X twisted her lips in disagreement. 

     “I want a bird name,” she argued, turning to Jason with wide eyes. “Like you! Then we can match!”

     Jason shook his head as a smile tugged on his lips, but he shuffled a little close to her anyway. “Hmm … What about ‘Dove’? They're small and cute! Just like you!”

     X's frown deepened. “But I don't want to be small and cute! I want to be scary! People will be scared of you because they already know Dick!” 

     Bruce's other adopted son always took good care of them when he came over from Bludhaven. He wasn't as bossy or serious as Bruce and he could do so many cool gymnastics tricks! Jason and X had quickly decided that they liked him and were always following him around in awe whenever he dropped by Bruce's place to visit. 

     “And it's too short, too!” X continued, rocking back and forth as she mentally listed all the problems with the name. “People probably won't even hear it the first time. ‘Look out, it's Dove!’ ‘Love?’ ‘No! Dove!’ Who's going to be scared of that?” 

     She turned to Jason in question and he had to agree that she made a good point. They sat in silence for a moment longer,the both of them thinking. Then finally, X spoke up. “What about ‘Nightingale’?”  

     It had been a year ago, when X was still living in the orphanage, that Jason had been abandoned at home alone by his mother again. The two of them had been playing outside when the sky had begun to darken, signalling an incoming storm. X had gone home with Jason, whose house had been just nearby, but when they'd gotten back, they'd found it devoid of any adults. The two children had huddled quietly under a thin blanket, trying to block out the raging fury of the storm outside. But it had banged on Jason's windows so viciously that their little hearts had pounded with the fear that it would burst through the already fragile panes of glass. Finally, X had broken the tension with a melodious tune, her voice so soft at first that the thunder had easily overpowered it.

     ‘I can't sleep tonight, wide awake and so confused.’ Jason had curled his arms even tighter around her as she sang, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and X had raised her voice in response. ‘Can you be my nightingale? Sing to me, I know you're there. You could be my sanity, bring me peace, sing me to sleep. Say you'll be my nightingale …’

     Finally, the storm had slowed, as if soothed by X's reassuring words, and Jason, too, had relaxed his grip on her. 

     ‘Can you be my nightingale, X?’ he'd asked, his words muffled by where his mouth remained pressed against the side of her neck. 

    ‘Of course, Jay Jay,’ X had promised him, patting his back reassuringly. ‘I'll always protect you when the storm comes.’

     Jason took her hands in his, his little face set into a serious expression. “I like it.”

[starmieknight]

Stars Align

The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

AO3 link

Concept Art

Legend of the Gobblewonker (Art)

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3 (previous)

It had been a couple of days since the Wax Stan fiasco. There wasn't much going on around the Shack apart from the usual tourist groups and the gnomes fighting the local wildlife for trash can rights. Pretty normal stuff. Almost like it had been for the thirty years without the twins around.

Still, the peace couldn't last.

Stan didn't know it at the time, but the next couple of days were about to be more exciting than anything that had happened yet that summer.

And it all started with a television commercial.

Stan grins as the latest tour group gathers around him, all eager to throw their money away into his Mystery Sack. Really, these guys would fall for anything! And they're happy to do it, a few of the older women even going so far as to pinch his cheeks.

It's a weird feeling, having these women look at him like he's adorable or something. Yuck. He's old enough to be their husband. They shouldn't be cooing over him like he was some scamp of a grandson.

He'd never had any old ladies doing this when he really was a kid back in Jersey. They were usually running him off with a broom for stealing pies or something off the windowsill.

Stan plastered his showman smile on as the last lady turned to him, feeling the strain of keeping an act up as she patted his cheek maternally.

"Such a handsome young man," the lady sighs. "And a good son, too ― running this place for your dad. I've met him, you know. The Mystery Shack was a favorite stop of mine when we were younger. I didn't even know Stanford had a son… Is he around?"

The hopeful look in the lady's eyes and the slight pink in her face was enough to keep Stan from bolting into the house. The question felt kind of shady, but he also had vague memories of flirting it up with this particular woman over the years. From dark hair to the silvers he had worn until just recently, she had been around for quite a while.

He still couldn't remember her name.

"Uh, yeah, that's me!" He said as cooly as he could manage, tugging at his collar. Why did the tie suddenly feel suffocating? "Stanford’s son!"

"You said your name was Stan, too, didn't you? At the start of the tour? Are you a junior?" The lady smiled in a way that might have been teasing, but Stan was already shuddering at the thought of being named after his father.

Let Ford have that one all to himself. He was fine with his middle name being his mother's maiden name. Romanoff sounded pretty cool, anyway.

"No! Nononono," he waved his hands frantically. "I'm― Lee! Stanley Pines… The Second! Named after an uncle."

"Aw, how sweet, carrying on a family legacy like that." The lady patted his head once more. "Well, Stanley, tell your father that Dolores is back in town when you see him. Over at the Fall-In Hotel."

Stan felt his ears grow hot. Okay, maybe they hadn't just... flirted it up. More like, if she was around more often, Dolores would have been in line for the next, ex-Mrs. Mystery title.

"You got it, toots." He grinned, winking. Then flinched and backtracked. "I mean, Ma'am. Definitely ma'am. I gotta, uh ― go wash the goat! Bye!"

With the Mystery Sack tucked securely under his arm, Stan bolted for the Shack's backdoor, racing past the stairs to throw himself into his armchair.

"Ugh," he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Dealing with an ex like this is the worst."

Soos patted his back sympathetically while the twins, both sprawled out on the floor, turned to look at him curiously.

"You have an old girlfriend outside?!" Mabel squealed with excitement, stars in her eyes.

"Emphasis on the old girlfriend." Stan raised a pointed eyebrow at her and gestured to his face. "She thinks I'm his son. Had to give her a stage name and everything."

Mabel wrinkled her nose. "That's... kind of weird."

"Very weird." Dipper agreed.

"What're we watching?" Stan asked, hiding his money sack beneath the chair cushion for now. He looked at the TV hopefully. "Tiger Fist?"

"We're waiting on the commercials now!" Mabel said brightly.

"Oh, look!" Soos said suddenly, pointing at the TV. "It's that commercial I was telling you dudes about!"

Stan's lip curled with disgust as the advertisement continued to play, Gideon Gleeful's annoyingly shrill tones ringing in his ears. It sounded even worse without his hearing aide muffling the sound. He missed being able to turn it off when he didn't want to listen to people talk.

He sat up enough to unbutton his jacket and toss it in the direction of the coat rack. It was entirely too hot this summer and he wanted out of his pants five minutes ago. He paused in the middle of stripping to stare at the pile of fabric on the ground, wondering why he had done that instead of hanging it up properly.

He always hung his jacket up ― ever since donning his Mr. Mystery persona.

Admittedly, he was a bit messy by nature, but leaving his clothes laying around haphazardly felt entirely too... teenager-ish.

Stan hurried to right his wrong and turned back to the kids in time to hear Dipper voice the desire to check out Gideon's road show.

"No!" Stan barked, face feeling itchy from the mere idea of getting close to the Tent of Telepathy. "Never! You are forbidden from patronizing the competition!"

Soos chuckled at him. "Dude, I can't take you seriously with that face. You're like a baby bear. So cute!”

Stan made a frustrated noise as he stomped up the stairs.

They'd listen to his warnings if they knew what was good for them.

_____________________________________________________________

And, of course, they didn't listen. They were his family ― why would they?

Pines were never good at keeping their noses out from where they didn't belong. (Usually their noses were too big to even bother with trying, but the twins were still growing into theirs.)

With only a quick stop by the Corduroy house to grab Wendy for backup (and boy was it weird, considering Dan didn't recognize Stan and tried giving him the shovel talk about taking Wendy out), Stan arrived at the Tent of Telepathy just in time to miss the show.

Thank Moses. He really didn't want to listen to Gideon sing some cutesy song and do his little dance. It was unsettling.

The only song and dance he ever sat through was that VHS tape of Dipper's Lamby Lamby Dance the twins' mom had sent him. He still had that, somewhere. Probably had the pictures of him holding the newborn twins somewhere, too.

He should really find those things. The kids would probably like to see them.

"Man, that kid's an even bigger fraud than Stan." Dipper was saying as he and Mabel exited the tent. "No wonder our uncle's jealous."

"I'm not jealous of that twerp!" Stan snapped, startling the kids. They looked up at him guiltily, Wendy merely shrugging when they turned to her for help. "I specifically forbade yous two from coming here and you still did it anyway! And what's worse is you dragged Soos along with you ― where is he anyway?"

"He went to get the truck," Dipper mumbled, tugging his cap over his eyes to avoid looking at his uncle.

"Oh, come on, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel smiled at him, eyes wide and sparkling. Oh, boy ― he'd have to stay strong if he wanted to stay angry. "Gideon's dance moves were adorable! And his hair is like, whoosh. Give him a chance!"

Your niece is being duped by this brat, Stanley.

The ideal of her trusting heart being taken advantage of was enough to relight the fire of anger in his heart.

“Absolutely not!" Stan growled, grabbing the twins and throwing them over his shoulder like sacks of potatoes. "We’re going home ― and I don't want to hear anymore about that Gideon brat or ― or I'll ground you!"

"You're pretty serious about that kid," Wendy observed with mild surprise. "Does he really get on your nerves that bad?”

"Doesn't he get on yours?" Stan retorted with a scowl. "I've heard you complain about him stealin' your fancy face lotion enough times to know you can't stand him, either."

Wendy grimaced at the reminder. "Yeah, that shit's expensive."

"Language!"

"Y'know," Wendy continued, ignoring him. She poked his cheek, earning a yelp from him as she pressed on a tender spot. "You could use some skincare yourself. You're breakin' out something bad, man."

"It's a Pines thing," Stan brushed her off, wincing at the itchy feeling overtaking his face. Now that she’d drawn attention to it, it was hard to ignore. "We got oily skin. What can I do about it?"

"Wash your face?" Wendy snorted. "They make specialty stuff for your skin type now. This isn't the sixties."

"I'm not puttin' any snake oil on my face, Wendy."

"I'll bring you some face wash tomorrow, Maybe a face mask, too."

"Oooh," Mabel perked up. "Spa day?"

"Don't even think about it, pumpkin.” Stan ordered sternly, pointing his finger at her as he deposited the twins in the El Diablo. "Yous guys are on house arrest ― we're not doing anything fun tomorrow except givin' tours and flossing tourists!"

___________________________________________________________

Wendy brought the face masks.

"I think this might even be more fun than my idea of bedazzling my face!" Mabel exclaimed happily, patting her panda mask into place.

Stan glowered at the TV, sat firmly in his chair with his arms crossed. He might have made an imposing figure, if not for the cat mask he was wearing. It was cold and sticky and smelt like plants.

His house was in the middle of the woods ― wasn't that enough nature for his body?

"That sounds like a painful idea." Dipper shot an amused look at his sister, to which she just sighed.

"I'm unappreciated in my time," she mourned, earning a pat on the back from Wendy. The redhead in question was wearing a dog mask and was watching Dipper like a wolf. There was still one face mask left and one blank slate left for her to work with.

Stan was actually looking forward to seeing if she could convince Dipper to go along with them or if Wendy would have to wrestle the boy down to put the product on his face. 

Which was how she'd strong-armed Stan into participating.

Seriously ― she'd put him into a headlock and slapped the mask on him while he was choking.

It would have been impressive ― if he wasn't so humiliated by it.

She would have never even thought about it if he'd still had his old man body!

Ding! Dong!

Stan glanced over his shoulder at the door, moving to take off his mask.

Wendy slapped his hand down and glared at him.

"Fifteen minutes." She reminded him sternly. 

He growled in frustration.

"It could be a tour group!" he protested. "I can't give a tour like this!"

"It could also be a salesman or something." Wendy rolled her eyes. "You're not getting out of this yet, man."

"Wendy..."

"I'll get it!" Mabel volunteered easily, hopping off Stan's lap where she'd been pinning him into place. "If it's a tourist, I'll scream really loud so you can get ready!"

Well, Mabel didn't end up screaming, but Stan thought that she should have.

From the first twangs of a Southern accent floating through the front door, Stan felt his blood pressure spike.

He threw himself out of the armchair, no longer worrying about Wendy and her face masks, and bolted for the door.

Gideon smiled up at him in a false show of innocence.

"Why, hello there! I'm Lil―"

Stan snatched Mabel back and slammed the door in Gideon's face.

"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel cried out in shock, staring at him with the most wounded face he'd ever seen from her before. "Why did you do that?"

This was no accident, Stan! You did this!

Stan grimaced and shook his head to dislodge the unwanted memory. He fixed his glare on his niece and fought to stay in the moment.

This was a problem in the present, not the past.

"I'm not going to let that little fake lead you on, Mabel." He said sternly and crossed his arms. "He's no good."

"He's adorable and appreciates my style!" Mabel retorted hotly. "I'm just trying to make a friend. This is my summer vacation! I'm supposed to be out riding bikes and doing stupid stunts without adult supervision."

"You'd rather run off with a stranger than hang out with your family? You were just having fun putting slime on my face, in case you forgot!"

Mabel deflated slightly. "It was nice to do something I like with you and Wendy... but you're such a sour puss about it! Gideon actually likes doing stuff like this..."

Stan slumped, sighing. He ruffled her hair gently and pulled her into a hug.

"I'll try to keep the complaints down." Stan said quietly. "But no promises! I never did anything like this as a kid and it's strange to me. I― I never had friends as a kid, just a brother. And boys back then would've been in hot water for doing girly stuff like this. There ain't nuthin' wrong with it and takin' care of yourself. But the world was a lot more small-minded. Even for those free lovin' hippies."

He shuddered at the reminder of a certain long-haired guitarist.

"Yeah, I guess you and Grandpa would have been doing other stuff when you were my age." Mabel smiled weakly at him. "Kinda like us now. He's older than you, too. It must be weird being the 'teen' role model instead of being the little brother, huh?"

Stan's brow furrowed and he wondered how Shermie got pulled into the conversation.

He'd been so much older than them, so Stan and Ford didn't bond with him like―

Never had friends... Just a brother.

Stan froze.

Oh. Oh shit.

Ohnonono.

"Pretty weird kiddo." He said hollowly, ushering her back into the living room with Wendy and Dipper. He could feel his control slipping by the second and he knew he only had moments before he broke. Already his chest felt tight. "I gotta go ― make a phone call! Berightback!" 

As soon as Mabel crossed the threshold of the room, Stan turned on his heel and bolted for his bedroom.The door slammed behind him and he sank down against it, burying his fingers in his hair.

Oh, sweet Moses ― he'd nearly ruined it all!

He was grateful, for what seemed like the first time in his life, to have another brother.

All his life, Shermie had felt more like a stranger to Stan than a sibling. Too old to play with his dumb baby brothers, then away at war while his wife and son crashed at the pawn shop. Then Stan was on the streets and Shermie moved across the country to Washington. He hadn't even come to 'Stanley's' funeral.

In fact, the last time Stan had seen his oldest brother was nearly thirteen years ago when the younger twins were born. They'd sat together outside the NICU, sharing anxious looks as they waited to hear if Dipper was going to live through the night after the complications he'd been born with. Shermie and Stan had even shared a relieved hug after they found out the boy was going to be fine and Shermie shared a story about something similar that had happened with Stanford and Stanley.

Not only had the Stan twins shared a placenta, but Stanley had been breached. While the nurses were quietly, exclaiming over Stanford's extra fingers and shooting nervous looks at Filbrick, who had forced his way into the delivery room, the doctors had converged on Caryn and were discussing the possibility of surgery to help deliver the second twin.

Stanley, however, was impatient and didn't take being separated from his twin well, even as an infant.

There hadn't even been enough time to unlock the brakes on the hospital bed and move their mother to the operating room before Stanley forced his way out into the world. 

Poor little Shermie, who'd snuck into the room, was both horrified and amazed by the whole experience.

Little brothers, he'd commented while holding a tiny, baby Dipper, are a handful. You always gotta be on the lookout for them cause they'll give you a heart attack if you look away for a second.

And then he put Dipper in Stan's free arm, the other already occupied by a sleeping Mabel, and left him with the youngest Pines twins.

And Stan fell in love in an instant. So much so that he'd nearly gotten into a fistfight with Shermie about whose turn it was to cuddle the babies later.

But as much as he'd loved Dipper and Mabel, being around them was dangerous.

The more time he spent with his family, the more risk he took in keeping up his ruse.

So he'd stayed away and only sent letters and the occasional gift by mail. 

He had planned on keeping the twins at an arm's length this summer, but that was proving futile at this point.

He nearly let precious info about Ford slip to Mabel in an attempt to connect with her and keep her out of Gideon's clutches.

Stan groaned miserably and leaned his head back against the door.

"Oh man, Sherm," he muttered into the empty room. "Little brothers may be a handful, but older siblings are no picnic, either."

[bonefall]

Silvermoon and Bloodmoon are about to have a GREAT time at the movies

[ID: A gif of two warrior cat OCs, Silvermoon and Bloodmoon, in a hot pink car. The car's wheel is on the right side because the car is British.]

COME ON BARBIE LET'S GO PARTY