#Luckily I really don't have much work to do!!

[viaviavie]

BLOT BATTLEMENT (100 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE)

in which he suffers watching you fawn over his overblotted copy who seems to be in love with you.

SUMMARY: after an experiment gone wrong, an overblotted clone of one of the victims has re-emerged. luckily for everyone, it's reasonably powerless and will eventually disappear. unluckily for him, the clone seems to reflect his true feelings towards you.

PAIRINGS: overblot gang x reader (seperately)

WARNINGS: suggestive (for jamil, vil, and idia), slight possibility of drowning (azul), projection for ob!vil

NOTES: this is in celebration of hitting 100 followers! thank you so much for following my work, and for all the comments you have left behind! i will also be rewriting malleus's section once book 7 is complete! on another note, pls invade my inbox if you immediately see that reference from malleus's section, mwah!

"That's enough. If one of you barks one more time, I will have to show you what happens to unruly puppies that won't obey." Crewel sighs and pinched his nose, another hand gripping his baton in irritation. "Unfortunately, we cannot fix this in an hour. You bad doggies need to get along until this entire issue is resolved."

The professor clicked his tongue, shoving the two out of his office. "I have already contacted someone to get you both. Surely, the Prefect has survived both of you once and will be able to do it again. So stay put, and be good. Or else."

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Seeing his Overblotted self summons waves of shame and embarrassment for Riddle. It was not his best moment at all, and that inky copy is a reflection of his worst flaws and traits. You could imagine how rushed Riddle was to collar his copy in fear that it would hurt others again, especially you who had already dealt with it once.

"Don't make me repeat myself, I demand that I see my King of Hearts, this instant!" It's very much like babysitting a spoiled child, and it makes Riddle so wracked with embarrassment. He cannot control his copy as it stomps and yells outrageous demands to see you. Riddle was really on the verge of collaring it and dragging it back to Heartsyabul when you turned the corner.

OB!Riddle's smile is so wide that it could be mistaken as sinister. "My rose!" Inky blot is smeared all over your uniform as the fake runs towards you. Just as Riddle was about to whip out his wand to stop it, you relax and return the embrace, albeit with a confused expression. Riddle manages to explain very quickly whilst trying to pry off his copy, but you suggest that it is best to let it do what it wants.

What Riddle doesn't tell you is that his copy reflects his desires as well, claiming he is uncertain why it insists on being so affectionate with you. However, it seems to be quite the blessing when OB!Riddle marches to the Heartslabyul dorm to resume its position as Housewarden. In fact, the entire dorm thanks you profusely for being able to manage that little tyrant with a bat of your eyelashes and a gentle voice.

"Trappola, have you not learned your lesson!? Rule #186, you shall not eat hamburg steak on Tuesday! OFF WITH YOUR HEAD—" Tapping lightly on its shoulder, you attempt to placate the copy with a weak smile. "Riddle— I mean, Housewarden Riddle, Ace has not been able to eat all day and the steak was the only thing left in the cafeteria. He did not have much of a choice." Suddenly, the copy's face softened before relaxing back into its seat.

"My rose, I mustn't bend the rules. If I bent them for one, I would have to bend them for all." It scowls, only sinking further into its chair as you rub gentle circles around his forearm. The entire table stares at you with looks of gratitude and relief, all in agreement that you just saved everyone a tantrum's worth of stress. You hummed at the copy, nodding softly. "I know, dear. May I remind you that rules are there to ensure everyone is happy and safe? If Ace hadn't eaten his lunch, perhaps he might have gorged on the tarts instead."

"I suppose you are right, my King of Hearts."

Riddle seethes from the other side of the table, arms crossed and face on the verge of turning red. It was hard for him to decide whether he was merely jealous, or upset at his own copy rampaging around as if he were the real one in charge. He pauses for a moment as an epiphany comes to him.

Is this what it looks like whenever the Prefect is here to calm me down from my temper?

Even though OB!Riddle cannot use his magic, Riddle is extremely watchful of his copy. It is perhaps the ugliest side of him, and the last thing he wants is an Unbirthday Party ruined and spoiled by ink. They only had to put up with it for a day, and surely, Riddle has enough patience to ride out this episode.

He does have to watch and hold himself back as his copy acts so familiar with you. A hand at your lower back, perhaps an inky kiss on the cheek, and you being referred to as 'his rose'? It should have been me!

When his copy disappears, Riddle takes the time to pull you aside and admit the truth behind the blot's behavior. His jealousy seems to have pushed him into confessing, and he makes it clear that he would rather earn your feelings properly instead of coercing you for affection with potential tantrums.

"Forgive me, Prefect. I apologize for my copy's behavior. I have to tell you the truth— it was reflecting my innermost feelings. Prefect, I harbor these affections for you and I yearn to be more than friends. You do not have to tell me anything else at the moment. If you wish for time, I understand as well. Allow me to be curt, at least just this once. I like you more than a friend should, and I would hope to hear your response soon." (So polite!)

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

What a drag. Does he really need to help monitor his own Overblotted self? If you were able to survive it once, you should be able to handle that huge lion on your own. OB!Leona appears to be nothing but a grumpy lion who answers to no one, only being forcibly dragged around by his original self.

It changes when you show up. Suddenly, the copy springs to life in your presence and is completely disobeying the original.

You are taken by surprise when OB!Leona backs you onto a wall, a clawed hand lightly brushing against your cheek. "Herbivore," He breathed as his green eyes zoned in on you. "You should be more careful when you wander these halls alone." You couldn't help but gulp as he grins, fangs glinting against the sunlight. "You never know who might just be planning to eat you."

But when Leona takes notice of his Overblot's sharp nails cut into your skin, his attitude changes as well. The original takes initiative to pull you away and stand between you both. Perhaps you don't understand the way they bare teeth at one another, taking aggressive stances as if one or the other would jump and claw at their target. It sets the tone for a very tense environment as you attempt to drag them both to Savanaclaw.

It was best to keep both lion beastmen confined in his room. Considering that OB!Leona was focused on getting your attention, it wasn't hard to manage him. It was all that his overblotted self wanted; attention and absolute adoration. Leona, on the other hand, was more so bothered by the fact you smelled too much like ink in his own room.

"Tell me, do you look at anyone else like this?" Having been kicked out of his own bed, Leona could only stare blankly from his couch as his copy kept you trapped against its chest on the mattress. It only served to annoy him further when you seemed to reciprocate the attention it was giving you. "No, only you." The copy smirks, its tail entangled around one of your legs. "Then tell me, why? What do you adore about me?"

You hummed, sighing while your hand began to play with his mane-like hair. "You're brilliant. You're the most cunning lion that I know." Leona swears you were teasing him as you take a quick glance at him, smiling slightly. "And you're the only one that can protect me." With a mocking grin, the copy cups your cheek and returns your gaze to his own. "Tell me more, herbivore."

When the copy finally reverts back to ink, Leona can't help but find some relief in having the bed (and you) all to himself again. The first thing he does is drag you to the mattress and keep you trapped against his chest. You still smell of ink and lion, and it's his job to fix that.

"Go to bed, herbivore... Ha? I don't have to give you an explanation. You're a smart cookie, haven't you figured it out yet? ... Even with all the answers my blotted copy gave you, you're still not satisfied? Hmph, that's not my problem anymore. You're mine now, is that what you wanted to hear? ... Good. Now if that is all, let's go to sleep. You reek of ink..."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

It had become priority to get Azul's overblotted self into the biggest Octanivelle tank, which also happened to be the most isolated one. While OB!Azul seemed to be temporarily human, he seemed more irate with each second spent on the surface. It only relaxes slightly when it spots you, but his grip on your arm never relents. "Prefect, please. I need the sea..." He's just so needy and in pain. You'd help him, would you?

Azul is absolutely livid. He doesn't want you to see his copy in such a pathetic state. He most certainly tried to get you to turn the other way and march straight home, but you had to hit him with, "Even if it's your overblotted self, I would still help you." It might have been just a small comment, but he takes it as if you would move mountains for him. You weren't making it transactional, and that's practically special treatment for him.

You thought that his overblotted self would settle once in that tank. The copy immediately sheds its human form in favor of his merform, much to Azul's embarrassment. The businessman ready to drag you out and leave that blotted mess to fend for itself when a tentacle had dragged you into the water. Suddenly, you're met with teary blue eyes just before you were submerged. "You didn't plan to leave me here alone, did you?"

And goodness, Azul is just torn between fuming and panicking as his copy drags you further and further down. To make things worse, you haven't even taken a breathing potion! That was more than enough to make the octomer shake off his anxieties and plunge down into the waters after you before you drowned.

"And then what? What exactly were you planning to do once you had the Prefect here?" Azul pinched the bridge of his nose as he crossed his arms, unable to even make eye contact with you. Clutching at the little potion bottle in your hands, you do your best to ignore the way that the copy's tentacles seem to latch onto every single limb of yours. Not to mention how they twitch and slowly coil against your skin, or the way that the copy buries itself into your neck with a whine while it ignores its original.

"Why? Why won't you give me an answer?" It murmurs, arms caging you into its chest. You can see Azul's jaw clench, but you cannot exactly tell if he's embarrassed by how pathetic his overblot can be or envious of how it got a chance to be so close. "I'll give you everything. You will never want for anything. All you have to do is say that you'll be mine." The copy grits its teeth as it tightens its grip on you, tearing a surprised gasp from your throat.

"Why won't you surrender to me?"

The moment that this entire fiasco ends, you never see Azul for another two weeks. Every time you go to the Mostro Lounge to see him, he's suddenly occupied with every single disaster known to man. It isn't until Floyd gets bored of the entire thing when you get the opportunity to be tossed into the tank again. It isn't until Azul jumps into the tank after you with another breathing potion to save you, again.

"Please don't speak of that incident, Prefect. I wish you never had to be witness to such a sorry display... W-What do you mean Floyd told you about that botched blot experiment?! ... Don't play with me, Prefect. You can't just say that you'll surrender to me, you'll hurt my poor heart! ... If you dare say it again, I am afraid that the contract can never be broken. Choose your next words wisely, Prefect. Not all agreements have to be in writing."

JAMIL VIPER

Of all the Overblots here, Jamil's was the most... unhinged one, surprisingly. It was also the nastiest, based on how it seemed to disregard everyone around him. Truly, it was the worst of Jamil's envy and wrath towards everyone around him for shaping him as a servant. No matter what Jamil did to snap some sense into his copy's head, it only served to tick it off even more.

When you came to assess the situation, however, you immediately got the sense that the Overblot will not be cooperative unless it gets what it wants.

"Master Jamil," Both copy and original froze, slowly turning their heads to you, who has knelt onto the floor with a small smile. "A frown does not suit such a handsome face. Is there anything I can do for you?" Jamil remains frozen, mentally screaming in his head while his Overblotted self smirks, sauntering towards you with desire swirling in his maddened gaze. "Rise, my diamond. You certainly may do a little favour for me..."

Thanks to Kalim and the coordination of the entire Scarabia dorm, everyone has tricked OB!Jamil into thinking it was the boss of the place (at least for a day, Kamil is super understanding of the situation!). At least someone expected the copy to see through this farce, but OB!Jamil's ego was so stroked by you and everyone around that it seemed to buy into the delusion.

Unlike Leona's copy which was super uninterested with anything that didn't concern you, Jamil's blotted self was extremely irritant with everyone else. Had it not been for you, Jamil would never be able to live down the embarrassment for having such an... unpleasant copy. So far, there have been no disasters while Jamil was occupied with keeping his copy at bay.

It's just that... Jamil has been watching from the sidelines as you are perched on his copy's lap, feeding it and attending to it's every beck and call!

Gripping his knee, Jamil's eyes narrowed onto your flushed gaze as your fingers combed through his copy's hair. If he had envied everything that Kalim ever wase, he certainly envied the abomination wearing his face as it rested its head on your lap. You didn't have to look at Jamil to know that he was seething, but it wasn't as if you could abandon the blotted copy either. It had only been a few hours since it had latched onto you, and this was not the best time to agitate it.

"It seems that I have not rewarded you." The copy sings. Its expression remains content, shuddering at the sensation of your fingers pulling gently at its scalp. "Do tell me what you desire most." Your breath hitched at the copy's purr. You do not react either as the fake Jamil sits up to caress your warm cheek. Biting onto your lower lip, you shook your head. "I desire nothing but to make you happy, master." You swear that you see Jamil's expression strain itself, and you already see how tight he grips his knee.

"Is that so?" You say nothing when the copy leans in closer to you, licking its lips with intent. You should be frightened, and most certainly be running away, but you don't. "You wish to make me happy, then? Is it me that you want?"

All the signs were there. That copy's hand was pressed against your lower back, the other hand was on your cheek, and his face was so so close—

Its lips are hot to the touch, and you melt immediately into his hands as he pushes and prods with his tongue. Against the candlelight, Jamil cannot tell if your cheeks were truly flushed red. He watches as your own hands crept up onto the copy's shoulders, pressing and digging nails into its shoulders until you have the strength to push yourself away for air.

You pant as your vision returns to you, meeting the copy's cruel smirk. It is looking down on you, and yet, you do not feel animosity towards it. You only feel disappointment once you recall it was only a fake.

"Or perhaps," A gasp is torn from your throat when the fake grabs your cheeks with a firm hand, forcing your gaze to fall upon a stunned, yet flushed Jamil. The copy smiles wickedly against your cheek, humming with absolute glee.

"Is it him that you want instead?"

You nod, and Jamil's heart skips a beat.

Yeah, no. Our boy Jamil ain't recovering from this. The moment that the blot disappears, you best expect that Jamil ain't letting you leave that room without an answer.

"I wouldn't act coy right now, Prefect. You may be clever, but I have no patience for your antics. Now, are you going to be honest with me? ... Why don't you tell me what you want, instead? What? But you were so honest with that fake only a few moments ago. Where have your words gone? ... You wish for me to force the truth out of you, then? ... As you wish, Prefect. I will give you everything you want."

VIL SCHOENHEIT

This was such an inconvenience for poor Vil, and he hates his copy to the same extent that Azul does. Just like Riddle, Vil feels a sense of shame when he looks at his doppelganger because it was a personification of his insecurities and selfishness. However, at least the copy was very calm and cooperative, perhaps even melancholy until it sees you.

Seeing Vil's Overblotted self again doesn't change the fact that the fake was still so beautiful. You are actually stunned into silence when you are brought before the two. Grim swears you have stopped functioning because being in the presence of two Vil's is too much for this world.

If you weren't watching yourself, you would've passed out the moment OB!Vil cupped your cheek with its inky hand and smiled down at you. "Ah, Prefect..." You gulped as it cooed at you, much to Vil's alarm. Its surely dangerous, but danger loves you so much and you can't pull away from it.

OB!Vil never lets you out of its sight after that. Wherever you went, the blot would follow. It seems to be fixated on being in your sights, which was not exactly a problem when you brought yourself to Vil's quarters where you would wait the entire thing out. It does concern you, however, just as the copy seems to grow more and more unhinged with each second that passes.

Vil is not exactly envious of how intimate the fake acts with you. Rather, he's extremely perplexed and observant of the way it pines for your attention and praise like a lovesick puppy. However, it isn't always so sweet. It isn't so sweet when the copy comes so close to scratching at your skin as it begs for your honesty. It certainly does not appreciate being lied to.

"Tell me, Prefect. Who is the fairest one of all?" It asks for the hundredth time.

Vil cannot exactly explain how he found himself watching his copy cage you into his own bed. It has straddled your hips, pinning your hands down onto the mattress without a care for the mess it makes. Ink drips and spills over his silk sheets, his pillows, you. Your neck has been smeared with ink, and so have your clothes. His copy is smiling with ink dripping from its lips and its hair, an obscure yet beautiful mockery of the original.

The original's breath hitches as your lips part into a breathy smile. You look like absolute art, and his fake looks like an absolute mess. "You, Vil. You're the fairest one of all." Vil shut his eyes at your quiet whisper, and he wishes that you stop bending yourself over for this pathetic imitation of him.

The copy snorted in dismissal, a sinister grin taking over its features. "Ha!" Even as it grips your wrists tighter, you know better than to believe that the copy would dare hurt you. Your heart pounds, however, as it leans in closely to your face with desperation on its breath. "Why do you say such, Prefect? Why do you say such when you feast your gaze on the ugliest part of me?" A choked breath stills the copy, its grin growing more crooked and maddened. Ink splashes against your cheek, and the copy pathetically takes a long finger to smear it away, only obscuring your features further.

"Are you trying to lie to me?" It croaked, maintaining that desperately smile.

Vil thinks you'll push it away. Vil thinks that you think of his copy so hideously, and so ugly. Vil thinks that you see him as ugly.

And you dispel all those cursed thoughts as your hand reaches out to cup the copy's cheek, dirtying your own hand in turn. "You've pushed yourself so hard, Vil. You've worked hard for everything you dreamed of." The copy's crazed expression remains, and more ink pours into you. Still, you return it with a gentle smile of your own. "Even when everyone complains, you're only pushing them because you care the most. Perhaps you act like the evil queen everyone makes you out to be, but that crown is yours by right."

Vil's heart stops. He still cannot bring himself to look at the sight. It's that cynical part of him that believe in your acting skills, that this was all a ruse to satiate his fake. The knife digs into his chest further as you hummed sweetly. "Your flaws are just as beautiful to me."

Only then does Vil bring himself to look at his copy. It is still smiling, eyes so wide as blotted tears fall upon your skin. You are covered in ink, covered in the ugliness that had consumed Vil, but you accept it all. You embrace the mess, just as you embrace the ugliness of Vil's heart. "Do you truly mean it, Prefect?" Its whisper shakes with hope, very much unlike the weariness and suspicion it held towards you the entire time.

Both you and the copy slowly glance at the real Vil whose eyes had widened at your softened gaze, filled with nothing but adoration. The heart in his chest ached, and he imagines that his entire body is melting into your hands. You are his weakness, after all.

"I mean every word, Vil."

When the situation died down, Vil takes the time to walk you back to Ramshackle Dorm. However, he makes a quick stop when the moon is set at the right spot, just to cast down light on your starstruck gaze.

"To think that the ugliest part of me revealed such feelings— you deserve an appropriate confession, at the very least. The affection that my fake expressed to you was no different to what I feel for you. I realize... that you meant more to me than you should have. I am not a benevolent prince, nor am I pure as the white snow. Still, I offer my heart for you to keep in a box. I only ask you to accept me, for all my beauty and ugliness... Ha, potato. My lovely potato, you're mine..."

IDIA SHROUD

Surprisingly, Idia got along the most with his Overblotted self. It wasn't as if he was driven by pride or competition— there was just some sort of acceptance when OB!Idia was first manifested. There wouldn't have been much issues.

At least, that was what he wanted to believe before OB!Idia set his eyes on you. It sent Idia into a choking fit when he saw OB!Idia approach you with such cool indifference, acting like one of those aloof protagonists from those dark otome games that he saw on a playthrough once. It's the way that OB!Idia leaned down towards your ear, muttering something about his boredom and suggesting to retreat to his dorm.

Idia took an hour to recover before sprinting to his dorm to ensure nothing has happened. All he found was you sitting on OB!Idia's thighs (it insisted!), and Idia swore that his copy was smirking at him.

OB!Idia was nothing to be concerned about. It wasn't as if it had the power to open up the Gate of the Underworld, which so happened to be far away. Other than the fact that the copy seems so... forward with you, Idia tried his hardest to ignore it.

"You look tense, Prefect." The copy smirked as it gently backed you against the wall. It places an arm right above your head, the figure leaning down at you. Behind the mask it wore, you can almost see it smirking down on you. "Don't I scare you?"

If this was the copy's attempt to intimidate you, ha! You got it covered! Idia is practically weak to any sort of romantic notion, it should surely send his overblot into a flustered fit! Boldly, you close in the gap slightly, crossing your arms around his neck and smiled at him. "Not at all, Idia." Much to your surprise, however, the copy takes its hand to cradle the back of your head, gently nudging your face closer until you barely a hair's worth away from kissing his mask.

"Are you sure about that?"

Suddenly a flare of red catches your attention as you glance to the side to see a fuming Idia who snuck over to your side. Wrapping a possessive arm around your middle, the original Idia glared at the fake and gritted his sharp teeth. "Listen here, bucko. You ain't getting more action than me, so buzz off!" He towers over you, hair threatening to burn orange if this fake continues to toy with you. "You wanna play, huh? Only one of us can have her, and you're nothing but a MagicMart knock-off!"

Cocking its head to the side, the copy snorted. It didn't seem to relent its hold it had on you. Instead, it leaned in towards Idia with a taunting stare. "Yeah? Why don't you ask the Prefect, hm? Seems like our little guest is enjoying all the attention." Both of them glance down at you, who seemed to be busy turning red to even give a proper response.

The blotted copy takes its hand to cup your cheek gently, but it was only a ruse as it forces you to look at Idia, eyes hazy with want. The way your breath shudders makes the original itch to steal you away from the copy.

"Don't you?"

Take that ending however you will. Idia does end up confessing to you once his copy is reduced to ink once more.

"Don't give me that look, Prefect. You totally loved seeing me get all riled up. And don't you dare deny you hated the idea of getting sandwiched by two of me... Please don't make me say it. I ain't good at the 'asking out' part, but I don't wanna skip over to straight up dating. Ugh, fine. I actually liked you for a really long time, and oh Great Seven, I just hope that I'm saying the right stuff to get onto your route. You're the only route that I wanna pursue."

MALLEUS DRACONIA (Book 7 is incomplete at the time of this posting)

Had it not been for the lack of potency in the blot, OB!Malleus would have been the end of NRC. Lilia was not a stranger to Malleus's ability to change the environment based on his mood. Even when this was a mere fake that they were dealing with, no one really wants to find out the consequences of upsetting the copy.

Malleus looks down on his Overblotted self. It was a flawed part of him, but nonetheless, a part of him that he was most disappointed by. The Fae Prince should know better than to act so wickedly, but the original understands. He tries to be as sympathetic as he can be for the copy, but it was only indifferent to what the original demanded of it.

Being the concerned friend that you were, you went to see them both despite all warnings from Sebek. Admittedly, Malleus would rather you be as far away from this poor imitation as possible. He does not want to see you hurt, let alone be at the mercy of his copy. Alas, it is too late now. The blotted copy will not allow you to leave.

Malleus hid his frustrations and anger underneath that collected demeanor. The only thing keeping him from doing anything rash was the fact that you were cradled against his chest. With a protective arm holding your waist, you were seated upon the fae's lap. The copy is forced to look up at him as he sat on his makeshift throne, and the fury behind its eyes is most evident, based on the way its hands grip your knees as if it were the only piece of you left.

Alas, it is only a stalemate now. With each tug that the copy made at your lower half, Malleus would simply pull you closer to him in turn. The fae hummed, glaring down at the copy who seems indifferent to intimidation. "Prefect, you may only say the word and this fake will be no more." He grunted, and you resist the urge to whimper as the copy's lips turned upwards into a smile. "If you wish for it, Prefect, I will disappear." It cooed, and the glint in its eyes reflecting the madness of blot.

Hesitantly, you shake your head and only feel Malleus's nails brush against your waist. "I don't want you to disappear." You whispered meekly, uncertain of what to think of the fake's lovestruck gaze. "Prefect, do you know what I can give you?" Even as the fake is forced down by the original, it still has the nerve to reach out and cup your cheek. "I can grant your dreams. I can make your fantasies a reality. I can give you everything."

Malleus lets out a breath of warning, leaning down to your ear as he narrowed his eyes at the fake with restraint. "Do not listen to this mockery, Prefect." His words are tinged with a hint of desperation, as if he had something to hide, something to shield you from. No matter how much he attempts to intimidate the fake, his blotted self presses on with a cruel smile.

"Prefect, all you have to do is love me, fear me, and do as I say. I will be your servant to will, to rule, to ruin." You are frozen as Malleus loses his temper, swinging out his staff to dispel the fake once and for all. Much to his dismay, his blotted self backs away just in time as its glowing green eyes lock onto yours once more.

"All you have to do is stay with me, forever."

The campus lets out a collective sigh of relief when the OB!Malleus disappears. However, suddenly, the entire campus is holding its breath again when Malleus doesn't immediately let you leave his room.

"Prefect, I beseech for your forgiveness. I fear that the fake has reflected my most selfish desires... You have nothing to fear, for I shall never withhold you against your will. How could I do such a thing when I am already so weak to your whims? ... Perhaps you do not have to stay forever to render me your servant. I pine for you, Prefect. My heart has already been yours long before I noticed. Please, grant me your forgiveness, Prefect, lest you cast me aside and I shall let my feelings fade with time."

[grimdarling69]

Can I ask for part 9 of deaged dan and ellie please?🥹

Tbh I've been rereading it a lot and I'm excited to read what the batfam and jl reactions while going to where Damian and Dick is. I knowww that it's going to be a crazy ride especially with youngblood(is it really Youngblood? Or not?)

A large toxic blob incased the window on the door. Swirling and jumping individual blob ghosts. They cooed excitedly and pushed against the locked door in vain.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" He finally reached the door and opened it in a practiced manner of hiding behind and ducking. The swarm of blobs rushed past him into the den.

"Calm yourselves one at a time." Damian spoke to them as he walked hesitantly-not fearfully, Damian-back into the room. They swarmed around his head and chittered in a weirdly familiar language. He couldn't understand the language, but he recognized it? He was gaining ecto if he could recognize ghost dialect. He couldn't let Damian know he'd blame himself if he thought he put him in danger by letting him stay in the Realms. He couldn't leave him alone and was scared while he went through this. Damian needed him just as much as he needed him.

"You must have made a mistake. There's absolutely no way she would betray me. She's-this can't be happening." He muttered the last part and pushed through the blobs around him. He went to the table. Frostbite dropped files yesterday as something to do while the storm passes. He hadn't realized the weather would follow them to death. Apparently, in some 'biomes' in the Realms, it has weather but not the same it's all different. All at different times and patterns. The weather couldn't hurt ghosts, but it could hurt buildings and structures. Their cabin, luckily, was on the side of the island that the storm didn't reach, so they were told to stay put. He had gotten frostbite to give them paperwork so that he could convince Damian to do that instead of attempting to injure himself or the cores. It kind of worked he only had to chase him a few times.

"What's happening, Damian? What did they say?" He questioned, keeping in an eye in the weirdly calm swarm landing on the couch next to him. He captured his sons hands so he couldn't pull his hair out like he tended to do now. Damian face was covered in worry, fear, and maybe some regret.

"A group of heroes, including some of the founders of the Justice League and Constantine, are being transported by Pandora and Youngblood." He winced and glanced outside the window like he could see their ship.

"Bruce?" "And Todd, Drake, Brown, and Thomas."

"Shit. Well, we just have to explain to them what you told me, and they'll back off. Jason will be more than happy to knock Bruce into his senses if he doesn't. "

"I don't want them to know about this, about me-or them..."

"Damian, come on, they'd have had to at least know about the babies eventually. When you came home even-if you came to...live with me." Damian glanced around nervously, never meeting his eyes. Oh my god.

"But you never planned on returning, did you? You were going to let us think you committed suicide without any sign at all. Right? That was your plan to-to make us think we lost you!" He was yelling, and a distant voice told him he needed to calm down, but he really couldn't care less right now.

"I- didn't mean to make you think -" Damian was tearing up. He thinks absently that he's seen damian cry more these past few months than the past four years he's known him.

"I was going to follow you!" Damian seemed like he wanted to say something, but he needed to get his point across. He took a deep breath.

"When I got to the bridge, I was-in hysterics. I couldn't help but imagine you in the-the water. Hurt scared in pain, knocked around in the water-er. I thought you could have cracked your head open or just anything, and I had to-to save you! I just thought if i could follow you over that bridge...i could save you. " it was hard to see through the bluryness, but damian was the only thing he needed to see anyway.

"You would have been killed too..."

"I know."

"So why...?"

"Because you matter more to me than anything. You are my son, and you are Bruce's son, and you are Talias son."

"I-..."

"Let me finish. If Bruce didn't want you, you would have never been in the manor. It is impossible to make Bruce do something he truly doesn't want to do. You are a member of this crazy ass family because we want you. Bruce wants you. I want you. So don't push us away, please. "

"I just-i never doubted you!" It's always been bruce.

"Or any of the others, it's only Bruce, why?" He's afraid of his reaction most of all, like he knows something about him Dick doesn't.

"I told you about Jack Fenton, right? Well, before he sacrificed himself, he was cutting me open. As I screamed and cried and begged him to stop. That i was alive that I was his son didn't matter. What did matter was vlad. Jazz-you maybe called him begged him to save you. He told them-my mom all about ghosts about himself, and that stopped him. He said sorry to vlad instead of sorry to the son lying open and organs strewn across the room on the table. It was you who rushed forward and helped me. You who was always on my side so I can never doubt you but Bruce...I've had my share of father's and they haven't always been the best."

"He tries-"

"Sometimes trying isn't enough. But I trust you so...I'll give him a chance. I want to live with you but maybe we'll visit him."

"That's all I'm asking, baby bat." Maybe everything will be fine. Damian will see that Bruce isn't Jack, and everything will be fine. He goes to put his hand comfortingly on his shoulder but damian bypasses him and grabs him tight around the waist, burying his head into dicks clothes. Gripping him so tightly it hurts but he doesn't complain much too happy just hold his son. He grips him as tightly as he dares and rests his head on Damian.

"Richard."

"What, dami?" He turned his cheek from where he placed it on damians head so he could hear better.

"I think the babies are coming..." he pulls away suddenly to look at him, and sure enough, his stomach is glowing so bright his shirt is see-through. Damians face is pulled into an expression of wonder and fear. Shit shit shit. They'd thought we would have more time.

"I'll get frostbite. Just sit down." He helps him to the couch, and after making sure he knows to control his breathing, he runs out of the cabin to Frostbites. Luckily, he wasn't actually in human labor, but it was still extremely painful because of the fact that damian isn't a full ghost. Typically, it was more like a budding reproduction that plants do. A ghost and a ghostling go intangible and divide from each other. Frostbite believes damian will be strong enough for that to happen if they use ecto-dejecto+. Something he modified from the Fentons. He is extremely worried about this, as you could guess. He trusts Frostbite. He's like a large frosty and very intelligent retriever, but he's worried about the side effects of after rather than the immediate. They have no other idea it's this or nothing. Frostbite had said if the kids couldn't get out on their own, he would have to... cut them out. Ecto-dejecto+ it is!

"Frostbite! Frostbite!" He slammed into the large door and banged on it. It was probably unlocked like always, but this was faster. "Is it time?" He hears the resounding yell at foot from the door, and he flips backward so he doesn't get knocked out again.

"Yes! Obviously!" He turns back around and runs back to the cabin. He ignores frostbites yelling about getting his tools.

By the time he gets back, damian isn't on the couch anymore.

"Damian! Damian, where are you?" He's searching wildly around the room throwing things around. It had only taken him 6 minutes to get here and back. Please don't him have...have...

"In here!" Damian! From his old bedroom? Frostbite and him had been working in changing it into a temporary nursery just in case. Had Damian already...?

"Damian..?" He pushed open the door slowly.

"Shh, look!" Damian was smiling freely for the first time in a while. Completely free of the pain from just a few minutes ago. He was holding a baby, and another rested in a blue banket on the bed pushed against the wall, eyes darting around. Damian held another in a pink blanket in his arms, standing in the center. The baby's face was red, and tears steamed down its cheeks, but it wasn't actively crying.

"She just stopped crying. Here Ellie meet your..." he trailed off handing the baby over to him waiting for him to decide what he wanted to be called. They hadn't talked about it...

He couldn't help but tear up seeing the little baby. It didn't look like a newborn but maybe a month or 2 old. Still very young but bypassing the actual infant stage.

"Aren't they beautiful...What do you want to be called?" Damian picked up Dante and rocked him around the baby stared into space. The baby smiled so definitely more than a month. From the books he read it took about 6 or so weeks to smile actually smile instead of just gas.

"I don't know. Didn't think that far ahead." He took the corner of the blanket and gently wiped away the drying tears on her face.

"Im here! Great one! Princess!" Frostbite took forever seriously. And he was ignoring the title everyone insisted on using for him. They had offered to change it to Prince, but then it just felt too real? When he's called princess, it's funnier, less real, and like a joke, not like he's a literal prince of the literal fabric of the universe.

He pushed open the door and signaled to Frostbite standing in the broken doorway with his finger on his lips a classic be quiet sign he's sure ghosts would understand.

"Oh, well, I suppose we were worrying for nothing." Frostbite said once he finally got over the surprise. He was leaning over his shoulder or entire body technically from how large he was to peer at the baby girl. It was quite comical when he reached out a finger seemingly mesmerized at Ellies tiny little hand barely wrapped around half the finger when she grabbed it.

"Oh, I just love younglings. It has been centuries since I've seen such young neverborns. Though I believe it is just their human half influencing their age." The giant yeti seemed perfectly content to be trapped by the small hand.

"Do you think they'll ever gain their memories back?" Damian was sitting in the hand-carved rocking chair with ice and star designs all over it. He still held Dante in his arms. The baby simply watched its surroundings.

"I don't believe so but their cores personality should be similar and they might have a sense of deja vu sometimes but the amount of damage to their cores...I don't believe they will ever fully gain anything back." The yeti provided his much needed wisdom. "This is a new opportunity for them and you would be wise not to waste it, great one."

"I know, I won't its just i will miss them." Damian stared into his sons eyes not looking up at them.

"I know it is of no reconciliation, but...I will as well." Frostbite gently unraveled his claw from the baby and gathered his supplies. Leaving behind the ecto-dejecos without a word.

"You never answered me earlier about what you want to be called..." Damian said absent mindly in tone but completely focused on him.

"I did not realize it was such a big deal to you." Dick did. If he took up the uncle mantle, it would solidify the fact they were only brothers, but if he took up the grandfather title, Bruce and Alfred would be left out. He knew what he wanted, but bruce...its not he thinks Bruce will be furious or something at him it's more the quiet disappointment or regret he's worried about. Bruce was easy to anger but hard to disappoint, and every time he saw that look on his face...Bruce could also be a very jealous man.

"I thought about it what they'll call you guys. Alfred will be pops or grandpa. Bruce can have gramps. And you...can be papa..?" He can recognize the hopeful phrasing in his voice.

"I..thought Papa was for dads..." it's not a question really more like a dazed statement, but damian treats it like it is anyway.

"Not in the Midwest where I first came from. I used to call my grandparents, gama and Papa, when I was younger in that life. Before they died, we would drive for hours every holiday or on long weekends to see them." It was weird to hear him reminiscence about another life. Ellie gurgled, and he glanced down at the wiggly baby. Her fingers were in her mouths, and her eyes were locked with him. For the first time, he feels himself really look at her like a haze was lifted from his eyes. She had a tuft of dark brown hair almost black, her eyes were a startling unrecognizable hazel, her skin was slightly tan but barely like it was only just beginning to change. She had curious eyes and wild extremities like she wanted to get up and touch everything. She had a tiny brown mole beside her nose on her cheek-right in a crevice-a little above her mouth.

"It must have been nice."

"Yeah, it was." It wasn't an awkward silence but a quiet one just holding the babies he glanced over at Damian and saw Dante was asleep. Ellie was just about to fall asleep. Sh kept closing and opening her eyes at weird times.

He locked eyes with Damian and motioned toward the cribs. They were pushed against the wall between a dresser it was obvious the room wasn't even half finished.

The large bed shoved out the way, the pushed out of the way rocking chair and cribs the only sign of a nursery. The various other pieces of furniture were mismatched and aged.

He rocked Ellie, hoping to get her tired enough. He spied Damian, setting Dante down slowly in his crib. He made his way over to the cribs as well, just as Damian was reswaddling Dante. If his age assessment was correct, they'd stop that soon, but for now. Dante stayed fast asleep. He set Ellie down and attempted to fix her swaddling. He hoped he wouldn't fully wake her by messing with it. Luckily, she seemed to get the memo and fell asleep quickly. They turned back toward eachother he let out a relieved sigh and watched as Damian said goodnight to the babies and left the room looking back every step. He took one final glance at them and closed the door softly.

"What are we going to use for a baby moniter? Could Tucker have something we could use?" How would they even connect it? Tucker had said they had once tried internet in the realms but it would just explode randomly.

"No need. We're bonded, I feel their emotions." Ghost bonds at it again.

"Really? What are they feeling?" He needed to know if they liked him of course.

Damian hummed and answered thoughtfully " Loved, happy, content."

"Good."

"There is a...meeting soon between the leaders. It's an annual diplomatic meeting to discuss mostly trade and news. Tucker will be announcing the children as heirs to the Realms and..." Damian trailed off but it was obvious what he was going to say. Me.

"I thought you would be discussing the future when your older...?"

"We will discuss if i succeed him as he succeeded me once before. Tucker has done great work as king, and he enjoys it more than I do. The ancients will disagree they didn't like the fact I named him and sam as my heirs in the first place. The way to calm them is to act like I will succeed until we find a better plan."

"Right. Sam... Do you think she is also back in our world? Tucker became a ghost, but he told me that both you and Sam disappeared around the same time. What if she was reincarnated as well?" Damian listened intently but didn't speak just thinking. Damian didn't seem to have thought about it before and was now trying to think of he knew her.

"I already thought of that, and I already found her-him him, actually." Tucker walked through the door unburdened by it. He was dressed casually with a faded yellow sweater and a patched beanie on his head. You would never expect him to be a king. He still looked like young, not high school, but college for sure.

"Him? Who? Did you contact them?" Dick scoured his brain trying to think of anyone matching Sams personality.

"You already know him actually. He's on his way now." Tucker continued motioning toward the nursery door.

"Be quiet. They're sleeping, but how did you contact them?" Damian whispered loudly. Tucker peeked into the bedroom.

"So cute! I might just start up my babysitting gig up again. You're first on the list, of course, best friend privileges!" Tucker gleefully spoke, voice lower but excited.

"Absolutely not! Do you remember what happened at your last babysitting gig?" Damian pulled the door shut softly in a joking but final manor. Tucker scoffed and indignantly argued, "That wasn't even my fault! It was my mom's! She's the one who baked them!"

"Your mom baked babies...?" They both turned and looked at him confused before breaking out into hysteric laughter. A laughter so contagious he could barely stand up right.

"She didn't actually bake any kids, right?" He finally asked once he caught his breath, sparking another violent outburst of laughter.

----------

BOOM

"YES! DO IT AGAIN! DO IT AGAIN!" Green Lantern yelled out at Captain Yungblood, who stood at a cannon throwing cannonballs at floating puple rocks. When it hit them, fireworks sparked and went everywhere in a mixture of purple, green, and white. Flash senior looked around nervously, trying to stop then both before the big bat heard and yelled at them.

He kinda felt bad for the guy. Jason so deserves a cigarette for empathy. He scrouges around his jacket and pockets empty handed he searches around the floor, growing increasingly agitated. He knows he just had them, Jason just shared with John just a few minutes ago! He looked around accusingly. One of the brats must have stolen it. Green reared it's head begging him to teach the thief a lesson.

He latches his eyes on Tim just as he throws them into the sky to get blown to bits by the idiots. They don't even notice the extra fuel.

"Asshole!" Green clouded his vision as he stomped over to him and picked him up by his suit straps.

"It was for your own good!" He felt the green roar and rage behind his eyes. He could barely see past it, and weird purple haze around them made things even worse.

"Fuck you! And your do goody pretentious attitude!" He threw him at the ships cabin hitting the wood and shaking the whole ship. He felt eyes on him but he didn't care, Red Robin unleashed the bostaff and knocked his legs out form under him in one motion

"Red Hood! Stand down." Batman called from the top of the cabin shadows dampen the greens as his cape billows around him after he jumped down.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" He turned the green on his father, throwing a punch Batman barely managed to dodge.

"Jason -" Bruce grabbed his arms and wrapped himself around him, locking him in. He struggles wildly he's vaguely aware of Steph and Duke picking Tim up from the floor. Tim limps away, glaring at the other heros, they scattered into the corners of the ship, suddenly desperate to not be on the deck. God, what's wrong with him... he'd promised he'd never hurt his family again...this was a mistake he should have stayed behind in Gotham. Jason stopped fighting and let go, forcing his dad to follow him to the floor.

"Rough one, aren't you?" Pandora asks the tall alien looking amazon leers over them both. He wasn't a child, but his face reddens at the blatant condescension and scolding.

"We apologize if we interrupted anything." Bruce answers instead, saving him the embarrassment. "Not at all. It's good you're finally getting help here then."

"I'm afraid I don't follow?" Will any of these stupid fucking spirits just have a straight answer for just one question.

"Your liminalty? I can sense the ectoplasm on you it feels...like unsealed wine..." Pandora wrinkled her face as if she was imagining it. "Liminality?" He couldn't help but question out loud. "Ectoplasm? It's the...green goo, right?" Could the...pits actually just be ectoplasm? Wouldn't Constantine have, like, i don't know, exercised them??

Pandora groaned at his rambling and shook her head as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You should meet the chief. He'll fix you." With that sentence repeated in the same ever grave tone the giant warrior left. He turned to bruce, but he was only met with his stone cold thoughts he left without meeting his eyes, and Jason couldn't help but remember how many times he's heard 'i can fix you.' It made him nauseous. Before he could realise it he was standing on the open deck with only the purple and green smog surrounding him God fucking dammit.

A/n really sorry for how long it took to get this out i know most of the posts on this story are taking forever and I'm sorry about that I'm not discontinuing the story but I've had some major writers block lately and I've been trying to cure it by writing other stories but I've just been hating how all them turned out lately. I've been trying to write some captain marvel golden age i just feel like I'm missing parts of Billy and I just hate it so if anyone has some tips for writing him particularly please share otherwise hope yall enjoyed this part snd happy holidays to everyone!!

[aromantic-ace]

Humans Are Weird/SpaceOrcs: Human Skin

Imagine if, as opposed to many creatures on earth, aliens don't have skins, worse the average alien doesnt even know it can exist, now I imagine most alien would have scales or some kind of exoskeleton (or just a suit holding themselves in for maybe an ultra ultra tech specie that lost its shell after so many years not needing it). And then here come the humans, with all those weird fact about their skin (its regenerative effect, its stripes, patern on the hand etc).

Injuries were always something Po'Rox's specie was dreading, they were renowed for their shell and exoskeleton almost unbreakable that was extremely usefull in fights but when a Naaric shell finally breaks it take multiple cycle to heal the outside injury alone, bleeding wasn't a scary factor since a compress could solve that issue, no what was their doom were infections, a simple infection could nail a Naaric to bed for weeks and that was if the wound was correctly treated. It was kind of ironic how a specie that dreaded wounds so much ended up as one of the best fighter specie in the known universe.

And then the Humans arrive and the whole universe is shocked, not only does they have a fleshy shell but it apparently is incredibly resistant AND regenerate itself and Po'Rox couldn't believe it, luckily one of those humans were on the ship the Naaric was on so the multi shelled being decided to talk to the one concerned instead of trusting the rumors.

Walking toward the quarter of the interesting specimen, the titan reminded himself of what he knew about the human, it was a female named Kaete or Kayte he didn't know exactly, human name are hard to pronounce and remember. She also was a scientist, those that do science and not fights, Po'Rox knew they were usefull and not to be depreciated be he was raised to think with a gun or another weapon, not with words or science so he didn't know how to start the conversation with the scientist or how to not look like the brutes his people were described as.. he would do as usual and just ask the question probably.

Now was the time, he knocked on the door with a bit more stress than he wanted, was he the protector of the ship and experienced soldier being stressed ? I mean.. it was expectable after all, he was about to bluntly ask a question to a member of the specie that could become the deadliest and toughest warriors of the known universe, it was something to be cautious about. And then the door opened and he couldnt believe what he was seeing, she was small, like half the size of the walking shield and he wasn't himself part of the tallest of his specie, she had no scales nor did she have any exoskeleton, it really was just some kind of red or white colored shell if he has to use humans words. She only had two eyes one of which was covered by some kind of protective keratine based plant that was way overgrown and apparently black when he himself had three pairs of eyes allowing him to see in multiple direction. No visible claws and when she showed her teeth (maybe in some kind of greetings or warning message) she barely had any potentially dangerous ones.. was she really part of some apex predator specie that could be the fiercest fighters ? It was hard to believe but he had to admit that at leash she had the flesh shell so it wasn't a li-

Kate: Hello ? Can i help you ?

Right ! He was about to talk to her, luckily his translator worked and he only looked stupid for a brief moment before answering while trying to look smart.

Po'Rox: Hello ! Human Kaet. I come with question about this.

He pointed with one of its non clawed hands (as to not offend or looking threatening) the face of the human which.. simply showed more of her teeth (was it a good thing ?) Before correcting him.

Kate: it's Kate, and uhm.. are you asking about my nose ?

Po'Rox: No, no, i mean what is on your face, your shell, the red thing.

Kate: Oh ! You mean my skin right ? What about it ?

Po'Rox: Well.. is it true ? Can you regenerate wounds in less than a day ? How ? To have such speed it should be incredibly weak yet you arent dissolving or leaking flesh.

Kate: I mean.. yeah ? Is it that much of a big deal ? Of course it depend of the gravity of the wound but most go away in a day or two and it isnt that resistant a knife can easily wound us but at the same time its a quick recovery.

Po'Rox: Oh i understand, but what about the pain, and the infection, us Naarig have almost no pain sense but i heard it wasn't the case for you.

Kate: The pain ? We just forget it.

Po'Rox: ...sorry what ?

Kate: In situation of fear or danger our body produce a drug that make us forget about pain and sometime allow us to go beyond our bodies limitation so... we just forget about pain, our brain even sometime decide to make us forget about pain without that drug for as long as we aren't in a safe place.

Po'Rox:... Are humans the product of a geneticly engineered super specie ?

Kate: Nope, all natural.

Po'Rox: You.. you people are.. i can't even describe what you are..

Kate: Oh it's not all, you see i know a bit about our skin, if the right condition are there it can grow on things that arent part of our bodies and make a whole new organ, a nose for exemple. It is constantly regenerating itself that's why we heal quickly, the skin is made of multiple layer of cell that just amass themselves in a specific formation and slowly get exposed on the outside, just by rubbing somewhere im withdrawing thousands of dead cell while exposing the fresh one, of course everything isnt dead on the surface, a lot of still active cell get away if we do that and it cause a minor wound that heal within minutes.

Po'Rox: I.. i need to lay down, i'm not even sure i wanna ask question anymore, you humans are really terrifying..

Po'Rox spent the next days realising how much weird the humans were, and how screwed they would be if they ever decided to declare war, if their scientist had this kind of body, he didnt even want to look at what their warrior looked like, for the first time in a long, long time past childhood he had felt fear, and the source wasn't an enemy.

[darkkitty1208]

@ra-con-teur asked:

Thank you for the prompt, lovely! 💖 I went sort of loose with this one, hope you don’t mind! Also, to others: I tend to have prompts be sent through the ask box! :D This one’s fine though :P

The biggest, fattest, juiciest thank yous to @janora00 the absolute SAINT for reading this over for me and helping spot mistakes/tweaking bits. Oh, and for somehow convincing me this work isn't shit. I love you, babes.

handle with care

Summary:

Reigen has a bad day. Luckily for him, Serizawa's there to sort him out.

Word count: 2,512

Tags/Warnings: References to Depression, Reigen Arataka Has ADHD, Trans Reigen Arataka, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smoking

AO3

It hits Reigen immediately when he wakes up that day. A tightness in his throat, the taste of dread thick on his tongue. There's a kind of heaviness weighing on his chest, keeping his limbs pinned down onto the mattress.

Reigen heaves a heavy sigh. He catches movement to his side, the sound of rustling sheets. He turns to look.

Serizawa's shuffled closer, chest rising and falling in steady breaths as he continues to sleep. Reigen feels his lips tug in a fond smile at the sight—he could get used to waking up with a warm body pressed to his side like this. He turns back over, however, not wanting to disturb the man.

The clock on his nightstand reads a blinking 6:07. Of course, his inner alarm clock has decided to wake him up bright and early on a weekend of all days. It doesn't help that he's already feeling the start of a headache building tension in his temples.

He rises to sit upright slowly, movements deliberate as he tries making as minimal sound as possible, eyeing Serizawa all the while to make sure he doesn't accidentally wake him up. They've had a rough week; Serizawa deserves the rest.

The cold of the floorboards shake off the rest of his drowsiness away when his feet swing gently off the bed to meet it. The blanket slips away from his—now that he's realised—completely bare torso and the springs of the old mattress creaks at him as he lifts his weight off of it to trudge quietly into the bathroom.

He makes quick business emptying his bladder, and less quicker business washing his hands. And then he takes a moment to just stand there, staring at his reflection. Sandy blonde hair ruffled in every direction, darker roots beginning to show. He hopes the pallor has to do with the unflattering lighting of the bathroom's fluorescents; he knows, at least, that the shadows are. The dark rings under his eyes, though, are unmistakable.

He scowls at it.

His eyes trail down to his torso. They fix themselves on the two, crescent marks under his chest. He lifts a finger, drags a nail lightly over the skin. It sends a twinge of nothing up his nerves.

He looks further down, to the slight pudge around his stomach, pokes it a bit.

The light above him buzzes horribly, adding to the steady pounding in his head. It hums its way down around his nape, settles there heavily.

He picks up his toothbrush, squeezes some paste onto it, scrubs it against his teeth mechanically.

The buzzing overhead only grows louder.

Days like this don't come as often as they used to. He’s used to dealing with them on his own, really. Most days they’re easy to ignore; shoving the build of something tense in his chest by forcing his best customer service grin on his face, blaming the slight quiver of his fingers on too much coffee, chalking up the slight shortness of breath on years of habitual smoking finally catching up to him.

Reigen knows how to handle himself well. 

But it’s on days like this, where there aren’t any clients to perform for or stacks of paperwork to fill or walls of text in his email inbox taking up his screen begging to be answered, that Reigen lets himself slip between the cracks. It’s in moments like this, as he takes another drag out of his cigarette, feeling the sun kissing the bits of skin not covered by Serizawa’s shirt he snagged from the closet as he stands in the balcony, that he lets himself unfurl; lays himself bare to pick at the delicate parts. 

The nicotine doesn’t give him the right kind of rush it did in the past, dulled into the numbness that it is, but it takes some of the edge off. 

He watches the smoke disperse into the steadily brightening sky. The clouds roll ahead to a destination only they know. He leans forward on the railing, watches the city as it wakes up, the hustle and bustle beginning to sound itself into the air. The tinkle of a bell from the bakery a couple blocks down, their employee arriving for opening time. The absent swoosh of tires from the cars passing along the street. The distant rumbling of a train from the nearest station, which he knows is filled with bleary-eyed people commuting god-knows-where on a weekend like this. 

And him, standing uselessly on his balcony overlooking the view of life unfolding before him as the sun greets the sky a good morning, as if mocking his sour mood.

He turns to the steaming coffee he let cool on the small table he keeps at the corner, an ashtray resting beside it with dry flakes of cigarette residue marking the clear, glass base a darkening grey. He lifts the cup, ignores the slight tremble, takes a sip. He places it back down with a clink. 

He hears the sound of the balcony door sliding open just as he turns back to watch the streets below. He hears more than sees Serizawa shuffling quietly forward, slumping onto his back to hook a chin over his shoulder. His arms reach to wrap securely around his waist. 

Reigen lets Serizawa’s heat—he naturally runs warm, is a fact he’s come to find delight in—seep into his bones. He closes his eyes, letting the morning air finally wrap around him when he had been too occupied by his own thoughts. 

"You're smoking," Serizawa points out after a while, voice gruff with the lingering bits of sleep. Reigen can feel the way it vibrates against his shoulder, down his back. He flicks the dust off his cigarette, watches it fall from a height. 

He hums. "Yeah," he says, "I am."

Serizawa's head shifts where he lays it on his shoulder; probably to avoid the hard jut of his bone there.

"You said you quit."

Reigen leans his weight back into Serizawa, who somehow still holds himself steady on his feet. "Yeah," he says, and his voice feels a little far away. He looks down at the cigarette, held between his index and middle fingers. "I did, did I?"

They lapse into silence at that. Usually silence doesn't work well with Reigen—he always needs some sort of stimuli, something to keep him talking, moving, doing. Silence compels him to fill it. To keep himself from being left with his own devices that are his thoughts.

Now, though, Reigen lets the silence settle over them, broken only by the occasional swoosh of tires or chirps of birdsong. 

It's Serizawa who eventually speaks up again.

"Something on your mind?" he asks conversationally. Something about the way he says it reminds Reigen of himself—he wonders if Serizawa picked that up from him. Sometimes he indulges and thinks Serizawa picked up plenty of things from him.

"You know. Just..." He takes another drag, just to have something to do with himself, blows it out slowly. "stuff."

"Stuff?"

He hums. "Stuff."

"Ah." Serizawa's hold around him tightens minutely before relaxing again. It feels firmer than it did before, though. "It's one of those days, huh?"

Reigen finds himself cracking a small, private smile at that. How is it that Serizawa knows him so well?

He hums again. What more is there to say to that?

The silence stretches a little longer this time.

"We should make breakfast," Serizawa suggests, being the breaker of the silence once again.

"I thought you said you weren't the breakfast kind of guy?" And it's true—Serizawa mentioned once about not being able to eat immediately after waking up. He'd need a couple hours before being able to consume anything.

"Well..." He feels Serizawa's head loll slightly to the side, "you are," he says, simply. "And, um, this—" He gestures at the health hazard concoction and equivalent of a death wish that is his coffee and cigarette, "doesn't exactly count as breakfast, Reigen." His hand returns in its spot on his waist. And then lower, "and I know you don't like eating without company." And as if that isn't enough to make his heart swell... "Let me make you breakfast. I want to.” 

He presses back, closer. Greedy. The late November air that previously bit into his skin melts away. 

“I think we still have some eggs in the fridge,” Serizawa muses, “I can have tea, first."

Reigen turns his head slightly to meet Serizawa's eyes. He wants to say thank you, maybe I don't deserve you, and if he were a little more daring, maybe even an I love you, you know that? but as it stands, Reigen Arataka is a right, darn coward. Instead he settles for, "We... really need to go grocery shopping, huh?"

Serizawa chuckles at that, low and reverberating and slightly surprised. “Yeah, probably,” and then a grimace. “Definitely. We do.” 

Reigen chuckles back, and some of that tension in his head ebbs away. 

“Let’s get back inside?” Serizawa tilts it up at the end in his delivery to make it sound more like a question. 

“Sure. But let me just finish this—” 

His cigarette floats out of his fingers, leaving a gentle static buzz on his skin that he easily identifies as Serizawa’s aura, and the butt is quickly stubbed onto the ashtray. 

“Hey!” Reigen says, with no real bite. Serizawa gives him an apologetic smile, but there’s a hint of playfulness to it. 

“Sorry. Shall we go back inside now?” 

Reigen knows he isn’t really sorry. He rolls his eyes, but smiles back anyway. “Fine. Let’s.” 

Reigen watches as Serizawa patters about the kitchen. It’s not usual that they bother to cook on the weekends, usually relying on their usual takeout orders, but Reigen can never refuse a homemade meal. Even if said meal seemed to be plain eggs. 

He doesn’t have much of an appetite currently, but he knows Serizawa wouldn’t have that. So Reigen sits, waits, watches. He feels a little useless. 

It doesn’t take long for the restlessness to push him to his feet. He sidles up Serizawa’s side, not really knowing what to do with himself. Serizawa flashes him a quick smile before turning back to seasoning the sizzling eggs. 

He hooks a chin over Serizawa’s shoulder. When he doesn’t say anything, Reigen deliberately drapes himself over his back, wrapping him in a hug from behind like Serizawa gave him in the balcony. 

He’s probably being less helpful now than he was before, but Serizawa doesn’t seem to complain. So he stays. 

Serizawa hums for a moment, using the spatula to check if the eggs’ undersides are cooked so he can flip them over. They aren’t. 

He sets the spatula on a clean surface, tries to find Reigen’s hand that rests on his hip. He lays a palm above his hand, holding gently. 

“So,” Serizawa says, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “Do you… need to talk?” 

Reigen considers it for a moment, stares ahead at nothing in particular. Something about this angle—the way it conceals his face—makes him feel… brave. 

“What is there to talk about?” he mutters, “I… wake up. I feel—” he gestures vaguely at himself with a free hand, “like this. That’s all there is to it, you know?” 

Serizawa, ever eternally patient, just hums. 

“Does this… happen often?” 

Reigen bites the inside of his cheek, feels the sting. He releases it. It turns into a dull ache. “Usually when winter rolls around,” he says, and it’s the truth. Winter meant the days would blur together, time would lose meaning, that haze would settle into his head to cloud his days over with something dull and empty. “It’s…” He sucks in a breath. “It’s ridiculous, you know? I didn’t even— nothing could have triggered this. I…” 

“Hey,” Serizawa admonishes him softly, “Hey, now. Arataka,” His thumb swipes softly again, halting to squeeze his hand. “none of that. It’s not ridiculous. Everybody has bad days.” 

“I know,” he says, “I know. It’s just that I…” 

There he goes, going all wistful again. 

“I just…” he shrugs, looks down at the floor. He huffs at himself. “I have you now, ‘Tsuya. And all the others. The kids, the office, hell, even Dimple. Everything’s— everything’s going well,” he says, “So, so well.” So well he doesn’t know what he’d done to ever deserve all this, if he ever did. He pulls away from the hug for a moment, eyes still on the floor. “So I don’t know why I still… I—” Serizawa squeezes his hand tighter, turns around to face him, and when Reigen sends him an appreciative look, he catches a glance at the soft gaze in his eyes. It’s almost too much for him. “I… should be more grateful, you know? For all this.” For you, goes unspoken, like many things he keeps behind clenched teeth, behind lips sealed from truth and vulnerability, too accustomed to the poison of deception. 

His shoulders slump. Something like exhaustion bleeds into him. He hasn’t even done anything. 

“I think it would help…” Serizawa says, gently, “if you maybe try counseling.” 

Reigen tilts his head with a frown. “...Me?” 

Reigen doesn’t seem like the type of person to need counseling. Serizawa, on the other hand, has been through rough patches in his life that take time to heal. It makes sense that he takes counseling. But him? 

Reigen’s just an average man. He has no tragic backstory to claim, no childhood trauma to justify himself with. He’s not the kind of man to need that sort of thing. 

“It helps to have someone… detached, to listen. Someone who isn’t, um, invested in your life. Or something like that,” he explains, “Someone impartial. Especially if they happen to be a professional who has all the tools to help you.” Serizawa seems to take a moment to arrange his words at this. “I… It helped me, anyway. Counseling. I have you, of course, and everyone else, and it’s… nice to have a support circle, but— you know. It helps. And— and I just…” Serizawa fixes him with a look so sincere it makes Reigen’s throat feel constricted. “I want to be there for you, ‘Taka. You just have to let me in. But I understand if you need… space. Not everyone’s ready for that sort of thing.” 

Reigen searches his face. And then he feels a smile bloom from his lips, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, not daring to speak any louder. “I’ll— I’ll uh, consider it. Counseling, I mean.” 

Serizawa gives him one of those small, soft smiles he adores. Reigen feels his own wobble slightly, before stretching into something genuine. 

Days like this don't come as often as they used to. He’s used to dealing with them on his own, really. 

But, as he takes one look at Serizawa—

“Uh, wait. I think the eggs are burning.” 

—he realises, maybe, he doesn’t always have to deal with them alone. 

[obeymefanfiction]

Mammon: When Things Changed

Obey Me! Fanfiction Masterlist Featuring: Mammon X Neutral Reader Word Count: 1000 Disclaimer: Obey Me! characters are the rightful property of Solemare. Warnings: None.

You kissed that one time. It was late and it had been a long night.  Mammon was riding high from his winnings at the Casino. Even the curfew threat hanging over his head couldn't seem to deflate him tonight. Luckily you were there to save him from his own enthusiasm. Lucifer had sent you a message reminding you both that you needed to be at RAD student council in the morning. If you weren’t, he planned to place another curse enforced curfew on Mammon.  

You clearly remembered the last time that threat was carried out. So you promptly started using all your resources to get Mammon through the front door of The House of Lamentation ASAP.   Luckily it worked, and he had just walked into his room when he caught your wrist and pulled you after him.  "Mammon?" You yelped but immediately fell silent when he pressed you against the wall. His hands firmly encircled your wrists pinning them above your head. His body caged yours in, blocking any escape. Having him suddenly so close stunned you out of any objections you normally would have tossed his way.  "I did it tonight, didn't I? I showed ya how the Great Mammon can pull out all the stops. Give you the night o'yer life."   You couldn't help smiling back at him despite the odd situation. His gorgeous eyes were sparkling as he smiled back at you. His warmth was as contagious as his good mood.  "You did Mammon. It was amazing to watch you." "Yer lucky to be my human, aren't you? To have me as your first, right? The one you trust the most?" He released one of your wrists so he could cup your cheek with his hand. The warmth of his touch was so soothing you were almost sad when he placed his hand on the wall next to your head. Leaning in even closer. 

"That's right Mammon. I'm so lucky to have you protecting me. You truly are amazing. I promise I know that, and I've believed that for a long time."  You reached up to stroke his cheek with the back of your fingers, just the way he liked. You had learned that preference when he fell asleep on your lap during a study session. "Tonight was really fun, but with you it always is." You wanted him to know the truth. To see in your expression that you meant every word. Despite his unique approach to your friendship you had come to trust him. His loyalty and support were things you had come to treasure along with Mammon himself.  His smile seemed to hold an extra warmth tonight. His large blue eyes mirrored his delight at your praise. Instead of his usual bashful response he drew you closer into a hug.   Mammon's hugs were warm and familiar. You always felt safe and content when he hugged you like this. For the briefest moment the thought of staying right here, of asking him not to let go, flitted through the back of your mind. Of course, you couldn't ask that. Not really, and the thought made you sad. You and Mammon could only ever be human and demon. Even bound by your pact… you knew he had other concerns he didn't always share with you. Other aspirations that didn't involve you. There were times you wondered if that clever mind if his ever slept? The thought made you giggle just a little. "What're ya laughing at?" He asked playfully.  "Nothing important really. I'm just happy to be here with you. We always have so much fun, don't we?" You pulled back from his hug so you could look up at him again.  "We do, don't we? We-" He broke off as something in his expression changed. It was almost a softening… yet there seemed to be a flood of determination as well.  You hardly had a chance to blink before he leaned in and pressed a warm tender kiss against your lips. It wasn't the kind of kiss you'd have expected from Mammon. He was always so boisterous and energetic. Mammon and bold were practically synonyms. Especially tonight when he'd been swept up by his success. 

So, to have his mouth caress yours so tenderly… to have him be so careful with you as though you were something truly precious to him?  His kiss was more similar to his hugs. Gentle and protective you could hardly help how happy they made you. Likewise, you couldn't resist kissing him back. Reaching up your free hand to the base of his neck and leaning into the kiss hungrily. His phone went off seconds later. It was Lucifer demanding Mammon confess to one of his schemes and threatening his life if he didn’t make things right. He apologized and left in a hurry. Leaving you to wonder… how much had things just changed?

[minty-bubblegum]

Pookums I really super duper need u to talk to me and distract me from my work

Um um

Anal penetration

[adore-gregor]

Lol I keep on doing this, saying I'd come back to tumblr to only disappear again 😂😭

[hikayunas]

🫀

[keeps-ache]

this might have been the baby brain that helped form this opinion but i'm pretty sure the best thing i've ever tasted was some tomato juice in an aluminum can when i was prolly 3-4 years old. literally the most amazing thing on the planet but i could Not tell you what it actually tasted like

[true-blue-sonic]

actually on the topic of nightmares!!! i wonder if anyone in the cast has had nightmares related to the phantom ruby. that war lasted like six months after all!

Heh, I personally do feel that making the war last literally half a year was just far too long. It's quite a significant chunk of time for many characters... yet absolutely nobody is affected by it. Not physically, not mentally, not emotionally. And of course I understand this is a Sonic game and they're not gonna shown everyone gravely injured and with PTSD, but with six months I truly would have expected some consequences on the cast. If it had only been one or two months or so, it would have been easier for me to suspend my disbelief on this topic, I feel.

Regardless, to answer your question, it does make sense to me that characters would indeed have nightmares. Infinite killed like four or five people right in front of the Avatar, Eggman's Death Egg is filled with captured people and he is heavily implied to have murdered captives, Tails saw Sonic "die" before his eyes(?), the Resistance at the end of those six months was reduced to almost nothing... and then lost 80% of their forces in Operation Big Wave on top. And then they all nearly got scorched alive in the fake fun. It gives enough grounds for nightmares, also considering how absolutely insane Infinite's power is with the Ruby. So I would not be surprised if the cast is in some way affected by it and needs time to mentally recover from the events of the game; it's just not shown or indicated to us, basically.

[giantkillerjack]

Basically quit my job today. What a day.

[loregoddess]

you know, for the most part my asthma is very under control and not too much of a bother, but heavens forbid some dust gets blown around by high winds and then I get sick with a chest cold bc my immune system was too busy causing allergies over the dust instead of doing its actual job and then I can barely go up or down a flight of stairs without losing my breath

[omgthatdress]

Sooooo ummmmmmm this is something that's probably going to piss a lot of people off, but I feel like I really need to say it.

If you get a message from an account claiming to be a Palestinian fundraiser, it is a bot. It is a scam. You need to report & delete the message and encourage others to do the same.

I know because I get messages on this account DAILY. I have a very high follower count and I'm pretty active and I interact with my followers a lot, and apparently that all adds up to one big bot magnet.

Bots following and messaging this account was a MASSIVE problem before Tumblr fixed its new account policies. I used to spend literally hours blocking and reporting the hundreds of bots that I would get following me each day.

I learned a lot about bots and how to identify them. The easiest way is with no avatar, "untitled" in the blog description (BTW if your avatar is still set to default PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD change it because you run a substantial risk of being accidentally blocked & reported as a bot).

One of the dead give aways of a bot was what I call "word salad" names. Three seemingly random words strung together making no sense, always adjective, adjective or noun, noun. If you reported a lot of these bots, you'd notice the same words kept showing up.

Nowadays, I am bombarded with fundraiser requests and sometimes, they don't even bother to hide the fact that they're a bot. The avatar is default, the blog title is "untitled," and the blog name is a classic randomly-generated word salad.

However MOST of the requests I get come from at least semi-legit looking accounts. There are pictures, a name, a story. Never mind that I've gotten that message three times from different accounts.

Sometimes, they claim to be vetted, but the whole vetting system essentially adds up to "trust me bro." There is no way of guaranteeing that this account isn't just lying about being vetted, claiming to be vetted by a false person, or are using the identity of a real Palestinian to scam people.

Previously, I've seen a lot of people getting attacked for raising questions about these fundraisers and getting attacked for being racist or for harming Palestinian families in danger, like Tumblr isn't a website famous for its scams and the words "The Arkh Project" "All or Nothing" or "Miss Officer and Mr. Truffles" mean nothing to you.

I personally have been scammed by people claiming to be charities on Tumblr before, specifically, The Leelah Project which used the name of a trans teenager who died by suicide to swindle people out of their money.

Luckily, there are actual, respected charities out there you can give money to if you want to help the cause:

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund

Palestine Red Crescent Society

United Nations Relief Works Agency

Islamic Relief

World Central Kitchen

Médecins Sans Frontièrs

One of the hardest things to accept about the situation in Palestine is that realistically, there is very little that your average outsider can do to change it. However, these large, well-respected and trustworthy charities are out there doing the hard work to keep people alive, and should be where the donation money is going

These scam bots feed on people's naïvety and need to believe that they are making a difference, and even worse, feed on the fear that by ignoring them, it somehow makes you a racist doing direct harm to a refugee family, when in fact they are using the suffering of Palestinians to take away money from those in need.

As far as fundraisers that don't send out random asks for donations, I honestly don't know. You'll have to do the work yourself and approach with much caution.

Be careful out there.

[ot3]

HOT OR NOT? POKEMON

There are a lot of pokemon out there. Some of them are good. Some of them are bad.

the world of pokemon is a beautiful one filled with many "types" of pokemon. some pokemon are steel. some pokemon are bugs. some of them are even normal. lately i have found myself thinking, which pokemon is the most steel? which pokemon is the most bugs? which pokemon is normal? and today i am proud to say i have answered these questions and more.

It can be hard to decide, since there are so many of them, but luckily I'm here to make that decision for you. i have definitively chosen the most representative (most) least representative (least) personal favorite (best) and least favorite (worst) design of every pokemon type. and i will now explain it to you in detail

now keep in mind we are ONLY talking about design here. lore is not coming into play whatsoever. if you want to explain to me why xyz pokemon is actually the most/least/best whatevertype pokemon because it's based on this or that: i don't care. that's not why we're here. we're judging books by their covers today

Normal Type

Most - Herdier: This is just a regular ass dog, which may be considered one of the normalest things on the planet. It doesn't get much more normal than this, folks.

Least - Arceus: If i saw this thing it would be one of the least normal days of my life.

Best - Skitty: This is just a perfect design, there isn't anything bad you could possibly say about it and if you tried I'd hit you. Look at that face. ^_^

Worst - Castform (Normal): It looks like either a pair of balls or casper with a fat rack and in either case it's just kind of unappealing to look at.

Grass Type

Most - Shaymin (Land Forme): Although 'grass' a type represents all plant life, I am choosing to interpret it literally here. Shaymin is the grassiest of all grass pokemon, and although this is not part of the criteria, it is also very cute so lets all take a moment to appreciate that

Least - Kartana: this is an origami swordsman bug thing which to me isn't really Grass at all. I do love the design but it's not very grassy. yeah paper comes from plants but gun to my head i would have not guessed grass type for this pokemon in top 3, maybe not even top 5.

Best - Wo-Chien: I just think this guy represents a ton of pokemon design philosophy at its best. It has a very strong sense of color, good use of shape, is just a tiny bit strange, and most importantly is a kind of Creature i would like to hang out with

Worst - Calyrex: The more realistically proportioned hare head with the strange body does NOT work for me. I'm not mad about the massive berry on top at all but why the perfectly round torso? Why the stubby little arms? Why the noodle legs with the thigh high boots? I think you could fix this one pretty easily ultimately but it really needs fixin

Water Type

Most - Wailord: Although there is no actual water in wailord's design, the mere presence of a whale implies the necessity for an amount of water that is almost as catastrophically overwhelming in its absence as its presence.

Least - Palkia: Other than looking like an anthropomorphized speedboat palkia is not particularly aquatic in its nature

Best - Lapras: There's a lot of great water pokemon designs but i think lapras is firing on all cylinders. Really a classic pokemon design.

Worst - Quaquaval: There are a lot of pokemon that are uncomfortably anthropomorphic and there have been since gen 1. It's not something I'm against in concept at all and it's produced some of my favorite pokemon designs of all time. But unfortunately when it flops it flops hard. Seriously, what are these proportions? Perfectly fine idea for a pokemon just executed with shocking inelegance.

Fire Type

Most - Gigantamax Cinderace: This is simply the most amount of fire you're getting in a fire pokemon. Biggest bang for your buck

Least - Blacephalon: Another ultra beast design that is, as a design, excellent, but i would not be able to guess the typing on the first try if you put a gun to my head

Best - Chandelure: What if a haunted chandelier was your friend. Enough said. This thing just rules

Worst - Cinderace: Everything I said about quaquaval is equally true here.

Fighting Type

Most - Machamp: He's a wrestler with four arms this is as fighting as fighting gets

Least - Meditite: This is a small child in an open, peaceful stance. I sense no violence here. If he were to fight, he would have been provoked.

Best - Mienshao: effortlessly elegant design that conveys the aesthetics of martial arts and combines it with the simplified animal anatomy and strong shape language that represents pokemon at it's best

Worst - Gurdurr: This entire line is profoundly uncomfortable to me but the prominent near-bursting veins and inexplicable hourglass figure are at their worst here.

Flying Type

Most - Altaria: This is a bird made out of clouds, which is the most flyingest a thing could be.

Least - Shaymin (Sky Forme): This dude doesnt look like its feet are getting off the ground anytime soon if i'm being quite honest

Best - Sigilyph: Great example of what flying type can look out when you branch away from simple birds. The stranger and less organic feeling pokemon are collectively some of my favorite and i think sigilyph is one of the more effective ones.

Worst - Enamorus: 😬

Electric Type

Most - Xurkitree: The Exposed Copper Wiring Pokemon. Great stuff. Also a banger design on top of being the most. i love the ultra beasts

Least - Alolan Geodude: I understand the eyebrows and hair are supposed to be gatherings of lead sand but its still not giving electrivity. it just looks like a rock, one of the least electric things on the planet

Best - Rotom (All Forms): I wanted to put every rotom here but there was no way to arrange that easily. Just picture all the other rotoms here too. Rotom is awesome it's normal design is just cute and fun and then all of the other appliances are just a great concept.

Worst - Elektrike: Not unforgivably bad or anything but just kind of a design that doesn't convey a lot of information or have any appeal to it. Completely forgettable.

Poison Type

Most - Galarian Weezing: This guy is the most poisonous possible poison you could have. This guys hobby is global warming. This guy is dumping carcinogens into the river. And not just incidentally. He's ideologically motivated AND gets pleasure from it.

Least - Oddish: Not only do I not believe eating an oddish would poison me, i think oddish is healthy. I think it's good for you.

Best - Ivysaur: It's impossible to truly extract the nostalgia from my feelings towards the gen 1 pokemon designs but I think we can all agree. Ivysaur looks great

Worst - Eternatus: Does not even look like it belongs in the same franchise as anything else on this list so far. And on top of that, it looks stupid. 0/10. I do like the version of it that's an evil hand though.

Psychic Type

Most - Mega Alakazam: This dude looks like he should be airbrushed on a black velvet tapestry. I can't imagine anything more psychic than that.

Least - Exeggcute: Picking a least psychic pokemon was a hard one, because although we have some specific idea of what a psychic is, it's hard to say what one isn't. Ultimately, I don't think a handful of cracked eggs feels very psychic to me. I'm not sure what they feel like to me to be honest.

Best - Deoxys: Take a note, people, this is how you design a pokemon that's 'cool'

Worst - Necrozma: Take a note, people, this is not how you design a pokemon that's 'cool'

Ground Type

Most - Dugtrio: Dugtrios presence in the area is synonymous with the ground. in the same way that wailord's existence comes with the implicit presence of huge amounts of water, dugtrio's existence comes with the explicity presence of The Ground, because it's part of the design. We will never know dugtrio in its entirety, we will only see as much of it as the ground lets us.

Least - Whiscash: That's a fish, it shouldn't be on the ground.

Best - Trapinch and Claydol: I really really wanted to avoid ties here but please indulge me just this one. These are two creatures that are perfectly made but each in its own distinct way.

Worst - Zygarde (Complete Forme): Overdesigned as fuckkkkkk

Ice Type

Most - Avalugg: This guy's ice.

Least AND Worst - Jynx: Not only is Jynx not particularly icy, changing the skintone was really not enough to redeem this design.

Best - Glaceon: There aren't any bad eveelutions. That said, glaceon isn't my favorite. However in the contect of ice pokemon I think it does a great job of using shape language and colors that feel icy without needing to actually resort to just chucking ice onto it. A lot of ice pokemon are either a little bit too on the nose or just outside of my taste bracket

Bug Type

Most - Caterpie: Very bug.

Least - Pineco: this is a pinecone with eyes, which is different from a bug.

Best - Leavanny: Look at that winning smile :)

Worst - Buzzwole: TOO SWOLE!!!!

Rock Type

Most - Onix: You may think it would have been geodude, who is just a rock with arms, but onix is actually just a rock with a face which is then attached to SEVERAL MORE ROCKS. That's as rock as it gets.

Least - Sudowoodo: You can't pull the wool over my eyes. That's a tree.

Best - Lunatone: What if the moon was kind of creepy and also your pet.

Worst - Terrakion: Think this motherfcukers just ugly

Dragon Type

Most - Mega Charizard X: We all know Charizard is a dragon but that's only sometimes true. When it's true, it's very true.

Least - Tatsugiri (All Forms): Why is a piece of sushi a dragon. I do support it don't get me wrong. But I'm not exactly following the throughline

Best - Rayquaza: I think sometimes the legendary pokemon end up in the Too Much category but I think rayquaza pushes riiight up against that edge without going over it.

Worst - Dracovish: Shitting on the mix and match fossilized pokemon feels kind of like low hanging fruit. I honestly think they're kind of fun in concept. But this just looks stupid

Ghost Type

Most - Haunter: Self explanatory

Least - Decidueye: A very fun design but it feels like its got much too life in it to be ghostly.

Best - Polteageist: I'm insanely biased because I love ghosts and have a teapot collection so when i saw they put a ghost in a teapot i was overjoyed and it became my favorite pokemon as a whole instantly.

Worst - Gholdengo: Looks like the mascot for a string cheese brand

Dark Type

Most - Guzzlord: Dark type in japanese is Evil type which certainly has different connotations. In either case, I think whatever it means for a pokemon to be dark or evil is embodied here.

Least - Scraggy: I don't think this guy is particularly sinister at all.

Best - Mega Absol: I'm just so charmed by mega absol because it is indistinguishable from the kind of thing a teen with a deviantart would have drawn. It's like an edgy emo fairy white haired anime boy angel sparkledog. But despite that it still has a lot of aesthetic integrity and manages to only be a bit over the top in a way i think it's suited for.

Worst - Mega Sharpedo: This cluttered design pretty much undoes anything that's successful about sharpedo's standard form

Steel Type

Most - Melmetal: the unrelenting metalness of this guy is not even tanted by any even vaguelt biological components

Least - Wormadam (Trash Cloak): Not a single visibly metallic part on this pokemon

Best - Magearna: A clockwork magical girl... what a great design. i love her. so cute. there's really strong competition in steel type though

Worst - Varoom: Something about this guy looks agonized to be alive. And I feel that agony too. It looks like a motorcycle that was in the process of being transmogrified into a creature but the process was incorrectly terminated halfway through and now it lives a cursed and painful existence.

Fairy Type

Most - Mega Diancie: this thing could give me a quest to save the world and i would listen to it

Least - Galarian Weezing: I also wanted to do no duplicates but once again I will ask you for my forgiveness. Clearly this thing is the least fairy fairy. Not only is it unfairy, I think it tortures fairies. I think it's the villain in a movie where a bunch of children have to rescue a gang of captured fairies who are being used to power a Pollution Factory. I think this things grinds fairies up into dust and uses them to line the rim of its cocktail glass.

Best - Klefki: Klefki is soooo fun. I feel like if klefki was a ghost pokemon it wouldn't hit the same way because the idea of a haunted keyring is fun, sure, but it's notwhere near as good as a Whimsical Enchanted Keyring.

Worst - Zacian: this thing could give me a quest to save the world and im not sure i would listen to it. man the legendary dogs are just kind of a mess aesthetically

Okay that's all of the types. I don't really have a way to end this post. Of course there are a bunch of really good designs and really weird and cluttered ones that I didn't get a chance to talk about but. Idk man I can't rate every pokemon design there's just too many of them. there you have it.

[quatregats]

Before Sunrise (وإنتَ بترجع لأيقوناتَك، وأنا للفراغ) • A Hornblower fic by quatregats

You look at me, your eyes shining intensely with sudden emotion, and for a moment every mask has fallen away. There’s something sobering about it, knowing that you’ve given me this secret, that you’ve let me see you vulnerable and unguarded, and I promise to myself that I’ll never tell another soul. Your dark curls frame your face, and you are so lovely and real that it hurts. The weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders, and I wish it could stay that way forever.

In the Kingston darkness, Hornblower might just allow himself a few moments in Bush's arms.

You can read it here!

[your-internet-bf]

We hadn't always gotten along. When our parents got married, we could barely stand each other. How could we get along with some brat we barely knew? Luckily, I had an idea. I bought a clicker - you know, the one they use to train dogs? - and got to work.

I started with "thank you". Every time you said it, maybe at dinner, in the car, at a restaurant, I pressed the clicker. You couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, and nobody else seemed to know what you were talking about. But soon, I started helping you with chores around the house and when we finished, *click*. And without really thinking about it, you'd say "thank you."

A few months passed, and you'd started to notice things about me. I took care of myself. I was clean, and I exercised regularly. You'd hang around when you knew I'd be back from the gym just to catch a whiff of the sweat and metal on me when I returned - our eyes caught once when you got a little too close, and for the first time you saw something primal, a little dark, in my gaze. But it passed in an instant.

We started getting along better, now. So one day, when you were lying on the couch with a snack bowl, I snatched it up and motioned to throw it into your mouth. Well, innocent enough, right? And it wasn't like I was eating much, so it's fine, right? Every time you open your mouth to catch, *click*, *click*, *click*.

Then, I invited you to come work out with me. Every time you did a squat, *click*. I told you it was a metronome to keep your intensity up, but you noticed the bulge in my sweatpants was bigger than usual. Wait, when did you start noticing my bulge, especially enough to know that...?

Finally, it was time. I'd been listening outside your bedroom door for weeks now, and I knew when you'd be asleep. I quietly opened your door and stepped into your room, locking it behind me. You stirred at the sound of the lock clicking, but I wasn't afraid.

I gingerly pulled down the covers and just... stared for a while. I'd never taken the time to really look at how beautiful you are, how gorgeous those curves were. I could hardly stand it. As you lay on your side, I took out the clicker, and *click* it once. Laying on your side, like you were on the couch with the snacks, you obediently open your mouth.

I pull down my pants, my long, thick cock swinging between my thighs. I brush the back of my hand over your cheek, then set it firmly against the back of your head, and push into your mouth.

You wake up almost immediately, but my hand stops you from pulling back as I force inch after throbbing inch down your throat. The more you struggle, the tighter you feel, the harder I push, until you felt your nose press into my hips. You push as hard as you can against me, but I'm so much bigger and stronger than you it doesn't do anything. I don't even budge.

I start to grind into your skull, making you swallow the thick, heavy head of my cock again and again, as I groan in pleasure. I start thrusting harder and harder, making your eyes water as I slam my hips into your face again and again, until finally, mercifully, I release inside you, deep inside your throat. You feel me pulse with your whole mouth, and you struggle to swallow each load of thick, hot, sticky cum while I'm still inside you.

With a shuddering breath, I pull out, letting you breathe properly for the first time in minutes. I watch while you cough and catch your breath, and then I ask, "what do you say?"

You breathe in intending to scream, but then you hear it, just one soft *click*, and all you can say is "thank you".

You stare at me, confused. I wipe my cum off your chin with my thumb, and *click* again. "Thank you", you say.

"I knew it. You're such a good girl, aren't you? Now," I push you onto your back, "spread for me."

*click*

You raise your legs to either side, exactly like you're doing a squat.

"I don't - I don't understand," you whimper, legs still in the air.

"You don't have to," I reply, reaching one hand between your legs to feel how wet you are.

"You're soaking, little girl," as I bring my hand up for you to see... Then make you taste it. I reach back down and slip in two of my thick, strong fingers, and cover your mouth with my other hand as you moan. I press up in just the right spot, rubbing in tight, quick circles so deliciously that you can't help but arch your back and grind into me. You feel the pleasure build and all thought leaves your mind; the only thing that matters is my fingers inside you, the scent of my hand over your mouth, and the lingering taste of me.

But before you can finish I pull my fingers out, pressing up and out, leaving you twitching and gasping. "Not yet," I mutter, and I move myself down between your legs. I line up my cock, slapping it down on your tummy first. It reaches your navel, and you feel a wave of fear that only makes you wetter. I pull back, then start pushing in.

It's thick, thick, thick, and heavy. I stretch you out wider than you thought possible, pressuring you in every direction, spreading your aching cunt and making you feel full inside for the first time in your life. Long, deep strokes, moving your whole body with every thrust, reaching inside you, my breath coming fast and hard.

And you hear it again.

*click*

"Thank you," you choke out between sobs.

*click*

"Thank you," you moan.

*click*

"Thank you," you plead, tears in your eyes.

My strokes come faster now, slamming inside you like an animal as you continue to thank me for raping you. Finally, finally, finally, you feel me tense up and slam deep, deep, deep inside you, pressing your whole body into the bed, as I cum again. Huge, hot, sticky white loads of my cum shoot inside you, filling you, as my breath comes in gasps, and as I do you feel it too, now, the wave of pleasure cresting, and you cum, your legs squeezing together, your face screwed tight, moaning with the release of months of tension. And as you cum, you hear a new sound, a familiar sound, but it's deeper than the others...

*click*

And you cum harder, knowing I'm training you like a bitch in heat.

I climb up next to you, and just gaze into your eyes for a moment. Then I smile. "Let's go again."

*click*