#all of these things are based on stuff that happened at least once and most likely happens quite often

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[whiskeyswifty]

.

[medicinemane]

Should make a pain killer that actually kills (or even touches) pain

[reallunargift]

the fans' drinking game bingo card from 2019-2022

[joeloverture]

hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax. 

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing. 

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. 

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from  — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky. 

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining. 

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down. 

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…” 

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee. 

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head. 

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.” 

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel. 

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?” 

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

 “Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips. 

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become. 

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel. 

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily. 

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him. 

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is. 

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!” 

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

[brutallyboned]

I recently watched a video about a creator who did a bad thing and the allegations against said creator, and at the end of the video, the person making the video started listing all the media on their shelf that had been partially or totally ruined for them because the creator did a bad thing. I understand not giving a living person money. I also think it's a lot healthier to reconcile the possibility that many, most, or even all of the media you enjoy will have had at least one person working on it that did, said, or believed very bad things and be at peace with that. Dumping fandoms, stuff that you own that you've already paid for, and just stopping yourself from enjoying things you once loved every time this happens could definitely make you afraid to enjoy anything and feel the need to 'vet' creators and put undue pressure on them. If you genuinely can't enjoy a piece of media anymore, that sucks but it can't be helped. But if you still get joy from it and you're shaming yourself for it--especially if you're just doing things like making fanart, writing fics, talking about the thing with other fans, and not even spending money on official merch that will get back to said creator idk. That's not helping anyone. And the thing is, this will keep happening with popular pieces of media. It's not going to stop, you're not going to be able to predict who is a bad or good person based on the work that they've made.

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: What they like in other people

Marko

- creativity

- Absolutely HATES the idea of blending in

- Hence why his jacket is so different from his brother’s jackets

- He’s drawn to creative people who outwardly express their creativity with their appearance

- This is why he loves the board walk!! There are TONS of people who dress originally and In an unapologetic way

- I think one of his biggest struggles with being a vampire is that he can’t be outside during the day, and it’s not because he misses the sun or the warmth, it’s because thats the time of day people are usually outside creating wall murals, doing chalk art, painting landscapes.

- He misses interacting with those artists

- So, if he is at the board walk and just so happens to see someone set up with an easel, painting the lights of carnival rides, you BET that boy is going to introduce himself

- And find out everything there is to know about you

- And try to convince you to stay in Santa Carla forever with him

Paul

- Music taste

- Paul is a music snob

- He will totally judge a person based off the music they listen to, and will, on many occasions, choose his victims based off their poor music taste

- His favorite place on the Boardwalk is the record store

- It’s run by this older lady who shares Paul’s love for music

- He goes in at least once a week to say hi, and discuss music with her

- I feel like her name is Gretchen, but Paul insists on calling her Gretch

- He usually sits behind the cash register and talks to her in between customers

- And if it’s one of those nights where Paul can’t sit still, Gretchen makes him unload boxes in the back room and set up any new displays

- She LOVES to play matchmaker with Paul

- Because she is the only record store around, she knows the music taste of most people who live in Santa Carla

- So she try’s to find Paul a date, by matching up his music taste with a regular’s

- This usually doesn’t work out, but she LOVES to try

- *whispers* “look at her Paul! Isn’t she lovely?? And she listens to Motley Crüe!”

- He went on one date that Gretchen set him up on, and it didn’t end too well….so he swore he would never do it again.

- Let’s just say that the girl smelled a little TOO good and he couldn’t stop himself from having a taste

- He cares too much about Gretchen’s companionship to ruin it with him loosing control and eating all her customers

Dwayne

- kindness

- The boys don’t get shown a lot of kindness because…you know…they kill people and stuff

- But that doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings!!

- Dwayne might be the silent, stern type, BUT if anyone shows him the tiniest bit of kindness this man will become your devoted follower

- He may be a vampire, but he remembers what it was like to be human, and how easy it is to be selfish and just plain mean

- He also remembers that kindness is a choice

- And the kindest people tend to be the strongest

- Being kind to him is one thing, he might keep an eye out for you on the boardwalk in case you find yourself in trouble, or change your tire if you get a flat.

- But

- If your kind to Laddie?

- Maybe he got lost and you helped him find his way back to the boys? Or bought him a ice cream? Or maybe even helped him reach an arcade game he so desperately wanted to play?

- Oh boy.

- You just found your self a guardian watch dog angel. Trust me when I saw NO ONE will lay a hand on you or look at you the wrong way EVER and live to tell the tale

- And if you just so happen to be his type?

- Well, I hope you like Santa Carla because you won’t be leaving

David

- courage

- He admires someone who can stand there ground

- Who can get in the face of a surfer nazi and tell them where they can stick it

- Who won’t put up with Paul and Marko teasing them, and will dish it right back to them!

- Who won’t be intimidated and has no problem telling him and the boys “no” with a smile on their face

- Someone who doesn’t give a flying you-know-what about what anyone has to say to them about hanging around him and his boys

- Their confident in their decisions, even the bad ones

- When offered a drink from that sparkly bottle they give him a wink, and take a huge swig!

- And PROMPTLY spit it out all over their prized poster, because like HELL will you be tricked into doing anything you don’t want to do

[biolumien]

Might I say that the Hoshina x Painter! reader was a brush stroke of genius. It's superb so if its possible, I'd like to request a part two?

Maybe Hoshina gets to go out on a date. And of course, the recruits quickly finding out about this and they sort of try to spy on them while they go about their day. Up to you really. I just live for the concept, and I defo want to see how things play out. Especially since their worlds are so far apart from each other.

He probably doesn't know the first thing about art. And Reader probably knows nothing of Kaijus. Let alone swordsmanship or martial arts. And the sudden match made between them is sure to make rapid news around Tachikawa base because, 'Ayo that's our Vice Captain with the famous painter who just so happened to paint his portrait a few days ago?' AKAKHSKNS such an endearing concept.

notes: insanely good pun. i hope this is okay! part 2 of this fic.

the second stroke

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings apply, i think! let me know, though. word count: 1306

talking to hoshina was–awkward. or so you thought, at least. you couldn’t exchange many words following the panel, apart from saying hi–hoshina had immediately gotten swarmed with questions–what was the relationship between the two of you? what was the meaning behind what you’d said? so you’d managed to find him in the aftermath, pulled him aside and made tentative plans to meet up in the coming days.

you stopped having dreams of your mysterious muse altogether at this point. once in awhile, you thought you might have felt the faint whisper of warmth, the ghosting touch of lips brushed against the side of your face. that had to have been real, right? but the fact that you couldn’t remember your dreams now–if you even had them at all, worried you more th an you’d like to admit.

you’d agreed on a date in a discrete location–but despite that, you held a pretty large parasol in the park, with loose-fitting clothes to disguise the bulk of your figure.

“so it’s true, then?” hoshina asks as the two of you wander the park, past some shady trees. “that’s… i mean, it’s… pretty… ha, i mean, that kind of stuff comes out of a romance novel, no?” 

you like the way the sunlight dapples across his hair, dances across the bridge of his nose. your fingers itch to paint, to scrape a palette knife across a stretch of canvas. 

“it sounds far fetched to me, too,” you mumble, spinning the straw of your drink. “that i would dream of a man from a past life–who… happens to be you. happened. to be you. also in a past life. and i think… well, i–i think we were lovers? or-or something like that.”

“lovers,” hoshina echoes. 

he pauses.

your face feels hot.

“it’s stupid,” you mumble. “i know. i know it is.”

“it’s not,” hoshina says. “i mean–i’m not… a believer. in most of that kind of stuff, but. you painted me.” he laughs. “that’s gotta be proof of something bigger than the both of us. i don’t know if i should be happy or sad that it’s real. like–”

he flexes his hands.

“do you get what i mean? like–like… i’ve been telling myself that-that… i was doing everything within my power–to be the way i was, and then… if there really is some kind of divine providence, pulling us together–some red string of fate, the kind that bonds lovers together–how am i so sure that a god didn’t just decide the limits of my capabilities? i’m not sure… how to feel about it.”

you ponder his words.

“fighting kaiju is… a completely new world, compared to me,” you say. “but i’m sure even if it–even if it was divine providence, you’re doing something only you can do. and–and i think that’s wonderful.”

hoshina’s eyes soften.

“wonderful?” he murmurs. 

“yeah,” you say. “someone–not just someone, but… we’re all… relying on you. that’s something i could never imagine.”

“i mean–” hoshina laughs, brushing a hand across the back of his neck. “i couldn’t imagine painting the way you do. that seems so overwhelming–to conjure things from your imagination and deliver them to the page.”

you shake your head.

“it’s a bit of that, but it’s not completely from my imagination. i do a lot of portraits–with real models, things like that,” you mumble, your face flushing a little bit at his words. “it’s… mm. a complicated progress, but it’s not nearly as physically intensive as you fighting kaiju. i-i read a bit. from some of your press interviews.”

“oh?” hoshina’s eyes widen, and he laughs. “that’s–well, i didn’t… most of those were just–scripted.”

“my press interviews are, too,” you say.

hoshina’s lips quirk up.

“i guess we’re kind of the same, yeah?” hoshina says, nudging you slightly, his hand reaching out to cross the gap between the two of you–of you. he doesn’t intrude further though, even as he crosses the gap—seemingly shy and nervous, worried and careful not to do more until you were okay with it. 

you relax your stance a little, and his hand brushes against yours. 

“i guess so,” you say, blinking up at him. your face feels hot.

you don’t know whether the fluttering in your heart is from you or if it’s from that whisper of a past life, the repeated lines of affection–that it should feel this easy to fall for hoshina, because some version of you did, a stranger-yet-familiar-yet-familiar. hoshina’s expression is somehow fond, and he leans closer before–

he suddenly perks up, his head whirling around, checking the surroundings.

“what’s–” you start, but hoshina raises a hand, glancing at you before raising a finger to his lips. you fall silent, your heart pounding against your throat.

“come out,” hoshina says sharply. “you guys aren’t subtle at all. you’re lucky that kaiju are so stupid.” 

from behind one of the trees, several people come skulking out with lowered heads, as if they were scolded toddlers.

“i told you this was a bad idea,” says a boy with mint green hair, elbowing a taller, older man. the man hangs his head, recoiling dramatically at the boy’s touch. “you can’t get past hoshina at all.”

“in my defense,” the man says apologetically, remorsefully, “i was just curious where he was going… it’s not often he takes days off. you know this.”

“i warned you,” says a woman with her hair drawn up in a tall ponytail. her voice is quiet, but she’s striking–and you wonder what kind of charcoal you might use to sketch out the sharp lines of her face–and then you realize you’ve seen her face scattered across billboards. mina ashiro?

“i love this bit you guys do,” hoshina laughs, archly, “where you talk like i’m not even here. come on. if you want to–hey, put that–put that down. don’t–”

mina lowers her phone as hoshina blurts it out, her face bemused. 

“sorry,” mina says. “force of habit. i keep an album of every moment where you let your goody facade drop. do you want to see?” she looks at you, holding out her phone. “i have some where he’s asle–” “not on the first date,” hoshina says, his voice pitching higher. 

“first date?” the man’s eyes widen. “captain hoshina, you’re on a date? with that artist? the one who drew you?”

your eyes scan between him and hoshina.

“yes,” hoshina says tersely. “is it that weird?”

“no,” the man says. “just–you don’t seem like the romantic… type?”

“i’m not,” hoshina says.

you feel something like cold ice seize your throat.

“but i… i want to try,” hoshina amends, and his hand reaches out for yours, a grasping thread of intent. you entangle your fingers in his, and the weight of his hands feels right. like a preordained fate–you were always meant to find each other, and the weight and feel of his fingers entangling yours, his knuckles tightening as if he was afraid to see you disappear–

that was right.

“if we’re really bonded by fate, anyway,” hoshina says, glancing at you–and your heart seizes in your throat, caught by how earnest he seems– “i want to see it to the end.”

your face heats up.

“it was–it was just a painting,” you mumble. 

“a really good painting,” hoshina adds, and he laughs.

“you guys are cute,” mina says. “but you’re grossing me out. just a little.”

her face is impassive, but the corners of her lips quirk up a little as she says the words.

“oh, how it hurts,” hoshina says dramatically, pulling you closer to him, “to have stirred the ice-cold heart of mina ashiro so.”

and your face flushes again, brighter, but you cling tightly to hoshina like a lifeline, and wonder what shade of red you might use to carve out the feeling of love in your chest.

[bluegekk0]

Finished designs for the FPK Dragon AU! Very happy with how they turned out, I'm definitely going to draw more art for this side AU in the future

Some short info and close-ups below

General AU stuff:

I don't have many story or world details yet, but in general it would be quite simplified and changed in a lot of ways

The vessels are not a thing, though The Radiance does exist and the infection would still happen in some shape or form (I haven't thought of the details yet). Holly's purpose would still be to put a stop to it, but the whole aspect of emotionless void beings is not included

Humans don't exist in this world, so the one above is simply to get an idea of their scale. The dragons in that world are sapient and live in communities, a lot of them can use magic and similar powerful abilities

More info to be added as I brainstorm it, and I might design more characters for the AU in the future

Character specific stuff:

Vyrm - a lot of his backstory is very similar to the main AU, his kind is considered extinct (the reason would most likely be different), though he never changed his form to be smaller, which means his large wyrm form does not exist here. His relationship with WL was also basically the same, as was his journey of discovering his love for Grimm. And just like in the main AU, he ended up losing his status as a leader and hibernating. Unsure whether he would also lose all his powers, since I want to keep his workshop hobby and I like the idea of him having powers that he learned specifically for that purpose (not to mention, doing any kind of precise engineering would be difficult with his dragon anatomy). So we'll have to see.

Grimm - once again a very similar backstory to his main AU counterpart. He is one of the most powerful dragons to exist, and The Radiance is still his sister in this AU. He was banished from his homeland and stripped of many of his powers, losing his status as a higher dragon as a result. I'm still brainstorming how NKG comes into the AU, as of now my idea is that it would be closer to a god-like beast form than a being in another realm, but it may still change. And I'm still thinking how to reconceptualize the ritual to fit this version. Even though he's much weaker than in his prime, he's still more powerful than an average dragon, especially in the NKG form (if that is the direction I take with him).

Lewk, Asta and Milo - basically the same as in the main AU. Lewk and Asta can fly just fine, Milo however is incapable of it (and will likely remain that way even as he gets older, with his wings being too small and weak for flight).

Hornet - in most aspect she's the same, though her half-spider origin would be changed to something else; Herrah is not a spider in this AU, though she would still be quite beastly and unique in her appearance. She has two pairs of wings, which are a trait inherited from her mother's side. She knows silk magic, which she learned as a young dragon.

Zote - he's the most unique here body plan wise, I based his design on pterosaurs. I loved the mental image of him being this annoying, bird-like dragon. In basically all aspects he's the same as his main AU counterpart, though being a dragon I imagine he would have a more impressive lifespan than an average bug in the main AU. He's a herbivore dragon, his mouth resembles a beak, and he has no powers, only a nasty attitude.

Holly - as mentioned before, they are not a vessel in this AU, nor a void being. Instead, they're a hybrid of Vyrm and WL, who is a powerful higher dragon, and were trained to stop The Radiance and put an end to the infection from the day they hatched. Though they did end up learning void magic to aid them in the fight, I think that would be a nice way to preserve at least some of that aspect and it would explain the color of their body in this version. They have a mouth, though they are still mute, likely as a result to battle damage. Like in the main AU, they lost one of their eyes and a limb, and I'm considering designing a prosthetic wing for them at some point to mirror their counterpart.

[anneapocalypse]

I'll be interested to see what further developments happen in the patches with Alexandria, but so far I think Wuk Lamat is handling the situation very delicately, and very smartly.

Alexandria is, undeniably, an invading force in Xak Tural. It's a foreign nation that has moved onto Turali land and claimed that land and its people under its own sovereignty, with the intent to harvest a resource from it at the direct expense of its people. This is, obviously, wrong, and needs an answer.

Wuk Lamat as the Vow of Resolve has, with the help of her allies, already achieved something pretty significant and challenging here: she has defeated the invading government (Sphene and Zoraal Ja) without directly declaring war on Alexandria's people (most of whom probably had little to no say in the invasion). Her diplomacy during her initial introduction to Alexandria has probably gone a long way here; she has not given the people any more reason than absolutely necessary to believe she is a threat to them.

Declaring the very young Gulool Ja Alexandria's new king feels undeniably weird in more ways than one, but I think that politically it's probably the smartest thing Wuk Lamat could have done.

Her goal, as it's always been, is to maintain peace for her people. A good number of her people are now directly entangled with Alexandria. A rebellion against Tuliyollal rule by the Alexandrians is a direct threat to her people, particularly the ones living in Heritage Found. Even with Sphene gone, Alexandria is still possessed of substantial military power and weapons technology that could conceivably be commandeered either by existing military personnel (because even an army of robots requires some level of manpower to maintain) or by a civilian militia were one to arise. Bottom line: even with the head cut off, Alexandria still poses a threat to the safety and sovereignty of Tuliyollal. And even if the Dawnservants could be reasonably certain their own forces could overpower the Alexandrians--which they conceivably could based on sheer numbers--there would still be a bunch of their own people caught in the crossfire.

Furthermore, the defeat of Sphene and the shutting down of Living Memory means that the end of regulators and spare souls is coming. (The new raid series suggests too that the Warrior of Light may have a hand in ending the use of souls.) This is going to be highly disruptive to the Alexandrian way of life, and probably really fucking scary to a people who have become reliant on this technology. There are bound to be objections. While it's unclear to me at this time how many people knew what Sphene was actually doing, it's not inconceivable that more could find out, and that someone might seek to put her plans in motion once again in order to preserve the soul economy.

This is, in short, a pretty precarious situation politically, and a lesser Dawnservant would already be looking at a city teetering on the edge of revolt.

So, how do we convince the Alexandrians we aren't a threat to them in the short term, while we figure out how we're going to handle this in the long term?

Well, a good first step is probably to give them their king. Alexandria is, at least in name, a monarchy. By the rules of that system, Gulool Ja is a rightful heir to the throne. By allowing him to claim that birthright, you make a show of respecting Alexandrian "sovereignty." You also declare him family--he's your nephew, after all. Now you have a familial connection, the stuff of which royal alliances are made. And of course, the new king is just a child. He's going to need advisors, a regent, and a lot of guidance. You can have a hand in that.

Sure, the Alexandrians are going to notice your influence over their ruler and might still have feelings about that. It's not a perfect solution. But by the same token, snatching their one living heir away from them and openly declaring them under your rule now is probably going to go over a lot worse.

Like I think the game kind of downplays this being a calculated choice, especially since Wuk Lamat doesn't come across as a calculating person. But if we were to observe this scenario in any other fantasy setting... that's how you install a puppet king. I don't especially like to use that term in this case, because I think Wuk Lamat genuinely cares about her nephew and isn't simply using him to maintain power. Nonetheless, it is an undeniably political move, and one that benefits Tuliyollal.

It's likely the Alexandrian people are here to stay--thanks to the dimensional compression, they're in the unique situation where the land they live on is both theirs and not theirs, and that is a problem, but forced relocation also isn't a great solution.

Judging by Wuk Lamat's goals, ethos and the example of her father, I think her hope is probably to bring Alexandria under the banner of Tuliyollal without having to shed blood for it, not least the blood of her own people who would be caught in the crossfire. She understands now that sometimes there's no more room for diplomacy and you have to fight your enemies head on, but if there's a chance she can do this peacefully, through diplomacy, then she's going to try, because that's who she is. She also probably understands that most Alexandrians had no choice in this, and a show of good faith might go a long way toward earning their trust as they adapt to the loss of their queen and the changes that will inevitably follow.

It's a bad situation without a doubt, and one that's already been very destructive to the people of Xak Tural. Gulool Ja Ja sought to unite rather than to conquer. I think Wuk Lamat's hope is to do the same, for the practical purpose of limiting further damage as much as possible.

[speakergame]

Progress Update - 3/4/24

Hello and happy March!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 😅 Well, I finally have some good news for you this time: I have some actual news!

I'm happy to be able to announce at last that an update is on its way! I’ve still got some assets to make and code cleanup and testing to finish, but I should finally have something to show you soon.

I’ll put a cut at the end of this and go into more detail about the what and why of what I’ve been working on during this long and unintended hiatus, but the tl;dr is that I hope to have an update out by the end of the month, and that said update will break any saves made in Chapter 4. Unfortunate, but unavoidable, since Chapter 4 had to be recoded from the beginning 😞

I just want to thank all of you once again for sticking with me through my extended silence! Especially to my patrons who’ve put up with me putting everything on pause month after month while I dealt with my real life shit, and to everyone who’s sent me kind and supportive messages to let me know Speaker hasn’t been forgotten. It really means a lot to me.

Okay, enough of that sappy shit! I’m gonna get back to work finishing this up 😁 I’ll put out another update later this month once I have a more definite release date.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re having a fantastic 2024 so far, and that the rest of the week treats you kindly. See y’all soon! 💙💙💙

(For those who want a more detailed breakdown on what’s been happening and what to expect, hit the readmore)

I won’t go into the personal life stuff I’ve been dealing with this past year that has slowed down my work, but as far as the actual game goes: 

To put it simply, I just wasn’t happy with it. Some of it could be because of how many times I had to reread the same section while I was coding the scenes that would’ve taken place after the last update, but no matter how much I edited or rearranged it, I didn’t like how that scene turned out. There was something… formulaic that had been happening with the way I always laid out scenes, and a bit of stagnation in the story, character, and relationship development that bothered me.

So I rewrote it. And when I still didn’t like it, I rewrote it again. And I still didn’t like it. I thought about scrapping the whole thing on more than one occasion as I struggled to get out of the corner I’d written myself into.

Inspiration finally struck at the beginning of this year, thanks in part to another interactive novel I follow, and I really like the direction I’ve taken it now. 

Instead of the RO split scenes happening where the last one left off, Speaker, Seer, and Gavin are gonna have a chat about Things™ to move the next story arc forward. Then Speaker will get some downtime, by themself at first and then in an extended scene split with the RO of their choosing. 

All the Big Plot Things that were going to happen in Chapter 4 will be moved to Chapter 5 instead, and 4 will be a bit more of a filler episode. A deep breath before the plunge, as it were.

This split won’t just be a quick conversation/reaction from the RO, but a full on different direction for the rest of the chapter based on who you choose. Most of them will involve leaving the house; all of them will involve actual one-on-one time (or one-on-two time, as the case may be) away from the others. And though romance isn’t required, all of them will have the potential to really move the romance forward if you so choose. One or two might even have a lock-in choice (maybe. I’m not 100 percent on that, so don’t hold me to it) 

These scenes won’t be in the next update, because they’re all very complex, but the update will definitely have the Seer chat and at least some of the by-yourself stuff. The update after will have the rest of the alone time stuff (including the clothes/body CC you’ve all been waiting for), and then the one after will start the RO scenes. I think.

I may actually split the RO scenes into separate updates, and let my darlings over at Patreon vote for the order they’re released. That way I can focus on one at a time instead of trying to split my attention six ways at once.

Okay, that’s enough rambling for me today. Time to get back to work! Still got a lot to get done before this is ready, but it’s so close now.

[eclipse-has-come]

— John Price Imagine

Thinking about John Price being a victorian era gentleman that died young and owning an antique shop in a building that used to belong to him (he's haunting it).

Warnings: Kinda stalking? "He's a ghost living with you and you don't believe that he exists so he watches you go about your day" kind of stalking so if you're uncomfortable with that, you're welcome to sit this one out.

A/N: Hello everyone! It's my first post on here and i still don't really get tumblr so some things might look a bit weird. I have not written in so long I might as well have forgotton how to do so but I had this dream the other day and i had to write it down because omg it made me feral. Disclaimer, I am not a native english speaker and i have no beta reader so if there are any mistakes, I do apologize!

Anyway, enough about stuff you don't care about, enjoy this short imagine based on my dream!

You finished up your degree not too long ago and your neverending search for a job keeps going nowhere. Everyday you would submit your cv to at least 5 different employers and most of the time, you only received an answer from one. Every interview you managed to snag was a miracle in and of itself. Too bad those didn't go anywhere either.

Everyday while going to your bus stop, you'd see an old victorian building. While once upon a time It would have been a beautiful structure, now it's only a shadow of it's former self. When you first passed the vintage store-front while walking back from yet another failed interview, you payed little to no attention to the dilapitated bricks. That was until you got back to your flat one day and realized it reminded you of an old antique shop you used to visit back home.

Back then it was run by a kind elderly lady, who would always give you old toys that didn't sell well, you recall fondly. Back then younger you was fully convinced that your future was to one day run an antique store just like that.

It should've been just an ordinary morning but the day after you reminisced about the antique shop, something strange happened. While walking your usual route, you noticed with the corner of your eye a man standing on the stairs leading up to the entrance of the victorian building. You ignored him at first (no use in getting involved), until you saw him walk inside- no, phase inside the building.

You honestly didn't even register what had happened until you were walking back home, passing the cursed building yet again. You stopped in front of the entrance, resignation filling you, whatever demon wanted you to check out this poor lump of bricks and giving you weird visions in the process, it had won. Walking up the stairs, you spotted a lone flyer posted on the door:

"FOR SALE"

Underneath the large words was a poorly scratched on number that you could barely make out. That evening you sat on your couch, debating whether to call or not. If you were being honest with yourself, you were running out of options fast and growing more and more desperate by the hour. You sighed heavily and entered the number into your phone.

The cheap price should have been the first red flag, the previous owner claimed it was haunted and "wanted to be rid of the headache as soon as possible" or so they said. When you first entered the inside, you were in absolute awe, It was beautifully adorned with carved patterns, seemingly transporting you back in time.

An apartment was located on the second floor of the building, adding to the convenience of this inexpensive investment. The large display windows were eye catching and even though the building could use a lot bit of work, you could already see just how incredible it would look. Well, you always were a fan of fixer-uppers.

During your diy renovations however, some strange occurrences started to catch your attention. At first it was nothing out of the ordinary, a floorboard creaking (it is a very old building after all) or maybe a box falling over (shouldn’t have packed so much!) but then it starts getting harder and harder to ignore.

Paint splashes on the wall with the bucket it belonged to on the other side of the room, cracks in the window appearing overnight etc. You truly didn’t believe in the paranormal and when the previous owner warned you, you ignored it, waving it off as some guy's crazy talk but this was becoming a little too hard to scientifically explain.

Even still, you powered through, pointedly ignoring any and all warning signs. However annoying these inconveniences were, they weren't truly malicious. No harm ever came to you nor the antiques you got and by the time the store was ready to open, you could only sigh in relief. All of the blood, sweat and tears you poured into this project finally paid off, your younger self would have gone ballistic if they saw you now.

Walking through the aisles filled with old trinkets, admiring their unique charm and the way they looked on the hand-built shelves. You sincerely hoped the next owners would appreciate them just as much as you.

Opening day was incredibly exciting, you were certainly not expecting the amount of people coming to see the new store. Turns out the previous owner was well known in the community, ("The building was passed down through generations!" One lady told you while admiring the ornamental chandelier you installed.) which made many residents eager to meet the next unlucky owner.

What pleased you most of all, is that all unusual situations ceased or at the very least, you stopped noticing them. Which would be understandable, a week into opening and the store was full of hustle and bustle. It truly warmed your heart to see that others treated these unusual objects with as much reverence as you held for them. If there really was a ghost here, then they must agree that what you'd done for the place was for the better, you giggled to yourself.

You turned the ‘closed’ sign around just as the clock struck six on Saturday evening. Even though you're beyond happy the whole store thing worked out, you can't deny that you're incredibly tired. Who knew constant social interaction and standing all day would cause you to want to curl up in your bed all sunday. Walking towards the stairs leading to your apartment, you observed the half-empty shelves, a satisfied huff leaving your lungs. Walking up the creaking stairs, you noted down in your brain to put some paintings on the plain staircase.

Entering the old flat you tiredly trudged through the still unorganised rooms (almost all of your time was spent on the downstairs of the building, your living space was just an afterthought during the renovations), you entered the bathroom to take a long scalding shower. Due to your tiredness however, you failed to notice the near silent footsteps following you.

After several minutes of nearly boiling yourself to relax, you step out of the shower. Careful not to slip, you reach for your softest towel. ‘You worked really hard and now you could finally pamper yourself’ you decided. With your mind set, you turn over to the mirror ready to start your skincare routine when you suddenly freeze in your tracks.

On the steamed up mirror, a short sentence managed to make you reconsider your opinion on the paranormal up until this point. Written in neat letters and gorgeous handwriting, there it was:

"Hello Darling"

[angelismmm]

🪷 anon here

requesting a bsd Fukuzawa x fem!Reader married hcs🥹🥹

Sfw and Nsfw if it's fine with you🫶🫶

⟢ 𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 ft. fukuzawa

・sypnosis. how did you get together with him? and what's life after marriage?

・notes. gasp emoji a bsd post from me?!?! also hihhihi bro!!! more than willing to make sfw/nsfw hcs!!! honestly it's lowkey hard for me to do sfw hcs by themselves LMFAO, anyways

・warnings. nsfw toward the end, nickname daddy/sir used, breeding kink

𝐘𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀, what he is like in marriage?

・oddly peaceful, honestly thinking about his title annd stuff he'd be busy and stuff, and wouldn't be all that available, to your (and my) surprise, he's always there when you need it the most. probably would try his best to keep you away from his job though, it doesn't sound all that pleasing. only few people probably know about you too, like ranpo and just maybee yosano, just maybe.

・this man treats you like absolute royalty, anything, and everything about you is his favorite, most of the time is willing to try out whatever you find interest in, doesn't really like pda btw, much prefers to keep most things romantic in private, just between both of you. would probably adopt a cat with you if you want, but if you don't, that's alright too, anything you're okay with, he is too, most of the time at least. likes to feed stray animals near your shared house honestly, love all of them and probably gives some names based off what breed they are.

・oh but if you do happen to also work at the agency, he won't show much affection, because pda is not really his thing, never has been, prefers those little moments between you and him only, to be only with you and him, why does he have to share lol. plus is scared if any enemies had realized you were his weakness, being his spouse and all, that wouldn't be good at all, so he prefers to keep your relationship on the low, for your sake.

・but he does give affectionate glances, every once in a while, after all you are still his, and he's yours. next question: does he mention anything about kids? no lmao, you probably have to ask about the topic if you want him to think about it, just think. but another reason he would bring it up, is if like some lost kid just happen to be there, right beside the overly crowded place, tear stained face, every now and then glancing to the left or right, and parents probably abandoned the poor child. and you both decide to take the kid in, for a bit, 'till she finds a home, or if he tries to ask at least once about kids, but don't depend on it, even if he's good with the kid, he doesn't really bring it up. but honestly, maybe you both could adopt the little girl instead of bringing her to the adoption center, honestly, it'd be months after taking her in, that was when you both thought when should we be putting her in for adoption, or will we? you've both grown fond of her, even so by giving her a name, that you both decided on, well might as well just become her parents, officially, right?

・overall topnotch cutie as a husband, #keepbeingbbg

𝐘𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀, what if he did want a kid tho haha thatd be crazy...... (yes he does)

・daddy kink, like his appearance and demeanor screams it. like he can be all vanilla and stuff, that's his usual stuff, but if you ask him to be rough, bro will go down on you. not into bdsm, he doesn't wanna hurt you at all, but if you want it.... okay....

・breeding kink, too i guess. he likes slow and sensual way more though, seeing you with his seed all up in there he just feels like ":D". that's it, but he just wants to kiss you gently, and praise your beautiful skin and everything, loves everything like that. only goes rough without your kind of request if he's been pretty stressed that though. that's where the breeding kink goes hard, like absolutey, call him sir or daddy and he'll give you as many kids as you want :)

・medium-ish sex drive though, becomes high if stressed, is what i'm thinking, probably pretty big too, girthy asf too probably. can go for ages, and ages, and ages, and ages. probably the time to lick all his cum out your hole, sometimes wants you to masturbate in front of him

・probably while he's fucking you, rough or vanilla he's gonna start asking about what the kid's name should be, also would whisper immaculate amount of praise, like almost too much, but it balances out with how good he treats your body, and the marks upon your neck and collarbone afterwards. honestly doesn't care that much for other stuff during sex, finds the moments between you both alone is more attractive than anything else. loves making you happy more than anything. praise galore btw did i mention that yet, also loves kissing you everywhere

・also likes it when you cockwarm him while he does work, and he whispers into your ear about how he's almost done, the pile of work says otherwise though. super affectionate while watching you lowkey squirm on his cock. probably caresses his hand over your belly bulge from time to time ・super vanilla, or absolute fucking rough, no in between, that's it have a good night

[sulumuns-dootah]

Hello again! I hope you are well! If you don’t mind I would like to request some headcanons please! Could I get the Gehenna and Avisos demons with an MC who laughs at the dumbest shit? (Basically they’re that one bitch who will laugh at a video of a bowl falling down the stairs— definitely not based on me at all) If Gehenna and Avisos are too much just Gehenna is fine. Thank you so much! ❤️

WHB demons s/ an MC who laughs at the dumbest stuff

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

A/N: Hi! Hope you're doing well too ^^ Also I literally do the same thing so this was really fun to write :D

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Satan

Depending on his moood he'll either laugh with you or kick you

You will most likely have to explain what exactly is funny about the thing you're laughing at

But still, if he doesn't get it, he'll laugh anyway

Sitri

Poor confused baby

Doesn't get it, but for him it's better to have you laugh than have you cry

Sitri's the type to just smile politely and and wait for you to stop so you two can get back to what you were doing before that

Amy

"Huh? Okay..?"

Amy's the type to get angry that he doesn't get it

And once you explain why it's funny, he'll just hate it cuz it's so dumb

Still, there could be worse things you could be laughing at like Sitri's jokes

Leraye

"Oh? Ahaha...!"

Leraye does this too

He'll probably be the one pointing the funny thing to you

A real mutually beneficial relationship

Paimon

Another confused baby

But, instead of a polite smile like Sitri, Paimon grins

If it's something happening irl, they'll record/take pictue of it so other demons online can have a good laugh too

Belial

Loves the sound of your voice

Also, Jiyu's gonna laugh too and it's a compeltely different laugh from Belial

Belial will even bring up the thing you laughed at when he wants to hear your laugh again

Astaroth

"I'm afraid you'll have to provide me with an explanation, Y/N."

Won't get it even if you spend too long to explain it

But at least now he knows what type of humor you like

Too bad since he doesn't get it, there's no way for him to use it to his advantage

Zagan

Just as always, his expression is hard to read

But there is an underlying smirk

Zagan is kinda hard to come up with something for him

I geniunely don't think he'd even acknowledge the situation

Beelzebub

If you thought you're easy to make laugh, I present you the king of Abyssos

This man chuckles to himself for no reason

So if you actually have a reason to laugh, he's laughing along with you

Bael

Another demon, who doesn't really get it

But hey, at least you're a nice ray of sunshine to breakup all that paperwork

You light up the room, y'know?

Stolas

Just like Amy will get angry he doesn't get it

Might even escalate to threatening you with his gun

Protip: "You're too young to understand" is the worst thing to say in this situation and will definitelly result in death

Naberius

Yeah, Nabe is another one who just politely smiles

His type of humor are elaborate anecdotes from books

To be fair, Naberius doesn't really even get memes so good luck joking with him in general

Amon

He's most likely asleep, but if you wake him up with your laugh, he'll laugh along too

This simple humor is right up his alley

It doesn't require much brainwork which is kinda cool too

[chasing-posts]

People who deserve redemption, according to Thomas Astruc, written from least to worst of a bad character.

Kim Lê Chiến

Dumbass teenage boy who could have killed Marinette with a dumb prank he was completely concious of, and willing to commit. The boy was also a brat/ bully throughout season 1, but after Dark Cupid had apparently decided to be nicer off screen. Became friends with Max and got a girlfriend... BUT still refers to Chloe as the funniest and prettiest girl, IN FRONT of said girlfriend. Sees nothing wtong with what he did to the point of getting upset enough to become akumatized over the issue. He was allowed to be a super hero without even apologizing to Marinette dor over a year, and did a lot of dumb stuff tht was also forgiven just because. Is also one of the most inconsistently written characters in tbe story.

Jagged Stone

Possibly the most likable man on the list. However this man abandoned his twins and didn't contact them for 14 years. He kept his identity a secret and it's not even known if he paid child support before coming back into their lives, and constantly having fights with their mother.

That said he's put low on the list because we don't know if he did or did not pay child support. He's not mean to his children or kids in general, he is legit trying to make up for his absence and he originally left because his life was too chaotic to have custody. There's a lot of ambiguity and behind the scenes drama that is not explored (*cough thought out cough cough*) in this family, and it's even possible the mom fought for full custody to keep him away after a big break up. The situation is too ambiguous to judge.

Sabrina Raincomprix

Sabrina has been Chloe's number 1 supporter and follower for almost a decade. They were childhood friends and wherever Chloe went, she went. She has been supporting Chloe bad deeds and even happily participating throughout most of them. There were two incidents in season 1 where they almost stopped being friends and Marinette made an attempt to leave the friendship once, but for the most part has stuck throigh and done everything Chloe has wanted her to do and loved doing it. This includes stealing, faking notes, doing her homework, coming up with schemes to bully, laughing at all the chaos, making grown women and other teens cry and so much more. She was even given the dog Miraculous in season 4, by Marinette, despite doing nothing to earn it and only being good at soccer and wanting to SAVE Chloe, so they could bully another day.

In the end she's given a redemption arc because she feels bad for stealing (all of a sudden), and because Chloe was becoming friends with Lilah. The fact she's an active participant in bullying who gets off on the power trip of putting others drown, is not brought up again

Alec Cataldi

Alec's career is based on putting other people down, and is responsible for the first akumatized victim in the show back in episode 1. For four seasons, his entire personality was finding people, mocking them, on television or in person, and getting views off it. He's a spiteful man who makes his living off the suffering of others.

However in season 4 we find out that his biggest dream was to become a drag queen when he was little, and he was mocked for it. After that happened he shaved his hair off and started putting down other people's passions, in the same way his had dreams had been squashed. After his first and only akumatization, he has a break down and epithany, decides to live his true self and raise people up instead instead. On paper, he has the best redemption arc so far.

Félix Fathom

Fèlix was introduced in season 3, and his first on-screen acts include destroying Adrien's things, trying to ruin his cousin's reputation and leave him friendless, sexually assaulting Ladybug, and stealing from the Agreste family. He continues his bad deeds in season four with identity theft, and stealing all the Miraculous' from Ladybug and giving them to Gabriel/ AKA Hawkmoth, in return for the Peacock Miraculous.

We learn in season 5 he's a sentimonster who's been acting out due to an abusive father and his fragile existence in the world. He uses his power to remove everyone in the world in a misplaced effort to make him and his cousin happy, before eventually being talked down by Kagami and Adrian.

He eventually starts stalking Kagami and after revealing himself, they start a relationship together. He seems socially inept and yet despite all his knowledge on his, Adrien's and Kagami's situation, he decides to never tell Adrian aboht what's happening and only Marinette in the most awkward dance number ever.

All in all Fèlix had every opportunity and all the power to reveal Hawkmoth's true identy from the start, but never took the steps to reveal his identity and work towards true redemption. And if he decided to tell Chat Noir/ Ladybug the whole story, the three of them could have defeated monarch. And Adrien and Kagami would nit have been forced to goto London.

André Bourgeois

Andrè is a corrupt mayor, who uses his elected title and money to regularly take advantage of the people of Paris. He has fired people without just cause (even his own "friends"), tried to steal things he was denied, abused funds, and enable his daughters worst decisions. He raised Chloe alone since she was 4-6, and has both neglected her emotional needs, refused to parent his child, rewarded her bad behavior with material possessions, and allowed her to idolize her mother, and even encouraged her to model her behavior after her mother she abandoned them, and then abandons her and hands her over to her abusive mother at the end of the series, while taking in her half sibling, who he has not raised and has no legal claim over.

Andrè blames the women in his life for how he's turned out. Claiming he only wanted to be a film director, and only left to be a successful business tirant and corrupt political figure, for his wife Audrey. Who he still stays married to after she cheats on him, and moves away for half a decade, abandoning hik and their own daughter. He chooses to stay married. Chose to stay in that career and chose to constantly rip off and screw over the people of paris. Often being the cause of akumatization, and ruinging big events for his daughter's whims. Keep in mind, the only reason Chloe is like this now, is because of Aundrè's parenting, yet he never takes responsibility for that, and instead decides to abdocate his position, illigally allow his daughter to take control of the city, let her take all the fall for HIS crimes, and then abandon her to live with his step daughter instead.

All this to say that Andrè may be the second worst on the list, but I hate him the most.

Gabriel Agreste

What can't you say about this man. This man loves being evil. He dances through the halls when a scheme looks like it's about to work. His entire power is taking advantage of people at thier worst, enslaving them and then making them do his bidding. His list of victims includes literal babies, children of all ages, the mentally ill, the elderly, and even his own son. The son which he claims to love but whom he actively manipulates, abuses and mistreats throughout the ENTIRE series. He literally controls him to make him do whatever he wants, and when he acts out or says something he does not like, he belittles him and will actively punish him if he gets less than perfect.

Gabriel also disrespects and will backstab all his allies. Has enslaved 2 kwami's and claims everything he does is for his dead wife, whose corpse he keeps locked away in his basement. He is actively going against her wishes to stay dead and manipulates the love of the women around him, like Natalie, to move forward with his evil plans.

Lastly when he says he does it all for his wife, he's lying. Because the when he has the opportunity to go back in time and save his wife, or fight Ladybug, he actively chooses the latter.

He constantly terrorizes Paris, actively makes situations worst for people to make more akumatized victims, destroys property, all while he hides away in the shadows. Then finally in season 5, when he is confronted by Ladybug, he is given the opportunity to reform and really think about what he did. To reflect on all he's done. He uses a moment of vulnerability and weakness to manipulate Marinette and treats her like the puppet she's named after. His last act of the show is stealing the Miraculous, using the cat and Ladybug to destroy and recreate the world how he wills, where he's the hero and no one knows he's the villain, and his son who he abused for 5 seasons and now has left parentless, now sees him as a hero.

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

Happy birthday, Tails!

"Fevers Can't Ruin Birthdays"

based on this post by @niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian :)

AO3 version

Sonic didn’t have to be a genius to know that Tails had never had someone celebrate his birthday before they’d met. The kid had been the littlest outcast there ever was, for the dumbest of reasons. He’d been shunned and abused for what Sonic in all seriousness considered to be one of the coolest things about him— his extra tail that let him fly. On top of that, Tails was an absolute genius.

Too bad Sonic had to be the first one in the entire world to notice all this. Or maybe not so bad, because that meant he got to keep him. Which was quite possibly the best thing that had ever happened to him.

They’d been with each other for years now. Things were familiar between them. Familial terms flew from both their mouths in reference to each other all the time without hesitation. Tails had grown so much and now had a level of sass that rivaled Sonic’s. And now the kit was approaching his tenth birthday.

Sure, Sonic had made plenty of efforts in past years to celebrate his little brother. He’d thrown parties, bought out hardware shops in the hopes that whatever he brought would be useful to Tails, and even once made a horrendous attempt at making a birthday cake. (He hadn’t tried again since that first time, although Tails had at least appreciated the thought.)

But this year? This year was extra special somehow. Not only was Tails finally entering double-digits, it was going to be his first birthday after coming back from his extended time of solo adventuring. His “going it alone,” as he’d told Sonic he’d wanted to do back on Starfall Islands.

Sonic had missed him to no end during that time, although they’d still texted most days. Now, Tails had been back for a few weeks. He hadn’t said a word about his upcoming day, but there was no way Sonic would ever forget it.

He’d made plans, alright. Conspired with Knuckles and Amy, Vanilla and Cream, the Chaotix, even Silver and Blaze (though that had been a bit of a challenge). He’d convinced Tails to head out to one of his live-in labs that was closest to all of their friends, to make it easier for them all to come together. He’d spent an entire week shopping (with help from Amy), looking for anything that Tails would even potentially like. Mechanical stuff, computer stuff, bags of mints, lego sets the size of a dining table, video games, a collection of tiny metal airplanes he found at a thrift store, etc.

He had the entire day planned out (which was something that he usually never did). He’d hidden the giant assortment of gifts in a bunch of random secret places and connected them all with strings (although the arts and crafts store had been pretty ticked that he’d bought out their entire supply of yarn). Amy was going to make a giant, absolutely gorgeous cake. Knuckles was helping Cream decorate banners and blow up balloons. Vanilla and Vector were helping him organize everything. Sonic was going to take him to all their favorite places and they’d have races and go sightseeing and maybe dive off a cliff or two. It was going to be perfect. Sonic was absolutely determined to make sure that fox knew exactly how much he was loved.

… So if he woke up on the morning of the long-awaited day feeling a little more lethargic than usual, if he had some kind of tension in his head and felt a little congested and a little rough in the throat, well, he would keep that to himself.

Correction: he would try.

—

“Hey, Taaaaiiilllsss.” The voice was teasing and familiar, but surprisingly gentle for being an apparent wake-up call. Tails barely stirred from his dream, making the slightest of humming noises in acknowledgement.

A hand gently shook his shoulder. “Happy birthday…” the voice went on to sing, albeit quietly.

Still mostly asleep, Tails barely rolled over and automatically finished with a sleepy, “To yoouuu.”

The voice— Sonic, no doubt— snickered. “Nuh uh, lil dude. It’s your birthday!”

Tails smiled as he finally started waking up for real. “To meee,” he corrected, opening his eyes halfway as he began pushing himself to sit up.

“There ya go!” Sonic laughed, reaching out to ruffle Tails’s already-messy bangs. “Welcome to double digits! Just wait till you…”

Tails paused in his climbing down from bed as his brother trailed off in his sentence, instead ending with a sneeze.

“Bless you.” Tails hopped off the bed and grinned.

“Eh. Thanks.” Sonic shook his head and smiled back. “Sorry. What was I saying?”

“Just wait till…” Tails prompted.

“Aw, yeah— just wait till ya see everything I’ve got planned!” Sonic dragged him in for a tight hug, then a noogie, and Tails squealed with fake protest.

Sonic let him go, grabbed the end of the yarn lying on the floor near the bed, and shoved it in Tails’s hand. “Just follow the string!”

Tails laughed, but obliged. “Wait, what? What is this, birthday edition of the Wizard of Oz?”

Sonic shrugged. “I woulda built a yellow brick road, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate me messing up your floors like that. Didn’t think the public would be much of a fan, either.” He turned his face away and sneezed again.

“Whaddaya mean the public? Bless you.” Tails frowned a little when Sonic didn’t immediately turn back towards him, instead reaching up to rub his nose, then his eyes. “You good?”

At the concerned inquiry, Sonic quickly snapped back towards him. “Yeah, I’m good! Now come on, your day awaits!”

Tails kept an eye on him even as he smiled and started walking alongside the string, which he now noticed was stretched out across the floor and tucked in random places out of sight. “Are you getting sick?” he asked Sonic, who scoffed.

“‘Course not. You know colds are too slow to catch up with me.” Sonic gave him an exaggerated wink. Tails rolled his eyes.

“Lame joke, but you sound all stuffy.”

Sonic rolled his eyes right back and put his hands on his hips. “Maybe your ears need cleaning out again.”

“Just like your immune system needs cleaning out?”

“Stop sassing me, or there won’t be any cake.”

“Fine.”

Tails knew Sonic was joking about the cake bit. He still wasn’t sure if Sonic was actually sick or not, but if he was, there was no way he was going to just admit it and go to bed. He was one of the most stubborn people Tails knew, and he hated to be vulnerable in front of other people.

So, deciding to hope that Sonic wasn’t lying and maybe was just sneezing excessively for no reason that morning, he went along with the plans Sonic had created, which admittedly were all pretty fantastic.

“Yooo, is this the newest game from AGES?” he squeaked as he flew up into a tree after the string and found the tenth gift tucked in the branches.

“You bet!” Sonic called from the ground, although his voice sounded extra raspy when he raised it. “Pre-ordered it ‘n everything! I dunno if you watched the trailers for it, but it looks sick. Hoped you’d like it!”

Tails hovered back to the ground, picking up the previous gifts alongside the video game case that he’d left at the base of the tree. Sonic turned his head and coughed a couple times.

“Speaking of ‘sick,’” Tails mumbled, eyeing his brother worriedly.

Sonic waved him off. “I’m fine, I said. Besides, there’s still so much left to do!”

Tails sighed. He was beginning to think that his initial intuition was right, but was Sonic going to care? Nope.

They headed into town next, and Tails finally understood what Sonic had meant earlier about the public. If they hadn’t been world-renowned, Sonic probably would’ve gotten in trouble with the local government for leaving string and random computer parts in cardboard boxes all over the parks and roofs.

The sun was high in the sky at this point. They met with a few of their friends in the streets, too many to be a coincidence, but Tails didn’t mind one bit. While all the effort was definitely heartwarming, it would’ve been easier to enjoy it all if he weren’t so worried about Sonic, who was looking more tired by the hour. Every now and then he’d catch him rubbing his head when he thought no one was looking, as if trying to ward off a headache, and every couple minutes Tails heard him sniffling.

They had lunch with the Chaotix, and Tails of course chose chilidogs. It may have initially been Sonic’s favorite, but his love for them had rubbed off on Tails over the years. The taste of them always brought warm, pleasant memories, and almost for the sake of those memories alone, they were one of his favorite meals.

And he would’ve had an easy time enjoying them now, but it was hard when Sonic was barely picking at his, in the seat next to him. He’d taken a small bite or two, but was now doing nothing more than staring at them with slightly glazed eyes.

Trying not to make a scene, Tails nudged him a little. “Not hungry?”

Sonic blinked and looked back at him, his eyes clearing. “Um. I dunno.” He picked up his chilidog, immediately set it down again, then twisted aside to cough again, as quietly as he could.

Tails caught Vector eyeing the hedgehog from across the table and winced. “You good there, Sonic?” their older friend questioned.

Sonic looked back at the crocodile, almost uncomprehending for a moment. Tails looked between them. Sonic waved a hand. “Not you, too. I’m fine,” he sighed, even though his voice cracked when he spoke.

Espio looked towards them, away from his whispered argument with Charmy that no, Tails was not obligated to share his three new lego sets with him. “You don’t sound well,” he pointed out.

Sonic glanced back at him, squirming under the sudden scrutiny of everyone else at the table. “Hey, quit staring,” he complained, then smiled way too big and nudged Tails. “This is Tails’s day. Give him all the attention!”

Tails gave him a look, deciding that it might be better to be upfront about this than to spare Sonic’s dignity. “I’m not the one who needs medical attention,” he said with a tiny shrug, smiling apologetically when his brother shot him a pleading look.

Vector sat up straight. “Wait, are you sick?”

“No,” Sonic protested, his ears flattening slightly.

Espio leaned down and started fumbling through one of their bags under the table. “I think we still have flu medicine leftover from when three of us had it a few weeks ago. You can take it if you need it.”

“Noooo, thanks.” His big brother looked like he wanted to disappear, although at this point Tails couldn’t tell if the redness on his face was from embarrassment or an oncoming fever. He looked meaningfully back at Espio and nodded, and the chameleon quietly slipped him the bottle under the table.

They managed to go the rest of the meal without bringing up the sickly elephant in the room, but Tails couldn’t brush off his worry. More and more he wanted so badly to just take his brother home, tuck him into bed, and take care of him until he was healthy again, but with the way Sonic was, such a thing would be immensely difficult.

“Ready for a hike with the gang?” Sonic asked him, with about as much energy as he could summon at the moment.

“A hike?” Tails echoed, brows rising. “Why don’t we just fly in the Tornado? Where are we hiking?”

Sonic laughed, then immediately started coughing again. It was sounding rougher every time it happened, and Tails automatically reached to put a hand on his brother’s back. “M’fine,” Sonic reassured him, trying and failing to clear his throat. “There’s this one spot out in the mountains nearby with an awesome view at the top. The hike is an hour or so, and yeah I know we could just fly, but I thought it would be nice to catch some scenery in the woods along the way. Knux and Amy are coming along, is that okay?”

“That’s— it’s fine that they’re coming.” Tails paused, trying to sort through his immediate concerns. “Um… I just think…” With a quick breath, he went on, “Sonic, this has all been awesome and the hike does sound exciting, but… I really think you need to go home and rest.”

Sonic sighed, glaring at the ground for a moment, before dragging his gaze up to meet Tails’s with a frustratingly relaxed gleam. “How many times do I gotta say it today, I’m fine! Nothing can keep me down for long. I’ve been waiting to do all this with you for months; please just let me have this?”

His brother wasn’t as good with the puppy dog eyes as Tails was himself, but it somehow worked— for now. Tails groaned, conflicted still but not knowing how to convince the stubborn hedgehog that walking around all day and hiking entire mountains and spending all energy for the sake of birthday fun was not going to let him feel better. Especially if he refused to take any medicine.

“Okay, but—”

“Awesome!” Sonic didn’t let him finish. “I told the others to meet us at the parking lot in twenty minutes or so— whaddaya say we beat them to it?” He swallowed with a grimace as he finished speaking, then sniffled.

Tails stared at him regretfully. “Okay.”

They made it to the parking lot in under five minutes. Tails decided not to say anything about how much easier than usual it was to keep up with the speedy hedgehog, who didn’t seem to be purposefully moving as slowly as he was. As they reached the sparsely populated lot, Sonic stumbled over his feet and all but fell against someone’s car, struggling to catch his breath as he started coughing again, even harder than before.

“Sonic?” His worry ramping up a decent amount, Tails hurriedly dropped down beside him. “You alright?”

Sonic gave him a tired grin, even as his chest heaved for air. “Just catching my breath,” he wheezed.

Tails stiffened, looking at his brother with blank eyes as a haunting memory surfaced in his mind.

“Just catching my breath,” Sonic tried to assure him, even though he was near entirely covered in flickering, red and black cyber energy, had just been coughing, was clearly in pain. Tails stared at his own transparent, glitching hands, realizing he had no corporeal form and could do nothing to help his brother feel better.

And then he’d spent the next few days watching Sonic get sicker and sicker, watching him limp tiredly around instead of run with his trademark smile, watching him hold his arm and his hip and his head until he could barely walk. Tails had come back to his real, solid form, only to find Sonic paralyzed, unresponsive, all but dead, because he’d cared more for their lives and their comfort than for his own health.

This wasn’t the same, he reminded himself in the present; at least, it wasn’t as dire. This was just a bug. Just the flu. And it was just a birthday.

But Sonic was still rejecting his health in favor of making sure that someone he loved was having a good time.

Tails wasn’t sure how to articulate his feelings on that to him right now. So he chose to step closer and throw his arms around Sonic instead, holding him tightly.

Sonic paused for a moment, evidently taken aback, then silently hugged him back. Pressed up against him, Tails could hear and feel the raggedness in the hedgehog’s breathing, and feel the unnatural heat radiating off of him.

“Whoa, are we interrupting something?” a deeper voice called, and immediately Sonic pulled back as if nothing had happened.

“Brother stuff, Knux,” he told the echidna, as Tails fought his internal annoyance at missing his chance of actually convincing Sonic to go home and go to bed. “You wouldn’t get it.”

Knuckles eyed the hedgehog ruefully. “I think I would, somehow.”

Beside him, Amy laughed. “You guys ready for this?”

“The view won’t compare to Angel Island. But I suppose it’ll be nice in its own way.”

“The scenery on the way is supposed to be really cool, too,” Tails put in, remembering what Sonic had said earlier.

“It is!” Sonic agreed, then pointed to a sign by the woods nearby. “That’s the start of the trail. Let’s do this thing!” Without waiting for a response, he half-ran, half-stumbled off towards the aforementioned sign.

Tails just sighed, shook his head, and ambled after him. As he did, Amy headed closer to walk beside him.

“Is Sonic… sick? Or something?” she whispered, looking concerned after their friend ahead of them. “He seems off, somehow. And he sounds all raspy.”

“…Yeah,” Tails mumbled guiltily. “He’s been coming down with something all day. I’ve tried to talk him into going home and resting, but he won’t listen.”

“Sounds about right.” Amy groaned. “I’ll help you keep an eye on him while we walk. If he still won’t go home to sleep by the time we’re done the hike, I’ll just drag him there myself.”

Tails couldn’t help a laugh at the mental image. “Thanks, Amy.”

“Of course!” The pink hedgehog beamed at him. “Now then— how’s your birthday been going, mister ten-years-old already?”

“It’s been good otherwise!” He grinned. “For the first half of the day he just dragged me around town following a string to all sorts of gifts. I had to drop them all off at the lab, or else we wouldn’t have been able to do the hike.”

“Ooh! What’d you get so far?”

“Mm, a lot of computer parts, three new lego sets, a couple new video games, a skateboard, a weighted blanket, a box of mint tea—”

“Wow,” Amy cut in with a giggle. “I helped him do some of the shopping, but he really went all out, it sounds like.” Tails nodded with a soft smile. “I’ll never get over how much he just adores you. How much you both love each other,” she added, watching the fox kit’s eyes shift to check on the hedgehog ahead of them.

Sonic had paused beside a tree, leaning heavily against it, panting with eyes glazed over again. “Sonic?” Tails called, hurrying ahead to catch up with him.

“What?” Sonic jolted upright again, eyes brightening but not clearing as they passed over Tails. “I’m fiiine,” he drawled, and staggered back onto the trail. Knuckles grabbed him by the arm to keep him from tripping down the hill on the other side of the path.

Tails glanced back to exchange a look with Amy, then sighed and tried to stick closer to his brother. Knuckles glanced back and gestured questioningly at Sonic behind the hedgehog’s back at Tails, who mimed coughing into his fist in response. Knuckles rolled his eyes, then silently exhaled and nodded.

All of them were unfortunately familiar with the way their friend would put up a front for them. As Tails had earlier recalled, it hadn’t been too long since they’d seen this kind of thing with him.

It fooled none of them.

The farther they hiked, the more it became abundantly clear that Sonic was getting worse, and the more Tails and the others worried. The hedgehog couldn’t walk in a straight line to save his life, instead stumbling in a sort of zig zag pattern back and forth across the trail, giggling here and there. He’d gone from being pretty quiet and tired out in the first half to jabbering nonstop in the second half, except it was almost pure nonsense coming out of his mouth.

“Looook, Tails,” he snickered, pointing shakily at a flicky in a tree nearby. “Toldja dragons’r real.”

“Sonic, that’s a flicky. And we’re literally friends with dragons. Remember Trip?”

“Ah, yyyyeahh!” Sonic laughed way harder than he should’ve, breaking into yet another coughing fit. “Y’know, I could probably breathe fire too, with how on fire my lungs feel right now.”

He staggered on ahead and proceeded to trip over a tree root.

Tails shot an anxious glance at Amy, then leaned closer and whispered to her, “Would you mind heading back and bringing the Tornado out here? I’d do it myself but I don’t want to leave him. Once you get it here, I’ll bring him home.” He bit his lip. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay!” Amy whispered back. “You got it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Amy wasn’t quite as skilled as he was with flying the Tornado, but he’d given her enough lessons that he felt confident at least trusting her to fly it out a short distance. It would be worth it, to be able to take Sonic back home with ease and make him get the care he so desperately needed, whether he wanted it or not.

“Where’d Amy gooo?” Sonic whined a few minutes after she’d hurried off.

“She’s just getting something for me,” Tails told him, patting his shoulder reassuringly, although he jumped at how hot to the touch his brother was.

“Izzit a surprise for youuu?” The hedgehog smiled deliriously. “Tha’s cool. Happy birthdaaayy!”

“Thank you, Sonic.”

“Yerrr welcome! Hey… did you dye your fur or somethin’? Ya look way more orange than usual.” He peered at Knuckles and his eyes blew open wide. “Whoaaa, you too!”

Tails facepalmed. “Dear Chaos, he’s even worse than I thought…”

Knuckles looked back and forth between them, having clearly never dealt with a person as sick as Sonic currently was. For Tails, it had been a while, but he’d definitely experienced things like this before. He’d known Sonic for most of his life, had seen him at his highs and his lows. He picked up his pace to match Sonic’s, and Knuckles dropped behind slightly.

“Sonic, you really need to rest,” he told him firmly.

Sonic giggled. “Yes, I’m a pest! Egghead agrees with that!”

Tails facepalmed. “That’s not even close to what I said.”

Abruptly, Sonic jumped and pointed excitedly at a patch of sunlight ahead in their path. Probably the end of the path, Tails figured, but instead of saying that, his brother exclaimed, “Look! A giant duckling!”

“…What?”

“Izzo cute.” Sonic all but dragged himself up to the patch of sunshine and fell over into the grass. “Can I keep ittt?”

“Uh.”

“Please? Hey Knucklehead, can I keep th’duckling?”

“There’s no duckling,” Knuckles said bluntly.

Looking genuinely disappointed, Sonic shoved himself back to his feet and staggered up to the boulder with the view, the end of the trail indeed. “Taaaiiilllss, canna buy a duckling?”

“Sonic—”

“Whoaaaa, lookit th’vieeww!”

He’d been right, the view here was spectacular. There was no shield from the wind up here; they’d passed above all the trees. They could see hawks soaring below them, and in the distance, they could see the town they’d been in earlier as nothing more than a silent, tiny setup of buildings with microscopic moving specks that they knew were people and cars. For a moment, Tails paused as he surveyed the view. It was fascinating to see something like this and not be flying somehow.

Sonic was grinning in absolute delirium as he whirled sideways to see them, eyes half-closed. “See, wasn’t it worth it…” He frowned suddenly, stumbled, then started swaying. “Whoa.”

“Sonic?!” Fueled by panic and adrenaline, Tails realized what was happening, and lunged to grab the hedgehog by the wrist right before he keeled over— nearly off the edge of the cliff. Panting in suppressed fear, he pulled Sonic back up onto the boulder and sank to his knees, all but cradling his brother as he lay there, barely conscious.

“No more excuses. You’re burning up,” he said, hugging him close to calm his racing heart. “I sent Amy to bring the Tornado. I’m taking you home as soon as she gets here.”

Sonic blinked blearily up at him, then groaned and mumbled, “…Okay.”

Tails blew out a breath. “Good.”

“Jus’ one thing…”

“What’s that?”

“Can I still get a duckling.”

“…I’ll buy you one when it’s your birthday. Now stop talking and rest.”

Sonic grinned wearily, closing his eyes and resting his head down against Tails’s chest fluff. “Okay.”

—

Amy arrived shortly afterwards, and Tails carried his feverish brother up to the Tornado as it circled around them. He set him down in the seat behind the cockpit, then he and Amy switched out as Amy leapt back down to the boulder.

“We’ll head back on our own,” Knuckles called, waving to them. “Go on ahead.”

Tails waved back in acknowledgment, then set the course for the quick flight back to the workshop, barely a minute’s trip.

He thought he heard Sonic mumbling something behind him, but it was difficult to hear him over the wind. He hit a button to bring the overhead windshield over the seats (a feature he usually reserved for rainy days), and said, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry.” Sonic was slumped sideways in his seat, staring sullenly out the window.

Tails frowned as he returned his gaze to the path ahead. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t—”

“I wanted to give you a perfect birthday. After everything.” It was probably due to the sickness, but Sonic sounded downright miserable. “And I ruined it.”

Tails sighed. “You didn’t ruin anything. No one can control when they get sick. It was still a great birthday, Sonic.” He twisted around again and smiled, making sure Sonic saw him before he turned back towards the front. “Thank you.”

Sonic hummed a little in response, but said nothing.

—

They set down at the workshop, and Tails opted to leave the Tornado in the runway for a while so he could take Sonic straight inside and set to doing what he’d wanted to do all day: just taking care of him.

He settled him comfortably on the couch, brought him a couple blankets, made some soup, and brought him some orange juice and a couple slices of bread. After he’d eaten, Tails gave him some of the medicine he’d gotten from Espio earlier. Sonic still seemed kind of depressed, but he was looking a little better, at least, now that he was finally getting to rest.

As he nibbled on the bread, Tails sat down with him and handed him the orange juice glass. “You know,” he said slowly, beginning to smile, “I think I prefer this gift over the others.”

Sonic blinked at him as he accepted the glass carefully and took a tentative sip. “What… which… I haven’t gotten you anything since we got back.”

“Just…” Tails shook his head and smiled, then reached out and rubbed his head between his ears, like Sonic always did to him. “Just this. Being together. You letting me take care of you. I always like that.” Sonic stared back at him in surprise as he spoke. “You have no clue how much this means to me. How much I’ve wanted to do this, basically all day.”

The hedgehog sighed, but smiled back. “Sorry it took all this for us to properly hang out.” He shifted. “Although, as nice as this is… I’m not sure if you really wanna be this close. I might get you sick.”

In response, Tails scooted closer and hugged him tight. “I’ll take my chances.”

Sonic was still tense. “It’s on you if you do get sick,” he warned, although his tone was hardly serious and didn’t match with his affectionate grin.

“I know. Just shush it and let me hug you.”

“…Alright. You win this round, bud.”

💛-----------------the end-----------------💙

tagging, as requested, @star-stages and @yogacatdeskknit