#also no I have not read the glass scientists but I really want to now so dont be surprised if I come on here to yap about that as well lmao

[southparkthetwosidesofacard]

guys I have an au idea, hear me out on this

a gravity falls au thats a jekyll and hyde type deal, with ford being jekyll and bill being hyde

(I know something similar has probably already been done before and that so many animatics have been made with them and confrontation but LET ME COOK CHAT)

also I may or may not have accidentally developed a little bit of an obsession with the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde so if anyone wants to yap about it with me PLEASE LET ME KNOW I NEED TO YAP ABOUT THIS TO SOMEONE

[mistakes-have-been-made]

THE GLASS SCIENTISTS HADESTOWN AU!! 🌹🧪

Okay uhhh here's a little more info on my ideas for my Tgs Hadestown au!!

Obviously let's start with Jasper and Rachel as Orpheus and Eurydice!

This was a very obvious choice because I mean- come on that explains itself so I really don't have to say much here

Now this is where my choices start getting a little bit finicky, I wanted Lanyon and Jekyll as Hades and Persephone but I was unsure as to who is who but here we are with Jekyll as Hades and Lanyon as Persephone!

When first thinking of this I played with the idea of both him (Jekyll) and Hyde sharing the role of Persephone (one would be during spring and other winter)

Speaking of Hyde, EVERYONE MEET THE FATES!/ref

Respectively we have Hyde as fate 1/Clotho, Lucy as fate 2/Lachesis, and Frankenstein as fate 3/Atropos (btw if you didn't know the fates are numbered from highest note to lowest, this is also bc in the actual mythos they're youngest to oldest, representing the main stages of life)

Continuing on here's where I am sure on who I want but also this part could literally be anyone (well any lodger) because it's Hermes-

Anyways I chose Ito!! It was between her or maijabi but for the way I think of Hermes and considering the lodger closest to Jasper & Rachel (not to mention Jekyll) is her I figured she was the best fit!

I would love rant a little more but this post is long as it is so I'll probably reblog, or make another post in the future

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!

[monstersholygrail]

Do Hybrid!Readers count?

I’m thinking of a monster Reader being kept for research purposes and catching the attention of the newest hire. Cheeky, beastly Reader with an awkward, nerdy scientist who unsuccessfully tries to hide his infatuation. He stares for too long, finds pathetic excuses to work overtime, and pretends to be deeply interested in whatever topic involves Reader. Lately, he’s been spotted reading a book about Reader’s kind, particularly mating habits. For, uh, science, mind you.

Alternatively, it can be a human Reader in a monster lab. I just found the dynamic funny. :)

Aaaah, yes yes! It definitely counts, I love this sorta dynamic. It can be really hilarious and a ton of fun ^_^

None of the Scientists in the lab could really figure you out. You were a giant beast who appeared naturally incredibly threatening. So all the scientists had been a bit hesitant to get in close and really figure out what kind of Hybrid you were exactly.

But they just had to. Because for some reason, some idiot had accidently leaked to the press that they had you in custody. Before they knew it there were countless pictures and articles plastered all over the internet about you. People wanted answers and they sadly had to be the ones to get them. So they brought in a specialist.

The young Scientist stared up at you in awe the first time he met you. He couldn’t actually believe he was meeting you up close. He didn’t know how to react. In fact, he didn’t know anything at all when it came to you. You see, he wasn’t actually a hybrid specialist. He was a scientist, that part was true! Everything else may have been a slight exaggeration on his application.

He just wanted to see you so so bad. He had to. The moment he saw those pictures of you he knew the two of you were meant to be. You were the reason he had never totally clicked with humans, couldn’t keep a partner, and had never fallen in love. His heart was waiting for you.

And now that he was with you, he needed to know everything about you. Not only to sate his own desire but also, ya know, to keep his job. Or else some foolish human might try and separate him from you again. It left him fawning over you constantly, watching you all day everyday, always staying late just so he could be alone with you for a couple hours, and butting in whenever someone tried to talk about you. Because of course he knew you best.

His growing knowledge of you left him convinced you were nearing your heat. Your restless behavior. The way you kept banging against the glass trying to get to him. Over the weeks you had noticed his interest and his care and yours had grown just as much. You had chosen him as your mate and he wanted to be there for you.

The only thing he could think to do was read books on mating behaviors. Of just about every single Hybrid species you could possible be.

Stacks of books surround him in the lab. His interest of you hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others. Not by a long shot. But they brushed off his strange behavior if jt kept him closer to you and them farther away. They avoid him now too, looking at him like the absolute freak he is as they realize what he’s reading.

Their worry doesn’t decrease when he later explains how you need to mate soon in order to keep you in check. They look at him like he’s truly gone insane and maybe he has. The wild look in his eye has only grown more intense the more he’s been around you without truly being with you.

He convinces them with the idea that you’ll be better after you’ve mated. Easier to handle. More open to having experiments done on you while your body is sated and exhausted after being fucked for hours on end. While in reality, from what he’s studied, the opposite is true.

He doesn’t plan on letting them go anywhere within a mile of you. Not with injections, chemicals, and especially not with their grubby little hands. No, only he can touch you. Only he deserves to be near your beauty and grace.

After you mate with him you’re going to be even more wild and destructive, your instincts inflamed and ready to fight. He’s gonna use that to get you two out of that lab if it’s the last thing he does.

Meanwhile the other scientists don’t suspect a thing as they stand a safe distance away from the cage as it opens to let the young scientist inside. The metal door snaps shut once he’s inside and he feels like he can finally breathe now that there’s nothing keeping you two a part.

Mirroring smirks grow on your faces, your expressions speaking of a secret just between the two of you. And as you both finally meet each other in a passionate embrace, you know this will be a wild night that will end with your freedom and a mate by your side.

[dietpitt]

💚🎃Green Is Definitely Your Color🎃💚

Stan Pines x AFAB!Reader Explicit | 2.8k words Tags: Gender-Neutral Reader, Reader wears a dress, Halloween Costumes, Trick-or-Treating, Sexual Roleplay, Cunnilingus, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, Stan is a Leg Man, Body Worship, Marking Kink, Reader Plays Bride of Frankenstein

In which body paint and Stan's mouth save the day (but ruin a perfectly good costume).

{Read on AO3}

Author's Note: Originally posted 2020 on AO3, but I wanted to give it a proper tumblr post. I'm very proud of this one except I didn't know how to end it and it shows lol

Thankfully, there are only a few things you and your boyfriend don’t see eye-to-eye on. Stan takes his coffee black (old habit from the days of shoddy motels and a life on the run), while your own brew of choice is iced (lasts longer and doesn’t get cold since it already is). He thinks it’s perfectly reasonable to scare a baby every now and then, and proceed to laugh in their pudgy little tear-streaked face. You? You told him he’d be the one bawling if you ever caught him pulling that in your periphery again.

Tonight, though? Tonight is the perfect example of just how good you two are together. Because tonight, you weren’t scaring babies. Tonight, on Halloween, you were scaring kids. And that was worlds apart from wreaking havoc in the grocery store, which happened the majority of the remaining 363 days of the year.

Sure, Stan always goes all-out for his beloved Summerween, but October 31st is when his freak flag really flies. It makes sense--  Fall brings less tourists than usual, and shorter daylight hours means fewer parents letting their kids come out to the woods to trick or treat, making every opportunity for a scare count.

With the Mystery Shack trading its typical kitsch for spooky ephemera-- fully decked out in giant spiderwebs, ghoulish figures, and angry jack-o-lanterns-- it’ll truly be a dramatic sight to behold.

But, for all the elaborate planning, special effects to make the eyes pop out of his skull and the bolts on his neck to spark and smoke, Stan still manages to miss a few spots needing body paint. 

“Alright, alright, I think y’got it,” Franken-Stan fake-grumbles up at you from his seat in front of the full-length mirror.

“Will you relax? You’re gonna sweat, and I’ll have to do your makeup all over again,” you scold, though your painted lips curl into a fond grin despite yourself.

Though the kids will start coming any minute, you’re set on completing the finishing touches, if for no other reason than to keep Stan from further grumbling later.

… And most certainly not because you also love the opportunity to dote, holding him close in ways he’d otherwise be too shy about. Not at all.

“Are you going to wear your glasses?” You ask, getting his ears nice and green with the sponge brush.

He gives it some thought. “As much as it hurts the spook factor, I can’t really scare anybody if I fall on my face.”

Another, final once-over at your work and you’re satisfied, stepping back and raising your arms in the air triumphantly to steal yourself for your best mad-scientist cackle. “My creation! It’s aliiiive!” 

Stan laughs, quickly standing and caging you with his arms against the wall. “Damn right. Alive as ever.”

You shoo both him and the remark away, looking over your white “dress” (old sheet) to check for any green that may have made its way onto your costume. “I thought you were in a hurry, hmm? There’s no time for a touch-up. Now, be a good ‘husband’ and carry the train.”

Stan’s eyes roll as he lifts the gown, following your lead downstairs. “Yes, honey.”

Trying very carefully not to trip, Stan helps you down the stairs. “I still think it’s dumb that The Bride of Frankenstein doesn’t get a name, though. Sure, she’s in it for all of three minutes, but she gets the movie named after her and doesn’t even get a line?”

“Nah, she just screams,” Stan laughs, dropping your dress as you meet the front door. “Like it hurts to exist.” He swings the door open and the both of you speak in unison.

“She gets it.”

You share a small laughing fit at that, making your way outside into the crisp autumn air, giddy to begin the festivities. A few to last-minute adjustments and tech checks, and The Shack will be ready.

“Seriously though-- why can’t she be, like, Victoria or something?”

Over by the skeleton crawling out from under the porch, Stan snorts. “Victoria? Why?”

You shrug. “Why not?”

“Touche.”

It’s finally the tail-end of the second hour, and you’re in position behind the semi-trapdoor mechanism on the porch, hidden behind a dark and stormy castle standee. You’re high on the energy so far, after making some kids scream-squeal in delight. Although, you did manage to terrify a toddler on accident without even trying-- the poor thing burst into tears at the mere sight of you walking out normally from the porch.

Maybe it was the semi-realistic stitches on your flesh? Who knows. All that’s clear is you felt awful, but Stan was very clearly amused-- and jealous, you’d wager.

But now that it’s past bedtime for most little ones, it’s time to up the ante with some added special effects-- and the fast-approaching gaggle of baby teens seem to be the first that’ll enjoy them.

Always on top of it, Stan lets out a Frankenstein-like groan, marching further from the end of the porch, arms raised in cheesy classic style. The kids stop in their tracks as he clears his throat roughly to give the spiel he’s practiced all night, an extra ~spooky~ lilt to his otherwise mostly-normal voice:

“Foolish humans! You daaaare demand gifts, when your hubris created me from cursed flesh, and your hatred ensured my demise?!” He’s truly in his element as his neck bolts flicker for emphasis, making most of the middle schoolers jump and gasp.

The one at the front of the pack though, doesn’t budge, instead holding their pumpkin bucket out with an overall look of disinterest. “Yeah, duh. Trick-or-treat, old man. Hand over the candy.”

“Rude little shit,” you frown, not even needing to see Stan’s face to know he’s going to enjoy this particular scare very much.

“Hold it, kid, ” Stan sneers, continuing his introduction, “if you want anything good to eat, you’ll need to ask the most blood-curdling-- ”

You flip the switch for the fog machine, and bellows of grey creep in around the Shack--

“--The most SPINE-TINGLING, repulsive monster of us all--!”

You quickly step on the nearby button, and lightning flashes across the house as thunder sounds--

“ --MY WIFE! ”

At his signal, your spring forward, eyes crazed as a horrendous banshee screech leaves your throat and white tendrils wave in the wind.

The rude kid screams-- and while Stan bursts out laughing and you smile evilly, you miss them reflexively reach into their bucket, pull something out, and chuck it right at you before scampering away.

With a dull thud, the projectile lands on your head with a muffled thud, sending you off balance and toppling off the platform in a second. You hear Stan’s barks at the hoodlum, but soon he’s up the porch at your side, just as surprised as you are.

“The hell-- you alright, babe?”

Stan helps you up as you glance around for the offending object that’s left your head and the arm that broke your fall aching. “I-- what the fuck was that?!”

A large, off-white sphere rolls along a groove in the deck, moved by your shifted weight. It hits the edge of your shoe, and you pick it up to find it’s…

A popcorn ball.

A really fucking heavy, rock-hard popcorn ball.

With a splotch of white from your forehead smeared across it.

Stan’s bursts out laughing, though he doesn’t let his supposedly helpful grip on your waist go. “Who the hell gave that thing out?? They must’ve been saving it for last century-- ”

It’s funny. Like, really funny. Comedy freaking gold.

But your head hurts and you fell, and shit, your wig’s messed up…

Your own laughter breaks suddenly, and before you even know it you’re tearing up.

Franken-Stan blanches the soon as it hits him. “H-hey, sweetheart, I’m sorry-- are you alright?”

The comforting hands on your shoulder, the concern in his voice breaks the dam, tears spilling out despite your mind knowing better, and wanting to continue laughing it off like you should-- like you want to.

“I’m fine Stan, I’m fine, I-- I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying, I really don’t,” you laugh, dabbing at your eyes with a bandage-covered hand. “That was too perfect.”

“Don’t apologize, that kid’s an asshole.”

“An asshole with a hell of a pitch,” You laugh, finally meeting Stan’s eye. 

“Wanna go inside? It’s gettin’ late anyway,”

“No! No, are you kidding? We just got started with the lightning! I’m fine, I promise--”

He raise an eyebrow skeptically.

“Really, I am. I’m the most horrifying creature of them all, right?”

“Hah! Sure are, sweet thing, sure are.”

“Then let’s get back to scaring. I’ll be ready to duck this time.” You laugh, elbowing Stan before getting back into place, and Stan follows.

11:27pm

There hasn’t been a kid in nearly 30 minutes, and with another hour under your belt, the pair of you are content to turn in for the night for some movies and the Halloween goodie bags left behind by scared trick-or-treaters.

Flopping down on the bed, your tired body practically sings. “Goddd, that kid really got me good.” The hands on your face muffle your words, but Stan gets the idea.

Taking pity on you, he pulls up the nearby chair and starts unlacing one of your boots for you. “Happens in the line of duty sometimes. Shoulda seen what one fairy princess threw at me one year-- actually, I don’t even wanna know what it was.” He jokes(?), tossing the shoe aside and beginning on the other.

“Knocked me down at the top of my game…” you mutter, twiddling with the end of a splayed-out strip of your garment.

“Hey,” Stan drops the other boot to the floor with a thud, quickly peeling off the striped sock that lay underneath. “Don’t forget, you scared the absolute shit out of that brat.”

You let out a hum, then chuckle. “Triggered his fight and flight.”

"Exactly,” he replies definitely, sling-shotting the second sock in the air. It lands on your chest, but you quickly toss it over to nowhere in particular.

“I don’t know if I can even get back up. Just let me die here,” you groan, only half-joking as the strenuous activities of the day catch up to you. “I’ll be a corpse for next Halloween.”

“Well, yer already halfway there in that getup,” Stan shrugs off the jacket of his costume and lets it fall on the chair. A glance across your form reminds him of the “bolts” attached to his neck, which he peels off with a wince. “And I’m not far behind ya.”

“I’ll be lucky if I look this good when I’m dead,” you laugh, adjusting to get more comfortable and fully prepared to just pass out, wig and all.

Stan’s eye catches on the bare skin of your leg that’s revealed when you shift, the stark white of your gown falling to the side as it bends at the knee and the other still hangs off the bed uselessly. He hums, appreciative of the sensual view of you before him: limbs draped out, black eye makeup smudged...

Your eyes fly open at the feeling of Stan’s large hand on your knee, and you’re met with a familiar mischievous grin on Stan’s still-green face. “Mmm, you’re already bewitching, babe.” 

That look always manages to send a pang through your gut. “Oh, stop it…”

This wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined the night ending, but don’t mind all that much if it’s headed where you think it’s headed.

“‘M serious,” Stan chuckles. “Yer right about The Bride too… never appreciated enough,” His thumb rubs a circle on the soft flesh on the inside of your knee, and you can’t help but sigh at the nice pressure. 

Your stomach nearly flips when he slides to his own knees, grip moving down your calf and lifting your leg to place a playful kiss to your ankle. His name falls from your lips in a whine, equal parts warning and pleading, for exactly what you can’t decide. You’re answered nonetheless by another peck just above the previous, then another with the slightest bit of teeth that makes you gasp and prop up onto your elbows.

The sight is absolutely ridiculous -- Frankenstein’s monster himself between your legs, smiling dumbly as he nips at the neglected one before he pushes excessive fabric up and off to reveal more of your form. “Stan, we-- oh my god--”

It’s when he pulls you forward on the bed that you see it: the splotches of deep green coloring the trail Stan is continuing up your thigh with a knowing look.

You laugh at first, starting to push him away so you can properly remove your dress, but he tuts, gripping your hips instead and curling an arm around your thigh, slinging it over his shoulder with an in-character groan: "You go nowhere.

You’re torn between teasing him about the fact that he’s really roleplaying as fucking Frankenstein right now, and the shudder that rolls through you as Stan noses your center through the cotton, saying: “Mine .”

“Oh,” is all you manage to say when his mouth meets between your thighs, teasing your folds through the fabric with a brazen tongue. You let yourself go then, leaning into the anticipation as after a moment Stan tugs the garment down and off, though it catches on your foot and is left dangling there uselessly.

“You’ll be screamin’ for me, don’t you worry,” he says, breath ghosting over your core before fully tucking in.

There’s no energy left in you to scream, but the needy whimpers and moans that escape as he ushers you up towards pleasure are melodic, a siren song that urges Stan to keep delving into your cunt, to hold your thighs open with a possessive grip.

“F-fuck,” you cry, reaching down and threading your fingers through his mop of black-sprayed hair between your legs. He groans mid-lap at your clit, and you gasp as his hands join in on the ministrations, caressing and petting from your hips to your stomach.

It’s when he starts sucking that you start to really writhe, tugging roughly at his locks to push him deeper. He slurps your arousal right up, the sound mortifying yet helping thrust you closer to the fast-approaching peak.

“C’mon, honey,” Stan says, thumb maintaining a rhythm on your clit. “Come for me, darling.”

The foreign pet name does it, sending a rolling orgasm that hits you in waves, crying out Stan’s name and other sweet nothings before going limp.

After a moment he sits back, more than proud as he wipes his mouth and watches you twitch and moan through the lingering pulses.

“Wow-- what was that all about?” You manage to pant out, made curious again as Stan stands suddenly, walking over to the mirror on the far-side of the room.

“Check it out,” he says, bringing the mirror to the edge of the bed and leaning against it with a self-satisfied grin.

Sitting up, your reflection stares back at you, wide-eyed and glowing-- with a prominent mess of green smeared along your skin, practically outlining each and every touch that made you come undone. A few complete hand prints are even visible, on the backs of your knees, on your hip-- even a comically clear outline against the stark white of your covered chest.

Your face burns hot as you can’t help but laugh in disbelief, both at what you see and the unexpected thrill of it; it’s delightful, and silly, and sexy, and overall just an image you think won’t leave your head for a while.

Stan chuckles at your reaction, pleased. “S’a good look on ya-- damn near electrifyin’ , some might say.”

“Come here,” you ask, arms out to beckon him forward. He does, and you don’t miss the prominent bulge in his trousers as he walks over.

Pulling him down by his shirt, you lock him into an appreciative kiss, raking your nails across his scalp and practically pulling him on top of you to continue the makeout, bed size be damned.

Needing air, you finally break away, glancing back at the mirror to see green now decorating your mouth and cheeks. “You’d missed a spot,” you inform Stan, pointing to the new addition to your face.

He hums, ducking down to nip at your neck and clavicle, painting them just the same. “Could think of a few more spots needin’ a touch-up,” he growls, rolling his hips.

Snaking your hand into the band of his pants, Stan lets out another groan at your touch and when you say lightly into his ear:

“Looks like you could use some white with that green, hmm?”

Happy Spooky Season!! 🎃💚🎃

[Masterlist]

dividers by @strangergraphics and @firefly-graphics

[discotitsposts]

You’re lucky you’re cute

reader and reid flirting at the party of a mutual friend

she/her pronouns used

some mature themes and choice words used. overall supposed to be lighthearted and silly

i love this photo so much

You were getting ready for a party a good family friend of yours was hosting. You had known David Rossi since you were a little kid and it’s rumored you were somehow related. Rossi treated you like his own and had been there for you your whole life. He had even helped you out of a few legal jams you’d found yourself in high school.

He had seen you first learn to walk, started school, hugged you while you cried on his expensive suit when you went through your first breakup, and graduate high school. Now you were going through academy training to work at the FBI. You wanted to be just like David.

You had never met anyone on his team in the BAU except Hotch. He had told you about everyone though. You were most excited to meet Penelope she sounded like a ray of sunshine. You were very intrigued by the mysterious Dr. Spencer Reid. He sounded very interesting. According to Rossi he could read 20,000 words per minute and had an eidetic memory. How amazing is that? Being a bit of a smarty pants yourself you definitely wanted to talk to him.

You had also learned he was apparently wildly handsome from what some girls at the academy had said. Though you’d never seen a photo of him, he sounded fantastic.

On the drive to Rossi’s mansion you listened to your favorite music. Singing every lyric to kill your nerves. You parked and it seemed everyone else had already arrived.

You ring the doorbell and Rossi opens it. When he sees you he smiles proudly and yells “Principessa! Sei bellissima!” He hugs you and brings you in to meet the team.

“You know Aaron, this is JJ, Emily, this is Derek Morgan.” You shake each persons hand as he says their name.

“Ah, the infamous Derek Morgan.” You say. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Pleasures all mine, gorgeous.” Derek winks at you. Emily punches his arm. “Leave her alone weirdo.” She scolds.

A brightly dressed woman with beautifully styled blonde hair runs into the room carrying two wine glasses and speaking excitedly.

“Is she here yet? Oh hi!!” She pulls you into a big hug.

“You must be Penelope! I’ve heard so much about you. All of you. What about the infamous Dr. Reid? Is he here yet?” You nonchalantly ask.

“She’s developed a little bit of a crush on our good doctor.” Rossi spills.

“I have not!” You pout, embarrassed by this very true fact.

Everyone chuckles. The doorbell chimes loudly through the foyer.

“Uh oh, it’s your future husband.” David teases.

“Keep it up and I’ll pour your vintage scotch down the drain.” You retort. Rossi puts his hands up in defeat and goes to answer the door.

“Here’s the one I want you to meet! Spencer, this is our little star of the FBI academy!” Rossi boasts. Dr. Reid smiles and waves at you. You reach your hand out to shake his and he frowns. They were right. He’s literally so handsome I can barely think. You think. Barely.

“I don’t shake hands. Too many germs. It’s actually safer to kiss.” He tells you.

“Ok, come here then.” You reach out and pucker your lips. Spencer slowly backs away and clears his throat.

“Oh my god, wait no I was joking.” You quickly attempt to retrace what you said. Ever so embarrassed you quickly change the subject. Spencer smiles shyly.

“Anyways, um David told me you have an eidetic memory. I think that’s really fascinating. I actually couldn’t wait to meet you and have a conversation with you. I really really want to get to know more about you! Not that I was obsessed with you before even meeting you, definitely not the case. That would be weird. You’re really cool, I mean you seem cool because how would I know that. I never met you before. Although I was expecting more of a mad scientist look to be honest. You’re really attractive though, I mean your face is scientifically perfect I mean… you know what I’ll be right back” You ramble on and realize you’re embarrassing yourself. It’s not your fault. When you look at Spencer’s face your brain goes to mush.

You excuse yourself and try to run away to the safety of a nearby restroom. Someone grabs hold of your wrist despite the estimated germ count.

“I’d love to get to know you too.” Spencer’s smiling at you.

“You don’t think I’m a crazy rambler?” You ask, worriedly.

“I’m a bit of a rambler myself.” He chuckles and leads you to a nearby couch. You two end up talking for over an hour about everything. He tells you about his mother, his life in Vegas, and how he’s banned from multiple casinos which made you laugh so hard. You tell him stories of Rossi when you were growing up. The time Rossi had choked on some of his pasta when babysitting you and had spat it out through his nose. This makes Spencer crack up.

“Guys look.” Morgan motions to you two talking and laughing. Everyone else at the party looks over.

“I had a feeling they would get along.” Hotch breaks into a smile. Rossi however is scowling.

You leave to refill your root beer and David walks over to Spencer.

“Hey Rossi, she’s really fun to talk to. Thank you for inviting me tonight. I’m having so much fun.” Spencer smiles up at him.

Rossi plasters on a fake smile. “Are you?” Spencer nods happily. Rossi’s face grows serious and he leans in, “Good, because if you hurt her, just remember, I would know exactly how to get away with murder.” Rossi smiles at Spencer and pats his back and walks back to the party. Spencer swallows nervously.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He whispers to himself.

“Wasn’t planning on what?” You walk back in and hand him an extra root beer.

“Nothing. Thanks.” Spencer smiles and opens his root beer.

“So tell me more about when you got kidnapped by a cult leader?” You ask eagerly.

“Well this guy, his name was Benjamin Cyrus. We infiltrated his cult by pretending to be child protective services. Me and Emily got caught in the middle of crossfire. SWAT shot at them, they shot back, and put us all in danger.” He tells you everything about that case. You watch in awe at the way he talks. “Rossi actually brought them fried chicken with a microphone bug in the bucket.” Spencer laughs recalling the silly detail.

“Mmm sounds delicious.”

Rossi has been keeping his eye on you two. You look really happy but he likes having Spencer terrified of him. Your back is to Rossi and when Spencer makes eye contact. Rossi points at you and then Spencer and makes a cutting motion on his throat. This makes Spencer nervous. You notice him turn pale and turn around. You see Rossi is just playing cards with Aaron.

Penelope goes around passing out liquor to everyone. “Bottles for everyone!” She cheers over and over slurring her words. Morgan wrangles her to sit back down, stumbling, also intoxicated. You down your bottle and Spencer watches in shock.

You get crazier and Spencer goes to put the bottle Penelope had handed him, back in the kitchen. You’re dancing or trying to anyway. Spencer accidentally bumps you and you pull him down with you. The bottle in his hand breaks and splashes all over you both. Rossi hears a loud crash and comes into the kitchen.

“What the hell happened in here!” Rossi shouts noticing the red liquid trickling everywhere and you, in a now-red stained dress.

“We fell.” You and Spencer say at the same time.

You giggle, “Jinx!”

“You know the origin of the jinx was actually-“

“Clean this up brainiac!” Rossi cuts him off and hands Spencer a sponge.

“Yes sir.” Spencer falls to his knees and starts scrubbing. You notice the room felt hotter as he did so. Was it the weather or the sight of Spencer working hard?

“I’m sorry you got red wine all over you. You looked really nice. Not that you don’t look nice anymore. You look beautiful. I just feel bad your clothes got stained now.”

“Of all the days to wear a white dress. You’re lucky you’re cute Dr. Reid.”

You pick up a different sponge and help him clean.

“You don’t need to help.” He starts.

“It was partly my fault. Plus I know he’s gonna come in here and try to see if he can see his reflection in the tile. If he can’t,” You make a cracking sound and air-motion bending something, Spencer presumes to be, his neck if the red wine doesn’t come up.

“The guys so rich he can afford someone to professionally clean.” Spencer laughs at this.

“I know! One time when I was seven I accidentally spilled some jam and he told me if I didn’t clean it, all the jam in the world would disappear and I could never eat it ever again.”

Spencer opens his mouth in shock, “That is so mean!”

“It worked though.” You say while scrubbing the floor harder. He laughs so loud. Something he noticed he hadn’t done in a long time.

You decide to push his buttons a little since practically none of the wine got on him. You flick some water and soap at him.

“Hey!” He splashes you with some water back.

You stand up and discreetly grab the water sprayer on the sink and turn it on full blast. Spencer yells and with no way to defend himself, tries to stop the water with his hands. Penelope and Morgan run in and you spray them. Everyone’s laughing so hard you don’t see Emily come up behind you with a bucket of water. She throws it on you and you scream.

“ITS COLD!”

Hotch and Rossi walk in and shake their heads in disbelief.

“I’m disappointed in you all,” Hotch starts. Everyone stops and fearfully looks at him. “for not including me in the fun!” He grabs the water sprayer from you and splashes Rossi. While you’re all fooling around you notice a groundbreaking discovery. Spencer’s lilac purple shirt is completely see through and soaked. His nipples are even hard from the cold water. Hot damn.

You show up behind him and squeeze his hand and pull him to one of the bedrooms. You both lean in and kiss softly. You attack his lips with kisses and soon the kisses mesh together and become messier. He’s moaning into your mouth while you attempt to rip his shirt off.

“Wait.” He stops you. You pull away confused. “If Rossi’s upset about some red wine won’t he be more upset if we get… you know what on the bed?”

“Cum?” You ask. Spencer makes a disgusted face at your choice of words. “Nah only if he comes through with a black light.”

“No I meant the…stains.” He points at your dress, his face completely red.

“Oh this?” You motion to your now red dress. You reach behind you and untie your dress, letting it fall to the ground. You stand in front of him completely bare. Good thing you chose to not wear anything under it this evening.

You start to hum a song while you stalk towards him. When you push him back on the bed you hear a loud knock at the door.

“AHHHHHHHH” Spencer screams while covering his crotch with a blanket. You simply pick your soaked dress off the ground and sloppily put it back on. Rossi continues pounding his fist on the door.

“Tie me.” You command.

“Huh?” Spencer looks up confused and disoriented. You motion to the back of the dress and Spencer ties a cute bow with the strings. His nimble fingers moving as quickly as they’ll allow. He thinks Rossi’s fist might soon break through the door. You calmly walk to the door and carefully turn the knob.

“Hello.” You smile sweetly.

He simply crosses his arms and glares at Spencer. “Both of you, out. Now. I don’t even want to think about what you were thinking of doing in my guest bedroom young lady.” He wags his finger at you. When Spencer stands up to leave, Rossi stops him with his hand.

“Remember what I said I’d do if you hurt her. She’s like a daughter to me.”

“I-I-I won’t David, I was actually going to ask your permission. If I ma-maybe could take her on a date?” Rossi’s eyebrows raise at Spencer’s request, as if to say, tell me more. “I think she’d enjoy a film fest, they’re playing some old monster movies down at the drive in, some are in Russian, but that’s alright because I could translate to her. I’ll have her home by 11:30 I promise.” Spencer’s stumbling over his words nervously.

Rossi bursts out laughing, “Kid she doesn’t live with me anymore. She’s an adult. You don’t need my permission. Hope you two have fun. I was only worried about my sheets!” He runs to the bed fixing the creases you two had made.

After that he asked you if you’d like to go, of course you said yes. That Saturday night you two had so much fun and fell in love even more.

the end :)

pls pls tell me some of u thought this was even a little bit funny

actually pls tell me if u enjoyed this at all

i’m laughing so hard writing the part about his nipples help

fun fact when i wrote the part about reader wearing a white dress i was listening to this

[bees-making-art]

Beat of the Heart, Chapter One: Electric Feel

This is the start of my silly little LoganxGN!Mutant!Reader story! It will loosely follow the plot of the first x-men movie. Basically just switch out Jean for reader as the center of Logan's romantic affection. Reader has a described power but other than that no physical description. Reader is also a medic/scientist like Jean and Hank. This is also cross posted on A03 if you want to read it there!

“So, do you know what happened to the new arrivals?” you ask Jean, who walks beside you to the in-school infirmary and research bay.

“Not much. I haven't had the time to talk to Scott or Ororo yet. All I know is that one is a teenage girl named Rouge and the one, we will see now, is a man.”

As you reach the door, you give a little hum to show her you're listening. You press your hand to the sensor. The device takes a minute to scan your palm before flashing green and opening the doors. 

Beyond the door is a sort of ‘mud room’ that holds lab coats, gloves, masks, goggles, and other lab safety clothing. You and Jean both grab your respective lab coats (which have your name embroidered on the inside) and a pair of disposable gloves. Once the equipment is on, Jean compels the glass doors open with her mind, and the two of you walk in. 

Immediately, you see the man Jean was speaking of lying on one of the many infirmary gurneys. Completely ignoring him for a moment, you gather a clipboard with pencil and paper to take notes and fill out the general form you have for everyone in the school. Only when you are beside the gurney with your note-taking supplies on the metal table do you really take in his features. 

The first thing you notice is that this man is handsome, but you bury that thought in favor of taking actual notes. The man has dark brown hair that is tousled but seems to have been styled into two little animal-ear-like points. His skin is a light tan, which is clearly due to working in the sun. The man's eyebrows are naturally shaped into a furrow, giving even his resting face the appearance of scowling. And on each side of his lower jaw are mutton chops that truly only a man as handsome as him could pull off.

His chest, arm, and stomach muscles are well-defined. You guess this is from the same work that gifted the man his lovely tan. Said places are also covered in a smattering of dark brown hair. It curls out from the center of his chest to the edge, down the valleys of his stomach, and disappears under his pants and over his forearms.

During your inspection, Jean puts little circular, sticky sensors on the man's chest in preparation for the examination machine. Once the sensors are in their correct places, she takes his blood pressure before grabbing the pen on the table to scribble down his results. 

You try your best to stay focused on the task at hand and not be distracted by this stranger's attractive visage but it's difficult not to when you have to focus on looking at him. Jean takes notice of your ogling and can't help herself but to smirk, giving your bicep a little nudge. You turn to face her, immediately annoyed at the expression you find on her face. 

“Looks like someone is enjoying their research,” she teases in a quiet tone. She uses her powers to hand herself a syringe from the metal table next to the bed, inspecting it to ensure it wasn’t tampered with or damaged. 

You roll your eyes at her comment, write down your observations, and fill out the parts of the form you can. The clipboard is set to the side as you grab one of the man's arms, lifting his hand up to inspect it and the pocket of his elbow for any scars or markings. You don't give her the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you simply elect to ignore her comment. 

Jean notices this and giggles as she grabs the man's other arm, lining up the syringe with the crook of his elbow. You place the hand you were holding back onto the bed. With clipboard back in hand, you write that he only has a few faint scars across and in between his knuckles, evidence of fighting but none of injection drug use. 

The two of you make eye contact, and after a shared nod, Jean begins to slowly press the needle into his skin and pierce the vein.

What happens next occurs in mere seconds. First, the man's eyes shoot open and flicker between you and Jean. Then he's standing up, pulling his arm away from the shot, the other hand curling around Jean's neck. He’s now standing behind her with his syringe-free arm wrapped around the other to secure it.

The man's eyes dart across the room before landing on you. You mentally note to write down later that his eyes are a deep brown with a speck of Hazel. But nonetheless, you raise your hands to your head to show you have no intent to harm the man.

“Hey! We’re not trying to harm you! I promise we were simply checking you and possibly treating you for injuries that you might have sustained from the crash and fight. We mean you know harm,” you try your best to convince the feral-looking man. 

His eyes flick around your face and then the room once more. A noise that sounds more like an animalistic growl than what a human makes leaves his mouth as he lets go of Jean with a shove and rushes out of the room. 

Jean coughs and catches her breath, her hands gently holding her own throat as you lower your hands back to your sides. You let out a sigh as you pick up the tossed syringe, placing it next to your clipboard on the table. You walk to Jean and put a comforting hand on her back.

“Well, he’s going to be a fun one,” you grumble, only half sarcastic. Jean’s laugh in response makes a smile cross your face. You pat her back before returning your hand to your side. She stands up straight and smiles at you in return, a quiet ‘thank you’ whispered into the back of your mind. You nod then look to the door where the man had left.

You shake your head and peel off the plastic gloves sticking to your hands, tossing them to the trashcan nearby. The lab coat slips off your shoulders as you place it onto the gurney nearby. Jean follows suit as you walk towards the glass door, beridding herself of her lab clothing and taking long strides to catch up with you.

“At least he has a pretty face to look at,” you hum, a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat. A giggle shoots out of Jean, tossing her head back in the laughter.

“I knew you were checking him out!” Jean teases, making your cheeks redden. 

You wave her off as the two of you exit out the second pair of doors, facing the long hallway to the stairs and elevators that lead upstairs. The two of you decide to split up. Jean checks out the rest of the basement while you head upstairs to look through the rest of the mansion. 

As soon as you reach the floor level of the estate, a familiar, comforting voice enters your mind. ‘The new mutant is in my office. Please meet us there for proper introductions,' Charles speaks. You assume that he sends the same message to the rest of the X-men. 

Luckily for you Xaviors office is only a few minutes walk from where you are currently. You waste no time in walking up the stairs past the many students and down the hall till you reach the ornate door at the front of the professor's office, a little golden plaque displaying his name about a foot and a half above where the handle is. 

You turn the handle and slowly push the door open, taking care not to accidentally hit the new mutant if he was standing right in front of it. Once you see that he is not there, you open the door all the way, leaning left against the door frame. You cross your arms in front of your chest. A smirk spreads across your face as you notice the jacket the man has seemingly ‘borrowed’ from the changing room in the basement. 

It's a blue-tinted medium gray zip-up jacket. And even though he's turned away from you, you know that there is a blue X-men patch on the left side. The hoodie seems not fully zipped as the fabric is not fully covering his shoulders and slipping down his back, perfectly showing just enough skin to tease your imagination. And god, does it look amazing on him like that.

Charles gestures to you with his left hand, a permanent soft smile on his lips. The man turns to face you. And it reveals just what you were expecting; the zipper is only up to about his sternum. Zipped up just enough to not show off everything but still down enough that you can see his clavicle and his chest that's painted with dark brown hair. It makes you want to slide your hands into the jacket to feel what you cannot see.

But hearing your code name coming from Xaviors mouth pulls you out of your thoughts. You push them far back as you give the man standing before you a little wave, meeting his eyes for the first time since entering the room. The deep, woodsy color is something you are slowly becoming acquainted with. A similar smirk to yours is plastered on his face as his eyes sweep over your form. If you didn't know better, you would say he was checking you out. 

You put your hand out in front of you, presenting it to Logan for a handshake. 

“Or you could just call me by my real name, Y/N. It's nice to meet you again.” This gains you a chuckle from the man and a playful eye roll from Charles. The jacket-donned man clasps his slightly bigger hand to yours and gives a half-hearted shake. 

“Names Logan, some call me Wolverine, but I'm willin’ to guess you already knew that, sweetheart,” the tone in which he says the pet name sends a shiver up your spine. And his damned smirk paired with it isn't helping your goal to not get flustered. 

So, why not return the favor? At least in some way. Using a bit of energy you always had stored away just in case, you give Logan a little shock. It’s nothing more than one of those prank hand buzzers. But it does get you the desired result, a wince paired with a hiss as he pulls his hand away from yours. 

Logan looks down at his hand to find not even a wound to be healed. His gaze turns back up to connect with yours as your smirk turns into a grin. You hold up the hand you just used to shock him, making the ‘devil horns’ with your thumb out. In between the two digits, a small, faintly purple-colored electrical current forms between them.

Logan's eyes drift to it as his hand returns to his side, then back to yours. He rolls his eyes at your unbidden glee. He tries to give off the impression he is not impressed, but you can see the hint of a smile playing at the edges of his lips. 

“I can control electrical currents, manipulate them to make machines do what I want. I can take their energy, store it in my body, and send it back out just like that.” You return the energy you were using back into your body, veins in your hand and arm glowing for no more than a second. Your arms are back to being crossed, along with your shoulder being pressed against the door. 

Logan's mouth opens as if he is about to say something, but he shuts it as Scott and Ororo appear in the doorway behind you. They are closely followed by Jean. Who, unbeknownst to you, slips her hand into Scotts.

You move further into the room so that the other three don’t have to stand in the doorway behind you. Ororo is the first to introduce herself with a little wave and her usual kind smile. They each tell Logan their names, code names, and their powers. Jean is the only one able to show it as she lifts a pencil off Charles's desk. 

Throughout the entire exchange, Logan keeps an unimpressed look on his face. But it's a little more genuine than with you. You can’t help but giggle a little, covering your mouth with your hand to pass it off as a cough. The two of you meet eyes again, and Logan's lips twitch into a smile at your actions. 

Charles notices the two of you no longer paying attention to the others and claps his hands together. All the heads in the room snap to face him as he wheels around to be in front of his finely carved wooden desk. 

“Y/N, since the two of you appear to be getting along, please show Logan where his room is and give him a tour of the school.” It sounds like a gentle request, but you can tell from the look on Xavior's face that he is a bit miffed at your behavior. 

A blush blooms across your cheeks as you nod.

“Will do, professor,” you respond not a moment later. Your tone is much like that of a student who was just scolded by a teacher, and in some ways, your relationship with Charles was like that.

You turn to face the door to walk out. As you turn your head, you catch Jean's teasing smirk. You roll your eyes at her antics. You nod your head towards the door and only start moving when Logan follows. You only glance at him briefly as you quickly turn to exit. Storm bumps your shoulder almost imperceptibly and winks at you. You narrow your eyes in return to her gesture, waiting for Logan outside the hall. 

Once he stands beside you in the hall and the door is closed, you huff and drop your shoulders from where they had been practically pressed to your ears. You feel almost like Logan is looking at you, but you don't bother checking. Taking a step forward, you begin your tour of the institute. 

The air around you is filled with awkward tension. And part of you is tempted to let it stay that way lest you become distracted by Logan again. And his stupidly good-looking stolen jacket. However, despite your valiant effort, your eyes flit to Logan's face. 

From his side profile, you can see his defined jawline through the facial hair and subtle frown lines that stretch from the edges of his nose to the outer corner of his lips. 

Catching yourself, you return your gaze onward. You find yourselves at the top of the staircase before the entrance. You perk up a bit at the opening of conversation.

“This is the entrance to the school; you can access most of the inside areas from here. The kitchen is through there, the student dormitories are down that hallway, and the teachers are opposite. Classrooms are upstairs, as are the rest of the dormitories. Downstairs is where the infirmary, laboratory, and battle practice rooms are,” you explain as you walk down the stairs, pointing to each of the doorways and stairs to tell him what they are. 

“We were holding you in the infirmary early if you couldn’t tell, but we also occasionally use it as an extra lab. We have a library and a few common rooms on this level that connect the dorms.”

Turning to Logan, you see him nod, his particular way of showing you he was listening. You flash him a grin and head to the teacher's rooms. Walking down the hallway, you pass by a few students, to whom you give high-fives as you pass.

“I'll show you the room we’re providing you while you're with us. And I’ll tell you whose room is whose in case you ever need any of us.” Logan raises an eyebrow at this but doesn't comment. He just simply follows.

The hallway is mostly just a long series of doors. However, it is occasionally broken up by large windows with couches in front of them, bookshelves, and small tables with decorations and plants on them. As you pass by the doors, you point to each, telling Logan whose room it is and how to remember it.

“These two are Jean and Scott's rooms, though usually they are in one or the other. They’re the first room, so it makes them easy to find. This room right here is Ororo’s, and Hank’s is across from it. You haven’t met him yet ‘cause he's on a mission right now, but he’ll be pretty hard to miss when he returns. Hanks always has blue fur at the threshold, and you can usually hear music from Ororo’s.”

There's a bit more hallway that you two walk before you reach your door, and by some gracious being above, where Charles decided to put Logan. You smile upon seeing the familiar door to your room.

“This one is my room,” you say while pointing at the door. “It’s probably going to be the easiest for you to remember because it's right across from where you will be staying.”

A smirk spreads across Logan's lips, and he turns to you. “And I’m sure that was by complete accident; it's definitely just a coincidence.” He nudges your shoulder teasingly as he walks to the door of his new room.

You chuckle and roll your eyes at his insinuation. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But no, I don’t have a say in how rooms are picked; that's all Xaviors doing. Trust me, if I had any say, I would be on the top floor with my window facing the backyard.”

Logan's smirk never leaves as he opens the door. The nod he sends your way gives you the impression that he doesn’t entirely believe you. He steps inside the room, looking around. You walk in behind Logan but stay near the door. 

“All the rooms have separate bathrooms, so don't worry about sharing. Right now, all we have is basic clothes for you, but feel free to get yourself some new ones. The closet's that door right there if you do,” you point to each door after explaining their respective purpose.

The room is in its basic cookie-cutter style, which all of them start with: plain off-white walls with wood paneling and crown molding. A window facing the outside has a plain queen-sized bed right under it. All of the cloth in the room is the same cream color. It gives the feeling of a hotel.

Logan turns to face you after sitting on the bed's edge. Arms propping him up from behind and legs mildly spread.

“What? Don't want me wearing your fancy X-men clothing?” Is his only response to anything you said. You smile and roll your eyes at him, one of your hands resting on your hips.

  “No, I just got the impression that you wouldn’t want to wear Scott's hoodie,” you gesture to the gray zip-up, which, in your opinion, looks better on him than it ever has on Scott. "And he won’t be too happy about it either. “

The way Logan looks at you can only be described as incredulous, disgust, and dread all rolled into one. It almost makes you laugh. But you manage to keep it at just an amused smile. 

“You're just saying that to get me shirtless again.”

You give him a shrug with your hands raised, “You don't have to believe me, but I can bet you $100s that Scott's name is on it.” The man grumbles under his breath about something you don’t quite catch as he unzips the jacket and strips it off. 

You’re tempted to look, but you peel your eyes away to show Logan you are being truthful and don't just want to see him shirtless. As you look away, you’re reminded again of how bare the room is. 

“You can also decorate how you like. Charles just asks to keep it child-appropriate in case one of them has to come in here.”

Logan chuckles and shakes his head as he tosses Scott's jacket to you.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I won’t get anything too ‘adult’.” He makes quotation marks with his fingers as he says, ‘adult.’ You smile in return as you catch the jacket. You drape it over one of your arms, willing everything that you don’t blush or start glowing. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to show you earlier, but the laundry room is further down the hall. It has a little plaque, so you won't miss it. You know, for whenever you do get your own clothes.”

You expect him to laugh at your retort, but he gives you this quiet smile instead. Not a smirk, a genuine smile, albeit a very small one, but a smile nonetheless. It makes a bundle of butterflies spread through your chest. Much like the blush, you try your best to suppress the feelings. You don’t need your powers giving you away this early.

All he says in response besides the smile is a simple, “thanks.”

You smile wider in return and give him a little nod. You turn and exit through the doorway, turning to him once you're past the threshold. 

“I’ll be across the hall or in the lab if you need anything.” You close the door behind you and walk over to your own. You let out a relieved sigh once in the safety of your room. A faint purple glow begins to emanate from your veins. A result of you releasing the hold on your powers. Once the light fades, you take a moment to collect yourself before leaving to return to the lab.

Hope you all enjoyed! I can't promise a consistent schedule but I'll aim for a chapter a week. Thank you to my friend c20w for beta reading! And credit to strangergraphics for the beautiful banners!

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Enemies With Benefits (3)

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: Enemies. That was what you were. She was an Avenger, you were a criminal. You should hate her, she should hate you. So why do you love the feeling of her skin pressed against yours? Moans spilling from her lips? The taste of her on your tongue?

Casual, rough sex. That was all it was supposed to be but soon feelings start to get involved. Would something so scandalous be able to last?

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Sexual Tension, Flirting, Hydra, Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture

General Masterlist | Enemies with Benefits Masterlist

Chapter 3- Surprise

As soon as you entered the grand hall, your eyes scanned around the room to search for your target. On the USB there was a file regarding an ex hydra scientist who not only performed on innocent people, which resulted in them dying, but he also abused many of his subjects, especially the young girls he managed to get a hold of.

Men and women in elegant outfits, showing off their wealth littered the room yet you paid no notice to the few looks sent your way from them, the lust in some of their eyes as you walked past in your suit. All black was always the way to go, it was the best colour to hide the blood stains after you had your way with a target.

You made your way to the bar, ordering yourself a drink before a woman sat next to you, her body closer than necessary to grab your attention.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Romanoff?” you say, not turning away from your drink as the redhead receives her own drink and takes a small sip.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pin you to this table and handcuff you?” she says with a little bite in her words.

“Hmm let me think,” you murmur, pretending to be deep in thought for a moment earning a glare from your side. You roll your eyes at her serious state and mumble how boring she is before answering, “Because I’m your favourite bad guy? Oh wait no, because you’d know I’d enjoy it too much,” you turn to her with a wink, her palm colliding with your cheek making a few people look over before losing interest. You rub the spot she just slapped, her expression stoic as you stare at her in disbelief, “You’re not one of my favourite Avengers anymore, that was just rude.”

“Cut the bullshit,” her tone dangerous, “This isn't a game Y/n. Why are you here?”

“The same reason you are,” you turn back to your drink, your eyes looking around the room as you take a small sip.

“And that is?” You let out a sigh at her words, annoyed you now have to deal with the Avengers meddling in your plans.

“Look, let’s ‘cut the bullshit’, we both want the Hydra prick, so why don’t we just make this easier for everyone?” she raises her eyebrow at you, waiting for you to continue, “Let me take care of him and you can all have tonight off, maybe you could go and learn to have fun somewhere.” She shakes her head at you, a breathless laugh escaping her.

“I don't think that’s going to happen,” you turn to her as she speaks, looking behind her to see if the man has entered yet.

“Why not? Is it because you don’t want to be a fun person?” She can see your smirk as you raise the glass to your mouth and holds back from slapping the smug and annoying look on your face.

“Because your methods of ‘taking care of them’ are inappropriate and illegal,” she’s read all the files on you and even seen you in the flesh as you punish whatever guilty soul you could catch.

“It’s not inappropriate, it’s what they deserve,” your voice loses the teasing tone, becoming more cold and angered. “Do you really think I’m just going to let you take them, stick them in a cell for the rest of their lives that protects them from the people that want them dead? I thought you were smarter than this Romanoff.” She sighs at you, but you're too focussed on seeing the man walk in, a smile plastered on his face as he greets the surrounding people. “Lovely speaking to you Miss Romanoff but I must say goodbye now,” you say with a sarcastic tone, your hand grabbing hers and raising it to your mouth to place a kiss on, her pulling away her hand at the dramatic gesture.

“If you carry on like this, you’ll end up in one of those cells,” she warns but you're already gliding through crowds of people to find the scientist.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a familiar voice calls out, her arm interlocking with yours, holding you back.

“Not now my little witch,” you say, keeping your voice calm as you stare ahead, the man talking to a woman and standing a little too close to her and, judging by the expression on her face, it wasn’t welcomed, “I have to work.”

“All work and no play?” she echoes your words from a few nights ago, her hand cupping your jaw and making you look at her.

“Yes, I’m a very busy woman at the moment so, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.” You slip out of her grasp but she moves forwards and pulls you back, your anger rising now as you can’t let another one get a life of safety in an Avenger’s cell.

“I can’t let you do that,” she says, an indecipherable emotion in her voice. “Come on, let’s have some fun,” she purrs in an attempt to distract you. Your attention from the man falters for a split second, moving to gaze at her lips for a brief moment before returning to where the man was. You swear under your breath at the fact he’s gone, along with the woman, and turn back to the witch.

“This will be your only warning,” your voice low as you whisper at the shell of her ear, “ Stay out of my way.”

“Or what?” she challenges you, a low chuckle immediately leaving you.

“You should have kept your mouth shut,” you mutter, “Enjoy the surprise I will send you later.” With that said, you pull away harshly and leave to find the man, pushing a person into Wanda who then spills her drink on her dress, the other woman starting a scene with the witch making it impossible for her to follow you.

***

Wanda’s leg bounces as the other Avengers bicker between themselves, arguing about how they failed to bring in the scientist as well as how they lost them to you. Her fingers twirled the rings on her fingers, her thoughts out of control while the rest continued to speak. Her entire body froze when her phone vibrated in her pocket, a video and text being sent to her phone.

Unknown: I hope you enjoy your surprise :) See you soon my little witch Press play to watch video

Swiftly, she leaves the room, no one noticing her absence as they were too focussed on the argument, and heads towards hers room. Her fingers shakily pressed the play button, the phone taking a moment to load the video up.

“Hello my little witch” your voice can be heard over the groans of pain in the background. “I promised you a surprise, I hope you enjoy it,” the camera moves as you walk across the room, supposedly in an abandoned building. Soon, the man from earlier appears on screen, blood dripping down the side of his face, his white shirt unbuttoned showing the deep slashes across his chest. His head sluggishly raised to meet the camera, tears streaming down his face while a cloth was tied around his mouth to muffle the noises that left him. “Oh come on, smile for the camera,” you taunt the man, clearly unable to do so with the gag.

“Help,” the man screams behind the gag, but you only laugh in response.

“Stop with the pathetic pleads,” you groan in annoyance, moving closer to him. The bruising on his face is clearer on the phone as you move till the camera is practically in his face. “Now let’s say goodbye to witchy.” He glares at you but you're too busy trying to hold the camera still, not letting it shake with your laughter.

“Fuck you,” he manages out quite clear and you just tsk at him.

“Sorry for my rude guest,” the camera moves till it’s on your face, his blood staining your neck and collar bones. “Goodbye my little witch,” you say, a charming smile on your face as the video ends.

As soon as the video ends, she’s leaving the room, heading for the exit of the compound to find you. It doesn’t take long for her to reach your apartment, her fist pounding on the door. When you don’t answer, she tries the handle to find the door unlocked. She strides into your apartment, seeing your jacket laid across a chair along with your shoes near the door that shows you’re here.

“Y/N,” she grits out, walking through your apartment till she hears the water of the shower running. She wastes no time in heading towards the bathroom, her magic almost pulling the door off its hinges as it flies open. You turn around in the shower, smirking over your shoulder as you see her through the glass panel. The water around you is red, the dried blood on your body slowly washing off.

“It’s rude to walk in on people showering unless you plan on joining them,” you murmur, continuing your shower as if she wasn't there.

“Out. Now,” she seethes out, eyes glowing red while her fingers twitch with her magic.

“ Or what?” your sneer back, turning around in the shower, the blood now clean from your toned body.

“There is no fucking or what. Out.” Her voice sends a shiver down your spine and you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and not bothering to wrap a towel around yourself as the water drips down your body.

“Why did you do it?” her voice wavers with anger and sadness, almost disappointment, as she looks at you. “We were going to put him in a cell to rot in for the rest of his life,” her finger jabs into your chest, pushing you back slightly before she uses her magic to wrap a towel around you so she can push you against the wall. A groan leaves your lip at the force of her shove, the wall colliding with your back painfully.

“I gave him what he deserved,” you grit out, “Do you even know what he did?”

“He still didn’t deserve to die,” she argues and you scoff at her. “He should have suffered in prison for years, not been killed.”

“You’re telling me that a man who used people, children however he wanted, didn’t deserve what I did to him.”

“You should have handled it differently,” she sighs out irritated, walking away from you and sitting on the edge of your bed. You pull on a robe and follow after her, leaning against your drawers as she stares at you.

“I didn’t kill him,” you whisper after a few moments of silence, hope glinting in her eyes.

“Where is he-”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t already dead,” your hands run through your hair before massaging your temples. Why were you telling her this? “I sent his location to a few people who wanted him dead, he was still alive when I left him.”

“Where?” you stare at the hopeful look in her eyes, noticing how much it contrasts from her lust-filled ones, how it’s somehow even more alluring. You give in, writing down the address which she quickly types into her phone, most likely in a message to a fellow Avenger as you move to change. “Thank you,” she whispers, making you turn around to look at her. You hate how it made you feel warm inside when she said those two little words and clenched your jaw in anger at yourself. What were you doing?

“Unless you want me to fuck you, get out,” your voice is emotionless while you move to grab the bottle of whiskey from one of the drawers.

“Y/n..” her face contorts to confusion at your sudden shift in mood, a frown now on her face.

“Yes or no?”

“Y/n-” she tries again but you cut her off, walking close till you're towering over her.

“It's a simple answer, if you say yes, I’ll pin you to that bed and have you screaming my name,” her breath hitches at your words, “if you say no, you can get out and go be the hero you so desperately want to be.”

Wanda’s entire body freezes at what you just said, a new wave of anger washing over her. She scoffs as she pushes you away, “At least I’m trying to be a hero unlike you.” You glare at her while the green in her eyes turn red again. “Y/n and her fucked up ways of trying to save the world,” she practically mocks before walking away. “Talk to me when you’ve learnt how to stop being a dick,” she shouts before the front door slams shut.

[caliosi]

I have- a lot of feelings about color symbolism in character design, especially how it interacts with other characters in that media.

So anyway, here are my thoughts in relation to two pieces of obscure media that I can’t stop thinking about, The Glass Scientists and Ghost Trick. Major spoilers for Ghost Trick! This game has a fantastic story with a really good twist so I recommend if you have any interest in it at all, go check it out before you read this!

So, in TGS Jekyll has a very obvious red motif and Hyde a green one

These are two complimentary colors, which in and of themselves have some fun ideas to discuss. Complementary colors are two complete opposites on the color wheel. But as the name suggests, these two colors also go really well together. To make something beautiful a good choice would be to have both these colors. But you also can’t have equal amounts of both with the same vibrancy or shade throughout the whole thing or there will be no harmony. These two will always go together like this, opposites but work together to make the full depth and beauty that a person has to be a person. To avoid making things messy, you choose moments when green gets to be the main color and red gets to shine through to make each other pop and the other way around.

There is also something to be said about the fact that Jekyll is red and Hyde is green. Red most commonly is associated with things like anger, hatred or just evil and green is usually considered good. Now this isn’t always the case though, there are times green is associated with things like poison and red is associated with passion. The only thing that I am stuck on is the descriptor of passionate more suites Hyde’s public persona. If anyone has any ideas as to why Jekyll is represented by red I would love to hear it.

Now in Ghost Trick (spoilers) the two characters I am going to talk about is Cabanela and Yomiel. These two have the same color palette for their clothing, red white and black, the only difference is with Yomiel his main color is red with a white accent and Cabenela’s main color is white with an accent of red.

It is already pointed out in the game that Cabanela’s white coat represents his ‘spotless record’ or the fact that he does good, but he always has that scarf weighting down on his neck, the time he was responsible for Yomiel’s death. With Yomiel he is covered in the red, all the bad things he has done, but there is a sliver of white, he wants to be a good person that is his humanity. They are opposites but at the same time, they are the exact same. Now, this may be a real stretch but... at the very end of the game, when we see Yomiel in prison he has on a pink frock. The red and white combined. He is still going to forever have that red on him, he always did what he did, but he lightened it, he will be better and he, unlike Cabanela who separates the bad thing he did from his good, has excepted that part of himself into who he is and he won’t run away from it.

Anyway, go read The Glass Scientists and play Ghost Trick (or at least watch a play through) if you haven’t! They are both wonderful pieces of media about humanity and identity and highly recommend them especially if you like to over analyze things!

[jadedxhearts]

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰

Monet seems to ignore the fact that Law is your husband, constantly flirting with him and insulting you. One evening, after she gets too bold, you and Law make a plan that will let her know he’s yours and only yours.

originally posted on Feb 27, 2023

Please note that this is an old work and isn't representative of my current writing skills!

When you’d joined Law on his trip to Punk Hazard to begin the execution of his plan, you really didn’t know what to expect.

You knew to expect cold weather, at the very least. Or even extreme hot temperatures. But you wouldn’t be heading over to that side of the island.

You also knew that there was some strange scientist guy who lived in the once abandoned laboratory. Law had mentioned him being rather annoying. 

But what you did not expect was for the scientist’s assistant to be such a bitch. The green haired woman seemed to have a vendetta against you from day one, constantly acting passive aggressive and treating you as though you were inferior to her.

One of the incidents, you couldn’t even remember what the conversation had been about; all you remembered from before the incident was that you’d been sitting with Law in the lounge room, waiting for dinner to be ready.

The bird-woman was reading a book, as was Law. You simply leaned against your husband, occasionally looking into his book and reading along. But truthfully, you weren’t very interested.

“Law,” Monet called, “this book is rather interesting, I think you should read it, as a fellow intellectual being. You’d understand it more…”

“More?” He questioned, not even looking in the woman’s direction.

“Hm,” she hummed as though she were giggling, “well, no offense, but I don’t think somebody is smart enough to truly know what this book’s deeper meaning is.”

You knew it was a dig at you. “Excuse me?” You piped up, glaring in her direction. 

“Oh, did I let that slip?” she laughed. “You’re just… you know…”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re implying, but you can fuck off, Monet,” you snapped before turning to your husband. “Law, can we please eat in our room tonight?”

“To think such an intelligent man would want to share a room, let alone his life, with a woman like her,” she muttered. “Odd.”

“Shut the fuck up!” You yelled, grabbing Law by his wrists and pulling him up from the couch and dragging him out of the lounge. 

That was a couple weeks ago now. You’d been avoiding the woman like the plague, seeing her maybe twice since that evening. 

Tonight though, you’d have to face her and her bullshit once again.

—

Caesar had demanded all the “important” people come have dinner together, with drinks and excellent food promised. Some sort of party, you supposed. For what reason though? It wasn’t like any of you had anything to celebrate.

Regardless, you followed your husband to the lounge room, which you found to be more decorated than usual when you entered the room. 

There was a table put out in the middle of the room, plates and wine glasses at each seat. Along with name tags. Apparently there was a seating chart. Great.

You went to check it out, only to look at the arrangement in horror. 

Of course, you’d been placed next to Law. But… directly next to him, on the opposite side from you, was a little card that read “Monet” in a fancy font.

“Absolutely not,” you protested, gaining Law’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning to look where you were.

Then he saw it. “Great. Bet that asshole did it on purpose, too.”

“This is so stupid,” you pouted. “Why can’t we just eat where we want?!”

But it seemed as if you had no choice, so you sat down.

—

Halfway through dinner, and you found yourself somehow not being verbally attacked every five minutes. In fact, Monet hadn’t said a word to you or Law. Really, you were shocked she was capable of keeping her mouth shut for more than five minutes. Maybe she’d finally learned to do so?

Until right as dessert was being brought out. You’d assumed wrongly.

“Oh my,” the green haired woman mused, picking at the pastry with her fork, “this looks delicious, doesn’t it Law?”

“No,” he deadpanned. 

“No?” She echoed, “Not a fan of sweets?”

Law didn’t respond. 

“That’s too bad, I was hoping to maybe take you out on a date, treat you real sweet. Much sweeter than that tramp over there could.”

You slammed your hands onto the table, accidentally gaining everybody’s attention. 

“What’s you’re fucking deal, bitch?!” You screamed at her, staring with an amount of hatred you didn’t even know you were capable of feeling. 

You were shaking, your throat feeling as though it were closing up. And why were you about to cry? Because some jealous woman called you a name?

Monet only laughed, though. “Oh goodness. It seems I’ve upset her.”

“I’m sick of your bullshit, Monet! Stay the fuck away from me and my husband,” you yelled, putting emphasis on the fact that Law was already yours; just to spite her.

Before she could react, Law stood up and pulled you away from the table, out of the room. 

“L-Law! What are you doing?! I need to tear that bitch’s hair out!” You protested.

“As much as I’d love to see that,” Law grumbled, “there’s something else I want to do.”

You had no clue what that could mean. Until you reached the room you shared with Law, and he promptly pushed you onto the bed, suddenly kissing you.

“What’s your deal, Law?! Why are you- oh,” you whined as he sucked on the skin around your collarbone. 

“I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t find that hot,” Law smirked into your skin, “my husband,” he repeated your words from before.

“H-huh? You what-“

“I like it when you’re jealous, y/n-ya. It’s cute.”

“J-jealous?! No, that’s not it-“ you denied his words.

“Don’t lie,” he nipped at your skin to make you shut up. “I see the way you glare at any girls who look my way, how you move to sit in my lap when we’re at taverns and random women approach. And now this…

“It’s hot,” he said, kissing you directly on the lips. “But now… I intend to let her know who’s mine. Whom the only person that can have my heart is.”

“What?” You questioned. His statement was rather sweet, but you were confused, “how? We’re locked away in here…”

“Don’t forget who our neighbor is,” Law reminded you.

That’s right… Monet did sleep in the room to the left of your’s and Law’s. If you were noisy enough, she’d hear, even through the thick metal walls. You knew this because one morning she’d insulted you for talking so loudly the previous night. Naturally, you’d been talking about your dislike of her after she’d made yet another comment about you earlier that day.

Law’s tattooed hand cupped your face and pulled it toward himself, deepening the kiss, and then he began sucking on your tongue. When his other hand brushed against your breasts only to land just above them, holding you down, you let out a soft whine.

“I’m gonna make you scream so loud that Caesar asshole will kick us off this damned island,” Law muttered, biting down on the already marked skin on your neck. 

“Law,” you whined, leaning into his touch. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please… fuck me,” you panted, feeling dizzy. 

You didn’t have to ask Law twice. He made quick work of pulling everything you wore off, stripping you down to only your panties before he threw the long fuzzy coat he wore off of himself. 

He began palming at your breasts, squeezing them and brushing his thumbs over your hardened nipples. All the while kissing you again, only this time he was fully making out with you, leaving your mixed saliva all around your lips, the loud wet noises filling the air every time your mouths reconnected.

One of his hands left your chest to begin rubbing your covered cunt, pressing his fingers into the fabric of your panties and pushing against them so hard they turned wet with your slick. 

“L-Law!” You gasped, grabbing his hair and turning your head to the side. 

Removing his other hand from your breast, he grabbed your face and pulled it back towards his, locking you in place. 

Deciding you were wet enough, Law pushed your panties aside, gathering your wetness around two of his fingers before inserting them into your tight cunt. 

You moaned into the kiss, bucking your hips into his hand. 

“So impatient,” Law sighed as though he were disappointed. 

He scissored his fingers within you, seeing if he could stretch you enough to insert a third so soon. 

Feeling the third tattooed digit enter, you cried out louder than before. 

Law fingered you at a quick pace, encouraging you to come on his fingers and cry for him. “Come on, cum, you little slut. Cum around my fingers so you’ll scream even louder when I shove my cock in your sore pussy.”

His words were enough to send you over the edge for the first time. You pulled on his hair and moaned into his mouth, lifting your hips up into his hand as you came. 

“Good girl,” he praised, pulling his fingers out of your soaked cunt and licking the juices off.

Once he was satisfied with the cleanliness of his hand, he pulled his jeans down and prepared himself for you, revealing his hardened cock as he freed it.

He moved to position himself between your legs, but you snapped them shut. “N-no, it’s too much,” you whined. “Too sensitive.”

“I don’t care,” Law spat, shoving your legs open with his free hand. “That’ll make it better, don’t you see? This way you’ll scream louder, and that stupid woman will hear you. She’ll finally know who owns me.”

You shuddered. You’d expect Law to say possessive things like “I own you”, but you owning him? That was new. But… you liked the way you’d felt when he’d said it.

“Beg for it,” Law demanded, rubbing his cock along your wet folds.

“Ah, fuck- I need you, Law-“ you moaned, “need you to fuck me, fill me up with your cum, please!”

“Fill you up? That wasn’t discussed before,” Law chuckled, the hand that wasn’t holding his cock moving to brush against your clit.

“Y-yes! I need to be bred like a bitch,” you shouted, surprised you could even speak like this. “Breed me so that brat knows who I belong to, please, Law.”

Without another word, Law lined himself up with your hole and began pushing in, stretching your velvety walls. You whined as he began filling out more, before purposely moaning as loud as you could;

“Oh, fuck, you’re so big, Law! I can’t take it-“ you threw your head back into the mattress, squeezing your legs around his hips.

“Yes you can, you’ll take it like the stupid little slut you are,” Law pulled your legs off of his hips and moved them to his shoulders, pushing further into you and deepening his cock so far that you were afraid he’d somehow break you.

As he began thrusting at a quick pace, he used the hand that wasn’t gripping your hip to wrap around your throat. 

“Cry for me, tell me how much it hurts.”

“L-Law! It’s- mmh!” You whined, feeling light headed from the pressure on your throat.

“What? Can’t breathe?” Law taunted you, fucking into your hips even harder now.

After another moment of slowly cutting off your air supply, Law released the hold on your throat and you gasped for air, choked moans sputtering passed your lips. 

“Law,” you moved your hands to grab his hair again. “I can’t do it anymore, I’m gonna-“

“Shh. It’s alright, cum for me, baby. Cum around my cock as I fill you up and stuff you full of my cum.”

“Please, Law- fuck… I-,” you choked out through moans that were nearly screams.

Law grunted loudly, growling in your ear as he bit down on your shoulder, shoving his cock as far into your cunt as possible before holding himself there and letting his hot seed spill into you, filling you to the womb.

You screamed his name, tugging on his hair as you sobbed from the overstimulating amount of pleasure. 

After holding you as close to his body as possible, Law finally let go of you, pulling himself out of your aching cunt. 

“Shit, look at the mess you made,” Law chuckled, turning to grab a cloth from the bed table and wiping the mixed juices away from your trembling body. “We’re gonna have to request new sheets.”

As you regain your composure, you lifted your head up to smirk at your husband. “I know somebody we can ask… they’re right next door, after all.”

“How convenient,” Law returned the smirk, before moving his head to kiss your lips once more.

[medecineformelancholy]

For Chapter 20 of I Really Enjoyed Getting to Spend This Time With You by @rngaredead 🩷

If you want to read a season 3 fix-it for Ted and Trent with love letters (covered up as a certain sports book and other), a million of beautiful quiet moments, getting to know each other and finding themselves in the process, the heartbreak of a ticking clock, an epic romcom moment including an airport, and just about all the feelings one can fit into written word, my friend HERE has you covered.

But the true heart of the story is Catherine - Trent's best friend, biggest cheerleader and a voice of reason in his beautiful silly head. (See also: a brilliant scientist with a passion for teaching, an absolute menace of a gossip and a lovely mess). And I think she has some wisdom for all of us.

Here are some of my favourite quotes from Catherine (SPOILERS I GUESS?)

------

🩷“You can’t see anyway. That’s why you’re the one with glasses.”

🩷“Well, Trent Crimm, The Independent… I too am independent, as you’ve probably figured out.”

🩷“Feelings are messy. But feeling something—even if it’s rotten right now—means it was real.”

🩷“You finish the book, babe. Get it all out.”

🩷“Walk toward him, Harriet. Fly, you fool.”

🩷“Yeah, well, [Roy]'s scary and you listen to him. So maybe you should listen to me.” 

🩷“You need to find your light again. Ted’s not the actual answer to anything, but you owe it to yourself to see if he’s part of how you get back to being you. Or maybe even you getting to be you for the first time?”

🩷“Don’t be sad about later when you still have some now to feel something wonderful. I know this is too much for you, but I think that’s a good thing. And I think deep down, you do too.”

🩷“We can’t have three puppies.”

🩷“I love you. And he does, too. So go on.”

[zelda-cooper]

My version of Loonatics Unleashed (Part 3)

This is just my interpretation of this universe of "Loonatics Unleashed", don't take it as a summary of the series or as absolute truth to interpret your version. NO! It's just MY view and you have every right to disagree. Furthermore, there will be low-level words (even though I censor some) and there may be sensitive topics for certain people. Besides, this refers to the universe of Loonatics Unleashed, so for those who don't care, you can skip this blog, but for those who are a fan or if this interests you, you can continue reading. Part one of this blog is at the link below if you want to see it.

Part 1

Part 2

Hi I came back! And this time with bombastic news (And I hope no one has forgotten me at this point-). This time it's going to be a simpler blog because today, I'm finally going to show the Redesigns of the protagonists of my version of Loonatics Unleashed! For those who want, the links to see my journey through this madness are there at the beginning, I don't want to go into detail here because I'm really, like... VERY excited to show them soon! So, let's go!

Credits again to @drakepad-luv-200, who was the person who inspired me to make this crazy saga!

Protagonists' Visuals (Reinvented/Redesigned)

Let's go, I wanted to start by saying that this was one of the parts where procrastination came STRONG... Because, first... I had to consider their new personality, think about the pose that would represent this, the clothes that would have a heroic look and, at the same time, is minimally simple to draw... And that's not easy...TuT

So I had to get a lot... But A LOT OF REFERENCES!!! And in this I have to talk about two artists who inspired me and who I NEED to give credit to thank them for how incredible they are! The first is @onyxonline, who is currently making a Smilling Crittens AU called Space Riders AU (I highly recommend reading it). She also has her Loonatics AU and her visuals are AMAZING! I really like her style, something very Anime and such. She helped me a lot with some clothes.

The second is @theangrycomet-art, he, in this case, helped me a lot with the proportions and also with the bodies of some characters. His art is very clean and he made sketches of how they would look. I also highly recommend checking out his blogs!

But now... Time to talk about MY Redesigns! Let's start with the Bunny brothers: Ace and Lexi!

For Ace's design, I wanted to give him a pose of a somewhat inexperienced leader, "mainly protagonist" and who is good at fighting (even on the street), I put looser clothes and bands on his arms to symbolize him as a fighter.

As for Lexi, I gave her a cuter look that could show a heroine power. I gave them very long clothes and some extra accessories. This was one of the easiest.

Danger Duck

Danger Duck was also reasonably easy (the pose was difficult, but ok-), I took a lot of inspiration from Darkwing Duck (because the personalities even match and are really similar), a very arrogant pose, a calm one to symbolize that he is the "most incredible hero of all time". The beak wasn't difficult, because... I draw a lot of ducks...-3-)

Tech E. Coyote and Rev Runner

MY GOD!!! TECH'S MUZZLE AND REV'S HAIR WAS HARD!!!! But it was worth it, I think... The Rev wasn't too difficult, I picked up some references from marathon runners and a scarf and glasses to add some charm. Tech I mixed a bit of scientists, but also a more "Mad Max" look with the torn shorts and scarf around his neck, I also took the opportunity to show him wearing the glove and projecting a holographic screen.

And finally, Slam Tasmanian.

This one was difficult, but it was one of the most fun. I got the fighter vibe and also made sure he had a muscular physique, I made his fur simulate a beard to make him look older and I gave him some stylized gloves to give him something similar to boxing gloves.

Final Considerations

Well... That's it, folks! It was actually shorter because I wanted to talk about the redesigns (and because my life is pretty busy these days-). I'll still work on Zadavia and us villains, I'll also show two of my OCs that will be relevant to the plot, but that's for another day. I hope you enjoyed it and I’ll see you in the next blog! BYE!!!!

[nonhumanresources]

First Day On The Job

Another commission story incoming! This one was commissioned by @actualhorseprincess. This one was quite fun, since I got to bring in one of my own characters, Rum. Luna's a very chill horse-wolf hybrid, everyone go tell her she's the best princess.

Also, in case you're wondering about the seeming incongruity of the setting, it's on purpose I swear. Picture a modern day city with an alchemist slotted in there and you're on the right track. Also, happy TF Tuesday.

Summary: Luna lands a hotly-contested job with the town's alchemist, Rum, and arrives on her first day for a tour of the lab, entirely unaware of the far more exciting plans Rum has in store for her. Turns out the alchemist has a reputation for a reason, and Luna should have read her NDA more carefully.

What to expect: Dragon TF, some oversized assets (Luna likes it big!), an irresponsible amount of teasing, lots of clothes dismantling, post-TF sensitivity, accent TF to such a cartoonish degree it is frankly unreasonable, and idle mentions of eggs.

Length: 4.2k words.

If you'd rather read this with somewhat easier formatting, here's a link to the same story on Google Drive!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“...and here is where you’ll work.” Rum tapped the clipboard she was holding against a hard backed chair, sitting in the corner of a cramped room. It was stuffed to the brim with tables and shelves, dusty instruments lining the walls and bins of glassware sitting unattended. There was barely enough room for the golden dragon’s tail to sway without knocking into something. “I apologize for the mess; I’ve yet to find time to properly clean in here, but everything you need to perform your duties should be present.” 

Luna nodded frantically, trying to take the whole room in. She wanted to make a good first impression, so, wisely, during the majority of the tour, she’d left her mouth shut to avoid asking any silly questions. She was dressed to the nines: a leather bodice, laced tight on top of a blue top, sturdy pants, leather boots over her hooves and matching gloves, gleaming hair pulled back into a ponytail. Atop all this she wore a dark blue coat. It was a striking look, she’d thought to herself that morning—something befitting of an alchemist’s apprentice.  The look emphasized her unique body, purple fur and wolfish up top with large, pointed ears, a horse’s tail and charcoal-colored hooves down below. Of course, when she’d shown up, Rum was wearing simple pants, a plain shirt, and a lab coat, which made Luna think that perhaps dressing like a 19th century countess was not her brightest idea, so she was doing her best to make up for it. The woman wasn’t even wearing shoes, for crying out loud.

As always the rest of the story is under the read more. I love comments and questions so don't hesitate to let me know what you think!

Luna really, really wanted this job. Rum, local scientist, alchemist, literal golden dragon and one-woman powerhouse, had recently posted a listing for an apprentice. Luna didn’t know much about alchemy, but she’d thrown her hat into the ring anyway and figured that her 11th grade chemistry could probably carry her through the first week until she got some proper training. After that, it would be smooth sailing—a stable job, fascinating work, and solid pay. With flexible hours, too! The fact that Rum was widely considered one of the most attractive dragons in town and one of the most generous were just two more benefits to add to the pile. Now, after three nail-biting weeks of interviews and waiting, she was finally here, in what was apparently her own office. Sure, the outfit was ridiculous in hindsight, but the sheer amount of anxiety lifted from her shoulders and the excitement of her first day kept her from caring too much. 

“Any questions?” Rum nudged her glasses upwards, then rested her paw on her hip. She positively exuded a casual air; thus far, Luna had never seen her not look at ease. 

“Nope!” Luna responded, shaking her head again. A strand of her dark-blue hair escaped the ponytail, and she tucked it behind her ear, smiling sheepishly. 

Rum raised a brow, looking skeptically over her glasses. “None at all? I can’t have explained it all that thoroughly.” 

Luna’s mind raced. “Oh! U-uh, I mean, there was the, the…” she stammered, thinking back through the hour-long explanation of Rum’s lab and trying to pull anything she could to ask about. 

Fortunately, she was spared as Rum laughed, brushing past her, the edge of her scaly wing brushing against Luna’s feathery ones. “I’m kidding, darling. I could tell you were listening quite intently. I’m sure you’ll have many questions over the next few weeks, and I expect to have an answer for all of them. If not, we’ll have to discover that answer together! For now, though, I have a question for you: would you like something to drink?” 

“Yes, please,” Luna sighed, rubbing the back of her wrist with her other hand. Rum picked up a tray that Luna had barely noticed in the clutter, offering her a small glass filled with a transparent purple liquid. She took it and gulped it down gracelessly as Rum picked up the other, sipping at it. How does she manage to sound so professional even when she’s joking? Luna wondered, quietly clicking her tongue. The drink was delicious; probably some kind of sweetened grape juice, she surmised. 

“I’ve got work elsewhere,” Rum pronounced, setting her glass down with a clink against the tray. “You should get right to it! Familiarize yourself with the new workspace, and all that. If you find yourself looking for something to do, I suggest sorting through some of that glassware and pulling out any that are cracked so I can replace them.” Rum’s wing gestured towards one of the cardboard boxes brimming with various beakers and flasks. 

“Got it. And if I finish that?” Luna asked, careful not to sound like she was begging for instruction. The last thing she wanted to do was make Rum think she was some kind of lapdog. 

“Oh, I don’t expect to be too long,” Rum reassured, pushing open the door on the opposite side from where they’d entered, leading out into a balcony that led down to ground level. “Feel free to relax if I take too long!” With that, she turned, lab coat drifting in the breeze as the door clicked shut just behind her tail. 

Luna let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Impress the boss: check. Mostly, she thought, glancing down at her overzealous attempt at a uniform. Still, she’d survived the tour and was more than ready to dig her paws into the work. 

Taking Rum’s advice, Luna spent a few minutes wandering the room. It really was small, only about five paces across in either direction. Tables against three walls held scientific instruments that ranged from weight scales to burners to frightening looking things with pincers and knobs; one cabinet held labelled chemicals, and shelves were covered in random bits and bobs. The fourth wall had a fume hood, which as Rum explained it was basically a bench to work on where any gaseous chemicals would be drawn outside instead of breathed in. Useful. The rest of the room contained more tables covered in what was obviously Rum’s assorted storage. The overall aesthetic was not unlike an unkempt garage. 

Still, it was exciting. Luna pictured how it might look in a few weeks: clean tables, bubbling beakers and test tubes, her with lab goggles weighing out pharmaceutical grade chemicals and learning the secrets of alchemy. Sure, the cleaning would suck, but Rum would probably help. Maybe. 

She seemed nice enough to, at least… Luna mused, dragging the box of glassware Rum had indicated over to the one clean desk with her chair. She swept the dust off with a quick swipe of her tail, leaving a small trail of glitter in the air behind, and plunked it down. There was a suspicious crunch from the bottom of the box that made Luna wince. Best to be careful in there, then. She opted not to sit so she’d be able to reach the whole desk and got started. 

The sorting turned out to be quite relaxing. There were two main types of glass in the box—beakers, large cylinders that came in a variety of sizes all marked in milliliters, and flasks, which had more of a triangular shape with a skinny neck. She sorted these by volume; the rest, assorted pieces with odd forms whose purpose she didn’t fully glean, were instead placed at one end of the table and sorted by shape. Anything cracked or chipped went beside those. 

All in all, it was easy, light work. Yet, Luna still felt a crick in her neck that only grew worse as she sorted. Nearly at the bottom of the box, she stepped back, rubbing at it. She must have been leaning too far over the table or something. That was something she’d have to be careful of, if she was gonna be working on these short desks for many hours. Perhaps she should have sat down for this. She idly rolled her neck, trying to work out the kinks she’d inadvertently created. 

With a strange pop-pop-pop like someone drawing a fingernail up a washboard, Luna’s neck suddenly stretched outwards. She yelped, stumbling backwards and grabbing onto a table, eyes rolling as she felt at herself with her other paw. While she rolled it, her neck had somehow loosened up and stretched. Her paw traced its way up the side to where she thought her chin should have been—then up, up, up until it finally connected. There was at least another… ten, twelve inches of neck there, and what’s more, it had an odd, smooth texture. 

Luna tried to keep herself calm. Thirty minutes on the job and she was… doing whatever this was. She couldn’t afford to lose it because her neck decided it wasn’t content with its length, but she also couldn’t afford to panic. She stared down at the ground, and it felt disorienting, the height change making her feel like she was on stilts. It made her already roiling stomach toss even more. 

Help. She should get help, right? Right. That seemed… logical. Maybe she could even fix this before Rum came back and no one would be the wiser. It’s not like whatever was happening was her own fault; maybe she’d picked up stray fumes from one of Rum’s alchemical projects, but it’s not like she’d done it on purpose. The only thing Luna had touched was old glassware! She tried taking a deep breath, but her leather bodice felt extra tight, and so she settled on a shallower one, slowly unlocking her vice grip on the table. She’d grab a piece of glassware and head to the doctor just in case, then return. Easy. 

She didn’t even make it one step from the table. As soon as Luna’s foot connected with the ground, her rounded hoof-boot’s sole was launched off to the side as it was entirely torn from the body of the shoe. Instead of hoof, an enormous purple paw greeted her, white claws bright against the dark surface. Watching this happen proved ill advised; with her new neck at that angle and the paw’s appearance, Luna lost her balance and tumbled forwards. One thought blazed through her panicked mind: protect the glass.

She hit the table with a thunk as her other leg explosively removed its boot, leaving her with two enormous claws. Fortunately, she was able to fall just so; despite a frightening rattle of glass on wood, she had landed directly in between the flasks and beakers, twisted sideways and wings held in tight. One flask fell over and rolled into another with a quiet tink, but that was all. Crisis averted. Luna sighed with relief. 

Of course, she was immediately punished once again for her premature relief as the tightness in her bodice doubled. She gasped, and the sharp intake of air popped the lacing. Her shirt let out a loud, long shrrrriiiiip! as her chest quadrupled in size, bursting forwards in an incredibly uncouth display and utterly ruining her top, barely covering the drastically swollen surface and keeping her semi-decent. It let out an audible glrsh as it bounded forth, shoving her entire carefully-sorted collection of beakers to the floor. It gleamed in the light, and she could see it was covered in scales the same lavender as the rest of her underbelly. Luna winced as every single beaker shattered against the stone. The movement drew her attention to her face. Her normally fluffy, canid snout was shifting, nose hardening into a beak-like structure, light flashing off of it as she twisted. Her unicorn horn seemed to bend backwards, a feeling like mechanical thrumming in her head as it split in two and pulled back over each ear like a more traditional pair of curved horns. The whole experience left her face tingling and sensitive, just like her chest and new paws. 

Unfortunately, she didn’t have much time to enjoy it. The table beneath her cracked, crunched, and gave out, sending her to the floor with the rest of the glassware. Amid the smashing, shattering, clattering din, Luna let out a quiet oof as her chest hit the floor. On the bright side, it turned out to be immensely soft, and the scales it was now covered in were quite durable, any stray shards on the ground that were caught underneath simply pressing into her rack. However, as she slammed down onto her oversized chest, she felt an intense heat shock down her spine like someone had pressed a hand into a deeply pleasurable point (or two, in this case) during a massage. With her paws still planted, that shock slammed into the base of her spine and blossomed there, her pants going the way of her boots and shredding themselves along the seams. She flushed a deep maroon as she felt a breeze flow across her rear end—and that deepend to a plum shade as she realized just how much rear end she suddenly had. It was easily twice the size of her cartoonishly plump chest, and it was up in the air and exposed for all the world to see, the moon mark on her hips stretched across far more real estate than it was supposed to. 

The heat didn’t end there. It pushed into her tail, and the hairs twisted together, nerves growing out from her rump in a line, forming a thick, scaled tail. The glowing blue and silver-studded mane became small, rounded spikes that trailed down her tail and crawled up her spine, between her wings, which had also consolidated into membranes instead of feathers. She did her best to try and do a self assessment, but feeling at her chest and rear only made the scales flash up her arms, turning them sleek and reptilian like the rest of her. 

In only moments, Luna had become a dragon. Not only that, she’d become a dragon of such awesome proportions that she rivalled the biggest women she’d ever seen. Plus she’d just ruined the project her new boss had just asked her to do and an entire piece of furniture in the process. She let out a quiet whine, covering her face with her paws. Her day had been going so well, too. 

Just to top it all off, she felt her stomach groan, going the way of her chest and rear end and swelling outwards. She grunted, cupping a paw against it, and was shocked at what felt like a few large rocks knocking against each other somewhere deep inside. Was that… oh god, she was filling up with eggs, wasn’t she? Would she have to lay them? What if she turned back? How many was she gonna get? Were they—

A voice interrupted her thoughts. “I’d ask how long you plan on moping for, but frankly, I’m enjoying the view. So, take your time!” 

Luna froze. No. There’s no way. She couldn’t have… “Rum?!” 

“That would be me.” The voice came from somewhere behind Luna, where the outside door was. She instinctively tucked her tail downwards, trying to hide at least something of the wide rear end, and that move elicited a laugh. Rum’s voice had the same calm, clear tone, but it was mixed with obvious amusement. Luna’s face burned. 

“I, ah, didn’t realize you’d returned…” she mumbled. Her voice felt strange in her muzzle. It came out like she was speaking through porcelain, each vowel bouncing out sharply rather than smoothed together like usual. She wrinkled her nose at the sound. 

“Frankly, if you had, I’d be more worried at your current posture,” Rum remarked. 

Luna scrambled to her feet. This took quite a bit more effort than usual; she had to plant her paws much farther apart than usual to accomodate for the wide bust, and her legs were entirely different sizes. Not to mention the balance issues caused by having a huge rear end combined with a large dragon tail. Though it was embarrassing, she was glad for the rack and the swollen gut, since it actually balanced her out somewhat. Taking a deep breath, face still colored something like a deep bruise, she turned around to face what she assumed was her soon to be ex-boss. 

Rum sat atop a table, smiling slyly. She spun a glass bottle in one paw, legs crossed. Even now, she seemed so natural. It made Luna’s fumbling about feel all the more obvious. She crossed her arms over her chest, shamefully avoiding Rum’s gaze. 

“Rum, I—”

“Ah.” Rum held up a finger, tapping the bottle she was toying with against the table. Luna snapped her jaw shut. “I don’t want to hear any apologies.” 

Luna nodded, stomach sinking. “I’ll… gather my things, then?” Her voice had some kind of lilt to it, her a’s sounding longer, drawn out. This had to be the record for worst job performance in the history of ever. 

Rum, strangely, shook her head. “Now now. I didn’t say leave, did I?” 

“No,” Luna gulped, a small spark of hope daring to rekindle itself deep in her chest. 

“Exactly. Now, what is the first rule of alchemy, Luna?” Rum slid herself off the table gracefully, picking her way across the floor towards the other dragon. Luna had grown up to match Rum’s height. 

“Uh.” That wasn’t the question she’d expected. “Every… action has an equal and opposite reaction?” Yeah, something was definitely wrong with her voice. It was like she’d spontaneously developed an entirely different vocal pattern. 

“Not quite. Actually, the first rule of alchemy is this. Don’t,” Rum smirked, reaching out and pulling Luna’s jaw open slightly, pressing her clawed thumb against Luna’s tongue, “put anything in your mouth if you don’t know exactly where it came from.” She drew her claw out, leaving Luna’s forked tongue poking out dumbly, waltzing past her into the wreckage. She moved Luna to the side with a light touch to her hip, and Luna instantly understood why people referred to particularly wide hips as shelves. 

Rum settled into Luna’s chair, Luna spinning to face her. She surveyed the mess around her, grinning. “Quite the show, you know.” 

“You’re not… disappointed?” Luna probed, wary. Rum waved a paw. 

“Please. Dear, this is my junk room. Nearly everything in here was going to get thrown away anyway. Frankly, I’m sad you didn’t destroy more things; I’d pay to watch you use those hips on a few more of my tables.” Rum’s eye glinted, and her nearly predatory grin brought to mind the other thing Luna had heard of the dragon: she was an absolute flirt. 

“W-well! I shan’t say I will!” Luna cleared her throat. “I mean, I shan’t… bah. I’ll not be resting on any others.” Why in the world did she sound like that? It was like listening to a fancy butler talk. What part of turning into a dragon made you British? 

Rum only snorted. “Shame. I think we both know you’ve been taught your lesson quite thoroughly, though. Why don’t you pick up your mess and we can call it a day?”

“You don’t plan on punishing me?” Luna asked, still confused. 

“Of course not, dear. You’re far too cute for that.” Rum leaned the chair back, propping her paws up on the edge of the broken table. Those paws, Luna found, were nearly the exact size and shape of her own new pair. That ignited an emotion deep in her gut that she was afraid to explore. It made her stomach grumble, and she let out a small burp of multicolored flames, much to Rum’s amusement. 

“Ah. O-okay.” Luna cringed at her lame response, but it was all she could manage through the haze of emotions. 

Rum waved a paw at the ground. “Your first real job is cleaning up all this. Soon as you’re done, you can head out for the day. Deal?” 

“Um. Deal.” 

“Great. Broom’s over there, dear.” Rum gestured once more, then placed her arms behind her head, staring. Luna did the only thing she could do: she got to work. 

As it turned out, the job really wasn’t too bad, if she ignored her boss’s piercing gaze. Luna swept the glass into piles, using a dustpan on a long handle to pick it up and dump it into a designated waste container she hadn’t noticed before but was obviously placed there intentionally, looking back. She’d knocked over a few other instruments with her tail; those she righted and rearranged slightly. As she swept, she tried a few times to mumble to herself; each and every time, she found that she unconsciously stretched her vowels, ended her words in clipped tones, and it took real effort to say a bit instead of a tad. It was like her whole demeanor had shifted and she was talking like the London elite. At least she’d have time to explore further later. 

Even as she cleaned, Luna grew more used to the excessive sizes. Encumbering at first, she found that she could work around the large chest, albeit with low visibility. She didn’t even mind bumping her hips into tables, though it happened nearly every time she turned. She got better as she moved, though each brush against her enlarged assets still brought significant heat to her scales. In just a few minutes, the only thing left was the table. 

As she leaned over to grab one side of the splintered mess, Rum stood. “I think that’s enough cleaning for now, Luna, dear.” 

Luna looked up, bemused. “You asked me to clean, then tell me not to?” It was a far bolder statement then she should have made, but she was just about at her wit’s end at this point. Oddly, though, Rum seemed to approve of the push-back, wrapping an arm over Luna’s shoulders and walking her towards the doorway. 

“As much as I’d enjoy watching you bend over, I wouldn’t ask a mother with an expecting brood to do such heavy labor!” Rum scoffed, sounding incredulous. Her tail snaked around Luna’s hips, the tip resting atop her belly that had burst straight through her poor ruined bodice. 

“Th-that’s not my fault!” Luna squawked, pointedly shoving the tail away. 

“Mine either!” Rum laughed. “I slipped you a simple draconic alteration potion, darling. The particulars are up to your own biology.” 

“My own…” Luna looked at Rum, confused. 

“Yes, dear, your genes are telling you that had you been born a dragon, you would have made an exceptionally potent broodmother. An oddly English one, at that.” 

“That… that’s preposterous! I mean, I’m simply… simply not built like such a thing!” Luna argued. 

Rum pointedly looked directly down into her exposed cleavage. “I think your body begs to differ.” 

“Then change me back! I can’t work looking like some manner of… of dragon floozy!” Luna shrieked. 

“Actually, if you’ll check the contract you signed, it stipulates quite clearly that I’d be hiring a dragon!” Rum shot back. “Whether or not that dragon is a floozy is optional, though goodness knows it would make her quite entertaining to watch. Yes, I fear you’ll be scaled for the duration of your employment with me.” 

Luna’s mouth dropped open. There’s no way, that can’t be legal. Her mind raced, trying to think of an argument. Arriving at the door, Rum popped it open, then turned Luna towards herself. 

“Listen, Luna. You made the cut here. Don’t blow your chance now; I’d hate to be down such a pretty assistant.” Before Luna could say anything, she reached under her lab coat, pulling out a slip of paper and a coin purse. She reached around Luna’s side and tucked the paper into her waistband, making her shudder from the tips of her membranous wings all the way down her tail. “That’s a to-do list for tonight. I expect it to be completed by morning. And this,” Rum said, hefting the coin bag, “is for you to go buy yourself a few new outfits. Consider it a signing bonus. You’re gonna need it if you want to get anything big enough to cover that dragon ass of yours.” Instead of handing it to Luna, she pulled the drawstring open and dumped the coins straight into her cleavage. The cold metal made her yelp, back arching and causing her shirt to tear even further, boobs threatening total devastation. 

With that, Rum pushed Luna out the door and closed it behind her, calling out “Happy laying!” as she did. The door bumped against her butt as it snapped shut. The cool air made her heated chest steam. Luna stood there, wings flared, tail tip twitching. Never in a million years would she have expected her first day on the job to go like that. And yet, she actually found herself excited to go back. She was even mentally planning out a new outfit she could wear to work tomorrow. I must have given myself brain damage, she thought, astounded. 

Luna was determined to make this job succeed. If that meant living as a cartoonishly busty British dragoness, well… maybe she could live with that. She’d decide after she laid her first clutch, maybe. God, I really am insane, she sighed, surreptitiously bouncing her chest with her paws. Yeah… yeah, she could get used to that. Riding that decision, Luna turned her attention to the nearby market, heading off to buy a new outfit. This was going to be a fun one to relate to her tailor. 

[site666]

Like A Dog

ok first time posting a drabble lets go. honestly quite terrified to post

present hcs: trans glass, bright with inhuman features..?? kinda (hes got pointy ass teefs and red eyes)

implied bright/glass but can be read as platonic

anyways ... i love dog symbolism a lot

Jack Bright stares at his face in the mirror, half shaved and absolutely not his. As he stares into the eyes of the face he controls, he feels he’s looking into the eyes of another, because, really, he is. He can’t recognize himself. Not even as he slowly drags the razor along his cheek, his eyes unfocused as his reflection shifts and sneers at him. He’s too busy staring into dead, watery red eyes, eyes he has no business seeing. With a jolt of brief pain that brings him back, he winces as he had nicked his cheek. He turns the squeaky faucet on and quickly throws some cold water over the sliver in his cheek.

And, fuck, those eyes really aren’t his. Neither are the hands that rub water into the cut on someone else’s face.

He startles as he hears the bathroom door creak open, turning to face a mildly surprised Simon Glass. Bright gives a hesitant wave before the therapist speaks. “Shaving in the men’s room again?” Glass asks softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Didn’t have time.” Bright mutters, looking away. His eyes — someone’s eyes — drift back up to the reflection in the mirror. He sees Glass. He sees a man. He doesn’t see himself.

“You look… inquisitive.” The psychologist notes, tilting his head slightly and keeping his distance.

“You ever look at yourself and think, wow, that is NOT me, or is that just a me thing?” Bright asks bitterly. He doesn’t look at Glass.

The other man approaches now, just a few steps, and he looks in the mirror at himself next to Bright. “I see… my physical body… and I’m fairly certain that’s me.” He faces Bright with curious, pale blue eyes that are simply the exact opposite of the scientist’s bold red ones. “When I was younger I didn’t like to see my reflection, because I didn’t want to look like a little girl.”

“That’s different.”

“Not really. No matter what your brain believes shouldn’t be true about your physical body, your physical body is still you. You are the person you see in the mirror. So am I, and so was I back when I was little.”

Bright continues to watch the mirror in silence. His face crinkles in frustration. “I had green eyes. I had green eyes, and I needed glasses.” He pulls his eyelids with his index finger and thumb to get a good look at the full eye. “Bullshit.”

“You could think of it as a scar,” Glass says in his stupidly soft spoken way and Bright wants to agree, but goddamn does he want to be right himself. So, cornered and scared, he gnashes and bares his teeth in false anger, like a bad dog.

“Fuck off, Simon.” He snarls through grit teeth, crooked and yellow and sharp and just like a dog’s — and not his. 

“Jack…” Glass begins slowly, carefully. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, nothing here is okay, this place is FUCKED, AND YOU KNOW IT.” Teeth are snapped uselessly against metal bars that separate his wolfish self from the fragile deer on the other side, one he so foolishly wants to kill and hold and cry into and love. His own humanity cages him and he gnaws wildly at the bars.

“I know this place isn’t right in… a lot of ways, but I also know it’s better to accept flaws sometimes.” Glass reaches out, offering his hand to Bright. The scientist swallows a lump in his throat, glaring with his lip between his teeth as he takes Glass’ hand. Glass intertwines their fingers, and he looks up and smiles. “You see that?”

“I’m not blind.”

“No — I mean, you see our hands, touching. And you feel it. Right?”

“…Sure.” Bright keeps his eyes locked on their hands, his bony knuckles and long fingers awkwardly engulfing the soft and small hand of the psychologist. He feels the gentle warmth coming from Glass’ hand against his significantly colder one — his own hands always seem to be freezing — and he feels the pressure from each of them holding on.

“That’s you.” Glass says.

“What.” It comes out more a statement than a question.

“You see yourself holding my hand, you feel yourself holding my hand. You’re you. That body is you. It’s yours.” Glass smiles up at Bright, confident he’s made a point.

And goddammit, he has. 

So he backs down, his anger giving way to the fear it hid so desperately as the deer nudges the cage door open. Like a dog, he’s been shown gentleness, and god, he just wants to be helped — to be saved. So for the time being, he lets Simon save him. Just like a loyal dog.

[wilders-girl]

I Collect Spores, Mold, and Fungus.

Egon Spengler x Fem!Reader

PG, fluff, but also angst. I am a sad person I cannot help myself

Mild cursing, Egon feels undeserving of reader's luv, bro cries, reader cries, everyone cries, mutual pining but they're painfully unaware

3,428 words

Not proofread bc I'm silly 🤯

This was 100% an impulse write and it was created from the hours of 12-2 AM for a fortnight. Not my best work but I am in love with this silly goofy fellow. Ray is there!!! And mentions of the other guys too! Hope u enjoy ♡

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"So, what kind of hobbies do you have?" I meekly asked, watching Egon work from afar.

"I collect spores, mold, and fungus." He answered without skipping a beat.

I was startled at his quick answer, but responded soon enough that he wouldn't think I was judging him.

"That's quite interesting, actually." I spoke. "Do you have to take care of them like a houseplant, or something?"

Now it was his turn to look startled, glancing up at me for a moment before resuming his work.

"In a way, yes. I observe their progress as they grow and record differences between members of the same species and such."

He adjusted the dial on his microscope and changed the slide.

"Obviously, they're less demanding than a houseplant." He finished.

"I can understand that." I nodded.

"God, it seems like houseplants are allergic to tap water. Only the finest H2O for you, my liege!" I joked, shaking my head.

The corners of his mouth pulled up in a small smile, and I felt my heartbeat quicken at the sight.

A moment of silence passed before I spoke again.

"Fungi sound easier to take care of by a long shot. Do you have any favorite types?"

He paused his research and looked up at me, seemingly amazed again.

I had an apologetic expression and started to stand up from my awkward position on the couch.

"Sorry if I'm bothering you, I can go back upstairs if you'd like-."

"No!" He interjected, wide-eyed.

"Sorry. I just…" He trailed off for a second, analyzing the best way to say what he wanted to.

"I didn't expect you to actually be interested in my hobby." He spoke slowly, as if each word carried more meaning than at face value.

"I didn't think anyone cared."

"Oh, Spengs," I placed my hand on my chest. "I'm sorry. If it means anything, I'm not lying. I really do think it's interesting."

I felt a wave of sadness envelop me as I realized how he'd felt all this time. Reading between the lines, I knew what he really meant.

"I didn't think anyone cared about me."

He swallowed and locked eyes with me, his eyebrows furrowed in sincerity.

"Thank you."

His voice carried heavy emotion, very off-brand for the usually stoic scientist.

Snapping out of his trance, he got up from his desk himself and walked over to me.

"Would you like to see my favorite specimens?" His voice was quiet, very hesitant. Like if he spoke too loudly, I'd disappear.

I smiled up at him, and we made eye contact again.

"I'd love to."

I felt something change between us the moment we looked into each other’s eyes. He let his shoulders relax a little, he smiled a little wider than his typical smirk, and his gaze softened behind those thick glasses. The most insignificant changes meant so much for a man like him. I could tell, though, at that moment, that he trusted me. Somehow, this cold, unsociable man allowed me into his world, a heavily guarded fortress. All because I showed him a little bit of love. And he had no idea how much I had to give him.

After putting on sterile gloves, he carefully took a petri dish from the top rack, closest to the heat lamp, and showed me a funky looking pink fuzz.

"This," He began, a smug look appearing on his face, "Is one of my top three favorite specimens. This is fusarium oxysporum, a type of filamentous fungi that occurs most commonly as a soil-borne pathogen to many plants. This one's a tough specimen; it's survived nearly every experiment I've put it through."

I analyzed it in his hands, admiring the dark magenta color.

"Why is this one of your favorites?" I asked, looking back up at him.

He looked away in embarrassment.

"I like the color." He muttered.

I laughed softly at that.

"I expected a more scientific answer, Dr." I joked.

He sighed and looked for another specimen near the middle racks, and I laughed again at his shyness.

"Ah. There it is." He sported his signature half-smile.

He brought out a piece of a tree branch, and his eyes gleamed.

"This one is terana caerulea, also known as the velvet blue spread. It's a saprobic crust fungus commonly found on the underside of fallen trees in deciduous forests."

"I really like the texture of this one!" I looked at the specimen closely. "It really is like velvet."

"Mhm. This one was the most vivid sample I could find when Ray forced us to go camping upstate a few years back. As you can see, it's been doing pretty well, too."

I snickered at the thought of the boys, especially Egon, going camping. It just didn't sound real.

"And why is this one of your favorites, Dr?" I teased.

He looked down at me and smiled.

"I like the color."

I laughed again, missing the look of adoration he sent me as I did.

"Is it your favorite color?" I asked once I regained my composure.

Looking away quickly to hide the fact he was looking so intently at me, he nodded.

"I guess it is."

I kept that in the back of my mind. Just in case I needed that information someday.

He discarded his gloves, washed his hands and walked back over to his desk, and I followed, standing a polite distance from him. I needed to tell him something.

"Hey, Spengs?" I quietly asked.

He turned around and raised an eyebrow, leaning on the desk.

I fidgeted with the ring on my little finger.

"I really like talking to you, you know. I think you're great."

I paused, looking at the floor.

"I guess it's because you treat me like an equal. I guess more like an actual human being if we're comparing you to Venkman. But, like, I never feel stupid or out of place when I'm around you. It's the opposite, actually. I feel really comfortable around you. You make me really happy, Egon."

I smiled at the ground, feeling as though I'd just run a marathon. My face was terribly overheated, I could feel it. For a second, I regretted this random burst of confidence and wanted to crawl into a hole and rot so maybe he'd collect the fungus growing on my dead body.

I looked up at him for a quick second and saw him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. Tears were threatening to spill over his eyes as he looked away from me.

I automatically assumed the worst and let my arms hang limp at my sides in my shameful retreat upstairs. I did too much.

"Aw, Spengler, I'm sorry -"

I was cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping tightly around my torso in a hug before I could take a step away.

I was shocked. It took me a couple of seconds to realize what was going on and melt into the sensation.

He shook gently in my arms as silent sobs escaped him.

I closed my eyes and whispered sweet nothings to him while rubbing circles on his back. It probably looked a little awkward from an outsider's perspective since he was bent so far over my smaller frame, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

For a moment, I tried to discard my feelings for him. I told myself he needed me as a friend at that moment, and blinked back a few tears of my own as I realized a friend was all he wanted me as, selfish as it was in that moment.

I tried to calm the fluttering in my heart as he held me even closer and let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked -"

It was my turn to cut him off now.

"Hey, don't be sorry. You're alright. I'm here for you." I spoke softly in the crook of his neck.

He pulled away, to my dismay, and immediately looked at the ground, upset at himself.

"This is completely irrational of me, I'm truly very sorry." He mumbled.

I reached a hand out towards his, silently asking permission to hold it.

He hesitantly took my shaky hand in his cold one.

"I should be the one to apologize, Egon. I brought it up out of nowhere, and it was just weird of me to say. I'm sorry for making things weird. I just wanted you to know that you're appreciated, and I really do think you're worth my attention and time.

He whispered my name.

"You make me happy too." He was still looking down, but a bit of the sadness was erased from his eyes.

"Ever since I met you, you've brought me nothing but happiness in my life. Nobody really tries to understand me like you do. And…"

He slightly tightened his grip on my hand.

"I'm sorry if I ever make it seem like I don't value you. I'm aware that I don't express my emotions as clearly as other people, but I wish I was clearer with you. You are one of my favorite people. You mean a lot to me as a friend."

I felt my heart drop a little at those words, and I looked at the floor. I mentally cursed myself for focusing on the "friend" part, when it was obvious he needed me to be a friend and be there for him right now.

"You mean a lot to me in general." He paused.

"Maybe even beyond friendship." He spoke under his breath. If there had been any other noise, I wouldn't have heard him say it.

I snapped my head up to look at him in shock.

He took off his glasses and wiped away the remnants of his tears with the sleeve of his lab coat, breaking our hand-holding and eye contact.

I couldn't muster up the courage to say anything as he put his glasses back on and looked at me confused.

"Are you alright?" He said my name.

I still couldn't speak, and all I could do was look up at him. Maybe I was hearing things. Swallowing thickly, I broke our eye contact again.

"Shit." He muttered, quickly bringing a hand up over his mouth.

I looked back up at him to see his face creased in worry.

"Did I say that out loud?"

I felt my ears go hot and looked away while nodding.

He hissed a string of profanities and turned around to rummage through the drawers in his desk.

"I'm sorry," He shakily said my name, "I wasn't thinking straight. Please forgive me. It's unlike me to speak without thinking, God I'm an idiot!" He rambled, still looking through his drawers with a prominent redness in his cheeks.

"Did you mean it?" I whispered, effectively snapping him out of his quest.

He made eye contact with me, brows knotted, and opened his mouth like he was going to speak but decided against it. He began to scour the drawers again.

"There it is." He pulled out a small journal and clutched it tightly.

He stared intently down at it, eyes flitting to me occasionally as he spoke.

"I'm not very good at… conversing 'without a script', so to speak."

He cleared his throat.

"I, uh, figured it would be better for me to not… speak… when this situation came around."

He held his lips shut and handed the book towards me with a shaky hand. His eyes were still trained on the book, even though I was looking at him.

I hesitantly accepted the journal from him and looked at him to ask permission to read it. He nodded and leaned against the desk, picking at his fingers in anxiety as I opened it to the first page.

---

10/3

We hired a new worker today. She's going to assist Janine in taking calls. I overheard some of the interview walking upstairs to get food, and it seems she's more well-versed in paranormal studies than Janine. I might have to quiz her on that later.

10-27

After getting to know her a little better, I've decided she is worthy of entering my lab. I let her come down today to investigate, and she seemed quite intrigued by the happenings down here. I wonder what she found so fascinating. I couldn't ask her, I'm not sure why.

10-30

It's become increasingly more difficult for me to speak to her about personal affairs. I'm still unsure why. She's easy to get along with, and I seem to be able to converse with her just fine, but I freeze up when she does certain things.

11-2

I've noticed a pattern with the phenomena that triggers my inability to interact with her. I've found that it happens most when she smiles or laughs, gets close to me, makes physical contact with me, etc. The PKE didn't pick up any suspicious readings from her, so maybe there's something wrong with me. I'll run an experiment tomorrow.

11-3

The research shows I'm completely fine, but she still renders me speechless. After work today, she changed into a very flattering dress, saying that she was going out with her friend for drinks. It was, at face value, a regular dress. Though, somehow, it looked stunning on her. I didn't realize I was smiling until she pointed it out. I fear that I might have a different problem than I imagined.

11-15

My problem is most definitely not paranormal. It's biological. She was in the lab again today, helping me with my temperature-related differentiation study with the penicillium species. She comes down here on slow days when Janine tells her she can handle the work. When I moved to take the petri dish out of her hand, I accidentally brushed my fingers with hers and almost dropped the specimen. She was warm, but that wasn't what was alarming to me. I simply enjoyed the feeling. I enjoyed her presence, and I enjoyed her as a person in my life. I liked seeing her happy, and couldn't bear seeing her sad. I realized a simple truth at that moment: she made me happy and I wanted to make her happy too. Irrational it may seem, but she means the world to me.

11-22

I have come to a conclusion. How can I tell her without making a fool of myself? I fear it cannot be done. I can't say my feelings aloud to her. But I need to let her know how much she means to me.

11-23

I'm giving her this journal.

11-27

Since you've come this far in reading this, I want to tell you the facts, since it's easiest for me to think in a logical way. After running some studies on myself, i've come to some conclusions. When I make physical contact with you, my heartbeat quickens an average of 15%. After a prolonged interaction with you, I've recorded that the dopamine levels in my brain rise around 3 pg/ml. I find that when you're gone, I think about you around 2 times per minute; sometimes more, sometimes less. It's so comfortable for me to live in the analytical, logical world, but oftentimes you make me want to forget the science. You've made me feel things I just cannot explain. You have made me smile more than I have in years. I just feel happier with you, I don't know how to explain it. I have this irrational yearning for you. I want to see you happy, and I want to be the cause for your happiness. I want to be near you and see you at all times so I never forget how beautiful you are. I want to touch you, to be close to you so you can fill me with the warmth you bring in my heart. That, I can't explain. Therefore, logical or not, the signs point to one clear idea. I am in love with you. I felt you needed to know. I couldn't keep making excuses for my strange behavior. Thank you for reading this.

---

I closed the journal and felt a tear drip off my face. Wiping my eyes, I didn't realize I'd been crying until I felt the cold wetness against my fingertips. I sat there for a minute, collecting my thoughts and composure, and set the book down on Egon's desk.

Without a second thought, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him. This time, not bothering to be reserved with my emotions. I held him to me as tight as I could and felt euphoric by his reciprocal. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the feeling like I was on cloud nine.

Breathing in his scent one last time, I pulled away slightly and looked up at him. I probably looked like shit, but I didn’t care.

"I love you, too." I smiled.

He breathed out a sigh of relief and we went right back to our embrace.

I giggled, thinking about how nervous he was to not mess anything up. He was always so considerate of me. I didn't know why I never realized it. Then again, I guess he didn't realize it either.

He muttered my name, and I pulled away again to look at him, though I'd have stayed entwined with him forever if I could.

"Thank you." He smiled softly at me.

I reached for his hands and held them level with my shoulders as I leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.

He blinked a couple times and looked away shyly, a rose tinge washing over his cheeks and ears. I could only giggle at how adorable he looked at that moment. I never wanted to stop kissing him.

He pulled away, still smiling, and shut off his machinery for the evening. I reached for the journal again and smiled, thinking of the unspoken words in there. I learned that he was not a man of few words, rather, he just didn't voice his thoughts aloud. What he did say aloud was always the most meaningful or efficient of his thoughts.

"It's late." He spoke softly, turning around to face me. "You should get some rest."

I rolled my eyes.

"And you shouldn't?"

"I can function on an hour of sleep, thank you very much." He teased.

"Tell you what, Dr. I'll sleep if you sleep." I raised my eyebrows in mock defiance.

"There's no way to hold each other accountable for that, you know. You could be lying and stay up another few hours."

I clicked my tongue and pointed at him.

"That's exactly what someone who isn't about to sleep would say."

He shook his head with a half-smile.

"What, do you plan to hold me accountable somehow? Make me pay if I don't follow your bidding?"

I cocked my head, pretending to think about it.

"Doesn't sound half bad, actually. Renowned scientist Egon Spengler groveling at the feet of a woman who wants him to sleep."

He laughed, the sound I love so much. Then, an idea popped into my head. I slowly let my grin grow like a Cheshire cat.

"What if I did hold you accountable?"

He narrowed his eyes on me in confusion.

"If you crash at my place, I'd know you aren't cheating."

His eyes widened, and he suddenly took off his glasses to inspect them so as to break our eye contact.

But he didn't refuse.

I slowly stepped closer to him and took the glasses out of his hands to make him look at me again.

"What do you say, Spengs?" I innocently batted my eyelashes at him.

He looked away and swallowed, clearly flustered.

"You can say no." I spoke in a more serious tone, handing him back his glasses.

He put them back on and looked down at me with a surprising amount of confidence in his eyes, demeanor, and voice.

"Deal." He muttered.

—

We left the station shortly after, quietly conversing on our way out. Ray was still working on the Ecto-1 and squinted up at us from the car. His eyes widened when they landed on our entwined hands, and the cigarette almost fell out of his mouth in a shocked expression.

Egon turned around briefly and gave him a look I couldn't figure out. Ray nodded in acceptance and went back to work, whispering a "good night, you two," probably not to wake Peter "Sleeping Beauty" Venkman upstairs. With a wave and a smile, we exited the premises.

He fell asleep first.

—

A/n: oh my days writing this HEALED me. I've been in a tough situation with someone irl for a couple months and it just killed any semblance of happiness I believed still lived in me. Like seriously I try to play it off bc I'm cool but it made me really sad. AND COMBINED W SCHOOL I JUST. seething. But I'm back!!! And fictional men are helping me regain my hope for humanity (and maybe men). Sorry for the long break, but I am back on my bullshit now 😈

[soulsbleedink]

𝙀𝙎𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙊 | 𝙎𝙆𝘼𝙍𝙍𝘼

Prompt: [Slightly based off the song 'espresso' by Sabrina Carpenter!] Skarra's been looking for the IU scientist the whole day; concluding that she has disappeared into her haven; aka her lab. He brings her food, and spends time with her.

Warning[s]: None, it's fluffy!

Pairing: Skarra x OC [OC belongs to @edenvillee (Eden)]

Words: 2.2k

masterlist

i keep on brainrotting about dee's ocs, you can't really blame me. i had to write edarra, they're precious. <3

“Eden?” Eden could recognise that voice anywhere. She turned around to meet the familiar dumb haircut that Skarra had always had, stupid buzz. With her coffee in one hand and a calculator in another, she balanced a pointed glare at him. She didn’t want to come off as rude, but interruptions when she’d lock in weren’t too welcome. 

“What is it, Skarra?” She gave him one of her signature sarcastic smiles. He leaned down, as if he was observing her, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Spit up, I’m a bit busy, if you can’t tell?”

“Why are you so cranky? I just wanted to check in,” He started, and she sighed, shaking her head. “Dingaan said you’ve been cooped up in the lab the entire day, you’re already wearing glasses, didn’t need you to be blind next.”

“That’s a nice sentiment, but are you sure you don’t want something? You being nice equals ulterior motives most of the time.” She fixed her glasses, placing the coffee away, away from her reports and research papers. Nothing was safe around Skarra.

“I didn’t realise you thought so low of me.” He feigned a pout at her and she rolled her eyes. 

“Think you earned that reputation by yourself, himaar.” 

“I swear I knew what it meant yesterday—” Apparently it didn’t take more than a few seconds to get distracted, with something that was completely irrelevant too. “Just one more time—”

Eden turned away, running a hand through her hair as she glanced back at her papers spread all over her work-desk. A soft sigh slipped past her lips, and she could hear rustling behind her, evidently Skarra taking his umpteenth stroll around the lab that didn’t even interest him. She could swear he was only here to piss her off. 

“How many cups of raw espresso are you on…?” Skarra asked from somewhere in the background, the soft scraping of discarded cups following his words. Eden turned to him again, eyeing him as he cleaned up the mess that Eden said she would eventually, once she was done with the never-ending research she had to conduct. 

“Quite a few, I’ve lost count honestly,” She answered, rather honestly this time, “also, you don’t need to clean that up, I’ll do it myself soon enough.”

Skarra glared at her, and she glared back. “Eden, I swear, you have to take care of yourself!” He threw the cups away into bins, now making his way back to the scientist. “Take a break, now.”

“Shush, I still have half a dozen reports to read over, the other scientists aren’t particularly reliable, you know?” She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance, one that was prevalent on her face for most parts of the day anyway. Skarra laughed, and she huffed.

“Well, you can catch a break, can’t you?” He asked, a grin playing on his lips.

“Apparently not, actually.” She tried to turn back to the tumultuous pile of papers, but her chair stopped mid-spin, and she craned her neck up, meeting Skarra’s amused expression, lips forming a frown. He flicked her forehead and she reached forward but he reacted quickly, moving back.

Footballers and their reflexes. She rolled her eyes at the thought. 

“That wasn’t a question.” He retreated into whatever corner of hell he originated from, and she stared into the dark until he appeared, and he had some sort of box in his hands, a lunch box…? What? 

Choosing to ignore the box in his hands, she recounted his words, “yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t.” He was trying to gaslight her again.

“This just feels like that one time you went buff mode and then embarrassed yourself.” She smirked at him, knowing he would hate the mention.

Stretching her limbs, she watched as he pouted at her like a kid, the box still in his hands, but he was standing still and looking at her like a mad toddler about to throw their tantrum. Only then did she realise that it seemed to be growing even darker outside, the digital clock on the wall displayed a neon green 21:10. Time in fact did not wait for her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, feeling relatively happier. Apparently, the idiot knew how to make her feel better, with his stupid way of speaking, and acting around her. What a clown, honestly.

“Whatever, I thought I could be nice to you today, but you just want me to—” He stopped mid-sentence, as if he lost his train of thoughts (not that she believed he had any in the first place), and she wondered what stopped him.

“To what?”

“Nothing.” He walked over to her and placed the box on her desk, pushing away the papers and the mess that she had to look into. “I got you food.” 

“What?” She didn’t quite catch him. “What do you mean?” 

“I got you dinner.” And he refused to elaborate. Great.

“Skarra, I swear to god—” She tried to pry his hands away from her desk but he just wouldn’t budge. And then she just sighed, letting go. He continued unboxing what she assumed was food. “Thank you…” She resigned herself to her fate, if he wasn’t going to just let her off the hook, then perhaps she could just accept the fact that he would make her eat.

“Dingaan and Akira told me you barely responded to their messages too,” He mentioned off-handedly. 

She looked up at him. “And?”

“Don’t just ‘and’ me!” He huffed, and it reminded her of herself. She fought back a laugh, letting the guy place the food in front of her.

And suddenly she was surprised by how good it actually looked, it didn’t look too bad. Did he even cook this himself? In front of her, there were sandwiches, nice and simple, with the crust trimmed off, and they smelt wonderful, just for the fact.

“I made them…” He whispered, and she looked up, feeling a smile tug at her lips. Okay, maybe she did appreciate him a lot sometimes. She reached for his shoulder, squeezing it and mouthing the words ‘thank you’. 

“I appreciate it.” She looked back at the food, picking one of the sandwiches up and tentatively taking a bite. The taste was ethereal, or maybe it was the fact that for the last few hours she’d been sustaining herself on coffee only, but really, it did taste good. “It tastes amazing, are you sure you made it?” She asked jokingly, grinning. 

Noticing her grin, he grinned too, and nodded like a little puppy. Her heart winced maybe a tad bit, and she continued eating away. Skarra found a chair and rolled it over to her, so he was now next to her. He picked up his own sandwich and she could swear he bit off more than half of it in one single bite. Her eyes widened slightly at him, had he not had at all during the day?

“Have you not had any food today…?” She asked between bites, as she waited for him to meet her gaze. 

Slowly he met her eyes, and she smiled at him softly, urging him to answer. “No.”

“Why, Skarra?” She asked gently, fighting the urge to reach for his hands. This idiot honestly, she should’ve been mad at him, but she couldn’t even bring herself to fully be angry. She was exhausted, and at the moment really felt appreciative of him. She mentally face-palmed herself because of  her own thoughts.

He raised a questioning brow and she just shook her head. He just shrugged, and she watched him closely, noticing his relaxed shoulders, and the way he tapped at the arm of the chair twice every three seconds. 

“Skarra? Are you fine?” She mentally cringed a bit at her tone, but smiled up at him.

“Yeah, I guess I just wanted to spend some time with you.” He sighed, picking at scabs on his arms, and she pried his hands away from his arms, shaking his head. 

“Go on,” She whispered.

“I don’t really know, you’ve been so busy recently, and I kinda miss your banter, and your stupid insults.”

She felt her heart warm up. She didn’t know he could be this cute sometimes, gosh, did she hate him for it. For playing with her feelings like this, and making unwelcomed butterflies flutter in her stomach like that. 

“Well, you know what? I miss you too, idiot.” She laughed, for the first time fully in all these hours that she’d been in this lab, researching away, ignoring Vince’s calls, and Dingaan’s messages. Maybe she felt bad, but she had priorities, and she wouldn’t let go of that for anyone, really. Or maybe just a select few people.

“I never thought I’d be hearing you say that,” He said, feigning a heart attack, and striking the classic ‘damsel-in-distress’ pose, prompting Eden to laugh, run a hand through her brown curls. 

What she didn’t notice was that he looked at her for that moment like she could be the best thing he’d ever seen, and he would never—never look at someone like that, or he hoped he wouldn’t, at least. But seeing her let her guard down, and laugh, and be absolutely stupid with him really filled his heart with some type of warmth he only knew a few years ago.

Eden finally got out of her small laughing fit, and Skarra started picking up the crumbs from the bread on her desk, and she tried to convince him that he needn’t do that, but he was stubborn, and of course he wouldn’t listen. Of course not.

She sighed, picking a report from her stack and skimming through it while Skarra cleaned up lightly. 

New training sequences… Post-injury recovery statistics…. Dingaan…  Dingaan? That wasn’t even written in a font, it looked plainly scribbled with pen, and the handwriting looked familiar. She spun around in her chair.

“Skarra? Care to explain?” She looked at him through the lenses of her glasses, trying her best to glare at him.

He straightened up, slowly meeting his gaze and then glancing down at the paper, then back at her with an apologetic smile… “Sorry.”

“At least you’re apologising.” She sighed, turning back and just finishing up the last few rounds of proof-reading. 

She wasn’t sure how long it’d been since she locked in again, but when Skarra placed his hands on her shoulders, she could swear she saw heaven for a moment, the pure fear sending her heart jumping into her head. She shook, leaning her head up to glare at him and frown.

“Need help?” He asked, what had gotten into him, today?

“No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, though.”

He sighed at her words, and just resigned himself to sitting beside her, criss-crossed. 

It wasn’t too long before she considered herself far too drained without her unlimited resources of caffeine. She put away anything and everything related to her work and slouched, resting her head on the desk in front of her.

“No espresso, no energy?” Skarra taunted, and she laughed, nodding.

“Shut up, Skarra.”

“I lo—hate you too.” He got up and ruffled her hair, packing up her stuff for her.

She didn’t even have the energy to tell him not to, because god knew when he’d use this against her and try to gaslight her into doing something for him. 

“Dingaan will be hearing about this.” She sighed.

“I’ll let Vince know about the espresso.”

“Don’t you dare.” She tried to fake a threatening tone with him, but her exhaustion was getting the better of her too. 

“Come on, there's no way you're falling asleep here.” He tugged on her arm, and she tried to swat him away. 

“There's many ways, actually.” She deadpanned up at him.

“There's a reason I call you the nerd emoji.” 

“Excuse you. You have like no respect for me.” She hoisted herself from the clamlike position she was in, resigning herself to whatever was going through Skarra's small skull. 

Skarra turned to her, and grinned, before hoisting her bag onto his shoulder and lunging for the door that led to his freedom.

Now that caught her off-guard.

“Get back here, you rascal!” She called out as she forced her feet to pick up pace and run after him. Surely he would've realised her legs wouldn't be able to reach the speeds he could? Or probably not, this was Skarra she was thinking about. 

“Get me, Eden!” He turned back briefly, almost running right into a pole. 

She fought back a laugh as she finally cornered him at his car. “Give me my stuff back, or risk losing your head.” 

“No.” 

“Skarra.” 

He grinned at her like an idiot, and she was growing perplexed and maybe agitated. She tried to reach for her stuff but he held it above her head. 

“Come on, Eden, Dingaan's waiting.”

“Don't use him as bait.” 

Maybe she was hallucinating but Skarra started pouting again. Maybe all of that caffeine was getting to her and she was really ascending to heaven or—He reached out for her face and she stepped back. Yeah, she definitely was still alive and well.

“Whatever, get in that car and don't kill me because you're horrendous at driving.”

“Duly noted.” Maybe it wasn't too bad with him. Just her typical day-to-day IU scientist experience with her dumb footballer.

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

Day 4: Shrink Ray

Using my own prompt list: here. You can also read this and every prompt as they come on AO3.

Summary:

Zed has a super fun and awesome new challenge for Tango. It does require some.. size adjustments!

"Tango! Tango! Tango!"

"Zed! Zed! Zed!" Tango repeated, chuckling as he let the shulker box closed, standing for his friend. "What can I do for you buddy?"

Zed had a grin that meant something very silly and very fun was about to happen, which was the usual expression Zed had. It was pretty fantastic having a friend like him. 

"You're going to love this one," he insisted, hands flapping at his side, "Wanna follow me?"

Tango glanced down at his shulker box and the project of redstone behind him. He really should get this finished… but a few hours working with Zed was worth it. "Yeah, hold on," he broke away the shulker box and set it back into an enderchest. Once everything was just tidy enough that it wouldn't be overwhelming to return to he took Zedaph's hand. 

Surprisingly Zed didn't lead him back to his base, instead leading him underground. The facility was made of concrete and quartz, purposefully looking sterile and like a mad scientist lab, though it only seemed to be a long hallway that led to a small room with a gray stained glass window that looked into a large room. Inside the large room was a giant thing with a big red X painted on the floor where it was pointed, and to the side was a small maze, made for something about the size of a frog or even an endermite, with a cake sat in the middle.

Tango couldn't help the giggles, "Well this isn't ominous at all!" 

"I know right! Very comforting. There's even cake!" Zed replied with a grin, flipping a lever and the bright overhead lights turned on, "Now, Tango, I think you know where I want you."

"I can take a guess. Do I- Do I get to know what you're going to be blasting me with?" 

"You'll know very soon. Right this way," Zed said in lieu of explaining, opening an iron door and standing aside to let Tango through first. 

Anybody but Zed Tango would be turning the other direction and running for the hills, but there was always something so fun with Zed's tasks or experiments. Even if he ended up dead he would die laughing and cheering. He stepped through the iron door, barely containing a yelp as it slammed shut behind him, and walked down the few stairs (there was a bed at the bottom and he set his spawn) and into the big room.

He waved to Zed through the window and stood a few steps to the left of the red X, "Here?" 

He could see Zed's exasperated sighing and giggled. "To the right, Tango! On the X! Come on, you got the easy part. For now, that is."

Tango raised an eyebrow as that but swiftly moved over on top of the X, "Okay. Okay. Here then?" 

"Perfect! Now I need you to stand very still. I'be only tested this on sheep so far, and if they wriggled too much they died," Zed explained as he pressed a button in front of him. 

His laughter got slightly more nervous, "Noted! Staying still." 

The machine started lighting up, flashing a spiral of blues and purple, and humming lowly as it powered up. He hadn’t the faintest idea what was going to occur, but the pure yellow beam of light completely washed over him. He looked down, observing his arms and legs, trying to see what it was doing to him; if it was giving him polka dots or turing his outfit into a bright pink leotard. On the surface it didn’t look like it was doing anything. He looked up at Zedaph through the observation window to see him grinning, so it must of been working. He looked back at the machine– and then he had to look up at the machine, cause it was significantly larger than it was a moment ago. Another glance at Zed, and then the rest of the room, proved just what he thought, everything else had gotten proportionally bigger as well. 

Or, well, he had gotten a lot smaller. 

He burst into excited laughter as the machine turned off, “Zed! What? How!?” 

“The power of science, my friend!” he answered through the intercom. He pointed towards the maze at the side of the room, “Please enter, would you? There should be a ladder on the back.” 

“You’ve turned me into a lab rat!” Tango accused as he made his way over to the maze. He climbed the ladder quickly. The walls of the maze that he could have easily seen over just moments ago towered over him, and he wished he had thought to memorize it’s layout (but to be fair there was no way he could have known he was going to be in the maze). 

“You have one minute to get through! After one minute I’ll be adding a endermite for every thirty seconds you take, understand?” 

“Endermites? Wait- Wait- What’s the point of this challenge? Why am I doing this?” 

“Your timer starts-” Zed grinned, completely ignoring Tango, “Now!” 

“Oh geez,” Tango sighed before racing through the maze. He had a somewhat good idea where to go, but it was a lot bigger and trickier than he thought it was going to be. 

The minute passed before he was even halfway through, a note block chiming above him. There was the sound something like a gate opening and the chitters of a endermite echoed through the walls. He ran faster. Then another thirty seconds, still no end to the maze, and another endermite entered. Then another. 

It was two minutes and seven seconds in when he ran into an endermite, the bug that usually only ticked one heart of damage grabbed a hold of his leg and suddenly he was half health. He barely got a chance to scream before the second grab

He sat upright in the bed, laughing as he did. He was back to his usual size, which was expected, Zed didn’t have admin abilities. He couldn’t change his code so casually, this was more akin to a potion or beacon effect. He quickly made his way back into the middle of the room. 

“That was amazing!” He shouted up at Zed before yelping as an endermite bit him on the ankle. He crushed it under his foot on impulse. (He did not think about how it was possible that was the endermite that killed him and how easy it was to smash something so small.)

“Glad you enjoyed! Ready for round two?” Zed asked, hand already on the lever. 

Tango nodded, taking a step back onto the red X. “Let’s do this!”