#and even more grateful to be able to make anyone feel anything with it! dog coded bucky in my heart 4 ever fr fr

[johnslittlespoon]

you're a dog (i'm your man) ch4 update !! <3

DON'T QUOTE ME ON THIS because knowing me, i could dream up a whole new scene to try and squeeze in, buttt it's looking like i'll hopefully get chapter four done by the end of this week ahhh <33 if i say it out loud surely it'll make me hold myself accountable LOL

working title and a timeline hint sorta kinda:

'How Long Do I Have Left With My Dog?'

this one has been emotion heavy (and some of those emotions are quite fitting for the month we're in lmaoo i know what you are gale cleven) and hard to write bc i'm much more a dialogue over internal thought writer, but i hope it does the boys justice and makes the timeline progression filler feel less filler–y <3

also gonna be the longest chapter yet– already passed the 5k word threshold, guessing it'll be closer to 7k oopsie. thank youuu for the patience as always while i've been a sickly victorian man on my death bed SDGKJS appreciate it so so much :')

i'm SOOO excited for what i have planned for ch5, it's motivating me to wade thru the 'less fun' (read: angst) parts of ch4 because there are some scenes coming up that i've had planned in my head since before i even decided to make this fic into anything other than a collection of dog–coded oneshots <33

there's a scene i think i briefly drabbled about here back in like. february. that will slot into ch5 (or 6 if i have to split it up again lmfao) and it's crazy to see my shit come so full circle AND TO SEE HOW LONG DOG CODED BUCKY HAS HAD ME IN A CHOKEHOLD. embarrassing truly!!! wtf. i love these boys

ok that's my little (long) updateee, thank you again for putting up with my slow updates and replies and lack of brainrot lately <3 hope ur having a lovely pride month so far!!

[whateveriwant]

The 141 in a reverse harem

18+ content, GN!Reader, Reader is the ruler of an ancient kingdom

Soap

The moment you step into their communal quarters, Soap is always the first one to greet you, almost Iike he was sitting right beside the door

But nooooo, don't be silly. Of course he's not been impatiently waiting since your last visit. Though, you were 28 and ¾ minutes later than normal, not that he's been counting or anything

As you walk around their dwelling deciding on who to take back to your chambers for the night, he's following closely behind like a little horny whiny puppy

More than once, he's accidentally stepped on your robes because of just how close he likes to trail after you

Oh, but he's so terribly sorry! Here, let him make it up to you! Please, please let him make it up to you!

Because he tries to hog the limited time you spend with the men, it's earned him more than a few elbows to the ribs from his biggest “rival” in the group: Gaz. And speaking of which…

Gaz

Always trailing a little less desperately closely behind is the newest member of the harem: Gaz

Though he may be the youngest of the four, that doesn't mean he's any less experienced in these types of matters (and the young ones are always the most eager to please, aren't they)

Have you had a good day, darling? He knows you're very busy running a kingdom and all, so he for one is grateful you've taken time out of your hectic schedule to visit them

Oh, but your shoulders look so tense, darling! He can rub them for you if you'd like

And your poor feet! Those sandals of yours look awfully uncomfortable. Why doesn't he head back with you so he can show your full body the love it deserves

While he and Soap can't help but bicker when it comes to vying for your attention, on the rare occasion, the two have been able to put aside their differences and work together, if you know what I mean

Price

Unlike the two younger men, Price feels no need to fight for your time

No, he knows you'll eventually make your way over to him, swaying your hips in that way that makes him salivate like a dog

As the oldest and the longest resident of the group, he's become somewhat of a right hand of yours; almost like a concubine turned consultant, if you will

While of course he loves nothing more than to get down to the nitty gritty with you, these talks of yours are truly the highlight of his day even when they're entirely polite in nature

Why yes, he has done something different with his beard, thank you for noticing. He got some new oils from the market yesterday. Do you like it? Isn't it soft? Just wait until you feel it between your thighs

No matter who you're taking to your bed for the evening, Price always escorts you to the door of their quarters, leaving you with a kiss to the hand goodbye. Until next time, starlight

Ghost

Last but certainly not least is the man you have the most… interesting dynamic with, to put it one way

It's funny, really. He likes to pretend the sweet taste of you doesn't haunt his every waking moment, and you like to pretend that there was anyone else on your mind the second you walked through the door

But oh, he sees that you've arrived yet again... Well, this book of his is super interesting, so he's just going to sit in the corner and read, and absolutely not watch you out of the corner of his eye

What was that? No, he's not holding it in his lap for any reason. And no, his pant legs aren't shorter than normal. Why would you think that?

Oh, but the moment you hold your hand out for him, he has to stop himself from immediately tossing the dumb book aside and hauling you over his shoulder like some sort of rabid beast

Instead, he takes his time standing from his seat, almost indifferent as he takes your hand and lets you lead him back to your chambers

It's all a farce though, of course. Nothing makes his pride swell more than having you scream his name for the whole palace to hear, echoing all the way back to where the three other men are left to sit and mope

[mysicklove-main]

Tanjiro Kamado hates your new perfume.

He watched Tengen’s three wives gift you the small bottle with confusion. It smelled nice, whatever the fragrance was exactly. Maybe it was air freshener or maybe it was just meant to be smelled straight out of the bottle.

But to the strong smelling boy’s horror, you sprayed it upon your skin. That recognizable, comforting scent he looks for when stuck in a crowd is now gone. Tarnished by that potent smelling liquid. He hates it immediately.

He even watched the way Nezuko, who also had a keen sense of smell due to her demon state, let out strange soft growls in confusion. It seemed to him that she also preferred your natural scent.

But how could he say anything when you look so happy spraying it on every morning. How you have a soft grateful smile on your face, while you take a deep breathe of the sweet smelling concoction.

So, for now he sits there with a strained smile on his face, waiting for it to slowly wear off throughout the day so he can be greeted with your familiar scent. He even goes as far to mention how strong and nice smelling your perfume is later in the day so you don’t feel the need to apply more. He does feel a little bad for lying.

“Isn’t this so much better, Tanjiro? I know you got a dogs nose, don’t you like it? Now you don’t have to smell me all sweaty after battle!” What is he supposed to say to that? That he likes what you smell like after harsh training? Yeah, and admit to being more of a pervert than Zenitsu. He’d rather not.

“Yep! Smells great, Y/N! Like flowers. And don’t worry about the sweat, I’m used to it!” He gives you that familiar bright smile and you kiss him on the cheek before heading out the door.

He stays in the room for a second longer, staring at the small bottle. He might as well be glaring at it. It makes him feel guilty, this was a present, and you liked it. He should have no right to feel so annoyed at the perfume.

But still, couldn’t this be a safety hazard? If your scent was covered how would he be able to find you as quickly as he does? What if it’s stronger than the smell of your blood? What if he doesn’t smell a demon because he is so distracted by how annoyed he is that your perfect scent is now ruined!

He has got to get rid of it. For the sake of his sanity and your protection.

He turns toward Nezuko who recently joined him in your room. “It’s a safety hazard, right Nezuko? I have to do something.”

She nods with a small huff and Tanjiro makes a decision. He is going to get rid of it. Cut the bottle into pieces if he must. It would be a lot more satisfying that way.

He pulls out his blade and points it to thinner part at the top where the spritzer is at. Just like a demon, he will cut the neck off and then it won’t hurt anyone anymore. He pulls his sword back to land the blow. “Tanjiro, I can make a promise that my perfume is not a demon.” You call, watching the whole situation take place as you lean against the wall with a grin.

He jumps out of his skin and turns to you with a guilt ridden face. “Y-Y/N what are you doing in here?” He asks meakly, his face flushed from embarrassment.

He catches a glance at Nezuko leaving the room. Betrayal.

“Looking for you. Heard you mention something about a safety hazard,” You hum, smug smirk on your mouth as you look toward the boy ahead of you.

“You see as someone apart of the Demon Slayer Corps it’s my sacred duty to protect you and everyone else from danger!” He reasons, knowing how ridiculous he sounds in the moment, but trying not to let it get to him.

You blink, raising your eyebrows. “My perfume is dangerous?”

He stumbles, mouth open to try to find any sort of reasoning. He fails. “Uh yes?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s you know…Distracting. Cant focus on killing demons with that smell around.”

You cock your head to the side in confusion. “Because it smells so good?”

“No! Because now I won’t be able to pick up your scent! What happens if you get lost or something and I can’t find you?”

“Alright, that makes sense. I’ll stop wearing it.”

He continues in a ramble, “And it ruins your scent! You smell way better without it. Seriously you can even ask Nezuko!” You raise your eyebrows at him. “How am i supposed to recognize if it’s you near me or some random person if you smell—Wait. You’ll stop wearing it?”

“Of course, if it makes you uncomfortable.” You respond and he feels his body deflate in relief. He was expecting that to be a lot harder considering how much you liked the perfume. He barely had to state his case.

He sighs and brings his sword back up to the neck of the bottle. “Okay good. Shall I behead it?”

You roll your eyes with a smile. “I have a better idea.” You say, before grabbing the bottle and dropping it in the nearest trash bin. You turn back to him with a cheery grin.

He lowers his sword with a slight blush realizing how he looked. “That was a tough one. Definitely a higher rank demon. So glad I had my dog nosed boyfriend to protect me,” You tease and he looks down and puts his sword away. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile at his embarrassed face.

He glances down at you. “Let’s run you a bath”

You frown. “Why?”

“I miss your scent,” He replies with that familiar loving expression. You almost laugh at how ridiculous he sounded, but held back knowing that he was being a hundred percent serious.

[redladydeath]

Monthly Proto Vox AU update

For anyone who doesn't know, ever since Prototype Vox was discovered, I've been gradually putting together a backstory for Vox centered around the idea that that's how he originally spawned in Hell. It's gotten to be over 10K words long. Just wanted to make a new masterpost since I've added onto the older one 32 times.

Also, I don't think I ever posted about this, but I put this on Ao3 a few weeks ago.

Alastor goes to speak with another overlord, trying to decide whether or not he should kill them. While there, he notices that said overlord has the most fascinating little toy/pet/jester. Such novel technology… he thinks he’ll take it, whether the overlord wants him to or not!

Alastor keeps Vox around because he’s cute and entertaining. As time passes, a legitimate friendship starts to form as Alastor realizes that Vox is far more than meets the eye— tricksy, devious, and intelligent. He learns that before he arrived in Hell, Vox was a handsome, well-respected adult man, and he isn’t too keen on constantly being mistaken for a child and treated like a joke by other sinners. A pity he has to live like that… but it’s not like there’s anything to be done for it! And Alastor must say, he’s fond of his little picture box the way he is.

With Alastor’s guidance, Vox slowly accumulates knowledge and resources and discovers that he can modify his body. He jumps on the opportunity at once— he doesn’t want to live like this anymore, and he’ll do anything to be respected (or at least taken seriously) by other people again. Alastor disapproves but holds his tongue.

Time passes, and Vox changes more and more things about himself until he’s almost unrecognizable. He and Alastor get into arguments about it. It’s galling to Vox that Alastor keeps insisting he was better off in a form he hated. Mix all this with the modernity and “morality”/standards stuff, and you eventually get Vox and Alastor falling out.

Years later, Vox hates that he was ever that weak and can’t stand being reminded of Alastor, their old relationship, or his early life in Hell. He works hard to destroy/bury any traces of who he used to be, but Alastor is a walking, eternal reminder of the past he’d rather forget. Alastor is loathe to admit it, but he still misses his old friend. Sometimes, he wonders if he ever truly knew him at all.

---

Freshly fallen Vox seeking out an overlord’s protection because, holy shit, if he tries to survive on the streets any longer, he’s gonna get killed, or worse. Most sinners get asked if they can do anything useful when they go to an overlord; Vox gets asked if he can sing, dance, and do comedy routines. He can, so he’s quickly scooped up by the overlord. He supposes he should be grateful that he was able to score a comfortable job doing something not terribly unpleasant, but the dehumanization of being treated like a doll or an adorable purse dog grates on him. He remembers who he really is (or used to be) and would do anything to be seen as a man again rather than a novelty.

---

Imagine feeling so utterly desexed by your body, finding someone you think you can trust to respect you, confessing that you’re in love with them, and they laugh in your face for thinking such a thing was even remotely possible. Alastor doesn’t do a great job clarifying that he’s disinterested in a relationship out of personal preference rather than because he doesn’t respect Vox, and Vox walks away from the encounter seething, believing that Alastor never saw him as anything more than a pet or a clown.

---

Man, this would especially suck for my hc version of Vox, who used to be a small-time Vaudevillian when he was a child. Like. Yaaaayyy, time to dance around and act cutesy for people who have complete power over you… again…… when you’re pushing forty…………

---

Vox was REALLY starting to feel like he'd made an irreversible mistake before Alastor came into his life. He'd been in the employ of his overlord for four years, and he could count the number of times he'd been allowed to leave their compound on two (four-fingered) hands. They weren't cruel to him per se, but they really did seem to see him as a pet– something to trail after them all day, do tricks on demand, and show off to colleagues at parties. Any plans he had for carving out a dignified, powerful life for himself were going up in smoke. He knew a lot of things from constantly overhearing conversations about the overlord's business, but he didn't have anyone to trade that information to because of his restricted mobility. He understood that he had some pretty unique powers, but he'd never gotten the chance to use them in combat, only to perform. It was becoming clear to Vox that the only way he was going to escape this doltish, embarrassing life was if someone killed his overlord (something he couldn't do himself due to the deal they struck).

And then the Radio Demon came walking through the door.

---

Vox really has no idea what Alastor's deal is when they first meet. Like. He kidnaps him but also says Vox can leave whenever he wants. But like. where is he supposed to go??? Alastor just killed his overlord, which, yeah, Vox wanted to happen, but now he's homeless and isn't sure how to proceed. Is it safe to stay with Alastor, or is he just going to kill him next?

Vox keeps up the "silly little cartoon" persona for a while because Alastor seems to find it amusing, but things gradually slip through the cracks. He's scared Alastor will abandon or kill him if he grows bored or dissatisfied with him, but... Alastor seems to like the real him? He actually lets him speak freely and talk about whatever he wants? He uses his tech powers to turn off the in-built censors that keep Vox from swearing?? When he realizes that Vox is actually really cunning, he wants to hear his feedback on things??? Sure, he still kinda talks down to him, but Alastor's like that with everyone. This... maybe this could be more than just trading one master for another.

---

Random thoughts about Vox’s overlord

She was enamored with him from the first moment she saw him. He was just so precious! And he was willing to do anything to receive her protection!

Her industry had nothing to do with entertainment; she took Vox in purely to be her own personal jester.

Not sure if she owned his soul or just had a deal with him to give him a safe place to live in exchange for his services.

Loved treating him like a doll. Would dress him in cute, oversized outfits, carry him around in her arms, and occasionally bring him to bed and cuddle him like some sort of plushie.

There were occasions, especially towards the beginning, when Vox would snap at her or reveal elements of his real personality. Those incidents would only lead to her doubling down on the demeaning treatment. She’d experienced mistreatment at the hands of men like him when she was alive and saw asserting her power over him as cathartic and karmic.

Usually brought him with her everywhere, but would sometimes leave him locked in her office/room by himself if she had something important scheduled. Vox had initially thought he could leave or at least walk around when she didn’t need him, but no. Besides, why would he want to leave? The streets of Hell were no place for a tiny, fragile thing like him!

Vox fucking hated her and was glad to see Alastor bash her brains in and feature her on his show.

---

Mainverse Vox died by being electrocuted by an ungrounded mic at work right before they went live. This Vox died by being electrocuted while trying to fix the family TV. His kids had been begging him to at least try to fix it since the repairman couldn’t come until the next day, and they didn’t want to miss their favorite cartoon. He was feeling indulgent that day and felt that, as the man of the house, he should be able to fix things without always calling someone else to do it for him. It didn’t end well.

---

Thinking about Vox and Alastor’s first encounter.

Alastor might have seen Vox before at an overlord event, being shown off by his boss or performing for her friends. He may have seen him for the first time when he walked into Vox’s overlord’s office and saw her toying with him. Either way, Alastor was immediately intrigued. He hadn’t seen many sinners like Vox, with his screen head and cartoony body, and could instantly tell he was a highly skilled performer. His eyes followed him, even as Vox’s overlord put him aside and ordered him to get her and Alastor drinks. Vox could tell Alastor was watching him but wasn’t sure what to do about it. It’s probably not a good sign when the infamous Radio Demon is eying you like you’re his next meal.

Eventually, the overlord noticed that Alastor was not paying full attention to their conversation and was preoccupied with Vox. The topic briefly switched to him before Alastor inquired if she’d be willing to bargain for him. Vox was horrified. The overlord attempted to politely decline; she couldn’t bear to part with her precious little poppet. He was hers, and it would be cruel to separate them— they adored each other so much, after all. Alastor just smiled blithely and clarified: he wasn’t asking.

All hell broke loose in an instant. One moment, Vox was observing a conversation between his boss and her colleague; the next, the office was crawling with shadows, and his overlord was pinned to the wall, impaled on a tentacle. Vox panicked and tried to flee, but there was no escaping that room. There are two options for what happens next: either Vox is seized by Alastor and teleported out of the building, or Vox’s boss screams at him to help her, only for him to glance between her and Alastor and fix her with an icy stare.

No matter what happened, the outcome was the same: Vox found himself teleported onto the streets of Hell with Alastor looming over him. He frantically attempted to talk Alastor out of killing him, but Al just laughed jovially and told Vox that he had no intention of harming him. Vox was free to leave whenever he wanted, but Alastor would like to see just how entertaining he truly was.

---

As they're walking, Alastor notices a weird clicking sound coming from Vox. He asks what it is, and Vox awkwardly explains that he's wearing tap shoes and starts trying to take them off as he walks. Alastor is amused and tells him not to bother. He'd love to see him dance sometime.

---

Val: Baby? What were things like before you met me? Vox: Awesome. I had- I had women all over me, they just couldn’t get enough. Everyone was always dying to see my shows. I was voted the hottest person in Hell. It was great. Vox’s actual early career in Hell:

---

Thinking about one of the times Vox “mouthed off” to his overlord. He may be a performer, but there’s only so long he can stay in character, especially when said character is so undignified. He refused to play along with one of her little games and snapped at her that he was a man, not a fucking show dog.

Next thing Vox knew, he was nearly blinded by pain as his boss twisted his antenna almost to its breaking point. Her voice sickeningly sweet, she told him she knew exactly what kind of man he had been— Earth’s crawling with them. But those days are over now. Respect has to be earned in Hell; it’s not just going to be handed to him like when he was alive. The afterlife has made him a joke, and the sooner he accepts that the happier he'll be. That’s what he signed up for when they made their little arrangement, after all. She asked if she was understood and kept twisting his antenna until she got a loud-and-clear “Yes, ma’am” out of him. With that, she snapped back to normal and either cheerfully ushered him towards [whatever she was forcing him to do] or dismissed him in her typical patronizing manner.

Vox broke half the items in his room that night in a rage. He tried to leave gouges on his skin and dents in his head, but he couldn’t manage it, what with his stupid, soft little hands.

---

It doesn’t really fit with my headcanon that Alastor was super white-passing when he was alive and spent most of his life pretending to be white in order to have more opportunities, but I feel like he may have felt a kinship with Proto-Vox due to them both being “outsiders”— people who are/were constantly dismissed by those in power and have to work twice as hard in order to be taken seriously, even though they’re more skilled and competent than everyone else in the room. And so it hurt all the more when Vox leapt at the first opportunity to change who he was in order to join the class of people who had once looked down on him. It didn’t fully click with Alastor that Vox wasn’t always like this– that he was trying to return to who he once was rather than abandoning who he’d always been.

---

Vox wasn’t exactly doing himself any favors in terms of connecting with the other sinners who worked under his overlord. He was so desperate to reestablish at least some control over his situation that, on the rare occasion he got to interact with people without his boss looming over them, he was insufferable, acting as though his position as their overlord's constant companion made him superior to regular employees. It never actually made him feel any better though, since most people either just rolled their eyes or testily reminded him that his oh-so-important job was to make a fool of himself all day and be doted on by his "owner."

---

To most outside observers, it really looked as though the relationship between Vox and his overlord was genuinely loving. She was just so affectionate with him. There was never a moment when she wasn’t tittering away at his jokes, or playing with his antennas or plug tail, or scooping him up into her arms or lap, or hugging or tickling or cuddling him, or covering him in kisses, or coming up with adorable pet names, or showing him off to others as though he were the rarest gem she’d ever come across. No one ever seemed to notice that Vox was never the one to initiate these kind of interactions. Depending on who you asked, it was either the most adoring master-servant arrangement Hell had ever seen, a (possibly biological?) mother-son dynamic, or just an INCREDIBLY kinky relationship. Vox played his part well, laughing along and hardly ever letting the smiling mask slip. No one ever could’ve guessed just how much he loathed her and the entire humiliating situation or how cruel she could be whenever he dared drop the act.

Well, no one except Alastor, that is.

---

Imo, Proto Vox would just sound like normal Vox slightly pitched up, but man, Hell giving him a lisp or some other "funny" way of speaking on top of everything else would be such a gut punch for him. His good looks and his charismatic manner of speech were key to his success when he was alive, and now both of those lifelines have been severed.

---

Personal, headcanon-specific thoughts:

Proto Vox’s outfit is very similar to a costume he wore during his childhood on Vaudeville.

Alternate option: While I hc that sinners spawn naked, if they don’t, then Vox spawned in the exact 1920s sailor suit he used to wear during most of his childhood performances.

His Hell form is a punishment not only because it robs him of all dignity, but because it’s a constant reminder of a part of his life when he had no power over his situation and was treated like an object meant only to entertain.

---

Thinking about how Alastor’s “a smile is a means of maintaining control” philosophy might strike a chord with Proto Vox. When he was alive (and later, in his career as an overlord), putting on a smile was a way for him to project the person he wanted others to perceive him as. If he looked the part, then people would believe he was the confident, steady, trustworthy man he presented as. After he arrived in Hell, though, a smile became a mask he could not take off. Hell had chosen a role for him, and if he failed to play it well enough, he risked permanent death or worse. He resented having to keep that mindless grin on his face at all times. This wasn’t who he wanted to be. This wasn’t who he was. The idea that he could use that iron mask to regain control over his life was foreign to him, but it made sense. Now that he was no longer chained to a master who kept him locked into that hated role at all times, he had a choice in how he wanted to use it— for day-to-day survival or to further his true ambitions?

---

Vox and Alastor’s first encounter was at an overlord party like something out of a Regency romance, except Vox was three feet tall and didn’t notice Alastor was watching him because he was too busy performing for his boss’ overlord friends. Alastor appreciated the skill on display in Vox’s routine and was intrigued by the unusual way his “owner” treated him. Sure, some overlords treat those under them as pets, but she was so overly cutesy and “loving” with him that it stood out, especially given the way Vox feigned reciprocation. Interesting.

---

A scene/story idea: Vox is sitting at a desk in a grand, spacious office. It’s late, and he’s just killing time, wishing he had a cigar (and a mouth to smoke it with) and occasionally scribbling down notes for future reference. The stationary he’s using has the date printed at the top, though. It’s his daughter’s tenth birthday. He reflects on how it’s been three years since he last saw her and the rest of his family and how he’ll likely never see them again. He hopes his wife is throwing her an appropriately extravagant party, at least. They’d gone all-out for their son’s tenth birthday; half the neighborhood was there, even one or two of the ladies from work who had blown him in exchange for putting in a good word with the producers. It was a great time.

And then his boss comes walking in, complaining about what a stressful day she’s had, and the illusion that this is Vox’s office shatters. He hops down to the floor, taking his dance/comedy routine notes with him. His boss is busy getting herself a drink, so he hopes she didn’t notice him sitting in her chair. He starts trying to engage her in conversation, switching to his work persona (cheerful, cutesy, and childish). She did notice him, but she just��smiles indulgently and says he always knows just what to do to cheer her up— he looked so silly sitting at her big, important desk. Now, she needs a bit of comfort; they’ll be going to bed now. She scoops Vox up as easily as if he were a doll and carries him off to serve as her (very angular) teddy bear. Vox keeps the adoring smile plastered on his face and tries to put aside the burning shame and rage that this is what the afterlife has reduced him to: a child, a pet, a toy meant to entertain those who wield the actual power.

---

You know, come to think of it, there’s actually some basis to Alastor feeling a bit of a kinship with Vox. Aside from the obvious shared trait of them both being communications/entertainment demons, Alastor’s demonic form is a prey animal. Al never had to deal with the consequences of having that kind of form since he spawned so powerful (unless we’re going with the theory that he made his mystery deal right when he got to Hell and draws the majority of his power from it (which would be pretty interesting in this context…)), but still.

---

Made Vox's room in the Sims

---

Vox tried to walk out of his job once. His boss pushed him too far, and he snapped, yelling at her to find someone else to play this fucked up game with; he’d rather take his chances on the streets. Next thing he knew, he was bound, muted, and blindfolded, being crammed into a tiny suitcase. His overlord told him to reflect on what he’d said. There’s no life after second death, only nothingness. Is that really a risk he wants to take?

Vox was in “storage” for the next week. He didn’t try to leave again after that.

---

When Vox’s boss finally decided he’d had enough time to reflect, she opened the trunk to find Vox barely able to move under his own power. He was trembling like a freezing cat, having spent seven whole days bound in the fetal position, unable to move, speak, hear, or see. He couldn’t even unfurl himself from said position without her help. When she took him into her arms, he clung to her, any thoughts of hate or anger gone, replaced with a desperate desire for human connection after a week of nothingness. She cradled him in her arms— sweet as a lamb and without a shred of that odious pride she’d been working so hard to stamp out of him. Whispering kind, soothing words, she stroked his shaking, silent body as she carried him back to her bedroom. She dozed off with him in her arms, secure in the knowledge that her darling little doll had learned his lesson: being her toy is a privilege, and the only possible alternative for him is oblivion.

---

Thinking about Proto Vox and body dysmorphia

Vox hated everything about his body.

He hated being so small, not even half the size of most other sinners.

He hated his face, cute and goofy-looking. He hated his “missing tooth,” which only added to his childish appearance.

He hated his head, oversized and heavy. He hated how clumsy it made him before he became accustomed to it.

He hated not having a physical mouth and being unable to eat.

He hated his voice, higher pitched than it had been when he was alive. He hated the childish-sounding lisp he had been afflicted with.

He hated how he couldn’t swear or talk about adult topics without his voice being drowned out by an in-built censor.

He hated his body and its strange combination of wood and metal, both of which bent in ways that shouldn’t’ve been possible.

He hated his hands, soft and rounded and nailless.

He hated how he had spawned without genitals, completely smooth and sexless, like a doll.

He hated how no one perceived him as anything even remotely resembling a sexual being, even though he was a fully grown man who had once had his pick of beautiful women when he was alive.

He hated how he weighed almost nothing, making him easy for others to pick up or restrain.

He hated the way nothing in Hell was built to accommodate sinners his size, forcing him to climb (or be lifted onto) things as simple as chairs.

He hated the way his boss made him dress: in baggy outfits that made his smallness even more apparent, in children’s clothes, in silly, oh-so adorable costumes. He especially hated when she insisted on dressing him herself as though he were her doll.

He hated how often people mistook him for a child or deliberately talked down to him as though he was stupid just because of his ridiculous body.

He hated how people laughed at him and how he had no choice but to make them laugh in order to keep himself alive.

He hated how, in one fell swoop, Hell had robbed him of everything that had made him him. His good looks, his charisma, his respectability— everything. Never in a million years would he have anticipated that this would be his punishment for his misdeeds on Earth, for looking down on others and treating them like objects to be pushed around, but he had to admit, it was a pretty potent punishment nonetheless. And he would do anything to escape it.

---

Vox’s boss was kind of massively projecting her own resentments and trauma onto him. She didn’t actually know that much about him. It was pure luck that her impression of him as an arrogant chauvinist who had treated the people in his life poorly was… you know… accurate.

---

Vox realized that he had a voyeurism kink the third time his boss had sex with someone while he was still in the room. Probably not the outcome she intended, but it wasn’t like Vox could do anything about it anyway. He still felt sexual desire, but he’d spawned in Hell without genitals so that energy had nowhere to go. Just another lovely part of Vox’s Wonderful Afterlife.

---

Most sinners are horrified when they see their new forms for the first time. Vox was just devastated.

He was horrified when he first woke up, of course– transported to a strange new place, surrounded by giant monsters, and barely able to keep from swaying under the weight of his oversized head. No one paid him or his panic any mind save for a few smirks and chuckles. Vox found himself pressed up against a wall, out of the way of the flow of pedestrians, trying to process what was going on. Once he realized something was wrong with his body, he ducked into a nearby store, desperate to find a mirror (and get away from the crowds of fellow sinners). The store clerk let him in; they weren’t supposed to let newlydead into the shop since they usually just cause a scene, but Vox looked harmless, and they felt a little bad for such a tiny, fearful sinner. Vox made a beeline for the nearest mirror.

When his reflection finally came into view, Vox… he was lost for words. Seeing his childlike proportions, it finally registered that the world hadn’t gotten bigger; he’d gotten smaller. His body… there was something wrong with it. It was made of wood and metal like a puppet; only the materials seemed to bend like rubber. Worse than that, it was completely smooth and featureless; his genitals were simply gone. His hands were soft, rounded, and nailless, more like stuffed gloves than human hands. His head was encased— no, not encased, replaced with a television set that looked like it made up the majority of his body weight. Displayed on its screen was a face like something out of a cartoon: large, shiny, googly eyes, a wide mouth, and one conspicuously absent tooth. All topped off with a pair of floppy, overly long antennas that made him resemble some kind of insect.

Vox was speechless, staring at his new body. He felt tears bubbling up as he examined each part of it. He wasn’t sure how, but some part of him knew this wasn’t a dream and that this form would not be temporary. No tears fell though, trapped behind the glass of the— his screen. He couldn’t recall the moment of his death, but the realization of where he must be began to dawn on him. A soft, despairing sound escaped him, and Vox realized his voice, too, had been changed. He was not himself anymore, just this tiny, adorable thing, right out of one of the cartoons he’d been trying to repair the TV so his children could watch. A joke.

Suddenly, Vox felt someone grab him by the arm, dragging him away from the mirror, his feet barely brushing the floor. The owner had noticed a newlydead had snuck in and was having the prerequisite “What have I become?” freakout in their store. Carelessly, they shoved/threw Vox back onto the street and slammed the door behind them. Reeling, trying to wrap his mind around the gravity of the situation, Vox stumbled and collapsed on the sidewalk, surrounded by sinners who either stepped around him like he was nothing or paused for a moment to chuckle at the clumsy newlydead struggling to regain his balance under the weight of his massive head.

---

Vox's own shitty beliefs ended up being used against him during his early years in Hell.

In life, he'd treated his wife and son poorly because they complained about being unhappy with the way things were. Vox believed that if all your physical needs were met and you were able to live comfortably, you had no right to complain. He provided them with everything, and all he asked for in return was for them to be the happy, perfect wife and son he expected them to be. What was so hard about that?!

In death, the tables were turned. Vox was able to live comfortably in a safe environment, doing a job that most sinners would describe as incredibly cushy, but he was desperately unhappy. He was forced to play an inauthentic, demeaning role 24/7 and couldn't complain about it unless he wanted to be punished. Just sit there quietly and smile while the "grownups" are talking. No one wants to hear your silly little opinions. You should be grateful that you're even allowed to be here.

---

Words were Vox's boss' preferred weapon when it came to surreptitiously tormenting him, but she wasn't above using physical violence as a means of "discipline" either. Aside from the antenna and "storage" incidents, she'd occasionally employ "percussive maintenance" at the beginning of his time with her in response to breaks in character or sullen comments. Once or twice, she burnt him with cigarettes in response to particularly "bad" offenses.

---

Vox's boss would give him gifts sometimes. Little presents wrapped up all pretty with a bow. Sometimes, they were for special occasions, like the anniversary of his "coming to live with her"; sometimes, they were "rewards for good behavior." Vox would accept the presents graciously and then never open them, leaving them to collect dust in his room. There were a few occasions when she made him open them in front of her, though. Usually, they were just quaint little trinkets or clothes, but once, she gifted him a goldfish (or the Hellish equivalent) in a tiny bowl. It was the closest she'd gotten to something he'd actually want, yet it still felt like a veiled taunt. It didn't take long for the fish to die; its bowl was simply too small.

---

Vox does his absolute best to keep his past a secret from everyone, particularly Valentino. He knows on some level that it wouldn’t really change anything other than give Val and Vel something else to tease him about, but Vox’s ego is so fragile that he feels like he’d die if they found out. Unfortunately for him, Valentino is incredibly observant when he wants to be. He doesn’t know the specifics, but based on various little things from throughout the years and the pointed insults he’s heard Alastor throw at Vox, he can guess that Vox’s early days in Hell were... less than auspicious. However, he assumes Vox was just some corporate toady, and he would be just as shocked as anyone else to learn how Vox actually began his afterlife.

---

Playing with the idea that Vox’s boss hired him with no ulterior motives; she simply thought he was cute and would be an easy source of entertainment. However, as time went on and she got a better sense of what kind of person Vox was, she began deliberately tormenting him. The abuse and humiliation started off under the pretext that she was only doing it to “correct an attitude problem,” but it soon became clear that her real issue with Vox had nothing to do with his abilities as a performer.

---

It doesn’t really fit with the “lore” I’ve been putting together for this AU, but the idea of Vox trying to go in for various media/performance auditions and either being laughed out of them or told to look into less dignified roles is compelling to me. He looks and sounds so much like a goofy little child; why on Earth would anyone even consider him, especially when there are countless other sinners looking for work whose forms aren’t so distractingly cutesy?

I’ll be honest: Babydoll from Batman TAS is a significant influence on how I conceptualize Proto Vox.

---

Reminds me of fakeannafromthebox's Caterpillar Val AU. Vox is so miserable. He wants to be back in his modified body NOW, but it's going to take a while for them to rebuild it. Val and Vel tease him about it at first... until they realize that Vox is genuinely really hurt by it. He never wanted them to see him like this.

The denizens of Hell are confused as to why Vox is suddenly on a month-long hiatus when he's literally never taken a break from the media before.

---

Been considering whether it should just be happenstance that brings Vox and Alastor together or if Vox should hit his breaking point, go behind his boss' back, and send Alastor a false message in her name, hoping that it will provoke him into killing her.

---

Had a mental image today of Vox sitting in on one of his boss’ conversations with a colleague, as per usual. He’s bored and miserable until the two overlords start discussing the Radio Demon. Vox has heard stories— might’ve even caught one or two of Alastor’s broadcasts— but he’s never heard him discussed like an actual person rather than an urban legend. Vox’s boss starts shittalking Alastor, and Vox suddenly gets an idea. He begins secretly recording her, capturing all her private complaints about him on tape. Vox is terrified of what she might do if she discovered what he was doing, but at this point, he's so good at masking his true emotions that she doesn’t even notice anything is off. Vox held onto that recording until he gained access to a communications device. He hesitated for a moment, thinking of all the ways this plan could go wrong and result in his permanent death, but… he couldn’t pass up this opportunity. He couldn’t bear to stay here any longer.

Alastor figured out it was Vox who sent him that message a couple years into their friendship, but he didn’t hold it against him. In fact, he was impressed with Vox’s determination, taking his fate back into his hands regardless of the risks. He eventually told Vox so himself when the topic came up years later.

---

Vox once made the mistake of snapping that he was not a child at one of his boss’ colleagues who had been talking about him like he was too stupid to understand what they were saying. Honestly, the momentary shock on the colleague’s face was not worth the ensuing, agonizing conversation where his boss muted him, apologized to the other overlord, then prompted them to try to guess his real age, and took far too much pleasure in explaining to them that despite Vox’s appearance, he was actually 41.

---

Thinking about Proto Vox sitting in on his boss' overlord meetings like the Egg Bois in episode 3. Most of the time, his boss would hold him in her lap like a doll, but sometimes, she'd leave him sitting on the ground until the meeting ended. He wished he had a way to put the information he was “eavesdropping” on to good use, but he wasn't allowed to leave the stupid compound without being accompanied by his boss.

---

One particularly dehumanizing experience Vox remembers far more vividly than he would like was the first time his overlord stripped him naked without his consent so she could redress him in a new outfit she’d picked out. This became a semi-frequent occurrence, but it never stopped making his skin crawl. This sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to someone like him, and yet here he was, robbed not only of the freedom to choose his own clothes but even to dress himself if his boss so willed it.

Even over half a century later, Vox still needs to be coaxed and convinced by Valentino to surrender control during sex. He has no intention of ever telling Val why having someone else undress him puts him on edge.

---

cw sexual assault

The first time Vox’s overlord stripped him naked was also when she discovered that he had no genitals. Of course, she couldn’t let that fact go uncommented on and groped between his legs to confirm, cooing all the while about how perfect Vox was. Vox didn’t even have time to dissociate during the experience; it all happened so fast. Before he had time to process what happened, he was already being redressed in whatever stupid outfit she’d picked out for him that time. The dissociation came later.

In hindsight, Vox thinks it’s sort of darkly funny how he felt as though he’d been sexually assaulted despite not having any sex organs at the time. It’s really not.

---

Thank you!!!

Yeah, Vox is extremely uncomfortable with thinking of himself as a victim. It's easier to just compartmentalize the experience and tell himself that of course he wasn't sexually assaulted– sex wasn't even involved!

At the time, he had no idea how to feel about it. Before he even had time to process the event, he was expected to just move on with the day like nothing happened. Vox wished he could've just forgotten about it– it only lasted for a few seconds, it "didn't count" because he didn't have any genitals to grope, and, in his successful-white-1950s-man brain, groping wasn't even that bad anyway– but the feeling of violation lingered, no matter how hard he tried to dismiss it or distract himself. He eventually managed to push those feelings away, but the memory will still pop up on occasion and he'll have to convince himself all over again that it wasn't any different than all the other times his boss manhandled him.

---

Oh, I'm glad you liked the post!

Yeah, I can see Alastor giving that roach speech to Vox when he's trying to convince him to stop modifying himself. Vox is just like "You think I'm a bug???" He never noticed; he was too focused on the cartoon/TV thing. Message not received.

Alastor probably has weird feelings about the way Vox's old boss treated him. On one hand, it's kind of funny, and Alastor's clearly not opposed to treating people like pets, given his later relationship with Husk. On the other... he feels a weird sort of kinship with Vox in so many regards, and his relationship with his overlord... [leak discussion] it's uncomfortably similar to Alastor's with his contract holder– tricked into a bad deal, treated with condescension, and forced to pretend to adore them in public [end leak discussion]. Alastor likes the idea of helping Vox gain power and rise above his station, but not him changing himself in order to accomplish that goal– he sees too much of himself in Vox to stand that.

Vox doing ad reads/voiceovers for Alastor's show is a great idea. Perfect way to get back into the industry without opening himself up to mockery; plus, he's got a wonderful voice. Would also give him another reason to hate radio once he and Al split: audio-only work will always be a reminder of a time when he couldn't bear to be seen.

---

Might incorporate how long it’s taking me to come up with a name for Vox’s boss by making it so he’s only allowed to call her “Ma’am”/“Madam”/“Miss” instead of her actual sinner name.

---

Thoughts on Proto Vox in the RAM verse

Proto Vox thoughts that heavily feature my OCs

---

Once he finally gained the ability to project a functioning mouth onto his screen, Vox got himself into some… interesting situations trying to keep up with Alastor whenever they went out for drinks. He didn’t care that he was half Alastor’s size; he’s drinking just as much as he is! Maybe even more!!

Those were some of the funniest nights Alastor had (and still has) ever experienced.

---

Thinking about Vox, dead for a week or so, with cracks in his screen and dressed only in a button-up shirt he'd stripped off a corpse double his size, pitching himself to his soon-to-be overlord and trying not to come across as desperate as he truly was. The streets of Hell aren't kind to anyone, but especially not to defenseless-looking, newly arrived sinners with body parts that could potentially be resold. In his short time in Hell, Vox had already had multiple people try to strip him for parts and had only escaped them by the skin of his teeth. He'd barely been able to sleep since he arrived, constantly on guard for more attackers. He looked a fucking wreck, but that only added to his charm, in his boss' opinion. He looked like a starving Victorian orphan trying to give a serious business pitch– so cute!

---

Vox wishes he could feel comfortable in his bedroom at the compound. Being in there means he’s away from his overlord— that he can finally drop the act and just breathe. It’s a nice room, too, especially compared to the living quarters of most other employees. Vox feels as though the privacy and comfort should be enough. But… it isn’t really his room, is it?

His overlord chose the decor: soft and twee and old-fashioned. She can start pounding on the door, ordering him to come out and join her at any moment. The fact she’s too tall to fit in the room is small comfort. It feels like living in a dollhouse; there’s the illusion of privacy, but one wall is missing, allowing the owner to move things around or snatch up the doll inside at a moment’s notice.

---

Honestly, Vox's boss definitely got her "money's" worth out of Vox. He wasn't lying about being a multi-talented performer; he had a wide array of skills.

He had extensive training and experience with dance and comedy (although he was 25 years out of practice) from his childhood on Vaudeville. He was a consummate singer, good at improv, and familiar with a handful of instruments, particularly the piano. He could act fairly well (although he was always more convincing when he came up with stuff on the spot) and had even become a perfect mimic due to his demonic form.

Vox's overlord couldn't have asked for a better entertainer, and she counted herself lucky that he just happened to wander into her building one day looking for work– she didn't even need to place an ad!

Vox was proud of his various skills– he sure as hell hadn't spent years working himself to the bone to hone them for nothing, after all– but he missed being the host rather than the entertainment. He hadn't had to perform like this since he was a child, and it was just as exhausting as he remembered.

---

Vox's primary job was to be a jester for his overlord, but he was also somewhat of an assistant to her. He'd make or serve her and her guests drinks (alcohol, coffee, whatever), carry things for her (which would often be embarrassingly difficult, given his size), and run very minor errands for her (usually just delivering messages to employees a few doors down). Additionally, once she discovered that he could record audio, she started using him as a living tape recorder. She'd bring him to meetings, have him record the conversation without the other party knowing, and then play the audio back once they were in private so she could take note of the exact phrasing and use it against them later on. This last use for Vox ended up being her downfall; she kept him so cloistered that she never thought that he'd be able to use her own words against her one day.

---

Up until the incident where he tried to quit, Vox’s boss would sometimes casually threaten to replace him if he didn’t immediately bend to her will. There were countless other sinners and Hellborn that were perfectly capable of doing his job without an attitude problem; why shouldn’t she just trade him in for one of them? Or perhaps she should employ another entertainer to work alongside him (i.e. compete with him). If Vox thought he was too good for this job, then he could go back to the streets whenever he liked. These threats almost always succeeded in getting him to comply, and she was a bit disappointed when she realized they were no longer as effective as they’d once been.

---

Honestly, Vox’s boss getting another “pet” would be a whole shitshow. When Vox was alive, he once outed a coworker as gay because he was getting more airtime than him, which led to the coworker’s family institutionalizing him. And that was when the stakes were just career success. Vox may hate his job, but it’s what keeps him safe and alive. He’d feel so threatened by the new person that he’d probably end up getting them killed just to protect his position. His overlord is 100% aware of what's going on, but she gets a kick out of watching Vox do whatever it takes to stay in her favor.

---

Vox actually starts initiating affectionate interactions with her out of desperation not to be replaced. His boss (who lowkey only wanted make sure he didn’t grow complacent in his position) is delighted. The poor imp she hired has no idea what they’ve been sucked into. Vox is cold and hostile when they’re in private but then will turn on a dime the second he sees their overlord. Their boss is constantly doing subtle little things to pit them against each other, but the imp feels like they never truly had a chance of surpassing and replacing Vox. All the imp wants to do is make enough to feed their family, but in the end, all they get is being ripped in two by vines when Vox snitches on them for taking a few extra bucks from his boss’ desk.

---

In the modern day, Vox and Alastor disagree about how they met. Alastor will say that he rescued Vox from his overlord and took him in afterward. Vox will say (or rather, would say, since he never speaks about his past) that he rescued his damn self and chose to stick with Alastor because it was the best possible option at the time. Neither of them are wrong, but their mutual bitterness skews their perception of the situation; Vox, the "helpless charity case," and Alastor, the "means to an end."

---

velvette seeing the kind of clothes vox used to have to wear for work and just. vomiting on his behalf

---

Vox thought he was at a bit of an advantage when his soon-to-be boss offered him a simple deal sealed with a handshake: serve as an entertainer for her and she'll give him a safe place to live. Verbal agreements aren't as enforceable as written ones, and the vagueness of the deal left him plenty of room to wriggle his way out if need be!

What Vox didn't realize was that things in Hell don't work like they do on Earth. Sure, vague deals have loopholes, but it's the person with more power who's usually able to take advantage of them as opposed to the "victim." Additionally, written contracts have clauses– specific stipulations that must be abided by. If he'd negotiated things a bit more closely, he could've demanded that she allow him freedom of mobility or had to accept any attempts at a resignation. As is, she was able to keep him at her side at all times and threaten him into staying because there wasn't anything in the deal that said she couldn't do those things; as long as she was giving him a place to stay, she was upholding her end of the bargain.

Vox definitely remembered this lesson when he started drawing up contracts/deals of his own during his later endeavors. Deals can be just as binding as soul contracts. Vagueness is an invaluable tool when it comes to tricking people into bad deals, although granular specificity certainly has a place too, so long as you can get the sucker not to read the fine print.

---

Out of all the things Vox had to do to entertain his overlord, slapstick was his least favorite. It was just so undignified. He already hated having to play dumb and childish, but being the butt of the joke was so much worse than simply being doted on. He couldn’t stand being laughed at, but he didn’t have another choice; if his boss wanted comedy, he had to give it to her, otherwise he’d be punished. For as much baggage he had regarding dance, he would chose it over pretending to hurt himself (or genuinely hurting himself) for his boss’ amusement every time.

This hatred of being laughed at persisted even after he escaped his overlord’s clutches. Vox eventually learned to use his unthreatening appearance to his advantage, but back in the day, a good way to get your shit rocked by the Radio Demon’s tiny apprentice was to laugh at him when he wasn’t trying to be funny.

---

As of right now, Vox's sinner name has always been "Vox." He's eternally grateful that he'd already picked out his sinner name by the time he approached his overlord, because who knows what ridiculous name she would've saddled him with otherwise. However, if Vivziepop ever talks about Cockroach Vox and it turns out he didn't used to be named "Vox," then that name would've been the one he went by up until he met Alastor.

---

Vox was not an overly foul-mouthed person when he was alive, although he certainly wasn't afraid to swear if the situation called for it. However, that casual relationship with tasteful speech went completely out the window after he died. Aside from the in-built censor that kept him from audibly cursing or talking about subjects like sex, he now had a very restrictive persona that he needed to play into. Having to say shit like "Gee whiz" or "Golly" in order to keep up the "cute little cartoon" act was maddening. It was such a relief when Alastor figured out a way to shut off the censor; Vox finally had complete freedom in how he chose to speak again. Honestly, he may have gone a bit too far in the other direction, but given the culture of Hell, it's more unusual to be excessively clean with your speech than it is to swear every other sentence.

---

I wonder if any of the other, older overlords remember Vox from his early days. His boss had a habit of bringing him to meetings and having him perform at parties, so someone like Zestial would’ve probably encountered him at least a couple of times.

On one hand, Vox is beyond grateful that none of the old-timers recognize him as “Lantana’s little lapdog.” On the other, he’s slightly offended that no one paid him enough mind back then to remember him.

Zestial 100% knows who Vox used to be, he’s just choosing to keep that information to himself for the time being.

---

Thinking about a scenario where Vox gets stuck in a hopelessness spiral that causes him to break character in front of his boss. He asks her why she’s doing this to him; what does she get out of all this? Lantana is annoyed by his self-pity and asks him if he has any idea how lucky he is.

Oh, poor Vox, forced to live in the lap of luxury. Condemned to perform wholesome little routines for one of the most powerful overlords in the city while other sinners (female and male) have to prostitute themselves to survive. What an awful fate, having to let her spoil him, love him. Countless sinners would kill to have half of what he has, and here he is complaining because his ego is too fragile to handle not being “in charge” anymore. She’s shocked he’s so ungrateful that he can’t appreciate the gift she’s given him; childhood is a beautiful thing, after all.

Vox knows it’s all lies— she enjoys humiliating him, forcing him to smile through gritted teeth as he plays the demeaning role she’s picked out for him— but after years in her clutches, a small, animal part of his brain wonders if she’s right. Is she being honest when she says she only hurts him to correct him? Does she actually believe that taking away his freedom and keeping him in a gilded cage is love? Is he really better off here than he would be out in the world, struggling to force people to see him as the man he really was used to be?

No. No, he can’t let her get in his head like this. He’s had to give up so much of himself to her; she can’t have his thoughts too. Just don’t say anything. Let her think she’s made him second-guess himself. Don’t allow her to wrestle what little control he has left from his grasp.

---

Vox’s slogan, “Trust us!” started off as “Trust me!” After a while with Alastor, Vox learned to start playing into his harmless appearance in order to gain people’s trust, only to lead them to their deaths or otherwise betray them later on. Most people thought he was either a literal child, stupid, or so weak that they could easily overpower him if need be, so it was easy for him to convince them to let their guards down. Vox managed to get his first few contracts using this method. Trust him! He couldn’t hurt a fly, honest!

Alastor loved this routine, not only because it was hilarious to watch people unknowingly dig their own graves, but because it was useful to him as well. Alastor’s reputation had become so fearsome that it was difficult to get people to stick around long enough to ensnare unless they were truly desperate. It was helpful to have Vox around to lure people in, or to just run errands that would’ve otherwise been a pain due to people’s annoying habit of fleeing at the sight of him. They were a good team, he and Vox; Alastor couldn’t understand why he would choose to give that up in order to become an off-brand copy of him. Yes, it wasn’t the most dignified niche, but it was an important one! And one that very few could pull off even half as well as Vox!

---

Random thought: Vox’s original voice made it impossible for others to tell whether he was a child or an adult. He didn’t quite sound like a real child, but his voice was pitched in such a way that he didn’t read as an adult either— sort of like when adult voice actors play kids. Vox could still hear Himself in certain inflections and in moments when he was allowed to drop the act, but it was extremely alienating, never truly feeling like himself even when he was doing something as simple as speaking.

---

I don’t subscribe to the “Valentino started off with his own abusive pimp” theory (not because I think it’s implausible, it’s just that my HC version of him only worked under the previous overlord of the sex trade for like a year before killing them), plus I think Vox and Val met after Vox was already somewhat established, but whoo-boy, the two of them meeting while they’re both still under the thumbs of their respective abusive bosses would be fun.

---

Two concepts:

Vox’s boss brings him along to an overlord party that Val happens to be performing at. Some drunk dumbass picks him up and shoves him onto the platform where Val was pole dancing— they thought it’d be funny to make the sexless little clown interact with the dirty whore. That was Vox and Val’s first meeting. (Loosely inspired by some of kibbles-bits’ art)

Vox and Val’s respective bosses start up a casual relationship, resulting in the two of them visiting each other’s bases semi-frequently. They get to talking and eventually come to realize that, holy shit, the other guy is an actual person?? And a fun/interesting/clever person too???

---

Vox: Yeah, my #%$!@ of a boss makes me sleep with her sometimes. Val: Ohhhh, me too! Well, at least Mantis Bitch is sexy~ Vox: What? No, I mean she literally makes me sleep in the same bed as her. Like kids do with stuffed dolls. Val: …Huh. Well, I guess that must be somebody’s kink. Vox: $?*@&€# %*¥=…

---

Self-indulgent 4 am whump thought (cw involuntary surgery)

what if proto vox spawned with his childhood leg injury intact? it’s usually not an issue as long as he doesn’t exert himself, but his new job requires him to spend most of the day standing and perform physically intense routines for his boss. for the first several weeks, he doesn’t let on that he’s in pain since he’s terrified of being thrown back out on the streets, but eventually, either his boss confronts him about why he’s suddenly developing a limp or he makes the mistake of mentioning it to her himself, hoping he can convince her to be a bit more restrained with her orders. either way, when vox explains that he’s had this issue since he was a child and that there’s no way to get rid of it, lantana just casually says that she’ll see to it, no problem. vox is concerned by her self-assured tone, but when he asks her what she meant, she abruptly changes the subject with a finality that tells him this is not a matter to be debated.

for the next week, vox is left wondering what she intends on doing. just as he was starts to forget about it, he gets his answer. one day, vox wakes up to find himself in an operating room-turned workshop, held to the table by a few flimsy straps and a nurse(?) gently restraining him. there’s no need to be frightened! they’re just going to see if there’s anything they can do to fix his leg, that’s all. vox tries to reign in his panic as the head doctor examines his leg, but it soon reaches a fever pitch when it’s determined they can repair the damage! by replacing the “bone.”

it’s painful, having someone saw through several layers of his wires, but not as painful as vox imagined it would be. the horror of watching it happen, though, makes it all so much worse. watching someone reach into the mess of his leg and slowly pull out a long, metal rod is like something out of a nightmare. the “surgeons” measure and examine the rod (his bone), then cut a replacement to his size and insert it back into his leg. his wires (his flesh) quickly knit back together with only a bit of help from the doctors, and suddenly vox is back on his feet, being told to return to work as though he didn’t just watch his own leg “bone” be forcibly cut out and replaced.

it taught him that his body could be modified. he never had to deal with his old injury again. vox chooses to focus on these things rather than the absolute terror he felt watching them operate on his leg. he doesn’t need (doesn’t want) to think about the experience itself, only the outcome.

---

3am thought: Vox at the beginning of his employment, trying to figure out what his boss’ limits are and what he can get away with. He’s not thrilled that her idea of “entertainment” seems to mostly consist of song, dance, and comedy, so he starts trying to engage her in conversation instead. Vox is a great conversationalist, and he knows it. His plan is to pull her in, convince her that they have some kind of genuine connection, and then use that to his advantage. That plan is dashed though when, after two or three attempts at engaging her in substantial, adult conversation, she cuts him off and briskly tells him that she didn’t hire him for his conversational skills, she hired him to entertain. If she wanted to hear him speak, she would tell him, but right now, it’d be prudent of him to shut up and do as he’d been told.

---

Random wondering: What would it take for Vox to finally snap? Or would he just become so good at staying in-character that he appears to have snapped/given up to everyone around him?

Idea: Alastor acquiring Vox after he’s cracked and fully given into his boss after decades in her service. It’s only with Alastor that Vox slowly starts pulling himself back together, allowing elements of his original/real personality to re-emerge. Alastor doesn’t even mean to do this; he just treats Vox with a modicum more respect than he’s used to and gives him positive feedback when he acts more like himself. Vox idolizes Alastor for “saving him from madness,” so of course he flies off the handle when they have their falling out.

---

Vox was lucky his body operated on rubber hose physics. The size difference between him and his boss was so extreme that if it didn’t, she could’ve easily shattered his bones (if he had any) or dislocated his limbs, simply by handling him too roughly. All the better. She was usually fairly gentle, but since she knew she could treat him like a rag doll, occasionally, she did. It hurts, dangling in the air by the arm while the person holding you gives you whiplash every time they move too suddenly, but not as much as it would for an organic demon.

---

Three random thoughts:

1) I checked, and the height-difference between Proto Vox and his boss (and Valentino) is directly proportional to that of the tallest and smallest women in the world.

2) Shirley Temple would probably be a good inspiration for Proto Vox’s style of performance.

3) It could be interesting to play with the way Vox’s innocent and wholesome persona would interact with Hell’s general culture. Lantana kept him pretty desexed and infantilized while at “home,” but when she made him perform for groups, the comedy of the routine would be derived from contrast. Most demons wouldn’t get the appeal of his usual schtick played straight, but contrast that cutesy shit with Hell’s usual fixations (sex, profanity, and violence)? Now there’s something worth laughing about. It’s like teasing a fallen cherub.

[mellowwillowy]

Hey uhm

What would you feel about puppy reader-

Yan mafia x puppy reader that's very affectionate to him,

Can be Nsfw or fluff or something else, your choice

Your able to decline this if ur uncomfortable or not doing any request

Since I'm pretty sensitive about LIfE project's reader, I will use CatboX's cast instead (peace). CW: Riding shoes, NSFW, GN, crack post bye.

"Now who's a good pup?" He was practically stroking you as though you were a dog, but that was the truth! Your tails wiggled left and right excitedly as you made a woof sound at him.

Caelus chuckled as he patted your head, "Shall we play a fetch game?" You knew better than to fetch it with two legs. No. He expected you to run with 4 limbs on the floor! You may have the dog's features in you but you were still quite the human. It was almost like a pet play and that was the truth.

The vibrator stuck inside of you started to pick its pace as he threw a chew toy across the room. You tried your best to pick it up, fast. But your knees were aching for a pillow and your hands were sore. But you knew better than to stop yourself mid-way.

You ran back toward him with the chew toy in your mouth, the vibration was still there as he took it out of your mouth, "Good." You felt a pang of pride as he praised you.

"You were faster in retrieving it than before, surely a good pup like you deserve something in return?" He nudged your knee with his shoe, a well-polished shoe. Cocking his head to the side, you knew what he was trying to say.

You sat on top of his shoe and started to grind yourself against it. It didn't do much but it helped you, building more arousal from the idea of cumming all over his shoe. The vibrator picked up its pace, urging you to do more and you did.

You were about to mutter something in words until Caelus squeaked the toy that was in his hand, "I never knew dogs could speak?"

You couldn't do anything. You tried your best to contain your moans but a string of it slipped. "W-woof!" Content, Caelus sat back and lit up his cigarette while he started to read the files that he had to review. He knew he wouldn't be getting any job done from how noisy you were. But one should try too right?

If anything, Caelus was not a fan of letting anyone see your naked body so you were grateful his men were not around. Things didn't feel so arousing anymore and Caelus decided to push your buttons.

His shoe nudged up toward your sex, helping you to get off while the vibration's pace started to edge you. Up, down, high, low, fast, slow.

Even better, the mark he had left on your body started to feel tingly. It's building a coil in your stomach and you need to break the coil! What kind of development is this? Why is it suddenly pleasurable for you?

"Heuk-! Akh! Cae-!" "Mmmh.. go on, say my name."

Love formed in your eyes as you hugged his thigh with both of your arms, you chanted his name repeatedly as though it was some sort of prayer. No more barking, only expressing what you want to.

Only expressing what you want to!

--

"Why not let me clean your shoes instead...?" He was very insistent about not letting anyone clean it. To hell with them getting to touch the trace of you! He was also considerate enough to not make you lick it clean (he was not in his sadist mood so you were saved, ahaha.)

"You came a lot." "Did I?"

You did.

[97keanu]

"ʳᵒˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗʰⁱˢ

ᶜᵒᵒˡ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁱʳ ⁱˢ ᶜᵘʳⁱᵒᵘˢ

ˡᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ⁱⁿ

ʷʰᵒ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵉᵉˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ﹖

ʳᵒˡˡ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵐⁱˢᵗʸ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷˢ

ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰ ᵐʸ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ

ᵍᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ

ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ"

✧ I'm your passenger ✧

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Dave Lizewski x Goth!Reader

Premise: You and Dave have been seeing each other every weekend since your history project together, but for a while now you've been too scared to admit your true feelings. Tonight, you take Dave to a bonfire with you other alternative friends, and introduce him as your boyfriend for the first time. You also end up taking Dave back to your car for some much needed release under the full autumn moon.

Tags: sappy romantic who doesn't want to show her feelings reader, Dave who is totally head over heels but doesn't want to push anything in fear of losing you, Dave is so nervous to meet your friends and go to his first party, reader who realizes she really might just be in love with this nerd, mentions of casual drinking, car sex, semi public but not mentioned much, dominant reader, some Dom Dave, reader on top, p in v, raw sex, size kink, teasing.

Words: 3.6k

Read the first part here. Be added to Dave's taglist here. Dave x Reader (Jennifer's Body AU) here. Dave x popular!reader imagine here.

Dave Lizewski had never been to a party his entire highschool career. In fact, the last party he went to with more than just Marty and Todd was a first grade "everyone has to be invited" birthday party. Even that, Dave remembers very vividly, particularly when he's staring at the ceiling late at night in dread, was a mistake. He had eaten too much cake, mixed it with as many Pepsi cola's as his tiny six year old body could hold, and ended up seeing it all again on the dancefloor about 20 minutes later. He hoped to God, or whoever was up there, that tonight wouldn't have a similar fate. He would never be able to live it down if he embarrassed himself tonight, in front of you, of all people.  It was you, all black lipstick and smudged eye make up, that had roped him into this. You two started as project partners, and very quickly advanced to something more. Dave couldn't believe you, the goth girl of his nerdy comic book dreams, had taken an interest in him.  It had only been a few weeks since Dave started regularly seeing you, and he was still unclear on whether or not you two were a "thing" as Todd had put it when he grilled Dave about why he wasn't hanging out with "the boys" anymore. Half the time, you still ignored him during the school day. You stomped your way through the hallway with knee high combat boots, black and buckled more than needed to be. You would, if Dave was lucky that day, perhaps give him a look that was slightly softer than your usual scowl. 

It was the weekends when he really saw you. A simple command. A text that said "Come over." and that was it for Dave. He was like a dog on a leash for you, drooling all week in his bed alone, thinking about you with his hands busy in his pants. He felt embarrassed the amount of times he'd looked at a picture you posted on MySpace here or there, sitting at his desk, ogling those pixels on the screen just to get him through the week til he saw you again. 

He would hate how much you have him whipped if it wasn't for the fact that he was actually entirely grateful anyone would fuck him, let alone you. No, for you? He would do anything you told him to. And you knew that, of course. Which is why you are dragging Dave out of the city to bumfuck nowhere to party with the goths. 

Despite Dave's very adamant concerns, mainly to do with how he would never fit into a crowd like that, here he was, riding passenger in your beat up car. The night had started to settle in, the sun falling earlier as the cool of fall began to crisp the earth with its presence. Leaves turned to orange and gold, dipping low on the branches of weary trees that the tiny car's hood grazed as you took yet another back road. Dave began to wonder if you actually knew where this party was as the headlights became a sole source of light. 

"D-do you, um, actually know where this spot is?" Dave speaks up over your car stereo, which is currently blasting something by London After Midnight which Dave was still unfamiliar with. 

"Of course, stop worrying." You steal a glance at him, where he is pushing his glasses up nervously in the seat next to you. He catches your black lips smirking in the lowlight and he can't help but want to give in, as always, to your demands. 

"I just…I don't think they're going to l-like me…" Dave says with interjecting sighs, repeating once again his main fear for tonight. 

"Dave, it's other alternative people, this isn't exactly the popular crowd." You slide a hand over to his thigh, your many rings clinking together as you do so. 

"I know, but that doesn't mean I'll fit in…" Dave can't help but to meet your hand, giving it a squeeze where it lays on his thigh. 

"Trust me, you'll fit in if I say you fit in." You try to ease his fears once again. "I know these people quite well, if I say you're cool, you're cool. It'll be alright, Dave."

Dave nods, muttering a "yeah, cool" to himself as he feels another squeeze from your soft hand. He runs a nervous finger over your black nail polish for the rest of the car ride, and tries to see the scenery of the intensifying dense woods that engulf the tiny car. 

Eventually, as Sean Brennan's voice whines on, you two come to a driveway. You turn in, a few other cars have already arrived. An orange blaze of a bonfire flashes from around the side of an old white farmhouse and Dave can hear the chitter chatter of other teens as you two exit the car. Dave can feel his stomach tighten as he imagines a mirror before him, showing him how he looks to others. 

He tried, he really did. When you texted that you were taking him to a party he was already freaked, and then he freaked more when he found out he would be the only one without the proper dress code. He looked through all of his wardrobe, twice in fact just to be sure, but all he found was nerdy video game plastered shirts and jeans. He was hoping he might have had a band t-shirt from when he had a minor emo phase in middle school, but had no luck. 

Dave settled on picking out a dark gray zip up hoodie, along with a black t-shirt and jeans, but he feels like he's under dressed when he looks over at you. You, who is wearing so many flashy chains of silver around your belt, various necklaces featuring bats and crosses, and of course your "bats nest" hairstyle (which you had to explain to Dave was supposed to look messy). In comparison, Dave looked As nerdy and lame as always. 

Yeah, Dave was going to stand out, he was sure of it. 

Seeing Dave's hesitation, after grabbing a bottle of wine out of the backseat you brought for the occasion, you approach him. Taking your hands on his shoulders, your platform boots giving you almost a similar height to Dave, you look deep into his eyes. He gazes back with those big baby blues you fell for. 

"Dave, I brought you here tonight because I think it's important that my friends meet my boyfriend, not to embarrass you or torment you." You say this slowly, knowing that the two of you haven't discussed this exactly, but that Dave has been clear in the past that he wants to date. As Dave registers what you're saying, his eyes light up. 

"B-Boyfriend?" Is all his mouth can seem to muster, he's so over the moon about it. He had asked before if you two were dating, in fact, he asked the next day after your first time together. Then, of course, you were still figuring out your feelings, and hadn't had a clear answer. Dave was so nervous to ask you again he hadn't brought it up, but of course he wanted to be with you, that much was clear. 

"Yes, Dave," You say with a small, but soft laugh, happy that he's so excited about it. "I think it's time we made it official."

"Y-yes!" Dave nods his head eagerly, still nervous he can somehow mess this up.

''I didn't know you wanted that…" He admits softly, glancing at his dirty sneakers. 

You take Dave's face in your hands, pulling his gaze back up to yours. That's something he always loved about you, your intense, yet adorable, eyes. 

"I know, I'm sorry I was being so confusing, that wasn't fair to you. But if you are okay with it, I'd like to be your girlfriend." You say with sincerity, truly apologizing for your confusing actions, as well as giving Dave the opportunity to agree on his own terms. You're not really sure when you decided all of this, but at some point in the last few weeks you realized how silly it was that you were scared to commit to Dave. Why? Because the rest of the school might use it against you? Fuck them. 

"I–" Dave is so surprised you're even asking if he would take you as his girlfriend, it's clear on his face that this is exactly what he's always wanted. "Yes! I would love it if you were my, my g-girlfriend!" 

He's so excited and energetic he can barely speak. You smile, and plant a long kiss on his soft lips, branding him with your lipstick. He can't stop himself from fluttering his dark lashes shut and leaning into the kiss, taking more than just a small peck. That's another thing he loves about you, your lips have fit perfectly in his since the first kiss, and he doesn't even mind the aftermath of your lipstick that much. In fact, sometimes he wishes he could wear it through the halls as a badge of honor, that his girlfriend was really hot and everyone else should be jealous, if that wasn't so weird. 

You two pull away from each other and you clean Dave's mouth up, and let him do the same for you, before checking in one more time. 

"You ready to go meet my friends, boyfriend." You say with a mascara laced wink, and Dave can only nod and affirm how much more excited he is for this now. 

You take Dave's hand in yours, the two of you both sporting black nail polish since Dave had asked you to paint them so he would fit in better tonight. You're sure that he will fit in just fine, and feel excited to show him off to your closest friends. You walk the path down to the backyard.

✧

Just as you thought, after introductions to your fellow fiends of the night, and a few glasses of sweet red wine, Dave fit in just fine. Sure, he was still nervous to start, but as he sits on a log next to you by the fire, telling jokes with a bit of liquid courage from the bottle you brought, he is obviously accepted into the group. 

You look around at the people you call friends, some having been from the alt clique at your old school, some you met online and decided to meet up with. That was the cool thing about living in a place like New York, even if you felt like you were the only goth at your school right now, there were people like you hiding in different places of darkness around the city, if one knew where to look. That truly was a blessing of a big town, you aren't sure how your longer distance MySpace and Skype friends did it in their little towns. Not to mention, if you weren't here, you wouldn't have met Dave. 

You look back over to him, the chilly night air reddening his cheeks and nose, the fire illuminating his face, reflecting the joy he put out as he is telling the punchline to some joke you've already heard before. You really are grateful for him. You may have spent a lot of time dreaming of a prince of darkness to steal you away when you were younger, particularly a Ville Valo type, but there was just something about Dave that clicked. He was so different, from you, from other guys you've dated, the other goth ones. He was sincere, kind, and truthful, which was harder to find than you would think. He was just so real. 

You found a blush and a heat rising inside you that wasn't from the bonfire so near, and it wasn't from the cheap wine either. No, you may very well love Dave Lizewski. And right now that thought didn't scare you like it often did in the past. You didn't even feel a pressure to tell him, as his beautiful blue eyes look at you after a particularly hard laugh with the rest of the group, you think maybe you both know, without saying. And that was enough for you, for now. 

You and Dave laugh the night away with your friends. You feel young, in love, free from worry. And it isn't until the fire dies down, a few friends retiring to the house for the night, that you find a different fire  inside of you. As the last of your friends ride out the night on burning embers and half done cigarettes, you find Dave's eyes once more with a look he couldn't mistake. His face heats up, and he waits for you to make the move while the stragglers kiss under the moon, sliding in each other's laps. You, however, prefer more seclusion. You stand, waving goodnight to your friends, and pull Dave along with you. 

Moths dance and entwine with one another, fluttering and kissing overhead. You find your way to the back seat of your car with ease, kisses and hands everywhere before, the sensations between you and Dave practically teleporting you there. Before you know it, you're pulling Dave's pants down, and Dave is struggling to get your bra off while moaning your name. 

Despite being more comfortable with you after starting this routine between both your bodies, Dave is always still a bit nervous. He loves pleasing you so much, and he wants to make sure he does it right. Soon enough he's taking over, laying you down on the old leather of your backseat. He has your breasts in his hands and mouth, his touch flicking and sucking in ways that drive you mad. You can't help but moan out, pulling him closer, wanting more, more. You feel so sensitive in his touch, so sweet under his big hands that explore and expose your body. The coldness of the fall night on your exposed flesh only adds to the experience, making you search for Dave's warmth. 

He provides, his body covering yours and his hands moving down to your panties, slipping in with ease, as if to welcome him home. You arch when he plays with your pussy, your clit already aching and sensitive. You moan into his kisses, and he gets more and more excited as you tell him how much you want him. His cock bulges in his boxers, rubbing against your stomach, filling you with want. 

You have to practically beg him to take you, he has been getting bold about experimenting with how much he can tease you lately. It isn't until you're biting into his neck, demanding he fuck you into these seats, that he decides not to push his luck any farther. 

Dave spreads your legs for you, strong and serious, which is so unlike him, but it turns you on when he takes control like this. He is wearing your black lipstick once again as he takes his cock out, the size always surprising you. You can't believe a nerd like him is so thick, not to mention a length no girl would scoff at. 

Dave smirks down at you as you admire the sight of his cock in the low moonlight, and he makes the mistake of teasing you again by rubbing his cock through your wetness, but not entering. That's not enough for you, you feel wild with need, practically growling when he attempts this. 

"That's it…" You give the small warning, but Dave is still surprised when you agily flip the script, moving so that you are now on top of him. He looks up at you, breathless, a small smile as if this was his plan all along. 

"Took you long enough…" He gets out before your lips are crashing against his once again. 

Your hips move, searching for his cock as you straddle him. His hands move to show you where, but you're so fed up with him that you pin him to the seat. He whimpers, his moans showing you how much he likes when you dominate him. 

"I'm going to fuck your brains out for making me what, Dave Lizewski…" You breathe into his mouth as your kiss separates. Dave can only nod, his eyes showing how much he wants this, his glasses crooked. 

You find his cock finally, moving your pussy over it, now teasing him. He groans out, obviously full of the same want as you. 

"Please…I need you…" Dave says through quick breaths. 

"Oh, so now you don't like teasing?" You speak into his neck with a smirk as you bite and tease like he likes. Dave tries to move his hips, attempts to find where he can fill you up, but you just tighten your grip on his wrists. 

"I'll take your cock when I'm good and ready…" You whisper so sweetly, but Dave can only cry out, it's clear he wants you desperately. 

You continue on eventually even reaching a black nailed hand down to hold his cock hostage, only giving it attention when Dave is begging you. You wait until you can see his desperation reach its peak before lining  his cock up and plunging down. You moan out from how full you suddenly are, your pussy welcoming his cock fully. Dave struggles against your hands holding him down, and you loosen your grip a bit as you begin enjoying yourself on top of his cock. 

That's all it takes before his hands are free, grabbing your hips like that's all he can hold on to, and lifting along with you to deepen his thrusts. He may very well be beneath you right now, but it's almost all him controlling your body now. You don't mind, it feels good to have his cock so deep inside you once more. You place your hands squarely on his chest, taking each thrust in stride, his name placed on your tongue like honey, dripping off it when Dave hits the spots inside of you that drive you wild. You're so caught up in it all, you don't notice Dave speaking for a second. 

"Please…" He mutters out in a breath of want. "I want to watch you touch yourself…" 

You grin when you finally get what he wants. Dave loves when you use his cock up for your own pleasure, and tonight you are more than happy to oblige. You lean up, and Dave steadies you, his arms so much stronger than you would have thought. You reach down between your legs where Dave is plunging his cock deeper and deeper, and find your clit, wet and slippery from how much you are enjoying this. 

You begin to play with yourself, moaning out, giving Dave a show. The small car rocks from how much Dave is pumping into you now, and you feel so close already. The windows and Dave's glasses fog up from the heavy breathing you're both doing, and Dave reaches quickly to toss his glasses to the car floor, uncaring about them, just having the need to see you right now. His big blue eyes look up at you with pure pleasure while he works your body on top of his increasingly hard cock. As you get tighter and tighter around him, you begin to feel him shudder beneath you, so close, practically leaking out already. 

"F-fuck…" Dave whispers, trying to hold himself back. "I'm about to cum…" 

He seems to be trying so hard to let you go first, and the way he looks so needy for you to do so begins to push you over the edge. You feel yourself begin to tighten harder than ever, Dave struggling to even fuck you as hard from how tight you are. You grab onto his arm with one hand, his hips still thrusting away as best they can, as you moan out his name and finally give Dave what he wants by finishing on his cock. It takes no time for him to follow you, spilling into your pussy as deep as possible. Dave closes his eyes and throws his head back as he fills you up more and more, the evidence sliding down his cock and onto your thighs. 

Finally, you sit there breathlessly, unmoving as his cock twitches inside of you. You fall forward and lay on his sweaty, cool chest. Dave is obviously as tired as you, but wraps his arms around you firmly, holding you in place as if he's afraid to lose you. 

You two remain this way for a while, just enjoying the sounds of each other's breathing and heart beats, the slowing of such coming moment by moment. You reach up lazily and pet your way into Dave's dark curls, and Dave mumbles asking if you liked it, like he always does. 

"Of course I did…" you mumble back. "I loved it even…" 

It's a start, you know you're not ready yet to give your whole heart to him, to say 'I love you' in its final form. You hope Dave understands, and by the way he reciprocates after, you think he does. 

Eventually the two of you gently unravel, cleaning up and redressing, before heading back to the house for a spot to crash for the night. You are happy for such a lovely night, and Dave is actually excited that his first ever 'real' party was a success. You two find a spare room in the old house and barely get under the covers before you're sleeping on Dave's chest once more, peaceful.

Taglist:@lazyneonrabbitt @nikistan @remuslupinsno1slut @haha-im-dumb @shakedogshake @beep-boop-baby @aesniri @pinkyyy666 @lpeanut-butterl @shrekscrustybudassy @lookatmelookatme @dreary-salem @almostjollypizza @boo8008 @arabellacrybaby @imaslutforcuddles @yasugardaddieshouse @real-sharena-h @stilloverthinking

If any of you would like to be taken off just message me directly! No hard feelings! Or if you have preferences such as fluff only/smut only etc etc.

[brandogenius]

Mmmmm what about, headcannons on your interpretations on the different ways that the boys would ask you out/ you would ask the boys out?

Other thoughts:

I think that regardless of what she did, julien would say “ Can I be your girlfriend?” ( Idk why it gets me all melted and shit, probably cuz we’re used to “ will you be my girlfriend”)

Imagining Pheobe who’s the friend that would spam your comment section after you post something ( barking like a dog frfr)

And one time she replied to another commenter who went “one chance🙏🏽” and she replied “she’s mine, can you fight?” or something and y’all were in the same room. You looked up from your phone and went “ I’m yours huh?”

Pheobe: ” yep”

You: “Okay then”

Then you replied to her comment “ hers❤️ I would still recommend you know how to fight though.”

LUCY I imagine she sat you down at her house. Maybe she’d set up a backyard movie. Reasoning being to play an unreleased song. You didn’t know why she was so nervous, she pulled out her laptop and a projector started playing a video with the song in the back onto the wall from the projector. At first it seemed like a song about yalls friendship.

As the montage went on with the pictures and videos, and the song got more personal, you realized that, this was a confession?

Then at the end of the song, there was a voice snippet of lucy talking, saying how she was grateful that she met you and how she’s so glad you’re in her life. Then she mentioned the first time she starting feeling differently towards you compared to anyone else, and how nervous you made her. Then at the end she pops the big question.

-🐹

OOOOOO!!!

‼️RPF‼️

HC - the boys & reader - asking you out

[Phoebe]

phoebe would be the type of person just like you said ^^ you’d post cute photos of yourself and phoebe would be your number one hype dude in the comments “BEAUTIFUL” like that lady gaga meme “AMAZING TALENTED BEAUTIFUL GORGEOUS”

the two of you would go off to this nice little beach and take some photos but you see phoebes story just as she posts something and it’s a photo of the beach but you’re in the background and she has a heart on it. “that’s cute” you showing phoebe her story, liking it. “nah. you’re cuter” this has you lifting your head, phoebe grinning at you. “am i now? say, it is kinda late huh? what about we get some dinner? me and you” you kinda were hoping she’d understand where you’re coming from.

“yeah? like a date?” she’s smirking and you nod your head, not being able to get a word out before she’s grabbing your hand and dragging you to the nearest restaurant”

[lucy]

lucy is the type to be like play flirting with you ALL THE TIME same like phoebe but mostly irl if it makes sense? two of you could be cuddling together bickering like an old married couple. phoebe gagging in the corner like “get a fucking room” the two of you just cuddled on the couch, hands twirling some strands in your hair. lucy taking fake offensive to phoebes comment like “damn. you really are being homophobic right now - you hearing this shit?” and she looks at you and you’re nodding your head like “i can’t believe this shit”

she’s like “i can’t believe you’re being mean to me and my girlfriend” and it has everyone raising an eyebrow like 🤨🤨🤨 and she’s like “i mean - uh “ and turning to you and you’re there like “take me out to dinner first sweetheart then we’ll go further” and she’s like “say no more. tomorrow 6pm”

[Julien]

jb would be waiting for the perfect moment. to she’s been preparing ALL WEEK. getting hype from the boys “you can do it! you can do it!!” i like to imagine you work in a flower shop🤭🤭 so she walks in one day looking at the flowers trying to hype herself up to talk to you. not even realising you’re watching her with that small smile on your face.

“you looking for anything in particular?” this kinda startles her so she grabs the first bouquet she finds and hands them to you like “yup yup wanna buy these” and you’re laughing to yourself like “these are the display flowers. are you sure you were looking for these?” and she’s cringing at herself like shit fuck shit- “would you like to grab a coffee with me? maybe now- or later after your shift if you’re free- because if not that’s totally fine” but you’re stood there like :o and juliens there like inner monologue is spongebob screaming in that office as it goes up in flames.

“i’d love to” you say “i actually finish now so it’s perfect timing”

[studiouslatrans]

I think I've figured out what my most prominent theriotype could be??? Long ass post so cutoff for convenience but I am always interested in hearing others experiences and perspectives when it comes to this.

Since learning about therianthropy I've been questioning some kind of canine. For a while I thought it could be a coyote (which is still not entirely off the table, more on that later), but now after months of mulling it over I believe myself to be some sort of livestock guardian or herding dog; a farm dog! It makes a lot of sense to me and feels like a very comfortable label. I've been able to "see" myself more as I've been practicing meditation and focusing on finding my theriotype(s), and I feel phantom shifts for paws, fangs, even fur much stronger now since learning more about farm dogs and their traits. I'd never really been into dogs like I like cats so a lot of the information I'm learning about dog breeds is very new, BUT I am somewhat considering the possibility of specifically being an Australian Shepherd or koolie (or a mix thereof). I've been using a lot of guided meditations for focus and introspection and they've honestly really helped me learn visualization of my wants and needs when it comes to my identity.

But let me just say I have never experienced this before. I literally have no idea how to explain it.

I don't really consider myself a religious or spiritual person, and I'd have no idea where to start if I was interested in researching spiritual therianthropy. But as I continue to learn more about myself and alterhumanity, I am starting to consider the possibility of there being something more than only the psychological component to it for myself.

I don't think that I am ONLY a farm dog either, and I am still learning more about my other possible nonhuman identities. I'm super interested in learning about the experiences of spiritual therians so if anyone has anything they'd like to share (something about your journey to your identity as a spiritual therian, how your therianthropy relates to your spirituality, etc) I'd love to hear it.

For now though I am just SUPER excited about finally feeling like I've figured something out and I am super grateful to have found spaces like this and others like me :)

anyways this is probably the closest to what I see myself as :3

okay thank u for reading this long ass post <3

[marmolady]

Grandchildren: Beatriz

Summary: Endless Ending timeline. Middle-aged Taylor and Estela are entering a new phase of their life together, welcoming their grandchildren into the family. In four parts; this is PART THREE.

Word Count: 3496

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, ​@mauvecatfic @rhemenway888

Thanks for reading!

__________________________

2060

Taylor placed down a plate of cookies on the coffee table, and sat alongside her heavily pregnant daughter.

“I know it sucks for you to not be able to fix everything,” Liv said, looking up to her mother with a grateful smile, “but don’t think your tending to my cravings isn’t appreciated.”

Liv was some seven months along, her belly huge and rounded. Heavy bags under her eyes gave away her lack of sleep, the worrying that had kept her awake long into the night. Her unborn baby, a daughter, had long passed the danger period where a miscarriage was a high risk, but she would not truly relax before the infant was in her arms. After all, the last time… the baby had been four months along, she should have been okay…. Most days Liv felt she was barely functioning, even with all the support her family, and Jeimy, could offer.

“I’ve felt so awful,” Liv admitted. “I let the blonde fade out… I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean--?” Then Taylor realised. The blonde streak Liv had always dyed into her hair… making the point of having at least a bit of her look like the mom she had no biological link to. “God, Livi, you don’t have to keep doing your hair a certain way to prove our relationship to me!”

Liv winced. “See, I know that logically, but it’s not about logic, it’s about feeling. It’s been since I was so little, it feels like I’m throwing something away… something important.” She sniffed and looked away, lost in a dark place. Was there anyone she didn’t feel she’d let down?

“You’re carrying a lot, sweetheart. Let that one go.” She tenderly stroked her daughter’s short hair. “If it makes you happy, keep in the blonde, but do it for you, not out of any fear of hurting me. I’m secure in myself, and in my role as your mom… so take that load off, all right?”

“I’m just… finding it hard. Harder than I expected, which is stupid, I should’ve known I wasn’t ready for this….”

Taylor kept stroking her fingers through Liv’s hair. There was nothing she could say that would take away the fear, or the grief that still lingered.

“Some people believe,” she said quietly, “that the soul doesn’t fully attach itself to the body until the moment of birth. If the baby’s born sleeping, the soul waits for another little life. I don’t know if it might help… to imagine a piece of Avis might be with you and Beatriz now.”

Liv’s eyes grew wide and watery. “I want her with us,” she whispered. “More than anything.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I feel… I feel guilty sometimes even just for being excited about Bea coming. And I feel guilty that I’ve got this far carrying Bea when Jeimy had to go through that loss….”

“Sweetheart,” Taylor said, clutching her daughter’s hand. “You both went through it. It’s different, but your grief is real. Jeimy loves you, and they love Bea.”

Liv wept and snuggled into her mom’s shoulder, taking comfort there until her tears slowed.

“Mom… there’s something else. I need to check you’re okay with something….”

“I’m listening.”

“Well,” Liv wiped her face, righting herself a little, so she could look her mother in the face and read her. “We’d really like to use ‘Estela’ as Bea’s middle name.”

“Beatriz Estela Montoya? That’s pretty. That’s really pretty, swetheart. You were worried I’d be hurt?”

“I know we named Andi after you, but ‘Andromeda’ isn’t your actual name….”

Taylor laughed, and kissed Liv’s head. “Is this to get out of naming a dog ‘Draco’? You silly goose, didn’t I just tell you I’m secure in what we’ve got? Bea’s name is beautiful.”

Liv breathed a little sigh of relief. “Thanks-- we really like it.”

“She’s going to be really touched.” Taylor stroked the side of Liv’s face, adoring her. She could be a worrywart, her girl, but with what life had thrown at her in recent years, Taylor couldn’t blame her. Through it all, Liv was strong and kind, giving more of herself than she probably should, but somehow retaining her joie-de-vivre, her sparkle, dulled though it was on the darkest of days. “I love you, Livi,” she said. “I love you so much.”

And she hugged her, willing herself to somehow lend strength and courage where her daughter needed it-- if only it were that simple.

“It’s going to be okay.”

_________________________

It was pointless to keep checking her phone-- the message and ring tones had been set to blaringly loud so nothing could possibly be missed-- but that didn’t stop Taylor.

“Who you talking to, Grandma?” Andi asked, peering over Taylor’s shoulder.

Taylor hastily put it beside her on the floor. “No one, no one! Promise.”

Young Sol belly-crawled along the rug towards his grandma, then put himself in her lap.

“Hey, kiddo-- don’t worry, you’ve got my attention.”

“How many hours does it take for a baby to be born? They’ve been at the hospital all day!”

“Well, it depends. Sometimes, a baby will be in a big hurry to get out and it can happen in a couple of hours. Sometimes… it could even be a couple of days.”

“Days!” the two kids said in unison. It always tickled both Taylor and Estela that the two had an almost twin-like connection, their births only two days apart and inseparable since. Andi had often said ‘we basically are twins’ and no one could convince her otherwise.

How would another child fit into this dynamic? From the early days, Andi had been fascinated by her unborn sibling, talking about her constantly, while Sol barely seemed to register that a mammoth change was afoot. Until now, with his mom and nanay in the hospital, and not coming back until they had a baby to bring home.

“But,” Taylor added quickly, “last time your mom had a baby it was only five hours after she got to the hospital that Andi was born, and usually it’s faster once the mom’s already had a baby.”

“So, baby Bea could be being born right now?” Andi asked, reaching for her grandma’s phone. “And then they’ll ring and tell us?”

“She could be. And yes, they will. We’re just going to have to be patient.”

Andi huffed out a frustrated exhale. “Being patient is so hard! I wish we knew what was happening.”

“I know, mija,” Estela said as she came into the room with a plate of cocadas-- just how her mom used to make them. “Trust me, we’re all going a little crazy waiting for news. It’s just something we’ve gotta deal with.”

A tasty treat easily placated the easy-going Sol, who hummed to himself as he chewed, still sat in Taylor’s lap. Andi, though, wolfed hers down in what felt like seconds, and went straight back to asking after her mom and nanay. It was a challenge and a half, Taylor had to admit, to entertain two five-year-olds when one was completely incapable of thinking about anything other than the imminent arrival themselves.

Estela gave her wife a look. An understanding, ‘it’s driving me crazy too’ look. An ‘I’m with you’ look.

“Solito,” Estela said, determined to be distracted from worrying, and to have the kids distracted from worrying, “go and grab some paper and pens-- we can make some ‘welcome home’ posters for baby Bea-- good practice for your writing.”

Sol jumped up immediately, almost clocking his grandma in the chin as he got to his feet as was his enthusiasm. Reading and writing was a new skill, and one he was mighty proud of. He ran off, and as was typical, Andi was not far behind him.

It was hard not to be brought back to the kids’ mom learning to read and write. Liv had started a bit earlier, keen as she’d been to keep up with the older Reggie-- with whom she was inseperable. Liv would forever play with her alphabet fridge magnets; she took them with her from La Huerta, to San Trobida, to the States. Estela didn’t have any regrets about that rather fast-changing period in her daughter’s life… they’d given what stability they could, but it had never been possible to have a single true ‘home’. For these kids, though, home was San Trobida, a vastly different place to that the young Liv had known, and for Estela, it was barely recognisable as the war-torn country she grew up in. For baby Beatriz as well, the civil war and the horrors that came with it would just be a story told by her abuela, and a history lesson as she went through her schooling, as distant and irrelevent as the 2020 pandemic and dial-up internet.

Good for her.

Then Estela perched herself on the edge of the couch, only half-relaxing, for she could need to spring to action at a moment’s notice.

As if it had been waiting for the kids to leave the room, Estela’s phone rang, and she was up on her feet in an instant.

“Jeimy?” she asked too loudly. You’re gonna have to calm down…. She put the phone on speaker, though Taylor was right up by her ear so it probably wasn’t even necessary.

“She’s here-- they’re both doing great!” Jeimy cried down the phone, almost garbled in their excitement.

“The baby’s here? The baby--” Of course, the baby. Estela just laughed as relief and flooded her body. “Congratulations, Lorito,” she managed to get out. “Oh my god….”

“Pretty much what I said!” Jeimy laughed, ecstatic. “Beatriz is here, and she’s just divine.”

“Oh, Jeimy,” Taylor said, “you know it’s torture I can’t send you a hug down the phone, right?”

But even with the distance she could feel the happiness that radiated forth, and knew the same would be received. Then, the inevitable happened, and Taylor had to contend with tears streaming down her face. Her baby’s baby was here-- there was no way she wasn’t crying.

“H-how was it? Quicker than last time at least.”

“Everything went smoothly; I almost can’t believe it. It’s like… it’s like all the tension’s gone now… the scariest part is over. Liv’s feeling a bit wrecked for talking right now, but she’s happy. So, so happy.”

“Can we… can we tell the kids?”

Jeimy laughed, giddy. “Yeah, go ahead! We’ll get you to bring them down to the hospital soon-- we can’t wait to see them, just want to make sure Livi rests a little first.”

“Just… enjoy the peace and quiet with your little baby, okay?”

“And kisses for everyone from us, all right, mijo?”

“I’ll see to it-- I’ll see to it. You’ll give the kids a big squeeze from us as well! Love you-- love you-- bye!”

Estela hung up the phone and squealed, pulling a laughing Taylor into her arms for the tightest of hugs.

“We’ve got another granddaughter!” Taylor wept.

________________________

Liv’s eyelids were heavy as she watched the babe’s chest rise and fall. Their little Beatriz had made it earthside. There was no doubt in Liv’s mind; there would be no more babies for her and Jeimy. She couldn’t handle the rollercoaster. It would be her, and Jeimy, and Andi and Sol, and Beatriz… and that was all she’d ever need.

Safe and swaddled in her crib, an arm’s reach away from her exhausted mother, Beatriz had drifted off easily. Even bruised and swollen from the delivery, there was so much character in her little face.

“She looks like Sol did,” Liv whispered. “Not quite as much hair.”

At Liv’s other side, Jeimy was serene, sat up against their pillow. “I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for nine months,” they admitted. “It’s nice to breathe again.”

“I know the feeling,” Liv said. “At this point I’ll welcome the sleepless nights with open arms-- I’m just so relieved to have her here.”

Jeimy scooched closer and stroked Liv’s face. “How are you feeling? Physically, I mean.”

Liv looked up at them with a loving smile. “Very sore, very tired.”

Worth it, she thought, and she turned back to once again admire the little life she’d brought into the world. Oh my god, you are worth it.

____________________________

“Surely, no parent of a newborn in history has ever thought ‘oh, let’s have a party-- I could use some further disruption of my sleep patterns!” Aleister proclaimed. “And yet,” he added, “here we are.”

“I think ‘party’ is a strong word,” Taylor said. “Just a little get-together; good company, barbecue, and some fruit punch.”

Jeimy came over and hugged their uncle-in-law, welcoming him into the backyard, set up with lights and tables. “We’re not completely crazy; doing this at home means Liv and I can bolt upstairs with the baby and hide away at the drop of a hat. And if anyone was gonna disturb us, Mama ‘Stel would sort them out. Besides-- we’re not entertaining or anything, hence having everyone bring a plate and do their own dishes. Surrounding ourselves with love, but with as little of the hassle as possible.”

Aleister chuckled. “I can’t say I don’t still think you’re quite mad but… I see some of the appeal.”

Jeimy met his eye. “It means a lot Reggie coming home for us. I can’t say how much Liv’s missed him.”

“However all-singing-and-dancing the technology may get, it’s never the same as in person, is it? I hope it does Liv good,” he said sincerely. Aleister had been close to Liv all her life, for she and his own child Reggie had been something of a dynamic duo since before either could remember. She was his niece and he loved her, and through her mental health struggles he’d wished he could do more. It had been easier to be there for Estela, knowing that his support had helped her to be there for Liv. Reggie, he knew, was the healing balm that old Uncle Al could never be.

Thankfully, in the minds of the two parents of the new baby, the gathering had been able to be kept small and quiet-- certainly by the standards set by their ever-growing extended family. Naturally, Estela and Taylor were there, and Rosa with toddler Leo. Diego had made the trip from La Huerta a week prior, an additional support for Liv and Jeimy. Sean and Jake’s son Michael, proud donor uncle to baby Beatriz, as well as Liv’s older two children and Rosa’s unborn baby, was along for the fun; he’d taken up position as Chief of Fun and was keeping Andi and Sol out from their exhausted parents’ feet. His fiance and Michelle and Quinn’s youngest, Conor, was there to offer him assistance with the kids. Reggie was the guest of honour, the reason this whole thing was even happening-- and his sisters with their respective families, and Aleister and Grace rounded out the guestlist.

The back door swung open.

“Here she is!” Liv cried, stepping out with, cradled in her arms, a tiny bundle of baby in a puffy floral dress and a great big bow.

Michael turned to Jeimy and laughed. “What happened to the ‘gender neutral’ thing you were doing?”

“Hey. Flowers are for any and all genders.” Jeimy rolled their eyes teasingly. “Anyway, we gave up with the unisex name-- Spanish names are so damn gendered-- so thought ‘screw it, just put her in dresses if we like them’.”

“She looks cute,” Michael said, “but she’s gonna have to grow into that bow.” He held out his arms. “Cuddle with Uncle Michael?”

Liv chuckled, and carefully passed over the baby. As little Beatriz was placed in his arms, Michael absolutely beamed. There was no doubt he’d be as besotted over this kid as he was Andi and Sol.

“Damn, she’s cute!” he exclaimed. “You people are making me want a baby so bad. I’m pretty lucky to be a ‘donor uncle’ in the meantime, hey?”

“And we really appreciate it,” Liv was quick to say. Michael had basically given her the family she loved so much, and there were simply no words for what that meant. What was more, he’d given Liv’s Mama Taylor a genetic tie to her grandchildren-- a sort of link she’d once only dreamed of. Their family was unconventional, but in Liv’s eyes, it was all the more wonderful for what had been overcome to bring them to this moment, together. “It’s gonna be a pretty good excuse to get out to La Huerta regularly once Rosa’s bub’s here. We may have to tag along now and then-- I’m not having you usurp my position as ‘coolest visiting relative’.”

“I hate to break it to you, Liv,” Michael said, shaking his head in feigned sorrow, “but Jeimy sings, plays guitar, and has a talking parrot. You’ve never had the top spot to begin with.”

“Dude-- I can take my baby back---”

“Geez, touchy much! At least I know when I’m beat.”

“Just enjoy that cuddle, I’m pretty sure madam’s gonna be in high demand this evening.”

Content that her baby was in good hands, Liv felt comfortable enough to move a few feet away to check up on her older two. They’d blown her away with how they’d taken the new arrival in their stride; Sol was easy-going as usual, but Andi she’d been more concerned about, demanding as she was for fun and attention that simply was not in as high supply these days. But Andi doted on her baby sister, and was forever clamouring to be involved and help out. Now, the twosome had apparently roped Uncle Conor into a game of horsey-ride, with Andi was putting her newfound maternal side to use in steadying two-year-old Leonel with her hand as he had his turn, and Sol ripping up handfuls of grass to feed their new ‘pet’. Liv took an exhale and relaxed. Her little family was surrounded by love.

Then she turned, and there was the face she’d been desperately yearning to see.

“Reggie!”

“I told you, I’d be here, I’m not sure what all the fuss is abo--”

Liv flung her arms around her cousin, her best friend, and squeezed him with all her might.

“Steady on! You always have to be over-the-top about everything, don’t you,” he grumbled good-naturedly, but he kissed her the top of her head as she cried against his chest. He hugged her back, and gave a trembling exhale. “Now that I have you in person; congratulations.”

Liv came away to rub her teary eyes with the back of a hand. “I knew you were coming and everything, ‘m just a bit hormonal for this!”

She put her hands on her hips and took a few deep breaths, righting herself, then looked up at Reggie with a massive grin. He’d been with her through it all… both their spouses had been pregnant at the time, but she and Jeimy had lost their Avis, while Reggie and Mariama had brought home their healthy and bright Olivette-- named in tribute to their bond. Even struggling with parenting a newborn as well as his other two kids, Reggie had always found time for his old cousin, and it was a rare week that would pass without a call between London and San Trobida.

“How have you been?” he asked, “And don’t give me sass because I know childbirth can be godawful….”

“You really think I’d sass you?”

“Sure as bloody hell you would…. But are you doing all right? Other than obviously being touched in the head to have a blasted party of all things so soon after bringing a baby home. I just… I’d like to know you’re doing well.”

“We’re adjusting to the new normal,” she told him. “I’m adjusting… slowly but surely. And there’s grief that’s coming up, but I expected that. Mostly… I’m caught up in loving my baby girl, and so, so damn thankful that she’s here.” She grinned. It was as though she couldn’t think about her little Beatriz without doing so. “Do you wanna meet Bea? She’s having a cuddle with Uncle Michael right now.”

Reggie’s eyes lit up. “I did come all this way, I won’t not say ‘hi’. Actually, I may have promised Sammy and Ange that I send a few photographs-- it’s almost as though the need proof I’m actually here and taking meeting the new little cousin seriously.”

Liv laughed. “I’m sure we can manage that!” She took him by the elbow. “Come on-- you flew all the way from London, you get to skip the cuddle queue.”

And she took him to get acquainted with the baby, beaming as she walked him through a backyard filled with the smiling faces of the people she loved so much-- all there for her. Soon, they’d gather together, and raise a glass; to family, to good times, and to Beatriz Estela Montoya.

[throwmeabonepleaseandthankyou]

Ooh, I thought of something!

Can I get some Grillby headcanons? I'm not picky on the AU but Fell!Grillby is a looker for sure!

I feel like he's usually depicted as flirty for whatever reason? That's pretty much all I know about him though...

I don't know anything about other versions of him either but you don't have to include them if you don't feel like it!

I love that I had a whole response typed out but tumblr deleted my draft 🥰 ANYWAYS, I only have three flame boys available to drool over right now, but all three are just as a loving as the other! Also, I need names for my boys. Please, I'm open to all suggestions!

Grillby :

Even as he is the quietest of the three, he loves talking to you. Well, listening at least.

He could listen to you talk for hours. He has to listen to a certain skeleton crack jokes almost everyday of his life, at least you he can willingly listen to.

He is always grateful to see you come in just to walk behind the bar and start helping him.

His flames burn a bit brighter each time he sees you interact with the customers. Whether it's entertaining the duck lady's "translations" for him or you playing... whatever it is, with the guard dogs.

None of the boys are actually hot to the touch. They feel more like a blanket fresh out of the dryer or a stone left out in the sun.

They have to choose to be harmful, or they have to be angry enough for them to lose control.

Thankfully, Grillby doesn't get upset easily, and if he is feeling off, he goes and lays in the snow to cool himself off.

Until he gets hit with a snowball by you.

He sends the Snowdin kids on you. They're pros and you're screwed. He promised them free candy too. Be ready to treat this snowball fight like an actual war.

He actually likes to dance, liking to spin you around the restaurant after closing to the beat of whatever song the jukebox chose.

He doesn't shower, but he doesn't smell.

Well, he doesn't smell if you enjoy the scent of ash and charcoal.

Walking candle.

Fell :

Gods, what a flirt.

But not creepy flirty.

Cheesy flirty, make you squirm in your seat and force yourself not to laugh cheesy.

This Grillby is hot-headed, literally and figuratively.

It's not uncommon for him to burn whatever he's holding when Red(Sans) pisses him off with his constant taunting.

He will throw out anyone he catches flirting with you, or making suggestive looks at you. No creeps on his watch.

Each flame boy has a distinctive smell. His is those expensive cigars and lemon pepper.

While some people would like to think he would hurt his s/o, he would the most gentle with you.

You are his most prized wine glass, and he will keep you safe.

Doesn't matter if you're human or monster, he will kill his own kind to keep them away from you.

He's not too fond of kids.

Or so he says. You'll catch him giving out chocolate to the younger children and sour candies to the older ones.

He'll always deny it when you mention it.

While the OG's main drink is cider, his is hot chocolate with a twist.

He adds mint to it, giving it the spark that the monsters need to get on with their day.

He acts all tough n shit, but the second y'all are back at home and getting ready for bed, he just wants to sleep on your lap.

Big flame cat.

Outer :

If you were to put your hand in his flames, it would feel like you just stuck your hand in sugar.

I mean it, pulling your hand out, you'll have to go wash your hand from how sticky it feels.

It's not actually sticky though, and attempting to eat his flame just feels like you stuck a warhead sour candy in your mouth.

Imagine.

He smells like a vanilla candle that has been burned recently.

He gives out a special recipe drink that only he knows how to make. Not even you know how to.

No one has been able to replicate it either, and every time they have tried, their version was disgusting.

His flame, unlike the other two, is dense enough to be pulled back and styled like actual hair.

You fun with all of those pretty colors.

He is more physically affectionate than the others too, always having a hand on you somehow, keeping you close.

He is huge on praise, loving on you and treating you like a queen/king/royal. You are spoiled with this one, and he never says no to you.

He has the money to spare, so don't worry about the price.

[ikemenomegas]

do you have any favorite headcanons for omega kakashi? love your blog -3-

Cooking Kakashi (insert cooking mama ver kakashi icon... which is a game I would play the hell out of. I want him to like me so bad...)

I love that Kakashi can canonically cook very well and that he likes cooking for his loved ones. Even though the first of those people are no longer here, it brings him a lot of peace to cook for his Alpha.

He likes that he made something with his own two hands that contributes to the joy and health of his loved ones. It’s also an act of living that makes him feel more human and cooking tasty food for himself was one of the things he used to ground himself during his worst moments or when he was alone after missions (a good weapon needs to be able to at least function -> (eventually) I am a person and it's okay to enjoy things because I deserve it).

He was not originally much of an experimenter, but he learned enough about the basics that he was able to start improving upon recipes. His recipes are full of annotations because even though he's got a stellar memory, he's old enough he knows there's only so much space up there. However, half of these notes only make sense to himself. Good luck trying to replicate those dishes...

He's not much of a "collector", anti-clutter Kakashi

So his preferred method of receiving affection is not gift giving.

However, Cooking Kakashi™️ might accept a few things. Recipe books are a little hard because Kakashi has to be interested in more than just two or three things in the book. He typically prefers to decide on these himself. He likes to work through everything in the book and pick out his favorites. If you tell him you want to buy it for him though, he'll let you. A bookshop date, anyone?

The one thing he does love is the cooking supplies you buy him. High quality ceramics, one of a kind glassware, accent-like cups or bowls. If you're careful about only buying a piece here and a piece there, it doesn't build up clutter, and it becomes a nice special occasion kind of gift. Hot pot is not his most favorite meal ever but he loves the donabe you got him.

He also doesn't have a lot of spare nesting materials, but if you can talk him into letting you take him to a nesting supply shop, he'll usually buy something (because he thinks you think he needs more soft things, which makes him feel cared for but can also get overwhelming on occasion).

Overall though, quality time and some physical touch are his preferred ways of receiving affection.

Cat person who has dogs Kakashi

Kakashi shows up whenever he wants or perfectly on time, prefers only certain people and usually small gatherings or being alone (although being alone with his Person doesn't really count as company), has a lot of very, let's call them specific, habits, is incredibly particular about certain things... and is also something of a prankster.

In a way it's very funny because he's the pack leader of his ninken.

Very respectful but incredibly kinky Kakashi.

Consent is sexy and Kakashi is the sexiest because he's the kind of person who won't act without permission. He's also the kind of person who's almost too shy to even think of his Alpha in an explicit way. This isn't a purity thing. It's just a him being shy and feeling undeserving thing. Have to be careful because he's the kind of sub to say "you can do anything to me, I don't mind" and mean it, and part of a long term relationship with Kakashi is teaching him about his own boundaries.

I'm a big fan "yes he does wear that many layers" Kakashi

Part of it is a feeling of security. But it makes me wonder if he just tends to run cold for some reason. Bundle him up in blankets and feed him soup.

The hospital is very grateful for Kakashi's mate. He tends to run away less if his mate is allowed to either stay with him while he recovering and there's a few times where he's been very happy to get discharged home earlier because Tsunade knows someone responsible and capable of getting Kakashi to sit still while he's getting better.

Lazy Kakashi

Kakashi doesn't hate being a ninja. I get the sense that he thinks ninja are necessary in the world, and he's seen both the good and bad that shinobi missions can do. He doesn't hate it, but he's tired of it.

There's a difference between working hard because you have to and because you want to. I'm a huge fan of lazy Kakashi, no work Kakashi! he doesn't want to go on tiring missions anymore and he certainly didn't love being hokage! don't make him! Let him stay at home every day and do whatever he wants to do, let him spend all day in bed with you and a book and his puppies if he wants!

That said, he's been a shinobi so long, he would miss the athleticism if he ever had to leave, he likes being skilled. That's why he goes back to doing non-combat and teaching jobs after retiring. But he leaves plenty of space for well earned leisure time.

Hobby Husband Kakashi

He's used to having somewhat structured time, so sometimes he has trouble picking something to do on his day off. After the war, he also has to figure out how to fill additional hours since he doesn't stare at the memorial stone all the time.

He actually does like to just try new things. He's the type who naturally ends up pretty good at almost everything he tries though so there's not much he pursues more than one or two times. Once he settles in with his mate, he likes to do things with you. It's more fun and fulfilling than doing activities alone. His favorite hobby is reading though. Reading usually gives him an idea of what he might want to try next.

[jewish-microwave-laser]

Idk if this is appropriate (I hope it is) but I just need to get something off of my chest? It's about the whole incontinence thing.

I'm in my mid 20s, in generally good health, and, on occasion, I have bladder problems. I've had more minor incidents than I can count, and have had a couple of major incidents when I was too far away from a bathroom to do anything about it.

I'm so embarrassed by it that I haven't even told my doctor. This ask is quite literally the first time I've said a word about it to anyone. I think I may be willing to talk to my doc about it now, so I just wanted to say thank you.

of course ♥️♥️♥️ i've had similar instances, and i haven't told a doctor about it either. it's probably bc of my eds, and i do kegel exercises sometimes but honestly i kinda just. deal with it as it comes up

i'm grateful that my post helped you feel comfortable enough to finally put this into words. i hope you're able to find some relief, or at least that you're able to explore options to make this less stressful

tho, as genuinely grateful and honored as i am that you felt welcome to reach out to me, it really fucking sucks that my oneoff post resonated with so many people. it wasn't even well articulated, but just a person saying "hey isn't it fucked up to make disabled people feel ashamed for being disabled" was so out of the norm that that post is getting a bunch of notes, which is fucked up beyond measure

anyway, i want to leave this post on a happy note, so here's my service dog, omari, being the silliest guy in existence

[id: four images of a large black labrador. the first is a picture of him in his vest, with his paws crossed, looking rather dignified. the second, he's laying on his back in his crate, his legs wide open, and his tail vertical against the back of the crate. the third is taken from a different angle, and this time his teeth are visible and makes it look like he's smiling. in the final image, he's laying in a doorframe with his neck at a 90° angle against the doorjamb. the way it looks, it cannot possibly be comfortable, and yet it's clear that he's chosen to be in this position of his own free will /end id]

[blackjackkent]

Alllllll righty, it's been a WHOLE WEEK since I was able to do any writing about Rakha's ongoing Terrible Time In The Shadow-Cursed Lands, and I have been missing my poor fucked-up girl.

How're you holding up, Rakha?

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Quick recap (for my own benefit as much as anyone else's) - Rakha has reached Moonrise and it's been kind of a clusterfuck. We did save Minthara (and surprisingly enough, Rakha actually seems to like her, much to Lae'zel's chagrin), but everything else has been sort of awful.

Wulbren, who Rakha rescued on Barcus's behalf, has turned out to be a complete toolbag,

The beast wants Rakha to destroy Isobel, and being denied that, rose up in Rakha's brain and murdered a cat in cold blood for no reason,

and most importantly:

Everyone in Moonrise Towers seems to know her, including Ketheric himself, who mocked her as a "mad dog."

Disciple Z'rell seems even less pleased to see her, and there's a strange tension to their interactions that Rakha doesn't understand.

The only one who seems pleased at the reunion is the terrifying illithid meat in the walls.

On the bright side, she can get Wyll smooches now. ^_^

We did a quick check-in at Last Light, but Rakha wants to get on the road again as soon as possible. She can almost smell Isobel's presence, and she knows that if they stay too long, it's likely she will lose control again. Her current plan is to follow the orders from Z'rell to go find Balthazar, and in so doing, find the Nightsong relic that is providing Ketheric's immortality.

But she doesn't know where that is, so that means an aimless wander through the darkness of the Shadow-Cursed Lands; she hates walking around in that corrupted magic, but it's still better than salivating over the murder of Isobel, the one person keeping it at bay.

(Translation: I want her to catch the other sidequests in this area, so we're not going straight to the Sharran mausoleum.)

One of the nice things about the party system in BG3 is that not only can I say that Rakha sent Wyll up to make a report to Isobel in her place, rather than face her directly, but I can actually do it:

"You did well to help those people escape Ketheric. Every soul saved is a blessing, and you're raining them upon us."

"I saw Ketheric at Moonrise Towers. He was presiding over a trial."

"Almost laughable, that he sees himself fit to judge anyone. Did you learn anything about how we might defeat him?"

"I think I know the source of his invulnerability - a relic called the Nightsong."

"That's incredible news. I won't ask for specifics as to how you uncovered that... but I'm grateful you've done whatever it takes. I can't believe there's an end in sight... thank you."

In Rakha's particular worldstate, this definitely reads like someone has informed Isobel of Rakha's tendency towards wanton violence and she is making a point of looking the other way. XD

Also "end in sight" feels like it's putting it a bit strongly at this stage of the game - but Wyll doesn't object. Far be it from him to take away anyone's hope in this place.

He also has the chance to ask her a few questions about herself, her history, and the shadow curse, and she basically evades and lies aggressively through her teeth through the whole conversation. Obviously, I know this but Wyll doesn't - but on some level, I think he probably picks up on some of the clues that she's not being entirely truthful. After all, he has a long history himself of evading questions about exactly what happened with Mizora and his pact.

"Moon and shadow, light and dark," Isobel says, when he asks her about the curse and about Shar and Selune's conflict. "Divine sisters ever at war. And this place has become one more battlefield. Sometimes life forces us to choose sides. Luckily... sometimes the choice is obvious."

Yes. Wyll can understand that.

[fragileizy]

idk it's like

i talked to my therapist today through mid bites of food during lunch

i talked to her about how i kinda feel like i'm slowly forming into a person that actually feels sexual kinda. dooes this make sense? sorry i'm going to treat this like a diary entry. i'll spare you the long post and shove this under a read more.

i write an absolute onslaught of porn but it's always felt kind of like something that's not for me; i'm not a participant, but rather an audience, and i'm totally disjointed from the actual experience. it doesn't pertain to me, almost as if i'm not allowed to. no one's ever said i'm not allowed to be. i guess i've just grown up this way? maybe it's the way that i was never picked by anyone growing up or considered attractive, nothing like that was ever taught to me at a young age that i'm something people look towards to. i've been told my whole life by older adults— aunts, uncles, family-friend members, general, random adults— that they find me pretty, but that's never really translated to much. at the very most, i get called a "doll". i'm not really considered attractive. or maybe i am and i just don't realize?? anyway, it's like, that's fine? or i thought it was fine. sex wasn't for me, and it never was, and i thought i was fine with that— but i'm not. i'm self conscious, i'm shy, i'm scared and timid; instead of feeling anything good whenever i've been in those situations, i feel scared. flighty. i feel like i'm doing something wrong.

lately i've been feeling really okay with myself? dare i say kind to myself? i have no idea what's changed. maybe it's the fact that i'm taking care of myself— oh, god, here we go, talking about "self-care" while actually meaning "grooming myself— hair, nails, makeup— in a way that is socially acceptable" but eh. maybe. sort of. the pink hair was almost a revolution of the self (god, poetic much?) where it really felt like i had agency for the first time in my entire life, and it felt great. it felt good.

the fact that i'm able to dress myself with the little money i have and put on clothes that i picked out for me and me alone for my work and my car actually makes me feel like i have agency. at most, i've always felt like a dog with a propeller hat at a party, and i mean this genuinely. i always feel like i'm severely in the wrong place at the wrong time at every circumstance in my life, and people find it comical and silly that i'm just walking around. maybe they find it endearing; maybe they actually look forward to seeing me because i brighten up their day— look at that, a dog with a propeller hat on, isn't that silly? how cute is this!!!— but that's still not ideal. it would be nice to feel like a person. it would be nice to feel like i'm a 26 year old adult. not a dog with a hat.

lately i've been feeling like a 26 year old adult. i've been talking and showing opinions and having crushes (even if they're fleeting, even if they're stupid, they're real, and i have them, and the impulse to want kisses and hugs and laughter and someone to cuddle next to at night makes me almost incomprehensibly impossible to deal with because i'm so annoying about it) still makes me feel so grateful. i feel like a participant in such a long time with even the idea of sex. god, what a thing to say. i'm not a voyeur in the idea of sexual attraction, i'm a— timid! cautious! scared! but willing!— participant in my own thoughts. i want to go to the beach and wear cute swimsuits. i want to be less shy about how i dress. i want to look in the mirror and continue looking at my butt and being like :O because i like the shape it makes when i move my legs a certain way. i want to be liked. i wanna find myself attractive.

idk. idk. idk. idk. idk. idk. anyway. talked to my therapist today.

[translucent-at-best]

Scatter-brained...

I can't find the post about the greatest movie deaths to reblog it, but I just want y'all to know that topping my list is Queenie the dog's death in Crooklyn. Also included is Sonny from The Godfather and Samuel L. Jackson's character in Deep Blue Sea.

Life been life-ing like a motherfucker lately. And while some of it is just happening to me through no fault of my own, there is some of it that's also just me dealing with the consequences of my actions. I'm trying to focus on the things I can control, but it's easier said than done.

Death been death-ing like crazy too. From family to friends to friends who are family... This shit don't make no sense.

I'm 33 now. I haven't had a birthday party since I was 9, but I'm planning a birthday brunch for myself next weekend and I'm excited for it. And grateful that I have people to invite and who I know will show up for me. I'm really out here with chosen family. I came out here knowing no one. I might sound like a broken record at this point, but I'll never stop thanking God for that.

Had to kick my roommate's boyfriend out of the apartment a few weeks ago. I'm still shaken up over it. She told me he's not welcome back until I say he is and I told her I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable with that again (read: I absolutely won't be). She says she understands and that that's a consequence he'll just have to live with... but I'm very aware that although she's saying that now, she may not be so understanding on a May 15th or a July 20th or... you get it. I hope I'm wrong, but if she's shown me anything thus far, it's that I can't always believe what she says.

This same boyfriend showed up unannounced at my place last Sunday night to "apologize." We talked through the call box and that was only long enough for me to say (and repeat several times) that I'm not in a place to accept an apology right now. He kept trying to convince me to talk, asking for "a minute of your time" and saying that he's really a good guy.

First off, anyone who calls themselves a "good" person, I'm wary of. I feel like that's the type of thing other people should tell me about you or that I should clearly be able to see for myself through your actions. Secondly, your solution to getting kicked out of some place is to show up to that place unannounced and try to force the person who wanted you out to accept your apology on your time and terms? Fuck all the way out of here. Thirdly, the lack of self awareness it takes to say you understand why what you did (not listening to us when we told you to leave) was wrong, but then to refuse to listen and leave AGAIN as you try to apologize is mind-boggling. Every time I think about it, I end up even more pissed.

I've been closing all my fitness circles nearly every day this month and I'm really proud of me for that. I even went and worked out on my birthday. Who is she?

The economy is a mess, the current job market is big trash, and the non-profit org I work for has fallen on hard times and informed us that there will be layoffs at the end of this school year. I'm applying and have been applying, but finding the energy to keep doing so is draining in a way I don't think I've experienced before.

And, on top of all that, my sleep schedule has been terrible. I thought it was just a side effect of my period this month, but that thing been gone for a minute and I'm still struggling.

April 13th (the day I promised myself I'd get back on a dating app) came and went. I downloaded an app. I created a profile. I consulted friends about which pictures to post and choose... but them fucking prompts? I know I'm supposed to show off my personality, sell myself, etc. I just ain't got the energy right now...

[froggieco]

PLEASE DONT SCROLL!

(UPDATED)

This is my boy Charlie

If you give me your ear I'd like to tell you his story.

I found Charlie at a shelter in 2019 and I fell in love right away. As I was getting to know him the workers told me that he had come and gone from the shelter often, the most recent time coming back from a family with small children who tormented him. On the white patch on his chest there was a blue stain from a sucker that was stuck to him. One of his previous owners had claimed he was so aggressive that they completely declawed him. This poor baby had been picked up and dumped in 7 years. Needless to say I couldn't leave him there.

When I brought him home he was extremely skittish, not wanting to interact with anyone and hiding under my bed basically for 3 days. But it didn't discourage me, I sat on my floor putting food and water where he could get it and just calmly talking to him about anything. By the night of the third day he ended up jumping up on my bed and laying by me. Anytime I moved he would tense but eventually we both fell asleep.

It took a long time to build his trust but 4 years later and we have an unbreakable bond. Every second it took to build was worth more then I can imagine. It's cliche but it was really him who saved me.

The last year he's been having some weird behaviors, the most blatant one is peeing everywhere. I mean everywhere. He peened on beds, clothes, the carpet, just about anywhere but the litter box. I took him to the vet right away and found he had a UTI. Great, I can take care of that with antibiotics! But after he finished them he was still peeing outside the litter box. I thought then that maybe it was the stress of having two new dogs in the house, something behavioral. I did everything, got special litter, picking everything up, got hormone therapy, anxiety meds, spending extra time with him. Everything. None of it was working and I was at a complete loss. I had him checked for another UTI but it came back clear. Eventually I took him to a different vet and asked for a complete blood check because I knew something was wrong.

It turned out something was wrong. Charlie has diabetes. When I tell you I was heartbroken for taking so long to figure it out, thinking it was behavioral, thinking it was nothing but a UTI... words don't describe how guilty I feel. But I'm glad I caught it early, before I found him in keto acidosis. I'm very blessed

The only issue is I am in a horrible financial situation. I'm barely making by and a lot of the time I can't afford groceries. I never let this stop me from giving the best care to my pets, in fact that's where most of my time and money goes to (other then my own medical expenses as I have many disabilities). Instantly I knew I needed help affording insulin for him.

That's why I'm here. I have a GoFundMe that I will use to save up enough for a year of insulin. If I could get a year I'm hoping I can get out of my issue and save up enough to be able to afford it myself. I know it's a lot, I know it's a long shot but I'm hoping for a miracle. I know many people won't be able to donate but even if you just share this, I will be eternally grateful.

If you've made it this far, thank you so so much. Thank you for listening to me and I hope this is able to reach the people who can help me take care of my baby boy

PLEASE SHARE 💙

!!UPDATE!!

Hello everyone, I thought I would make an updated fundraiser as well as give more information to what I have learned over the year since making my original fundraiser.

Charlie is in heart failure. I still haven't accepted this, even while looking up treatments and seeing the life expectancy. I'm stretched thin with his diabetes treatment and I'm not sure what any heart treatments would be. He is my old man now, 11 years old and still has a car engine purr. This fundraiser is for insulin for a year, which I'm hoping to make the best year of his life.

I want to thank everyone who even took the time to read this, it truly means the world to me.