#bleached it too many times probably lol

[iregularlyevadetaxes]

too much blush or naw

[impyssadobsessions]

DPXDC Enemy of my Enemy is the Worse "Excerpts" (Part 1?) I have more Ideas

Okay I kepy thinking about the prompt Enemy of my Enemy is the Worse I made LOL- (gonna post excerpts.) Probably wont fully write this.. as much as I like to right now LOL. If this inspires anyone to write, go for it.

"So now what? Going to vivisect me? Experiment? Rip my molecules apart like how my-Mr. Fenton keeps telling me." "Unfortunately, no." Agent K grumbles. "And its dissection, not-" Agent O tries to correct. "I maybe dead-but I'm not THAT dead." Danny rolled his eyes, flashing them at the two men in white. He can't believe any of this is happening. Oh he wished he listened to Jazz.. or Sam or Tuck more. He pulled at his ghost proof bindings, them having him ridiculously buried in the restraints. "Actually, Mr. Phantom, is it? I wanted to talk." Another bald man walks in, his suit notably black. Danny raised his eyebrow unimpressed, "What? Is it the Guys in Black and White now? Not that I'm against it, I'm all for equality, but it does seem a little off brand. I'm guessing the bleach bill is getting too high." Agent O was about to speak out- when the guy in black raised his hand to silence him. This guy only looked slightly amused, which gave Danny the creeps. "Of course not. That'd be ridiculous, though I'm not against inclusivity either. I'm Lex Luthor, and it is my recent interest in ghosts that had allowed the GIW to reach its full potential. " "So another annoying billionaire. Great."

"So you know of me? Perfect, then we can keep this simple. In truth, I am only interested in one ghost in particular." "We can capture him without involving ourselves with this scum-" "This GHOST has not only evaded my notice for YEARS, but has been stealing very valuable technology that would go beyond NASA's comprehension. Though I don't doubt your expertise, it has not come without notice that this particular ghost is seen the most-" Lex flicked his eyes down at Phantom. "With you." Agent K and O unrolled paper from their suits to reveal a picture of Plasmius. "The Wisconsin Ghost." - "Plasmius?!" Danny spoke same time the Agents did. Lex smirked at the Agents then down at Phantom. Danny took a moment to register what was going on before busting out laughing. "Really? What makes you think I'm buddy buddy with Plasmius? He's a total fruitloop and honestly- not surprise. He steals blueprints from my p---Dr. Fentons all the time." "You steal their items as well, if we recall." Agent K raised a brow. "Well-I- Just because- YOU USE THEIR BLUEPRINTS TOO!" "Enough. " Lex starting to sound annoyed, Danny felt like it was a win. Serves bastard right. Man did he hate billionaires. "I've observed your work in Amity Park. If I dare say you are quite similar to many of the masked vigilantes that plague this Earth. Even more heroic in my opinion." Danny was not biting at whatever trick Lex was pulling. Though he didn't miss the skip of his core at being recognized something other than a menace. 'He's lying to you.' he repeated in his head. Pulling on his bindings again to remember the real situation before him.

"That being said, I like you to do as heroes do and capture this criminal, then bring him to me." "Look, thanks for the compliment- but we both know I'm not seen as a hero. So why don't you quit the buttering 'cause I'm not interested in culinary and tell me what's in it for me. Even though I'm barely c-average on the best of days, I'm not dumb. I'm not doing this for free or just some lame you will be spared nonsense. Been there done that." Lex smirked again, "I'll grant you immunity from GIW and you can have your haunt back." "Wait? What?!" "But it took so long to capture him-" "IF you manage to capture Plasmius and bring him to me before GIW can." Danny glanced at the two agents as they puffed out their chests. Cocky. They really think they could capture Vlad? Then painfully reminded himself that they did catch him. "And if I don't agree?" "We DISSECT you and use you for very unethical and highly painful experiments that are legal on subjects like yourself." Agent K happily boast. "Riiiight." Danny clicked his tongue, "Add in that these guys are not allowed to be in a 50 miles radius from Amity and I'll do it." "No-" "Deal."

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

Danny looped on back to the entryway as he finished swooping through every room of the manor. "Alright! Come on out Fruitloop! I know you're still here-" Just as Phantom floated down to land, he felt a hard punch in his face that sent him skidding across the room into the wall. "OOF" "Guess I should have seen that com...ming..." Danny rubbed his jaw, turning back to see who punched him. His eyes widening as he recognized the heroes he was facing. "Phantom. We're taking you into custody." "YOU CALLED THE JUSTICE LEAGUE ON ME?!" -----(Fight happens)--- Flash manages to hold Phantom, using his speeding molecules to keep Phantom from phasing through his grip. Danny gritting his teeth as the other heroes ready to capture him. Fine. If he can't phase through, he'll just phase in. Phantom uses his icy breath to freeze everything around them. Superman quickly uses his laser vision to melt the ice covering the room in mist, trying to keep themselves from being frozen. "Flash!" When the mist cleared the was no sign of him. Superman using his hearing to try and locate him- despite guarding his right side, he was kicked into the wall by Flash. Flash's eyes glowing bright green. "Well this is weird." -Proceeds to fight in Flash's body for a moment, until he gets knocked out of it. Danny's on his last legs, thinking he barely done a number on them (Not realizing he had been giving them quite a fight). Danny tries to reason again only to hear Amity Park doing great since GIW involvement. Still he isn't backing down. Even mentions Lex is backing them. He knows its only temporary peace if its really peace at all. Which he suspects is a big farce. Besides the portal still resides in Amity. GIW can't get a hold of that- portal. If he can't make them hear him out, then he'll show them why Vlad isn't just some victim. (Not realizing what Justice League may have already discovered) "Want to know why the number 2 worse billionaire is after Fruitloop?" standing up as the net placed on him burned and electrified him. It hurt so much, but he wasn't ready to quit now. Superman flew out in front of the others to block Phantom as Phantom tackled him. Phantom just uses rest of his strength to crash Superman through layers of floors til they reached the secret lab. Superman flinging Phantom into the other side of the room just as they landed, making him slam into a green tube, shattering it. The netting having dropped to the ground away from him. He coughed, shaking as a white ring dangerously popped around his waist shakily dancing, until Phantom sucked it back in. Not yet. The green ectoplasm from the tube soaking into his skin. His eyes widening as he saw what the green ectoplasm was from, jumping back with a disgust yell. He watched the clone fizzle out. "ALREADY? Really Vlad?" He shook off the creeps. "What is this?" "A Lab, du-UAHHHHHHH-" He found himself being spun around by Flash, and flung into the air where he was lassoed. Wonder Woman yanked on the rope tight, swinging him down into the opposite wall. He really was tired of being walled by them. Batman was quick to cuff him as Superman froze him in place. Danny raised a tired brow, unamused. "Are we chill now?" "No." "Thought so." ---bit more talking. Danny navigating his way through the truth of the lasso before using his wail as his last ditch effort to escape. Manages to escape through the portal as the lab collapses.

[phyrestartr]

Vampire | Miguel x M!Reader

Vampire!Miguel x Reader W/C: 5.9k

#NSFW, vampires, blood, gore, violence, bottom!reader, top!Miguel, mentions of sex work, mentions of assault, it's kinda cute idk, posessive behaviour, questionable relationship, reader is morally grey, reader is lowkey a criminal though lol, Johnny Blaze = Nic Cage 5ever sorry not sorry

Note: I FINISHED IT! Lost steam with editing so some bits may be kinda weird and word-y, but I really enjoyed writing this honestly :clap: ty guys for voting for me to finish this o(--( I actually finished it so quickly wtf--

--

Vampires. Blood-sucking, man-killing, devil-calling creatures. Many feared them, even now, even after the legends of Dracula faded into obscurity and out of the minds of mortal men. But there were some who kept weary watch on the old castle looming before your meager town: older folks, the ones with bleached scars and haunted voices, with quivering hands and a phobia of the dark. 

You thought they all spun tales, convinced themselves of a time that never happened thanks to whatever their parents hushedly told them come the waning of the sun. “Don't leave the house after dark,” “be wary of the man you know not,” “pray to God for his protection,” is what you figured they'd been told. You couldn't blame them. Not really. Mass hysteria, mass lies told to the young had a penchant for warping their minds, destroying their futures. 

But still, you'd listen. Face alight with a smile, one ear turned their way as you poured drinks for whatever patron came bumbling your way that night. There was one man, one who claimed to have been touched by the devil himself, momentarily transformed into something wicked and unholy, who frequented the establishment. 

“Come on now, Johnny,” you chided with a laugh, “you don't really believe all that rubbish. Touched by the devil? You Americans really are the dramatic sort, aren't you?” 

“You don't need to believe all of it,” Johnny said mildly. “You just need to believe a sliver of it. It'll do you some good. Keep you safe.” 

You smiled to yourself as you busily made a drink for a new customer. “Yeah? Keep me safe from what, exactly?” Your eyes met his, then, and you found your blood stood in place for a moment. 

“You know what.” The devil. He'd said it too many times to count without uttering his name. “Just be smart.”

“I'm always smart,” you said with a phony laugh, the sort you used to lull women and men into some cheap sense of comfort. 

“Smart people do dumb things, too.” He took a swig of his drink before peering down at the amber pooling against crystal. “Like sneaking around old, unhallowed castles.” 

You pursed your lips. “I'm just curious, old man, you don't need to worry. I've not been inside, yeah? Just looked ‘round the outside of the old place.” That's probably filled with loads of goods. 

But Johnny only stared at you, calculating, thinking. It almost unnerved you. 

“Just be careful.” 

And in that moment, a man whose name you didn’t know, but whose body you knew too well, walked into the bar. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his frame unnaturally tall, and from the glimpses you were allowed of his face hidden away under the brim of that hat, you remembered strong lines and proud cheekbones. His eyes, a bizarre colour, always glimmered ruby in the firelight thanks to some strange disease you never quite remembered the name of, and his hair, a dark oaken hue, wisped like tendrils of shadow rolling off his strong neck. 

He didn’t look at you, but you couldn’t look away. Your gaze followed him to where he found a quiet seat off to the side by a small table. He wouldn’t order anything. He never did. He only ever waited for your shift to end. 

“Kid?” Johnny prodded, freeing you from your momentary curse.

You blinked and sputtered, nodding in earnest to whatever Johnny had said. “I–right. Careful. I’m always careful.” 

–

Just be careful.

But that was impossible with this otherworldly spirit around you, waiting for you every other night just for the sake of bedding you, and leaving before morning with nothing but a stack of bills (or sometimes some jewelry, if you were lucky) to remember him by. Your favourite client by far. Your only client, per his request.

Your fists twisted into the bedsheets as you gasped with every brutal crashing of the man’s hips against yours as he took you from behind. He was in a bad mood tonight, it seemed. Normally, he liked to take it slow, he liked to savour his meal, but for some reason–

His hand clasped over your mouth when his teeth tore into your neck again. The cry that left you was hoarse and tired, but not so surprised, no; the man had his kinks, and one just so happened to be biting. He did quite the number on you, too, always breaking skin and leaving scars and scabs in his wake. But it felt good. It felt right to be claimed. The greedy, ugly little part of your heart wanted people to know you were taken and owned by this strange, captivating man.

“Fuck, I–” You buried your face into the mattress as another orgasm hit, striking your dull nerves like hammer on hot iron thrust after thrust. Soon enough, you felt his body stutter against yours just before an uncanny, liquid gold filled your guts and seeped into your core–he was finally done. Finally. Though part of you wished it didn’t have to end. 

His teeth, the pointed, feral things, dislodged from your neck before he ran the flat of his tongue against the weeping wound. Somehow, that always staunched the bleeding. You didn’t quite understand it, but you weren’t exactly well-versed in medicine.

“Tired already?” He mocked in that smokey, American accent. “Thought the young had more than that to offer.” The purr of his voice soothed the pulsing start of a headache as you came down from your high. Yet another strange effect he had on you. 

You took a good handful of moments to catch your breath before you tried to hazard an answer. “I’m–you’re in some kind of mood, darling; can’t blame me for your brutality.” You turned your head to rest your cheek against the scratchy sheets, and the beast took the opportunity to leave nips and kisses along your jaw. 

“Tch. I’m just reminding you who you belong to. Where you belong.” Sharp teeth grazed your skin again, and you shuddered. “No one likes to see theirs fawning over another man.” 

You strained to look back at him. “You–you mean Johnny? He’s not–I wouldn’t let him bed me, are you mad?” A rough push of his hips against yours reprimanded you. “H-He’s a mate, love, that’s all.”

The man twitched. “A mate?” 

“A friend, you bloody idiot.”

He relaxed, but still sought confirmation. “A friend.”

“A friend, indeed. Father-figure, maybe.” With a bit of effort, you managed to wriggle free from the strength of the man pinning you in place, and laid on your back to gaze up at him. “I’m not interested in him, he’s not interested in men, so you needn’t worry a thing.” One of your worn hands reached up and smoothed over the curve of his sharp cheekbone, drawing a pleased hum from the chamber of the beast’s chest. 

“Fine.” He rested his weight on you, and you sighed, content and warmed. But that bony chin digging into your chest was a tad bit fucking irritating. “Then if he’s not trying to fuck you, what makes you listen to him for hours on end, hm?” Hah. Annoyed. Jealous. Quite endearing. 

“He has stories to tell,” you offered. “Words about the devil and the curse of the undead. About Dracula and that old castle.” 

The man’s brows raised in interest. “Oh? And you like ghost stories, is that it? Here I figured I'd be enough to keep your mind entertained,” he said with a taunting smirk, like he thought your suggested belief in those spooky tales was laughable. 

Heat washed over your face. “I–you–shut up, I just like me a good story, is that so wrong? Tch, stupid American.”

He laughed, a sound you adored to hell and back. “I’ll keep it in mind. Might have a few good stories up my sleeve, too.” His head tilted the slightest bit. “Maybe then your eyes won’t wander.”

“Terribly jealous one, aren’t you? I never would’ve guessed it.” You raked your hands through his hair and he sighed, deep and ancient. But your words were true–this man, your mysterious client-turned-lover, he captivated all wherever he traveled. With so many eyes on him, why did he want you to look nowhere else but to him? 

Greedy man. That’s what you decided. He wanted everything and more. 

“Other men don't get to look at what's mine,” he mumbled after a time of you pampering him with pets and scritches. “And you're mine, for the record.” 

“Hm. I quite like the sound of that.” 

“Then marry me.” 

“I'm not sure I can,” you lamented. “I find myself in trouble too often. It puts me on the run, jumping from town to city and back again.” 

“You'd never have to run again if you let me have you.” He picked himself up and loomed over you, brushing his nose against yours as he spoke against your lips. “You'd be safe, cared for, never want for anything. None of those sacks of shit would would lay a finger on you again.” His lips trailed down, brushing against the thick vein in your neck. “I think it's for the best if you agree.” 

You almost argued back, but the large hand engulfing your throat gave you pause. He didn't hurt you, no, but gave you a silent warning. The power that man held over you contradicted his weakness to your wants and desires, and twisted your thoughts into unorganized knots. 

“I'll think on it,” you breathed, not wanting to say yes but unwilling to say no. You didn't want marriage, but commitment was a tantalizing idea. You'd just never thought it'd happen to you. 

His eyes came back to yours again. Your heart fluttered at the glints of carmine shimmering in candle-lit eyes. God, he was beautiful. 

“I better like your answer.” 

–

You left. You hated doing it, you hated running from your problems and whatever seemed to haunt you day to day, but too much happened in too short a time. 

For one, the landlord demanded more and more rent money from you when he noticed your gifted jewelry and newly tailored coat, and then, when you didn't give it to him, he took to trying to get payment another way. You shot him, obviously. 

Which led to your second reason for leaving–you'd shot a man and fled the scene, unknowing if he was alive or not, and uncaring of the outcome, quite frankly. You figured the lowlife would be more pressed about the money than dying, anyway. 

And third, the bar you worked at found out you'd been swindling and stealing on the job, pocketing tips and taking home near-empty bottles to refill with something of your own design to sell on the streets. Admittedly, it was fine work, but you'd long abandoned that method of money-making once that stranger wandered into your life and offered you more cash than you could imagine.

But you liked that bar. You liked those patrons. No strings attached.

And that's why you were back. Not with the intention to stay, no; you were back to scout out the castle after getting confirmation from some university lads about how valuable the old place was. You figured you could find enough in there with the scoundrels you'd come with, and maybe you could pay the old owner back before leaving for good. 

You'd never have to run again if you'd let me have you. 

Maybe you should've just said yes.

– 

The castle stood beautifully, even with the screams of the slaughtered ringing through the halls. It was big, too, eagerly letting you get lost in its enchanting halls and inviting rooms as you tried in vain to remember the way out. 

That's when you crashed into one of the uni snobs you'd come with, Harry. He was a mess, clothes and hair out of place for once, with a spray of sticky blood coating his face and white shirt. Osborn must've seen their tormentor. 

He grabbed your shoulders as you grabbed his arms. “We have to go, we have to go–” he chanted, pulling and pushing you in undecided directions. 

“Osborn, where did you see it? Where–” Another scream gave you a hint. Your eyes snapped down the hallway, staring deep into the torchlit halls and finding nothing but the unknown staring back. 

Then, there were footsteps. Slow, methodical things that rung to a tune hidden in your memories.

“We have to go,” you whispered, like that'd help. “Osborn, we have to–” a splitting pain electrocuted your senses and sent you stumbling backwards. The world spun. Your head ached. Funeral bells shrieked. Worst of all, that dress shirt and that fancy jacket you loved so much were stained suddenly, a foul colour of darkness that reeked of pennies and iron. It took you too long to look back to the student, and to see the smoking pistol held out in his shaky hand. 

“I had to,” Osborn whispered, so, so haunted. “I had to. You understand.” And quite frankly, you did understand; wounding a lamb to leave behind for a wolf to indulge in was a sure way to let a farmer escape. 

Harry took off. You grasped your stomach and leaned hard against the wall, trying to pull yourself together to make some kind of run for it before those languid steps found you and cut your story short. But you felt so tired, so dizzy. The red weeping under your hand and the bewildered pants leaving you left you colder and colder. You wondered if Osborn had shot himself in the foot with this one (hah), killing the sacrificial lamb, rendering it useless to what was believed to be a vampire of all things. They devoured the living, not the dead. 

Clack, clack, clack. The haunting echo of fine shoes on wooden slats passed you by, then vanished all together. You collapsed to your knees and heaved in the burning air just as a deafening screech ricocheted through the halls with the echo of frantic gunfire, and the slosh of viscera. You fought back the burn of bile in your throat when you braved a look; there laid a body on the floor, and a corpse standing above it, illuminated just barely by torchlight. 

His shoulders were impossibly broad, his frame unnaturally tall–

“We could have avoided all of this,” the creature growled. 

–from the glimpses you were allowed of his face hidden in the swath of darkness around him, you remembered strong lines and proud cheekbones–

“But you didn’t listen.”

–his eyes, a bizarre colour, glimmered ruby in the firelight thanks to some strange disease you never quite remembered the name of– 

“Why couldn’t you just listen?”

–and his hair, a dark oaken hue, wisped like tendrils of shadows rolling off his strong neck.

He appeared beside you so suddenly, so soundlessly, you wouldn’t have known he approached if it weren’t for the strength of your fluttering eyelids seeking the truth. You stared hard at the tips of his leather shoes. Perhaps you should’ve known it was him all along. Perhaps you had known. 

He knelt before you and forced your chin up, making your eyes meet his as he stared down through you. Blood marred his face, matching the wine-red hue of his furious, gem-cut eyes; even like this, teeth bared, about to kill you, he was beautiful. 

“Look what you’ve done. This is your fault–”

But that beauty was wasted on such a foul-mouthed monster. 

“My fault?” You spat. “Fuck you.” You tore your chin from his grip, but his hand sought out your throat instead. “Don’t fucking touch me–”

He smiled, bitter but so wholly and infuriatingly amused before he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll do whatever I want with you.” And before you could lash out, before you could throw a fist at his stupid face, he yanked you in and bit.

A winter breeze rippled through you. Cold. Piercing. And you gradually froze like water dripping from the gutters, no longer able to fight back, too sluggishly slow to do anything about your fate. You breathed hard, feeling the hole in your stomach and ache of your heart weep and worsen with every shattering breath you took. Your hands, gentle in their weakness, pawed at his chest and sought a spot to dig in and hold on to for dear life as the waking world turned its back to you.

But despite the bitterness, and despite words exchanged, he held the side of your face as you faded in and out of consciousness. He called something, and a flurry of orange wisps appeared above you. 

–

You awoke to the echoes of a dream, one you hadn’t had for a while. A cloudless night where you’d been caught in bed by a taken woman’s man and beaten half to death; in return, you shredded through the man's chest with a knife from the kitchen while the wife watched on in silence. You'd been ready to kill her, too, slit her throat in one easy motion, but she never screamed, never looked at the wild animal with fear. 

Tell the police he attacked you, miss. 

Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

You fumbled through the alleys after leaving the scene, but others, foul things that roamed the streets where not even rats lingered, found you, threatened to use up the last of what you had to offer this pitiful world. It seemed as though they disappeared in the time it took you to blink, though, and a man was left, standing in their wake. He looked somewhat disheveled, like he’d just finished some grand task, but he was just so put together, too. You struggled to make sense of it, but you didn’t really care to. 

“Well, isn't that impressive,” you said with a breathless laugh. “Not a shred of blood on you. Are you the ripper the paper’s gone on and on about?”

The being glanced over his shoulder, eyes alight in curious mirth. He turned your way and stepped closer. You saw it then, the slightest bit of dark smears on his face.

“Is that what they're calling me?” He adjusted his cuffs, and rolled his shoulders. “Huh.” 

Adrenaline poured into your heart. “You're quite the dangerous man, aren't you, sir?” you swallowed thickly as you looked him over: fine shoes, expensive coat, luxurious rings. “And, ah, well-off. You wouldn't happen to be interested in spreading the wealth, hm?” 

His hand cupped your jaw, sticky with freezing blood, and he leaned in. The pungent scent of iron curled your gut as he breathed you in, making up his mind with what to do with you. Then, with the dry, warm back of his gloved hand, he caressed the side of your face and watched your eyelids flutter, devouring the simple gesture. 

“Let's see if you can convince me to.”

-

“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.

Curiosity willed your eyes open, and you gazed down at the hollow tube connecting you to the walking corpse. You fought to ease the jump of your heart, but it became impossible when a dark red raced from the vampire's arm down into yours. 

“Is that going to make me like you?” You whispered, nerves twitching and burning with the bite of restless fire ants. 

Crimson eyes found yours and looked deep. “It won't. You can relax.” But you weren't convinced, and your lover could tell. “You'd have to drink my blood.” 

“Why're you giving me your blood, then?” 

“You'll die without it.” He pumped something, you now noticed, and realized it was what drew the blood from his veins and drained it into yours. 

Curious. “Were you a man of medicine?” 

He scoffed. “Still am.” He threw you a wary look, one brow raised. “How many more questions are you–” 

“Your name?” That was something you'd requested before, but always through a veil of uncertainty. You didn't like to ask much of him. He didn't ask much of you. But you didn't know him, yet he knew you. 

Your vampire frowned, unapproving. “What difference will it make?” 

“You asked me to fucking marry you,” you bit out. “And yet you keep so many secrets from me, still. I've given you more than I have, and you can't even–” 

“Miguel.” You both paused–him to gauge your reaction, and you out of shock. “Miguel O'hara.” 

The cracks in your chest mended, just slightly. Miguel O'hara. What a name that was. Formidable and wholly suiting the beast of a man you'd known and craved for far too many years. 

“Miguel O'hara,” you whispered, staring tiredly at the red thread connecting the two of you. The name felt good on your tongue. 

Nothing more was said, then. He must've still felt the tension in the air, or maybe the coil of apprehension in your body, for he worked on in silence, quietly saving your life for no reason. 

It was when he pulled free the needle that you found the will to break the silence on your own. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” It came out a pathetic whisper, sounding as broken as your mind felt. 

He paused before pulling the needle from his own arm. “Tell you what?” 

It was a good question. You didn't know what to ask him to elaborate on. You didn't know if you wanted him to elaborate on anything, actually, because it'd make it too real, too tangible. 

“Everything.” And when he stayed silent, you narrowed it down to just, “all of…you.” 

Miguel licked his thumb and stroked it soothingly against the pinprick of a wound while his brows furrowed and his lips twisted into something of a frown. “How could I?” You both watched the tiny dot of red cease weeping. “If you'd moved on and you knew, it could put everything at risk.” 

If I'd moved on. It felt wrong. It felt uncomfortable to know he felt that somewhere between his ribs and his heart. And for how long? How long had he not trusted you? Did he even trust you in that moment, knowing what and who he truly was? Or were you now doomed to this castle just as he was? 

“I'll let you rest,” Miguel said as he clasped his medical case shut and stood. “Lyla'll bring you food.” 

Thump, thump, thump, echoed his footsteps, those fine shoes muffled by old carpet; but the sharp clack, clack, clack in the hollow echoes of your memories, just before the truth revealed itself to you, swallowed up your thoughts.

“(Name),” Miguel said, and your eyes opened to find the tall, proud back of his silhouette stood at the door, one hand clutching the knob. “Don’t leave this room.” 

And he left you there, heart aching, mind melting, soul shattering. 

–

Solitude reminded you of what else happened. The lads you'd come here with, nothing more than acquaintances, were missing, or perhaps dead. It ate at your mind. Could you have done something different? Could you have convinced him to let them go?

More importantly, would Miguel let you leave? He claimed he wanted to marry you, but words were just words if not put to use with actions. Staying by his side would mean stomaching the fact he'd consume countless other people, wouldn't it? How were you expected to watch your partner(?), your groom-to-be(?), hold and pierce others the way he promised to you and only you?

But could you let him stay here alone, hunted and hated by believers, laughed at by the average skeptic? If you were not here, how many more would walk in on a dare, and meet a terrible end? They didn’t matter, no, but the legend of a vampire would turn more and more true, summoning devil-hunters to his doorstep, stake and flames in-hand.

The thoughts plagued you, filling your head with the terrible buzzing of bees. You couldn't fathom why you cared so much; most of your life you'd lived for your own sake, doing what needed to be done to get by, to have a better tomorrow. You hated other people. A few of them you'd personally buried six feet under, whether they were dead or lived still, and you never batted an eye. You had no patience for those who'd oppose you. 

You would have killed Osborn yourself if O’hara hadn't. And that was the truth. That'd been the truth the whole time, ever since you saw just how expensively he and the others lived; gold dripped from their tongues, silver ran through their veins, diamonds fell from their eyes. You wanted to claim a bit of that for yourself. 

And Miguel had shared his wealth with you, just in exchange for a bit of blood and your body for the night. Surely you could look past what he did to survive, even if it put your heart into a spiral. 

Lost in thought, you found your way to his chambers, freely disobeying his orders

He lounged in a clawfoot bath. Stuffy heat lulled you into a daze, something like a carefree summer evening wherein the sun took too long to vanish. Though when he noticed you approach, shedding clothes the entire way, the heat grew near unbearable.

Miguel's claws creaked against the enamel in anticipation when you stepped into the water. You watched him with the same delicate intrigue as prey investigating something that could be a threat as you found your place between his spread legs, getting close enough to feel the pounding of his undead heart. You'd only seen his body in dim candlelight or withering rays of the moon, never truly illuminated by the glow of floating chandeliers nor the collection of sconces arching from the wall.

Slowly, your fingertips dragged along muscle, warm and firm under your calloused touch. The scars littering your hands and knuckles shone so stark against his perfect complexion. He really did seem too perfect. It would have sparked jealousy in your gut if he didn't apparently belong to you, and you to him. No one else got to touch. No one else got to see. 

Now, you were built finely yourself, but the man before you was something entirely different. You didn't know if it was thanks to his supernatural existence, but his body was built in a near-animalistic way that screamed power and speed, not similar enough to a human. Though, looking back, you did always think his manners in bed were more beast than man. The growling, the clawing, the marks of claim on the nape of your neck, it all clicked and made sense in the whirlwind of your mind. 

“I think a werewolf would suit you better,” you admitted. “What with the claws and biting and general uncouth behaviour.” 

Miguel huffed. “You must be talking about yourself.” His voice rang low and quiet, too aware he might scare off his prized hare if he put too much into his words. “You're the one acting like a rabid animal.” 

“No, you.” 

“Don't think so.” 

“You're difficult.” 

“You're one to talk.” 

“How long have you been like this?” Your fingers combed through his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut. “A vampire. Or whatever you are.” 

“Lost track,” he said, sounding too honest. “I have records. Notes. From experiments. The dates on those are close to when it happened.” Experiments? Colour you intrigued.

“So you weren't exactly practicing white medicine?” You tilted your head in thought. “You were doing something more–” 

“It wasn't black magic,” Miguel scoffed. “It was science. Genetics. Studying how other organisms function, learning about them.” His expression darkened just the slightest bit. “Trying to…recreate them.” 

Your head spun a little trying to fill in the blanks. It wasn’t too hard, but it was hard to accept as reality. But if anyone were to unlock the damned secrets of immortality, of course it'd be this man. This cocky, genius, charming man. God really did have favourites, though they always did seem to disappoint him.

“I see. So you're telling me you're a genius who rebirthed vampires,” you summed up, letting your hands melt down his body, below the water's surface. “How is it you only get more and more impressive, Mr.O'hara?” 

A smug smirk bloomed across his lips. “It's just in my nature.” His head tilted back with a pleased sigh when your touch finally landed on that annoying thing prodding your thigh. “I have no choice but to succeed.” 

“Tch. Americans are so arrogant.” You hummed and leaned in, ghosting kisses along his vulnerable neck while your hand pleased him slowly, teasingly. His talons screeched against the tub again. “But maybe you have reason to be, hm? Given how accomplished you are.” 

A dark, scarlet haze like the sky of the blood moon illuminated Miguel's eyes in the few moments they slipped open to catch a glimpse of you. You wondered if he needed a reality check. Maybe he thought he was hallucinating, maybe he thought that you weren't really there despite being pressed up against him and murmuring useless quips into his skin. You'd be sure to leave an impression on him; your hand quickened, gripping tighter and pulling the way he directed you to far too many years ago, but his barbed hand caught your wrist. 

“Stop,” he gasped. His chest rose and fell with his light panting as he stared you down. Want radiated off of him like an animal starved. You knew what was rattling around in his mind before he even spoke. 

“You want to fuck me, is that it?” 

Miguel's breath hitched. 

–

You made him ravenous. You were the only thing he wanted to feast on, delicacies and sanguine temptations be damned. 

One of his large hands held your waist in a death grip while his other hand held your head down, forcing your incoherent ramblings into the soft, silken sheets as he rammed you from behind like a beast in heat. You took it well, too, not that you hadn't before–he always held back, appeared to you as human when he fucked you previously. But now that you knew the truth, now that you knew what lay hidden in the dark nooks of his bones’ marrow, he felt complete. And that meant he could completely lay claim to you, too. 

He matched the curve of your back with his chest when he leaned over you, burying his nose into your neck and shoulder to indulge in your scent. Your vampire's desire to breed slowed and steadied into deep, thoughtful rolls of his hips. Perhaps his mind had caught up with him and ushered him to slow down, to abandon some of that reckless excitement. 

Miguel heard the slightest mumble of his name on your lips and leaned down further to touch his own to your cheekbone. One arm looped underneath your throat in a benign chokehold of sorts, while his other hand threaded through your hair–if he wasn't fucking you like an animal before, this makeshift mating lock he had on you sealed the deal. 

“You feel good,” Miguel murmured, voice tickling the shell of your ear. 

“Hah. I, ah, always feel good,” you tried to quip back, but your expression betrayed the fraying threads of whatever self-control you still desperately clung to. “You’re, uh…unhinged, hey?” Miguel scoffed. “Like a…a wild beast.” 

“Oh?” A purr hummed through his chest, piercing your body and rattling through your own lungs in seismic pulses. “A wild beast? Flattering.”

“Really, darling, you don't have to be such a sarcastic asshole when you're–” a hard snap of his hips sent you spiraling for a moment, “--in my ass.” 

“Maybe you should watch your mouth,” he suggested. 

“Maybe you could watch it for me,” you countered. 

The warmth of his laugh sent chills scattering across your skin. He pulled out of you and turned you over, dragging your hips back against him before his powerful body engulfed yours again. Miguel liked this more. He liked the feeling of your hands grabbing and clawing at him, the way your thighs attached to his waist, how you bit your bottom lip while your eyes screwed shut from the overwhelming feeling of your partner destroying you.

And of course, his lips could meet yours like this. The sweet tang of copper and berries, a taste so familiar and so you, was shared between tongues, kept secret in the crevices of teeth. It amazed Miguel how much one little kiss could push him over the edge and make the bed creak and groan with you as he loved on you and made sure to send the message straight to your core. 

Your hands fisted in his hair when you came undone. That lovely voice of yours poured into Miguel's eager mouth, and you tightened, pulling him to the edge and pushing him over with the might of a wild stampede. Claws nipped your skin, fangs pierced deeper, yet his rutting hit deepest, and burned you alive with unbearable, liquid heat.

–

“Why me?” You asked into the stillness of the room. 

Calm silence answered you for a long moment. The sun bloomed beyond the thick curtains, you noticed in your wait, and you wondered if you would ever miss the sight. England never truly had bright, sunny days from what you recalled; stretches of smokey, grey overcast clouded the skies and your memories more often than not. Could your vampire walk amongst the living like this?

Miguel sighed, leaning into the hand carding through his hair. “Figured you’d understand.” 

“I’d understand what?”

“Killing to survive.” 

“How long have you known?” You wondered, unsurprised. 

“Blood tells stories,” he whispered. Long, dark eyelashes fluttered a moment before crimson eyes peered open the slightest bit. “Your story’s long. Complicated. You’re too young for it.” 

A smile twitched onto your face. You adjusted in the bed, getting more comfortable on your side in those pooling, satin sheets. “So you thought I’d be an easy target for sex, then? Desperate and young as I was.”

He found your eyes, his gaze earnest and bleeding. “I–you–fine, at first it was like you said. Maybe. But after enough time, I decided you weren’t like the rest. You’re as supernatural as I am.”

“Supernaturally handsome? I agree.”

“Stop.”

“You didn’t think I’d be afraid of you.”

“I’d hoped as much.” 

“And you still didn’t tell me.” Your fingertips danced along the arch of his cheekbone, leaving pleasant sparks against his skin in their wake, unbeknownst to you. “Were you scared?”

“I’d rather have you as a man for whatever time we had together than to lose you to a beast,” he explained, cryptic as one would expect an old legend to be. “I’ve lost too much already because of…this. Because of me. I didn’t want to lose more.” Miguel’s dark brows furrowed. “If you ended up fearing me to, I–”

You silenced him with a hand over his mouth. “Enough. I understand.” You palm smoothed back up to cup his face. “You needn’t be afraid of me–well, being afraid, I suppose. I’ll stay.” You took a deep breath and leaned in, pressing your forehead to his. “This bed’s too comfortable to give up, after all.”

His breath fanned against your skin as he chuckled, tired and perhaps tinted with disbelief. “Well, you can stay here as long as you want.”

“Brilliant. Would you even let me drink your blood?”

The rumble of a growl, or perhaps a purr, rolled through his chest into yours. You searched his eyes, wondering, hoping, and found mere slices of ruby peeking out from behind eclipsing pupils. 

“We’ll see.”

[hiskillingjar]

hi!!!!! can i request some hcs for lawrence oleander and ren hana with a fem (or gn) reader that likes to dye her hair a lot and has many piercings????

i hope you have a very good day!!!! :D

for sure! i've never done hcs before but i'll have a crack at it

also i know you asked for law and ren but i'm a strade enjoyer so i'm including him too pbltttt

ren 🦊

ren obviously loves it lol

like he's pretty high aesthetic already so he lovesssss a partner who has a specific aesthetic to em, especially if it's colourful and cute!

you wanna dye your hair? great, i've already gotten the bleach and all the colours you could want!! and all the special equipment for it too!! :3

he'd be hopeless if you asked for help though lol. like bleach stains where you did not want bleach

as soon as you were finished, he'd gush all over your new colour and compare it to an anime character he liked

"does that mean you could cosplay xyz pairing with me now?" like the idiot man he is

he for sure likes the piercings too. they make you look so tough and cool (despite being so sweet on him <3)

might encourage you to get more, especially nip or genital piercings, under the impression that they'd make sex more fun lmaoooo

lawrence 🥀

law isn't someone who's super aesthetically minded so they might not totally understand the motivation to dye your hair all the time

it takes so much effort to dye your hair so why do it so often, and all by yourself? you're getting it all over the bathroom! okay, okay, fine, i'll help you...

they'd be pretty gentle and patient in helping you dye your hair. they'd like the opportunity to be closer to you <3

never mind the intrusive thoughts they might have washing all the dye off in the shower. never mind all that!

(and might take a few snippings of your hair from the bathroom floor to keep...maybe)

they like the piercings normal amounts

might fiddle with them as a stim. don't wear hoops or danglies or they will get tugged on

they'd probably understand piercings in a similar way to their tattoos. maybe they'd even think about getting a stud or two themselves, just to see how it feels

what are your thoughts on tattoos? they might like those...

strade 🔨

he's pretty neutral about the hair dye and any. like, aesthetic choice you go for.

that's something you'd do with ren on a whim and he barely notices unless he sees a stain somewhere

"oh you dyed your hair?" yeah strade, i did it like three days ago, did you just notice? what is wrong with you?

he'd make snarky comments here and there but not really say anything

PIERCINGS THOUGH??? 🥵🥵🥵

strade was a bisexual in the early two-thousands german alternative scene (in my minds eye) so he'd FOR SURE be into piercings (and any body mods honestly)

has his own piercing scars hehehehe

ear piercings? the more the merrier! facial piercings? the best!

nipple or genital piercings? the man is a feral animal

might be so inclined to help you out with a few himself! i pierced my first boyfriend's ears with a needle, i can totally pierce your clit if you stop squirming~ <3

would absolutely pull at them to tease you (might insist on hoops through everything just to give him a better chance to pull)

would for sure push it too far and rip em out too <3

[stillaclownlol]

@moonbiine got me with the Aiden bug

I thought a lot about how to start this and none of them were good so, here's this;

Frowny's Thesis on Aiden Clark having Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) based on the DSM-5 criteria, living with people with BPD (hi dad!), being...me!, and general vibes.

What is BPD?

Borderline Personality Disorder is defined by a prolonged disturbance of function marked by depth and variability of mood, pattern of unstable personal relationships, unstable self-image, marked impulsivity, and other symptoms. They can manifest in very different ways (the way it appears between my dad and my grandma for example is not the same), but generally includes this.

1. Fear of Abandonment

Nobody wants to be left behind, that's a given, but for people with BPD this fear can spiral into a paranoid phobia that impacts all their personal relationships. Because BPD is influenced by environmental factors, this often stems from children being abandoned in their youth (ex. My father was the child of a teen pregnancy and his parents couldn't care for him for the first few years of his life, letting him be raised by his grandparents. I also grew up alternatively without my mom and withouty my dad, and once for a time with neither of them)

It's been shown to us before that Aiden's parents are often absent from the house, for even months at a time. He seems very used to this and it's likely he grew up very isolated or passed around between different relatives. And I do think this shows in his attachment style; he is a very clingy and sort of "decides" to hyperfixate on a certain person (Ash *coughs*) in the hopes that they'll become friends, and he does this very quickly. Already so scared of losing Ash on that roof even tho he's only known her for like 3 months at this point. He really can't bear the thought of her not being with him.

On the subject of Ash he's idolized her sooooo bad she's so screwed. Pls the Angelic lighting filter he puts on her?? SHE CANT SAVE YOU AIDEN. YOU HAVE TO DO IT YOURSELF. (But i get it its hard) Ties back into how people with BPD see the world in strict black and white, he can't see Ash's flaws and that's how he defends her so much, she's literally like a savior to him and here comes the disciple complex.

He's been forced to move so many times, he's probably made friends who just couldn't keep up the effort of maintaining a long distance friendship and ghosted him, or even him doing the opposite, pushing people away just to avoid the sting of abandonment again. They can't hurt you if you hurt them first.

2. Unstable self-image.

He bleaches his hair end of story /j

No but really, tell me Aiden doesn't put up a persona- he's gone through the phases from quiet gifted kid to an impulsive extroverted mischievous mess. Don't you just look at him and feel the self-hatred coming off in waves?? Dyeing his hair, getting contacts, the ever present grin that must be painful at this point, it's like he can't...look at himself. Like he doesn't want to look at himself.

He can't even face his own problems; he literally paints a clown face on himself after dying cuz he doesn't want to process his feelings about it lol 🫠

Like genuinely, how exactly does Aiden want to be perceived? What is the point of this facade? For himself? For other people? I think he's just trying to shut away his past and start fresh without having to confront it, but...when the root is rotten, nothing healthy can grow, so he needs to get to the source of his issues.

3. Anger regulation problems

Unpopular opinion probably but he seems so angry to me. It's definitely WAY more present in the early chapters like when he goes tf off on Tyler, he was barely controlling himself there asdfghjkl- but I think it manifests more in him attacking the phantoms, it's obviously an adrenaline thing for him but I think he's taking out a lot of anger at the same time too. Even if some of this anger is coming from a righteous place; the desire to protect his loved ones (which ties into the abandonment too, you are still abandoned even when it wasn't their choice), because peope with BPD see the world as smth very...dangerous, I guess is the word? Even if maybe that doesn't apply to themselves

(Fastpass spoilers)

He's also not above taking his anger out on humans either considering he was about to take Alex's eyes out with that paintbrush and was gonna choke the life outta them-

(Done.)

4. Consistent feelings of sadness/worthlessness.

5. Self-injury, suicidal behaviour, suicidal ideation.

Aiden do be a sadboi even with all the smiley faces on his clothes. I think this is probably smth that was way worse when he was younger that led to that depression where he was locked in his room eating junk food and disassociating, and while he's probably coping with it differently it's still smth he struggles with. I mean shiiiiiit, because of his impulsiveness he does kinda cause problems but God he feels SOOOO goddamn bad about it lahdlsj, he was so guilty about the Ash situation, he probably beat himself up so much about that-

Emotions are very extreme, it's 'similar' to bipolar disorder with manic and depressive episodes, except they happen at a much quicker scale (in the same day for ex.) which seems to me how Aiden only lets himself experience positive emotions even tho he's in a deeply stressful situation (even tho there's good parts too like his friends) because he just can't handle having to fully experience those negative emotions.

Check, check, check! Aiden has zero self preservation instincts, he throws himself off walls, gets up close and personal with phantoms that could easily kill him, actually didn't give a fuck about dying?? Actually ENJOYED IT? But didn't wanna do it again because his Favourite person was worried about him and the absolute high of that feeling completely beat out anything else?? Okay man, we get it, you're living for somebody else at this point-

People with BPD suffer from chronic feelings of emptiness and pain is the best kind of distraction for Aiden (cue: him slamming his forehead on the table because he's bored)

6. Impulsive behaviors (aka a bunch of shit which can be summed up as addictions)

Well, for starters, he's an absolute adrenaline junkie, because he feels so constantly empty Aiden wants something to make him feel alive. And adrenaline is the flawless, biological, factual answer to this. Ergo all his octane hobbies and impulsive behaviors. Ties back into his obsessiveness, which, don't get me wrong this doesn't make him a bad guy or anything, we all get a little obsessed with things sometimes, that's just things humans do- but when you have bpd, it's very...difficult to just STAY happy, like an addiction, when the high wears off, they're empty again.

Maybe a bit of a stretch, but considering all the Ramen packets in his room when he was younger I wouldn't be surprised if he had some sort of ED or binge eats (Same bestie.)

Also for sure a reckless driver I'm 99% sure he crashed all those go-karts he drived before.

---

I don't really know where I'm going with this. It's hard to live with somebody who has BPD, it's hard to live with it yourself, it's hard to see other people go through it even when it's hurting yourself. I hate pushing people away, but you get so caught up in your own thoughts, and it just...happens...and when it's done...you really regret it, but it's too late...and you just wonder if things are better like this, being alone and not hurting anybody anymore, cuz they're certainly happy on their own

I don't think anybody who has bpd is automatically a bad person, they just have things harder than normal. People with BPD....they can be amazing artists, or good with animals, or really very kind. They have very big hearts, thats why they feel so deeply. And I think Aiden is a good person, because he has so much love to give, but has never been given an outlet to express that properly, but you can see him making great strides in learning how, with the help of his friends 🧡

Might edit this later when I get my thoughts more clear it's midnight here lol

[tarochimochi]

Winner Gijinka redesign! I like to think they swap between the skirt and pants depending on the challenge.

Uh I don’t know why I thought their old design was ever okay to bestow on human eyes!

Cut below the entire design process (it’s gonna be long)

So I knew immediately after finishing my Loser design I wanted Winner to be the opposite of Loser. Which ment no warm colors, no vest sleeveless thing, no sunglasses, esc. I wanted them to be 80s inspired to match my Loser’s 70s Inspiration! I wanted them to parallel Loser by being so different but the same at the same time. So I wanted to do alot.

I think very clearly with the first ever winner draft (on the right) I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING LOL. I really don’t like it now looking back and it really doesn’t feel like Winner to me. I think just to show how old this is, this was before I even made established age headcanons so I also had no idea how older I wanted Winner to be.

That age headcanon list will probably be shown at another time, I think I showed it once on instagram after somebody asked.

The one on the left I did right after I finished my Loser design and oh my god I also really hate it looking back. I had this idea that Winner’s hair could be the opposite of Loser’s hair where instead of being from like brown to blond and lighter blond it would be the opposite and oh it looked horrible to me.😭

I think also at this point Winner was still just black and not biracial

Now here are what I would call my “Stuck in design hell”. Characters I struggle with immensely when creating a design I think fits/I personally also like for them. It doesn’t mean I have no ideas, some of them I know exactly what I want to do with them but can’t figure out how to emulate it. I ended up abandoning Winner for awhile because they were giving me so many problems because I set so many restrictions for myself which weren’t exactly working.

So then we got this.. I tried to force myself to finalize their design on the spot… bad idea.. worse idea I could ever fathom. I don’t like any of these designs and plus the way I draw now has changed since I made these designs. I had an idea that Winner’s arm could also be translated as one of those super cool arm grabber toys from the 80s which I don’t know, maybe I’ll bring back?? Depends on how I feel about it after focusing on writing more Winner central stories and exploring Winner more as a character and talking to people who really like Winner.

I should also note the inspo for Winner in the fluffy coat and overalls came from the fact that when I was in the movie theater, I saw a kid wearing black overalls and periwinkle jacket and went “HOLY SHIT WINNER TPOT.”

Somewhat unrelated but in this design Winner also became Biracial because @/exitstudent was like “Oh Winner feels afro-Latino to me” so I changed my headcanon almost immediately. This is why I probably shouldn’t have put my race hc chart out so early because my opinions get swayed so easily PLUS I changed a few things around. (Nothing to major, Snowball and Spongey are Wasian now, Donut is Dutch, put Bomby back in Blasian, Gaty is Finnish)

I also had the idea that instead of Winner having highlights (because I highly doubt Winner would go out of their way to highlight their hair) their greying really early on due to stress and poor genetics probably. Another cool parallel to Loser about how Loser’s hair is something he essentially paid for Winner in a way earned theirs. Loser also bleaching pretty much all their hair would also be a cool symbolism for how he’s not the truest to himself while Winner’s still having almost all their natural hair color is symbolism for them being way more true to themself. But that’s for another day to explore.

I tried to interpret Winner’s shape as being kind of like fuzzy fleece on their jacket and I tried to make this work so bad but I really shouldn’t have. I was just all over the place with the colors too.

After design a bunch of the other characters and finding and discovering new ways i like drawing i quickly figured out why I was hating Winner so badly.

It was everything 😭

So after actually after researching 80s fashion instead of half assing it to make it obvious. I drew up these two concepts.

My first realization was “Wow that fleece is ugly as shit.” So I realized I had to stop trying making the fleece work, kudos to anyone who can. But away from the negatives, I really did love the big black Jacket and the legwarmers (I am a sucker for leg warmers so once I put them in them, it was over for me) Something about the headband also struck me because previously I out a strict “no head accessories rule” but honestly? It really just had to be not sunglasses so the headband stayed.

With some color rework and some help from my qpp (Shout out to her, she doesn’t use social media.) We were finally able to get the current design shown!

I guess if I learned anything from this, people should make gijinkas also based off people they know and see in day to day life. Some of my favorite gijinkas are based off people I know. Like Match being an Afro-Chilean Jew is because my friend who actually introduced me to BFDI was a huge match fan, and an Afro-Chilean Jew so I was inspired to make Match look almost identical to them. With Winner I pulled inspiration from alot of popular Black celebrities in the 80s and Chile again because of said friend 80s.

Thanks for reading this whole kuffuffle here’s some bonus doodles!

Yes Winner is going to crush Loser and Clock, stop them.

The last winclock one may or may not be a reference to something.

Now who’s next? Honestly just whoever people want a ref of next, I think I’m a little burnt out from doing now 59 characters and drafting more currently I think I need a break. Although I’m definitely gonna redesign Clock’s outfit, I’m really starting to dislike it. Until next time bye bye!!

[bleachbleachbleach]

Saw your reblog on tragic unrequited platonic love and technically, that trope definitely applies to the betrayed trio, especially on Hinamori’s end (depends on whether or not you subscribe to the view that she was crushing on Aizen). The way I saw it in my initial viewing of bleach, it was more of the type of intense admiration for an authority figure that can be misconstrued as a crush cuz you (the devotee) lack the ways to properly articulate it. Like how u feel abt the rlly cool English teacher u sometimes eat lunch with before they get arrested for like fraud or something. After experiencing the Horrors, of course Kira and Hinamori are going to imprint hard on the first semblance of stability and symbol of safety at the time. So that what they went thru meant something. Also, let me take this moment to briefly gush abt the headcanon u presented in the B3 fic cinematic universe abt hinamori’s fixating on squad 5 because it offers her the knowledge beyond her town that she’s lowkey seeking + the values she wants to strive towards (source: from afar). These nerds just wanted to be mentored so badddd!! Thus, the reveal of the fact that they were only a means to an end, specifically chosen on where they fall on the “easy to manipulate” scale hits HARDER. All that devotion?? Loss of work life balance and for WHATTT? Extended medical leave ? 😭 oh bleach my fave workplace sitcom AND workplace drama u will always be famous

PS: thank u for tagging me in that post!! In the process of drafting my response. It was so lovely of you.

You're right! That totally works here. It's interesting because (and I'll just focus on Hinamori here, because otherwise I'd feel compelled to honor the distinctions between her and Aizen vs. Kira and Ichimaru and Hisagi and Tousen, and this would probably end up reading very convolutedly) I think it kind of asks a question about when the platonic pining would have happened.

Is the pining part of suddenly realizing the disjuncture between what Hinamori thought something was and what Aizen did, and mourning something lost (and something that never really was)?

Or was there also pining when things were Good? We see Aizen be reassuring to Hinamori and generous with his time, etc. and we see Hinamori happy to receive from him, and quite devoted both to her VCship as well as to Aizen on a person level (or as he put it, "as a man" lol). We know she's well-respected by her division, and esteemed by her colleagues (okay, Kira and Hitsugaya may have some bias in this arena, but they both describe her as highly skilled).

But was she needed? Was she doing, and did she get the opportunity to do, things that Aizen couldn't do better? Did she have opportunities to express things that Aizen found interesting or outside of his expertise? Even as they are not equals--and there is no expectation that they should be--in the most fruitful mentorships, both parties have things to teach and learn.

Did Hinamori ever look at other Captain/VC relationships and yearn for pieces of what those looked like to her? Nanao would probably say "god i hope not" because Kyouraku's "reliance" on her often takes the shape of her having to do all the busywork and also herd cats, but in spite of this there's an intimacy there, an openness or trust, that Hinamori might yearn for. And that's taking Kyouraku--shadowy and full of many surfaces himself--into account. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto also have something that both Hitsugaya and Matsumoto probably complain about to Hinamori, but there's a degree of mutualism and collaboration to whatever's going on at the 10th that Hinamori might not mind a taste of, too. Renji has been Byakuya's VC for a month but Hinamori has probably already thought to herself "Kuchiki-taichou let him do WHAT" at least twice. Even though Byakuya is Byakuya, judging by how they handled their "meeting Ichigo in the street" mission, it seems like Byakuya lets Renji have his little projects. Like Renji is part of his investment portfolio and Byakuya feels very comfortable considering Renji a volatile but potentially valuable property and in order to get that ROI you need to stick with him through several honorless tech startup busts and commit long-term to the thing. Er, but I digress. My point is, Renji gets projects. "Develop training menu." Creative opportunity! With a result that has Renji all over it.

Does Hinamori get projects? Does it ever feel like she's pushing the envelope of what the 5th can be and how it can function on her own, without it being something Aizen already predicted the outcome of, or was actually his idea that he let her propose and take nominal ownership of anyway? Despite being completely blindsided by the actuality of Aizen, was there already that sense of inevitability/Aizen all over everything that happens at the 5th? (Competing, of course, with Hinamori's self-concept as a creative person; and her love of Aizen as a person, not just as a boss and mentor; and feeling as though she just needs to excel more and be creative better and she'll eventually meet this need she feels--it's not the environment that's the issue. She's happy here. Mostly. She doesn't need to leave, she simply needs to surpass--)

[demonzoro]

10 Questions for Writers

tagged by @incalamity, THANK YOU <3 ignore that this is a billion years late, my love

How many works do you have on AO3? 9! though one of them is discontinued/on hiatus.

What's your total AO3 word count? ao3 is down rn lol i guess we'll never know.

What fandoms do you write for? one piece & jjk! though i have wips for bleach, dc, and castlevania.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? always, always! i always appreciate the effort people put into articulating why they enjoyed the fic, or that they enjoyed it at all. i'm always hungry for validation/feedback.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? uhh not to my knowledge!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? no, not sure if i could do it

What's your all-time favourite ship? that's so difficult... to write, probably zs - i'm very picky with how they're portrayed, so i find them a fun challenge! to read, probably superb4t (dc) or n4pollya (tmfu).

What are your writing strengths? not quite sure! descriptive narration, i think? when i don't get too carried away with stuffing in random headcanons/tone shifts at inopportune moments.

What are your writing weaknesses? keeping focus of what the scene is suppose to achieve :') i'm not a great planner when it comes to writing, so i often ramble or jump around in tenses/tones, get carried away by a turn of phrase or train of thought.

First fandom you wrote for? quite possibly harry potter? hmm.

tagging: @slydiddledeedee @post-and-out @theroyalsavage @phantomofthehoepera @avspol @wellfine aaand anyone who sees this and wants to do this!

[alaskan-wallflower]

Hi! This is random but I saw your post about you being visually impaired and how it’s due to your albinism, and as someone who loves your Dally with albinism headcanon I was wondering whether he’d have the same visual impairments as you and how you think that might affect him as a character given his socioeconomic status and the time period?

oh, that’s a really good question!!

Yes, Dally would have the same visual impairment as I do—every person with albinism, no matter what type, has a visual impairment/is legally blind, which I think is probably the most overlooked part of albinism?

I do think it’d affect him as a character. Like I mentioned in my previous Dallas with albinism post, I have a great uncle who also has albinism, and he grew up in the 50s/60s, and he would tell me how horrible school used to be with a visual impairment because obviously back then you were seen as defective, and not a lot of people were willing to help…so I can see school being the number one place he used to get picked on, in a way. Kinda the catalyst for the bitterness he felt, and it did have a long term effect on him. And like I mentioned, driving is an issue, and Dally obviously wouldn’t be able to get a liscence with his vision being so bad, and I think that’s something he’s extraordinarily ashamed of, so I think he lies about it to people and tells them it “got suspended indefinitely for reckless driving” and nobody questioned him because it’s Dally of all people. I think the only person who really pieced it together was Darry, but he won’t bring it up. I also think it’s hella easy to identify him because of his white hair and unique appearance, which he doesn’t mind. He probably doesn’t like admitting he has albinism, and he’s never actually seen another PWA before because it was 1960s Tulsa, there weren’t many PWAs around anyway, especially not in buttfuck nowhere Oklahoma, so I definitely think he gets questioned/stared at a lot, which he genuinely hates a lot because he doesn’t like talking about it. But sometimes Johnny will be subtle and help him with little things, like reading menus at restraints (he’ll usually just say like “oh there’s steak here” because he knows that’s something Dally likes, and Dally can’t read the menu very well, so it’s really subtle and it just sounds like Johnny’s talking to himself instead of telling Dally what there is because he can’t see), and I think that at first when he ran away, he had a horrible time getting around trains and stuff, because he couldn’t see the billboards, or see when people were walking at him, cars, etc. but it’s song and dance to him now. But at first he would just cover his face because he didn’t wanna be remembered as the guy who almost got hit by a car and looks like he’s been bleached”. I think that’s why he wears the leather jacket all the time too—he gets sunburnt real easy and he gets embarrassed about needing to put sunscreen on in winter/fall, so he uses the jacket.

Whew, this turned into a helluva ramble lol—but I guess in short, yes! I think it’d affect him in more ways than one! thanks for asking, i love getting asks about albino dally haha

[c-cw-f-saeko]

tesso's bingo card for infinite wealth

i will explain each category as if he was in ichiban's party 💔

__________

Life Hack: Acupressure

Tesso says acupressure can help with some types of pain and a good alternative to acupuncture. In his opinion, knowing certain pressure points is a good thing to keep in mind in a pinch.

Surprising Fact: Has a daughter

I've said this before (LOL) but Tesso has adopted one of the kids of Restaurant Row. Her name is Yua. This isn't quite expected from an assassin of the Liumang...

Bad Habit: Cooks everything on high heat

Literally cooks on a fire engine. It looks scary the first time you see it, but he assures to have never come close to burning down his house. Seonhee doesn't like this at all.

Likes: Playing Mahjong with Seonhee

She's a though match and tends to win often. Tesso tries very hard to beat her.

Special Skill: Can fall asleep anywhere

Tends to not sleep at night, so, he tried getting rest anytime he can during the day. He even fell asleep standing up one time (without falling).

Currently Hooked On: Manga

He checked out what one of his subordinates (probably Yeona) was reading and he ended up really into it. He recalled giving manga not much attention when he was young, so he regrets missing out on it a bit.

Hobby: Gardening

Grows radishes and cabbages on the rooftops of some Restaurant Row buildings. Uses it exclusively for Seonhee's kimchi, Yua's dishes or meals for his subordinates (so he's not selling these, family only!).

Wants To Learn: Dancing

He got curious from hearing Yagami being an advisor at Seiryo. He thought it might be worth trying as a workout since it looks fun.

Last Thing He Bought: A drone

Kaito and Yagami gave him the idea. Totally frivolous since he has no real use to it, but worth it since he had never seen Restaurant Row from above.

Kid Tesso: Had a Hip phase

Long ago, he was all about dressing stylish and a so-called streetwear enthusiast. Took good care of his shoes even to a ridiculous degree ("Gotta keep my AirForce Ones white no matter what"). Looking back, he finds it funny that he doesn't really care about that sort of things anymore.

When He Can't Sleep: Goes on a long walk

On nights he can't find sleep, he just walks the streets of Yokohama to clear his mind. He challenges himself to memorize as many details about the streets as possible. It's useful at times.

Embarrassing Moment: Bleached his hair blond after losing a bet

Sugiura dared Tesso on a drinking duel out of the blue and lost terribly. To celebrate his win, Sugiura suggested Tesso tried out his hairstyle just for fun to see if he liked it. It was supposed to be dark brown but ended up leaving it for too long, so he was blond instead (like a #27).

Tesso hid his head under his jacket hood the entire following week, waiting long enough to dye his hair back to black. Since no knows it happened (Sugiura kept a lot of pictures though), they both could laugh about it. Tesso is just glad to not have gone bald.

Knows A Lot About: Shops in Yokohama

As per the long walks, he memorized many shops of Yokohama. For most things, he can always give a recommendation of where to look.

Favorite Food: Anything Zhao cooks

Seonhee is trying hard to make him admit it, but he just can't do it. Between her cooking and Zhao's cooking, deep down, Tesso likes Zhao's a little bit more. Nostalgia is a bit at play here since his food is very reminiscent of his uncle's old restaurant. However, Zhao is just that good of a cook, what can he say!

Current Dilemma: Buying dinner for all of his subordinates

Since the merge of the Liumang and Geomijul and being the second officer in charge, his number of subordinates pretty much doubled. It's nice since he gets along with them well, but it can be tricky and hard on the wallet to treat them all to dinner. Finding out something everyone will like is always a challenge.

Chronic Illness: Early-stage arthritis in his fingers

He is quite young for arthritis, but his gloved claws and stiff articulations of his hands make things worse. It's bearable for now, but he's unsure of how he will handle it in the future.

kasuga and tesso would get along so great actaully! im dying on that hill!!!!

[eliotquillon]

drabble request: re: time loop story: what convoluted or not reasoning led cameron to calling chase specifically for a hook up (and not going to a bar. or shooting her shot with foreman lol)

disclaimer: i have not done meth (shocking!) and therefore this is probably an inaccurate description of what being on meth is like. but you know.

The drugs kick in fast; it supports that lab’s analysis that Kalvin is the rare meth user who actually has pure product, because one minute Cameron is sitting placidly on her bed waiting for something to kick in and trying not to think about how fucking irresponsible this whole thing is, and the next her heart is racing, fingertips tingling as her thoughts race a mile a minute. It’s weird. Weird-fun, she decides, bouncing up on her tiptoes with a smile that makes her jaw ache—things feel fast and hectic and for the first time in over a day it’s like the outside world is finally reflecting what it feels like to be in her head. “Drugs are bad,” she tells her reflection sternly, but the woman in the mirror is laughing and frantic, her pupils blown wide, and Cameron is pleased. Bad, bad decision, she thinks, wagging a finger at the mirror. Bad dog. She laughs again, and it’s a full-body movement. This is what it must feel like to be Kalvin all the time. No regrets. No future. Just present-present-present and fun-fun-fun.

She should go out, she decides. Hasn’t it been forever since she went to a bar on her own? Since she went out for a drink without having to listen to Foreman whine about House and Chase try to flirt with the bartender? The corner of her mouth pulls down into an exaggerated frown. Boring. She should go out, and wear something short, and curl her hair—or straighten it, or maybe bleach? There’s blonde dye in her bathroom cabinet, a failsafe from when she first started dyeing her hair brown and wasn’t sure if she’d like it; Cameron likes to have a back-up plan. Not tonight, though. Tonight, she’s going to go out and have fun and she isn’t going to think about anything else. She sets her curling iron out on the sink, and leaves it to heat up while she hunts for clothes.

Her wardrobe is sad. “Bad dog,” she tells it, when one-two-three straight minutes of rifling through its contents yield nothing short and nothing exciting. Maybe she’ll just go out in her pyjamas, and buy something on the way. Department stores are open til this time of night, right? She never really shops for herself these days. Everything she owns is professional and strait-laced and dull. Cameron is professional and strait-laced and dull. No wonder Foreman hates being around her so much. Buzzkill. This Cameron hates being around that Cameron, too.

She goes back to the bathroom to start curling her hair, but she burns her neck with the curling wand on the second strand. The pain is white-hot and sour, cutting right through all the fun-buzzy-bubbly feelings but not in a bad way. The mark on her neck looks a bit like a hickey. Cameron has never had a hickey before; she always thought they were gauche and embarrassing, would always pulls boys away from her neck very pointedly when she thought they were getting too bold about things in high school. But tonight is meant to be fun. Tonight is meant to be full of new experiences, and feelings. She wants a hickey. The thought fills her with more bubbly-fun excitement, no fear or mortification, and she scrambles to put on music while she hunts through her cell phone.

Cameron sorts through her contacts alphabetically—not that there’s many; she doesn’t really talk to anyone from college or med school anymore—and selects the first man’s name she finds: R CHASE.

She hits dial.

[connorsnothereeither]

are there any details about ulysses' outfits and/or physical appearance that you can't really show on a minecraft skin but wish you could?

Ooooh I have so many thoughts actually lol-

I think his scar is the big one? The main one across his face, just because it’s important to him as a character, but can’t really be shown on the skin at all. I really wish his freckles, or the slight glow to his cheeks could be portrayed more in Minecraft too? I really love giving him that sort of brighter green highlight in art and stuff, and I like playing with the concept of his freckles glowing faintly, but it’s not something you can really do in game lol.

Outfit wise, I think I’ve shown before that the teal trimming on Ulysses old outfit has an embroidered pattern on it, and I think his new coat probably has something similar, but I think it’s rougher than his last clothes, because he did it himself with shaky hands. (I think Aax taught him how to embroider and they do it together sometimes). Actually I think more recently he has gotten a lot of little embroidered things that Aax has helped him with.

I also think his little sash/belt has an almost satin-like texture to it? And maybe some kind of very subtle pattern. It’s not shiny necessarily, but it’s definitely a different smoother/finer texture than the rest of this outfit. I don’t know how well it comes across in minecraft or the art I’ve done either, but the blue on the shoulders of his new jacket is intended to be very doublet-like? In that almost faux-Shakespeare sense where the poofy shoulders are peaking through the larger segments of the jacket. I felt it added to the visual of him becoming a little more “writer/storyteller” in vibe. I also tend to headcanon that just,,, a lot of Ulysses clothes have very obvious stitch marks and weathering? Like I think he’s definitely having Wanda help stitch up or patch any stab wound holes or tears. There’s definitely patches that are slightly discoloured from being bleached by seawater over time too.

Also I don’t know if this is exactly what you mean but I always picture Ulysses clothes as really,,, flowy? I picturing his clothing as very soft and loose and billowing, both in and out of the water.

[fuck-customers]

Throwback story

I was manager at a very very tiny candy store (smaller than a gas station convenience store, total of 3 employees and an owner)

The owner was always on my ass bc I wasn't cleaning the restroom thoroughly enough when I closed. And it was only for us so its not like we needed to bleach it daily. And yet she said i was being lazy.

So one day I dothe whole thing. Bleach it all. Like fuck you, I'll clean this thing so well I'll prove you wrong.

Mind you, I know what I'm doing, I didn't go completely overboard. But I didn't think about it being such a tiny space that the bleach smell would wander thru the whole store.

So the owner is the one opening the next day, and I had told her that I would be in an area of the state that is well known for having zero cell service.

At one point I get to a spot with service to find like 4 missed calls and many many texts from her asking why it smells like chlorine (um what) and that she couldn't open the store like that so I was responsible for us losing half a day of sales.

Like bitch. I cleaned the bathroom the way you told me to. So I was yelled at for not cleaning it enough, then yelled at for cleaning too much? And how is that my fault we missed sales? You chose to close the store. I doubt customers would have complained of the VERY FAINT bleach smell, they'd be like oh it smells clean.

This owner is still one of my least favorite bosses. She would be up my ass for everything and I know that's part of being a manager but it was such stupid shit most of the time.

When the store finally went out of business she told me that I was her last hope. Like bruh if you had listened to my suggestions for advertising and shit we would probably have made it another year. Plus all the regular customers would tell me she was such a bitch and as I was the manager I should fire that employee. I had to tell them that was the owner and she wasn't going anywhere lol

Play stupid games win stupid prizes. Don't put all your faith in one employee. You own the store. Do something. Pretend to like people.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[zaenaris]

Have you headcanons for Bonten Timeline?

They spent many years apart, but I want to believe that at some point Koko and Inupi will somehow meet again, mostly by chance and unintentionally, it's the destiny, the universe? whatever, that brings them together again. Depending on the situation, they try to let it go, but they can't pretend nothing happened, we know that it's enough one single time for Inupi to understand that Koko is not okay, so they'll probably try to make thins work. Mikey's death could be the start for an actual improvement

Dark impulses at some point starts to destroy Mikey, he's canonically too thin and generally unwell in Bonten. I believe at some point he became addict to various drugs, together with Sanzu that couldn't help but follow Mikey, remembering what happened in the original Timeline

Chifuyu at some point, partially because of Takemichi's informations from the future, and partially because he knew Kazutora was important for Baji, starts to visit Kazutora in juvie/prison. At first Kazutora is mortified and ashamed of himself, but he allows Chifuyu to visit him because he felt he owns him at least the possibility to tell him directly how much he hates him. But their dialogue goes differently. Chifuyu is still mad at Kazutora, but he understands he was manipulated and he had his own problems even before the accident with Shinichiro. Chifuyu says he wants to try to understand him better since he was important for Baji. So that's how their friendship starts, with visits and exchange if letters. it was natural for Tora to help Fuyu with his shop once he get out of jail

Inupi and Draken bond over their lost (literally and metaphorically) loves and bikes. They open D&D mostly with Inupi's money; I guess/headcanon that thanks to his role in BLACK DRAGON he had earned - not so legally, but still- a good amount of -mostly dirty- money. Since he wants a fresh starts, he's happy to invest all those money in the shop. And it's thanks to Draken's tutor/father figure (the brothel manager) that they can have the permit to open the shop, since at the beginning they were both still minors (Idk if that's how bureaucracy works in Japan, but listen, D&D was a thing in 2008 and they weren't of age yet in Japan, since at the time, until people were minors until they turned 20, lol)

Inupi and Draken try to follow Shinichiro's steps, so D&D became a safe place for kids that have nowhere to go, and they teach them the basics to fix motors, so these kids stay aways from the streets/troubles in general. It's also the unofficial headquarters for the formers Toman members, that stay more or less in touch even after the gang's disbanding

Senju is probably dead in this TL, and probably it's the reason why, even if they never had a great relationship, Takeomi and Sanzu are both in Bonten, even if I believe their relationship is still difficult, but they got closer again to remember their sister

Koko sometimes checks on Inupi at D&D. When he's younger he tries to convince himself he's doing it for Inupi, but after a while he admits to himself he's doing it just because he misses him, he knows well that Inupi is okay even without him... he's even better without him, and this destroys him, even if he's glad that Inupi is living an honest and safe life

on the outside tho, Koko is as cunning as ever, the life he has in Bonten made him merciless, something he hates what he has become but there's no other way to live. He also uses drugs, mostly to work more, but he tries not to become addicted. His white hair is not bleached, it's just stress, and at some point he just accepts it and style it in a fancy way

Kakucho follows Mikey because he understands his pain for loosing Izana. Their pain is different, for Mikey it meant he lost the last of his siblings, even of they weren't actually related and they. didn't even know each other, but they could have been a family, the potential was there. For Kakucho, Izana was his family, his love, his everything

[bleachbleachbleach]

10/26 - 10/27/2024

I have spent an actually obscene amount of time this weekend reading my own fanfic, because I think it looks pretty on AO3, and because I want someone to read it, and I guess that someone will be me. (You can read it too if you want!) But reading the posted chapters makes me want to read the other chapters, so I just end up doing that, too. The *whole reason* I decided to go ahead and post the first chapter was because I figured if I posted it I'd stop tinkering with it, and I was spending huge amounts of time on that as a procrastination technique against a work deadline that is ruining my life that I needed to stop myself. But joke's on me because that has only intensified the procrastination via all this READING. I'm tired of working weekends and evenings and also frankly of working any time, ever. ToT

Am I enjoying reading my fanfic over and over? I mean, yes, but I do have like, more revisions to do and quite a lot of WRITING I would like to do. So I'm writing this post in the hopes that I can put a stop to myself and start writing again. The reading was nice, particularly because October@Work wasn't going to let me write anyway. But now I've gotten my stupid work deadline extended, thus the nine billion hours spent reading my own fanfic this weekend, to be followed by this work deadline continuing to ruin my life for an even longer period of time. On the other hand, I did also take this opportunity to catch up on Celebrate Bleach!! (Now, to catch up with the rest of the month of October)

An additional silver lining here is that I do now feel like I have an exceptionally strong grasp of Part I of this fic, and have already found many random things in Part II that don't align to it because I didn't previously have uhhhh every one-off line lasered into my eyelids. Which is useful information to have when you are revising. And I've tried to keep out of the Part II chapters in my reading binges, because I want them to be as unfamiliar as possible when time comes to identify revisions.

In the course of all this reading, the dumbest global edit I decided I wanted to do was, rather than make uniform whether I was referring to it as the "Living World" or the "World of the Living," to use both depending on who was speaking/narrating.

So now the characters more familiar with the contemporary Living World call it the Living World and the others refer to it as the World of the Living, except for Rukia and Rose, who still call it the World of the Living, because they're Like That.

I questioned whether I'm thinking about this as an English-language opportunity to add back the characters' differentiated Japanese speech patterns, or if the characters calling it the Living World are legit using some kind of trendy short form in Japanese, too, but it's already only two kanji to begin with, so idk how they could possibly make it shorter. Speak it in katakana I guess lol. But I think it's probably Option 1.

[onboardsorasora]

Tennis AU! I haven't edited this, so I hope it makes sense lol.

Part 1 | Part 15 | Part 17

Part 16

Daniel’s eyes fluttered open at the feeling of lips on his forehead, he couldn’t stop the soft smile that breached his lips even if he wanted to. Max was smiling down from above him, sun bleached blonde hair mussed from sleep, a few errant locks falling forward. He looked so soft and sweet and Daniel couldn’t help but lean forward for a proper kiss.

It was early, he knew. But Max had warned him that he would have had an earlier start today– it being his home race in Holland. Since he landed literally last night, Daniel was going to sleep in some more and come to the track closer to the afternoon race time.

“Go back to sleep.” Max whispered, his lisp a little more pronounced in the morning.

“Mmm love you.” Daniel mumbled into the sheets, missing but knowing that Max’s eyes crinkled in his smile.

“I love you too.��� Then Max was clambering off the bed, Daniel peaked a honey brown eye to watch his boyfriend’s perfect ass and broad back walk across the room and into the adjoining bathroom.

It’s been a whirlwind 24 hours. This time yesterday, he was pacing around his hotel room, stomach in knots at the final. Max was on facetime rolling his baby blues and reminding him that he was going to win– in no uncertain terms. 

Well, after that, he just had to prove him right. And Daniel won. A second Wimbledon trophy for his cabinet and another slam for his stats. 

Stretching a little under the covers; which didn’t at all let in any cold outside air in his fluffy cocoon– Max was literally so perfect. Daniel looked around for his actual trophy. They one he clutched the whole plane ride and only let go once Max was pulling him in closer. 

He hadn’t wanted anything to come between him and the perfect plains of Max’s chest. Did he mention that Max was perfect? All broad shoulders and freckles. Strong strong muscles covered in a softness that meant he gave the most perfect hugs and could hold Daniel down.

Finding his quarry, he reached out of his blanket burrito and grabbed the cool metal. He shivered but still brought it under the sheets. Thankfully it didn’t take too long for the silver to warm up and he happily spooned and snuggled it in the middle of the bed. This was something he did when he had won in ‘18, in his emotional and physical exhaustion he had snuggled with the cup and promptly fell asleep. Blake had taken a picture– because of course he did– and he’d woken up to all sorts of teasing and memes the next day.

Last night he had something quite nicer to snuggle with, but this felt like a tradition at this point.

When Max left the bathroom with a towel around his waist and water dripping from his hair, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Padding to his side table, he grabbed up his phone and took as many photos as he dared. Daniel looked adorable– his mouth open and drooling on his pillow, clutching his trophy.

Max couldn’t blame him. Not when he slept with his first WDC trophy in his bed for three nights because he simply couldn’t believe it.

Sending the cutest picture to Blake, he went about dressing for the day ahead. If all goes to plan, he’ll have his own trophy tonight and then they would probably lay them in the center of the bed like babies. 

Shaking his head to release that thought, Max leaned over and kissed Daniel’s forehead once more, smiling when the tired man snuggled deeper in sleep.

When Daniel woke up at a more reasonable time (to him); his phone was blowing up. Curious, he blearily looked at all of his notifications. There were a few from his family, individually and from their family group chat. There was a tonne from his friends, but the majority were from social media. 

Warily opening instagram, he scrolled through his DMs seeing various reactions to a picture he posted. 

“Kinda delayed I guess?” He muttered. He’d posted a picture from the plane last night, a different version of the (pg) selfie he sent Max. Opening the message from Scotty, he couldn’t say he recognised the photo the other Aussie was reacting to. 

Waking up to a tonne of notifications wasn’t wildly out of the ordinary; Blake posted from Daniel’s verified accounts all the time. From sponsored posts to any sort of teasers from brand deals. He didn’t recall anything on the schedule but clicked the picture anyway.

His own sleepy face clutching his trophy like a baby stared back at him. The familiar hotel room was what told him that this was a recent picture and not a throwback to 2018.

“What the fuck?” Going back to his messages the two at the top of the pile offered some form of explanation.

Maxy Baby 🥵 ‘I had no clue he would post it. Sorry I thought you were so cute.’

Blakearooni ‘Revenge accomplished’

Chuckling in spite of himself, Daniel typed back a reply to both–ensuring to call Blake an asshole and to placate Max’s guilt– and threw his phone on the bed. He had to think of the perfect retaliation.