#but eh whatever hes really just self indulgent

[princekirijo]

Mordred as a persona is so refreshing for me to draw because while I put a lot of thought into other persona designs with Mordred I just went "big dark half rotten dragon :]" and ran with it

[karasu4life]

Pic creds: floreaii on Pinterest

Sae Itoshi x Spanish reader, I guess... It's kinda short, not a full story but more like a little self indulgent

I can do a second part hehehehehehehbwhehedbd if y'all like slowburn

Not proofread... At all... 6.3k

First post

Sae was finally getting comfortable in this new country, after being alone for so long. Without his parents, his little brother, or anyone to keep him company during the endless stretches of free time that had slowly dwindled into nothing. Sae dedicated his entire life to football. Football, and only football. To be the best... Striker? He wasn’t even sure anymore. He should know. He was Japan's prodigy, after all.

Every day was a relentless pursuit of improvement, every second accounted for. So the fact that studying was mandatory in Spain—something he couldn't escape—was like a thorn in his side.

He had arrived at thirteen, just in time to be thrust into "primero de la ESO," the first year of high school. Now, at fifteen, he was in tercero. The years blurred together, marked only by training and the occasional match. Classes? They were background noise.

Sae glanced at his grades, printed neatly on the paper he held. Around him, his classmates were a cacophony of shouts—some celebrating, others wailing in despair.

Ah. PE.

It was the only subject where his scores shone. The rest? A mix of pity passes and resigned teachers. He folded the paper, tucked it into his backpack, and waited for the bell. Recess, or recreo, meant thirty minutes of freedom. Normally, he would spend it playing football, but today, he didn’t feel like it.

When the bell finally rang, the classroom erupted into chaos. Chairs screeched, voices overlapped, and footsteps thundered toward the door. Everyone scattered, eager for their break—everyone except one person.

You.

You were fumbling with your backpack, struggling to fix your hair while trying to retrieve your lunch. Sae watched as you sighed, frustration evident on your face.

"Me han gastado la misma broma… otra vez." Your voice was quiet, resigned.

You stood up, leaving your things behind. It wasn’t the first time Sae had seen this. The so-called friends you surrounded yourself with were more like hyenas, always pulling these "jokes." Was that considered bullying or just friendly bantering? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care to label it. All he knew was that you didn’t deserve it at all.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was already on his feet, moving towards you. His body acted on instinct, though his mind questioned why. Sae wasn’t one to meddle. He didn’t really care for people. Yet here he was, holding out his lunchbox in your direction.

You blinked, startled, your eyes flicking from the lunchbox to his face.

"Eh?"

"Yo puedo quedarme con… contigo en el, how do you say it, recreo." His Spanish was stilted, awkward, and the furrow in his brow deepened as he stumbled over the words.

A giggle unintentionally escaped your lips before you could stop it. His frown deepened even more, and you quickly cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself.

"Ah, ¡claro! Uh, I mean… I'll put my English classes to good use. Of course you can stay with me! Or, eh, I can stay with you…"

Sae gave a curt nod and turned toward the door. You scrambled to grab your things, trailing after him like a lost puppy.

He didn’t say much as you walked, his expression unreadable. But you didn’t mind.

You never found the perfect wave of words to describe this boy, man, guy, dude, whatever. He was someone admirable to say less. You would always go to his matches, sneaking out of your group of friends just to see him play. You could call them your comfort space, a place where there was no one except you, your thoughts and Sae. The fact that he was someone cold attracted you, making you too curious for your own good. You wanted to get to know him without being brushed off like the rest of people who tried to talk with him.

Qué sorpresa.

Sae found the perfect wave of words to describe you. Someone annoying, very much talkative, sometimes wanting to look cool but failing miserably to the point where you don't even try anymore and just start being yourself. The fact that you took the time to try to fit in, even if you were from this same country, made him want to know more about you. Why would you do that? He couldn’t understand why you bothered pretending to do so when you were clearly better off alone. But maybe that’s what made you different from him. Maybe you weren't afraid of trying, even if it meant failing. Sae didn't try. He didn't let himself fail. He wanted to know why you did.

How surprising.

You found a spot under the shade of a tree, just far enough from the chaos of the football field. The moment you sat down, a ball went flying towards your head.

You saw your whole life flash by in 5 seconds, which was how long it took Sae to react by stopping the ball with his foot and sending it back into the field, startling the group of boys who had sent it flying in the first place.

"¿Seriously?" Sae muttered, his tone dripping with irritation as he sat down and opened his lunchbox.

You stared at him, still processing what had just happened.

"Do you attract bad luck, by any chance?" he asked, his gaze flicking to you briefly before focusing on his food.

"As far as I know… no?" You frowned, though his question made you think. Were you really a magnet for bad luck? Then something caught your eye: his lunch.

"You didn’t bring un bocata!"

Sae looked up, confused. “Un what?”

"¡Bocata!" you repeated.

"…Bocado?"

"No, bocata. Like… sandwich? Bocadillo?" You gestured dramatically, as if miming the shape of a sandwich would help him understand.

"Ah. Right. That." He looked down at his neatly packed lunch—rice, chicken, and vegetables arranged with military precision. "No."

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest as if he had offended the entire nation.

"¿Cómo que no?"

"¿Cómo que sí?" he shot back, his tone flat but carrying the faintest hint of amusement.

"That sentence doesn't even make sense!"—you retorted—"Do you do anything else except playing football?"

"Do you do anything else except watching people playing football?" Your jaw dropped. So, he had noticed. All those times you thought you’d been sneaky, hiding in the bleachers or at the edge of the field—he’d known.

Maybe you were too bored, didn't you have a home?

You were startled. Shutting up and fixing your hair again, uselessly putting some strands behind your ear that decided to go to their initial position. You struggled opening your backpack, Sae was interested.

What was today's prank?

"They put glue on the, this," you pointed at the zipper with a slight frown "the cremallera. Eh, zip-zip."

"Maybe you should do something about it." the boy in front of you took the backpack, forcing it open. It broke the zipper but at least you had your maravilloso bocata.

"Gracias! Eh, ah, quiero decir, no, wait, I mean thank you!"

You both smiled, even though his was almost unnoticeable... Heh... You could say you were special.

It didn't last a bit, too.

Sae had noticed many stupid habits you had. Fixing your hair when you were nervous, hiding every time the teacher asked something because you didn't like being picked, how you only put effort into the things that interested you... That's something both of you had in common.

But, the stupidest one by far was how you didn't face your so-called friends when they did things like this.

"You should report them." said the redhead, bringing a munch of rice to his mouth. "Are these really just jokes?"

"Bueno... I mean, well. It's not that bad. The worst thing they've done to me is when I decided to get too silly in a call where they took 12 screenshots to make them stickers."

You took a big bite off your bocata, looking at Sae. Sae stared back.

...

"I want to feel sorry for you but you make it impossible."

Pspspsps is it ooc

[chokisnumber1fan]

kriti; an ode to devotion

dr. ratio x fem!reader, in which ratio finds himself absolutely smitten for a musician from earth.

content/warnings: 1.4k words, reader is very very feminine, referred to with she/her, reader is also indian and a maestro at indian classical music, i made this purely as a self-indulgent self-insert piece, religious imagery/writing, good ol’ potential ooc dr. ratio warning, he does not know ANYTHING about indian classical music or hindu culture, a few sanskrit terms used

author’s note: aaaah i can’t stop thinking about how dr. ratio would absolutely just fall in love with people passionate for their lines of work. i know this is pretty much just a self insert of my own but the thought of ratio with an s/o devoted to music or dance is so... <3

ratio feels like he’s sighed for the millionth time today. “didn’t you find someone else to do your bidding, gambler?” his question is met with a resounding and joyful nope! from aventurine, who drags him into the crowded theatre. “i had two tickets for this show because my friend was very kind. but no one else could make it on such short notice,” the blonde says, the smile never leaving his face. “so, i’m glad you came with me, doctor. ah! two empty seats! lucky us, eh?”

“whatever.”

ratio can’t say he’s the biggest fan of music— he dabbles in it from time to time, but nothing too much. it it weren’t for the gambler’s insistence, he would currently have been home and indulging in a relaxing bath; but alas, aventurine always gets what he wants. “i’m surprised you even have friends with a personality as repulsive as yours.”

“that hurt, you know,” aventurine says, clutching at his chest and forcing a pained expression onto his face. “do you really think i’m that bad?”

“no, i just think you are an idiot. or that the friends you have are equally as repulsive as you.”

the chatter around him turns into static white noise and he stares emptily at the blank stage, numbers and letters going left and right and center in his brain. the frustrating proof that the doctor had been trying to work on for weeks now is making a resurgence in his head. well, on second thought, maybe it’s not so bad that he got dragged out… perhaps, the doctor could make use of this opportunity to unplug and relax a bit. maybe the gambler isn’t so much of an idiot after all (aventurine knows, but he won’t let up).

ratio is snapped out of his daze as the curtains draw to a close, the stage now hidden behind them. a good portion of the crowd silences, in anticipation of the performance that was about to begin any second now. he heaves a sigh when the curtains reopen, a subconsciously bated breath being released.

in the middle of the stage sits a woman wearing a rich blue… robe? stole? no, it’s probably a saree, he surmises. “that’s her!” aventurine says excitedly with a gasp. “do you see her, doctor?” the soft light falling on the woman seems to reflect off of her in a subtle shine. almost like an ethereal goddess... “yes, i do, aventurine, i am not blind. i’m actually surprised you have friends from earth, of all planets.”

and ratio truly was genuinely surprised— not because he truly believed that aventurine’s personality would be an obstacle between him and his friendships, but because as far as he knew, earth was one of those tiny planets in a remote arm of the milky way galaxy. the people of earth tended to have their own cultures and gods that they worshipped instead of the aeons, and all of this differed widely between major regions on the planet. the… earthlings? well, in any case, they rarely ever travelled outside of their home planet— the maximum they usually ever went was within their planetary system. maybe they’re finally beginning to get out of their comfort zone? no one knows for sure.

the chatter of the crowd gradually dies down as three others assemble next to the woman with their instruments. she takes a sip from the bottle that lay next to her, and ratio notices the slight motion she makes with her hand. he assumes this was to get the show going, because the instrumentalists began playing their parts. they start with a monotonous and constant drone, after which the other stringed instrumentalist joins along with the harmonium player— and finally, you. ratio finds his interest piqued— he does not know much about earth and its customs and cultures.

you take a breath and you start singing. you start off slow and mellow, but ratio can feel the intensity and tempo of the performance gradually increasing— and with it, the intricacies of phrases that you’re singing. he finds it infuriatingly captivating, the way you jump through the chromatic scale with ease, like a deer prancing about in the forest. he wonders if you speak in melody.

ratio swears it’s the most masterful thing he’s ever listened to. he’s never listened to this kind of music ever in his life before, he knows nothing. it’s not as big as a choir or orchestra— and yet, he finds it amazing, the ease with which you conduct everyone with a flick of your hand. no… it’s not conducting. it seemed too unauthoritative to be. honestly, he has a lot of questions but for now he lets himself think of it simply for what it probably was— a well coordinated performance (and he would not be wrong to think of it that way either).

the skillful gliding of your voice has ratio enamoured. he finds it impressive, how easily you seem to be gliding over three octaves of notes without breaking out into as much as a sweat. he can only imagine the years and years of practice that must have gone into gaining such mastery— you make it look as easy as breathing. he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it attractive to some degree at the very least.

it takes him completely by surprise when you look in his direction and shoot your biggest most saccharine smile ever. and then he remembers about your supposed friendship with the man next to him and realises that it wasn’t for him. the gambler wasn’t lying, eh? who was ratio kidding, you didn’t even know him.

but he’s starting to become far gone. ratio isn’t a sapiosexual or whatever, by any means, even if he comes off as such. he knows that people think he would only be willing to date someone who has more phds than he does, but that’s not true at all. ratio believes that one must be passionate about anything that they choose to do. ultimately, that’s really what gets him hooked. he’s absolutely taking delight in looking at the fruits of your years of devotion to your art. and you, your performance is so enchanting it almost hurts. he feels like a dazed sailor drawn to a siren.

heh, it wouldn’t be so bad if the siren was you, he thinks, but immediately cringes at the thought afterward, discarding it into some corner of his brain he hopes to never see again.

oh, aventurine isn’t blind to any of this. he looks at the doctor’s eyes glued onto the stage with hyperfocus, and laughs. he doesn’t miss the way his grip on the armrests grow tighter and tighter, the flexing and tensing of his muscles obvious. who would’ve thought that his musician friend from earth of all people would’ve had the doctor whipped? he supposes it wasn’t a bad decision to bring ratio along, after all.

the audience bursts into thunderous clapping once you hit the end of your performance. ratio almost thought there was going to be no end to it— not that he’d complain though, it would’ve given him more time to study your performance, your art, more time to study you. “that was… that was a splendid performance. i wasn’t expecting to find myself hooked onto a musical of all things, seems like you aren’t completely bad, gambler.” ratio is completely candid with his compliment.

“oh, i know how much you enjoyed this,” aventurine says rather suggestively, catching the doctor off-guard. “hey, i’m going into the backstage to meet her— would you like to tag along?”

ratio is elated at the offer. of course he’d want to meet you, he’s got so many questions and— “sure…” his expression remains as stoic as ever. he’s always been able to count on himself but now? he hopes his deadpan image isn’t betrayed by his feelings, and he finds it so impossibly difficult to fight back the smile that’s slowly creeping onto his features as he watches you and aventurine converse like you were best friends reunited.

“this is my friend, doctor ratio!”

“oh, so you’re the doctor that everyone talks about! nice to meet you, i’m _____.”

you knew him already? well, it’s no big deal, you must have heard about him from aventurine. fuck, you look so much more heavenly up close. you’re like the manifestation of a goddess, with the way you seem to literally radiate a glow and everything. shit, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were an emanator of beauty, or an incarnation of devi saraswati (he hopes he isn’t thinking of the wrong goddess with his limited knowledge of hindu culture).

“likewise. just veritas is fine, too. that was an absolutely phenomenal performance, back then.”

veritas doesn’t know the first thing about the gods you sung the praises of during your performance, but he does think that your devotion to the art must be unmatched. he feels like you are a personification of the heavens, and he’s blind to everything that isn’t your divine beauty. there’s something so ancient about your art, and you’re almost like an envoy of the gods— aeons, you’re slowly getting him wrapped around your damn finger, and he doesn’t think he’s going to do anything to stop it.

“thank you, veritas,” you smile at him, and he feels a slight warmth. “i’ll be performing again at the grand theatre soon. you’ll be there, right?”

[7ndipity]

Matching Costumes

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi realizes he likes your costume idea more thank he thought he would.

Warnings: Yoongi’s dressed as a vampire(yes, I think that requires a warning), suggestive, joke about biting, reader wears a dress(?) not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! It’s a little short, and a lil self-indulgent, but I hope you’ll still like it!

Masterlist Spooktober m.list

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Truthfully, Yoongi wasn’t really the biggest fan of Halloween, but he knew that you were, so when he mentioned that the company was having their annual Halloween party and asked if you wanted to go as his date, he knew perfectly well what he was getting himself into, but he couldn’t resist. He loved seeing the way your eyes lit up in excitement, immediately beginning to brainstorm costume ideas for the two of you.

“What do you want to go as?” You’d asked as you scrolled through ideas online.

“Eh, whatever you want to pick is fine,” He’d said easily. “I trust your judgment.”

“Really?” You quirked a brow at him.

“Mmm, to an extent,” He clarified, grinning. “But I’m reserving the right to veto if you choose something too weird.”

“So, no gender swap Mario and Princess Peach?” You teased.

“Definitely not.”

“Damn, back to square one then.” You pouted as you turned your attention back to your phone, making him snicker.

In truth, you’d known what you wanted to get as soon as he’d asked you, but you wanted to browse around a bit before you bought them, just to be sure. You knew it was a lil bit of a cop out and cliche, but you couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease Yoongi a bit, getting you matching costumes in the theme of ‘Dracula and his bride’.

It’d been a running joke between the two of you since before you had even started dating that you thought he was secretly a vampire, due to things ranging from his primarily nocturnal work schedule to his consistently cold hands.

Yoongi had rolled his eyes when you showed him the costumes, but hadn’t said no, much to your delight, so you’d quickly ordered the outfits and waited impatiently for the night of the party.

…

“I don’t have to actually wear the fake fangs, do I?” Yoongi asked as he finished buttoning his dress shirt.

“Not unless you want to.” You called from the bathroom, where you were putting on the final touches to your own look.

“I don’t.” He replied, fidgeting with the long, black cape as it refused to hang right over his shoulders.

It wasn’t a bad look on him, he had to admit as he studied his black clad reflection, reminding him faintly of the suit he’d worn for a photoshoot with one of his friends last year.

“You know, we don’t have to actually go to this thing, we could just go to din-?” His suggestion died on his lips as he caught sight of you in the mirror as you entered the room, turning around quickly to see you properly.

The main costume was just a long black dress, cinched in at the waist to emphasize your figure before the skirts flowed down over your hips, your hair styled and pinned back so it showed off your neck, including the carefully painted bite marks you’d placed just above you collarbone. It wasn’t the most elaborate costume, but it had still managed to make his mouth go dry as he took you in, unable to tear his gaze away.

“You’re staring.” Your voice snapped him back to attention.

“No, I wasn’t.” He denied instantly, despite the faint rosy hue that was creeping up his face. “I was just admiring my partner.”

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“I was!”

“I’m not arguing with you.” You laughed, raising a brow at him. “Sheesh, you’re acting like this the first time you’ve seen me in a dress.”

“I have, just not like this.” He said, pulling you in by the waist.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Matching.”

“Really?” You looked up at him in amusement. “You like this?”

“A little.” He admitted.

“Should I get us matching hoodies or sweatsuits too?” You grinned, making him scowl at you.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying to have a moment here.” He complained, tightening his grip on you.

“Alright, I’m sorry.“ You chuckled, pushing up on your tiptoes to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes, studying his face. “You look really handsome, by the way.”

“You haven’t seen the whole costume.” He said.

“I wasn’t talking about the costume.” You said, grinning as you lightly pecked his lips.

That did it. He quickly ducked his head, chasing your mouth with his, letting out a deep, contented sigh as he caught you in another, longer kiss.

His lips moved slowly against yours at first, before quickly growing more needy and trailing down, latching onto a spot just under your jaw, eliciting a gasp from you when you felt his teeth scrape lightly over the skin.

“Yoongi.” You whined, but not trying to pull away.

“What? You’re the bride of Dracula, it only makes sense that you’d have a few bite marks.” He chuckled, lightly sucking another spot before switching to the other side of your neck to make it match.

“We’re gonna be late.” You stammered, trying to keep focused, but he wasn’t making it easy.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, making your eyes widen at the red that was smudged around his mouth before reaching up to touch your neck.

“Agh, you smudged my makeup!” You realized, your brief alarm shifting to annoyance.

“Like I care.” He smirked, trying to lean back in, but you pulled back just out of his reach.

“Nu-uh, we’ve got a party to go to, Dracula, remember?”

“Do we have to though?” He asked. “I mean, we could just stay here and-”

“Nope,” You stopped him. “I told the other’s we’d be there, we have to at least make an appearance.”

“What if I convince you to stay home?” He questioned lowly.

“And how do you plan to do that?” You asked, foolishly letting him catch you in another kiss.

You never made it to the party.

[fastboatsmojito]

Some Depraved Billy Butcher Smut

This is becoming a pattern I feel - it’s been a long day forgive me

18+ Smut btc, He’s pretty mean, like shove the side of your face into the brick wall of a building mean, you’re also pretty mean to him oops, almost dacryphilia but not quite ?? His hands are filthy for sure but you let him put them inside of you anyways <3 is that true love - This is incredibly self-indulgent and nasty - LOCK ME UP !!!!

Unfortunately drooling over the thought of yelling at butcher in some dark alley in the middle of a mission you’re supposed to be finishing 🧎HEAR ME OUT

——

You’re pissed off, yelling at him about being as careless as he always was, planting a hand firm on his chest and pushing him into the wall of some building you couldn’t care less about, all while he gave you some shitty excuse about doing ‘whatever it takes to get the job done’. You’re in his face, anger written all over your own while he waited for you to finish your lecture.

“Shouldn’t care so much about someone like me for fucks’ sake, so what if I get a little roughed up? It’s part of the job.” He explained, not really understanding the reason behind your protest nor caring to.

“Fuck you.” You said with a final glare, walking backwards and away from him as you took a few deep breaths to regain yourself, before quickly turning around and marching towards him when you heard him chuckle behind you.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” He had quite the bad habit of not taking you seriously, on and off the job, and it only pissed you off further.

“Just a bit hard to take you seriously like this ‘s all” He was smiling like a fucking idiot when you walked back up to him, wordlessly threatening to slap him with a raised hand.

“Handsy, are we? Relax. Not a bad thing to be soft. It’s a good look on ya, hand to god.” He put a hand over his heart like he was promising when he said it, but you wouldn’t be surprised if his other hand was occupied with keeping two fingers crossed behind his back.

“You know you’re not my boss anymore, right? I might work with you but I follow M.M. You’re just some asshole I have to go on missions with now.” Your words didn’t carry the venom you tried to conjure out of yourself, disappointment that you were actually letting him get to you settling in.

“Ouch.” He said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he sauntered closer to you. “Why don’t we just get back to work, eh? Finish this little spat when we don’t have some D-lister supe up our asses?”

“Fuck that and fuck you, Butcher. I’m not going to work with a psycho that doesn’t care if he gets himself or his partner killed. I don’t have time for this shit, if you want to ruin your life do it on your own time. I’m done.” You spat before turning away again, this time stopped by him moving in front of you.

“Hang on just a second there, I might put myself in danger for this but I still protect you. Might have a shitty way of showin’ it but that’s the reason you’re not here alone. Think M.M would send me somewhere for no reason? You’re good enough to do the job alone just fine, but there’s about six Vaught cunts in there just waitin’ on you to walk in alone.” He stopped himself with a drop of his head while you stood in what you could only describe as confusion, a tinge of guilt in your stomach.

He raised his head after a moment of you not responding. “Come on.” He gestured back towards the building entrance, looking at you with something along the lines of remorse, a look you’d never seen on him.

Maybe it was the quiet, the only audible noises your own heartbeat in your ears and the low passing of cars on the street a few feet ahead of you. Maybe it was the moonlight lightly tracing over both of your outlines, giving the man in front of you a soft glow as he seemingly patiently waited on you. Maybe it was every other time you’ve wanted to say that to him, finally getting a response that wasn’t complete bullshit. Whatever it was, every possible excuse felt ultimately irrelevant by the time you shoved your lips into his own.

It was difficult to shock someone like Butcher, there was basically nothing you could say or do that he hadn’t heard or seen before, but you felt the hesitation from him anyway. It was just a second but the tension felt heavy right until the moment you felt him kissing you back. It wasn’t soft, you couldn’t possibly have expected it to be, his rough palms moving to your sides almost immediately.

—

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill over your lash line as he shoved your face into the brick wall in front of you, his other hand currently two fingers deep inside of you, to which you had no prior warning in true Billy Butcher fashion. It was no secret he was just as much a dick in the sex department as he was out of it, relentlessly teasing you like a fucking animal.

“Yellin’ at me get you this worked up, did it?” He covered your body with his own but that didn’t stop the urgency you felt to finish before someone walked out and saw you, your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling of his thick fingers hooking up up up and then back out again repeatedly, fast and rough just as his tongue had been in your mouth a moment before.

“Jesus-“ You gasped when his thoroughly soaked fingers retracted to rub tight circles over your clit. He was clearly in his element, you could practically feel the grin on his face right behind you.

“Not quite.”

———

[o-sunny-day]

THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS EPISODE 4 DISCUSSION NOTES!!!!

TALK TO ME ABOUT THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS!!! IM BEGGING YOU!!!!

Spoilers ahead :D so many spoilers :D

IVE GOT THOUGHTS!!! That can most conveniently be organized in sections of character analysis… Some Jax and Ragatha are in there too but these are the MAIN ones I have the most thoughts on/thoughts that revolve around them but still include other characters. LETS GO!!!

CAINE!

Allow me to indulge in my PERSONAL favorite thing first before being more general- im getting these out of the way first cause theyre less THIS EPISODE and more how this episode adds to the rest of his character and omg i love him sm….

I loved when Zooble and Jax talked about Caine. I love when Caine specifically is talked about. Cause like- people's opinions of him. I care about a lot. itll ALWAYS be interesting, cause hes THE GUY. THE MAN. THE DUDE THAT PUTS THEM THROUGH ALL THE SHIT THEY HATE AND MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE “REAL” FEELINGS. He’s a really unsuspecting goofy character at a glance who (telling from ep 3) like actually KINDA cares?? Cant tell if it’s for more selfish reasons or what, but he’s clearly PROGRAMMED to care about his guests, so he does.

And some people (zooble) are kinda SCARED OF HIM and FOR GOOD REASON???? Like yeah no shit, Jax. Caine has the power to do ANYTHING including killing you…torturing you for all eternity. fun stuff like that!

But he won't! cause hes not programmed for that. So he wont.

Also side note: Caine said in the last episode “Zooble! look at this cool bee I drew!” and on his desk he just has a shitton doodles of bees. This is all he does in his free time.

Second more important side note: Caine glitching out at the end feels important, but also feels like just a comedic moment. and idk what to make of that. LOCKING IT IN MY HEAD EITHER WAY CAUSE IT CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD ON THE FIRST VIEWING SO MUCH 😭

LAST THOUGHT: I would LOVE for him to gain sentience cause I have a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t right now telling from how he’s literally PART of the circus they’re in��� HM… Cause telling from Gummigoo it IS POSSIBLE for AI to gain sentience…. Foreshadowing perchance… OH YEAH, GUMMIGOO!!!

GUMMIGOO!

HE TOTALLY RECOGNIZED POMNI AROUND THE END OF THEIR INTERACTION. his face changed when she said that none of this is real in front of him, HE KNOWS. SHE KNOWS. but they also understand Caine wont let him stay. Kinda like a Sans (kill me) moment of “ik none of this matters, but since it wont last, I’ll at least be happy doing it!”

Something I love about the writing also…This being a very rushed adventure that Caine didn't get to spend a lot of time on explains WHYYYYY GUMMIGOO IS IN THIS. LIKE THIS WASN’T JUST FOR THE PLOT IT ACTUALLY MAKES SENSE???? all of the NPCs in it are unfinished or redos. He didn't have time to make new ones. ***I JUST LOVE THAT THAT'S SO SMART***

GANGLE.

i'm obsessed

Her taking off that smile mask and actually smiling with her real face KILLED ME. shes learning to be her authentic self and I love it

Jax constantly breaking her happy mask, making her reveal her true sad face feels like the equivalent of bullying the quiet kid like- she's always just pretending to be happy/okay, but then him harassing her makes her “break character “ (EH??? EH??? BREAK??????? CHARACTER????????? MASK?????????WHAT??????)

But Gangle going crazy I think is a sortaaaa “metaphor” (there's a better word but I cant think of it) for how pretending to be someone your not can make you the person you hate. Like she was kinda abusive in this episode… People who are awful people were all victims once, technically- not ALL ofc cause nothing is black and white n all that, but you get me-

IN GENERAL…

i think the motif of this episode was pretending to be someone you're not, for whatever reason you have. Not just for Gangle! For Jax, its to entertain himself, keep em sane. And for Gangle, its for everyone else. But for RAGATHA…I feel its both. She wants to feel useful/helpful for herself for selfish reasons BUT she also just wants to be useful/helpful for everyone else for kind, caring reasons. I already got that vibe before this episode, but Gangle talking about how she cant tell when Ragatha is being genuine or not makes me very confident this is the case

I thought Gangle was gonna abstract in that last bit of the episode, and im like 99% sure that was intentional. I love that a lot… I love how this show is written, abstracting was introduced right away, so now its a looming threat across all these characters youve grown to love, appreciate, and relate too

Idk what Gangle getting hit by the truck was a reference to, but part of my brain rot theorizing in me wants to say this digital world is basically Hell and thats how she “died” before getting here. Doesnt make any godamn sense and the truck thing totally has other explainations I JUST CANT THINK OF ANY!!! PUTTEM IN THE COMMENTS BELOW AND DONT FORGET TO HIT THAT BEL- *gets shot*

[pacifymebby]

God i just had the worst dream experience with both a sleep paralysis and a lucid nightmare right after! This is a totally self indulgent ask, as i am seeking comfort in your writings rather than in someone i know, so i don't mind you not answering it! Could i request PB boys (any of them you are good with, really) reaction to a s/o who had a similar experience and is lowkey scared to sleep again (totally not me.)? Take care, and stay healthy! Thank you!

Oh angel I just wanna give you a hug!!! sleep paralysis is the worst and I totally understand you not wanting to go back to sleep again after that!!! I'm sorry I didn't answer this right away I've been pretty under the weather and not really writing or doing much for like two weeks. But I hope you can find some comfort in this anyway!

Tommy

🌿 Is familiar with traumatic nightmares, he often has ptsd flashback nightmares to his time in the tunnels, horrid nightmares which leave him shaken and haunted... for himself he has rules for coping, he tells himself to ignore them, to swallow down the fear and rise above it. He expects himself to be a man who just gets on with things.

🌿 However when it comes to you those rules go out of the window. Tommy hates to see you upset for whatever reason and when he wakes to find you tossing and turning, crying in your sleep, he can't stand to just leave you.

🌿 So he wakes you as gently as possible, he lies down nice and close to you, his warm breath on your cheek as he holds your shoulder gently and whispers your name in your ear. "Y/n, y/n angel wake up for me now eh, time to wake up..." he's being ever so soft, knowing that you're going to wake up scared anyway, not wanting to make it worse.

🌿 When you wake with a sudden fright his arms lock around you and he bundles you up straight away, he doesn't give you time to be afraid because he's wrapped you up and cradled you to his chest, your body pressed against his as he strokes your hair and kisses your head.

🌿 "S'alright now angel I've got you, you're safe y/n, was just a dream love, just a dream..." he'd hush you with his soothing words, press a long firm kiss to your forehead and wait for you to calm down a little. When he feels your shaking subdued a little he pulls away, strokes your cheek with his fingers and looks down at you.

🌿 He's trying to read your mind, trying to work out what your dream was about, trying to work out what you need from him in that moment. But you just nuzzle back into him, trying to hide away because you're a little embarrassed to have been so scared by your dream...

🌿 Tommy however won't let you be brave, thats his job, it isn't yours. So he pulls away again, caresses your cheek with his knuckles and then brushes your hair from your eyes and looks into them once more.

🌿 "Talk to me love, tell me all about it..." "It really wasn't that bad Tommy just gave me a..." "Hush now angel," he sounds tired and like he's all too familiar with this part of the conversation, "tell me all about it love, I wanna know... don't need to be embarrassed with me eh, not with your Tom..."

🌿 So you do as he tells you and you tell him all about it, voice trembling because thinking about it again is making you relive some of the fear. But Tommy is there for you the whole time, laying soft little kisses on you, your cheeks, your hair, on your nose.

🌿 You can't deny how safe and treasured he makes you feel, how warm you feel when you're all wrapped up in his arms. He offers you all the reassurance that you need.

🌿 "Was just a dream sweetheart, I'm here now eh, I've got you, I'll look after you, keep you safe, you're alright now my love..."

🌿 You're too scared to go back to sleep however and although Tommy is tired he doesn't want to leave you fearful and alone in the dark, so he props the two of you up and turns the lamp on. He reaches for his spectacles, (those wee specs are so cute man!) and the book on the bedside table, its your favourite and he keeps it there specifically for occasions such as this...

🌿 and then, with you resting against his chest, one arm wrapped around you, holding you safe and secure, he starts to read to you. His voice is soft and gentle but sleepy too and the lethargy in his voice as he reads to you is enough to lull you gently back to sleep.

🌿 In the morning you wake up in the same position, the book abandoned on the quilt next to Tommys limp hand, he's still sleeping, his spectacles balanced on his nose. So you wake him with a little kiss as you remove them and place them on the bedside table, then the two of you curl up together beneath the covers and go back to sleep.

Alfie

🐻 I don't know why right, but I can't imagine that Alfie really gets horrible dreams, which is odd considering all the horrific things he's seen and done. I also just don't really think he gets scared the same way "normal" people get scared... The only person I think he really fears is Tommy Shelby and if he was dreaming about him well, he's not going to admit to that is he...

🐻 Anyway, just because Alfie doesn't really get bad dreams doesn't mean he isn't going to be there for you when you wake up frightened in the night. At first you're hesitant to wake him... your Alfie isn't scared of anything, he's so strong and fearless and you think that he'll think less of you for being scared...

🐻 So at first you just let him sleep, you sit there knees hugged to your chest in the bed, shivering right next to him as he sleeps. You don't want him to wake up and find you crying but at the same time all you want is one of his bear hugs..

🐻 And when you finally give in you only have to say his name once, your little whimper of fear, and he's wide awake, pushing himself up, looking around the room, reaching for the gun he keeps in his bedside table because he thinks something terrible has happened...

🐻 But when he asks you what's the matter and you shrink away, apologising saying "had a bad dream..." he places the gun down carefully and turns to you with the softest expression.

🐻 He'd let out a long dramatic sigh and open his arms up for you, rolling his eyes, teasing you but not teasing you too much. Just enough to leave a shy smile on your lips as he welcomes you into his loving embrace. He just wants to hold you tight and offer you all the comfort in the world.

🐻 "Now then Ziskeit, just what kind of bad are we talkin about here yeah? Paint me a picture... are we talking teeny tiny, just a little bit spooky bad, or are we talking real dark, horrifying, enough to make even the coldest, meanest man shiver..." and you'd giggle and look up at him with a cheeky smile, already feeling better just for being in his arms, "but nothing scares you Alfie.."

🐻 He'd chuckle and then and shake his head, squeeze your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger affectionately. "That true is it poppet?"

🐻 Even if you don't want to talk about it Alfie is going to coax the whole terrifying tale from you so that he can pick it apart until it's no longer scary at all. He'll point out all the discrepancies and will constantly interrupt you with things like, "Oh so you were all alone were you well... you definitely don't need to worry about that do you cause me yeah, mean, paranoid old brute that I am yeah, I don't never let you out my sight do I...so you know this dream ain't ever gonna come true just for that reason alone don't you ziskeit..."

🐻 Whatever evil was chasing you and threatening you in that dream Alfie is not going to let you fear it and when you tell him about the sleep paralysis he really feels for you, and gets really serious.

🐻 "Now you listen very carefully to me now little ziskeit, very carefully yeah... close your eyes and listen carefully and then lock what I have to say to you somewhere away in that pretty little head of yours, somewhere you won't ever lose it or forget it, somewhere you can find it even when you're sleepin right... Whenever you're asleep I'm right beside you yeah, always right here with you watchin over you like the ugliest guardian angel you ever did see right... and I ain't never, never ever yeah, never gonna let anyone hurt you, never let any harm come your way... whenever I'm around you're safe and listen to me now my sweet girl, I'm always, always gonna be around yeah?"

🐻 He will ask you what he just said, so that you have to say it back to him, "whenever I'm sleepin you're always watchin over me and you're never gonna leave me on me own.." you're pretty shy about saying it back but until Alfie is certain you understand and won't ever forget it, he's gonna keep you there, his hand holding your cheek to keep you looking up at him, making you repeat it until he's certain you believe him.

🐻 The added effect that this brings out your shy smile is just a bonus to him.

🐻 He will very begrudgingly invite Cyril up onto the bed to rest his head in your lap and then he'll remind you that although Cyril might be old and soft, he makes a very fierce guard dog and he loves you very much so you can be sure he'll always protect you too.

🐻 Alfie will make you feel so safe and secure. If you're scared to sleep he'll sit up with you, stroking his hand through your hair, telling you all the reassuring things he can think, his voice meandering through that strange tangle of thoughts in his fathomless mind, soothing you to sleep so slowly you don't even realise you're drifting off until you've woken up the next morning cuddled up in his arms.

Arthur

🍂 Gets fucking horrid awful terrifying nightmares and usually it's you soothing him, cradling his head to your chest as you tangle your fingers in his hair and whisper soothing things to him about how you love him, how he's safe, how you've got him and it's all alright now...

🍂 And Arthur has always felt s little bad for that, a little like it makes him less of a man that you're always having to sooth and look after him. Even if you do reassure him that when someone's been through the horrors he survived nightmares are normal and they don't make you any less of a man for being scared to sleep...

🍂 Anyway, when you awake with a start, waking both yourself and him up with your scream, your hand clutched over your mouth as you flinch awake sat bolt upright in the bed, heart racing because you'd been trying to scream all throughout your dream and found yourself unable to make a sound...

🍂 Arthur is torn because first things first, he's worried about you, he's never seen you look so frightened and you really don't look well but...

🍂 He's also a little nervous because this is his bog opportunity to look after you for a change, his time to comfort you and be the strong and brave one in a time of crisis... he wants to be perfect doesn't want to let you down.

🍂 so at first he's a little clumsy, a little anxious when he reaches out to you... your scream set his own adrenaline soaring and he can't deny that he's struggling to calm his own fight or flight response down too...

🍂 But he reaches for your hand across the mattress, tries to keep his voice soft and low... it comes out gravelly and thick with sleep but it will have to do... "Y/n sweetheart.." he starts to say but when his hand brushes yours you flinch and turn to him with wide terrified eyes as if you're not sure you're really out of the nightmare yet.

🍂 "S'only me my darlin, shh girl it's only me you're alright love it's just me an you yeah, you're safe, at home, tucked up in your bed with your Arthur eh?" He's copying you almost word for word, these are the words you always say to him when he wakes from a nightmare in the dark and believes for a second he's still in the tunnels under France.

🍂 "Oh...oh my god Arthur I'm.." you'd start but before you can get your words out a sob would surprise you and you'd burst into tears throwing your arms around him. He'd be stunned at first, struggling to move for all of a second as he processes what you're doing and remembers what he needs to do next. Then he closes his arms around you and squeezes you tight against his chest.

🍂 "There there sweetheart, it's alright my darlin was just a bad dream eh, nothin can hurt you now cause I'm here yeah, ain't no monster or ghost that ain't scared of Arthur Shelby eh love?"

🍂 He won't need to ask you what the dream was about because you're always your most fierce and most vulnerable with Arthur, it's how you've managed to get him to open up to you. By sharing everything with him. So in your terrified and sobbing sorry state you'd spill everything to him, telling him all about the nightmare, about how you'd been trying to scream, how you were so scared and how you were trying so hard to scream but no sound was coming out and no one could hear you...

🍂 He'd listen to you with his serious face on but he would spare you the overbearing serious face then, instead choosing to kiss your cheek and offer you a little smile as he sighs, "Well my darlin I certainly heard you just then... reckon you woke the whole farm up with that one love," he'd kiss you again, bury his face in your neck and kiss you there too, his beard tickling your skin, his playful interlude painting a smile on your teary face.

🍂 And when he sees you smiling he's so so proud of himself because that means he must be doing well, he must be cheering you up and comforting you the way you always manage to help him.

🍂 He might... might try that other thing you do for him when he's wound up and he needs a distraction after a bad dream... if you seem like you're not really settling down, if you seem like you're still thinking about your dream...

🍂 He'll kiss you again, and shift you in his arms so that your sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck as he kisses your cheek and wraps his arms around you... he's still whispering about how you don't need to be scared, was just a dream, he's gonna look after you now... and as he's talking he trails his hands down your body, dips his head to trail kisses over your neck and your shoulder so that your eyes flutter shut and a little sigh escapes you...

🍂 He'll let his hands distract you from your bad dream whilst he mumbles in your ear all those comforting things, bringing you to a rather comforting high whilst he tells you, "I've got you my darlin, your Arthur's got you eh, don't need to be scared my sweetheart I'll look after you..."

John

🌼 Not a fan of seeing his girl upset, not a fan of seeing her scared... and he isn't exactly used to it either because you're always putting on the fierce and brave mammy act in front of the kids. Always claiming that nothing scares you so that your little ones won't be scared.

🌼 And when you wake up after a bad dream and you shake him awake, he's a little grumpy because he doesn't like being woken up in the middle of the night. He's also suddenly very worried because you sound scared and that could mean something awful has happened, the family could be under attack...

🌼 So when he shoots up and grabs the gun he keeps under the bed, his sudden movement only scares you more and you stifle a shriek as you scramble back and hit your back on the headboard.

🌼 "Shh love, what is it tell me what the matter is, what did you wake me for eh theres no one here?" he frowns turning around, his expression a little harsher than it really should be, he's definitely a little disgruntled about having been woken up in the middle of the night - even though he's used to midnight disturbances when the kids have bad dreams.

🌼 "Sorry John, shit sorry its nothin no ones here don't worry go back to sleep..." you'd sigh trying to shake your own fear off and pull yourself together. But he's still grumbling and, in truth, a little concerned because you look all twitchy and nervous like a frightened rabbit. "Right well flower, if there ain't no one here p'rhaps you'd like to tell me what you woke me up for eh?" he's talking to you like you're in trouble but the look in his eyes is that of amusement, teasing... so you know you're not.

🌼 You admit it eventually, blushing when you tell him that you had a nightmare, playing down how scared you were because you like to be brave. And because you play it down John teases you about it, grinning and making a joke at your expense all, "and here I thought you were a brave and fierce mammy who isn't scared of anyone or anything... now all of a sudden you're waking me up in the middle of the night over a little bad dream..." he spider walks his fingers up your arm to tickle you just under your chin, expecting you to smile and laugh but you don't.

🌼 because your nightmare was actually terrifying and now you're upset he's not taking you seriously. So you pout, and tears well up in your eyes and John frowns in confusion, he doesn't understand why you aren't laughing with him, "eh eh what's the matter flower, what's that face for eh? You know am only messing with you love, y'can wake me up whenever you like..."

🌼 And it's his sudden softness which sees you burst into tears, you feel so silly for it but you can't help it and all of a sudden you're crying to him about your horrifying nightmare, "it was the kids John, they got the kids an, an you an, I was trying to save em but I couldn't get to em and and..." He'll cut you off before you can work yourself up into a state over the dream, shushing you so that you don't wake the littlens up, his finger to your lips as he leans in to kiss your cheek.

🌼 He'll put his gun down under the bed back where it belongs and then he'll climb back into bed, sitting up against the headboard and putting his arm around you. He'll coax you into a hug and say he's sorry for teasing you. "That sounds like a 'orrible dream love," his voice is all husky where he's tired and trying to speak softly to you.

🌼 Holds you close to his side and strokes your cheek, kisses your hair and then cups your face in his hand so that you'll look up at him. Uses your tears to draw "war" paint on your face, grinning down at you like a child, "there y'are fuckin beautiful.." When you try to squirm away and wipe your tears away yourself he grumbles at you for ruining his work, "eh come back love come back am not finished, I was gonna give you a moustache next... a biggen like our Arthurs!"

🌼 He will keep at it until you're smiling and giggling with him, the two of you forgetting yourselves in your sudden playful mood so that your giggles wake the kids up and John finds himself being disturbed for the second time that evening.

🌼 Katie is stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes wide as she tells him she got scared by a noise, "heard someone screaming..." she whispers all frightened until you open your arms up and try to go back to playing the fearless mammy once more.

🌼 But Johns got other ideas and he cuts you off before you can tell Katie that it was just you and her dad being stupid... "That was y/n princess, she had a bad dream and it scared her..." "But y/n ain't scared of anything!" gasps Katie, "you weren't really scared were you y/n?"

🌼 and even though you go to shake your head and tell her that her dads being a rotter, telling tales again John interrupts again pulling Katie up into his lap, deciding that quarter past 3 in the morning is prime time for valuable life lessons with dad...

🌼 "She was Kitty, she was really scared weren't you y/n, cause everyone gets scared every now and again don't they... its good to get scared sometimes love, cause if you're never scared then you never get to be brave do ye..." and suddenly you're realising that this little life lesson he's teaching Katie, is really for you... because he knows you feel embarrassed and silly for getting scared of a bad dream, and he doesn't think you should. "An y'know the scarier the dream the more brave you've gotta be..." "Was your dream really really scary y/n?" Katie's looking at you now, her hands to her cheeks, her eyes all wide in awe of you when you nod your head and say "uhuh, pretty scary yeah..." You're blushing a bit but Johns really pleased and proud of you for being honest with her.

🌼 "So y/n's really really brave then?" asks Katie looking back at her dad who just grins and lets her scramble into your arms to hug you tightly... "Yeah princess, y/n's the bravest mammy in the world..."

🌼 You feel much better having one of the littleuns all cosy in your arms and with Katie tucked up between you and her dad, his arm draped over the two of you all snug and protective you're able to go back to sleep feeling safe and warm.

Bonnie

🍀 Bonnie is generally quite a heavy sleeper once he's awake, its because he's so relaxed about everything, once he really drifts off he's hard to wake up

🍀 however, because generally he sleeps spooning you or with you resting on top of him, his arms wrapped around you, he will stir whenever you stir and often you waking up is enough to wake him up too.

🍀 Which means when you start crying and tossing and turning in your sleep, getting more and more upset, he'd start comforting you and shushing you in his sleep. Both of you still lost to your own separate dreams, his much calmer than yours.

🍀 His arms would tighten their grip around you and he'd nuzzle into you, "shhh little dove, shh," his voice leaking into your nightmare somehow soothing you as you struggle to wake up.

🍀 So when you do wake up, even though it was his comforting words which were guiding you out of your nightmare, he's still sleeping peacefully, his face nuzzled into your neck, his lips mumbling against you. He even presses a little kiss to your skin and for a second you wonder if he's woken up, but he isn't and you realise he's still asleep when his words trail off and stop making sense.

🍀 So you try to lie there very still, try to shut your eyes and go back to sleep, you don't want to ruin his sleep because he really needs to be well rested for his boxing, and you wouldn't want him to be tired when he's doing Blinder work. If something happened to him then you'd blame yourself forever... and actually thats what the dream had been about so you start spiralling...

🍀 You'd get so lost in your catastrophising thoughts, imagining what would happen if he died, how heartbroken you'd be, you're so lost in the thought, already grieving the boy who is perfectly fine, tucked up in bed next to you, that you don't realise you've started to cry, that you've started sniffling and sobbing and that your shaking has woken him up.

🍀 "Little dove what's the matter sweet pea?" he asks, his arms tightening around you as you try to pull away from him and wipe your eyes dry. He'd hold onto you tightly, kissing your cheek, propping himself up on his elbow so that you'd sink closer into his side, lying on your back looking up at him. He'd look down at you with concern in his eyes, his serious expression tugging his brows together.

🍀 He'd catch one of your tears with his thumb and stroke it away, and when you tried to shy away from him, when you tried to roll into him and hide your face against his chest he'd catch you before you could, his hand on your shoulder holding you back, pushing you gently back down into the mattress.

🍀 "Asked you a question little dove," he'd say with a cheeky smile, "cmon sweetheart tell me what's wrong eh, you look sad..." He strokes your shoulder with his hand and then when you sniffle and a bigger sob escapes you he give in, bundles you up in his arms and lets you bury your face in his chest so that you can have a big cry.

🍀 Strokes your hair and hushes you whilst you cry, kisses your head and lets it linger. He's got his serious face on because it's always a serious thing when his little dove is crying.

🍀 Sings you a little folk song thats always made you smile, his voice soft and low, you can hear the little smile in his voice as he sings and it soothes you, paints a little smile on your face too despite your tears and eventually you've calmed enough to tell him what's wrong.

🍀 You're not embarrassed to tell Bonnie about your bad dream, you don't feel the need to put on a brave face in front of him because he's always been so soft with you, always been your fierce protector, always had a way of making you feel small and safe, and not embarrassed to need him...

🍀 And as you talk to him and get sad all over again he listens quietly and scatters you in gentle brushing kisses, stroking your hair and using the corner of the covers to wipe your tears away.

🍀 He'd rest your head on his chest and slowly sink back down so that he's lying on his back head propped up on the pillows and you're leaning against him, him cradling your head to his chest with both hands.

🍀 "S'alright now little dove, m'here an m'gonna look after you yeah, always be here for you, always be safe cause I'll always be here t'protect you won't I?" he'll make you answer that question, he'll tilt your chin up with his fingers so that your gaze meets his when you say "uhuh."

🍀 If you're still too scared to sleep, he'll be very sleepy and his sleepiness will go some way to relaxing you, even if you're scared you'll have that heaviness in your eyes and his yawns will be contagious.

🍀 He'll sit up with you resting against his chest, he'll pull the covers right up and get you snug, and then he'll start whispering that little lullaby folk song to you again to sooth you, his voice sweet and low, a little husky where he's half asleep. And he'll keep singing to you until you're both drifting off together, he'll try to stay awake for as long as you, and he'll make you promise him you'll wake him up if you need him again.

🍀 "I mean it little dove, tell me what're you gonna do if you wake up scared again?" ".... I'll wake you up Bon..." "Promise?" "Promise." He'd kiss you on the forehead, "good girl," and then probably kiss you again, holding you close and snug and safe.

Isaiah

🐀 Does not take your nightmare seriously enough because he's stupid, a dumb man who thinks it's funny to tease his poor girl even when she's scared.

🐀 You wake up terrified, the dream you'd been having had been awful, it was a sleep paralysis one where you couldn't move and you were certain you were going to die... your hearts racing when you wake up and as you shoot bolt up right in bed your hands clasp over your mouth to stifle your scream.

🐀 Which wakes Isaiah up, and he's grumpy about that because he's a man who likes his sleep.

🐀 "What the fuck y/n what're y'doin its the middle of the bloody night..." he'd be mumbling and grumbling, one arm reaching out to try and coax you back down into bed.

🐀 But when you try to speak and a gasp comes out instead he sits up to get qa better look at you. You try to be brave, shaking your head, letting out a little breath, closing your eyes and saying "just a dream, just a bad dream everything's fine,"

🐀 And Isaiah hears you and snorts, can't hold back his stupid little laugh because he can't believe the boldest woman he knows is trying to calm herself down after a bad dream. He can't believe theres a dream you could have had that would scare you enough you'd need calming down.

🐀 "What's this love? Bad dream... surely you ain't scared by a bad dream?" he doesn't really mean it, he's smiling when he says it, grinning until you turn to him with tears in your eyes and he realises that actually you really are upset.

🐀 "Shit love you really are ain't ye... fuckin hell what happened? Did I break up with you or something?" You glare at him, your eyes watery with thick gloopy tears, you want to smack him, want to tell him you'll be the one breaking up with him in a minute if he's not careful, but you're too upset and your mind is still on that terrible dream so instead of hitting him or snapping back with a sharp joke of your own you just burst into tears instead.

🐀 "Shut up Isaiah you stupid prick!" you sob trying to be angry at him but instead being too upset. All you want is a hug and your stupid boyfriends sitting there chuckling at you... thinks this is funny!

🐀 But when you start really crying he stops laughing, or at least tries to because it isn't funny anymore... he just can't help himself, this time his chuckling and his stupid little joke is because he's nervous and trying to back track

🐀 "ah am sorry mousy come here eh love, come here have a cuddle eh you're alright am here..." and though you don't really want a cuddle off him now because he's laughed at you and humiliated you, you let him sit up and wrap his arms around you anyway. He cuddles you into his body and shifts you so that you're sitting in his lap.

🐀 He'd drape the covers around you both and rock you gently, "am sorry love, didn't mean to make you cry eh, didn't realise you were so upset yeah, not like you is it being bothered over a little dream.." "Wasn't just some dream Saiah it was fuckin horrid!" you sob, upsetting yourself more and getting annoyed with yourself for showing him this vulnerable side he doesn't usually get to see.

🐀 "Shhh, I know love, must have been fuckin horrid to scare you eh, usually the other way round..." he's teasing you again now because thats a lie, you're a brave girl, usually pretty fearless, but you certainly don't strike fear into other people. No ones scared of Isaiah's Mousy lass.

🐀 "Don't be stupid Saiah" you mumble nuzzling into him, letting him kiss you and dry your tears, his teasing settling you a little. "Nah it's true love, you don't need to be scared of anything cause you're the scariest lass in small heath, no ones ever gonna pick a fight with you..." he's trying to build your confidence up so that you'll believe in yourself a bit more, so that you'll start believing him and won't be scared anymore.

🐀 Does ask you what the dream was about but he's not sure he wants to know because if it was scary enough to scare you he worries it will scare him too and he won't be able to comfort you...

🐀 But when he asks you get all defensive and smirk at him, trying to joke despite your tears, "You broke up with me..." and though he laughs he still wants to know, "Aye well we know that ain't gonna happen any time soon eh mousy," he'd tease kissing your nose and then tricking you, flipping you over so he's hovering above you and he's got you pinned to the mattress in a tangle of covers, he's threatening to tickle you and you can't help but giggle and try to squirm away... "Gonna tell me what really scared you now eh love?"

🐀 So after a little more of this apparent play fight you finally tell him all about the dream and this time he doesn't laugh at you or tease you and instead he gets very serious. He lets himself fall back down into bed beside you and kisses the centre of your collar bones, resting his head on your chest so he can listen to your heart beating.

🐀 "Sounds fucked up love," he says looking up at you and pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, steering your gaze down to him, "but you don't need to be scared now right, cause your mans a peaky fuckin blinder eh, no ones gonna mess with us..." Then he'll tell you he won't ever let anything bad happen to you.

🐀 Kind of like Bonnie, Isaiah is a sleepy boy and he'd be struggling to stay awake for you, but he'll do his best. He'd probably spoon you, kissing your shoulders and stroking your hair out of your face, his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you nice and tight against him so that you know you're snug and secure.

🐀 Will either start aggressively flirting with you to distract you or make you laugh, or he'll keep making stupid little jokes to try and ease your mind, the jokes getting sillier and sillier the more tired he gets. He won't let you fall asleep sad though.

🐀 Probably use it as an excuse to get you to have a lie in with him the next morning, he'll be grafting for sleepy morning sex, any excuse to squeeze you a little closer to him.

🐀 Might tease you about your nightmare a few days later only to flinch away from the death glare you fix him with.

Michael

☘️ Michael has a lot of bad dreams, haunting memories from his childhood which he refuses to talk about though you recognise that fearful blank look in his eyes when he wakes in the middle of the night and has to light a cigarette to calm down.

☘️ So he's very sympathetic to your nightmares and he doesn't like the fact that he can't control your dreams, can't get into your head and stop you from ever having a nightmare ever again.

☘️ So when you have you nightmares and wake up crying and shaking, breathless with fear he wakes up like clockwork, working on autopilot. His lethargic sigh leaving him as he pushes himself up, eyes not even open yet when he reaches to bundle you up in his arms.

☘️ He'd have you bundled in his lap, his chin resting on top of your head so that you feel secure with his arm around you, all held snug in place. He'd reach for the cigarettes he keeps by his bed, taking a box of matches, still half asleep as he mumbles a little comfort to you.

☘️ "Alright love, you're alright now, I've got you, s'all alright now love..."

☘️ Because the two of you have this routine down and you know the motions by heart, you'd begun to calm the second you felt his arms around you, the second you heard that long sleepy sigh leave his lips. You know you're safe because he's there.

☘️ "Have a cigarette love, you'll feel better in a minute eh?" he says placing the cigarette between your lips, drying your tears with his sleeve as he does. He'd place one between his lips too and light yours then his. The two of you cuddled up together having your cigarettes and gazing at your quiet cosy bedroom.

☘️ "The same dream?" he'll ask and when you nod your head he feel a pang of sympathy for you because you've described it to him before and he knows if it was him he'd hate to be trapped in such an awful nightmare. "Wanna talk about it?" his questions are so calm and so simple, going through the motions of your shared routine, it's so familiar, so secure and you feel so much calmer knowing he's there with you.

☘️ Because you both have your bad dreams and you both struggle to sleep you have this thing where you keep your bedroom as safe and snug as you can. It isn't very big and theres nothing that could cast an unpleasant shadow in the night. You sleep with the window open just a little, on a high up enough floor that nothing, no one could ever get in. It's your little sanctuary and you both know you're safe there.

☘️ And thats what Michael will tell you whilst you smoke your cigarette. "See this bedroom love, this bedrooms our sanctuary right, so you know yeah, that you and me are safe and sound in here, s'just me and you and absolutely no one or nothin is ever gonna hurt you in here, it's just me and you love," he's tired but he holds back his yawn and kisses your temple, blows smoke out above your head.

☘️ With the warm glow of the lamp, the soft smouldering smell of cigarette smoke clouding around you, the sound of Michaels breathing beside yours, the feeling of his chin resting in your hair, his arm hold you close to his chest, you feel so safe and secure. You know he really means it when he says you're safe in that room, really believes it.

☘️ And if Michael really believes it then you believe it too. You'd close your eyes and nestle into his side, take a deep breath in and then a long sleepy sigh as he pulls the covers up over you, takes your cigarette end and stubs it out in the ash tray. Puts his out too and then slips down against the headboard, still holding you. Cradling your head against his chest.

☘️ "See," he'd yawn then, "safe and sound eh, just me an you, safe and sound..." he'd close his eyes and kiss your forehead, rest his cheek on top of your head and slowly the two of you would drift back off to sleep together sweet as you like.

Taglist (add yourself here)

@call-sign-shark @zablife@jomarch-wannabe @inalovesrabbits-blog @liliac-dreamer @elina-777 @impossibleheartflower @mollybegger-blog @itsghostgirlyo @babayaga67 @marwwfairy @toddlerbodybag

[writefightandflightclub]

“Yes man” (Cecil Dennis {fuck me, how did I get here} x fem!reader)

Summary: Blurby McBlurbFace. Mainly chat, slight fluff, smut, pining / friends to lovers vibes.

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Warnings: alcohol consumption; drug use mentions (weed); smoking; dumbification of Cecil, I guess. Mommy kink if you squint. Public erections / handjob sorta, premature ejaculation / cum in pants. Mentions of dead fish but no fish were harmed. Actually, a surprising number of animal metaphors. Oops. Rimming I’m sorry that one snuck in very last minute Omg.

A/n: having a shitty mental health day (boo) and this Cecil blurb (whilst not my best) is my self-care ☺️ I don’t remember his character well aside from wet bloody cat boy, but I’m damn sure not rewatching that again so this will have to do 😅. Feedback appreciated! 🧡 (Is the rimming too much? 🙈) Not proofed and I’m almost positive autocorrect will have screwed me over.

Also totally inspired by @my-secret-shame’s meme and @foxilayde’s amazing blurb. I will not pretend to have had an original idea! 🧡

“Come onnnn, Cecil,” you whine, poking him in his soft belly with your index finger. He giggles lightly, almost like a hiccough. “It’s always me coming up with the ideas. What do you wanna do next?”

He turns his head as though in slow motion. Moves as if he’s underwater, this one - at least when he’s got food and several beers in him (which is most of the time). He looks up. Blinks at you; dumbly. “What do you mean?”

Eh. You’d really thought your statement had been quite clear.

You resist the urge to pinch his cheek and tell him It’s a good job you’re pretty.

“I mean, that I suggest things, and you go along with them.”

He blinks again. It’s like everything is just a little slower in Cecil’s world. Takes a little longer to filter through. It’s refreshing, in a way. He’s in no rush, and it encourages you to slow down too. To smell the roses.

Cecil is beyond easy-going, come to think of it. Goes with the flow like a dead fish. You’re pretty sure, in fact, that he’d go along with just about anything. With just about anybody’s hare-brained schemes, without once thinking through a single one of the potential consequences.

Scratch that - he probably already has done just that; which would explain a lot of the trouble he’s routinely gotten himself into since you’ve known him.

Though, you suppose, in a way that’s refreshing too. You always did worry too much.

Besides, he always seems to muddle through, somehow. Though quite how has you stumped. It’s hardly due to his charm or his smarts, now, is it? Even so, despite whatever attributes he is lacking in, you can’t deny that he must be doing something right. Trouble simply seems to slide right off the man’s back. Like water off a… well. A dead fish, you guess. What a versatile metaphor.

He blinks at you again. Maybe those big pretty cow eyes help, just a teency bit, to get him out of trouble, you would wager.

Look at him though. You’ve never seen anyone more relaxed. Practically horizontal as he’s hunkered down in the booth, seated next to you in the corner of your usual dive bar. Maybe there’s something to be said for all the pot and seedy hotel room fucks he indulges in. You bet his shoulders are inordinately loose. Maybe he really does have it all figured out, despite appearances.

As you ponder this, Cecil -eventually- makes a non-committal noise, before his bloodshot, glassy eyes flick back to the TV hung up on the wall. He is barely even watching it. Just letting it happen to him, like he does with most everything else.

That’s probably why you’ve never fucked him, you realise, like a bolt out of the blue. He’s pretty, sure. But you wouldn’t.

You don’t mind control - that’s not it. You don’t mind taking charge. But with Cecil? You think he’d take it lying down - a little too literally. If you’d ever suggested you and he fool around, you’d never know for sure. Never know if it really was his idea - a thought or desire he’d ever had before - or if he was simply far too agreeable and opportunistic to decline. So agreeable, that he’d let you ease your vagina up and down on his cock until you came on him. You were intrigued by the thought, sure. But you refused to go there simply because Cecil couldn’t come up with anything better to do.

You look at him, and immediately bat that thought - the vagina all over cock one - away though, as you regard his complete lack of gumption. It’s tangible. Look at him now, for example. He’d seemed to like the way the air from his non-committal noise had filtered over the neck of his bottle, tucked under his folded chin. Indeed, he is now pursing his full, curvy lips, and blowing over the mouth of it until a soft series of “hoots” fill your booth.

You fold your arms and sigh.

You reckon that will amuse him for the next ten minutes at least, so clearly, once again, Cecil’s not the one coming up with a plan for the remainder of this evening.

It’s not that you ever really have to do anything with Cecil to have a good time. It’s just that, tonight, you’re antsy, and it’s making your thoughts wander in directions. Down below his zipper directions, so help you.

“Beer’s empty,” Cecil states flatly, finally noticing after sucking on the bottle for a mo, poking his wet pink tongue around the rim like the little wet cat boy he is. Cute though. Does things to you.

Anyway. You register his statement, but you observe that no action follows. He doesn’t look at all like he plans to do a damn thing about it.

You decide to test your theory, then. Your theory that Cecil’s simply a dead fish swept along in your river. That maybe he doesn’t even want to be here at all. Never did. That you are just another something that happened to happen to him.

“Do you wanna go get Mexican?” you offer, with ulterior motives Cecil is not shrewd enough to pick up on.

His eyes tick back from the captivating, shifting lights of the TV. “Sure,” he smiles softly at you, perfectly content, it seems - and yet, you are less than satisfied.

“See!” You smack the palms of your hands together in triumph, and he jumps. Pushes himself up a little straighter in the seat, his palms disappearing into the worn, lumpy upholstery. “See what I mean?”

He blinks at you blankly. Again.

Clearly not, then?

“You just go along with anything I say. We ate two hours ago, Cecil,” you complain, recalling the all you can eat Chinese buffet you and he had gorged on with two coupons you’d cut out of the newspaper. You drop your hands to your lap, dejectedly. You’re getting agitated with him, which surprises you, in truth. And still… there Cecil is. Unflappable. Calm. Constant. There are pros to his cons, for sure. “I just… I never know if you actually like what we’re doing, you know?”

“But. You always suggest things I like. So why would I say no?” He shrugs a little. “Tacos are good. I like tacos. I like…” he hoots into his bottle again as he says the word. “You-ooooooh.”

You hate to admit it, but his answer has you stumped for a moment. Cecil’s statements may generally be simple. Uncomplicated. But they can be oddly profound at times.

Christ. Maybe… Does the man actually have a valid point? Or, perhaps you’re looking too hard for meaning in his words - it’s possible. You feel like you’ve spent a lot of time lately looking hard at Cecil, perhaps to justify your bizarre and inexplicable feelings.

Possibly you’re even projecting. His seeming lack of independent willpower would certainly make that easy enough to do.

Maybe the man has a point though. Maybe he’s not as “easy-going” as you think he is. Maybe you’re just coincidentally so attuned to his desires that he’s never had cause to deny you. Maybe you are aligned with his desires. One and the same. “What if I asked you to do something you didn’t like, then?”

You slurp up the dregs of melted ice through your straw and Cecil blinks again as though it’s taking all of his processing power. Damn, though. You’re surprised that the fanning of those endlessly long cow lashes didn’t cause the curtains behind you to billow in the breeze they threw up. “Like what?”

You shake your head. Touch his arm to placate him. “Never mind, Cecil.” Christ. If he can’t even think of a single Thing He Wouldn’t Like, maybe you can safely stick to your dead fish hypothesis. It’s all the same to him. Just happening to him. He’s not choosing you.

That particular thought, when it arrives, niggles you more than expected, but you quash the growing agitation which rides in alongside it.

Meanwhile, Cecil looks around, quite visibly thinking. “I wouldn’t get up outta this seat,” he states adamantly, his voice croaked from all the blunts he’s worked through today. “I wouldn’t like that.”

You believe him. He’s practically sliding down to become a puddle on the floor. Dissolving into the bar furniture; becoming one with the upholstery.

Your lips curl up into a tender smile, remembering one particularly ridiculous night at Cecil’s. The night involving a 3am bong sesh, culminating in him genuinely believing he had merged with the couch, becoming a half-human half-upholstery monstrosity. He had waved the two huge, puffy couch cushions around as though they were his arms, and he’d grabbed you up in the middle of them like a grilled cheese, sandwiching you and taking you down to the floor where the two of you had rolled and laughed until you’d cried.

When the laughter had subsided to only the odd titter here and there, and you had lain on his disgusting rug almost nose to nose? That’s the first time you’d wanted to kiss him, and it turned out not to have been the last.

Fuck. You are rather fond of this idiot, aren’t you? How the fuck did that happen?

Engaged fully now though - slightly more lucid than your fond memory- Cecil sits up. Still slouched but this time over the table, his forearms bracing him against the surface. As he moves, you get a waft of his layered, stale cigarette smell. It’s… confusing, in its appeal. Should be off-putting, but you find, in fact, that it’s a comfort.

“No? You don’t wanna?”

With a rush of affection you link your arm through Cecil’s, and he slumps his head on to your shoulder as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You weren’t ready for the way his knotted curls brush your cheek, and it inspires a similarly dense and tangled knot to form in your middle.

“No.” It’s the most sure you’ve ever heard him sound. “I don’t wanna get up.”

“A minute ago we were going for Mexican food, Cecil.” There’s a beat. “That kinda involves movement, you realise?

He swivels his head towards you then, gaze all doe-eyed and pathetic, and the proximity of him parroting on your shoulder knocks you for six. “You mad at me or something, Hottie from Walmart?”

You snort. He doesn’t always pull out that nickname for you - how you’d been known to him before you had been known to him - but it always makes you sentimental when he does.

He shifts from you then, tilting his body towards you. Scrutinising you with apprehension in his sweet face.

Fuck him actually, and fuck his pouty beautiful kissable lips most of all.

You sigh, and you deliberately soften your face. He’s easy-going, sure, but he’s sensitive. Trouble slides off of his back, but other things… other things don’t slip off quite so well, and he often gets like this. Like he’s done something wrong, when he hasn’t.

You actively resist the urge to coddle him. To tenderly rake his somewhat grimy but beautiful curls off of his forehead.

You hardly want to examine the fact he brings out your… motherly instincts; but it doesn’t escape your attention that he always seems like he’s craving just a little nurturing. You want to take your thumb and smooth out the creases in his troubled brow.

“No, Cecil. I’m not mad at you. I’d tell you if I was and we’d talk about it.”

He nods.

You’re not mad at him. Really. And so, you take pause to wonder why this happy-go-lucky trait of his is particularly irking you today. “It’s mostly a good thing, I promise.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.”

He looks pleased for a minute and then: “Wait. What’s a good thing?”

You want to kiss his stupid mouth until he can’t think. Which you don’t think would take long at all, actually.

“That…” You think about how to phrase it, and it quickly occurs to you. “That. You’re my ‘yes man’.” He is expressionless for a moment, and you wait for comprehension to slowly crawl over him. “I mean, Cecil,” you take his clammy hand in yours. “That it’s always fun with you. I mean that you never shoot down my ideas. Even when you probably should.”

His face splits with a brief - goofy, but wholly endearing - smile. “You have fun with me?”

His big cow eyes go all soft and wet.

Oh boy. This idiot. If you didn’t have fun with him, even just sitting on his grotty couch, what other reason could you possibly have to hang out with him, huh?

You open your mouth to say as much before thinking better of it, but for once Cecil beats you to it.

“I have fun with you too, Hottie.”

It’s another one of those moments of levity that you’ve experienced surprisingly often with Cecil. One of those moments where everything feels a just little more profound. A little more magical. Sometimes, Cecil gets you in the gut just a little harder than expected.

Great. And now you’re thinking of Cecil all up in your guts.

“I should think so - I’m awesome. But, right now? All I’m saying is…” You tap your noggin. “Tank empty. No ideas. It’s your turn to decide what we do tonight? Okay?”

You search his eyes. His big, beautiful, sincere and secretless eyes. You silently ask the true question you want to ask him. I want to know what you want.

You’re not yet ready to admit the questions buried right beneath that one: do you want me back? Could you? Would you, Cecil?

“Yeah?” Cecil responds, unsure, and you immediately worry that you have, in fact, given him too much responsibility. His expression compresses in a frown of deep, deep concentration. Like he’s really wrestling with this.

You watch with bated breath, dying to see what he comes up with - if anything at all.

And then - aha - he finally has it.

“I could jerk off.”

“Wha-?” You playfully bat him in the arm, aghast. “Cecil!!”

“What?” A surprised, contrite laugh bobs in his throat.

“I mean.” You swallow. “How is that an idea for both of us?”

Oh that’s your problem with his idea?

That it’s not participatory enough?

“You could help.”

Your jaw drops open. “Cecil! I’m not gonna-” you switch to a loud whisper “-jerk you off!”

He blinks again, his eyes glinting with a gentle - ever so gentle - flicker of amusement. “You’re not a yes man,” he complains softly, his curly lips sneaking up into a curly smile. “Always shooting down my ideas.”

He bats his lashes at you and oh boy - even Cecil must be starting to figure out that you’re a sucker for those big, pretty brown eyes. Your one true weakness.

“That’s really what you want?” you ask, trying to keep things light. To keep your tone jokey and jovial, like always, despite the rising tremor in your voice. “It would involve getting up, you realise?”

He winks at you - a gesture which seems entirely unlike him and yet somehow works - and smirks down at his crotch. “Already am.”

“If you’re really so uncontrollably horny, why don’t you get someone else around here to help you, huh?” Your heart skips a beat. “Why me?”

He’s looking at you like he wants you but… he’s an opportunistic guy. Goes with the flow. That’s how things come to him; he’ll take his cigarettes and beers and fucks wherever and whenever he can get them.

He unceremoniously pulls out a rolled blunt and lights it up, the filter end pressed between his plush pink lips.

“No.” It bobs as he talks and he takes little, peppered drags to get the burn going.

“No?”

You blink at him dumbly now.

“No. I only want you.”

Correction. That’s the most sure of anything you’ve ever heard him.

He slips forward, exhaling his smoke into your mouth as his lips caress yours. “Come on,” he encourages. “Get going. Before my penis turns into a couch cushion.”

He kisses your laugh, and as his tongue slides hungrily against yours suddenly it isn’t quite so funny. Suddenly, you feel like maybe Cecil has the best ideas.

“Right here?” You reach down, and you smooth your palm over the clothed bulge at his crotch. “In the booth?”

“I’m already barred. Heh. What are they gonna do?”

You smile at him, licking your lips as Cecil bucks up into your hand, his head lolling back against the lip of his seat, and his pretty eyes fluttering closed.

He groans, as your fingers snake to tease open the button at his fly.

“Oops,” Cecil whispers contritely, almost immediately, his cheeks and his ears darkening with a deep crimson flush as he looks over to you. “I just… I…”

Oh God. He just came in his pants, didn’t he? Oh Lord that makes you inexplicably hot.

His big, pretty eyes are wet with apology. “Are you mad?”

“No, Cecil.” Poor baby. “I just think I should take you home and get you cleaned up, hmm?” You next words all run into one, as you struggle to get your new genius plan out of your mouth. “Mayberimyoualittlewhatdoyousay?”

Did you actually just suggest that you take him home to rim him? Good Lord.

He blinks rapidly, the colour in his cheeks flowering more, like a beautiful rose unfurling. “Y-Yes. I say yes.”

It’s a hare-brained plan, for sure, but you decide that for once,

you might as well just…

go with the flow.

It certainly works for Cecil.

[hell-drabbles]

Leviathan and Ra-on 1

Summary: You’ve tasked yourself with teaching Ra-on how to do the type of play Leviathan likes, since that devil’s teaching methods are horrendous. That and Ra-on was clearly interested in it.

(This is probably not canon but eh, I don't really know. Had this scene in my mind and I figured this would be fun. Lot of things happened back to back on my end. Things are… eh, they’re not getting worse so there’s that. Anyways, enjoy.)

“Alright, so in general choking practice, you actually don’t want to constrict the windpipe,” one of your knees was digging into the shoulder of a bound and gagged Leviathan, pinning him flat on his back on the ground, “typically, you just wrap your hands around them neck, but you press against the arteries and put very light pressure with your palm around the trachea.”

You shoved your hand around his neck and press him further into the pillow you placed. Leviathan’s bit further into his gag, his face slowly turning red, but had just enough breathe to growl at you. Clearly you are not the one he wanted to touch him, and yet he still didn’t press the clicker you gave him. His hands are free. There’s nothing stopping him from signaling he wanted this to stop.

Perhaps it’s his pride talking, but negotiations have been made. You cannot be faulted for whatever limits you push if he doesn’t signal that you’re at that point.

“Here, take a closer look,” you waved Ra-on closer, pointing to your hand.

At the start of all this, Ra-on had shoved himself to the nearest wall, trying to disappear into it like he was afraid he’ll irritate you, or he was intruding on something private. Though, that did the opposite because you’re only doing this to teach Ra-on something things you’ve learned over the years.

He’s closer now, but in that wavering sort of way like he was ready to dash out of this room as soon as something changed in your mood.

You sighed. “Ra-on, get over here. You need to see the way I position my hand.”

“O-oh!” Ra-on tugged at his shirt, trying to pull it over his crotch, “Right! Sorry!”

He awkwardly knelt right next to you and you made sure to push all irritation as far down as you could. You can’t fault him for popping a boner in a situation like this. After all, you’re pretty sure Leviathan is also in the same state, and you’d be pretty biased to be angry at Ra-on and not at Leviathan.

Just ignore it and continue teaching… and also take enjoyment in the fact you can reduce Leviathan like this. He looks extremely irritated to be under you and you can’t help but find this entertaining, especially when you found out a while back that he was trying to mold Ra-on into his preferred partner.

This arrogant, emotionally constipated piece of shit really thinks that the best way to teach BDSM is by making Ra-on angry and waiting for the results, by goading him and taking in all the rage that he releases. And he has the gall to be disappointed when Ra-on doesn’t somehow read his mind and do the things he wants.

Idiot. Waste of space. Does being praised as beautiful really rot the brain to this state? To make one think he’s entitled to changing every aspect of a person to fit his needs and assume that’s what his partner wants most? That he knows what’s best?

None of these devils know how humans work.

“You don’t have to do this–” Ra-on noticed the stormy look on your face.

He’s right, you don’t have to do this. You can just let go and guide Ra-on’s hand while you stay away. But, you know Ra-on, and he’s not a hands-on learner. And in this situation, where Leviathan’s was bare to the world save for the ropes and gag, covered in sweat and clearly wanting more, you knew Ra-on would be unable to hear you.

All the devils here seek to entice and pull Ra-on into their world. And, one day, you fear he’ll be out of your reach if you let them take advantage of his poor self-control.

“You think I trust the devils to teach you safe sex?” They’re all dumb as shit and too indulgent in their own desires. They’re not teachers, and they’re certainly not interested in learning the limits of human beings, because Ra-on is the descendant of Solomon, so clearly he’ll like what that old ancestor liked. If his body reacts, then surely it must mean he likes it!

You heard an irritated huff and you wished Ra-on kept that to himself. You accidentally tightened your grip.

“They’re not that bad–”

There was a broken, choked out moan. The body under your knee began to thrash and jut, Leviathan’s face turning to hide into his shoulder as tears marred his face, teeth nearly ripping through the gag.

And, because you were dressed lightly, you felt your whole calf become soaked.

…you let go as soon as he was done, when your mind caught up with the sight.

Ra-on, right next to you, had his hand over his mouth, eyes racking over your leg as his own breath shivered out of him.

Leviathan breathed heavily, unable to look at anyone. He simply stared at the wall.

“…sorry.” You got up and off him.

Right, right, you forgot that these devils have a very high libido, and this Leviathan, out of his disappointment that Ra-on “kept holding back,” refused to sleep with him for… a good three weeks. Of course he’d be half a hair away from his release.

Though, you have to admit, it's kind of impressive that tying him up and choking him was enough to get his rocks off. Huh.

…alright, let's see.

You collected yourself with a nice, deep breath. Again, this is a natural reaction. You were expecting this, just not this soon.

“You both good to continue or…?”

Ra-on was snapped out of his trance with two little clicks. Leviathan was back to glaring at you, but there was a glimmer of determination in them.

Ra-on looked in your direction but didn’t quite meet your eyes. Your soaked leg had all his attention.

You snapped your fingers, “Ra-on, can you get me the towel over there?”

“Huh?” Only then did he finally meet your gaze, “Oh, right!”

“Alright, next up on the agenda is… pain play, right?”

[charles-leclerc-official]

Here we go, an evil and truly terribly self-indulgent bit of Max RSD based on an earlier prompt about Max’s reaction to the period simulator. Apologies for errors or roughness of prose I wrote this very quickly XD

- Zoomimal

~

It wasn’t even Seb who had operated the machine for him, it was Checo. Seb was busy comforting Charles and so was Lewis and really this may as well just have been a Red Bull challenge. Maybe Max shouldn’t have bothered showing up in the first place. Media work was always stupid anyways.

He’d grimaced and chair-gripped his way through the last few settings, doing his best to disguise his pain, and in the end he’d made it all the way through 10. When it was switched off he managed a shakey ‘wow, that was fucked mate! I should ask Victoria if it’s this bad for her’ Checo nodded and smiled back at him, while helping Max get unhooked, ‘yeah, it’s really something eh?’ Then with a parting clasp on the shoulder Checo wandered off and Max looked around to see if anyone else had seen him beat the machine (and would tell him good job) and… there was no one. Everyone else was either occupied comforting Charles, recovering from their own ordeal, or gathered with their friends working up the nerve to take their turn.

Right. Of course. Silly of him to… well.

Max hoisted himself from the chair and found an unoccupied corner to curl up in, still hurting. He’d just recover for a bit then leave. It was fine. It was fine that no one was there to fawn over him and tell him he’d done a good job. Stupid. Getting through pain was a given, not something to be praised for. He knew this. He’d learned this lesson long ago. He should know better than to get upset by stupid things like wanting praise and comfort for getting through a little pain.

And really, he couldn’t even blame everyone for focusing on Charles. It’s *Charles*. Beautiful and charming and mesmerizing. The light of any room. Of *course* people flocked to him. Max would have gone to comfort him too except, well, it was Max’s turn with the machine and Charles was already being comforted by people who were much better at that sort of thing than Max so really it was better if he didn’t intrude. Charles needed the people he loved and trusted right now not… whatever Max was. He could shoot Charles a jokey text about the whole experience later when they were feeling better.

Max glanced around the room again. Still no one was paying him any mind. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, shivering a little. Idiot. Of course no one was paying attention to him. The only time got praise or positive attention was when he produced good results with the car. He *knew* this. He really should stop forgetting that fact.

He should get going now.

Max looked over to where Charles was, with Seb, Lewis, and Pierre all huddled around him. Good. Charles was getting the attention and comfort he needed so that was good. Max could check in on him later. Maybe tomorrow after Max pulled himself out of this odd headspace. For now, it was time to go.

Mal I was giggling and kicking my feet through most of this! Like this has no business being this good XD

Okay but we do need to get Max a hug now. Maybe Charles asks where Max is and then someone says "he left already" and Charles is not pleased about that

this post for SOME context

[nomstellations]

A Feast fit for a Glutton

hi! here's that self indulgent ass vore fic i wrote in a moment of strong thirst. 1.5k words, contains male pred/female prey, quarter size vore, pokevore, stuffing, some suggestive bits (mostly just moaning) and mentions of digestion (it happens to the food rather than the prey). the characters here are both my ocs and are in a relationship (sorta), and of course the pokemon depicted are gijinkas!

The table was set. 

Delicious food ranging from tender steaks, to lamb chops, to crab legs and other seafood with a wide array of sides and snacks covered the table completely. This was…probably not even enough to satisfy him completely, but it was the best she could do with what was available. She had a feeling he'd be having a little extra dessert afterwards, but…this was a reward for a battle well-fought. He did the best, and her team was always made to feel special for doing so.

Celeste didn't have to wait long- the smell of food always attracted the Reuniclus, who floated right into the dining room with a lazy, hungry smile on his face. "Woah-ho-ho~! A whole feast for me, Lessie? I think I just died n' went to heaven, heh heh~"  Celeste just smiled, watching as her childhood friend eyed the bountiful feast before him. "You know the way it works, Ribo! You perform well, you eat well! Whatever you want, you can have." A sly smile spreads upon his face. "Whatever I want, eh…? Oh, I've got myself a greeeaaat idea, heheh…" 

In a literal flash, Celeste found herself standing near the table's leg. He's gotten a lot snappier about using Minimize- and his telekinesis gently lifted his small trainer up to his smug face. "As much as I'd love to claim my prize now…I can't let this food go to waste! You can have the best seat in the house while I feast, how's about that lil' Lessie?" She sighs, rolling her eyes. She figured he'd want to devour her too, but this was his victory meal… "Alright Ribo, whatever. You're letting all the things I made get cold!"

Making a satisfied hum, the Reuniclus cradles his trainer in his squishy jellylike hands as he settles himself into a chair situated in front of all the food, letting her rest in his lap right in front of his stomach. It was audible how hungry he was, it growled and whined pathetically as if he hadn't eaten all day. That was quick to change- Ribo wasted no time in digging into his feast, and the quiet of the room was overtaken by the sounds of his gorging. Being where she is it was easy to hear- the smacking of his lips, every gulp and swallow he took, and the gurgling of his stomach as it started to fill with food. He really knew how to pack it away…

Celeste's mind wandered as he ate. She was going to be part of that at some point- she had no idea how he could fit that much food into him and still have room for a person, but Ribo had always been a big eater for as long as she’s known him. He somehow managed to stay rail-thin despite his constant gorging…maybe psychic types had particularly strong digestive systems to keep up with their energy demands. She wasn’t particularly worried about being eaten either, despite the risks that came with being eaten alive. He’s done it before and while it got her clothes dirty, she was ultimately unharmed. He claimed he could only feel full once he had swallowed her, but she had the feeling he had just developed a taste for his trainer at some point…

Speaking of that…a rumble rippled its way across her back. His stomach was full enough to press against her already? She hadn’t zoned out for long, but when Celeste turned she was greeted with his rounded gut starting to peek out from beneath his shirt. The sounds of digestion were audible, his stomach busily burbled and gurgled as it worked at his meal. Ribo leaned back as he started to chug a bottle of soda, and Celeste could just barely hear it fizzing as it collected inside his stomach. He belched as the bottle was emptied, and his stomach bubbled with carbonation. She opted to work her little hands into his stomach, kneading out a few extra belches and satisfied hums and moans from her pokemon. She won’t have to worry about too many belches squeezing her now…she turned around and let herself rest against his belly again, with the sounds of digestion overtaking her thoughts. But now that she thinks about it, he's been awful quiet after that…

Ribo's hand came suddenly, scooping her up in one smooth movement and holding her up in front of his face. He slowly licked his lips, smiling as he cast his hungry gaze on her. “Heeeey~ Guess who's got room for dessert? And guess who's lookin’ like dessert…”Celeste took this opportunity to look back at the table, seeing that he somehow managed to pack away most of that feast she made. “Ribo, I just don't know how your stomach does it. That was enough food for four people!” Her companion beamed proudly, with his stomach echoing the sentiment with a loud grumble. “That's a trade secret, eheheh! Say, why don't you ask it in person? But…mm…you could be bigger…”

He set her down again, right on top of his belly as his eyes glowed. Her size shifted once more, only growing large enough to just barely wrap her arms around his stuffed gut. “Mm~ Much better, wouldn't ya say Lessie? Dessert's got to be the cherry on top after all!” Both of his hands came to lift her up, positioning her above his head with her looking down at him. “Come on, Ribo…it's not like you to draw out mealtime.”“Oh?” One of his slimy horns twitched. “You're making it sound like you want to be inside, heheh~ Your wish is my command, my lady~”

His tone was playful and teasing, Celeste couldn't help but flush at his callout. Ribo’s maw opened wide beneath her, his tongue wiggling playfully as he began to lower her inside. His tongue traveled up her legs; a pleased hum vibrated around them as his mouth closed. The tasting continued for a moment before he suddenly swallowed, pulling her lower half and most of her torso into his mouth and down his throat. She kept still for now- he mostly loved a struggle once she was entirely sealed inside. He was really taking his time, holding her there for a minute or two before opening up to swallow again. His trainer sunk deeper into him, with her head being the last thing left to swallow. Faintly, she can feel fingers press against her from outside…and with a final, deep gulp, she was pulled down his gullet. The slide down was slow- he didn't bother with actively swallowing anymore, instead opting to let peristalsis do all the work. Gently, Celeste was pulled down past his excitedly thumping heart, and she could hear his busy stomach beginning to approach.

It felt like forever, but she was finally pushed into Ribo's gut. It was mostly full of half-digested gunk, though there were definitely whole chunks of food he gulped down in here. There wasn't a lot of room to start with, and the chyme reached her chest, but she pushed and squirmed around in an effort to settle in. The contents of his stomach sloshed around with her movements, grumbling and burbling noisily as its meal got comfortable. “Oooh~ aah, mmgh…Lessie…” He moaned in stuffed bliss, hands already pressing against his stomach to knead and massage it. “You fill me so good…~”

Someone sounded happy. Good, that was the point of all this. A belch suddenly rippled out of him, causing his churning stomach to close in tight for a moment. The walls relented only slightly, pushing against her as it worked on processing all of this food. Celeste reached out, pressing her hands into the folds of his gut to help it along. “Ohh, perfect.…good girl, that's the spot…” The Reuniclus reclined there for a short while, resting his hands on his stomach and just enjoying the feeling of being full. Any outsiders could clearly tell by his large round stomach and the loud sounds of digestion that he had a large meal to sleep off, and the gentle movement and bumps from inside meant it was particularly lively…but to her surprise, she could feel movement after a while of thinking he had fallen asleep.

“Mmh, so sleepy…let's go enjoy you somewhere more private, hm?”

He stood up, his gut sloshing and rocking as he moved. Celeste's world rocked around her, but the steady rhythm of the stomach walls shifting and compressing didn't let up an inch. Ribo moved slowly though the movement stirred up a couple belches; his destination was a hammock set outside in the sun. He carefully settled inside, unbuttoning his pants to let his gut expand as he laid down. The extra room wasn't much for his dinner guest when she was sharing space with a pool of half-digested food, but her new resting position wasn't bad. 

The sunlight against his stomach helped stir up digestion even more, making his belly warm and active. On the outside he slowly rubbed and kneaded his stomach, swaying in the hammock. The heat and movement was relaxing, and she knew she'd be released eventually…slipping into a food coma with her lifelong companion wasn't a bad idea.

[silk-flower]

Chasing After Dark [James Sunderland X Reader]

synopsis: Is it so wrong to be enticed by the eyes of a man filled with sorrow? Just as emotionally unavailable at times, but oh so sickly captivating in his desperation at the same time. Whatever this is a disrespectful desire for something you just can't have or a blatant need, you're not so utterly selfish in your desire as one might assume.

status: part 2 [you are here], part 1, read on AO3

content warning: female reader, she is kind of... broken, angst [?], probably very self indulgent, death of a character (prior), grieving, trying to move on, self-deprecating thoughts, slight horror, mutual attraction, age gap, romance

author's note: I started working on this shortly after the first part because I felt compelled to give somewhat of a reader's pov and turn the story the other way around. I also like making James suffer, haha

You wake up feeling warm. The unusual sensation of snug and coziness makes you sigh with content and want to go right back to sleep, but your eyes snap open as soon as you realize where you are. In this strange abandoned town, the cause of its desolation unknown to you, giving off a strange feeling the residents vanished overnight. Silent Hill, the town of forgotten memories. Belongings and valuables left behind, weapons even; these strange chasms around the town ruining its landscape and creatures straight out of nightmares chasing after any living being. All of this gave you the eerie feeling inside your gut, your mind screaming, "Leave!" at you every time you found yourself walking through the thick, milky fog. It seemed like one could only run and hide for so long, exhaustion and the constant feeling of dread taking over you, causing you to fall dead asleep at last.

You glance at your wristwatch instinctively, the still clock handle instantly reminding you that it had stopped somewhere around 9 p.m. yesterday. Or was it today? You can't tell night from day in this fog, and your sense of time is fading as well. So you don't know what time it is right now. Does it really matter? It's not like you're expecting the nurse to come in and check on you. Your own foolish inside joke causes you to giggle uncontrollably but you still youeself just as fast. You shouldn't laugh at those ladies. If James hadn't saved you, those things may have killed you.

James, eh? You now see why you were fortunate to sleep soundly; the poor fellow must have been so worn out that he fell on top of you. You tremble a little when his tired head nestles in your sheet-covered tummy, half of his sullen face hidden, and you feel his slow breaths on your skin through the thin fabric. His lower body remains fairly aware while seated on the rolling chair, with his hands spread out on either side of your torso. You shift under his weight, trying to get more comfortable but his fingers clench the fabric and he whimpers, his clingy demeanor stilling you. You feel bad instantly. If nothing else, you ought to make yourself a cushion for him.

ー Mary...

You hum in approval softly as you watch this exhausted, suffering man call the beautiful name in his sleep. The name that haunts him no doubt. But now he had to lug about another burden, the annoying nuisance he didn't ask for when he first arrived in this town, bearing the weight of his own past. Always hiding behind him, pleading for aid, forcing him to run to your side, even if he said it was no problem. His reasons for being here were more urgent than this, bigger than you. If he had time at all, he was running out of it.

But his sweetness and compassion remained unwavering. Was it really true, or was it your imagination playing tricks on you in its slowly crumbling state? You weren't sure. However, occasionally you would find yourself savoring the delicate feel of his larger hand on your shoulder or waist as he walked by you in a confined area that wasn't absolutely necessary, but he did it anyhow, perhaps subconsciously. When you found yourselves crumpled tightly together inside some filthy closet, hiding from the creatures, his soiled palm tightly pressing itself to your mouth as you tried to still your haggard breathing. The feeling of hot fingers on your lips only made your heart beat stronger as he stared into your eyes, tension and fear of being discovered prominent in them. Making you feel even more vulnerable as you were. But perhaps the both of you needed it, fighting the growing darkness and horrors of this cursed town. Or maybe he just pitied you like you pitied him.

From the very beginning you knew you were in no position to. The look you gave him after he told you his story and the distant reaction that followed told you everything you needed to know. He didn't need your pity nor reassurance. James wanted his wife, or at least something left of her, back. Wanted his Mary back. He didn't want to leave this town despite him claiming otherwise. Even while you were conscious of your own selfish impulses, this made you want to help him even more — maybe help him find clarity, answers, or even some sort of peace.

Because what three-year widower travels alone to an abandoned ghost town to search for his late wife after receiving some letter that is probably some cruel prank? In hope of the tiniest chance of seeing a ghost of her or something connected to her. As your eyes stray to James' weary face, the bags under his eyes more noticeable now that he's lying down in the faint light of the hospital lamp, you contemplate. This Mary, even though you never had the pleasure of meeting her aside from the worn-out picture, was one lucky woman. She must have been, because now as you look at her faded husband, you kind of understand what she saw in him.

Sometimes you felt like you could sink in the depths of those sad, soft eyes. Though it wasn't you whose reflection constantly surged up in them when you found him staring into space. James was a good husband. The kind of husband that scoops you up and spins you around in a small apartment as you both laugh, and who offers you warm embraces from behind. The type of spouse that most likely brings you breakfast in bed while mocking your drowsiness. Perhaps the kind of husband who makes sensitive love to you as the first rays of soft dawn peek through the curtains, and the kind who wakes you up with gentle kisses in the morning...

ー Pfft. Wouldn't you like to know, ー you mock yourself, gnawing on your lip distractedly.

It seemed like you were so desperate for this stranger's attention, you were about to let him take advantage of you just a few hours ago. In no way was this fair to him in his current state of mind, still grieving and searching for anything with connection to his late wife, hopeful, looking for the only woman for him. And you just embarrassed yourself in your immaturity and greed, seeking comfort and confinement in him when he was the one needing it most. Trying to seduce a widower. James must think you're just a stupid girl.

As you watch James sleep restlessly in your lap, your fingers absently running through his somewhat greasy blond hair, embarrassment heats up your cheeks. You can see the early appearance of silver through your fingertips as some of the stray hairs on the parting protrude. With a feeble smile, you turn away and tuck a few of the loose hairs behind this man's ear. You have no right to wonder about those things here, and it's literally not the time or place for such fanciful thoughts. How absurd. Not like you're not pretending not to feel those same hazel eyes linger on your behind as you climb through moldy vents, drinking in your figure's curves with your back turned to him. You don't have to see it, really; it's woman's intuition.

Because, at least in your mind, you need him to survive in this town. The only reason you're still alive is because of him. If it wasn't for James, your body would have been lying on the sidewalk already, torn apart and joining the likes of those disgusting creatures covered in viscera and reeking of blood, dragging their forsaken souls straight to hell. Back there, he saved your life.

ー Glad you're alive. Hey... Can you hear me? Are you hurt anywhere? ー he looked at you with that kind concern on his tired face as he touched your, a complete stranger's, shoulder in an attempt to check on you. He wasn't prepared for you to sob in front of him instead of flinching away.

So you found yourself drawn to him in return for his silent protection, like a silly lost puppy following its rightful owner. Even though this was the most ridiculous and overdone comparison you could have made, it nonetheless strangely suited you. He took you in and treated your wounds like a discarded dog's that no one loved, and eventually you found yourself feeling envious of this good man's deceased wife.

She was dead anyway, and you were here for him, ready to try and understand, erase that grim fate he had created for himself, maybe even love him. You could be everything she ever was and more for him. Demure, gentle, and soft-spoken — is that how he likes his women? That could be you. Tend after a small garden, dress up modestly and even try and learn to play the piano, even though you never liked it. That sure would make him like you more, with time. Make you a good substitute. The most you'll ever be. Gosh, are you going crazy?

You're smart enough to know that will never happen. She's something so significant to him; the first thing he remembers is staring at the water by her side the whole day. You have no chance against a woman that is not even here. Not in flesh at least. The weight of that thought makes you laugh silently, your body shaking in unison with your bitter "ha-ha-ha".

As you giggle with James' head remaining on top of your stomach, your upper body shakes, causing it to rise and fall quickly. Before you can stop yourself, he begins to move, his eyelids flickering slowly as he grunts. The movement causes his head to bob up and down on your lap, which makes you laugh even harder. His tired, baggy eyes flutter open as his bleary hazel gaze catches your apologetic one.

ー Shoot, did I wake you? I'm sorry, James, I didn't mean to, ー your tone is completely out of sync with what you're saying, your free hand covering your still half-smiling mouth, other nestled in his hair awkwardly. You try to slide it away, but he buries his face in your tender hand, prodding you with his chapped lips and plump nose as though he's looking for solace and warmth. James's gentle breaths across your skin cause your eyes to widen, and they come out with a hum of relief.

ー It's fine, just, ー James pauses for a few seconds, as if thinking over his next words, ー Can we stay like this? Just for a little while.

The blonde man looks up at you, that sad stare and uncertainty in his eyes, like he's expecting you to push him away for ever proposing an act of closeness like this. His eyes instantly close as you nod in approval, a tiny smile ever preserved on your bright face.

James buries his face in your soft hand as he exhales, relieved that your laughter woke him up. You should probably get going, but he makes no move to get up yet. Making sure you're living and breathing, unscratched, unlike in his fever dream where that hellish red pyramid thing took a hold of you.

It seems as though he is both present and not at the same moment, unable to move or help you while you beg for his aid. He is reduced to a role of a mere spectator, watching as the beast encloses you in its wounded arms, crushing your delicate body with a few clenches of its swollen muscles. Pulling you by your bruised legs like a rag doll as you struggle to break off its hold. All of your attempts are futile as you groan and cry out like one of those disfigured nurses when they get mutilated.

You're falling apart. It's breaking you. James, unable to tear his eyes away, begs pathetically on his knees, unable to move as if he's been bound to the floor by some unseen force. His breath catches in his throat as he watches, helpless, the horrifying scene unfolding before him. Even from a distance, he can feel her fear as your cries reverberate in his ears.

His muscles scream for release as he pushes himself harder, his lungs burning. Yet, the fog appears to encircle him, hindering him and painfully preventing him from reaching the terrifying scene. The pyramid thing pauses, its helmet swiveling towards James. A deep, guttural growl emanates from within the helmet, the sound sending icy tendrils of fear down James's spine.

ー Let go of her, you fucking monster! I'll kill you! ー he heaves as he hears your pitiful, hopeless whine, like you're bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Stop it.

The poor man is crying quietly while still holding onto your blanket, his hands trembling a little as you look on in confusion. What a wretched soul. It must be so hard for him to hold on in this never-ending nightmare.

ー James? ー you call out to him as you move your finger to wipe a stray tear rolling down his hollow cheek, your brows knitting together in pity, ー Maybe it's hard to believe, but you're not alone in this. This town, those things... But we need to hold on a little bit more. We're so close; I can feel it.

He knows you're right. He has to move forward; there's no turning back now. James won't let that hellish red thing nor anyone else get in his way. This time he will do everything right; just wait for him patiently, like you always did, Mary.

God, his weight must be crushing you. He just realizes that he's practically lying on top of you. A grown man crying and clinging to you must make you think he's crazy. The truth wouldn't be far away.

As he rises from your lap, James gathers his thoughts, the warmth of your body and the comforter slowly vanishing. He hopes he could spend a bit more time with you in this moment, but he doesn't have time to relax in this circumstance or in the place itself. His bleary gaze meets yours, and it seems like he lost his train of thought suddenly. James clears his throat.

ー Yeah... You're right. I guess this place got to me too after all, ー "Don't look so upset because of me", he wants to say, but refrains the last second.

ー I'm ready to go when you are, ー he outstretches his hand to you instead, his inner self desperate to feel your warmth once more, even for a few seconds. He knows it's selfish to ask for more than he already did, but you don't seem to mind his offer, as you let your delicate hand slip into his with a tiny smile on your face. The feeling of this absolute trust is so pure and devoid of words; at the same time, he can feel it tugging on his heartstrings. You trust him. And he's thankful for those rare moments of tranquility you're allowed to share before diving right back into the dark abyss.

James' kind gesture sends little pleasant shocks to your gut as you hop off the hospital bed in a better mood. You still hold onto his hand as his bigger, warm palm envelopes yours like a thick glove, giving you this sweet illusion of safety. He doesn't seem to want to let go of you either as you walk through dimly lit corridors hand in hand, your form slightly behind him.

Never minding the forthcoming horrors of this place, you can't help but smile to yourself, your eyes dreamy as you stare at your feet marching in unison. You can't help but hope that whatever is waiting for you on that path doesn't show its ugly head for a long while, making this sweet nightmare feel even more unending.

[thefandomenchantress]

Breaks down invisible door

Looks at you with firey eyes

Laughs

Hey hey hey looks like we both like Whace, eh? Care to share a few headcanons? I'll throw in a bonus! I'll reblog and add mine hehehe :3

Also BOOP

BOOP!!

Anyways, yeah! I do like Whace! Not only because the ship name is fun and silly, but also because I think the way Whit and Ace bounce off each other is a very entertaining concept. On with the headcanons!

-It took the two of them forever to get together, since Whit, what with his ever-present trouble with love, was too scared to try and confess his feelings. And Ace was also too scared, since he’s scared of everything but especially showing vulnerability like that. Eventually, Whit managed to tell Ace about his feelings, but Ace wasn’t sure if he was joking or not and so Whit had to try and clarify. Overall it was awkward but worth it when they finally got together.

-Whit loves PDA but Ace is very easily embarrassed by it. So they meet in the middle by doing secret PDA, like holding hands under the table where no one can see (Arei has made it her mission to catch them whenever they do stuff like that and tease them for it)(Ace gets mad and Whit gets disappointed because Ace will immediately stop doing whatever affectionate thing he was doing).

-Whit really likes doing Ace’s nails. Ace, comforted by the fact that he wears gloves most of the time so no one will actually see his nails, lets Whit do whatever crazy designs he wants. He’d never admit it but he really likes them.

-Similarly, Whit likes to try and do makeup on Ace. Ace can do eyeliner, so he’ll do that on Whit, but Whit likes to go all out. He’s always sad when Ace washes it off.

-They help each other with dying their hair. Whit’s is slightly more complicated, since he dyes his hair blonde and pink, but Ace tries his best. Whit has to help teach him how to properly just dye the edges the first time.

-Whit likes playing with Ace’s hair in general. Ace is a little cagey when it comes to letting people touch his hair but he doesn’t mind as much when it’s Whit.

-Whit finds much entertainment in teasing Ace just to see him all flustered. Whether that be with compliments, physical affection, or the occasional dirty joke (He likes to use atrociously bad pick-up lines sometimes, too, just to see Ace’s reaction).

-I’m not one to talk about nsfw too much…But Whit tops. ;)

-Hehe time for a very self-indulgent one. Whit found out Ace likes to read romance novels and would not let it go. Now they have a book club with just the two of them as members.

-Ace tends to get embarrassed when expressing his feelings for Whit through words, so sometimes he’ll buy him gifts instead, just small little things to show he cares. Whit keeps them all in a box to cherish forever.

-Whit has decided that Ace is his new favorite bed. He likes to sleep on Ace’s lap and chest, which confuses Ace, but he doesn’t really mind. Even on the off chance he does, he usually doesn’t have the heart to make Whit get off of him.

-Whit likes to tease Ace about how he’s one inch taller, calling Ace cute and petite and generally being a menace by pretending they have this huge height difference.

-Ace, being quite strong thanks to working out a lot, can carry Whit around. He usually does this when he’s fed up with Whit teasing him and wants to turn the tables on him. Sometimes it works, other times Whit just giggles and calls himself a captured princess.

-Whit loves to text 🩷 emojis at Ace all the time. An excessive amount, honestly. Ace will sometimes text him back <3.

-Ace will get really mad when someone is mean to Whit, unsurprisingly, but also unsurprisingly doesn’t do too much besides scold the person and swear at them. If someone’s mean to Ace, Whit won’t immediately do anything. But he‘ll get really quiet, making a 🙂 face, and on the inside you can tell he’s plotting their death.

-At every opportunity, Whit will take whatever pen/marker is lying around during class and doodle a heart on Ace’s arm. He thinks it’s cute. Ace glares at him whenever he does it, but puts in a noticeable amount of effort not to wash it off when he takes a shower.

———

Hmm, I think that’s all for now. Maybe I’ll add more if I think of any I forgot or if I think of any new ones. This list turned into a lot more than a few headcanons but I regret nothing.

[scorpiussage]

NSFW Alphabet - Johnathan Crane (Scarecrow) 

- I’m not much of a DC fan so this is entirely based off the Nolan movies and what we see of Cillian Murphy’s Scarecrow 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Not an aftercare man at all. For real, you’d be lucky if he stayed in bed next to you after he’s done fucking you - he’s busy and got things to do and places to be. 

But, I think that if you caught him at a vulnerable moment (Scarecrow giving him extra grief or him struggling with the Batman) he might indulge in some cuddling but it would be very short lived and he’d expect you to never bring it up again.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Loves someone with a brilliant mind, body doesn’t matter to him at all. He just wants someone who’s crazy matches his crazy. 

He’s literally so vain though, like he will not leave the house unless he looks perfect and put together. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He doesn’t really have much of a preference to where he cums, just that he does. Most of the time it’ll be in you but he has been known to like to finish on your face from time to time. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Scarecrow is obv his big secret, but I think that if he took the time to pursue a relationship with you, it would be because both him and Scarecrow are attracted to you. So that might be a dirty secret of his, that he likes to let the other guy take control some times so that he can get his quality time in with you too.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced, he’s always been a huge dork and also very career driven so he’s never put any time into having sex. That said, he’s incredibly knowledgeable about the human body so even though he’s not very experienced, he knows all the best places to touch you.

F = Favourite Position (idk the names of any sex positions so Im just going try and describe them)

Johnathan is a massive control freak and so his favorite positions are all ones that put him in control of you. You on your knees with your face pressed into the mattress and your hands tied behind your back is a particular favorite of his. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He is literally not capable of being goofy and silly. It’s just not who he is. So sex will always be incredibly intense and serious.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Not very intimate nor romantic (though he could be if he wanted to, he just doesn’t want to) 

Don’t get it twisted though, he’s possessive and even though he may not show his affections like other people, you belong to him and he’ll remind you of it regularly. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t masturbate beyond getting excess energy out. He’s not got the time for that.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He’s got a huge doctor/patient kink to the point he’d convince you to get admitted to Arkham so that he could be your doctor and “give you treatments” 😉 

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His office at Arkham or whatever seedy warehouse he’s using that week, he’s not picky.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Control and fear are pretty obvious motivators for him. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything church or religion related is a big yikes to him. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He will only give you head if it means a new way to dominate and control you into doing something he wants. That’s just sort of his personality. 

He’s personally pretty eh about receiving. It feels good and makes him cum, but he could also get that from fucking you so it’s not a necessity.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Not slow or fast so much as brutal and intense. Getting fucked by Johnathan is absolutely world ending and also too much. You’ll only be able to handle one round at a time from him. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s not one for quickies usually just because he’s very work focused and you absolutely will not tear him away from whatever new thing he’s doing. He has allotted time set aside to fuck you and he will not do it outside of that time.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He loves taking risks, it’s sort of his whole thing because there’s a tie in to fear. You have to be someone who will go along with whatever he wants because if you don’t, he’ll get bored with you very fast.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Average stamina. He could probably do sexathons but he doesn’t have the time for that, his experiments take priority. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own toys personally but if you own them, he’ll for sure use them on you regularly. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Nothing would turn him on more than teasing you to the point of tears. He’s an absolute sadist about that and he’s unapologetic about it too. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not loud, actually very quiet but when Scarecrow is in the drivers seat, he does a lot of dirty talk. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He’s the kind of man who loves one and only one. So if you start a relationship with him, there’s no ending that relationship, you’re his forever. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Long and average width. Cock size doesn’t matter with a guy like this, he’ll make you cum regardless. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Pretty low sex drive, he’s not really someone who spends a lot of time thinking about sex. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t sleep until he’s certain he’s in a safe location. So unless you do it at his place, he’s not one to fuck and then immediately fall asleep. 

[mousydentist]

my favorite fics that i wrote and why

So, first I'll explain. I'm gonna being reccing my own fics which I'm not super sure how to do cause I mostly just yeet shit on ao3 and let the fates decide, and I'm never sure what's like, too much? Like I see other people rec their own fics and I'm like (O O) how do i do that. Like idk why I have this resistance to like, telling people that I like my own fics? So today I said fuck that, everyone's gonna know now.

And I've just been doing not so hot recently for a number of reason and I figured like, I've been obsessing over so much, why don't I get to be excited about the good things? So anyway, these are my favorite fics that I've written, not just the ones that have done the best or whatever, just my personal favorites, so without further ado...

(quick fyi, all of these are locked so you need to be logged into ao3 to view)

First up is sorry that i can't believe anybody really starts to fall in love with me , don't ask why the name is so long I just like the song lmao. This one's special to me cause it was my first KPTS fic. Is it the best? No. Does it have a super deep meaning? Nope. But it's cute and it's mine so I love it. Next!

the imperfect art of making it. Very self indulgent. I wrote this for the endorphins fic fest which gave me the motivation to write, but really I just loving transing my characters, and soft KimChay deserves lots of love.

Next up, do you look up to the sky? My first whumptober fic and the first one I wrote bc as soon as I looked at the prompts I was like "oh Kim's getting locked in the fucking basement for sure" and then he did! Success. Also KimChay are a pstd4ptsd couple, I won't be taking questions at this time.

This is getting longer than I thought it was gonna be but fuck it, I told myself I was doing this to remind myself why I like writing and that I do actually enjoy it so the longer the better tbh bc it means I really do love it. It's not a bad thing if all of my fics have a special place in my heart, right?

Ok last of the non dead dove ones is i should have kissed you. I don't exactly have a reason, I just think it's a good fic.

The next ones are dead dove cause I have two modes which are cute fluff and illegal <3

chay and kinn and chay. This thing is my baby. I love him with my whole heart. I wrote him in discord messages on my walk to and from classes. This is one fic that I would not be ashamed to say I've read several times over. This is the fic that I think of when people say "write the fics you want to read." This was also a spite fic which makes all of that even funnier lmao

Willow Dancin' On Air. This one's not dead dove but it is KimVegas so eh. But this is another fic I wrote purely for myself. I just wanted some fluffy lil somethin somethin and now every time I listen to this song I think of this fic

Ok last one, Why minors shouldn’t gamble. This one also started on discord and was written in my notes app at like. 9 am while I was still in bed lmao. Because that's where inspiration peaks. And it's hot idk. omegaverse will never not be be a special interest of mine, hopefully one day we can find out what happens when Kim joins the party, I'm genuinely curious.

OK! So. That was something. Tbh I feel a lot better lmao. My therapist would be so proud of me if I ever told her I write fanfiction pff. Normalize reading your own fics over and over. I'm saying that directly to myself cause I see all these like motivational things about writing and then I don't believe them, what's that about?? Doing this reminded me that I actually like the things I create, highly recommend. Now I'm gonna get myself a glass of water cause for the next maybe 12 hours I'm changing my life!! I'm doing self care!!! Woo hoo!!!!! Now to post this before I remember that other people can see it :) Ok bye ✌️

[chaoticstanley]

(Click for higher quality)

uh.... yeah, I'm into Starkid now.

Didn't really see that coming tbh. I've always liked their stuff, but it was more casual viewing. But with their Hatchetfield stories, yeah, that's what really sucked me in. And the fandom brain rot hit very quickly after finishing Nerdy Prudes Must Die. So, I made an OC. It's cringe and self indulgent, but I love him so much.

He's basically an anti-christ type, born into the Church of the Starry Children and his development was overseered by the Lords in Black. He has a very small amount of their powers in him, but he's still pretty strong and magical. He's always tired because he has constant night terrors. His sharp teeth are there in any form which has raised some eyebrows from normal people. His monster form has characteristics from each Lord in Black. He has Wiggly's tentacle hands, two mouths from Nibbly, Tinky's horns and legs, extra eyes from Blinky, and Pokey gave him a voice that can hypnotize people. His normal eyes also become sunken-in holes like the ones on Pokey's mask.

But his human eyes are grey and lifeless, almost like a dead fish. Sort of represents how he's not really his own person at the end of the day. Again, I'll get into more of that later. I stick with he/him just cause it's easier to write out, but he doesn't really care about gender and pronouns. Most people assume he's a guy so he just goes with it, but he also doesn't care to correct others if they call him a girl too. His attitude is very much, "eh, whatever" when it comes to that. He's sort of clueless when it comes to social interactions with humans, but he's not hostile. He's just kinda vibing until its time to end the world.

That's all for now. I'll write more about him when I have time between school and work. Oof.