#evil grinch grin

[yorshie]

lol spoon you know who you really need to tag? @desceros

"I like old men and I like robots so this is like the combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell of my interests tbh"

[ahollowgrave]

-- a postcard for an old friend.

Dearest Lamb in Wolf's Fur, Do you know how often I think of you? It is painful. Like a bruise I cannot help to poke, to press upon with the same fingers that entwined with yours, if only for the brief glimpse of you. That’s why I am here, though it is a long and dangerous trek. Do you remember when we sat here, in the ruins of your fallen city, the snow falling soft and slow?  Do you come here too? Do you think of me? If I leave you a kiss, will you blow one into the wind for me? Always a Little Yours, Odette

P.S. Forgive me for only sending one kiss. Please share it with Lupercal so that he thinks of me!

Sometimes a girl needs a brief but incredibly intense fling that takes place over the course of a Garlemald winter.

[ronearoundblindly]

Make it Boopril, you pussies.

[starry-eyed-pkmnlvr]

((is now a good time to post these))

[devilsrecreation]

Then, Shupavu came up with an idea

A wonderful idea

A wonderful, awful idea

[omega-floweys]

i think it would be Funny to continue using an almost eight year old design . wouldn't it be Fun .

[satoruxx]

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader summary: toji being a grinch lmao, grumpy x sunshine again, fluff, bickering rheya’s note: man i bet toji pretends to hate decorating for christmas but does it anyway bc he can’t say no to you! UGH he makes me !! i couldn’t stop thinking about bf!toji so here’s this silly little drabble. merry christmas everyone <33

“you serious?”

“yup.”

toji crosses his arms with a scowl, and you mirror his stance with narrowed eyes.

“it’s stupid,” he grunts, reaching out to gently push his palm against your forehead—which earns him a dramatic groan.

“it is not.” you grab his bicep and he lets you drag him over to the tree you’ve set up in the living room. “don’t be an ass.”

he sighs as you place a floppy santa hat on his head and beam at his disgruntled expression. there’s an identical one on you—sliding off your head in all your excitement, and toji has to stop himself from fixing it for you.

you crouch down and throw open a few storage boxes before gesturing somewhat emphatically. “get to work!”

he grumbles, shaking his head even as he goes to pick up a few ornaments. “you’re ridiculous.”

“not very christmas-y of you, toji,” you comment, standing on your toes to hook an ornament. he snorts, eyeing the glitter sticking to his fingertips.

“oh no—i’m the spitting image of joy, can’t you tell?” he replies sarcastically, though his shoulders relax a little as he hears your unfiltered laughter.

toji glances at you, watching as you quietly hum some old christmas song under your breath while filling up the tree with colorful orbs. he’s not sure why you’re so intent on having him be a part of your yearly holiday traditions—he’s never been big on celebrating anyway.

but then he remembers what you had said last year.

“i don’t wanna celebrate anything if you’re not celebrating it with me.”

you’ve always been too good to him.

you scoot a little closer, decorating without a care in the world and toji lets out a quiet breath—decides to be a little annoying because it’s a surefire way to make you smile.

“you mind?” he frowns, huffing with a dramatic sneer. he pins you with a pointed glare before motioning to the tree. “you’re getting in my territory.”

you throw him an appalled look before moving your arm in his face childishly. “what are you gonna do about it?”

an evil smirk makes its way onto his face, and your expression immediately drops. “wait no—“

toji’s bicep curls around your throat, pulling you into a headlock as you squeal and slap at his arm. he spends the next few minutes playfully wrestling with you before finally letting you win and step into his space—stands behind you and watches your fingers gently place ornaments while his hand absentmindedly rubs over your hipbone.

“what do you want for christmas anyway?” you ask offhandedly. toji raises a brow, looking down at you—expressionless.

“thought it was obvious—“ he shrugs, reaching up to hang ornaments on the higher parts of the tree. “all you gotta do is sit under the tree for me and i’ll be happy. bonus points if there’s unwrapping involved.”

you make an expression that has no business looking that scandalized and toji smirks in amusement.

“psycho,” you mutter, shaking your head in mock disapproval—earning a muted chuckle in return. you go back to hanging up ornaments, once again humming to yourself, and toji takes it as a cue to continue decorating. the two of you work in relative silence—an occasional quip or jab the only disturbance. after a while, he crosses his arms.

“are we done yet?” he groans, eyeing the nearly full tree. “i’m tired as fuck.”

“weak,” you grin, though you reach out and pat his chest thankfully. “but you did participate and that’s all i wanted so, yeah, you can be done.”

toji almost laughs in relief, but then he sees you rummage through the boxes and pull out more decorations for the rest of the house, and he sighs.

“alright hand it over,” he grumbles, holding his palm out expectantly. you look at him—half confused and half surprised.

“i thought you were done?”

“yeah right,” he huffs, taking the tinsel from your hands and walking over to the staircase. “you’d end up tangled in this crap if i left you alone with it.”

“you’re so dramatic. and whiny,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes.

“am not.”

despite saying so he quietly huffs as he continues to help you decorate the house with stockings and tinsel and all that other festive stuff.

by the time the house is fully decorated, toji is close to banning the holiday season—grumpy, tired, and ready to move onto something else.

but then, the tiniest part of him is uncharacteristically giddy when you look up at him, holding the star in your hands. toji shakes his head, trying to bite back the amused grin tickling his scarred lips, before sighing and crossing his arms.

“can i help you?” he asks—teasing, though his expression betrays nothing.

you pout, holding the star up dramatically. “the star needs to be put up.”

a smirk graces his face and his tone becomes taunting, yet the affection is not lost on you. “yeah? need a boost, kid?”

even before you nod, toji is crouching in front of you, palms reaching out to guide your legs over his shoulders. you laugh as he stands back up, taking a few steps towards the tree.

he can’t help but chuckle as he watches you lean forward, palm smoothing over your thigh in attempts to stabilize you. “you got it?”

“almost.” he can hear the strain in your voice, can feel the way your fingers twitch against his jaw—but he waits patiently.

“okay got it!” your voice is triumphant, and toji grins to himself.

“attagirl.” his lips brush against your inner thigh—a sweet reward for a job well done. he hears your quiet giggle from above him as you gently push away his dark bangs.

“alright, put me down now,” you huff, and toji bites back a scoff.

“tsk.” he clicks his tongue, though he still lowers himself to let you hop off his shoulders before rising to his full height. “so ungrateful.”

“what do you want, a medal?”

you yelp as toji’s fingers pinch at your side in retaliation. “watch your mouth, kid.”

you flash him a grin full of mischief, though you don’t say anything else. instead you look up at the finished tree, marveling at your handiwork with pride.

“see—” you say with a pointed grin. “—isn’t it pretty?”

toji chuckles, wrapping a heavy bicep around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. “yeah,” he agrees, green eyes trained on your happy little smile. “it is.”

[knifeforkspooncup]

HOLY. SHIT??????

✨️Holy shit✨️

Holy shit

This is like a body horror masterclass.

Licking these words like they're a little sore on the inside of my cheek. What the fuck. What the fuckity fuck.

Slitted pupils like a knife's scar

you've fed me back my blood

A long line like snake vertebrae, weaving in and out of my skin

Hehehehehe for the one word thing: theft (or words related to that)

i'm so sorry for this it could be five sentences if you squint real hard. also me when writing absolutely anything at all: how do i make this about angel crowley

the dollmaker

the teeth went first, which you lined up with extreme care onto curved wires caressing a plain, wooden pole. they say teeth are what make a face, and i guess that must be true—you would know. i hadn't known yet what you were going to do, so i just watched with my bare, gaping mouth as you chipped my teeth into asymmetrical shapes, carving them into a beast's.

the tongue was next, the larynx too—just as well. i wasn't much keen on speaking anymore, anyway, what with all the blood in my gums. i wasn't keen on smelling anymore, either, the tang of iron and wood flecks that surrounded you like a visible aura. the silence must have been music to your ears, now that i couldn't scream through the pain, could hardly even take a breath.

there were the lips, the nose, the cheekbones. you took it all off my face, like a sculptor trying to return their creation to a clean marble slab, and all i could do was watch. and maybe, along the way, i was even resigned. that settling that inevitably came with constancy.

but then the panic surged back up and out of my body along with my eyes, which you scooped out with ease, and i could scream again, only it wasn't coming from me—no, maybe it was me, the other me, if it was me. i didn't know which way was left, couldn't comprehend what my eyes were seeing: it's one thing to see fragments of yourself scattered around like an unfinished painting; it's another to see the remains of where those fragments were stolen from—oh god, it would have been kinder to be less methodical, to have had gnarled and brazenly sliced pieces of flesh and marrow exploded off of my face, rather than the precise and surgical peeling away of skin, all in one piece like wool from a shearer's hand.

and you painted them a lurid, reptilian yellow, slitted pupils like a knife's scar. i saw this, i saw my eyes only through yours, gold reflected off blue, and for a moment there was something so intimate, so complementary in that gaze, you with your deceitfully gentle smile and weightless hair, that i forgot what you were doing to me. just for a moment. but then it came into focus again, that garish, nauseating colour of my eyes, and that moment was gone. the colour of sick, one more step away from the angel i was, if an angel was defined only through construct; if an angel was defined by spirit, by grace, by acts… you're the farthest thing from an angel i could possibly fathom, and yet here you are.

i closed my eyes, then, and one by one you took, and you took, and you took, stealing everything from me, stealing myself from me. when you lifted my brain out of my cleaved skull, the pain finally quietened, if only for the few seconds it took to rewire it, but it was a reprieve, and i was grateful. and i didn't feel it when my limbs were hacked off at their stems, tourniqueted and cauterised. i didn't feel it when you ripped out the nails from my fingers and toes and replaced them with claws.

and so even as you took, and you took ,and you took, i didn't struggle, no, and soon i couldn't struggle. but i didn't want it, i didn't, i didn't. but one by one by one, it got easier, with every limb and organ and joint, with every side sweep of my hair; you've changed that, too. because i thought—oh, i thought that with every piece of me you changed and fit into this new mold, i thought you would at least take it all. i thought you would complete me at the end, so that even changed, this new thing may still be me.

but we're at the final stages now. here come my lungs, my intestines, my stomach, fitting into this new me so perfectly it's as if i'd never changed at all. you've taken the stray clumps of my meat and stuffed them back into me, you've fed me back my blood, and it all works, as if i'd never changed at all. there's just my heart now, resting on the stool you'd propped me up on like a doll, nothing left but stray splotches of blood, but you're not taking it, you're not taking it, what are you doing?

i feel each individual stitch now as you sew me up around my joints and from my pelvis to my neck, a long line like snake vertebrae, weaving in and out of my skin. and still my heart remains untouched, outside of my body, discarded like waste. i start to beg now, because i can, and i didn't want this, but now i'm so close to reformation, to being whole, and oh, i feel so empty, you left the hole in my chest there where something is supposed to fit, and now my centre of gravity is off, and i can't be expected to live this way.

please, all i'm asking for is my heart, just this one thing. i know i haven't been good, i know i struggled, i know i screamed, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry. oh, but please, won't you take it?

[winterzxsoldierz]

Home Alone In The Avenger's Tower

Reader x Hydra agents

Authors Note: I was watching Home Alone earlier and wanted to make a one shot inspired off of it, Marvel style, in this you are Loki's kid, yes i said it, and the Avengers are not gonna be around for this one sadly, but hydra will and that meant fun for you, don't be too sad the avengers will come at the end. Warnings: Pranks, a lot of sadistic pranks, and blood, language Steve wouldn't approve of. Side note:I wanted to bring Christmas a bit early and add some glorious purpose to it. Reader is Female and around 17 & 18

The day started out normal, you waking up and doing anything a relatively normal person would do, brushing teeth and getting yourself together, the team had to go on a emergency mission on Christmas Eve, which had you a little bummed because you were actually starting to like them, your father said they weren't that bad and you agree.

Walking into the kitchen, you stop and smirk, and magically you conjure a full plate of breakfast out onto the table in front of you "Ha, beat that Sam." you murmur to yourself smugly. you take a seat down and begin to eat breakfast, you turn on the tv as well, watching the Grinch, Bucky's twin you called him. After breakfast you wander around the tower snooping around Tony's lab, touching things you have no business touching, you then find Tony's music playlist and grin, that's when you find it, the perfect song to blast around now that you're alone, Master Of Puppets by Metallica, and you ask his A.I F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn it on the common room loud speakers, and around the tower, you sing and dance without a care in the world, hell you even conjure your own electric guitar.

(Sun down) Hours had passed since the sun was up and there you sat on the couch with a tub of ice cream in your lap, with a spoon bigger than your mouth in your hands, "Merry Christmas you filthy animal." you imitate Kevin in the movie as you watch him quote the guy he's watching on his tv. (Meanwhile) Brock Rumlow creeps up the steps of the Avenger's level of the tower, and signals his buddy Grant Ward, to follow him, Rumlow felt a bit smug knowing that the Avengers were gone for the day and probably the night as well, he had it all figured out and Alexander Pierce would definitely be proud when he comes back with juicy information...But little did he know he was in for a rude awakening. A sudden crash awakens you from your power snooze and you look around noting the quiet, the television had cut off itself and the common room was only brightened by the Christmas lights and tree, your eyes narrow in suspension since you knew the team weren't home yet, and it definitely wasn't Peter because he would have texted you, you hear voices, whisper shouting to each other, it was definitely two men, none of who voices you knew, so activating your invisibility you began to your search.

Upon reaching Tony's lab next to the file room you see them, and your eyes widen, now you had two options call for help or handle things yourself, and you thought what the hell, 'I'm a god, i don't need it.'

Purposely you make yourself visible again and play scared child, both of the agents come up to you but you run and of course there's a little evil smirk on your lips. "Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y lock any source of exits in the tower for anyone who isn't me or the Avengers." you yell. and you slip into your fathers room.

(POV:Hydra's)

"What the fuck? Brock you said the place was empty! Grant exclaimed in annoyance, Brock shrugs and glares "How was i supposed to know there'd be a Teenager here?" Brock argues trying to defends himself, Grant rolls his eyes "For you to be the leader of the strike team you sure act like an obnoxious dick on a stick." Grant glowers. "Let's just find the girl." Brock grumbles and walks off "Besides, what can one girl do to us?" Brock yells cockily.

Running into the kitchen you go into the pantry and pull out some popcorn, you rip open the bag and lay out some kernels on the ground, you then grab a bottle of olive oil and pour it down on the ground of the kitchen and common room entrance, but you pour enough where it'll lead them into a large pool of green paint you conjured into the common room area. plan one was already in motion.

"Hey Brock i think i found- oh shit." Grant yelps as he trips forward on the kernels only to slip quicker on the oil, "Uh-oh" the words leave him as he tips over into the pool of green paint with a wet splash. All you do is smirk in the back ground and teleport to where Rumlow is heading.

"Where is that little bitch?" Brock growls and makes his way down the hall towards the file room and instead of meeting the room he falls, through a portal and he falls for about 30 minutes before you eventually let him fall into the paint pool next to his buddy.

Both Brock and Grant look at each other in confusion, before both of them get out the pool, but you have other plans for them. Teleporting the men into the training room, you have them held up against Clint arrow dart board and you speak into the intercom completely invisible to the men you speak "Ladies and Gentlemen, today we have two continents up on stage today to play a game of human darts, our weapon of choice, daggers!" you say excitedly, "But firstly let's give a boo for our gentlemen up on stage for being pussy's for making a move when my family aren't home. BOOO." you murmur dryly and in a wicked tone you speak. "Let's began."

With you still invisible you step into the room, handful of Bucky's daggers in hand, you watch in amusement as the men look around clearly worried about if you're around or not, but who cares.

You start by flipping the dagger in your hand and the swish the dagger fly's right by Grant's arm and plunges right into the board next to him, and then you throw another making a yelp leave him as it lands right by his head, you laugh. Then you turn to Brock, a look of distaste on your face, this guy creeped you out more than you like to admit, you throw not one but two daggers at him, one landing on each side of his arm almost hitting him but not quite. "I call this one, no kids in his sack." You quip and throw a dagger right between his legs, so close but not hitting him. but you laugh at his screams.

Three hours. it's been three hours, since Brock and Grant have been victims of your games, they can't find you anywhere but you have traps waiting for them every corner, Brock was covered in chocolate sauce and thumbtacks and Grant was still green from earlier but had burned shoes from stepping on metal steps you some how have heated up. Again the intercoms start up this time it plays Another one bites the dust by Queen, and the lights flicker off and on and both men walk on a trip wire and are immediately slapped with pans in the face and the fall back into yet another portal and falls into a pool full of flour, they don't get a chance before honey is falling down on them, but of course it wouldn't be funny without your laughter.

Once again, Brock Rumlow and Grant Ward split up, big mistake.

Brock walks down the hallway, his steps a bit squeaky from the mess that is him, he lost all his weapons, he leans up against the wall, and peaks around the corner seeing a round barstool with a metal bucket on it that says "Weapons." he walks towards it with fast big strides and reaches his hand in and hears a click his eyes widens and then Boom he's blown back into a wall rendering him unconscious and a bit bloody "Merry Christmas you filthy animal." You quote, with a satisfied smirk on your lips as the clock it's 12 on the dot. You follow Grant, you're invisible again, and watching him, the feeling he gets is uneasiness and he looks around, yet he keeps going forward, he walks into a room that looks Christmas gift wrapped, it's an empty circle looking room, the door shuts behind him immediately and with an illusion spell, you make him see spiders, that look like reindeer, and they start to chase him, he runs but runs into the glass walls repeatedly until you decided you were done with them, so you teleport in there and punch him in the face knocking him out. You drag Brock's unconscious form into the room with Grant, and tie their hands together with Christmas lights and then you add a Christmas bow on each of their heads. the room that the two men are in is Loki's old cell, you leave the cell locking it up and you put gift wrapping paper over the glass to keep any one from seeing in or out, you add a large golden bow on the door and a note that reads "To:Avengers, From:Y/N"

You cleaned the entire tower up with your powers and went to bed like nothing happened but only you'll know the real secret.

(Avengers Pov)

Everyone is tense and tired, the mission was a trap and bust but everyone is alive, and that's all that mattered, the jet lands on the helipad and the team gets off.

Upon getting into the tower the place smells of fresh chocolate and mint, they are first met with cookies and hot chocolate on the table in the common room, and they see the stockings filled with wrapped gifts, the anger and tension in the seems to leave as they see this and know your the cause, and then that's when they hear it, Jingle bell rock playing from a distance, they follow it until they reach the gift wrapped cell, each of them has their own look of confusion, before Tony steps forward and reads the card. "I'm assuming that the mission you went on was a trap, i hope you like the snacks and presents but i think you'll like this one more, i got em. from. Y/N Laufeyson-"

The rest of the team steps forward and starts to tear down the paper and there the two men lay fully conscious and tied up in a jolly way and all messed up. The team looks at each other before bursting out in laughter. "Well i'll be damned." Tony snickers "That's my darling little angel." Loki smirks, a proud look in his eyes. (The End)

Happy soon Thanksgiving and early Christmas, thanks for reading❤️💚

[scytheaudio]

Mr Reaper!!! I imagine that every time you do something devious you get cat ears and a evil smirk. Can you confirm if this is true or not?

closer to Jim Carey's grinch grin

[amazingmsme]

With a Bow on Top

AN: Happy holidays to all who celebrate, & especially to @tickles-tea I’m your squealing santa! I loved writing this, & I hope you enjoy! Added a lil festive flare to this one. HUGE thanks to @hypahticklish for hosting! & be sure to follow @squealing-santa so you don’t miss out on all the winter fluff!

Miguel sat on the floor of Peter and MJ's living room, half-used rolls of wrapping paper scattered about the floor around him. Peter himself was sitting next to him, completely transfixed on the movie playing "for background noise."

That lying rat bastard.

"You know, I only said I'd bring my universe's Grinch because you promised you wouldn't get distracted and actually help out. Which, you're not doing," Miguel said bluntly. Peter snapped out of his Christmas movie haze to defend himself.

"Sorry, but I've just never seen it before!" He reached down and grabbed one of Mayday's unwrapped gifts. Folding the paper around the box, he finished by sealing it up with a web. Miguel rolled his eyes.

"What? My gift looks way cooler than yours, you're just jealous of my artistic flare," he said smugly.

"Don't get me wrong, it looks great, but how's she gonna open it?" Miguel asked with a smirk. Peter's brow's nearly kissed his hairline as he came to the realization.

"Shit! Well, hopefully by Christmas it'll be weak enough to tear through," he finished with a shrug, slapping a bow on top and sliding it under the tree. As Peter reached for another present, he noticed a scrap piece of ribbon, much too short to fit around a box. Then, his gaze trailed over to his unassuming friend. Perfect.

He picked it up, fluttering it along the back of Miguel's neck. Peter can hear him gasp, and isn't that a lovely sound. He rolls his broad shoulders, arching his back and scrunching his neck ever so slightly. By the time he whipped around to glare at the perpetrator, he had already retracted his hands, hiding them innocently in his pockets.

Miguel looked him up and down before returning to his work. To his credit, Peter waited a few seconds before striking once more. Miguel sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, rubbing his ear against his shoulder to rid himself of the lingering tingles.

"Peter?"

"Hm?"

"I know you're not really working," he deadpanned. Peter sputtered in shock.

"I am too! Look, a perfectly wrapped gift!" he said proudly, holding out Mayday's present. Miguel looked it over, only half amused.

"You're right, a gift. So why not pick up the pace?" he challenged, tossing a Spider-Man themed basketball his way that Peter had planned on giving Miles. Peter caught it with one hand, and Miguel rolled his eyes. Showoff.

"How the hell am I supposed to wrap a ball?"

"I don't know wise guy, you're the one who got it for him." Okay, Peter wasn't sorry for what he was about to do.

He grabbed a marker off the floor and uncapped it with his teeth, making a satisfying pop sound. He barely bit back a snicker as he leaned in, quickly scribbling at the back of his neck. A strangled squeal caught in his throat at he snatched Peter's wrist in one hand, the other rubbing at his neck.

"You think you're funny or somethin'?" he asked with a cold glare.

"Hilarious, actually," Peter corrected with a shrug. Miguel scoffed and let him go.

"Go back to watching the damn movie if you're just gonna bother me," he suggested, grabbing a new tube of wrapping paper to switch things up. Can't have them all looking the same, now can we?

Why not both? Peter thought to himself, an evil grin growing on his face that rivaled the Grinch onscreen. He grabbed two pieces of ribbon discarded on the floor holding them poised to strike between his fingers. Miguel had his back turned, busy wrapping another present and allowing himself to get sucked into the movie. He was practically serving himself up on a silver platter. He really ought to know better by now...

Or maybe he didn't totally mind Peter's shenanigans. But that was a silly, fleeting thought.

Or was it? Only one way to find out.

Ever so quietly, he scooted closer to Miguel, snatching the marker off the floor. The grumpy Spider-Man was sporting a pair of ripped jeans. (He constantly made sure people knew he didn't buy them like that and that he earned those holes and rips.) A particularly large hole left his knee exposed and vulnerable for an attack... Perfect.

He let out a surprised snort, jerking his leg away before a chuckle could follow. They were locked in an intense staring contest, or glaring contest, on Miguel's part. Peter wore an innocent grin, though his next words were anything but.

"What's wrong big guy? Ticklish?"

If it were anyone else, they wouldn't have noticed the way he flinched at the question.

"No."

"Really? You're sticking to that lie?"

Miguel huffed, angrily slapping a bow on top of a present. "It's not a lie."

"Well in that case, I'm not ticklish either," Peter boldly proclaimed. Miguel looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Since we're being honest and all." Miguel grabbed a tube of wrapping paper, bonking Peter on the head in one swift motion before he even knew what happened.

"Don't forget I'm the one helping you," he reminded pointedly.

"Noted," Peter said, grabbing the tube from him and setting it beside MJ's new boots. For good measure, he started wrapping the gift until Miguel turned away. Then it was back to scheming.

He scanned the pile of unwrapped gifts for inspiration, smiling to himself when he spotted a handheld massager he got as a stocking stuffer.

"Hey Miguel?" he elected to ignore the annoyed groan he was met with, "Can you do me a favor?"

"No."

"Perfect! Just tell me if this massager is any good, okay? I don't want it to be too weak or painful, or not have enough settings." He heard Miguel sigh in defeat.

"Whatever."

"Thanks!" He scooted closer to him, turning on the X-shaped massager. At first he decided to play nice and actually work out the tension in his friend's shoulders before setting his plan into motion. He had to rebuild some trust, after all.

"Not bad, I think she'll like this," Miguel hummed, letting his head fall to one side as he began to relax. He was really watching the movie now, allowing himself a moment to enjoy it. It was one of the more heartfelt scenes of the film, and one of his favorites. He found he tended to like the more subtle, meaningful holiday movies rather than the over the top comedies and rom coms that dominated the season.

The last thing he was expecting was a dreadfully ticklish buzzing on his side.

His resolve gave way as he fell onto one side, loud surprised cackles spilling out into the room and drowned out the sound of the TV.

"Peheheter! Quit ihihit!"

"I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you through all that laughing. Which is weird, considering how not ticklish you are," he taunted, running the massager over his abs. Miguel curled in on himself, a giggly groan slipping out in response to the teasing.

"You're hohohorrible, you know thahat?" he asked, weakly swatting at Peter's hands, but to no avail.

Peter snorted. "Maybe to you."

The gentle vibrations traveled from his belly up his sides and to his ribs, causing the deep rumbling chuckles to build up momentum. Encouraged by this, Peter grabbed his wrist and wrestled his arm above his head, pinning it in place.

"Wahait!" he cried, trying to fend him off with his other hand. Peter grinned down at him, the textbook definition of smug.

"Okay. Well? What am I waiting for?" he asked, hovering the tool above his armpit menacingly. Miguel slammed his head against the ground in frustration.

"Gehehet off of me, you asshole!" he demanded through giggles.

"Why should I?" Peter challenged.

He just won't quit, will he? Miguel had no choice but to surrender, if they ever wanted to get done wrapping, that is.

"Fihihine, okay? You wihihin!" he conceded, rolling around on the ground. ,!"

"Wow, okay, so what do I win?" he asked, pulling his hands away to give him a breather. Miguel panted and glared up at him.

"I'm fuckin' ticklish, okay? There, happy?" he growled through residual giggles.

"Over the moon," Peter confirmed. He patted Miguel's chest as he let him go, crawling over to the pile of unwrapped presents. "No more funny business, I promise!" he assured. Miguel only rolled his eyes, a fond smile still lingering on his face.

"Yeah yeah, I'll believe it when I see it."

[spiribia]

this is happening in like the stables.

royal wedding btw. this thing has multiple alternate endings like it's the stanley parable.

[wheels-of-despair]

A Slightly Late Munson Christmas Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie spent Christmas '85 with Evil Woman, but it's time to go home and celebrate with Wayne… what if he brings her along? Contains: Hangin' with the Munsons, Christmas gifts, a sleepover, Eddie finally accepting that this is not a temporary arrangement. Words: 1.4k

"Wayne's coming home tonight."

You open your eyes and try not to show Eddie how sad you are about him going home. He's been with you most of Christmas break, since his uncle started working overtime, and you'd loved every second of it. But he has to go home sometime.

"I know," you mumble, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. You're nestled into his side, as close as you can be, on the loveseat in your garage. Is it warmer inside? Yes. Do you prefer being out here so Eddie can smoke and you're forced to huddle for warmth? Absolutely.

"Wanna come do Christmas with us?"

"What?" You lift your head to look at him.

"Do you want to come over and have A Slightly Late Munson Christmas with us?" He glances at you, then focuses on the smoke rising from the cigarette in his hand.

You can't fight the grin spreading across your face. "Really?"

"Don't get all excited about it or anything, it's just frozen dinners and whatever's on TV."

He stubs out his cigarette and tries to play it off as no big deal, but you're more excited about this than your own Christmas. Eddie coming to you has become standard, because his uncle works through every holiday. You knew they did a little something together afterward, but he's never invited you to be a part of it before.

"I'd love to."

You shared the plan with your mom, packed a bag, hopped in the van, and went straight to Bradley's Big Buy for the essentials. (TV dinners, beer and soda, some holiday-themed snack cakes that were half-off.)

The trailer was cold when you got there. Eddie turned up the heat, and you both scurried around to straighten up a bit before Wayne came home. Blankets were folded, mugs were washed, ash trays were emptied. You placed your presents for Wayne on the table, as well as a plate of cookies your mom had saved for him.

The tin trays of something slightly resembling food were in the oven and Eddie was in the bathroom when you heard Wayne's truck door slam outside.

He ambles in with half-lidded eyes, and smiles when he sees you leaning against the kitchen counter. "Hey, darlin'."

"Hi, Wayne."

"Hey, old man," Eddie grins, emerging from the hallway.

"Watch it, boy," Wayne warns half-heartedly, causing Eddie's grin to approach Grinch-like intensity.

Wayne sits down in the chair beside the door to unlace his boots. "Y'all have fun?"

"Oh yeah," Eddie says, dropping into the chair across from him. "Stole some lawn ornaments, set fire to some Christmas trees, sacrificed some virgins. The usual."

Wayne sighs and looks to you. "Did he behave?"

"For the most part," you grin. "Chief Hopper let him off with a warning, since it's Christmastime and all."

"You weren't supposed to tell him that!" Eddie stage-whispers angrily.

You chuckle, and Wayne shakes his head. Eddie's watch beeps - which is standing in for the unreliable oven timer - and he reaches for a potholder. He transfers the flimsy foil trays from the oven to the counter to cool, like a pro, then stands next to you.

"Well, while those are coolin', how about presents?"

"Talked to Santa," Wayne says somberly, leaning back to lace his fingers behind his head. "Said he'd have to pass you by this year."

"Well, my girl's mom must've changed his mind, 'cause I had a packed stocking on Christmas morning just like everybody else," Eddie says proudly, hooking his arm around your neck and pulling you close. You wrap an arm around his back and smile up at him, remembering how excited he was every time he pulled out another little gift.

"Really?" Wayne's eyes flick from Eddie to you. You nod subtly, and Wayne smiles. "Well, in that case, I guess it's alright. In the corner, go get 'em." Wayne gestures to his favorite chair. Eddie lets you go with a kiss to the forehead, and goes to investigate. While Eddie's ass is in the air, leaning over the chair and trying to reach the gifts behind it, Wayne looks to you.

"When he was little, I had to lock his presents in the toolbox on my truck. Such a sneak. Gettin' lazy in his old age."

"Not lazy," Eddie grumbles, bringing a few packages wrapped in newspaper to the table. "Just knew I'd never get anything cooler than the Stretch Armstrong that Santa brought me when I was 9." He puts the items on the table and heads for the door. You raise an eyebrow and stay put. He comes back with a bucket, which he flips over and sits on. "C'mon," he says, patting the chair he'd recently vacated.

You sat around the table and exchanged presents while Eddie filled Wayne in on your first real Christmas together, and what "Santa" had filled his stocking with. When your tinfoil dinners were cool enough to handle without burning off your fingertips, you moved to the living room. Wayne propped himself up in his favorite chair, and you and Eddie took the couch. Eddie found an old western on TV, and you ate in a comfortable silence.

When you finished eating, you and Eddie stacked your trays on the coffee table, but made no move to get up. He put an arm around you, you cuddled into his side, and he covered you both with a blanket.

The Slightly Late Munson Christmas was very different from Christmas at your house, but you loved it just as much.

You were rubbing absent-minded patterns on Eddie's leg when a snore rumbled through the room. You jumped in surprise, and Eddie let out a quiet chuckle.

"C'mon," he whispers. "Let's let the old man crash."

You stand and quietly gather your trays and cans - and Wayne's - and take them to the trash can. You place the forks in the sink one by one to avoid clattering while Eddie pulls out Wayne's creaky fold-up bed. The lights are turned off, except for the one above the stove, and you retreat to Eddie's room and close the door.

"Is the chair bad for his back? Should you wake him up?" you ask with concern, sitting on the edge of Eddie's bed.

Eddie shakes his head with a smile and unbuttons his jeans. "He drank two beers, he'll be up to wiz in an hour anyway. Then he can crawl into bed and let the sugar-plum fairies… dance or strip or whatever."

You snort, and he dives into bed in boxers and the t-shirt he'd been wearing all day. You, a more civilized kind of person, slip into the bathroom to change into pajamas. When you return to Eddie's room, he's ditched his shirt and is lying there in bed in what you assume is an attempt at a seductive position.

You roll your eyes and crawl over him, unaffected. He pouts and flips over, so you're lying there facing each other.

"Thanks for inviting me to A Slightly Late Munson Christmas," you whisper.

"Thanks for putting up with me all week," he smiles.

"I want to put up with you all the time."

"Your window to get rid of me is like," he squints and pushes his thumb and index fingers together to leave just a sliver of space, "this close to closing forever."

You reach out and use your own fingers to push his together.

"You're mine, Munson."

Eddie's mouth slips into a lopsided smile, and he leans forward for a kiss. When he pulls away, he looks at his watch and laughs.

"You know it's like 9:30, right? And we're in bed like old people."

"I'm sure we can think of something to keep ourselves awake…" you smirk.

"Yeah?" He waggles his eyebrows. "Wanna make out a little?"

"Eh… I guess," you shrug, like that wasn't your intention all along.

Eddie scoffs and flips over to lie on his other side, facing away from you. He crosses his arms with a dramatic "hmph!"

"Aww," you tease, moving in close and spooning him from behind. You wrap your arm around his middle and nuzzle your cheek to his back. Eventually, his hand closes over yours.

"This was the best Christmas ever," you mumble into his back.

"Hell yeah, it was," he yawns, giving your hand a squeeze.

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

I've said it once and I'll say it again. Astarions face without his wrinkles or laugh lines is like an angel without wings. But the mods that "correct" the odd face he makes sometimes DO NOT remove his laugh lines or wrinkles. Idk why people are saying that. All it does is either replace the expression entirely with a smirk (which I'm personally not a fan of. I like the weird face, I just like it to look like he could actually make that face without straining lol) or reduce the intensity so his upper lip doesn't go so far down that it seems unnatural for his face to make that expression. Depending on the mod. The only real difference I can see is his upper lip is more visible. Which is fine by me I love his lips lol the expression is still super goofy. Just less glitchy looking to me.

According to fairly reliable sources that face is a bug and yeah, it does look buggy. I half expected his teeth to clip through his lip sometimes. Even if it is a bug I doubt Larian would ever fix it given the response even a simple mod has caused lol

So much discourse over a silly little expression!

That weird face isn't exclusive to him either sometimes my Durge does it. Not as intensely of course I think that's the whole animation LODS thing. It's supposed to be the "evil" expression I guess? I think there are just odd faces that all the companions make. Player included. There's also that like, almost snarl face that Lae'zel makes during romance dialogue? Y'all know what I'm talking about? The silly faces are here to stay and Astarion makes plenty of them lol even without the infamous "Grinch" grin. Theres little to no difference anyways whether you're using the mod or not. He looks virtually the same because the mods have a very specific purpose and don't do anything else. Nobody is yassifying the vampire lol unless they use that handsome squidward mod.

But no, there is no wrinkle remover in this house I love our old man dearly.

[moonshynecybin]

imagine the number of people who lose their mind when a black cat appears again in the WEC/GT EU paddock in 2024 (Marc doesn’t need to shift in those situations but that’s a detail)

context here go read the REPLIES !

i love this…. i do think it was a lowkey viral sensation the first time around… broke motogp media containment made it onto nonsports news…. gifs of it on tumblr that aren’t made by repsol-ariel in 2013/14…. AND i think that they BOTH enjoyed it because it was cuteeeee and cruciallyyyy it was a little secret that no one else really knew about…. just for them! vale LOVES to have little pranks/inside jokes with people that are fun and only get revealed a while later (chicken prank.) and marc LOVES that he’s on the inside of one of those as well as just. getting to hang out as a little kitty cat with vale. feeling safe feeling happy and when he turns back he gets to chill in one of vale’s big t-shirts scrolling twitter and looking at the pics of his kitty head bumping up under vale’s hand as he drones on about turn eight or whatever…. the feeling of it just curls up right in his little heart

and RECONCILIATION ! inside joke two electric boogaloo. this time marc is a little older/settled so he can control the kitty transformation a little more. but he literally still loves an inside joke i’m sorry. jajajaja ass evil man. like this to me has the impetuous less on MARC maybe having a bad day and his kittybrain deciding to go bother vale for some comfort and more marc being a STINKER and deciding to bother him on tv for funsies. winding around his ankles. knocking over his water. finding the cameras and being in fact on camera. making everyone who remembers kittygate numero uno be like. is that the same fucking cat ??? and then grinning like the GRINCH the whole way home as vale complains that he’s trending in five countries

[sallage]

Your Turn, Blasty

Alright, this fic is a self indulgent spin off based off of @wreckingtickles’s Auction series! This fic is taking place in Bundle 2 immediately after Shindo says,

“Too bad. I would have loved to show Blasty here a good time.”

Enjoy!

Words: 2,797

Reading Time: 11 Minutes

“Too bad. I would have loved to show Blasty here a good time.”

Bakugo snarled and cussed while Shindo only went on smiling

Suddenly, the cuffs covering Shindo’s wrists opened and his arms flew down, unprepared for them to actually grant his request, he banged his elbows against the metal arm wrests. The bonds around his legs opened as well and after a moment of shocked realization, he shot Bakugo an evil, shit eating grin.

Bakugo blanched. “What? What the hell?” He yelled, watching as Shindo stood slowly from his chair, stretching his arms over his chest and dusting himself off theatrically.

Non-Ladies and Non-gents, It would take less than a second to put Black back into his chair, so I personally would love to see if he could get Orange to squirm! What do you all think?

The unseen crowd erupted in excited applause. Bakugo tugged uselessly at his arms once before throwing Shindo a dangerous glare. Shindo sauntered casually over to Bakugo, making the blonde’s heart race, which pissed him off even more.

“You bastard!” Bakugo growled. “Don’t you fucking-“

“You think cursing at me is gonna make me go easier on you?” Shindo happily interrupted, stopping in front of Bakugo’s chair. He lifted his hands out and sent vibrations through them. The vibrations shook his hands like a massager gun, making the blonde’s heart leap frustratingly hard into his throat.

“You motherfu-“

“You have no idea how much fun this is gunna be for me.” Shindo smiled sharply.

“Shindo, STAahahahHAP! Leheheheave him alone!” Kirishima giggled out before the mechanical hands dug in harder sending him back into laughter.

“Yohohou can- ahahahahha get- ahahahas ouhuhuhut!” Midoriya managed through his tired giggles.

“That would be true if this was real,” Shindo made a show of rolling up sleeves he didn’t have, refusing to take his eyes off of his deliciously helpless target. “But in this dream or whatever this is, hands materialize out of nowhere and float. In a world where we are trapped by a…?”

Interdimensional announcer!

“Yes, an interdimentional announcer that could make that happen, I could get snatched up in a second if I tried anything. Less than a second if anyone was paying attention.”

Right again! That’s two for two!

His condescending eyes rested on Bakugo’s. “I might as well get some fun while they’re letting me.” He looked up into the darkness. “You wouldn’t wanna share that chart you have on em’, would ya?” 

Right again! Isn’t he bright, folks?

Shindo shrugged and placed his hands on the angry blonde’s sides. “Guess I’ll have to figure it out myself.” Bakugo bared his teeth at him like a wild animal, an irritated vein visibly pulsing in his temple. Shindo sighed dramatically and spoke again. 

“It sucks that not everyone here can focus enough to witness you break, I’m sure they would get a kick out of it.”

What do you say everyone? Shall we turn down the noise so we can enjoy the Grinch’s struggle? I personally would love to hear every little sound he makes.

The unseen crowed cheered again and the hysterical laughter of his classmates died down. Soon, all that could be heard was heavy breathing and chair creaking. 

Shindo’s smile widened. “Your turn, Blasty.” 

Before Bakugo could react, he dug in. 

Shindo didn’t use his quirk right away, instead he raked his fingers over Bakugo’s sides and stomach, recalling how hard he was trying to hold in his reactions while these spots were targeted. He felt the blonde’s muscles tense and saw goosebumps appear on his skin. He smiled wickedly.

“Fucker!” Bakugo spat. “Get your damn hands offa me!” Bakugo felt the urge to struggle again, to yank his arms and kick his legs, but he knew it was useless and would do nothing but make him look sensitive and weak. So he stayed where he was, teeth grinding and unmoving.

Shindo knew what he was doing. He lightly traced his fingers over Bakugo’s stomach and scribbled them over his sides. Bakugo’s body reluctantly leaned to the right when a stray finger scratched at the edge of his stomach toward his sides. Noticing the reaction, Shindo doubled down, using his other hand to mirror it, scratching lightly.

“Get the fuck away from me, damn it!” Bakugo yelled, steeling his body of any reactions. “You fucking creep!”

Pick up the pace, Black! You only have a few minutes before we continue.

Instead of being discouraged, Shindo smiled and Bakugo’s eyes widened when he started feeling the faintest vibration coming from the other’s fingers.

“Aw boo, looks like there’s little time to waste.” Shindo placed his thumbs over Bakugo’s hips, making the other scowl.

“I’m not ticklish there, you freak. Didn’t you see that or are you that stupid?” 

Without a response, Shindo dug his fingers into Bakugo’s waist with vibrating fingers, pressing his thumbs into his hips in agonizing circles. Bakugo flinched, face contouring into a confused expression. Earlier, when the hands attacked him there, he hadn’t felt ticklish. But now, as Shindo was drawing circles onto his skin with those vibrating thumbs, he couldn’t ignore the jolt of electricity that seared into his chest and made him buck. 

Like I said folks, Black’s quirk is perfect for tickling. Our hands didn’t elicit a single reaction from Orange, although we truly weren’t trying, but Black doesn’t disappoint!

Shindo chuckled at the commentary. He moved his hands down, pressing into the soft spaces below his hips. Bakugo twitched in his restraints, glaring and cursing in his usual fashion. 

Black seems to be messing with Orange, even after knowing his time is quickly running out. Anyone curious as to what he’s up to?

The invisible audience all grunt in agreement as Bakugo finds it harder and harder to hold still. Knowing that there was a time limit on Shindo further solidified his resolve to stay absolutely still as the fool in front of him rubbed and pinched at his skin like a delusional dumbass.

Yawn! Seems like he was all talk, folks! What do you say, should we pull him and continue?

In that moment, Bakugo made a horrible mistake. One that Shindo had been waiting for. The announcer threatening to pull Shindo caused him to get cocky. He slightly relaxed, a premature celebration when he assumed that Shindo only had a few seconds before he somehow ended up back in his own chair. Not to mention how hard he failed at making Bakugo so much as squirm. So in that moment, he dropped his guard. But as soon as Shindo saw it, he took his hands off of the Blonde’s hips and latched them onto the middle of his ribs. His thumbs kneaded and wiggled roughly into the skin, vibrating harshly and precisely.

Before he could stop himself, Bakugo let out a surprised bark, yanking once at his arms before holding them in that tight position, his biceps straining against the straps. He arched his back slightly and grunted, averting his eyes to avoid the gaze of the smug hero in front of him.

Whoa! I might have spoke too soon! Looks like Black finally struck a nerve! This is so good, we don’t even care about the wasted time. Don’t worry, folks, he’ll pay handsomely for it.

Shindo shrugged his shoulders at the threat, as if didn’t mean much to him. “Looks like I gotta get my moneys worth.” He said with a grin. Bakugo shifted his eyes, a steady stream of curses flowing from his mouth through clenched teeth.

“I’m gonna kiiiaAAAAAAAAAHHH!” 

Well would you look at that, looks like Black didn’t need his chart after all!

At one point, Shindo and his school had been doing charity work with the student of U.A. Having heard of Bakugo and is animalistic behavior at the famous sports festival, his ear caught the Blonde’s name as he heard talk amongst the students of class 1A. Unable to hear all of the specifics, he gathered that Kirishima had accidentally discovered Bakugo’s ticklishness, and the rest of them ganged up on him until he inevitably broke, revealing his weakness to just that small group of classmates.

Shindo found that quite embarrassing. Not only was the feral asshole extremely ticklish, but his friends shamelessly blabbed out loud about it, not bothering to check if anyone like him was listening. He eventually lost interest and walked away, but not before he learned some information that he never thought would be so valuable. 

Not until now.

Shindo had never particularly planned to use this information against Bakugo, but if there was an optimal time to do it, that time was now.

Bakugo bucked his hips and lifted his entire body, trying to leap out of the chair. Although he could barely lift himself a few centimeters, he stayed in that position for a few moments until he let himself thud heavily against the seat, shifting his body away from those damned vibrating fingers as much as he could. But no matter where he went, they stayed glued to his horrifically ticklish ribs.

“No cheating me out of my moment, Blasty!” Shindo teased. Bakugo jolted with a yell when the vibrations became more intense and the two thumbs kneading his ribs turned into ten fingers on each side, harshly jellyfishing and kneading ticklishly into the taut skin. 

Bakugo choked and thrashed, feeling himself losing control with every second the Ketsubustu bastard raked and clawed at his skin. He pressed his hot face into his bicep, mouth and eyes clamped shut and twitching, chest and throat punching with restrained laughter. He held his breath, the determination and stubbornness not to let this fucker, of all people break him was so fierce, he was willing to hold his breath until he suffocated. 

Instead, his breath was forcibly released in the form of a high pitched gasp when those fingers wandered upwards to knuckle into the spot under his arms at the top of his ribs. His “silence” lasted about 5 seconds.

“MMFFH! AAAKKK! AHHHHH SHIT! AHAH! MOTHER FUHHUCK- YOHUHU FUCKING- NAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAH STAHAHAHAP!” 

Bakugo spluttered and thrashed in his restraints, moving every which way instead of away, despite his constant pulling, cursing and threatening, his arms stayed trapped above his head and his legs firmly taut to the chair. 

And there it is, folks! Orange’s number one spot, revealed to us by his fellow hero! Doesn’t it look good to see a smile on that constantly grumpy face? We’ll add an extra 30 seconds for Black, just because this is so good!

Shindo smirked and placed his knee on the edge of the hysterical blonde’s chair, right between his legs. To Bakugo’s dismay, the entire chair started vibrating.

Bakugo threw his head back, writhing in ticklish agony. Not only was the freak attacking his absolute worst spot, which Bakugo thought was more of a secret than it obviously was, but now the damned chair was tickling him. The metal vibrated along his sides and back, spreading along the outer portion and bottom of his thighs and knees. Bakugo desperately tried to lift his body off of the chair, unintentionally pushing himself more into Shindo’s tickling fingers. He didn’t know how, but he felt the ticklish sensation at his inner thighs were stronger than the ones teasing his back and legs, which caused his reddened face to shake back and forth, sweat spraying tragically from hair.

“NO! GET AHAHAHAHAHAFF! AHAHA HAHA HAHAHA! GAAHHHAHAHAHAH DAHMN IT, STAHAHAHAHAP!”

Impressive! Black is thinking outside of the box and is simultaneously tickling multiple spots! Color me impressed! You have 15 seconds left, Black. Make it count.

Stuck between a vibrator and a hard place, Bakugo tried to lift himself out of the chair as much as he could, curses mixing into the pot of his laughter induced hysteria. Shindo mercilessly dug into his ribs, watching with sadistic glee as the blonde’s face turned from red to blue from lack of oxygen. Positive that the Blonde could handle another 15 seconds, and not really caring if he could either way, Shindo increased the vibrations and dug in harder, suppressing a giggle himself when Bakugo’s eyes shot open. His laughter rose in pitch when he suddenly felt vibrations cover his feet like swarming ants. He felt it teasing his heals, running up his arches, swarming torturously over the balls of his feet and running around and in-between his toes. His laughter reached a pitch that would make singers jealous before turning completely silent. All that could be heard was the low hum of the chair and the cracks and creaks of Bakugo fighting desperately against the restraints.

5 seconds!

Shindo suddenly abandoned Bakugo’s ribs. The Blonde breathed in a quick greedy gasp of air before it was forcefully pushed out of him again.

Shindo was at his feet, raking dull nails formed into claws up and down both of his soft soles. He had no time to tease or drag it out, so he went in with all he had. Bakugo threw his head back and went wild, his entire body thrashing, face contorted into a look of pain, and laughter that was silent but with periodic and uncharacteristic squeaks and chokes that would break it. Shindo quickened the pace, immediately finding that the balls of his feet garnered the best reaction. It didn’t matter that the black haired pervert was focusing on just one part of his feet, he felt it all over, even the tops. In the back of his hysterical mind, he was starting to feel lone ticklish vibrations spread over his shins and calfs, which unexpectedly added to the plate of agony he was being served. You would think after a while, he would start to feel numb to the sensations, but in all of his tortured horror, it felt like quite the opposite. So Shindo stayed there vibrating and scratching, vibrating and scratching until… 

Aaannnndddd that’s time! Back to your seat, Black! 

Bakugo slumped forward as soon as Shindo’s fingers left his body. His was coated in a sheen of sweat and his breathing was heavy and loud. Residual ticklish sensations left him twitching and groaning and he huffed in frustration when they persisted. He kept his eyes down, unwilling to lift them to face everyone who had undoubtedly watched the entire scene unfold. 

That was a fantastic job, Black! Don’t worry folks, as exhausted as Orange looks, he's not getting a break any time soon and will continue participating. In fact, his suffering is FAR from over. With Black now magically and unexplainably back in his seat, we can move on to the bidding!

Shindo casually rocked his head back and forth in his seat, as if he were bopping to a really good song. He caught Bakugo’s side eye and lifted his eyebrow, that stupid smirk never leaving his face.

“No hard feelings?” Shindo mocked, amusement plain as day in his eyes.

“You’re… fucking dead… when I get out of this… bastard. I’m going to fuck you up… so badly, you’re not going to be able recognize yourself… when you look in the fucking mirror!” Bakugo spat.

Shindo rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Save your breath, Blasty. Besides you obviously needing it, there’s only a few bundles left and one of them has that sweet spot marked in bright orange ink.” 

Bakugo cursed at him and looked away. He felt Kirishima’s hot gaze on him but refused to meet it, furious that he was put in that humiliating situation. He couldn’t deny though, that after glancing quickly at Midoriya, he noticed the green haired loser was sitting upright instead of slumped to the side, eyes bright with rejuvenated energy. The same could be said for everyone else. As tortuous and embarrassing as that was, he realized everyone got a short break out of it.

Bakugo finally chanced a glance at Kirishima, who hadn’t looked away from him once. The redhead offered a reassuring smile and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Whatever, man. Brush it off, no big deal.” 

Bakugo growled, gave him a dirty look, and glanced away, refusing to feel better about what happened.  

He knew one of those bundles had his stupid spot listed, and after what he just experienced, he knew that this Interdimensional being wouldn’t want to be topped by Shindo. He knew that this little stunt was going to unfairly cost him, but looking at everyone once again, watching their strength and stamina rebuild them to almost 100%, he couldn’t decide if the break was going to be good for them, or since their energy was back up, make it more fun for these sick freaks to drain from them again. Either way, he swore he wouldn’t break again.

No matter what.