#finally done with this holy shit

[swiftmitsu]

Part 6.5

a little check in back at the castle~

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[hauntedestheart]

A Business Investment (FxM Body Swap)

Another story from the world of business.

Mason McKinley was sure he was going to be a famous actor someday- he just needed the world to realize it.

Growing up in his small midwestern hometown where he was the hottest guy around, it had felt like being the star was his birthright. He'd netted the lead in every school play since elementary school, modelled for local catalogues, even won homecoming AND prom king. 6'4'', a killer jawline, luscious blonde hair and bright blue eyes, literally the poster boy for the local gym… how could Kentucky not be in the palm of his hand? All he had to do was wear a nice tight shirt that showed off his muscles and flash that pretty smile of his and anything he wanted fell into his lap.

It didn't take long for Hollywood to give him a reality check- turned out that Mason was not actually a very good actor, and once he was up against talented dreamboats rather than the wimps in drama club, his star came crashing down to earth.

After six years in the business and his claims to fame were a handful of minor background roles in some long running procedurals, some poorly reviewed theatre, and an embarrassing ad spot for STD testing that everyone back home was still making fun of him for.

In the small pond he'd been biggest fish around, but out in the ocean? He floundered.

While he was waiting for his big break, Mason needed a survival job, and thanks to some other actor friends he'd gotten employed as an attendant at an expensive country club. The young actor hoped that one day a big shot producer would come in, see him, and cast him on the spot, but since that hadn't happened yet he spent his days fetching water bottles and chasing after lost tennis balls. Not exactly his Hollywood dream.

Still, the tight white shorts of the uniform made his ass look amazing and if he flirted with the wealthy old clientele of the club, he took home a killing in tips. Being a corn fed midwestern hunk made him "exotic" to rich out-of-touch Californians, and Mason had no qualms about debasing himself a bit for some cash. A little wink here, a flex there, a look the other way when someone got a little handsy… it paid the bills.

He had his limits though.

"Yoo-hoo!" A shrill voice rang out across the tennis court and Mason winced- luckily his acting skills allowed him to smooth the disgust from his face before he turned around to greet the plump middle aged woman who had materialized beside him.

"It's good to see you again Ms. Grant," he lied through his pretty white teeth, and he was feeling generous so he threw in an extra lie for free. "You look lovely today. Is your hair different?"

It was a stupid question- as the head of some kind of beauty company the woman was always changing her look, in this case from a dark black perm to a platinum blonde bob -but Ms. Grant still let out a surprised gasp and tilted her head side to side as if she were modelling the latest fashion. It was not a good look, but Mason dug deep into his Stanislavski training and managed to keep a smile on his face.

"You like? I just had it done. I think it makes me look younger, don't you? If you're not careful, one of these days I'm going to snap you up!" Ms. Grant threw her head back and let out a stage giggle, and Mason bit his tongue so he wouldn't burst out laughing himself. An attempt at a seductive expression appeared on her face and she 'casually' reached over and gave Mason's bicep a less-than-innocent pat. "And please, I've told you a million times, call me Seraphina."

Your name is Susan, Mason thought. "Of course Seraphina," Mason said.

Her hand was still on his arm, one thumb trailing idly over the curve of his muscles, and Mason gave a polite nod before escaping to ready some equipment, peeking over his shoulder to confirm that Ms. Grant was staring at his tight butt when he bent over to pick up some tennis rackets. He smirked and made sure to arch his back to give her a little show before he straightened up- it never hurt to keep the clients happy.

Ms. Grant honestly wasn't that bad, but she was a herald of destruction, because if she was here, then The California Business Women's Association weren't far behind.

The California Business Women's Association was supposed to be an organization for high powered business women looking to network, but the meetings were really just an excuse for rich bitches to brag about their success and tear each other down… with a smile, of course. Mason thought of them as the Real Housewives of the Wall Street (never mind that Wall Street was on the far coast) and while he got a sick pleasure out of observing their gossip and backstabbing, they were one of his least favorite groups to work with.

Normally a hot piece of meat like Mason could make a killing off of a bunch of mostly single women over thirty, but Dominique Banks (pharmaceuticals CEO and undisputed alpha bitch of the group) made it damn near impossible for him to schmooze. A very public divorce several years ago had made Dominique into something of a misandrist and now she did her best to chastise and shame the other women whenever they tried to engage in any talk of men, let alone flirt with the cute hunk bringing them their towels.

(Mason assumed that was why Ms. Grant showed up early to objectify him as much as possible before Dominique was there to judge her for it.)

Dominique herself descended on the court a minute later with the rest of the ladies in tow, and soon the court was filled with women in expensive active gear (some with the tags still on) milling about and pretending to warm up for a few rounds of low intensity tennis. Mason busied himself offering to take care of coats and bags while also doing his best to eavesdrop on the latest gossip.

Currently, Dominique was complaining to a trio of women about a member of the group who seemed to be running late.

"I think it's irresponsible of her to be so tardy," Dominique said, pushing deeper into an impressive lunge- she was one of the few in the group who actually kept up with her personal trainer despite a busy schedule, something she loved to lord over the other women. "I'm starting to question if she should even be a member of the CBWA."

"Maybe she had a work emergency?" one of her companions offered, watching with mild interest as Dominique stretched her calves. "She did just get that big promotion."

"'Big promotion?'" Dominique scoffed and turned her nose up. "Be serious Lucille, she's a middle manager whose office happens to be on the top floor… or a few floors down from it I suppose." The shade drew a small titter out of the other women, and Dominique smirked. "We all have demanding jobs, but we still make time every month to come to these meetings because it's important for us to connect as women in the male-dominated professional world. We're a sisterhood! If we don't look out for each other, who will? Which is exactly why we need to make an example of her."

Mason had a pretty good idea who they were talking about. There was only one woman in the group who Dominique couldn't stand- coincidentally the only woman in the group who ever stood up to her. But before the young man could search the group for a head of red hair to see if he was correct, a voice boomed out, and everyone's eyes were drawn to a newcomer who was making their way onto the court.

"Sorry I'm late ladies!"

Like a scene from a movie, sauntering across the green pavement was one of the hottest guys Mason had ever seen. He was brown skinned with carefully coiffed black hair and the kind of face that Mason usually only saw in the castings for his modelling gigs- a striking appearance enhanced by the way his eyes burned an unnaturally bright, electric blue. Tall and broad, the tight grey jacket he wore did little to disguise the bulk of his build… and if the fit of his compression shorts was to be believed, he'd brought his own tennis balls to the court.

Mason's jaw dropped, and he nearly dropped a basket of tennis balls with it before he gathered his senses and caught himself at the last second. The sexy stranger wasn't on staff (Mason would have heard if such an Adonis had been hired) but most of the members of the country club were old and gross, so who was this guy? A private trainer hired by a client? A socialite's new trophy husband? Some Middle Eastern prince?

"Thanks for waiting," the man said, making his way towards the benches with a fancy (seemingly brand new) equipment bag bouncing on his hip. "It's been so busy at work with the new startup we're launching, but I managed to move some things around to make room at the last minute."

Mystery stud unzipped his jacket as he walked and stowed it in the bag, revealing a tight grey top that bared huge, muscular arms, and was cut just low enough to allow a tasteful peek of his furry pecs. He looked down at himself and then tugged on his shirt, adjusting it so that it showed even more of his ample chest, which he made bounce a few times. A satisfied little smile came to his full lips at the sight, and when he looked back up at the CBWA, it seemed like half of the organization swooned.

Mason was feeling a little weak in the knees himself, but as much as he'd rather drool over the guy, he did technically have a job to do. He in front of the man and held a hand out, stopping the newcomer before he could join the cluster of speechless businesswomen. "Uh, excuse me sir, this court has been booked for private use by a group already."

"I'm aware," the man gave a chuckle (he was looking at Mason like he thought Mason was an idiot, but somehow, condescension was a good look on him) and tossed his curly black hair. "And I'm a member of the group- Terry Walker. Some of my eggheads at the lab cooked up a new kind of body transferal device and I've been experimenting with it in the workplace. Didn't have time to switch back before the meeting, so I figured, why the hell not?" He winked and thumped a fist into his meaty pecs a few times. "Take the thing out for a spin."

"Oh, body swapping! I think I read something about that!" Ms. Grant exclaimed, and several of the other woman in the group murmured their agreement. Mason had a hazy recollection of getting a note from his boss about something that morning, probably this, but he was saved from having to apologize when Dominique shoved him out of the way.

"You are not Terry Walker," the woman snapped, squaring her legs and and raising her chin like a lioness preparing to protect her territory. "What the hell kind of stunt is this? Did Terry hire a stripper as some kind of joke?"

The man laughed a warm, rich laugh. "You're not the first person to say that but no, believe it or not I borrowed this body from one of the guys who works in my lab. Tariq or something like that? I can never keep track of these things." He kept an easy smile on his face and shrugged his broad shoulders, intentionally stretching his shoulders back to bare his impressive wingspan. "And I'm the real deal- they wouldn't have let me in if I couldn't prove it. I look good, right ladies?"

The man's arms came up into a double bicep flex and Mason didn't know if he should be jealous of the man's muscles (those peaks) or massively turned on by them. The women were having less trouble deciding what to do and many of them were beginning to to swoon, only to straighten their spines when Dominique shot them a withering look out of the corner of her eye.

She turned back around and drew herself up to her full height (she was the tallest woman of the group, but this man had several inches on her and it was clearly grinding her gears) and jabbed a finger at the alleged impostor.

"You can't seriously expect us to believe this nonsense," she scoffed, drawing a chorus of murmurs from the flock of ladies behind her.

A sly smile came to the man's lips. "What do you mean? This is that exciting new project that I've been working on that I posted about it in the organization's official Slack, remember?" One of his bushy eyebrows shot up and he eyed Dominique pointedly. "You've been reading the Slack, haven't you Dominique? I seem to recall you saying it's so important to stay updated- but I guess you've probably been too busy lately to keep up with what's going on with your CBWA sisters. All those patent lawsuits and meetings about alimony must take up so much of your time!"

The vicious barb made several of the women gasp, and even Mason felt a chill run down his spine. In the corner of Dominique's forehead, a vein was throbbing like it was about to burst, but the rest of her expression was frighteningly neutral. Then, her lips pressed into a snarl that tried to pass as a smile.

"Yes, it can be so time consuming being being the head of a company," Dominique said, voice dripping with venom. "You're so lucky you don't have to deal with all that stress Terry. And don't worry yourself about my alimony, I'm just glad I was at least married once unlike-"

The woman realized her mistake too late, and Terry Walker smirked triumphantly.

"No comment on the patent lawsuits?" Walker added, just to salt the wound, and then she brushed past Mason (who shivered at the momentary contact with her large, solid body) and flung her bag down on the benches.

She bent down to rifle through it, giving everyone an eyeful of the tight, muscular male ass that was just barely concealed by her tight grey tennis shorts, and Mason clocked a subtle arch in her back. It was the same trick Mason used to make his butt look juicier when he was hustling for tips, and now that he was on the receiving end of it, he understood why it worked. Mason wasn't ashamed of his own ass (quite the opposite actually), but thought if he had that thing, he'd be unstoppable.

The other women converged on Terry like flies on honey, buzzing about as they all tried to get her attention.

"How did you-" "Look at that-" "So do you really have a-" "I NEED to-" "When is it-" "You have to got to let-" "Where the hell did you find-" "Please can I feel-"

The gaggle of women were all talking at once, making it difficult to make out any one question, but Mason didn't need a transcript to understand what the main topic of discussion was. Everyone was fascinated by the body Walker had borrowed, and who could blame them? A tall, handsome, muscular man with bronze skin and piercing unnaturally electric blue eyes… Mason was half tempted to dive into the crowd himself to get a closer look.

Terry, for her part, was taking the onslaught in stride, basking in the attention and tossing out answers where she could. But her new body did most of the talking as she flexed one of her huge arms in response to someone's question, bouncing the bicep up and down like a softball. She generously leaned down and extended the arm, giving the other women a chance to feel, which they all instantly took advantage of, practically hanging off of the muscled limb like it was a jungle gym.

"Okay, that's ENOUGH ladies!" Dominique snapped- or rather clapped, several times, loudly. All eyes turned to her and the women cowed, drifting away from the hunky man in their midst and falling back into line. After a tense moment of silence, Dominique raised her voice again. "Now, since we're finally all here, are we just going to stand around talking, or are we going to play?" She hefted her tennis racket over her shoulder like it was a weapon and waved her hand at the group. "We'll start off with pairs, everyone partner up."

Pandemonium ensued as all of the women scrambled to grab Terry by the arm, and Dominique was practically steaming.

"Never mind, we're doing singles."

---

Terry trounced the others, of course.

Using the body of a ripped athletic young man in the prime of his life gave her a significant advantage, but perhaps her opponents would have stood a better chance if they hadn't been so distracted staring at the ostentatious mass of flesh that was bouncing around in her loose tennis shorts as she bounded around the court. More than one match had been lost before it began when Terry's opponent's eyes were so trained on the way that hefty bulge jumped when she did that they completely missed her serving them the ball.

The sight of Terry's borrowed body on the court was a sight to behold, all muscle and bronzed skin. The shorts she had selected were shamelessly short, baring as much of the young man's strong, thick thighs as could be considered decent, and those powerful legs pumped like pistons as she used them to dart around the court- the constant action caused the shorts to ride up further as the games went along until they were being devoured by his massive ass cheeks.

Mason found himself mesmerized by the way her body's hairy pecs, which heaved up and down beneath her shirt as she ran, and it was almost funny how on a court full of women, it was the man's chest that was bouncing the most. This only became more noticeable as the matches wore on and her masculine body became sweatier and sweatier, soaking the thin gray fabric of her shirt until it began to cling to her flesh and highlight just how muscular the body she'd brought for the day was.

After an intense final showdown between Terry and Dominique (during which Dominique had been unable to score a single point, resulting her throwing down her racket and screaming at Mason for something or other), the women retreated to the outdoor lounge area where couches and tables were shaded by umbrellas, and Mason did his best to eavesdrop as he served them drinks.

"It's just been incredible ladies," Terry was telling them. The couches were arranged in a "U" shape and she sat at the direct center, leaned back with her muscular arms folded behind her head to give everyone a view of her hairy armpits. Legs sprawled wide of course, just to draw eyes to the heavy bulge that sat between her legs. "I mean we all know how hard it is for women in the workplace, but I still wasn't ready for how much easier it would be as a man! I've started swapping into a male body for all of my meetings and they've never gone smoother."

"You see, men are animals," she continued, snapping her fingers at Mason to bring her a drink. "And animals respect an alpha. That's why they have all of these stupid male rituals- handshakes and bourbon and cigars and all that. When I walk into a boardroom and I'm the tallest, the strongest…" Terry's eyes glanced down suggestively towards her bulging crotch. "the biggest, then men have to listen to me. It's almost disgusting how simple it is."

"Don't you think that kind of thinking undermines the work that we do here at this organization?" Dominique chimed in. Not to be outdone, she'd pulled up a chair so she could sit at the opening of the "U" opposite Terry, and she glared across the space at the smiling male bodied woman. "How are men supposed to learn to respect us when we act like the only way to get ahead is to become one of them? We're supposed to be empowering women, and you're jumping ship like a rat."

"I'm feeling pretty empowered right now actually." Terry slipped one of the arms out from behind her head and flexed it, bouncing the thick bicep up and down a few times, drawing a chorus of giggles from the assembled women, and Dominique frowned. A cocky smile crossed Terry's borrowed face and her sparkling blue eyes glittered in the light, and she casually rubbed at the thin layer of stubble that was starting to sprout on her chiseled jawline. Slowly, as she spoke, her hands began drifting down the masculine body she had rented.

"You do bring up a good point Dominique- I have no intention of becoming a man full-time, this body is just temporary. I'm a woman through and through, but if I can take advantage of the privileges of being a man to get ahead, why wouldn't I? Men only understand power and they won't respect us until we have it. They say, talk softly and carry a big stick, and this…" Terry's hands had reached her crotch and she grabbed at it, hefting the bulge up and down a few times. Everyone was mesmerized. "This is my stick. Today, I'm blending in with the boys' club. Tomorrow? I own it."

Mason was starting to get hard in his own shorts at this point, and he cursed, sticking his fingers into his pockets and trying to adjust himself so it was less obvious.

(A bit of bulge was good for business but standing in front of all those women with a full blown erection was just embarrassing.)

A bit flustered, he dutifully marched over to Terry and handed her the drink she had requested earlier- she didn't thank him, but she did throw him a wink, and it was so sexy on that guy's face that Mason felt his cock twitch. From the way the other women were staring, he was sure they had all noticed, and he jogged off with a red face.

"And there are recreational uses for a male body," Terry commented, stroking herself as she watched Mason's ass bouncing away. "Obviously."

"Walker, that is highly inappropriate!" Dominique slammed her glass down on the table in front of her, splashing orange liquid everywhere. "Sexual harassment is a serious issue, and furthermore, this is a professional organization. Nobody wants to hear about that!"

"Shut up, yes we do!" Ms. Grant shouted, and Dominique was so caught by surprise that her mouth snapped shut. All of the women turned away from her and leaned in towards Terry, ready to hang on her every word. "Give us all the details Terry."

Terry took a sip of her drink, milking the anticipation. As Mason busied himself wiping up Dominique's mess, he kept his eyes trained on Terry- the straw Mason had given her was a larger one usually reserved for boba, but he'd felt a burning need to see what those plush lips looked like curled up and sucking on something thick. The sight did not disappoint, nor did it help calm his pesky erection.

Finally, Walker spoke. "Well… you all remember Marcos, right?"

"Your pool boy?" Ms. Grant gasped, and all of the women burst out into a titter of excitement. The handsome young man had been something of a celebrity for the group ever since they'd had a mixer at Walker's house, and they were always asking her for updates. "You didn't!"

"Oh I did," Terry smirked and popped her pecs cockily. "Quite a few times actually. I never thought I'd get the chance- I just kept him on the payroll because he was pretty to look at -but it turns out he was very attracted to this body. He was begging for my cock and I…" Her hips shifted, a long, lazy thrust into the air, and the outline of the long and thick cock in question made itself known- she was getting hard. "I was happy to give him what he wanted."

"Haven't studies shown that the male orgasm is less intense than the female orgasm?" Dominique cut in, trying to land another barb, but Terry just shrugged her off.

"It felt pretty good to me when I was fucking a sexy twenty-six year old," Terry's hands were on her crotch, and everyone's eyes were glued to it as well as she began to stroke herself up and down through the thin fabric. Her borrowed voice, warm and rich, dropped to a husky growl. "But the appeal is in more than just the orgasm, it's the experience. It's about getting to be the one on top and in charge. I've been fucked by so many men in my life that getting to be the one doing the fucking was goddamn cathartic- and it isn't like some plastic strap-on, I got to use eight inches of top of the line cock to do the job."

"And these muscles!" Wrenching one hand away from her nethers, she shoved it roughly beneath her shirt, the fabric riding up and offering a peak of her host's sculpted brown torso as she groped one of his pecs. From the way her fingers were moving beneath the fabric, she seemed to be tweaking one of his nipples. "FUCK this guy is so goddamned strong! I'M so strong! I threw him around like a ragdoll and he thanked me for it, he sucked on my tits and begged me to manhandle him. I was the man. I was in control."

"Fuck!" A masculine grunt escaped her lips, and she began to stroke herself harder. Now fully hard, the tip of her cock was peeking out of the waistband of her shorts (allowing everyone to see that her host was in fact, circumcised) and it bobbed up and down as she thrust into her own hand. "There's something incredibly… visceral about being able to shove yourself inside of a man, I wouldn't even begin to know how to describe it. But it feels incredible. It feels… it feels…"

And then the rest of the sentence was a wordless roar of pleasure as she ejaculated, grinding her hand up and down the length of her shaft like a man possessed… which in a sense is exactly what she was. The mushroom head of her borrowed penis throbbed as it spewed out an impressive load of semen, staining her shirt, her face, even splattering onto the cushions next to her and the table before her, and she slumped back onto the cushions in a heap. Panting, her huge chest heaved up and down, and she waved at Mason.

Like everyone else in attendance, he stared dumbly at the debauched man in front of him for a moment until he remembered his job and realized what she wanted- usually the towels were only for sweat, but he supposed they'd work just as well for cum. But when he offered her one, she just rolled her electric blue eyes and stripped her shirt off, leading to a chorus of gasps as her borrowed body's furry muscles were fully unveiled. Wordlessly, she gestured to the mess that dotted her torso.

Mason's mouth was suddenly dry but he didn't dare swallow- swallowing was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about in this particular moment. He felt the heavy eyes of the entire CBWA on him as he dropped to his knees in front of the strapping male figure, and the young actor had been in Hollywood long enough to recognize when he was being asked to play a role.

And he had auditioned for enough productions that were basically soft-core porn to know how to play this one.

He casually ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing his golden locks, and plastered a smile on his face as he peeked up at Terry, looking for all the world like an innocent wide eyed farm boy eager to serve like no one was watching. White spunk was already starting to dry in the forest of chest hair so Mason doused his towel with water from a glass on the table to better scrub it out, meaning there was just a thin sheet of wet fabric between his hands and the perfectly sculpted body that Terry Walker had claimed for the day, so it didn't take much acting for Mason behave like he was turned on.

The young actor cheated out and angled his torso slightly so the horde of horny businesswomen watching could get a good view of his own muscular torso as he worked, perversely eager to remind his clients that there was more than one stud on the court that day. He took his time working Terry's pecs, squeezing them slightly under the guise of scraping out some particularly hard to remove spunk, and then worked his way down to her abs, digging his fingers into the crags of her six pack to make sure he got out every little speck.

And when he reached the waistband of her shorts, he let his fingers drift along the deep v of muscle that vanished beneath, teasing everyone that he might go deeper, before he reluctantly pulled himself back.

Drawing up to his feet, he dusted his knees off, and then he noticed Walker's drink- semen dotted the rim of the glass and a thin layer of white was laying atop the liquid inside. He reached for it to take it away, but Walker stopped him. She grabbed the drink herself and slowly, deliberately, licked the rim, then downed the remainder of the glass in one swallow. Only then did she let him walk away.

Terry, shirtless and smug, smiled at the other women of the CBWA, who sat there speechless. Mouths were hanging open, some of them were fanning themselves, Ms. Grant's right hand was tucked beneath her skirt, and an unexpected voice broke the silence.

"How can I try that out?" Dominique asked, her voice strained and almost desperate, and then the floodgates opened and all of the other woman began chattering. Terry lifted up a hand and everyone went silent.

"Well as luck would have it, I'm actually starting my own company to distribute this particular service, and we're working on acquiring some seed funding." A bushy eyebrow raised. "I don't suppose any of you ladies would be interested?"

"You want our money?" One of the women asked, and Terry shrugged.

"I'm offering you all an investment opportunity. Isn't that the point of this group? To uplift each other?" She smiled across the table at Dominique, who for once kept her mouth shut and bowed her head. Terry sniffed triumphantly. "But I promise that this is a surefire win. Anyone interested can message me and I can set up an appointment so you can test the technology yourself- I'm sure the experience will uplift you like nothing else."

At that, she rose to her feet, allowing everyone to see that her tenacious rental dick was already half-hard again.

"Feel free to bring your own boys too, we've got lawyers and payment plans already drafted up. Pick someone you wanna be, and we can make it happen."

Then she walked away, her exit an unofficial signal to the other women that the meeting was now over, and everyone began to disperse. The women were abuzz with excitement, but Mason kept his eyes trained on Terry Walker as she sauntered off, eager to get one last look at her borrowed body's incredible ass.

What, he wondered to himself, would these meetings look like if the entire CBWA hopped on the same train as her? Mason imagined the tennis court full of ripped, shirtless men, frolicking about playing tennis in little shorts. It was such a pleasant image that it almost made up for the fact that he'd received no tips that day.

Shit, he thought to himself, crashing back to Earth as he remembered the rent payment he had due in a few days.

"Yoo-hoo!" A shrill voice rang out, and Mason saw Ms. Grant walking over towards him. She was wiping one of her hands on her skirt, and there was hunger in her eyes. "Dear, could we talk for a moment?"

Mason's stomach sank- he had an idea what she was going to ask him about. And unfortunately, he knew what his answer would be too.

[jazzyblusnowflake]

They are trying to flirt :)

N secretly likes watching when they do that.... i mean... just in case he has to stop them if they get too violent ofc 6v6;;; 👉👈

also meet lil "Sugar Cube" :D ill explain more about it... soon 9v9;;;

[cowardlylittlebranchman]

obligatory hanged man Brian art

[tkpuke]

Best Mistake

Pairing - Alastor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,015

In which you’re a new member in the Hazbin Hotel trying to redeem yourself. Everyone has made you feel welcomed, you’ve warmed up to everyone, everyone except one. It is no secret that you do not trust him, and Alastor seems to take matters into his own hands and change that.

This is a tickle fic. Do not read if that’s not your thing.

It has only been a month, but you vividly remember how your first day went when entering the doors of Hazbin Hotel. Charlie immediately running up to you with such a tight suffocating hug, asking but almost demanding Angel he takes your bags into your room as she expresses her delight of having you stay.

Staying wasn’t your first option. The idea of a sinner redeeming themself enough to see the pearly white gates of Heaven greet them was almost laughable to you. When you first entered Hell, you thought that you finally reached the end. Made yourself at home and rot yourself away almost like how you did on earth.

One stroll in town is when you saw a commercial advertising Hazbin Hotel. You watched Charlie eagerly tell the purpose of the Hotel as she gives the viewers a thirty second tour, almost losing her breath as she tries to fit in as much information as possible before her timed commercial ends. You weren’t alone watching it, people gathering near you as they whisper to the person next to them their opinions. The majority of the reaction was chuckles here and doubts there. You, admittedly, also had your doubts.

Although, did you really believe you belonged down here? That this was your final ending?

Which brings you back to remembering your first day. Charlie had an iron grip on your hand from her excitement, pulling you to every room in the hotel and showing off its purposes and making sure to not leave any details out. Once an hour went by and she finally finished, she made you meet the staff and other guests individually.

You were a little intimidated by Vaggie, but could tell she will be very sweet once she warms up to you. Angel seemed like the guy that could make you crack out of your shy shell by spending five minutes with him. Husk didn’t say much, but you could tell he likes being here rather than anywhere else. Just don’t call him out on that. Niffty left you guessing if she is twelve or somewhere in her mid 20s, would not be surprised if older than that. Oh and also, her swiftness and pleasure for pain and torturing bugs kept you awake on your first few nights. Sir Pentious looks naturally suspicious, but he was actually very nice when greeting and you asked him a little about his egg minions.

“Aaaannd the last person I want to introduce you to is…!” Charlie sing song, bringing you down the halls in search for her last friend she has yet for you to meet. She opens a door, assuming to yourself that’s their room as she peeks her head in a little. You waited behind her, rubbing your neck a little as sudden goosebumps were felt. Charlie turned around after not having much luck finding him in there, but quickly gasped when she looked behind you.

“Alastor! There you are!”

You froze in place for a few seconds as the name fell upon your ears. Alastor. Alastor. You inhaled deeply, slowly turning around and almost having to crane your neck to make visible of the face smiling down at you, arms behind his back and small radio statics being played. Every hair on your body stood up, forgetting to blink when you two locked eyes for a good solid minute.

Count yourself as scared shitless.

You came back to reality, stepping back to keep a good distance between you two but went for a small tumble. “Woah, I got you!” Charlie giggled, catching you before you could fall. Unaware of the now fear written all over your body, she continues on by gesturing her hand towards the seven foot demon.

“Y/N, this is Alastor. Alastor, this is Y/N. Our new guest!”

He sticks his hand out towards you for a handshake, but all you could do was stare at his red claws that looks like he’s been sharpening them every five minutes. Alastor took your hand, knowing he would be standing there all day if he let you willingly shake it.

“Don’t leave me hanging, dear! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N.” You knew awkward silences went by after that, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand interlacing with yours. You just want to get the hell out of here and run far, far away from this hotel and never look back. You knew there would be regrets when you gave this hotel a chance.

Okay, this was actually your first time meeting Alastor, but his stories were no stranger to you. Recalling back when hearing those horrifying, blood-curdling screams being broadcasted on the radio for all to hear as if it was a fair warning, people begin telling you the man responsible behind all of it. You wished later on you’d never asked, The thought of The Radio Demon selecting you as his next victim crawling into your dreams which turned to nightmares. Of course, you know that chance is slim, but is never zero. Down in Hell, you just don’t know what the fuck kind of trouble you’ll find yourself in.

Now having a face to the name, he completely became a new wave of terrifying to you. The red claws you observed earlier sent a shiver down your spine. Those pointy yellow teeth that you swear on Lucifer he’s put to good use. Bonus points for his tall, lanky figure which practically makes him towering over you so easily.

What you did not expect, though, was his strange resemblance to a deer. The antlers and, also, are those ears? Funnily enough, it kind of made him less scary. Almost. Not really.

Ever since your first interaction with him, you weren’t dumb understanding that he right off the bat knows your lack in trust and feeling unsafe around him. You would often walk down the halls being paranoid that eyes were watching you intently, eyes belonging to Alastor but had no further proof it really was him.

At certain times, you were convinced the demon was toying with how you felt by saying things to you that definitely came off creepy, but could never accuse him of doing it purposefully when he smiles like there’s no tomorrow. He always looks at you harmlessly, but you’d be a fool to take that as a sign to let your guard down. Every conversation he picks up with you ends short on your end, pretending you have somewhere else to be.

That somewhere being away from him.

Everyone knew the relationship you stand with him. Some didn’t blame you, especially Vaggie. Others, like Charlie, tried her best to ease your worries.

“Alastor is a great friend, Y/N! Just give him a chance.” She would say to you on most days, but it was gonna take more than believing someone’s word for you.

So, bless her, Charlie decided to come up with a trust activity exercise.

“Charlie, I appreciate you trying but I don’t see how this will make a difference…” You say as she rounds everybody up, some sitting and some standing. Charlie waves a dismissive hand. “Not with that attitude it won’t!” Her confidence is quite admirable, something in which you lack greatly.

She went over the jist of the activity, it being pretty simple. Everyone gets a turn to stand on a table and fall backwards, trusting everyone behind them that they will catch you with no hesitation. It seems easy, but once you are up there doubts will for sure start flooding your mind.

It’s called trust fall. A game you remembered playing when you were in middle school, to test your friends on their trust. However, to put this test on a seven foot demon with a horrifying reputation that all of Hell is aware of? Yeah, you wish you could count yourself out of this one.

One by one, everyone went up on top of the table and fell into the arms of those whose duty was to catch them. Some fell as soon as they climbed on top without letting second thoughts get a chance to swoop in their mind, while others took a little bit of reassurance.

Once it was your turn, you did one last pleading look towards Charlie, but she gave you two thumbs up and gestured for you to go. Sighing, you made your way up and looked down at everyone having their arms up and ready. Your eyes looked over to the middle, there Alastor standing nice and tall with his signature grin. A grin you want to see drop at least once.

As you turned your back, you didn’t hear everyone scoot back and have Alastor the only one standing near the table, in range of catching you easily. You took a couple of seconds to yourself to ease your breathing, because you are embarrassingly afraid of heights, but then you let yourself fall.

Arms slide past under yours, fingers resting on your sides as your back hit against a chest. The first thing that clouded your mind was how it felt like only one person catch you, but the next thing on your mind was how you suddenly felt fingers dig a little in your sides, pulling a small squeal from you as you quickly turn around to view the culprit.

Alastor stared down at you, feigning cluelessness. He clapped his hands together, ignoring your confused yet questionable stare at him. “Now! That wasn’t so hard was it, darling?” Vaggie nodded slightly in agreement, while Charlie ran over and gave you a big hug and excitedly expressing how proud she was of you.

Yet, you are still stuck on the question what just happened right after you fell. Every time you look over at him, he just smiles your way innocently, making you second guess yourself on what you truly felt.

You weren’t crazy. You knew exactly what he did, and he damn well knows it too, but it still feels so unlikely to happen.

Ever since the trust activity happened, which has now been a full week, Alastor seems to be playing a one sided game with you. A game that leaves you frustrated yet confused on what he’s gaining from it.

You’ll find yourself reaching for an item placed high on a shelf. Alastor will come strolling along, offering to give you a helping hand, and in the midst of doing so you’ll feel a ticklish breeze near your ribs. Now, the breeze would feel so similarly like fingers dancing along your ribs, their intent to send a ticklish wave throughout your body. Hence you turning with a glare, but Alastor would simply ignore the face you’d be making and hand you the item you’ve been trying to reach.

Another time you felt the same breeze is when you ultimately made a bad decision thinking you could fit into a hoodie that definitely wasn’t your size. You saw it displayed in a store when you decided to take a walk downtown, immediately calling your name. It was so cute in your eyes, despite realizing it wasn’t your true size you usually get clothes in, you wanted to give it a try.

Now, you noticed it was a grand mistake and a waste of money when the tightness it held around your body was starting to get unbearable. What you weren’t expecting, though, was how it didn’t budge any further when you rolled it up and couldn’t get it over your head, blocking your eyes.

You didn’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed that Alastor was walking down the halls during that time. A blessing, because he saw your poor state and undoubtedly offered to help. A curse, because you felt that damn ticklish breeze along your ribs in the midst of him helping you out, a yelp of surprise leaving your lips.

“There we are!” He exclaimed heartily, tossing the hoodie to the side and watching you fix your ruffled up hair but also eyeing him skeptically. “What was that?” You asked, but it almost sounded like an accusation because you damn well knew what caused it.

“What was what, dear?” He beamed, raising an eyebrow with arms crossed behind. You stared for a couple of seconds, not knowing whether to sound like a lunatic explaining what’s been happening for the last couple of days whenever he’s around, or to let it slide once again. Unfortunately, you were already feeling exhausted and were in the middle of heading to bed, so you waved a dismissive hand.

“Nothing, nothing.”

It kept you on your toes. Always checking your surroundings when walking around outside of your room, it got Angel questioning to Vaggie if someone’s out to get you by how paranoid you look.

You knew how stupid you looked to others, because you haven’t talked about any of what’s happening to you with any of them. You thought they would either laugh and say your imagining things, which you weren’t guilty of also thinking the same, or they would confront the overlord himself. If anything, you were at your wits end. You were considering doing the latter yourself, because it really has you on edge.

And so, you did.

One thing that you like to spend your free time on is painting. Painting anything that’s in front of you or whatever idea you had in mind that day. It could also depend on your mood, and for this particular Tuesday afternoon you felt quite peaceful. Your hands were almost as dirty as your palette, sticking your tongue out a bit whenever you were focused and gently dragging the paintbrush across the paper.

Your peace filled mind abruptly vanished when ears picked up on a familiar humming and distant blue jazz playing on a radio. It didn’t take long for you to put the hum to a name, looking over your shoulder but he was already behind you.

You gasped, his sudden appearance startling you. Standing up a bit too fast caused your easel to tip slightly and send your paper flying down, but luckily Alastor caught it and brought it up high to fully view the painting in front of him.

“You never told me you paint, dearie! I’m certain this will turn out marvelous once you’re finished.” His eyes look up for a response, but you’re standing like it’s a predator vs prey fight. Nervousness written all over you, hands out to defend yourself.

“Don’t you dare.” You say, making him tilt his head and squint his eyes a little. “Don’t I dare what?” His smile tightens, but you swore up and down its a smirk laced with nothing but mischief behind it. He’s being a little shit acting oblivious, and he damn well knows it.

“You know what!” You raised your voice a little, trying to sound intimidating but if he keeps staring down at you like he’s about to pounce, you might shrink in fear. Alastor takes a step forward, and you take a step back.

“Oohh sweetheart, whatever do you mean?” He’s got you backed into a wall, which staggers your confidence. Nonetheless, you gulped away any indication you’re feeling quite rather terrified, as anyone else would, and stand a little taller. “Don’t act dumb, Alastor.” The radio demon hummed as if he was collecting any memory of what could possibly trouble you, which made your eye twitch.

“Ah! Do you mean this?” Bringing his hands forward, Alastor danced his fingers alongside your ribs, instantly having the same vibe as the breeze you’ve been feeling. You barely had any chance to react and defend yourself, immediately grabbing his wrists as tightly as you can to tear them away. It did absolutely nothing, by the way.

Being tickled by an overlord was not on your list of things that could happen down at your time in hell. If anyone were to tickle you at the hotel, Alastor wouldn’t even be one of your top three guesses. Him sending those ticklish breezes your way, knowing how easily it got you to squeal and feel embarrassed. Knowing how it kept you on your toes around him, but still not so sure of yourself if it really was him responsible for it. Knowing how easily it can get under your skin.

He tsked at your hands gripping onto his wrists, his tendrils making an appearance and snatching them away, making your entire torso fully vulnerable. However, he did not continue on with his attack and instead watched you struggle a little, chuckling under his breath.

“Why are yohou doing this?” You say, a nervous giggle tittering out because anyone would be a fool to think his onslaught ends there. Alastor traces his fingers alongside your neck up till it reaches under your chin, which tickles like hell.

“You’ve been far too tensed recently, and there should be none of that.” A calm tone in his voice, acting like he’s not about to bring you into a breathless mess. “And you think what you’ve been doing to me over the last couple of days was making me less tense?” You shot a glare, but it bounced right off of him.

Shrugging his shoulders, Alastor tiptoed his fingers on your tricep all the way down to right on the soft spot of your underarms, causing you to violently jolt. “I thought my little game was helping, with all your delightful short squeals you’ve been giving me. hmm, what does it sound like again?”

His fingers, more like claws, resting on your underarms started scratching, not disappointing him when you squealed just like he predicted. Alastor pressed his fingers in a little deeper, searching for a more boisterous laugh. Your true real laugh that you’ve been choking back lately because of how badly it made you feel insecure.

You did not fail him with his goal. You laughed a little harder and tugged on the restraints on your wrists a little harder, but wherever you move, his hands follow. “I must say Y/N, your laugh is like music to my ears. Shall we have everyone else listen?” He sways his radio stick closer to you, but you shake your head desperately.

“Nohoho! Plehehease!” It was a little humiliating, but you were already getting close to your limit. On earth, friends and family recognized how you were more ticklish than the average person. You were a regular victim to tickle fights with your close loved ones, always yelling truce within five minutes. In this situation, you were a little hesitant that begging would translate to him ‘continue’.

Yet, luck was on your side since Alastor took notice you were already having slight tears mirth your eyes. Regardless, he didn’t plan on doing this for very long from the get-go. The whole thing of him brushing his hands against your sides during the trust fall was a honest mistake, but when Alastor picks up on weaknesses that people have, he puts a pin on it and takes advantage of it later down the road for his own good use. Tickling was something Alastor learned was a common weakness for most people, but the other half people rather enjoyed the feeling and the bond it creates.

For you, he already found out it was the second preference. You will never in a million years admit to it, but this entire thing seemed kind of playful to you. The kind of playful you haven’t experienced in so long. Haven’t laughed genuine in so long, and have all your ticklish spots exploited when the reason behind it is for all in good fun. And oh, to be a teasy asshole. He’s doing great in that field.

“Such a sensitive being you are. Have you always known you were this ticklish?” To be honest, you kind of wished he would stop talking. You can’t explain it, but it made everything tickle ten times worse. He’s aware. Of course he is.

You felt his hands travel to every spot that can be ticklish, quickly catching on he was in search for that one spot that can make you go ballistics. “Alastor, wahahait..” you stopped struggling awhile ago, realizing it brought you no use. He yet again ignored your giggly pleas, fueling him to keep going. The more his hands traveled down almost near your hips, the more you start to get nervous and newfound energy kicking in to pull your body away from him.

He catches on.

His next movement happened so fast, you swear it all went down in a blink. The minute he latched onto your hips, you let out a snort, cheeks forming a tint of pink. The tendrils finally release your wrists, at the same time Alastor switched up the pace and drilled his thumbs in a motioning circle. Your legs didn’t stand a chance to support you up, immediately crashing down but he did not follow.

You laid there for a moment, greedily sucking in sweet air to the point you almost thought you saw Heaven itself. When you felt like you collected yourself, you slowly sat up and moved a couple of strands away from your face to view Alastor, looming over you with his widest grin yet in his books. “Bad spot?” He tilts his head down at you, and in response you huff and roll your eyes. He lends you his hand, looking at it hesitantly before taking it. “Come now, let’s get you on your feet.”

You brushed yourself off, finding your painting propped up neatly back on the easel. Alastor follows your eyes, coming to stand next to you. “If you add a pop of red into the sunset you’re creating, I’d say it would almost look like I’m viewing out from a window. What do you say?” Raising an eyebrow, you look up at him. “Do you know how to paint?”

Alastor beams. “Not at all.”

You chuckle at that, picking up the palette and switching to a new freshly blank paper. Picking up a second paintbrush, you handed it over to the demon. “Here, I’ll teach you.”

Teaching wasn’t your strong suit, or either Alastor was seriously terrible at painting. Either way, you guys shared a couple of laughs, listened to any stories he got reminded of along the way, gladly listening. The finished product was suppose to be anything his heart desires to paint of, and after examining it for a few seconds you felt the need to ask what the hell you were looking at. To him, it’s him and his mother enjoying a warm meal of jambalaya while sitting on their front porch. To you, it’s just a big blob of bright colors, but the more you squint the more you start to see his vision and let out a small smile.

The guilt of judging him way too harshly off the bat started to set in. You tried not to blame yourself too much, because if anyone heard the tales and myths you’ve been hearing about The Radio Demon, anyone would jump at the sight of him. Although, there’s one thing you always believed in people: Second Chances.

If everyone at the hotel did not see a problem with not only having him stay, but having him help out a tremendous amount to have Hazbin live up to its full potential, then that must mean they all put a lot of trust in the guy. Charlie specifically, and although people might say she’s naive, she’s not dumb. If putting full trust in Alastor was a mistake, she would’ve taken care of that a long time ago.

However, trust is a sensitive topic for you. Alastor has a long way of achieving that, but for now the time you’re spending with him is something you’ll smile to yourself later tonight.

Maybe The Hazbin Hotel has already started to redeem some qualities of yourself you thought you would never get to see.

[thescrolls-haveforetold]

REX

[starkittnd93]

HERE HAVE SOME EXTREMELY LATE OCTOPATH 2 ANNIVERSARY ART!!!!

IT’S DONE!!! IT’S DONE!!! HOLY CRAP I FINALLY FINISHED IT THIS TOOK FOREVER (dies-)

[becausebuckley]

my wishes come true (whenever i'm with you) | buddie | only one bed | 3.6k

buck and eddie have to share a bed in a hotel. for @flufftober day 31, make a wish!

“You okay?” Buck whispers into the darkness. There's a pause before Eddie responds, his voice low and a bit hesitant. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’m not really used to sharing a bed with someone anymore, you know? It’s been a while.” Buck’s heart skips a beat at the admission. He knew this, of course, but hearing Eddie say it out loud makes it more real somehow. He swallows hard, gathering his courage before speaking. “Yeah, I get that,” he says softly. “It’s been a while for me too. But it’s kind of nice, isn’t it? Having someone there?” “It is,” Eddie says. “I- I always liked that. With Shannon, sure, but also with you, during quarantine. It feels safer.” “I feel safer, too.” Buck’s voice drops down to a whisper. There's a moment of stillness, and then Eddie moves closer, his knee accidentally bumping against Buck’s thigh. “Sorry,” Eddie murmurs, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he stays there, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin barrier of their pants.

read the full fic on ao3 here!

[wildcard-org]

man this VN's getting weird ... ...

(a set of fake screenshots based on @wouldwulfie's hey girl! 👋 your best friend just murdered you 🥰 !! despite still not really knowing what it was all about, i do love me a fucked up house ...)

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

As we discuss Scarlust dynamic we need to factor in Gluttony. Because where does this weird cannibal factor into this. He’s like Lust’s little brother and tbf, Scar has always been impartial to little brothers (on account of having been one) and gave up his own life to save one with little hesitation.

I’m just thinking of that meme; Me, my GF, and her weird little homunculus cannibal of a little brother. All of them in bed together.

Remember how the last thing Gluttony says to Scar after he paralyzes Lust with the locket was "I hate you! I hate you for hurting my Lust!"

Because I do, and I don't think Gluttony would soon forget either.

[ejga-ostja]

Inej!!!!

Artist notes: - Her cutie-mark is more symbolical than anything. It represents her strong sense of purpose and loyalty to herself, it's arrow-shaped bc I think that "The heart is an arrow, it demands to land true." is very representative of who she is as a person. The crow feather represents her time in the Barrel and how it shaped her, it also represents her connection to Kaz and the Crows. The red thread represents her tight-rope walking skill but also, again, her strong sense of purpose. - In my ponified AU, Inej is the only one who's still a blank flank at the start of the story. She got her cutie-mark while climbing the incinerator shaft. It made for a very happy but slightly confused reunion on the top of the prison roof lol

[aethernoise]

After the Dawntrail graphic update nerfed Alyx, I used fantasia to change a few features and Cope, basically. Over the last month I'd gotten used to her new face - even come to like it - until I'd get into gpose and try to capture her like I used to. None of the angles and shapes were the same anymore. I'd look at screenshots from weeks prior and feel utterly despondent that the face I knew for almost 10 years was just GONE.

While the actual feature shapes definitely changed (some due to new facial bones, some are just. completely nonsensical choices) I realized through close scrutiny that a lot of the difference was due to the lack of definition in the skin texture. I can't 3D sculpt, but I CAN paint, so I finally took matters into my own hands and manually edited the highlander face 1 diffuse in Procreate. I basically added shadows where they had removed them, and drew in what feels like a brand new version of the old iconic upper lip.

The eyeshadow is still a little funky up close, but I'm literally so relieved and happy I could cry. I almost did last night when I first imported the texture.

She's back. A little bit different, but she looks like herself again. She's back. WE'RE SO FUCKING BACK.

[monstrumpuella]

[phanzon]

Puppet sisters au part 3

What's this? Phanzon leaving the cellar after 5 months and actually getting back into writing??? I must be possessed myself. Anyway, original puppeteer au by @rorydrawsandwrites

As Gangle caught their breath, they could hear footsteps around the corner, accompanied by a familiar grouchy groan. "Ugh, who's making all this noise?" Walking out from behind the wooden wall with a limp was a scraggly yet colorful figure, their stripped arm reaching up to rub their distinctive triangular head. "Oh, its you Gangle." Zooble said as they looked down at the pair, not even acknowledging the existence of Gangle's purple puppet. Gangle's mask perked up with joy as the girl tilted her mask to the side and smiled like an innocent kitten. "Oh hey Zooble, sorry about the volume. I was just running around the circus, trying to get a good feel for the body y'know?" Zooble looked away as they reached their arm across to hold the other. "Yeah..." They, along with the rest of the circus knew what to expect whenever Gangle decided to take Jax out for a so-called test drive, often plummeting off of high cliffs and platforms. "Its... whatever." Gangle lifted up, stretching their new bodys back before backfliping up onto the stage without trouble, though not without startling Zooble. "W-wha, Gangle how did you...?" Gangle bent backwards to look at Zooble, showing off their newfound flexibility. "What is it Zooble?" Gangle asked with curiosity. "Well the last time I saw you, you had to drag him around like a dead body anywhere you go." As Zooble spoke, Gangle couldn't help but go into a handstand, rotating their mask upright to showing off both their fluid movements, and their mile wide smile. "And you're curious as to how I'm doing this?" With all the adrenaline of working out in their newly conquered body, Gangle couldn't help but shout at Zooble with pride. "How I came out on top? How that stupid jerk finally broke!?"

The apprehensive Zooble squinted their big round eyes. "Ehh- not...really? Or at least the part about breaking him. I mean you already made him your %$>!# a long time ago." Gangle got down from their handstand and laid on their side nonchalantly like a certain rabbit, their smile still wide. "Alright, I'll spare you the details. But sufficient to say that Jax had a bit of a 'personal problem' and asked me for help. I was a bit hesitant to help that &%$#hole, but he offered me something I simply couldn't refuse, nor could he if you know what i mean! Hehehe~" Zooble couldn't help but take a small step back. This wasn't the shy, emotional yet caring girl Zooble was familiar with, this wasn't their friend. The gentle aura Gangle carried had been replaced by one of vindictive pleasure, it felt like she was silently asking their friend to ask what had happened, so that she could indulge in revealing the extent of her power, like a hunter showing off their prey to the rest of the pack. It made Zooble feel unsettled to say the least. "Uhhh... I don't think I want to know anymore." Gangle looked at Zooble with a confused look before giving a teasing grin. "Reaaaaally? Aren't you just a little bit curious of what I did? What's going to happen from now?" Gangle's waved her ribbon teasingly, hoping to entice their friend. Zooble on the other hand wasn't amused. "N-no i'm not! I... *sigh* Listen... don't you think this is getting too out of hand?" The mile wide smile disappeared as Gangle sneered, laying on their back and lifting their puppets arms up in frustration. "Oh come on! You're really gonna start caring about him *now* all of a sudden after all the times he's hurt all of us? Hurt me?" Zooble crossed their arms, squinting at their friend with bewilderment. "Gangle, I can barely remember the last time he wasn't a zombie, let alone being a %$&# to the others. But no, I'm not going to start caring about him... because I care about you. Frankly I'm worried about you."

The porcine comedy mask lifted off the rabbits face with a confused look upon her. "M-me? You're worried about me? Why? I've never felt better since taking over Jax!" Zooble stepped closer and put their hand on the stage. "That's the point... you're letting this power go to your head, its changing you and not for the better. Day by day its like you're becoming an entirely different person." Gangle looked away, their voice filled with pain and anger. "Of course I'm a different person: I'm no longer the submissive and agreeable crybaby anymore. No one was there to stop Jax whenever he felt like tormenting me, and I was too weak and helpless to do anything about it." A slight, swirly grin reappeared on the porcelain mask. "Or at least until I discovered my true powers~" Zooble looked away from the stage. "You didn't deserve to be treated like that... and for a while it was really fun messing with Jax and getting back at him for all those times he screwed with us." Recalling the memories of those first few months gave Zooble a small sense of joy as they chuckled, but as the memories faded, so too did the Joy. They sighed as they closed their eyes. "But its been long enough... and while you think you were weak back then, you were also very sweet and a nice person to be around... I still remember sitting outside the tent with you, looking at the stars and talking about whatever...I guess I just... miss that."

Silence was the natural state of the circus, it permeated within the large, liminal space that was the tent, especially whenever the players were out and about doing a challenge. Yet as Gangle processed Zoobles words, the silence was deafening. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to lecture you, but I had this on the back of my mind for while and-" Before they could continue, Gangle interrupted. "No. I get it now. Thank you for talking to me about this... honestly I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about what had been going on either." Zooble gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you for listening." Gangle continued with a monotone voice. "Yes... Everyone liked me the way I was: a meek girl taking the blows of the circus bully." Zooble opened their eyes in bewilderment. "What?! No I-" Gangle spoke over them, louder than before. "Everyone was alright with me bearing the brunt of the abuse, they never came over to me unless they wanted to talk about THEIR problems!" Zoobles blood began to boil, they didn't expect Gangle to act so self-centered and callous. They turned around quickly to face Gangle. "Now hold on a minute! I never said- URP!" Zooble saw him as they turned around, the tall purple rabbit standing upright and towering over them without ribbons clinging to most of their body. They wore their signature smile and their rectangle eyes were full of life. "Not to worry Zoobie, I got the message nice and clear, heh heh!" Jax reached up and pulled back on Zoobles antena, letting it go and watching it wobble. Zooble fell backwards in shock and disbelief. "J-J-JAX?!"

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[monarch-moon]

Manifesting the ultimate match of my dreams: Performance vs Grandma

I can't be the only one who imagines these matchups as a shounen anime tournament arc, right??

@bestestspirit

[tigerlegionswordsman]

Hello @red-tiger-elite-baichang, glad you could make it.

Come join me, let’s begin.