#four damn pages on google docs

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

I woke up this morning and saw I had a message in my inbox on AO3, presumably about by new fic, and was excited to see the feedback.

When I read what they wrote it was a small comment that said "stop using sudowrite".

Had no idea what that even means, so I had to look it up and found out it's some form of a writing AI.

Absolutely fuming.

I want to make something abundantly clear right now:

I have not been hand writing and editing all of my own stories, hundreds of pages worth of personally hand written or hand typed content for the past 16 years, only to get accused of using any form of lazy ass writing AI now.

This is what I love to do. For fun.

I put in a lot of unpaid time, creativity and energy into my writing and editing. The only thing I ask for in return is participation from the fandoms I love, be it via thoughtful feedback or valid criticisms.

But this is neither of those things. This is just an outright, baseless lie against the art that I have worked so hard to make myself, and I won't be undermined or discredited.

There's anger, and then there's whatever space I am occupying well past it right now.

It's infuriating to pour hours of my love, thought and creativity into original content only to have someone come out of nowhere and try to tell me I've been having an AI do it, especially 16 years deep.

Bitch please.

I also found out that app came out in 2020 . . . As I mentioned, I published my first K/S story in 2008 as Ruby JW on the K/S archives, and my first fanfic on fanfic.net was published in 2007 as luigi_is_stellar.

I invite anyone to peruse my decades-long collection of independent content that I have single-handedly accomplished well before such an app even existed, then come back to me and try to tell me that what I do here isn't authentic.

I don't usually get spicy, but when it comes to the art I spend hours writing and drawing independently with my own blood sweat and tears, yeah. I'm going to get spicy.

I do far too much unpaid work out of passion and love for this fandom to have such a serious accusation flung my way out of nowhere.

It's the first time in my 16 years of writing for this fandom that I've ever been accused of plagiarism, and you best trust and believe that I don't take that accusation lightly. I work too damn hard to let someone discredit the work I do personally in such a baseless manner.

Anyway, that was discouraging AF. I am boggled to learn that AI writing is even a thing, no less someone coming out of the woodwork to try to accuse me of using it 16 years into story publishing when I literally teach academic honesty and writing ethics in my line of paid work as an English professional.

Genuinely: Do you know who you're talking to?

A bit of background on me:

I come from a not-so-wealthy family who could not afford to pay to put me through school -- I paid for that all on my own. I had to earn my University English degree, one of four University degrees I hold on my own work and pay alone, without so much as a tutoring session or handout from home.

Not once would I have jeopardized everything I worked so hard and paid for out of my own pocket as a poor ass uni student working two jobs and doing night classes just to phone it in plagiarizing, not on one ounce of my work.

That was all me.

I've handwritten 3 MLA essays in under three hour exams BACK TO BACK, immediately followed by back-to-back Biology exams & a final lab where I ALSO had to write multiple essays and switch from MLA to APA mode within the span of 6 hours.

Those were all bound in handwritten yellow booklets well before we ever had Google Docs, Grammarly, formatting suggestions, or even regularly brought/had access to laptops in UNI. I did my work by hand.

I earned my degrees in English and Biology AT THE SAME TIME before I even turned 24. I earned a double major handwriting my own work papers like my life depended on it, and you actually think I'm about to phone it in now?

Step to me like that again, young blood. I ain't the one.😂

Anyway, I digress.

Ya girl ain't here to fight BC y'all know I tend to be very easygoing, full of humour, and I love to joke around in the fandom. I'm pretty wide open to opposing opinions or even criticisms. But this is unfounded slander, and I won't be taking that on the chin.

When it comes to my work, I take that very seriously, and I don't play around. My late father once told me that "The work you do and the degrees you earn are yours and yours alone, they can never take that education from you." I live by that sentiment, and have done so by putting forth honest work.

Be it paid or unpaid work, it's my work. Periodt.

It is an unfathomably disheartening and insulting message to receive as someone who writes all their own stuff themselves, draws all their own fanart themselves, does their own photo edits themselves, edits their writing themselves, and has never even used so much as a single outside beta reader/editor for my work. Not once. The art, the writing, the editing -- It's all me.

Bottom line:

Say you do or don't like my work, that's cash money and we good, whether it's your cup of tea or not.

Butt know that it is my work.

I will not put all of this free time, effort and love into my work only to be accused of lazily ripping the content that I have spent hours writing and personally editing from somewhere else.

And on that note, consider my PSA rant ended.

[eclipsejynx-writes]

Kist Day 2024 - Cigarette Break.

I, personally, hate to brag, but I wrote 7 pages (if you put it on Google docs).

i'm not really obsessed with this, I don't like how their personalities came out, but then again I knew about Kist day literally yesterday at 7pm so- enjoy!

This is also my first writing on this blog, so yippee!^^

Summary - Dust and Killer never got along together. So when they both wake up in the middle of the night and run into each other, the have a cigarette break. However, will either of them reveal why they were up?

TW - Killer x Dust, cigarettes / smoking, hallucinations (Dust's Papyrus), bloodlust / L.V. high, mentions of attempted murder, g a y

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Killer and Dust were two sides of the same coin; Dust was calm and quiet, never speaking too much, always caught up in his head. He was never caught twice slacking in his work, because though he may hide it well, he was always wary of those around him. Killer was loud, never thinking twice about what he said or did. It was safe to say he was arrogant with his spot as Nightmare’s right-hand after Cross left. He was never concerned about his actions’ consequences. Of course, that led to ‘punishments’ from Nightmare, but he never learned his lesson.

It was late at night, around four in the morning, when Dust woke up from a restless slumber. The voices he heard were more violence-craved than usual, causing him to panic and wake up in distress. It wasn’t anything unusual compared to the countless times he woke up with his magic on with summoned bones. He remembered one specific day vividly. He summoned bones in his sleep that attacked a wall and damaged most of his room. Killer and Horror rushed in and he almost killed them with a gaster blaster. Nightmare came just before it hit them and made a wall to protect them. Nightmare focused his energy towards Dust, or so he’d been told, to divert the negativity away from him to feed off. He remembered waking up in a panic and jolting up from his bed, only to be met with Nightmare scolding him for waking up everyone. He didn’t care too much about the insults, the yelling, or the punishment for not eating for a week and gaining the harder missions. What truly pissed him off was the grin Killer was wearing the whole time while he saw him being chastised. He clenched his fists while glaring, but Killer’s smirk just widened at the sight. It was clear he enjoyed the scenario in front of him, and he didn’t give a damn that Dust was in trouble. He wished Nightmare didn’t block the gaster blaster from Killer’s stupid target soul. That was the day when he declared he officially hated Killer.

His footsteps patted against the wooden staircase as he descended from the third floor to the second. When Nightmare first recruited him, he was easily lost through the twisted labyrinth of the castle. He remembers when he first met Killer outside of Nightmare, he was aimlessly walking around the castle, trying to get a feel of the layout. Killer approached him and, without warning, started teasing his clothing, saying he looked just like Sans. It ticked him off, and Killer could tell. Did that make him stop? No. If anything, Killer just got more persistent. When Dust didn’t react to the insults as much, Killer randomly threw a knife towards him. A fight broke out until Nightmare came and separated them. The whole situation just made his hatred for him grow.

Thinking about Killer made Dust more stressed. It always bothered him how nonchalant Killer was about the whole situation. He took his hood and pulled it further down his head, feeling self-conscious about his face, his identity. He was never comfortable knowing those other versions of himself, so carefree and happy, could’ve been him.

‘Feeling down, Sans?’ Dust sighed at the familiar voice.

“Go away, Papy. I can’t right now,” Dust said deeply, determined to ignore the voices and their pleas for bloodlust.

‘But Sans,’ complained Papyrus, his bodiless figure swirling around Dust, ‘I feel that you feel what I feel! I know you feel the urge-’

“No is no. It’s late.” Dust pushed himself forward, forcing himself to drown out his decapitated brother’s head.

His brother was pissed off. ‘Sans! Now isn’t the time to joke around you lazy skeleton! You’re L.V. is rising, I know it!’ Sans Dust didn’t respond. ‘Who knows?’ Papyrus said, getting closer to Dust’s face. ‘Maybe you could just kill some of your friends-’

“Not my friends,” Dust interrupted again, turning away from his dead brother. “They’re my… teammates, I guess.” Papyrus sighed, floating beside his brother as they stalked the corridors.

The walls were an ashy gray, giving the illusion of being trapped in a void. The only light source was the full Moon shining light through the giant windows on the walls. Dust tried to ignore Papyrus’s nagging by focusing on the other sounds and sights in the castle. However, it was painfully quiet tonight, and nothing interesting in the castle beside him and his brother’s head.

‘It’s pathetic,’ said Papyrus, continuing with his speech. ‘You’ve worked here for… how long? Months? Years? And yet you all hate each other. Isn’t it embarrassing?’

Dust sighed. “I don’t hate Horror. Just Killer and Nightmare.”

‘That just makes him an easy target!’ Papyrus exclaimed, trying to get his point across. Dust looked at Papyrus like he was crazy. Papyrus huffed and corrected himself. ‘Killer’s an easy target, not Nightmare. Killer doesn’t like us either, so it wouldn’t be shocking if you attempted it, anyway. He’s just an emotionless oddity and a loyal dog. We can take him!’ Sighing, Dust just accepted he wouldn’t get out of this conversation no matter how hard he tried to ignore him. ‘When has he ever done anything for us, huh? He hates you. He’s always mocking you, your personality, your traits, everything.’ Papyrus floated in front of him and stared him dead in the eyes. ‘If anything, you should just do it now. It’s not like he’ll be missed, anyways.’ Papyrus scoffed.

“Please, stop,” Dust pleaded. He looked down at the floor, avoiding the gaze of his dead brother as he continued walking the halls.

‘Unless, of course, you’re growing sof-’

“Dust!” A voice echoed through the hallways, snapping Dust out of his trance. Dust perked up and looked around. Papyrus wasn’t in front of him anymore. Unfortunately, what was in front of him was a skeleton with gray shorts with a white stripe, a black, sleeveless shirt, a messy red target in front of his chest, and black tears falling from his eyes in messy strokes.

“Killer,” Dust replied, nodding his head as a greeting. His tone was quiet, not wanting to talk longer than needed. After all, he spent most of the day arguing with him.

Grinning as usual, Killer approached him. “So, watcha up-” Killer started speaking, but Dust was walking past him, attempting to leave the conversation. However, Killer wasn’t much for social cues and turned around to follow. “Geez, rude much?” As if he wasn’t the rudest person Dust met since Papyrus.

“I’m not in the mood,” Dust admitted.

Killer huffed. “Well, that attitude isn’t gonna bring you anywhere.” When Dust didn’t respond, he rolled his eyes and walked beside him. The two roamed the hallway. “So, what are you up for anyway? Unless you’re in a depressive episode as usual, then that would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Killer snickered slightly, but Dust remained quiet. The only noise that filled the air was the sound of trees rustling in the distance, the leaves shaking in the wind. Killer’s grin fell into a frown. It was always hard to tell what Dust was feeling. His hood always cast a large shadow on his face, covering most of his expressions.

“You’re always so boring,” Killer said, his void-like eyes narrowing. “Also weird, but we’re also murderers, so that makes sense, doesn’t it?” It’s not like he was expecting a response. Killer gave an exaggerated groan, flailing his arms up. “You’re so quiet. I don’t like this silence.”

“Well,” Dust argued, “I do.”

“That’s because you’re boring.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dust, deciding he had enough of Killer and his annoying antics, took a sharp corner to a balcony. Maybe he’ll finally have some peace around here.

The night outside was peaceful and quiet, shades of blue, all blurred together like someone took a brush and mixed a bunch of watercolors. The stars were like speckles of paint splattered randomly around the sky, making intricate patterns. The balcony on this floor had a beautiful view, but the balcony itself wasn’t as nice. It was made of gray concrete, just like the rest of the castle, but slightly cracked and chipped. Dust was surprised that it hadn’t collapsed yet.

Dust sighed heavily and leaned on the railing. A nice breath of fresh air was just what he needed. He shoved a hand in his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes.

“Y’know-” Killer started behind him- “those aren’t very healthy.”

“We’re skeletons.” Dust took out a cigarette and flicked the tip. In an instant, the cigarette’s tip lit up with a blue flame. “We don’t have lungs.” Dust put the cigarette in his mouth and slightly relaxed at the familiar feeling of nicotine. Killer huffed but didn’t say anything. Dust was grateful for it.

The two stayed out on the balcony, surrounded by a calming silence. Dust was confused about how Killer could stay so quiet, but he didn’t question it. He didn’t want the fragile silence to shatter the moment he started asking questions. Without saying a word, Killer stood beside Dust, staring into the sky. The wind was a gentle breeze, barely moving Dust’s hood. It was quiet. Too quiet that he could’ve forgotten Killer was there.

Dust couldn’t help himself and mentioned. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Killer chuckled. “What? Worried about me?” There it was. Dust scoffed and blew out a puff of smoke, not even looking in his direction. Killer chuckled. “Can’t take a joke?”

“Not if that joke comes out of your mouth,” Dust shot back, regretting speaking.

Killer frowned and leaned a bit closer to Dust. “Aww~ Did I piss off the emo?” Dust groaned and took a few steps farther from Killer. Snickering, Killer moved closer, trying to get into his personal space. “C’mon! You know I was joking, don’t cha’?” Killer raised his ‘eyebrows’ expectantly, trying to look into Dust’s face.

Instead of responding, Dust took a puff of his cigarette. Maybe if he ignored Killer long enough, he’ll back down. Killer’s smile slightly fell. “... Right.” Noticing the behavior change, Dust glanced toward Killer’s soul and noticed it was shaking slightly. This wouldn’t be unusual when he was fighting, and the opponent was close to him. He’s seen it happen with Outer and Color. Seeing his soul like this in the middle of the night was weird.

Sighing, Dust finally caved in. “Why are you up?” Killer tore his gaze away from the stars and looked at Dust, shocked that he responded.

“Oh, uh… just, couldn’t sleep,” he replied.

Dust hummed, looking down below from the balcony’s view. “Do you want one?” Dust held out the cigarette pack, gesturing for Killer to take it. Killer looked at it before gently taking it out of Dust’s hands. It was almost like he was afraid it would crumble under his touch.

“I don’t have a lighter,” Killer said dryly, holding it back to Dust. “And I don’t smoke.”

“Well,” Dust said, taking a cigarette from the box and flicking the tip, making it light up, “you don’t need one.” Dust smiled, his grin sly as a fox and devilish as a wolf. He handed it to Killer as he eyed the cigarette suspiciously. After carefully taking the cigarette from Dust’s white-gloved hands, he plopped it in his mouth.

Killer looked out into the sky. “Thanks,” he said quietly, still curious about why Dust offered him the cigarette. Dust nodded in a way of saying ‘You’re welcome’ and looked out to the sky with him.

The silence was comforting for Dust. Killer’s foot was tapping the ground rhythmically, making small noises. Of course, it bothered Dust slightly, but he forced himself to ignore it.

“You never answered me,” Killer reminded, trying to fill the void of noise. He took the cigarette out his mouth.“Why are you still awake?”

“I could say the same for you.”

“I did answer!” Killer was a bit annoyed at Dust hiding things.

“You did,” Dust said, ��but that doesn’t mean it’s the truth.” Killer opened his mouth to argue, but couldn’t think of anything. Dust could see right through him.

“Pshh, whatever.” Killer put the cigarette back in his mouth, frowning slightly. Dust looked at Killer, his gaze going towards his target soul. “Fine, fine,” Killer said, noticing Dust staring. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and spoke. “It’s just because of this stupid nightmare.” Dust looked up and stared at Killer.

Before bursting out laughing.

Killer groaned. “It’s not funny!” Still, Dust cackled, his cigarette dropping on the balcony. “Dust! You’re making me regret this!” Dust’s laughter slowed down, but he kept snickering. Killer sighed as his soul started to shake and vibrate a bit more. “It’s not that funny.”

“I think it’s funny that you’re so worked up over nothing.”

“Seriously?! I preferred you when you were quiet, Dust.”

“I thought you hated silence,” Dust said, chuckling. He stomped on his cigarette. “Besides, it’s pretty funny.”

“It’s not.” Killer put his cigarette in his mouth and looked away from Dust, crossing his arms over his chest. Dust rolled his eyes, not that Killer could see it, and walked a bit closer to Killer.

“If it makes you feel better, I woke up cause of voices.”

Killer took the cigarette out of his mouth and looked at Dust, confused. “Voices?” Killer questioned. “So, voices are less crazy than a bad dream?”

“Don’t make me punch you.”

“But you love me!” Killer gasped dramatically. “Are you saying our relationship was forged upon lies?!”

“What relationship? You mean you being an ass to me and me dealing with it?”

“If anything,” Killer started, smirking, “that’s the peak of friendship.” Dust scoffed and looked away, not wanting to hear it. “Oh, c’mon Dust! We’ve known each other for over a year! You should know by now that if I annoy you, it means love.” Killer put the cigarette in his mouth and made a heart shape with his hands, smiling childishly.

Dust sighed. “Yeah, right.” He took the cigarette out of Killer’s mouth and put it in his own. “But that’s not my love language.”

Killer, taken aback at the sudden snatching of his cigarette, looked at Dust with wide eyes. His mouth was slightly opened as he stared at Dust smoking the cigarette that used to be his. Dust snickered, his voice deep and gravelly. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“I- You-” Killer stammered, not being able to process what just happened. “You- You practically kissed me!”

Dust looked at Killer like he was crazy, not like anyone could tell. “It’s just a cigarette. Not like we’re making out right now.”

Thoughts still jumbled up, Killer tried to speak against him. “Yeah, but- I mean-”

“If you think this is intimate, then it’s clear you’ve never dated someone before.” Dust took out the cigarette and blew a puff of smoke into Killer’s face. Killer coughed and waved a hand in front of his face, the smell burning his ‘nose’. “You always have a big mouth. It’s weird seeing you so speechless and silent.”

“Well,” Killer started, clearing his throat, “maybe I want to be quiet for a change.”

“That’s laughable.” Dust leaned on the railing once again, the smoke from his cigarette floating into the air.

Killer looked at Dust with a strange expression. Dust side glanced at it. His head was hung lower than usual, and his hands were messing with the bottom of his shirt.

“I’m sorry!” He blurted out, making Dust turn his head completely. When Dust looked at Killer, his cheeks were slightly red. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, “I’m not completely sorry, I just…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. “I mean I’m sorry for always… jabbing, at your back, and… The- The dream I had, that’s why.” Killer looked at Dust. When he didn’t make any movements or signs of reaction, he looked back down. “The dream was that you went crazy and killed me. You were on an L.V. high or something and a gaster blaster hit me.”

“That’s why your soul was weird?” Killer looked at Dust, offended, but nodded anyway. “Hm.”

Killer waited patiently for any other response, but none came. When he looked back at Dust, he just saw him smoking like nothing happened. “... That’s it? No ‘I forgive you’ or ‘In hell I’ll forgive you’? Nothing?”

Dust looked slowly back to Killer before looking out into the sky again. “It’s almost dawn,” he said. “We must’ve been here for around two hours now, huh.”

“I-”

“And here you are, worrying about some dumb dream.” Dust looked at Killer. Though his face was completely covered by his hood, Killer could feel there was no malice in his words. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it by now.” Well… Dust is Dust.

“But you do, don’t you?” Killer looked at Dust like he was stupid. “I’ve always been a pain to you, since…” He thought. “Well, since I met you! I’ve always insulted you, your appearance.”

“Especially my appearance.”

“Heck,” Killer said, ignoring Dust’s interruption, “remember that one time when I gave you a mental breakdown because I took down your hood?”

“Ah.” Dust felt the memory rushing back to him. Killer was poking at his hood too much and eventually pulled it off. It’s where his fear of letting people near him comes from. “Like it was yesterday.”

“So- So why?! Seriously, how-”

Dust grabbed him by his collar and yanked him towards him. Killer was now directly in front of Dust. So close that he could faintly make out his appearance. “Because we’re teammates. I may hate it sometimes… Most of the time, but we’re stuck together. We don’t have to be friends for me to not want to kill you.”

“I beg to differ.”

“K i l l e r .”

“Alright, alright!” Killer shoved Dust’s hand off of his collar and quickly backed away. “Geez, you’re scary.”

“My L.V. is 20,” Dust confirmed. “You should be scared. I could kill you right here, right now, and Nightmare would just replace you with another timeline.” Killer looked at Dust with fear. Dust’s eyes started to glow as his purple magic started to surround his aura.

Dust could hear Papyrus whispering in his ear.

“You’ve insulted me the moment I got here, and you’ve continued with it ever since. You’ve humiliated me, agitated me, and I could make your death anything but swift and painless.” Dust started to approach Killer until his back was against the railing. Another step and Killer would fall over the edge.”

Papyrus’s whispers grew louder.

“But I won’t.”

Papyrus’s whispers faded away into the wind. Killer looked at Dust, his fear replaced with confusion.

“The reason I’m up is because Papy wanted me to kill you. His whispers were loud. Louder than usual.”

Killer looked at Dust, and after so long, he felt an emotion.

“I got up and went out of my room because they hurt. I was scared I would’ve killed you like last time. Remember that day when I almost killed you with a gaster blaster in my sleep? That was him when I was on an L.V. high. I couldn’t control it.”

Killer felt pity.

“I just hate how emotionless you are. You’re always so loud and obnoxious, you never care about consequences. But I do. It also pissed me off how you didn’t care when I got punishments like it was amusing.”

Killer felt shocked.

“But that day, despite how annoying you are, that could’ve gotten you killed, okay? One day I won’t be able to control myself and you’ll get killed. I can feel it. Papyrus almost made me kill you. Yet, you didn’t think much of it.”

Killer felt grateful.

“That scares- Are you even listening to me? I thought I was having a moment with-”

Killer felt loved.

Killer gave a giddy smile and lunged at Dust, hugging him tightly. His arms were wrapped around Dust’s waist as he twirled around in circles on the balcony, laughing in euphoria. Dust yelped in surprise, but Killer didn’t care much. “Killer-! Put me down-” But Killer didn’t dare let go of Dust. He kept spinning around with Dust in his arms.

After a few minutes, Killer set down Dust on the balcony. Dust latched onto Killer’s arm for a bit, feeling dizzy. “S-Sorry, Dust.” Killer laughed awkwardly, helping Dust stand up straight. “I just… I don’t really know.”

“It’s… fine?” Dust was honestly really confused. That was strange.

“Sorry, again. I didn’t mean to be so… emotionless. I don’t really control it-”

“I’m sorry,” Dust said, cutting off Killer. “I know it’s not your fault. We all have… issues, don’t we?”

Killer snorted. “Issues? More like trauma caused by a human child.” Dust sighed. The emotions problem wasn’t going away any time soon, but he’s dealt with it for a year. He’ll live, for the most part. Killer grabbed Dust’s gloves hands in his own, the fabric feeling cold. “But… Thank you. For- For forgiving me.”

“Forgiving… That’s a bit far.” Dust tensed up slightly at the sudden contact, but didn’t move. “It’s more like… a mutual love-hate relationship?”

Killer gave a small gasp. “You love me?”

Dust rolled his eyes and pulled his hands out of Killer’s grasp. “Do not misinterpret my words, Killer.” Killer’s smile turned into a frown. Dust scoffed. “You’re not pulling the puppy eye’s card. It won’t work.”

Killer’s frown turned into a sly smile. “Aww, I thought my puppy face was cute! Disappointing.”

Sighing, Dust took out his cigarette and tossed it over the balcony. Killer frowned. “Hey! What’s the point in taking my cigarette if you’re just gonna throw it away?”

“To be fair, it was mine first.”

“Still-” Before he could say another word, Dust grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him forward. Dust’s lips met with Killer’s in a lustful, rough kiss.

The moment felt surreal. For Killer, at least. Killer gasped through the kiss as his arms slowly wrapped around Dust’s waist, careful not to overstep boundaries. Once his arms were completely around Dust’s waist, he pulled him closer so their bodies were together and close. Dust’s hands guided themselves, tracing over Killer’s neck before wrapping around to put more force into the kiss. Their mouths moved in sync, the taste of cigarettes lingering in their mouths in a burning sensation. Killer felt hungry for the affection and love he longed for, but never received. Dust wanted comfort and reassurance, knowing he wouldn’t lose control from a high.

They both struggled with LOVE.

As Dust tried to pull away, Killer kept pushing forward, not wanting the moment to end. Dust gave a light laugh as Killer’s lips drowned it out.

The two made out on the balcony until the first peak of dawn, the golden bursts of sunlight shining on their faces. Still, they didn’t care. They just stood there in each other’s embrace.

When they finally let go, they stared at each other; Killer’s black eyes shining in the light, and Dust’s face visible, his eyes a crimson red and neon blue. Killer finally spoke. “Did… did you really just kiss me?” He was shocked, but a cheeky grin slowly spread onto his face. 

Dust rolled his eyes. “Surprised I didn’t throw up.”

“Doesn’t answer the question, Dust Bunny.”

“I don’t know,” Dust admitted, pulling down his hood to reveal his face even more. Killer blushed when he saw his face more clearly. Every inch of his face was beautiful to him. “I think you have to kiss me again to find out.”So they both stood on the balcony and kissed again, this time full of passion and L.O.V.E. love.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

oopsie daisy, almost forgot about the ending part-

so, yeah! that's it- It's cute I guess, but I never like what I make so I have to say I hate it- lol. hope you enjoyed! this was a nice one- took me two days, too- thanks to my friend who gave me the idea <3

[fierceawakening]

So YouTube keeps recommending me videos that claim the iiluminaughtii drama is STILL ALIVE!! and EVEN WORSE!!! and yet every time I click on them they go through a recap of the same drama, and when I try to find this supposedly damning new information I literally cannot

Honestly, at this point I don't care who's right or not, I just... want to shake people and tell them that if you have a SHOCKING!!!! PILE OF DMS TO QUOTE!!! THAT PROVE YOU'RE RIGHT!!!

what you want to do is make it easy, not hard, to find the text of those DMs, and to give the context if needed right away and briefly

otherwise you totally just sound like the people on Tumblr who send asks like "you interacted with an abusive pedo!" and link you to a google doc that's forty pages about how so and so I don't know became roommates with so and so I talked to for a second and HEY GUYS IN FORTY PAGES MORE WE PROMISE WE'LL GET TO KIDDY DIDDLING

I dunno, it just really seems like these people are still bothered by stuff that bothered them four months ago, and that's fine, but it's not news

and at this point, given that it's not news, you should just Ass U Me that anyone who isn't sure that what she did was evil (as opposed to just unwise or ill thought out) is going to continue to be unsure

signed, a person who thinks some of that was probably dickish but is really not seeing Terrible Business Practices and would probably also be sending C&Ds if people were still calling me evil by now too because JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

[three-duck-houses]

@fe-oc-week Day 3 - Backstory

Going to cut because again, it's long (though I swear I tried my best to condense it from what I've got written in my google doc. I've got it from 35 pages down to 6 <_<;;;;) And also give a warning for implied rape (first entry), sort implied bad side effects for using magic in the last paragraph of 1170, and possibly upsetting parental death in 1171

1155 - 

Kestrel Eisner (Nico's mum) was attacked and abducted while working as a new Pegasus messenger for House Gloucester, and taken somewhere underground to be used in some sick freaks experiments involving giving unborn babies crests

1160 -

Verdant Rain (August) -

Kes and ten other women were left in the mountains between Goneril and Ordelia after the experiments were deemed a failure and then abandoned. Kes was rescued by a group from the Portia performers troupe, she was the only one of the ten who'd been found to have survived, and since she'd been drugged and couldn't remember anything she went with them back to their base near the Locket. She was looked after and grew close to Mali Anakuja and her daughter Cassida (nearly 2, adopted after Mali's best friend died, both are Almyran)

29th Lone moon (March) -

Nico was born (which was a surprise to Kes. She'd simply thought whatever had turned her hair white had messed with other parts of her body too)

1161 -

Kes' family (brother Perry, his wife Helen, their 14 month old son Ryan) moved to be with her and support her since she was very sick and weak after having Nico. And she'd fallen in love with Mali so wanted to stay with her. Gramps and Gramma Eisner also joined them a few months later, and fit in surprisingly well with the troupe

1165 -

Nico started developing strange magic powers: sparking lightning when angry, ice when scared, and "thinking people better"

A few priests at the local church didn't like that, said it was unnatural and an affront to the Goddess. Started treating the family poorly, which spread to them disliking the whole troupe more than they already had (there are a few Almyrans in the troupe who'd been "rescued" in fights but refused to work for the Gonerils)

1169 -

Summer sickness went around town, Kes got very sick. Church had medicine they were giving out for free to the town but refused to give any to the troupe, saying they deserved to suffer for being faithless heathens

Nico broke into the church at night and stole enough medicine for everyone who was sick

The troupe packed up and left soon after to avoid retaliation. Nico and her family left Fodlan altogether, while the troupe moved to Edmund

Red Wolf (November) - They reached Sreng

Pegasus (February) - They reached Duscur

1170 -

Harpstring (May) - They reached Albinea

Blue Sea (July) - They reached Brigid

Pegasus (February) - They reached Morfis

Morfis was full of mages from all over, who were able to start helping improve Kes' health and also start helping Nico learn to control her magic

Nico learnt a wide variety of ways to cast the same types of spells using different combinations of words, gestures, and occasionally material focuses. So now knows four different ways to create fire for example. She can cast all of the Fodlan Reason/elemental spells, and versions of the Faith spells too. Also learnt a variety of utility spells, such as one to let her find people or objects via shared blood connection or for things that had been in regular contact for extended periods of time (so can find children who have wandered off, and people's sentimental items), and one similar to Nosferatu but isn't limited to draining magic from living creatures, she can also drain "potential" energy/magic from moving water or the ground (which will prevent anything growing there for a damn long time)

She got a spell tattooed around her eye so it's easier for her to cast various sight spells, such as: seeing embedded magic in things to know when spells need renewing. Seeing peoples magic/energy flow to help with healing. Low light vision. Far distance/close up focus

Found out that Nico has a lot of magic and a huge range (several hundred miles, she can "find" people she grew up with in Fodlan from Morfis). Develops a tracking spell of sorts that she puts on the back of people's hands so she can track them and they can communicate by via a sort of morse code system. While Nico can make glowing words appear where the other person can see, they can only respond with taps and swipes

Also found out she doesn't really have a magical limit. As in, if she uses more magic than what her body has available as magic, it will convert stored body fat into magic and she'll be weak and tired for a few days afterwards. If she keeps casting even after that point, it has the potential to become deadly.

1171 -

28/29th Lone moon -

Nico and Kes stayed up watching the stars and drinking tea to wait for the midnight call so Kes could wish her a happy 11th birthday, because Kes had seemed to be doing a lot better and she wanted to celebrate with Nico. They went to bed together, Kes saying Nico would be too old and too big to do this for much longer. But Nico woke up to find Kes had died in her sleep, and she was trapped in a hug until Perry was able to break her free. Nico becomes terrified of sleeping by herself, and gets nightmares if she gets too cold or it's too quiet, and casts magic while she sleeps. Also has trouble sleeping in general, since she's also terrified of everyone else she loves getting hurt while she can't help them

1172 -

Nico tried to add a spell to her eye to let her see and speak with the dead. It reacted strangely to her inherent magic, and she ended up seeing the "ghosts" or "echos" of everyone who had died in Morfis for the last decade before her master managed to fix things and tune it down to her only seeing people who had died within the last 48 hours unless she's actively trying to

They moved to Almyra, partly so Nico won't get herself into any more trouble, partly so Mali could visit her family.

They stayed with Mali's mother (Arya, aka Mamani), her brother Rafa, and Rafa's two children Rizeti and Kota

Nico started learning various dances and stories from Mamani (who is a fairly famous dancer herself and knows a lot of performance related people) and also wyvern care after Rafa takes her to the army eyrie to meet the wyverns one day

1174 -

Kilani hatched and Nico was instantly smitten with the spunky runty wyvern. Was officially gifted at at midwinter

1175 -

After an incident where Nico threw some kids who were bullying her as she cried on Kes' birthday into a pile of wyvern shit, Nico kinda got exiled from the capital for two years.

(Because one of those kids was Shahid, whose mother tried to have her executed for attempted murder, but Tiana who had been visiting the eyrie with Nader thought what Nico did was hilarious so got her death sentence downgraded to exile)

Nico's family decided to move back to Fodlan (as much as they'd liked Almyra, they had faced discrimination for being Fodlani) and Tiana anonymously arranged to help the family by arranging their transport out of Almyra and giving a hint to look for work with Judith (also a sealed letter of introduction to Judith)

Judith took the first letter she'd had from Tiana in fifteen years pretty well, and did as asked to help set up the Eisner family with a home and jobs. Nico started working as a wyvern messenger for her

Met Lord Oswald and Duke Godfrey when Judith was confident enough in her flying to send her outside Daphnel. She liked them. They started keeping sweets in the office for when she stopped by with letters

The troupe moved their base to Daphnel (Judith helps "sponsor" then during winter when they don't travel as much in exchange for them passing on any rumours and interesting info they happen to hear)

Met Byleth and Jeralt when she got lost one day in one of the smaller territories. Was excited to meet more family, got permission to visit them again

Met Shez while he was helping defend a village she was delivering a message to. Started being friends after running into each other a few more times and she tracked him. Has an ongoing joke with him that since he doesn't know his birthday, he can't prove he's older and thus doesn't get to call her a brat so nur. And since he does need a birthday, they'll just call it Great Tree 1, start of the year, and the fact it's 3 days after Nico's is a wild coincidence

Met Leonie after Count Gloucester asked her to stop by and make sure they'd had no more poacher problems. Started visiting semi regularly

1176 -

Nico got asked to visit her Mamani in Almyra and meet a potential suitor (who’d heard of her from the Shahid incident and decided infamy is still fame). Asked Shez to pretend to be her boyfriend, he agreed when he stopped laughing. He ate way too many kebabs and baklava while there, but did convince the guy to stop going after Nico

Horsebow moon

On her way home from collecting medicinal plants in Duscur for Ryan (who became a healer) saw a group being attacked near the border. She tried to help, but there were too many people, and the victims (she's assuming the more heavily injured group that has a kid in it didn't start the fight, at least) are struggling. Asked the kid if he could think of somewhere safe she could try to get them too, he said with Uncle Rodrigue, the father of the grumpy knight she was trying to heal, but he was really far away

Nico used the grumpy knight as a focus to find his dad, and warped the entire group (including their horses) to him. It took far more magic than she had available, and she collapsed before she could see where she'd brought them all.

Kilani did as she'd been trained to, and picked up Nico and took off, getting her away from the unknown people and potentially dangerous situation. She luckily found Jeralt's crew in Galatea and took Nico to them. Nico slept for a week, and was then incapacitated for a month. Jeralt escorted her home to Daphnel, and then allowed Nico to join the crew sometimes to learn how to fight/defend in ways the Daphnel guards couldn't teach her

Nico started splitting her time between running messages for Lady Daphnel and joining the Blade Breakers for jobs

1178 - 

Rizeti and Kota got “drafted” into an army battalion because the general was mad at Rafa over something that happened to his wyvern that wasn’t actually Rafa’s fault. Nico got called to help get them back

She employed some psychological warfare tactics on the battalion who had taken her cousins, making a mist/fog out of nowhere, walking on air so the soldiers couldn’t hear her coming, laughing and giggling and manipulating the air to make it sound like there were multiple creepy children approaching the camp, bringing the temperature right down so all the soldiers started shivering and their breath misting in front of their faces, and then using melted ice to drip water down the backs of their necks.

Threatened the army captain to stop stealing children for his grudges, or their next meeting wouldn’t be quite so pleasant, then warped away taking all the underage “soldiers” who had been “enlisted” because of the guys grudges, and dispersed the mist so the whole camp could see he’d been strung up upside down by an icicle, with some very sharp ones pointed at some very delicate body parts

1179 -

Wyvern Moon (6 months before meeting the Lords at Remire)

Shez tapped for Nico's help and she warped to him to find he was fighting Byleth. Eventually got the full story, managed to convince him to stop fighting Byleth, then convinced both him and Jeralt that Shez should join the crew. A wobbly pout and teary eyes might have been deployed on all involved till they agreed

[pastballads]

❤ + your url

Hearts for my thoughts. | Accepting | @hybridgear

You're asking me to give my thoughts about my blog? I'm putting this under a read more because I've got a bit to say. More about myself than my blog, though it does tie into it and my writing.

The rules, all the about pages, and the verses page could've looked way better than they do, but I don't know enough about Google Docs to actually fix things the way I want them. I only started using Docs four years ago, and it was mostly as basic backups for my characters' about pages in case anything happened to a blog or for the purpose of Discord RP servers.

I'm not great at messaging others either. Not because I'm shy, but more often than not because I don't want to bug. Like, over half the people on my Discord list have left their profiles on Do Not Disturb or appear offline damn near 24/7, and the messaging here is a broken, buggy mess and I don't want to unintentionally spam someone because I have no idea if a message went through or not. People are always like "no it's fine, come talk to me whenever", but I'm not going to gamble and take the chance of accidentally pissing someone off. Happened enough over the years.

Then there's my reply times. I can be slow as molasses, and I know it. Everyone knows that whole spiel about roleplaying here is a hobby, real life comes before here, yadda yadda. The issue there is I'm a space cadet with bad ADHD and an ever-shifting sleep schedule. I could be awake or asleep at any time of day depending on the circumstances around the house. I could be halfway through writing a massive draft when something as simple as a single song can derail my entire train of thought. And this isn't including all the spontaneous parts of life causing distractions either. That's why I could be here finishing dozens of drafts in one afternoon or radio silent for almost a week with maybe one post. Not much of a surprise that I constantly apologize for how late they can be.

Muses are another big problem of mine. They're all over the place, with inspiration coming and going like ocean tides. Doesn't help that music or playing a new game or damn near anything can spontaneously send me down the idea phase of creating a new one. Back when I was in the RWBY fandom, I had eight sideblogs because my mind was dedicated to thinking outside the box from the run-of-the-mill OCs everyone used. Hell, it's still a bit of an issue. Just this month, my mind's thought about adding my FF14 character to the roster despite knowing little about the lore, as well as running a trial with my revamped take on Algol from Soul Calibur 4, putting Tino back into his RWBY verse as an AU even though it'll go unused, an old OC who was based on or even secretly Dionysus, and my take on the MC of a nigh-dead MMOJRPG called Onigiri. Not gonna happen though. Last thing I want is to flood this blog with six shallow characters I came up with in two days.

Tying in with the previous bit, getting into the headspace of writing certain muses is another issue for the same reasons. It's entirely sporadic.

I can go on and on and on. Some of these things can be improved or fixed. Others, they're just personal issues. You can say I'm being hard on myself or whatever else you might think, but I'm just being honest.

[starryluminary]

Noah and Cody most definitely had a fling we didn’t get to see: an over analyzing of two fictional characters

Before I start: I’m not forcing you to agree with me, I’m not claiming this is canon and you’re allowed to disagree with everything I say on this post. I’m literally just in my feelings and can’t keep my mouth shut that’s all this is. If you’re not interested, goodbye!! Keep scrolling the total drama tags!!!

For those of you who are interested though………

Part 1: Awake-a-thon

Lets get straight to it. The reason any of us ship it in the first place. The ear kiss (which is the first kiss of the series, might I add!!!!!!!)

Rewatching that episode, I noticed it took them 3 and a half days since the beginning of the Awake-a-thon for them to virtually decide to sleep next to each other. Why they didn't just go back to the cabins to get proper sleep is beyond me. Maybe Chris didn't allow it, I don’t know.

Either way though, something happened in that timeframe that led to that ear kiss right. This is where it begins. The bonding. In those four days they got close enough, whether it be through conversation, lack of other companionship or pure chance, that they most likely fell asleep in each other's company. Now we have established that they've at LEAST bonded with each other before the ear kiss, and now have some form of an established relationship.

Speaking of the ear kiss itself, that was very clearly an accident. I love it all the same, and you can claim “Cody was smiling half awake, that means he was enjoying it!”, but they barely know each other at this point. I’m sure whatever happened then was probably not meant to happen. I'd kill to know what Noah was dreaming about, though.

Now you'd think that two 16 year old boys would never want to interact again after one kissed the other's ear on national tv, especially someone like Cody (which I hope I don't have to explain.) AND YET.

Part 2: Dodgebrawl

Why the fuck is Mr. Wannabe Casanova willingly sitting next to the guy that kissed him on national TV. For what reason.

Maybe their initial interactions were superficial, and maybe the kiss strained the small connection they had but… the fact that they sit next to each other frequently and Cody actually smiled at him at one point leads me to believe they actually managed to enjoy each other’s company enough to want to put effort into repairing what might have broke because of that kiss, and did it successfully. If you think I'm being farfetched, might I direct your attention to Noah’s elimination?

Hmmmm. Cody's.... sad? Upset?? To see Noah eliminated??? Notice how he's so far away and behind the rest of the team when this happened. Like he's the only one that feels that way. Because he is. Makes you wonder why he cares so much doesn't it.

We understand that their relationship is strong enough that Cody’s visibly upset and distant as a response to him leaving the competition, yeah? Ok good.

Also only five marshmallows are thrown at him. I'm confident in saying Cody didn't throw a marshmallow at him. We don't even see his reaction to the marshmallow pelting so I'll leave it here.

Isn't it so fucking funny how shit starts lining up so nicely? Almost as if all of it was intentional and there were plans for a friendship in the margins of the writing team's notes that ultimately didn't make it to the final product. I'm not saying that's a fact, I'm just saying that's what it feels like.

Now this isn’t about them interacting directly but I feel It’s important to mention…

Part 3: Playa des Losers (He kissed a guy! No I didn't!)

It’s just that one part. You know the one. It became a popular audio for animatics and TikToks you know what I'm talking about. The fact they are drilling it in your head is saying something. They won't let you forget. If this was the only offense I probably wouldn't care enough to add it here, but it’s NOT. THEY WON'T LET YOU FORGET. WON’T LET THEM FORGET. CHRIST.

This brings us to our next point-

Part 4: TDA's Aftermath

The mere fact Noah and Cody sit next to each other the entirety of the aftermath episodes tells me everything I need to know, but let’s talk about it for the sake of clarity.

Them sitting next to each other despite, and I can’t stress this enough, “embarrassing” themselves on national television (which we are reminded of when they introduce Noah!) is just. Baffling. Cody doesn't even sit next to anyone else in the beginning, he’s on the top corner of the booth. This demonstrates Noah and Cody are considerably comfortable with each other, despite everything. Cody even looks at Noah for approval, which he reciprocates with a smile. I can compile the knowing looks they share during the aftermaths, but I won’t for brevity's sake. They’re friends, your honor.

[I’d also like to add they could have shown any of the dodgebrawl clips for Noah’s introduction, but they chose the ear kiss and proceeded to show them sitting together. If the point was to humiliate him, getting pelted by marshmallows would have done the job just as well!! Being hurt by marshmallows is so pathetic they didn't HAVE TO REMIND US OF THE KISS BUT THEY DID. ARE THEY TRYING TO MAKE A POINT??????]

Love how Cody said one sentence and Noah spoke two words the entirety of action but you can still see the bond they have in the sidelines. Art, truly.

Now. The part that has me CONVINCED the relationship teetered away from being platonic.

Part 5: Celebrity Manhunt

Holy fucking shit. They let it happen again. It happened AGAIN. They remember what happened last time, they’re not stupid or blind. They knew this could happen again and did it again ANYWAY. It couldn’t POSSIBLY be by accident this time. How does someone as smart as Noah and someone as simp-y as Cody make this mistake again. The answer is it wasn’t an accident this time. Noah deliberately slept on Cody’s lap and Cody let him…. What, just BECAUSE??

You can’t tell me two 16 (maybe 17 at this point?) year old boys made the conscious decision to sleep together in such an intimate way and convince me they don’t feel anything for each other. Do you see what I'm implying.

At least the first time it happened they ran away screaming, but they sat next to each other in the tent this time!!!!! The same day!!!! No shame!!!! No embarrassment!!!! Are you kidding me!!!!!!!!

Not to MENTION they were asleep next to the cliff before this! They woke up, decided to move to the side of the bus, and slept on top of each other. Are you serious? Homosexuals.

This isn’t even their first interaction in the special. I am flabbergasted.

The looks Cody shoots Noah this special. Who is he trying to impress, I wonder.

And impress he did, cause he slept on his damn lap!!! I rest my case.

I feel the relationship wasn’t as strong in World Tour (and I don’t want to sit down and rewatch it, at least not now), so I’ll leave it here.

Conclusion

Given what I’ve shown so far, you can see their relationship gradually evolve from being strangers, to friends, to whatever the hell they labeled their relationship after that. I can’t pinpoint when the less than platonic relationship started, but I’ve come to the conclusion that they most definitely had that spark between them, however brief it may have been.

You don’t kiss someone's ear in your sleep and then decide to sleep on their lap because he’s a homie. That’s all I have to say.

[glorified-red]

You ever just get so deep into writing something for the first time in awhile that you forget you're writing until suddenly you look up and you wrote 8,400 words of pure filth.

Yea, me too.

[burger-bro]

Jesus Christ I hate Microsoft word

[saltylandland]

Into the Lion’s Den (NSFW)

Word Count:  4718

Warnings: dubcon (no explicit consent), unprotected sex, heat/aphrodisiac (it gets explained in the fic), light bondage, inappropriate things used for bondage (there’s a reason there are specific things sold for bondage), brief choking, overstimulation, dacryphila, praise kink(?) It's kinda like condescending praise, biting, implied somnophila, breeding kink (reader does not end up pregnant), I probably forgot to tag something idk

NSFW masterlist

Commissions info

Kofi

Notes: so there is this thing that some animals do that when they mate they bite their partner to keep them still,,, yeah. also! this was 10 pages on my google docs lol

Tags: @mangacupcake

Running through the halls became harder and harder to keep up. But everytime I think my legs will give out, the shouts from the beastmen chasing me rejuvenates me. The need to find somewhere to hide was essential, but finding a good hiding spot wasn’t easy. Even with this big ass school, there weren't many places to hide. Especially when you have three or four beastmen on your tail, drooling like hungry dogs. Especially when those beastmen are constantly catching you, only having sheer dumb luck keeping you alive. Just a minute ago those beastmen had caught me, keeping me pinned to a wall. 

The one in front seemed to be a fox beastmen. He’s the one who found me first, but it only took a couple seconds for the other three to catch up. The rest were bigger than the fox, letting him have the advantage of trapping me sooner. Any hope of finding an escape from them was smashed into pieces the moment I saw the fox share a smirk with the rest. They were working together. They all surrounded me, ripping at my clothes as they did. I could only close my eyes, hoping they would just quickly kill me instead of eating me alive. Although a quick flash made my eyes flutter open, there's… no one there… Did someone just take a picture?

That was enough to make my eyes burn, trying to look away from where I saw the camera flash last. The beastmen didn't seem to react, but I know for a fact there was a camera flash. Waiting a couple seconds I gather whoever the cameraman is, they're not going to be my knight in shining armour.

I felt so embarrassed, not only will I be eaten alive in a magical world I was dumped in, but now some sick fuck is going to document it! While I’m crying through it all! That thought at least renewed my struggles a little, but through the beastmen’s chatter I realized they were cooing at me? ‘Is this a sick joke? Are they really trying to comfort me before they eat me?’ 

My struggles started to cease more and more as I tried to figure out what has changed, why I am being hunted like an animal, but I was only confused. Listening to what the beastmen we’re saying was difficult, they were talking quicker than I could process, cutting each other off and starting new conversations.  “you’re going to look so cute as I- we should take her to- everyone with higher senses can smell- I don’t know where but it's only time bef- the leech twins- even that damned hunter-”. They then started to bicker, who would get to go first. As the 'meal' in this situation I couldn't help but find this a little funny, like a really morbid joke. I felt like crying, one of those hysterical laughing crying fits where you couldn’t tell if they were happy or sad, but they’re definitely losing their sanity.

Everyone’s talking was interrupted by a growl, shaking everyone to their bones. Or, at least that was my experience. The growl did catch everyone's attention, the beastmen all paused, some of them backing away from me to approach the sound of the noise. My first thought was ‘oh wow, yay! Another fucker who's coming to rip me to shreds!’ but looking towards the noise I see a flash of white fur. it’s Jack! Everybody freezes, even the beastmen were looking uncertain for a moment, but seeing a white wolf sprinting at you tends to snap some sense into you sooner rather than later. Charging towards the group he lunged at us. Surprisingly, the beastmen let go and backed away causing me to fall on my ass narrowly avoiding being body slammed by Jack. Deciding not to think twice, I used the small distance made between us and quickly booked it for the nearest hallway, trying not to trip as I go. Sadly, this wasn’t even close to the end. The short pieces I caught of the beastmen's conversation confirmed a couple things. Somehow my scent is affecting them and it’s strong, making this whole island dangerous. But I need to find somewhere safe before the boss characters start to show themselves. I quicken my frantic running as I think of what would happen if Floyd caught me, or god forbid Jade, I can’t even tell which is worse. I need to find a place where I can barricade, thinking over my options I quickly decide that ramshackle and the other dorms are definitely not suitable. Ramshackle is too rundown and the most obvious place I could go. Plus, I would only get caught immediately trying to get to the mirror room. That leaves…!

Finding an abandoned classroom somewhere in the school can be rare, most classrooms are stretched around the campus, making foot traffic almost constant. But one highlight of this, is the fact that there are abandoned classrooms all over campus, making a lot of those classrooms be barely looked at twice. Not that would matter, it’s late into the evening so the only ones still on campus are the ones currently hunting me. Those hunting me… can smell me, so stealth isn’t important here, barricading is the only option. But I can do that in an abandoned classroom.

After running around with no direction in mind I finally see a potential abandoned classroom. Quickly running over to the classroom door I slide it open and look around. ‘So far, so good’ just as I feel my heart start to feel lighter with hope, I start to hear some noises in the distance. It’s not exact but any noise means they’ll be here soon, so I need to be quick. I quickly close the sliding door but I can’t lock it. Great. Looking around frantically I spotted some really big closets, I ran over and started pushing it towards the door. On a normal day, this never would have been possible, but I must still have some adrenaline left after all the running. After I finished pushing the first closet I immediately started working on the second one. Trying to pick up the student desks was futile, as they were bolted into the ground. But I did find some spare chairs stacked in a corner. In fact most of the chairs were not bolted on the floor so I used them to create a wall of sorts. The legs of the chairs sticking towards the door look like very sad and blunt spikes. 

Only after stepping back did I realize that one good magic trick could easily dismantle this little blockade, and if anything, I only trapped myself in here. Falling onto my butt, I feel the exhaustion and creeping melancholy wash over me as my adrenaline finally starts to run out. While they were chasing me, any one of them could have caught me with a spell. So maybe my scent had them too focused on catching me. ‘Well, I’m going to have to bank on that, I guess it's really my only hope.’ looking up at the looming closets, I feel a little spike of fear. ‘I really am trapped, I don’t think I can get out on my own again… at least anytime soon’. 

Trying to distract myself from the impromptu isolation and almost being, ya know, mauled by my classmates, I look around and take in the scenery. The abandoned classroom looks the same as the other few abandoned classrooms I had briefly seen, minus the displaced closets. Grey walls, grey floors, there were some windows leading outside, luckily none leading from the hall that someone could break to get in. The windows leading outside only had very little openings for air, so climbing out isn’t really an option, even if you were willing to risk possibly breaking something to jump off of the third floor. I shudder as I pull my legs closer together, the feeling of entrapment washing over me. There was a massive teachers desk at the front along with an equally giant chalkboard, it stretched across the whole wall. It almost reminded me of classrooms in normal non-magic schools back home. Although the abandoned classrooms look identical to each other, they could not look more different to the used ones. The actual used classrooms have been renovated to fit the particular subject being taught, that's probably why these classrooms are abandoned like this, they're not really useful. 'Useful until now' I laughed quietly at my depressing joke. The last time this classroom got any action was fifty years ago at least. The room is spotless though. The classroom almost lets me imagine that I'm not even in Twisted Wonderland, like I'm back home.

Nope, nope, I just can’t. Although the threat is relatively handled I can’t ignore the fact I was now stuck in this place for the unseen future. I guess I can finally get some peace and quiet? No murder beastmen, no grim, no ghosts. It could be worse? I could be dead. Unfortunately, before I could dwell on this issue further I quickly ran into another problem. Like a cold bucket of water dumped over me I realize, not only did I lock myself away from the beastmen, I locked myself in with one.

Arms circle around my stomach as a face nuzzles into my neck. A pair of fluffy ears tickle my face as they do so. A growl builds up in their chest before they speak “Damn, don’t you smell delicious” instinctively, my arm swung out and hit the person on the chest. Luckily that was enough to make them let go, which I immediately used to get away, jumping to my feet to put some distance. Unluckily for me, as I backed away from the new threat, I finally realized how fucked I was. Sitting a meter or two away was none other than the lion bastard himself, Leona Kingscholar. Even in the evening moonlight he looks beautiful, damnit. 

He slowly gets up, the carefulness of his actions are very unlike him, and seem down right predatory. With every move he makes I take a step back, keeping my front towards him all the while, as if the sign of my back retreating will spawn a chase. Tilting his head with poorly concealed amusement, he starts to snicker at my obvious fear. “I’ve told you, over and over again, to be very scared of me, yet you only walked with confidence, what’s with the change? Is the fight all gone?” Leona looked to the side, eyeing the blockade. I didn’t move when he went to inspect it closer, but I kept my eyes fully trained on him. I wanted oh so badly to speak, ‘the others were chasing me’ or even ‘please don’t eat me’. But nothing can come out, my mouth feels like cotton has just grown rapidly, nearly suffocating me. Instead he speaks for me.

“You had no idea I was in here” he didn’t ask, he spoke the truth and I remained quiet, which only made him smile more. “Awe baby, you tried oh so hard to keep the monsters away, and look where that got you”. I only had a second to feel the rush of emotions that Leona calling you ‘baby’ would create before he started to charge. Somehow squirming out of the way, I ran under his arm across the room. This little chase sequence went on for a while, he’d go in one direction, so I would go the other to avoid him. Even then I could tell he wasn’t giving it his all, I could tell he was just fucking with me before he really starts to chase. But there is only so far to get away from him.

“Awe, is the cute little herbivore trying to run away? Don’t you know that running only excites me more?” That sentence only caught me off guard for a second. A second. But it was all Leona needed as he quickly tackled me to the ground. I managed not to hit my head on impact, but my lungs weren't so lucky. While gasping for breath from the fall and the little chase sequence, Leona looks me over and laughs at my helplessness. Dick.

Weakly pushing at his chest I dry heave as I push through my words. “Don’t eat me” grabbing both of my hands he traps my hands above my head, presumably for safe keeping. My legs kick out but I can’t do anything because Leona is already settled in between them. Leona only laughs more, enjoying playing with his food a little bit too much- 

“Why? I thought women liked being eaten out” as if I couldn’t short circuit sooner, Leona punctuated those words with a grind of his hips against mine. At that I froze, OH.. oh… Leona leans down and leaves open mouth kisses on my neck as he speaks. “You’re the dumbass for stepping onto campus smelling like that, that damned crow should have stopped you, he should’ve known better” Leona only gets more agitated as he speaks, only making him grind against me harder, making my body jump with the force. Leona doesn't even notice how he's easily bouncing my body against his, too occupied with cursing out that crow between kisses and bites. “Wouldn’t that raccoon smell anything? You should’ve-” his grip only tightens as he speaks, his voice dissolving into a growl as he- “wait, wait” I look at him incredulously “are you mothering me right now?” his head rises from where he was leaving hickeys to stare at me unamused. “you’re ovulating idiot, you’re making every predator on campus act like dogs in heat."

Trailing fingers down my body, Leona hovers over the shredded clothing that despite barely hanging on, covers most of the important bits. “and she somehow found her place underneath me.” The sound of clothes ripping rings out, my clothes ripping. Banging my hands against his sides and chest, still not daring to aim at his face, I protest “Hey! I still need to leave here! Those are one of my VERY few clothes!” and like that he shredded pants and underwear. In response to my squirming he nuzzles the juncture between my neck and shoulder and bites down. Really not expecting this turn of event, I stopped squirming momentarily, the pain eventually numbing down. There was a quick sting after letting go, Leona barely lifted up his head, instead starting to kiss along my shoulder. Content with my complacency, no matter how short lived it'll be, He starts to push my body up, quickly gathering my hands above my head again with one hand. 

Ripping off his tie with his other hand, I look up and quickly figure out what he’s going to do. Less than a couple inches away are the bolted desks. More importantly, one of the bolted legs looked really close to where Leona gathered my hands. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's trying to achieve. And this renewed my struggle, but it was pathetically futile. Leona only looked down when he finished tying my hands to the desk leg, giving my hands a tug I realized I'm fucked in more ways then one.

Leona starts to paw at my breasts first before leaning down and taking one of my breasts into his mouth. His tongue is rough like sandpaper, not as intense as a cat's but it still makes me jump. An undignified squeak escapes my mouth at the sensation. Everytime he circles his tongue around my breast he drags his fangs along the skin around it. I can’t help but to buck onto him. The sensations are too much and they're causing me to squirm, even though it makes me grind against Leona more.

Thinking of a last ditch effort, I try and yell as loud as I can "JACK!" Leona promptly sits up, any amusement or mischief gone in his facial expressions. Just as I was about to call again, Leona wrapped his hand around my throat, and squeezed hard. Hearing my wheeze Leona chokes out a forced laugh. He continues to grind his hips against mine as he hisses out “You think Jack would save you from me? Bold of you to assume he wouldn’t bend you into a breeding bench if he was in my shoes." Even as black spots fill my vision I tried to weakly protest. "Jack helped me." Although I was anticipating another punishment for defending Jack, Leona loosened his grip. While keeping his hand firmly around my neck, I noticed that same predatory look on Leona's face. "Oh, did he now? What makes you think he was doing it for your benefit? He was trying to get you for himself, do you really think he’s one for sharing?" Seeing me shiver at his words made Leona smile again, I got his message loud and clear.

His patience finally wearing thin Leona quickly moves down my body, I try to close my legs on instinct. But instinct can only get you so far when they’re already between your legs. As soon as he settles between my legs he immediately finds my clit and flattens his tongue against it as he drags his tongue up and down. Pricks of pain were surprisingly stimulating, sending my body mixed signals. Delving his tongue into my core as deep as it could go, never staying in one place for too long. My constant moans nearly drown out everything else but I can still clearly pick up Leona’s occasional groan, sending shockwaves through my body.

My hips keep bucking into Leona's eager mouth yet desperately trying to twist away from the sensation. The more I moan, the harder Leona presses into me. Every twist of my body Leona chases to keep his tongue on my heat. The loud sucking and slurping noises become deafening in the classroom. My body’s jerking becomes more frequent and erratic, feeling my orgasm near is bringing stinging tears to my eyes. It’s too much!- 

Suddenly there is banging on the door and walls facing the hallway. My body jerked away from the sound but Leona seemed unbothered. It was only until the beastmen started shouting that Leona seemed to notice their presence. I felt the deep growl Leona released before I heard it. It probably would have been louder and more scary… if he had lifted his head from where it was buried between my thighs. 

There was barely a falter in the shouting. The closets moved to keep them out were shaking like crazy- drowning out Leona’s growl even more. He only huffed, after barely looking at the doors he turned back to continue. Leona was ruthless this time around, during the quiet moments Leona already figured out what makes me squeal and moan the loudest. The ruined orgasm had quickly returned as Leona held me down. The stinging feeling of unshed tears returned just as a wail rips through my throat. As the pleasure keeps mounting I yell Leona’s name in a garbled sentence. Leona brought my clit into his mouth and sucked, my back bowing as my orgasm hit me. Leona still wouldn’t let up, continuing to thrust his tongue into my heat and lap at my clit. 

I shake and cry as I feel my second orgasm already starting to build up in my tummy. Leona slowly sinks his fingers in my heat which lets his tongue torture my clit in the best way possible. Way too quickly he finds that bundle of nerves and abuses it, forcing me head first into another orgasm. I chant Leona’s name as I climax trying to get his skilled fingers and tongue away from my overstimulated pussy. Garbled sentences trying to tell him it’s too much get lost in translation. All I could see is white, my thrashing body had little effect on Leona, as he continued to nurse on my clit, making my orgasm last eons longer. I gasp for breath as I start to come down from my high, I blink rapidly but I’m still a bit out of it.

But then I notice how quiet it is. It’s not as quiet as before but the chaotic banging and yelling has subsided. I jerk in shock as I hear Leona laugh next to my ear- wait, when did he? He must have moved around while I was still out of it, I reasoned. My attention is grabbed back to him as he hitches my legs around his hips. Pressing the tip of his cock at my entrance. At the slightest pressure my body seizes up, which makes Leona pause his actions. Despite the situation Leona immediately goes to sooth me, petting my hair, kissing my face, and cooing at me. “Come on pretty baby, you can take it.” The endless compliments make my eyes go misty as Leona slowly pushes into my gummy walls. I’m crying, not from the pain or the feeling of Leona pushing into me but the continuous praise that he showers me with.

When Leona bottoms out I almost expect him to start thrusting soon after considering the unhinged look in his eyes from before. I assumed he wouldn’t be able to hold back, but he stayed still. As I get adjusted I listen to the beast men outside. I hear the banging on the doors be replaced by scratching, the shouts with whining, begging to be let in. “They want to watch.” Leona’s voice near my ear makes me jump a bit but he continues on. “I can hear them-“ his ears twitch “-they’re begging me to let them watch. But they won’t get that. They’ll have to make do with listening to get off.” Leona slowly pulls out, then pushes back in a little faster. Taking the breath out of my lungs. He starts to slowly thrust at a steady pace as he speaks again “if I had it my way they wouldn’t even get that.” With the arm that wasn’t holding himself up he trails that hand down your body to your stomach briefly pressing down. This causes Leona to narrowly hit my g spot making me choke on a sob. “Oh? Did I hit something good? Come on crybaby, use your words.” Heavily overstimulated from my previous orgasms I couldn’t respond. I just shook my head while I whimpered gibberish.

Pounding away trying to hit that spot again Leona uses the hand that was on my stomach to rub at my clit. All the while I am losing my mind from the sensations. All I could do was watch his facial expressions through bleary eyes, my hands twisting in their bondage needing something to hold on to. Leaning down, Leona lightly ghosts his mouth along the skin of my neck. The tips of his fangs dragging across, making me shiver against him. Soon Leona lost all control, needy thrusts knocking the breath out of my lungs, but neither of us noticed how he was pushing my body away. Digging his legs underneath mine in order to reach deeper, and get a better angle to bounce me on his cock. With nothing to keep me still, my body was being pushed forward towards the desk. 

Not being able to process any words I resort to clinging on to the chair leg for dear life. Unintentionally making my body push back into Leonas. After pushing myself back a good inch away from the desk, I suddenly have all the breath pushed out of my lungs. Leona starts pushing harder than before, reaching even deeper than before, making me cream around him. Despite the rapid fire orgasms I feel the familiar feeling in my belly, telling me another one is on the cusp. Leona must have felt my body's reaction as he chokes out a laugh through his own moans. “Already? You’re so receptive to me baby, or do you like knowing people are getting off to you, hm?” Hearing Leona speak into my ear was all I needed, my body seizing up as I reached my third orgasm. Each orgasm becomes more intense then the last, dark spots dance across my vision. Leona doesn’t seem tired at all despite all of this, instead keeping a keen eye on your facial expressions and how they change as you’re cumming over and over. Finally feeling his climax creeping up, Leona litters your neck with little kisses before he sinks his teeth in again like last time. Hammering his hips against yours as he chases that feeling of euphoria. 

Feeling Leona sink his teeth in and cum in you has you shrieking. Even after he orgasmed he was rock hard and still humping into you slowly, making you reach your fourth orgasm quickly. You felt so full, so warm, it was a little gross how his cum was being pushed out with every little movement of Leona’s hips. His body is still trapping me under him, so all I could do was take it. My whole body feels clammy from sweat. The tile floor is warm from my body heat, yet the air is still so chilly against my skin. 

Basking in the stupor my orgasms left me in, I’m shocked back into reality as I feel Leona’s still rock hard cock pull out before pushing back in frantically. Whining out my body weakly protests by squirming but my pussy still squeezes around him in a vice grip. “You’re already tired? awe, I still wanna cum just more than once, aren’t you being a little selfish?”

At my continued whining Leona scoffs, rolling his eyes dramatically, Leona briefly pulls out, pulling my legs up on his shoulders so he could press back in. At this angle it lets him hit that bundle of nerves all the more easier. Leona of course took advantage of this, setting a fast and brutal pace. I can feel every ridge and vein on his dick as he chases his next orgasm. Leona leans his face down to mine, licking off my tears from my cheeks- “come on baby, you can handle one more, just one more and I’ll give you a break” hiccupping between my little sobs I try and prepare myself for my last orgasm, drool escaping my parted lips and I close my eyes. 

Leona growls above me, the calm façade long since lost as he goes a little crazy. His hand returned to its place on my clit, it didn’t take long for me to reach another orgasm. With a shrill cry I cum with tears streaming down my face, my body feels electric shocks running through my system. My body finally relaxes a bit, as I hiccup I try to regulate my breathing again. As my pussy flutters around his cock, Leona loses his composure. “mmn fuck- I’m gonna- fuck-“ he releases one last growl before he stalls, hips jerking erratically as he cums deep inside me. Hips keep moving as he cums, trying to hump his cum further into me.

Leona’s hips slow until they finally stop, I am gasping for breath while trying to fight off the urge to sleep. Leona goes and unties the tie from the desk leg, finally letting my arms go. After rubbing at my wrists a bit Leona takes them gently and starts to kiss along the fabric burns from his tie. Slowly kissing me everywhere I start to nod off but then I remember that we’re still in an abandoned classroom. An barricaded classroom too. As if sensing my rising panic Leona starts… purring? Nuzzling against my sweaty neck trying to kick away the anxiety. Either way it does its purpose in calming me down, slowly relaxing back into his hold. “Just go to sleep and save your energy, when you wake up we’ll be in my room.” Lifting his head up to properly look at me, I suddenly realise that his cock is still inside me. “Get as much sleep as possible, I might have to fuck you while your still asleep if you’re too tuckered out.” The way my stomach flutters at that I honestly don’t think I’d mind.

[nixie-writes]

Hey I was curious if you could do an Angel x touch starved reader? Basically the reader is extremely depressed and lonely, so they pay a lot of money to hire Angel to simply cuddle for the night and feel ashamed because they feel so desperate for affection and feel like they're no different than any other client that would only see Angel as an object. I am female but it can be gender neutral for everyone if you wanted.❤

OKAY I loved this idea so much I dropped everything to do it right now. This idea is super sweet, I stan Angel when he isn't being whored out by the pimp I'd willingly make my bitch. And thank you so much for being my first unique request I'm so happy <3 I will add now - pronouns are female but there isn't any mention of a body type, so it can be taken as male or gender neutral. TW - mentions of prostitution, explicit depiction of death, mention of cannibalism, mentions of sex, reader has a lot of recent trauma, hurt to comfort, explicit depiction of a panic attack/reaction to grief and guilt This wasn't intended to be such an angsty thing, nor did I expect it to be four pages long according to Google Docs but I sorta let the story carry me and I let it happen. It'll be under the cut because of the trigger warnings mentioned above.

[Y/N]: How much money for one night? Pimp: depends, what u want? [Y/N]: I don’t know yet, I’d just like some time with him.  Pimp: $450 up front extra fee if u rough him up  [Y/N]: That’s fine. Venmo or Cashapp? Pimp: meet me behind my studio and we’ll do our exchange in person. [Y/N]: I’d rather not be seen paying for a prostitute. Pimp: this is hell no one gives a fuck those are my terms [Y/N]: Fine, I'll be there in 30.

Well, fuck. Valentino wants 450 fucking dollars up front to pass Angel Dust, acclaimed porn star and prostitute, to [Y/N] for the night. How she’d saved up this money she was unsure, she just accumulated it over time. It apparently does pay off to save up. Get a low-wage part-time job at a shitty fast food restaurant and endure the bullshit of customers long enough and one could save up a few hundred. Not that anyone else knew she had this kind of money, much less where it was going. 

[Y/N] threw on some loose clothes - baggy gray hoodie with a shitty band t-shirt underneath and matching gray sweatpants. No one could recognize her looking like this. This was fucking embarrassing. Paying a prostitute for hugs and positive affirmation? Whatever God was up there had a cruel sense of humor. [Y/N] was stooping low. After the previous extermination a few months ago nothing had truly been the same. Not like she was happy before then but now, it was only worse. First was the loss of [Y/N]’s only friend, Cleo. During the extermination Cleo was on the phone with [Y/N], their breathing labored as they ran, searching for any nook or cranny to hide in while the exterminators roamed the city. [Y/N] tried her damn best to give Cleo directions to her house but in the midst of Cleo’s panic they got lost and were cornered. Their phone clattered to the concrete ground beneath them, followed by cries of pain and a sickening squelching sound. Cleo managed to grab their phone one last time in an attempt to tell [Y/N] something but their mouth was full of blood and their voice was weak; first was a struggle to make real words, followed by a strangled gurgling and finally an eerie silence. The extermination was over…And so was Cleo. In the following days [Y/N] had located her friend’s corpse; many disgusting things had been done to the lifeless body but Cleo still deserved a rightful funeral and with the help of a certain cannibal, their body was fed to those who needed the food. A request Cleo had made to [Y/N] long ago if they happened to die before she did. All [Y/N] had left of her missing friend was their cell phone. At first [Y/N] considered getting the screen repaired but, the touch screen still worked, there was no inner damage and [Y/N] knew the passcode so she could still view Cleo’s camera gallery. The two took so many photos together, so many dumb drunken selfies and so many pictures of Cleo after a makeover or after getting their nails done. So many pictures of Cleo that once held so much happiness, now only held an empty memory. [Y/N] shut the phone off for the last time and put it away in a drawer and it hasn’t been touched since. 

After Cleo’s passing [Y/N] lost her previous job at some bar as a waitress. It was no special job and for the most part she lived off tips but what upset her was the number of years she’d given to her employer, only to be dropped once another prettier woman applied for [Y/N]’s job as the sole waitress. In a desperate attempt to pay the rent without whoring herself out she took up her current job. Yes it was shit and the customers were perverted assholes but it paid the bills and kept her fed without stooping to cannibalism. 

Even with a job to cover the bills [Y/N] was only getting worse. Her roommate ditched after [Y/N] refused to cover his bills or fuck him for the money to pay it all off. She was truly alone now. She’d given everyone so much more than she gave them and now it was all for naught. 

Shaking her head to clear the thoughts and memories [Y/N] climbed into her car - she certainly didn’t pay for it but there was no license plate so no one was going to find their stolen car. Wasn’t her fault someone left the keys in the ignition while they went into some gas station. After a few sputters the engine started up, growling like an old dog with a sore throat. Valentino’s studio was about a 10 minute drive so she’d arrive early but perhaps that’s what Valentino would prefer. Whatever was necessary to get what she was paying for. Rounding a few corners and following a straight road [Y/N] pulled up to the studio, covered in flashing lights with an occasional prostitute hanging around the outside of the building. Didn’t matter if they belonged to Valentino or not, it wasn't her business. Stopping her car at the side of the building [Y/N] slid out and walked, as casually as she could, to the sharp corner where whispering was audible. A little cautious [Y/N] halted for a moment to listen. “Val. You know I’m gay I don’t fuck girls. I don’t want to-” Angel Dust’s voice was cut short and replied to by a harsh, throaty growl. “I don’t give a rat’s ass Angel. Who cares what’s between her legs, she’s paying up front so show her a good time.” [Y/N] had heard enough. Pulling the rolled up dollar bills from her bra she stepped around the corner, making herself known to the two. Valentino held Angel Dust by the jaw but upon noticing his client dropped Angel back down to his feet. He looked unsure of himself and [Y/N] felt the same. Approaching Valentino she passed him the bills; he fingered the paper for a moment and pocketed it, nudging Angel Dust closer to [Y/N]. “Say hi to your new friend!” Valentino chirped, an oddly wicked grin on his face. Did he…Enjoy selling out Angel Dust? Turning around with a casual wave he called out with a cackle, “have fun kids!” 

[Y/N] moved to the side, guiding Angel Dust back to her car. The ride back to her place was uncomfortably quiet. She felt his eyes on her the entire ride, from the corner of her vision she saw his frown and furrowed eyebrows. He wasn’t any more fond of the previous exchange than she was. It was an uneventful ride back home and [Y/N] led Angel Dust into her home, pointing out some things he may need. 

“Restroom is down the hall, kitchen is to your left and you can sleep on the-” Angel Dust cut her off with a harsh snort. “Get to the point bitch, what you want me to do? Eat you out, fuck you, finger you, what do you want?” Angel Dust’s harsh voice took [Y/N] by surprise. There was an almost hateful glare in his eyes. He really didn’t want to be here. She felt her lower lip pout as she glanced away from him in shame. “That’s, um, not why I wanted you.” She replied in a meek tone. Angel Dust grimaced. “Then what do you want? To record me jack off? You want the boyfriend experience?” Angel quipped. “You just wanna feel special? You that lonely? Pathetic little bi-” “shut the fuck up.” [Y/N] interrupted, meeting his gaze again. Her teeth were gritting, tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Angel Dust hit too many nerves and it was beginning to bubble over. “You fucking asshole I just wanted a friend fo the night. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. I just needed some emotional support but I’m clearly not going to get that from you. So go back to Valentino and tell him to keep the money.” [Y/N] snarled, shoving Angel Dust away as she spoke. Her voice was cracking, hot tears streaked her face, she could feel her broken expression, she just didn’t care in that moment. What the fuck was she thinking, asking some prostitute to be her friend for a night? Whipping around [Y/N] turned to stalk and made a few steps to her room before a hand grasped her shoulder, holding her in that spot. Turning back to who she already knew was holding her in place she gave him the cruelest expression she could manage but with the tears still pouring and unsteady breathing she certainly couldn’t be intimidating. 

Angel Dust’s expression was…Different. His eyes thinly veiled suspicion but his antagonizing grin was gone, replaced with a sympathetic frown. “Then tell me, what did you want?” He prompted softly. Wordlessly [Y/N] walked over to the dresser not far from her and pulled out that shattered phone, praying it would start up. After a few moments the booting screen lit up, followed by the lock screen she passed through. Turning back to Angel Dust she opened the camera gallery and presented Angel Dust with the most recent photo Cleo and [Y/N] took together, two days prior to the extermination. She couldn’t bear to look at it, but perhaps Angel Dust would understand. Gently taking the phone from [Y/N] he gazed at the photo for a moment and glanced back up. “Was this your friend?” He inquired, [Y/N] nodded her head, trying to hide how her lips pursed with a new flood of emotions she’d buried. “I lost Cleo in the extermination. I miss her so much. My roommate left when I refused to pay his bills or fuck him to make him pay his half, my job is a shitshow and I just needed some company for a night.” [Y/N] found herself spilling everything to Angel Dust. She knew this wasn’t a very good idea but she couldn’t hold in the flood of words any longer. “It’s been so hard and lonely, no one understands and no one reaches out to me anymore. I have no one.” [Y/N]’s voice stopped suddenly as her throat closed on her and another sob choked out of her. She had so much more to say but her crying had become uncontrollable; she was heaving for air, her lungs burned, her stomach was tight and her knees were weak. She didn’t have the strength to hold in her crying anymore. Her voice grew in volume and within 30 seconds she was screaming out. A painful mix of grief, anger, betrayal and pure hatred. She hardly noticed four pairs of arms pulling her into a hug, her face buried in a soft, warm and fuzzy cocoon of fluff. Instinctively she wrapped her arms around the slim figure holding her, grasping the suit in her hands and shoving her face into the bony interior of Angel Dust’s chest. Her cries evolved to screams; she didn’t know how else to get the pain out. She choked out a string of curses between her screams and cries, shrieking out for Cleo, begging her late friend to hear her repeated sobs of apology. Why hadn’t she done more? Got in her car and drove out to get Cleo? 

A gloved hand gently stroked [Y/N]’s head, Angel Dust’s voice soft as he hummed soft little things to her, the occasional “it’s not your fault” and “Cleo forgives you” whispered between other phrases. It took a few minutes of Angel Dust’s comfort but slowly [Y/N] regained control of her breathing, the crying and screaming stopped, she could stand on her own again. She didn’t want to pull away. Gazing up to Angel Dust, who returned her with a look of concern, she whispered a soft ‘thank you’, hugging him tight before pulling away. 

With a sigh [Y/N] resumed her speech from earlier. “Things have been…Hard. You know my story as of late. I would just like your company, if it’s okay.” She offered him a smile, silently begging him to accept. He appeared thoughtful for a moment before nodding his agreement. “Alright, sounds fine I guess. What we doing?” He prompted as he strode to the kitchen to find a snack. With a quiet breath of relief [Y/N] replied, “I have some Disney movies, and if it’s okay I’d like to talk more about Cleo. I don’t want her to be forgotten.” Exiting the kitchen with a few soda cans and a bag of chips Angel Dust smiled back. “Sounds fine, lead the way. What we gonna watch first?” [YN] shrugged; “Cinderella sound good?” She prompted. Angel snorted and quipped back, “ain’t that a little cheesy?” Giggling for the first time in what felt like an eternity she responded, “the cheesy chips in your arms don’t defend you much.” Angel Dust puffed humorously. “True, true. Let’s get to the movie.” He agreed as he moved to the couch in the small living room, setting down his snacks and getting comfortable. 

“Thank you, Angel Dust.” [Y/N] spoke softly as she grabbed the DVD and started up the player. A soft hum was heard, followed by Angel Dust replying, “no probs gal. And call me Angel.” --- A/N: I'm not entirely impressed with this one, but I feel like if I rewrote it or changed important aspects of it, it wouldn't hold the same gravity it did when I was writing it. Again, I let the story carry me and I was just along for the ride. I hope this one was good!

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

[IMAGE ID: TROPED Mini Events Avatar: The Last Airbender]

TROPED: ATLA — ROUND TWO

Welcome to the Final Round of our TROPED Mini Event for AtLA! We are so excited to host a two-round event for the anime-influenced Nickelodeon show, Avatar: The Last Airbender!

For Round 2, please write us a fic that includes:

Theme: Dystopia

Trope 1: Reincarnation

Trope 2: Road Trip AU

Trope 3: Hurt/Comfort

Trope 4: Big Damn Kiss

More in depth definitions of the theme and tropes can be found here! Please take a look at this document, as there will be extra information you NEED to know regarding how to use the tropes, plus all the rules, and if you have questions don’t hesitate to ask!

HOW IT WORKS:

TROPED is pretty simple! This is a fully anonymous fanfic event where anyone can join at any time! We have provided the prompt above (four tropes + a theme) and you have a 7 day writing period to write the fics! All fics are submitted to our AO3 collections, which are specific to each event! After the writing period has ended, we host a community voting period where anyone can vote, based on a few categories that are announced at the beginning of each event (we generally include Best Use of Tropes, Best Use of Theme, Best Overall (Tropes + Theme), and then some bonus polls!) Once the voting has ended, we reveal the authors of the fics and announce the winners!

For these events, there will be two rounds each, which are separate from one another. You do not need to write in the first round to write for the second, and you are not obligated to write for the second round if you write for the first! We will reveal the authors at the end of each individual round!

A more detailed explanation of how our events work can be found on our FAQs page!

For this event, all fics are to be submitted to this AO3 Collection!

A tutorial on how to submit your fics can be found in the first three steps of this post! You do not need to input multiple chapters for this event, but follow the general steps on how to include a fic in our collections! For this event, the collection name is 'TROPED_AtLA'!! If you have any questions, or would like a tutorial specific to this event, let us know, we'd be happy to make one!

TIMELINE

ROUND TWO

R2 Writing Period: September 15th (12:00am EST) - September 21st (03:00am PST / 06:00am EST)

R2 Voting Period: September 22nd (12:00am EST) - September 24th (11:59pm EST)

R2 Winners: September 25th!

*All times are in Eastern Standard Time (EST) unless otherwise specified! Times are subject to change due to potential writing extensions.

RULES:

Don’t forget the rules! Please keep to the chosen fandom (Avatar: The Last Airbender), include ALL the tropes, and follow the theme! You will be disqualified if you don’t! 15k word count max! Also, no smut. no incest. no underage. no negativity.

The General Rules for all TROEPD events can be found here and more event-specific rules in the Google Doc can be found here.

LINKS:

The AO3 collection can be found here, and the name of the collection that should be entered when submit your fic is ‘TROPED_AtLA’ !!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TROPED_AtLA

Trope/Theme Explanations: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1TRJN5GnEg8CFWbHpF13WKAElb-pOJZEucsEIkwKMRjY/edit

No sign-ups necessary! Follow along here on Tumblr, the TROPED Twitter, or our Discord Server for more information on the event! We will release the prompts in those places and then everyone is free to start writing!!! We are super excited to see what you guys create!

Remember that if you have any questions at all, including whether something would fit our trope requirements, would violate one of the rules, or anything at all, please don’t hesitate to contact us at @dylanobrienisbatman or @thelittlefanpire we are here to help!

[grimae]

I follow you, for a while, for your original fantasy art (incredible stuff by the way) and just because you answered that anon about your tag that I've come to know the weird overlap in our experiences, I also have been writing/daydreaming about my own fantasy world since I was ten and I also have a google doc filled with lore. Being your own lore master is so hard sometimes, but I've found organization is the key for me, do you have any methods that make it easier for you to find/remember stuff?

Sup! Thank you so much first of all! For the greatest part in my life I kept literally everything stashed away in my brain. Only in late 2018, early 2019, I started actually writing things down. Can't remember anymore how it started, but I made a world-building discord server with a dear friend and just dropped everything in there that had some kind of relevancy, also actually starting to write down my thoughts about my characters. At one point I realized that it had become way too much so I copy pasted everything into a google doc file just to see how much. That specific google doc is now my exposition dump doc, it's where I throw in every single thought only to have it securely stashed away. I then later started writing individual docs on things I needed to have sorted. How dragons work, Sacrosanct creatures, vampire lore, alchemy, magic, some general world-building thoughts, etc etc. There was an honest desperate need for that too, because with the current five-trillion pages, the doc needs literal ages to load, lags and slows down my PC like hell. I made a list of all my characters with some basic and more or less important information, such as how many languages they speak, when their birthdays are, their heights and physical ages, if vampire. And to accompany that, a big damn relationship sheet that is a mess to look through because it doesn't take in account that literally over 1600 years happen between all these characters, so I don't share it unless I know people have a general gist of the lore and can fill that temporal hole themself.

Later I made my own discord server, with only me, for general safekeeping of all kinds of informations.

That is how I sort things in there. I still throw everything important into the old one with my friend though, it's just that I got kinda self-conscious about how much I jump from point A to C with no coherence for anyone but me and wanted to start sorting things first to make it understandable, lol. The skindarimian-exposition-dump channel is here where I write down every single thought, then I drop it into the google doc every end of the month. Discord has this little perfect trait that I can very easily access it from all my devices. Can't tell you how often I woke up at 2 am and my first grab was for my phone because I had a thought I needed to write down. So yeah I guess my way of keeping track is a very thorough amount of google docs, a discord server (or two), and backups of all that saved on my PC. It's honestly so much more messy than I want it to be but for the last three years, almost four, this mess has been well lived in.

Btw, the daily channel used to be a challenge where in 2021 I wrote down a little thing every day. A try at a poem, a short story, etc. 2021 was successfully finished with only a few days skipped. I wanted to drag it into this year as well but around February my brain got too clouded for another thing I had to do daily so I stopped. The google-docs channel is just links to all the docs. Rewrites is me noting down things I have to rewrite or thoughts on how to organize. Bots is Book of the Sun relating stuff.

[songbirdstyles]

hangin’ on the telephone

summary: you decide to tease harry on a zoom for his class. he’s less than thrilled.

warnings: smut (18+), masturbation, phone/facetime sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, some fluff?

word count: 5k

song inspo.: hanging on the telephone - blondie; sometimes on a fantasy - billy joel; love on the telephone - foreigner

author’s note: this doesn’t quite fit with the events of when i’m sixty-four and lola - this is if reader was in harry’s class during quarantine. don’t think about it too hard

Harry’s camera is shaky when the class first begins - his screen seems to quiver in itself as he adjusts it, large hand nearly completely blocking him from view before he adjusts himself properly. His camera quality is higher than yours and anyone else’s in the class, for that matter - courtesy of the expensive computers the university had provided to all of its teachers so they wouldn’t complain about how many Zooms they had to have.

That’s what his theory is, anyway. The university says they think its of utmost importance that all of our staff are treated to the highest levels of technology available - but the Macbooks they gave out were from 2015. Certainly not the highest levels.

In every other one of your classes, teachers hold their class as the only colorful block amongst a sea of turned off cameras, white letters reflecting the name of the student to make up for the lack of facial recognition. In Harry’s class, though, there are at least two pages of turned on cameras, and you don’t pretend to not know why. Surely everyone in this class - girls and guys alike - holds some similar fantasy that your professor will somehow fall in love with them through their grainy video on Zoom -

Well, unbeknownst to them, you’re the only one that gets to live that fantasy. In fact, it’s hardly a minute after the Zoom has begun that Harry murmurs jus’ wait a minute f’everyone t’get here - and the apex of your thighs is already heating up.

It’s been so long. Nearly three months since you’d last seen him in person - since you’d last felt his palms pressed to your cheeks, his hips tight against yours, his lips trailing a path up and down the soft column of your throat. And your relationship had never been entirely about sex but it’s a large part of it, feeling each other, and even if you’ve been calling each other for hours nearly every single night, it isn’t enough. You miss him so much it twists at your heart, most days, though it does, admittedly, feel nice to see him in class Zooms.

He’s donning a pink button up, the top button mercifully undone, curls messy and unstyled, and every so often he brings his hand up to run his fingers through it. You’re sure if you could see his full body you’d be able to see the blue checkered pajama pants he wears during all of your lazy days together - he’d never liked wearing dress pants when he didn’t have to. He’s in his bedroom, sitting at his desk, and you can recognize the curtains behind him from the many days (and nights) you’d spent in that exact room together before the entire world had went to shit, and now you miss those stupid curtains so much you can practically taste the desire on your tongue.

You shift in your seat, desire burning in between your legs. You’re not sure if the quirk in Harry’s eyebrow is due to recognition of the simple movement - he’d teased you enough times to recognize every single one of your mannerisms, even ones you didn’t know existed - or if he’s simply acknowledging that all of his students have finally entered the Zoom, but the movement still brings a small smile to your lips.

“Alrigh’, then - looks like we’re all here, now. May as well get started, hmm?” Harry begins, voice booming over everyone’s muted cameras, and the girls on your screen look like they’re practically swooning at the raspiness in his voice. You would judge them if you were a different type of person, but, God, his voice would bring an angel to her knees. You’re sure you look just as needy for him as they do. “Gave y’some questions from last class, right?” The class collectively nods. “Pull those out, then. We can go over them an’ have some discussions an’ analysis, all tha’ - easy class f’today.”

You minimize your Zoom screen and tap into your Google Docs, searching through your most recent documents until you find the questions he’d pushed out to all of you last class - you click on it and watch as your answers fill your screen before looking back to the Zoom, nibbling on your lower lip as you glance at Harry’s screen again.

He’s so composed in the most casual way possible - you can’t possibly know how he manages it. He looks almost like another student, leaning forward to rest his chin against his palm as he waits for everyone to get to their questions, and your breath hitches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly feeling entirely too hot in your hoodie (his hoodie, actually) as your skin heats.

Simple fix. You grab the bottom of your hoodie and tug it off in one smooth motion, littering it on the side of your desk with a nonchalance that came naturally to you - the cool air of your parent’s basement does little to relieve the heat you feel, the burn seeming to come from the inside out, but you still relish in the coolness that washes over you like a wave. You’re simply wearing a tank top, the straps spaghetti thin and light blue, and you lean back in your seat with a soft sigh.

Harry coughs. It draws numerous eyes back to the screen at the sudden noise, and you furrow your eyebrows as you glance over towards him -

Realistically, there’s no way to know if he’s looking at you. You know that. And yet, somehow you know that he’s staring at you, his eyes darkening in a way that would be unnoticeable to anybody else but you know him. You know how he gets when he’s horny - like when you bent over in front of him to pick up your pencil, knowing it would make his pants feel just a bit tighter, and when you turned back to look at him you could fucking see the green hue of his eyes deepening in shade.

You hadn’t even meant to make him horny by taking off your hoodie, and that’s the truth. Maybe you’re both a bit touch starved from your months apart - but, no matter. You like watching him get like this, examining the way he shifts in his seat like you had moments before, and a smirk tinges your lips as you discreetly reach for the bottom of your tank top, tugging it down just a little bit further down your chest until your cleavage and the top of your bra peeks through. Then you lean forward, narrowing your eyes as though you’re searching through your computer for the questions, and you swear you can hear Harry’s breath catch.

He clears his throat, then. It’s a casual noise and it brings everyone’s attention back to him. “Let’s start wit’ number one - anyone want t’share their answer? Jus’ need a starting point f’our discussion - Sophie, good girl, go ahead.”

Sophie unmutes herself and begins reading her answer for the first question on your sheet, her voice just a bit higher than it usually is and you don’t pretend not to know why - but you’re not focused on it. Harry is smirking, lips tilted slightly upward as he nods along to Sophie’s answer even if you can tell he isn’t listening, and your heartbeat thumps harder against your chest.

Good girl? That bastard - and you can tell Sophie’s eating it up, too, skin flushed in a deep pink, and you narrow your eyes at Harry, already reaching for your phone to text him and tell him off - he knows how much you’d hate to hear anyone else being called good girl because that’s for you, dammit - but before you can, a small box pops up in the corner of your screen.

You lean in, squinting to read the small, granulated chat box -

Professor Styles: What’s got you looking so sour all of a sudden?

You roll your eyes. Cheeky asshole. He knows exactly what’s got you all sour, as Sophie’s voice drones on and on, further explaining her answer that hasn’t made too much sense to you, truly, and your fingers fly across your keyboard to furiously type your response.

You: you’re such a dick

His lips turn up into a larger smile, but before you can reach in to type a different response, Sophie has finished her answer and he nods. “Good answer, Sophie - what d’you guys think? Jacob, tha’s good.”

And Jacob begins to speak - his so called addition is just a poorly worded restatement of exactly what Sophie had said - and then you get another notification from your private chat with your professor. You click on the box and your stomach flips -

Professor Styles: Serves you right, practically flashing your tits to everyone in the class.

Professor Styles: If you were here, I’d put you over my knee.

You could moan at that. Holy shit, you really could. You cough into your first as someone else unmutes themselves to add onto Jacob, and you take just a moment to think of your response before you gnaw on your lower lip, fingers loud as you formulate your reply.

You: you would never. way too vanilla for that

It’s a damn lie and you know it. He’s fucking obsessed with spanking you, even if he’d never truly put you over his knee like a punishment but you know he wouldn’t hesitate if you showed the slightest bit of interest in the act - and you most certainly are interested.

But you like pissing him off. Like watching the way a vein jumps in his neck as he nods along to what somebody with their camera off is jabbering about and when they’re finished, his voice sounds just a bit deeper when he says, “Good, good. How ‘bout number two - Elizabeth?”

You tug your tank top down a bit further, smiling sweetly into the camera and to anyone else it may just look like you’re wholeheartedly agreeing with whatever your classmate is saying but you watch Harry’s eyes scan his screen before they surely land on you, and they widen slightly.

Another message pops up in record time - and you’d expected it - but it doesn’t make you any less desperate to lean in and read it.

Professor Styles: Or maybe I’d force you to kneel on the ground with my cock in your mouth for hours.

You: i think you know i’d love that

Professor Styles: Can’t move, can’t touch yourself, can’t do anything.

You swallow thickly, feeling your face heat up desperately. Your cunt is fucking dripping, now, surely desperate for your touch and every time you shift in your seat your clit rubs against the lace of your panties, sending jolts of pleasure rolling through your body as shaky fingers type a response.

You: you wouldn’t be able to last

Professor Styles: I’d last all day just to make you stay there.

Well - you have no shame in resting your hand on your lower stomach, just out of view of your camera. Eyes on Harry’s little box on your screen your fingertips slight down into your sweatpants, digits running over the moist fabric of your thong before pressing to your clit, and a wave of pleasure rolls through your body at the initial touch until you’re practically preening into your grasp, still caressing your cunt over your panties.

The class moves on to the next question - you’ve stopped paying attention ages ago, since the words good girl first slipped out of Harry’s mouth and he messaged you for the first time. You hook a finger into the crotch part of your panties, tugging them to the side and you can feel your wetness, strings connecting your dripping folds to the lace, and your breath picks up as you slip your hand into your panties.

The message comes fast. You’d been expecting it, pressing it open with the hand not shoved into your pants.

Professor Styles: You’re fucking touching yourself, aren’t you

It’s not a question. He can read you like a book - knows every one of your reactions because he was the only one who could pull them from you - and the way you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, glancing into the camera with an air of faux-innocence, is something he’s come to recognize.

You type your response slowly. Take your time, don’t rush, because you love to make him wait as your fingers slowly move in circles against your clit - too gentle to truly make you feel anything, touch feather soft as you spread moisture around the sensitive nub.

You: of course i am, professor. if you’re not here to do it for me…

You lean back in your office chair - to anyone else you look nonchalant and casual, if a bit bored of the proceedings in class - and your hand slides further into your panties, fingers smoothing up and down your folds until your breathing picks up, chest rising and falling as you finally push your pointer finger into yourself, immediately curling it upwards to brush against the sweet spot inside of your velvety walls that has you pushing your hips against your hands. You’re quivering for your own touch - for Harry’s, more so - as you push your own essence in and out of your cunt, heel of your palm brushing against your clit, before you glance back up at the screen.

And Harry is - God, he’s a sight, is what he is. He’s leaning back in his seat, like you, and you watch for a moment at the way his chest rises and falls against the fabric of his billowy dress shirt. The top button is still undone and as you watch, he reaches up and undoes the second one - 

It’s like a collective moan rolls through the fucking class at the action. You can see every girl’s eyes widen on your screen as the overhead lights in Harry’s apartment illuminates the thin shine of sweat on his chest, and if you didn’t know better you’d simply assume that the AC in his apartment must be broken because he merely looks hot as he nods along to the current speaker - but you do know better.

If the camera was angled just a millimeter down, you’re sure you’d see the bulge through his pajama pants, thick and hard and desperate for your attention. For your mouth or your hands or your cunt, squeezing him so good, milking him for everything he’s worth until you’re both sobbing -

You add another finger into your pussy, sliding them in and out with a slow pace that gradually picks up until your ears are filled with the sound of your wetness, sloshing in your panties as you suck your teeth, trying to prevent your mouth from opening in a moan. You may look inconspicuous now but if your lips part in a desperate cry you know people will get suspicious -

Caught in your own pleasure, you’d missed Harry’s messages until the third one pops on your screen, and you scramble to click on the notification before it disappears.

Professor Styles: You’re a brat

Professor Styles: Trying to work me up like this

Professor Styles: Don’t you dare stop touching yourself.

The third one has your eyebrows furrowing - God, of course you’d never stop. You don’t think you could even physically drag your hands away from the pearl between your thighs until you’ve finally come over the edge and you didn’t need Harry to say it. You raise your eyebrows and begin typing your response with your free hand, fingers pumping in and out of your cunt desperately, but you’ve barely finished the text when you hear your name in his fucking voice and -

“What d’you think?” Harry inquires, voice even lower than it had been before, and you resist the urge to drop your mouth open in an appalled gasp as he practically stares into your fucking soul even through Zoom. Your heart drops into your ass and now you know why he’d wanted to confirm that you wouldn’t stop - “Why d’you think Steinbeck structured the book like he did?”

What? You don’t fucking know - you click to unmute yourself, fingers slowing down as you take a breath, tapping until you get to the answer written on your Google Doc. “Um - they’re plot chapters followed by intercalary chapters - they invoke an emotional response from readers.”

It’s a textbook answer, short and shitty and anyone with half a brain could tell that you simply said it so you would get the participation points, and you watch Harry’s eyebrows raised with a poorly-concealed smile. 

“How d’they invoke an emotional response, though?”

And he’s such a tease - he loves this, watching you teeter near the edge of your orgasm with shaky breaths as you seemingly contemplate your answer for a moment - fingers circle your clit slowly as you say, “They - they show us the historical and societal background - which - which broadens the scope of the novel.”

You, truthfully, think you did a fairly decent job keeping your composure - sure, your voice was a bit airy, a bit breathy, and you’re sure you tripped a bit over your words, but you at least didn’t moan out wildly in front of your entire class - celebrate the little things. And, yeah, it may not have been the best answer, but Jacob is already unmuting himself to elaborate and restate your entire answer, which feels like a win in your book, at least.

Professor Styles: Good girl. Kept your cool.

You’re practically trembling, resuming your thrusting of your fingers deep within your cunt, as you shakily type your response, fingers quivering on the keyboard.

You: wish you were here

And - when you realize that sounds a bit too sentimental to fit the situation at hand, fingering yourself in front of the entire class - you hurry to type something else.

You: to eat me out

You bring your eyes up to the screen again, fast enough to watch the quick smile spread across his face - his eyes dart around the screen for a moment before landing on a spot that you assume to be your box, and you exhale softly, curling your finger upward to that spot that has your back arching forward, tits pushing closer to the camera before you drop back against your seat.

Professor Styles: I’d do anything to have my face in your cunt right now.

You inhale sharply, nearly coughing as you pick up your speed, lips parting the slightest bit in a soft whine that erupts from your throat before you can try to fight it back - your eyes shut, head falling back against your chair, and you’re so close you can feel your impending release on the tip of your tongue like your favorite meal.

It’s the sound of the chat notification on Zoom that makes your eyes open, and you click on it. It’s hard to read, vision going fuzzy as your orgasm comes closer and closer, but you can make it out -

Professor Styles: Eyes open.

Professor Styles: And keep your camera on when you cum.

You practically whimper at the request but you oblige - eyes opened and staring directly at his box, at the way his face is practically bright red, sitting up straighter in his seat. He’s moved his camera angle up more, concealing his abdomen until only his chest and head is visible, showcasing the two undone buttons at the top of his pink shirt.

He sure doesn’t look composed now. Not a total disaster - but not the cool, calm professor who had first opened Zoom nearly 45 minutes ago.

Your eyes are moving towards the camera when you notice something in his box that has your eyebrows raising, eyes wide and alert as you squint, fingers briefly paused in their mission to get you to orgasm -

Your free hand flies across the keyboard as you type the message, mind spinning with the image you’d seen - the way his fabric creased near his shoulder, like his arm had been moving up and down with an unbridled, jerky pace -

You: are you jerking off, professor?

And you can see the exact moment he reads the message, his eyes widening, before he unmutes himself and loudly proclaims, “Question 4, then? W - Who wants t’start us off? Jamie, good, tell us wha’ you’ve got.”

And Jamie goes off in some tangent about their answer, words sounding like mud in your brain, as Harry mutes himself once more, and it’s only another moment until you get the next message.

Professor Styles: How could you expect me not to?

Good answer. You know that if you’d caught him jerking off before you had the chance to stick your hands down your panties, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself - but it’s still surprising, watching the fabric of his shirt rustle. It’s not obvious in a way anyone else could tell but you can, and that’s all that matters.

You pull your fingers out of your cunt, bringing your sodden fingers up to your clit. You’resoclosesoclosesoclose - your trembling fingers rub hard circles into your clit, pussy fluttering around the emptiness after you’ve pulled your fingers out, and you clench your muscles taut as you pinch the sensitive nub -

Fuck. There it is - a burning sensation throughout your body as flames lick up your body, rocking through every inch of your skin - it’s all you can do to sit there, legs spread, practically biting back the urge to sob out with the force of it all, and keeping a poker face feels like some sort of torture form. Your cunt jolts beneath your fingers as you try and ride yourself through it, sticky wetness coating your fingers with proof of your release until it’s all over your sweatpants, soaking the gray fabric darker.

Harry’s the only person who’s ever made you squirt - twice, it happened, once into his mouth and the other around his cock as he overstimulated you until you were practically sobbing. And he’d loved it, too, pulling out even though he hadn’t cum yet and sinking to his knees to lap the moisture from between your thighs, eyes rolling back into his head as though it brought him such pleasure to sit there and eat you while you grabbed at his hair.

You’ve never done it yourself. Not with just your fingers.

The next message comes before the aftershocks have finished rolling through your body, and you need to take a few seconds to compose yourself before reaching to read it.

Professor Styles: I love watching you cum.

You resist the urge to smile, resting your palm against your swollen cunt as you use the other hand to type your response.

You: squirted all over my hand.. wish you could’ve seen it

You can practically hear the way he chokes when he reads it, even through his muted mic, and your response comes in seconds.

Professor Styles: I’m wrapping up the class early. Stay after.

It’s a demand and one that you’re more than willing to oblige, giving one unceremonious jerk of your head upwards as you lean back into your seat. And, true to his word, he unmutes himself, declaring loudly that since he wanted an easy day you could all leave early - not too early, mind you, a mere seven minutes before the class would officially be over - but he could let the class out twenty seconds early and they’d act like he canceled an exam. 

People unmute themselves to say goodbye before boxes quickly begin disappearing, the number of participants dropping down until it’s just the two of you, squares side by side next to each other, and you reach to unmute yourself the second the last person has left.

“Harry - Harry, fuck,” you breathe, pushing your computer back and angling it down more so he can see your body. He unmutes himself and you can hear his gasped breathing as he pushes his own laptop back until you can see him fully and - “Fuck.”

His pajama pants are pushed past his cock, curling towards his stomach and an angry shade of red. His fist wraps tight around it, pumping himself up and down with his chest rising and falling desperately, and the thought of him doing this during your Zoom call has another pang of pleasure rolling through your body from your clit.

“Unbutton your shirt,” you beg him, propping your foot on your desk as you shimmy your sweatpants down your thighs, kicking them off into a pile on the floor. Your cunt is exposed to him, covered only by a sopping scrap of lace that you call underwear, and you’re quick to pull it away from your pussy to show him as you dip your fingers back down to your clit, circling it freely. You’re still entirely too sensitive, and the simple motion has your chest arching vehemently, but you can’t watch him do this without feeling the overwhelming urge to cum again and again -

He obliges, practically tearing the shirt away from his chest until the two halves have split open and you get an eyeful of his chest, littered in tattoos that only you get the pleasure of seeing - the butterfly you love to press your palms against when you ride his face - the ship you always grasp when you’re rolling against his thigh -

“Finger y’self,” Harry grunts, breathing desperate and heavy as you lean back in your seat, exposing yourself further to him, your chest heaving. “An’ take off tha’ tank top.”

You grab the end of the shirt, tugging it up and over your head and littering it on the side of your office chair, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms so you can peel the cups away from your tits, displaying your peaked nipples to him, and he moans at the sight, the noise low and guttural. You slide two fingers into your cunt easily, the dripping essence of your release still lubricating your digits to push in and out of yourself.

It isn’t going to take long for either of you - you can tell. He plants his free palm on the edge of his desk, leaning forward and baring his chest to you, and you push yourself to sit up more, resting your free hand on your tits. Fingers pinch at your nipple, the peaked bud sending rays of euphoria through your body, and you drop your head back with a desperate whine.

“Y’close?” Harry asks through gritted teeth, words interrupted with needy breaths and gasps as you nod, and you can tell that anything he’d said about punishing you is gone - he won’t stop you now, not when you’re so close, not when all either of you want is to touch each other. You want to reach through the camera, to press your lips to his, feel his palms smooth up and down your back before traveling downwards until he can slide his fingers into your cunt - one of his is bigger than both of yours, and he’d fill you up so good you wouldn’t be able to do anything else but cry out.

And you - you’d rest your knees on either side of his thighs, lowering yourself into his lap as his length slides against your stomach. Scraping your nails through his hair always makes him cry out and your fingers tense around your breasts as you imagine it, thinking of the way he’d moan and beg for you to pull it harder, lowering his lips to your nipple as you obey him.

You’ll always obey him. (In bed, at least.) God, you really would sit on your knees for hours, holding his cock in your mouth like it’s your fucking job, and you’d love it, too.

“Look at me, baby,” Harry moans, voice crackling through the speaker of your shitty computer and you oblige, hazy eyes rolling upwards to the camera, and you swallow thickly, pumping your fingers faster in and out of your cunt. “Look at me when y’cum … c’mon, baby.”

You don’t need much more encouragement than that. With one curl of your fingers upwards to hit the sweet spot deep within your velvet core you cum, eyes rolling back into your head with a piercing cry that makes you entirely too grateful that it’s your parents’ date night - your cunt clenches and unclenches around your fingers as you finally hit your peak, breath coming out in needy groans as you release over your fingers.

You’ve barely finished when Harry’s tell-tale groan sounds through the basement and you snap your eyes back to his figure, glancing at him just in time to see him cum, white ribbons spurting out of his cock and coating his hand and the sleeve of his pink dress shirt. He drops his head forward with a grunt, fist still jerking up and down his dick as though he’s trying to milk every last drop all over his abdomen, and your breathing turns more jagged as you watch like he’s a fucking piece of art and you’re nothing but a spectactor.

And then - for a moment - there’s silence. Not silence, in its literal definition, as desperate, heaving breaths pierce the air even screens apart, and you’re not sure which of you will be the first to speak. You can hardly breathe right, let alone say any coherent sentence, and Harry takes the lead.

“Did good, baby,” he breathes, voice so soft you can barely hear it, and you nod, wiping your moist hand on your outer thigh. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you tell him, pushing yourself to sit up more. “And your dick.”

He exhales a shaky laugh, raising his hand to examine the cum that coats his palm and fingers as though he’s never seen anything like it. “Yeah - I miss y’pussy. Not used t’not cumming in you.”

“Yeah,” you begin. “Feel empty without -”

You’re cut off before you can finish as Harry raises his fingers to his mouth, pink tongue darting out to lick at the bits of cum that decorate his skin. Your lips part needily as you watch him, eyes wide as saucers until he’s fully lapped up every ribbon of cum, and he smacks his lips as though he’d enjoyed a great meal.

“Don’t get how y’swallow so often,” Harry says, and even through his faux-casual demeanor you can see the corners of his lips turning up at your state. “Really doesn’t taste good -”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“M’horny again.”

[benoitblanc]

arwen’s peggysous fic rec list!

all right! i posted that i was thinking about making this a while ago and no one actively said “arwen no please stop,” so here we are! i legitimately have a seven-page google doc full of agent carter fic recs, so it was a TRIAL narrowing this down. that being said, i’ve tried to separate this into four categories: fluff, angst, casefic, and character studies.

onward!

fluff:

sleigh ride by sholio. it’s christmastime, and peggy’s present this year is a sighting of dottie underwood back in new york city. if that involves commandeering a central park sleigh into the subway- well, that’s her business, isn’t it?

reception by glorious_spoon. large quantities of alcohol and spies who are supposed to be keeping secrets don’t mix well in the best of times, but what jack’s just let slip might have a bigger fallout than most.

magnolia lane by eienvine. naturally, wherever the carter-sousa household goes, trouble follows, even to an innocent night of bridge and something called tomato soup cake.

creative uses for avocados by irisdouglasiana. there’s absolutely no way i can summarize this one. get your mind out of whatever gutter the title sent it to and just go read the fic. iris is easily the funniest writer on this list, and everything of theirs is a gem.

slightly darker than rosy beginnings by justanotherghostwriter. jack’s sure peggy and daniel are hiding something from him, which is not a comforting suspicion for a guy who’s recently been shot point-blank to have.

a little something by paeonia. peggy and daniel’s next mission: find a bloody decent cup of tea in this godforsaken country.

angst (happy endings may or may not be included):

three deaths by glorious_spoon. two gunshots and a rebar nearly meant the end for our intrepid heroes. what if they did?

jewels on an empty beach by sholio. if it isn’t a woman who can consume people with black space goo from her fingers, it’s a mysterious would-be assassin and a missing file, isn’t it.

secrets by mayfriend. the agents of the ssr are spies; of course they’ll have secrets. even secrets they’ve been trying to hide from each other... and themselves.

the district sleeps alone tonight by em2mb. thirty years after the falls of fenhoff and frost, shield is in its heyday. their most formidable enemy is a soviet assassin who’s practically a ghost story, and he’s got his sights set on an equally formidable target.

they sent forth men to battle, but no such men return by tolkiengirl. edna, look away, because this one features graphic medical inaccuracies following the rebar incident. i KNOW that taking the object doing the impaling out of an impaled person is bad and significantly speeds up the bleeding. we all know. lindsey allen knew when she wrote the damn episode. I DO NOT CARE.

casefic:

trip wire by sholio. when a mission of the bell company’s goes sour, daniel’s forced to help jack defuse a land mine in new jersey... over the phone from california. which would ordinarily be such a piece of cake anyway, but there’s a slight complication: peggy’s standing on the bomb. this is my emotional support carter fic and i adore it.

renegades by inkdust. this is season three. that’s the best summary i can give. it’s season three with a lead-in, should the author ever choose to follow up on it, to a season four. i’m obsessed with absolutely everything about this fic, though i will admit i only skim through the smuttier scenes. but i’m sure those are as well-written as the rest of it, if that’s your thing. 

of all the delis in manhattan by irisdouglasiana. a chance encounter with one peggy carter at his father’s place of work might be exactly the opportunity daniel’s been looking for... to take down the italian mafia, of course. what were you thinking he’d do?

worth it by yalu. i can’t do a slightly snarky summary for this one either, because there’s a lot of context you need for a summary to even make sense. worth it holds the probably unique position of being a casefic set DURING season 1 that is technically completely canon compliant. it takes place between blitzkrieg button and iron ceiling, and chronicles dooley sending peggy and daniel undercover to a function of one of howard’s old friends.

in the cold november by sholio. peggy, jack, and daniel are called to upstate new york to investigate claims of a sea monster on a local lake. claims that are completely bullshit... right?

peony and thisbe by aurora_australis. peggy doesn’t regret turning down that offer at the new york ssr branch, though she can’t honestly say that the undercover op phillips sent her on instead is a breeze by comparison. and her mysterious new ssr contact is only complicating matters...

returning the favor by truth_renowned. it’s christmastime, and there’s a mysterious gift under the tree. for anyone who doesn’t have an archnemesis itching for revenge, this wouldn’t pose an issue. unfortunately, this is peggy we’re talking about.

character study:

the first language and the last by shuofthewind. you guys. it’s an agent carter his dark materials au. it’s also ABSURDLY beautifully written. it’s everything i’ve ever wanted in a fic. please read this.

time difference like a lifetime by spatialvoid. bad timing has always been their curse.

the lingering remainders by oh_simone. the avengers are in ruins, and tony has no idea what to do without them. fortunately, an old family friend drops by to put things in perspective.

four chances by inkdust. four christmases spawn four very different conversations between two people at very different places in their own lives.

the lucky ones by irisdouglasiana. a new relationship is always full of surprises, some big, some small.

her bones are made of chaos by anextraordinarymuse. maybe daniel has always been fooling himself.

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt 3

A/N: Since y’all demanded a plot that’s what you’ll get. Will it be good? No. I’ve never written anything with a plot in my entire life. Ever. Not even when I did Nanowrimo or whatever. I just bullshitted the whole thing. Like I’ll do with this fic. Y’all are going to have to remind me to update because I have the attention span of a goat. I’ll try to update this on Saturdays??? IDK at this point. ALSO, WHY THE FUCK IS THIS SO POPULAR?????????? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NOTES THIS HAS ON AO3???? 69????SIXITY FUCKING NINE??? I HATE EVERYTHING MY LEGACY WILL BE READER CALLING HEISENBERG DOOFSCHMIRTZ I HATE EVRYTHING DSHFUGSADFJ

Synopsis: You have totally, %100, given up on escaping. Totally. You haven't been gathering supplies for one, final last hurray. Nope. Totally not. All you have to do is persuade Heisenberg of that so you can change your mind at the last minute. Y’all know the trigger warning for this series but if you don’t tw:kidnapping (implied)

Taglist: it’s exclusivly @localdepressedvampire​  so if you want to be on it for just this story or for all my pieces fill out the google doc in my pinned post or dm me and I’ll put you on it. :)

             You’ve made a breakthrough in your long-term plan of escapism. Even with the mini escape attempts that were really about exploring the factory and less about actually trying to get out, you hadn’t made a lot of progress: until now.

             Well, two, really… Okay, maybe 1 ½. Firstly, you found a sawed-off two-barrel shotgun. With ammo. In fact, there was a various amount of ammo around the factory, but no actual gun. Until now. The second discovery, which is nowhere near as useful, was a window. Which was probably 50 or more feet up from the ground. You didn’t get a chance to inspect it that much, considering as soon as you saw it and got a glimpse at the far-off ground, you had to run again from Lycans.

             Which gives you a basic idea of a way to escape. You knew where the ammo was, you knew where the gun was and had a route to the edge of the building, and hopefully could find stairs at the end of the hallway. Now all you had to do was find a time where you could be gone long enough to get a decent head start before, he notices you’re even gone. Even when he was in the workshop, he kept a close eye on you, keeping you in arms-length to the point where it taxed on both of your mental health.

             And even then, in that chair in the small room, you watch him work in the finer details on something the size of your head and torso. You try not to look at the phone in your lap, he doesn’t even know you have it, much less how great the reception is in the building. How did he not know about his old phone that was still working fine? Oh well, he doesn’t need to know you’re looking at memes and reading feel-good wolf-star fanfic on ao3.

             The best idea you had was to leave him while he was asleep, but there were two some issues with that: he clung to you like his life depended on it, your back to his chest and arms around you almost tight enough to keep you awake; it was dark as hell in the hallways of the factory as is, but it would be impossible to navigate safely with the lights; and the Lycans were most active outside at night, which was where you were trying to go. They’ve tried to eat you before as they show no discrimination on food.

             The only way to get a good enough head start would be to leave while he didn’t notice you were gone, and wouldn’t notice for a long, long time. And that when it hit you. The only time he ever left you by yourself was when he had to deal with the other three lords. And while he left you in that basement that you originally woke up in, you had memorized your way out and found that going up five flights of stairs took you to that faithful widow.

             Would you have enough time to explore and look for an actual exit/entrance, or should you play it safe and find a way to go out that window. You wanted to laugh to yourself, you’d never think that going down a 50ft plus drop would be considered safe, but here you were, kidnapped and held hostage by one of the people your late grandmother warned you not to associate with, or even go near. The letter you received directly quoted “the four lords and their mother, Mother Miranda, are not to be approached or associated with at any costs. You’ll know them when you see them, they smell like death and money. See them and run.”

             You can’t help but find that ironic, considering that you did try to run, heeded her warning, and still faced the consequences that were far worse than she had warned you about. You regretted coming here, to this small village, when you first arrived: no friends, and even those you tried to approach held you to her standard and expected them to be just like her. You were far from her kind and optimistic nature (at least that’s what you heard of her; you hadn’t even known of her whereabouts until she was dead).

             Even the duke, who had helped smuggle you into the village, didn’t seem fond of you. It was a shame, you tried so hard to impress him. But he saw you to a point where you could easily reach her old cottage without having too many issues, turned his cart around, and left without a good-bye. It bothered you to no end that your only companion for about a year or so was an elderly outside cat and the creaking noises the walls made at night.

             And then the cat died and not even a week later you got kidnapped. You never considered yourself lucky, but damn if that wasn’t the worst streak of luck you’ve had in a long time.

             You pretend to turn a page in your book and scroll through your Instagram feed, seeing friends having fun at the beach, or studying at the library, or your old best friend taking selfies in provocative clothing to your ex-boyfriend. Did she forget he cheated on you? She wasn’t always the smartest, but she brought that heartbreak upon herself. You see a photo of your mom, she had posted a picture of a black and white photo of her with her mom, you’re guessing, you have no idea who that old woman is.

             This is the last photo I had with my mom before she died. We lost contact after I moved out. I wish we parted on better terms, Nana.

             She’s in a prairie dress, holding an ancient-looking key in one hand, and the other wrapped around her mom, a middle-aged woman with long hair in two braids and a face that had too many stress wrinkles. You guess your mom was as bad as you were in college. The background looks dreary. You would have guessed it to be the quality of the photo if you hadn’t recognized the house behind them as the house you lived in used to live in.

             The loops on the handle of the key look familiar. You spread your fingers apart to zoom in and see the blurry engravings on the side. It was the payment you gave to sneak into the village. You thought it was a worthless family heirloom at most and found it strange that he had even found interest in the key, or even valued it deeper than money in general. Maybe this photo or other photos of you and your family would help out.

             Why is that key suddenly piquing your interest? Were you that bored, as to sit there and think about a key that was at least twice your age? A key that you didn’t even have. You needed a hobby besides escapism and rejecting your captor’s sexual advances. You look up at him again, only to find him leaning against the desk, hat off and sunglass placed on his forehead, his gaze on you. It wasn’t his normal piercing one, that studied you and calculated your every move, but soft and lazy. His current gaze was dreamy; he was daydreaming about you. You found that equally undaring s it was unnerving.

             “Karl.”

             “Yes, Sweetiepea?” Honestly, what the fuck.

             “Firstly, why are you staring at me like that? Secondly, that is the most disgusting way to use that pet name. I need to take a shower after you called me that.”

             He chuckles light-heartedly. Even his softer more genuine, happy chuckles are booming and loud. “Okay… Sugarplum!” And he busts out laughing.

             Clearly dodging the first question and focusing on the second. You can’t believe you gave him ammo for his annoying-you-gun. And you thought you’d grown immune to most of his… less-savory traits. Were you growing used to him? Next thing you know you’re going to like him and develop Stockholm syndrome!

             “You’re a shit head, hobo magneto…” You turn your head away and let your hair cover half your face so he can’t see you smile. You’ll miss him when you escape and get the duke to smuggle you back to your home in Bucharest. But only a little. Just because calling Heisenberg these names are funny.

             “Why don’t you call me by my name, I know you know it.”

             “You sure about that?” You quip back.

             “You’ve lived with me for at least two months now!”

             “Hm…. I think I know your name! It’s uh…” You are totally faking not knowing his name. “It’s… Heidi Carlson? Yeah, that sounds about right!”

             “It’s Karl Heisenberg!”

             “Quit being so silly, Heidi! Maybe it’s nap-time!” This was a little too fun.

             He looks back at his project for a moment and genuinely considers it. “I know you’re being antagonistic but you’re probably right.” And with that, he walks towards you and goes to scoop you up. You have to shut your book quickly in order for him not to notice the phone in between its pages before you let him pick you up.

             He immediately notices that. “Are… Are you sick?”

             “No! Of course not!” Because you genuinely aren’t sick, and he’s already up in your business as-is, you don’t need him dotting on you because he thinks you’re sick or something. You’ll go fucking crazy.

             “You’ve put in zero effort into anything remotely physical since your last little failed escape attempt.” He gave it a little bit of thought. “You’ve given up, haven’t you, and you’re just depressed about it aren’t you?”

             You want to say no, you really do, but if Heisenberg thinks you’ve given up on escaping, perhaps it’ll give you enough space to plan the big one. The reverse heist so to speak. “No- I… okay maybe I have but I still don’t like you.

             He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good girl. Now let’s get us that well-deserved nap.”

             You plug your nose and turn away as a joke. “You’ve gotta take a bath first, you smell like oil and sweat.” You don’t fight it, because you have to play the part, but you still have to act a little bit like yourself.

             “Okay, fine doll, but don’t think you’ve escaped my barrage of affection, because as soon as I get out of the shower-“

             You bonk him. And he looks at you so confused before he smiles and leans down to nuzzle his nose against yours. You try to hold the bile back in your mouth and lean forward and peck his lips before leaning back. You failed at trying to not visibly gag.

             “Ew… I can’t believe I just kissed you.”

             “Well, I guess someone caught feelings… Didn’t they?”

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

For the ship game: prime numbers for Lupin x Jigen!

HERE YOU GO GHOST, THIS WAS FIVE PAGES IN A GOOGLE DOC AND TOOK ME SEVERAL HOURS

Under a cut, allegedly, though mobile has been known to just IGNORE THAT. Sorry in advance if this gets goofed for anyone.

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, in any place?

Lupin, obviously (and canonically). Just the horniest man you ever did see. Jigen knows what he wants and when he wants it, but he has difficulty keeping up with Don Juan Triumphant over there. Lupin is also far less picky about locations and times than Jigen is. Jigen still has a FEW standards, thank you, and also a stronger sense of self-preservation. Lupin sometimes tries to start shit in public or during a heist and Jigen is like “I REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE THE SENTIMENT BUT CAN WE NOT.” The closest to public anything Jigen will put up with is bar bathroom/back-alley hookups, and he doesn’t really tend to do that with Lupin or Goemon since they have secondary locations far more suited to such activity (or at least the damn Fiat, if nothing else). That said, Jigen is a spiteful bastard and gets a huge kick out of riling Lupin up over the walkie-talkie during jobs. He is more than happy to get jumped by his boss after they make it out and secure the loot.

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Honestly, while I can totally see Lupin and Jigen doing this with their other partners, I have a harder time imagining the two of them doing this together and I’m not sure why. I feel like these two on their own both like the privacy bathing gives them, whether it’s to clean wounds or decompress from a job.

On the occasions when they do bathe together, I feel like it’s an unspoken kind of thing, where the other person quietly slips in the tub/shower with them and they just don’t bother protesting. I think Lupin is more likely to join Jigen in his bathing, but if Jigen is sleepy enough or lonely enough he might do the same. There is a lot of mutual appreciation of scars. They’ve definitely smoked in the tub before (Intricate Rituals™). Lupin is probably more likely to get handsy, because Lupin, but two can play that game if Jigen is feeling it, and also Jigen gives Lupin a run for his money in the staring department. No hat to hide behind now.

Lupin has also 100% done the whole “Hey Jigen, do you know if—stop screaming, it’s me—do you know if we have any more instant dashi? Goemon’s gonna slice up the sofa if I ruin soba night again.”

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Jigen, but to be fair, he canonically sleeps on the couch most nights (possibly to keep an eye on the door, possibly because he knows that place, at least, is always “acceptable” for him to occupy). It’s an odd night if you don’t see Jigen out there with a glass and a bottle of scotch and an old movie on TV. The main difference is that if he and Lupin have been fighting, he won’t bother with the formality of a glass and the TV will be playing far louder or not at all.

7) [A] Who said “I love you” first? And [B] who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

I hate to take the coward’s way out here, but I think the answers are A) either one - depends on the headcanon/fic/version of the characters I’m feeling that day, and B) both.

For A, they’re both the sort of people to show their love—true love/affection, not just flirtation/infatuation, LUPIN—in action, not words. Lupin is a man of many words to a fault, generous with his verbal and physical affection, so Lupin has to find a way to make sure Jigen knows he means it and how he means it. He may rightly fear that Jigen won’t believe him (or else believe him but take it platonically) if he says “I love you” to his face, so first he’ll show him through every little action he can. Jigen is a man of few words to a fault, so saying personal stuff like that out loud is both a last resort and the point of no return. Getting him to say it at all, unambiguously, and while sober is like pulling teeth. Once one of them finally spits it out, though, I think the other is quick to reciprocate (again, if they manage to say it clearly and under good circumstances and not ambiguously/while drunk or wounded/etc. They’re both idiots and selective cowards so this is a big if). The mutual relief is palpable and immediately followed by sex, because they’re both (horny) idiots and selective cowards who do not want to talk about Emotions and Personal Things any more than strictly necessary.

For B, ohhhh man, if it isn’t that same emotional avoidance coming to bite them in the asses! Looks like talking about deep emotions is strictly necessary after all! You know it’s a Big Important Argument for them if this is what it comes to. This is going to tie in somewhat to the answers for 11, 17, and 23, so stay tuned. “Because I love you” coming from either of them should give the other pause, but if they are angry enough, they’re both quite likely to storm off after that declaration anyway. They’ll come back and have a real discussion later, but the shock or frustration of that arresting declaration dropped in the middle of an argument is something neither of them are great at dealing with. Hearing that from Jigen might be enough to stop Lupin in his tracks, but Lupin might also be so dead-set on something that he’ll steamroll right over it even if he knows he’ll regret it later. Hearing that from Lupin probably only makes Jigen angrier because of his awful self-esteem (see answers 11 and 23), and even if he’s been working on that, his instinct will be to snarl “Yeah, right” and storm out the door. I like to think that one day they are able to get to the heart of the argument sooner (because this is almost always it) and work on the behaviors that worry the other so much, but alas, they are a mess.

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

Once again, either of them depending on the day.

As you mentioned in your JiGoe post, Jigen says it partly because he thinks it’s funny (“You have a crush on me, Boss? Fuckin’ embarrassing”) but also because he’s fishing for validation. His self-esteem/confidence in anything outside his shooting skills is shit and he still can’t quite believe that Lupin isn’t lying/he hasn’t conned Lupin into something. This is rather overestimating his conning skills and underestimating his many good qualities, but, well, genuine, lasting affection is kinda new for him. Much to Jigen’s annoyance, Lupin figures out exactly what Jigen’s up to after the first few times and answers him seriously (and positively) instead of continuing the “joke”. Lupin loses patience for this particular tactic over time but I like to think that Jigen finally begins believing in the affection, too, so it comes up less and less and one day Jigen might actually play the quip straight without the self-deprecation. Ideally he would just take the damn compliment, but it’s LupJig and banter is one of their love languages.

When Lupin says it, he typically is playing the quip straight and fondly giving Jigen shit for showing an Emotion and motherFUCKER I just realized Jigen could probably be considered a tsundere. I hate this. ANYWAY. Jigen then immediately snarks back that yes, Lupin, considering we’ve been travelling the world together and actively fucking for X years, it’d be damn awkward if I didn’t by now.

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Lupin absolutely initiates duets, or rather, he tries to; whether or not Jigen actually chimes in is another matter entirely. Lupin is also the better singer by far (when he’s sober). He loves singing along to pop and rock in the car (“This is the reason God invented America!”).

Much as it would please me personally to give Jigen a smooth operatic baritone, there’s no way in hell he sounds good after smoking a pack a day for twenty-something years. I think Jigen can carry a tune and he’s a decent hummer and whistler, but his singing voice isn’t spectacular.

Lupin occasionally succeeds in getting Jigen to join him in car karaoke, though as in all things, Lupin is much louder and more impassioned. Jigen frequently hums along under his breath, though, and Lupin loves hearing Jigen’s a cappella renditions of classical music (complete with hand motions).

When Queen starts becoming popular, car singalongs become much more involved because it’s MY silly headcanon and You Are Not Immune To Queen. Jigen cried the first time he heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” and he will kill Lupin if he ever tells Goemon or, God forbid, Fujiko. When the four of them are in the car it’s a full-on Wayne’s World headbanging party. (Pops is the drunk guy they pick up along the way. Also, seeing Payless Shoe Source in this clip dealt me psychic damage.)

Lupin and Jigen (and Goemon) are the living embodiment of the drunk friends singing “Sweet Caroline” post, and Jigen is specifically this version of “Sweet Caroline”.

17) Who is more protective?

THAT IS THE QUESTION, HUH, GHOST? Jigen’s job and, to a certain degree, raison d’être is protecting Lupin, but (to cheat slightly and quote your own DM to me), if you think Lupin won’t raze everything to the ground to keep Jigen (and the others) safe, you don’t know him at all. They are this meme to the deepest of faults. They are both so desperately afraid of losing what they have (and in Lupin’s case, this is tinged with a bonus, even more concerning “what is his”) that they will go full self-sacrificing, scorched-earth policy. This is, in fact, my favorite reason for Lupin to do the worst thing he does: fake his own death to protect his partners. Lupin never stops to think that maybe, JUST MAYBE, he should trust his partners to fake grief and keep the secret long enough for whoever’s on their tail to give up or let their guard slip. Lupin is willing to hurt them in an effort to protect them, so in that way, I suppose Lupin is the “most” “protective”. Jigen’s self-abasement to the point of unhesitating and perhaps even hasty sacrifice is painful, too, but Jigen would never dare go to the same level of deception (except in Goodbye, Partner, apparently? But 1) I haven’t watched it yet and 2) while awful, I still feel like fake betrayal pales in comparison to very convincingly (AND MAYBE REPEATEDLY) faked death).

19) Who drives and who has the window seat?

They split driving duties, but Lupin genuinely loves driving and Jigen is more than happy to prop his feet on the Fiat’s dashboard and smoke or sleep the hours away.

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the other’s love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

HERE WE GO AGAIN!!! I think the answer to all of these is ultimately Jigen, but that’s not to say Lupin doesn’t share the exact same worries.

Jigen has a very difficult time believing that his partners’ love is genuine, and since Lupin is the one he knew first, that’s where it first manifests. Jigen has had very, very few good romantic connections in his life (if any). He doesn’t know what Lupin could possibly see in an older, prickly hired killer with a drinking problem and a head full of demons. He’s willing to believe that Lupin keeps him around for his skills, for protection, and for sex, sure, but anything past that? Doubtful. This ties into the other two parts of the question: Jigen is afraid that if he fails in his sharpshooting or his protection, he will be cut out of the gang, or worse, Lupin will end up dead because Jigen slipped up. As mentioned in question 17, Jigen cannot bear to lose Lupin and he would never forgive himself if he believed it was somehow his fault. Accordingly, Jigen takes “failure” that exceeds his usual margin of error very seriously in the early days. Later, he is better about this, but the worst-case scenario still stands.

Lupin, on the other hand, has had plenty of romantic connections, some good, some bad, though it is perhaps telling that Fujiko is his longest romantic relationship other than Jigen. He is afraid that if he doesn’t put on the world’s greatest show at all times, no one will give a rat’s ass about some scrawny grandson of an old French thief (or the perhaps unwanted/disliked son of a ruthless crime lord, because I love that fanon for Lupin the Second). He must live up to and indeed surpass the previous Lupins, he must shower his partners in money and adventure, he must always, always come out on top no matter how south the plan goes, or else what is the point of him? It takes time for him to turn his persona off for more than a few seconds, to let the quieter, sometimes contemplative side that slips through the cracks come to rest out in the open. Years down the road, Jigen finally gets up the courage and the words to tell Lupin that he would love him no matter what he did or where he went, even if that was nothing and nowhere. And again, see question 17 re: losing Jigen.

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?

Lupin is by far the most guilty of this. He’s constantly pulling dumb shit, whether that be for World-Renowned Gentleman Thief reasons or just He May Be Stupid reasons. Case in point: the tunnel scene in The First, after which Jigen was duly impressed. Fortunately for Lupin, Lady Luck must be head over heels for him because the bastard keeps surviving, but sometimes even she can’t save him from medical consequences. Jigen bulk-ordered “Stupid Hurts” band-aids specifically for Lupin. Jigen’s bad choices are more likely to literally backfire on him, but Goemon more than makes up for Jigen’s slack in the Crazy Stunt department.