#got a handful of art ideas but i’m getting over being sick and flat out of motivation

[rabbit-rays]

trying to remember to draw. you must occasionally draw your most miserable ocs smiling for your own health

[ghost-ghost-baby]

Narcissist (alpha!readerxOmega!Bakugo soulmate au)

An: this is heavily inspired by the song narcissist by younger hunger definitely recommend listening to it!

An: BIG TY TO MY BETA FOR EDITING THIS ABSOLUTE MONSTER OF A FIC WE STAN!

Word count: 3.2k (ur welcome)

Summary: Bakugo being a little shit basically- Mina and Denki r sick of him- reader runs out of scent blockers-

Warnings: omegaverse, swearing, Bakugo being a dick, reader just thinks he’s hot, gets a bit spicy but nothing graphic, non traditional dynamics (subby alphas) drug use (weed)

You were in a familiar room, one you’d come to love since you’d started dreaming of it, and you sat on the bed and waited… any moment now.

“Oi, are you here, shithead?” The voice of your omega was dreamier than it was in real life; his harsh words unable to punctuate the tranquility of your dream.

“I always am, Katsuki!” You chirped, grinning as he slowly faded into existence. The black tank top and jeans he wears make him look far too good, and your brain short-circuited for a few seconds.

“I told you not to fucking call me that!” He growled, but you only laughed. Reaching out to grab his hands before he could stop you, you pull him down so you could kiss him. Any anger he had quickly melted away, and Katsuki had pulled one hand away to rest on your shoulder and pushed back. You got the point, you pulled away for air and leaned back on your elbows as you did. Katsuki followed and straddled you without a moment of hesitation. His mouth latched onto your neck and you let out a hum. With one hand gravitating to tangle in his hair, he gave you another push that had you lying flat on your back.

“Hey-”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t ruin this.” Katsuki bit down on your throat and you squeaked, although he licked over the mark seconds later to soothe it, and only pulled away to kiss you when you tried to talk again. You melted, let your hands wander down to his thighs, and had your thumbs rubbing absent-minded circles. Then, Katsuki was unbuttoning the shirt you had on, hands quickly trailing lower to-

“Y/N! Did you hear what Mr. Aizawa said?” Mina’s voice brought you back from the dream you had the night before, and you blinked at her as you blanked.

“No way I'm working with their dumbass!” Katsuki snarled as Kiri forced him into a seat at your table, and you turned your head to Sero with a questioning look. He usually knew what was going on in class.

“We have a group project for a presentation, Mr. Aizawa picked the groups-”

“Oh hell yeah, all my best bro’s working together? Sounds like fun to me!” Denki leaned over to hug you and Mina, and the pieces started to click together. You were working on an art project, with your mate, who hate-

“How could anything be fun with Y/n around, they fucking ruin everything.” Katsuki grumbled to himself, refusing to meet your eyes despite sitting opposite you. Kiri mouthed an apology to you from his seat next to Katsuki. Honestly, you had no idea why he’d decided to act like… such a brat really, but it was just an act, however annoying it was. The two of you were soulmates, he’d come around, eventually.

“Oh hush, Bakugo, Y/n’s a riot and we all know it! You’re the one who goes to sleep at like, 8pm” Denki came to your aid. The electric blonde then pressed a kiss to your cheek that had Katsuki gritting his teeth.

“So, what's the project, guys?” You flipped through your book to a fresh page, resting your chin on your hand as you waited for the others to speak.

“We have to show the versatility of styles and composition under a singular theme!” Kiri was the one that answered you, and the group immediately started throwing around ideas.

“I think we could do horror, a lot of horror artists have different composition styles and still manage to convey the-”

“Tch, that’s the best you could come up with? I’m not surprised, an alpha as shitty as you can’t be capable of any decent ideas.” Katsuki sneered, but you only smiled at him as the group agreed with your idea. Your omega merely grumbled and hunched over in his seat as the group discussed the different artists you could use as examples.

You’d stayed late to double-check something with a professor, and you were still flipping through your notebook as you walked through the unusually empty halls. You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, and before you knew it you ran into someone, the same someone who shoved you against a wall seconds later, but your fear subsided when you realised it was just Katsuki.

“Watch where you’re fucking going, dipshit.” Katsuki wasn’t even sure why he’d pushed you up against the wall, but being this close to you, touching you… it was..nice…

“Tch, god your scent is so weak, you smell like a fucking beta, how’d I get stuck with such a runt, huh? Some sick kind of joke.” Katsuki’s tone didn't match what he was saying. The way he leaned forward to rub his cheek over your scent gland definitely said otherwise, but you stayed quiet, he always found some excuse to scent you, but he’d usually get embarrassed and storm off if you dared to say anything.

“You’re pathetic, you know? Being this submissive for an omega, are you sure you’re not a beta? It’d make more sense.” You bit your lip when Bakugo pressed a kiss to your neck, only hesitating a moment before he started sucking a mark onto your skin. His words bounced right off of you because all you could focus on was how hot he was and how he’d subconsciously put his thigh between your legs and thank fuck you were on scent blockers, or you’d never hear the end of it.

“Really, you aren’t even going to try and defend yourself? You’re even weaker than I thought.” A growl next to your ear made you shiver, and Katsuki pushed away with a snarl when he was satisfied. He cursed at you again and warned you ‘not to tell anyone or he’d kick your ass’ (he wouldn’t) before he walked away, leaving you to walk home with your head completely in the clouds.

“What took you so fucking long, huh idiot?” Katsuki was on you the second you appeared in the dream, pulling you down into a rather ferocious kiss before you could say anything. He bit your lip when you didn’t open your mouth fast enough, swallowing any protests you would have made, and continued to kiss you until you were dizzy. “I’ve been waiting two hours…” He pulled away to kiss under your jaw, and if you didn’t know him so well you’d miss the insecure tone in his voice.

“Sorry, Midoriya wanted-” You stopped when Katsuki growled, biting down so hard you were surprised he didn't draw blood.

“Why the fuck are you saying his name here, huh? Are you tryna piss me off?” He pulled away to sneer at you. You opened your mouth to explain, but the words died in your throat when he unzipped your hoodie, and any coherent thought you had went out the window when he started to kiss your neck.

Everything was ready. The lounge room was set up, complete with snacks, drinks, and stationery for you and your friends to work on the project. They were meant to be here any second, and you couldn’t help but hover near the door to your apartment. You weren’t used to having people over and it still put you on edge having others in your space. But that thought left your head when a knock sounded on your door. You quickly opened it and were almost knocked over by Denki and Mina engulfing you in a hug.

“Thanks so much for hosting bro!”

“Awww you laid out all these snacks and stuff too! An omega’s gonna be really lucky to have you one day Y/n!” They pushed inside. Denki closed the door as Mina oohed and aahed over the setup, their praise had a slight blush rising to your face as you sheepishly rubbed your neck. Sero was next, quickly hugging you before he joined Denki and Mina, then Katsuki and Kirishima last. The blonde pushed past you without saying hello, but Kiri pulled you into a hug so tight you couldn’t breathe for a second, and was complimenting the setup as you took a seat. You tried to sit next to Mina, but Denki let out a whine and the pair was pulling you down between them before you had time to protest. Denki immediately leaned on you once you were settled. Katsuki couldn’t focus on the project, how could he, when his two dipshit friends were all over his mate. And you weren’t even doing anything to stop them! In fact, you were leaning into their hugs and giggling at every stupid joke they made! It had Katsuki fuming. Kirishima was the only one close enough to smell the angry shift in his scent, and he glanced between his friend and you, slowly putting the pieces together. You really had no idea what was happening, but Denki’s head was on your shoulder, and Mina’s arm around your waist as she asked questions about the project, giggling and pressing a kiss to your cheek whenever you got confused, which happened more than you’d like to admit. The blonde gritted his teeth when Mina’s hand went to your thigh, you were his! Nobody else should ever be touching you like that! You should know better! So when you excused yourself to grab something from your room, of course he made up some excuse about needing the bathroom so he could follow you.

The door to your room closed with a click, and you quickly spun around, expecting to see Mina or Denki, anyone except Katsuki to be honest.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He was seeing red at this point. He cornered you and made you stumble back until your waist hit your desk.

“Uh- getting more pens-?” You held out the pack of pens with a confused look on your face that only made Katsuki angrier. How were you so stupid? And so fucking cute when you were- he cut off that thought, he needed to focus on yelling at you. Not the way your brows furrowed and how you nervously bite your lip as you waited for him to say something. Wait- were you blushing? Fuck, maybe he should-

“Katsuki? Are you oka-“

“Shut the fuck up, dipshit.” He snarled. Then, catching you both off guard, he leaned forward and kissed you. Your eyes fluttered closed immediately. He’d only kissed you in your dreams, which was nothing compared to this, and you hesitantly placed your hands on his waist. His hands went to your hair to pull you closer, tugging it until you got the message and parted your lips for him. Katsuki let out a hum of approval as he deepened the kiss, why hadn’t he done this sooner? You couldn’t focus on anything other than how much Katsuki tasted like caramel, he didn’t taste like caramel in the dreams. You couldn’t help but whine when he pulled back. Another insistent tug on your hair had you tilting your head back, and Katsuki didn’t waste any time kissing over your neck. You were so lost in the feeling you almost missed the words he growled against your skin.

“You should know better, you’re mine. Other people shouldn’t be fucking touching you like that.”

“Do you think they’re like…. Finally-” Mina made a hand gesture that had Denki cackling, even Kiri cracked a smile.

“I hope so, it’s getting hard to watch all the back and forth.” Sero sighed, dropped his pen, and stretched.

“Yeah, have you seen how mad Bakubro gets though? It’s pretty fun to push his buttons like this!” Denki grinned as he leaned his head on Mina’s shoulder, and she wrapped her arm around his waist.

“I don’t know… Bakugo’s uh… stubborn, to put it nicely.”

“Your scent is weird… are you wearing a different perfume?” Mina leaned her head on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist as you glanced at Katsuki. After whatever the fuck had happened in your room, he’d gone back to acting like he hated you, so, you’d kept letting Denki and Mina do whatever they wanted. He had his eyes fixated on the work, and you turned back to Mina with a smile.

“Oh, sorry about that! I forgot to refill my scent blockers and my doctor’s not available until next week.”

“Don’t be sorry, bro! It’s nice, like really, really nice!” Denki came up behind you, throwing a quick glance at Katsuki before he leaned forward, crooning and rubbing his cheek over your scent gland, Mina doing the same a moment later. The pen Katsuki was holding snapped, his angry scent pumping out in waves as he glared daggers into the book in front of him, all too aware of you laughing.

You were hyper-aware of how strong your scent was, this was the longest you’d gone without scent blockers since you’d presented, and you’d lit a scented candle to try and cover it up. It hadn’t really worked, maybe you should light some incense-

“Y/n! Sorry we’re early!” Mina’s hand on your shoulder broke you from your thoughts, and you shook your head before you smiled. Denki cut you off before you could apologize about your scent.

“Damn Y/n! It smells like you baked cookies- oh my god did you bake-”

“Don’t be stupid, babe, it’s just their scent.” Mina shoved him inside, shaking her head as she followed and closed the door behind her.

“Oh! Of course!” Denki nodded, and he and Mina linked arms with you. They walked you over to the couch and sat you all down with grins on their faces.

“Uh… guys-?” You didn’t trust that look, it never leads to anything good.

“Well, since the project is like, 99.5% done-” Mina started, hand coming up to play with your hair.

“We thought we deserved a reward!” Denki interrupted, reaching into his bag and producing a blunt. You felt your own grin forming.

“Oh my god- is that from-”

“Shinso! You know he sells the best stuff on campus, I decided to splurge for my bros!” Denki looked incredibly pleased with himself, and you couldn’t help but tackle the blonde in a hug.

“Oh my god Denki, you’re the best!”

The three of you were blazed by the time the others got there. Sero happily bounced over to share the blunt, while Katsuki and Kiri just sighed and sat down with you. Katsuki’s eyes instantly zoned in on where you were lying on Mina and Denki on the couch. He was oddly silent as he tried to keep his cool, the nagging thoughts that had always been there slowly got stronger. He’d always had to be strong, people perceived him as weak just because of his dynamic, so he’d rejected the thought of being with an alpha, hoping for a beta or omega. Or you. You never made a big deal out of your dynamic, and always treated him as an equal. Then the dreams started. He loved you, he really did! But his whole reputation would go down the drain if he was claimed by an alpha, especially one with such a weak scent and mild presence. So…. he pretended to hate you in public because the two of you had your dreams, where nobody could judge him! Even if they did pale in comparison to real life. But lately… he couldn’t stop wondering… were you getting tired of waiting? With the way you were acting… the thought made his stomach turn and his canines come out. Especially since you had run out of blockers. Your scent getting stronger and stronger as the days went by. You were his alpha! You shouldn’t be scenting other people! Especially omegas! And you certainly shouldn’t be laying on them while you were ignoring him! You hadn’t even said hello to him! You were too busy getting high with those assholes like you didn't belong to him! You were his, it wasn’t fair!

Mina was the last out of the apartment. She kissed your cheek and winked at you as the door closed. The exhaustion set in as you leaned against the door.

“What the fuck was that?” Katsuki growled and made you startled when you saw him by the table. You only shrugged as you went to pack up the stuff on the couch.

“Denki got us some weed because the project was done-”

“Not that, dickhead! They were all over you!” He marched over to you, trying to ignore how good you smelled up close.

“And? We’re not-” You responded, and Katsuki was shoving you before he realized, ignoring the way you yelped as you fell on the couch. You sprawled on your back and glaring up at him.

“Katsuki! What the fuck!” Katsuki didn’t reply, eyes traveling over your vulnerable form. Flush rose to his face as he realized how provocative the position was, causing warmth to pool in his tummy. If kissing was so much better in reality, what would it be like to be inside you? Feel you clench around him and pull his hair when he hit your sweet spot? Would your thighs shake the same in real life when he just kept going? The omega didn’t even realize his scent had changed, he just licked his lips and stared at you with hooded eyes, fuck he wanted-

“Are you okay? You zoned out.” Fuck, when had you gotten up? You were so close now, your scent overwhelming. He never wanted you to go on blockers again.

“Fuck, Katsuki! Katsuki! Are you in heat?” It finally dawned on you. Katsuki’s scent had taken on a sweeter tone it didn’t usually have, and with the way he kept zoning out, it was obvious. Plus thoughts of him on top of you that wouldn’t leave your brain alone. Your question snapped him out of his daze, and the omega snarled at you, stepping back and stumbling when a jolt of pain went through him.

“Fuck off, like you could trigger-” His voice cut off as another wave of pain went through him, causing you to reached out to steady him without thinking. The omega was going to let out a growl but it quickly changed to a whine as it escaped his mouth. You pulled your hand back like it had burned, although your mate’s temperature was so high it wasn’t out of the question. You took two steps back and froze when a feral snarl ripped through the room, dark red eyes pinning you in your place.

“He-hey Katsuki…” Your voice stopped his growling, and it took every ounce of self-control you had to stay coherent as he advanced, your rut already trying to cloud your judgment. Your eyes darted around the room, maybe you could make it to the bathroom? Then Katsuki could ride out his heat and you could talk about it? yeah. Katsuki was only a foot away from you now, the grin he had on was somehow more unsettling than the snarl, and you shook your head to get some of your resolve back. Okay, three, two, one-

You made it maybe ten centimeters before Katuski caught you, and pushed you back down on the couch. He wasted no time sitting on your lap and tilting your face up to look into his eyes.

“You’re not getting away from me, Alpha. I know you want this. I should have done this months ago.” Sincerity shone through your omega’s lidded eyes, and you felt your small shred of resolve shrink away even more. Your hands flew to his chest to push him away.

“Ka-Katsuki it’s just- just your heat, you don’t mean-“

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t mean, alpha.” Katsuki was back to growling at you. His hands grabbed your wrists, pinned them down, and used his knees to keep them in place. He went back to cupping your face, red eyes boring into yours as he thought of what to say and a growl leaving him whenever you dared to look away. You were so, so obnoxiously pretty, it made it even harder to focus. Katsuki kept getting distracted by little details, like how your eyes shone and you kept biting your lip.

“You’re so fuckin stupid, ya know that? Of course, I fuckin want you, you’re my alpha- I don’t… I don’t care what other people think anymore, I just want you.” Katsuki’s tone was softer than you expected, and you could only gape at him as a blush quickly rose to your face. You knew he didn’t hate you, but hearing him say that lifted a weight off your shoulders you’d been carrying for who knows how long. The moment passed, all the softness went away as Katsuki leaned down to kiss you, and this time you kissed him back without any reservations.

[absolutepokemontrash]

Kid!MC/Teen!MC Needs someone to go to Parent Teacher Interviews for Them and Guess Who’s Available?

Masterlist

The brothers being bad babysitters/dad figures is something I love very much, I bet you all could already tell that considering the Fic/Headcanon series I have going on. I would just like you all to know that Asmo’s section is based on a true story. Anyhoo~ onto the Headcanons!

Why? Why Him? (Lucifer)

Is MC really dumb, or are they just a kid? No one knows.

Obviously MC asked Lucifer, the only competent one in the house, the most professional, hard-working, controlled-

MC got their things together and gave Lucifer the run down on their teacher(s) before Lucifer got too absorbed in extolling his own virtues in an intense internal monologue.

News flash Lucifer, this isn’t a Shakespeare play, you can’t have a dramatic monologue or soliloquy about how great you think you are

At the actual meeting, if MC is in there, no, MC is not actually in there. Lucifer will speak to the teacher as if MC isn’t there. As someone whose not a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down kind of person, Lucifer expects the teacher to behave the same and not spare MC’s feelings.

Feelings do not deserve to be spared if MC is being a nuisance. No fake-kid/little sibling of his gets to be the class idiot!

If MC’s doing very well academically, he expects to be pointed at projects or tests they’ve done and the grade on it. It really makes him proud to see MC doing well.

Even if they’re not the best academically, if they’re not failing and they’re doing well in other aspects of school, he’s proud.

If MC really struggles in a school environment and just hates it there but they’re still keeping their head above water, they get a head pat of approval.

On the drive home, if MC came with him to the parent teacher interviews and everything went well, he just happens to turn onto the street that has a Baskin Robin’s or something of that caliber.

If they didn’t go, he picks something up on the way back.

No fun treats if MC is being a disruptive little heathen in class, no kid under Lucifer’s care is going to be the class Mammon. Not on his watch.

MC was busily stuffed their face with the treats that were gifted to them. Lucifer had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at the kid’s blatant disregard for basic table manners when it came to sweets.

“Is everything the teacher said true?” Lucifer asked, MC looked up at him with a smile.

“Yep!”

“Good, good.” Lucifer held out his hand and patted them on the head. “You’re doing well. Keep it up.”

“Geez,” MC mumbled as they continued to stuff their face. “Can you get anymore affectionate?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, MC. It’s uncouth.” Lucifer said sternly. “Besides, I’ll have you know that many people enjoy my headpats. I’m quite affectionate.”

“Really now? Name one person.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He and MC stared each other down, one pair of eyes much more nervous than the other. Spoiler, MC was still calmly eating their treat as they maintained eye contact.

“…Cerberus.”

“If you’re reaching for Cerberus, you’ve already lost.”

…his pride was under attack. Right in front of his desert…

“You’re grounded.”

“Worth it.”

*Rides by on a Skateboard* School is for NERDS (Mammon)

Pff! Stupid human! He’s not goin’ to some lame parent teacher conference-

Wait! What’s with that face?! Ugh… fine. MC’s gone and forced his hand with those damn puppy dog eyes…

Mammon does not dress up for this event, he dresses like he would every day, maybe throw on some designer stuff to let all the parents and teachers know he’s hot shit.

If MC goes with him, he pulls up in his beloved car and takes up two parking spaces (pure evil.). Every parent present already hates him, but at least the other kids there are impressed with MC’s sweet ride. MC would have gained some street cred if Mammon hadn’t managed to trip up the stairs to the classroom in front of everyone.

He’ll act way to casual with the teacher, turning the parent chair backwards and sitting down so he can lean on the seat.

Mammon gets bored crazy quickly while the teacher lists and explains all the stuff the class is learning, so his eyes begin to wander to any and all displays in the classroom. Projects, annoying posters, class pet, anything is more interesting than this teacher’s explanation.

When MC finally becomes the main topic of the interview, he’s all ears. MC’s doing great in school academically? Ha! Nerd! Maybe giving MC a playful noogie and interrupting the whole interview wasn’t a good idea, but whatever.

If MC’s failing anything, or just isn’t that gifted when it comes to grades, it’s very much a “Aw man me too” from Mammon.

This teacher is speaking with the Great Mammon, the first demon in RAD’s history to fail three semesters in a row. If this teacher thinks bad grades will phase him, they’re dead wrong.

Grades don’t mean anythin’ about smarts anyway! I mean, look at him! He’s a fuckin’ genius but he can’t get through a history test without sobbing even though he LIVED THROUGH MOST OF IT.

MC gets treats no matter what’s up in class. Though, if MC didn’t go with him, he’s likely to forget and just order something for the two of them when he gets back home.

“Goddamn teachers and their rambling!” Mammon whined, grabbing a slice of pizza from the open box on his coffee table. “You owe me, MC! Ya really do!”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” MC said, they leaned over and rolled a pizza slice into a pizza-scroll then proceeded to eat it like a veggie roll. “How do you think I feel, listening to them every day? You know how long it takes to get to the actual class material?”

“Five years?”

“Ugh! Five years if I’m lucky! I swear, I know more about my teacher’s grievances with like… five of my classmates than I do about trigonometry, and guess which one’s on the test next week?”

Mammon winced in sympathy, then remembered he was supposed to be whining and went back to it. “School’s shit and a waste of money, ya should drop out as soon as you can and help me run my new business.”

“You mean your pyramid scheme?”

“It’s not a pyramid scheme, MC! It’s legit! It’s a multi-tiered marketing-”

“It’s a pyramid scheme.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SOCIAL INTERACTION (Leviathan)

Everyone else must have been sick or something for MC to have asked Levi. He’d flat out refuse to go otherwise.

So, Levi couldn’t exactly go to the interview in his usual “I haven’t left my room or changed clothes in eight weeks” look. With the help of MC, he was able to find his military uniform at the back of his closet.

Asmo nearly fainted when he saw Levi in the uniform, not because “oooo, a man in uniform~”, it was because the outfit was so crumpled and wrinkled that it made it physically painful to look at. No time to iron and wash, the conference was in an hour!

Levi (and MC if they went with) rolled up to the school in a less than impressive ride, but one look at the uniform and all the other people present went “yep, time to be respectful (tm)”

For the first time in his life Levi was more intimidating than Lucifer! And he wasn’t even trying!

When the teacher starts explaining the course material, Levi spaces off in horror as he realizes he remembers literally nothing from school (AND HE’S STILL IN SCHOOL!) all that’s running through his head is “A squared + B squared = C squared” and “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell”.

The actual interview was the least interesting part of the trip, the real stuff happened when Levi passed by some art on display in the hallway and something caught his eye-

Those colours… that hair… that adorable smile..!

IT WAS HER! LEVI’S PRECIOUS RURI-CHAN IN ALL HER GLORY!

Levi immediately started fawning over the art class fanart and by sheer coincidence, one of the kids walking through the hallway happened to notice.

The kid asked MC if their… parent and or guardian liked anime. MC responded with “obviously.” Levi then asked the kid if they drew his adorable Ruri-chan. The kid said no, and that they drew the My Hero Academia fanart a few rows down.

Levi was absolutely floored that there were two anime fans in one class, then his entire world shattered when MC explained there was more anime art inside the art room and other classrooms.

H-hang on… did that mean that… a lot of people here… liked anime..?

Levi needed a while to process. No snacks on the way home…

Levi and MC were sat in the back of their Uber, Levi, the Avatar of Envy himself, was having his entire sense of reality warped. S-so much anime fanart… in a school of all places..! What did this mean for the future of anime?!

“Levi. Stop.” MC sighed. “If this were an anime, the camera angle would be doing that thing where it’s right on the bridge of your nose and dramatic music plays in the background.”

“S-so many kids in your class like a-anime huh..?” Levi stuttered, weakly trying to smile. “Must be nice..?”

“Oh, that’s just my class. The other classes and grades have their fans too.”

“Oh… really?”

“Levi,” MC stopped looking out the window and looked at the otaku that was having a full scale silent mental breakdown. “Anime isn’t even a niche interest anymore. It’s a pretty casual thing to watch now. At least a third of my class watches- Levi?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH! ANIME! A THIRD OF THE CLASS?! ANIME… HIS PRECIOUS ANIME… WAS BECOMING A NORMIE INTEREST! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

“Levi?” MC waved their hand in front of their spaced out demon’s face. “Leviiiii? Okay he’s dead.”

The Know it All (Satan)

Ah, a smart choice, MC. Satan would be glad to help further their education. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure that the human’s brain is fed all that sweet sweet knowledge.

Satan can’t dress himself normally, MC had to coax him into a suit jacket, but he still only wore one sleeve.

MC was coming along to the interviews whether they wanted to or not, it’s important to hear what they need to improve on from the teacher themselves after all.

The two arrived pretty early, so Satan asked MC for a tour of the school. It was pretty tame until they reached the library. Satan was horrified at the state of some of the books…

Their spines lined with duct tape… pages missing and torn… someone apparently used a taco as a book mark…

The first thing Satan does when it’s time for his interview is demand the teacher take better care of the library, even though they’re not the librarian. MC tries to explain this, but Satan is too distraught to listen to reason.

He enjoyed hearing about the course material, but he made it known if MC thinks the assignments are too easy that they need to be given more challenging work. THEIR BRAIN NEEDS TO BE STIMULATED DAMN IT.

It was up to MC to either agree with Satan and nod to the teacher, or make frantic eye contact with them to try and communicate “NO DON’T PLEASE”.

Similar to (ugh) Lucifer, as long as MC is doing their best, he’s happy for them.

…but if they are in any way in the running for valedictorian he is HELPING THEM WIN.

He decided to stop at a cafe or bookstore to let MC pick out a “congrats on surviving your pitiful school” present after the interviews.

MC gleefully perused the shelves of the bookstore, there were so many books too look at…

“I’ll buy you as many books as you’d like, MC, just,” Satan shuddered slightly. “Promise me you won’t treat them like those poor library books…”

MC put their hand over their heart. “I swear on the duct taped book spines that I will never treat a book like that.”

“Good… good…” Satan breathed a sigh of relief and went back to looking at his book about cats.

“Are you… reading a Warrior Cats book..?” MC asked tentatively.

“Yes, why?”

“Satan, put that back.”

“I Will Seduce the Teacher For the Sake of Your Grades, Don’t Worry.” (Asmodeus)

Oh MC dear! He’d be delighted to go! Just let him get ready~

Asmo may not be the best choice, but he was at least going to be the best dressed person at that conference. (And MC just had to come too so all the other parents could be jealous of how well coordinated their outfits are)

He teased MC a little by saying he was going to flirt with their teacher to make sure they passed the class, but he was just kidding! …but he made sure to ask if their teacher was cute, he needed to know!

While waiting for his turn, Asmo flirts with some of the single parents, if he doesn’t see a wedding ring, they’re fair game.

Once his time slot arrived, MC realized that Asmo is one of those “my child has done and will do nothing wrong ever” types. This may have ended up working in MC’s favour if they were a class nuisance.

If MC is doing very well in sports, clubs, grades, anything, Asmo is fawning over them and gushing to the teacher about how great, smart and adorable they are.

Asmo surprisingly does not exactly flirt with the teacher, he was just teasing MC after all. But um… if MC’s teacher just happens to be cute and young, he may turn up the charm, just a little. Enough to make the teacher giggle and make MC cover their face in embarrassment.

After the interviews Asmo will probably schedule a nice day out for the two of them, shopping, a movie, mani pedis, something fun!

The real weird stuff happens in the months after the interviews… if Asmo did lightly flirt with the teacher, MC gets quite a few questions about their guardian. Questions that ask if Asmo is single in not as many words…

Oh lord, MC’s teacher developed a crush on Asmo.

Nail painting night was supposed to be a fun occasion, but MC was hopping mad and embarrassed. Asmo didn’t seem to notice as he continued to paint the little human’s nails.

“And then I told Phenex to get lost. The nerve of that little monster, right MC?” When MC didn’t reply, Asmo looked up and tilted his head. “MC?”

MC’s angry face would have been much more threatening if they weren’t just so adorable, but it was getting the message across.

“MC..?”

“Asmo.” MC’s glare deepened. “My teacher wants to know if you’re single.”

Asmo blinked a few times, before he hit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Really now~. I knew they’d be madly in love with me-”

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIS?!”

Oh My Demon King is That a BAKE SALE?! (Beel)

Of course Beel said yes! He’d gladly go to MC’s parent teacher interview!

He even put on a nice outfit :D he ended up looking a bit like a secret serviceman guarding MC, the tiny president.

Beel stopped for McDonald’s on the way there, all the other kids were so jealous of MC when they stepped out of the car eating fries.

But a little something something caught Beel’s eye when he and MC walked into the school… was that a… bake sale?

MC quickly explained that the bake sale was fundraiser for their class trip that year and the snacks weren’t complimentary. He had to pay.

And pay Beel did. He cleared out the entire table. MC’s grade’s overnight trip was going to be decadent as hell. That was no longer a crowd funded thing, that trip was privately funded by a tall buff ginger secret service member and this tiny in comparison child.

Kids are incredibly blunt, just like Beel, so when a random kindergarten kid wandered over, looked up at Beel, and very knowingly said “you’re very tall”. Beel was like “yeah”. The kid then said “what’s it like being that tall?”

Beel’s response to this kid’s question was to pick them up and hold them for a few seconds before placing them back down. For just a few moments this kid knew what it like to be over 6’4. Of course, more kids swarmed in and asked to be picked up.

Sure it was cute, but Beel now has an army of kids ranging from kindergarteners to third graders.

Finally, the conference actually began. Beel snacked the entire time and dutifully listened to everything the teacher had to say.

After the interviews are over, he checks with MC to make sure everything the teacher said was true and that they weren’t lying. If all was well, the two made their exit.

They stopped at Wendy’s on the way home.

“I’m so full…” MC groaned, Beel held up a massive cookie.

“So I can eat this?”

“No. Gimme that.” MC took a very defeated bite out of it. “My stomach says no but my mouth says yes…”

“I don’t want you to get a stomachache, MC,” Beel said worriedly. “No more snacks.”

“It’s a little late for that. It’s past nine and I’m still eating, there’s no way I’m getting to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

“Oh…” Beel mumbled. “I may have not completely thought this through.”

“*Snore* Huh? Wha? MC’s Grades? Uh… Fuck…” (Belphie)

MC must be failing a class or something because why on earth would they pick Belphie otherwise.

They ask him to go while he’s delirious from just waking up from a nap, he sort of half nods and mumbles some gibberish before going back to sleep.

MC had to basically carry his ass to the school. Belphie drooled all over them in the waiting room, and when it was their time to go into the interview, Belphie had to be manually put into the chair and slapped awake.

He barely listens, he just sits and nods along with whatever the teacher is saying. The teacher could say MC brought an alligator to school and he’d just go “uh huh…” “mmmph… yep…” “really now?” then yawn.

The only thing that could possibly get Belphie to be interested is if MC is studying space. If they are, than boy howdy is Belphie suddenly interested in their education.

Other than that? *snore*

If MC is in fact failing or doing poorly, MC’s teacher asks to see another one of MC’s guardians at a later date. Their plan failed miserably.

MC drags Belphie out of the school and yells at him for not helping them. Belphie, still sleep delirious, tries to press the snooze button. MC does not have a snooze button.

“Belphie!” MC shouted, shaking the Avatar of Sloth awake. The House of Lamentation’s resident bastard was somehow sleeping standing up outside. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

“Eh?” Belphie half-snorted and looked around confused. “What’d I do? Where are we?”

“At my school! You said that you’d go to my parent teacher interviews!”

“…MC I don’t think I’d pass well for you.”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AS MY GUARDIAN!”

“Sheesh,” Belphie murmured while he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. “You humans are so noisy.”

MC looked up at their dearest demon friend, and gave him their best glare. “I’m going to take all your fancy temperature changing pillows and switch them with normal pillows you traitorous bastard.”

[writing-in-april]

The Big Bluff

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer goes up against a professional poker player.

A/N: This is almost a purely self indulgent fic, once I had this idea I really really wanted to write it for myself. I wrote all of this today while sick so I’m proud of myself lmao. Also ‘the woman’ Is definitely inspired by Irene Adler. Thanks for letting me have the third person today @zhuzhubii (inside joke thanks to)and thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins who helped me figure out where the story was gonna go. Last day of my 500 follower celebration!! I did 7 fics in 7 days!! Thanks y’all so much for supporting me!!

Warnings: Smut, Fighting for dominance, Hand job, Spitting, Fingering, Choking - uhh should be it.

Masterlist Word count: 2.3k

The casino lights were bright as she walked in through the main entrance of the casino that was dripping in finery. She was a vision in red, dressed to the nines in a red dress that left little to the imagination. She was here to blow off some steam, though not in the way people would assume. The woman in red was a professional poker player, normally playing high stakes games that were also televised for people’s enjoyment. Usually people would try to escape what they did at work on the weekends, but not her as she rather enjoyed the adrenaline that pumped through her veins just as she was about to win.

A man sat across from her at the table she chose with fluffy brown hair that curled slightly and wearing clothes that didn��t fit with the overall aesthetic of everyone else there. She would have assumed normally that he was an amateur player, only here to blow off steam (Plus his money) for the weekend by playing poker and laying in bed with someone. There was something about his demeanor however the way he acted just subtly arrogant as he waited for the dealer to start, that told her that he was the one to watch during the game.

Sure enough after the first round he had won, the woman lost nothing in the hand as she had folded right when she realized she’d gotten a bad hand. Worry still had creeped up on her as she gazed at the man who looked more like a teacher’s assistant rather than a poker player, she couldn’t be seen to lose even if this wasn’t a high stakes game, she had a reputation to uphold. She could’ve left the table, gone to find some easier people to swindle, but the challenge to bring the mystery man down was too hard to ignore.

During the next round her eyes almost never left the stranger only looking down every so often at the cards she had been dealt. It got to the point in the game where everyone had folded besides her and the man, she had been raising the stakes too high for everyone else to be comfortable with participating even if they thought they had a good hand. The whole table sucked in a breath as she went all in with her bet, no one at the table seemed to be able to get a read on her, including the man who thought he was unbeatable.

“I fold.” A triumphant smirk came across her face while taking a celebratory gulp of the wine she had ordered as the man had finally admitted defeat, this was exactly the kind of adrenaline rush she had been searching for. The look on his face was pure rage, she got the sense that he hardly got angry probably because he hardly lost.

She raked in all the chips she had earned, but then decided to not show her winning hand. It was far more satisfying to her to see the frustration on everyone’s faces, to see them try to figure out her game. Was she bluffing or not?

Once she had cashed them in she left to go to her hotel in a cab that she had called until she saw the man waiting by the entrance waiting and stopped. He looked like he was waiting for someone rather impatiently by the way he was tapping his foot.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah you.” He remarked rather simply, his foot still tapped impatiently clearly fed up with her even though the amount of words they had spoken to each other could be counted on two hands.

“Why are you looking for me?” She played the part of a coy woman perfectly, she knew exactly why he was looking for her. His cocky demeanor at the table had quickly given away to her that he rarely lost any hand that he was dealt, whether it was a bad one or not.

“How did you win? Were you bluffing? You must have been bluffing...Or you just got lucky...” His ranting would’ve been cute in any other circumstance, the fact that he had assumed what had gone down, that she was in fact only lucky or bluffing made her blood boil.

“How did you get away with card counting?” She countered back a little irritated that he had assumed that the only way she could win was if she was bluffing or getting lucky. He seemed caught off guard by her question, unable to comprehend how someone had caught him after mastering the subtle art of card counting over the years. Though she was irritated at him, she still wanted to know more about the man who looked more like a teacher's assistant than a poker player, even if she had beaten him it was still obvious that he was good at the game. “What’s your name?”

“Spencer.” His impatience was even worse now looking almost frantic at her slow pace in the conversation, he was more focused on her skills rather than her name.

“Well- Spencer it was nice to meet you, but I have to get going, better luck next time.” She wasn’t dumb, she knew he was going to follow her out to her cab, her real aim was to hopefully get him to come back to the hotel with her. She may have been looking for a poker game to release some tension, that had somewhat worked, however this game seemed far more fun.

“Please- I need to know.” His shouted out words had attracted the attention of a few casino goers who were not happy with the fact that a man was yelling right outside the doors of the casino. The little wave he gave as an apology before sprinting a little to get closer to her was cute, deepening her desire to take the man for a ride, maybe he wasn’t as much of a hot arrogant asshole that she thought.

“Why don’t you come with me if you want to find out.” She flashed him a coy smirk before ducking into the cab. The man she now knew as Spencer may be arrogant when it comes to his poker skills, but underneath it all she could tell there was a man that was intriguing. She wanted to get to know him beyond his card counting skills and possibly jump his bones. The fact that he was gorgeous did nothing but stoke the fire that he ignited during their heated conversation.

Spencer did take up her offer and got into the back seat with her. Though, whether he had caught onto the other game that they had started to play was still a mystery to her.

They had made it up to her room in the swanky hotel on the strip, being a professional did bring her in big money. The look in his eyes as he stood waiting near the door told her that he had definitely caught onto the game she had carefully set up for them. There was still a way to back out, to exit through the door where he came from, there was no chance in hell he was backing away from the woman he found infuriating but extremely gorgeous.

“You still haven’t given me your name.” The one thing that was holding him back, the fact that he still didn’t know her name. The name fell from her lips dripping with seduction, she was irresistible to him almost nothing could make him leave the room.

He surged forward to capture her lips with his own, he expected to gain dominance over the kiss swiftly though it was more difficult than he first expected. He was met with a pair of lips that wouldn’t let him gain access that he wanted, he tried to slip his tongue into her mouth but was quickly barred from entering.

She would not be giving up dominance easily.

“Condom?” He said breathlessly into my lips while she worked on the buttons of his shirt after I had hastily pushed his cardigan off and tossed it somewhere in the room.

“In my purse.” She released him to rummage through the purse that had dropped onto the floor in their haste. Once she had found what she was looking for she stood up to find Spencer sitting at the edge of the bed, belt now discarded with his slacks undone.

She moved to stand just slightly in front of him then pulled the straps of her red dress down until it pooled onto the floor. Their eyes were both blown with lust only focused on each other. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath besides a lace red thong to match the dress. Spencer was practically salivating at the sight of her only in heels and a thong, he was so distracted by it that he was caught off guard when she moved to straddle him while also pushing him to lay flat on his back.

Pulling his boxers down just enough she pulled his cock out, he was half hard at this point, she was already impressed with his size though she masked it with her practiced poker face.

“Now you’re going to sit back and look pretty while I have my way with you.” The anger on his face was prevalent in response to her words, the fight was taken away from him when she spit into her hand and started to jerk his length. Her hand moved up and down in a teasing manner not getting him even close to the edge, his moans caught up in his throat though one did escape in frustration after she had almost completely pulled away from him. Finally he had enough of her teasing, batting away her hand and flipping her over.

“Now it’s your turn to look pretty.” He pinned both of her hands above her head holding them together with one hand while the other dipped down to the apex of her thighs. At first he didn’t let her have anything she wanted, only running his fingers on her inner thighs and dancing his fingers right above her hole that was now absolutely dripping.

“Beg.” His voice was now harsh and biting, that did little to intimidate her and all it did was make her even wetter. She fought his grip with vigor not wanting to give into his demand.

“No, I won’t beg.” She said through gritted teeth, it had become much harder to finish her sentence when Spencer had unexpectedly curled his fingers inside of her, finding that perfect spot inside her faster than she had expected.

“You don’t want to beg fine, but don’t expect to cum.” The growl in frustration that came from her made Spencer pause just a little, long enough that she could retake control and flip him back over. A squeak fell from him clearly not expecting her to be able to take back control again and another noise came out from him, this time a broken moan, after she quickly put the condom down and she sunk down onto his length.

“I don’t beg for anyone.” She started at a rough pace, her anger came out in her movements as she undulated her hips with fury that Spencer had never experienced before in the bedroom. The moans falling from each of their lips would surely get her a complaint from her neighbors, neither of them could really care less as they both chased their release.

Spencer may have been on the bottom at this point, but he still had not submitted completely to her. His hands sat firmly on her hips, tight enough to create finger shaped bruises that she hoped would remain for the days after this tryst while he also thrusted with the same vigor as her bounces.

She wrapped her hands around his jaw pulling him up slightly to envelope him into a kiss full of teeth and tongue. As her hand slowly pulled away from him it made contact with the hollow of his throat, his breath hitched at the light contact and he gripped her hips a little harder. She hesitantly moved her hand to connect with his throat to lightly choke him, she may have wanted to dominate him, but she didn’t want to scare him off. He gave an approving grunt at her actions, starting to meet her thrusts even harder than he had before and moved his thumb to rub circles into her clit.

“Cum.” She ordered as soon as she sensed their coming releases. He wanted to fight her on the order, not wanting to give up what little dominance he still held, but his release was so close that he didn’t want to give it up. Their releases washed over them, Spencer first and then her not long after being shoved over the ledge after seeing how pretty he looked while cumming. She fell on top of him, limbs quite tired from her vigorous work.

As soon as she had caught her breath she enveloped Spencer in a long languid kiss that was much slower than any of their previous ones then getting up to meander with shaky legs her way to the bathroom in her hotel room to clean up. She slipped into a pair of her sexier pajamas, just in case Spencer was going to stay the night like she wanted.

“So will you tell me now if you were bluffing?” He quickly pounced the question onto me as soon as I emerged from the bathroom, he did seem a little less frustrated about the fact that he had lost, more like he genuinely wanted to know my process.

“Guess you’ll never know. It could take a long time to figure out our tells.” She feigned exhaustion with a sigh though the smirk on her face told Spencer what she really wanted. He was an expert on behavior after all.

“I've got time.”

[kiki-shortsnout]

For intimacy prompts: #27 hugs from behind for Ironstrange! ❤️💙 I’ve been loving all of these fics so far!

Me again! I swear, you're all going to get sick of me writing all these snippet prompts! 🤣🤣

Another warning for Alpha/ Omega and Mpreg!

***

‘There you are.’

‘You say that like you don’t know where I am at every given moment of the day,’ Tony grumbled, not moving from where he was hunched over the desk in the bedroom, tinkering with his latest project. Stephen ignored his irritability, knowing his Omega was uncomfortable and exhausted.

Switching his Kamar-Taj robes for a worn t-shirt and sweatpants, Stephen directed the Cloak out of the room with a head nod, wanting some alone time.

‘Of course I know where you are. I wouldn’t be a very good mate if I didn’t,’ Stephen answered, placing his hands on the back of Tony’s chair and hooking his chin over his shoulder. With gentle hands, he encouraged Tony forward in the wooden chair, stroking his fingers up and down his Omega’s spine, counting each vertebra as he went. Magic pooled in his hands as he swept his hands over a muscled back, trying to ease whatever tension Tony was carrying.

‘I swear, Wong is worse than all of your ninja minions you have shadowing me,’ Tony laughed, groaning at the touch.

‘Apprentices, Tony, not ninja minions-’

‘Ninja apprentices then. You’ve got good timing, I think I’ve finished, You want to see?’ Tony asked, curving his head back against Stephen’s shoulder, exposing his vulnerability in such an effortless way. It created feelings of contentment, which spread through Stephen like fine lace, soft, delicate, subtle. This was an intimate spot for Omegas as it held their bonding glands, but for Tony, who had been seized and strangled in such a fragile area time and time again, it held a deeper meaning.

Omegas did not relinquish their trust easily, did not offer themselves to any Alpha they did not deem worthy, and Tony had more reasons than most not to trust any of them. Reaching down, Stephen ran the edge of his nose down the column of his throat, kissing the bite mark in the hollow of it with an infinitesimal brush of his lips.

‘Show me,’ he whispered against Tony’s skin.

A delicate clinking noise made him look up, and he felt his eyes widen at the complexity of the crib mobile Tony had made. He knew his mate had been driven to boredom constantly during his pregnancy, trying to hide his frustrated tears while biting down on the angry retorts he wanted to inflict on those who cared about him.

The safety of their pup came before everything else in Tony’s mind. They had known pregnancy would put stress on Tony’s body, that it would be difficult because of his age and the lasting repercussions that had come from having the arc reactor wedged inside his ribcage. Still, Tony had wanted to try, and Stephen had never been able to deny his obstinate mate anything.

It pained him watching Tony give up the things he had loved, the Iron Man suit, his place on the Avengers team, creating in his workshop. Stephen had tried to find safer ways for him to invent, but the Omega was having none of it, his singular focus keeping their pup safe.

Reaching down, Stephen cupped a fragile-looking wing in his hand, tilting it so the sunlight caught the turquoise glass, sending little splinters of sea-green light over Tony’s hands. Every individual butterfly was intricately wrought, the shimmering metal lattice encasing the glass membrane of wings.

‘Tony, it’s beautiful,’ Stephen whispered, picking up the steel ring the glass butterflies were all attached to by delicate chains, lifting it above his head so he could hear the jingling of the mobile as it moved in the wind, marveling at the cascading butterflies that Tony had spent months crafting.

‘Only the best for our little butterfly,’ Tony told him, preening and turning in his chair so he could point at the hook above the crib in the corner of the bedroom.

It had become a shared joke between them, Tony ridiculing Stephen’s superpower ability to create butterflies.

You were the one who tried to stop Thanos with butterflies!

To something more meaningful.

What does it feel like? The pup moving inside you?

I don’t know… like I’ve swallowed some of your magic butterflies.

‘I’d do it but I’m sure I’ll get told off for trying, and the last time I handed the Cloak something it dropped it,’ Tony laughed, waving Stephen away.

He did as his Omega bid, holding his cargo with care as he walked over to the crib, hanging the mobile and then looking back, crossing his arms over his chest as he made a thoughtful noise.

‘I dunno, Tony, what if the pup prefers little cups of coffee or something?’

‘Bite me, asshole,’ Tony grumbled, getting out of his chair. ‘You said coffee was fine while I’m pregnant.’

‘One cup a day I said. I heard all about your screaming match with Wong the other day,’ Stephen chuckled, reaching into the crib to reposition the cuddly elephant Peter had gotten the pup.

‘You’re all working against me…keeping me from my coffee,’ Tony spat, grimacing as he took a step forward, swaying on his feet.

Stephen immediately reached out for him, leaping forward before he froze, cowering under the glare he received for his trouble.

‘I’m not trying to be overprotective. I know you can look after yourself, but I’d feel better if you were off your feet, douchebag. I know you’re uncomfortable-’

‘Understatement of the year,’ Tony growled.

‘Sweetheart, you’re handling it so well, honestly. Come on, come sit down with me on the couch. I’ve not seen you in a while and I missed you, please?’

Tony relented at that, not because of any Omega instinct to please their Alpha, but because he knew Stephen did miss him when he was away with the other Masters of the Mystic Arts. They both understood that Stephen was keeping the world safe from interdimensional threats, but that didn’t stop the pain at being apart, especially now Tony was carrying.

‘You big softy,’ Tony relented, walking across their bedroom to the couch and sitting sideways on it, patting behind himself. Stephen settled in behind him, resting his back on the armrest of the couch before encouraging Tony to recline back into his chest, cradled by his legs.

His chest rumbled in something akin to a growl, nothing close to the noises an Omega could make when they were content and happy, but the meaning behind it was the same. Tony let out a satisfied sleepy noise, going boneless in Stephen’s grip, all but purring as trembling hands reached down to stroke over his stomach.

Stephen felt something nudge back against his touch, and he smiled, kissing the crown of Tony’s head, using the same spell he had earlier to sweep across the swell of Tony’s stomach. The Omega’s skin glistened gold where magic seeped into his muscles, relaxing any of the strain.

At times like this, Stephen couldn’t believe his good fortune. He’d never wanted an Omega in his younger days, obsessed with his standing and career path, and he hadn’t wanted to be tied down by an Omega, hadn’t wanted a committed relationship. He had been satisfied with being alone, of not being beholden to his impulses, his baser desires. Even if a little voice had whispered at him during the melancholy afternoons of playing piano by himself, that had been soon drowned out by work and social obligations, a quick fling with whoever took his fancy.

After his accident, the idea of being damaged, of being a fractured Alpha, had been too much for him to bear and he couldn’t consider finding a mate. Tony thrust himself into his life after their battle with Thanos, had demanded that Stephen stop thinking such detrimental things. Tony knew how it felt, how the societal expectations placed on Omegas mirrored what Stephen struggled with.

Omegas were meant to be caregivers, produce children while caring for their Alphas. Times had changed since then, but not the pressures or the expectations. Now, they were meant to have careers while producing offspring, juggling multiple obligations while still caring for their Alpha.

There were the toxic Alpha expectations too. Alphas were meant to provide for their mates, to guard and protect, offer support, financial security. Any deviation from this, any feelings of caring or nurturing projected an image of an unworthy Alpha. It was just as restrictive, just as demeaning, but none of them spoke up about it.

Tony nuzzled closer to him as he let out a sleepy whine, twisting so he laid on his side, trying to get closer but his stomach preventing it. Stephen accommodated his mate the best he could, allowing Tony to rest his head against the gland in his neck, as close as he could get to his natural scent.

He couldn’t smell himself, but Tony had once told him he smelt wonderful. It wasn’t something he could put into words, just like Stephen couldn’t explain his. Scents weren’t easily defined by a simple word, they were complex, evoking memories or feelings within individuals rather than smelling like everyday objects.

‘Safe,’ Tony muttered, exhaling heavily, succumbing to his exhaustion. Gentle, puffing snores fanned over Stephen’s chest from where his Omega’s head drooped on it, and he gently repositioned Tony’s head so it could rest flat on his chest. He was determined to let his mate rest, especially knowing it was in such short supply at the moment.

The idea that this Omega, this remarkable man had come to him, a broken Alpha made Stephen want to weep. It was Tony who began the courtship ritual, a complicated dance of gift giving and demonstrations of worthiness that the Alpha should have initiated.

Tony had never been conventional.

‘Tony, I can’t give you what you want, I’m-’

‘What? Broken? Newsflash, Doc, I’ve been shattered and remade so many times I’m not sure how much of me is left. Tell me no if you don’t want me, refuse my advances if you don’t want me to court you, but don’t tell me how I feel, or decide your worth because of what society tells you.’

Tony had trusted him with his heart, a rare gift considering those who had hurt him in the past. A snarling growl ripped its way out of his throat at the thought of those who had betrayed him, those who were meant to care for him and tried to forge him into something new, a creature neither Alpha nor Omega. His rational mind quickly suppressed his baser instincts as he felt Tony react to it, drawing away from him, his hands reaching down to protect his stomach.

‘Easy, sweetheart, it’s just me. You’re safe,’ Stephen whispered, reaching down to rub his jaw over Tony’s forehead, scenting him, reassuring them both that everything was fine.

Seeing movement at the door, he glanced up, suppressing his initial annoyance. The Cloak slipped through and shut the door silently behind it, gesturing towards the bed.

Nodding, Stephen watched as it floated over to pick up his novel, bringing it over and pushing it into his palm. It turned, appearing to regard Tony for a moment before gesturing with its hem. Chuckling, he nodded, allowing the Cloak to move closer. The edges of it fluttered over Tony’s stomach, not enough to wake him, communicating silently that it was here, that it would guard their pup.

You can rest on him. You know he likes it, Stephen sent telepathically, flicking his fingers at the book and making it levitate beside the couch, turning to the page he’d been at days ago. The Cloak settled over them both, cocooning them, the warmth unbearable for Stephen but a reassurance for Tony, who snuggled closer to them both, falling deeper into sleep.

Tangling his fingers in Tony’s messy hair to hold him steady, the other hand resting on his stomach in protection, Stephen began to read his story, basking in the contentment of having his family nearby, the chimes of the butterfly mobile soon lulling him off to sleep.

[ninjago-happens-here]

'Bandages come in many ways. There are gauze bandages, treating all kinds of wounds the Ninja may have. There are bandages used to prevent injury in Martial Arts. What P.I.X.A.L. is wondering, is that if mankind has a bandage for the heart.'

@ninjago-angst-week am I late or what? Sorry but I think spewing out 21k words over teh course of 3 days killed my motivation. It took 3 days just to write 6.1k words.

Summary:

P.I.X.A.L. notices that the store of bandages is running low. She thinks about all the times she had to use them on one of her teammates, and its purposes.

“Hey Pix! We’re running low on bandages. Can you help us order some before we go to Shintaro?” Nya’s voice came from the medical bay of the Destiny’s Bounty. The Ninja and Master Wu were going on a trip to Shintaro. Unfortunately, Pixal never got an invite, but she has long been used to being left behind. It’s not that it was a bad thing, per se. Pixal knew the importance of having a backup, and having someone watch over Ninjago whilst the Ninja were gone. Still, to distract herself after placing a digital order, she thought about anything that could distract her. That thing just happened to be about bandages.

Bandages. Neat, white little things that wrap around any land or sky creature. According to Wikipedia, a bandage is a piece of material used either to support a medical device such as a dressing or splint, or on its own to provide support to or to restrict the movement of a part of the body. When used with a dressing, the dressing is applied directly to a wound, and a bandage is used to hold the dressing in place. Other bandages are used without dressings, such as elastic bandages that are used to reduce swelling or provide support to a sprained ankle. Tight bandages can be used to slow blood flow to an extremity, such as when a leg or arm is bleeding heavily.

At first, that was all P.I.X.A.L. knew about bandages. Given that she was built with the main purpose of being Cyrus Borg’s assistant, her primary knowledge consisted mostly of the ins and outs of Borg Tower, emergency protocols, customer service skills, and basic first aid, given that her maker was frailer than your average Ninjago citizen.

Of course, the longer she worked under Cyrus Borg, the more she learnt about the medical field. Curious about Mr Borg’s special circumstances, she was permitted to look through the internet for more information. In no time at all, she learnt about surgery, prosthetics, all different kinds of medication, and how to diagnose illnesses. In her given free time, she studied all the information available on the internet about the medical field. Even though the information was useless to her, an android who had no physical weaknesses like the humans do, her system determined that whilst the knowledge was a bit excessive, it only helps to prepare her to care for Mr Borg.

She never really needed to apply all that knowledge about serious and fatal cuts, but when Borg gets even the slightest injury, P.I.X.A.L. was there to offer her assistance.

A year after she had been created, Cyrus Borg had offered her to take a test of the field in medicine. P.I.X.A.L. had immediately felt lighter and better somehow. When asking Borg why she was feeling this way and if robots could get sick, Borg had laughed in surprise and shock.

“That feeling is happiness, P.I.X.A.L.! It’s an emotion that all living creatures feel, you included.”

“But I am not living-“ Mr Borg cut her off.

“Technically, you are right, P.I.X.A.L., but you are intelligence, and intelligence is what defines life. You can adapt, change, and overcome as all living beings do. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise! Because that would be an insult to my intelligence!” Cyrus Borg said encouragingly. “And robots can technically get sick, from a digital virus. But I created you to be strong, stronger than I ever will be. You should not have to worry about them.”

P.I.X.A.L. nodded her head to show her understanding. “Then I will go to the exam.”

P.I.X.A.L. didn’t pass on her first try, but Mr Borg told her that it was alright, given that she still did very well considering that she only had the free internet to look for answers to a test she was unprepared for. It was human for her to have failed.

“So why did you send me there with no preparation?” P.I.X.A.L. asked with a shaking voice.

“To prepare you for failure, my dear!” Cyrus Borg said patronisingly. “Since I’ve built you, you’ve been perfect in many, many ways. And that isn’t a bad thing! But life isn’t that simple. You may fail in one way or another in the future because like humans, the circumstances may not be what you desired and plans can fall apart due to errors. What I want you to know is how failure feels like, and I will help you recover from it.”

P.I.X.A.L. nodded. It won’t be long before she faced her first, real big failure.

- Lloyd - The first time she had to really apply those skills that she learnt was when the team had seen Lloyd in the village. After he was pulled out of the ocean because he had to escape from an exploding plane that the Digilord had trapped him on. The locals had wanted to help, but Lloyd wasn’t feeling like having strangers cut him up, so they offered him some basic and outdated medical supplies.

P.I.X.A.L. could see him trying to treat himself and to stay awake, and she could see him hiss as the alcohol drizzled on his wounds.

“LLOYD!” Kai shouted in a tone that conveyed panic. This made the young ultimate spinjitzu master look up from his handiwork and immediately break into a smile. As the team had rushed forward to greet him, P.I.X.A.L. could see that his shoulders were sagging, probably from relief.

“I’m so sorry that I got caught guys,” Lloyd wheezed with an apologetic smile before keeling over, to which Cole caught him with shaking hands.

“Oh god, Zane, quick, do your thing!” Kai panicked even harder, hands jittery as if he was in an internal debate about whether he should do something or not.  “I’m trying Kai! I just- my hands keep shaking for some reason!” Zane gritted his teeth in frustration. “I’m gonna run some diagnostics on him” “Okay, Cole, lie him on a flat surface- medic! Medic!” Nya screamed out.

It was at this moment that P.I.X.A.L. knew that was her chance. To repay Zane for his heart. To prove to the team that she was useful. To finally implement her knowledge. Sometimes, she wonders if she’ll ever have what Zane has with the other humans, but for now, she is glad that she can separate her emotions from her work.

“Let me handle it,” P.I.X.A.L. said authoritatively. Running a scan with her own diagnostics, P.I.X.A.L. isolated the most dangerous injuries before telling the group out loud, staring at her apprehensively.

“Master Lloyd has suffered a concussion, lung damage due to smoke inhalation, and fractured bones in his tibia. He also has a sprained ankle and several bones on his upper chest area have several bruises. Luckily, there is no internal bleeding. He also has some first and second-degree burns, but those look like they have been treated by the ocean water. However, he is at risk of hypothermia should he not change out of those clothes. Other cuts and bruises should not be life-threatening as long as we keep the infection away, and-“

“WE GET IT! Can you just PLEASE start treating Lloyd NOW?” Jay shrieked in frustration. P.I.X.A.L. blinked. Oh right, the ninjas are still panicking.

“Apologies, can I have a look at the medical supplies?” Taking a scalpel out of the medical box, P.I.X.A.L. removed Lloyd Garmadon’s shirt and so multiple bruises as well as the look of someone who’s emancipated. It didn’t really make any sense to her, but she supposed that being drained of his elemental powers must have caused some damage.

“To treat his concussion, he needs peace and to rest. I would like if all of you can speak in whispers from now on,” P.I.X.A.L. began. The soup suddenly looked ashamed and guilty, with Jay whispering a soft ‘sorry’.

“To treat his hypothermia, we would need blankets-“

“Why can’t I just warm him up with fire?” Kai cut across. “Well, the extreme heat can damage the skin or, even worse, cause irregular heartbeats so severe that they can cause the heart to stop. However, starting a campfire some meters away could help a little. using this fire, we can make some warm beverages and some food.”

“Just say what we gotta do doc, we’ll listen!” Nya begged swiftly. P.I.X.A.L. thought for a moment, before choosing to sort people out based on their perceived abilities.

“Kai, Jay, Cole, Sensei Wu, and Sensei Garmadon- please look for blankets in the village and start a campfire over there,” Pointing at a spot a satisfactory distance from Lloyd, P.I.X.A.L. continued with giving instructions. “Start making some sort of soup- not too heavy. Zane, Nya- you’re with me.”

Garmadon, who was silent all this time, started to protest. “I cannot leave my son, Pixal.”

“Fine, you may stay and just keep tending to the campfire,” P.I.X.A.L. conceded, not wanting to waste time arguing. There was the matter of fact that the smoke inhaled by Lloyd Garmadon could be fatal, but there was not much that she could do in his location. All she could hope to do was to treat his minor injuries before ensuring that Lloyd is stable enough to go to a hospital in Ninjago. Which would have been impossible, given that the Digilord had control of the city already. What could she do? Maybe there’s an elemental master of the air who could treat Lloyd?

“Pix, do you not have any ideas on how to treat the smoke inhalation?” Zane looked at her with kind and understanding eyes. Pixal nodded, defeated, before preparing a cast. “We need concentrated oxygen and a nose tube or a tube down his throat. Unfortunately, there is nowhere in Ninjago where we can get to such technology.”

Hearing this, Nya immediately perked up. “But we can make them. Zane, do you have any wires that you can spare for a bit?”

“Redirecting power from the right hand,” Zane replied as he opened up his arm to take out a tube. He’s so self-sacrificing. For some strange reason, P.I.X.A.L. felt her heart beating faster. Maybe Zane was nervous? “Nya, if you could please clean this?”

“Of course. HEY KAI!”  “Yeah, sis?”  Nya was looking at P.I.X.A.L. expectantly. Oh yes. she was supposed to know this, wasn’t she? “Can you get us 10 cups of potable water and 1 cup of vinegar? Also, get some detergent or soap.”  “Okay Pix, not gonna question this at all!”

Meanwhile, Nya was using pure H2O to just start blasting the tubing As much as they wanted Lloyd to not die from smoke inhalation, they also didn’t want him to be infected. Speaking of infections…

“Ow!” Lloyd woke up sleepily as Zane used one hand to dab his cuts. Looking sheepish, Zane immediately offered an apology before Nya cuts in and admitting her mistake.

“Go back to Lloyd,” Nya said, petting his hair. Once Kai had returned with the necessary materials, Nya sanitised her hands before delicately cleaning the tube with 10 parts water and 1 part vinegar.

Tightening the wrappings around Lloyd’s ankle, Pixal studied her handiwork. The splint was holding up nicely against Lloyd’s leg, and all the infections on Lloyd’s legs were taken care of. Seeing as Zane is treating Lloyd well enough, P.I.X.A.L. immediately began to start diagnosing Lloyd’s burns before seeing blood flow from Lloyd’s back.

“Oh, dear.” In her hast, P.I.X.A.L. had forgotten to check Lloyd for injuries from behind. Maybe she wasn’t as professional as she thought. There was no other choice. Looking at Zane firmly, they pushed Lloyd onto his side as he gave a pained groan.

P.I.X.A.L.’s mechanical heart sank. Lloyd had a reason for sitting up without any support. There were several pieces of debris stuck to his back, and they were all pushed in due to them lying Lloyd on the desk. Nya looked up from her task in horror.

“I’m so sorry Lloyd, I didn’t know-“ “Nya, please focus on your task,” P.I.X.A.L. cut her off before she could begin crying. She felt bad, but what’s done was done. Blocking Lloyd from’s Nya’s view, P.I.X.A.L. picked up a pair of tweezers before picking up the small pieces. But the large piece of metal stuck in his shoulder blades- Pixal had to cut Lloyd’s skin to get that out. Eyes narrowing, hardening her resolve- P.I.X.A.L. lightly cut Lloyd’s skin using the scalpel before pulling up a long shard of bloodied glass. Picking up some of the unused water, P.I.X.A.L. quickly cleared Lloyd and the flat-surfaced of their blood. Applying pressure to those wounds would be hard from this angle, so after disinfecting the openings, P.I.X.A.L. took several rolls of bandages before tying them around Lloyd’s chest. Not too tightly, that would further bruise his ribs- but tight enough to ensure a sense of security and staunch the oozing bleeding.

“Zane, do you have an oxygen filter?” Nya asked, having been satisfied by the cleanliness of the tubing. Sanitising her metallic hands, P.I.X.AL. heard Zane sigh before declining.

“I do. Mr Borg wanted us to be at least a little environmentally friendly, given that the Nindroids would be using large amounts of energy every day. So I can filter out excess greenhouse gases in the air and store them in their solid form before giving the raw materials back to Borg Industries,” P.I.X.A.L. offered.

“You’re a lifesaver Pix,” Nya said in relief, handing P.I.X.A.L. the tubing. P.I.X.A.L. smiled. She supposed that she actually was. Opening Lloyd Garmadon’s mouth, P.I.X.A.L. inserted the tubing down his throat with NIndroid precision. Connecting the end to her oxygen filter, P.I.X.A.L. adjusted the settings so that she was inputting air composing of at least 60% oxygen into young Garmadon’s lungs.

As Zane finished applying some frost to Lloyd’s burns, the 3 of them stood there and watched as Lloyd breathed in and out.

“If you guys don’t mind, I’ll go find what the guys have been doing,” Nya informed their group. “I too will go into the village, but to ensure that we have permission to stay here for the night,” Zane stated, giving a nod to P.I.X.A.L., before walking away into the dusk, right hand locked and useless.

P.I.X.A.L., knowing that she can’t really move, sat next to Lloyd Garmadon as she watched the campfire grow as shrieks from the ninja team rose. At the end of today, all P.I.X.A.L. wanted to do was to just shut down and recharge. She knows she doesn’t need to know that she had half of Zane’s heart (which just skipped another beat for some unknown reason), but all she wants was a break.

Too bad that being a ninja means that you don’t really get to choose when to stop. P.I.X.A.L. thought to herself.

But at least today, I’ve proved my usefulness. I can repay Zane for his heart.

- Kai - Having been stuck alone, disassembled and scrapped, P.I.X.A.L. found that she really, really missed the Ninja team. She also missed Zane, though he was in a cell next to hers. He’s been offline for such a long time, P.I.X.A.L. had fears that he would never wake up.

But he did. And the ninja had rescued them from Chen. But along the way, they had lost Sensei Garmadon, and the year apart had caused some major issues.

Kai doesn’t know that they’re here. But he shouldn’t be here either after Zane had ordered that everyone go to rest after this long day. Still, the glint of red from his eyes even scared P.I.X.A.L., but she would never tell anyone that. She watched as Kai shredded the bandages he wrapped around his hands by destroying a metal training dummy, before turning around to wrap some more.

“Why is he doing that?” P.I.X.A.L. wondered from inside Zane’s head. Zane started whispering, “He… has some anger issues.”

“I get that Zane, I mean why’s he wrapping his hands in bandages?” P.I.X.A.L. corrected herself. Zane quirked an eyebrow but continued with answering P.I.X.A.L.’s questions. “Well, martial artists wear hand wraps and bandages because they can prevent injuries and improve the power of their punches. Wraps and bandages also protect the martial artist’s skin and soften the impact on hard surfaces.”

“I see,” P.I.X.A.L. stated whilst both of them cringed, as Kai delivered a particularly hard blow to the metallic dummy that Zane was supposed to fight with.

“KAI, PLEASE SHUT UP!” came Jay’s voice from down the corridor, moving closer towards them. Zane and P.I.X.A.L. watched in apprehension as Kai breathed heavily, staring down the metallic dummy before all the tension from his shoulders sagged.

The Nindroids watched as Kai cleaned up the training room and head out to use the bathroom to wash up.

“He’s being too hard on himself for the death of Lloyd’s father,” P.I.X.AL. commented blandly. Zane shifted from his position. “I’m afraid that that’s not the only reason. Do you remember Jay telling us that Kai had almost killed both Lloyd and Skylor using Chen’s staff?” P.I.X.A.L. stayed silent.

Bandages come in many ways. There are gauze bandages, treating all kinds of wounds the Ninja may have. There are bandages used to prevent injury in Martial Arts. What P.I.X.A.L. is wondering, is that if mankind has a bandage for the heart.

- Jay - It was only a few days after Master Wu had been lost in time. Whilst the Ninja team were recuperating and in shock, Pixal has been remotely using Samurai X to patrol the cities whilst maintaining in the current Ninja’s headquarters- the electronic system of Yang’s temple. P.I.X.AL. had really wanted to go full into Samurai X, but she knew that she could not just desert her teammates at this moment. But there wasn’t much she could do, other than counting reps for Lloyd. (You skipped a number, I know what you’re doing Pix, and I ain’t gonna stop training-) helping Jay prepare breakfast (Jay! The pancakes are burning!) or accompanying Zane as he retrieved bits and pieces from all the fighting. (Someone has to clean up Ninjago city, and I guess that that would be me and Samurai X.)

P.I.X.A.L. knew that she shouldn’t be keeping Samurai X a secret, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt a strange sense of duty, and the ability to finally be on the front lines, fighting the same enemies as Zane. And she wanted some secrets to herself.

Still, it surprised her when Jay had demanded her full attention during one of her free times.

“Hey, umm… Pix? Do you- do you think you could maybe check out my left eye?” Jay stammered whilst twiddling his fingers. Pixal was curious, but she’s already moved to Jay’s laptop. “Why do you ask so? Did your eye get hit sometime recently?”

Jay had flinched at the word ‘hit’, but shook his head at the word ‘recently’. Huh. Maybe it was phantom pains? Still, Pixal had run a diagnostic on it.

“I can’t seem to find any physical abnormalities, but if this is a case of phantom pain, over the counter pain relievers should work.”

Jay nodded whilst his eyes were blank seemingly off to another world or lost in his memories.

“Jay? Jay, can you hear me?” Pixal once again ran a diagnostic scan. It seems that Jay was slipping into dissociation. Dimming the lights in his room as well as all the screens the blue ninja had put into his room. Pixal started playing a calm Ninjago lofi mix from the speaker she was in. She gently called Jay’s name and he slipped back into reality.

“Jay, just take 2 doses of ibuprofen. They’re at the lowest shelf at the kitchen counter. If it hurts again, tell me and we’ll bring you to a professional.”

Jay who was nodding at the instructions froze at the thought of being taken to the hospital. Still, he slid off his bed and made his way downstairs. Pixal filtered through the electronic system of the temple, landing new the smart fridge and watched as Jay swallowed 2 pills dry.

It seemed to create some results because Jay stopped shivering and shaking. Pixal wondered if that was just a placebo or an actual effect. Still, watching Jay’s face relax in bliss, free from whatever pain that was bothering him, Pixal knew that she made the right call.

- Nya - S9, fight with SOG

It had been brutal. Pixal was just treating the training injuries Lloyd had when Skylor came into the noodle house, helping Nya to walk as her left arm dangled without any purpose. Immediately, Pixal stood up and took quick strides, scanning Nya for all her injuries.

“We were getting supplies when a bunch of Harumi’s goons jumped on us, we had to be quick so that none of them could call up for back up, when-“  “When- fuck, when this dude pulled out a fucking gun,” Nya said, pained and heaving as Skylor slowly helped her to sit on the training mat.

“So you were shot?” Lloyd’s voice came from behind Pixal as he took the medkit to the mat. Nya eyes looked everywhere but at him. Gesturing to her limp and bleeding arm, she gave up all her dignity. “Yeah, right here.”

“Okay, Nya, here, take these.” Lloyd handed her 2 tablets of ibuprofen and a cup of water. “W-what? No, I can’t take these!” Nya hissed in pain.

“Yes, you can!”  “What if we need them later? What if one of us loses an arm or something happens where we have a worse injury?” “That does not matter, Nya. Look, I’ve been shot in Ninjago city before, I know how it feels.”

Pixal immediately flashes back to the nights where she had to help Lloyd through a computer screen, and her metallic fingers curled up. It was horrible, watching him choking down painkillers before trying to pull the bullet out himself. Never again.

“Nya, it would be alright, just take these- we can always go out to get more,” Pixal tried coaxing Nya to just swallow the pills.

“Take them or I’ll force you to take them, Water Ninja.” Skylor admonished. With the combined strength of their motley crew of 3, Nya hesitantly reached for the medicine, almost choking as she had swallowed too much water at one go.

“Okay, good, now we just need to pull the bullet out,” Lloyd reached into the medkit, pulling out a pair of tweezers. Pixal watched as his hands, fatigued from all the trains, couldn’t stop shaking.

“Wait, Lloyd, let me see if the bullet should be removed at all.” Pixal interrupted, taking a more in-depth scan at Nya’s shoulder. In the meantime, Lloyd started to check through Skylor, who said that he was all clear except for a few knuckle bruises. Of course, Pixal would check on her later, but now she had to make sure that Nya would be alright.

“The bullet has missed your major arteries and it actually isn’t in too deep, possibly because of the protection offered by your suit-“ “Just tell me when you’re gonna remove it!” Nya snapped as her brow furrowed in anticipation.  “Well, let’s see… first, we need to remove the clothing around the area of the wound, which-“

“AHH!” Nya shrieked as Pixal twisted and pulled out the bullet without any warning. “Sorry Nya, sometimes fear of a thing could be greater than the actual danger that it poses,” Pixal explained as Nya stared at her with a look that could only scream betrayal.

Dropping the bullet to the ground, Pixal took up some disinfectant and sanitised the area around the entry wound. Nya hissed as Pixal gently presses a cotton gauze to stop the bleeding before finally applying some sort of disinfectant cream. She finished off the wound with a bandage around Nya’s arm, with extra padding using gauze at the point where the wound is at.

“Alright, so now you should not move this arm too much for the next few days, and in the next few weeks, you would not be able to raise it over your shoulder. But in a few months, you can use it again and in a year it would be pretty much healed up so that you may do your weight lifting sessions with- with Cole again…” Pixal said, starting brightly but dropping to a small whisper.

The mood suddenly went from cheery to depressive. “Remember to take lots of rest,” Pixal finished lamely. As Lloyd escorted Nya to the sleeping bags they had gathered, Skylor picked up the bullet Pixal had removed.

“Girl, you were quite mean back there,” Skylor began. “And I think that you’re cool. One problem- the pharmacies have not been able to continue business as normal. All the drugs have to be given to the Sons of Garmadon. In the meantime, all supply chains are disrupted. Over the counter medicine won’t be so easy to find. “

Pixal kept quiet. “Well, I’ll have to keep this bullet as a souvenir for Nya. FSM knows that she deserves this.”

Of course, the bullet would be lost later as they were hunted down throughout the city. But every time Nya changed into her swimsuit, Pixal could see the bullet wound. The scarring left wasn’t pretty, but Pixal thought that the courage Nya showed made her the most beautiful woman she’ll ever have the chance to meet.

- Cole-  Cole was alive. Cole was alive!

Pixal watched as the Ninja went into a momentary stop before cheering and becoming more alive. She saw Nya pass the Scythe of Earth to Cole, who promptly swung it into the oncoming Oni. Pixal was trying her best to fend off the Oni herself, but her mind, or rather, motherboard, was spinning really, really fast. How did Cole survive? It should have been impossible!

Pixal heard that Cole justify his survival, stating that the Oni clouds must have broken his fall. He didn’t know how he wasn’t attacked at first, but many tendrils then came to attack him.

Still, this was impossible for Pixal to figure out. Was it because Cole had been a ghost? Maybe it was his elemental power protecting him? Or perhaps it was divine intervention? Either way, Pixal was going o scan him later if there was even a later.

“Watch out!” Pixal saw a blast of green hit the Oni in front of her. I can’t afford to get lost in thought now! Come on Samurai X, focus! She chided to herself.

Yet, as the battle once again turned tides, and the elemental masters got together to do the Tornado of Creation, Pixal watched from her position behind the holding doors to see Lloyd Garmadon get thrown out of the tornado, hitting his head with an earth-shattering crack as he collapsed against the walls of the monastery before debris-covered him.

Frantically approaching him, Pixal saw out of the corner of her eye that the rest of the ninja were left dizzy, exhausted, and possibly some having passed out. That was alright. It was time for her to do her duty anyways.

However, whilst lifting slabs of concrete, Pixal felt her heart drop. The calculated survival rate of the impact sent shivers down Pixal’s circuits as the percentage just kept. Dropping. Lower.

Heaving the last piece of concrete off the young bearer of green power, Pixal heard her teammates rushing into the scene. She could have warned them, said something, said anything. But her joints were frozen in place with something much colder than what her sensors had detected when she went into the Oni cloud.

The motley crew, now only 5, took the last piece of debris off from their teammate.

“Lloyd. Buddy, wake up,” Kai pleaded, desperate.  “He-He's not moving!” Nya exclaimed, voice shaking as tears start to form. She looked at Pixal, asking for anything, anything at all.  “Someone find Wu. Where’s Wu?” Cole ordered.

In no time, Master Wu arrived and lifted Lloyd’s arm, checking his pulse. He would find nothing there.

“You can do something, right? Right?!” Jay panicked.  With a defeated look that Pixal knows is mirrored in her eyes, Wu shook his head and said, “There’s nothing to be done.”  Nya finally cries out, sobbing. “Oh, Lloyd!”

PIxal wanted to cry as well, but she never could. When rebuilding her body, she had used the same blueprints that Cyrus Borg had with some upgrades. One thing she didn’t consider adding was the ability to cry because there wasn’t any time. She had to save Lloyd from the vermillion. But what she can’t save Lloyd from, was from an early- early- d… fate.

There’s nothing Pixal could do. And she felt hopeless.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Garmadon backed away from their small group, and in a flash, she felt her wires burning. She couldn’t just let him leave. Not after what he’s done.

Yet, just as she was about to boost straight towards the Oni and tackle him off the mountain, Lloyd started to cough. Lloyd. Started to cough.

Whipping around to see a golden petal float away, she watched the team cheer as Lloyd started to breathe. How- this was impossible!  Pixal almost short-circuited from shock. There had been no way! No way! She didn’t even go through all 5 stages of grief yet.

And not too soon, Lloyd woke up from a sleep that she was sure that he never would.

Catching him mumbling something about the First Spinjitzu Master, Pixal smiled. Divine intervention had definitely happened at least once today. The first time being….

“Cole, please come with me to the med bay,” Pixal requested with a smile. Divine intervention or not, five-sixths of the Ninja team knows how to hide a serious injury, and she had to be certain. Cole, who looked shopped, resigned himself and walked with Pixal o the medical centre. For now, she trusted that Zane was doing all the scans that he could to make sure that Lloyd was right in the head, and sought out to take care of her own, albeit selfish, worries.

Scanning Cole on both sides, Pixal noticed a particular bad bruise on Cole’s spine. Yet falling from that height and the fact that Cole isn’t paralysed due to spinal injury made Pixal reaffirm her theories that the First Spinjitsu Master was alive, just in another realm.

“You know, Lloyd might have actually seen the First Spinjitsu Master,” Pixal began, which led Cole to choke on the water he was ordered to drink. “No way, he must have just hit his head hard…”

“I’m sorry Cole, but the injuries you have is comparable to sleeping on a rock hard bed for one night, not falling from a height of 500m, even if your fall was broken by the Oni cloud, you should still have been paralysed,” Pixal explained.

“So God is real and Lloyd’s sharing a fourth of his blood? Neat! Next time tell him to not scare us with a fake-out,” Cole brushed it off.

At this time Pixal was about the shutdown and delve deep into theorising. Lloyd technically had a fourth of his grandfather’s blood and possessed the same power, could he possible have powers that control life and death-

Yet, she watched as a steady stream of Ninja enter the medbay, and resolved her thoughts to her inner GPU. She can think later. For now, she had to make sure that everyone is okay, and everyone will be okay. Even if she threatens Loyd to shave his head so she can get a better look at his skull, to which a chase around the monastery ensued. Her family was alright for now, and the concerning mortality of humans was left deep in the recesses of her mind.

- Zane - Too soon, Pixal had to face her own mortality. Being a Nindroid, her lifespan would naturally be much longer than a Ninja’s. But she still could be erased, dismantled, destroyed, sent to another realm-

The days waiting for the group of 6, not 5, to come back were some of the hardest. Even though all Pixal wanted to do was to shut down, lie on her bed and stare into the picture they had taken on their first date, Pixal knew that the team was entrusting her to keep Ninjago safe. Even if it means recapturing escaped convicts. Even if it means fighting the… undead-dead Preeminent (Pixal still hasn’t figured out how she worked). And they had to find ways to reach the Never Realm, by going through different infusions of travellers tea.

Yet, all the waiting and longing was worth it. Pixal prefers a Zane stuck in another realm for 40 years as to no Zane. There was no other choice. Yet, as she sees her loved ones trudging out of the frosty realm, some of them had worst frost bites than others. Even though all Pixal wanted to do was to smother Zane in a hug, she can see the edges of Lloyd’s skin turning a deep, dark black. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Nya taking care of Cole whilst Jay and Kai attempt to remove the ice from everyone else, including lubricating Zane’s frosted joins. She had not a single moment to lose. This kind of frostbite was not exactly lethal immediately, but losing limbs could mean the end of Lloyd’s ninja career. So calling everyone to attention, she went all in to salvaging Lloyd’s limbs, doing everything she could.

Later that night, Pixal spotted Zane wandering around the outskirts of the monastery whilst the Ninja finish up dinner. She watched as Zane’s hands gripped the staff so tight that the wood would be snapping in 3…2…1.

A harsh crack and splinters flying out later, Pixal could see the shaking in Zane’s hands as he cursed, something that the Zane she knew never would.

For her, it had been a hellish week. But for Zane? It must have been a hellish 40 years.

“…Zane?” Pixal called out from the monastery doors. Zane immediately whipped around before pointing the tip of the staff towards her, to which Pixal reflectively grabbed. Zane, eyes widening in shock and horror, immediately released his grip on the now shorter staff, before turning around, trying to run away. Pixal won’t let that happen.

“Zane,” Pixal said once again, hand now gripping onto the collar of Zane’s Gi. “Please don’t run away from me.”

Zane, froze, hands twitching before dropping them to his side. Pixal released her grip before tapping Zane on the shoulder, asking him to turn around.

“Pixal, I’m- I’m sorry…I just can’t- I can’t trust myself right now,” Zane vented out hands fidgeting with each other. Pixal smiled sadly. She knew that not everything could go back to normal so fast, but still, she had hoped that it would have been easier than this. “If you don’t trust yourself right now, why not spend some time with me?”

“Pixal- I…I could hurt you-“  “Yes you can, but don’t think that I can’t protect myself,” Pixal snapped back whilst carefully reaching to hold Zane’s hands. Once she made contact, Zane flinched back, before slowly reciprocating the action. “C’mon Zane, let’s go back into the monastery-“

“No!” Zane protested, wrenching Pixal back. Pixal clasped her other hand on top of Zane’s. “Not to the dining room. I’m thinking med bay.”

Pixal could see Zane’s processing unit cycle through his thoughts, noticing that it had considerable frost damage. Before long, Zane nodded his head, allowing Pixal to pull him into the light.

Opening the cupboards, Pixal took out a few rolls of bandages before carefully wrapping them around Zane’s hands. The ice ninja watched with curiosity as Pixal carefully finished tying and tightening the strips of cloth.

“Why are you doing this? You and I both know that Nindroids don’t need bandages,” Zane asked. Pixal smiled, looking at Zane’s now steadier hands. “Maybe bandages can’t fix our metal skin, but it still makes us feel better.”

Zane paused, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know how you’re right PIx, but they do make me feel more sure that my powers won’t hurt anyone accidentally. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get back to dinner, we have some desserts to bring out.”

Bandages. As much as PIxal uses them and finds them efficient, she can’t help but hope that team doesn’t need to use as many. But this time, t’s just a trip to a legendary city full of peace and prosperity. Maybe this time, Pixal doesn’t need to bandage their wounds away.

[mia-ugly]

Breakable Things

Martin is big.

Not in a strapping film-star kind of way. Not tall or broad-shouldered, not a ‘mountain of a man’ or a ‘tall drink of water’ or anything like that.

Just big (a dumb, blunt, smack of a word.)

He was big as a lad, he’s bigger now. He always had the kind of body that inspired too many teachers to push him toward wrestling, football, rugby even (apparently his dad had been involved with the clubs. Apparently he’d been a fair tighthead back in the day, before he left Martin’s mum, and left Martin to gather up the pieces, cutting his fingertips on every one.)

It didn’t take Martin’s teachers or schoolmates long to realize that Martin’s size did not equate to any sort of athletic skill. And once the - inevitable rumours started circulating around Year Seven, well. Any motivation he might have had to be ‘part of a team’ was drained out of him like a tire going flat (that metaphor needs work. Doesn’t really convey the violence, try again.)  His motivation left him like the air being knocked from his lungs, shove after hard shove against the lockers.

Martin is strong.

Physically. He doesn’t know why - got it from his father, didn’t he - his wide back, his thick fingers, his solid legs. He took a cricket bat to the face once - ought to have broken his nose, blackened his eyes, but it didn’t. Got in a car accident when he was seventeen, didn’t even crack a rib. Flipped the whole thing into the ditch, and his mum screamed herself hoarse when she found out, but Martin walked away from it. Physically. He walked away.

He doesn’t bruise easily. If he cuts his hand chopping vegetables, it heals quickly. He doesn’t have any scars (he has stretch marks though, all over his stomach and thighs, and for all that he is strong, he’s soft. He’s soft and he knows it, all pudding and poetry and fear, oh, fear most of all. It's pathetic how easy he is, how quickly he caves, rolls over and does whatever's asked of him.

In most situations, anyway. With most people.)

“Why don’t you want me coming with you?”

Jon is in his office, seated in front of that bloody tape recorder as always. The sight of him there is so familiar, like the negatives from a film camera. Like even if Jon wasn’t there, the imprint of him would still linger, white as a ghost against the darkness.

He doesn’t seem surprised to hear Martin’s voice. Neither does he glance up from the desk where he’s shuffling papers, gathering up books. His hands move constantly, restless and bird-boned and Martin is always looking at them, even when he tries not to.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Jon’s voice is low, rough with exhaustion, and it makes Martin wince. Makes him want to fuss (when is the last time the man got a decent night's sleep? Someone should bring him a cup of tea, someone should rub his shoulders, someone should do something -

He knows he has a caretaking thing. He knows it’s not - good. And the sharp ones get to him like anything, he wants to win them over in a pathetic, salivating way. It’s a sickness, but - 

- but there was a point when it suddenly stopped being about Martin’s Whole Thing, and just started being about Jon.

He’ll talk to someone about it, swear. A professional, even. If the world doesn’t end.)

“It’s fine if you get hurt, though, is it?”

Jon does look up now, and Martin forces himself not to take a step back under the dark-lashed scrutiny. The heavy eyebrows, the shimmer of scars.  Sometimes Jon’s skin reminds Martin of the surface of a planet, a rough and distant moon. He wonders how it is that Jon can be so narrow, so small, and still take up so much room in the Archives, and in the world, and in Martin’s big (and soft and so so stupid ) heart.

“It is my job.”

“No. This - this is not your job.” Martin struggles to put the words together in the face of this vast, ridiculous injustice. “Going off to - what? Do battle with some sort of evil, circussy death-cult, that’s not your job . You don’t get paid for that.”

Jon snorts, derisive, and Martin wishes he could be angry. It’d be easier if he was angry with Jon.

But he isn’t.

“Melanie needs you here. And I can’t be - there, thinking about -“ Jon stops. He swallows and looks back down at the scattered papers on his desk. A snowfall of horror stories, laid out neatly on Hammermill Bright White. “Worrying about you.”

(“Leave it, Martin, I’m fine just - leave me alone -” Mum smacks him away with a vein-bruised hand.)

“Because I’ll make a mess of things - is that what you think? I can help you, I want to help you-”

“I will feel better knowing you’re here.”

“And how do you think I’ll feel? Knowing you -  you and, um Tim and Daisy - are out risking your lives while I’m sat on my hands, drinking tea, being useless -”

“You aren’t.” Jon’s voice is suddenly loud, as if he’s in pain. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “And I don’t - I can’t - you’ll be helpful here. The Institute needs you, and Melanie needs you, and I -”

-don’t, Martin hears.

Though Jon doesn’t say it, Martin hears it.

“Right,” he manages. “All right.”

He should go. He’s going to go. But he lingers for a moment more, committing as much of Jonathan Sims to memory as he can. The angles of him, compact and rigid with anxiety. The fall of hair across his forehead, ink black shot through with grey. Thin pink lines that a blade left below his jaw, a ripple of lacy scar tissue on his hand (and Martin mostly, mostly doesn’t wonder what those scars would feel like against his own skin. On his shoulder or - or sliding down the length of his throat. At the back of his neck, tugging him into a kiss.)

Come back, come back, come fucking back. Martin isn’t religious, never one for church, but it’s as much of a prayer as he’s ever said.

“Is there something else you want?” Jon asks, terse and tired and - for one thoughtless moment he is the Archivist and only the Archivist, and Martin can’t help but gasp out a shocked, “yes.”

Jon knocks a book off the desk. It slams to the floor loud as a gunshot, and Martin flinches.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, “I’m sorry, I -”

“No, I’m - I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“It’s fine - I know you didn’t -”

“I would never -”

“But you can.”

There’s a horrible silence, like the moment after the tape recorder shuts off, statement ends. Martin feels sick to his stomach and Jon looks like - like -

He doesn’t know what Jon looks like. Maybe that’s why he keeps talking.

“You can ask me. What I - what I want.” Heat is rushing to his face, a blush that feels like thorns. Jon just stares at him, and this was a bad, bad idea. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Jon doesn’t even need to ask the question, probably knows the whole awful story just by looking at him. “If you wanted.”

When Jon says nothing, just keeps staring, Martin tries desperately to double back.

“Never mind, that was -” He flaps his hands a bit, moving towards the door. His shoulders hunch, an old defense mechanism, useless body trying to make itself look as harmless as possible. Trying to make itself so small it’s beyond notice (it never works.) “I shouldn’t have. I can’t believe I -  just - be safe. All right? That’s all I -”

“Martin -”

“That was - stupid, such a - I’m sorry, I only -”

“-what do you want?”

The words are spoken quietly. Barely above a whisper. But Martin doesn’t need to hear them - his whole body hears them, and suddenly every syllable feels golden in his mouth. Saying it out loud isn’t frightening or humiliating, it’s easy. Answering the Archivist is like falling asleep in a patch of sun-warmed grass, or gasping for air after holding your breath underwater.

“I want you to come back.” It’s honey dripping off his tongue. “I want you to come back for me. And I want the world not to end, and I want to know what your hair feels like, whether it’s soft or coarse and whether I can tell the difference between the black parts and the silvery parts just by touching them.”

Jon is absolutely frozen behind his desk. He might not even be breathing, but that’s okay; Martin can’t remember why anyone needs to breathe.

“And I want to help you. And the others. I want to matter. And I want Sasha to be okay, and I want Tim to be okay, and I want Elias to finally face some fucking consequences for once. I want to take you on holiday and - and watch you while you sleep so you know you don’t have to be afraid. I want to wake you up if you have nightmares and make you tea in the morning and bake things for you, and - and I want to kiss you, even if it’s just once. Only once, just so I know, and only if you want me to. That’s what I want.”

The sweetness ends the moment the last word leaves his mouth. Suddenly the honey is cloying and acrid, suddenly his heart is unsteady with embarrassment, skipping beats like he’s just had a shot of adrenaline. Martin chokes on a breath and slams his eyes shut against the spinning room.

“Fuck.” His voice cracks on the word, insult to injury, and he claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh God - I’m - oh God. That was -” He barely remembers what he said, which is the only thing keeping him upright at the moment. He just knows it was soft, pathetically soft. Even his fantasies are as weak as his jawline. “I’m going to - go, I’ll go. I shouldn’t have -”

“W-wait.”

Martin doesn’t want to open his eyes. But he does. Just in time to see Jonathan Sims stand up. Start to walk around the desk.

And Jon is not big. Or strong, physically. Martin knows a bit about anatomy, took a couple art classes, was always fascinated by the bones of things. As Jon steps closer, Martin can only see the breakable things about him. Collarbones, fingers, bridge of his nose. What’s that bone in the arm that everyone’s always breaking?

Humerus.

Ulna.

Jon is not strong, and he is scarred, and he is small and fragile and God he is the bravest person Martin’s ever met.

“Martin, you -” Jon stops in front of him and Martin looks down, gaze almost level with the top of Jon’s head. “You can ask me. What - what I want.”

He’s shaking, Martin can see it - and it makes him realize that he’s shaking too. He barely manages the “What -” before he forgets how to say the rest, forgets how words work (but Jon, Jon is brave.)

“I think - I would like -” Jon reaches for Martin’s hand, and lifts it to his mouth. Presses a dry kiss right in the centre of Martin’s palm.

It’s a ruining sort of softness, and Martin’s big (physically) and strong (physically) but somehow Jon knows where his weaknesses are - the loose dragonscale, the slipped disc.

(And of course, after this the world will almost end (but not quite.)  After this, there will be Elias and Martin’s humiliating tears over a statement he knew damn well, a beholding that came as no surprise to anyone.

After this Jon will die.

Almost. Not quite.)

But now: Jon is murmuring, “I think -” as he leans up to kiss Martin (and his warm mouth is shocking and brief, a knife sliding home.)

But now: Jon is still shaking when their lips part, and Martin’s hands are on either side of his face, tips of his fingers settled lightly in Jon's hair (it’s softer than anything, as it turns out, and the silvery parts are softest of all.)

Their foreheads press together, both of them breathing harder than one kiss should warrant. And Martin doesn’t say any of those other things he wants, any of the white-hot words he’s scratched down on paper or typed into the notes app. He doesn’t say anything about the shape of Jon’s shoulder-blades through that thin grey t-shirt he wears, doesn’t bring up any metaphors about fading light or seaglass or breakable things that are also strangely beautiful.

Because what good is poetry at the end of the world?

“Be careful,” Martin says instead (and Jon won’t be.)

“Come back,” he says (and Jon isn’t going to. Not for a long, long time).

And hours later, standing in that empty office, Martin will see the lighter that Jon left on his desk. He will notice the black handful of ashes in the rubbish bin, and wonder what Jon was burning.

And Martin is soft. People-pleasing and pathetic and terribly, terribly in love.

But Jonathan Sims kissed him once (once) and for a moment, in that office, with a small blue flame leaping in his hand -

Martin is not afraid.

[icollectyoursins]

Kishibe Rohan x Reader SFW + NSFW

Anon said: “Consider Rohan sfw and nsfw hcs? And in nsfw Rohan could be a top,,? Prrtty pleade hhh, since there is only one work of Rohan ;;”

I hope these are good, not too familiar with Rohan, so I hope you like it!

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, stands used in inappropriate ways, fingering, voyeurism, dildos, fucking machines, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, oral, face fucking, cock warming, nipple play, nude modelling. 

Word Counts: 2201

SFW

Rohan is a jackass who cares. In the beginning, he’s very private and stand-offish, but he does warm up to you eventually, though he’s still nicer in private than he is in public. He claims this is because he’s a “celebrity” and can’t have his fans see you too close together yada, yada. It’s bullshit and you know it, but you have the feeling it’s because he’s not used to people being close to him. 

Yes, he does have a binder dedicated to paintings, drawings, sketches, etc. all for you. Some are a little on the artistically lewd side, but most of them are of your hands holding something or your smile, your face and shoulders. Some of them he asked you to model for, others he quickly sketched down while you weren’t paying attention and then finished later.

When he’s not holed up inside, he enjoys walking down to either parts of Morioh where he can people watch or down to the park where he can study wildlife (and maybe draw you playing with ducks). 

You are literally never bored in his house. He has every book under the earth and so many loose painting supplies that he painfully lets you use to fool around. (Though let’s be honest, He likes that you take an interest in his job and would be more than happy to give you tips.)

You know what? Rohan is a backseat artist. He watches every stroke you make over your shoulder and tells you maybe you should move the hand this way to make it more natural or add some light shading here to make it dynamic. It may come off as a little pretentious at first, but if you keep with it, he’ll notice the improvement and (occasionally) tell you how good you’re doing while being a total blushing mess.

    You sat in the window seat, knees up with your back against the wall. Resting on your thighs was a sketchbook. Currently, you were just idly drawing lines of shading onto a face. Rohan himself was also busy colouring in his most recent page, though every now and then he would catch himself looking up at your silhouette, lit up by the light in some kind of halo effect.

     Finally, he caved in to his curiosity. Setting down his pencils, he strode over to you. You didn’t notice until his face manifested itself over your shoulder. Startled, you jumped, causing your pencil to make a long line on your artwork. 

     “Jesus, warn me next time.” You said, grabbing your eraser.

     “Have you been struggling with the nose?” He completely ignores you, still staring at your drawing. The paper was clearly marked up by the eraser with deeper marks from where the pencil was.

     “Yeah, actually. It’s either too big or too small. Kind of just gave up.” You carefully tried to erase the long line but wound up taking away parts that you were actually happy with.

     “Be more gentle with the pencil, it’ll make it easier to erase.” He suggested with a monotone.

     “I tried-”

     “And then you got frustrated and pushed harder. I admire your persistence, however, if something isn’t to your liking, walk away and come back. Remember to look at the picture as a whole, not just the nose.” You rolled your eyes, gently tossing your pencil onto the window seat. As much as you wanted to appreciate the advice, you had heard it all before. You were getting sick of it, frankly.

     Rohan took note of your agitation, studying your face carefully. “You’ve improved, though!” You looked up, a little shocked. What? “The eyes are well done and your shading is very even. Good job.” 

     What? Your cheeks grew hot. That was the first bit of praise you had heard from him. About your drawing, at least. He looked down into your eyes, then felt his own face getting hot. He turned away. “Go take a break. I’ll help you when you get back in an hour. I’ll be timing you, don’t be late.”

Like I have said, he’s not overly fond of affection in public (in the beginning), but he can’t deny that holding your hand or feeling you on his arm makes him feel pretty good. The first few times, he’s internally a mess, though he won’t show anything other than a light tint of blush on his cheeks. But when he’s relaxing at home, he enjoys having you under his arm, leaning against him or with one of your heads in the other’s lap. He’s not used to people and even less so used to affection, but can be worked up to being more comfortable with stuff like kissing in front of the Morioh gang and the like.

When he’s comfortable, he is so cocky. Like, boarder line makes out with you in front of literally anyone just to prove you’re his S/O. This always makes you blush so much (unless you’re into that.) More often than not, he’ll have an arm around your shoulders, hand in pocket, looking so smug and proud and cool. 

Pet names? He can either go one of two ways, depending on his mood. Either it’s just your name or babe OR it is every teasing name under the sun. Oh, darling can you do this for me? Oh, baby, oh, honey, oh, my love, oh, my flower. It’s usually used to get something from you or to get you to do something a little out of the box.

I can see Rohan as being the kind of person who is very strict about his bath time and hates when people interrupt him. On the rare occasion, he’ll let you in with him with the promise of either massaging him or something else *wink, wink*

NSFW (Dominant specifically)

Rohan literally does not shut up during sex. Praise, degradation, mocking, you name it! As a writer and an artist, he knows how to stitch words together in a masterful way that never fails to make you hot in the face.

Uh, yeah. He’s used Heaven’s Door on you before. Did he do it to learn your kinks? Maybe to put some kind of loose control over you in certain situations? Looking for people you find attractive for potential erm... art inspiration (voyeurism)? The world will never know.

Staying-on brand with HD, he absolutely uses it to learn everything that you enjoy in the bedroom. He knows how to make you squirm, where to push to make you scream, how to make you beg. He knows everything.

Particularly enjoys using this “power” to finger you, pressing into every sweet spot (that he made more sensitive with HD), licking over the edges of your hole in a way that just makes you dumb (either hole, not picky!)

     A delicate finger was trailed up your twitching hole, making you shiver. Rohan had already stretched you open enough for it to easily slip in again. You were so sensitive from being teased over and over again, but with no relief that you cried out, tears threatening to burst forward.

     He curled his finger up into a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly pushing into it more. You groaned and whined, blabbering out his name along with various ways to beg. He shushed you carelessly, sounding annoyed by your desperation. God, you wish you could move! You would give anything to be impaled by him right now. Or anything for that matter.

     He removed the digit quickly, then promptly smacked your ass with a flat hand.

     “Quiet.” You had no choice but to listen to him, involuntarily shutting your mouth and stifling your whimpers. “If you want something, be polite about it. Do you know how to be polite?”

     You nodded your head, a single tear trailed down your cheek. Your hole was teased again, repeating the same process as before. Rohan was such an asshole, but god if you didn’t love it.

If you have established a relationship where he has complete control over everything you say or do, he will abuse it so much. Just, tells you to sit still, turns on a wand or vibrator and just tortures you to the point of tears. You can talk, he didn’t take that away (mostly because he wants to hear you beg), but the position he put you in on top of the order. It’s too much for you. 

He’ll do the same with a dildo, a fucking machine, his own dick, does not matter! Once you give him that power, RIP to your organs.

Alright, now. Voyeurism. This man is a freak and does not try to hide it when it’s under the guise of “art.” Again, if established, he will hire random people to do whatever he wants to you. If you’re okay with it, he’ll record it for later research. 

Rohan is a weird jealous type, so he checks out every person you meet and makes sure they’re perfect (ie. not competition and someone you’ll enjoy). Very rarely does he let you pick out the people. Like I said, he’s a weird jealous type. Likes to see you with other people, but not with other people, you know?

There is only one person who he considers competition that he wants you to fuck at least once and it’s Jotaro. Are we surprised? No. Dude is built like a god and has the goods to match. Even Rohan can’t deny it. He would probably want to join in as well, but Jotaro would never do anything like that.

Mmmm, punishments for being bratty? Ooooh, yes. Smack my ass like a drum! Makes you count, absolutely. If he’s in a bitchy, lazy mood he’ll use a paddle or something like that, other than that, he uses his hands. 

As you’ve probably surmised, he likes having control over you in the bedroom, so it’s no surprise he also enjoys tying you up and has a particular fondness for swings where he’ll hang you up and tease you until you can barely walk. 

I mentioned baths in the SFW section, now let me elaborate. Doesn’t like sex in the bath, he hates when the water gets everywhere, but loves when you worship him while scrubbing him down and will allow you to work him up with a light hand job. This usually leads to a blowjob of some kind whether it’s gentle or rough.

Speaking of! His favourite part of sex is probably oral. From sucking bruises into each other’s necks, rough kissing, right down to holding you against the wall and choking you with his dick. Or a dildo, if he wants something a little more adventurous like mirror sex with him taking you from behind and making you watch yourself choke over and over again.

Cock warming is only ever used as punishment for being too needy, but he will keep you in his lap until you’re in tears. He is absurdly patient when it comes to sex.

     You whined, grinding yourself onto Rohan’s dick. He chuckled before letting out a theatrical sigh. Your grip on his shoulders got harder and you buried your face into his neck more.

     “What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He trailed a soft, teasing hand up your thigh. “You wanted attention, yes? Then, why are you complaining? Now, up, I need another look at my reference.”

     You sighed, tired and riled up at the same time. With new vigour, you sat up, leaning back to show your artist his latest obsession. He hummed in appreciation, taking a minute to admire his muse before licking a warm stripe up your sternum making you gasp. He stopped, giving you a look of warning.

     “Don’t move.” You gave him a curt nod, trying your best to follow your command while he returned his tongue to your chest, exploring your skin’s taste. He flicked over your nipple with the tip, testing your resolve before wrapping his lips around it, sucking harshly. A moan fought its way through your throat as he became more feverous with his suckling. 

     Rohan hummed with you, theatrically mulling over the saltiness, then switching to the next one. Satisfied with the redness around your nipples, he pulls back, looking you over once again. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head and he reaches for his sketchbook which only made his cock shift inside you, rubbing against your walls in a delightfully painful way.

     “Rohan-sensei,” you moaned out. Admittedly, you didn’t like calling him that, but he insisted you call him sensei during times like this. 

     “Stop moving, you’re ruining the picture,” he chided. “Go back to the way you were, darling.” He leaned back, rolling his hips into you to punctuate his words as well as tease you. 

Model nude for him. Whether you like it or not, he will ask you to do it and, if he’s in a sexy mood, you will be asked to do uncomfortable positions that will definitely leave you sore the next day. “It highlights how the muscles work for a new character I’m drawing” or so he says. Other than that, he’ll just let you pick somewhere comfortable and sexy to lie down. 

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Shaky Hands- prompt fill

Okay so I did both, but this one is for Shaky Hands! 

 Cw nausea, vomiting (nothing gross tho, promise), panic (but not too explicit), references to disassociation, and Jon typical negative self talk and guilt.  Set post 159!  (Can be read as a sequel to my last fic if you like.)

Send me more prompts!  (Bingo card by @celosiaa​) The ones with stars are the ones I already have prompts for, the crossed out ones are the ones I have posted!  Send me a character, a prompt, and tell me if you want an art or a fic!!!!!!

Here it goes: 

Jon's knuckles are white against the steering wheel of Daisy's car.  Martin is dozing next to him.  Face slack, and slowly regaining some color.  Very, very slowly.  

Jon is tired.  So so so so so so tired.  

The tension in his jaw is giving him a headache.  Then again, that could be any number of things.  Could be the thick exhaustion sitting in his limbs.  It could be the endless stretch of road in front of him and the endless stretch behind.  Although that is what is currently trying to force his stomach up his throat.  

He's Fine.  

He grits his teeth harder.  They don't have time to stop.  

He would turn on the aircon, but he's worried about Martin.  Would the cold be too much like the Lonely?  Martin is still faintly shivering under the thick jumper he had donned after his shower back at his flat before they had left.  

Wasn't driving supposed to Stop a person from getting carsick?  Christ there had been a time where he had trained himself to read in the car.  It had taken a while... and many errors much to the chagrin of his grandmother, but he had managed it.  

Of course that didn't stop him from getting horrifically sick on that unfortunate "Team Archive" road trip and every time he was kidnapped.  Daisy had not been happy.  Jon shudders to think of it.  

And now he's nauseous and sad.  Brilliant.  If he loses any self control, he will be a right bloody mess.  

The again, if he's going to be dreadfully ill, might as well get it over with.  Maybe he'll feel better?  Optimistic. Why should he assume that he would be so lucky.  He hasn't been lucky a day in his life.  

He's lucky no one has caught them yet.  Yet.  That no one is following them yet.  Yet.  

Seven and a half hours.  They are an hour in.   It’s dark.  How sure is he that no one is following them?  Did he catch a glimpse of police  lights?   Or was that just his overtaxed eyes playing tricks on him, the flash of a dashboard light against his glasses?   Was that a siren or the ringing in his ears.  His breath coming hot and fast against anxiety and his unhappy stomach.  

Breathe Jon.  

In through the nose out through the mouth.  Again.  Again.  Again.  Don’t hold the breath.  That will make it worse.   Something that Jon found hard to fathom.  How could he feel worse?  No.  Shouldn’t think like that.  Anything could happen.  A tire could blow out.  Martin could fall out of the car.  The engine could fall out of the car.  He could be sick all over the windshield and he could crash them into a tree.  

No.  No.  No.  

If a tire goes flat, there is one in the boot.  He Knows that.  

Martin probably won’t fall out of the car.  It’s no more likely than Jon falling out of the car.  He tries to Know the odds to calm himself but all he gets is static and a worse headache for his trouble.  

He doesn’t try to Know the odds of the engine falling out.  A headache any worse would cause him to be ill immediately.   

As for the last possibility.  He won’t think about it.  He’s fine.  He is.  

It’s raining now.  Heavy sheets of the stuff batter the car.  Or at least rattle it.  Rattle Jon.  Quaking hands on the wheel.  His hands cramped and numb from his grip on the wheel.  His arms sore from it.  It’s been a long time since he drove.  And he was never very good.  

He’s thirsty.  But putting anything in him sounds like a terrible idea.  But being thirsty makes him feel so much worse.  

Martin is still asleep.  And Jon is just barely keeping it together for him.  Barely.  Martin needs to sleep.  Jon needs to let him sleep.  He tried to count trees earlier but with the rain and the dark he can’t manage that.  He can hardly see the road and he suddenly Knows about the oils rising in the rainwater from the road and making it that much easier for Jon to slide them off the road and get them both killed.  So close.  So close to being safe.  To being free.  

His stomach lurches.  Again. He swallows hard.  Again. He can’t keep doing this.  

The backs of his hands are tingling.   It’s getting hard for him to measure his breaths.  

He is honestly not sure if this is panic or nausea.  Probably both.  Because he’s on the run again.  And this time he did actually legitimately kill someone.  A though that further turns his stomach much as he absolutely doesn’t regret it.  He was a horrible old bastard and he tried to take Martin.  But what if Basira?  Left to deal with his mess, that was his fault, right?  The hunters here for him.  Not-Sasha also after him.  If it weren’t for him, Daisy wouldn’t... she....

He’s gasping for air.  There are tears on his cheeks.  And he’s pulled to the wrong side of the road, emptying his stomach.  Door flung open.  Rain soaking his jumper.  Seatbelt digging into his shoulder.   

It hurts and he’s crying harder.  

And Martin’s hand is on his heaving back.  His other hand gathering his tangled hair.  

He shouldn’t have woken him.  He should have pulled over and gotten out, but he’d been too sick.  Too dizzy.  Too tired.  

Jon continues to gag.  He is shivering.  Rain running in rivulets down his spine.  Martin probably also getting soaked.  Martin who needs to stay warm and dry and not alone getting wet and cold and with only his miserable company.  He sobs around his body trying to expel all of the nothing he’s eaten over the last few days.  

“Oh.  Oh, Jon.”   Martin’s voice to gentle.  It makes Jon sob harder.  

Martin still rubbing his back.  Martin leaving as far as he can over to Jon’s seat and Jon knows it can’t be comfortable.  Jon doesn’t have the where with all to make any sound other than a pathetic whine.   

“Jon, please are you alright?  No that’s a stupid question, you’re clearly not.  What can I do to help?”

Jon manages to swallow hard a few times and slowly tries to sit up.  The seatbelt digging in harder as it did not appreciate the sudden yank to the side.  He pulls the door closed, very much hoping he won’t need to open it again.  

“‘M fine. It’s fine. Go back to sleep.”  His voice is worse than wrecked.  It’s hoarse and thick and damp.  “We’ll be there soon.”  They won’t.  That starts a sob tearing through him.  They need to keep going.  They need to keep going.  They’ve got to go before someone comes after them.  Jon can lose his lack of lunch when they’re safe.  And they aren’t safe and Martin isn’t safe.  And Jon can’t make his miserable body do anything but be cold and wet and still impossibly queasy and shake.  Shake with exhaustion, nausea, anxiety, cold.  

“Jon, please talk to me?”  

“Just carsick.  I’m fine.  Let’s go.”  

Jon starts the car again and Martin sputters weakly.  Still cold and drained and Jon is just draining him further.  

“Jon!  You’re soaked!  You’re sick!  You’re shaking!  Don’t you think any of those mean you shouldn’t be driving?”   

Martin is probably right.  There’s only one of those things he can fix.  “I’ll.  I’ll get a spare jumper, alright?  But you shouldn’t be driving either.  I’ll be fine.  If I have to pull over a few more times… so be it.  But honestly I’ll be worse if I’m not driving and looking at the road.  And you... Martin I’m worried about you.”  He doesn’t want to say that Martin has been disassociating when he isn’t sleeping, for fear of making Martin defensive, or worse losing him to where ever his brain goes when he’s like that.   He doesn’t want to lose Martin to the fog or to himself.  

Martin must know that’s he’s less fit to drive, or he would be arguing.  

Jon wants Martin to go back to sleep.  He also selfishly wants Martin to stay awake and keep rubbing his back when he’s ill.   He wants Martin to hold his hand.  He wants Martin to hold him until the shaking stops, the headache stops, the dizziness stops, until his stomach stops rolling, until he’s no longer afraid.  

Selfish.  

Useless.  

Pathetic.  

He stifles another sob as he sheds his jumper and fumble blindly behind him from another from his backpack.   

He turns off the hazard lights and shakily gets them back in the road.  

His head buzzes with headache.   Worse now that he’s lost more liquid than he had to spare.  And the motion of the car is making his head swim more and his stomach turn.  Again.  

Martin is handing him a water bottle.  Martin is carefully wiping away his tears.   

“Please, you’ve got to drink something.”

Jon whines.   A truly embarrassing sound.   He doesn’t want to.  But he takes a couple very very measured sips.  

“That’s very good.  Thank you.  It’s okay if we have to stop again, you know.”

Jon nods for unhappily.  He doesn’t want to open his mouth to say they probably won’t have a choice.  

Jon has to pull over several more times.  Each time more painful than the last.  

Shaking harder than ever before, Jon stops the car in front of a small, ...cute cabin.  It’s mid morning.   And Martin had commented several times on Jon’s claim that they would be there “soon.”   It’s still sprinkling and Jon is caught between how the cabin is both increasingly Not Daisy and yet very very Daisy.   He doesn’t have the energy to dwell on that, though.  He takes slowly retrieves his bag and wavers the few steps towards the door.  His hands shaking almost too much to find the key and unlock it.   

His vision is darkening around the edges.  

He flutters awake in Martin’s arms.   They are on a bed Jon doesn’t recognize in a room Jon also doesn’t recognize.  He’s sore and thirsty and dizzy and exhausted.  His shoes have been removed and Martin is pressing him with more water.  

“Sorry,” Jon manages to slur around sips that Martin is ferrying to his mouth.  

“Shh.  Water then we are getting some sleep.  No more fainting.”   

Jon doesn’t have energy to argue.  He drinks his water, and presses himself against Martin with a sigh.  

They can talk later.  

[mvnvgedmischief]

unremarkable days.

summary: sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

chapter:  4/?

characters: sirius black, regulus black, wolfstar, background marauders

tags: tw: canon compliant abuse, child abuse, social services, abuse

words: 3. 8 k

read it on ao3 here

read the last chapter here

Sirius knew that work was going to be high stress all day. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about the way he would continuously have to talk to people, when all he wanted was some peace. He wanted downtime. Time when he didn’t have to think about how he needed his paycheck to put food on the table, clothes on his brother’s back, pay bills to keep his lights on, wifi for homework. Regulus occupied his thoughts at all times, protecting him was Sirius’s only priority these days. He didn’t have time for anything else. Not his friends, not his interests, not music. Nothing could come between his focus and his brother’s wellbeing, because if it did, Sirius would never forgive himself. The consequences were too dire. So instead, he just wished for downtime that wouldn’t come, and prayed for the weekend to approach even faster. 

The weekend, when he could finally sleep again, albeit not well. The weekend, when he had the time to take a breath, even if it was only brief. Because his weekends were also spent finding ways to better equip his apartment for his younger brother, going to long grocery runs so Regulus had lunch to take to school, meal prepping all of the things he couldn’t bring himself to eat for dinner. He was definitely tired of all of the ways his mind was spiraling out, he didn’t have the time. He didn’t fault Regulus for it, it wasn’t the teen's presence in his life that was causing all this stress. It really was his own fault. A bit of crying at that first hearing had given Walburga and Orion the satisfaction of a victory over him at that first hearing, and they seemed to crave more of that chaos. They wanted to watch their children suffer, and this was how they chose to do that. So instead he spiraled in the privacy of his own home, because he could practically hear the words they burned into his mind whenever he saw them, and feel the ache of old beatings. 

But it was only Thursday, and that meant he still had to do this all day, and  then get berated by the rest of the team for not attending their weekly bonding happy hour. If he was lucky,  no  one would ask him to go. He knew he should be less terrified of them asking, most of the people on his team were his friends. There was simply the question of Remus, and Sirius didn’t have the time to be thinking about him in the first place. 

He didn’t have time to think about  the way his hair curled just the right way to fall into his eyes when he slept, or the way his caramel freckles made him look sunkist. He didn’t have time to think about the  pink scars that ran down Remus’s face or how they got there. He definitely didn;’t have time to think of the comfort  of his hand combing through Sirius’s own mop of unruly curls. So instead, he needs to  put  all of that out  of his mind. It wasn’t going to help him do well at work. It wasn’t going to solve his problems. He didn’t have the  time for this, nor did he have the emotional bandwidth. Perhaps that was why Sirius was conveniently avoiding the idea that he had asked Remus on a date. With some luck, Remus would think he was just an asshole who ghosted him. That was definitely complicated by the fact that they worked together, that he couldn’t just disappear. He wanted to, he really did, because there was simply no time. 

He set up his deliverables as though he had made tons of them, because his employment in this company  rode on it. Just two months ago, he was pegged to be promoted within the next two cycles, and now he could barely hold on to his sanity enough to handle his workload. He was so fucking tired, and he had so much on his plate. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the long day of meetings ahead of him. He had no true motivation to do his job right now, all he knew was that his exhaustion was no excuse. He knew that his boss, Alice, was giving him a whole lot of leeway right now. She was probably doing more than she should to help him. Being a mentor on the senior design team didn’t mean she needed to keep tabs on his personal life and pick up his slack. 

“Sirius–” 

When Sirius focused back into the meeting he was calling into, it occurred to him that they’re talking to him. So he did what he always did, blamed it on a shoddy connection. 

“Oh, sorry, can you repeat that? My audio cut out.” 

“Remus was saying that some of  the poems could probably use illustrations, and he was wondering if you had any ideas on which ones needed it.” 

“Thanks, Peter.” Sirius was glad that he knew the people on this team, that Peter and James were as close to him as anyone could be. Because otherwise, he’d probably be fucked. 

“So I was looking through them, and I was thinking Bite, Magick, and Love I could probably use larger scale illustrations. But at the same time, we don’t want to crowd the book. How attached are you to the current order or page arrangement?” 

It felt too close, but he was lucky that he had at least read the titles of some of the poems in the first half of the book. Sirius knew Remus didn’t actually know what his level of involvement was. He thought it was just doodles, but Sirius would be responsible for presenting everything from kearning and font choice within the pages, to illustration and cover art to the design team. He was integral to the success of this book as a product, and he  needed to start acting like it. 

“I’m pretty attached.” Remus sounded cold to Sirius, and he wondered what exactly he had done wrong in this meeting. And yet, he didn’t have time to think on it. He needed to keep things moving, keep getting valuable information out of the author. Hook up be damned, Sirius needed this book to actually get off the ground. 

 “Okay, well we should get a meeting on the calender to discuss. What poems and what scale of illustrations you want–” 

“Shouldn’t you be deciding what the illustrations look like and the logistics of those. Isn’t that what you  get paid for?” Remus really wasn’t making this easy on Sirius. But he had dealt with bigger demons and divas then whatever this attitude was. So he put on a light and airy smile, one they’d never know didn’t reach his eyes over the low quality webcam and nodded. 

“If you’d like to take a hands off approach with the design work, that can absolutely be arranged. But in the case of a fledgling project with a new author, the design team, myself included, really hope to prioritize your artistic license so that we can get a better sense of your vision for your literature, should Quill move forward with other publications in the future.  We can provide a completely in-house service, with as much input as you feel necessary during the design process, and deliver collateral towards the end of the project when final edits are done, if you would prefer, Mister Lupin.” 

Sirius practically wanted to scream. He needed Remus to stop fucking with his job, with his livelihood. He couldn’t lose this project. He needed all of the billable hours he could get if he was going to justify the overtime he needed in order to provide for his brother. This was ridiculous. But his clinical and polite answer must have thrown Remus, because he didn’t get much more attitude out of him. The back and forth had ended. So instead, Sirius pulled up his deliverables for the week, which included new iterations for the covers, and twelve illustrations for the three poems he had mentioned. 

He noticed the way Remus looked at his drawings, like he was pained by whatever his thoughts were, and Sirius wants to scream that he’s under no obligation to think that they’re good. But then he remembers that Remus seemed to be nitpicking on purpose, based on his critique of the design system itself. Sirius didn’t have the time to deal with that level of petty, just because he hadn’t been answering. He was too busy. He had too much on his plate. So instead he continues his presentation. 

“I don’t like any of these. Maybe you should start over.” Remus sounded vindictive, even mean. Like he was doing this out of spite.  Sirius could feel his heart drop in that moment. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t have the time. 

“What do you not like about them?” Sirius is trying to salvage his work while he can. 

“The vibe is off.”

“Oh, is there something specific that throws it off or...” Sirius trailed off, wondering what exactly he needed to change. 

“No, it’s the whole thing. All of them are just off.” 

Sirius needed to think quick on his feet. He didn’t have the time to start from scratch, so he pulled up his original thumbnails that he had discussed with Remus. 

“These are the original sketches we discussed. I moved forward with the ones we talked about. I’m happy to rework those sketches,” no, he wasn’t. “But if there’s another sketch that you think would fit your vision better, please let me know.” He felt like he was pleading with Remus not to hate his artwork. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a blow to his self esteem to hear that everything that he did was bad. 

“No, I would suggest you start over.” 

Sirius nodded, his mind immediately whirring with ways he could start over and re-design this project. He really didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do hundreds of thumbnails to get set on thirty, only to be destroyed in a meeting again. Especially when Remus seemed so excited about all of his illustrations before the meetings. It felt like too much. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of behavior. 

Luckily, Marlene directed the conversation away from Sirius’s work. The rest of the call went on without a hitch, like the only person who’s work Remus had a problem with was Sirius’s. He knew that it was more likely for Remus to have a problem with him, because design work was usually something an artist thought of as easy; however, this felt calculated and cold. If Sirius had been avoiding Remus before, it definitely wasn’t about to get better. So instead, he listened to the end of the meeting, and started the project all over again. He could do this. It was an unremarkable critique. It didn’t matter.

[cosmiccandydreamer]

Insecure Chapter 1

~Summary: What happens when life starts to intrude on the sick dark fairy tail you have found with the Firefly family? Is this softer side of our favorite hillbilly slasher bound to run out? ~

PARING( OTIS DRIFTWOOD X Reader She/Her)

(I do not own these gifs)

The sun peeked through the cracked blinds, slowly illuminating the once pitch-black room. Although it was already close to noon, the Firefly family was fast asleep still. Y/n rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stretched out your left arm over your head while yawning. It happened to be a long night, one of laughter and sex and violence, everything that entailed an excellent time in this family. You were celebrating the second anniversary of being proposed to. While most people might find that to be a silly thing to celebrate but you weren't most people; no one here in this house was like most people.

You hurried to get closer to your husband. To say that you love this man was an understatement, for love could not express the bond that you are too dark souls have created. You lifted your left hand to examine the scar on your palm, the same one that Otis had on his. You thought back to all the past events that had led you both to where you were now.

"Now, sweetheart, why would you ask me a thing like that?" Otis was glancing over at you, who was on his truck’s passenger side as they drove down a long dirt road in Ruggsville, texas. It was a warm day, and you had the front side window down as you stuck your hand out lazily into the warm air. You had on tiny jean shorts and a tank top,  y/h/c flowing in the wind from the open window; you twirled one strand as you looked toward the passing flat scenery on the way home.

You and Otis had stopped into Spaulding’s roadside attraction to drop off Otis's latest artwork." I'm just curious because lately, I feel like you've been trying to incorporate more of the corpses into lovemaking time, and I just I don't know... I was wondering if you were starting to get tired of me," you asked him as your voice began to trail off at the end of your sentence. You shot him a playful smile, but he could tell that behind your eyes, there was doubt and insecurity brewing. 

It started that he just wouldn't take the corpses off the bed when you two had started your lovemaking. Now you were open-minded, and you were pretty much into anything. Still, you noticed more and more that it was less of him moving them because of an inconvenience, and more or less he wanted them there. It had become an argument the last time. You’d always told him that if there was anything he wanted to try with you, you trusted him, you loved him, there was not anything you can think of that you would deny him. Still, if he was more attracted to dead bodies, that's going to be a problem. 

"I already told you you're my everything. You're mine forever; there’s no way I could get tired of all this'' he says as he reaches over and rubs his large hand on your exposed thigh. You looked over at him and tilted your head. "I mean, I know it's something that you enjoy, and I'm so glad it's just that, you know dead girls if there are other girls you're having sex with..." she looked away from him and out the window staring again towards the fields. " I don't even see them as girls anymore; they’re just vessels for my rage and anger. I mean, I'll kill anybody, but I only sleep with someone I love, and I only love you y/n'' Otis said, shooting her a toothy smile. " I mean, I don't even look at another woman the way I look at you and shit, I've given up all the whores and, what not.

The moment you became mine, you know that. " he looked over to you again while simultaneously looking back at the road with one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh, now rubbing small circles on your skin. "I know that you take whatever I give you in the bedroom," he chuckles. "I know we get rough, wild, and downright freaky… but I also know that you've breakable, and I also know that I can hurt you badly, hurt you so bad that you may not be here anymore with me and I can't accept a reality where you may not be with me". 

You turned to face him, now taking your arm from the window and placing it under your head to rest it against the door. " You know the devil lives in me, sweet, heart," he says as he looks back to the road, never moving his hand from your leg. "And sometimes when the  devil side comes out .." he coughs a little and clears his throat, " what comes out I need something that I can release without worrying about if it hurts or if it breaks or if it dies." He's looking toward the road now, but his eyes seem empty, like he's lost in thought and far away.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and crawled over to him and laid your head in his lap. "So you scared you’d break me ?" You asked him as you stared at him from on his lap. His long silver hair is flowing in the wind, his large, strong hands both now grip the steering wheel " of course I am," he says but softer now like more to himself than to you. 

He looks down and places his hand on your cheek, and gives you a small smile. You set your much smaller hand on his rubbing his thumb. " Remember when I said I wanted to be inside your darkest everything and know everything? Is this you showing me that? By allowing me to be aware of the bodies or whatnot".  " It is, " he replies, looking down at you again. Still one hand on the wheel and one on your  cheek."  I knew you were the one for me who no matter what I showed you, no matter what I told you you didn't love me you didn't get frightened you came closer I want you to be inside my darkest everything forever" you blink and smile" I love you my devil monster " "I love you too kitten I love you too.”    

Despite your conversation in the car, things were a little awkward for the next few weeks; it was evident that he was not bringing up the topic around you and seemingly avoided you; you weren't sure why but it was starting to piss you off. The whole house could feel the tension; your usual loving demeanor was not as present. You confronted him the next time you saw him " so what you mad at me or something? " You asked him, crossing your arms in the doorway of his art studio down in the basement, " no what the fuck you are going on about," he replied, not looking up from his work, you couldn't even begin to figure out what was on that table. " I just feel like you're avoiding me. If you have a problem, I wanna talk about it" "don't you start with me y/n, I ain't got to problem you the one that had a problem, so I'm trying to not cause one by keeping my work separate.” You decided that the next time there was a corpse in the room you were going to take the initiative with, you figured that was the only way to help him with his uncomfortably considering he was not great at communicating .about it. It was obvious you had to take matters into your own hands to help fix this awkwardness.

 You knew that Otis had relations with them when you were out You've walked in a couple of times. You're not going to lie and say you weren't curious. Still, it was hard not to feel insecure, mainly because you've had bad past relationships. Other men in your life have always made you feel like they prefer the company of others, other women, compared to you, and granted, this was not a liability. However, the idea that you  had to compete with something was not sitting well with you, e especially something that reasonably would be unfamiliar to anyone. The times you did walk in you weren't sure what to do A lot of the times, Otis would stop and come over to you and usually finish with you. You started getting anxious about when the door is closed if you're going to walk in on him with the corpse, and if so, what do you do. Even if you were interested in understanding this part of his world where would you start?

Otis was uncharacteristic soft with you in those tim.es If you'd walk in and lowered your eyes and say sorry he would always say, " this is your room too Darlin where ya going, which would usually follow him giving you open mouth kiss trailing down your neck slowly leading you to the bed where you may have to push the unfortunate dead woman over to the side. Well, technicality wasn't a real woman so to say it was confirmed in the sense that she once was alive but is it still cheating, or is it the same as if he had a blow-up doll? You already knew about the comings and goings in the basement. Was this so shocking that this was occurring? You know you loved him and you knew that there would be nothing that would break up in the bond that you two had b, ut you weren't sure e how to handle this. You decided to embrace it. If this was something important to him, it would be necessary to you, and you were going to learn to incorporate it the best way you could. 

You thought back to the conversation in the car, No, he technically can't stab you in the abdomen while having sex or you won't be around anymore, and that makes sense; he has to release his rage in some way. You had already agreed no more raping of live women and no more picking up whores ( that wasn't an issue when it came to the live women he wanted you and only you) You did things to his mind. His bodies that no other women have ever done or could do, he more or less got the whores. He lived women when he needed a release after all this adrenaline, but now he had you for that.

So just as luck would have it, some unfortunate hitchhikers became the next round of victims in the home. You told Otis that you would be going with Baby into town. You don't know when you'll be back, knowing that when you were gone, he would probably take the time alone to have relations with the corpses. But you had a plan; you knew that if this was going to work, you would have to open your mind even more. You wanted to be in Otis’s world. You wanted to know everything that made him happy and turned him on and made him tick, so you decided to be part of it 100% jumping in without looking back. You waited a while until the house was entirely changed into your favorite lingerie with the silk robe and wandered up into the room. Sure enough, Otis was at it; he still had one corpse lai,d out on the table spread eagle for the world to see while he thrust into it angrily while stabbing the abdomen with two large hunting knives. "I see I'm missing out on a good time," You say slowly twirling the belt of your robe.

 He turned around and looked at you, startled " I thought you went out with Baby.. " he was out of breath blood, splattered onto his chest and in his hair with wide looking his eyes, both knives still in his hand and at that moment something clicked, he seemed,d so feral, so primal so .. sexy... you knew you had to have him. Slowly dropping your robe you walked over to him "please don't stop on my account, handsome," you said, confusion washed over his face. You walked over to the chair next to the dead body, flung your legs onto the table, and proceeded to take care of yourself, running your hands down into your warm flower while crushing your breast. His eyes widened bigger than you've ever seen a smile crept across his face; he took a deep breath, " I fucking love you, so God damn much, you know ?" he started to thrust again in between every thrust he raised his voice " I .. love .. you..so .. fucking ..much ". 

If you enjoyed my work please consider donating to my coffee fund or cash app! Link is in the masterlist.

[sethrine-writes]

Anxiously Waiting, Wanting

Fandom:  JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (JJBA)

Pairing:  Jotaro Kujo x Reader

Words:  3113

Warnings:  Angst, Happy-hopeful ending, Feelings are hard

Summary:  You startled abruptly at the large mass of warmth that encased your knee, eyes darting down to the point of contact. There, a hand grasped gently at the joint and pressed firmly, carefully, downward, stopping the unconscious, rhythmic jumping of your leg. Following the arm upward led you to the sharp gaze of Jotaro, who had seated himself to your immediate left and seemed just as guarded as ever.

For a brief second, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare.

A/N:  I have dipped my toes into the JoJo universe! First time writing for it, and I gotta say, it was a bit daunting, but thanks to my lovely friends who cheered me on through it all! I hope to be writing more for these characters in the future, so we shall see how it all goes!

A super, special thanks and shout-out to my lovely friend, @kyarymell​, who was so sweet and drew a lovely work of art to go along with the fic! If you haven’t checked out her stuff, please go have a gander at it! She does art and writing for multiple fandoms, so you have a nice selection to peruse!

Enjoy, you guys!

------

Focusing on anything but the impending battles ahead during the downtime of your journey was next to impossible.

With every mile closer to Egypt your group made it, the more dangerous it was quickly becoming with equally more challenging Stands attempting to thwart your advancement along the way. Danger was literally lurking in the shadows and could be present at any moment, meaning everyone had to remain highly vigilant at all times.

Even then, you could tell that Polnareff, sitting across from you at the table of some restaurant Joseph had led everyone to, seemed a little stiffer than normal, more aware of his surroundings. The others were just a bit better at hiding their awareness, but the relative quiet of the group within the noisy atmosphere surrounding you was very telling.

Despite the tense feeling in the air, you were more than grateful to have these men there beside you that knew when to take things seriously, knew how and when to watch one another's backs without a second thought.

All the better, seeing as how you just couldn't keep yourself from worrying about what dangers were ahead of you and could barely focus on what was happening several feet in front of you. They kept you anxious, the thoughts running through your head, all the what-if scenarios and imaginings of how the fight in Egypt would play out.

Would you make it in time to stop this Dio guy? Would you all even be enough to defeat him? How many more people would have to get hurt or die just because the sick, petty bastard with a century-old grudge against an entire family lineage-

You startled abruptly at the large mass of warmth that encased your knee, eyes darting down to the point of contact. There, a hand grasped gently at the joint and pressed firmly, carefully, downward, stopping the unconscious, rhythmic jumping of your leg. Following the arm upward led you to the sharp gaze of Jotaro, who had seated himself to your immediate left and seemed just as guarded as ever.

For a brief second, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare.

"Your leg keeps moving," he groused after a pause, "it's annoying."

A little glimmer of annoyance at his own words found its way inside you, a tiny zing of petulance that shot through your body and disappeared just as quickly. It was a defensive reaction, one that couldn't be helped when you felt as if you were being belittled or berated in some way, though you knew that you were not.

It was just the way Jotaro was, or at least how he presented himself, when he spoke.

He was all surface-level bastard with a calm and collected facade, for the most part, haughty words meant to burn only hiding just how well and truly pissed he was at the time. When facing enemies or those who sought to provoke him, that perceived anger of his could reach bone-deep and became a dangerous boon to his fists as well as his Stand.

Through all of that, however, you had come to realize that he really had a lot of care, even if he seemed less than capable. He had a heart bigger than most people you knew, one that was carefully guarded and only shined through to those who truly got the chance to understand him, to know him on a more personal level.

You may not have been there completely, just yet, but you were getting the gist of how he worked, most times.

It was because of this knowledge that you were able to keep your cool, knowing full well that even though his words sounded harsh on the surface, there was no real sting to them.

You were almost tempted to think that he was worried about you.

"Sorry, I'll try to stop," you answered, leaning up a little straighter in your chair with a small smile, "but no promises."

His eyes, so perceptibly observant, remained locked onto yours for only a moment longer before he looked away.

"Gimme a break," he muttered under his breath, the familiar sigh nearly making you chuckle.

A waiter came by not a moment later, and everyone began listing off their preferred meals for the night, conversation finally beginning to flow after the tension in the air had been broken.

Jotaro's hand remained on your knee for a long while, an almost absent reminder to keep still, a secret reminder of his care. It grounded you in a way you couldn't explain. You didn't dare pull away; you didn't want him to pull away, either.

---

The entirety of the group was lucky enough to have their hotel rooms on the same floor, for once, if a bit dispersed. With things becoming more dangerous, everyone was paired up to ensure no one was left alone and vulnerable. Jotaro just so happened to be your lucky partner for the night, which meant a quiet room and the possibility of better sleep.

Unfortunately for you, your mind was still restless with looming thoughts, unsettling scenarios playing out wildly in your head without end. The night was still early, barely past ten, but you were too tense to fully calm down, and with each passing minute, it felt as if the anxiety welling within was full to bursting, and you were dangerously on the verge of giving yourself a full-blown mental breakdown.

You had cherished the idea of a quiet room, beforehand. At that moment, however, the silence was cloying, suffocating.

Subconsciously, your fingers began to drum against the small desk table you were sat at, eyes glossed over as you stared out the window. You were only vaguely aware of the sound against the wooden surface, mutely aware in a way that became your sole focus, and for several long minutes, the gentle noise kept you from completely drowning in your hectic thoughts.

Something touched the back of your hand, a single point of contact that immediately broke you out of your self-induced trance. Your fingers stopped their drumming, made to lay flat by the gentle yet insistent pressure being applied from a lone finger that was not your own. Following the line of a darkly-clad arm  had you nearly straining to meet the eyes of your room partner.

Jotaro loomed over you, his stare as sharp as ever as he glowered from above. You stared back, watching as his eyes narrowed the longer you kept the contact. After a few seconds, you shied away from the intimidating lock of his eyes and down at your now flat hand against the table, his finger still pressing against your skin.

"Oh, right! Annoying, got it," you said, nearly stammering in your embarrassment.

You pulled away from his touch with ease, placing your hands in your lap and clasping them together to lessen the urge of putting them back on the table. Jotaro moved to cross his arms over his chest, hovering a moment longer before stepping back until he was leaning against the wall.

Though you had looked away, you could still feel his gaze on you as if he were still touching you, the intensity nearly making you shiver. Why you had his utmost focus was beyond you at that moment, but his silence was starting to get to you.

Already, you could feel the need to move something, your leg giving a couple half-hearted bounces before you willed it back into submission. You began picking at your fingernails next, trying your best to keep the restless energy within contained. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough, and it was driving you crazy to be in a space that was so damn quiet.

"I'm going for a walk," you mumbled out abruptly, standing just as quickly and having to physically slow yourself from making a mad dash to the door. You passed by Jotaro, keeping your eyes locked ahead of you with every step closer to the outside, fingers just touching the handle of the doorknob…

Fast as lightning, you turned on your heel, nearly yelling out your surprise at the large hand coming out and all but slamming against the door beside your head. Your Stand's arm popped out reflexively, elongated nails dripping with poison primed and at the ready for an attack, pressing warningly against the muscular purple arm caging you in.

In front of you stood Jotaro, arms still crossed against his chest as he used his own Stand to keep you in place, Star Platinum's upper body hovering just to the side of him. His eyes still held their narrowed stance, though he seemed angrier than he had mere moments ago.

Had you actually done something to piss him off?

No, no, that wasn't quite right. He wasn't angry, despite the scowl that presented itself on his face. If anything, he looked more on the side of extremely frustrated, though that had a penchant for quickly turning into anger if the situation turned for the worse.

"Jesus, Jotaro, don't do that," you gasped out, feeling as if your heart would leap out of your chest at any moment. "I could have poisoned you without a second thought!"

"Why did you hesitate?"

You startled when Jotaro stepped closer, bewilderment turning into confusion at his question.

"Why did I-? Because it was you! I wouldn't just actively attack you like that, even on a bad day."

If anything, your answer seemed to deepen the frown marring his features.

"What is wrong with you?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he countered.

"What do you even mean by that? I haven't done anything wrong!"

"You're being careless. It's starting to piss me off."

"Excuse me?" you questioned, beginning to feel angry, yourself.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

The absolute nerve!

"If you've got a problem with me, then say it instead of trying to intimidate me into doing something brash. You nearly bashed my head in, and you want to talk to me about being careless-!"

"Shut up! You're not listening!"

His sudden exclamation had you pausing, despite wanting to reflexively retaliate in a similarly heated fashion. You took that moment to look him over, doing your best to read between the lines of the serious facade Jotaro tended to keep.

There was something there, hidden in the present frustration and the steel of his gaze. Jotaro's immediate response when all hot and bothered was to fight, of course, but there were no enemies to be seen, nothing that should have set him off into using Star Platinum in the way he had. He wasn't angry, not at you, at least, and yet he felt it necessary to provoke you - no, not provoke; he was trying to gain your attention through the use of his Stand.

His expression bore annoyance, yet his eyes...

"Talk to me," he finally spoke, words surprisingly gentle for how worked up he had gotten, and it absolutely floored you just how quickly his demeanor had changed.

Your eyes widened before looking away, once more feeling embarrassed, though for an entirely different reason. You finally called back your Stand, taking a slow breath in before letting it out in a huff.

"I'm-"

You hesitated, looking back up at Jotaro's serious visage, realizing the longer you looked at him that he was, in his own rough way, trying to help. With another sigh, you visibly sank against the door

"I'm tired, Jotaro. God, I'm just so tired and afraid of what will happen in the next ten days, if we even have that much time left to find this bastard. I can't stop thinking about it, and it's driving me crazy!"

Your hands came up momentarily to rub against your face brusquely, dropping back to your sides to fiddle with the hemming if your shirt.

"I'm constantly worrying about every little thing, all the possibilities of good and bad outcomes in our future. To be honest, a small part of me wants nothing more than to give up, or give in, just end it and save myself from all this mess and heartache."

"Why are you still here, then?"

His voice was still gentle, if a bit rough. He wasn't trying to be accusing, just asking a simple question. Even so, you worried he thought of you as weak, now, perhaps unable to be counted on when the time would inevitably call for it. You couldn’t blame him for the thought.

"Because I believe in you," you answered with conviction. "Even if I'm scared, even if I'm still uncertain just how this is all gonna play out, I still believe we'll find a way through all this. You will find a way, and that's what keeps me here. You, Jotaro."

‘I stay because of you.’

The following silence was different from the suffocating one you had previously been trying to escape. It gave you time to reflect on your thoughts in a different light, having finally gotten out the summarized brunt of all your worries.

You hadn't quite meant to express so much, especially with the sentiment of affection still being so new to form between you both. There was no time to explore the feeling, no time to ponder how different things could have been, would have been, had you not stumbled your way, quite literally at the time, into Kujo, Jotaro's life.

And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to despise a single moment of the trip so far, of the newfound relationships you had made and of the growing strength within yourself. Everyone would agree, you were sure of it, even with the perils that had come and gone and the dangers still present on the horizon.

Despite all your warring thoughts, you couldn't deny that you were the happiest you had ever been, spending the last nearly month and a half with the eccentric group of Stand users you had come to call your friends.

And it was all thanks to Jotaro.

"You're right."

You blinked as the silence was broken, unable to comprehend the almost-there smile suddenly making its appearance on Jotaro's face.

From your peripheral, you could see Star Platinum's hand pulling away from the door, gasping as gentle fingers just barely grazed the side of your cheek as they passed by before disappearing altogether. It was barely any pressure at all, and you were almost sure it had been an accidental thing...almost.

The room felt much warmer, all of a sudden.

"We will find a way," he continued, arms uncrossing as his hands found purchase within his coat pockets, stance becoming that of assured confidence. "Dio won't know what fucking hit him."

He took a small step back, giving you a little more room to breathe, but still keeping close as if he had more to say.

"For what it's worth to you, you have my trust."

'I believe in you, too.'

Your breath hitched at his confession, your mind finally being able to piece together the things he wasn't saying. As you had always suspected, there was care in his actions, always present if one were to read between the lines.

He was a difficult one, but you felt that you were starting to really get it.

With a sudden boost from your Stand, you became a little taller, even closer to Jotaro's face than you had ever been. His gaze seemed to widen by a fraction at your unexpected closeness, something you wouldn't have noticed had you not met him eye-to-eye, but it was a reaction you hadn't anticipated. Even more surprising was how incredibly still he had become in your immediate presence.

If he truly wanted to, he could push you away with ease by either his own hand or Star's, say a harsh word or two to get you to back off. Instead, he allowed you into his space, a choice solely based on his trust in you, his care for you, and it was nearly as overwhelming a feeling as your warring anxiousness.

You smiled, soft and sweet, before leaning in steadily closer, closer, closer still, emboldened by Jotaro's words and his acceptance.

It was a quick thing, the small kiss you planted at the corner of his mouth, a gentle press of your lips transparently branding his skin with a promise you hoped beyond all hope you could keep. It was the only reassurance you could give at that moment, and you were almost certain it was all he would truly need to understand.

Pulling away, you were lowered back to the floor by your Stand, of which dispersed immediately after. Your smile was still soft, small as it was, as you gazed into the vibrant blue of Jotaro's intense stare.

"When we win this whole thing," you murmured with intent, "when that bastard is finally good and gone, I'm gonna need that back, got it?"

'If we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you properly.'

The silence that followed was only a few seconds, but reality felt almost slowed, tense in a way that would make or break the moment.

Jotaro sighed as he adjusted the brim of his hat, hiding his eyes behind its dark shadow. Had you still been closer, you would almost certainly have seen the barest color of heat against his skin.

"Gimme a break," he muttered, but the promise in his actions held steadfast and concrete. The tension released, and the air between you both felt clearer than it had in weeks.

'Looking forward to it.'

"I'm still going for that walk, by the way," you mentioned while reaching for the door handle, hand pausing only a moment as the cold metal touched your palm, almost expecting for Star to make his appearance again. To your relief, all was still.

You followed through with the motion, stepping out into the hotel hallway without any further obstructions. When you made to turn and shut the door, however, Jotaro was right behind you, taking up the frame with his solid, semi-crouched form.

Truly, the Joestar men were absolute giants.

"You're coming too, then?" you questioned, knowing full well he would follow you, regardless if you protested.

"Not leaving you by yourself," he responded while shutting the door, taking the initiative and leading you towards the elevators.

"Gonna leave me in the dust, though, that's for sure," you playfully mused as you made to catch up with his long stride, smiling to yourself.

Jotaro offered only a hum of acknowledgement to your bantering, which, in itself, was his own smile shining through.

Maybe this time, the anxious feelings wouldn't linger quite as long as before.

[delimeful]

Stemming the Tide

writing has been like pulling teeth lately but i managed this little drabble inspired by @smalldrops super gorgeous mermaid art! i went a little off the rails with the plot/tension, but i hope you like it anyhow :P

warnings: fear, capture, mention of starvation, mention of illness, threat of eating people, sad patton hours, everything turns out fine i promise

- Patton had only been looking for a place to rest for the night when he spotted the light. Blue and glowing, a beacon in the dark. 

It was deep waters, the type that he would have avoided if he hadn’t been so desperate to travel quickly. He was risking a lot, down where more vicious predators lurked, but the journey had gone so smoothly, and he was close to finally being home... he’d simply let his guard down. 

It was a mistake to approach the light, one that he didn’t realize until he saw the shadow of something huge move in the water, so large it created small currents with every motion. 

In the next moment, he was swept up in a flurry of bubbles, something cool and leathery wrapping around him and pinning his arms and his satchel to his sides. He caught a glimpse of sharp nails as the light bobbed and swayed above him, and he abruptly realized that it was a giant hand that had grabbed him.  

He couldn’t help but yelp as he was dragged forward, and in the next moment he was feet away from a face large enough to match the hand. A giant mer, Patton realized as he wriggled, tail lashing in panic. The fingers around him only tightened, making him wheeze. In front of him, the mer’s bait light drifted lower, illuminating the both of them. 

The mer was inspecting him with narrowed glowing eyes, bioluminescent freckles to match scattered across his indigo skin. The edges of him seemed to blur into the dark waters around them, but Patton was sure he could see a few serrated fangs poking out past his lips. 

Another hand appeared, webbed fingers carefully brushing over Patton’s shoulders and head as though he couldn’t quite see what he held in his grasp. The smaller mer flinched away automatically, watching those sharp claws as his gills fluttered with the effort of regaining his breath. 

In front of him, the giant mer frowned slightly, ear fins twitching down, and then let out a sigh that ruffled Patton’s hair.  

“You’ll do, I suppose,” he muttered, and began to lift him to his lips, which were parting to display rows of sharp teeth. 

Patton felt a chill run down his spine, and all his frills flared out in alarm. “Wait, wait wait wait wait!”

The mer stilled, and then sighed, pulling his hand back to inspect him once more. “What is it that you have to say, then?” 

Patton blinks, surprised that his calls had actually worked. “Um… Please don’t eat me?” he tried, tail fin twitching nervously. 

The mer pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, brow crinkling, and took a deep breath. “Look here, and see if you don’t understand.” 

He moved his arm back further, and Patton caught sight of his chest, where his skin stretched taut over his ribs, looking near starved. Below that, the mer’s long and winding tail was half-buried beneath a cascade of heavy rocks and silt. The rocky reefs up above were often unstable, so an avalanche was far from impossible. What was more astonishing was the fact that the mer was still so composed, stuck down here for who knew how long.

“There you have it,” the mer said dryly. “Believe me, I would rather avoid eating anything that can plead for mercy, but unfortunately that is not an option right now. I have to eat, or else I will die. Please do not take it personally.” 

He started to lift his hand again, and Patton patted it (heh) hurriedly to get him to stop. “Hang on, there must be another way! See, I need to get this medicine to Roman-- he’s my best friend and he’s terribly sick-- and I traveled through what feels like the whole ocean to get it, I can’t stop now!” He wiggled the arm closest to his satchel in emphasis.

“I don’t see how that’s particularly relevant to me, since I do not know or care for your friend. Regardless, I don’t see any alternative, and I sincerely doubt that you see one.” 

Patton bit his lip. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong fin. I’m Patton! What’s your name?”

“There is no point in exchanging--,” the mer cut himself off at Patton’s pleading stare, sighing through his nose. “You may call me Logan, but pleasantries don’t change the facts of this situation.” 

“Right, of course.” Patton nodded agreeably, forcing himself to relax his shoulders and stop his tail’s panicked swishing. In response, the hand around him eased it’s grip slightly, and Patton took a grateful deep breath. He had to stay calm. His new acquaintance wanted to eat him, yes, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t work something out!

“Well, Logan…,” he thought hard for a moment, and then brightened. “What if I got something else for you to eat? I could even hunt for you until you get your strength back! On the other hand, if you, um, ate me, then you’d still be stuck all alone down here without knowing if you’ll get any help…” 

He could see the other mer take a moment to consider it, fins twitching in thought, before he shook his head slightly. Patton’s heart sank.

“You have a point, however, those odds are all reliant on your participation. If I release you and you don't return at all, I will be left with nothing. If I…,” Logan shifted uncomfortably, “don’t release you, I will at least live a little longer, and perhaps gain the energy to free myself.” 

“I’m not going to leave you here to starve!” Patton immediately replied, frowning at the thought. 

Logan shook his head, grip closing in around Patton again, firmer this time. “I simply can’t be sure of that. You want to survive as badly as I do. You would say anything to be free of me.” 

“I… I don’t have anything to prove it but my word, though,” Patton said, voice growing smaller as panic filled his lungs. He thought about Roman, acres away, growing sicker and sicker as he waited for Patton to return. The other mer would die thinking Patton had abandoned him. He felt like sobbing, and forced himself to speak through the lump in his throat. “Logan, please, I promise I’ll come back.”

Logan turned his face away, avoiding eye contact, and Patton’s frills flattened against the sides of his head despondently. He… he really wasn’t going to get out of this one, was he? 

Rough cloth pressed into his side uncomfortably, and he jerked his head up, struck with an idea. “Oh! Logan!” 

The large mer’s glowing eyes locked back onto him, surprise flitting across his features. 

“The bag-- My bag! Can you just,” he wriggled his shoulders a little, and Logan obligingly loosened his grip enough for Patton to work his arms out, “thank you!” 

With slightly shaky hands, he pulled the strap of his satchel over his head, tugging the precious bag up into his arms and forcing himself to hold it out. “Here. If you manage to escape, then, after you-- after I’m gone, can you, um... Please, can you take this to Roman?” 

He leaned forward, pushing it towards Logan pleadingly. “He doesn't have anyone else, and if he doesn't get it--,” his voice cracked painfully, and he had to pause to collect himself, swallowing thickly.

Logan reached out with his other hand, delicately pinching the strap between two claws and letting the bag settle in his palm. Patton slumped against the hand around him, relieved and desolate in equal measures. 

“Th-- Thank you. Thank you, Logan.” He felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest, knowing what it meant, that Logan had agreed. 

Hopefully, the giant mer would be able to get free. Patton truly believed that Logan would hold up his end of the deal. He was going to die here, but… at least Roman might live. That was better than nothing, right? 

He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for what he knew would happen next. The hand around him moved, lifting him through the water, and… loosened? 

Patton opened his eyes, surprised, and his fins fluttered to keep him upright as the hand fell away entirely. A primal part of his mind screeched for him to bolt, but his curiosity and the knowledge that he needed that medicine kept him treading water in place.

“Fine,” Logan said, rubbing at his temple as though he had a headache. “Fine! We’ll try it your way.” 

Patton blinked, once, twice. Then-- “Really?!”

“Yes, really,” Logan grumped, settling back against the seafloor. “But I am keeping your medicine as collateral, so don’t even contemplate betraying me.”

Patton flipped and twisted a couple of times in the water, too ecstatic to keep still. “I don’t know what collateral means, but I would never leave a r-eel-y good friend like you behind!”

 “Keep up those atrocious puns and I’ll be the one going back on my word,” Logan replied in a monotone, expression flat. Patton muffled a laugh, not threatened in the least, and Logan rolled his eyes. “Proceed with your hunting, already.”

“Okay! Be back soon!” 

“...Okay.” 

[lizacstuff]

Merhaba friends - SCK episode 35 asks

(Fragman 36 ask at the end)

Apologies to those of you who sent asks for last week’s episode and I didn’t answer them. The week got away from me and then suddenly it was show day, the episode aired, and the asks were no longer relevant. Even if I didn’t answer I appreciate you reaching out!

Anonymous said: I’m dying to know what you thought.

While my ego would like to think that there are a variety of subjects that people might seek out my thoughts on, I’m going to guess you want to know what I thought of episode 35. 

I had a mixed reaction. I liked a lot of things, loved a lot of things, there were some things I found disappointing, and a few characters I wanted to strangle. So let’s explore from that perspective. 

Liked:

Romcom feel was back. It felt lighter and was easier to watch than a lot of eps in this arc.

Aydan, Ayfer and Seyfi working together to unite the kids. They were actually funny and trying to do the right thing, even if their methods were a bit morally gray. 

Serkan and Eda’s photo on outdoor advertising and on the cover of magazines. We’ll ignore how quick the turnaround was to get those photos up, it was just plain fun to watch Serkan see himself on his drive into work and be embarrassed and aggravated by the whole thing, while there was also a little spark of excitement from him in being linked to Eda like that. That was enjoyable.

Melo is always the best bestie and Ayfer didn’t suck as an aunt!

LOVED:

Most every individual Edser scene. 

Serkan out-of-his head with worry, planning to jump into the frigid sea, even though he wouldn’t have any shot of saving her that way. That’s my ride-or-die, protective romantic robot! 

Serkan making faces as Eda plans her wedding. Excellent work from Kerem here. 

Eda buttoning up Serkan’s shirt. That was hot. It was also hot that he just let her. 

Sekan buttoning up Eda’s dress (get a room kids and start going the other way... unbuttoning, UNBUTTON) This scene was emotional and the sexual tension! 

Serkan clutching his chest. The poor boy was about to have a panic attack right there. Follow through, writers, give him the full fledged panic attack!  

The hair caught in the button (There’s that button again!) sequence. it was funny and sexy and made Selin into a foolish, immature third wheel. I’m all for it. 

Serkan apologizing to Eda for Selin, that was big because up til now he hasn’t really recognized how awful Selin is in most situations. He has blinders when it comes to her, mostly because he doesn’t pay attention, so it was satisfying to see him acknowledge her bad behavior.

EVERY MOMENT AT THE BOLAT HOUSE. That was a great sequence, and IMO we mostly have Hande and Kerem to thank for it and not the writers. They brought it to life and obviously a lot of it was on them to just figure out what to do in the scene.  I loved that Serkan saw Eda amongst the flowers in that painting. Swoon!  their conversation about how they were both hungry was hilarious. Every moment with them fixing the sandwiches was gold and then it just got better from there. With him being willing to share food, to the throwback “mesala” conversation to her listening to his heart. All so... so... good. 

However, while we definitely deserved those nice, long, funny, heartwarming scenes, I must say the writers didn’t use them to their fullest potential. How did the night end? How did they part? Why was no progress made after spending the night that way?  If the writers were even half decent at their job they would have had Serkan confess some feelings while high, but not remember in the morning thus giving us the parallel with episode 11 when he was sick. Eda would have felt defeated when he didn’t remember, again, and it would have made more sense why she thought the fake wedding was her last shot at getting through to him. 

Characters I’m mad at:

Ceren knows the whole episode that Deniz loves Eda, she knows he’s being weird about it, she makes up with Eda, and stills says nothing? WTF?

Engin makes it to the wedding, he knows Serkan has his memories back and he doesn’t stop the wedding to let Eda know before she says yes? WTF?

Ferit allegedly has the photos and he thinks the wedding is real, but he doesn’t show Eda the photos so she has a better idea of what she’s getting into? WTF?      (though through that whole Ferit/Selin scene I wondered if Ferit was just playing along with Selin, trying to get info out of her and he’s not really the one who has the photos. Time will tell. )

Selin/Deniz- Obvious, psychos, I need them freaking gone. How Deniz can claim to love Eda, but sit there and watch her look devastated and cry her eyes out at the thought of fake marrying him, while knowing he’s about to pull a disgusting trick is unfathomable. He needs to be committed.

Disappointing:

To be clear, I no longer care, but I can’t believe how badly they flubbed this storyline. That? That was the payoff for the hell we’ve been put through for 7 weeks? Wow talk about not worth it and anti-climactic. I’m not going to go on about all the ways they failed, but I could. 

While I fully believe that Serkan fell back in love with Eda before he got his memories back (see this post) he should have confessed to Eda before he got them back. That was the whole point of this entire storyline and they carried that the entire time, but then fumbled the ball at the 1 yard line. Good grief, these writers are bad. 

Serkan gets his memories back, he knows time is of the essence, and he still is torn and has to think about it? WHAT? Just no. Ridiculous. I realize they did it for maximum suspense, but they shouldn’t have. They really shouldn’t have.

That was their reunion after all we’ve been through? Come on, writers, step it up. I realize we no longer have the writers that gave us his love declaration in 11 or Eda’s and Serkan’s proposals, or their make up scene in 28 or their goodbye scene in 28, but this was lackluster. 

So, in summation, there was a lot that I really enjoyed, I thought the episode flowed better than some of the others in this arc, and lots of great individual Edser moments, it’s just the way they flubbed the whole storyline. I’m just so glad the amnesia is over, that thankfully I don't really care.

Anonymous said: when pushed by engin and aydan multiple times in the episode he never denies he ISN'T in love with her and rather skirts around the issue and deflects with "she's marrying deniz!" which should be proof enough he fell in love with her especially considering in 29 he was telling eda that "there was no such thing as love" between them. it was almost reminiscent of eda in 10/11 where she doesn't tell him her feelings bc she believes he wants selin, this time in reverse bc he believes she's moved on.

This came in response to this ask, and yes I agree. I should have hit that point harder, that Engin and Aydan ask him and he never denies it. When this arc started he would have denied it in a flat second. 

He fell in love with her again, full stop. It’s just a shame that they didn’t make it the entire crux of his love confession, we deserved to see that. Just one of the many ways the writers dropped the ball with this storyline. 

Anonymous said: The whiplash we got going from 26-28 to the drag of 29-35 though. 🤦🏼‍♀️ and you really could cut out that entire storyline and you wouldn’t be missing anything because really nothing happened. They didn’t even have Serkan stopping Eda before he got his memories back to fulfill a basic assumed foreshadowing. Like....huh?

I don’t want to be negative, but it’s crazy to me that they sped through wedding prep at a lightning pace and then went through this painful amnesia storyline at a snail’s pace. They should have had at least 5 episodes of wedding prep, doing just one pre-wedding activity per episode, but kept Babaanne around to create the drama. I wanted at least one episode of them back together, but keeping it secret so they could work against her. We were robbed of that!

Anonymous said: I know we’ve been hating a lot on the new writers but the showrunner still has to sign off on these scenes right? And it’s been the same one this whole time. What has she been thinking? Maybe the writers didn’t do their homework but surely she can tell that scenes being very out of character wouldn’t make sense?

Bold of you to assume there’s a showrunner as we know them on a Hollywood show. I assume you’re talking about Asena, but I always think of her more of a cross between an EP and a network exec. A bit more removed than a showrunner.  I have no idea who the guiding light of this show is since Ayse left. The production timelines are so tight, I don’t think there’s time to review scripts and reject them. Sometime I think it’s a wonder anything makes sense at all. 

Anonymous said: I see you've giffed some of the edser "questionable positions" bookshelf scene. (Awesome gifs btw). Honestly, that entire scene was really funny, with the rest of the art life crew jumping in. Even Selin made me laugh when she came in there and said "how did her hair get stuck?!" and Serkan very sarcastically replied with something like "I wound it up in there, what do you think??" Not to mention all the very close face talking that was going on!

Great scene! Here’s the gif set you’re referring to.  I suppose the writers proved they could do fun, and romantically comedic scenes if they want to. More like this, please. 

Anonymous said:

With these past 5 (?) episodes with these last set of writers, I truly believe that they did not go back to watch SCK at all before writing. Any past references were probably given to them on a checklist or something. Like I don't know if they even watched episode 28 with how they ended up doing away with the memory loss. Its kind of astounding how much they dropped the ball. Hopefully the rumors of new writers are true and they get enough episodes to give us a good ending to this story!

This came in right after the episode, but unfortunately, we learned today that we are apparently not getting new writers, at least not for episode 36.I was fully convinced we were since Sefkat (the production company twitter admin) liked Yasin’s post when he said we’d be getting all new writers for 36. Normally I don’t believe anything Yasin says because he has lied so many times that any info he actually has just comes across as a clock being right twice a day.  However, when she liked it, I found that convincing.  Also the way they cancelled shooting on Saturday and H/K were in for a meeting on Friday. Seemed like it was all adding up. We’ll see, maybe there will be new ones for 37??

As for not watching what came before, it certainly feels like they only skimmed and watched certain scenes and didn’t do a deep dive on the series. Watching all the eps in full should be a requirement before they start the job. I always feel they are  just off with Serkan’s characterization, they don’t quite get him and they turn him a bit into a cardboard cutout of early Serkan. It’s like the character sketch outline of Serkan, but with no depth. 

Anonymous said: When I saw the character description of the new cast member added to the show I was like "great, another possible screen space filler in regards to Aydan" but after watching the episode, I was actually really intrigued by his character. I know there's a bunch of theories out there that Serkan is actually his son, which I don't really buy into right now, but nevertheless he was a real potential to be a father figure in Serkan's life... and maybe the only guest character to not be a villain lol.

I’ll tell you this, that casting makes it seem like they at least want us to think he’s Serkan’s father.  He’s way better looking that Alptekin and he just looks like he could genetically be responsible for the magnificence that is Serkan. 

We’ll see what they do. I think it could be interesting, just because until Serkan met Eda he was so invested in being “Serkan Bolat” that having his identity shaken like this would be seismic for him. It could create some really good drama for him in all his relationships without tearing apart Edser. Also, if Alptekin knew it would go along way in explaining that relationship. Alptekin always demanding perfection and the cold way he sent him away to boarding school. It would explain why he could never earn his father’s love or approval, and that knowledge might give him some peace. 

In addition, and a big plus, it would mean that his biological father was NOT responsible for the deaths of Eda’s parents. 

Anonymous said: 1/ everyone for weeks was waxing poetic and had super detailed headcannons of how serkan would remember in really specific ways when he realized he was in love, something that ayfer kinda poked fun of at the beginning of the ep talking about the fake wedding, but i was genuinely laughing out loud at serkan and engin accidently getting into a fight and him yelling throughout it that he remembers and engin pushing him in front going "can you give him one good hit?!" lmaoo

2/ getting a good hit to the end to unscramble your brain that is already giving you flashbacks is more actually more realistic than the usual fairytale way.. sure, less romantic, but definitely more realistic. the man was already in love with her, super confused on what to do since he genuinely thought she was marrying deniz, and was already having flashes, all he really needed was good hit in the head lol. maybe eda should've kept going when they were boxing 😂

I like your take on it.

Anonymous said: i think they saw the fandom complaining week after week that there was too much heaviness/drama in their romcom and said "so you guys want romcom? here i'll give you full on romcom" which is what i thought this episode was! and i really appreciated such a fun ep overall to watch to bring this otherwise really sad and emotion heavy memory loss plot to an end.

Yes, the episode was a lot more fun than most that had come before it. If only they could have tied it all together. 

Anonymous said: Something that just occurred to me that's so crazy in addition to wrapping an episode days before it airs, is that in Turkish television, a series has like 1 permanent director and a small writing team that writes ALL of the episodes. In US TV, that's pretty much unheard of - different writers rotate owning each episode and the same director will shoot maybe 2-3 episodes at most a season. The production turnaround time is so short that it's insane that we don't hear of more last-minute delays

I know, I think about this all the time. It’s crazy to me that there’s only one director. Which is why there’s not a lot of added layers to this show.  When a director just has one episode on their plate and they spend a couple of weeks prepping to direct, every shot, every angle, every bit of set dressing can be meaningful. This show doesn’t have that kind of visual depth.  On the other hand you do get a director that knows the actors and crew inside and out and they all have a short hand which allows them to get to what they want faster and easier. That can’t be replicated with directors who come in for one episode. 

Anonymous said: Over the past month or so, I’ve been seeing so many people cancel Serkan and wanting Eda to leave him forever and move away, but she really never gave up on him and she might finally get him back this week 😭 in fact, Eda and Melo are the only people we’ve seen who have tried to help get his memories back! Everyone who has been friendly to Selin can disinvite themselves to the Edser wedding

I’m glad I didn’t see a bunch of this nonsense myself.  But, honestly, anyone who wants Eda to leave and not end up with Serkan... why are they watching this show to begin with? Did they take a wrong turn somewhere? How did they last this long watching it? We’re 35 episode in and this entire show is their love story, beyond that story and it being a vehicle to showcase Hande and Kerem’s awesome chemistry, it really doesn’t offer many other reasons to watch. 

And yes to jettisoning anyone who was friendly with Selin. PIRIL I’M LOOKING AT YOU. I sure hope Piril finds out exactly how low Selin will sink. She needs to feel ashamed for welcoming her back without question. 

Anonymous said: That fragman for ep 36...part of me wants to hope that it will all be solved pretty soon, since we got edser separated for so long we deserved them together now. But part of me also knows these writers suck so I’m expecting the worst. I just wanted edser together again 😭

I know. When I saw the full fragman my initial reaction was to yell “WHY CAN’T WE HAVE NICE THINGS!!!!!!!”  But I’ve calmed down now. 

It seems to me that we have Serkan and Eda together and working together to figure this mess out, which is good. we have romantic walks on the pier, and Eda spending the night at his place and a sweet breakfast setting with Eda in jammies. All good.  

But then we also have Selin and Deniz refusing to quit.  Selin comes up with the plan that if Deniz doesn’t sign the papers in time, then they will have to get a divorce which means Eda can’t marry for 300 days. So then, what? Deniz steals Serkan’s car and goes on the run? 

What they hope to accomplish with this, I don’t know. Because even if they succeed and Serkan and Eda can’t get married right away, it’s not like they’ll just magically decide that they want to be with those two psychos instead.  I can see Selin doing it just for revenge so she can make them miserable, but what’s Deniz’ motivation? The further psycho he goes, the worse Eda will think of him. Bizarre. 

As for the pregnancy thing. It sounds like Eda must hear that from someone. My money is on Deniz. That’s his Hail Mary to try and drive a wedge between Serkan and Eda. Because seemingly when Eda brings it up, Selin asks where did you hear that. Also, phew, Eda says right away that if its true that Sekan deserves to know, which hopefully will clear things up (because the writers showed us over and over and over again that they weren’t sleeping in the same bed) and it will show Serkan just what kind of crazy he’s dealing with. 

Anonymous said: I was pretty excited after watching the fragman, but surprised when I went on twitter and saw that almost everyone was really upset by it. I’m sure most people know Selin isn’t actually pregnant, but they all still somehow hate the storyline (possibly bc they think it’ll drive edser apart?) idk am I crazy for thinking that we’ll still get good edser moments and them staying together and fighting together? I guess the show needs drama to continue but I’m not mad because I think good edser will outweigh bad/miscommunication edser.

I’m sure we’ll get good Edser moments, but I can’t really fault anyone for being extremely annoyed by this fragman. I think this little plot point will end up not being a big deal at all, however, I can see how it feels like a kick in the face after what we’ve been through the last 7 episodes. It’s like can we get one happy episode? Just one?

Also it’s just very uncomfortable. I’m in the camp that currently thinks it’s impossible for her to be pregnant because they haven’t slept together. He was too fragile and injured before they came back to Istanbul (sleeping on the couch with his PTSD) and after he was too confused and consumed by Eda and just uninterested in Selin. I have to believe they kept showing us them not spending the night in the same place for a reason. 

However, if they were to have had sex, it’s very unsettling because it’s a little too close to him not being able to give consent. It’s Rape by Deception. He had a brain injury, amnesia, was suffering a myriad of traumas and was not in his right mind. He did not have the full set of facts on where their relationship stood, but she did (she knew he wanted nothing to do with her and told her he never loved her and didn’t even want to be friends) and instead of being honest she abused him. She lied to him. She didn’t tell him the truth about what had happened. She isolated him from anyone who could tell him the truth and manipulated him into thinking that she was the only person in the world he could trust and the person he loved and trusted most was untrustworthy and an enemy. 

However, as the audience we know the things she’d done in the past to abuse his trust, and we know for certain if he remembered, he would never consent to sleep with her. Never. So even beyond the cheating and the romance it would rob us of if they did have sex, it’s ICKY and GROSS and none of us want to even think of it.  I don’t expect TV writers in Turkey to be on the forefront of thought when it comes to issues of consent, so I’d rather this door just not be opened at all. 

But here we are, they opened it. Now all we can do it hope that it is a device to hear Serkan say that it isn’t impossible and for Selin to be fully exposed as completely unbalanced and a lying, manipulator.

Anonymous said: the fandom by use of sheer will forced this selin plot line into existence LOL. i swear since the beginning of the memory plot in 29, the "selin will lie to eda she's pregnant" rumor has been constantly making rounds, and i guess it's time to cash in. i will say that i've seen ppl thinking know that somehow serkan and her were intimate even though she's clearly lying.. guys, if there was even a POSSIBILITY she would've used this way back before now and would have told everyone, including serkan.

I agree with this. If this was a card she could play with Serkan, she’d play it. She’s been getting more and more desperate. And in the fragman there she is coming up with ways for Deniz to run away so he can’t sign the papers. If there was something she could hold over Serkan, she would, She’s not because then the con would be up, we’ll just have to wait and see how big of a lie she’s willing to tell. 

Anonymous said: I wonder if Selin was a spy when she was younger! That woman is always watching everything from her car! Even in the new trailer.

Ha! Let’s hope that in the end she’s not a very good spy and they finally get one over on her. Oh please oh please oh please let the stable boy be the one who has the photos and let him have more on her. I want there to be tons of photos of her in her car spying on them. That would be so humiliating for her. 

Seriously, though, who knows what happened to Selin to make her the way she is. Frankly, I don’t think my assessment of her has really changed (most of my old posts on her are tagged with “anti Selin”) She’s just a spoiled, selfish, entitled brat who thinks she should get anything and everything she wants. If she wants Serkan, she should have him, doesn’t matter what he wants or who she hurts, she’ll do whatever she has to do to make that happen. She was probably never told no as a child. So when she’s thwarted she thinks she’s entitled to whatever reaction she wants to have, if that’s ruining other people’s lives, so be it.  No one can be happy if she’s not. 

[raleighcarrera]

16. Best Tattoo vs Worst Tattoo for Raleigh x MC because I am addicted to how you write them

best vs. worst prompts / 16. best tattoo vs. worst tattoo

the worst tattoo 

she squints, eye-level with raleigh’s hipbone. “but... what is it?”

the huff he gives, as he reaches down to swat at her arm, is exasperated. “it’s a diamond.”

cadence’s grin spreads, her pointer finger poking at the -- admittedly blurry -- tattoo. “as in... baby you’re a diamond, let me give you a ring?”

raleigh’s silence is answer enough. then he sighs, “shut up.” 

“talkin’ bout forever,” she continues, “i’m not here for a -- raleigh!”

cadence wiggles where she’s suddenly flipped beneath him on the mattress, laughing as she squirms in the sheets. “oh my god, you’re such a baby.”

“you’re a baby,” he insists, pinning her flailing arms down to the bed above her head. “you’d better watch your mouth.”

“oh yeah?” she challenges, lips splitting into a grin, “what’re you going to do about it?”

“you won’t like it,” he warns, settling more fully on top of her, pressing her down with his weight. “but... if you stop being a brat, i’ll tell you about the tattoo.”

her eyes widen, and she nods as innocently as she can, pursing her lips shut. “i promise. let me up!”

he does, and they lay side-by-side in bed, shuffling until they’re sharing the same pillow. her eyes drop back to the tattoo at the top of his thigh.

“so -- it was the night of our album release party,” he starts, voice heavy and serious as though he’s telling a story of great loss and not something that’s objectively hilarious, “i was sixteen and very, very drunk. obviously i should not have been allowed to get a tattoo, but -- what artist is going to say no to raleigh carrera?”

“unbelievable,” she murmurs, and then, when he arches an eyebrow at her, “sorry -- continue.”

“so me blair and cameron kill the bottle of patron and blair is like, we’re going to be best friends for the rest of our lives, this is unreal, our lives are changing forever -- yadda, yadda, yadda. the album debuted at number one and everyone was freaking out. i was a kid with more money in my bank account than i knew what to do with. anyway, cameron was the one to suggest the matching tattoos. he said if we all got diamonds it’d manifest the album going diamond.”

“okay, but -- that’s so cute. so -- are you telling me you all have those blurry little blobs on your legs?”

raleigh rolls his eyes. “well... i went first.”

her teeth bite at the inside of her cheek to stifle her laugh. “oh, no.”

“yes. those fuckers backed out as soon as it was done. i could have killed them. but at least it’s small, i guess.”

“sure, but... why does it look so --”

“bad?”

she nods hesitantly, her expression curious.

“well, it was, like, four o’clock in the morning. i don’t know that anyone should be tattooing that late. and i think it’s probably gotten worse with time.” his hands slide slowly up and down her arms, the expression on his face thoughtful. “i almost got it covered up, when we first met. but then you did that whole -- your past and your present can coexist, thing, and you changed my mind.” 

cadence’s eyes soften when they meet his. she leans in a little closer, until her nose bumps into raleigh’s affectionately. “that’s really sweet.”

he shrugs, as though it’s nothing -- but it’s not, and they both know that. their lips meet gently in a brief kiss.

“you know...” one hand dips below the sheets to curl over the tattoo below his hip. “it’s not so bad.”

the laugh he gives is closer to a scoff than anything else. “it’s pretty bad.”

“yeah, but it’s part of you,” she argues, expression warm, eyes bright. the look on his face lightens, and something like tenderness creeps into raleigh’s eyes. “and i love every part.”

“corny,” he mumbles, just before he pushes her back down flat for kisses again.

the best tattoo 

“are you sure about this?”

raleigh grins at her from where he’s already shrugging out of his shirt, buttons undone and fabric falling to the floor. “positive, babe. i’ve been saving the perfect spot for it.”

“you’re out of your mind,” she mutters, shaking her head good-naturedly as he settles into the tattoo chair, chest pressed to its front. raleigh waves her over while the artist finishes setting up behind him, and she goes, slipping her hand into his.

he thumbs at the engagement ring taking up a majority of the real estate on her hand, his eyes suspiciously soft in the studio lighting. 

“nervous?” she asks, squeezing his fingers. 

“nah. i’ve done this a thousand times. bet you i won’t even flinch.”

“big talk from someone who hasn’t had blood work in five years because of the needles,” cadence hums, leaning down to steal a quick kiss from her fiance.

behind raleigh, the tattoo artist holds the cocktail napkin with the design printed on it aloft. “we’re still going with this, right?”

“right,” raleigh chirps, “smack dab on the shoulder.”

cadence peeks around and sees the sketch already in place. her chest feels tight with affection, her stomach doing happy backflips. “it looks sick,” she admits, teeth digging into her bottom lip to stifle a smile. 

“how could it not?” he asks, his mouth twisting into that familiar smirk that’s had her heart racing since day one. “you’re looking at art, right there. that’s the world’s most perfect set of lips.”

“oh my god,” she laughs, as even the tattoo artist chuckles, “shut up.” 

her gaze flits down to the napkin, sitting innocently on the table. her own lip print, stark red when she’d first kissed the napkin last night but now a little faded, stares back at her. 

they’d been at some dumb, boring industry party when it came to him. there were plenty of people who tried talking to them, but raleigh led her around the room by the hand until they’d dodged every last one of them and found a corner of the space to be alone in, grabbing a tiny table by the kitchen where no one would bother them.

he’d ignored the food and drinks in favor of kissing her for what could have been hours, until her mouth felt sore and her jaw was tender from the repeated scratch of his stubble. still, she sighed wistfully when he pulled away to let her breathe, just as dumbstruck by what an amazing kisser he was as she had been that very first time their lips had met backstage.

“i can’t wait to kiss you for the rest of my life,” raleigh had murmured with his hands cupping her face, pressing first into her jaw and then the corner of her mouth, trailing his thumb along her lipstick-smudged bottom lip. “you have the most perfect mouth.”

“raleigh,” she’d breathed, so overcome with love and affection for what felt like the most perfect man that she had to kiss him again, eagerly, until the rest of the room melted away. 

“seriously, though,” he’d said, staring at her in fascination as the tip of his thumb disappeared into her mouth when they broke apart again, “i have an idea.”

and that was how they found themselves here, with her squeezing his hand and smiling sweetly at him while her exact kiss print was inked onto his back, right in the little spot on his shoulder where the rest of his tattoos ended and she so loved to press her lips, in the mornings when she found him in the kitchen making coffee or in the shower when she slipped in behind him or even above his jacket, if there were other people around, and her arms folded around his waist from behind, just because she wanted to say hello and couldn’t resist the temptation.

“check it out,” the artist declares finally, when the buzzing has stopped and the ink is wiped away, just before she’s about to tape him up. “it looks great.”

she steps around to get a good look at it, and, yeah -- those are her lips, stuck on raleigh carrera’s body forever. smudged-lipstick imperfections and all. “holy shit.”

“lemme see,” he demands, shifting in front of the mirror and twisting around eagerly. “oh, dude. it looks awesome.”

she stands around dazed as raleigh gets dressed and exchanges fist bumps with anyone in the studio who will offer them, signing everything puts in front of him and passing over a stack of cash so fat no one will ever know they were here.

it’s only when they’re back at their penthouse that she says, “i seriously can’t believe you did that. this is, like, the single greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

she knows he’s about to say something hopelessly cheesy by the goofy grin that takes over his face, at odds with the way the adrenaline from the tattoo still has his pupils blown wide. “fitting,” raleigh replies, tugging her towards their bedroom before she’s even got her shoes and jacket off, “that’s exactly how i feel about you.”

[sagemoderocklee]

Writer ask meme - everything divisible by 3

Sorry this took so long to reply to! I was writing out my responses today, but while watching Rosewell New Mexico with my roommate and that show is SO good. anyways this is really, really long so I will put part of it under a read more however if you are reading TAoL and want a sneak peak at an upcoming chapter, my answer to 36 is the entire first scene for that chapter

3. What is your favorite/least favorite part about writing? Other than the obvious writer's block, I think that my least favorite part is feeling insecure/wanting validation via comments and such. Writing is something I really enjoy doing and take great pride in trying to grow as a writer, but it's impossible to completely shake off that feeling of insecurity and sadness over something that doesn't get comments. There's this common thing in fandom where like you can pour a lot of heart and energy into something, be really skilled, only for it to get overlooked. There's obviously a lot of reasons for that, but some of those reasons are kind of annoying—like god forbid something not have sex in it, ya know?

6. Favorite character you’ve written?

So, that's hard.... If we're talking the canon Naruto characters, it can really vary from story to story. I obviously enjoy writing Gaara and Lee, but I was surprised to find that I really enjoy writing Shikamaru, Kankurou, Temari, Neji, and Tenten as well. I think all of them are really interested, have a lot of potential, and are fun in very different ways. Kankurou is definitely just flat out fun to write, and I think Tenten is very similar in the way she's fun to write. I think this like handful of characters are all faves for very different reasons so it's hard to say who my absolute fave is, but I really enjoy writing all of them. Definitely my fave thing is being able to write all of them interacting together, however.

9. Favorite/least favorite tropes?

Least: Soulmates. I hate that shit with a passion—it's boring, it's artificial, it's easy. There was a post I just saw recently that said “soulmates are stupid. I love you on purpose” and that just sums up so much of my issue with soulmates. If something is predetermined by some fucking cosmic power, do you really ever love that person? Do you really ever know that person? Soulmate AUs will always be something that bore me and also insight anger. It's just not for me, and I wish that fandom spaces would just get over it, in all honesty. Fave: uh. I don’t really know about like trope-wise. I just really like anything with good world building and politics.

12. Which story of yours do you like best? Why? Oh gosh.... um. That's really hard to answer because every story I write has a special place in my heart for different reasons. Alliance is my baby; TAoL is a huge emotional investment and has allowed me to grow even more as a writer; Absolution is something I've always wanted to explore; Flyweight Love is super fun and cute; IEYH is a new experiment in writing for me; GoD was also an experiment... and on and on. It's hard to pick like a favorite story because like they're all my faves in different ways. There are certainly things I like more or prefer, like I'm not that into modern Aus as much so it's easier for me to say that like Find Me isn't a one of my best—it isn't, there's a lot of things I want to fix on it, and while it is a decent fic, it's not like groundbreaking imo. But like for all of the things that need fixing with Alliance, that fic is my baby and really grounded me as a writer in a way no other writing project had before it. So like I could never not love it. Anyways, I'm babbling at this point, but basically I love all my fics so I can't choose.

15. How do you deal with self-doubt when writing? Rereading my writing tends to help and hoarding some of my favorite comments I've been left by readers. I know I'm a good writer, self-doubt and insecurities aside, so re-reading stuff is really a good confidence booster—but when that's not enough, it is really helpful to look back at old comments.

18. Tell us about that one book you’ll never let anyone read

Of mine??? Well, obviously by 'book' we're going with fanfiction because none of my original content is at a point where I'd really even consider it for this question. Um. Honestly, I don't think there's much if anything. Maybe some HP fics but not because I'm not like... proud of the writing or premise. Like I'd say my ideas are really good, it's just a matter of like my own time management and shit.

21. What aspect of your writing are you most proud of?

My world building. I'm also generally proud of the premises I come up with, and the themes I explore with my writing. Like I think I'm a good writer in terms of the like technical writing aspect—pros and such—and also characters, but I think I excel at world building and overall plot.

24. Do you remember the moment you decided to become a writer/author? The first time I ever wrote anything I was seven years old. I was at a party for my mom's boss? I think it was a birthday party? Anyway, I was the only kid there—which was fine because I was used to being the only kid in gatherings—but I was sitting alone by like a window and I just like started writing a poem about the night. That was like the first time that writing really became a part of me. When I was thirteen, when my mom got sick, I started writing poetry more. And when I was fourteen, I started writing fanficiton and that's kinda just... never stopped. I've been writing stories ever since.

27. Every writer’s least favorite question - where does your inspiration come from? Do you do certain things to make yourself more inspired? Is it easy for you to come up with story ideas?

My inspiration comes from everywhere, not to like be cliched. But inspiration really is in everything and everyone. I tend to find inspiration really easily in music, but it's also in just like the day-to-day; it's in other writers; it's in washing dishes; it's in a day trip to the ocean; it's in a quote or a touch or a word. Like genuinely, it's in big things and little things and things that shouldn't even be things. I don't feel like I really struggle with inspiration so much as motivation, really. And that is... a much harder thing to find sometimes (especially when you're mentally ill)

30. Do you like to read books similar to your project while you’re drafting or do you stick to non-fiction/un-similar works?

Um. I like to read fantasy mostly, but I don't look for something similar or different from my projects intentionally. I just.... look for things that I like? But I don't really know how to explain that lol

33. What’s your revision/rewriting process like? Since I'm writing mostly fanfiction and the culture of having a beta reader has dwindled significantly, making it hard to find one, I do a lot of self-editing. I'm usually re-reading a lot as I'm writing. So until a chapter is done, I'm always going back and reading/editing before moving on to the next scene. And then once I'm done writing a chapter I'll usually edit it about two or three times in full in the document, then I put it in draft on Ao3 for another edit before posting.

36. Post a snippet All right a snippet..... Let's go with something from: The Art of Love, Chapter 13 (not the next chapter, but the one after). Since I left everyone hanging for so long with that last scene of Gaara and Lee, this is the entire first scene to ch13: It was all his fault. If he hadn't let himself get so carried away in the dream of Gyokukakushin, in the dream of Gaara, in the dream of safety they didn't have this wouldn't be happening. Their belongings had been stuffed haphazardly into their various bags. Despite how many times he'd checked and double checked, Lee felt sure that he'd overlooked something—some wayward item that had rolled beneath the bed or fallen behind the desk that would give them away. Gaara had watched him silently, his thoughts kept to himself as Lee dashed about their room like a mad man.

“I think that is everything,” Lee managed over the mantra of 'My fault, my fault' cycling through his mind. His voice trembled as he spoke. Every inch of him trembled. Every breath he took rattled in his chest. Every beat of his heart was a stutter against his rib cage. Every ounce of blood pumping through his veins burned with the need to run.

“This is useless,” Gaara said, the first words he'd spoken since the beach.

Lee snapped his head up, meeting Gaara's enigmatic gaze. “But—”

“They don't set sail until the end of the month,” he reminded Lee. “What use is being packed? Besides, it will look suspicious if we leave now.”

Tears burned at the corners of Lee's eyes. “But if they are coming—”

“They're coming,” Gaara murmured. “But even if they arrive before we've departed, we have our disguises. You have to trust that we'll be fine.”

Lee's head spun. How could Gaara be so calm? How could he sit there, quiet and unshakable, when Lee felt as though the world were falling apart around them? How could he be so sure that eleven days from now, they'd set sail, free and undiscovered? How was he not furious with Lee for his complacency?

Gaara was at Lee's side before Lee could shake the spinning in his head, a gentle hand at Lee's elbow and a surety in his eyes.

“I know you won't let anything happen to me,” he told Lee, as soft and insistent as the thumb he'd once pressed against the corner of Lee's mouth.

“No. Never.” Lee's stomach twisted, guilt rising like the tide. He'd let his feelings jeopardize everything.

“Then what do you have to fear?”

A trembling laugh escaped Lee, soft and unsteady. He had everything to fear, yet Gaara's gaze implored him to forget those fears. He managed to speak, his tongue heavy with the lie, “I do not know.”

“Then do not know fear. It will make this harder for us, especially if the Daimyo's soldiers arrive before we've left.”

“If they do—”

“If they do, we will be as unknown to them as any other traveler. And if not, I trust your speed to carry us to safety.”

“We would miss our ship.”

“If it comes to that, so be it. We can find other ways of traveling to Tea Country.”

Lee allowed himself to believe all would be well because he couldn't believe anything else when looking into the depths of Gaara's eyes, but there was no escaping his gnawing guilt or the knowledge that his heart had led them to ruin.

39. Do you spend a lot of time analyzing and studying the work of authors you admire? I wouldn't say a lot of time per say, certainly not as much as I should, but I definitely do like to analyze other works and learn new skills, etc.

42. How many drafts do you usually write before you feel satisfied? I don't really write “drafts” per say. Since I'm just writing fanfiction, I'm usually just writing and then heavily editing. Sometimes editing does mean taking out and entirely rewriting entire scenes. And sometimes in writing fics, I do jump ahead—though very rarely—and write a rough draft of a future scene so I don't lose the idea/beats/etc, and then that will be re-written fully when I do get to it. But on average, I'm just doing a lot of editing.

45. First or third person? Third, definitely. I'll never be able to write first person cause it just doesn't really suit me and, overall, I think that it's a very hard point of view to write from. For me, it takes a special

48. Do you prefer to write skimpy drafts and flesh them out later, or write too much and cut it back? So before I write something, depending on what it is I will write an outline that can vary from a few sentences to like pages.

51. Are you a secretive writer or do you talk with your friends about your books? A bit of both really. I love talking about the things I'm working on, but I also love to keep things a surprise so I can see what people's genuine reactions are to like plot twists or whatever. Of course, my problem is that I have to like—talk about my projects to stay motivated. It's a hard balance. I usually end up talking with my roommate since they also write fanfic for Naruto but not GaaLee. We can bounce ideas off each other, when we're stuck, etc.

54. Favorite first line/opening you’ve written? Ugh this is another hard one...  I think im gonna go with the opening from IEYH right now as one of my fave becuase I think I did a decent job of setting the tone of my very first horror project: Too often, ghost stories begin with dark nights or horrible, gruesome death. Real ghosts don't follow the patterns of a novel; there are no beginnings, middles, and ends; no rising action and falling action; no denouement. Ghosts do not achieve resolution; ghost do not experience the climax of their own tale. There are no happy—or even sad—endings. There are no endings at all.

Ghost stories go on and on and on, rambling endlessly towards nothing and no where, only stopping for the finite amount of words one can speak or write in one's lifetime.

That is the true horror of death: ceaseless, unending nothingness.