#granted he's already a bit mad on the whole

[lasanya539]

no restitution comes tonight

(based on this piece by @darkpolicepsycho)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles TW: Mentions of Su!cide Word Count: 5647

Posted on AO3!

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It was just supposed to be an extraction mission, Donnie thinks.

It's dark in the med bay, the lights are turned down. The digital clock on the wall blinks to 2:35, 2:36, 2:37 A.M. It's cold in here, but it doesn't bother him. The purple hoodie he's wearing should be preserving some heat, but Donnie genuinely can't feel a thing. The sensations of his body are a far-away concept, like sand between his fingers, slipping away no matter how much he tries to hold on to them.

It was just supposed to be an extraction mission.

He blinks. And blinks again. For the first time since that night, his brain registers a feeling: dry eyes, crusty and in pain. Surely the result of staring at his purple holograms for the last few hours. A multitude of readings crowd the screens, the numbers changing with the continuous recordings of heart rate and blood pressure and body heat and pulse ox levels and— He breathes, turning his eyes away. The holograms glow in the room. His eyes track the shadows they form on the bed against the wall, haloing its occupant in a pretty lavender hue as he sleeps on.

Donnie stands up, bones creaking. He stretches, hearing something in his back crack; he’s been slouched over the plastic chair of the med bay for hours now. He walks to the stretcher, quietly, towards a slumbering Leo.

It's weird to see him like this. So vulnerable. Leo's notorious insomnia, combined with how light of a sleeper he is, has made it nearly impossible for any of the brothers to catch him passed out on them. It's almost always the other way around: Raph on the couch after a movie marathon, Mikey on the kitchen table surrounded by  comics, Donnie in his lab chair after a night of obsessing over his newest hyperfixation. They always wake up to find a warm blanket tucked over their shoulders, and a silly stuffed toy by their heads to greet them in the morning.

Donnie gulps, running a gentle hand over the blanket that covers Leo now. As much as he wishes, this isn't a night of miraculous deep sleep for his twin, a full eight hours of Leo's perpetually tired mind cycling through all stages of NREM and REM.

No, he thinks, turning to check his vitals again. This is much worse.

It was just supposed to be an extraction mission.

The objective was simple: get into the Hidden City, into Witch Town, sneak into the Museum of Mystical Artefacts and Gems, steal an obsidian diamond dagger, and leave unobtrusively. That was it, that was all. The Mad Dogs have done dozens of similar missions in the past. Granted though, the stakes of this one were a bit higher: the mystical obsidian, inlaid with unrefined diamond, was apparently the only thing strong enough to destroy the Krang key. And the sooner they got rid of the wretched thing, the better.

It had been going well; they snuck in and pulled off the heist, with the weapon safely tucked away with Raph, and they were on their way out, leaving behind a decoy without tripping any of the alarms. Everything had been perfect.

Until Donatello was recognized. By none other than the mayor of Witch Town.

Mira singled him out almost immediately, her shrill voice drawing the attention of all the Witch Town residents out and about. He'd been naive enough to believe that his little feud from two years ago would have been forgotten, an old mistake made by the last vestiges of his youthful arrogance. But he was wrong, very wrong.

And Leo paid for it.

He should have seen the verbal attacks coming, he really should have. He also shouldn't have responded to her accusations with barbs of his own, already on the defense, angry, and jeopardizing their extremely important mission. Leo's voice was clear in the comms in his ear, the calm and collected leader, telling him to back off before things got worse. But he didn't listen, until there was a whole crowd of angry witches surrounding him.

He could've managed it, Donnie thinks bitterly now, a finger on his brother's pulse point on his wrist. Fine, okay, he might have blown some stuff up, caused much more of a scene than any of them planned for on this trip, but he could have managed it. But his stupid, self-sacrificial twin just had to jump in the middle of the conflict, Face-Man routine on full blast.

Leo and his crowd-working, situation-diffusing skills, managed to calm almost everyone down. One lie here, one exaggeration here, one self-deprecating joke there, and the people were in the palm of his hand, swept up into the Neon Leon magic. No one could argue with that bright grin and those confident, shining eyes, as Leo hooked an arm over Donnie's shoulder and started to guide him out.

He managed to fool hundreds of witches and wizards. Except Mira.

Donnie noticed her a second too late, didn't see her narrowed stare and tightening grip on her staff. His eyes were for Leo only, watching a side of his twin he hadn’t seen surface in weeks, not sure if he was glad for the reappearance or not.

When he finally did see her, he barely had time to gasp, seeing her staff pointed directly to the center of his plastron. He’d braced himself in that one millisecond, squeezing his eyes shut. Before he was forcefully pushed out of the way.

A veilbreaker curse, Draxum had called it, when he was frantically summoned to the lair as the three brothers rushed a passed-out Leo back home. Mikey had nearly been in tears, hiccuping into the phone call, begging him to bring all his books on any kind of mystic knowledge to them. The alchemist had stood over Leo, a hand resting on his forehead with a gentleness only their own father had ever shown them, an ancient scroll open in front of him as he recited, Shatter the facade and lay bare the soul.

Donnie grips Leo's hand tightly now, gritting his teeth.

With one wayward swipe, he makes all his floating holograms disappear. The readings they're showing him are irrelevant to Leo’s real condition. 

He fixes the goggles on his head over his eyes, tapping the side to activate the long-hidden crystal. His breath catches in his lungs at the sight before, the same way it did when he first looked through the mystic lenses.

Ichor. The golden blood that flows in the veins of gods. Comes from the Greek word ikhṓr. It's a bit of a misconception, actually, that ichor is gold in color. Several representations of Greek mythology disagree, some arguing for blue, some arguing for plain red.

Still, it's the only word that comes to Donnie's mind, as he watches the liquid drip down the edges of Leo's face, tear-like droplets rolling off his head, cheek, temple, chin. As if a mask has been carved out of his face, and the wound is oozing, like blood seeping from a deep gash.

He shudders out a breath, and forcefully takes off the goggles. The horrifying vision disappears, and he's greeted with the simple sleeping visage of his twin.

It doesn't make it any easier. Donnie presses his knuckles into his lips. In fact, it makes it all the more terrifying. It’s a problem lying beyond the physical reach. Beyond Donnie's reach. Something's broken, something needs to be fixed, something that’s hurting his family, and he can't fix it.

He's a man of science. And despite the lessons he’s learned over the last many months, mysticism is still the one thing he can't solve.

He squeezes Leo's hand once more involuntarily, trying to subdue the swell of emotions rising in his body, grounding himself with the vice-like grip.

"Dude. Ow."

He jolts in response, retracting immediately as his heart thunders in his chest. "S-sorry, shit. Sorry."

Leo's bleary eyes peer up at him through the slight frown of someone unwillingly woken up. He blinks at him once, then yawns, languidly stretching, not unlike a cat.

Donnie lets out a snort against his will. Leo gives him a look.

"Somethin' funny?" He mumbles, as if his brain isn't completely online yet. "You know it's not nice to use my actions against me when I'm not even awake enough to recite the first ten digits of pi yet."

"You're never awake enough for that." He responds.

Leo rubs his nose sleepily, still managing to look miffed. “I know the first ten digits.” He grouses. “Three, one, four, one. Uh…”

“Uh-huh.” Donnie says, voice tinged with amusement at the familiar bantering. “Keep going, genius. Next number is a five.”

Leo seems to think for a minute, before he huffs. “Whatever, I know the digits, okay? I’m just not awake enough for them right now.”

Donnie’s lip twitches. Leo bends and reaches over the side of the stretcher, pressing the button on the side that raises the angle of the head section, until he nestles in comfortably in a semi-sitting position.

"Better?" Donnie asks, as he rubs at his eyes, trying to wake himself up.

All of a sudden, Leo freezes, like the lightening bolt of realization strikes him at once. He jolts forwards with a panicked look. Donnie startles.

"The dagger!" He exclaims, reaching out to grip him tightly to convey his urgency. "The – the whole Witch Town thing! Did we figure it out? Are Mikey and Raph—"

"They're all fine." Donnie interrupts, resting a comforting hand over the fingers as they dig into his forearm. "We figured it out. The dagger and key are with the Caseys, and the three of us got out safe, I promise.”

Leo stares into Donnie's eyes longer, as if trying to decide for himself. The hesitation at believing him stings, a silent question lingering between them. But then he eventually sighs, his relief palpable, lying back and letting go.

"Okay, okay, that's good." Leo breathes, smiling at him. "You're all okay, that's great."

He purses his lips. "Yeah." He says curtly. "All of us except you."

Leo blinks, as if surprised. Donnie gapes at him; he hadn’t hurt his head, and the spell that hit him wasn’t a memory spell, right? 

“You got hurt, Leonardo. Ring any bells? Why do you think you’re in the med bay right now?”

“Oh… oh, yeah, I remember.” He responds, somehow sounding even more dismissive about it. “But I’m not in pain at all, and it doesn’t feel like I’m not on meds. So I’m fine, then.”

Leo starts shifting, throwing off his blanket as if he was planning on leaving, but Donnie’s cutthroat glare stops him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He demands. “That witch hit you with a curse, dum-dum, you’re staying here.”

Leo barely looks moved. Was he just planning on getting hexed and going about his life like normal? 

Still, he asks obligatorily, "What kind of curse?" 

"Does it matter?" Donnie snaps. Of course it does, but Leo’s nonchalance at the whole matter is pissing him off further. "If I tell you it's nothing, you'll act like it's nothing, won't you?"

"Dude, if it's nothing, then why would I bother anyone with it?"

The reply seems to stupefy both of them. Leo genuinely looks stunned at himself, eyes wide at the extremely honest answer. Donnie mirrors him, before composing himself.

"Even if it was nothing, I would want to be bothered with it." He says slowly, hoping to convey how clear that expectation was, but then shakes his head. "And it wasn't nothing. It was a curse, a genuine curse. It was all - pink and glowy and ominous." He gestures with his hands, driving his point home. "Draxum said it was a veilbreaker. Ancient, powerful magic. Enough to make you pass out." He emphasizes again. How is Leo not getting that through his thick skull?

He still just sits there like an idiot, as if he still doesn't understand the problem. "But I’m fine now, right?"

Donnie wants to be difficult on purpose, make some kind of joke about you're supposed to be the medic, you tell me. But it's too late in the night for taunts, and the image of glowing ichor from before keeps flashing behind his eyelids.

"Your vitals are normal." He reports. "As far as I can tell, you're physically fine—"

"Then we're good, jeez—"

"But mystically," Donnie continues, irate, "you’re not. There's enough energy emanating off of you that Draxum clocked you the second he stepped foot in the lair. He's worried, dumbass. And if Draxum is worried, you know it's bad."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Leo asks, a tad sharper than Donnie expects. He’s scowling at him, like he's the one getting irritated. "Sit in a bed, wait for Mikey's Pops to give me the all-clear?"

"Yes." Donnie pauses before he forces the word out, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You're supposed to wait until you're better to get back to... whatever it is you're planning on getting back to! Is that seriously such a surprise to you?"

Leo just huffs, crossing his arms and almost pouting, like a child. Sometimes his twin boggles his mind. 

"Are you being purposefully obtuse for some reason?” Donnie asks, exasperatedly. 

"I don't feel any different than normal, dude, and I have more important things to do—"

"Like what? Read a Jupiter Jim comic I know you've read a billion times before? Drink enough caffeine to give a horse a heart attack? Go walk around New York City in the middle of the night? Yeah, I know about that," Donnie adds when Leo looks surprised. "Of course I know about that, who the hell do you take me for? I told you, I have trackers on everyone and on everything."

Leo bares his teeth at him, pissed. "Stop fucking tracking me."

"Stop getting into trouble." He responds, and maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because Leo's face transforms from anger into hurt so quickly it gives him whiplash.

Donnie promptly tries to do some damage control, guilty. "No, that's not what I meant."

"No, that is." Leo bluntly states. He's gripping the edge of the blanket tightly, eyes narrow. "You mean that. You think all I do is 'get into trouble'.’

"Okay, no, stop twisting my words, that's not what I fucking said." Donnie almost snarls. God, he hates when Leo does this, taking one thing he's spoken in a moment of anger and distorting it, sharpening it to a point. Like a knife to stab himself with, whether to prove something to Donnie or to himself, no one knows. "That is not 'all you do'. But I have a tracker on you because I’m worried about you. It’s the exact same reason why I have a tracker on Raph and Mikey and April and Dad.”

Leo looks a little mollified, and Donnie ignores the quiet voice in the back of his mind that calls him a liar.

"You don't have to be that worried about me, Dee." He replies. Genuine, tired. "I'm all good, I always am."

Donnie has to remind himself to take the next breath, despite it feeling like it's been squeezed out of him. A ball of frustration rises in his throat, and he manages to speak around it gruffly, "Why did you take the hit for me, Leo?"

Leo blinks again, either at the question or the tone, it's hard to tell. "Huh?"

"The curse." He grits out. "Why did you jump and take the hit, when you knew Mira aimed it at me?"

"Because there was no way in hell I was going to let you get hurt," comes the immediate reply, and it's sincere, it's so sincere that it once again shocks Leo, who refuses to meet his eye.

"Even at your own expense?" Donnie asks, desperation tainting his voice. "Leo. That spell could have been anything, from – from a dumb itching hex to a fucking Avada Kedavra, don't you understand that?"

“Yeah, of course I understand that.” He responds with equal fervor. “Which is why I couldn't let it hit you."

"So you took it?"

"Yeah, Don, ‘cause it's fine if it’s me!"

Hysterically, Donnie wonders if they're in a telenovela, and the words exclaimed by Leo are repeatedly echoing in the room as loudly as they are echoing between his eardrums. If there really is dramatic music playing in the background, or if it's just an overwhelming buzzing happening in his mind, drowning out all other sounds.

There are faint flickers of gold at the edges of Leo's face, just barely present, shimmering like the surface of a liquid, as he heaves out a breath. He curls up into a ball, knees tucked in, trying to hide, as if that would take the words out of the air.

Donnie can feel his brain whirring, thoughts and equations and memories playing on repeat, trying to figure out the basis of this outlandish concept that his twin has somehow ingrained into his psyche. That somehow, Leo getting hurt is 'fine', in any context.

He can't think of a single reason why.

Well. A single valid reason, anyway.

Because the reality is that he knows Leo. All that bolstering and blabbering and omitting and deflecting; it all can fool others, fool the world, fool their father, sometimes even their other siblings. But it can’t fool Donnie.

Not Donnie, because he's watched him create this… other version of himself, slowly and meticulously. He’s been an audience to his twin picking up this role like an ill-fitting shirt, carefully tearing and stitching and stretching and pulling at it over the years, until he grew into it flawlessly. A perfect cover, so that putting it on or taking it off would make no difference. Blurring the line between them into indiscernibility, so no one would be able to tell there was anything missing in the first place. Like a Schrödinger's Leo, except the cat and the box are one and the same. Can't see the cat without looking into the box; can’t find the box without asking the cat. 

But Donnie can see it in front of him, both the box and the cat, now that the veil has been broken. Hamato Leonardo. The facade shattered and soul laid bare. The mask carved out and the ichor trickling away.  

He closes his eyes and lets out a bitter scoff, tinged with dark amusement. Who knew witches had a penchant for poetic irony?

"You think you getting hurt is better than any of us getting hurt?" Donnie asks him, point blank.

Leo curls into himself more, eyes flitting away, the action an answer in itself. The gold tears marring the sides of his face shine a little brighter, highlighting his red stripes unnaturally.

"You think – what? You don't want to see us hurt, so you'd rather take it?" He blinks back the wet burning he feels in his eyes. "Don't you think we don't want to see you hurt either? For any of our sakes?"

Leo sniffles into his arms. "It's not the same."

"Why?" Donnie implores. "What makes you so different from us?"

Leo looks away, but he puts a hand around his arm and pulls roughly, almost toppling him. Leo tries to jerk back, but Donnie glares at him angrily.

"No, answer me." He asks, done with it. "Why do you think you’re so different, huh? What gives you the right to be so... so arrogant, to hold yourself to a different standard than us?"

Leo frees himself, appalled. The ichor glows and drips. "It's not arrogance!"

"Then what is it?" Donnie snaps. "Self-hatred? Self-pity? Sheer idiocy?"

"It's my job!" Leo finally exclaims, eyes wide and earnest. A powerful visage dripped in gold, tension present every line of his body. Donnie’s throat dries at the sight, eyes ticking over the liquid covering him.

"To protect what's important is my job, Donatello. You and Raph and Mikey - the Hamato clan would be nothing without you three. This family would be nothing without you three. It’s like - it’s like Raph is our earth, our ground, what we stand upon. Mikey is our sun, our happiness. And you are our air, all-encompassing and ever-present. You're needed."

Leo gurgles out a laugh, all distorted in pain and sorrow. The ichor gushes out of his whole face, falling into his eyes and dripping over his nose and lips, fat drops rolling off into his hoodie and blankets. "What the hell do I do, dude? Be the Face-Man? The Face-Man isn't even fucking real, Donnie, it's just a ruse. I'm just a ruse." His eyes, wet with gold and salt, bore into him in a piercing gaze.

"All I have are my stupid swords and my portals, and - what did I used to call it? My rad ninjosity?” He scoffs resentfully. “None of it is real, man, there's nothing here. If there was, I wouldn't have caused the end of the goddamn world, we wouldn't have ever needed that stupid dagger to break the key, no one would have been cursed."

He covers his eyes with his arm, the sobs he's trying to suppress making themselves known in short, staccato hiccups. "You’re right, you know. All I do is get in trouble, mess things up. But I try so fucking hard to stop. I train in the dojo, I work out at night when I can’t sleep – I’m trying to get better. Because if I-I can't even keep you safe, what the hell am I here for?"

Donnie's vision is blurry, his heart breaking messily, as Leo openly cries, hiding himself out of shame. There are words that he should say to his twin, comforting, validating assurances. Yet all Donnie can do is slowly raise his hand to cradle his cheek, right over the mystical wound, around the edges of his stripes. The soft touch makes Leo peer at him, an unnamed emotion in his eyes, but all he can focus on is the drip, drip, drip of the golden liquid onto his palm. 

It feels warm, like real blood, shimmering over his green skin. But it sends a cold shiver through his whole body as it trickles down his arm.

Leo just watches him, as the final dregs of his mask finally fall off, bleed off. Donnie watches the ichor disappear into mystical nothingness, a vague and uncomfortable mixture of horror and relief forming in his chest.

He lifts his gaze, and comes face-to-face with Leo. The real Leo. Laid bare.

Donnie can't help it any longer, he lurches forward, practically pouncing on him as he hugs him in a crushing embrace. Leo doesn't even hesitate, burying himself into the crook of his neck.

Donnie runs a flat, comforting hand over his shell through his blue hoodie, trying to calm down the stuttering breaths. Tears escape from his eyes that he rushes to brush away. Now is not about him.

"Is this what the root problem has been?" He finally asks, quietly. "Is this what's been driving you, this entire time?"

Leo just squeezes him tighter, like he'd rather just fuse and disappear into the embrace. Donnie closes his eyes, understanding the need on a fundamental level, in a way only two twins ever could.

"It just made sense." Leo eventually whispers into the silence as they hold each other. "Jumping for you. It made sense."

Crack. Another fissure in his already-broken heart. Donnie's head falls onto his shoulder. 

Does Leo even mean it like that? Does he know how that statement applies beyond the confines of a random spell by a random witch in the Hidden City?

Jumping for you in front of a curse. Jumping for you in front of a demon. Jumping for you into hell.

Donnie sniffles loudly. "And if it had killed you?"

He'd asked him that once, before. Weeks ago, when it was a quiet night after the worst day of their lives, right here in the med bay. Twins sitting side by side, two stretchers set up right next to each other so they could hold hands as they recovered. When a drug-induced exhaustion had numbed away their pretenses into asking anything that came to mind. 

Shame that the drugs had wiped away any memory of the answer he got.

Donnie wonders vaguely if it had been the same answer he gets now, if Leo had given him as much of an undisguised truth as he does now.

"You would have survived." A hoarse voice near his ear. "You would have hurt for a bit, but you would have survived."

Donnie can't help the upset sob that tears through him at that answer, how it makes Leo startle, and squeeze him even harder.

Because that's the worst part, right? Truth is subjective, completely utterly subjective, as infuriating that is to a scientist. It's not as simple as holding up a book and asking two people sitting on opposite sides if it's red or black. It's holding up a book and asking two people sitting on opposite sides which it deserves to be, red or black. Which is better, which is worse? Which color connotes it as good, bad, noble, unworthy? Depends on the person, right? After all, which one of them is holding the book?

"I'm sorry." Leo whispers, and he’s being honest, Donnie knows it. "I'm so sorry."

It’s a mangled truth, though. "Sorry enough to never do it again?"

Leo doesn't reply. Another tear rolls off Donnie’s face.

"I wouldn't survive." He says. Starting off somewhere, a real, honest truth. No masks, no disguises, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. No subjectivity. 

"If it killed you, if anything killed you," including yourself, Donnie adds silently, knowing this moment is far too tender to say it out loud, "I wouldn't survive. I almost didn't, you know. When... when that happened."

Leo tenses in his arms. "We're not talking about that."

"I am." Donnie taps nervously on his shell. The Krang invasion, as taboo of a topic as it is in their household, almost killed every single one of them, that’s true. But Leo’s sacrifice – it almost destroyed their entire family. "You jumped into the… through the gateway, because you thought that would save us. But you closed the portal on yourself, knowing you were going to die.

"And you did, for me." He admits, the words warped through tears, the confession coming from the depths of his soul. "For five minutes and twenty-six seconds, you, Hamato Leonardo, left me a twinless twin."

One sharp squeeze, strong to make Leo gasp. "Y-you made me mourn you. And I almost didn't survive it, the same way you almost didn't survive that either.

"Do you get that?" He practically begs, way past the point of desperation. "There is no me, no Raph or Mikey or Dad, without you. There is no Hamato without you, Leon."

"You - you would've—"

"I wouldn't." Donnie cuts off his token protest, given to him despite the overwhelming evidence for the contrary. "I wouldn’t. You once said you're nothing without your brothers, right? Your brothers are nothing without you either."

It takes a few seconds, and Donnie holds out for just a bit more, trying to maintain his stance for a bit longer, anything to make Leo get it. This isn’t a problem that can be solved with one heartfelt conversation, he understands that. No matter how much he wishes, this still isn’t a broken gadget in the physical realm that he can fix; Donnie can’t connect the wires in the right places, make the electrical impulses travel through the right circuits, change the way Leo thinks about himself. He still can’t solve Leo. 

But he can say how much he needs him, how much he loves him, over and over again. As many times as it requires him to. 

And eventually, his twin caves, collapsing into him, pressing all his weight on him. Donnie rocks backwards with it, but manages to stay upright. Compensating for Leo, in more than one sense. Two halves of a whole. In perfect symmetry, in equal balance.

He rests a comforting hand over his head, offering nothing but the pressure, taking a page out of Splinter’s book of raising little crying turtles. That seems enough to make Leo gasp out another sob. And another. And a few more. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying." Leo babbles, rubbing his face into Donnie's hoodie, trying to wipe the tears.

"You're exhausted of the burden that's been sitting over your skin for years." Donnie replies slowly. He checks his other palm, the one he'd cradled his face with, feeling the haunting liquid dripping between his fingers. But there’s nothing there, never was; it’s all just plain green skin. 

He sighs, clenching his hand into a tight fist. Stupid mysticism. 

He gently bonks Leo’s head with his. "You don't have to bear it any longer, Leon, not for our sakes, nor yours."

Leo lets out a tiny sound from the back of his throat, a small, vulnerable thing, that punches Donnie in the gut. "I'm sorry."

"For being exhausted?" He asks quietly. "That's not something to be sorry for.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Leo mumbles. “Just feels like I’m sorry for something, I don’t know what.”

Donnie lets out a breath between his teeth. Not for the first time, he wishes he could go into his twin’s mind and physically beat up all the emotions in there, steal some uranium and cook up a nuclear bomb to blow up every bad thought that crowds his mind. That could solve Leo, if such a thing were possible.

“You did steal my favorite Jolly Ranchers today.” He answers, somewhat deliriously, trying to get rid of the nonsensical image of throwing a cartoon dynamite stick into the dark, evil clouds in Leo’s brain. “Maybe you’re feeling sorry about that.”

That surprises a wet chuckle out of him. “Hey – that’s on you, okay? You keep hogging the watermelon ones.”

“I save the blue raspberry for you, isn’t blue supposed to be your ‘thing’?”

“Oh, like you’d have the grape ones just because they’re purple.”

“I wouldn’t have the grape ones if they were the last thing to eat on planet earth.”

Leo chokes out another laugh, and Donnie can feel the weak smile pressed into his shoulder. It makes him feel lighter, the roiling mess of feelings between them finally slowing down.

"You know," he says wonderingly after a few moments of quiet. "If— if Raph really is the ground. And Mikey is the sun, and I'm the air. Then... then I think you'd be a tree."

Leo sputters into another laugh. "What? A ‘tree’?"

"Yes, a tree." Donnie continues stubbornly, refusing to be embarrassed. "Just – hear me out. You'd be the tree, the thing that connects all of us together. Your roots grow into the ground, that's where you get your nutrients and water from; that's Raph. You draw energy from the rays of the sun to produce glucose; that's Mikey. And you engage in photosynthesis with the air, that's me, by using both the water and the light energy, converting carbon dioxide to oxygen. Breathing life into everyone around you. That's you, my dearest twin."

Leo trembles in his arms, a full-body tremor that seems to overpower any other emotion. It makes him hug him even tighter. "You think so?"

"I promise you." 

“You’re not just saying that because I’m green, like chlorophyll?”

“No, dum-dum, we're all green.” He huffs, fondness undeniably seeping through. "And you should know better than to doubt my genius. I’m smarter than you, after all."

"Yeah." Leo whispers, easily conceding. "You are."

Donnie smiles, a real and genuine thing. Now, that's an honest truth if he's ever heard one.

Eventually, Leo extricates from the embrace, wiping his entire face with the sleeve of his hoodie. Donnie winces slightly, but when it’s pulled away, there’s still no sign of the mystic ichor. 

Leo looks at him, and the only thing dripping from his face is pure tiredness, bloodshot eyes and a watery but authentic smile. A shattered facade.

“But I was right, though, huh?” He still says, in a teasing voice that Donnie rolls his eyes at. “The curse wasn’t that big a deal. Mira just really hated the Face-Man routine.”

“Or she was trying to expose me, as I truly am,” Donnie says, a dramatic sigh injected into the words that makes him grin wider. “A mad scientist that still scorns the inexplicable concept of magic.”

“We probably should’ve explained our Ninpo to her.”

“Oh sure, because the ‘power of family and friendship’ is somehow a better explanation than the tried-and-tested scientific method, he says extremely sarcastically.”

He laughs. “Hey, she let us off with a relatively harmless curse, so cut her some slack, alright? I mean, yeah, the whole 'getting-rid-of-fakeness' schtick was pretty harsh, full points to her on that one. But that was it, right?”

Donnie levels another, serious gaze at him that sobers him right up. “Not exactly.”

“¿Pérdon?”

"Draxum said the spell has a pretty bad side-effect, actually."

"He did?" Leo asks, alarmed. "Like what?"

Donnie grabs his hand and squeezes, hoping to look sympathetic. "Really, really bad constipation."

"...You're kidding."

"I'd stock up on the Miralax, Leo.” He says, appropriately contritely. “You know how bad it can get. Remember Mikey when he ate two party-sized Whole Foods cheese boards?"

"Oh, god," Leo blanches. "You're not kidding."

"Yeah, no I'm not. Sorry, I guess this is the one thing the power of family can't save you from."

Leo pauses, before grabbing a pillow and slamming it on Donnie's face, as he laughs delightedly.

---

Thank you for the amazing artwork! I had to write a little something for it<3

[lilacthebooklover]

i'm in the middle of watching the iz halloween special and what the actual heck, membrane??? not believing dib about aliens is one thing, but this??? this world is so messed-up jdhgjkfhk

"so i find you here, son. oh, i suppose it was only a matter of time" way to support your son smh. he's showing more concern for his freakin science tools than his kids

[d34dg1rl5]

Dbd hc drabble

Trickster

• He is so in love - with himself. But also with you. Which is crazy.

• Once you are dating this maniac there is no backing out of it.

• There are times when he sits you down on a log and he starts to sing some of his songs (choreo included). You should feel so honored - he literally is giving you a private concert!

• Trickster hates to be touched. At least at the beginning of your relationship. As time goes on he will let you touch him. At first slight hand holding, then quick hugs, longer hugs and after quite a while he will allow kisses.

• He loves kisses everywhere, but mostly on his chest/abs. He will feel like a king that is being worshipped (he seriously thinks of himself like a king sometimes).

• He loves to kiss you on your temple or the back of your hand - like a prince with his princess.

• During trials he usually spares you. Sometimes not.

Knight

• Tarhos is a special case - if you date him you date the whole crew.

• JK! But if you guys aren't alone you will ALWAYS be accompanied by the knights of the Compagna.

• Tarhos is SO protective of you. If someone steps even a little bit too close his hand is already on the shaft of his sword. You have to reassure him that everything is alright and that no one will hurt you.

• Tarhos will always spare you in trials - he thinks of you like a damsel in distress. He kills the dangerous people around you and you will be granted the hatch.

Frank (Legion)

• Frank is just an edgy, angsty teenager, he doesn't know any better. He will be so madly in love with you once you're together with him.

• He just wants to cuddle and be with you. He needs your warmth and loves when you are the big spoon. He barely got any love throughout his life.

• If someone hurt you Frank is going absolutely feral. Who did it? Where are they? He will fucking gut them like a fish!!

• Don't be mad with him, he is trying his best for you. :(

• This boy will always give you the hatch - if he hurts you it's by accident!

Danny Johnson (Ghostface)

• This mf.

• He is in love with you. Unhealthy.

• He makes pictures of you whenever he can, you won't even notice him! He keeps his favorites in his pocket, he has to keep you close to him for good luck!

• During the trial he loves to stalk you and then tackle you in a hug. He only will let you go if you give him a kiss.

• Remove his mask? Negativ. (If you got this reference i love you). He will remove it eventually. But for that you have to earn his deepest trust and show him that it's okay.

• He is so pretty. I picture him having brown curly hair, brown eyes, a slight stubble on his chin and a scar on his lip which he got from a fight with a victim (He is proud of that scar, he loves victims who fight back).

• He just loves to quickly move his mask over his mouth and then kiss you on your face.

[moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon]

IN DEFENSE OF TRAVIS MARTINEZ:

Because I’m sick and tired of seeing travis hate everywhere I go.

“Travis was sexist.”

Did he spout some sexist rhetoric in the beginning of the show? Sure. But it’s important to recognize that: A) he changed, and by season 2 he completely stopped, B) he was a teenage boy in the 1990s, and that kind of rhetoric was normal at the time, C) most of his sexist macho tough guy attitude was a complete act that he likely put on to compensate for his insecurity about his own masculinity, and internalized homophobia. (More on that later.)

(Also let’s be real, Travis is basically one of the girls anyway and I’m tired of pretending he’s not.)

2. “Travis didn’t care about Javi.”

Did we watch the same show??? Granted Travis may have had trouble expressing his feelings (also related to his insecurities about masculinity, likely learned from his father, as well as growing up in a patriarchal and homophobic society), but he cared deeply about Javi. In S1E4, Travis literally DUG UP HIS DAD’S GRAVE, through horror, tears, and vomit, in order to retrieve his ring to give to Javi. When Javi disappeared, Travis kept looking for him every day for months, and never gave up, even when logically it would have seemed impossible for him to still be alive. He comforted and reassured Javi when neither of them drew the card. He cradled Javi’s dead body and ate a bite of his raw heart (which was a metaphor for how much he loved him, and a parallel to Shauna eating Jackie’s raw ear.) Maybe Travis wasn’t always there for Javi in the way he needed, but he absolutely loved him, and it’s important to remember that Travis was also a traumatized, grieving, kid who just lost his dad.

3. “Travis slut-shamed Nat.”

As we are literally shown in the show, Travis was not trying to slut shame her, he asked how many times she had done it because he was embarrassed about the fact that he was a virgin, and worried that she would judge him, or that he wouldn’t measure up because he was more inexperienced than her. When she told him she hooked up with Bobby Farleigh, he did not get mad at her because she slept with another guy (he already knew about that, and was fine with it), he got mad because she hooked up with his bully, and then lied to him about it. I don’t blame Nat for this, she didn’t know about it at the time, and didn’t want him to get mad once she found out, but I also don’t blame Travis for being hurt and embarrassed and upset with her for lying about it.

4. “Travis was just kind of a dick.”

Sure, but so were all of them. He acted like kind of a jerk in the first season. So what? Shauna had an affair with her best friend’s boyfriend, lied to her about it for months, and refused to apologize. Misty tried to drug Coach Ben. Nat faked his brother’s death to him (yeah, she was trying to help him move on, but still not cool). All of them called him “Flex” (y’know, the nickname that was used to bully him for years). None of them are perfect or nice or likable all the time, and that’s ok; that’s the whole point. They’re realistic, complex, flawed, morally gray and sometimes unlikable people. They’ve all done bad things, but nothing Travis did is worse than what anyone else on that show has done. He was a traumatized teen whose dad literally just died. Also, me personally, if everyone around me was constantly calling me the mean nickname that was used to bully me since middle school, I would also probably act like a little bit of a dick.

5. “Travis is a straight man.”

Wrong. (Also not really a valid reason to hate someone… But most importantly, just wrong.)

Travis Martinez is clearly a bisexual.

So many of his issues: the insecurity, the bullying, the macho tough guy act, the whole weird complex about his masculinity, all of it stems (at least partly) from the fact that he’s bisexual and has internalized homophobia. The whole “Flex” thing is just thinly veiled homophobia. The main reason why he got bullied is because Bobby Farleigh spread a rumor about him getting back surgery to better suck his own dick. The unsaid implication there is that he’s a man who sucks dick, which is inherently queer, even if it is his own. If you look even slightly past the most surface level interpretation, it’s pretty obvious that Travis was bullied because of homophobia. His performance of stereotypical toxic masculinity was clearly over compensation for the fact that he doesn’t fit into the box of traditional straight masculinity, and was a reaction to the bullying from his peers, abuse from his dad, and internalized homophobia from growing up in a homophobic and patriarchal society. As the show progresses he starts to unlearn that toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia, and he allows himself to be more vulnerable, emotional, and feminine, and as a result, he becomes stronger, more confident, and more respectful of the people around him.

As for Travis being a man… Is he though???

In season 1, Travis is a man (narratively speaking); there is a clear distinction between Travis/Coach Ben and the girls. However, in season 2, we see a stark shift in how Travis is depicted. The separation between Travis and the girls pretty much ceases to exist. Narratively speaking, there is no distinction made between Travis and the other girls; they are one entity—one hive mind. Instead, the emphasis is now placed on the distinction between Coach Ben and the girls/Travis. When Coach Ben watches the Yellowjackets eat Jackie in horror and disbelief, Travis is right there with them, dressed in ancient greek robes along with the rest of them. In season 2, Coach Ben is the only real Man of the group (Travis has narratively become one of the girls, and Javi is just a boy, not a man) and he is shown staying separate from the rest of the group, and growing more and more uncomfortable with the cultish dynamics, while Travis, on the other hand, becomes more and more integrated with the group, as he falls deeper and deeper into cult beliefs, until he is a full-blown devout Lottie worshipper. Of the three males on the show, he is the only one who actually participates in cannibalism with the other Yellowjackets. Also he lost his virginity to a lesbian.

Whether or not you choose to believe that Travis is transfem (I do) you cannot deny that, at least narratively speaking, Travis is literally just a girl.

6. Travis is a victim.

I don’t know why nobody in this fandom seems to acknowledge this, but Travis is a sexual assault victim and I’m tired of people constantly overlooking and ignoring that fact. In Doomcoming, the girls (excluding Jackie, Nat, Tai, and Van) chased him down, sexually assaulted him, and then tried to kill him. That’s not something that’s up for debate or denial, that is literally canon. Stop pretending it didn’t happen. Stop pretending it wasn’t assault. Stop shaming him and making fun of him for struggling with sex, or not always being able to get it up. That’s a normal trauma response after being assaulted/raped. You guys are literally proving the point. This kind of treatment from society towards masculinity and male victims is just playing into the patriarchy and toxic masculinity, and is exactly what made him act the way he did in season 1 in the first place!

[talaok]

At the Met | pt. 2

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

Summary: This is part two of "At the Met", where after the fight, you go back to your hotel room and find Pedro anxiously waiting for you.

warnings: angst, jealousy (dw there's a happy ending)

The sky had darkened, gloomy clouds filled the canvas as quick drops of rain began hitting the pavement.

Your ride was waiting for you in the black SUV, but you stopped a moment to inhale the crispness of the air, your body relishing the feeling of the first real breath you'd taken in hours.

It was late, and as people were getting ready for the afterparties, you just wanted to go home, well not home per se, just anywhere with a bed and a shower, ergo, your hotel room.

You walked to the car and got in, but as the driver didn't drive off, you felt a pit in your stomach.

"He's gone already, we can go," you said, and with a nod, he did as told.

The muffled stains of the streetlight shined through the raindrops on the glass as the streets all merged into one.

You relieved the whole night in your head, wondering how it could all have gone so wrong.

This was supposed to be a great day, you should have laughed and joked and had a great time, but here you were instead, alone in the dim backseat, feeling like you were about to cry.

Pedro should have been here with you, making you smile like only he could, he should have been here to talk about the evening and all the craziness you'd just endured, but he wasn't.

In fact, you didn't know exactly where he was. After the fight he granted your wish, leaving you alone, and when you'd returned to the table, he wasn't there, or anywhere else.

You had never fought like that, every disagreement you had ever had always ended with you in his arms and all worries out the window, but for some reason today had been diffrent.

Seeing him like that pained you, you could still see the hurt in his eyes, the way he had looked at you once you shrugged him off... it was all still there, but you were mad, and most importantly, right.

That wasn't the first time he showed his jealous side, it had arisen before, like when that guy at the bar was getting a bit too friendly or when one of your co-stars had looked at you for a bit too long and according to him "like he was undressing you with his eyes", but this time it ticked something. You were with him because you wanted to, he was supposed to trust you, not treat you like a dog ready to turn their back on their owners for anyone with a treat.

He was supposed to trust you like you trusted him. Yes of course you too got jealous at all the women and men throwing themselves at him, but you didn't react like him, you would talk and remind him in a few ways he very much loved that he was yours, and you were his.

So tonight you'd had it, you were supposed to have fun, not be questioned by your own boyfriend about what some guy had told you.

You let out a frustrated sigh, and as you opened your eyes back up again, the car stopped. The hotel's lights shined bright, much too bright for how you were feeling.

You looked at the driver, half considering asking him to drive you somewhere else, anywhere else, but as he locked eyes with you in the rearview mirror you changed your mind.

"Everything ok Miss?"

you forced a smile

"No Stephan, not really"

"anything I can do to help?"

Your smile got more genuine " I don't think so, but thank you" you said, as you got off the car 

"goodnight Miss," he said, lowering his window

"goodnight Stephan and I've told you, you can call me y/n"

He didn't respond if not with a slight nod you knew meant he was never gonna listen to you, before driving away.

The lobby was cold, the ac clearly blaring even though it was only May, and you hugged your jacket closer to your body as the receptionist greeted you, while making your way to the elevator.

Your heels sounded on the tilted floor as you walked down the corridor.

An overwhelming feeling of dread took over your body once you stopped in front of your room.

You just wanted everything like it was just a few hours before, you wanted to open the door and fall into his arms, but you needed to talk, seriously talk once and for all.

Your legs felt wobbly as you opened the door, and it all became much worse once you took in the man in front of you.

Pedro was sitting on one of the stools of the kitchen counter, his body turned towards the door, hence, now you.

You were both silent as you closed the door behind you, and you noticed how he hadn't changed, you had no idea how long he'd been here, but he surely had time to do it.

"Pedro-"

"I'm sorry" he spoke, interrupting whatever you wanted to say "Y/n I'm sorry," he said, standing up to walk closer to you until he was right in front of you "I'm really fucking sorry" The pain in his eyes was still there "this wasn't how this night was supposed to go, I wanted you to have fun and meet people and feel great but I ruined all of it... I was an asshole, I was- unforgivable- I should have never talked to you like that or said any of the things I said, I didn't mean any of it, sweetheart, I just- saw that guy and my vision went red and I'm sorry, I don't know how to explain how incredibly fucking sorry I am"

You had to take a breath, you had just gotten in after all.

 "I know you are" you conceded, because it was true, you could see it clear as day, but that still didn't solve the fact he hadn't said what you wanted him to say "But you always are"

"Bab-"

"no, let me finish" You stopped him, and he immediately complied

"That's not the problem Pedro, the problem is that you don't trust me, the problem is that you think that any guy can steal me from you, and that's incredibly frustrating and infuriating because I've told you thousands of times that I love you, not Nathan not Joe but you, only you" you explained as calmly as you could as your nerves felt about to explode "And if that isn't enough, if you still don't trust me then I can't do it, because it's awful Pedro, it's awful having to be interrogated by you any time a guy comes a tiny bit close to me, that's not how relationships work, we're supposed to trust one another and if we see something we don't like we talk, like adults."

He blinked, as he processed all you had said, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

"you're right" he agreed "You're right sweetheart and I'm sorry I made you feel that way, that's awful, but I promise, and I mean it, I swear on whatever you want that I will work on that, I'll try as hard as I can to not let this happen again, because I trust you, I'd trust you with my life for god's sake, and I love you, more than I could ever explain" he sighed "just please y/n, I'm begging you give me a chance, and I promise I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you"

You finally felt like you could breathe again.

"you'll try?"

"I will sweetheart I swear, starting from now I will never treat you or question you like that ever again"

You stared back into his big brown eyes.

"promise?"

"Promise," he swore without missing a beat, and that's all you needed to hear before you wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling in his warm chest.

He hugged you back tightly, his chin on the top of your head "I'm really sorry sweetheart" he murmured, "I ruined everything"

You looked up at him "Give me a kiss" you told him, and how could he say no when that was all he had wanted to do for the past three and a half hours? 

His lips were on yours in an instant, gentle and slow, begging for forgiveness, and you melted right into him, in his scent and touch, feeling light as a feather.

You sighed happily, leaning away.

"I love you y/n" he promised "I love you more than life, more than anything in this entire universe, I-I love you"

You smiled, his words warming your heart "I love you too, baby" you vowed "Now come here again, I missed you"

And just like that, he did. 

--- --- The day after --- ---

["Y/n Y/l/n and Pedro Pascal were photographed leaving their hotel room looking as in love as one can be! Seems like whatever happened at the Met is long forgotten"

"I bet people are mad they made us believe we could have a chance with them again"

"I bet they are, but fans have never been more relieved"]

taglist: @spacelatinos4life @sloanexx

[lale-txt]

❈ 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰/ 𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐫 & 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

where Smoker and you get hit by a truth serum and things get a little heated. in the best way possible.

a/n: a little something for @opopnomi who is a gem and deserves the best ♡ i had the best intentions to write something fluff with Smoker but somehow i got possessed and when i came back to my senses it was this absolute filth, oopsie.

contains: ns.fw under the cut (MDNI), afab!reader (no pronouns, “cunt” and “pussy” used to describe genitalia), thigh riding, dirty talk, praise kink, penetrative sex, breeding kink (NO mention of pregnancy or babies), slight overstimulation, mention of exhibitionism, mention of brat taming, slightly possessive Smoker if you squint

word count: 2.2k

“May I come in?”

You knock and push the heavy door to Smoker’s captain quarters open slightly to peek inside, seeing him hunched over some scattered files on his desk. He doesn’t even bother to look up, only motions you with one gloved hand to enter. Your captain seems to be even more troubled than usual. A cold and gloomy atmosphere radiated from him, which was somehow more intimidating than his usual stoic self who would bark out orders at his subordinates. 

Was it your fault? Well… maybe you should have used seastone handcuffs instead of regular handcuffs on the captivated devil fruit user. But you hadn’t them at hand because someone insisted it would be fun to try them out in a way they definitely weren’t meant to be used. And maybe they were still dangling from the headboard of his bed because granted, you were up for a round two. That was before the devil fruit powers hit the whole crew, putting everyone under the effects of what basically was a truth serum. 

To say that it caused a little chaos was an understatement. You feel a twinge of guilt in your chest and tiptoe towards your captain and lover.

“Prepared the report like you asked me to,” you mumble and put the files on his desk. You could already hear Garp’s booming laughter when he’d read over it and it definitely will be a topic at the annual Navy’s New Year party. 

Smoker still doesn’t look up nor speak to you. “Cat got your tongue?”, you ask and sit down opposite of him, leaning on the wood. Only the sound of his pen scratching over the paper was audible. You sigh. “Are you not talking to me because you’re mad or because there are certain things you absolutely don’t want to say out loud?” 

That certainly got under his skin–you could tell from the way that one vein on his forehead twitched slightly before he finally dared to meet your gaze, two cigars dangling from his lips.

“I’m not mad,” Smoker huffs and leans back in his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose. He lets out a quiet groan before sitting up straight again, legs spread apart like he always does. Your eyes flicker to the spot you were grinding on last night and you bite your bottom lip slightly. Obviously the truth serum also caused you to be honest in your gestures and facial expressions, which is probably why Smoker immediately shut himself in shortly after the incident, looking as troubled as he does now. He notices your stare and shifts slightly, his eyes flickering to your lips.

“But,” he continues, his voice a bit more low now, “it would have been troublesome if I told you in front of the whole crew how badly I want to sink my cock into you until you’re creaming around me. How I want you to whine out my name while you’re on top of me, begging me to fill you up. How blissfully fucked out you look last night when you gagged around me, drool and my cum dripping down chin.”

Smoker taps the pen he was holding on the wooden desk, now glaring at you. Almost as if he dared you to make a move. He could see how you rubbed your thighs together, desperate for some friction. If he was to bend you over the desk right now, he’d probably find your panties soaked. He still had some self-control, though. It was just a truth serum effect, not an aphrodisiac. Not that he needed one with you; he was absolutely infatuated with you anyway.

“Captain…”, you coo and smile, knowing after all this time it still made his cock twitch in his pants when you called him that, despite being lovers for a long time now. “It’s not like you to talk like that. I like it, though.”

You strut around the desk until you reach him, expectantly sitting in his chair, his prominent bulge on full display. He is massaging it lazily with one hand over the fabric while his eyes follow your movements. When he pats his leg with his other hand, you know what to do. 

“You know, sometimes I want them to know. Want them to watch when you bully my cunt with your aching cock, splitting me open. Want everyone to see that I’m yours,” you whisper and straddle his thick thigh, grinding against it slowly for some relief. “Yours to use. Yours to fill.”

Smoker growls, a deep rumbling sound in his chest, and his big hands find your hips, pulling you closer to him. His grip is firm and he hasn’t taken his gloves off. He leans in close until his lips are merely an inch from yours.

“Say that again,” he whispers, not kissing you yet. His warm brown eyes take you in as if you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. One hand of his comes to your face, cupping your chin gently. His thumb brushing over your lips, a low groan from his throat when you part them for him so willingly. “Say you’re mine.”

“Only yours,” you murmur and moan quietly when Smoker’s lips meet yours after what felt like an eternity. His cigars rest forgotten in the ashtray, he’s too busy devouring you. You can feel the heat pooling between your thighs, aching to be touched, worshiped even. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, and you don’t need any truth serum to feel how deeply he desired you. 

A guttural moan from him makes you roll your hips, your core hot and dripping wet by now–you’re pretty sure there’s already a damp spot on his pants where you’re grinding on. With your hands resting on his broad shoulders you keep up your ministrations, feeling how you get lightheaded from the throbbing sensation. It isn’t enough but you can’t stop either, not now when you feel how hard he is by now. 

Smoker is a very patient man. He likes it when you beg for him; he can’t get enough of your needy mewls when your poor cunt clenches around nothing, so desperate to be filled. Desperate for him. 

“And you’re gonna be good for me?”, he asks in a low voice, his big hand trailing up your thigh, squeezing it. You nod eagerly, not beating around the bush. You could be such a brat sometimes, but under the spell of the devil fruit powers your body and its reactions were being so honest. 

With his free hand Smoker unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, too slow for you as you let him know with an impatient whine. He enjoys having your eyes glued to him, wandering from his torso to his happy trail and fluttering wide open when his thick cock finally springs free, resting heavy on his stomach. Precum is already dripping from the tip, making you lick your lips in anticipation. 

“Need you to fuck me,” you mewl and now you’re shifting in your spot, climbing from his thigh into his lap, grinding your clothed cunt against his length. Smoker is still not touching you properly and you’re already such a mess. “Please, please…” 

Smoker brings one hand to his lips, biting the tip of his glove to take it off, while his other hand firmly holds you in place. He knows you like the gloves, but right now he wants to really feel you, not a single layer between you. His hand then sneaks between your thighs, cupping your aching pussy with his massive hand. You were absolutely drenched, your whole body trembling when he rubs slow circles against your core. 

“Hurry.” Your voice sounded desperate now, with your head resting against his shoulder, your breath hot against his bare skin. “Hurry or I’ll die. Please. Need your fat cock inside me. Need your cum.” 

Smoker lets out a hoarse laugh when he lifts you up with ease and drops you gently on the desk. “You’re not gonna die, darling,” he mumbles and kisses from your jaw to your neck, his scruff scratching over your skin. “But I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll see stars and heaven. Gonna fuck you till you feel my cum is oozing out of your pretty little cunt for days.”

His words have you whining and whimpering underneath him, and you raise your hips slightly so he can help you kick your pants off. Your soaked panties cling to your folds and you jump when Smoker rubs his tip between them, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. Your pleading eyes are enough to convince him not to tease you any further though–still, your panties wander in the pocket of his jacket… for later. 

The air is knocked out of your lungs when Smoker plunges into you. He hasn’t even stretched you wide open with his fingers yet like he usually does, but he knew you’d be able to take him. You always do. And with how wet you are for him you take his cock with ease, your walls fluttering around him when he bottoms out fully. His thumb comes to your clit, drawing slow circles around it. He can never get enough how you twitch around his cock, milking him. 

Your eyes roll in the back of your head when Smoker starts pounding into you, keeping up a merciless pace. He’s so deep, hitting all of your sensitive spots with each thrust. Your arms wrap around his neck as he hovers over you, trapping you between the desk and his huge frame. It’s like you’re getting crushed in the best way possible. Neither of you is gonna last long this round, you just wanna fuck to get it out of your system; your bodies being as honest with each other like never before.

“Gonna cum,” you whine. “So close… gonna… Captain, ‘m gonna… fuck, fuck…”

Smokers lips are everywhere, crashing against yours, then on your neck, licking, biting, sucking. You’re his. Your scent and your sweet sounds are making him dizzy and he can hardly hold himself back any longer either. His hips start to stutter, fucking into you in a broken rhythm as he gets closer to his high, too. 

“Mmm… gonna fill you up so good, darling.” His voice has a dark edge to it, deep and almost feral. One hand of his comes to your chin, lifting it up so you meet his gaze. His thumb brushes over your lips again and this time you don’t hesitate to suck on it, making him moan. “You’re gonna take it all, yeah? Gonna let me stuff you with my cum? You want that?” 

You nod so eagerly, eyes glassy from how close you are, from the way he throbs inside of you. If he could, Smoker would have you in this position for hours; your legs wrapped around his hips to stop him from pulling out, your nails scratching over his bare skin when he fucks you deeply, his name falling from your parted lips until he stuffs them with his fingers, your tongue flickering around them so greedily. 

“Wanna see you cum for me, baby,” he mutters, his thumb finding your clit again while he keeps thrusting inside of you. He is as close as you are. “Want you to cream around my cock, yeah? Can you do that for me?” 

You let out a broken sob when the world comes crashing down on you, your walls twitching around his cock while waves of pleasure wash over you; poor, overstimulated thing. Smoker can’t hold back any longer either, rutting in a merciless pace until a few heartbeats later he spills his load inside of you, heat flooding your insides. He kisses your greedily, mumbling incoherent praise against your lips–it doesn’t matter what, because you’re too out of it anyway, but you’re laughing softly, kissing him back. Your whole body tingles as you ride out your high. 

“Fuck, darling” Smoker laughs hoarsely, too. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips. “I love you so much.”

You touch his face, fingers brushing over his scruffy cheeks as you pull him to your lips again. Warm. He always made you feel so, so warm. You still throb around him, not willing to let him pull out yet. He likes you best when you’re stuffed and blissfully satisfied anyway. His hand comes to your stomach, pressing down where he’s nestled inside of you. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, propping yourself up on your elbows for a better view where the two of you are connected. Your mixed fluids are dripping down between your thighs every time he pulls out slightly, only to push himself back inside again, as if he could never go without the warmth of your cunt.

You rarely say those big words out loud. Smoker and you usually get along with a few sentences and the smallest gestures, but right now it’s bubbling in your chest; all the love you hold for each other. 

As if it’s on the tip of your tongues, waiting to be devoured.

[daddypriceugh]

Useless pt. 2

********************

Here is part 2 I hope you like it :)

@Msdevil333 inspired me

Tw: none

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It's been two weeks since you and Simon had your fight. Two weeks since you had last seen him.

Don't get me wrong he did try to talk to you. Quite often. But you never had the heart to answer the calls. The words he said are still ringing in your ears, causing your heart to break even more.

You tried to forget the whole thing by thinking that he was only stressed out from work and didn't mean it. Hell even your best friend said that he didn't.

But that lingering feeling of uncertainty is still there. What if he did mean it? Were you really useless?

You shake your head at those questions, bringing yourself back into reality. You are standing in front of the flat door. Simon's and yours flat.

The key is being crushed by your hand while you're debating on going inside or not.

You let out a sigh, deciding that you should get it over already.

"C'mon it's easy. You go in, get the presents and leave." You tell yourself.

"So easy..."

You unlock the door and step inside. To your suprise there's a delicious smell in the air. Someone is cooking.

You take slow, quiet steps into the bedroom, trying not to get caught. Just as you are halfway to your destination, Simon calls you.

You stop desd in tracks and hear him half running into your direction.

"You're back"

You spin around to meet his smiling figure. He looks good, very good. Damn.

"Yeah...just wanted to grab the rest of the presents"

His smile falters.

"Oh..."

A uncomfortable silence grows betwenn you. None knowing what to say. But then Simon breaks the silence.

"Listen, I want to apologise for what I said. I don't even know why I thought that way. You're not useless at all..."

Your mouth is dry as you listen to him. Your brain is trying to form a sentence but nothing is coming out.

"I understand that you're still mad at me. Hell I would too, but could you please give me a second chance? Please I love you."

Your eyes start to water a bit.

"Simon you really hurt me. I don't know if I can forget about it"

His eyes widen at the sight of tears forming and he steps forward trying to initiate a hug.

"I don't want you to forget it, I just need you to forgive me. I can't live on knowing that I hurt the person which is the most important to me"

Not wanting to feel the upcoming pain, you hug him roughly, clinging to his sweater.

He is taken aback by it for a second but recovers quickly and wraps his arms around you. One is holding your waist and the other combing through your hair.

He gives you a light kiss on your head, breathing in your scent.

"I love you so fucking much darling, so much that it hurts. I- i don't know what was going on with me on that day but seeing you walk out on me brought me back to reality. I knew I couldn't loose you. I'd rather die."

At that statement you look up at him, seeing tears falling down his cheeks. You gently wipe them away and give him a small smile.

"I love you too Simon. I don't think that everything will go back to normal, but I'm willing to give you a second chance. Just don't take it for granted"

You jokingly hit his biceps at the last part, getting a slight laugh out of him.

"I would never" he says, eyes glistening with hope and happiness.

"Now would you like to have dinner with me? I made Lasagna"

"I would gladly"

At that he takes your right hand in his and interwines your fingers. He takes a last loving look at you, before taking you to the kitchen.

Little did he know that you two found each other again under a mistletoe that was hung up on the roof by him.

It's seems that Christmas really does create peace.

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@skulfan1

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[diino8081]

chat what if i said i had yet ANOTHER ninjago crossover au

i already made ninjago x mcyt (mcyt in ninjago) but what if i ALSO made mcyt x ninjago (ninjago in mcyt)

i decided to spontaneously throw the ninja into the life series, specifically the newest season, wild life

the way they'd get there is through fighting the watchers. i'm not really sure why the watchers would be looking for them but it might be cause they're looking for new members and the ninja would be a fun twist.

the watchers, being the godlike entities they are, defeat the ninja rather easily; sending them through a purple portal that looks like the watcher symbol.

in the server, grian is giving the intro to the new series. suddenly the portal opens in the middle of the island, spewing the team out to the shock of the pre-existing members. those who are aware of the watchers and evo symbol are incredibly concerned.

there are introductions given and then most people scramble away and go to do their own thing, leaving the ninja, grian (who is very confused) and anyone curious enough on the spawn island.

finding nothing on why these new people are here, G tells the ninja there's nothing he can to to get them out unless they win or die. he gives them a small intro to the series and how things work and then leaves them to their own devices.

they kinda get better at the whole "world is cubes" thing and even end up punching a few trees for wood. the inventory system is a little jarring at first but most of them get used to it.

.

. .

. . .

aaaand then the wildcard hits. it's normal at first. but then they see giants in the distance and suddenly it's very much not.

it's all a bit mad really.

--

that's the end of the story part as it's getting late and i can feel my brain turning off. i'll write a few notes, headcanons and trivial things below though

i feel like at some point the ninja will get in a fight and split up

the ninja do have their elemental powers but only to a small extent

one of the wild cards, likely near the end, will grant the entire server an elemental power. (the watchers got inspired by the world of ninjago and thought it would cause some major chaos.) the elements are likely those from the characters seen in the tournament of elements/sources, though i don't doubt that the watchers may have also come up with their own. this wild card may continue beyond the session.

zane, being made out of metal, likely is able to survive quite a few hits. though i did some research and titanium doesn't last forever when faced with repeated damage. (that is if bullets hit the same spot. i feel like he'd be much more durable towards other stuff, however not immune.) he'd make it to top 3.

when the season ends everyone goes back to their world of origin. they will be summoned back to the life series world next season

wild cards can last multiple days. a week at most

in ninjago most animals like cows and horses don't exist. a lot of things are unfamiliar to them except for dragons, chickens and fish

the ninja likely made their base in the field behind ren and martyn's base

ok i think that's it, at least for part 1. idk if i'll continue writing this but there is a good chance i will. thanks for reading

[elvisabutler]

Austin!Elvis x reader - Elvis convinces the reader’s mom to let her stay at Graceland for the whole summer. You can do whatever you want from there.

queen of graceland

summary: your parents don't like elvis one bit. you do like elvis quite a bit. somehow you get your parents to allow you to stay with your boyfriend all summer. the two of you have a plan to make your stay permanent. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) | elvis presley rating: m pairing: austin!elvis ( 50's ) x female reader word count: 5007 ( do i have an explanation? no, no i don't. but welcome to why my requests take a hot minute i guess? ) warnings: p in v sex ( unprotected ). oral ( f receiving ). breeding kink. mutual weirdly wholesome entrapment. everyone is of age. going against parents' wishes. controlling parents. pregnancy. gladys' death is mentioned at the very end. mentions of elvis's close relationship with his mother. author’s note: first off anon! thank you for this request and saints preserve me i am truly sorry it took so long to get to it and it turned into- well this. so i got this before i did kinktober and blah blah we all know life is hectic around the holidays but once i realized this clearly is happening with an of age reader and all that jazz i had to pick an elvis and while i believe it can be agreed that this prompt lends itself well to a sort of dark ( or innocent tbh ) 70s elvis thing- my brain settled on this interesting 50s elvis mutual entrapment breeding kink thing that was originally a little darker but still has those morally grey tinges. i hope you enjoy anon, i did actually really like this prompt from the moment i got it. special thanks to @blurredcolour for being my 50s elvis woman always and my partners in breeding mrs. presley crime, y'all know who you are. and if you all so desire you can imagine elvis in this. but i did try and stay closer to the movie than i have lately on some of my specifically austin elvis requests as of late.

Your mama hates Elvis, it's a fact you've known since the moment she laid eyes on him when you brought him home. First it was that he wasn't good enough for her daughter, too poor, too stupid and too destined to be in the poor parts of Memphis until he dies. Then it was that he was too vulgar and too free wheeling and he was just gonna hurt you, besides what would he see in the girl he left behind at home. All the things she whispers in your ears aren't true because you know as well as anyone the Elvis is practically obsessed with you to the point of madness. It flatters you and delights you enough to make you want to keep him until the end of both your lives. It makes you want to claim him and keep him as your own, to be at home while he travels the states or to accompany him, whatever he wants and whatever brings you the most pleasure in your life.

These wants are how you found yourself practically begging your mother for permission to spend the summer at Graceland after Elvis has already plead his case. You're nineteen and an adult but you still live under your mama and your daddy's roof so their rules are law. And their main rule is one date every two weeks with you and your boyfriend. The concept of you spending an entire set of months with him is not one they're willing to easily agree to but you promise that no funny business is going to go on and besides, his own mama would rather die than have him do anything untoward to you. Nevermind that she's been pressuring him to put a ring on your finger since she realized that you were fine with how close they were, found it endearing and hoped, God willing that your own son and you would have the same sort of relationship. Granted, you were aware that it was unhealthy and all but- Elvis wasn't ever going to unwind himself from his mama so you dealt with it, you could deal with it and charm her to where she needed to be charmed.

Elvis doesn't waste a minute as soon as he sees you walking up the steps of Graceland, carrying two bags full of clothes you planned on wearing while you were there. He takes them from you despite your valiant protests and sets them down by the door the moment he shuts the front door.

"Can't believe you got her to agree to it." Elvis grins, practically bouncing on his heels. He looks like a kid in a candy store, like you've given him the best present you could have for his birthday, his Christmas, his everything. "Getcha all to myself all summer."

You move closer to him moving your hands to his hips and pulling him in for a kiss that's supposed to be chaste but- you've missed him too much to try, instead allowing your tongue to meet his and your teeth to pull at his lip earning a low moan from him as you pull away. "If you do your job right, it'll be longer than the summer, Elvis. I'll be here every summer. Every winter." You move one of his hands to your stomach. "I'll be here every second you want me and them to be."

His eyes widen just a hair before he rubs at your stomach, picturing you full of him, your stomach swelling with a baby or two he's put there. Picturing you going home to your parents only to be sent back because his child or children are growing inside you. The only thing that keeps him from pulling you inside and fucking you against the nearest surface is the knowledge that his mother and Mary and Grandma Dodger are in the kitchen but he moves closer to you anyway, pulling you inside as he nips at your ear. "That you askin' for a baby, Satnin? Askin' for me to fill ya up before ya go back to your parents? Make them see ya belong wit' me?"

You feel your arousal pool in your undergarments as you clench around air, wishing he was having sex with you already. Wishing you could feel his cock filling you up in just the way you needed. A noise of pure desire- a mix of a coo and a whine- leaves your mouth as you push him against the wall by the door. "That's me beggin' for one, El." Your own accent thickens, brought on only by the desire coursing through you at proving that you belong by Elvis's side.

Elvis looks like he's about to say something, or like he's about to lift you up against the wall- everyone be damned before he hears his mother shouting his name and he growls against your neck, allowing himself to at the very least shove his knee in between your thighs. Gladys comes around the corner, grinning and looking pleased as punch to see you even as you take just a second to grind on her sons' thigh as you smile over his shoulder at her.

"Y/N!" She shouts, starting to walk to toward the pair of you, causing Elvis to move his thigh from between your legs and turn to face his mama. "Bewbie, you were supposed to tell me when she got here!"

Elvis has the decency to look chargined for a moment, burrowing his face into your shoulder like a little boy and mumbling. "Mama- she just got here and I missed her."

"And you think I haven't?" She frowns, lightly slapping his arm and pulling you away from him. If she notices anything about his lower half she doesn't say anything, instead focusing on pulling you in for a hug. "A whole summer with us, oh- I was thinkin' I was gonna have to talk to your mama myself to convince her." She pauses and looks at Elvis. "You'd have thought she thinks my bewbie's gonna ruin you."

Elvis looks over at you as his mother just squeezes you in her hug. His teeth are biting into his lower lip as he tries not to laugh, knowing fully well that had she not interrupted you that he would have been well on his way to ruining you by the front door. Your smile back at him is full of promise and can barely be called a smile, edging more to a smirk than anything else. The idea is for him to ruin you this summer, you are both entirely aware that your parents will never let you be with Elvis as long as they live unless something drastic changes. Unless they're forced to allow him to be with you and while you like to think there's a better option, from the way you and Elvis keep looking at each other you both have come to the same conclusion, there isn't. He's never going to be good enough in your parents' eyes for their baby even if he makes all the money in the world or if he settles down and stops making that rock and roll music. No, he's always going to be that boy they don't like, that boy who'll only ever bring ruin to their baby girl. Even if that's the furthest from what he is, from what he wants to be.

In a perfect world, he likes to think he'd have you after seeing you dressed up all in white, looking a vision from the bible, all virginal and ready for him to explore in ways no one ever had or ever would after him. You'd be underneath him, writhing and panting in the way you do when you both get a little hot and heavy in his Cadalliac but he'd have you bare and so open to him. So open to be able to receive his cum, so open and ready to give him children so that he could see you swollen with him. So that he could see a little blond boy or girl suckling at your chest with you all sweaty after having brought them into the world.

in a perfect world, he likes to think the two of you would have a gaggle of kids after you got married and that he'd take them on the road with him. Get himself a bus like BB where he can just have you and his kids as a little moving sanctuary or maybe just have them at home with you taking care of them. He knows you might wanna work outside the home but he also knows that can wait, he could provide for you both and for anyone else for now. In this world though, in the world you both live in he has to find a way to even have you for longer than a summer and drastic situations call for drastic measures. The pair of you are so busy looking at each other that neither one of you are really paying attention to Gladys when she pulls away and says something to the both of you only to shake her head at how little you're both paying attention.

"Ignoring me because you can't take your eyes off each other-" She sighs a little, clutching her chest at the image. "I'll leave you two be, Elvis go take her things up to her room, show her what we set up for her."

You raise an eyebrow as she leaves and within a minute you're up against Elvis, grabbing both of your bags for him to take from you. "My room." You pause and giggle softly. "You mean the room that's just going to have my clothes in it?"

Elvis has to shut his eyes for a moment as he shakes his head, exhaling softly. "Darlin'- if you're lucky your clothes are gonna be there. I plan on havin' ya everywhere in my damn house."

A gasp leaves your mouth as he takes the bags and starts to walk up the stairs. "Everywhere in the house, El- what about everyone else."

He's silent as you head up the stairs and doesn't bother to answer your question until you're both safely in your room. The bed is simple enough, large enough for you and Elvis to be on it together easily and the room is surprisingly simple in decoration. Gladys' influence, you figure. The bags hit the floor with a thump as suddenly you find yourself being walked back to the bed. The back of your knees hit the bed frame and you let out a huff of surprise before flopping on the bed. Elvis doesn't miss a beat as he crawls on top of you, his eyes heady with desire.

"Satnin, darlin' they ain't here all the time." He starts before kissing at your neck, his hands moving to undo the buttons of your blouse with surprising ease. "And if you want to leave here with my baby in you, we gotta make sure there's enough of me in there. Gotta make sure you're full of me. Gotta make sure it stays and catches, like they all say it does."

A shiver goes through you at his words, your hands moving to undo his belt and pants, some sort of primal need overcoming your desire to say anything else. He's right and you know this. You know that there's no guarantee you'd get pregnant on the first try, that practice makes perfect and it wouldn't hurt to have him fill you up with his- release as much as he can. Yet, hearing the words come out of Elvis's mouth, hearing how he's going to fill you up has your body on edge, has it craving what he's offering. You faintly hear a chuckle as you struggle with the button to his pants and feel his warm hands- always so large- over your own, assisting you before you triumphantly achieve your goal. Your hand slips into his underwear, finding its way to his cock easily, feeling his foreskin and how dry it is before you pull his cock out. Elvis grabs your hand and spits into it, knowing that sometimes you forget to spit, forget that while his precum helps, the beginning part, this part depends on a little extra liquid.

"Don't hold back, darlin'." He mutters, seeing your lower lip caught between your teeth. "Gonna make you mine, wanna hear how you love it. How you would have sounded if we could do this proper with a wedding an' everythin'."

If you're embarrassed at the whimper, it doesn't show, the arousal starting to seep out of you becoming unbearable as your chest heaves just a tad. Elvis watches your breasts still in your bra bounce that little bit as your chest heaves and tries to focus on anything but your hand wrapping around his cock as you move your hand up and down for a moment before starting to pull back his foreskin. He hisses the second your thumb brushes against his tip. His precum makes it glide easily but- it's too much, he wants to be in you, doesn't want to waste a single drop down your throat or your hand or anywhere. Somehow his hand makes it down to your skirt, pushing it down with an ease he'll explain away later as just dumb luck. He knows fully well it's come from the few times he's had someone on the tours but he loves you- has loved you from the moment you agreed to date him but he was lonely. Somehow your underwear comes with the skirt and you find yourself shivering at the cold air against your pussy. Elvis looks down, his fingers sliding between your folds, marveling at just how wet you are for him. A growl leaves him unbidden as he moves to shoo your hand away from his cock and lines himself up with your exposed pussy, allowing himself to put just the tip in, feeling you stretch around him. He knows he should wait, knows that you've stretched yourself as much as you can playing with yourself over the phone while he pumps his cock in empty hotel rooms, but it's nothing compared to his cock inside of you.

His eyes dart across your face, asking for permission to push in farther and you nod just barely, your eyes shutting as you feel the burn of his cock in you. It's a uncomfortable but you manage, breathing through your nose as he takes his time. You figure this has to be torture for him, after all you had felt how hard he was, saw how red the head of his cock looked but he's still being gentle. He's still putting your needs so far above his own. This is what your mama doesn't see- the man who treats you like a goddess when he's fucking you for the first time. You roll your hips up, earning a groan from him as he increases his speed, taking your actions to mean he can. Whimpers and small tiny moans escape your lips, providing a small symphony of noise around you both as Elvis's lips smack against yours and against your skin and as your skin meets over and over again as his hips rut against you. Your brain floats the more you feel him, the more you feel a coil deep inside of you tightening, feel yourself inching closer to the edge. Your hands move to his back, pulling him closer into you before you hear him curse, and feel his hips rut a few times in quick succession before feeling a warmth inside you. Your own orgasm follows soon after, the moan that escapes your lips being swallowed by Elvis's kiss so as to not arouse suspicion of what you've done up here. Elvis stays on top of you, keeping his cock inside you even as he catches his breath and his hips still pump ever so slowly into you. Your ears faintly register a faint squelching noise as he does and you find that you can't look Elvis in the eyes, the noise somehow reminding you that this is an inherently filthy act. A moment passes of still hearing the noise before your vagina inadvertently clenches around him, earning a low growl and a biting kiss from Elvis.

It was like you were trying to suck him into you, trying to make sure no part of his cum or him would be free of you. You don't intend for it to be that way and yet it's how it goes, allowing you to hold him close as you both continue to catch your breath. The amount of time that passes isn't something either one of you pay attention to before Elvis starts to pull out, earning a whine from both of you as he does.

"Got me in a vice grip, Satnin. Gotta let me go, mama was cooking with everyone- gotta make sure we keep up our strength." He murmurs, kissing your cheeks, your lips and down your neck to your chest. "Gonna have fun tonight- play with those breasts of yours. Show ya how our baby is gonna eat from ya."

A low keen escapes your lips as you push him off of you, knowing that the way he's talking is going to have you pulling him back on top of you, ruining any hope you have of getting to stay the rest of the summer. Gladys may want you here but she doesn't know what her son and you have planned, how right she is about him ruining you. How with any luck, you'll be leaving with a baby in your belly that will round out your form and have your parents forcing him to marry you. A simple entrapment scheme- but one you and Elvis are privy to while either set of parents aren't.

It takes a moment before you and Elvis are put together and you hear Gladys calling for both of you as you're both smoothing out each other's hair, making sure it's just mussed and not completely giving away how fucked out you are. That it's not giving away how you feel his cum leaking out of you enough that you want to push it back in but know that it can wait. This time it doesn't need to take. Besides, if it did- why you think you'd be leaving with an already there bump, and that won't quite do. Elvis kisses you one more time, gently before grabbing your hand. "Come on darlin', gonna show ya how it's gonna be when you're here forever."

True to his word, Elvis does manage to fuck you in just about every place in the house, except for the few rooms that are off limits. Sure, the Colonel comes and has to have meetings and Elvis has to leave one week to record some music but otherwise, he's by your side unable to keep his hands off of you. Unable to keep himself from being in you the moment he can, there's even a moment while you're out on the porch with you in his lap and your skirt billowing around the two of you as he fucks you while watching the sunset. Your period doesn't come the last month you're there, and Elvis finds that any time he touches your breasts you hiss, swatting his hands away. He doesn't dare put into words what he's thinking, what you're both thinking until the hot sticky August day you have to leave. You're waiting for your father to come pick you up, sitting in the living room and Elvis finds his hand moving to your stomach, rubbing it, trying to feel out a bump he's praying he'll get to see soon.

"Ya think it took this time, darlin'? Think they're growing in there?" He murmurs giving you a soft kiss as he does. "It's out last shot, don't think ya parents are gonna let ya come back if they aren't."

One of your hands moves to cup Elvis's cheek while you place the other on top of his hand that's on your stomach. "I'm not gonna think about it that way, don't wanna talk 'bout it and then something happens. Have a little faith, El. You know I want this as much as you."

He nods exhaling shakily. "I-I know, just don't wanna think of a world where I don't get to keep ya. Where they keep ya away for good this time, ya- ya know I gotta do one of those tours soon and I wanna be able to take ya to see some places, baby."

Your lips quirk into a smile. "And you will. Faith, baby. Faith." A honk interrupts whatever you're planning on saying next and Elvis pulls away slowly, his hand reaching out to pull you up from the couch as he kisses you goodbye. "Make 'em send you back as soon as ya know, lil one. Please."

The only answer you give him is a nod as you rush out the door, carrying your bags and cooing a loud hello to your daddy.

Elvis- Elvis doesn't see you for another two months. Not intentionally on your part, mind you, but more due to the fact that your mother sees the signs and hopes and prays she's wrong. Prays that her fears won't be confirmed, that after she let herself be charmed by you and that stupid young man that he's ruined you. You've always stayed the same size, always been able to not need your skirts or your shirts changed since your waist and your chest settled into what they are. Yet, here you are, slowly filling out, your breasts pushing at the buttons of your blouses and your stomach starting to bloat. She thinks it's just your period only to realize it's not when you don't come to her as you would normally like clockwork. You're eating everything she puts in front of you and she swears on more than one occasion she hears you retching in the bathroom in the early evening hours.

It all comes to a head one afternoon with you on the couch, your hands settling on your stomach, highlighting a bump that's starting to form, that's beginning to be more pronounced by the day- that has her seeing red in her mind's eye. Her question is brusque and to the point.

"When was your last period?" She pauses. "Don't lie to me, Y/N."

In another time and place, one where you aren't secure in the knowledge that you're carrying Elvis's baby, you'd look away when you answer, too mortified to admit that Elvis got you pregnant because you wanted him to. In this time and this place, you press a little harder into your stomach, trying to protect your baby from your mother, lest she do something awful. "Three months ago. Maybe almost four, I lost count, mama."

All hell breaks loose after that, with your mama screaming and telling your father and calls to Graceland where you can hear Gladys calling Elvis's name sounding more angry than you've ever heard her. Throughout it all- despite it all, you're in your room smiling, talking to your stomach telling the baby that's growing in there that they're gonna meet their daddy finally. A week after you find yourself being driven to graceland in a coat to keep yourself warm in the cool weather while also hiding what's underneath from the fans gathered outside the gates. Your daddy leaves as soon as he sets your luggage down next to you, muttering about how he always knew that boy would ruin you and now he's gonna be stuck with him as a son in law.

The door opens to reveal Elvis looking like he's going to curse someone out before he realizes it's you. No words are exchanged as you open up your coat carefully and grab Elvis's hand to press against your bump. You're wearing a tighter blouse than normal to highlight it, and Elvis starts to breathe a little heavier taking note of just how much you've started to change in the months since he's seen you. He pulls you inside, grabbing the bags with a speed you marvel at before he pulls your coat off and takes a proper look at you.

You breathe slowly and Elvis swears he sees one of the buttons on your blouse look as if it's going to pop off before you smile ever so sweetly at him. "Mama hasn't let me get new clothes and- I wanted you to see what you've done to me." You lean forward, your lips brushing against his ear. "How you've ruined your sweet girl. Would have waited a little longer but I wanted you to see me grow."

His only answer in reply is lifting you up with a surprising bit of strength onto the dining room table, laying you out on it with your legs dangling at the edge, his head moving under your skirt. You can barely hear what he's saying as he kisses up your thighs but what you catch has you shivering in delight. "Made you better. Gave you my baby. Made it so your mama had to let you go. Get to stay with me. Be my girl, be my queen of Graceland."

You try and push him away, your brain reminding you that there's people in the house and you can hear cooking happening in the kitchen but your attempts are forgotten at the first brush of his tongue against your slit and the brush of his nose against your clit. He licks at you like a starving man, his tongue fucking your pussy like a pale imitation of his cock as his fingers play with your clit, rubbing and touching and even pinching in the way he's learned you enjoy. You bite your lip, whimpering even as you do, trying to keep quiet so that no one realizes just what Elvis is doing to you even as you barrel quick enough to your orgasm that it shocks you with the sheer force and speed it comes at you.

Gladys voice rings out as your chest is heaving and Elvis finds his way out from under your skirt, his face glistening as the door to the kitchen swings open. His mama sees you on the table and looks to her son, her eyes narrowing just a hair before she shakes her head. "Bewbie, you're- we gotta get you two married before you do anything else." Her face flushes just a little. "Off the table, Y/N. Let me see you and my little grandbaby you got growing here."

Her hands move to your stomach, feeling around like she's looking for something before her lips curl into a sad little smile. There's a moment where she looks like she's going to lean in to tell you what she's thinking before she stops herself and just pulls you into a hug. "I'm- We're gonna take good care of you here. Gonna make sure you and this baby have all the strength you need. I told Bewbie to marry you but- didn't think you'd both be so silly to do this to make it happen. It's alright- what's done is done and now we have this to celebrate."

And so life goes until everything comes crashing down with the papers and the Steve Allen show and Russwood- it all culminates in you seven or eight months pregnant, wishing you could drink as heavily as Gladys is when you hear your husband is getting shipped off to Germany. You promise to take care of his mama and promise to call him the minute you go into labor so that he doesn't miss seeing his baby born while in training. Yet, you find that you fail the first one so miserably when you come across Gladys on the stairs, slumped over, forcing you to call Vernon to help you with her. Not even the movement of the baby within you is able to rouse Elvis from his tears until the Colonel says something to him. You're hidden away from the cameras at Elvis's request. People know he's married, know that you are due to give birth any day now but beyond what everyone's already seen, he doesn't want anyone to see you, not right this moment, not when everything feels so raw and he's got to protect his only girl left- his queen of Graceland.

It's the day before he goes back to finish training when you feel the pain- when you feel your back and stomach twist and you moan in the bed, clutching at your stomach like that will help. This would be so much easier if Gladys was there, she could coach you through this. Elvis forces his way into the room, too scared to be away from the only Satnin he has left, too scared he'll lose you too if he lets you out of his sight. When you push out your first and it still feels like there's another in there- you realize just what Gladys had held back this whole time, too superstitious to even whisper to you that she figured you were too big for just one baby.

You name them Elizabeth and Loretta and Elvis promises to find a way to have you all brought to Germany with him. It takes a year but when you finally do see him again- when you finally both see each other again? You make a vow to stick to each other like glue if only because you're both so tired of being separated when there's no reason to be, no matter what the Colonel would like to argue.

And if perhaps your number of children shows that level of togetherness? Well. You can't very well be a queen without plenty of heirs, now can you?

tag list: @eliseinmemphis, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @aconflagrationofmyown and @butlersxbirdy, @lindszeppelin, @powerofelvis @floralcyanide seriously i never know who to tag in this and breeding kink is so iffy i apologize y'all and hey once again if you all want to be on my tag list ( in general, tbh ) just give me a heads up or a holler.

[h-didanart]

I saw the confession blog ask, and I am kindly asking for the kitty moons

Oh yeah, that

Ahem, the creator of “Bloodmoon RETIRED?! In VRChat” (I forgot to make a fake thumbnail for that) brings you a new exciting episode! (Whose thumbnail I also forgot)

Bloodmoon TURNS INTO A CAT?! In VRChat

Expect to see this written out at some point in the future, there will be fluff, Solbro behavior, Sun getting a sliver of revenge on the twins because let’s be honest they aren’t the greatest people, more fluff, and maybe, just maybe, if the stars align and all the components come together, pet regression

And now imma ramble about their design ok—

They needed to have long hair, I can’t explain why, they just had to. So I looked up long haired fluffy cats, there were Ragdolls and Persians and Maine Coons but the one I went with was Turkish Angora. They are athletic, they are agile, have long hair, and despite being known for their white coats come in various different coat colors.

Bloodmoon specifically has a mostly black coat with bits of red over their face and legs and tail, with a white snout and belly. Their hair is matted on some places and their whiskers are bent oddly. They struggle a bit to walk and hate the feeling of the tangles. Overall these translations indicate the twins aren’t really in good shape. Oh yeah, they have prosthetics too, the repairs had to be translated somehow, so they’re a double amputee cat. And I’m thinking of making their left eye a prosthetic as well or just not having them have it. Do cats get glass eyes? I don’t think they do… Either way, Harvest likes these legs way more than what they have in their actual body.

In regards of cat behavior, they are very much a feral cat, untrusting of people, defensive, the like.

They exclusively only meow at Solar and let him pet them and carry them and stuff because, y’know, trust. Granted they do spend some time during their transformation mad at him because they think he caused this somehow— which he actually didn’t —but end up kinda just accepting it and rolling with it.

Speaking of their time spent, let’s talk about how this plays out!

So Bloodmoon’s in the Daycare helping Solar do stuff, they take a detour through the ball pit to avoid passing through the area separating the play structures, then boom, portal malfunction, they’re a cat now. Solar immediately runs to see if they’re ok, and ends up almost dying of laughter at seeing them like a cat, they struggle to get out of the ball pit and Solar picks them up, still laughing.

Due to the laughter the twins believe Solar to have caused this but unfortunately can’t ask or communicate that thought at the moment, they cannot speak as a cat. They grumpily lay on Sol’s arms as he carries them to the front desk. Solar tries to figure out how long they’ll stay like that, having gone through this with the whole family already, all the while Bloodmoon tries to get adjusted to their new body, kinda freaking out upon realizing they had leg prosthetics but quickly getting used to them, the fact Harvest doesn’t feel like shit when looking at the legs definitely helping that.

After a bit Solar turns to the twins and tells them that apparently they’ll stay like that for a few hours, at which point Bloodmoon realizes that Solar probably didn’t play a prank on them, they hop off the desk and start circling Solar, wanting to go do something, before being abruptly cut off by Sun entering the Daycare and accidentally hitting them with the door.

Sun immediately starts apologizing to the cute little kitty and trying to soothe them, the twins start hissing and backing away the second they regain their bearings. Solar picks them up, quickly explaining that the cute little kitty was actually Bloodmoon. Sun grimaces at that before tilting his head and finding amusement in their predicament. The twins hiss at him.

Despite not getting along at all Sun does start to fuzz over Bloodmoon, seeing their matted hair and bent whiskers, and offers to help Solar care for them. Solar looks down at the twins who give him a ‘for the love of god do not leave us alone with this guy’ look, and asks if maybe Sun could just tell him what to do.

Cue Sun helping Solar brush the twin’s hair, getting them some cat food, and taking a bunch of blackmail material pictures. By the time Sun leaves he finds he actually kinda enjoyed being around Bloodmoon. To quote him directly: “I see how you got attached to them now”

And then Bloodmoon would hang around Solar in the Theatre, watching as he restocked the shelves and greeted people and the like. By the end of Solar’s shift, the twins are curled up on his lap getting pet as they start falling asleep.

And it is then that they turn back to normal.

Solar is startled by the sudden shift but overall glad that the twins were back to how they were. He nudges them awake, trying to tell them that they were normal again. They kinda just sleepily look up at him before nuzzling against his chest and curling up once more. They’re still purring. Sol tries to shake them awake again but is once again startled, only now by a small meow from the smaller bot. And so he sits there for who knows how long

Turns out Bloody and Harvest like being cats.

Who would’ve thunk it?

[klausysworld]

So my idea if you accept it for a request is klaus x demigod daughter of Hecate reader and how it would be? Ps like the maybe the ready hate Elena and her friends and when they tried to kill klaus she beat them up and he’s totally taken by her?

I love everything about you.

Being the daughter of Hecate i was deeply respected by the supernatural community. I could pretty much take everyone out with the flick of my wrist so they liked to tread carefully.

These fucking mystic falls cockroaches however seemed to think they could do as they please when they please with no consequences. Elena the doppelgänger seemed to have some sort of invisible leash on everyone in that town, she had two vampire brothers tripping over each other for her, a blonde vampire who was at her beck and call and a Bennett witch who deemed herself ‘invincible’. Honestly, what in the underworld is going on here.

Let’s just say it was a breath of fresh air when the Mikaelsons came up, finally some people who weren’t ogling Elena. I knew who they were already of course, besides my mother was the one to grant Esther the power to create them. My mother’s most sacred animal is the dog, black dogs especially for some reason and so it only made me take a further interest when i witness Niklaus transform into a midnight black wolf. I followed him the whole two days he was a wolf, due to interest yes and also to make sure nothing happened to him, he could protect himself i know but still having a demigoddess watching over you is still an extra safety net.

He looked directly at me a few times but each attempt he made to near me was stopped when i would dissolve into a cloud of mist. His head would tilt and his ears would lay flaw against his head as he reluctantly walked away.

The next time i saw him was when he was in the smokey mountains, poor thing was trying to create more of himself, he just wasn’t seeing the correct picture to follow. I slowly approached him when he sat on a log, head in his hands and bodies piled around him as he waited for Stefan to arrive with a dead Ray. I sat next to him silently and gently rubbed his back, he tensed completely as her glanced up at me, confusion clear in his expression as he whispered a quiet “it’s you”

Not even a second later Stefan arrived and made myself vanish again. It was fun to watch how frustrated he became. I stuck around and went to Chicago but then i had to leave because Gloria started freaking out. She was all “you’ve brought a type of darkness with you” it was weird but like okay?

She couldn’t see me but she started chanting stuff and my mother told me to leave her be so i did.

Mystic falls was boring and Elena was a whiney about Stefan while also trying to fuck his brother, Caroline was always with Tyler and Bonnie was comforting Elena. Jeremy was alright, we spoke sometimes and he always served me at the grill, Matt does not like me one bit and i do not mind that at all.

Eventually Klaus came back and i wasn’t exactly expecting it. He had walked right into me or i walked into him but anyway i got mad cuz i spilt my drink on myself and thought it was gonna be like Damon or something so i started yelling

“can people in this town not look where they’re going for five fucking minutes!? honestly you would think a vampire would have a better sense of direction but noooo” i was wiping at my shirt aggressively until i realised the coffee wasn’t going to come out. I glared back up at the supernatural being to find those beautiful arctic blue eyes. His pretty pink lips were parted in an almost gaping way as he stared at me wide eyed. I felt my anger melt away as i studied the shock within his face.

“i’m… sorry…i wasn’t looking, i was upset about something… and was in a rush” he spoke slow and sounded uncertain

“oh, right well i shouldn’t have yelled. Come on, i need to put on a clean shirt and you can tell me about your problems” now yes i could have probably just made a new shirt appear on my but i didn’t fancy missing the opportunity to bring Niklaus along with me. He reluctantly began telling me that the little gang had brought Mikael to town, tried to kill him and then Stefan stole his family in coffins.

I invited him inside, much to his surprise, and started the kettle. I didn’t bother asking him to turn around when i changed my clothes and didn’t comment on his reddened cheeks as he swallowed thickly.

He stayed for dinner in the end and i managed to dodge any and all questions he tried to ask about who i was or how i knew who he was.

I drove him to the hotel he was staying at while his mansion was being built and even went as far to come inside and see how fancy it was. Let me just tell you it was nice. Real rich people shit.

I said goodnight but just as i was walking out the door his hand was around my wrist making me turn back to him

“yes?” i asked

“i don’t even know your name” he stated or asked?

“maybe next time Niklaus” i whispered before disappearing before him.

From that day i actually saw him quite a bit. Sometimes he even came round for food, he was at my door far more often than i had expected and never brought any threats with him, which was odd as in my experience when someone didn’t know what i was they were very demanding and liked to try and kill me.

I managed to help him get the majority of his family back, his brother Elijah was woken up and he then as a result woke the rest of his family. That night Niklaus stayed at my house…in my bed next to me. He had been sat on my doorstep when i got home with tear stains on his soft skin

“my siblings all hate me and my mother is alive” was all he whispered. I simply opened the door and lead him upstairs to my bed so he could lay down, I got ready for bed and got in with him, now i swear that we fell asleep on opposite sides but somehow we woke up with our legs tangled together, his forehead resting on my shoulder and my fingers in his hair.

He went home after breakfast however returning very soon after with a nervous smile and a box. He handed it to me quickly before vamp speeding away making me laugh at his actions.

The box held a gorgeous dress and an invitation to a ball… as his date.

I made sure to consult with my mother, she said that it was a great idea and he would be great for me, that was the last push i needed to know that i should be with him.

Once i arrived he was already in-front of me, pulling me through the crowd to introduce me to his brother Elijah and his sister Rebekah, he wasn’t sure where Kol and Finn were. They seemed thoroughly amused at his eagerness as they looked me over a few times

“you must be the girl he won’t stop blabbing about, at least he was telling the truth, you are remarkably beautiful, i think you’ll do just fine, come we can judge the other peoples outfits” Rebekah already tool my hand dragging me away from Nik and Elijah.

That night i was told many embarrassing stories of Niklaus, i was threatened by Rebekah not to harm him, Finn gave me some dodgey looked and Kol stared at me in utter astonishment. It was an interesting evening.

I got to dance with Niklaus though, he held me close and spoke quietly into my ear, the moment seemed so intimate. I felt safe and warm with him, his arms around my felt like they were protecting me despite my immortal status.

I ended up staying the night with him as well. There was moment where he seemed as though he was about to kiss me but he backed away and decided to show me art room instead. He was unbelievably talented and i made sure to express how impressed i was which he seemed to immensely appreciate and blushed ferociously at. I told him he was cute but apparently that offended him as he then chased me around the house until he tickled me near to death while i thrashed about on his bed. Eventually we fell asleep after many meaningless conversations that somehow brought us closer though i began to feel bad that i wasn’t sharing much about my past or what i was.

The next day i went home early as i needed to consult with my mother and the other gods/goddesses to see if they would allow me to tell him who i was. Once they agreed i went to the grill to find him. However before i could get to him i heard Damon, Stefan, Matt and Caroline all whispering in the alleyway outside

“Caroline you go in and try distract Klaus, he’s bound to go for you. Then Rick will dagger Klaus and we can grab Klaus”

i sat and waited for Niklaus to follow the blonde outside, i could sense his wariness as he suspiciously eyed the girl.

The second he brought his hand up to his chest as a sign of pain, Damon, Stefan and Caroline were all grabbing him trying to get him on the floor. I felt a rush of power as i flung them all in different directions, they sped back quickly trying to throw me at the alley wall. I got up unscratched and snapped Carolines neck with a snap of my fingers. Damon went straight to my neck and buried his teeth in, Klaus’s cry of agony had me ripping the vampire off me and creating a stake in my hand to impale him with before spinning round to find Stefan with a terrified look on his face and a semi conscious Klaus.

Suddenly Elijah was stood there with a grey looking Kol and was threatening them by sending Rebekah to murder Elena. I wasn’t paying much attention as i quickly checked for any damage to Niklaus. His eyes were wide and he seemed incredibly shocked but other than that he was fine. I pulled him up to stand on his feet before wrapping my arms around him and kissing his cheek

“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have left you this morning, i shouldn’t have let them touch you” i muttered to him and he didn’t hesitate in hugging me back. I slowly pulled away and turned to his brothers, Elijah was clearly surprised as he glanced at the temporarily dead vampires and then back at me. Kol was practically buzzing where he stood

“I can not believe you are real! oh god can i have a hug to!?” I raised both my eyebrows and he threw himself at me and engulfed me into a hug, much to Klaus’s dismay as he growled and shoved his brother off

“what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!?” he yelled as he pulled me behind him

“you don’t know who she is?? I mean seriously??” he whispered loudly

“She’s like a goddess” he muttered

“Demi-goddess but whatever” i added

“what?” both Elijah and Klaus questioned

“Hecate, you know like the actual goddess of like magic, witchcraft, the night, light, ghosts, necromancy… and the moon! She’s like real powerful, anyways that’s her daughter” he pointed to me with a wide grin and i let out a laugh at the astonishment everyone was expressing

“you know this is fun but maybe we should focus on the psychopathic mother of yours?”

“right… we can return to this at a later date” Elijah mumbled with a scratch if his head before dragging an excited Kol along with him

I turned back to Nik with a guilty expression

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you… there are certain rules about telling beings from other realms our secrets and i needed to ask for permission. That’s actually why i left this morning, i asked and i was allowed to tell you…i understand if it’s a lot though, of course-“ I was cut off by the feeling of soft lips on mine, effectively shutting me up as i melted against him. Our lips moved together perfectly and it was as though something had shifted in the world, this was the person for me.

“believe me my love, this is just one more thing that i love about you” he whispered while breathing heavily

“i love everything about you” i replied quietly and he blushed once more as he smiled bashfully

[a-simply-simping-simp]

SEGA WHEN I CATCH YOU SEGA SEGA WHEN I CATCH YOU

So mad so mad so mad so mad so mad at SEGA why why WHY must they do this to me. Imagine falling in love and then KILLING that same love. Hahahahahaha imagine being a kid when it happened. HAHAHAHAHA IMAGINE HAVING ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS JUST WATCH YOU SOB AS YOU HOLD THE TRIGGER TO SHOOT YOUR LOVE. HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH IMAGINE ALL THATS LEFT OF HER AFTER YOU EXPLODE HER WITH AN ENERGY CANNON IS A SINGULAR SEED. IMAGINE NOBODY EXCEPT ONE PERSON REALLY COMES TO SHOULDER YOUR PAIN AND TEARS. IMAGINE NOBODY THOUGHT THAT MAYBE A CHILD SHOULDN'T HAVE TO SHOOT HIS NONOFFICIAL GIRLFRIEND. IMAGINE-

Anyway, all greiving aside, I miss her.

I joined the Sonic fandom in a kinda odd way ngl. At the time, I was stupid and a fresh middle schooler and it was extremely popular to make fun of the sonic franchise cuz it was a whole meme and stuff. I also made fun of it cuz I thought I was supposed to. But I realized it was stupid to make fun of something I haven't even seen before. So I wanted to educate myself on it. Coincidently, I saw a video. It was by CourtneySNT about her first ever sonic fancomic around that time. I really enjoyed it actually. Sometimes I go back and rewatch it. Anyway, in her comic, she had introduced Tails to the screen and I fell in love with the fandom. Grant it, her depiction of tails at that moment was the polar opposite of what he's actually like, but still. It compelled me to watch Sonic X, The Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic Boom, Sonic Prime, A bit of Sonic Underground, and just...Sonic the Hedgehog. I also watched a few gameplays and a lot of cutscene movies of the videogames as well as parodies and fan content. So...yeah.

Now it's just a Sonic Prime Nine analysis/rant below lol

Also, since I mentioned SONIC PRIME, I might as well rant about it. NINE. WAS. SO. PERFECT. He was well written, well scripted, and well developed. Everything about nim was chef's kiss. His story was literally just a what if. What if Sonic never met Tails? Well, number one, he wouldn't be named Tails. He'd make his own name. Nine. Also, he became cold and distant because he expected others to treat him the same due to his two tails. Perfect character already but then they fleshed him out some more and introduced this...guy named Sonic.

He didn't know Sonic at the time nor did he really know...anybody. So when this blue loser comes waltzing into his house unannounced, he obviously gets hostile. Why? Well, one, because a rando broke into his casa. But also because everyone he met was hostile to him first. Crazy. Then this guy seems to be friendly. A first. So, Nine lets down his ice cold walls and trusts him. Let me emphasize that. NINE TRUSTED SONIC. Remember that. It is SO important.

So, Nine goes along and helps this guy for no real reason other than the fact that he considers him a friend. Now, you'd think he also helped to stop the egg council, but he really never had bad blood with them in the first place. He isn't in the resistance nor shows any resentment. He's Nine all on his own, with or without the council. In fact, he probably doesn't care if they rule because he wanted to be alone anyway. But he helped. Why? Because he wanted to help his FRIEND.

This goal warps when Nine discovers an empty realm called the grim. He can have a fresh start there with him and sonic. Just the people he cared about. He asked Sonic to go with him because he wanted to share his dream with him. He wanted Sonic to be a part of it with him. But Sonic undermined his dreams. It'd be one thing if he simply disagreed with it or gave a good, justifying, and well explained reason for refusing, but instead he didn't explain himself well. Sonic entitled himself to the prisms, assuming him getting home was everyone's priority. I don't mean to villainize him because this was simply reckless and unknowing behaviour, but still. Nine got upset that his FRIEND was trampling on his dreams as if they didn't matter nearly as much as Sonic's.

So, he "betrayed" Sonic. I want to bring this to everyone's attention. Nine had critisized Sonic because he recklessly didn't think about what woukd happen to everyone else if he DID bring back his home. Like, nobody knows jack squat about the prisms. Sonic, Nine, Shadow, even the egg council was lost when it came to those big shiny rock things. It shines and made our universes. That's all they knew. So, with that in mind, it makes sense to be concerned. Like what if it kills us? What if it destroys our world in order to bring back yours? They only exist because of the prism being destroyed, so if you fix it, would that kill them? Idk, I feel like this was mentioned once and never brought up again and it makes me mad. Such potential.

Anyway, after the situation, Nine goes back to the grim to make his dreams come true by himself. Because the one person he TRUSTED broke his trust. So, after a bunch of irrelavent stuff happens, Sonic goes to the grim after making a deal to Nine. Nine lets him into the grim and Sonic starts to preach to Nine about their friendship. Nine listens and almost starts to trust him again, maybe thinking about his actions and how they might not have been the best. How their friendship could maybe be salvaged. Why? Because Sonic said he woukd sacrifice himself to save Nine too. But then an entire army shows up to beat Nine into a teeny tiny pulp. Grant it, Sonic did not call them to the grim. But then he imediently sides with them in taking Nine down in an all out war. After saying he'd sacrifice for Nine too, he pulls an uno reverse on him. Trust broken. Again.

So now, he wants to trust nobody. Why? Because Sonic broke once too many. So he starts fighting. And fighting. And fighting. Like he's been doing his entire life. Who is he fighting? Someone who he thought was his friend. Someone who claims to be his friend. Someone who he thought he wouldn't need to fight. And he's clearly breaking his own body in desperation while doing so. Nobody really said anything about it either btw. Like, he's literally hurting himself and Sonic, his "friend" didn't even try to stop him because he was hurting himself, but because he was huring others and taking the prisms. I understand of course because he's hurting your friends, but his own pain wasn't even a slither of his drive.

Anyway, the ending sucked personally. It was anticlimactic. Nine gives in just because and then Sonci goes home, mystery never discovered, and yay we're done.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

I like all your tangerine stuff I need as much tangerine xreader smut as possible he has bewitched me

hii! thank you, thank you. absolutely. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 also sorry I feel like it’s taken ages for me to do this

before bed treat

tangerine x fem! reader

word count || 0.6k

warnings || 18+ only. explicit content (fingering. little bit of praise) minors dni

masterlist + rules

taglist

Tangerine was laying to the right of you in your shared bed, enjoying each other’s company after winding down for the night. He was sweetly gazing over your features that were lit up by the moon that was shining through the window. Watching you in awe as you chatted nonsense, clearly unable to settle down just yet.

He twists his body around so his chest was flush with your upper arm, resting the side of his head in his palm. Trailing his right hand over your abdomen, sweetly shushing you. “It’s getting late.” Lowering his head to brush his lips over yours, softly working over them to stop you from chatting.

“Hey, I was talking.” You separate, breathlessly.

“I know.” He smirks, trailing his hand up under your t-shirt to cup your tit. Gently rolling over your nipples, staring down at the way you tried so hard to hide how good it felt. You were meant to be annoyed that he interrupted you, but you found it hard to stay mad at him when he caressed you the way he did. Trailing delicate kisses under your jaw as his right hand slid lower down your stomach. Itching his fingers into the front of your underwear.

He grins against your cheek, listening to the soft desperate whimpers that escaped your parted lips, his fingers delicately dancing over your public bone. Instinctively separating your thighs, bending a knee to grant him better access. He teasingly brushes his middle finger down your already slick lips, tracing it through the soft wet flesh.

Your breath staggers when he drags his middle fingers over your attentive clit, adding slight pressure before sliding it back down between your lips. His lips pecker light kisses under your ear, softly nibbling the delicate patch of skin as he continues to trail his finger down. Tan hovers his fingertip back over your clit, circling over it with a featherlight touch as his teeth grazed down the side of your neck.

Lightly working his fingers over your sensitive mound, teasing it with a tantalising motion. “Am I making you feel good?” He whispers against your jaw, leisurely placing sloppy kisses along it.

Nodding your head with a desperate whine, sliding your hand up to grip his wrist that was holding his head up. Clutching his thick wrist as his finger randomly circled faster, applying small bouts of pressure every several swirls.

His hand relaxes over your pubic bone as his middle finger picks up pace, gently spiralling around your clit that causes your whole body to shudder against this touch.

Feeling your release approach, desperately throwing your head back as needy whimpers leave your lips.

“Come for me… yeah, that’s it… let go.” He praises softly under your ear, nibbling at the lobe.

Your breathing hitches erratically as you cum, quivering at his featherlight touch. Trembling his real name as whiny moans spill from your agape mouth.

“Keep that open.” He husks against your cheek, using his leg to keep yours from clamping together.

His finger becomes languid, circling slowly until he comes to a halt. Trailing his wet finger back up your stomach and between the valley of your tits until it reached his lips. Licking off your juices, while he stared down at your soft wide eyes. He fixes your underwear, adjusting it properly before pulling you into him. Rolling you over to lay on his chest, stroking his fingers over the back of your head to play with your hair. Lovingly easing you to sleep.

“Night, love.” He whispers against your forehead.

[narrators-journal]

Yandere Stano headcanons

Have some more dr. stone content! I was originally gonna separate all of this into, like, three different posts, but I decided to squash em all together to save you guys some time lmao. So, this might be a bit jumbled? But I hope it’s still fun to read! Also, yes, this is a dual-yandere premise, but I also threw in some stuff about them as separate yans. If you see me split this up to go further in-depth, <3

SEPARATE

As separate yandere, Xeno and Stan are already pretty nightmarish.

Stanley Snyder is a marine sniper, he’s physically very powerful, intimidating, and experienced with killing.

Xeno, meanwhile, is a sadistic mad scientist who may or may not have morals depending on the alignment of the stars and the day of the month.

Stan is very much the type of yandere to shoot your boyfriend/best friend in front of you to prove a point.

He is not a very kidnap-happy yandere. Stan’s more the type to just keep you in line with vibes.

Xeno, meanwhile, is the type of yandere who would kidnap you quickly and proceed to use you as a scientific guinea pig.

Those factors don’t change, no matter the context of the yandere.

Platonic, Romantic, neither cares. Stan will still kill people in front of you to prove a point, Xeno will still experiment on you.

Stanley, on his own, isn’t a very forceful yandere? I dunno how to phrase it, but he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t argue. The bulk of what gets his darling to obey is his intimidation factor and simple threat. When he tells darling to do something, it usually has the weight to ensure you do it.

He’s a little cold, but he’s also very capable of giving affection and love to his darling.

Xeno, on the other hand, is fucking cruel.

He’s strict, experiments on his darling, would degrade them, and is very prone to getting so into work that he barely acknowledges his darling’s existence, let alone gives them affection.

Don’t think that being separate makes them easier though! Xeno will drug a darling easily, and while they might not share a darling, both will help the other keep their own.

They are mutual enablers in that sense. That’s the risk of childhood friend types being yandere. Though, admittedly, the biggest threat would be Xeno.

AKA, Stanley snyder’s darling has the worse chance of escape, because Stanley might take pity and let Xeno’s darling go. Xeno would not, and would in fact give his best friend a slew of drugs to keep you under control.

TOGETHER

If Stan and Xeno are nightmarish separately, they are a whole new level of fear when put together.

Stan’s experienced in sneaking around and tracking people, so he’d definitely be the one sent to observe and report back to Xeno about you.

He’s also the one who can best read people. Not because he’s some master of socialization like Gen is, but because he simply has more experience with how people behave, react, and feel than Xeno does.

Xeno, meanwhile, is something of the yandere mastermind. He’d be the one to single you out as ‘special’ and lock onto you as their ‘darling.’

Granted, if Stan doesn’t want you, they wouldn’t go after you. Xeno can convince his best friend of a lot, but Stan also knows damned well that Xeno wouldn’t hurt him. So, if he doesn’t want to do shit, he’s not gonna do shit.

That being said, Xeno is definitely the aggressor. Between them

He’s cruel as hell, backhanding, spitting at you, insulting you, he’s the type to do that.

Which, you’d think means him and Stan wouldn’t get along. Stanley’s scary, but he’s not the type to jump to harming his darling. But, his best friend is the opposite. Xeno over-compensates for the fact that he’s not as scary as Stan by being a shit ton meaner and quick to harm.

Yet, they’re the opposite. Their contrast makes them work better.

Stanley’s more level head keeps Xeno’s crueler tendencies in line, he helps his friend see the holes in his plans with his knowledge of people and the calmer thought process Stan brings to the table.

In exchange, Xeno’s more cunning and book smart. What Stanley lacks in terminology and study, Xeno makes up for.

AKA, Stan knows how to break the bone, Xeno knows exactly where to ensure your artery isn’t nicked.

When together, Stanley is effectively Xeno’s enforcer. He’s the muscle.

Xeno, meanwhile, is the commandant. He aims Stanley and gives him the step-by-step instruction on who to harm and how.

So, together? Stano makes one hellish pair of yanderes.

[sciderman]

since we're here in osborn hell, here's one of my favourite little chapters from it came from outer space! with one rare appearance from one norman osborn

Peter could throw up. 

With how mad he was, he could tear through concrete like tissue. 

It was everywhere. 

Everywhere he looked. 

Every tabloid. Every sleazy celebrity magazine. Every news outlet. 

Harry Osborn. 

Son of billionaire scientist Norman Osborn and heir to Oscorp, 23rd largest company on Forbes’ Global 2000 list. 

Gay. 

Like it’s such a fucking big deal. 

Harry was being jumped on by everyone. Everyone wanted a ride. Everyone wanted to point and heckle. 

Caught in the act, with some big-name fashion model Peter’s never heard of. 

High cheekbones, and a sprinkle of freckles. Tight cherub-like curls. Legs for days. 

Carved by Michaelangelo. 

Peter burned with envy. 

Peter bit that down, and focused on Harry. 

His best friend. 

Publicly outed. 

The million-dollar photo, printed in every paper.  

Harry’s hand shielding his face. Hiding his eyes from the camera. 

Peter tore the paper to shreds. 

Peter Parker had spent his whole life hiding. 

Harry Osborn didn’t have that luxury. 

Peter had wondered if Harry had even tried. 

Red marks circling his neck, and going about his day. He didn’t seem to care who saw. 

It wasn’t a big deal. 

Spider-man momentarily stumbled over his feet as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop. A beeline to Oscorp industries. 

Harry wasn’t taking interviews. 

In fact, he’d disappeared from the radar all together. 

“Oscorp Industries will not issue a statement at this time, but would like to assure stakeholders that Harold Osborn will step away from the public eye.” 

Typical. 

So fucking typical, that they’d try to bury Harry like this. 

Take everything they’re ashamed of and sweep it under the rug, like it never happened. 

“I need to talk to Harry. Harry Osborn.” 

Peter’s fingers frantically drummed the desk of reception. His heart was racing. Thrumming in his ears. He’d attribute it to the pace at which he swang across the city to get here. All the blood in his head left his limbs numb. 

“I’m sorry, Harry Osborn isn’t here. Can I take a message?” 

“No. No. I’ve tried that already and they don’t –” 

Peter released his grip from the counter when he noticed the faint cracking sound under his fingers. 

“I need to see him. I’m – I’m Peter Parker.” Peter said, unsure if that meant anything at all to anyone. “I’m his friend.” 

The receptionist offered a sympathetic frown. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Parker, but without an appointment I can do very little apart from try to pass on your message.” 

Peter stepped back, throwing hands up in defeat. 

“Thanks.” 

Normally that would be the end of it. 

Peter should just go home and forget about it. 

It’s not his problem. 

Peter backed towards the wide, glass doors of the Oscorp building. 

Before he sprinted, a mad-dash, leaping over the key-card terminal that granted employee access. 

“Mr Parker!” 

His sneakers skid as he made way to the elevators, frantically pressing the button. 

A team of three security guards came on the approach. 

Stairs it is . 

Peter slipped fast to the stairway, racing up the steps, three at a time. 

More cardio than Peter would’ve ever liked to do in one lifetime, and he was still catching his breath from swinging here. But the suit made him stronger. Made his bounds lighter. Pushed him forward, faster. 

He’d lost the three initial security guards floors below – they didn’t have the superhuman stamina to climb a skyscraper. But more guards found him on higher levels, jumping him. 

He threw one against the wall. One sent flying through the door they came through. One backing away, clearly not paid enough to be tossed around a stairwell by an angry 20-something out for blood on a Tuesday afternoon. 

More guards at every level. Couldn’t slow him down. Peter barraged through them unrelentingly. He moved too fast. He lept and dodged, feather-light on his feet. 

One guard knicked him with a taser. 

He didn’t feel it. 

He grabbed it and ran, snapping it in half. He threw it down the stairwell, narrowly avoiding someone’s head. 

He didn’t care what damage he wrought. 

He didn’t care about anything, but reaching the top. 

“Peter.” 

He was greeted as he burst through the doors of the executive level of the Oscorp building. 

Norman Osborn. 

“If you wanted to talk, you need only make an appointment.” Norman said, civilly. “You know we’ll always accommodate you here, Peter. You’re family.” 

Family.

As if Norman even knew the meaning of the word. 

Guards stormed into the room after Peter, grabbing him by the shoulders and arms. As if that was enough to hold him back. 

Peter didn’t startle. In fact, his glare didn’t leave Norman at all. 

Norman looked at Peter with a fascination in his eyes. An uncomfortable fascination that made Peter’s skin – both of them – crawl. 

Maybe it was a common Osborn trait.

The ability to undress Peter Parker with their eyes. 

Peter was too mad to overthink it. 

Too fired up to consider how a lanky 21 year old being able to effortlessly rush past high-grade security in a multi-billion dollar corporate building might raise suspicion. 

“I won’t press charges, Peter.” Norman said, with a perfectly civil smile. 

Peter could wholeheartedly believe he had the teeth of a shark hiding behind it. 

“You’ve always been like a son to me.” Norman continued, “And a brother to Harry. I know you care, so deeply for him. And I appreciate that. We both do.” 

“Where did you send him?” Peter stepped forward. The staff detaining him could barely keep a hold of him. “Where is Harry?” 

“He’s an adult, Peter.” Norman said, in an unbearably patronizing tone of voice.  “He can make the responsible choice to leave for himself.” 

“You didn’t send him away?” 

Peter thought back to that afternoon in 2004. Waving as Harry got into a car that would steal him away to a European Boarding School for the worst years of Peter Parker’s life. 

“He did it of his own accord.” Norman said, coolly. “He had enough reason to.” 

Peter didn’t believe him. 

“It was such a shame to see you two falling out,” said Norman, in patronizing pity. “You were so close.” 

Peter charged at Norman, unable to stop himself. He’d lost all vision. All sense of self-preservation. He’d managed to grab Norman by the front of his suit before he was torn away by security. 

Peter let them pull him back. 

“He’s your son, Norman. You can try to bury him, but he’s part of you.”

Peter delivered the kind of look that only a man who had the power to snap another man in half could deliver. 

“And everything comes to the surface.” Peter spat, as he was escorted away. “Eventually.” 

Norman smiled. 

“I think you might be right about that, Peter.”

[void-ink-studios]

The Higher Ups in Wrath of the Wishmaster

So, just wanted to dump my brain worms here, and talk about the OC gods that just got introduced in the 3 part instalment of Wrath of the Wishmaster that I posted.

I'd like to introduce the Higher Ups. They're basically the upper management of the pantheon, only answering to The Boss themselves. Their power and rulings override pretty much everyone else, unless the Boss intervenes. They cannot be removed from reality, stripped of their titles, demoted, or even harmed.

You've already met one, the Organizer but there's two others: the Observer and the Judge! So, let's go through their deal one by one.

The Organizer

Let's start with the one y'all have officially met, the Organizer. As the name would imply, she is the goddess in charge of the organization, planning, and paperwork of the entire pantheon. She's the one to deal with write ups, complaints, requests, and record keeping. She has a file on pretty much everything to have ever lived in the multiverse, all perfectly sorted in an infinite records room. She's always super busy. She's also Orbo's direct supervisor, and by extension Scarab's. She's the one who sends the official orders for Auditors to go after rule breakers.

The Observer

The Observer is a rarely seen god, but he works closely with the Organizer. He is in charge of overseeing all activity across the multiverse, particularly with anyone powerful enough to jump between universes, and the other gods. He has seen everything that has ever happened (and rumor says ever will happen) in the multiverse. He hands off this information to the Organizer for storage, and is the primary source of information for sentencing cosmic crimes. He also is the one to confirm or reject complaints and write ups from the Organizer. He commands any and all gods responsible for gathering information within the cosmos.

The Judge

The Judge is the main authority of what is and isn't a cosmic crime. It is them who decides what punishments are delivered to what write ups, who does and does not belong in the Citadel, and is the one to mark individuals as cosmic threats. If someone is marked a target, the information is given to the Organizer to then give the order to Auditors. Of the higher ups, they're the one most often seen, both by mortals and by other gods. It is them you must plead your case to if you're demanding help or mercy from the gods. Unless the Boss intervenes, the Judge can grant or strip any of the lesser gods their title and immortality. They ultimately created the Citadel and the guardians. Not surprisingly, they were a bit salty after the whole Lich fiasco.

Other notes:

Some gods don't directly answer to one of these three. Gods like Prismo and the Cosmic Owl pretty much only answer to the Boss, as it's their power they're tapping into to grant wishes and make dreams prophetic.

All three of the Higher Ups are able to pass down punishment to gods if the transgression is not considered serious. For example, in the last part of Gala of the Gods, if Prismo and Scarab actually did major damage to the Judgement Hall, the Organizer would be sending them straight to the Judge.

Someone on AO3 suggested it and I liked it a lot so I'm including it: The Organizer was kind of Scarab's mentor figure. She was pretty much the only god he really spoke to as he transitioned from mortal to immortal. They stopped talking after Scarab lost his bid for Wishmaster to Prismo. He kind of blamed her for making him think he had a chance when literally everyone else was telling him to not even bother. More on that relationship in the next chapter.

The Observer is terrifying. No one but other Higher Ups talks to the Observer. Even other gods risk going mad by looking upon him.

The Judge is so tired of everyone's bullshit. So is the Organizer tbh. Get them some coffee, dammit.

Golb/Golbetty can technically be considered a Higher Up since their power overrides Prismo's, but Golb is kind of seperate from the cosmic hierarchy. They're a chaotic nightmare, on the same level as the Higher Ups, but not technically one of them.