#had to get this one out of my system before i exploded

[writeriguess]

Beyond Stars // Sylus x fem!reader

author's note: just something I had in my mind.

The endless expanse of stars stretches out before you, a cosmic canvas of glittering diamonds against the dark velvet of the universe. The hum of your ship’s engines is a steady, comforting presence, though in the vast silence of space, it almost feels too loud. Your fingers hover over the controls, eyes scanning the radar for any sign of danger, but tonight, something feels different. The battle ahead isn’t just another routine patrol. The tension in the air is palpable, an undercurrent of unease you can’t quite shake.

You try to push it down, focusing on the task at hand. But it’s impossible to ignore. Something is off. You can feel it in your bones, in the weight of every second that ticks by.

And then, your comms crackle to life.

“Stay sharp,” comes the voice you know so well. Calm, steady, always reassuring. “I’m picking up something on my scanners. We might be in for more than we expected.”

You don’t need to look to know it’s Sylus. His voice is familiar, the sound of it a reminder that no matter what happens, he’s always there, always watching your back.

“Understood,” you reply, your fingers already dancing across the control panel as you pull your ship into a sharper turn, keeping your eyes on the enemy's last known position. The lights of distant ships flicker like fireflies, just out of reach. There’s a chill in your gut, an instinct that tells you the danger is closing in.

“Keep your distance,” Sylus advises. His voice is quiet but firm. “We’ll need to work together on this.”

You nod to yourself, though there’s no one else in the cockpit. A quiet promise that you’ll do your part. You’re not just a pilot—you’re a fighter. And tonight, you’re not facing this alone.

The enemy ships come into view, their silhouettes cutting through the dark of space like sharp knives. A dozen or so, darting through the void with unnerving precision. It’s not just a skirmish. This is an ambush. A coordinated attack.

You reach for your weapons, engaging the enemy with a swift, deadly strike. Your ship’s cannons fire with a satisfying roar, and an enemy ship explodes in a burst of light. But they keep coming—more of them, closing in, faster than you anticipated. Your pulse quickens. You can feel the pressure mounting.

"Break off now!" Sylus orders, his tone sharp, urgent. “You need to pull back. This isn’t a fight we can win head-on.”

You grit your teeth, unwilling to retreat. "I’ve got this," you mutter, weaving through the chaos of the battlefield. There’s no turning back now. You won’t leave this fight unfinished.

But then, a blast hits. Your ship shudders violently, the jolt of it throwing you against your seat. The warning lights blink urgently. Your shields are down. Your engines sputter. You struggle to regain control as your ship veers off course. The next shot would be your last.

“Get out of there!” Sylus’s voice cracks through the comm, sharper than ever. "Move! Now!”

Panic claws at your chest as the realization settles in. You can’t do this on your own anymore. Your hands fumble for the throttle, but the controls are unresponsive. The enemy ships are closing in on you, their targeting systems locking on, preparing to fire. You know it’s only a matter of seconds before they land the killing blow.

And then—through the haze of panic, you see it. A flash of silver and blue, cutting through the blackness like a predator on the hunt. Sylus. His ship. He’s here.

His presence brings an unexpected wave of relief, but you don’t have time to breathe just yet. His ship moves with fluid precision, dodging enemy fire like it’s nothing. He fires back with deadly accuracy, taking out the closest enemy ships in an instant. But still, the rest close in.

“No!” you shout, trying to regain control, but the damage is already too great. You can’t fight anymore.

“Stay with me,” Sylus says, his voice low but urgent. "I’m not losing you."

His ship positions itself between you and the enemy, taking the brunt of the fire aimed at you. His shields flare with every hit, but they hold. His cannons light up the darkness, tearing through the enemy ranks with unrelenting force.

You can’t help but watch in awe, even as the danger presses in. Sylus doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate. He’s a force of nature in the void. The precision with which he operates—every shot, every move, calculated, deliberate—it’s as though he’s part of the very fabric of space itself.

“Get ready to move,” Sylus commands, his voice steady even as the chaos of battle rages around you. “I’m giving you a window. Take it.”

You don’t need to be told twice. With his protection, you push the throttle to the limit, feeling the briefest rush of relief as your ship surges forward. Sylus follows closely behind, keeping pace with you, blocking incoming fire with his own ship.

For a moment, you lose yourself in the rhythm of it all. You’re fighting together. No hesitation. No fear. Just trust. Trust that Sylus will keep you safe, trust that you can hold your own, trust that no matter what happens, you’ll make it through this—together.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the enemy begins to break apart. The remaining ships scatter, retreating into the dark abyss of space. The battle is over. For now.

You breathe in deep, the weight of the fight lifting from your shoulders. The ship’s systems are still damaged, but you’re alive. And that, at least, is something to hold on to.

"Thanks," you murmur, your voice hoarse, though you know he can hear you.

Sylus’s voice crackles through the comm, softer now, but still full of that steady resolve. “You don’t have to thank me. You would’ve done the same for me.”

You let his words sink in, a comfort in the quiet aftermath of the battle. There’s no need for more. You know him, and he knows you. That’s all that matters.

Your ship drifts beside his, the two of you moving through the silent void as the stars glitter around you. There’s no real danger now. No more enemies to face. Just the stillness of space.

“Looks like we make a pretty good team,” you say, the corners of your mouth lifting into a small smile.

“We always have,” Sylus replies. “And we always will.”

As you float together, amidst the stars, you realize that with him by your side, you can face anything. No matter how vast, how dangerous the universe becomes, you will always have each other.

In the cold, infinite stretch of space, you’ve found something that feels like home.

[canary-curse-57]

Hellooooo everybody, it’s CC back again with my favorite pastime:

ANALYZING JIMMY SOLIDARTIYGAMING’S (WILD LIFE) DEATHS

In this post, I talked about why I thought he could win the life series, and I analyzed his deaths from every series (excluding Real Life and Wild Life) (THIS HAS SOMEHOW MANAGED TO BE ALMOST AS LONG AS THAT ONE). Now that Wild Life has been over for a while, however, I’ve decided to analyze his deaths from Wild Life, as there’s one in particular that completely doesn’t fit in any previous categorization I had. 

As a quick recap, my previous categorization system consisted of Bad Luck, Silly Decision, and Accident. One death could be more than one category at the same time. If you have any questions, feel free to leave a comment/ask!! I love yapping about the life series :D

Anyways, let’s get into it!!!

First death - Creeper - Bad Luck/Silly Decision:

This is one of a handful of deaths that he’s had over the course of the series that I genuinely think could potentially fit in all 3 categories, but I ultimately feel like leaving off Accident because it doesn’t fit quite well enough. Either way, this is one of many incredible examples of Jimmy Solidarity’s Unbelievably Bad Luck. I mean, to have not just one, but TWO creepers sneak up on you from completely opposite directions while you’re trying to fight a zombie is just INSANELY Bad Luck!!!! 

So while Bad Luck is easily the primary category here, I’m also including Silly Decision because I am of the firm belief that going ANYWHERE on your own at night is not the best choice, and doing so has gotten Jimmy killed/knocked out of previous series before (For example: his death to the enderman at the end of Double Life) so he really should’ve started avoiding this type of situation a while ago. 

Second death - Creeper - Accident/Silly Decision/Bad Luck:

What’s this? Our first triple category death? A shocker, I know, and I’m honestly not entirely confident in it. Here are my reasonings anyways:

Accident is quite simple, really: Jimmy accidentally misses his second hit on the creeper that kills him. If you slow down the video, you can see that the second time he engages with the creeper, he swings his sword at the creeper three times, landing the first hit, missing the second, and seemingly hitting the third. However, the fact that he misses his second hit means that the creeper doesn’t die, and still has enough HP to explode and kill Jimmy. There is also an element of Bad Luck at play in this specific moment too. 

Silly Decision honestly comes from what he was doing before this death: messing around and letting three whole creepers explode in front of him, blocking the explosions with his shield. Doing so is a little bit of a Silly Decision, one that Lizzie even reprimands him for, although I feel like transferring from that method of killing creepers to actually hitting them to kill them may have caused him to somehow let his guard down. (This, too, feels a little like Bad Luck, but in the specific way of the universe not taking kindly to him messing around)

Again, this is one I'm a little shaky on, so I might edit/change this up in the future. 

Third death - Snail - Accident/Silly Decision:

For the most part, this is an accident, pure and simple. Jimmy didn’t know the snail would kill him, he got a bit too close to it, and whoops, there he goes! However, I’m still adding a small amount of Silly Decision to this, because I personally feel like getting close to what is clearly the wildcard is a biiiit of a risky move, especially when you don’t know what it is/what it does yet. 

Fourth death - Snail - Silly Decision:

Jimmy knew the snail kills you the moment you touch it/it touches you, and yet he still decided to try and get incredibly close to it and get it to lunge at him. Silly Decision to the max /pos

Fifth death - Creeper - Bad Luck/Accident:

Damn, I always forget about just how rough of an episode this was for him!!! He dies four whole times in the span of ~7 minutes of video time. That’s almost one death every two minutes what on EARTH. I also very fondly remember this session being released the week after I posted my original analysis post about why I think he could win the life series someday. Absolutely hilarious timing to me lfhwejkfhwjkefhwjkhf

ANYWAYS, analysis time!! 

This is a lovely lovely example of Jimmy’s Bad Luck creating absolutely hilarious moments/the universe deciding it hates him! Oh, you want to talk to the only other yellow on the server about how it stinks to be yellow? Creeper from behind!!

I’m only adding an Accident classification in here because I watched this moment from Skizz’s POV, and he had enough time to warn Jimmy had he noticed the creeper, so I feel it gets a slight Accident rating. 

Sixth death - Dripstone - Accident:

Aaaaand here we have it folks: the death that could’ve taken Jimmy out of the series if not for Ren sacrificing himself in episode 3!! The craziest thing about this death is that it’s an accident, plain and simple. Martyn didn’t think there was really a trap, mined the block for funzies, and caused Jimmy to plummet to his death. Could you imagine if that was somehow the way Jimmy went out??? One could make an argument for Bad Luck, but I don’t really feel like it fits. 

I also strongly considered adding a Silly Decision to this one. I mean really, who stands on top of their own trap?? There’s always a chance someone might break it, and in this scenario that chance occurred!! However, in the end I feel like it classifies as more of an accident, because really, this one’s entirely on Martyn. 

Seventh death - Falling/Ravager - Bad Luck:

Ah, yet another death that I briefly considered adding Silly Decision to. I ultimately decided that it didn’t fit at all; after all, no one had any clue what could happen if you got the answer wrong at this point, so really you weren’t sure how careful you needed to be around Trivia Bots. That being said, going up into the tower miiiiight’ve not been the best choice, but ah well.

This death really felt like it was mostly Bad Luck to me because Jimmy really should’ve survived the fall!! Had it not been for his ender pearl hitting Martyn & the tree being right beneath him, I firmly believe he would’ve either teleported away safely or managed to hit a water bucket clutch (he got the water down right before he landed, it just didn’t save him because leaves (leafs?) waterlog)

Eight death - Snail - Accident/Bad Luck/I don’t even know dude this death made me lose it:

This death was quite possibly the most PAINFUL DEATH I HAVE EVER HAD TO REWATCH EVER. EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!! The fact that he just WALKED into the SNAIL has me LOSING IT like DUDEEEEEE AUGHHHHHHH

Anyways creepers and snails are now tied for Things That Caused The Most Amount of Deaths for Jimmy, with 3 each!!

But yeah. Accident all around, with maybe a smidgen of Bad Luck thrown in there because how.

Ninth death - Bloop (Iron Golem) - Accident/Silly Decision:

Sigh. It wouldn’t be a Jimmy SolidarityGaming Life Series without multiple deaths that hurt your soul /lh

Anyways, yet another Accident. Obviously he didn’t mean to hit Bloop. But ALSO this is VERY MUCH A SILLY DECISION!!! Jimmy. Jimmy why would you try to kidnap an iron golem. Jimmy. Please. You know the universe likes to take the mick out of you dude (no i’m not british idk how else to put it tho 😭). You laughed at Mumbo’s grave and Grian basically made Bloop to be Mumbo cause he was lonely, of course it would go wrong /lh. 

Sigh. C’est la vie ig. Anyways, it’s this next death that’s the whole reason why I’m doing this,,,,,,

Final death - Grian/Explosion - ?????????????????:

There is only one other death in the entirety of the life series that I consider to be uncategorizable for Jimmy, and that one was when Tango died while they were soulmates.

So this death? This death is special.

It wasn’t an Accident. Grian had sworn for a long time that he would take Jimmy out of the series. Grian always holds tight to the promise of death. This was intentional. Planned.

It wasn’t Bad Luck. Jimmy wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn’t randomly have tnt spawn around him. This was intentional. Planned.

It wasn’t a Silly Decision. One could argue that it wasn’t one singular Silly Decision that got him to this point, but multiple small ones, stacked up high enough that Grian decided to act. And I could almost bring myself to agree with that, were it not for the fact that people have done worse to each other in this series and been spared. This death was completely out of Jimmy’s hands. It was unexpected. Intentional. Planned.

For the first time, Jimmy was the main target. For the first time, he wasn’t just caught in the crossfire. For the first time, he didn’t instigate right before his death. 

For the first time, he was viewed as someone who should be taken down.

Admittedly, it’s quite a stretch to say that Grian viewed him as a threat. I honestly don’t think Jimmy will be viewed as a threat anytime soon. The legacy of the canary curse lingers far too close for now. 

But think with me, for just a moment, about what may have been. He was surviving. Others had died to the combinations of wildcards thrown at them, yet Jimmy was surviving. How far could he have made it? How long could he have lasted, had Grian not taken matters into his own hands?

I’m in no way saying that I think this was Jimmy’s best season, or that I think he could’ve won if not for Grian. This was one of the most unluckiest seasons he’s had in a while, and the silly decisions and accidents added on top of that were a recipe for disaster.

But this was the first season where he really truly showed fight. Getting kills, celebrating, gloating; for a moment, he didn’t just survive. He thrived. 

If you combined his survivability from the first 5 sessions of Last Life with the killing power he had in Wild Life, I truly think you would have a winner. 

So despite the 10 deaths, despite the silly decisions and the laughably bad luck, despite the highest highs and lowest lows, I am not left with a lack of hope for Jimmy. 

If anything, this season has just made me believe in him more. 

[zhonglicious]

now. dont get me wrong. hanma is a freak and loves it when his partner takes the lead, bossing him around. someone who knows exactly what they want, how they want it, and isnt afraid to use him to get it

but god, nothing gets him harder than a shy little thing that can barely even look him in the eye. hands over their face, occasionally peeking out at him then getting too flustered to look again. he absolutely loves watching them turn into a mess, knowing that he did that. sweet, shy little thing, tears welling at the corners of their eyes, so, so close, but too embarrassed to ask for more.

[catboyfurina]

i am never living four people to a bathroom ever again

[iceunhie]

— KISSES OR KISSES? : honkai star rail

premise. testing out your new lipstick is no fun (normally), so what better way to make use of it by kissing your lover senseless? not to mention, leaving a little something behind.... (aka, lipstick kisses with them.)

ft. blade, dan heng, boothill, dr. ratio, aventurine !

warnings: feminine reader! reader is ultimately genderless but you may interpret this as fem!reader if you want, reader wears lipstick. nicknames hehe, boothill is his own warning, mid writing tbh, unedited

a/n. the lipstick trend does not escape me at all 😞😞 but this consumed me so now i write about it ijbol

MAIN MASTERLIST || PART 2 (sunday, jing yuan, gallagher, sampo, gepard.)

“what are you doing?”

BLADE ceases all functions. like, immediately.

you'd think he'd even stopped breathing once he'd felt the soft sensation of your lips on his, and the pretty sight of the normally aloof stellaron hunter covered in multiple lipstick kisses all over his face to his neck nearly makes the rest of his other comrades keel over from laughter. his silence is indicative of his rather unusual state of shock, the only indication a menacing furrow of his brows (to an outsider, they'd think he's plotting a murder spree, but you know him too well for that) that twitch and simultaneously react the more you kiss him everywhere on the face.

silverwolf will then relay to you that blade walked around for nearly 5 system hours covered in your... marks of ownership, kafka helpfully supplies, and was only made aware when firefly accidentally bumped into him, face exploding in red when she saw the audacious sight of blade covered in your lipstick. “er, blade.... your face is...”

—

blade has never known mortification quite like today, but the intense feeling of something akin to shame is vivid as he stares at himself in the mirror, glaring.

his face is a mess, to put it simply. trailing a hand on the red stains your lips left on to him leaves him with a smudged countenance, furthering the utter chaos that is his kiss-ridden face.

“...ridiculous girl.” avoiding the uncharacteristic way his fingertips feel hot, blade reckons this is probably why firefly stopped dead in her tracks and gaped, stared, and flustered.

clever as you were, and with your equal penchant for mischief, blade, the ever unsuspecting lover he is (he doesn't normally allow anyone to touch him, but you're not just anyone) had easily become the target of your new tricks.

“pfft, nice get-up, old man. got yourself a good day?”

....so that's what silverwolf meant.

DANHENG immediately scolds you, but not in the serious way he normally does whenever stelle wants to eat an origami bird or dives into trashcans or when march accidentally destroys one of the archive books, but in a way that only dan heng ever shows you. he's red, painfully red, and is struggling to face you because he knows that the smug grin you're holding has to do with the sight he'd glimpsed himself to be in moments prior.

unfortunately for him, for all his ways of trying fervently to remove the lipstick stains plastered all over his face, it only took march one look and a melodramatic gasp before the entire express knew, the conductor included.

—

“dan heng and [name], sitting on a tree-”

“k-i-s-s-i-n-g~”

my friends are all senile, dan heng thinks, rolling his eyes while avoiding himeko's friendly (read: eerie) smile. and he's already given up on trying to meet welt's eyes. (read: concerned but not surprised)

the reason? the rouge tinted matte lipstick generously spread all over dan heng's face, slightly smudged and spanning from his cheeks to his lips, nearing his neck.

he'd never tell, but a part of him—one that was reptilian in nature, a primal need of possessiveness—adored the show of affection you showered upon him. it was only right—he was yours, and you were his.

welt is sheepish, coughing lightly that all five heads of the express members turn to him (pom-pom included) “dan heng, is that your tail wagging?”

“....”

“....”

“....”

(a resounding click! can be heard afrerwards. oh, dan heng is so going to steal march's camera.)

the loud whir of BOOTHILL’s cooling system can't even keep up with how fast he's overheating, because one thing led to another and one look you gave made him weak in the knees and now his body is covered in your kisses, scarlet against the metal gray of his limbs. he no longer has a heart, but the rapid feeling of heat emitted by his body speaks more about his current mental state in more ways than one—he can't even form words because his brain chip is practically glitching itself up into overdrive, because your lips were so warm, soft and gentle and—

“...oothill? boothill? your circuits are—”

a startling sound that sounds just like a mini explosion reverberates somewhere in the tangle of wires near boothill's power source.

oh dear.

( p.s: no warp trotters were harmed, rest assured )

“[name]...” AVENTURINE’s voice falters when you press a soft kiss near his forehead, your lover closing his eyes as he lets out a soft sigh of joy — a bit like a peacock preening... but in any case! he certainly sees no argument being swayed by you, his dignity in shambles, yes, but when you were showering him with affection like this (which, in all honesty, aventurine did not think he deserved) leaves in in a flushed and tattered mess of a man, whose strings are wholly puppeteered by you and you alone.

you are everything; and aventurine certainly can't get enough. (he doubts if enough will even be enough someday) he's the lover who'd proudly want to flaunt such salacious marks everywhere, though his craftily built reputation as a stoneheart—blood sweat and commodity code and all—leaves him to hide your marks on him, as much as he'd like them to stay. (you are a weakness that aventurine keeps like an oath, and an existence that he'd do anything to keep.)

that doesn't, however, stop him from getting you to leave a kiss near his collar, discreet enough to signal his status as irrevocably, undeniably yours.

DR. VERITAS RATIO is actually the most calm and most normal (read: boring) of all the men above when barraged by your kiss attack. letting out a tsk that's more chiding and speeachless than actually annoyed, he casually pulls you away from his face, nevermind his rapidly heating cheeks, which is only made more humorous given his lipstick stained face.

“stop that. you're making too much of a mess of me, fool.” <- is visibly leaning to your face to allow said actions. you're not fooling anyone here, doctor. smh.

however, he does get pretty flustered when a certain blond gambler notes the new addition of a ‘tattoo’ right near his lower lip. “wow, doctor. seems you woke up on the good side of the bed today.”

he spends a whole day scolding you hoarse afterwards, whatever that may entail ;).

(as a way of petty revenge, he will make sure to kiss you senseless right after, until he's sure his own lips are swollen and covered in the warm red of your chosen shade.)

a/n: blog is running on queue as of today, so this post will probably come wayyy overdue lol but hope u enjoy nonetheless!

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[bodybaggage]

The Dan-Tastic Disaster

When the JL is stuck on babysitting duty until Danny shows up

———

It started like any other Justice League meeting, with Batman brooding in the corner, Superman standing confidently at the head of the table, and Wonder Woman calmly preparing for the mission briefing. What none of them expected was to be dealing with a de-aged, ghostly child with the potential to end worlds.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Superman asked, glancing down at the toddler perched on the conference table, currently gnawing on a metal batarang like it was a teething ring.

"Safe?" Batman muttered, rubbing his temples. "No. Manageable? Hopefully."

Dan Phantom—or what was left of him in his current toddler form—looked innocent enough at first glance. Bright green eyes, tiny fists gripping onto Batman’s cape like a security blanket, a cute little tuft of white hair curling above his head. But the Justice League had been briefed on his true nature. He was Danny Phantom’s evil future self, de-aged through some cosmic mishap. And now, thanks to fate or terrible luck, they were babysitting.

"Up! Up!" Dan suddenly demanded, lifting his tiny hands towards Superman.

Superman, always the gentle giant, smiled softly. “Okay, little guy. Let’s—OW!”

The moment Superman picked him up, Dan burst into green flames, scorching Superman's red cape and singeing his hair. The Kryptonian tried to gently pat out the fire, but Dan just giggled mischievously and floated upwards, still burning, as Superman’s cape disintegrated into ashes.

“I’ll just… get another cape,” Superman mumbled, resigned.

Wonder Woman knelt down, observing the floating toddler with the curiosity of someone about to embark on an epic quest. “He reminds me of the young warriors of Themyscira,” she said, a glimmer of fondness in her eyes. “Strong, brave, and full of fire.” Literally.

She offered him a soft smile. “Little one, let me tell you a tale from my youth, of the Amazons and their triumph over the beasts of the land.”

Dan floated down toward her, his eyes glowing with interest for all of three seconds before he grabbed her lasso and swung from it like a child on a tire swing. "Wheeeeee!"

Wonder Woman blinked. “He is… very enthusiastic.”

Meanwhile, Batman was in the corner, already furiously texting Danny Phantom on his encrypted Bat-phone. URGENT: Toddler version of evil future self setting things on fire. Please advise.

Danny’s response pinged back almost immediately: Good luck! Don’t let him touch anything sharp or made of explosives. Be there soon-ish.

Batman scowled at the "soon-ish." The last thing they needed was “soon-ish.” They needed now.

"Uh, Bruce," Superman said, nervously eyeing Dan, who had now decided that the perfect place to hide was inside a control panel. "He’s touching the lasers."

Batman swiveled around just in time to see the Watchtower's interior light up in bright neon green flashes. Every screen blinked with static, and the alarm system activated. Dan was just... pressing buttons. Randomly. While humming a tune and still floating lazily around, now wearing Wonder Woman’s tiara on his head.

"Dan," Batman said in the tone reserved for criminals, children, and now, apparently, demonic ghost toddlers. "Get out of there."

Dan paused, looking Batman straight in the eye, and gave the kind of evil grin only a future supervillain could pull off. He slammed his tiny fist into the panel, causing every door in the Watchtower to open and close in a chaotic frenzy. Somewhere, the coffee machine exploded.

“Great Hera,” Wonder Woman murmured, eyeing the scene with wide-eyed awe. “He is... relentless.”

“He’s a menace,” Batman grumbled, already trying to recalibrate the systems on his wrist computer.

Superman, ever the optimist, decided to take a different approach. "Dan, how about we go play somewhere that isn’t full of very important and dangerous equipment?"

Dan looked at Superman for a long moment, then reached out and ignited Superman’s other cape. Superman sighed. “I don’t know why I thought that would work.”

Before Batman could further escalate into his “silent looming” tactic (which, thus far, had only led to Dan giggling and calling him “funny bat man”), Danny Phantom finally phased through the wall. He was panting, his hair tousled, clearly in a hurry.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Danny said, hands up. “I had to deal with this whole thing with the Ghost Zone and—oh, wow. He’s already set things on fire? That was fast.”

Batman gave him a look. The kind that promised revenge if Danny didn’t take care of this immediately.

“Oh yeah, he’s... a handful,” Danny said, scooping up the toddler, who immediately stopped causing chaos and instead tugged at Danny’s hoodie. “I told Clockwork it was a bad idea to leave him with you guys, but you know how he is.”

Batman raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me Clockwork is responsible for this?”

“Yeah,” Danny replied, casually flipping Dan upside down, which somehow made the toddler laugh instead of scream. “Said it would ‘build character’ or something. No idea what that means.”

Wonder Woman glanced between the now-quiet Dan and the previously-chaotic Watchtower, eyebrow raised. “And what, exactly, are we meant to learn from this?”

Danny shrugged, adjusting Dan like a backpack. “Patience? Endurance? Definitely not fire safety, though.”

Superman, cape now a pile of ash on the floor, simply chuckled. “Well, it was... eventful.”

“I’m just glad the Watchtower is still standing,” Batman muttered, already mentally drafting the report about the damage.

Danny grinned, patting Batman on the back. “You did great! You didn’t even let him explode anything. That’s a win in my book.”

As Danny started phasing through the walls with a happy toddler on his back, Wonder Woman watched them go, a soft smile on her face. “He truly has a way with him, doesn’t he?”

Superman nodded, glancing down at the remains of his cape. “Yeah. But next time, he’s babysitting.”

Batman, deadpan as ever, just sighed. "There won't be a next time."

[moonlightcycle571]

Lmao I just had a fantastic vision.

The JL fighting a multiversal threat, and the for keeps disappearing into different universes/worlds. While everyone is coming up with ways to travel to apprehend the foe, Captain Marvel has an idea.

Batman: so far, our current multiversal technology is subpar and unable to go at the rate the villain is going.

Flash: while I can travel through universes, it’s going to take a while to l’acte which one they’re on, and even then, they can leave before I even do anything.

Superman: we need a reliable tracker and transport system. Both being crucial elements we don’t have

Captain Marvel: I have an idea.

Cue to the JL all on a random sidewalk, with the clear instructions to ‘wait until they arrive’ and to ‘not move or interfere in any way shape of form’.

Random Truck: *appears out of nowhere, hitting a random pigeon*

JL: huh

Marvel: well that’s going to be an interesting story. Anyways, there you are! Guys, meet Truck-kun!

JL: excuse me???

Truck-kun:

Marvel: Their a bit shy ☺️

JL: …

Truck-kun: *blushes*

JL: how is that even possible??!??!?

They proceed to go in and go through some weird interdimensional car chase, passing by random worlds, spawning through random streets (for some reason, most of them are in Japan), and more importantly, hitting A LOT of people. Old, young, middle aged, animals, even a vending machine at some point. It’s just a slaughter.

The JL is horrified, and Cap is just sitting in his seat, all chill.

Green Lantern: DID WE JUST HIT SOMEONE

Marvel: yup

Superman: AND YOURE DOING NOTHING TO STOP IT

Marvel: nope

Batman: Captain that kills people

Marvel: it’s not killing, more like transporting them into a different universe that is more suited for them. Had we not hit them, they would have died either ways within the hour. Now they get a second chance of life.

JL: *existential crisis*

Even after the villain is apprehended, they found out they only managed to get this far is because they had a magic car*

Hawkwoman: *stares at the car* how does one come across thee vehicles

Marvel: well I met Truck-kun cause he’s besties with my magic Train. Train-chan told me that Truck-kuns little brother Car-kun got abducted, which is why Truck-kun was so willing to help.

JL:…

Flash: I’m going to go lie down.

Batman: *mentally adding magic vehicle community to his conspiracy board*

Bonus:

Green Arrow: *retelling what happened* -and then some random Truck pulls up

Conner Hawke: lmao you met Truck-kun

Green Arrow:

Conner:

Black Canary: … how do you know that name?

Conner: w h a t

Bonus 2:

Naturally Conner tells Damian, who tells Jon, who tells Kon, who tells the Titans and basically the whole thing spreads.

Red Robin: YOU MET TRUCK KUN! THE GREAT ONE HIMSELF

Spoiler: THE ALL MIGHTY WHEELS OF STEEL

Cyborg: WHY WASNT I INVITED! CAP YOU LBOW HOW MUCH I LIKE MY ISEKAI

Blue Beetle: JUST CAUSE YOU GASLIGHT DOES NOT MEAN YOURE A GIRL BOSS

Superboy: SHARING IS CARING

Arsenal, lying on the road: TAKE ME

Bonus 3:

Static Shock: next you’ll be telling us you know Archie’s magic bus

Marvel: well I’m not sure I know who this ‘Archie’ is, but Train-chan does have a cousin called Bus-san.

Titans: *explode*

[genderqueerdykes]

is there anything that has happened since starting T that you didn't expect to happen? or that you feel you were not adequately informed about (by doctors, peers, etc), and that really should be more common knowledge?

that's such a great question, thank you for asking! that's a huge yes from me! here's what i experienced that i was definitely caught off guard by and not warned about that presented some challenges:

I was not told that because my body is changing, growing, and adjusting to a new balance in my endocrine system that i would be very exhausted for quite a while. i already have chronic fatigue but i basically struggled to get out of bed for about 2 weeks after starting T- i wasn't depressed, i was just exhausted. this is due to the fact that my muscles were becoming denser and rearranging themselves, my facial and body structure were changing, i was growing more hair, etc. that takes a lot of energy!

Similarly to the point above, no one told me that it would make you hungry as hell, and require you to eat a lot more. if you feel like you're "over eating" after just starting testosterone, you're probably not- your base caloric intake needs to increase because you are literally growing and changing, and also, high testosterone bodies tend to need more calories anyways

Body hair growth is ITCHY!!!! and sometimes even painful! growing hair in sensitive areas like your armpits, crotch and ass can be extremely uncomfortable if not painful at times. I've heard from even cis men who have told me that growing their ass hair was extremely painful and uncomfortable due to how that area is configured- if you find that hair growth is uncomfortable this is pretty normal, but always seek help if it becomes unbearable or you feel there are ingrown hairs. Also nose hair and ear hair become more of a thing, now

Testosterone will thicken your vocal cords and drop your voice, but you also have to teach yourself how to speak from your chest, or how to drop your voice to sit in a lower range naturally or else you will still sound pretty similar to your pre-transition voice, unless that is your goal. The effects are very strong, but many transmascs*, trans folk* etc. don't see as much change as they would if they also trained their voice at the same time while it's dropping

Your boobs will become flatter and sometimes smaller and a lot saggier. This is normal!

Whenever i re-start testosterone and when i started it for the first time, i had some pretty heavy menstrual periods for a while; sometimes your body reacts in the opposite way at first before totally stopping your periods altogether. it's almost like "rebound" symptom, if you know what that mean

Restless energy will very much become a thing, if you notice you're starting to get pissed off and can't place a finger on why you feel agitated and like you're going to explode, you might just need to do some physical activity for a while

that's all i could think of for now, but if i think of anything else, i'll be sure to add it to this post! thanks for asking, i hope this was informational! good luck out there in your journey!

[killergee]

Part 3! Sorry for the late update, but here's the last part, my friends. I had no idea what to do, so I fell into a good old trope. Slight nsfw, but it’s mainly just Hoshina and his dirty mind, hehe. Oh, and some kissing.

Summary: Angry, frustrated, jealous, and trapped in an elevator. Who will crack first?

P1 P2 P3

Tagslist: @surprisemodafakas @yrxhyes @voidsatoru @vash-yuu @er0ssu @rosesandquartzz

---------------------------

Hoshina knew he was the only one at fault for testing his own patience, but God was he so sure he was going to explode if things continued like this.

He wanted you to be the one to take the final step and cross the distance. He wanted to see you want him like you said you did so many months ago. To see that passion for him once again.

That didn’t mean he waited around for you to confess, though. No, he didn’t hold back when it came to you.

If anything, he became greedy when it came to you.

Hoshina didn't know how he survived before, now knowing what your touch felt like. It felt like fire on his skin. One that left a burning desire that he only knew to quell by grasping at you for more. Yet, even then, it wasn't enough. You always left him wanting more. You left him clinging to what was left of his sensibilities to not take you there and then. Hoshina thinks he must be a masochist because of how he kept pushing for more, knowing you'll reject him or that he'll have to stop himself before he goes too far and ruins everything.

Yet, when you did accept his affections, the feeling was unparalleled. When you did reciprocate, it made him feel butterflies in his stomach. It made him feel a different type of warmth, a different sense of fulfillment. One that told him it was worth it to keep trying.

So, he gave in to his desires again and again and again. As long as he doesn't straight-up confess, he still has a shot at making you take action. Right?

Hoshina groans as he finishes another one of his reports. Mina has been working him to the bone lately. Taking him out of sessions to work on mission plans, interrupting him mid lunch to accompany her to meetings, even going as far as interrupting his midnight training sessions with you to ask for his opinion on the production of a new weapon. Hoshina swears he’s barely seen you for the last two weeks because of this. To say he was a bit annoyed would be an understatement. Especially since because of his busy nature, Mina delegated his tasks to you to handle. Tasks that included working with his unit.

Now, this normally wouldn’t be a problem if Kafka hadn’t taken such a liking to you. Hoshina should’ve known Kafka would like you after he overheard your conversation with him the first time. While trapped in his office, it takes all his efforts to not jump out the window and tell Kafka to take a step back from you. He didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, stress, or withdrawal from your presence, but he felt absurdly angry at seeing you being so friendly with Kafka. Hell, even seeing you laughing with his unit left a bitter taste in his mouth.

While you and his unit seemed to be getting closer, you and Hoshina haven’t made any progress at all since that night. Hoshina felt frustrated on so many different levels and mixed with the pressure to not disappoint his superior, Hoshina was so wired he could barely sit still. He nearly snapped his pen in half just thinking about it.

He either needed to train or fuck this out of his system.

He couldn’t concentrate on anything. The words on the paper in front of him were starting to blur, and he was seconds away from writing “because this is stupid” as his rationale for rejecting proposals.

Looking up at the clock and seeing the hand tick closer to 2am, he groans into his hands and decides that the responsible choice would be to go to sleep and pray that tomorrow never came.

Putting on his jacket, he barely gives his desk a second glance as he leaves to lock the office door. Once in the elevator, he pushes the button to the fourth floor and immediately slumps against the railing on the wall of the elevator. With his hundredth sigh of the day, he tries to think on the brighter side. Since no one would be up at this god forsaken hour, he didn’t need to wait for the elevator to open on every floor.

When the elevator stops, Hoshina rolls his eyes at his luck. Looking up at the ceiling and exhaling, he doesn’t bother to acknowledge the person entering the elevator.

It wasn’t until he heard the familiar click of your tongue does he snap his head down to see you standing beside him.

There you were.

Standing with your arms crossed and staring at the doors of the elevator as if they’ve wronged you. The object of his affections and his frustrations. The person he was craving most at the moment.

Seeing you in the flesh again, skin pink probably from showering, shirt unbuttoned a little too low combined with the scent of your faded shampoo wafting through the elevator…

Fuck it, the training room will have to do, Hoshina decides, quickly leaning forward to press the button to the second floor. He can feel the weird look you’re giving him, but he decides for both of your sakes he’s going to keep looking at the doors. God, he couldn’t believe your presence alone was doing it for him. He needed out now.

But, unfortunately for him, the world continued to ignore his wishes. With a slight tremble, the elevator slows in its tracks until it abruptly stops. Not being able to believe his luck, it wasn’t until the lights began to dim that he lets out a curse.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he hears you say as you immediately dig into your pocket to get your phone. Pressing the help button on the elevator, he waits for you to finish your call with security. With the way you were scowling, he knew the news couldn’t be good. With it also being so late, he doubts anyone would come rescue you guys any time soon.

“Yea sure, we can have super suits and high-tech weapons, but god forbid we have a working elevator” you mumble sarcastically after hanging up the phone. Barely looking at him, you announce, “they said they’ll have it fixed within an hour.”

“That’s fucking great,” Hoshina groans, massaging his temples with one hand as he curses whatever god fucking with him right now. Finally turning to look at you, he notices how far you were from him. You were practically squishing yourself into the corner of the elevator to distance yourself. With the night taking away his patience, he comments without any restraint. "Now what’s got ya so pissed off?”

You turn to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“I said what’s got ya so mad ya can’t even stand to be in the same space as me,” Hoshina scoffs, adding fuel to the flames. “Scared I got cooties? A little too late for that, I’m sure.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You hiss, anger rolling off you. The piercing glare you sent his way satisfied him in a twisted way he couldn’t understand. He’ll blame the adrenaline and the frustration.

“What are you even doing here so late? Ah, sneaking out from the Captain’s room, I’m sure." You spit venomously, mocking his phrasing. "Wasn’t satisfied enough, so you’re coming to me?”

“Now what the hell are ya going on about?”

Your eyes narrow a fraction more. “Oh sorry, Vice-Captain. Did I hit a nerve? Sad that the Captain didn’t like you enough to let you stay the night?”

“You’re being ridiculous, you’re lucky no one else is here to hear you say that. If ya weren’t you, I’d have you punished for talking about Min- Captain Ashiro like that.” Shit, he was losing his grip.

You let out a hollow chuckle devoid of any humour. “No, no, you don’t need to correct yourself like that in front of me, Vice-Captain. I won’t tell anyone,” you say, drawing out the syllables of his title.

“Don’t call me that, y/n,” he growls. “Nothing is going on betwe-”

“You think I’m fucking stupid? Everything you’ve done to me. The late night training sessions, 'working' together on reports, having lunch together, everything that we’ve done together you’re now off doing it with her.” You continue, your voice getting more heated with every word. “Her interrupting us again and again, you think I can’t take a fucking hint? I know my place now, so you don’t need to worry about anything.”  

“Y/n, it’s nothing like that. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t b-”

His explanation falls on deaf ears as you continue your angry rant. “You know what? Kafka was right.”

Heart stopping, the flash of heat Hoshina felt throughout his body broke the dam holding the last bits of his sanity. “What’s Kafka got to do with anything?”

“Kafka noticed how you two were always together for the last couple of weeks. I told him it was nothing, but I guess I owe him an apology. I’d hate to see the look on his face when I tell him.”

“Ya seriously trusting Kafka over me?”

“I mean, why not? He’s trustworthy, he’s kind, he’s reliable-”

Hoshina lets out a hostile scoff, “Oh, and I’m not?”

“He’s never touched me and then gone off and-”

“He’s never what?” Hoshina pushes off the wall, making his way into your corner. “He better not touch you the way I do. And even if he did," his eyes gleam in a dangerous manner, "he'll never be able to make you feel the way I make you feel.”

Hoshina's tone is strong and sure. “Stop talking about that damn brat and listen. Nothing is going on between me and the Captain. I do not like her like that and I can promise you I never will.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes you hesitate. But you need his words. You need solid proof that he feels the same need for you that you do for him—so you push on anyway. “How can I be sure? How can I trust you?”

Not one to backdown, you meet him in the middle before he could completely corner you. With your finger to his chest, Hoshina takes a step back. His attempt to put space between you doesn't deter you as you push forward. In fact, it emboldens you to press on until his back hits the wall and your as nose to nose as you possibly can with your height difference.

Hoshina couldn’t think straight. The only thing he hears from you is jealousy, and it's going straight down to his dick. The feel of your body on his, the heat of the argument, the intensity of your glare, he was about to snap. "Please don't do that," Hoshina hisses.

“Where’s all the heat from before? Answer my question."

"Y/n." 

The sternness of his voice makes you falter. 

His hands raise slightly in a sign of surrender. "Don't touch me if you're not willing to take responsibility for your actions." He says in a teasing voice, but even you could hear the strain in them. 

“What are you talking about.”

“If ya touch me now, I can’t promise ya that I’ll be a gentleman about it.” As if warning you about what's to come, Hoshina brings his hands down onto your hips, pulling you close until your hips press against his. His actions evoke a different kind of heat than your argument.

“How could I ever want anyone else when you’re the only one who’s always on my mind. You think everything I’ve done to ya up to this point was casual? That I was only teasing ya for fun?”

“Ya want proof? Fine.” He brings your hand to rest over his chest, his heart beating wildly at your touch. To lay it all down on the table, to bare his soul to you, he'll do it all if it means even the slightest chance you'll accept him.

"Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to move away, to not touch you, to not love you, and I will never bother you again." He grits through his teeth. "God, tell me now so I can stop myself before it's too late." Maybe it already was, but he won't tell you that. 

At your silence, his heart plummets. Hoshina lets go of your hand. “Sorry-”

"Kiss me, asshole." 

"I- what?"

"Fine, I'll do it myself." You grab the back of his head and pull him towards you, lips crashing into his in a passionate fury.

After a beat, Hoshina hungrily returns your passion. His hands back onto your body with a fervor. The kiss was heated. It tasted like frustration, anger, jealousy and want. It was exhilarating and intoxicating and Hoshina didn’t want it to end.

Breaking the kiss for air, the intensity of your gaze sends a delightful shiver up his spine. "You drive me insane, you know that? Getting off on teasing me and then trynna back away when you finally got the chance to do something, to do anything. Do I need to spell it out for you? I want you. I want you all for myself." you say, grabbing a handful of his hair with a strength that was bordering the line between painful and amazing. 

"Take responsibility? Talk about your fucking self. You've ruined me for anyone else. Do something about it."

“Yes ma’am.” Without hesitation, Hoshina dives back in for a kiss, and all that could be felt was lips on lips and the sting of teeth.

Hands grasping at every inch of your skin, he turns you and pushes you against the wall of the elevator. Lips moving from yours to your neck, his hand hungrily tugs at the top of your shirt. Unable to control his strength, the button pops, but your gasp is replaced by a moan as he bites into the expanse of your neck.

Motivated by the sounds you make, Hoshina snakes his arm behind your back—pressing your body against his in an almost suffocating manner. Blinded by his eagerness, he didn’t notice the lights turning back on and the elevator running again. It's not until the doors ding open, and you push him away does he finally come back to his senses.

Moving away from him, you use your hand to clasp at the top of your shirt—trying to replicate the security of the button he ripped off. You have half the mind to yell at him, but the smugness in his smile makes you bite the inside of your cheek. Satisfaction reeked from his body, and his cat-like eyes raking over yours made your knees weak.

The next time the doors open, he takes your hand in his and leads you out. "This isn't my floor," you say face flushed as you knew where he was heading.

"Yep, it's mine," he replies with uncontainable excitement.

He turns his head to glance back at you. “If I knew all it took for ya to confess was to trap ya in an elevator with me, I would’ve done this much sooner.” Hoshina says with a cheeky grin, hand gripping yours in a way that said you weren’t leaving him any time soon.

You roll your eyes, but you continue to follow him anyways. A small smile tugs at your lips.

“You’re unbelievable.”

[ask-the-pioneer]

"I sure do! Watch this..."

"I can make explosive spears and throwables, just like my mom did. I can also propel myself in the air by whipping my tail very fast, which sets off the same flammable compound in my tail surface for an explosive boost. Very handy for movement, but also very loud… not great if you're trying to be stealthy. And yeah, my sibling could do that too, but he was always more interested in doing other things. An energetic but very scatterbrained kid that he was."

[She takes aim and throws the spear somewhere far away. It ignites and explodes with a loud dull bang that shakes the ground slightly]

"I can't do that too often, though. Maybe a handful of times in quick succession before my muscles tense up and burn as if scorched by flames. One time it got so bad that I lost consciousness and couldn't move for a couple of minutes after waking up. That was scary, and hurt like hell... since then I've been more careful. That said, I wonder if there are more slugcats with similar abilities to mine out there? I have not met that many scugs in my life to begin with, if I'm honest..."

"Of course I remember my family, how could I not! My sibling's name is… hmmm, right, let me explain this first. Slugcats have very good sense of smell. Usually, we know one another by our unique scents. They are incredibly complex, but can be written down as series of letters, if you map those symbols to the corresponding scent proteins and other chemical compounds. For example, my scent name would be:"

"Addmitely, this notation method is very over-engineered – a slugcat just knows you are you if they smell you. From what I learned, scugs don't really use a coherent writing system.. of any kind. I think the colonies may use pictograms? I uh, I've never been a part of a colony, so I'm missing a lot of info here. Still, what I wrote on the wall – I have used an Ancient script, which I roughly mapped to key compounds that make a scent. As you can see, it's incredibly long, it can also change over time, parts of it can be masked with non-organic aromas to hide your identity, so on and so forth. To simplify even further, these long strings of letters can be shortened to just the last three or two characters, and this is what scugs may choose to use to refer to one another. Here, my scent name is MGV."

"Then, there are names that resemble the form that the Ancients would use. It's considered more refined, and more common in big colonies where people adopt their preferable roles. Those names are viewed as a kind of «gift», because you receive it from your community. It's a symbol of how they see you, what you mean to them. Of course, my closest family was never a part of a colony… but my mom would still give me and my sibling those special names. I was named «Blue», which is the color of the sky above when it's not raining, and the color of clear water. My brother's name is «Bryn» after a very fragrant medicinal plant that relaxes your muscles when consumed. I always found it funny, as my brother was often the one getting in trouble and giving our mom heartaches."

[She pauses for a moment, thinking intensively]

"Hmm, I never thought of asking my mother about her name. I wonder if she had one? To me and it was always just «mom»…"

"My other parent? I never knew him. Must have left just before or right after my mom had me, because there is literally nothing I remember of him… or them… whoever they were."

[She takes some pearls out from her bag, and inspects them one by one just to keep her hands busy]

"Mom would never talk about him, as if he never existed. And I never questioned her, I was too young to understand and simply accepted everything at face value. It was just the way things were. Would I want to meet my other parent? Maybe, but I doubt it'd make a difference. What would I even say to them? «Thanks for abandoning mom and leaving her to fend for herself»? "

"I don't know. Maybe I'm too harsh. Maybe he was a hero who sacrificed themself to save my mother. That could explain why he was never seen or heard of again. But… I have no way of knowing for sure. It's the life I won't be getting back anyway."

// In the second drawing, I've used logographs from @ikayblythe's Standard Hegemonic Dialect

[phant0mth1ef]

chapter 2: “again? really?”

“so are we going to address the elephant in the room or are we going to pretend like a popular streamer isn’t thirsting over bakugou?” kirishima’s voice was the first to break the air, his friends all silently eating around him.

midoriya was the first to put his fork down, grabbing his cloth as he wiped his mouth, a man of manners.

“i think it’s funny. even funnier how kacchan replied and never told us anything about this!” the man in question peeked one eye up as he leaned in to put his fork into his mouth, simultaneously side eyeing midoriya.

“i don’t know how he thought he’d be able to hide this from us!” kaminari and mina had exploded into laughter from their seats across the table, the duo adding onto their joke the moment they begun to come down from their high.

“tch. it’s not a big deal! all i did was reply to some tweet. i don’t get why you’re all acting like it’s so bad.” he dropped his fork back onto his plate as he grunted.

“here’s the thing, bakugou. we know it’s not a big deal. we as in those of us who are sitting around this table, but your fans are rabid. they’re going to think that you’re flirting with her.” todoroki spoke, the first time anybody had heard the man talk at all that night.

“i’ve seen someone with the username bakugoustoecrust before, shouto’s right.” mina stopped her laughter with denki, chiming in about what she’d seen on twitter one night while mindlessly scrolling.

the topic was dropped soon after, everyone returning to their meals as they ate in silence, an occasional quip coming out of kaminari as the sounds of people going about their usual day were heard.

the restaurant door dinged, signaling the arrival of two people just as the group was about to leave, your blonde friend quickly grinning at who he had just seen.

“what’re you so happy about?” you were currently working off a hangover from the previous night, it seems that everytime you’d go out with neito, you’d either leave with alcohol in your system, or you’d encounter the man you’d been making thrist posts about.

you were suddenly wide awake as you turned your head back to its normal position, seeing a man with blonde hair and bright red eyes staring at you, a scowl on his face.

your cheeks flushed, unable to hide your embarassment as neito begun to greet the group, forcing you to stand behind him while he greeted the group of famous pro’s.

you weren’t famous. you’d like to consider yourself as popular, but you’d never in a million years be able to put yourself out there to save people the way they do, so you sit and play video games in your room.

“hey there! you’re y/n, right?” the green haired man was in front of you in a flash, making you back up a little as his nose almost hit yours.

“yes, hello. it’s nice to meet you.” you smiled softly as you could see his eyes roaming around your body, it’s been runoured that he was really just an energetic person who liked to know things about people.

“what’s your quirk?? i’ve been dying to know.” he was such a bright presence, it was nearly impossible for you to pretend that you hadn’t heard him.

“oh! um, i can just, well it’s better if i show you.” you stepped aside, a small hole appearing in the floor as you were dropped into it, you’d reappeared on the other side of midoriya.

“just drop through the ground and reappear. but it really isn’t that great, my limit is about fifteen feet so i can’t move too far.” you sheepishly put a hand on the back of your neck, tilting it slightly.

“i think it’s a great quirk!” he left just as suddenly as he appeared, leaving you face to face with the number two pro hero, dynamight.

“tch.” oh he hated you. just great. he’s not going to like what had happened last night while you were intoxicated.

“well alright then! if you don’t mind, we’ll be going, this lunch won’t wait.” neito grabbed your arm, dragging you along with him as you stumbled before catching yourself.

“he hates me.” you murmured as you took your seat inside the booth that neito had led you to.

“just a bit! he’ll get over it.” the door jingled as the big group exited, but a pair of vermillion eyes never left your figure, at least not until you were out of sight.

that action didn’t go unnoticed by his friends.

tags! : @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @pixiesluver

ignore how the timestamp says 8 am, this is supposed to be the tweet from when you were drunk lol

[woso-dreamzzz]

Illness

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: You hide an illness

If you weren't delirious with a fever and sweating bullets, you would have described this moment as the most embarrassing moment of your life.

The semi-final El Clásico was one of the most important of the season and it was such bad luck that you had fallen ill the week before. It was most likely the flu but you never went to any doctor to get it checked out. Instead, you hunkered down in your apartment and refused to leave until you got better.

Only, you never did get fully better. Your immune system was as strong as a wall of feathers so you just decided to channel your inner Oscar winner and pretend you were fine.

You arrived at training every day after taking enough painkillers to fell an ox and hydrate yourself to the point that you were sure that your bladder had to force itself to grow.

It paid off though because you were part of the squad going to Madrid and you caught up on sleep during the train ride so could keep up your façade all the way up to the match day.

Your head was pounding as you finally stepped onto the pitch about ten minutes after half time, sliding easily into Lucy's position as the ball went back into play.

Thankfully, football was an instinct rather than a conscious thought at this point and even with a banging headache, achy limbs and a blocked nose, you played without much issue.

"Hey," Irene said as you took a little break from running to walk over to the corner that was being set up," You okay? You're slower than usual today."

You fanned yourself with your jersey. "Just a little hot."

She gave you an odd look. "It isn't that hot. You haven't been on the pitch for long."

You gave her a shrug and lied straight to her face," Really? I guess I'm just running warm today." You picked up the pace and slotted yourself between Athenea and Olga.

It was almost slow motion as Salma sent a cross into the box. Olga tried to push you forward and away while Athenea's elbow stabbed you straight in the eye.

You dropped like a brick backwards into Olga, who surprised by your sudden weight, dropped you on the floor. Your head banged painfully against the grass and you groaned.

There was a slight ringing in your ears but you couldn't focus on anything but the desperate churning of your stomach. You squeezed your eyes tight to try to stem the swirling but it just made stars explode behind your eyelids as your face throbbed from Athenea's elbow.

Your stomach bubbled up and you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, kid, you okay?" It was Irene and she jostled you slightly.

That was what did it and you rolled over onto your stomach just in time to surrender your dinner.

You burst into tears, sobbing into the grass.

"Holy shit, y/n," Mariona said," You're burning up! Are you sick?"

"You're sick?!"

You continued to cry into the grass. With your usual caretaker (Alexia) out of the team for the rest of the month, it meant Irene was in charge of you.

You couldn't decide if you would rather Alexia at this moment.

"Go away," You cried into the grass.

"Can't do that," Ingrid said as she crouched over you," The medics are coming to get you."

You turned your head to look at her.

"She got you good, huh?" Ingrid said, her fingers ghosting over your swollen eye.

"Ingrid," You croaked out," My head hurts."

"I'm sure. That was a nasty fall."

"Hurt before that too."

She made a sympathetic noise as she helped you sit up for the medics to have a proper look at you.

You were escorted straight off when they checked the dilation of your pupils.

Lucy trailed back with you along with Marta, who looked to already be on the phone with Alexia. You knew your caretaker would be watching the match so it wasn't a surprise that she had already called someone the moment you went down.

"Got quite the shiner there," Lucy commented as she inspected your bruised eye," Trying to look like Mapi?"

"At least it isn't bleeding," You said before descending into a coughing fit, thumping at your chest to try and regain your breath.

Lucy laughed but quietened when Marta held the phone out to you. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling you felt when you saw Alexia's contact picture.

You cleared your throat.

"Hola?"

"I knew it!" Alexia declared.

"Know what?" You tried to play dumb even though your whole body protested.

"When I saw you yesterday and you told me you were back to full health! I knew you were lying to me! You're still sick!"

"Barely." Your defence didn't help when you started coughing again.

"You sound horrible," Alexia said bluntly," You're not playing the final. I'll have you benched."

"I'll be benched anyway. I've got a bruise the size of my fucking country on my eye and a concussion, probably."

"We'll have a talk about hiding illness when you get home," Alexia said," And I'll have to leave a message for your captain."

You would have rolled your eyes if it didn't cause a whole new pain to shoot through your skull. Your nose was all blocked up again so the pressure in your head was only mounting. "You're my captain."

"Your national captain."

"Oh, what? You can't tell Leah! She'll go barmy! I'll be lectured for hours!"

"You're being lectured regardless, by me," Alexia said," Now, rest up, drinks lots and I'll see you in a few days."

You didn't even get the chance to watch the end of the match because Marta forced you back to the hotel and into your room.

"No screens," She said when you moved to turn on the tv.

"Well, what else am I meant to do?" You complained, blowing out your nose.

"Well, for one, you can use the bucket on the floor if you feel like you're going to be sick."

"I'm not going to throw up."

"You threw up on the pitch." Marta just had to remind you of the most embarrassing moment of your life and your cheeks flushed red out of embarrassment now instead of your fever.

"But I won't now."

Marta didn't get time to respond because the door to your room got thrown open and Patri sprawled herself next to you on the bed.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," She teased, dumping some chocolate onto your lap.

"Patri," Marta groaned," She's sick and injured. She needs rest."

"She needs company. She's still human. You can't just lock her in her room like she's Rapunzel."

Marta rolled her eyes and swatted at Patri. "She doesn't need you hindering her recovery. Go on, out with you."

"Nah," Patri said as she got comfortable," I think I'll stay here. Besides, y/n wants me to stay."

You sent Marta your most pathetic and sad look.

"Please, Marta?" You begged," I promise she'll help me. It'll be nice to have some company."

Marta sighed deeply. "Fine but just for now. This all might change by the time Alexia gets her."

You groaned and flopped back to lay against your pillows properly. "Don't remind me."

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

HiHIHI HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A GOOD DAY JUST WANTED TO SAY I LOVE YOUR WORKS

I just binge read every single one of your Boothill fics and they all got me kicking my feet and everything!! I love how you write him and Ore is so cute I could actually explode 💥💥💥

Take your time or you can choose to ignore but can I have a request of Ore going missing (it's very small if I recall, so I kinda imagine it getting stuck under the couch or something) and just Boothill helping to look for it? TYSM IF YOU DO!

thank you so much for reading and enjoying my content!! I honestly dont know if i'll ever be able to write a boothill fic without making the reader some sort of mechanic. i may just stop breathing if i try- you can pry mechanic reader out of my cold dead hands

[1k w.count]

but just imagine, boothill isn't even on planet. he's off somewhere else when his phone starts pinging like nuts. back to back messages and before his text-to-voice can kick in, it starts blaring with phone calls.

"dadgummit..! who in the-" boothill huffs and puff as he fishes his phone from the space beside him where he had left it charging. his irritation all but simmered down when he saw your contact name flash across his screen.

...sugar is calling...

one his brows quirk up and he almost frowns at the incoming call. the hell is this? you never call him. like ever. you dont really call anyone really- more of a messaging kindof person. not to say he wasn't thrilled to hear from you though.

"is blowin' up my phone a new hobby of yours or somethin'?" boothill doesn't bother with a hello when he answers. neither do you.

"i can't find it!" you screech into the receiver. the feedback from the call's inital pick up and your yelling has the cowboy pulling his phone from his ear with a wince. beside the feedback shot into his eardrum, the sound of something metal being... knocked over...? also enters his head.

"sugar, you know i aint got a clue what you're talkin' about. i'm not in your star system right now," boothill tries to reason. you sound pretty distressed all things considered. so, he should at least hear you out. if all else, he can turn this ship around and speed it back to you.

he hears you whine; a whine that soon escalates into a full-on frustrated groan. oh. you were definitely upset about something. the only other times he's heard you like this is when a project isn't working out at any angle at all and you're one step away from throwing it out the window.

"it's ore." your voice is muffled behind your hand as you speak. "i lost it." you sound so pitiful as you confess your shame in losing the small robot companion boothill had brought back for you a while ago now. "i took my eyes off it for two seconds- and it was just... gone!" ore was so small; it should be common knowledge that the robot can hide just about anywhere it can squeeze itself into- but it usually trails around after you like a lost puppy! so, you've gotten sloppy at keeping an eye on it.

"you're blowin' up my phone because you lost track of your lil' assistant robot?" on one hand, boothill feels a little flattered that you feel like you can call him for stuff like this. the stuff that isn't really life threatening or to only deliver horribly, dire news. just something that's more or less inconvenient. on the other? he's almost annoyed because what if he was in the middle of a bounty? he isn't... but what if.

eh, whatever, he wouldn't be mad even if that were the case.

"look," boothill swallows back a chuckle and forces out a sigh, "i'm sure it ain't far. lil' guy never wanders off too far from you. just sit tight and it'll right back come to you."

"but what if it doesn't? what if ore's like lost-lost. like super lost? i can't just-"

"sugar," boothill interrupts you. "remind me again who programmed it?"

theres a beat of silence. "me."

"uh-huh, that's right. and didn't that very same you also program him with the maps of locations you frequent, like your shop?"

"i did."

"and why's that, sugar?" boothill has taken to plopping himself down in one of the chairs in his ship. luckily the spacecraft has an auto-pilot function as well as a cruise function when he was preoccupied- like now- or when he wasn't on an active job. there's a smirk on his face. he wonders if you can hear it through your slight panic.

"so that if it got lost... it'd know the way back."

"bingo," boothill snaps his free fingers together. "so, just calm down."

the phone call lasts not too much longer. a few more worried words from you, as well as a slight pout that you had lost what he had given you which almost made his systems overheat. with a few more reassurances that ore would make its way back to your loving palms sooner than you'd think, the call ends.

the galaxy ranger laughs when he finally see's just how many messages you spammed him with before deciding to just call him. there was wayyy too many. he wishes he was more tech-smart so he could screenshot the damage and send it to you as a tease.

still, despite the absurdity of it all, boothill was glad you called. even though you were frantic, he was happy to hear your voice. then he huffs and deflates in his chair, knees spread apart and back slouched low against the back. if he still had human bones, his spine would surley disapprove of such a position.

now he just misses you. dammit.

two system hours later, his phone pings. another message from you with a picture attatched.

[sugar]: he crawled up under the workshop sofa and got stuck in a spring. i finally heard him beeping after i stopped tossing things around [image attached] [sugar]: might install a tracking program

boothill chuckles softly as he looks at the photo of you. soot and oil splotch on your nose and cheeks from whatever you were tinkering with that day. your googles were around your neck and he was glad to see you were still using them as you should be. on your shoulder was ore. hooked into its safety carabiner and using its little, metal arms to hug to your cheek. its digital expression was scrunched up with fake, pixeled tears.

damn. boothill really wishes he was more tech-savvy now. i mean come one! what kind of cyborg can be nearly all robot, know how to steer and command a spaceship and still not know how to change a phone's background!

next time he's by the express, he'll have to ask dan heng.

[pretzel-box]

Idea for a reverse au fic?

Reader gets flashed by a passing Expendable. How would Sebastian (and reader) take it?

REVERSE AU MASTERLIST HERE

PART 6: RIGHT IN SIGHT

Tags: Light jokes, some action, reader and seb encountering a possible enemy

Words: 1,6k

The sterile, metallic halls of the Hadal Blackside stretched out before you and Sebastian as the two of you moved quietly, scavenging for any useful supplies. Despite the ominous setting, the atmosphere between the two of you was light and carefree as always. You tossed jokes back and forth between each other, your banter echoing softly in the cold, dimly lit corridor. It was rare to get moments like this, where the tension of your reality seemed to melt away and you could focus on the cute human right by your side.

“Look, if we don’t find any decent scrap soon, I’m just gonna start decorating our hideout with broken tech. Really give it that ‘desperate survivor’ vibe,” Sebastian quipped, a grin on his face as he glanced over at you. He liked to impress you with his crappy jokes, taking in the way your expression shifts every single time into one of laugher and joy.

You chuckled, your claws lightly tapping against the floor as you sifted through some debris. “Well, at least if we don’t find anything, we can hang up your terrible sense of humor for decoration.”

He shot you a mock-offended look, not expecting such a good comeback. “Wow. Harsh. And here I thought I was your favorite human.”

You smirked, glancing over at him, your sharp, artificial eyes glowing faintly in the low light. “Well, you are my only human, Seb. That makes you both the best and the worst.”

Sebastian laughed, his voice warm, and for a moment, the cold, underwater world around you felt a little less hostile. It was moments like this that reminded you why you stuck together, why despite all the dangers, you and Sebastian had found a strange, unbreakable bond in this twisted place. Human and experiment—survivors, somehow managing to hold onto something normal in the midst of the chaos.

As you continued searching, something caught your attention—a small device partially buried beneath a pile of broken tech. You crouched down, pulling it free and inspecting it. “Hey, think this could be useful?” you asked, holding it up for Sebastian to see.

He moved closer, studying it for a moment. “Maybe. Could be some old keycard or part of another similar thing. We can figure it out back at the shop.” He grinned again, leaning in just a little too close. “Or, you know, it could just be more junk for your decorating project.” His words hitting your ears, giving you a small shiver down your back, one of the good kind.

Before you could retort, a sudden flash of light exploded in the hallway, blinding you instantly. The sharp, searing brightness hit your sensors like a sledgehammer, causing you to stagger back with a sharp cry. You instinctively raised your arms to shield your face, but it was too late—the damage was done.

“Shit!” Sebastian cursed, his voice suddenly serious, filled with panic. He grabbed your arm, trying to steady you. “Hold on, I’ve got you—”

The flash beacon. You knew the feeling all too well. It was a device designed to disable experiments like you, to overload your optical systems and incapacitate you. Your vision flickered wildly, and the surge of light made your entire body feel disoriented, unstable. Whoever it was—they knew exactly how to neutralize you.

“Seb…” you rasped, struggling to regain control of your vision, but it was hard to focus, hard to even stand with your lack of balance. Your body felt like it was shutting down, forced into a state of emergency reboot.

Sebastian tightened his grip on your arm, his eyes darting around the hallway as he scanned for whoever had used the beacon. “Stay with me, okay? Don’t worry. We’re getting out of here,” he said, his voice full of determination. He quickly crouched, grabbing a piece of scrap metal as a makeshift weapon.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and you both knew that whoever was behind the attack was getting closer. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down, but you couldn’t help but curse internally—this was supposed to be a routine scavenging trip. A fun, light-hearted break from the usual dangers.

But now, everything had turned dangerous.

“Can you move?” Sebastian asked urgently, his arm slipping around your waist to help you stand.

You groaned, trying to focus through the buzzing in your head. “Yeah... I think so. Just... need a second.”

“We don’t have a second,” he muttered, glancing down the corridor again, his expression grim.

With Sebastian’s support, you managed to take a shaky step, but your body still felt off, uncooperative. It was taking longer than usual to recover, and the frustration gnawed at you. You were supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your voice was shaky, the lie obvious. “Let’s just... get out of here.”

But before either of you could move, another blinding light filled the hallway. You felt Sebastian’s body tense beside you, and through your still-fragmented vision, you could see the silhouette of a figure approaching—whoever they were, they were armed, and they weren’t here to help.

“Stay behind me,” Sebastian whispered, his voice low and tense.

Even in your weakened state, you couldn’t stand the idea of Sebastian putting himself in harm’s way for you. You were the experiment, the one designed to handle danger, not him. But as the figure drew closer, you realized that this time, it wasn’t going to be so easy.

“Seb...” you started, but before you could say anything more, a sound filled the hallway and three red dots pointed at you—a turret, aimed directly at the two of you.

The moment the turret whirred to life, its mechanical sound sent a jolt of adrenaline through your systems. The barrel locked onto you and Sebastian, a low hum signaling that it was ready to fire.

"Seb, get behind me!" you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate, ducking behind a pile of debris as you moved toward the turret. You felt your senses returning bit by bit, the effects of the flash beacon still present but waning. The danger of the turret, however, forced your mind into sharp focus.

The mysterious figure, cloaked in shadows, smirked before glancing up at the vent near the floor. They were quick, nimble, and clearly had the upper hand in this situation. You knew they were planning to escape, but you couldn’t focus on them right now—not with the turret locked onto you both.

The turret's motor clicked, and you heard it ready to fire. You dove behind a nearby crate as it began unleashing a barrage of bullets, pinging off the walls and scattering bits of metal everywhere.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath. You peeked out from behind the crate, your eyes locking onto the base of the turret. You could see it—a control panel just beneath the rotating barrel. If you could just reach it, you might be able to disable the turret before it turned Sebastian or you into scrap metal.

“I’ll cover you!” Sebastian shouted, grabbing a nearby chunk of debris and tossing it toward the turret. It clanged off the barrel, momentarily redirecting its attention.

Now’s your chance.

You launched yourself out from behind the crate, hurrying toward the turret as it recalibrated its aim. The whir of the barrel grew louder, and you could feel the heat of the bullets whizzing past you, narrowly missing as you zigzagged toward the base. Your claws dug into the ground as you slid to the control panel, your fingers immediately working to pry it open.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the figure climbing into the vent, the grating pulled aside. They paused for a split second, glancing back at you and Sebastian, a look of triumph in their eyes. Then, with one swift movement, they disappeared into the vent, the cover sliding back into place.

“No time to worry about them now,” you growled, focusing on the control panel in front of you. The wires were a mess of colors, tangled and confusing, but you didn’t have the luxury of being careful. The turret’s barrel shifted again, locking back onto you, and you knew you had seconds before it would fire.

With a sharp inhale, you jammed your claw into the circuitry, pulling a handful of wires free. Sparks flew, and for a moment, the turret seemed to stall. Its motor whirred in confusion, the barrel twitching as if trying to re-engage its targeting system. You ripped another cluster of wires loose, praying you hit the right ones.

Suddenly, the turret powered down with a groan, the barrel slumping to the side as its lights blinked out. The hallway fell into a heavy silence, the echo of the gunfire still lingering in your ears.

You exhaled in relief, leaning back against the wall as your systems tried to calm down from the sudden burst of activity.

Sebastian emerged from behind the debris, wide-eyed and impressed. “Holy crap, you did it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead. “But they got away.”

Sebastian glanced up at the vent, frowning. “Figures. Whoever they were, they knew this place too well. But I’m not worried about them right now.”

He crouched down next to you, his expression softening. “You alright? That was a close one.”

You managed a tired grin. “Takes more than a turret to take me down. But I must admit, I was almost as pierced as a slice of cheese.”

He chuckled, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “Good to know. Let’s just hope there aren’t more surprises like that waiting for us. Also…a cute slice of cheese.”

The compliment made you break into a smile despite the thoughts in your head.

As you both stood and began to gather yourselves, you couldn’t shake the lingering thought of the figure who had escaped. They were fast, resourceful, and clearly knew how to navigate the facility. But right now, your priority was survival.

[aluciahaz]

Omfggg ur writing is SO unbelievably good i love it sm 😭🙏🙏

I got kind of a prompt for a sub!vox x gn (maybe afab) reader ✨ Okay so what if, since we all know vox is OBVIOUSLY a bratty bottom, the reader fucks the brattiness out of him? And he goes from trying to be a dom, to resistant bottom, to bratty bottom, to just begging to come with all his life, maybe even crying cuz the reader won’t let him

TYSM!!!! im glad you think my writing’s good ❤️ALSO FINALLY A VOX REQ AGHH

i have like 50094949 drafts for like all of the other stuff in my inbox but i just have to write this vox fic first ok im self indulgent i apologize 😭

—vox x gn!reader

—includes : sub!vox, dom!reader, light bondage, edging

vox is so obvious.

he clearly has a thing for control. a need, a desire. it was practically his core personality trait. yet, he’s most certainly not made to wield it.

sure, he can try and sweet talk you, saying sultry things and bragging about his power in order to get you to feel below his level. but you know how frail that persona is. a single slip up, and it would all come crashing down into deafening static.

which, was almost impressively easy to do.

his claw-like fingers runs up your neck, one of them stopping at your cheek as he smirked. if he wasn’t careful, he could fuck up and draw blood. he was tip-toeing the small line here.

a small line that if he crossed, you’d switch up this silly little game immediately, taking the control of the show and making him the contestant.

live only for you.

but, you entertain his farce of dominance, a smile playing on your lips as you see what he has in store…if he had anything, that is.

“you’ve been waiting for me all day, haven’t you?” he asks, clearly rhetorical as he caresses your cheek gently, his voice steady as he speaks. he leads you down to the bed with teeth raking your neck as he crawls over you. there’s something fun about watching him try and fluster you, to get you to say the things he wants. but you were no people pleaser.

“perhaps. unfortunately i can’t say the same for you,” you respond, your smile forming into more of a smirk at the ends of your lips as your hands snake around his delicate waist, tightening around it like a corset.

you can already see the hesitation in his eyes, the brief moment of surprise at your sudden grasp. it was too easy to surprise this man. it’s a wonder he hasn’t exploded yet.

“what do you mean by that?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing in both nervousness and curiosity, almost like he didn’t want to know. the fingers on your cheek seem to barely just get too rough as he looked at you.

“don’t act like i didn’t hear you in the office this morning, moaning my name like some prayer,” you mock, your knee slotting between his legs with ease. vox keels over at the sudden feeling, a sharp gasp getting punched out of his system with little effort.

“impatient.”

“what’s the big deal? am i not allowed to jerk off anymore?” he complains, bringing himself back up to his hand and knees over you as he glares with indignation.

“i told you to wait.”

“and i don’t remember needing to!” vox snarled, the grasp on your face tightening until you saw him pull it away, a droplet of blood adorning his finger.

simply unacceptable.

instantly, with a loud yelp of complaint and confusion, he hits the mattress with a thud, cursing in annoyance as he looks up at you. his face, once filled with irritation, shifted into one of almost astonished fear as he gazed upon your expression, cold and unforgiving.

“i’ll make you remember.”

his screen flickers before going back to normal, his face scrunched up in anger as he spat out his unwise words.

“i’d like to see you try.”

so, try you did.

his hands were cuffed with plush handcuffs to the bed-frame—you know he wouldn’t be able to handle real ones—and of course since he was never good with self-control, he had a cock ring on as a ‘treat’.

you’re delighted by how much of a fight he puts up though. considering how fragile his ego is, you were sure that he’d melt into your hands the moment you bound him to the bed.

“this is your plan?” vox rolled his eyes, watching you pour lubricant on your fingers with an unimpressed look. “not very impressive. you’ll need more—ngh! shit! give a guy some warning—!”

“beggars can’t be choosers.”

“i don’t fucking beg—!”

“you will.”

there was no mercy from that point forth. one finger after the other, shocks of electricity would course through his veins, mouth agape as your quick hand inside kept making him feel sparks of pleasure through his entire body.

“let me—cum! ass—zz—hole!” he shouted, tugging at the handcuffs to no avail. he wanted to touch himself so bad, yet you were adamant.

“if you ask nicely, maybe,” you tell him, circling your fingers before pressing deep onto that electric spot again, making him cry out in frustration and enjoyment.

all he could do was shoot you a disgusted look before yelling once more, kicking the blanket underneath him in exasperation. his anguish crackled through his veins like a current, trying to fight the urge to just submit.

but it was all too much. he was weak, even if he convinces all of hell that he’s not, he wouldn’t be able to fool you. the bucks of your fingers were replaced with the movement of your hips, making him wail for more.

an hour had passed, and his indignant claims of “i don’t feel anything!” or “you’ll never get me to beg!” shifted into more pleasant glitching screams of “don’t stop!” and “please, more!”

finally, he was using his manners.

“let me cum—ple—zz—se! i c-can’t—!” vox cried out as you quicken the pace, thrashing underneath you with his legs now wrapped around your waist, holding for dear life as you drive into him.

“i—hic—mm! ‘m s—zz—sorry! ‘msorry-AH! sorry!” his back curves off the bed as he squirms, crying in earnest now. tears fell his face with broken pixels blinking in and out underneath, his screen cutting at random points to an error warning from the overstimulation.

“pathetic,” you spit out, your hands digging into his hips as you practically manhandled the man, making him move once he lost all the energy to match your movements. “you listen to me. you do what i say, and you don’t talk back.”

you hear him shriek desperately as you grab his cock, red and weeping as you overwhelm him with pleasure, but never letting him over the edge.

“do you understand? you’re mine.”

you run your finger underneath his tip, and you see him glitch out into an expression you truly loved.

his screen was tear stained and his were graphics broken, yet it was clear enough to see the hypnotizing hearts that pulsated in his eyes as he yelled in defeat, small whimpers leaving his ruined throat as he babbled on and on.

“yours! your—yours! ngh—! please! pl—let me cum! plea—zz—oh, FUCK!”

his whole body trembles from need like electricity burned his skin. his legs fall from your waist, too weak to hold them around you anymore, yet you catch them, pushing the underside of his thighs until he was folded in half.

“cum for me then.”

instantly, vox does as you say as you slip the cock ring off of him, his wails loud enough to shake the room as he finds his release. his screen completely blanks out for a second as a shock flitters around his wrists, frying the cuffs and making them break into two before slumping back down to the bed.

you can’t even scold him for letting his powers go rampant before he pulls you over him, wrapping his arms around you as he sniffles into your ear.

“thank you—hic—thank…thank…”

this big baby. you sigh, rubbing your hands on his sides gently as you kiss his cheek. “yeah, yeah. just remember this the next time you think about acting out, okay?” you said quietly, feeling him nod into your shoulder as he starts to slowly relax.

but as per usual, he apparently forgets what you taught him in the next week.

fortunately, you’re a patient teacher. and you’ll remind him again and again about the lessons he foolishly dismisses.

sorry that this is shit 💀 i tried my best but the writing juices arent flowing this week😭 hopefully this weekend i wont have writer’s block and will blast through all yall’s reqs!! trust me, im working on them <3

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @drlucichen @mvskedxrtist

[eluxcastar]

Dottore giving child reader a check up

── ୨୧：il dottore & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: nobody scares you more than the Doctor, and that's why you're wholly betrayed by Father tricking you into getting a check up right under your nose, but perhaps your worries are exaggerated by rumours

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child reader, he's a lil soft (cause if he's not poor kid might explode on site), reader is mute, reader is also autistic (but tbh you don't have to read it that way), not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 2.9k

idk what possessed me to write this I just has the thought and decided it had to be done. I got in the zone and wrote it in a few hours 😭 this is kinda loosely based off one of my characters but ambiguous enough I think to be read as a reader insert. little ball of anxiety with legs reader hehe. they come from the house of the hearth so every instance of father refers to arle

You can't think of a single person able to scare you nearly as much as the Doctor can, whether it's the daunting trip to find him wherever he hid this time or the fear of knowing he tried to bargain with Father to have the more unimpressive children—as some would call you—shipped off to him to become experiments.

Father won't allow him to get his hands on any of you, but it hardly eases the fear that he may disregard Father's warning and decide to pluck the first child he comes across up and feign ignorance when she realises they've disappeared.

Father personally entrusted you with this letter, so you cannot turn back as you make your way to where she said he should be. 

The sleepiness might manage to numb you to the danger by the time you arrive and make it easier to stomach his presence, but most likely, he will only frighten you awake, and it will worsen with the shock to your system.

There's no turning back now and no declining when Father asks you to take letters, which she says are of great importance. You can't treat letters like this lightly, even if you fear the recipient.

Knowing who is behind it makes the door all the more daunting. Doors that separate you from Harbingers always make you nervous as it's not every day you find yourself faced with one armed only with a letter and shaking hands. If it were anyone else, you could've knocked in a heartbeat, but you pause to gather your bearings before raising your hand to knock.

One two, three…four. Spaced just as Columbina taught you to, and then you wait.

Several seconds pass in silence before you hear footsteps from inside, then a voice calling out to you. "The door is unlocked."

You reach for the handle, cautiously cracking open the door just enough to peek inside. Your eyes travel across the room from your left to your right until you spy Dottore seated in a chair facing away from you. He hears you, evident in the way he turns to look at you as you work up the courage to step inside and leave the door ajar behind you.

"It's you," he remarks, the closest to acknowledgment you expect to receive. You are about to make your way to hand him the letter when he interrupts you. "Close the door."

The door is always closed here like it's trying to keep someone out, but there's no one here that he would dread seeing who would knock and accept that the door is locked. He must not be trying to convince anyone of that, and if he was, maybe he'd lock the door for real and leave everyone stranded outside instead of talking.

Dottore makes you nervous. You don't know what he thinks or why, but you probably don't like it. It's the only reason why he would be here right now. Normal doctoring wouldn't get him far as a Harbinger, and the sounds you've heard coming from his lab are enough to deter you from wondering too much. 

Instead, you quietly spin yourself around to push the door closed before returning to your endeavour of handing him this letter from Father she entrusted you with.

"Who is it from?" he asks, a question you remember him asking before too. You concluded that he's trying to gauge how eager he is to read it, and your answer will set his mood for the remainder of your stay.

You turn the envelope over to show him the seal on the back, which you hold out to him. The mark of the House of the Hearth—Father's seal—is displayed so that Dottore can glean the answer from wordless actions. He accepts it from your hand with a stifled eagerness, the hopes of something he'll enjoy written there held back by the knowledge that, in all likelihood, it's a trivial matter.

The moment the letter leaves your hands, you retreat to the safety of the door, where you stand beside the frame to await a half-hearted reaction or collect his response. Father is always happy when you return to the House to inform her that Dottore sighed when he read her letter, even if she regards the news with her usual stoicism. She despises when he bothers to send something back to her, but she never tells you why, as usual.

He collects something off his desk just out of your sight, hidden behind him, and the sound of paper tearing follows. He drops the twice-folded paper into his hand, then unfurls it to read the contents.

You wait in silence, nerves evening out as you rub the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hand. Sleepiness does help you occupy yourself if nothing else.

Then, you are interrupted by a snap of his fingers and a motion of his hand to usher you closer. 

Keeping him waiting will only make him mad, though you're sure not enough time has passed for him to pen any cohesive message in the minute or two you spent waiting.

You look up in anticipation nonetheless, expecting him to hand you something or tell you something so when he reaches toward you, it doesn't alarm you. 

Not until he grabs you beneath your arms, picks you up, and sits you down on the table, much closer to eye level with him.

"Arlecchino has her concerns about your sleeping habits and your seeming lack of will to speak," he begins, reaching behind you to grab something you barely follow before he has it in his hands. It's only a light, small and thinner than the torches at the House.

Your mind races with every question you can think of as you try to find a way off this table back to the floor, but the only way out is blocked by Dottore sitting in front of you, unsympathetic to the fear in your eyes when you stare at him. You could swear you hear your heartbeat thrumming in your ears in a quickened rhythm.

What was written in that letter? Was it about you? It takes only a brief glance down in search of the open letter to realise exactly what makes this delivery so important. Father tricked you into coming here to see the Doctor after you so eagerly declined her previous offer to go willingly. You catch glimpses of your name in Father's handwriting and little else as it blurs into a messy sea of details, but you always recognise how Father writes your name.

You know better than to assume this is punishment but rather the manifestation of Father's worry as you keep oversleeping lately and need one of the older children to fetch you from the comfort of your bed. The idea that habit would land you here, presumably getting a check-up, might've inspired you to prize yourself out of bed a little earlier had you known.

Dottore seems to gauge your trembling as an obvious sign of fear, though a twitch at the corner of his lips is your only indicator, as you can't see his eyes beneath the mask. "Her explicit concern was whether or not you're ill." He rests his hand against your knee— they're cold, yet you almost expect it. It doesn't mean you especially like it. You can only interpret the action as a skewed attempt to comfort you. "As long as you're healthy, I see no reason to keep you longer than a simple check up."

He's not a real doctor, is all you can think, and he doesn't know what he's doing.

You have no choice but to steel yourself for whatever pain you're about to be subjected to. It might hurt, but you have no way out, no way back to Father, so you can curl up in a ball at her feet and ask why she would subject you to this torture—

"Don't tense your jaw," you suddenly hear, realising his finger taps your knee to grab your attention back from dreamland. "Open your mouth," he instructs you, and rather simply at that. It's something you can follow without getting scared he'll hurt you somehow.

He shines that light at you, inspecting something, though you can't say what. A slight tilt of his hand and, by proxy, the light he's holding is your only sign he's looking at anything.

The light is off before you know it. There was no pain at all, not even a hint of discomfort beyond what naturally arises from your ever-present anxiousness.

Dottore moves to set the light beside you, then appears to change his mind as he offers it to you. You take it from his hand and click it just as he had, the light coming on again. Another click, and it's off. Holding it just like that, an object of clicks and ridges and a light you can play with, is enough to give you something to at least take your mind off the fear of getting hurt.

"Lift your head." 

This time, compliance comes easier as you tilt your head up until the point his hand stops nudging you, and instead, he presses his fingers against your throat. It's light enough to feel only slight pressure; it doesn't hurt, but you don't like that feeling. Your thumb brushes over the exterior of the light, smooth against the pads of your fingers and satisfying to touch. You pull away before you can come to your senses and stop yourself, but he lets go the moment your discomfort flares, and you do the closest you can to telling him no.

Your breathing begins to even back out seeing his hands so clearly in the air in front of you, away from you, not touching you. It's silent reassurance that what you just did counts enough as revoking his permission to touch you as anything can.

Dottore doesn't feel like dealing with the fussy child that trying to force it would invoke for a mere favour to the Knave.

Instead, simply asking you like the fully grown child you are seems much more efficient. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, all yes or no," he begins. "They're all simple enough you can answer without speaking."

You interpret the ensuing silence as Dottore waiting, expecting you to nod or shake your head, and you quickly offer a nod in agreement.

"Do you know if you're able to speak?"

You consider his question carefully, unsure of the answer. Your hesitation prompts him to rephrase the question.

"Are you able to make any noises at all?"

You nod. You know the answer to that.

"But not speak in full words?"

Not words. Words don't work. You shake your head.

"Would that be because you're physically unable to?"

You shake your head. You've spoken before, but each time you try, especially here, something robs you of your voice before you get the chance. You know you can talk, just not here like this. 

"If not physical, then there's nothing wrong with you," he concludes. It feels sudden like there should be more, but he stops so quickly. "Nothing that I can fix," he promptly adds. That explains it.

Why not? He doesn't answer, unable to hear the things you don't say. To him, you remain as starkly silent as ever and as difficult to treat as you have been the past few minutes. You suspect he came to some greater conclusion between when you first walked in and now but neglects to share with you what it is.

You must look unsatisfied or just confused as he pauses to stare at you. You look away first, eyes drifting back to the light in your hands.

"Arlecchino only wanted to know if something was physically wrong with you," he says, briefly looking down at the letter as he skims a particular section again. "Your poor sleep may be the result of insomnia, or whatever is causing the mental block that also prevents you from speaking."

Mental block? Nobody ever told you about anything like that. 

You eye him curiously, though you again remain silent, watching him while you think he isn't looking back. It's easy to look at him as long as you don't consciously think of the fact that he's staring at you behind that mask.

Dottore holds his hand out expectantly, a motion of his fingers telling you he wants you to return what you have in your hands to him. You do so, but not without a sadness-driven hesitance to accompany it.

"None of the things you're describing imply a physical problem, but a paranoid 'parent' overattentive to the wrong facets of what could be wrong with an orphan." You don't like the way he says that as if he's speaking ill of Father, but like always, you keep your mouth shut. "If you couldn't speak because of a physical injury, you would have presented with one when you arrived at the House of the Hearth—not now. Trouble sleeping and an elevated heart rate, shortness of breath, intense panic and your tremors are more likely the symptoms of anxiety." 

That's a lot of words, but as he quickly lists every example, you seem to become conscious of it. Mental block, anxiety. Those are the two things you've been told that sound like explanations. You look down as if on instinct, hands held in front of you to investigate his claims that you're shaking. You are. Before your eyes, your hands are trembling, though you can't say why. You look back at him to see if he has anything else to say.

You thought your sleep troubles weren't the same, the result of bad dreams, but supposedly not. Dottore doesn't know anything about that, does he? No, he can't. You never told him, so he can't know. He knows lots of things he shouldn't, like your heart racing when you're scared or how you feel like you can't breathe at times. 

Dottore clicks the light on again, shining it down at your hands resting in your lap. He circles it in place, and your eyes follow. It clicks off again after a few seconds. "Distraction helps anxiety," he says, then sets it down on the desk beside you. "Do you know why you can't sleep?" he asks.

Yes. You nod. Dreams. On nights when they're at their worst, they keep you awake long past bedtime when all others have gone to sleep. By breakfast, you can be so tired and sleep-deprived that dozing off over your food is the only thing you can manage.

You half expect to sit through another round of questioning before Dottore finds the one that clicks the pieces perfectly together in his head, just as he did in the first round.

Instead, Dottore stands, and his hands find your sides to hook you under your arms. Your feet are back on the ground before you can fuss any more about how much you do or do not like it. With you out of his way, he flips the paper Father wrote her request to him on.

"If you know the answer, then you're free to go."

That's it?

You stare up at him for a moment, perplexed by the surprising lack of pain compared to the abundance of fear you felt. It should have hurt, but it didn't, and now you don't know why you were so against coming here in the first place. Dottore spared five or ten minutes of his time, which he already didn't want to give you, and is sending you on your way without injury,

You can't see his face as he's turned away, writing something down that you can't make out. If you took a guess what it is, it's probably about you, just like the first one was. Still, you can tell why Father is so annoyed to receive letters from him. You don't recognise your name when he writes it. You don't recognise anything he writes. His handwriting is awful.

He folds it and slips it back into the envelope it was given to him in. That's not proper etiquette, but something in the way he practically shoves it into your hands tells you that he doesn't particularly care. So long as it gets from him to Father, it doesn't matter how it gets there in his eyes.

"Give that to the Knave." That is his final instruction. You're very used to following those kinds of instructions by now, having heard and executed them many times. They're second nature to your mind.

You nod, pinching it between your fingers to keep the paper from falling out of the open envelope. If Father's was critical, so is this one, and you'll get it back to her quickly—more importantly, safely.

You can't help wondering why it felt so much easier to have someone briefly look at you and ask a few questions. The older children make it sound torturous and barbaric, like being used as a lab rat to spite Father for her refusal with his only opportunity to access the children of the House.

Perhaps seeing a doctor to ease Father's worries isn't as scary as you believed.