#have any of these snips been posted here before?

[robobarbie]

I need......xyx.......crumbs .. . PLEASE

here's smth I wrote for the bp server a couple years back (jesus) when I played a game of Saw with them (they were great sports about it)

When Xyx drove you out for a 'romantic weekend getaway', you knew there would be some sort of twist– there always was– but as you peer at the massive cliff looming overhead, you start to wonder if you'd live to see the romance part of the trip.

"Having second thoughts?" Xyx pops up from the pile of equipment in the back of the car behind you, flashing you a razor grin. "Too late to back out now. I've got the car keys."

"Ha ha…Me, chicken? Never."

You had hoped that engaging in his banter would keep him satisfied, but your anxiety is too transparent to make the lie stick. Xyx frowns and sets down the equipment. "Hey, love. If you're unsure, we can always do something else. I won't be offended."

"No, no! I'm just– having some jitters."

His eyes search yours for a moment, and the silence hangs heavily between you, until Xyx finally sighs and leans forward to kiss your forehead.

"Alright, if you insist. Let's get you suited up, then." He gives one of the harnesses an appraising look before handing it to you. "Step into the loops and pull them up. We'll tighten everything once you've got it on."

You stare at the pile of straps and loops, turning it over in your hands to puzzle out where your legs go; in turn, Xyx sees your predicament and bursts into laughter.

"Aw, doll, I didn't mean to stump you. Might have to start, though," he smirks. "You're adorable when you make that face."

You huff as he takes the harness from your hands, obediently stepping in with his guidance despite your scowl. "Adorable?!" 

"Well…" You watch his hands shift the loops around your thighs, and gasp when they linger and squeeze. "Actually, for this particular moment, I don't think I would use that word."

"Y-you sure you still want to go rock climbing?"

"Mm. Yes. But I think we may have to change our plans afterward." He gives the harness–and your thighs– one more squeeze. "Be a doll and stay still for just one more minute, would you? I have to tie you in." 

Xyx turns back to the equipment, retrieving a length of climbing rope that he gathers loosely in his hands. His face moves tauntingly close to yours as he reaches for your waist, loops the rope, and sets to tying a complex knot with ease; you can count the freckles on his face at this distance, and start doing so in order to keep your focus from slipping. Instead, it's reminding you of how easily you could kiss him right now, how if you tipped forward just enough–

He gives the knot a final, decisive tug, savoring your reaction as you're jolted back to reality (and pulled closer by the hips). "Now, just one more thing."

"Huh?" 

Closing the distance you had just been mourning, Xyx leads you in by the jaw and meets your lips in a slow, deep, kiss. You instinctively tilt your head; he replies with a pleased hum that rumbles through your head and down your spine. His hand caresses your cheek when it finally, reluctantly withdraws along with his face.

"For luck," he breathes.

You can scarcely breathe yourself, but with Xyx so close to you, looking at you so playfully and yet so helplessly in love, you imagine that the luck he's given you could take you anywhere.

“Now,” he says, taking your hand in his, “let’s go exploring.”

[rowarn]

cw: dubcon if u squint, mean!simon, cum play?, teasing and punishment <3

sorry i haven't been posting proper works lately, i just haven't had any motivation in sitting down long term to write ): i hope u can understand <3 but here's something i cooked up a bit!!!

You, who just had to get on his nerves. You just had to mouth off at him every chance you got. His patience was a thin thread and you were snipping at it around every turn.

He’d been gone for so long, he was exhausted and worn to the bone. He just wanted some peace and quiet, some time to himself to wind down. 

But you were so damn needy for him, pawing at him the second you could get your greedy little hands on him. He was so tired that he simply couldn’t even fathom the idea of getting hard. 

But in the face of your whimpering, the feeling of your soft tits pressed against him as you gripped his cock through his sweats, he could feel himself chubbing up despite it all.

You knew how tired he was. You knew he just wanted to rest and decompress. Yet there you were, tugging his cock from his sweats, stroking him languidly like he was your own personal little toy. 

And for some reason that just set him off. 

Before you knew it, you were pinned face down on the couch, your panties stretched around your thighs. 

“Please, Simon,” you pant, voice pitchy and broken from how utterly needy you were. 

He thought you were so cute, begging him like you hadn’t gotten on his one good nerve the second he walked through the door.

Just to tease you, to be mean because you deserved it for being such a damned brat, he pressed the tip of his leaking cock against your pretty little hole. He felt you clench, eager to suck all of him in. You wanted to be filled so badly, precious cunt drooling slick down to the couch in sticky strings at the mere idea of getting stuffed nice and full by your boyfriend’s perfect cock. 

He tapped the head against your clit, the little bud stiff and neglected. The stimulation made you tremble, a sweet moan escaping your lips from how good the fleeting pleasure felt. 

With you distracted by the teasing, Simon quickly began to jerk himself off, using the sweet, wet heat of your cunt to edge him to a quick release. It had been weeks since he’d gotten off, so it was easy for him to find that euphoria with your pretty little ass perked up just for him, ready and willing to be used - something you weren't even going to get.

That thought alone had him cumming with a soft gasp, making sure to aim it right at the crotch of your panties, spilling his load in the pretty, purple cotton stretched around your thighs. 

“S-Simon?” you asked, already sounding on the verge to tears as you listened to cum without you. 

“There you go, love,” he grunts, lazily tugging your messy panties up. 

You whined when his cum smeared all over your cunt, mixing with your creamy juices. The cotton soaked up the liquids and plastered itself to your folds, giving him the perfect view. 

Meanly, he patted your cunt before tucking his cock away and climbing off of the couch with a grunt. You flopped onto your side, tearily watching as he made a show of stretching and yawning.

“Really needed that, sweetheart,” he grinned, “I want you to keep my cum nice and warm in your panties while I go have a nap. Think I’ve earned one. And maybe when I’m back, you’ll stop bein’ such a damned brat and I’ll give you what you want, yeah?”

[berry-potchy]

Dad's Best Friend!Miguel part 2

Summary: Your dad shows up unannounced, interrupting your romantic dinner with Miguel. He plants seeds of doubt in your pretty little head that Miguel is more than happy to snip off

Tags: DBF!Miguel x F!Reader, age gap, college age reader, P in V sex, size difference (smaller reader), brief under the table footjob, spanking, insecurities, vague mention of Miguel’s past relationships, uncomfortable relationship talk with your dad who means well but ends up making you feel like shit anyway

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Surprise! The second part actually exists. It’s been almost a year since part one and I kept teasing part 2 but I couldn’t think of a way to end it. I considered just abruptly cutting it off and post it but I just couldn’t do it. BUT HERE IT IS NOW. Hope you guys still enjoy it!

Part 1

It has been a week since Miguel has caught you masturbating to the thought of him. A week since you found out that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. A week of absolute depravity that you thought only happened in porn. He fucked you all over the house; no room, furniture, or surface was left untouched during your vigorous lovemaking.

Unfortunately, his “sick leave” had to come to an end and so did your self-imposed break from uni. He’s going back to work the next day so you decided you were going to do something special and make the most of the last evening of his leave. Of course, there’ll be more times to fuck but you feel the need to give him something special before he goes back to his workaholic mode. Maybe it’ll encourage him to start coming home earlier.

You had everything planned. You and Miguel had a lovely early dinner that he helped you prepare. The way it was so easy to fall into a domestic routine made your heart flutter. You’d have to ask him if you can do this with him more often when he’s not so busy with work. You also had wine that Miguel picked out for both of you. You trusted his mature tastes even though you knew he preferred hard liquor. And for dessert, well…

“That’s it, gatita,” Miguel grunted in your ear, a deep growl rumbles from his chest as he rams his fat cock relentlessly into your greedy cunt. “Taking my cock so well. I’m gonna miss this when I’m at work tomorrow. Gonna think about your tight little pussy while I’m in a boring meeting.”

You can’t form any coherent words from how aggressive his thrusts were. Each thrust drove his cock deeper into you, his tip kissing your cervix, knocking the air out of your lungs and the words out of your little cock drunk brain. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and your arms holding his broad shoulders for support, hands desperately clawing at his back. You clung to him tightly as he fucked you standing up in the middle of the kitchen. He took full control of your body, his large hands on your waist, moving you up and down his cock as he pleased, like you’re his personal living cocksleeve.

“My little slut can’t even talk anymore,” he laughs at your pathetic whimpers and whines “Taking my cock like a good girl. Going to make sure you feel it until tomorrow.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck panting, mumbling “please” over and over again against his skin. Your tits are pressed against him, sensitive nipples rubbing against the dusting of dark hair on his chest with every movement. The burning knot in your stomach is threatening to come undone.

“You’re gonna cum for me, princesa?” he said as his thrusts grow frantic. “Wanna feel your pussy milk my cock dry. She’s so greedy for my cum. Sucking me in so good I can’t even try to pull out.”

You arch your back as you feel your orgasm rip through you, making you see white for a second. Miguel catches you, an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders to keep you from falling over as he keeps on rutting into you to chase after his own climax. He pulls you closer to him to capture your mouth into a kiss as you feel his hot cum coat your velvety walls. You moan against his lips, giving his tongue access to your mouth, making you melt in his arms.

You reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, resting your sweaty forehead against his. He coos at how absolutely wrecked you looked, the pretty makeup you did for him all smeared and messed up. The red of your lipstick is no longer on your lips but all over Miguel – on his lips, cheeks, neck, chest, trailing all the way down to the red ring near the base of his cock.

Miguel sets you down on the dining table, hands keeping your knees apart to watch his cum dripping out of your sloppy hole. Your hands grab your breasts, squeezing them together for his viewing pleasure. Miguel moans at the sight. You are so perfect to him.

“I’m going to see your dad again in the office tomorrow,” he says, kneeling in front of your spread legs, ready to eat his dessert. He licks his lips and rubs his large hands up and down your thighs “I’m sure he’s going to have questions. I’ll make sure to tell him how good you were, taking care of me and making me feel so much better.”

He was about to dive in when the doorbell rang. You hear him growl a string of Spanish curse words under his breath as he reluctantly stands up from where he was kneeling. He tries to calm down and you sit up to wipe the sweat and lipstick off his face. You help him put on his shirt, straightening it out as much as you can with your hands as he tucks away his half-hard cock in his sweatpants. You brush his messy hair back away from his forehead, trying to make him look presentable for when he answers the door.

“I’ll be quick,” he sighs, kissing you on your temple as he pulls away and walks out the room. You can’t help but be a little curious as to who is looking for Miguel this late in the evening. You try to stand up, snatching the silk robe you were wearing earlier to peek at the visitor when you hear an all too familiar voice echo in the halls.

“Miguel! You look like shit!” The loud booming voice of your father makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over?” Miguel said, trying to act normal as you hear him letting your dad in. “You should’ve called.”

“Well I did try to but neither you nor my daughter were answering,” he said “Anyway where is she? I brought you guys your favorites for dinner. I’ll even set up the dinner table for you.”

That got you to snap back to reality. Shit, shit, shit!

You start running to your room, careful not to leave a trail of Miguel’s cum on the floor. You try to wash off any traces of sex with a quick shower and change into a simple shirt and unfortunately with a bra and shorts on this time. Can’t have your dad know you parade around the house half-naked for a man twice your age.

Downstairs, Miguel’s boner is fully killed. He didn’t even get to clean you up with his tongue. Shame. Your dad is talking about work stuff but he’s only half-listening. He helps him set the table for your second dinner of the evening, not able to turn down his best friend lest he gets suspicious. He eyes a few white drops on the table and reluctantly wipes it with the hem of his shirt. His eyes meet yours as you enter the room, drying your hair with a towel. You give him a tight-lipped smile before going in to greet your dad.

You have an okay dinner together: Your dad did most of the talking, which is usually what happens between him and Miguel anyway. He also is still under the impression that Miguel was actually sick so he got a pass. You however have to pretend you aren’t annoyed that the night you planned is ruined as you answer his questions about uni.

“No boys? Partners? I told Miguel not to let you bring any around,” he says smugly to which Miguel smirks, taking a sip of the whisky your dad brought over.

“Dad, please,” you groan, sliding down on your chair, which makes him laugh out loud. You steal a glance at Miguel, pouting, and he’s laughing along. Traitor.

“I just wanted to be sure my baby’s focusing on her studies,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender before adding “and that I don’t end up a grandpa too soon.”

They keep laughing but thankfully, Miguel changes the topic. You give him a look of relief and rub your foot on his leg as a silent thank you. He keeps talking to your dad, pretending not to feel your foot stray further up until it rests on his inner thigh, the tip of your toe toying with the outline of his cock. He grabs your ankle but doesn’t stop you. He instead moves to sit a little closer to the table so you can rub the sole of your foot against his clothed length.

You’re playing a dangerous game. Your dad is right there he could look under the table and find his precious daughter giving his best friend a footjob in front of the dinner and alcohol he so graciously brought over. But you were feeling petty about your ruined plans and Miguel doesn’t seem to mind the attention to his cock.

You bite your lip, feeling his cock harden under your touch. He must feel sticky and uncomfortable under his sweatpants after not being able to wipe his dick of your combined fluids when your dad barged in. You wish your dad decides to leave early so you could get on your knees for Miguel and lick him clean.

Miguel eventually excuses himself, coughing that he needs to go to the bathroom, probably to jerk off and shower. You start clearing up the table and your dad offers to help.

“So,” he starts wiping the table “I see the way you look at Miguel.”

You freeze, trying not to drop the stack of plates you’re holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You start loading the dishwasher, trying not to make it obvious that your hands are shaking.

“Hey, no need to get defensive. I know what I saw,” he says “And I mean, you’re a young single lady and Miguel is this handsome, cool, older guy that’s a constant in your day-to-day. It’s not wild to have a crush on him. I’m just…”

Silence.

“Sweetie, I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt when he doesn’t return your feelings,” he sighs as he leans his hip on the counter next to you. He’s trying to look you in the eyes, trying to let you know that he’s being sincere. “Believe me that man has no time for romance. He’s all busy with his work. Plus I’ve seen the women he slept with before. All supermodel looking and yet… well they never last long.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, dad,” you roll your eyes at him, trying hard to ignore the feeling of wanting to throw up. You don’t want to think about that. About the specifics of what you and Miguel have going on. You’re just trying to enjoy Miguel’s attention right now. For the longest time, you didn’t even think you had the chance. Is it really that bad to just accept what he’s willing to give right now?

“I’m not saying you’re not beautiful, honey! Of course, you’re beautiful! You’re my daughter,” he tries to lighten the mood but turns serious when you don’t laugh. “Just might not be his type. Besides, he’s twice your age. He's too close to your old man’s age. Are you sure that’s something you’d like? In a few years, he’d be just as uncool as me while you’re still young and should be enjoying your life.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. You both stay silent for a few moments. You think about Miguel and try to look for signs. Signs that say he just wants sex or that he wants something more. All you can think about is how sweet he always was with you even before you had sex. Even more now. You blush remembering how Miguel peppered your face with kisses this morning to wake you up because he wanted to cook breakfast but didn’t want to leave you in bed.

“Okay, but what if he does?” you countered, suddenly gaining a bit of confidence. “Would you be okay with that? If we get into a relationship?”

A painful few seconds of silence that felt like forever.

“I know that look in your eyes,” he finally says, shaking his head, and sighing. “It’s your “I’m going to get what I want” look you got from your mom. You’re gonna get hurt.”

You cross your arms and pout, never one to back down.

“And if he does end up liking you,” he starts again and you side-eye him “well… good thing he doesn't.”

You groan as your dad messes up your hair, laughing as he sees Miguel come back, fresh from his shower. Your dad finally decides it’s time to head out and let the sick man rest. He gives you a tight hug and a kiss on your forehead before leaving.

You’re left alone with Miguel again in the kitchen. The earlier conversation with your dad soured your mood and left you zoning out. Miguel slips himself between your parted legs as you sit on the kitchen counter, large, warm hands kneading your thighs, fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts.

“What’s on your mind, princesa?” He leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Tell me.”

You try to turn away but he brings a curled finger under your chin to make you face him. His brows are furrowed, worried. You try to look at him and your heart stutters. You don’t want whatever you have with him to end. You’re not sure if you actually want something serious with Miguel but the thought of just being a bedwarmer to Miguel is upsetting.

“Just thinking,” you start, trying to get the words out without sounding jealous or spiteful “My dad said you used to date? Sleep around with? Whatever. The girls you were with before were all… supermodel looking. They’re probably tall and skinny and drop-dead gorgeous huh? Is that your type?”

“And where is this going, nena?” Miguel whispers, pulling away and giving you a stern look.

“Well, I’m just not like that?” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips and shying away from his gaze. “I don’t know why you gave me the chance. I’m just-”

Miguel’s gentle touch on your chin turns into him gripping your cheeks, making you shut up. You nervously look at him, a deep frown on his face.

“Don’t you ever put yourself down, cariño,” he says, his eyes sharp. He makes you keep your eyes on him while he uses his other hand to pull you closer, making you wrap your legs around his waist. “You know, at the start, I offered to let you stay here just because I wanted to mentor you when I had the time. I know you’re a brilliant girl, so intelligent, following in your dad’s footsteps. What I didn’t expect is for you to consume my thoughts day and night for the past few months. You’ve grown into such a beautiful lady, cariño. You are such a temptation, making me think about your pretty eyes looking up so innocently at me. Those lips tempt me every single time you pout at me to get your way.”

He growls, finally letting go of your face to move his hands to your ass. He suddenly bucks his hips against yours making you gasp out loud, your clothed cunt rubbing against his growing bulge. You try to move your hips to gain friction on your throbbing cunt but he keeps you still.

“Don’t even get me started on this body of yours,” he buries his face at the crook of your neck, kissing, licking, nipping at the sensitive flesh making your head roll to the side to give him more access “So perfect for me. Made for me to grab, to fuck, to worship. Dios mio, nena, I can’t get enough of you.”

He sounds drunk from your scent and taste, mouthing at your neck, hands kneading your flesh. He grabs handfuls of the soft fat of your thighs, your ass, your tummy rolls, your plump tits, and back down, committing each curve to memory. You wrap your arms around his neck, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure when he laps at your pulse with his skillful tongue.

“So I don’t wanna hear any of that nonsense comparing yourself to women I didn’t care about then and I sure don’t care about now,” he growls as he picks you up and flips you around. He bends you over the counter, stomach against the cold marble top and the rounded edges digging at the tops of your thighs. Your feet can’t quite reach the floor so you settle for trying to wrap your legs around Miguel’s own. He yanks your shorts and panties down to your knees in one aggressive motion.

“My silly beautiful girl getting jealous over old flings and exes,” he hummed, his large hands massaging your ass, kneading the cheeks, spreading them with his thumbs. “They’re not here anymore, are they? Didn’t work out with them and they’re not in my life anymore. And I prefer it that way.”

You feel him spit on your hole, dripping down to mix with your own wetness. You drop your head onto the countertop, the heated skin on your face making the marble feel icy. He takes your wrists, securing your hands behind your back with his own large hand while his other still massages your ass. Your eyes flutter, enjoying the sensation when you hear a loud smack cut through the momentary silence.

“Mig-” you yelp as you feel a sharp sting on your right ass cheek. His hand goes back to massaging, trying to soothe your reddened skin. You whine as he gives your other cheek the same treatment. Two matching red handprints bloom on both your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be listening to your dad about my type when I was much younger,” he says, his voice low and serious as he leans down to press his sculpted chest on your back “Because right now there’s nothing I want more than this pequeña prinscesa whose toes can't even reach the floor when I bend her over the kitchen counter. You love that too don't you? How I’m much bigger than you? How easily I can carry you around, bend you over, and fuck you whenever I want? Love folding you in half and using your pretty pussy- no, my pretty pussy. This is mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed. Isn’t that right?

You nod enthusiastically not trusting your voice to speak. the words he growls at your ear going straight to your cunt. You feel another hard smack go down your ass, the impact making you slide a bit on the counter. His hands pull you back by the waist to press his erection against your dripping cunt, your wetness soaking through his sweatpants.

“Use your words when you answer me, nena,” he growls, grinding himself against your folds. The friction from the fabric of his sweatpants feels heavenly against your puffy folds.

“Yessss,” you whine, pushing your ass back against him “all yours. Need you to fuck this pussy please, please, please!”

“How can I say no when my baby girl is begging so nicely?” he coos, pulling down his sweatpants to free his cock. He takes it in his hand and presses the tip in. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your velvety walls welcome him back, still stretched out from your earlier activities.

“Perfect,” Miguel groans as he wastes no time to fuck into your slutty little hole that’s sucking him in so lewdly. “Made for me. Mi princesa needs to learn that no one can compare to her. She’s so perfect. And she’s mine. Only mine. And I am hers.”

“Yo-urs– M-ah, Miguel,” you whimper as he keeps hitting all the right places, his tip hitting your sweet spot with each hard thrust until you’re once again pushed over the edge of sweet release. Your gummy walls contract, milking Miguel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He follows shortly after with a deep moan, his cock coating your insides with his warm seed.

Miguel makes no move to pull out. Instead he peppers your shoulders and neck with kisses, humming in contentment, whispering sweet endearments. Your heart fills with warmth and before you could even think about it, the words just leave your mouth.

“I love you, Miguel”

Silence. Anxiety starts to bubble in your chest as you start to think that you’ve read all the signs wrong. But before you could take it back, Miguel turns you to lie on your back, facing him. He leans down to capture your lips in his, his hands pulling you closer as if he was afraid you’d leave if he lets go. He mumbles “I love you” against your lips over and over again for the rest of the night making sure you never doubt his feelings for you ever again.

[petermorwood]

Hello! I wondered if you had any easy (and requiring few ingredients) recipes for a student? I tend to go through your food tag for inspiration but a lot of stuff seems to require more advanced cookware than the simple pan/oven or needs quite a few ingredients. Thought I'd ask!

#food and drink is a wide-ranging topic, so try #recipe / #recipes for more specific information.

IIRC a lot of them call for one or at most two pans and not many ingredients - scrambled eggs with herbs / snipped green onions and chopped bacon or sausage, for instance, needs just one pan.

Fry the meat first, take it out, add the eggs, and when they start to thicken return the meat along with herbs / onions, combine the lot, cook until the eggs are As You Like Them, then serve up on hot buttered toast with a sprinkle of Tabasco and maybe grated cheese if there's any in the fridge.

*****

You'll find various soups and stews - ours, and from other sources - which again need only some basic ingredients and then, unlike the speed of those scrambled eggs, another ingredient which you can't buy at the shop.

Time.

*****

I've mentioned more than once that even a jar of heat-and-stir-in pasta sauce is hugely improved by letting the heating be a half-hour on the stove rather than a minute in the microwave.

Pour it into a saucepan and heat to the very gentle simmer which in French is called mijouter (what I call "blip, not bloop").

Add your choice of black pepper / chilli flakes / garlic powder / dried herbs / a splash of Worcester sauce / balsamic vinegar / wine and stir well in. Any or all of those additions will elevate the end result well above what it was when the jar was opened.

Partly cover with a lid to contain any splats, set a timer for 30 minutes, then go do something else.

When the timer goes, return to the stove, stir the sauce, cook whatever pasta you fancy, drain it, combine with the sauce, plate up and get stuck in.

*****

If feeling more adventurous there's a recipe here...

...for simple pasta (or tomato) sauce from scratch.

NB, the recipe doesn't have salt as an ingredient. This is a personal preference and I've never missed it, but YMMV. Taste first, add salt second.

It's remarkably good and, though vaguely Italian, is non-specific enough that with appropriate tweaks of herb or spice it's been used as a cooking sauce for meat, meatballs or poultry.

Those tweaks have included lots of black pepper and / or a dollop of horseradish for beef, some dried tarragon and / or sour cream for chicken, thick slices of onion and green pepper for meatballs, and that was before I started thinking about what could be done with spice mixes like baharat, quatre-épices, garam masala or herbes de Provence...

*****

The basic sauce is vegetarian, maybe even vegan, so try using it for carrots peeled and split lengthwise or cut in thick slices, quartered potatoes, some sliced red and green peppers, maybe a drained tin of beans or chickpeas. If carnivorous, regard this as side veggies. If vegetarian, it's the main course.

(Hint: though it'll involve a second pan, frying the carrots and potatoes enough to brown their edges before going in the sauce is A Good Move.)

Check in 30 minutes, then again in 45. You'll know the carrots and spuds are done when a knife-point, fork or cocktail stick stabs in easily. Once they're done, everything else is also done. Taste again, and perhaps sprinkle with a tiny amount of vinegar or lemon juice to balance the carrot sweetness.

Serve with rice, couscous, or just some crusty farmhouse bread to mop with.

Hope This Helps! :->

[kaminocasey]

Joyride

Summary: You and Hunter have been ignoring your feelings for each other for a year, but can't any longer when you're sent on a mission together.

Pairing: Hunter x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Angst, Enemies to Lovers, SMUT, Sex on a speeder bike, unprotected p in v (wrap it up friends), Cid (lol)

WC: 3.2K

A/N: OKAY don't be mad at me for having Cid in this bc I started writing this way before that finale and before we knew that Cid was a traitorous asshole, so I'm sorry about that. BUT sex with Hunter on a speeder bike should make up for it, right?? (Also, if you saw me post this earlier on my main, no you didn't lol.)

TAGLIST FORM │Bad Batch Masterlist

“Dark and Broody, Mopey… You two will be going on this one alone.” Cid points at you and Hunter.

That’s what Cid calls you, Mopey. Even though she’s known you your whole life and absolutely knows your name. You moped about Hunter to her one time and now the name has stuck.

“What?” You and Hunter ask, simultaneously and then look at each other uncomfortably.

Crossing your arms, you glare. “We don’t do alone missions.” 

“That’s not my problem. I need a couple who won’t stick out too much.” Cid starts to walk away toward her office, knowing you’ll follow. “It’s easy. In and out. Get the drive. Bam. You’re done.”

“A couple?” Hunter asks, still trying to catch up. 

“Yeah, a couple. Ever heard of the word?” Cid sits at her desk, rummaging through her drawers. “Two people who are together.”

“We aren’t together, though.” Hunter glances at you as you lean in the doorway with crossed arms, looking at you as if you have some sway here.

You’ve known Cid your whole life. She apparently used to run with your mom back in the day and when your mom passed, Cid took you in. She looks up at you, knowingly and you shake your head, walking out so you can leave Hunter to argue with her. It was a lost cause arguing with her. You learned that long ago. 

“Good luck.” Echo tells you, smirking from the bar. 

You flip him off and then look to make sure Omega wasn’t watching. Thankfully, she and Wrecker are in a heated Dejarik game while Tech watches over Wrecker’s shoulder. You can’t help but be grateful for this little group that you and Cid found a year ago. 

“You know, you’re pacing.” You tell Hunter from the co-pilot’s seat as the ship travels through hyperspace.

It’s quiet without the rest of the Batch, you notice. Too quiet. It occurs to you how little time you and Hunter have been around each other without any of the others around. 

“Yeah. And?” He snips.

You prop your feet up in the seat in front of you, your dress slipping up to your thigh slightly. He looks down only for a second and walks off to the bunks to do something. With a roll of your eyes, you pull up your datapad and send off a message to Echo.

You: He’s impossible.

Echo: What do you want me to do about it? 

You: Just complaining I guess?

Echo: You mean being mopey?

You: Fuck you.

Echo: LOL

You sigh and toss your datapad back into the seat, groaning in frustration.

“What is it?” Hunter stands in the doorway.

“Nothing.” You turn your seat around to look out at the blue hues of hyperspace. 

“Right…” Hunter disappears again until right before you come up on Coruscant. 

“So the plan-” Hunter stands in front of you when you land.

“I know the plan.” You stare up at him.

“Right. Okay then.” He sighs as he hands you your ear piece, giving you a curious look as he stares down at you.

“Okay.” You nod and open the hatch.

You leave the ship together, coming up on the speeder that one of Cid’s people left for you. He looks at the speeder bike. 

“Don’t even think about it.” You grumble and point at your outfit. “Dress, remember?” 

He chuckles. “Right.”

With a slight roll of your eyes, you get in the passenger side of the speeder. As he takes off, you try your hardest to not look at him in his nice outfit. He’s wearing a dark red collared shirt, the top two buttons undone, slightly revealing his tattooed chest, dress pants, and a gold chain you didn’t know he had. 

You find yourself wanting to ask him about the chain and about the tattoo that was clearly a continuation of the half skull on his face. You’re tempted to question him if it goes all the way down… 

“What?” Hunter picks up on your staring.

You go warm in the face instantly and look out your side of the speeder as he continues to drive. “Nothing.” He chuckles. “If you say so.”

Arriving at the casino, Hunter starts to get out but you stop him, leaning on the edge of the door. “What are you doing? Keep the speeder running in case I run into trouble. Thought you’ve done this before?” You smirk.

“I have.” He scowls at you. “You’re gonna go in alone, dressed like that?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Really? We’re gonna have this conversation?” 

He thinks about it for a second. “Look… I know you can handle your own-”

“Great, then I’ll see you in a few minutes. Keep it running, I’ll be in and out.” You ignore him and walk away into the casino. 

“Nothing wrong with backup, you know?” He grumbles in your ear as you walk up the steps to the second floor.

“Hush.” You tell him, smiling at the coat check person, politely.

You can feel some eyes on you as you walk onto the casino floor. 

“You’re breathing heavily.” Hunter complains in your ear on the comm as you make your way through the casino full of people. 

“No I’m not.” You roll your eyes. “You just have supersonic hearing.” 

He chuckles. “I think you mean ultrasonic.”

“Maker, you’ve been hanging around Tech too much.” You shake your head to yourself.

Stars, why does his voice sound like that? It sounds like pure sex and it feels like he’s practically purring in your ear. And it’s going right to your-

“You good?” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Yep.” You take a wine glass off a waitresses tray and gulp it down in one go, trying not to think about what Hunter’s voice does to you.

“Please try not to get wasted.” He warns you.

“How did you know-” You put the empty glass on a passing tray and keep moving through the crowd of people who were clearly rich and well off. 

“‘Supersonic’ hearing, remember?” He teases, lightly. “You… ahem… swallow loudly.” 

He coughs and you try to not think about what he could be thinking of. 

“Focus, Sarge.” You smirk, just trying not to argue with him for once. It’s really not a secret that you two don’t really see eye to eye, but that’s not your problem. It’s his. He’s the one who always starts the arguments. Like now, complaining about your breathing and your swallowing. If anyone deserved to complain, it’s you. You’re in this ridiculously snug dress and stupid heels and you’re ready to peel them off. 

“Miss?” You hear a man’s voice behind you.

When you turn around, you find a handsome, young gentleman with a blue scarf that you’d been looking for. He’s supposed to be the one who gives you the drive. 

“Hi. Luc?” You smile.

Easy mission, thankfully. In and out just like you told Hunter, making him wait out in the speeder. 

“That’s me.” He grins. “They didn’t tell me that a beautiful woman was supposed to be meeting me. Could I buy you a drink first?”

You try to not roll your eyes as you keep a fake smile plastered on your face. 

“Wow. What a tool.” Hunter’s voice fills your ear.

“That’s alright, thank you. Just the drive please.” You start to hand out your hand.

“Pity… Well in that case, I’m supposed to tell you,” He suddenly pulls a blaster out, keeping it low. “Cad Bane sends his regards.” 

Kriff. Of course.

Acting quickly, you shove his hand away at the same time that he releases the trigger, sending blaster fire up into the air. You elbow him in the throat, making him double over in pain, gasping for breath, as you try to knock the blaster out of his hand. Suddenly, more blaster fire starts coming your way and you realize you’ve been set up.

All around you people scream as they scramble for safety in the casino.

“What’s happening?” Hunter’s voice is in your ear, panicked.

“Don’t worry about it. Keep the speeder running.” You grunt as you make for the balcony across the room, just hoping your heels hold up, pulling one of your blasters out and shooting at the people that are shooting at you.

“Don’t worry about it, she says, as blaster fire is literally firing around her.” Hunter mutters. 

“Will you please shut up?” You snap as you start to climb over the side of the balcony, shooting toward the top of the building. 

You look down for Hunter in the speeder but see him on a speeder bike instead.

“Where’s the speeder?” You yell.

“This is quicker!” He calls back.

With an annoyed groan, you stick your blaster back into your thigh holster and slide down the rope landing in Hunter’s lap, straddling his thighs while facing him. He lets out an ‘oof’ and takes off as people come running out of the lobby, shooting at the two of you.

“You could have let me climb off to get behind you.” You glare.

“No time. Hold on.” He revs the bike and starts going even faster through the undercity of Coruscant, causing you to press yourself to his chest. 

You roll your eyes. “We were set up.”

“Yeah, no kriff.” Hunter rests his chin on your shoulder so you can see.

It almost feels natural… having him against you. You quickly push that thought away as you go to argue with him again. 

“You know what-” You’re cut off as you realize people in speeders are after you, still shooting at you. 

“A little help here would be nice.” He grunts, taking a sharp turn, trying to buy you some time so you can grab your blasters. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.” You pull your blasters out of both thigh holsters. 

When you try to situate yourself so you can shoot better, you only realize you accidentally brush up against Hunter’s crotch when he lets out a soft groan. 

“Sorry…” You try. “Just shoot.” He says, through gritted teeth.

You immediately start to take out each shooter, precisely hitting each person so well that you can’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Crosshair would be so proud of me right now.” You compliment yourself.

“I’m sure.” Hunter grumbles as he shoots through an alley and then takes a hard right up into some sort of abandoned warehouse. When he thinks the coast is clear, he finally leans back, breathing heavily. You can’t even tease him about it, because your chest is heaving against his. With the deep glare that he’s giving you, his hate for you becomes evident. 

“You know, you may hate me… and still not trust me… but I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me for the long haul.” You shrug, tucking your blasters back into your holsters. 

“I don’t hate you.” He rolls his eyes.

“Then why-” You start but he crushes his lips to yours, shutting you up. 

Every nerve ending in your body stands straight up and you fight between the urge to shove him off of you and also wanting more of him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer and he grips your hips, grinding you against his hardened length, straining in his pants. 

“You feel what you do to me?” He rasps against your lips, his voice full of need. “So, I don’t hate you, I’m-”

Without another word, your hands fall down to his zipper and pull his length free. His sentence is cut off as you rest your foreheads together, watching your hand expertly start to pump his cock. He’s thicker than you imagined he’d be. You’re definitely not complaining though.

“Fuck, mesh’la…” He groans, gripping your hips tighter. 

The rumble of the speeder sends vibrations to your core and you can’t help the wetness that gathers in your panties, begging to coat Hunter’s perfect cock. 

You raise up slightly, moving your panties to the side as you sink down on him and he lets out an incredibly loud groan while he grips you so tightly that you know you’re going to bruise. Maybe that’s what he’s going for. To remind you of today, no matter what happens when you get back to Ord Mantell. 

You let out a soft gasp when his hands roam down to your ass and start to raise you up just to pull you back down onto his cock harshly. You’d been lying to yourself… You don’t hate him. You want Hunter just as bad, if not more. 

He pulls your body flush against his, kissing your shoulder. “Been waiting for so long for this.” 

You can’t help the needy whimpers that escape your lips for this man. The two of you had been fighting your urges for so long that you’d been convinced you hated each other. But now… 

“Feels so fucking good… So perfect… made for me.” Hunter babbles incoherently and you grind against him as much as you can. You pull away to make sure you’re not slipping but he grips your chin and pulls your gaze back to his own. “Keep your eyes on me. I’ve got you, you’re not going anywhere.”

And fuck, if that isn’t the hottest thing a man’s ever said to you…

He takes your fingers and pulls them to his mouth, taking them in his mouth. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. He knows exactly what he’s doing because he smirks around your digits before guiding your fingers down to your clit. 

“Fuck… Hunter.” You groan, keeping your eyes on him, lips parted as the sounds echo off the metal walls of the warehouse as you rub your clit for him. 

“That’s it, mesh’la… need you to cum for me so I can fill this pretty little cunt up.” He whispers gruffly and you nearly come apart just at those words alone. “If… if that’s okay with you.”

“Please.” You gasp with a desperate nod.

You’d never known Hunter had this side to him. Sure you called him dark and broody as a joke, but this was something else entirely. He’s looking at you with such voracity, that you don’t think there’s any coming back from it. You want him to look at you this way forever. 

Pulling Hunter back in for a kiss so vehement, while still rubbing your clit, you near your edge. Your mind goes back to what he was saying earlier about not hating you. He didn’t give you a reason for acting the way he did.

“Hunter…” You whimper.

“What?” He rests his forehead against yours, still fucking you amorously. 

When he looks at you, it’s with such a softness that you can’t help but melt. 

“What…” You groan as he pushes you back on the speeder, reaching deeper into you with his cock. “What were you going to say… you don’t hate me… and?” 

“Right now?” He asks, looking down between you with a breathless chuckle. 

You nod as that familiar heat pools toward your warmth. “As… good a time… as any, right?” 

The way he’s fucking you is absolutely ethereal. You don’t think you could go back to how things were before even if you wanted to. And you definitely don’t want to, right?

“Maker…” He grits with a breathy chuckle as you clench around him. “I’m- fuck… I’m in love with you, okay?” 

As if that’s all you needed to hear, you cum, making his name sound like an entire prayer. Because that’s what coming around Hunter’s cock feels like. Absolutely spiritual. 

He grins down at you and pulls you back up into his lap, wrapping his arms around you, fucking into you mercilessly, overwhelming both of you. 

When his hips falter as he grips your sides, digging his fingers into you as he fills you up so fully that you spill out over the both of you. You can’t help but let out a soft laugh and then he lets one out as well.

“If I knew you’d react like that when I declared my love for you, I would’ve done it sooner.” He winks and you playfully slug him. 

“You’re very lucky I don’t actually hate you.” You lean in closely and the breath in his throat hitches.

“I’ll say.” He agrees before crushing his lips to yours.

Neither of you are sure what’s next for you, but you’re already feeling more hopeful. Maybe it’ll help that you won’t be arguing for once when you break the news to Cid that the mission failed. 

“I uh… actually wanted to show you something while we’re on Coruscant.” He coughs, awkwardly. 

“Okay?” You look at him curiously.

He grins as he helps you off the bike to sit behind him again. You feel the slight run of cum start to drip down your thigh. 

“Oh…” You look down and Hunter looks at your thighs as well, his grip on the handlebars tightening. 

“Do you want to run by the ship and clean up before I show you the surprise?” He smirks.

“Please.” You nod, going warm in the face as you hop on the back of the bike. “I’d also like to change. These heels are the worst.” 

He chuckles and relaxes into you when you wrap your arms around his waist and then takes off back toward the Marauder. It’s a strange feeling being so close to him after having so much distance between the two of you the past year. 

“So, what is it with you and speeder bikes?” You ask him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.” You start to release his waist but he quickly grabs your arms and pulls them against him again. 

“I’ve always wanted one. Since I saw one of the Alpha’s with one on Kamino when I was, you know, a “kid”.” He admits with a shrug.

“That’s sweet.” You kiss his shoulder. “We’ll get you one, one day.” 

He pulls one of your hands up to his lips and kisses it and you can’t help but smile.

When you pull back up to the Marauder, Hunter helps you off the bike, like a gentleman.

“Didn’t know you had such a sweet side to you.” You tease as he pulls you against himself, looking down into your eyes with his own warm brown ones. 

He smirks as he kisses you again. “Maybe we can shower… together… before I take you to that surprise.”

You find yourself desperate to have his mouth somewhere else.

“Yes please, Sarge.” You wrap your arms around him and he starts to lift you up but pauses as his ears perk up toward the Marauder and then pulls away to grab one of your blasters out of your holster, pointing it toward the hatch. 

“Hunter, what is it?” You whisper. 

All of a sudden, you hear a blaster shot come out from behind you and feel a bolt of electricity travel throughout your body. By the time you drop, you realize it’s too late and you’ve been stunned. The last thing you see before you pass out is Hunter going into attack mode.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @misogirl828 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @quigonswife8 @idlenesses @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @brownstalebread @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms

[lemonpils]

You Can Take It - Scaramouche x Lumine +18 NSFW

Authors Note: THIS IS SCARAMOUCHE, NOT WANDERER LMAO, this is before he was redeemed n shit lol. no tickling this time, just smut!! enjoy dom!scara btw

Summary: The fatui had finally caught Lumine, whilst she was chained up, a certain harbinger finds her and has a little fun. MINORS DNI PLS

She had been chained down for what seemed like hours, her arms above her head, legs spread to each corner of the table. She was still in shock, wondering how this all had happened...

How did this happen?

Lumine, in short, bit off more than she could chew.

The adventurers guild had requested help in finding a missing person, a young boy, blonde. And no, it wasn't Aether. Lumine had went to speak with the person that posted the advert, it was a young girl, the boys sister.

So naturally she felt her pain, and wanted to help in any way she could, the young girl explained that her brother wandered off down a trail near Chinju Forrest, she told Lumine that there was a Fatui camp near that specific trail. Lumine cursed to herself, the fatui had always been up Lumine's ass when it came to helping the people of Teyvat, and the fact that it was a young boy who had gone missing only made her anger build.

So there she was, sword in hand, walking down said trail as she looked for any signs to what had happened. She followed the freshest footprints she could see, and saw that they veered off the trail, down to the water.

"Shit." She thought, could he have drowned?

She hurried down to the water, looking for blood, pieces of clothing, anything. It was then that she saw something, a person. He was small, blonde. A sigh of relief washed over her as she approached him, though the expression on the boys face wasn't anything to what she was expecting, it was a fearful look, he seemed to be looking right at her.

"Did you get lost? Your sister has been looking for you sweetie." She spoke kindly, though his face made her worry.

The boy didn't speak, his expression lingered once more, she studied his eyes, and at that moment she realized...

The boy wasn't looking at her.

He was looking behind her.

She swiftly turned around, making eye contact to who ever was standing behind her. She only caught a glimpse before a syringe was injected into her arm, causing her vision to grow fuzzy, and her knees to buckle. She fell onto the sand, able to make out the mask of a fatui pyro agent as her eyes closed.

Now, where were we? Ah, yes.

She had been struggling in the chains, using any elemental power she could, but there was no budge. It seemed they had been preparing for her, the chains were immune to her abilities, shit.

Her arms tried to yank down, but the chains kept her taught and spread as she squirmed. She was almost about to call for 'help' when she heard footsteps walking towards the doorway of the room.

"Fuck, oh god, who's coming..?" She thought.

A voiced pierced her ears as the stranger spoke, though, it was no stranger, she knew exactly who it was.

"Well, look what we have here." It was none other than Lumine's least favorite pain in the ass, Scaramouche. He walked over to the table where she was bound, her milky skin glistening under the one lightbulb that hung in the middle of the room. His fingers reached towards her, but before he could even make contact-

"Don't fucking touch me." She snipped.

He smiled, that sadistic little smile. "Don't act like you don't love it."

She gulped, a tint of pink hitting her cheeks as he called her out, for some reason, this guy always made her lose her cool, made her feel- smaller, did she like it?

Yea, probably.

And he knew that, all too well. Scaramouche was anything but stupid, he noticed whenever they had their disputes that she would fumble her words, and that she let her eyes wander. He knew that there was something more to it, maybe this was a good time to test that theory?

"I'd ask how you ended up getting caught, but I dont really care." He chuckled. "All I care about now, is what I'm going to do next." He flashed that signature smile, that smile that sent tingles up her spine.

"You're sick."

"And you adore it." He nipped back, making her blush in defeat.

"Let's state the facts Lumine, you're stuck, you lost. You cant be for sure that you'll get out, so why not accept it and join the winners?" His voiced was laced with something, something lustful.

It made her quiver as his breath hit her neck, since when did his face get so close?

"I wont submit to your little game." Her voice was shaky, oh how that turned him on.

He chuckled, "I knew you wouldn't back down so easily, maybe I need to convince you then." Lumines heart sank, thoughts raced through her mind as she kept her eyes on him.

She felt a hand grab just above her knee, where her boots ended and her bare skin began. She whimpered. "Scara- dont fucking touch me- nHh!" His hand moved up, taking a handful of her thigh.

"Lumine, you need to learn when to shut up." His eyes were drinking her figure up as he spoke. Something about his tone caused her to stop speaking, hmm, weird.

Lumine let a moan slip out as Scaramouche massaged her inner thighs, caressing her silky skin. "My, what embarrassing noises you're making, you dont like this do you?" He smirked as her face reddened, only proving his point more.

She liked it, fuck that, she loved it.

"S-Scara... wait-" She felt his hands travel under her dress, resting on her hips as his face was still lingering above hers, the eye contact was maddening. "Dont speak." He ordered.

It was if she was finally realizing her own fantasies, and how this man made her feel, she felt dirty, she felt sleazy, but yet so, so turned on.

Her mouth closed as she nodded, a smile appearing on his face. "Glad you understand your place." His hands traveled up her dress, tracing the undersides of her breasts, he admired the softness of her skin with his fingers, and how she reacted to the smallest of grazes.

"Mmhh! Nhh.." High pitched moans seeped out like smoke, echoing through the room. "Oh? Did I find a spot?" He smiled, bringing his fingers up to pinch her nipples, which were already hard. "GhH-!"

She arched her back, only for his hands to meet her hips and slam her back onto the table. "Keep still, dont fucking move."

She nodded, and dissolved into moans once more as he began pinching and tweaking her nipples from under her dress, watching as she fought the urge to arch and squirm. "Look at you, this must suck huh? Unable to move, unable to stop me, and I just get to play with you till my hearts content. But, who am I to say that you dont fucking love it?" He chuckled, a whimper seeped out as she knew he was right.

His hands pulled out from her dress, but were soon back on her as he ripped said dress apart, straight down the middle, revealing everything. She shuddered as the cold air met her skin, leaving tingles in its trace. The tingers were suddenly replaced with a warm wet sensation on her chest.

His mouth had met her right breast as he sucked on her nipple, while his hand toyed with her left one. Lumine moaned hard, she threw her head back to help process the sensations.

"That's it, writhe in pleasure." He said between sucks, pinching her left nipple a bit harder.

"Scara-! Please- fuck..!" She moaned, followed by a hand meeting her throat, not pressing too tight yet. "Please what?" He eyed her.

She gulped, tears pricking her eyes.

"P-Please... Dont make me wait..." She whimpered, she wanted to feel him.

He scoffed, tightening his grip on her neck as she choked in pleasure. "Who the fuck do you think you are, making demands?" His free hand moved down, tracing along the line of her panties. "You dont get to make the decisions, as long as you're on that table." He glared, his fingers traveling beneath her underwear as he spoke.

"Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes..."

She moaned as two fingers brushed against her wetness, tracing the outside of her folds as she moaned. "Hhh-!" She gasped, feeling them massage and toy with the outside, barely giving her what she craved so dearly. His eyes kept their gaze on her pussy, and how it quivered when he teased it so lightly.

"What a slut, you're already soaked, see?" He held up his two fingers, already coated in a layer of her juices. She looked to see, but it was too late as she inhaled sharply as the same two fingers slipped into her entrance, not moving just yet.

"GhH!"

"Hmm, you're looser than I'd thought you be, you must be really into this huh? What a pathetic slut."

Fuck that turned her on.

She moaned as his fingers began pumping slowly, he pulled them all the way out only for him to push them back in. He kept a smooth pace, watching for her reactions. "Mhh-! Ah..! Fuck-!" The slowness of the speed was killing her, she wanted him to make her cry, maybe she was a slut, she didn't mind if it was for him though.

His pace began quickening, he pumped faster as his slender fingers felt her walls, and how they let him in so easily. "Mm, you like that? You like me fucking you with my fingers? Tell me Lumine, tell me you crave my touch like a fucking drug." He sped up, placing his thumb onto her throbbing clit as he began massaging it.

"I love it-! Fuck! Your touch- mhh! I crave it! Please-!" She moaned through her words as she obeyed, she had never felt so defeated, but in the best way possible. Scaramouche smirked as she spoke, never letting up the pace.

His fingers curled, finding that soft spongey place that made her almost weep. "Scara-! Please- fuck!" She pleaded through her moans. His pace, the never ending feeling of his fingers pumping into her, massaging into that soft spot, his thumb vigorously flicking against her clit, it was all so much.

"Please what? Please go faster? Harder? Use your words whore."

He scoffed, the hand that held her throat finally let go as it traveled to her chest, tweaking her nipples once more.

"Nhg-! Please- fuck..! Break- please! I need a break!" She pleaded, though her moans and body language told a different story.

His gaze was cold but sadistic, the words he spoke after almost made her cum immediately.

"Hmm, nah. You can take it." He torturously massaged into her aching G-spot, watching the tears spill down her cheeks as his thumb kept its place on her clit. He watched as she whimpered, her body almost begging for release.

"Archons-! Fuck... I cant- hhh!" Her voice was shaky and full of pleasure, knowing full well that he wouldn't let her cum so easily. "What's wrong? Dont tell me you're already done." He smirked, his face closing down on hers as his fingers worked away. "Scara please- oh fuck..! I cant- Im gonna cum-" Her words were cut off as the hand that was on her chest slapped over her mouth.

"If you cum without my say, Ill make you orgasm so many times you wont even be able to fucking think. Am I understood, slut?" He spoke with a certainty that almost terrified her. She nodded as his fingers continued to pump into her, on the verge of becoming numb with pleasure. "Good." His hand pulled off of her mouth, allowing her to take a large inhale before moaning loudly once more.

All Lumine could feel was the overwhelming pleasure of Scaramouche's skilled hands, how they so effortlessly fingered her cunt and forced her to buck her hips, how his thumb only had to gently massage into her clit to make her cry in ecstasy. She was well aware he was turned on by her suffering, and that she was turned on from his torture.

He took in her expression, her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were puffy from crying. He loved it, though he thought he would strike a deal, not without him having some fun first.

He paused his hands for a moment, giving her a small breather. "How's this, if you can last without cumming for thirty seconds, I'll give you the orgasm you so desperately crave, sound good slut?" He smirked, he was planning something.

She nodded, unable to speak as her voice was only able to produce whines and whimpers.

"Alright, lets begin."

At first, he just began fingering her again, two inside, his thumb on her clit. She moaned hard, followed by a sharp inhale, she suddenly felt something strange, it seemed to come from his fingertips. Wait, was that...

....electricity?

Scaramouch chuckled as he began sending little shocks through the tips of his fingers, zapping her throbbing clit and her soft spongey insides. Lumine screamed in pleasure.

"Fuck-! Nhh! Ah-! Scara- please! Ahh!" At this point she was sobbing, the overstimulation was too much, her hips bucked and her back arched, the torturous sensations continued their onslaught.

"Twenty seconds left." He said bluntly.

A pained moan escaped her as she nodded, trying her hardest to keep the build up inside. She wailed in pleasure as he focused the shocks on her clit, the sadistic bastard...

He watched her fight through it, and how she looked so fucking hot writhing in agony.

"Ten seconds."

She moaned hard as he continued the onslaught, somewhat impressed with her ability to stay so strong. He increased the shocks during the last five seconds, watching her scream.

"Times up, now cum for me slut." He smiled devilishly.

And with that, Scaramouche fingered her cunt through her climax, watching it spew out between his fingers as he moaned in overstimulation.

She gasped for air as she felt his fingers finally pull out from her, dripping with her cum. "My, quite the mess you've made." He shoved his fingers into her mouth, making her taste herself.

"Better clean them up then."

Her mouth closed around his fingers, feeling her own essence drip down her throat. He pulled his fingers out, enjoying the messy sight before him.

"You did better than I thought." He smiled.

"...thanks." She said with a hoarse voice.

It was then that his lips met hers, a tender sloppy kiss ending the night.

He pulled back, walking to her wrists and unchaining them, as well as her legs, he watched her instinctively curl up into a ball, probably sore from being chained up for a few hours. He thew her a spare set of clothes from a chest in the corner, speaking more softly then before.

"The room is going to be unmonitored for another few hours, once you leave, I'm going to say you escaped, understood?" His hand cupped her face.

"...huh? You're letting me go?"

He scoffed, "What, surprised slut?"

She pushed her hair back, taking in his expression. "Somewhat, I didn't really think you would-" She was stopped as he kissed her again, pushing back onto the table.

"God you talk too much, are you going to fucking leave? Or am I going to have to make you orgasm again." He scowled, but his eyes were much sweeter than normal.

"I will, but..." She pulled him into another kiss.

"...in a bit."

[devondespresso]

First fic tag game 📝

Pick a fandom and post an excerpt of the first thing you ever wrote in that fandom. Could be a scene, part of a scene, a couple of lines, whatever your first foray into writing for that fandom was. Feel free to include a link to the story it comes from if it’s been published (excerpts from WIPs count too).

tagged by my beloveds @carolperkinsexgirlfriend and @stellarspecter

technically the first thing i started writing for stranger things was my Steve Henderson au 👀 tho at this point most of the original draft from then has been edited bc i was definitely learning as i went, this scene below is one of my favorites from that first attempt and has had the least amount of edits (all the plot beats and most of the dialogue being the exact same!!)

<< also thank you guys you reminded me just in time to keep up with my resolution of revisiting this wip at least once a month 🙏 >>

putting the snip under the cut, and going ahead and tagging @sourw0lfs @marvel-ous-m @helpimstuckposting @queenie-ofthe-void @solarmorrigan

@withacapitalp @hairstevington @scriptorbemi @tinytalkingtina @hbyrde36

and anyone else who wants to join!! 💕💕💕

(Context: in season 2 in Dustin's cellar, right after they find and look through the hole D'art dug to escape)

“Great.” Steve sighed, standing up and laying the slime on the ground by the hole, “So now what?”

“We have to find him.”

“Yeah, can’t say I’m thrilled about that.”

“We have to, he ate Mews when he was the same size as her. If he keeps getting bigger he’s going to start hurting people.”

"Mews as in… your cat?"

"Yeah."

Steve nodded slowly.

“You said his face opened up, right? Like,” Steve set the bat down and tried gesturing the petals from the demogorgon’s ‘face’.

“Yeah, yeah, exactly like that. Like he’s an early metamorphic stage of a–”

“Demogorgon.” Awesome. Round two, apparently. “Should we be telling someone about this?”

“I’ve been trying, no one’s answered their walkie all day. That's why I got you.”

“Good to know I’m your last choice.” Steve bitched.

Henderson just rolled his eyes and looked back at the hole.

“Still not a huge fan of looking for a man-eating dog in the middle of the night.” Steve said, “Think it could wait ‘till morning?”

“Maybe? We don’t have any idea where he’ll climb out.”

“Your house’s pretty secure right?” Steve asked. Henderson turned around to look at him, confused. “Just like. He’s not gonna be able to break in while you’re sleeping?”

Henderson’s eyes widened. Shit.

“I… I don’t think so. He didn’t break out when he was cat-sized.”

“Good good, then you’ll be fine,” Steve assured, giving him a solid pat on the back. “We’ll wait until it’s light tomorrow and I’ll come help you find him and we’ll take care of it, yeah?”

“Yeah, good. Sounds good. Tomorrow.”

“Cool, I’ll drop by at eleven.”

“Yeah, just– park at the end of the street. I’ll tell my mom I’m going to a friend’s house.”

“Alright.” Steve slung the bat over his shoulder and walked back to the stairs, Henderson catching up beside him. “And, uh, don’t sweat it, man. The coming-inside-while-you’re-asleep thing. I mean even if he had, like, the brainpower to try and find a way in, he wouldn’t have the force—I mean full grown they’re like sticks—and why would he even want in anyway there's plenty of squirrels and shit–”

“You’re right,” Henderson interrupted. “It’s, uh… just a– He's not big. Yet. So there's no real reason to worry.”

Steve looked at him as he put up a small smile, close-lipped and eyes barely squinted. It could pass as calm if he’d never seen the kid before in his damn life. But talking about it more wasn’t helping.

“Yeah, good.” He patted his arm, then looked at his car for a moment. “Wait here a sec.”

Steve jogged over and opened the passenger's seat, pulling a napkin and a pen out of his glovebox and scribbling his number down.

Steve went to turn around and run back, only to find Dustin barely a few steps behind him.

“Here,” he said, handing Dustin the napkin and closing the car door, “If you need anything.”

He rounded the car to the driver’s side, and when he looked back Dustin was just standing there with the napkin. Steve gestured to the house’s front door.

“Shit, yeah.” He whispered and rushed to get inside, “Thanks.”

Steve waved him off and sat in his car, waiting until the front door closed before driving back home.

Demogorgons again, then. Great. Wonderful

[bellybuttonbooks]

The Sixth | Ekko x Fem!OC

Chapter Four

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Full fanfiction is posted on Wattpad and currently has 36 chapters and a read time of 13 hours.

Full fanfic can be found here:

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

When Ekko opened his eyes again, they immediately slammed shut once more. The light in the room he was currently in was ungodly and stabbed daggers into his pupils. A groan escaped his mouth, and he raised his arm to rest his forearm over his eyes in order block the light from them.

"Ekko?" he heard Scar's voice ask from somewhere else in the room.

"What happened?" he rasped out, throat scratchy and dry.

"What do you remember?"

Ekko slowed his thoughts and started sorting through what he last remembered. He'd led the Firelights on a mission to try and capture the leader of the shimmer stealers. The all-female group had been trying to sell shimmer to some guy in an alley, and they interrupted the deal.

He abruptly dropped his arm from his face and shot up when he recalled the details of pinning the leader underneath him. He'd almost succeeded in revealing her identity, but he'd been stopped last minute.

"Shit," he said, throwing his face into his hand before swiping it downwards. The action caused his skin to tug downwards until his fingers met the sides of his mouth. He wiped along the edges as if he were deep in thought. "They got away again."

"Yeah," Scar said, leaning against Ekko's workbench. He peered down at his leader and watched his face change expressions with each memory that resurfaced.

"I was so close—" he said, eyebrows furrowing marginally "—I almost had her, but then..." His eyes widened. "Holy shit—" He dropped his hand from his mouth and turned to look at his friend. "They've got someone with powers."

Scar's eyebrows twitched upwards at the revelation, forehead wrinkling slightly. "What kind of powers?"

Ekko thought back to how he'd been attacked. "Electricity. This girl with crazy bright hair shot me with it using her fingers like—like a gun." There was a brief pause before he spoke again, realizing that the Firelights had been missing during the ordeal. "Where were you guys anyway?"

Scar's stance stiffened at the question before he released a snipped breath. "They're slippery man. The others flew after them, but they got away." Scar looked away, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact as he continued. "As for me—well—uh..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "They have a vistaya and... she's quite the character."

Ekko stared up at him in confusion. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Trust me, you don't wanna know."

Ekko raised an eyebrow and was about to question him further when he remembered something else. His posture straightened as he realized he'd forgotten to reveal the most vital thing that he'd discovered during the scuffle.

"They have someone who looks exactly like Sevika," he said, causing Scar to look at him again, but this time in surprise.

"Sevika? Working for them? I thought she was a counsellor now?"

"No, no, I said someone who looks like her. This person still has both arms."

Scar's gaze moved astray as he thought over what Ekko had said, but returned to him seconds later. "So, like... her twin or something?"

Ekko shrugged. "I guess. Didn't realize she had any family."

Scar crossed his arms over his chest. "We should go talk to her, see if she has any information."

Ekko's lips pressed into a straight line at the thought of conversing with 'the left arm of Zaun', but he held back any complaints he might've had. They needed answers, and this was their best bet at getting some.

Despite Sevika being on the counsel now and spending a lot of time in Piltover, she still lived in the undercity. She swore never to forget her roots. She was a zaunite, and it swirled in her blood—literally. With her metal arm running on shimmer, the drug often made its way into her system. Shimmer used to be hard to come by after the war, the Enforcers nearly making it go extinct. But now that Daunter had taken over Silco's work, it wasn't hard to find a dealer.

Once the war concluded, she returned to her apartment in Zaun to find it now inhabitable. The place was a wreck—more so than usual. She wasn't an overly tidy woman, nor was she close to being a hoarder. She sat somewhere in the middle, her surroundings cluttered but at least manageable. But when she made it back, she spotted a gorging hole in the side of the apartment building. She could see her wallpaper, now torn and flapping in the breeze, while the concrete of the walls continued to crumble, revealing its wooden skeleton.

Afterwards, she snagged an apartment closer to the promenade level of the city. It was a tad bit larger in scale, and the wallpaper was far less dated than her old one. She tried to tame her messiness after joining the counsel, but only partially succeeded. Her apartment still had her belongings scattered around the place, the book shelves hosting nicknacks instead of books and her kitchen counter having yesterday's unchosen outfit sprawled across it.

She walked down the hall and kicked a dirty pair of socks out of the way while fastening the button on her shawl at the same time. She had a meeting soon and was running around trying to do things last minute before heading to topside.

She came to a stop in the doorway of her bedroom when she heard a knock.

When she opened the door, her expression morphed into one of surprise.

"Firelights?"

Ekko had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, his bat-like lieutenant standing beside him.

"We need to talk."

Sevika eyed them for a moment before stepping to the side to allow them entry, afterwards leading them into her apartment and to her study. Despite the rest of her apartment being cluttered with her belongings, she made sure to keep her study clean. It was where she did most of her work, and sometimes even met with civilians of the undercity so they could discuss their concerns with her.

She offered them both a seat in the dark blue sofa situated in front of her desk. They both sat down, clouds of dust being released from the cushions on impact.

Sevika took a seat on her chair behind the desk and leaned forward, forearm resting on the surface in front of her.

"What do you need to talk about?"

Ekko was waving a gloved hand in the air, trying to fan away the dust from his face. "What does the name Derora mean to you?"

Sevika went taut, her fist clenching and her eyes fitting into a glare.

"Where'd you hear it from?" she demanded.

Ekko hesitated, trying to form the proper words to describe what had happened.

"We had a confrontation with her. And y'know, she looks an awfully lot like you."

Sevika leaned back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest. "What kind of confrontation?"

Ekko huffed a breath through his nose, knowing they wouldn't be able to keep things as vague as he initially hoped.

"She's a part of some group in the undercity. You know anything about it?"

She unclenched her fist and raised her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "She's supposed to be in Stillwater."

Ekko's mouth parted incredulously, and he looked up at Scar to gauge his reaction.

The chirean gave him a quick glance before returning his attention to Sevika.

"What for?" Scar asked her, hoping to wring out as much information from her as possible.

She shook her head ever so slightly. "That doesn't matter." She closed her eyes and pondered how Derora was somehow out of prison, but then remembered the prison break she and Jinx had pulled off years ago. The giant wolf—who turned out to be Vander—had destroyed multiple cell blocks. She probably escaped during the ordeal.

When she dropped her hand from her face and opened her eyes again, she saw both men staring at her questioningly.

She sighed, realizing she'd have to reveal more to them.

"She's my sister, if that much wasn't obvious."

"Twins?" Ekko asked.

She nodded in confirmation.

"Why was she locked up?"

She looked away at the question, the topic not an easy one for her to delve into.

"Happened during the day of ash," she revealed solemnly. "We both fought that day on the bridge. But she ended up being one of the ones arrested."

Ekko leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. He couldn't help but think that there was more to it than that. "Anything else?"

"Like I said, it doesn't matter. Enforcers were arresting anyone they could get their hands on, and she was one of them."

He eyed her skeptically. "And after getting out of prison she decides to run with a bunch of drug dealers?" He scoffed. "Almost as bad as what you did."

Sevika furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Drug dealers? What're you talking about?"

Ekko spared another glance at Scar, wondering if he should reveal any more to her. When all he received was a shrug, he sighed and decided to tell her.

"There's this group of women running around stealing shimmer from Daunter's exports and reselling it for profit," he explained, "You know anything about that?"

Her gaze flickered downwards to rest upon the surface of her desk, recalling a conversation she had with someone a few days ago.

"Not much. Just enough to know that Daunter has his hands full with them and the Firelights fucking with his exports."

Ekko let out a sound that resembled both a scoff and a sarcastic laugh.

"Remind you of old times?"

Sevika looked at him sternly, an unspoken warning.

"You guys should get going, I have a meeting to get to," she said before standing up and adjusting her shawl.

"Woah—wait, what are you gonna do about the group your sister's in?" Ekko said, also standing with Scar moving to do the same beside him.

"Me? There's nothing I can do," she replied. "The Enforcers are already dealing with Daunter, and I got more important things to bring to the counsel than some sissy group that's making things tough for the big guy of the undercity."

Ekko took a step forward, face set in a scowl.

"They aren't just some 'sissy' group. They're reselling the shimmer they're stealing to make profit," he said defensively. "We don't even know what they're doing with the money. Could be funding human trafficking for all we know."

Sevika's gaze fell astray at the mention of human trafficking. It was an industry that unfortunately lurked in the background of the undercity. No one knew where their main set up was, but she recalled counsellor Shoola mention an auction bust a few months back.

"Look, fine, I'll mention it to the counsel. But there's no guarantee they'll do anything for us." She paused, an idea forging in her head. "Why don't you talk to Vi or something?"

Ekko gritted his teeth, mouth twitching in distaste at the mention of his former childhood idol. "We aren't exactly on good terms."

"Pissed she joined the Enforcers?" she asked him, already having a sense of that being why they had a falling out.

"She helped them poison our air back before the war, and I didn't even know anything about it until after it ended," he explained.

"Yeah, was a lousy trick, wasn't it?"

Ekko scoffed. "Trick? More like a war crime. It made our people sick. Innocent people. Kids."

"Hmph, and she called me the traitor," she said before walking around the desk and towards the door. She opened it and gestured for them to leave. "Time to go boys. I gotta run."

After leaving Sevika's place, Scar suggested stopping by Jericho's to get something to eat. It was late evening by now, and he knew Ekko hadn't eaten yet.

They walked past a tall aquarium filled with dead sea life and plopped down on two stools in front of the stand built next to it.

Ekko gave Jericho a nod as a form of greeting, one that the aqua coloured, fish-like vastaya returned before waiting expectantly for their orders.

"The usual," Ekko said.

"Same here."

Jericho turned around to prepare their meals, his large, spotted back now facing the two.

"Maybe she's right. Maybe we should get Vi involved," Scar suggested while clicking his metallic claw pieces attached to the tips of his fingers on the stand absentmindedly.

"I don't know man. Getting the counsel involved already makes me feel uneasy," he reasoned. "They might just get Enforcers to deal with it anyways."

While they conversed, Ekko paused mid sentence when he noticed someone wearing an oversized, yellow jacket sit on the stool the other side of him. They had their hood up, so he was unable to see their face. He watched as Jericho turned around to take their order, and they lifted two thin gloved fingers to order Jericho's #2.

His attention was drawn away by the sound of fish being tossed onto the grill in front of them, the meat sizzling atop the searing metal. Losing interest, he turned back to Scar again.

"Maybe we shouldn't've talked to Sevika and tried handling it on our own."

Scar paused his finger tapping and shook his head.

"We've been handling this on our own for months now and we haven't been able to do much," he said, "We've only run into em' twice now—well, three times for you—and they got away each time. Maybe we should just accept any help that's offered to us."

Jericho pushed a bowl full of sauce covered fish in front of both them and Ekko felt his mouth salivate at the smell billowing in the steam coming from it.

"Thanks pal."

Jericho nodded and was about to turn around again to work on yellow jacket's order when Ekko's voice stopped him.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any information on an all-girl gang in the undercity, would you?" He asked.

Jericho paused to think, prompting Ekko to continue.

"They dress in all black and wear cloaks, do a bunch of dancey tricks when they move, and mess with Daunter's exports. Ring any bells?"

Jericho turned around wordlessly, leaving Ekko to face his back. Ekko looked over at Scar in confusion before the massive vastaya turned to face them again and slid a piece of paper towards him.

Ekko picked it up and raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly to look at what was drawn on it in a different angle. It was a 'v' with a line drawn through it, like an emblem of some sort.

"The hell is this?" he asked, eyes never straying from the symbol.

Jericho came back with a gurgled, incoherent response and then pried a knife from his wooden shoulder pad and turning around again to chop up some food.

Scar plucked the paper from Ekko's fingers, his eyes squinting at the symbol before widening in recognition.

"I've seen this before on one of Daunter's shimmer barrels."

Ekko raised an eyebrow and took the paper from him again.

"You have? When?"

"That first time we showed up to an export with drained barrels. It was painted in yellow."

Ekko glanced back at the symbol once more, studying it intently before a memory flooded his mind. He'd seen it before too, but under far different circumstances.

Jericho slid a bowl in front of the other customer, who then started to stuff their face, which was still hidden from sight due to their hood.

Ekko turned back to his own meal and pocketed the paper before peeling off his gloves, knowing that he was about to get his hands messy from the golden sauce coating the fish.

He started eating, suppressing a groan from the flavours that tickled his taste buds.

He glanced over at Scar, who'd also started eating but had paused abruptly, something catching his attention from behind Ekko. Ekko turned his head, trying to see what he was looking at. It took him a moment, but his eyes soon landed on the crimson scarf that the person sitting next to him was wearing. His eyes widened, recognizing it as the same scarf the leader of the female gang wore. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed it before.

By now, the person in the yellow jacket had finished their meal. They tossed some coins onto the stand as payment and stood, revealing a long sliver of dark brown hair that slipped out from the side of their hood.

'It's her.'

Ekko hopped to his feet and hurriedly pounced towards the woman, trying to tackle her. But she was too quick, maneuvering out of the way before he'd get the chance.

Ekko stumbled, nearly falling to the ground but catching himself last minute.

"Stop—"

As the words left his mouth, the woman scaled the nearest building and started hopping roofs.

Ekko made a noise of frustration and pried his aeroglider from his back before mounting it and taking off, not bothering to turn to see if Scar was following. His focus was set solely on her, the need to capture her and get answers an all-consuming thing.

The woman free fell onto a lower roof, bending her knees to break her fall. She took off and slid down the tiled slant facing the other side of the building, temporarily out of his range of sight until he increased his altitude.

He heightened his speed and did a nosedive, desperate to gain momentum and catch her. Once low enough, he leveled his board and swerved towards her. He readied his bat, having already unsheathed it from his back moments before. He waited, now seconds away from his chance to strike. And when the moment was right, he swung, but instead of it making contact with her head, it got a whip of hair.

She stepped backwards off the roof like it was the most casual thing to do and grabbed the ledge of it last minute. She flung herself into an opened window, disappearing into the darkness of the abandoned building.

Ekko dismounted his board and did the same, darting through the window and giving chase.

She was about to flee through the other window on the opposite side of the room but came to an abrupt stop when Scar's form came into view, blocking the exit as he stepped off his board and onto the ledge.

The woman's body wagged back around to face Ekko.

His eyes zeroed in on her face. It was hidden again due to her goggles covering her eyes and cloth mask covering her mouth and nose.

"Looks like I got myself into quite the pickle," she said, slowly raising her hands in surrender.

Ekko's eyes narrowed, not trusting her to give up that easily.

Scar stepped in through the window, his size making the action awkward. The chirean towered over her from behind, his height and muscular build easily dwarfing her. He reached out, about to grab her shoulders when she abruptly ducked, dark hair flicking up and getting in his face.

Scar reacted quickly, already expecting her to make this as difficult for them as possible. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged her backwards, sending her tumbling.

She let out a pained cry and began flailing in panic.

Ekko felt his heart thump erratically against his rib cage, the momentum of the chase mixing with the thrill of finally catching her making quite the combination.

Ekko smirked.

"Maybe it's time for a haircut."

Scar reached around her, about to lift her goggles to finally reveal her face to them when he was poked in the bends on his wrists. She'd reached behind her, her movements swift. His hold on her hair loosened and she was able to tug it free from his grasp. His hands started to tingle, and seconds later flopped uselessly from his wrists.

"Shit—" Ekko cursed. They weren't wearing the suits he'd made, having left the Firelight hideout with the intention of returning an hour or so later after speaking to Sevika.

Scar tried kicking her, but she flipped over his leg and poked underneath his knee while midair.

Ekko swung his bat at her, but she hopped onto it and used it to push herself into the air and flip over his head. Before he could even turn around, her fingers pressed into the nape of his neck. He wasn't wearing his mask, meaning the attachment wasn't there to protect it from her paralyzing pokes.

His hold on his bat slackened and the heavy weapon hit the floor seconds before his body did.

The woman panted and leaned against the wall, pieces of flacked gyprock getting stuck in the strands of her hair. She bent forward, resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath.

"Phew, that was quite the dance." She looked up, seeing both men sprawled out onto the floor and couldn't resist laughing.

Her words caused a memory to come forth. Something he'd said years ago to...

'Always a dance with you.'

Her laughter broke him out of his thoughts and his eyes narrowed into a glare. He wanted to say something—anything—but he was overcome with embarrassment and couldn't seem to find the words.

She pushed herself from the wall and combed her fingers through her hair, trying to get the debris out of it.

"So, you think I need a haircut huh?" she said, carefully stepping around him and towards the window. "Guess I'll keep it long then." She dropped her hands from her hair and hopped up onto the window ledge, turning her head one last time to look at them before jumping down and out of their view.

Ekko was flustered and enraged all at once. She was too quick—too smart. He was about to admit that Scar was right, that they did need help. But then remembered that both of them weren't wearing their protective suits, which made the scale that weighed their odds of success dip downwards.

He silently vowed to himself that this wouldn't happen again. That next time they'd capture her and find out who she was and how she knew him.

While his mind raced, he was unaware that the woman had climbed the building once more, now sitting on the roof to ensure no harm came to them while they lay helpless on the floor. Once she heard movement and knew it would be about time they start regaining feeling again, she silently climbed down the building and ran off.

After they'd made it back to the treehouse, Ekko parted ways with Scar and went straight to his room. Closing the door behind him, he fished the paper Jericho had given him earlier out of his coat pocket and stared down at it.

In the past few months, his diagrams and sketches of the inventions he'd built and been building had been covered by various items pertaining to the mysterious female gang.

That being said, he didn't have much to add to it, so the most he'd managed to pin were sketches he made of the leader. He also noted the dates and times of his encounters with them.

He plucked a pin from the wall and used it to hang up the gang sign. He'd seen it only one time before, and he found himself recalling the memory and analyzing every detail he could remember.

[anguishedlurker]

I Just Can't Seem to Run Fast Enough

Hello and welcome to the 2024 EctoImplosion! I got paired with the lovely @vexglitch for this one, and while it's gonna take a bit to get to their beautiful art the whole ride will be :)) very fun :))). The Fic can also be found on Ao3 HERE, but as is my personal Thing I'll post the first chapter under the cut!

Warnings for the whole fic: Mild Gore, Violence, Getting Turned Away, Threat of Dissection, Angst

And now, the fic;

~

"Honestly, what was he even planning?" Sam chuckled, walking with Danny.

"What would he even need with a game shop?" Tucker added, smiling.

"Maybe he was finding himself a plus one sword of-" Danny started. The thermos hissed as Skulker likely banged around the sides, voicing a warning he couldn't follow up on.

"Quiet, you." Danny hummed, lacking venom as he clipped the thermos to his belt.

Tucker rolled his eyes at the display.

"You lost, man! Give it a rest."

The melodramatic tone paired with an over the top flourish prompted a lopsided grin from his invisible spot, though he was sure Tucker knew even as he weaved around the streetlamp blocking his flight path.

Sam tilted her head to where she assumed he was, carefully eyeing empty air slightly behind him.

"Careful though, you never know if he's one day going to find a flaw in that thing." She said softly, too low for the noise to get to Skulker.

Popping back into view, Danny gave a grimace.

He was met with a shrug for the effort, a conversation never had yet already over.

They were all quiet for a few more paces, Danny fading back out before any unseen observers could get a camera as he toyed with the thermos chain.

"Welp." Tucker started, Sam already sighing.

"Don't give me that, I've gotta go home and do homework. Lancer had no mercy today, I swear!"

"Have you considered working during class? We had time." Sam snipped, good humored.

"Hey, I was trying to get my PDA-"

"Nerd shit, got it." Sam cut off, slightly less well humored.

Danny was inclined to agree, the PDA having been a frequent topic the past four days.

"Nerd shit you say! Not so nerdy when I'm the one keeping us on track with my nerd shit, I've noticed! Always-"

"Tuck. Please" Danny huffed.

"Don't think you're off the hook either!" Tucker said, turning to point at the general location of Danny's voice.

"Weren't you going home?" Sam asked, Tucker deflating a little as he remembered that he very much was.

Danny was just glad he didn't have to apologize for, or possibly to, the PDA. Again.

"Yeah, yeah. Homework. Joy. Hopefully tonight’s quiet. You?" He asked, largely talking to Sam.

"Well, while trying to slip under the Fenton's radar sounds fun, I think I'd get busted if I'm not home by eleven. Sooo maybe hiding under your bed for an impromptu sleepover isn't a great idea." Sam said, turned towards Danny.

He flickered into existence exclusively to shrug.

"Suit yourself. You and the dust bunnies would get along great, just saying."

"Ha. No thanks, yours have an alarming tendency to develop free will."

"ONE time Sam-"

"Besides, I don't need to give my parents more reasons to keep an eye on where I'm at."

"Okay, well, you two finish this on your own time." Tucker dismissed, turning at the street corner. Sam passively stared as Danny faded again, prompting Tucker to find the dumbest way he could manage to walk. It quite easily topped the last time this happened.

"How are you doing that with your hips!?" Sam shouted after him. All Tucker did in response was mime tipping a top hat, trying to not look pleased with himself.

"Yyyeah, so, if this is the end then I just need to get him through the portal." Danny sighed, ripping his focus away from Tucker's shenanigans as he rattled the thermos chain for punctuation.

"And leave a poor girl all alone in the dark?" Sam asked flatly, still watching Tucker, who was now trying to moonwalk. Badly

"Yeah. Let me know if you get murdered."Danny grinned, starting to float away at a casual pace.

"Can do, you'll get the message right after I make you find out what death squared is."

The threat had no true venom behind it; Sam could take care of herself against ghosts, whatever human had funny ideas wasn't a real threat. But still...

"Killing me a third time? For shame. Y'know, most people don't even commit one murder!" Danny chidded, flying away the beat afterwards as Sam started shouting to thin air.

She walked into that one! It was such low hanging fruit!

The thermos made an odd noise as he went, and he ignored Skulker's ongoing aneurysm at new information. This wasn't a usable tidbit, just a fact everyone had moved past.

Still, as the rattling went on he elected to shake the thermos and hiss at it, which didn't help.

His hands were tied about the noise; it's not like he could stick his hand into it and squish Skulker for misbehavior.

His house was in view shortly, the Fenton shielding shining in the late evening light as the volts arced in their regular pattern.

Which meant his parents had been doing repairs since he was gone. Goody.

None of this was new though, the whole thing routine now. Pulling his phone from a pocket he quickly texted Jazz, circling to the backdoor entrance as he went.

He could almost hear the promises they'd get the shield to exclude him soon, son, soon from his parents as he considered detransforming already, but wiping the external cameras again would be too suspicious. He was already too close to the house, and invisibility was nice and comfy.

Within a couple of minutes the back door popped open, Jazz already prepared to stick her tongue out at thin air and rip the shield's plug out of the electrical socket.

Lucky them that the cameras weren't pointed to it.

"Real mature." He whispered as he flew through the now inert danger zone, shaking the thermos like a maraca as Skulker made very interesting noises.

"Mature-er than... whatever you're doing to who's in the thermos." She huffed, plugging the shield back in.

Danny didn't grace that with a response, instead phasing through her and giggling as he darted in.

The whole body equivalent of a wet finger in an ear, just for her!

The shouting behind him was minimal, so clearly he hadn't achieved an element of surprise. He would have to do better next time.

He paused just inside, holding the thermos close to his mouth and whispering "You know the drill, can it properly this time."

Skulker was obedient, quiet except for a last huffy shove. This part of the game was not up for debate; to be caught was to become the prey, hand in hand with Danny.

Jazz stormed through like she'd shove him if he was solid and she knew where he was, stopping just inside like he had. The silence hung as she scanned the hall for the invisible.

"Ugh, whatever. They're in the kitchen, and I'm going back upstairs to finish my essay."

"The one due two weeks from now?" He snipped, soliciting her spinning on her heel towards his voice.

"Mock all you want, I'm passing my classes with flying colors! And I don't have to worry about if my schedule explodes, 'cuz it's already done."

Her hand pointed theatrically along with her words, oddly very accurate to his position. This time.

"Neerrrrrrd." He drawled.

All he got back was a disapproving head shake and Jazz continuing to walk down the hall in an attempt to ignore him.

Now with silence in hand, Danny wormed his way through the hall and past the kitchen, where his parents had what was probably the old shield generator disassembled on the table.

Jazz must have lost the argument this time.

The bangs and clanks of metal sheets getting shoved around covered any noise he could've or would've made himself, affording him an easy slip past them and just into the basement door.

"Alrighty, just gotta-" He started, holding his captive audience up to hear.

Skulker gave a screech, unpleasantly shrill if very muffled, and Danny reflexively turned his ankle and slammed the thermos into the heel of his boot.

Skulker knew this part of the game too, going silent again.

"Christ alive, do you just never remember? Or do you secretly like being stuck in this thing for days?" He hissed, moving down the steps.

Skulker didn't give a response as Danny bridged the space to the portal, sliding the port's door open and roughly shoving the thermos in.

With an unceremonious button press, Skulker was released to the zone with an absurd amount of blob ghosts and an ectopuss in tow.

Thankfully, his parents had the portal locked for now, so there would be no immediate return from Skulker.

The upstairs had gone a bit quiet, a lull in wrench noises and poorly disguised swears barely processing in Danny's mind as he put his feet against the wall. His parents weren't subtle people; his dad alone could wake the dead. Certainly did enough of that for Danny every six am.

Tucker hadn't been wrong about Lancer being ruthless today, though he was with Sam that they'd had class time. It's just that he wasn't a fast worker like either of them, even when the day was peaceful.

Still, A couple hours in his room with his computer unplugged for temptation restrictions and to keep Technus out (sort of) and it'd be done, provided his night remained peaceful.

But how damning of him, to say that maybe he'd have it easy.

There was suddenly a cold metal barrel against his temple, and all he could discern was his mom looking smug.

Then there was the floor. Lovely floor, wonder why he didn't come down here all that often...

[seastarblue]

Writemas Day Three!

yay! another day, another snip!

the prompts for today are here and the invite post is here!

the prompts I used were:

Their eyes met, and they shared a nod

Setting in a “cabin”

The warmth of sun on skin

enjoy!

———

The sun beat down on the denizens of Vespar, who were going about their day as usual. Little did they know that underneath their feet, in the bowels of Vacader Bay, a heist was beginning right under their noses.

“Come along, then, follow me!” a man called out to his companions, expertly making his way down deeper into the Bay.

Despite being a hub for crime and violence, the Bay was known for its grand casinos and the like, one of which was called the Birdcage. It was tiny, decorated with crude carvings of birds and coins, and calling it a casino may have been an exaggeration. Luckily, Harper could craft lies as well as he could convince others they were true.

The group of tourists followed Harper dutifully, some stumbling with the steepness Vespar was known for. ‘Easy pickings,’ Harper had thought, and he could not have been more correct.

“How much longer till we get there?” one of them asked, tapping Harper’s shoulder.

“Just a minute longer,” the thief replied, wiping his shoulder with a barely-concealed look of disgust.

“That’s what you said fifteen minutes ago!” another called out.

“Yeah! What’re you hiding, man?” a third chimed in.

Harper suddenly stopped in his tracks. He turned, slowly, towards the first person, the one in front. A pleasant smile plastered onto his face, the thief wanted nothing more than to punch the man for causing so much ruckus. Instead, he took a breath and readied his magic.

“Friends, please. I know my way around this city, and I promise we will reach what ye’ve been promised soon. Just one more minute.”

As he spoke, the expressions of the group softened, until they were as pleasant as they were before. Satisfied, Harper beckoned them to follow him again, and the cycle repeated.

~~~ Noha was perched on a ledge overlooking the Birdcage and the area around it. Any moment now, Harper would come along with the targets and the two would rob them of their valuables. ‘Any moment now…’ they thought, chagrined at the thief’s tardiness.

After a half hour, Harper brought the group to the Birdcage, where he herded them inside. They were silent, having been magicked multiple times to keep them content. Noah saw Harper closing the door behind the last of them and letting out a sigh. That much magic being used took a toll after a while, they knew. If only he’d learn how to lay off on it.

When the time was right, they dropped the shadows they had wrapped around themself and dropped onto the pavement. Their hands shook a little, but they shrugged it off and made their way to the Birdcage.

“Oi, Mina!” Harper called, waving a hand to catch their eye. When they got closer, Noha wiped away the last traces of shadow that trailed behind them.

“Took ye long enough. Were ye having a wee chat with the rats?” the thief snickered.

Noha stayed quiet.

“Ah well, it doesn’t matter anyways. I got our pay, see?” he gently rapped on the Birdcage’s door. “Are ye ready?”

“Yes.”

“Always so deadpan.”

“…”

Their eyes met, and they shared a nod. Harper opened the door.

Immediately, Noha covered the room with shadows, eliciting shocked gasps from the tourists. Harper ducked into the room and worked both his magics: the one of voices, and sleight of hand.

He slipped watches, while assuring the tourists that the power simply must have cut. He nabbed necklaces, complimenting them on their hair, or their outfit, all while distracting them with his magic, brining their attention to the other things like the room’s darkness or their physical appearance, taking their attention away from their valuables.

Noha stayed sentinel at the doorway, keeping the room shrouded in darkness. Despite Harper’s ease and expertise, they knew they were a vital part of this game. Their job was to simply lock the birds in their cage, and ensure they wouldn’t sing about what had transpired there.

After Harper had his fill, Noha closed the door behind them and dropped the shadows, letting the room gain what little light it had before. Bewildered and angry, the tourists stormed out of the Birdcage, probably going to alert the authorities. It would be no problem for them, though, as the Guard never cared about the Bay scum.

———

phew this was not at all close to any of the other prompts but. I did it. yay :> Tagging the General Writing Taglist (lemme know if you’d like on/off!)

@bunnymermaidwrites @abiteofhoney @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@ash-thedrawer @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr @ruvastuon

and the host of this lovely event, @agirlandherquill !

[redflagshipwriter]

Reassembly 2

link to first post

Masterpost

(the one where Peter Parker wakes up post-snap in a LoA lazarus experiment)

It was New York City. Peter thanked his blessings and the transportation gods. He didn't wait for the train to stop because he was kind of afraid that it wouldn't and he'd get carried somewhere else.

If he'd been a regular teen, it would have been like, super dangerous to jump off of the top of a moving train and land on cement. Peter rolled like he'd been taught and came up safe. He shook his wrists a little as he straightened and tried to figure out where he was exactly.

Okay. Operation solo hero was a go. Here he was, in NYC. He didn't have any help. But he was Spiderman. Peter tried not to feel discouraged about losing all his tech, his friends, and his mentors. He could remake his web shooters and a suit. He needed access to materials, but he could do it. His first formula had been made in a school lab. 

'But I wasn't homeless and undocumented then.' 

Oof, that felt bad. 

'Can I even keep my name? I can't exactly go to Midtown and tell them to make Peter Parker plural.' 

Yikes. That was a whole lot of yikes.

Well. One problem at a time, right? He needed to get himself into a more stable position for survival first. Now that he knew where he was, he could change his strategy from calling for help to becoming self-sufficient. 

He wasn't exactly sure what to do. The first thing that came to mind was that he needed more clothes. Even if he had liked this outfit, he definitely needed more than one set. This was gross. And honestly? He was kinda cold. And he was increasingly uncomfortable about not wearing underwear.

'I don't have any money and I can't borrow some. I can't steal from anyone. What can I do?' 

Peter racked his brains. Go through the donation bins for a thrift store? That seemed wrong. But … stores throw things away. 

'Department stores get new things all the time. They must be throwing away old clothes. If I check their dumpsters, I bet I'll find something.' 

With a plan in mind, Peter made his way to the closest big store he knew about. Even though he was stranded, at least he was in his city. New York City was way more comforting than Metropolis had been. He navigated by memory to a store he knew called- 

Huh. The store was where he thought it would be, but it had a different name. Peter quietly read it aloud, wondering if this place would have the same bland, safe fashion as where he'd meant to go.

Well. There was only one way to find out, and it wasn't by going inside. They were locked up for the night anyway.

He found the dumpsters. Peter braced himself for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

He didn't feel good about this. He didn't. Not morally- if it had been thrown away, it didn't belong to anyone– but looking at the outside of a dumpster really hammered in the desperation he was in. He was poor. He had nothing and he had no one.

Peter shook that off. "That's not true," he told himself. Hearing a human voice, even his own, helped a bit. "I have a great sense of humor and a positive outlook." 

Still, uh, he was ready for a lifestyle that included underwear. He carefully lifted the lid and rested it against the wall so that it didn't make any noise. Then he hopped up onto the rim and squinted into the bin.

There were big plastic bags full of fabric. His first impulse was to tear them open and look, but he refrained. It would make a mess for the garbage workers. Instead he painstakingly untied the string at the top and opened a bag. Then he pulled clothes out one piece at a time and examined them. 

His heart fell. He'd been right. These were all perfectly good, unused clothes with the tags still on them, so he could even sort by size. But someone had taken scissors to them all before throwing them out. Peter held up a t shirt and squinted at it. It wasn't that bad, really. They hadn't been super thorough. This one had kind of a snip through the middle. 

…it wasn't like he didn't know how to sew.  He'd done lots of repairs that way, and even made a Halloween costume one year. 

If he just stitched that up it would be kinda obviously repaired. That was okay, but Peter dug around until he found another T shirt in a different color. It was hard to tell in the darkness but he was pretty sure it was blue. It had a similar cut. 

"Okay," he planned aloud. "I cut them fully apart, even out the edge, and then sew them together so it looks like being bi colored is a fashion decision." 

He dug around for a couple more shirts, trying to get four different colors that in the daylight he could hopefully mix and match. Then he shoved everything back in that bag and tied it up. He hung his haul over the edge of the dumpster and started opening bags on a hunt for jeans. A pair of jeans and a pair of sweatpants was basically all the wardrobe a teenaged boy needed, anyway.

It took four bags until he found some, and they were too big. But the next bag under that had his size range. These had been snipped too, but Peter huffed a laugh. So what? Lots of jeans had tears in them as a style choice. He dug out two pairs and wiggled into them one after the other to check the fit. It was a relief to have his legs covered. They were kinda long but he was expecting a growth spurt any day now, so that was great. He was pretty sure one was black and one was blue, so that was a good variety.

He wanted underwear and socks. Maybe a heavier coat, if they had one. He searched and searched and came up with nothing. He did find a shoulder-strapped canvas bag that had probably been returned- there was a subtle stain on the inside. Peter would have preferred a backpack, but he shoved the clothes inside the bag anyway. This was a lot better than just walking around holding a handful of fabric. He put the little bag from the guy’s locker inside of it. He still hadn't even looked at what was in it.

Still. He stared mournfully at the clothes. No underwear, really? He was willing to compromise on socks, but underwear and shoes that fit were a big deal. 

"I guess they don't need to seasonally change those so much." Peter sighed to himself. "Wait- no. That can't be right. For socks maybe but shoes? They must throw out a ton of shoes." 

Just not today, apparently. 

Disappointed, he closed the dumpster back up and adjusted his haul over his shoulder. He left without looking back. He was already churning through possible solutions for his outstanding problems. Socks, shoes, underwear, and a sewing kit so that he could use his changes of shirts. 

'Fancy hotels have those little repair kits as part of the free goodies.'

Oh, man. Peter steeled himself for social embarrassment. He was going to have to wander in and out of hotel lobbies by himself, take a repair kit, and leave. 

'Maybe they'll think I'm a guest,' he thought hopefully. 'I don't look that bad. I look kinda like I'm going to school or traveling light.' 

Oh. That was an idea. 

'Lots of hotels have free breakfasts. I could just walk in, eat, and leave. Even if the desk staff thinks I'm probably not a guest, they probably won't say anything.'

It seemed kinda wrong. But it was a buffet. Leftovers were going to get thrown away. And he only had to wait until the morning.

Peter tabled the idea for later. It was going to depend on just how hungry he got. He was already really hungry, if he was honest about it. Whatever bodily numbness he'd gotten from the green jello stank tank had worn off.

'I'm going to get too hungry to manage before too long even if I have a huge breakfast every day. I’m used to running on a lot of calories. What would happen to my ability to be Spiderman if I can’t eat enough?'

He shoved the realistic part of him down and tried not to feel discouraged by his demanding metabolism. 

Focus. The first thing was fixing the clothes. 

'No,' grumbled a mental voice he knew he should recognize. It was coming through a fog of distortion. Shelter is first, Spiderman. Shelter, water, food, and then supplies like clothes.' 

He frowned and rubbed at his temples. He didn't know how to solve that problem. It seemed more practical to address the problems that he knew how to fix first. 

Well. A hotel buffet would probably have drinks as well, but they wouldn't be open for a while. He didn't know what time it was but it was actually night. 

At least he had a tentative plan for it. 

Peter steeled himself for embarrassment and started looking for hotels. The first one he found was too fancy- the amenities weren't placed in the lobby. He walked in and his attention was immediately caught by the soft golden gleam of a bell on the reception desk. It was under a strategic light.

'This one won't be good for breakfast either, there's nowhere for a buffet,' Peter noted. Thankfully, no one was waiting at the desk. He walked back out and realized that would probably be the case for most places at this time of night. 

He felt better going into the next hotel. This one had amenities out, but not a sewing kit. Peter took a toothbrush, two of the packets of wash products, and a cheap razor. Maybe this would be the time his facial hair started to come in and he'd need to shave. 

'I really need a wash,' he noted, not for the first time. 'So bad.' 

The green stuff didn't smell …too bad when dry. It definitely didn't smell as sour as it had tasted. But his skin itched and his hair was crunchy. 

The third hotel was the winner. He had the idea to look for a cheaper hotel aimed at business class travelers. It had free wifi, what was definitely going to be a breakfast buffet from 5:00 am, and it had the sewing kit that he needed. Peter took one gratefully, wondered if it would have enough string, and then took a second kit just in case. 

Okay. Next priority was getting clean. That would double up with getting water- now that he'd thought about it, Peter was thirsty enough to drink shower water from the faucet. 

He looked for a gym. He found a fashionable 24 hour one and dismissed it. Entrance was clearly only by key cards there. He needed someplace older. At least this was his city. He could guess the general area that would have what he wanted. Peter walked around until he found one and wiggled his way up to the third floor, heaved open a window, and went in search of a shower. 

"Good thing I grabbed this," Peter said, stripping all of his clothes and palming one of the tear-open packets of individual soap and shampoo. There was absolutely nothing in the shower in terms of amenities. Gym patrons probably brought their own stuff. 

He took the longest shower of his life, wished he had a washcloth or two, and ended up using both packets of soap to get his body clean enough. Then he hauled his clothes in, all of them, and washed them as best as he could using what was left of the shampoo. He wrung them all out and then put on his new jeans, totally damp. It didn't feel great on his skin. But at least it was clean. For now, he put on one of the black t-shirts. He'd apparently managed to grab two in black, one in red, and one in blue. This t-shirt had a v- shaped cut on the stomach, but he pulled the brown jacket over and zipped it up enough that it didn't show. It was all damp and very weird, but they'd dry quickly on him since he was moving around, right?

When he looked at himself in the mirror, Peter looked like himself. Sure, he was damp and messy haired. But he was clean! He shot himself a thumbs up. 

He left the rest of the clothes hanging to dry and wandered the gym. It was eerie but also really interesting. He'd never spent much time in an actual gym. 

That might be a cool hobby to take up. If nothing else, he could maybe find some classes. 

Oh! A clock. Peter squinted at it in the dark. It was 3:42 AM. It wasn't actually that long until the hotel breakfast bar opened, then. He'd been walking around all night.

'I need a way to tell time on my own. There's not that many clocks in public.'

The first thing that he came back to when he thought of his problems was money. Money, money, money. He needed it. And he needed ID- did the ID come before the money, or the other way around? He needed tech to be Spiderman and to live in general– man, it was weird to be without a phone– so, how? 

His first thought was to go to school and use the laptops there. But he wasn't a student. That would probably freak people out- or worse, draw attention to him. Was it more illegal to exist without documentation, or to be a minor who wasn't in school? 

Peter shuddered. Yeah, no high schools. 

But a public library? That had potential. The computers were always pretty old but they were free to use. 

That was most of an itinerary for the day, then, he realized. It made him feel better to have a plan. He was going to wait a while for his clothes to dry (should he point the blow dryer at them?), and shove them in his bag. He'd go back to the business hotel for breakfast and probably more soap, then go to the library. 

'I need to eat a lot at that buffet.' 

His stomach rumbled in agreement. Oh man, this was kinda bad. He had no idea how to get another meal today. 

Well. He could look into it when he was at the library. 

He ended up turning the blow dryer on his clothes to get them dry. They didn't seem any dryer than they'd been when he wrung them out. That made for a tense hour of pointing the little machine while his arm got tired and he kept jumping at sounds that might be someone coming to open up the gym. 

Stupid, Peter chastised himself. Of course a couple hours in a humid room wasn't enough to dry anything. They'd get moldy first. 

He got them dry enough to fold up and put in his canvas bag, and then he went out by the same window that he'd come in. 

'I hope they don't start locking that. If I don't have a place to stay soon, I'm gonna really need these showers.'

It didn't take him long to get back to the business hotel. It was somewhere between 5 and 6, which meant that the buffet was fully out but not busy. Peter walked in and beelined to the food, trying desperately to look like he belonged.  

Nutritionally, it was pretty good considering the circumstances. Peter grabbed an apple and a banana from the fruit bowl and got a glass of milk as well as orange juice. He wasn't going to get scurvy, at least! 

Glass containers had a selection of baked goods that honestly all just looked okay. He picked out a couple of plain rolls and then something that had walnuts in it. For protein, his options were some queasy looking sausages and a tray of scarily yellow scrambled eggs. He took a generous portion of both and finally started eating.

Whoa. As soon as he'd had a few bites, it was like the dial turned up on his hunger. Peter ate at record speed and caught himself looking back at the buffet.

No one was looking. There was only one other person in the buffet area, a young woman staring grimly into a cup of coffee and using her phone. The receptionist wasn't paying attention at all.

Peter felt worse, somehow, about going back for seconds than he had about coming here in the first place. But he was too hungry for shame. He grabbed two bagels and toasted them at the same time and stuffed his pockets with cream cheese packets. 

'I could take a bit of this with me. A roll or two and maybe a banana? Ugh, it's weird, but the cream cheese has protein in it…' 

He put another couple of packets in his pocket. No one was going to count and realize he was taking two of them out the door. 

While he waited for the bagels to toast he refilled his drinks and added a coffee and an apple juice. He felt ridiculous with four drinks, so he drained the milk and put the empty cup in the clean up bin. 

He filled a second plate of sausages and scrambled eggs (they weren't that bad) and piled the bagels on it as soon as they popped up. 

Once he'd eaten his second serving, Peter felt a lot more human. 

He also felt exhausted. Like, he was beyond tired. 

'I didn't sleep at all so that figures. And I don't have any idea where I can sleep today. So… maybe one more coffee while I wait for the food to give me energy I can use?'

He couldn't quite stand the idea of gulping down all that liquid right then. It seemed like a good time to see what was in the little bag he'd gotten from the probably evil scientist's locker.

'The guy worked somewhere that stores human bodies in rancid green jello. If he's not an evil scientist, it's only because he's an evil janitor or receptionist or something.'

That… It wasn't ideal but it made him feel a little better and a little braver. 

The instant he unzipped the little bag, Peter realized that the guy basically had his whole life in the bag. That included a phone, which was either turned off or dead.

"Whoops," he muttered. He considered turning it on but paused. Would that be safe? He might need it. But what if someone realized it had been stolen and tracked it?

He left it alone for now and looked at the wallet.

The first thing was a Metro City transit card. Peter looked at it and put it back in place. There were a couple more cards- credit or debit, an expired gift card, membership cards to three different pizza places and a gym, and an ID. Peter glanced around guiltily to be sure no one was looking before he checked the name and photo.

Richard DeWitt was blonde, apparently 5ft 10 inches, and 170 lbs. He had a lopsided smile and dead eyes in his photo. Brown eyes. 

DeWitt was 37- no, Peter corrected internally. He grimaced. He was 5 years in the past, so DeWitt was only 32. One of the ID cards was for work, which was a goldmine. Or it could have been, if the company name had been written instead of the initialism LOA.

Better than nothing, at least. He memorized the letters and logo.

The debit and credit cards were no good to him. Peter made a mental note to destroy them later, so that no one else could pull them out of the garbage and use them later. 

He paused for a long moment over the cash. He felt like a spotlight was about to shine down on him and an announcer would call him a thief. But he counted it: 87 dollars. That wasn’t Tony Stark money, but there were a lot of problems it could solve for him.

'The money isn't the same as back home.'

His eye caught on the one dollar bills. He picked them out of the pile to look at them more closely, like an inspection was going to make them change.

Assuming DeWitt didn't have fake currency on him, the US dollar was different.

Peter stopped. He belatedly processed that.

There was no way in a million years that the picture on the dollar had changed in the last five years. It had always been the same guy. 

But here it was, unmistakably a US dollar with a man Peter didn't know printed in the center.

That changed things. 

'I"m not on my earth, unless this is a hallucination. Where else could I be!?' 

He would like to stop having paradigm changing realizations, any day now. 

The only thing that kept him from having a total nervous breakdown was that he was in public. Sort of. There was no one directly looking at him, but that would probably change if he went into the fetal position and started wheezing.

This was bad. This was really, really, bad, actually. 

He needed to go back to the drawing board. For all he knew, there was no Peter Parker here, no Tony Stark, no one he could go to for help.

And the people who had kidnapped him-

Oh, hell. They could be anybody for all he knew. Heck, what if that was a government thing? If they didn’t even have the same presidents, he couldn’t assume this was the same country, in a sense.

‘I need to look into that, as soon as possible. What if I’ve got the universe equivalent of like, HYDRA or something looking for me? That would be a bad surprise.’

He had the address of that building, at least, and the name of an employee. That was something to go off of. 

Peter forced himself to exhale long and slow. He picked up his mess. He didn’t finish going through the guy’s wallet but he didn’t have the nerves for it right now. He stuffed it back into his satchel and left with a nod at the desk clerk. 

He needed information, and that meant the library was even more urgent. It was the only way he knew to access the internet.

The walk wasn’t too bad. His nerves were a knot in his throat as Peter crossed morning traffic on what had to be a weekday, but his memory of NYC didn’t lead him wrong. He bounded up the stone steps to a big library two at a time, shot a queasy smile at the man behind the desk, and ducked his head as he walked in and did a little tour of the place.

There were three floors. The first floor had a dedicated computer lab for students, and long desk with four computers for public use. Near it there was a little table with pitchers of coffee, water, and paper cups with a sign encouraging free usage. There was also a reading corner, a collection of tables for quiet group projects, and rows of media like DVDs. Wow, so old. Peter marveled at that on his way up the stairs. There was a huge papier-maché wolf on the stairwell for unknown reasons. He patted it on the head as he passed. 

The second floor had that intense library smell to it and a lot of signs strictly enforcing absolute quiet. He craned to see tall rows upon rows with labels like science and law, as well as a sign for reserved meeting rooms and bathrooms. The third floor was apparently mostly for group collaboration. Each table had a sign begging people not to bring in outside food and to leave their drinks on the table. Peter glanced over to the only table that had someone at it already, spied her huge coffee cup, and suppressed a snort. He didn’t see anything, but he could smell bacon and eggs. His stomach twisted into a knot.

Still, she didn’t seem to be causing any terrible destruction with her breakfast sandwich. He noted that she had four different colored highlighters next to her notebook, but tore his attention away before he felt like a creeper.

Okay. He had the lay of the land. It made him feel weirdly better. This library was now his base of operations, the center for his information gathering campaign and the subsequent plan… construction …campaign?

He’d workshop a name later. For now, he jogged back down a floor and went to the modern history section. He just read titles for a while, trying to paint a picture of what shared history he could confirm.

He saw lots of familiar country names referenced, and a few of the names that cropped up were familiar as well. The eerie feeling that he wasn’t home just got stronger, though, because there was no reference to half the modern wars and much less on WW1 and 2 than he'd expected. They were shelved in with books about the Justice League. 

Justice League?

There was a whole lot of scholarship on that, whatever it was. Maybe it was like the U.N., Peter guessed. He flipped open a book and flipped pages randomly, scanning for words that stuck out. Ah, nope, there’s a reference to the U.N. So, this was a different thing entirely.

Okay, well. That gave him a starting point of something to look up. 

He went back to the first floor and started a session on one of the public use computers. He had to write the time and his name on a check in sheet. He started to write ‘Peter’ out of force of habit and scrawled to a stop after writing the Pe.

For all he knew, that could be a bad idea. He shouldn’t leave any record that actually led back to him. 

‘...So what else starts with Pe?’

It took him an embarrassingly long time to come up with Peyton. He wrote that down, exhausted and relieved, and then realized he needed a last name too. Oh, heck. He wrote a random letter -K- and then searched his brain for a plausible sounding last name. He came up with Kensington and then sat down, idly wondering if that was actually a name or just like, a place in the U.K. or what.

‘...I only thought of that because it ended in ‘ton’ like Peyton,’ he had the delayed realization. ‘It sounds kinda cheesy together. Fakey.’

Okay. Realistically, no one was ever going to look at that register. So it was fine that he wasn’t good at lying on his feet. He probably needed to sit down and come up with a couple of fake names to use in future.

Well. Maybe he didn’t have to be that creative. He opened a window and searched ‘Tony Stark.’ His heart fell as he scrolled through the results.

Tony Stark didn't exist here.

There had been people with that name, don’t get him wrong. But they weren’t Mr. Stark. There was no Mr. Stark in this universe. He tried looking up current billionaires instead, just in case Mr. Stark had a different name. He flipped through their photos with a sinking heart. That guy was too bald, Mr. Stark would never have a mustache that silly, Mr. Stark wasn't that jacked, no, no, no. 

He tried other names- Happy Hogan, Jamese Rhodey, Virginia Potts (he initially forgot that her name wasn’t really Pepper and ended up on a site for kitchen goods).

The result? No result, more like. Not great.

He tried celebrities. Musicians, actors, philosophers, everyone he could think of. Weirdly, lots of them popped up.

The difference seemed to be around 1940. Historical names came up the way that he would expect them to. But anyone who was modern just didn’t.

Out of extremely morbid curiousity, he googled Anne Frank. He found a semi successful novelist in her 90s who lived in Prague.

Peter put his face in his hands. Okay. Okay, he knew approximately when the universes or whatever had diverged. That was wild.

His hands were shaking. He got up, realized he didn’t have a reason to stand, and then went to pour himself a paper cup of the complimentary water so he didn’t feel like a crazy person. 

This was a whole different world. He couldn't assume that his background knowledge was helpful. 

That made him feel so safe and secure. Thanks, universe. 

[ladytauria]

omg yeah not sure i want to know more about the brujay first heat WIP (the snipped u posted a whole back was CRAZY or the dick tim hands on sex ed one

hehehe, why not both?

brujay first heat was smth that i meant to have ready by the end of kinktober and then… did not. it’s aob + underage, with alpha bruce & omega jason, & basically just bruce spoiling & lavishing jason with attention for his first heat <3

i don’t remember what i shared snippets of last time ahskdjkdj and picking one is so hard… ah i’m so excited to finish this one, lmao, there’s so many little moments i like

While Jason is much shier about his body than Bruce is, it's not the first time that Bruce has seen him.

It is the first time he's been allowed to look properly. To see the way his time at the Manor has softened his body. Bruce had known about the little paunch in his stomach, had seen glimpses of his ribs, the way the jut of them is no longer clearly visible under his skin.

And he'd seen hints, teasing little glimpses of Jason's breasts. They're cupped in a soft, cotton bra now; buttery yellow, trimmed with a bit of lace. 

It's cute, though with his heat like this, Bruce imagines that lace must be itching terribly. He slips his finger under it, and follows along where the cups meet Jason's skin. 

"Did you put this on for me, Jaylad?"

Jason makes an aborted movement to cover his chest before curling his fingers into the nest instead. "Yeah. Do—" He swallows, adam's apple bobbing with the movement. "Do you like it?"

His silly boy.

Bruce is deeply, inextricably fond, and he's sure it shows in his smile—his scent. "I do," he says. The urge to shower Jason in finery has always been strong. It will grow stronger after this, now that he knows his omega would wear it to please him. Reigning it in will be difficult. Jason's body is still changing, shifting; he'll have to keep that in mind for anything he buys. It would be a travesty for Jason to love something only to grow out of it.

Bruce could replace it easily, of course, but that would never erase the moment Jason tried to put it on and failed.

"I like it very much, Jaylad." Bruce bends his head, kissing the lace at the top of the cup, sitting at the swell of his breast.

More than anything, he likes that it's yellow.

It’s Jason’s favorite color. He could have picked any color in the world to wrap himself in—could have marked himself as Bruce’s by wearing black, could have challenged him with Nightwing blue. But instead, Jason had picked yellow. Indulging himself. The rumble in Bruce’s chest deepens. His boy has come so far.

and then for dicktim, i shared one snippet of them already—you can find that here—but, here’s another—

Tim is probably a bad person.

Here Dick is, vulnerable and needing Tim’s help… and Tim is taking and advantage.

A lie by omission is still a lie.

That said—Dick knew about his relationship with Steph. Beautiful, pregnant Steph, whose hormones often left her flushed and slick with desire. Tim would hardly have been a good alpha if he’d left her wanting, would he? If Dick assumes he’s a virgin, well—

That’s his own fault.

Maybe Tim should feel guilty for playing into it the way he is, but he can hardly help it when it makes Dick look at him like this. Like only the thinnest of threads is holding him back from leaping over to devour him.

His scent has gotten thicker. Headier. Tim’s head is cloudy with it. The world has shrunk down to the confines of Dick’s nest. Nothing outside of it matters.

Only Dick, thighs spreading to reveal a glistening pink pussy. His hand catches Tim’s wrist, guiding his fingers there. Tim bites his lip, watching Dick’s face as he strokes over puffy folds. He keeps his touch light. Tentative.

Dick shudders at the touch, the muscles in his thighs and abdomen bunching. He blinks, lashes fluttering. “Just like that,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” Tim strokes again, a little more boldly. He keeps his touch light—heat has clearly made Dick more sensitive.

[curious about my wips? send me an ask about one of the ones on this list!]

[thenanbakacorner]

Hello! Welcome back! So good to see you again! How have you been? May I please have a scenario with Juugo and Musashi when another one of The Man With The Scar's experiments comes to the prison with ice abilities? She doesn't want to start trouble, but her power is directly connected to her emotions (like if she's scared, entire glaciers form in the immediate area). She's cooperating with Yozakura with his investigation. Then one night, Elf comes and activates her power so she can't control it, and the prison is encased in ice. How would Juugo and Musashi handle it if they thought the only way to break through is to kill her, but then it's suggested that "you're not alone anymore, we're here for you" and a tight hug is enough to pull her out of the despair?

Haiii! I've been good, thank you!! (´∀`)

Ooh interesting idea! I snipped it down to the point where Elf shows up, otherwise this post would be wayyy too long (^^ゞHope you enjoy regardless!

I/N = Inmate's Name

* * *

🔓🔥 "You're not Alone." - Musashi + Jyugo comforting Ice Powers inmate Scenario 🔥🔓

Musashi and Jyugo first heard of I/N after word got out between the inmates about how she encased half her building's block in ice, and it was also rumored on how she was experimented on to lead to these powers manifesting.

Both Musashi and Jyugo talked about whether or not it was possible that she had been a victim of the Man with the Scar, and they agreed- yeah- it's quite possible.

One day, Elf shows up while she's in training, and causes her powers to go haywire. Starting with Building 5 where she had been, the prison quickly becomes the equivalent of Antarctica, ice covering nearly the entire island.

Chaos ensues, and when Momoko realizes the situation at hand, she orders for the other experiments- Jyugo and Musashi- to be sent to the inmate's location. Perhaps being people who underwent experiments like she had, they might be the key to stopping her, one way or another.

Hajime and Kenshirou rush the two inmates to the ice spike-covered training ground, where I/N was on the ground, clutching her head as ice continued to spew out, covering the ground and area all around her body.

Hajime suggests killing her, stating that this situation is too out of control, and he doubts there'd be any other way to stop it. Kenshirou however shuts that idea down, saying there must be another way other than needless violence and bloodshed.

Jyugo during this conversation is staring out at I/N, heartbroken to see her like that. He understood her pain, and he just couldn't stay on the sidelines. He runs toward her, calling for Musashi to follow.

The pyrotechnic is hesitant for a moment before darting after Jyugo, and the guards watch, quite stunned to see the two going right into the danger zone with seemingly no plan.

Jyugo dodges patches of ice and spikes as they nearly impale him, getting a cut on his arm in the process. Musashi follows directly behind Jyugo, relying on his own heightened senses to keep him from harm.

When Jyugo and Musashi get to I/N, she's sobbing, telling them to back away before they get hurt-- that she can't stop. That it hurts. That she's scared.

Jyugo's heart shatters with each cry, and he thinks as hard as he can, unsure what to do to help-- but there had to be something. Anything.

Musashi ends up speaking after a moment.

"I/N.. it's okay. You're okay." He steps closer, kneeling down in front of her. "You gotta try and calm down."

I/N sobs out that she can't calm down. That everything is too much. She's so scared, she's alone-- nothing can help.

Jyugo, following Musashi's lead, kneels down as well.

"You're a victim of.. him, aren't you? The man with the scar?" He gently asks, reaching out a hand toward I/N cold, ice ridden body. "We are too. We're here to help you. You're gonna be fine."

I/N manages to open her eyes, the tears in them freezing as they drip down and solidify against her cheeks.

"That's right. You're not alone anymore. We're here for you."

Musashi nods at Jyugo's words, his own hand coming out to gently grasp I/N and pull her in towards them. He and Jyugo hug her tightly, ignoring the way the ice on her body stung their skin.

I/N is still for a moment before whimpering and hugging them back, sobbing against their clothes. Slowly, the ice around them starts to melt, and her own body starts to warm up again.

Hajime and Kenshirou are left speechless as they watch it all melt, the mess that had become of the prison fading away with each passing second.

Eventually, everything is calm again, and the ice has completely melted. Jyugo, Musashi and I/N remain in their embrace as Kenshirou turns to Hajime, telling him to report to the Warden.

With a nod, Hajime turns, making a fast paced journey back to the office to let Momoko know that the situation has been resolved. He just can't believe that those two managed to stop her the way they did. At least there won't be a massive cleanup; saves him some extra work.

[pianocat939]

I haven’t posted in a longgggg time. Mostly because I’ve been on the grind for some video games + money to buy a new saxophone because my girlie is LIVING on tape rn ;-;

Anyway, this is just…a random idea I’ve thought of. I don’t have big plans yet, but just a little something to get me back to writing again.

So this idea is inspired by both Monster High and Monsters University. And the thing that might make this a shitpost is acrually the heavy design inspo from Mike Wazowski…save me from my brain-

Tw: Drugging, Needles (very brief), no consent mini surgery (installment of a device), implied stalking

So, MC is at university doing whatever studies they wish. Of course, they get assigned to a dorm to make transportation easier.

(MC can be human or any creature you choose, I’m bullshitting here)

Upon first entrance, their roommate happens to be some cyclops dude trying to cut his hair. Just…casually cutting his hair. Miserably. The more he cuts, the more it looks like a bowlcut.

(Now, unlike Wazowski, he actually is tall and has a proper body and head. More similar to the Ancient Greek myth than Mike. However, minus the giant part.)

MC is kind of feeling awkward but tries to introduce themselves. But he’s just snipping away, while talking. He’s quite friendly, but more quiet.

It’s only until he’s about to chop off a huge chunk that MC offers to do his hair since it’s about to be a borderline disaster. He agrees.

So somehow MC is stuck with trimming hair while they get to know him better.

He talks of how he’s a computer engineering major. How he’s building some grand PC of his own to game on.

Then he mentions how his family immigrated from Cyprus and has been living in [country idfk] ever since. Then goes on a ramble how despite his family’s culture he is the biggest hater of olives. He mentions mother complains to him he is avoiding his true nature.

But then, he asks MC, “If you had to offer your heart to let someone survive, would you?”

Of course, MC is stunned and is confused why he’s asking such a question. But answers soon enough.

He smiles. His one eye squinting with happiness.

“I would. I absolutely would. Especially since it took me so long to find you.”

Before MC could question him, they feel his hand quickly grasp away the scissors. His agility is a mystery. He then gets some form of spray can bottlefrom his hoodie pocket and sprays their face.

A suspicious, cheap looking can. MC starts freaking out: the chemical smell, his strange statement and question, and even his facial expression creeping them out too.

But then, they start feeling woozy. Weak. Extreme weakness you could call it. Having to settle themselves on the nearby seat. Their mind shutting down quickly.

And in moments slump over the backrest of the chair like they’re sleeping.

The cyclops just continues to smile. Before reaching to pet their hair. “I lied. I never was a computer engineering major. I’m actually a chemical engineering major.” He swishes a hand through his hair. He then comments, “Not bad at the cut.”

Before he drags them to a different room. The room is already decorated with things they would tend to enjoy. The colours, furniture, and items.

He tucks them into bed. Before leaving the room briefly, getting a tiny device (like lady bug small) with a needle attached to it. He leans down and pricks their neck, installing the device. He settled it deep enough to hide, but not enough to cause permanent damage.

He finished the installment off with a bandaid. Giving one last pat to their head before leaving the room.

——————————————————

Similar to what I said before, this isn’t a fully established idea. Just something I thought of while doing random things.

Now, just a bit of explanation because that’s what I love doing. So, he has in fact been stalking MC before this event. I’m not sure how/when yet, but definitely for at least a year.

The suspicious can of chemicals he had is actually something he engineered himself. It’s just a chemical that can knock someone out for less than half an hour, while also having the side effect of losing their recent memory.

The device he installed is a tracker. A very detailed one.

I don’t have a name for him. And idk if I’ll ever will, but just know he is in fact evil Mike Wazowski. /j

I’m thinking to add other characters to this idea I have. Including more ladies because I realized I rarely ever write women. And we need some.

Alright I need snoozers.

- Celina

[thylacines-toybox]

Hello! My name is Arden :>

You seem pretty knowledgeable about plushies so I thought I'd ask you about some stuff I've been having trouble with.

My build-a-bear Vaporeon, Pearl, has gotten a little worn. Her legs can't quite hold her up anymore. Do you have advice on trying to add or move stuffing so she can stand again?

I've been wanting to make custom plushies (one of my favorite human character, an alien cat, and a worm-on-a-string type oc) but I can't run a sewing machine or make patterns. I also only have limited fabric patterns and textures and have no clue where to begin.

I wanted to start a side blog similar to this one, but I'm not sure how to photograph my plush, because all my photos come out with bad lighting and innacurate colors. How do you do your photos?

Thank you for any advice! I really appreciate it!

Hi! Well, let's see...

Moving stuffing inside your Vaporeon is definitely possible, even without any sewing! See here for a little guide on how I do that with just a long needle. However, if she does need topping up, a Build a Bear is easy to add stuffing to as the closing seam where they were stuffed originally is easy to find again. Find it and carefully snip the thread, then shove stuffing down into her legs and add a little more on top, and sew her closed again with a ladder stitch.

For learning plushie making, well, you don't always need a machine or pattern making skills to get started (and really, who has pattern making skills before they begin? That comes with experience and trying things!). Hand sewing takes time, but with patience it can do anything a machine can do.

There's definitely human and cat patterns out there to buy or for free that can be edited to suit you. And a worm would be simple to try yourself, you'd probably only need one shape x2! Even if your dream designs are a bit complex for now, just try making up a simple little guy from someone else's pattern, and you'll probably just get a new OC out of it... And if you're very, very new to sewing, make a tiny square pillow!

You might be wary of jumping right in with fancy fabrics, and that's fair. Try out something like fleece which is cheap, but fairly cuddly, stretchy, and very forgiving for beginners. Minky is pretty good value and also easy to work with too! Nice faux fur is expensive and hard work honestly, the longer it is the more annoying it is...

For photos, honestly I can relate to lighting struggles! My room's windows are a bit small and especially in the winter it can just be too gloomy. I will always try to take my pics during the day with as much natural light as possible, usually on a backdrop of fabric smoothly draped over my desk chair or side table, and I'll usually step back and zoom in slightly to get a nicer angle. Honestly, I just have a pretty decent phone camera... I'll usually tweak the colours and brighten up the shadows a bit before posting.

[the-apocrypha]

Anything you'd like to share on CC8?

(for the WIP game)

Weelllllllll. CC8 was originally going to be a series of short vignettes post-wolf heart that would touch on various little moments. Instead I ended up writing 5k on one particular moment, and have not actually moved on to any of the others. In order to not too obviously spoil what this first 5k vignette is about, you can have a deleted scene instead!

“Also,” Dream says. “Perhaps. I have been reorganizing the larder.” 

“What, little by little, each day?” Hob says, incredulous. 

“Yes.” 

“We can’t possibly own enough food to even fill a shelf, let alone require four days of organization.” 

“Perhaps,” Dream says stiffly, “I am trialing different layouts each day.” 

“Why?” 

“An excellent question,” Dream snips. “For as soon as you have the mobility to do so, you will doubtlessly return the larder to the chaos that you prefer post haste.” 

“It’s not chaos,” Hob protests immediately. Familiarly. “I know exactly where everything is. There is a method.” 

They’ve done this particular bit to death and back again. It feels simultaneously surreal and thrilling to bring it back to life again, here, in this new place. 

“Then explain the method,” Dream says, as he is supposed to.

Hob’s line: “It doesn’t need explaining.”

“It does. Or rather, by definition, in order to be a method it must be capable of explanation, and since you cannot, we are therefore forced to conclude that you do not actually have one.” 

“But you can’t deny that it works,” Hob counters.

“At ensuring no one but yourself will be able to readily locate the ingredients they need? Yes. Very useful, indeed,” Dream says drily, in his turn. “If, for example, we ever need to stop a stranger from assembling a stew too quickly? Or something similarly life-saving?” 

“Just because it’s too complex for you to understand—” 

“And to be explained, apparently.”

“—despite decades of royal education—” 

“My tutors did not cover peasant lunacy.” 

“—the fact is that the organization of the larder,” Hob says regally, “falls to the person who uses it—” 

But he stops, because the script suddenly mismatches, and reality realigns. 

The larder is no longer Hob’s domain. He hasn’t even stepped foot in it. He hasn’t been out of this bed yet. 

“Most,” Dream finishes. 

“...Yes,” Hob agrees. 

“Which would be me, for the foreseeable future,” Dream continues, sliding silkily into the regality that Hob had so abruptly lost. “And so I will organize it as I like, and enjoy this brief holiday of rationality, before you drive it back into madness once more.” 

Hob scowls. “Don’t get too comfy in there.”