#have not been able to even attempt to start it

[secondbeatsongs]

Food Crime: Frosty the Slawman

so a while ago, I saw this photo going around on tumblr:

at first, I thought this was photoshopped. I mean, "welcome new man in your life"? that feels like a translation error, or someone being silly on purpose.

but guess what! turns out, Frosty Slaw Man is real!

and soon...he will be mine. let's get cooking

(full disclosure: I crafted this snowman and took notes about it over a year ago. and then, like with many things in my life, I forgot about him, and let him drift into the ADHD void of Things I'm Not Currently Staring At, where object permanence is tentative and largely unrealized.

but here we are! and here he is: the slaw man. it's time to share him with you, so that you can suffer as I have suffered, and/or rejoice in my gelatin creation!)

so this recipe photo originally came from Mid-Century Menu (archive link), a blog that seems like one after my own heart, and which once tried to make the Slaw Man (with not much success; but we'll get back to that)! but it's not just that blog that has copies of this ad. I also found it on reddit, and in a few different places on ebay!

lookit that guy! he's a real guy!

both the reddit post and some of the ebay listings say that this is from 1963 (though I haven't been able to figure out which magazines it was printed in, to confirm this for myself). but in looking this up, I discovered something else fun! there's another version of this ad!

Best Foods is what Hellmann's stuff is called on the west coast, and the "this is no place for second best" thing makes a lot more sense when you consider that the ad was probably made for Best Foods first, and then just reused and rebranded for the east coast

the more you know!

anyway the benefit of finding this alternate ad is that the scan on this image is a lot clearer, and so the recipe is more readable! and in looking at it, I've realized something important:

when Mid-Century Menu tried this recipe, they got an ingredient amount wrong.

when they made their beloved Slaw Man, they had the water amount written down as 1/4 cup, but looking at this scan up close, it is actually 3/4 cup of water! something that might make a significant difference, considering we're working with gelatin!

(there's also another change I want to make compared to what they did, when I do this recipe. but we'll get into that in a sec.)

for now: we begin

so. there's no way I'm making a Slaw Man this large. I am just one person, and considering the ingredients of this, I don't think I'm going to be able to consume that much Slaw.

two entire heads of cabbage? three pounds of cottage cheese, a thing that I don't even like to eat? no. that's a bad idea.

so I'm starting small here and making this 1/3 the size of the original:

2 packets of unflavored gelatin 1/4 cup cold water 1 cup mayo 1 tsp salt 1lb cottage cheese 4 cups shredded cabbage

surely this will result in a reasonable amount of Man

...okay, I started chopping the cabbage thinking it would be easier, but I've given up and pulled out a grater. this is much better! and somehow more violent (affectionate)

the recipe says to soften the gelatin in cold water, and then stir over hot water until it's dissolved. I'm going to assume "stir over hot water" means a double boiler, so let's do that

hmmm, the gelatin is very foamy? it’s melted, but the bottom of the pot feels really....sticky

okay. after a couple minutes more and no change, I’m calling this good enough.

so one thing that others who have attempted this recipe have not taken into consideration is the cottage cheese. you see, the others used normal cottage cheese, but the recipe says to use "cottage cheese, cream style"

I’ll be real, I’m not 100% what that means, since we don’t have that here. but I can take an educated guess! so let’s blend the cottage cheese!

(with an immersion blender. I am not willing to wash an actual blender because of this)

mmm, yes. very smooth

...actually. why isn't all cottage cheese like this? the thing I hate about cottage cheese is the texture, so why isn't it all smooth and creamy like this?? I could eat this!!

a new discovery is made every day in this house.

okay, time to start mixing things together.

ah, frosty. I opened a whole new thing of mayo for you! do you feel special?

(I'd make a "pre-dinner snack?" joke, but sometimes I think I'm the only one that remembers Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time)

okay, the mayo, cottage cheese, and salt have been added to the gelatin. but as this cools, the texture is getting...hmm. less than appealing.

lastly: the cabbage

oh. oh this is not very nice

next it says to pack the "salad" into a one pound container, and two six-cup bowls, but since I made this recipe so much smaller, I'm going to uhhhh. uh. find some bowls that seem like they'd be correct...snowman? proportions?

ah. this bowl is too big.

hey, these'll work!

now I just have to let them chill for a while, and continue another day.

(edit from current!me: ahhh oh my god I forgot this was pretty soon after we adopted Jackie! look at these cat pics that I took while I was food crime-ing!

look at them having their little interactions! Knuckles was trying so hard to be friends with her! I love them)

hello! two days later and we are ready to assemble the slawman. and my sibling has started referring to him as "frosty: attorney at slaw", so that's fun.

I've done a thing where, as these set, I flipped them around in the bowl so that hopefully they'd be more round. we'll see if they actually stay like this.

I have also made some decorations for him out of peppers, olives, and carrots!

let's build our boy

oh he's so heavy. and wobbly

no no no he almost fell over!!

okay. he's fine. but more skewers were needed.

and...okay. he is complete.

behold!

gaze upon my beautiful man!

(he is not structurally sound! he wobbles unsteadily as I rotate him! there are already cracks forming in the gelatin around where his arms are! don't worry about it!)

 now it's time to stab him

and...to devour him

this tastes like...a bland coleslaw? and not even that. it's just sort of a salty, cottage cheese-y cabbage. the ingredients don't combine to become something greater, they simply...sit there. like this.

and the texture is...mmm. it's not a jello kind of texture, but it is a bit squashy in a way that's mildly strange.

it's very creamy once it softens in your mouth.

...I don't like this!

and look! taking just that one chunk from him was enough to destabilize him entirely :(

RIP frosty. now I just have to see if I can eat all of you before you go bad.

(note from current!me: I could not.

 I ate maybe half of him over the course of many days, often adding other stuff to him to try to add some flavor: bacon, frozen peas, cheese, etc. but even with that, I just couldn't stomach him.

after a while I stuck what was left of him in the freezer, hoping that maybe I'd find the will to consume the rest of him some other day.

do you know what a frozen-and-then-thawed mixture of cabbage, cottage cheese, mayo, and gelatin looks and tastes like?

bad. the answer is: bad.

I threw him out pretty quickly after thawing him.

do not try this recipe at home)

[sencrose]

— 1004

pairing: yukimiya kenyu x f!reader

tags: established relationship, pwp, dry humping, cunnilingus, pet name (pretty girl), honestly the most vanilla thing i’ll ever write probably tbh

wc: 2.4k

summary: your boyfriend is adamant on showing just how much he loves you.

a/n: yeehaw first time writing for blue lock! vanilla and like... romance is not my usual thing so hope it's ok lol. dividers by @/adornedwithlight

ao3 link here

Everything’s great with your boyfriend.

For the most part.

He’s perfect on paper: kind, treats you well, adored by friends and family members alike. Never fails to bring a smile to your face whenever you see him. But that’s what makes it all the more frustrating when his hands grab your thighs with an ironclad grip, begging you to stop straddling him.

It’s not the first time this has happened, far from it. Maybe you were a bit foolish in knowingly dating someone so chaste, thinking you’d be able to convince him otherwise. But every time he rejects your advances, you can’t help but wonder why he’s still with you. Still, you heed his request, getting off him to take a seat next to him on the couch.

“Yukki…” you trail off, huddling into yourself as you find the words to say next, “do you like me?”

Kenyu’s eyes widen, his expression full of concern, as if you kicked a puppy right in front of him. “Huh? Where’s that coming from?”

“I mean…” you mumble, resting your face on top of your knees, “we never do anything more than kissing.”

Once you start, it’s hard to stop. The ball in your throat grows, the words spilling from your mouth, like water from a dam that’s been compromised.

“I know you want to wait ‘til marriage but, sometimes it feels like you don’t like me when that’s all we do,” you pause, looking over at him when a twang of guilt strikes your chest before looking down again, “I-I mean we don’t have to go all the way or anything like that.”

“I-It’s nothing like that,” he sighs, pinching his temple before continuing, “I like you, a lot. You could even say that I love you.” The confession makes your skin run hot, even though you’ve heard it plenty of times before.

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it, I’m just scared.” Kenyu shifts again, attempting to face you before continuing, but the second his eyes meet yours, he looks away. “When you get on top of me like that…” Now it’s his turn to be flustered, his skin blooming a pretty shade of pink as he struggles to thread his words together. “I don’t think I can last long.”

You sit up properly, tilting your head quizzically. He has your full attention now. “Huh?”

“It feels crazy good,” Kenyu continues, struggling to meet your gaze, “good enough to make me… You know.” He stops himself short of the word, but you both know what he means. He won’t say it out loud because he won’t know what to do with himself. Though if you’re being honest, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself either.

The silence is deafening. It’s as if the room is waiting for a response. The realization strikes you like lightning, sudden and bright. It’s not that your boyfriend doesn’t like you, quite the opposite in fact. He might like you a little too much.

“Ah, but that’s kinda embarrassing, isn’t it?” he asks sheepishly, breaking the silence first and brandishing a forced smile to hide his insecurity.

“Yukki,” you say before putting your hands on either side of his face before pressing, “look at me.”

“I’m looking,” he mumbles through his squished lips.

“I don’t mind. Actually…” you look off to the side even though you’re the one who forced this intimate display of eye contact, “I think it’s really hot.”

His eyebrows manage to shoot up in shock, even in this position. “You sure?”

“You think I’d lie to you?”

He chuckles, and you can hear the relief in his voice. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Then will you let me do the honors?” you ask, looking up at him doe-eyed and fluttering your lashes.

“S-Sure. But can we take it slow?”

“Whatever you want, Yukki,” you say softly, voice honeyed with affection as you get on top of him again. Kenyu shifts, his hands wrapping around your thighs softer this time.

It’s as if something’s shifted. You’ve kissed each other plenty of times before, but now that the intention to go further lies in the air, it’s like your first time again. Awkward, flustered, apologetic as you try to kiss him and accidentally bump foreheads together.

Kenyu laughs, because no matter what you do, he always finds you adorable. He decides to take his hands off your thighs and place them on the back of your head, gently bringing you in for a kiss that puts romance movies to shame. He’s in no rush, savoring the taste of you on his lips as he always does.

Kenyu always knows how to bring you back to Earth. He cherishes you–holds and kisses you like you’re the most delicate piece of china in a glass cabinet. And while this is nice enough on its own, you have other things you’ve been wanting to try. You keep his preferences in mind, taking it slow with a lazy roll of your hips. Even with that, you can hear his voice catching in his throat.

You use the opportunity to take it a bit further and slip your tongue in, which he welcomes. Every time you take it a bit further–whether it’s biting his lip or playing with his tongue–his self control chips a little more, whispered moans filling your mouth.

With every kiss, every roll of your hips, you can feel his length growing, getting hotter even when it’s confined by the fabric of his pants. It makes you want to work just a little harder, get yourself a little closer to cumming with him. The fabric is frustrating, an annoying reminder of just how close yet far you are from him. Though, that frustration starts to melt when Kenyu follows the rhythm of your hips.

It’s getting harder to keep your promise when he’s this cute. When you wrap your arms around his neck, you can feel just how hot and bothered he is, as if his soft whimpers weren’t enough of a testament already. What was once a soft grasp behind your head grows into something more primal and unrefined, desperation running through his fingertips as he grabs whatever he can to bring you closer to him.

You’re not any better, the speed of your hips picking up, desperate to hear him so needy. It’s the first time you’ve heard him like this.

As you lose your control and composure, your hips grind against him harder. Kenyu can’t keep his voice back any longer, desperate groans leaving his mouth with a quiver of his lips. Every sound he gives you goes straight to your pussy, making you warm and greedy for more.

You can feel the wet spot on your panties grow as you rub against him and wonder if he can feel it too. It might be pushing it, but the thought of freeing his cock shoots through your head. It feels and looks so tight against the fabric, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“Yukki,” you pause and give a glance at his zipper, “can I?”

“I thought we weren’t going all the way,” he replies, breathless as he looks up at you.

“We aren’t… I just wanna feel you more,” you say meekly, “that’s ok, right?”

His eyes widen like saucers before nodding. “Y-Yeah, go for it.”

So you do, unzipping his pants like you’re unwrapping a present—it might as well be one. You adjust and place yourself right on top and start again, though the sensation is much better this time around for both of you. You see it in the way Yuuki immediately throws his head back and moans, feel it in the way your cunt slides against his heat with only two layers of thin fabric keeping you apart.

All of it’s just too much for you–the pre that’s smeared on his boxers, the warmth of his cock against your clothed folds. It’s the closest you’ve been to him, to going all the way. Everything about it makes you more desperate to see him cum, so you focus all your attention on his leaky tip, just to see how sticky you can make it.

The sight of you proves to be too much for Kenyu, as he brings up his arm to shield his eyes. You’re quick to move it out of the way, a silent plea for him to look at you, look at where you’re nearly connected.

“Getting close?” you ask, sweet as sugar. Just the sound of your voice is enough to send him over the edge, but he wants to hold out, even if it’s just for a moment longer.

“You gotta look at me when you cum,” you plead.

Kenyu bites his lip and groans before shakily nodding.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bring your face closer to his until you’re touching forehead to forehead–close enough to feel every pant, every tremor of his voice.

“You love me?” you moan, digging your hips into him deeper.

“God, I love you so much,” he moans back, eyes lined with tears that are one blink from falling.

Kenyu’s desperately rutting his hips into you, and you swear you can feel him prodding at your entrance.

You feel it when Kenyu cums with a gravelly groan, his chest rattling as he cries. Even more so when you keep humping him, as his boxers get stickier and mix with your slick.

“W-Wait, too much,” he gasps, muscles visibly tightening in his neck as he throws his head back.

You can’t take your eyes off of the point where your undergarments meet, fabric soaked and darkened from the fluids.

“You really love me, huh?” you ask with a smile.

“Of course,” he sighs contentedly before giving you a soft peck on the cheek. It makes it all too easy to snuggle into him and lie your head on his chest. Before you can get too comfortable, Kenyu shifts his body and you’re suddenly far too aware of the sticky patch touching your underwear.

“Um… Should we clean up?” you ask, preparing yourself to dismount before Kenyu shifts his weight to push you back down on the couch, his hands around your wrists. Determination lights a fire in his eyes.

“You gotta let me return the favor.”

“H-Huh?”

“Let you…” he glances down at the wet spot of your panties before looking back at you, “you know?”

Oh.

“N-No, this is enough for me Yukki, I don’t wanna do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“But I do want this,” he assures you before kissing your cheek, his hands carefully tracing the curve of your hips, “I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

“I mean,” you pause, shuffling a bit and adjusting your gaze away from him, “if you’re okay with it.”

That’s all the approval he needs to kiss you, drawing a trail down your body.

Kenyu’s careful and meticulous, savoring every press of his lips against your skin. Whether it’s your neck, chest, waist, he lingers as if he doesn’t want to leave it behind. Every opened mouth kiss, flick of his tongue filled with adoration.

Whatever ritual he has going on, it doesn’t fail to make you shiver in anticipation, have butterflies blooming in your stomach. It makes you shy, being so exposed in front of him. In a way, it’s a little nostalgic—reminds you of the first time he dropped you off at your apartment and said his goodbyes with a kiss.

But then you’re brought back to the moment when Kenyu adjusts and shifts you to lie down on your back. His hands are there every step of the way, a silent plea to let him take care of everything.

He takes his time with you, slowly kissing a path up your leg. With each kiss, he lingers a moment longer. A playful bite here, a hint of tongue there. It keeps you on edge, just a little. Every hushed gasp or squeal earns a huff and a smile out of him.

“My pretty girl,” he sighs, adoration laced in his breath.

Carefully, he tests the waters with a delicate kiss before going in with a drag of his tongue as soon as a moan slips from your lips. From there, he uses his tongue with a determination you usually only see on the field from afar, like he’s trying to tear a hole in your underwear. The cotton gets wetter with every stroke of his tongue, sticky fabric clinging to your lips.

With his enthusiasm, it’s as if the underwear isn’t even there. All you can feel is Kenyu’s tongue, hot and heavy, incessantly drawing circles around your clit. It’s too much, looking down and seeing his head disappear under the fabric of your skirt. When you instinctively shut your legs out of embarrassment, his hands hook around your thighs and bring you closer. It brings a newly lit passion out of him, has him pressing his face even harder into your pussy.

The noises he makes while sucking on the fabric is too much for your ears, too much for a first time. It’s messy, unrefined, and nothing you would expect from your prim and proper boyfriend. Something about seeing him like this, so desperate and eager to serve, only adds to your arousal.

Despite how laser focused he is on your clit, on making you reach the apex of pleasure, he brings his hand to yours, your fingers intertwining. His thumb rubs circles into your skin, something he always does to comfort you. Maybe he feels it coming before you, with the way your breathing intensifies, the way your moans get louder and all the more cuter.

“You love me too, don’t you?” he asks, hushed and panting.

“L-Love you so, mmh, much Kenyu,” you cry back, biting your lip.

“Wanna show me how much?” he asks before going back into you, passion woven in each stroke of his tongue.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you cry before your climax finally hits you like a wave. Even though you barely recognize the sounds pouring from your lips, you wonder if Yuuki does. All stuttered moans and hushed pants as he guides you through it. His pace starts to slow as you come down from your high, before sealing it with a kiss on your clit.

“Next time you think I don’t love you,” he pauses to meet you face to face before pressing his lips onto yours, “I hope you’ll remember this.”

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒄𝒐𝒛𝒚

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | VALENTINE'S EVENT !

tags : mostly fluff, slightlyyyyy suggestive at the start but nothing explicit, established relationship, use of pet names "baby" and "pipsqueak".

wc : 1.6k (oops)

an : DROPPING THIS BEFORE I GO TO BED :D requested by @starmocha !!!! this prompt had me squealing hehe 🥰🥰🥰

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

ko-fi jar / commissions

It's 1AM, and you're hungry, so what better place to go than the convenience store down the block?

"I'm hungry."

The sheets rustled.

Caleb shifted onto his side to look at you, head resting in his palm, eyebrows raised. You could see the way his eyes raked over you appreciatively for a moment, almost as if seeing you in a new light again, almost as if he hadn't been all over you just a couple of minutes ago.

With his free hand, he reached out to tuck an awry strand of hair behind your ear. It was a soft gesture.

yet when he spoke, there was a laugh to his voice. "You're hungry?"

You whined. "Not that kind of hungry! Like, actually hungry! Come onnnnnn. Aren't you?"

"Baby, it's past midnight. Aren't you tired? You should be a good girl and get some rest—"

Despite the phrase deliberately used—you were sure—to bring butterflies to your stomach, you promptly gave him a playful shove. "Well, I'm not gonna be able to sleep if I'm hungry, anyway. So your attempts at persuading me are void!"

To make a point, you sat up and crosses your arms, looking at him expectantly.

An impasse, of sorts.

The two of you looked at each other, silent, a few seconds—

Caleb was the first to relent.

"Alright, alright, we'll get some food. There's that convenience store down the block, that enough?" He sat up along with you and slipped out of bed, trodding towards his closet to throw you one of his sweaters. "It'll be cold out, so wear that for a while. Just a lil somethin' to keep you warm."

You held it close to your chest—it smelled like him. And it was as if you weren't already in his t-shirt, anyway; as if he hadn't left enough of his own marks on you that night, but you were happy to have a little something on you that reminded you of him.

You hopped out of bed yourself and, to make a point, grabbed one of his caps to put on your head.

"Ready!"

And perhaps it was because it was late, and barely anyone would be outside anyway, but it seemed neither of you cared that you'd be leaving in your pajamas.

Caleb tugged at your hand, pulling you close.

"I hope you know that I love seein' you in my clothes," he chuckled. "Makes you look extra gorgeous."

And you could think to yourself that you were so used to his charm, maybe even desensitized… but he would always find ways to prove you wrong. An additional kiss to your forehead had you melting in an instant, and then he still had the audacity to send you a wink.

"Caleb!" you huffed as he pulled away and ushered you outside, the gleeful sound of his laughter never failing to astonish you.

Seriously, the audacity of this man!

And yet you couldn't quite complain, not with the way your heart filled with a complete and utter sense of fondness for him. It didn't matter the hour, didn't matter that the breeze of the dawn before you made you feel a little cold. He squeezed your hand and quietly put it into his pocket… and, really—with your hand in his and his presence beside you, it was all the warmth you could ever need.

As you walked to the convenience store, your free hand took a glance at the time on your phone.

"1:43AM," you mused, "on… February 14th. Huh, look at that! So our Valentine's date this year's to a convenience store?"

You felt him peek over your shoulder, and he let out a laugh. "Guess it is Valentine's, huh? Happy Valentine's Day, pipsqueak." He gave your hair a little ruffle, before the little jingle of your very destination had him tugging you through the doors.

As you expected: quite empty.

He nudged your arm. "I mean, I'm still takin' you out for a date later today," he shrugged, "but as an extra treat, then you've got free reign gettin' whatever you want. I'll pay."

Immediately your eyes brightened, a squeal falling from your lips enough to draw a quizzical stare from the cashier lady, and you squeezed his arm. "Really?!"

"Yeah, really!"

"Oh my god! You better not go back on that promise!"

"Be real. When have I ever, with you?"

You felt another surge of warmth rush through you, and you stood on your tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips. "God, I love you!"

And it wasn't really as if you didn't have a little bit of your own snack stash still left at home, but who were you to refuse a free gift?

There was a bounce to your step as you walked through the aisles, and you supposed that neither of you were acting as if it were practically two in the morning. The irony stood—despite everything else being quiet around you two, there was enough joy in the simplest things with him to get you all bouncy like this.

You turned to him with your arms full of little snacks, and laughed as you held one up for him. "Hey! Remember this one? The first time you brought this home, it was 'cause some girl from your class got you this." The memory made you laugh, and you turned the packet over in a moment of nostalgia. "I haven't had these in forever, for some reason, but they were really good. That girl had taste…"

A flick to your forehead.

"Hey!"

He snatched a couple of the packets you were carrying and put them into the basket he was holding, all while giving you a pointed look. "Doesn't matter who got them first," he scoffed, "'cause I brought them home for you."

A smile played on your lips.

"Well… she wasn't the first to give you stuff, nor was she the last."

"Aaand like I said, it doesn't matter."

This time, you grinned and tiptoed to return the forehead flick he'd given you just earlier. "Why're you so upset about it? Of course the golden boy would always get so much attention from all the girls—"

"Sooo I'd get all that attention from 'em, and then disregard their gifts just so you'd have somethin' to have fun with when we got home."

You paused, and he gave a playful roll of his eyes.

"I gotta hand it to ya, pipsqueak, sometimes you spend a lil too much time up there in the clouds."

"What!?"

He held up a box of cookies that you were familiar with.

"This one's been your favorite for as long as I can remember. Some girl gave one of these to me back in middle school… But I knew you'd love 'em. So I gave 'em to you."

Another box of snacks.

"You always say you don't like these, but I see you sneak them back to your room when no one's lookin'… Happened to get this as a gift, too, so I left them in your room when we got back."

And you watched, somewhat amazed, as he held up the very same packet you'd been examining earlier.

"And, sure, maybe you've never had this one before… But you were always a lil adventurous. It was strawberry. I remember, 'cause you like strawberries. So I thought you might've wanted to give this a try, too."

Your gaze followed his movements as he took the liberty to grab a couple more snacks from the shelves, and though he turned back to you with a smile, you found your mind still reeling from what he'd said.

It was always you. From the very start, he…

"I've always watched you," he said simply. Because he could read you like an open book, and some things just don't change. He shrugged, leaned down towards you to give the tip of your nose a little poke. "I saved those for you, 'cause I know you. And you think any of those girls ever mattered to me? Nah. It was always just about you. And you got to relish in all those little snacks, so, you know. Win-win situation if I get to make you happy."

For a moment you didn't speak, and you felt the blush slowly begin to creep up your cheeks.

You'd never realized it before; maybe never even bothered to check for yourself.

Sure, you maybe thought all of those were from him, and, sure, when you found out they weren't directly, you felt a little upset, but…

It was more than just material to poke fun at him for being popular.

Your eyes softened. "So… you were thinking about me."

"Pshh. I always think about you, baby. Not a moment goes by where I don't."

You watched him walk away with a wave of his hand, under the guise of 'checking out the drinks while you think of what else you wanted', and a flurry of butterflies stirred anew in your heart.

As you hurried to catch up with him and stood by him at the counter, he chuckled. "I always thought you'd find out then and there how much I liked you, you know."

"I guess you were being obvious about it, in a way…"

"Yeah, and you were too busy relishing in the free snacks."

"Hey!"

He laughed, grabbing the bag of your little snack haul, and smoothly looped your arms back together.

"Weeelll," he hummed, "now you get to say with certainty that all this here's from me. And I get to do this…"

The minute you stepped outside the convenience store, he leaned down to give you a soft kiss. And again, you'd think—there couldn't possibly be a cozier place to be than right here with him in this moment.

"…You don't need to use gifts from someone else to get me snacks anymore," you laughed a little.

"Mhm, I can get 'em for you myself. And seal it with a lil kiss."

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @daturasflower @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @pikachuzhc @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @hunters-association

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[0798f]

💞 — Mediator.

RELATIONSHIP: Gojo Satoru x Reader

SUMMARY: When Gojo and Megumi fight, it’s up to you to get them to make amends.

A/N: I think about the Gojo-Megumi-Tsumiki household a lot...

“Babe, help! Megumi is mad at me!”

“I don’t wanna talk to him.”

“Stop pretendin’ like I’m not here!”

(Name) hadn’t even taken their shoes off when they found themselves in the crosshairs of a squabble between Gojo and Megumi. Not the first time, and certainly would not be the last time. Gojo practically launched himself at the door as soon as (Name) walked in, throwing his arms around them to bury his face in their shirt. He seemed much more upset than the actual child; Megumi stood at the entrance with a scowl too mature to take seriously and crossed arms.

He wasn’t crying, at least— but that might be a result of having freshly turned 12 and deciding he was a real adult, now. Gojo and (Name) wondered if that declaration meant he would stop being so fussy and difficult, but, so far, it seemed like quite the opposite.

That wasn’t to imply that Megumi was always difficult. He was a kid after all, and everything in his life had been shit from the very start. (Name) much preferred emotional outbursts over him developing a habit of bottling up his feelings, even if it resulted in being yelled at by a child. Gojo usually received the brunt of the anger, anyway, for his annoying tendency of pushing Megumi’s buttons without recognizing where the line should be drawn. Did Limitless come with the drawback of him being unable to read the room?

Megumi seeming nonplussed at worst while Gojo’s crocodile tears soaked into (Name)’s shirt gave them a pretty clear idea of what likely occurred. It took some force to push Gojo off of them, but once his face was at arm’s length, (Name) turned their attention to Megumi. “What did he do, Megs?”

In their periphery, (Name) saw Gojo dramatically flail his arms. “You’re ignoring me, too!? Is everyone in this house against me?”

It was difficult not to laugh at his antics, but (Name) managed as they waited for Megumi’s answer. Someone needed to take him more seriously if Gojo wasn’t going to. A few beats of silence passed before Megumi decided to spill some feelings through quivering lips. “… He won’t stop bothering me.”

“He yelled at me, (Name)! He told me to get the hell out of his room, then I told him to watch his damn language, then-!“

They had heard enough. (Name) sighed and removed themselves from Gojo’s grasp completely, much to his disappointment, and beckoned Megumi to come closer.

“Okay, I understand,” (Name) nodded. Gojo looked up at them, attempting to use a shining yet pathetic display of Six Eyes as some strange form of emotional manipulation. If (Name) had to pick who in this room was the most childish, it would be a difficult choice. They spared a single glance at Gojo. “You’re on timeout.”

“I’m the one in timeout?!” Gojo latched onto (Name) once again. “But, Megumi swore at me!”

(Name) shrugged, “you deserved it. Timeout. Apologize when we get back. Megs, c’mon. Wanna go to the convenience store?”

No child can resist the promise of a nice treat for their troubles. Megumi’s eyes lit up but he held back a smile with all his might. He rushed past Gojo to put his shoes on. Gojo, on the other hand, did nothing to hide his cry of despair. He had half the mind to grab onto (Name)’s legs and stop them from leaving, but he felt their hand card gently through his hair— some reassurance so that he wouldn’t die of neglect. With a huff and a pout, Gojo relinquished his grasp and gave (Name) enough space to open the door for Megumi.

“We’ll be back in a little bit. Think about what you did.” Once Megumi was out the door and out of the line of sight, (Name) pressed a chaste kiss to Gojo’s cheek. “Seriously, stop bothering him so much. Love you, we’ll be back pretty fast. He doesn’t seem too upset.”

He moved fast enough to kiss the corner of (Name)’s mouth before they were able to move away. “Everybody is so mean to me…”

Times like this were when (Name) remembered just how young they were. Gojo was a brat, and it could be annoying, but how could (Name) blame him? They were only in their mid-twenties, with their childhood innocence ripped away in exchange for the world of jujutsu sorcery. Surrogate parents in their early 20s and the threat of death always looming over their shoulders. Life sucked sometimes, so if this was what Gojo was upset about for the day, it meant it was a good day.

“Maybe you should reflect on that, then…” (Name)’s words trailed off as they shut the door behind them. Gojo waited like a sad dog at the window for their car to disappear down the street before he traded his slippers for sneakers.

Gojo would not be reflecting on anything.

Even when (Name) was paying, Megumi didn’t like to spend much on himself. He placed one bag of chips on the counter, despite being encouraged to get whatever he wanted. (Name) found out quickly after taking in Tsumiki and Megumi that part of parenting was taking the initiative for quiet and stubborn children, so they added 2 cans of soda and three different flavored onigiri while Megumi wasn’t looking.

The weather was just warm enough to comfortably sit on the bench just outside the convenience store. It was the perfect size to fit their family of 4, even if it was a little crowded when they did. But with Tsumiki hanging out with her friends and Gojo in timeout, there was more than enough space for just Megumi and (Name). Megumi made himself comfortable on one end of the bench as (Name) paid the cashier with some cash straight from the mission they were just compensated for.

Truth be told, (Name) was exhausted as shit and returning from a mission when they walked into Megumi and Gojo’s petty squabble. They were looking forward to flopping onto the couch and passing out instantly. Gojo would throw a blanket over them, Megumi would enjoy the silence by getting some schoolwork done, and (Name) would wake up when Tsumiki got home so they could cook dinner together. But for as exhausted as they were, spending some extra time with Megumi was just as nice.

(Name) took their place on the opposite side of the bench and placed the snacks between them. He raised his brows at all the extra food but wasted no time opening the bag of chips he picked out. At first, neither of them spoke. That was one of Megumi’s favorite things about (Name); they could sit in comfortable silence, spending time together without wearing down either of their social batteries. Where Gojo was energetic and arrogant, (Name) was quiet and gentle.

Which was why Megumi struggled to understand what (Name) liked about that guy. Between bites of his food, Megumi spoke his thoughts aloud. “Why did you marry him?”

They think that Megumi might have been more bitter about their disagreement than (Name) had initially decided if he was asking a question like that of nowhere. (Name) shrugged, “‘cause I love him?”

The corners of (Name)’s lips curled up when they saw Megumi’s disgusted reaction. “But, why?! He’s annoying.”

“He’s annoying,” (Name) agreed with a laugh. He had annoyed them ever since the first day they met. Utahime liked to joke that (Name) only married him because Gojo had spent years wearing them down, and (Name) liked to entertain that theory because it was funny (for everyone except Gojo). But for as grossed out as Megumi was acting, (Name) assumed he was asking genuinely— if only just barely. “He’s annoying to the people he cares most about. He’s clingy and has no concept of personal space, which is ironic given his cursed technique.”

Megumi, mouth full, tilted his head to the side. “You just listed a bunch of stuff you don’t like about him.”

Again, (Name) laughed. “Those are the things I like about him, though. He’s always there, so I know I can rely on him. He’s been by my side for years and he’s never let me down. He’s a great guy.”

It was perhaps too earnest of a statement for the young boy to fully comprehend— especially since it was something so difficult for him to believe. Satoru Gojo? Reliable? That guy couldn’t even reliably cook eggs.

While he pondered that idea, he felt (Name) pat the top of his head. “For the most part, I’m like you; I like my space, I like my privacy. I wanna get left alone a lot. But, for me, it’s nice knowing someone is always there. That they care about me.”

Megumi squirmed under (Name)’s hand. Not because he was uncomfortable, but because he was forced to think about how much the people in his life cared for him. Tsumiki never stopped doting on him, even as he got older. (Name) always treated him the way he wanted to be treated, letting him feel independent while always knowing they were there for support. And Gojo, for everything about him that Megumi found annoying, never stopped trying to make him laugh or make him have fun.

With a huff, Megumi leaned into (Name)’s touch. Some part of him that was already being drowned out by tween angst reminded himself how lucky it was to be so loved.

“Still, he’s gotta actually listen to you when you’re upset.” (Name) gestured down the street, and following their gaze Megumi caught sight of familiar white hair just before the person turned the corner.

All the goodwill in his heart dissipated immediately and the same scowl he was wearing when he was arguing with Gojo reappeared.

(Name) rolled their eyes. One would think the greatest jujutsu sorcerer could realize that, at over 6 feet tall and sparkling white hair, he was not exactly the stealthiest person in the world. Not that it really mattered; (Name) had already guessed Gojo was going to follow them, and that he likely wasn’t trying to stay too hidden. (Name) handed one of the extra onigiri they bought to Megumi and sighed, “go tell him he can sit and eat with us if he apologizes.”

They knew Megumi wasn’t upset anymore when he rushed down the street to scold Gojo.

masterlists.

[marril96]

Mirrors

Chapter 1: Shattered

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Your plan to talk about your and Agatha's strained relationship is put on hold when she collapses after hiding a serious injury.

Editor: @fruityhahn

The latest Trial — your very own — had taken a lot out of you. You were exhausted, your eyes yearning to close and sleep the events of the day away.

The first two Trials — Jen and Alice's — were difficult to get through, had even cost you a coven member and gained you a new one along the way (who just happened to be Agatha's ex girlfriend, but neither one of you was ready for that conversation), but they were nowhere near as anxiety-inducing as yours had been.

If not for Agatha talking you through the entire thing, offering encouragement despite your strained relationship, you never would have been able to pass it.

"That was… something," you said as the two of you walked down the Road.

The rest of the Coven was a good way ahead, too lost in chatter and laughter to notice the two of you had fallen behind.

Not that you cared — Agatha even less so. You wanted some alone time with her, a chance to talk about the day's events. A chance to approach the elephant that had been in the room since before the Road had even come into existence.

You'd tried to broach the subject multiple times, to no avail. Agatha had shut down each of your attempts, claiming she needed to focus on the situation at hand — the Road that shouldn't exist; the Trials she'd had to bullshit her way through; the boy whose name nobody could hear, who may or may not have been Wanda Maximoff's son. The topic of before — of your relationship, of the things you'd both done to fuck everything up — would be dealt with later.

Only, later never came. There was always something new, something more urgent that demanded her attention. In classic Agatha fashion, she avoided, avoided, avoided. Why deal with a problem when she could pretend it didn't exist? Why confront it when she could deflect? Why talk when she could just… not?

It was one of her most irritating traits. You knew she was just trying to protect herself, that all she wanted to do was hold back the pain — as temporary as it was — that inevitably came with such conversations, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

She should know by now that she was safe with you. That her hurt and tears were safe, never to be exploited or used against her. That, as scary as it was to open up, she had nothing to be afraid of. You had never harmed her on purpose, and never would.

On purpose being the keyword.

What you'd done by accident — or rather, what you hadn't done — was the root cause of the issue.

"It sure was," Agatha said, nervously looking around, her hands firmly placed in her pockets, no doubt gripping the fabric tightly between her fingers.

"Thanks for having my back in there," you said. Then, with a smile, you added, "Literally."

At one point, near the end of your Trial, the mirrors in the posh, castle-like room you were stuck in had started shattering. Agatha, having noticed the cracks forming, had leapt and thrown herself over you just as the first mirror had exploded.

She'd held you in her embrace, her body a shield from the flying glass, until the commotion had stopped, and the door, red as blood, leading back to the Road had appeared amidst the pale white walls.

Agatha shrugged, feigning indifference, nonchalance. "I just didn't want us to have to resort to summoning another backup witch."

You knew her better than that. "Right. It was more practical to save me."

"Exactly."

You sighed. She was a horrible liar when it came to things like this. The truth was written all over her face, woven into her voice, a tattoo that she wasn't even trying that hard to conceal. She knew that you knew the truth, that you could see right through her thinly veiled bullshit, and she didn't care.

She could always shut down and walk away from this conversation. She could always say something new had demanded her attention. She could scream at you to leave her alone, that, after what you'd done, you didn't deserve a heart-to-heart.

So far, while clearly displeased by the direction the conversation was taking, she was playing along.

You decided to make the most of it.

"Agatha." You made sure to say it in that way that told her enough was enough, that you needed to talk like adults. That avoiding it was a tantrum you were losing tolerance for.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes straight ahead, refusing to meet yours. "What?"

"We need to talk."

"Do we?"

"You know we do."

Agatha swallowed. She straightened out her coat and pressed her mouth into a line that would be cute if it wasn't frustrating. Her own little way of rebellion, one you knew all too well.

If she couldn't avoid the issue, she could pretend it wasn't there. She could pretend that she didn't see what was right in front of her, that she didn't hear the words spoken right beside her ears.

You weren't going to let her.

Noticing she's fallen behind, you stopped in your tracks and turned to look at her. She was pale as a ghost, her lips a purplish color that looked unsettling even under the Road's odd lighting.

"You okay?" you asked for your own peace of mind. Surely, she couldn't have dreaded the conversation that much.

Agatha frowned, uneasy at being asked. People usually didn't check on her. Nobody cared how the infamous Witch Killer was doing.

Nobody but you.

"I'm fine," she said abrasively. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You look a bit pale."

She scoffed. "This place doesn't exactly do wonders for one's complexion."

Fair point.

"You're sure you're okay?"

"Just peachy."

As soon as the words left her mouth, her left hand — her dominant one — shot out to grab onto your arm. Her fingers, unusually pale, deathly cold to the touch, dug into your flesh. Her nails, long and sharp as talons, cut crescents into your skin, pinching, almost drawing blood.

"Agatha?"

She responded by finally allowing her eyes to meet yours. The glassy, haunted look in them sent a concerned shiver down your spine.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Agatha pulled in a breath to steady herself. "N-Nothing, I'm-I'm fine."

In contrast to her words, her grip on you tightened. She could lie all she wanted; her body never did. Not to you.

"Don't do that. Tell me what's wrong."

She forced a chuckle. "Why? So you can leave again?"

You flinched as if slapped. Was that seriously how she wanted to play it? You'd done wrong here, of course you had, but she didn't get to twist it. She didn't get to rewrite history as if it was an article that needed revision.

She didn't get to strike that low while you were already on the ground.

"You're the one who left!" you snapped, sick of her nonsense. Waiting for days to let it all out, wild and free from the constraints of your self-control.

"And you didn't follow!" Agatha shot back.

She was right.

You didn't follow.

You'd stayed home and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

You'd cried yourself to sleep for many nights, thinking she'd left you for good. Thinking, in the years that had followed, that she'd shacked up with someone new and had forgotten all about you.

She had forgotten you, but not out of choice. Not out of want.

All she needed was for you to come and get her.

Yet you never did.

"How long are you gonna keep punishing me for that?"

As if you weren't punishing yourself enough. Every time you were alone with your thoughts, the unpleasant reality hit you like a pile of bricks straight to the face. Agatha was there, locked inside her own mind, begging for help, but it never came. You never came.

Even if she were to ever forgive you, you would never forgive yourself.

"I'm sorry," you said with tears in your eyes, begging to be let free. "For the thousandth time, I'm sorry.

You could say it a million more times — it wouldn't change what had happened. Nothing could ever possibly change it.

Agatha breathed in, taking in your words. Swishing them through her head like a mouthful of water.

"What do I have to do to get you to forgive me?"

If she could find it in her heart to forgive you, to absolve you of your infraction, maybe, eventually, you would be able to try to forgive yourself. Maybe this pain, this hurt that ravaged you from the inside — that had been ravaging you since Agatha had shown up at your door with Teen, pissed as high hell, demanding answers — would subside.

Just as Agatha took in a few resolving breaths, preparing to respond, her right knee gave way and she tumbled forwards.

"Oh, my god," you breathed as your arms, led by instinct you'd grown into over your centuries together, leapt up to catch her.

You pressed her against you, holding her upright as tightly as you could, even as the full weight of her on you threatened to topple you both.

"Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"It's n-n-nothing." Her voice was strained, tired, as if she were forcing the response out. As if each and every word that left her mouth scorched her throat.

You grit your teeth, frustrated. Exasperated by her stubbornness, by her complete and utter refusal to talk, even at times like this.

"Agatha, please, talk to me. Let me help."

"I d-don't…" The words died in her throat. She tried to raise her hands to push you away, to get you to let go, but her arms, as deathly pale as her face, remained hanging at her sides. Dead. Useless.

"It's okay. I got you," you assured her, nuzzling her neck like you always did when you held her. "You can hate me all you want. I'm not letting you go."

"I don't hate you," she uttered weakly, as if it took all of her to force the words out. Then her head fell against your shoulder, and her body, limp, unusually heavy, slumped against you.

It took everything in you to remain on your feet. Your grip around her tightened, squeezing her to you. Pressing her against you as firmly as you could.

"Agatha? Agatha?" you called, but no response came. No words. No grunts. No moans. Just deadly, deafening silence. 

Blood ran cold in your veins. This wasn't good. Whatever was going on, Agatha wasn't doing well.

"Sweetheart, please."

Something sticky engulfed your hand that was pressing against her side. You raised it to inspect it, and your eyes widened at the substance glistening under the Road's dim lighting.

Blood.

Scarlet. Warm. Vibrant.

So much of it that it soaked through her coat.

The smell of pennies clung to your tongue, so thick that you could taste it.

"Oh, god!" you exclaimed, your heart racing as you stared at your smeared hand, at the blood coating your skin. Blood that shouldn't be there. Blood that Agatha didn't tell you about. "Guys! Help! Please, help!"

The coven, far up ahead of you, turned their heads and looked back, startled from their carefree conversation.

"What happened?" Teen said, the first one to run towards you, having sensed the urgency, the sheer panic in your tone.

"Agatha's hurt," you whimpered through tears that drenched your face and obscured your vision. You kept your arms firmly around Agatha, focused on keeping her upright, on making sure whatever injury she had wouldn't be made worse.

"What? How?" Teen asked, worried, as Alice bent down to examine the bloodstain on Agatha's coat.

"She protected me when the mirrors shattered."

She'd more than protected you. She'd shielded you. Had taken on the impact of each and every shard of glass. Had grit her teeth and beared it. All for your sake. For your safety. As strained as your relationship was, the last thing she wanted was for you to get hurt.

She'd risked her life for yours.

"I didn't-I didn't know she got hurt. She didn't tell me." You swallowed a hard, heavy lump in your throat. Shook the tears from your eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? Why?"

Because she didn't want to show weakness. Because this was yet another problem she could avoid and ignore until, eventually, she no longer could. Until the pain became too much and her body had lost too much blood to keep her on her feet, and she collapsed in your arms.

With Lilia and Alice's help, you lowered Agatha to the ground, gently, carefully. The other witches removed her coat and raised her shirt, exposing her back. Her skin, usually smooth and silky, was speckled with cuts of various shapes and sizes, as if someone had marked her with a thin, red marker. On her right side, just below her ribs, blossomed a large, bleeding wound.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, bewildered at the sight.

It had to have hurt like a bitch. Why didn't she tell you? Why didn't she ask for help? Why did she think she had to bite back the pain and suffer in silence?

Alice pressed her hands over the wound, closing it as much as she could. "This is bad. We have to stop the bleeding."

"Jen, can you do something?" you asked.

The witch in question stared, unmoved, unbothered. As if the scene before her didn't faze her a single bit. As if she didn't have it in her to care.

Agatha was easy to hate, easy to leave for dead.

Loving her, on the other hand, was difficult. Challenging. Near impossible for most people.

Not for you.

Never for you.

"Do the thing you did with Teen!" you shouted; an order, a command. Leaving no place for debate.

The woman you loved was bleeding out, and there was nothing you could do about it. Your skills, your magic, everything you knew and had was useless. You were useless.

The only one who could do something,who could help her in any meaningful way, was Jen.

"Please!" you begged, holding on to Agatha, whose head was resting on your lap, as if your life depended on it. As if she would disappear if you were to let go. "Don't let her die. I know you don't like her, but please help her."

As much bad blood there was between them, Agatha didn't deserve to die. Not like this.

She didn't deserve to be abandoned again.

"I'll owe you," you said through sobs that, no matter how hard you tried to suppress them, kept coming, one after another. Choking you. Suffocating you. "Please."

Jen sighed, then shook her head. "You know how this works. Water. Moonlight."

Lilia jumped at the task, Teen following in her stead.

Rio watched the scene unfolding before her, amused, like a cat playing with her food.

As your brain registered her presence, you bent over, hiding Agatha from her line of sight. As if that would do anything. As if anyone could ever hide from Death, herself. "You stay away from her! You're not taking her!"

Rio smiled, the picture of innocence. As fake as the Road that you were on.

"Stay back!"

She raised her hands in mock defeat and walked away. Alice and Jen shot you a glance, baffled by your outburst. You must have come across as hysterical. The new girlfriend, jealous of the ex who just happened to join you on the Road. Too lost in panic, in concern to think straight.

They didn't know who — what — Rio was. They didn't know that she wanted Agatha dead. They didn't know their history.

A long time ago, Agatha had filled you in on everything that had transpired between them. Their failed relationship. The loss of her son. You'd never seen her cry as much as she had that day; not before, and not since.

Everything that had transpired between them was still a gaping wound on her heart and soul; forever to bleed, never to close.

There was nothing you could do to make that pain go away. Nothing you could do to lessen it, to soothe that never-healing ache. The woman you loved more than life itself would forever bear that pain.

The only thing you could do was not add to it.

Today wasn't Agatha's day to die. You would be damned if you let Rio try to speed the process along.

You closed your eyes as Jen started chanting her healing spell, your arms firm around Agatha. Please, work, you begged as your tears dripped onto her hair, onto her deathly cold cheek. Please, stay with me. I can't lose you.

You would forever regret the three long years you'd spent without her.

She never should have stormed out that day.

You should have followed after her.

She should have told you she was going to Westview.

You never should have thought that that was it, that she was done with you for good.

Agatha said she didn't hate you. You hoped it was true, that it wasn't delirium brought upon by blood loss. There was still hope for you to make things right. To make her forgive you.

If she didn't — couldn't — that was okay with you. You could live with that. So long as she lived.

It would hurt, probably forever, but you would learn to deal with it. You would learn to live without her, as you had for the past three years.

All that mattered was that she kept her life. Even if she wasn't in yours.

As Jen finished her spell, Alice removed her hands from Agatha's injury, allowing Teen and Lilia to pour the enchanted water over it. You allowed yourself a peek, squeezing Agatha's shoulder. Please, work. Please. Please. Please.

You held your breath as Alice, as tenderly as she could, brushed her hand over the blood, smearing it away.

Revealing perfect, untouched flesh underneath it.

You released a long breath, relief flooding your veins like a long-awaited high.

The spell had worked.

The wound was gone.

"Thank you," you whispered, loud enough for Jen to hear. Hoping she knew how much this meant to you. How much you appreciated it. "Thank you so much."

You pulled Agatha closer, holding her tightly against you, rocking her back and forth like a sleeping child. She was still as cold as a corpse, but she was no longer bleeding. Her breathing, while shallow, was steady. Her heart beat in a healthy rhythm.

"She'll be okay, right?"

You needed someone to tell you that she would. To assure you that the worst had passed.

Lilia laid a tender, comforting hand on your shoulder. "She's strong."

"She has to be okay.

"She will be." It was a statement of fact. A promise. Her tone leaving no room for doubt.

You believed her.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Alice said. "She needs rest."

You gave a small nod. Agatha would get all the rest her body required. She would be warm and comfortable. Safe from any further calm.

Anything she needed, she would get.

You would make sure of it.

"Jen, I owe you."

The witch in question shook her head and allowed a small smile to graze her face. "You don't owe me anything. Agatha, on the other hand…"

The others chuckled at the remark.

You didn't have it in you to join them, Agatha's condition the one and only thing occupying your scrambled mind. You needed to look after her. To tend to her until she opened her eyes and uttered one of her sarcastic remarks that would be insulting to anyone who didn't know her enough to know she meant it with love.

Right now, that was all that mattered.

Anything else could wait.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange @lift-heavy-be-gay @katieswain123 @riovidalharkness @revleftshark

[lesservillain]

strange lights masterlist

summary: all the answers give you is more questions

cw: reader is almost assaulted (but the day is saved)

wc: 6.2k

Snarling. Teeth. Screaming.

“Get out of here!”

“Why is she here?” 

“They’ll eat her alive!”

Wild gusts of wind hit you from every direction, disorienting you as you try to steady yourself against the push and pull. When you finally open your eyes, you find yourself at the edge of a cliff where water crashes harshly against the rocks at the bottom. Every time you try to take a step away, a force pushes you closer to the drop. 

Just as you feel your foot teetering over the edge, a voice calls out your name. The wind ceases its push and you’re able to regain your footing. When you look up to see who called your name, your eyes lock onto a figure emerging from the woods. It looks familiar, long brown curls and snow white skin, but the face is unfamiliar. 

It’s that of a monster. Sharp fangs and bright, glowing red eyes that are locked on you. You’re no longer being pushed towards the edge, rather you’re locking in place as the creature gets closer to you, stalking you slowly as it prepares to pounce. 

Only when another voice calls out does the monster break its trance. 

It happens in a flash. You see Steve running out of the woods towards the monster, and then his body contorts, shifting and changing into a wolf before your eyes. You watch intently as he charges at the monster. They’re so close that they almost--

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Shooting straight up, your chest heaves as you are suddenly woken up from your sleep. You wipe the cold sweat that covers your neck and forehead with your shirt as you let yourself adjust to being awake, recounting the recurring dream that you’ve been having since that night at Loch Nora over a month ago.

It was probably your subconscious trying to tell you that you need to talk to the two men that keep appearing in the visions. Or maybe it was a warning, them turning into monsters being your mind telling you that both of them were no good.

You hadn’t talked to either man since your last encounters with them. Not that Eddie had been trying to get a hold of you, but Steve was a different story.

Texts and calls from him started late that night, apologies for what happened and how rude Tommy was to you. You’d sent him a single text back telling him that it was fine and have left him on read ever since. On one hand you felt bad for ignoring him and his obvious attempts to try and fix whatever potential the two of you may have had. On the other hand, you didn’t think you could stomach the idea of showing your face around his friends ever again. You’d even been avoiding Jonathan and his friends when they’ve come in to the store, retreating like a coward to the back room to let the new part timer take over.

Today was a boring day though. Nothing of interest going on as you were the only person there besides Heather and Barb. They were still busy taking orders when the front door rang for the millionth time. Expecting it to be another Starbucks customer, you don’t even bother saying anything to them as they come in.

“Excuse me.”

A familiar voice caught your attention, making you turn on your heels. It was Dustin and Lucas again, both of them looking quite excited to see you.

“Oh, hey guys, whats up?” You say, setting a box of games down.

“Yes, we’re looking for the new special edition Darth Vader figure,” Lucas says with a glimmer in his eyes. This time you knew what they were talking about.

“Sorry boys, can’t put it out until Friday,” you said with a smirk. They deflated in front of you and you honestly started to feel bad for them.

“Please,” Dustin begs, about to get on his knees to plead with you. “We need to get some before they sell out while we’re at school.”

“You really think they’ll sell out in this town?” You ask with a “get real” tone.

“You don’t understand,” Lucas says with frustration, “These are limited quantity and people will be coming from all over to get it.”

You give them both an unserious look. You’re about to tell them no when an idea sparks in your mind.

“Okay, fine,” you start, and both the boys jump for joy. “But--”

“But?” Dustin says with a groan.

“But, you have to give me some info.”

“Whatever you want to know, just ask,” Lucas says, shaking his head.

“Alright, I want the scoop on your friend Eddie. You guys seem to know him pretty well and I want to know what his deal is.”

“Eddie? That’s easy. What do you want to know?” Dustin says.

You ponder for a moment. You didn’t really think this far, and you had a million questions that you wanted answers to, but you weren’t sure how much these kids would know.

“I guess…what are his hobbies?”

“Well, he’s a total nerd. Knows everything about every edition of D&D,” Lucas starts.

“Yeah, but he’s totally inept with technology, so he’s more like a geek,” Dustin adds with a tilt of his head.

“He’s into nerdy stuff though, like Star Wars and Tolkien.”

“Yeah, he carried around a copy of The Hobbit that looks like it’s a hundred years old.”

“He really needs a new copy of that, doesn’t he?” Lucas asks Dustin, who nods in return.

“Okay, what does he do in his spare time besides nerd stuff?” You ask, trying to refocus them.

“He writes music,” Lucas says.

“Yeah, with his guitar,” Dustin says, wiggling his eyebrows.

That makes total sense. Eddie looked like the type of guy who would play a guitar.

“I’m guessing it’s like rock music then?”

“Metal mostly,” Dustin says with a nod.

“Yeah, he’s super into 80’s metal music,” Lucas says, “ Like Dio and Black Sabbath. Which we only know because of him. That’s like stuff our dad’s listen to, but Eddie’s really into it.”

“So he looks like he came from the 80’s and listens to the music? Really into the revival that’s going on right now, I guess. What about…I don’t know, food? What does he like to eat?”

Lucas and Dustin look at each other for a moment. They seem like they’re trying to wrack their brains for an answer but come up blank.

“Honestly…I’ve never seen him eat.”

“Yeah, me either.”

That sparks your interest.

“You’ve never seen him eat?” You ask, prying for more details.

“Yeah, we don’t usually eat at our games so we’ve never really seen him eat.”

“But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t eat,” you say.

“Yeah, but even when we go places with him he doesn’t eat. He never talks about food either. Kinda weird now that I think about it,” Dustin says with a finger to his chin.

“Is it really that weird?” You ask with a laugh.

“I mean, considering how many times we’ve gone places to eat and he’s never gotten anything other than black coffee…Maybe he just doesn’t like fast food?”

“I guess I never really thought about it,” Lucas says, “But Eddie is kinda weird.”

“Weirdest guy I know,” Dustin says with a nod of pride.

“How else is he weird?”

“Well, his skin is, like, super cold all the time.”

“Probably from his lack of nutrition if he doesn’t eat a lot,” Lucas says as if he made a valid point, to which Dustin nods. “But he’s like crazy strong.”

“Oh, yeah. I swear he lifted a heavy ass table with one hand one time.”

“So basically he’s a crazy strong, technologically inept 80’s nerd with a dislike for fast food?”

Both boys look at each other and nod.

“Yep.” They say in unison.

“And you don’t find any of that weird?”

“Nah, it’s just Eddie.”

With all this new information, you began to wonder about the man in question more. Even after the boys left with their Vader figure, you still pondered all the things that they had told you.

You certainly could vouch that his skin was cold. You’d felt it with their own touch. And he really was like a living time capsule of the 80’s, hair and all. But there was a million guys online doing the same look so you can’t really base anything off of that. 

There was the weird thing about eating, but maybe it was just that; a weird thing. Maybe he’s not the type to eat in front of others. You did see him get a black coffee before, so it’s not like he could be drinking…something else.

But it all still seemed odd to you. There were even more questions than there were answers at this point, and you didn’t know if you’d ever have the chance to ask them yourself.

“Hellooooo?”

Heather’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. She was standing in front of your counter for god knows how long while you were just staring into the empty store.

“Sorry, what’s up?” You finally say.

“Everything good?” Heather asks.

“Yeah, just bored out of my mind.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Heather laughs, leaning over the counter. “ But we finally have a break in customers so I wanted to come ask you something.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Well,” Heather starts, “You remember Tammy from the party, right?”

“Yeah, your southern friend?”

“Yes! So her and Barb and I are going out tonight to this club, right, and we thought it would be totally cool if you came along?” Heather gives you a hopeful look.

“To a club? I don’t know…”

“Please?!” Barb shouts from across the store. You laugh at the desperation in her voice and take a minute to ponder on it. It might be fun to go out and have a little adventure after the rough start you’d had so far in this town.

“I guess if you don’t mind me and my cast cramping up your style,” you say waving your arm back and forth.

“Yay! It’s going to be so much fun!”

The club was indeed fun. It was girls night so you got in for free, and guys were buying you and your friends drinks left and right. It didn’t take long for you to start feeling pretty tipsy, but you swore it made your dancing better. You were even surprised to see Barb getting down with a guy that she met, not taking her for a social girlie.

As the night progressed you felt yourself needing to take a little break from the group and their high energy. Your ribs were still store and the ache in your hand was starting to bother you, so you decided to go outside to the smoking area. Maybe you could find one to bum off of someone.

The cool air felt great on your skin, instantly chilling you after being in the stuffy nightclub. You noticed there was quite a few people outside enjoying the fresh air this evening while they smoked. A group of guys that seemed to be looking your way caught your attention.

“Hey,” you say, approaching the group, “Can I bum a smoke off of one of you?”

The guys all look at each other. “Sure,” one of them finally says, handing you over a cigarette. He offers his lighter and you light the end.

“Thanks,” you say, blowing out the smoke. “You guys having fun out here?”

“What was that?” The same guy asks, leaning in.

“I said are you guys having fun out here!”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the music,” the guy says, which was weird because you could hear him just fine. “Can we move over there?”

He gestures to the other side of the smoking area where there’s an alley way and you nod, following the group.

But, as soon as you rounded the corner, you felt something on your sore arm.

“Hey!” You yelped, trying to pull away from the hand that had grabbed you.

The men started chuckling, closing in on you. It felt like everything was going dark as you couldn’t fight back hard enough against them. You braced yourself for whatever was about to happen to you.

But then, the light started to shine again. You opened your eyes and saw the guys flying one by one over the gate and into the alley way. Trying to refocus your vision, you see one person standing with one of the guys held up in the air. You watch as the person punches them so hard they are sent straight into the wall of the other building, out cold when they hit the pavement.

After all the guys are cleared, the figure approaches you. In the light, you’re able to make out the face of…Eddie?

“Are you okay?” He asks in an angry tone.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. How did you--”

“Come on.”

You’re cut off when you’re being hoisted off the ground bridal style. Eddie unlatches the gate behind you, and you notice the iron lock is broken off and laying on the ground.

“Where are we going?” You ask, looking up at him

“Somewhere safe,” is all he says as he carries you through the alley. 

“But my friends--”

“You were almost just attacked and you’re worried about your friends?” He says with a hysterical laugh. “You are a glutton for punishment, you know that.”

“I just don’t want them to think anything happened to me. They might call my dad.”

Eddie stops in his tracks. He lets out a hard sigh and promptly turns around, stepping over one of the guys he tossed in the alley. He opens the gate again and steps inside, placing you down on the ground where you stand on your feet. He stays directly next to you, his eyes still locked on the bodies that lay limo.

“Tell me it’s okay,” he says suddenly.

“What?” You ask, unsure of what he’s trying to say.

He looks at you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. His eyes are filled with rage and his hands are trembleing. 

“Tell. Me. You’re. Okay.” He punctuates every word.

“Yes, yeah, I’m fine,” you stutter out, hardly able to stand his harsh gaze. “Once again, you’re my hero.”

Eddie pauses for a moment, looking at you with an unreadable expression. Then, he starts to push you backwards, gently until you’re back is up against the side of the wall.

“No,” he says lowly, barely loud enough for you to hear. “I’m not the hero. I’m never going to be the hero.”

He looks at you, eyes red with hunger.

“Maybe I’m the bad guy.”

“No, you’re not the bad guy,” you say looking at him. Your eyes bounce between his eyes and his lips. He’s just close enough that you could just…

You lean forward, and your lips meet. You gasp, finding them to be cold as ice when they touch. But they don’t stay that way long, warming up as he starts to kiss you back.

Your tongues dance with one another, lips smacking as you try to pull him in closer. He’s hard to move, but he eventually gives in, his hands dropping to land on your hips, roughly pinning you against the wall.

“There you are!”

Tammy’s southern drawl calls out your name and you turn your head for a moment to see her. But, when you look back to Eddie, you find that he’s gone.

“Are you going into work? I thought you weren’t due until later?”

Your father comes out of his bedroom fully dressed in his work uniform, grabbing his hat and placing it on top of his head.

“There was an incident.”

“What happened?” You clicked the remote until the volume of the TV was low enough you could hear better. Your dad grabbed his coat and threw it on before snatching his keys from the bowl next to the door.

“Two hikers were found dead out on the Loch Nora side of the woods. I don’t want you going out with Steve again for a while until we figure out what happened. Understand?” He wagged a finger at you. You normally would joke with him to ease his nerves, but he seemed more serious than usual so you just gave him a nod.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he says before opening the front door. “I don’t know when I’ll be home, so don’t wait up for me for dinner.”

And with that, he left, hastily closing the door behind him. You heard his cruiser peel out of the dirt covered drive way, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Remembering what almost happened to you the other night at the club, it made you wonder what could have happened to you that night if Eddie hadn’t come to save you. 

But, he didn’t want to be called the hero. What did he mean when he said he might be the bad guy? He surely didn’t stick around long enough for you to find out. You’d been thinking about how quickly he was able to get away from you when the girls showed up. How cold his skin was. How hard his body was to move. It seemed like every interaction with him left you with even more questions about him that you needed to get to the bottom of. But how?

The endless thoughts about Eddie ended up being too much for you to handle, so you decided for a change in scenery to get your mind off of him. You found yourself not an hour later in the familiar confines of your work, only this time enjoying the peace that came with the overhead jazz music and subtle workings of Heather and Barb at the Starbucks counter. It’s where you chose to sit, the overwhelming coffee smell comforting to you while you read.

Besides Bob asking you if you could pick up some extra hours, you were totally in your own world. That is until the sudden commotion outside caught your attention. The scene before you made your stomach sink.

It was a whole group of familiar faces looking like they were trying to hold Steve back from entering the establishment. You didn’t like the look in his eyes. It was crazed, like he was pissed about something. Butterflies invaded your stomach at the thought that he was here to look for you and you could have avoided him if you had just decided to stay home on your day off. But even with their group effort, Steve was able to break away from them, pushing the doors open and rushing inside.

You braced yourself as he scanned the store, wishing that you could turn invisible. But, as much as you willed against it, Steve’s eyes still landed on yours. You expected him to start yelling, come storming your way and making a whole scene. But instead the crazed expression left him. You watched as he visibly relaxed, a hand coming to his chest. He did, however, make a beeline toward you.

“You’re okay,” he says, relief in his voice as he stopped just in front of where you sat. 

You look at him confused. “Yeah, of course I’m fine. Are you okay? You looked pretty upset out there.”

“Oh yeah, that,” he said pointing over his shoulder, moving around erratically. “I just…I heard about what happened in the woods and was worried about you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Just, well, ya know, you…you seem like the nature type. Thought maybe you had gone out in the woods and ran into something or…someone.”

You look at Steve as if he had two heads. He was seriously that worked up over you? 

“I do like nature, but I wouldn’t call myself a hiker,” you say with a shrug.

“Noted,” Steve says with a nod. There’s an awkward moment between you where you don’t know what to say. You hadn’t talked to him much since that night when you punched Tommy, and it made for a sour air between you.

“So, you’re not working today?” He finally asks, nodding to your book.

“Nope, I’m off today.”

“So I almost missed you.”

“Almost,” you say, lips tight with a forced smile.

“Why are you here on your day off?”

You placed a bookmark in your book and closed it. “My dad told me about the hikers, too, and it just got me thinking. Didn’t want to be alone out there by myself.

Steve pulls out the chair opposite of you and sits down. 

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t let that happen.” You’re taken aback by his declaration. How the hell would he keep you safe from the monsters in the woods?

“Thanks,” you say, shifting in your seat. You didn’t notice it before, but his scent was slowly wafting into your nostrils, filling you with a sense of calming. 

“Don’t mention it. So why did you pick here to go to? You could have texted me and I would have gladly come and picked you up.” His mention of texting made you flinch.

“I wanted to read,” you said picking up the book and shaking it for effect.

“Oh, sorry, am I bothering you?”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just--it made sense to come to a book store to read, you know? Plus, I haven’t paid for this yet so I can’t leave with it.”

Steve nods, his head, suddenly very curious by the book. He grabs it and flips it around, looking at the cover.

“A Court of Thorns and Roses, huh? What’s it about?”

You blush, “It’s a romance, not something you’d be interested in, Harrington.”

“Hey, I’m not one to knock it before I try it.”

“You say that but you won’t give Eddie a chance?”

You knew you got him there with the way his head dropped dramatically. He let out a deep sigh before looking back up at you. He had a grin plastered on his face that made you feel a certain type of way.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” He says, placing the book back down on the table and sliding it your way.

“I just don’t understand it. Between the two of you being so vague, it feels like I’m being left out of something.”

Steve takes your hand in his, the sudden warmth of his touch sending electricity through you. You almost jerk your hand away, but Steve’s grip keeps you in place. “You’ll know soon enough.” His tone has you wanting to question him, but you’re at the point where you know he won’t divulge anything else, so you just keep it at that to keep the peace.

“If you say so,” you say with a sigh, admitting defeat. He chuckles, letting his thumb rub circles into the back of your hand.

“Hey, um, I know you probably have work or whatever, but I was wondering if maybe you had some free time this week? There’s a really nice place in town that I think you would like and--”

“Steve,” you cut him off, pulling your hand away from his. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, it doesn’t have to be anything serious. At least give me a chance to make up the other night to you. It’ll just be you and me, nobody else.”

You ponder on it for a moment. Maybe you’d been unfair after what happened the other night at Loch Nora. It was your own fault that you decided to punch Tommy in the face, so why would you take that out of Steve. He’s a nice guy who obviously has some care for you or else he wouldn’t have taken the time out of his day to check on you.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you finally say. Steve’s face lights up.

“Really, that’s great,” he says with a chuckle. He stands up from his seat and puts his hands on his hips. “Does Friday at 7 work for you then?”

“Yep, I’m off at 4 so that should be enough time for me to get ready.”

“Perfect, I’ll pick you up at 7.”

Another day, another dollar. The store has been unusually quiet all day, besides the ever constant line at the Starbucks that keeps Heather and Barb on their toes. The doors chimes weren’t even on your radar at this point, most of the customers heading straight for the coffee shop. But your lack of customers had you doing mostly mundane tasks for the majority of the day. It’s almost like the universe wanted you to be bored out of your mind today.

“Hi.”

The sudden voice had you dropping the books you were arranging on the table for the new best sellers list for the month. You quickly turn to see two people, a guy and a girl, standing behind you.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl says, bending over to pick up the books you dropped.

“Oh, no you’re fine,” you say as you also bend over.

Quickly, you grab the books and pile them in your arm. As you reach out for one, your hand accidentally lands on top of the girl’s hand. The feeling of cold almost shocks you, and you retract your hand quickly. The girl looks at you for a moment, looking as if she was a deer caught in headlights. 

“Sorry,” you say, holding your hand where it touched.

“I-It’s okay,” she stutters out, handing you the book. You take it from her and add it to your pile.

Clearing your throat, you put on your best customer service face and ask her if she needed help finding anything.

“Yes!” She said clapping her hands together. “I’m looking for books on the occult. Can you help me?

“Sure,” you say, giving her a look over. She couldn’t be more than 16 or 17, with a childish air about her, but here she was asking you about books on the occult.

“They’re this way, in the religious section.” You motion for the two to follow you as you lead them to the back corner section of the store. They follow you, the girl practically skipping all the way across the store. The guy with her seems uninterested in anything going on, sauntering behind her.

“Here they are,” you gesture to the many books on the occult that sit on the shelves. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“Just for something I haven’t read before,” she states simply, eyes scanning the spines of the books in front of her. She goes through them quickly, and you’re astounded that she seems to have supposedly read every book she’s looked over. Standing on her tip toes, she looks over the top shelf, stopping with and “aha” at one of them. You watch as her hand reaches for the book. But for a split moment, it almost looks like the book moved itself, gliding from its spot and into her hand.

“This is one I haven’t seen before.”

“Is it one you want?” The boy asks with a monotone lit.

She looks over the back of the book, eyes quickly moving as she reads the excerpt. After a beat, she nods and brings the book to her chest. The boy sighs, motioning towards the front of the store.

“Do you want to look at the dice?” The girl asks, her head tilting with the question.

“Do you have dice here?” He asks you, almost sounding annoyed.

“We do, over in the board games section. That’s up by the front of the store. Would you like me to show you?”

“No, we’ll find them,” he says, turning to walk away.

“Thank you,” the girl says before following behind her companion.

While the two of them inspect the dice, you walk across the store to get behind the counter when they’re ready. You’re almost there when a frantic wave of the hands catches your attention.

“What’s up?” You say as you approach the coffee counter. Heather and Barb are looking at you with eyes as big as saucers.

“Do you know who that is?” Heather whisper yells, nodding to the other two people in the store. You look back at them for a moment, not really recognizing their faces.

“No. Should I?”

“That’s El and Mike.” The tone of Heather’s voice makes you feel like you should know who they are, but you haven’t got the foggiest idea.

“Okay?” 

“Okay?! That’s your man Eddie’s siblings.”

Now your interest is piqued. You know they’re not blood related from what Heather and Barb have said before, but you can’t help but think about the girl’s icy touch and how much it reminded you of Eddie’s. What’s the likelihood of the both of them having such cold skin?

As you turn to look at them again, you notice that they’re making their way towards the counter. You make a motion to Heather and Barb, putting a pin in the conversation for later.

“Find what you were looking for?” You ask, rounding the counter.

“Yes,” the El says, placing her book on the counter. Mike sets a thing of dice down on the counter wordlessly.

“Great, glad I could help,” you say scanning their items.

There’s a bit of back and forth in your mind about bringing Eddie up to them. He’s probably never talked about you so what if they think it’s weird for you to bring him up? But you could possibly get more information about him from them since they live with him. But why do you need to know so bad? Is it because you haven’t been able to get that kiss out of your head since that night at the club? Were you that desperate to talk to him that you’d be willing to bother his own family?

“So, you guys are Eddie’s siblings, right?”

The two of them a bit taken aback by your question. Mike eventually rolls his eyes, but El seems to light up, nodding her head with delight.

“Yes, we are. You know him?” She asks giddily.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him a few times. Seems like a good guy. Haven’t seen him for a while and was just wondering how he was doing.” You say as nonchalant as possible.

“He is well! We took a trip out of town to see family so that is why he has not been around much. We actually just got back in town this morning.”

“Oh, nice. Where did you go if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Alaska,” she says after a beat, which made you slightly suspicious.

“Wow, that’s really far, the plane ride must take forever,” you say, placing their items in a bag. “That’ll be $14.56.”

Mike reaches into his back pocket and grabs his wallet, pulling out a $20 bill and handing it to you. “It’s really not that bad.” El says, bouncing on her tippy toes as she watches you get the change out. “Should I tell Eddie that you asked about him? Maybe he’ll stop by and see you.” She leans in and gives you a look that you can’t quite read.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to. Don’t want him to think I was worried about him or something.” You laugh, trying to make it seem like not a big deal.

“If you say so,” she says with a shrug.

You hand mike the change and present the bag to them, which El takes with a giggle. She tells you bye, saying your name as she does. It almost throws you off until you remember you have a name tag on. You tell her a quick bye and the two of them on on their way. 

As the door shuts behind them, you can’t help but indulge the two pairs of eyes that you know have been boring holes into you since the beginning of your interaction. Walking over to them, you see Heather and Barb’s looks of anticipation.

“Well, were they weird or what?” Heather asks, leaning over the counter.

“Heather!” Barb says, smacking her side with the towel.

“What! I told you their whole family has a screw loose!”

“They were definitely…odd, for lack of a better term.”

“What did they come in for?” Heather asks, hungry for details.

“Well,” you start, “El wanted a book on the occult and Mike bought a set of dice. I wouldn’t say it’s too weird other than she seems awfully young to want a book like that. “

“Oh, maybe she’s into witchcraft,” Heather says, wiggling her fingers theatrically. 

“Maybe she reads cards,” Barb says, tapping Heather with her hand, “You’ve always wanted to go to a fortune teller.”

“Oh my god, you are so right. Maybe I’ll ask next time they come in.” Heather laughs and Barb joins her.

“You guys are so funny,” you say, rolling your eyes at their antics.

“Did they say anything else?”

“Not really,” you say, not wanting to tell them about the family in Alaska in case that was too personal. “I asked about Eddie, but they said they were out of town which is why he hasn’t been in.”

“I hear they do that a lot,” Barb says.

“Do what? Leave?”

She nods, “Yeah they’re always going out of town for trips or to go hiking or something.”

Your mind immediately went back to those hikers who died and you got a sinking feeling in your stomach. What if they had decided to go for a hike with whatever is out there and had gotten hurt?

“Especially if there’s a break in the weather. Apparently even Dr.Brenner will even take time off and go.”

“Well, I guess that squashes my idea that they’re vampires,” Heather says with a huff. 

The lowly sound of the TV left a staticy feeling throughout the small cabin. You were zoning out on the couch as reruns played in the background of your endless thoughts. It had been hard to think of anything else besides Eddie and his siblings since your interaction with them that morning, your mind swirling trying to come up with a rational conclusion to the weird behavior.

Grabbing your phone, you open up the search engine and start to look things up. “Cold touch” as you thought about your interactions with Eddie and El. “Super human strength” wen you thought about the way Eddie tossed you at skull rock, or the way he was able to throw those guys around at the club. “Red eyes,” when you thought about how Eddie’s eyes were almost completely red under the street lights that night. 

None of your searches brought up much of anything on their own. You sighed, bringing your phone to your forehead as if it would be able to tell you the answer. But, after a moment, you decided to try searching all the things at once instead of separate. You typed in everything you could think of and hit search, waiting for the results to generate.

And what came up made your skin crawl.

“Real Life Vampires.”

“The Time I Met A Real Life Vampire.”

“Vampires: Do They Walk Amongst Us?”

The results were endless, filled with people’s experiences with what they thought were vampires. None of the sites seemed legit, but you still read through a few of them just to see if what the people said was close to what you had experienced.

And they were.

Your mind was reeling at the revelation. It was all starting to make sense. The lack of eating, the fashion sense, the cold touches, the way he seemed to just appear and disappear. It was all coming together. There was no other explanation that you read that made more sense than this.

A text appearing at the top of your screen took you out of your head for a moment. It was from a number you didn’t recognize. You opened it up immediately and read it.

Unknown: We need to talk.

You: who is this?

A few minutes pass before you get a response back. The name on the screen has your heart skipping a beat.

Unknown: Eddie.

Unknown: Meet me tomorrow so we can talk.

Your hands shook as you texted him back.

You: Ok I’m off at 4. Where should we meet?

A minute passes by. You take the time to add his name in your phone, fighting off the temptation to put a bat emoji next to it.

Eddie: I’ll pick you up.

What should you say? With everything you’d just uncovered, do you really think it’s safe to be alone with him in his car? He wouldn’t be so bold to pick you up at work just to kill you…would he?

You: Ok.

You: See you then.

thank you for reading!

[lost-in-fandoms]

Daniel takes sugar baby!Max for a spin on a very nice car. This comes from nowhere and goes nowhere. 700 words of no plot just vibes. (Disclaimer: I don't know anything about cars).

"This is...a car."

Max wishes he could take back his words as soon as they're out of his mouth, but in his defense he was asleep until 5 minutes ago and now he's standing in front of a 1963 Ferrari Spider that looks like right out of a movie. And he hasn't even brushed his teeth.

Daniel laughs, pushing his sunglasses up into his tousled hair, one arm draped over the back of the free seat to lean towards Max, the picture of perfect relaxation.

"Sure is, baby! Are you coming for a spin?"

It's only because Max knows him that he feels the doubt hiding right under the light tone of his voice, and it's yet another ridiculous thing Daniel does. As if Max would ever say no to him.

"Give me a second," he says, because he's insane, instead of jumping straight into the car.

He rushes back upstairs, thanking his reflexes for reminding him to grab the keys while he had been stumbling out of the door, still blinking sleep out of his eyes, Daniel's voice saying come down, baby, I've got something to show you! ringing in his ears.

He brushes his teeth as quickly as he can while hunting for some clothes that aren't the faded t-shirt and shorts he wore to bed, and then attempts to flattens his hair while tugging a sweater on. Two minutes later he's flying down the stairs again, still pocketing his wallet and keys, one shoe untied.

Daniel is on the phone when Max closes the building's door behind his back, but he smiles brightly, gesturing at him to get in the car.

Max takes one extra second to just run his hand along the passenger side door before opening it, sinking in the leather seat with a sigh. Everything feels expensive. He feels expensive.

It's not the first time he's been this close to this amount of money since he's started this...thing with Daniel, but he doesn't love helicopters and fancy meals as much as he loves cars.

"Ready to go, or do you need one more minute?" Daniel's voice startles him from where he'd been staring at the details on the dashboard, and he feels himself blush, feeling once again way too dumb to be allowed outside. He hadn't even realised Daniel had finished his phone call.

"Fuck off," he says, automatic, before blushing deeper. Daniel only laughs though, and reaches for his leg, squeezing his thigh.

"We have time baby, don't worry," he jokes. There's something in his voice though that tells Max that if he was to ask for ten more minutes idling at the curb just to be able to stare at every piece of the car, Daniel would be happy to say yes.

It knocks the breath from his lungs more than the car had. Well, maybe not more, but close enough.

"Where are we going?" he asks, finally buckling in and turning his head to meet Daniel's eyes through the sunglasses that have been lowered again.

"Just for a drive, and then if you still have time for me, for lunch."

Again, as if Max would say no.

When the car comes to life, Max shivers, the purr of the engine making his spine tingle, and Daniel laughs again.

"Knew you'd like it," he says.

Max doesn't reply, too scared to open his mouth and have a moan come out instead of words. Daniel's hand returns to his thigh, higher than before, and Max knows it's impossible to hide how he's half hard. He shivers again.

"Do me a favor?"

Max looks at Daniel again, already nodding, and grabbing his phone when the other points at it.

"What am I doing?" he asks, unlocking Daniel's phone without having to ask for the password, his fingerprint working giving him yet another satisfied thrill.

"Find me the fastest route to go somewhere isolated in the hills, will you?"

Max frowns, confused, but navigates to the maps app obediently.

"How isolated?"

"Isolated enough that I can fuck you on the car's hood."

Max drops the phone.

[rvmanoffbarnes]

Lingered looks || Joseph Quinn x Actress Reader!

Summary: Joseph and you can feel the tension. What will happen if both of you listen to what the're feeling?

Warning: The next one shot contains explicit content and sex scenes. MDNI.

They say that the eyes say more than words.

Apparently, the gazes between me and Joseph meant something beyond words.

The tension between us could easily be cut with a knife. Joseph was just inches away from me as we walked to the hotel elevator. It had been a busy day after doing interviews for our new movie and meeting some fans.

The elevator doors greet us and Joseph gestures with his hand to let me through first. "After you," he says with a slight smile. I thank him and enter the space, followed by him. The doors close and silence envelops us. It's only a few seconds until the Brit decides to break it.

"Are you tired?" he asks me. I can only nod my head. "It was a lot for one day. Honestly, this is what i hate about being an actress," I joke.

He laughs at that.

"Are you tired?" I ask him, looking at his profile. He has a beard from days ago and I notice that his shaved hair is growing longer every day.

He grimaces and leans against the elevator wall. "I still have a little energy left," he admits, "I have to use it all up before I can let myself go to bed." I raise an eyebrow at his response.

Usually, I do the opposite, even if I have energy left, I decide to go to bed anyway. These last few days, stress has consumed my being, so I opt for the healthy decision of putting aside the activities I had planned for our day off. Tomorrow I would make sure to get as much sleep as possible before going back to work.

"What will you do to spend that energy?" I ask him curiously.

He seems to think about it for a few seconds before turning to look at me, at the same time the doors open.

"I'll see if something comes up" A smile sneaks across his face.

We leave the elevator and he walks next to me with his hands in his pants pockets until he leaves me at the door of the room where I am staying. I stop in front of it and take out the card so I can open the door and get inside to rest for the rest of the night. I keep the card in my hands and neither of us seem to move.

These days I have felt a palpable tension between us, which has only increased every day since we had to share more moments together between the two of us to make the chemistry of our characters much more real. Although I have worked with Joseph before, the director asked us to deepen our relationship so that the friendly connection we had would be reflected in the film. Now, of course, we had to have a couple chemistry. I didn't think beyond the topic; I was an actress and my job was to be able to bring those emotions to life and to the film. However, I have been hearing my heart race every time Joseph and the character he played approached me for a scene or in our daily routine together.

I was almost sure it happened to both of us.

I bite my inner cheek and smile at him.

"Okay. This is it," I say in an attempt to break the silence that surrounds us. Joseph looks at the door and then guides his gaze to me. He nods and licks his lips, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

"Yeah...." he says.

I don't know what I expect exactly. The only thing that is clear to me is that neither of us wants to say goodbye at all. His gaze persists on me and a shine appears in his brown orbits. Joseph clears his throat as if suddenly reacting. He straightens his posture and points to the door with his hand and then puts it back in his pocket. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it," he mentions, "Have a good night, (Y/N)."

I smile. Almost dissapointed. I wonder why.

"Goodnight, Joseph"

He starts to back away and then turns his back on me to walk to his room which is a few doors away from mine. Before I can enter, he turns around and says:

"If you need anything," he begins. I look at him feeling my heart stop for a second "you know where I am."

I swallow and nod my head.

"Same here"

He smiles and waves his hand goodbye. We both go into our respective rooms and I close the door, leaning my back against it. A sigh escapes my lips and my eyes close. Heat invades my cheeks and I run my hand over my forehead. I take my bag off my shoulder and leave it hanging on the coat rack on the wall. Not even 10 seconds pass after I do that and I already hear someone knocking on my door with three firm and urgent knocks.

I open the door and widen my eyes when I see Joseph with a serious expression, which when he sees me changes to one of desire and desperation.

"Actually I do need something" he says.

Before I can ask him what, he kisses my lips fiercely. He grabs my waist with his arms and I allow myself to react to wrap my arms around his neck. In an agile and quick movement he leans his body back, still hugging me, to close the door. He gently pushes me against the wall and explores my mouth with his tongue.

He breaks away for a brief moment to look me in the eyes. He has his dark, eager gaze, his mouth slightly open and then whispers: "I couldn't take this anymore," he admits with heavy breathing.

He brings a hand to my cheek and looks directly at me.

"Joseph..." I say in a whisper. I have a whirlwind of emotions after what just happened.

He shakes his head dejectedly.

"If you don't want me to continue, I'll stop now and go to my room," he says. "It all depends on you."

I lick my lips and take his hand that is on my cheek to slide it around my waist. I smile slightly at him and say:

"Who says I want to stop?" He growls and smiles.

That action I do allows him to continue devouring my mouth as if there were no tomorrow. He pins his body with mine against the wall and spreads my legs with his knee, rubbing his pants against my underwear-covered crotch, which is now a wet mess. It's incredible the ability he has to make me wet in such a short time, just with a fierce kiss. He slides his hands from my waist to my butt to knead it as he wants. This causes me to cry because of the delicious sensation and I cling much more to his body, the word distance disappears as soon as he decides to continue squeezing my cheeks to his liking.

"Mhm...." I moan, clutching at his shirt desperately. I feel ashamed to be in that state so quickly, but after months of tension on the verge, I honestly shouldn't care about it.

He smiles amused and sighs against my lips. "I know we're going too fast, but it's impossible not to enjoy your body and your lips like this," he admits agitatedly.

"Please, Joseph. Don't lie to yourself; we've been wanting this for months," I say firmly and sure of my answer, even though I'm agitated. "To hell with the wait."

Joseph reacts to my words and continues kissing my lips passionately. He lifts the skirt of my dress and massages my ass like he owns it. With more and more lack of control. I venture to unbutton the buttons of his shirt clumsily, but when I manage to do so, he steps away from me for a few seconds and, without taking his eyes off me, takes off his shirt in a hasty movement. This gives me time to start taking off my dress. I lower the strap on one shoulder and then the other, feeling cold as my tits are exposed. I'm not wearing a bra.

"Oh, darling..." he moans.

He takes my waist again and connects his lips with mine. He walks with me until he sits on the edge of the bed and watches me with puppy eyes.

"I want you" he says.

"Then take me," I say.

I settle into his lap and finish lowering the dress with his help. I feel it fall to the ground and I sit back down on Joseph's lap. He looks at me pleadingly for a moment.

"Can...?" He points to my body, to which I nod. The brown-haired man runs his hands slowly over my skin, enjoying the moment. I lean on his shoulders while I'm only wearing my panties. I start kissing his neck at the same time that Joseph raises his hand to my tit, playing with it, while the other holds my waist. I let out a moan, moving closer to him. My hips take on a life of their own and begin to move against his crotch. Joseph curses under his breath and grabs my hips to move them urgently on top of him.

"I need you to tell me if... oh, fuck...." he doesn't stop the movements of my hips on him "I need you to tell me if you want to do it soft or hard."

I lick my lips.

“Fuck me hard, please,” I whimper.

I can't stand the pressure that forms in my lower area. My panties feel so sticky I just want to rip them off. Joseph moans and begins to unbutton his pants, kissing my neck. I stretch it so he can taste my skin better.

I feel his pants and boxers fall to the floor. I look down and see how excited he is. I smile and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The tip of his member is red and dripping precum from the situation. Joseph looks me in the eyes and smiles amused. He lowers his gaze to my lips while with his fingers he moves my panties aside and begins to caress and spread my clitoris.

"So wet. Is it for me?" He asks and I move against his fingers. "Yes, Joseph," I say, throwing my head back. "Please... it's just for you."

Joseph chuckles softly. He inserts three fingers again and again until he sees that I am at his complete disposal. He removes them and I instantly miss the sensation. Joseph licks his fingers clean and I swear the action he does can't look any hotter. He closes his brown eyes and enjoy my taste.

"Delicious," he says with a grimace, "just as I imagined."

I groan when I see it.

He places his hand on my cheek. "Do you want me to take control or would you rather ride me?" ask. So gentlemanly and thoughtful of him. I think about it for a few seconds, but with a mischievous smile I answer: "I want to ride you"

Joseph chuckles.

He lays on the bed with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Go ahead, darling"

"I'm clean," I tell him.

"Me too" he smiles in a sincere tone.

And that's enough for me.

I lower my body until I feel his hard member at my entrance and without thinking twice I get into it. I let out a pleasant whimper at the new sensation and watch as Joseph's face is invaded by pleasure.

"Fuck" he groans.

He grabs my hips and begins to guide me with the movements. I rest my hands on Joseph's chest, feeling the small hairs brush against my fingers.

"Oh Joseph," I stifle a moan.

"That's right, beautiful, take all of me" he pushes his hips against mine.

The obscene sound of our bodies is confused with our moans throughout the room. I'm about to cum. I need a little more stimulation, so I take one of his hands that is imprisoning my hip and guide it to my tit. He seems to understand what I want, so he starts massaging it and playing with my nipple. "So beautiful... oh, god" he says.

I moan. This time i'm moving faster.

"Joseph... i'm gonna cum" i admit.

He barely nods with his eyes closed.

"Yes, beautiful, cum for me" he lifts his body a little and hits deep into my body

"I'm ready too." A few more seconds pass until the climax reaches us. "Fuck!"

I feel all his semen spread in me, at the same time that I cum on top of him.

"Oh god" I try to catch my breath and feel him take me by the waist and gently lay me down next to him. I hug him and he smiles at me, looking into my eyes.

"Hey"

"Hey..." I say with a smile.

The rooms smells like sex and the temperatures is increasing.

"That was... incredible," he mentions. I nod my head.

He caresses my cheek softly and tenderly. "I don't want you to think that this will be a one-night thing," he begins by saying seriously, "I really want to try it with you."

My heart races.

"Only if you want it too," he adds. I kiss him to answer him. Joseph corresponds to me, and as we part I tell him:

"I would love to try it, Joseph."

He smiles and kiss my forehead.

"Joseph?" I ask.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Did you waste that energy left?"

He laughs.

"Yeah. I did"

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

Hi! I hope u enjoy this one shot... i'm so bad writing smut.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Yandere Arlong and daughter reader

I'm slowly starting to get better, but I'm still not going to say that I'm officially back yet. I was, however, able to finish this.

Psychosomatic

Yandere Arlong x Daughter Reader

2.6k words

Summary: You've finally struck out on your own, and you're starting to build a life for yourself. Hopefully you leaving without telling your father won't come back to bite you.

Warnings: yandere themes (platonic), female presenting reader, unhealthy father-daughter relationship, abuse, self harm, alcohol mention, Arlong-typical racism, angst, hurt no comfort

Everyone can benefit from having a fresh start in life. At least, you know that you certainly have. These past few months have been some of the best months of your life. Sure, there were a couple of people that you missed now, but maybe you'll get lucky and run into them later.

A quiet tune flows through the air as you whistle to yourself while walking back to your home with a bag of groceries. Cold, albeit gentle, wind tugs at your scarf, making it slip down your face. Despite being alone as far as you could tell, you're quick to readjust it. The soft fabric is tightened around your neck until you're sure that it won't come loose again. 

It would be for the best that no one else sees anything they weren't supposed to. You've got a good thing going for you here, and you don't want to lose it because you got chased out for… things that are out of your control. 

The place that you've learned to call home comes into view. It's not much, barely more than a shack really, but you're happy with it. Even if it's more than a little dingy and dilapidated, it's yours. You’ve got plans to do some work on it once the weather warms up.

Just as you're about to enter, you notice something. The door is ajar. You know that you wouldn't do something as careless as leaving the door open like that. Shit. Did someone really look at your home and think to rob it? That seemed unlikely given the state of it. If they looked through the window, they would see that the most valuable thing in there was probably a fishing rod. 

So, it stands to reason, robbery likely wasn't the motive. 

Carefully, you set down the bag of groceries while continuing to whistle in an attempt to not let whoever is inside know that you're onto them. Both of your hands grasp the sheathed swords dangling from either sides of your hips.

After taking a second to prepare yourself, you kick the door open and rush in with your swords drawn, ready to fight. 

The oil lamp you rely on to light the place is off, leaving only the natural sunlight filtering in through the window to illuminate your humble abode. 

Your deduction proved correct. Someone was in here waiting for you. As your eyes struggled to adjust to the dim lighting, he was nothing more than a silhouette to you. But you didn't need to see the details to figure out who this was. You would recognize his distinct side profile anywhere. 

But what was he doing here? Your swords are slid back into their sheaths as you sigh deeply, already feeling a headache coming on. 

“Arlong. Why are you here?”

His own sigh echoed yours, though it teetered on sounding like a growl. He pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against and slowly stalked over to you. “How many times have I told you to quit calling me that? I'm your dad. That's how you're supposed to refer to me.”

Your eyes rolled and you crossed your arms over your chest, “I asked you a question. Why are you here, Arlong?” You dragged out every letter of his name with a smirk on your face.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself, “I'm here because I'm your father and you vanished without a trace. Do you really think so little of me that I wouldn't come looking for you? You didn't even tell anyone that you left, you could have been abducted for all I knew. 

“I didn't just up and leave without telling anyone. I told Hachi.” Arlong’s eye twitches at this revelation, but he doesn’t necessarily look surprised either. You also told Nami about your departure, but you weren't about to put her in Arlong's line of fire by saying that. “Also, if I'm being completely honest: No, I didn't think you would come looking for me. Frankly, I thought you would just be relieved that I was finally gone.”

Even as a child, you could tell that you were seen as… undesirable. And that was putting it mildly. 

A quick glance up at Arlong's face revealed that he hadn't been expecting such a blunt answer. His eyes are wide, and his mouth opens and closes as his mind scrambles to formulate a response but keeps falling flat. When he finally does find the words, he sounds more offended than anything, “How can you say that? I know that we may not have the,” his eyes drift to the side, “closest relationship, but I'm still your father whether you like it or not.”

A sarcastic bark of laughter rips out of your throat, “Not the “closest”? Our relationship is nonexistent. You may be my father objectively speaking, but that's it. You've never been my dad.”

In an instant, one of his hands juts out and grabs your jacket. He yanks you closer to him, so close that if you were a little taller you would have been lobotomized by that nose of his. 

“You listen to me, you ungrateful little brat. You could do a hell of a lot worse for yourself than to have me for a father. I've fed you, clothed you, kept a roof over your head, and made sure you were safe, and this is the thanks I get? I could have abandoned you like my father did to me, but no, I stuck around despite everything!” His raised voice is booming in your ears, and it surprises you a little. You haven’t gotten such a strong reaction out of him since he first took over Cocoyashi Village.

Just as suddenly as he had grabbed you, he threw you away from him. You stumble and crash into the wall, making the old wood groan in protest.

Arlong turns away from you and punches a hole clear through the opposing wall of your home. The force of it damn near makes the entire wall topple down, and for a moment you're worried that the whole structure will collapse, but it doesn't.

His furious eyes dart back to where you're standing, “I didn't have to raise you, but I did, and I think I deserve some damn respect for that! Maybe I would have left you if I knew that this was how you were going to turn out!”

This man… this bastard- this delusional mother fucker really doesn't see any of the problems here, does he? He really thinks that he hasn't done anything wrong. He thinks that HE raised you as if Hachi isn't the sole reason that any of your needs ever got met growing up. As if Hachi isn't the closest thing you have to a real father. 

Fuck this. You meet his glare with one of your own, one filled with complete and utter contempt and loathing. If he wants to go this route, then two can play this game. 

“I wish that uncle Jimbei never gave me back after you were let out of prison.”

That definitely got his attention. You could see a storm of emotions roiling within his eyes. His voice was low and just barely containing the violent impulses within him, “Don't you even start with that shit again.”

Maybe it's time to rip the bandaid off. If this isn't the time to clear the air, then that time will never come. 

You step forward and meet the cold look in his eyes with your own, not willing to back down no matter how hard he tries to intimidate you into doing so. “Why not? Me keeping my mouth shut won't make it any less true. You and me both know that I didn't want to go with you back then, and you sure as shit haven’t done anything to sway my opinion.”

“You little-”

“I mean, really, who are you kidding? There's no way that you seriously think that I prefer your company over Jimbei’s. He actually loves me, unlike you.”

Arlong’s eyes go wide at that, but he's quick to recover, “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“What? You can't really be surprised that I noticed. Come on… when was the last time you had a conversation with me? Actually, scratch that, when was the first time? When have you ever tried to genuinely get to know or spend time with me? Can you even tell me what my favorite color is? What my hobbies are? Oh wait, you can't because you can't even hardly look me in the fucking eyes without choking on your own disgust toward me! Toward what I am!” You had wanted to maintain a cool and unbothered façade during this confrontation, one that you had fantasized about for years, but as the words flowed out, so did the bottled up emotions. 

“I get it, okay? You don't need to tell me that I am not what you wanted. I don't know if you ever even wanted a kid in the first place, but I know damn well that you never wanted one that looked like me.” Your hand comes up and rips off the scarf you were wearing, revealing the fishman trait that you had inherited from your father. The gills on your neck flared uncomfortably from the friction of the scarf. You jab a finger at your gills, “Hell, I bet that if it weren't for these you would have gotten rid of me just like you did with my mom!”

He snapped out of the fog he had been in moments ago and bristled at the mention of your mother, “I didn't do a damn thing to her! She left! And I never… I… never…”

Arlong's words stall, then completely stop as he stares at you. His brows are knitted together. His abrupt change in demeanor completely baffles you, threatening to smother the fires of your rage from pure confusion. What happened? What is he so focused on?

When he speaks again, his voice is hushed; like he's talking to himself more than you, “How… How are you wearing those gloves? Your fingers are webbed… I know that they're webbed.”

Oh, shit. You got so caught up in the heat of the moment that you hadn’t even thought to hide that. 

There's a vain attempt to stuff your hands into your pockets, but Arlong was faster. One of his hands locks around your wrist, and the other rips the leather glove off it. As soon as his eyes lock on what was hidden underneath, he drops your hand and recoils away from you.

Your hand falls to your side and balls into a fist, helping to hide the angry, red scar tissue between all of your fingers. 

“What…” Arlong's eyes narrowed as horror gave way to anger once again, “What happened? Who did this to you?!”

Well… the cat's out of the bag now, isn't it? You heave a sigh as you slide the glove off your other hand. Fingers splay out as your hands raise up to eye level so you can admire your handiwork.

“You're looking at her… I think I did a pretty good job on this, all things considered.” Given how much you drank before doing this in order to work up the nerve to go through with it, it's honestly miraculous that the cuts came out so clean. The cold from the ice had made your hands shake terribly, you can't believe you were even able to hold the scissors properly, much less put them to use. 

“You? You did this?” It sounds like Arlong is trying not to choke on every word. Like his mouth can't bear to form any of it. His eyes finally break away from your hands and they flit everywhere- anywhere that isn't you. “How could you do that to yourself? Do you really hate being a fishman that much?”

“I don’t hate that I’m a fishman. I’m not one. I’m only half, if that. That’s what I hate. I’m not fishman enough to have ever earned your love or approval, but I’m not human enough to seamlessly fit in with them either. I’m just some in between of the two. A freak that couldn’t go one way or the other and kept to an inconvenient middle.”

“As for this…” You flex your fingers as you stare coldly at the scarred flesh between them, “I mostly did this to keep the rest of the people who wouldn’t be able to handle what I am from figuring it out. It's easy enough to hide my gills, but the webbing was harder. Sure, I could have gotten away with wearing mittens for now, but that'll start to get suspicious after it warms up, you know?” Hopefully the scars will be faded enough by then to not draw too much attention to themselves.

Despite your calm demeanor, Arlong was still visibly disturbed by what he saw. “Stop being so casual about this! You mutilated yourself!”

While accurate, the description still made you cringe. You didn't like how it made this sound. “Don't say it like that. I just… had a little work done, you know? This is no different from any other cosmetic surgery.” Your lack of training and professionality aside, of course. 

“That is not the same thing! Are you insane? Have you actually lost your mind?” Arlong pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, “Forget it. We’ll discuss this later.”

“Later? You better not be planning to stay here.”

Arlong’s eyes rolled and he quickly closed the distance between you and grabbed your arm, “I’m not. We’re going home. Come on.” Without even waiting for a response, he starts dragging you through the broken remains of the wall he punched out.

His bold declaration shocked you. In an instant, you drop like a sack of bricks, making Arlong almost lose his balance. You kick at him, trying to take out his legs, “No way in hell am I going back! I’m an adult now, if I want to go out on my own, then I can!”

A snarl ripped out of Arlong’s throat at your protest. He yanks on your arms, flinging you up and over his shoulder with ease. He steps out of the ruined shack while pointedly ignoring your punching and kicking, “You don’t get to decide that! Not when your first instinct once you’re on your own is to mutilate your body! You’re coming home where I can keep an eye on you before you can do anything worse!”

“I’m not going back!” In a desperate attempt to get away, you grab the hilt of one of your swords.

The distinct sound of a sword being unsheathed alerts Arlong to your actions. He grabs the back of your shirt and throws you to the ground. You hit it hard and gasp as all of the air is forced out of you. Your lungs and gills try to work at the same time in a confused but desperate attempt to get oxygen back into your body one way or another. 

While you’re struggling to breathe, Arlong rips off the belt your swords were secured to and flings it away from you. You cough and hack as you roll onto your side and try to crawl away, but he’s able to pick you right back up just like he had before. 

“Put me down… you piece of shit… stop pretending like you care,” your chest aches with every labored breath it takes.

Arlong doesn’t respond or bother to refute your claim. He just marches onward to the nearby shore, seemingly intent on no longer engaging with you as he drags you back to Arlong Park kicking and screaming. It appears that you have no choice in this matter anymore.

At least you’ll be able to see Hachi and Nami again…

[gethoce]

I know it has been a while but I've been very stressed out and still am but I really wanna wrap this up somehow regardless.

First of all WOW to think that Valfrey would be number 2 in total propaganda! Sure, a lot was just me, but bunch of other people came in and ended up drawing her and making me feel included despite me struggling to socialise!

I was hoping I could draw the characters of everyone who showed their support at one point or another to celebrate, but as things stand I can not realistically tackle such a task. Just know that I am very grateful and have not forgotten. Maybe I'll be able to pay back your kindness someday. </3

(My honest recap of the tournament as a whole under the cut)

As some may know, I didn't join the first tournament. I was way too worried it'd just stress me out to be put into a competitive situation. So why did I join the second tournament? Mostly to finally participate in one of these Kirby community events. Put myself out there for once, jump over my shadow and attempt to socialise a little. So how did it go?

Uuuuuraaaargh…??

Trouble started already when I posted my character intro. I chose Valfrey because she is my favourite OC even though she isn't even my own most popular character. I didn't expect her to do well given how most posts that included her largely flopped. Since I didn't have much time and felt pressured to post my intro quickly I used existing art and quickly wrote some summed up information about her. Perhaps I could have done one of these cool intros some people drew up but I felt like I'd not be able to do that without ending up even more stressed. While I didn't expect the post to do well it was… still a little disappointing that it didn't really get attention. Panicked I drew up the icon featured in this post which also flopped so I stopped using it as my icon not too long after. Curse this insecurity.

The next hurdle showed itself when I noticed that my intro post didn't get reblogged by the tournament blog either. I was on the list of participants but the reblog didn't come. I decided to just wait and hope that it's just stuck in the queue somewhere. … so I waited. And waited…and waited… until it was clear that my post could not have been in the queue. I was frankly too nervous about contacting the mods, but thanks to the help of an amazin friend they were contacted and my post was finally reblogged.

That was also when people finally began to interact with Valfrey in my inbox too. It may have been a coincidence but I felt like the reblog might have helped.

ROUND 1 …

I fully expected to lose immediately. There was little hope in my heart in that regard. What I wanted to do was have a good time sharing my work and interacting with others. I did not have a good time during round 1. First of all I was too nervous to even look at the poll initially. I just didn't want to see it. It was pretty late for me when it was uploaded anyway (I live in Europe, that is public knowledge) so I decided to go to bed after posting some art.

The next morning I checked the tournament discord server. I was told people have said nice things there about me and Valfrey before and I thought maybe there is something new to improve my mood a little. Things were pretty tough irl as well so I was looking forward to a little pick me up. … There was… certainly talk about me and Valfrey. But not the kind that would bring me any joy.

First of all I want to be clear here… DO NOT HARASS THE PEOPLE I AM GOING TO TALK ABOUT. I'll just call them A and B. I just want to talk about my experience and hope that people will be more mindful in the future.

So, that not so beautiful Monday morning I stumbled across this conversation on the very much public discord server between A and B. A was apparently nervous because I had not yet responded to a message they sent me. Again, I live in Europe. It was night time for me. On a Sunday. For some reason neither of these two even considered time zones. One speculated that I was probably “getting flooded by asks” because they thought I have “a huge following” while the other thought I might be sick. The latter seems a bit more charitable at least but come on… I have things to do. Like sleeping at night. Just so you know the message A sent me was the only one I got that night. I have a niche blog within a niche fandom. I do not have a huge following, especially not the kind of following that would “flood me with asks”.

And then… oh, and then… B decided to hype up my opponent's OC… and tear down Valfrey afterwards. They basically called my work uncreative. This is something I do have absolutely no tolerance for. I dont even care which OC you are talking about, mine or anyone else's, this is unacceptable behaviour. Even if you do not like an OC, not all thoughts need to be expressed. You won't ever catch me badmouth anyone's OC even in DMs. You can compliment one OC without tearing down another.

I couldn't bring myself to answer that message for a few days and then finally told them that I am uncomfortable with what was said on the server and didn't want to continue interacting and blocked both A and B.

The next three rounds thankfully went rather smoothly. There was Artfight in between so I had less time to work on tournament stuff. Mostly narrow wins for Valfrey! Good fights and all. I even became comfortable enough to look at the polls sometimes. Not enough to look at the notes but still.

And then round 4 came around and you all know what happened. Some third party scumbag botted trying to get Valfrey to lose for unknown reason ruining the whole thing for both me and my opponent, who dropped out not long after and honestly I kinda wished I had too given what was waiting for me at round 5. I mostly kept quiet at the time believing in the ability of the mods to handle the situation. A lot of drama happened that I merely observed, not all related to the sabotage. I didn't think me chiming in too much would improve the situation so I didn't. It was very unpleasant overall and without going into too much detail I wished it could have been different. I honestly thought my opponent could have won against Valfrey naturally and was looking forward to it so I could catch a break but it wasn't meant to be.

Round 5… oh boy round 5… I really admired my opponent so I made sure to do some art after missing out the last few times! It was a tough battle and I was amazed to see Valfrey holding her own against such an incredible OC. I was certain her opponent would win in the end, they were leading by just a few percent and I was fine with that. (I had been ready to call it a day for a while, really just wanted to get past round 3 so I could avoid the second chance bracket.) 

And then it happened again. Another sabotage against Valfrey. I still don't know why that happened and don't think that speculating based on nothing is helpful in any way, but part of me at least wanted to give it a good try to make it through the replacement poll out of spite towards the scumbag who attacked me twice. I still fully expected my opponent to win, that OC is just that great and very much rightfully popular, but we managed to win in the end!

I kind of wished I had just dropped out, however. My opponent hasn't interacted with me since and I'm afraid that event may have soured their view of me, which deeply saddens me. I don't know if there was anything I could have done to prevent this from happening after the sabotage occurred, but this wasn't a victory I could really celebrate. 

Now to the grand finale… This time things went smoothly with the new system. Valfrey was actually leading at the very beginning much to my surprise. I predicted my opponent would win the tournament from the start so seeing Valfrey do decently meant a lot. Of course we lost in the end. A win would have been pretty cool but I was always fine with losing. Burnout hit me hard at the time though so I went into hiatus for a bit to recover.

The whole tournament was immensely stressful for me a lot of the time. At least some instances didn't need to happen. One thing I haven't brought up yet that bothered me was the mischaracterisation of Valfrey. Early on most of the time she was paired with Sir Uther as his “Sleep Paralysis Demon”, her actual lore being brushed aside. They actually hardly knew each other and the demon thing was supposed to be a one time joke. It felt like she was merely an accessory to this other OC which kinda hurt to see.

Then there were the times she was referred to as a “reaper” and towards the end as the creator of the suns… I don't really use the term reaper in my lore at all. A few times I did say it in response to others using the term though so maybe that's where that came from. Then the sun thing… Perhaps I didn't do a good enough job explaining her lore, but she only created a few suns, not all of them. For the record, she is considered a valkyrie and the primary focuses of her character are: warrior poet, samurai, duality, souls and most importantly she is the Underworld (Yomi) personified. The sun thing is like a thing she did a long time ago and doesn't really think about much anymore.

Also a few times people thought she was a man which, considering her lore, was more funny to me than anything.

Anyway, in conclusion… things didn't quite go as well as I was hoping but other things positively surprised me! Largely a mixed bag. If I ever get to participate in another community event I hope it'll go more smoothly!

Hello again all! After the riveting finale of last year's tournament, we've spent a few months collecting a selection of fun stats into our final 2024 Tournament Review!

From which participant had the most propaganda posted, to the total number of votes cast across the event, to which canon Kirby species was most represented, we hope you'll enjoy this send-off for the 2024 tourney!!

. · ͙ * ̩̩͙˚ ̩̥̩̥ * ̩̩̥͙ ✩ * ̩̩̥͙ ˚ ̩̥̩̥ * ̩̩͙ ‧ ͙ . . · ͙ * ̩̩͙˚ ̩̥̩̥ * ̩̩̥͙ ✩ * ̩̩̥͙ ˚ ̩̥̩̥ * ̩̩͙ ‧ ͙ .

★ POLLS WITH THE HIGHEST NUMBER OF VOTES a selection of the highest performing polls that attracted the most public attention

Mama D vs J: 848 votes

★ Dawn vs Starry Dee: 749 votes ★ Fylass vs Clark: 741 votes ★ Astro vs Noir Fontaine vs Techie: 592 votes ★ Sir Meteor vs Life: 554 votes

★ CHARACTERS WITH THE MOST PROPAGANDA characters who had the most propaganda posts for them, either from their own creator or from other artists

Fecto Flora 155 posts

★ Valfrey 112 posts ★ Sir Uther 108 posts ★ Noir Fontaine 98 posts ★ Dotty 95 posts

After applications closed at the end of April, the tournament ran from May 10th, 2024 to October 28th, 2024, just a few days shy of six months! During this time...

★ 143 competitors joined the tournament and made friends ★ 1,813 Propaganda posts were made by the community supporting those competitors, and reblogged to the @kirbyoctournament blog ★ 202 polls were made pitting your favorites against each other ★ across those polls, 43,165 votes were cast ★ and of all these, winners starstruck dee and Rope MF received 1179 votes and 699 votes respectively over the course of the event

★ RANDOM STATS

★ 36% (52) of entered OCs were of the "orb" species, with 33 of those taking up the mantle of "knight" specifically. far and away the most represented species ★ Waddle dees were the next most common entrant, with 17 OCs. ★ Ripple Fairies were the least showcased non common-enemy/custom species type, with only a single representative! ★ Of all OC names, "S" was the most common initial at 16 OCs, a statistic we do feel is influenced by the frequency of "sir" before names. Removing those, it was the letter "A", with 13. ★ The least successful initial was the letter "J", with all but one of their 4 representatives (75%) falling in the first round.

★ PROPAGANDA WITH THE MOST CHARACTERS INCLUDED most tournament characters included in a single piece (or single series) of propaganda

★ Tournament OCs Part One and Part Two by @ivynajspyder with a total of 60 competitors

★ 55 competitors Havent You Noticed I'm A Star? by @giantchasm ★ 29 competitors and 2 non competitors (total 31 characters) Congrats To Fecto Flora! by @ceoofmetagala ★ And an honorable mention with 13 competitors and 15 non competitors (total 28 characters), Stargate Commemorative Piece, by @moonverc3x

During the tournament, creators and fans of all kinds arrived to showcase their best skills in support of their own ocs, their friends, and even brand new favorite characters they had found. While it's of course impossible to pick just one stand out piece -and we strongly recommend you check our full propaganda tag to see many more of these incredible works- here are some notable and unique highlights suggested by the Kirby OC Tourney community!

★ Propaganda Hijack; Music cover by @boa35 ★ Vote Dotty; by @cauliarty ★ Vote Flora; by @metagalacafe ★ Valfrey icon; by @gethoce ★ Friendly Talk; by @sacrificecage

★ Dont Stop Rope MF Now; Animated music video by @mint-termsandconditions ★ Just another Astral; by @aseuki ★ Tea Time; by @quanblovk ★ Nighty Knight Mod; by @windstriker427 ★ Tournament armours; by @rosiegardenlove

★ Havent You Noticed I'm A Star; Animated music video by @giantchasm ★ Motifs and Symbols; by @kirbybecomesastarwarrior ★ Surprise propaganda; by @poppybros-jr ★ Go Life!; by @shippyo ★ Not In The Lead; by @hnm-tech-support

★ Noir's Field Trip; Masterpost of art, comics and asks by @desultory-novice ★ Space battle; by @pinkestmenace ★ Only In Passing; by @what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me ★ Wolfbell's Illustrated Roleplays; by @zombiecicada ★ Not Over yet; by @a-stardusted-sky

. · ͙ * ̩̩͙˚ ̩̥̩̥ * ̩̩̥͙ ✩ * ̩̩̥͙ ˚ ̩̥̩̥ * ̩̩͙ ‧ ͙ . . · ͙ * ̩̩͙˚ ̩̥̩̥ * ̩̩̥͙ ✩ * ̩̩̥͙ ˚ ̩̥̩̥ * ̩̩͙ ‧ ͙ .

And with this, we officially conclude the 2024 Kirby OC Tournament event!

Over the next few days we will reblog a few final propaganda posts we received notifications for since October. We also have a new pinned post with an FAQ regarding the tournament and when things may be picked up next!

Thank you for coming along on the ride with us, for sharing your creativity and supporting OCs, and for helping us to make this into a wonderful and enriching community event!

See you around!

[rypnami]

Two Years Later...

Happy Anniversary Hogwarts Legacy!

it's been 2 years of this game!!! that means... it's MC's 7th year!

this started as an idea in my server for a group collab, but i don't know who's still doing it. i might as well post my own, at the least!

now that MC is a 7th year, what are they up to? how did they cope with the events of 5th year as time passed? how do they feel about graduation coming soon?

i've decided to explore this with aurelia, since she is my 'canon' MC. i do look forward to seeing others' takes!

this is mostly just me rambling and auri maybe finally learning that she doesn't have to be terrible to people ALL the time. and her meeting daphne, that's a big part of this. shhh i just wanted to finally write auri being a loser lesbian.

word count: 1561

Two years ago, if you had told Aurelia that there would be a day she was sad to leave Hogwarts, she’d have laughed in your face. How could she ever be sad about leaving behind this dingy old castle, never to return? Back then, she’d hated all the people, hated taking classes, and would rather bite her classmates than have a civil conversation. 

She isn’t sure when the shift happened. Perhaps when Garreth had miscalculated his umpteenth potion recipe. When it exploded in his face, it had turned his hair a vibrant pink. It was the first time she’d realised she could laugh at something that wasn’t someone getting hurt, and watching him desperately trying to wash the pink out for the whole week after had provided enough entertainment value that she thought she might even be a little sad if he were to die. Who would ever think she’d one day care about what happens to a man?

Or, perhaps it was when she’d at last mastered broom flight, and bested Imelda at her own broom trials for the second year in a row. There was the satisfaction of beating someone at their own game, the thrill of victory, and the fact that she simply really got on with Imelda. The same energy, the same passion, the same general dislike for slow people… how could they not become friends? To think, if she’d just thrown in the towel after the first round of trials like she’d originally planned, she may never have truly gotten to meet a dear friend. It still sounds odd, sometimes, to think of anyone as a friend.

Perhaps, still, it was when Anne had finally recovered and been able to return to school. At long last, that had made Sebastian stop acting like a bellend and he’d finally given up his stupid obsession with Dark magic- mostly. Auri would put a few Galleons on the assumption that he still sneaks into the Restricted Section to read otherwise forbidden books, but with Anne back around to keep him in line, and Ominis finally speaking to him again, it’s likely quite a bit less than what he used to do. Surprisingly enough, she finds herself enjoying all of their company these days.

Privately, however, Auri thinks what actually began to change things was the day she met Daphne Weasley at the beginning of 6th year. She was a complete accident, someone she might never have seen at all if she hadn’t literally fallen into her after tripping over her untied shoelaces. From the jump, Auri had been fascinated by her. Not only was she completely opposite to her loud, chaotic brother, Daphne was also everything Auri was not. Thoughtful, genuinely polite, didn’t go out of her way to scare small children, and overall pleasant to be around. She was captivating, and so Auri did the only thing she could think of to learn more about her. She started following her around.

It was NOT stalking, no matter what gossip Sebastian might be spreading. And who is he to attempt to have a moral high ground, anyway? He killed someone! So has Auri, but that’s neither here nor there, really. 

Auri was not nearly as sneaky as she might usually be when (not) stalking someone, and Daphne was surprisingly not too perturbed by the creepy girl who threatens at least a dozen people a day following her. In fact, she’d almost seemed just as drawn to Auri, and in no time at all they had actually become… friends? Not long after, Auri was doing the very normal and mature thing of screaming into her pillow every night and crying to anyone who would listen about how goddamn pretty she was.

She’d decided to write to Lily Prewett for advice, the only other lesbian she’d ever heard of ever, who had graduated the year before. They’d never been friendly, but who else was she to talk to? Lily had bombarded her with owls about it, and although Auri had thought most of her advice was stupid and pointless (being nice to her? Since when has that been a thing?), it had actually worked. 

Even now, almost a year later, she gets several letters a week. They aren’t so much about romantic advice anymore- just asking how her day has been, how she’s feeling nearing graduation, if classes are going well. It’s something else Auri knows would have had her absolutely raging back in 5th year, but now, she looks forward to it. Every morning in the Great Hall, she waits to see her owl swoop in, usually with more than one letter, seeing as Lily almost always realises she has more to say right after sealing the envelope.

In fact, it was one of her letters (and a few weeks of convincing from Daphne) that finally gave her the nerve to do what she’s doing today. To, for the first time, take the small footpath that diverges from the regular road to Hogsmeade, that leads up to where Professor Fig was buried at the end of 5th year. She’s never been up to see it, not even once.

It’s a tree with a twisted trunk that overlooks Hogwarts, just before you’d reach the Mooncalf den. Quite a few of its leaves are gone, having fallen off before winter, but already new ones have started to grow in, fresh and green. At the base of the tree, roots surrounding it like a frame, is a small headstone. There are fresh flowers laid upon it, and growing around it. Auri wonders for a moment who put them there, though it doesn’t truly matter. Everyone had loved Professor Fig. Even she had, much to her own surprise at the time. Death is something you’d think a vampire would be more than accustomed to, but standing here and staring it in the face is much harder than she expected.

“Erm. Hi.” She crosses her arms, slightly uncomfortable. “I… am sorry I haven’t come to see you before. It never… felt right.”

A warm wind ripples through the air, rustling the newly growing leaves as well as her hair. It almost feels like a sign. It’s okay. I understand.

“I’m sorry you died. I’m sorry I wasn’t… better back then.” That hardly covers it. She’s got a lot of blood on her hands, much of it there long before she ever knew what Hogwarts- or even the United Kingdom at all- was. “I still think of you all the time. Without you… I dunno where I’d be. But I wish you were still here. I wish you could see me now.” Auri sits down, crossing her legs and staring at the grass. “You helped me more than you ever knew. You always believed I could be a better person than I was when you were here… I suppose you were right after all.” 

“Graduation is in a few weeks, but you probably already know that.” She picks at the flowers growing around his burial place, trying to avoid looking at the headstone. “I’ve done really well, these past 2 years. I… er, I passed all my O.W.Ls, and my N.E.W.Ts went well, too. I still don’t know what I want to do, after school. Or where I’ll go. I have friends, now, though. And… Daphne. I think you would have liked her.” She shrugs. “I really like her.”

She finally looks up at the grave. It has his name carved in simple lettering, and above is what looks like the artists’ attempt at a thestral. “I… yeah. That’s about it.” She brushes a few leaves off the top of the stone, letting her hand linger on it for a moment. “I promise I’ll come by more, okay?” She gets back up, dusting off her skirt as she does. “And after graduation. I’ll tell you everything about it.”

Daphne was waiting several paces back, standing out of the shade of the tree. Sunlight bounces off her auburn hair, and by the great gods is she the prettiest person Auri has ever seen. She smiles as Auri walks back to her.

“How was that?” She asks.

“Good.” Auri takes Daphne’s hand in hers. Though her own skin is always ice-cold, Daphne’s is as warm as the summer sun, and never fails to spread from her fingertips up throughout the rest of her body. “Overdue, I think.”

“Are you alright? Sure you’re ready to join the others?” She gives Auri’s hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Of course. Sebastian says Anne was able to bribe Feenky into making us an entire basket of Treacle Tarts, and I want to get some before Leander eats them all himself in one go, the greedy bastard.”

Daphne laughs, which makes Auri feel incredibly pleased with herself. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Please do! Then he might learn a little thing called sharing.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“When I hog all the sweets, it’s cute. When he does it, it’s annoying!”

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose.” They both laugh as they walk hand in hand back down the path to the castle.

One might almost forget Auri is an undead being of unimaginable horror. Or, rather, used to be. She is still, certainly, undead, but perhaps not particularly horrible anymore.

And she just might like that better.

[gingernut1314]

Hi thereeee!! Love your Kusuriuri. You write him SO WELL.

Saw your requests were open and couldn’t stop myself from sending one for the Medicine Seller (whichever version you want).

Maybe something where reader and him are in an relationship, she follows him in his quests. Reader speaks of marriage, asking if he’d be interested… and you can decide how that goes!

(Sending this request a second time as I would rather it being anon if you do use the idea, kinda forgot when sending HAHA <33)

Guessing Game

Content: gender-neutral reader, reader travels with Kusuriuri, slight confession of feelings, talks of marriage, Kusuriuri's thoughts on marriage, slight spiced themes, flirty Kusuriuri, based off Mononoke 2024

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: SOBBING!! Thank you for saying that omg!! This was so interesting to think/write about! I hope I did it justice and that you enjoy!!

↞ to Mononoke Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

“Tell me,” You gave a physical start at Kusuriuri’s silky voice snapping you back into focus. Started again when you found he was no longer traveling before you but right by your side, yellow-gold eyes shining in mirth at the fact you had been so distracted. “What are you thinking about?” 

You felt your body heat and your palms begin to sweat in the sharp panic that pierced through your chest. 

The way he was looking at you--could he tell what you had been lost in thought about? Could he tell you had been unable to get that ceremony out of your mind? A ceremony between a lovely couple who had looked at each other like they were the sole reason they still drew breath? 

He couldn’t tell that’s what you were thinking of…no…no way--

The corner of his half-painted lips tugged upward. His blue-painted eyelids grew slightly hooded, making him look all too devious.

“What?” You bit in mock irritation to try and cover your bubbling nerves. “I’m hardly thinking of anything.” 

“Lier.” He purred, leaning in closer to show you the utter delight this budding conversation was bringing him. 

“Hardly.” You gruffed, turning your attention back onto the dirt path you two were following to get to the next town. If you didn’t look at him, maybe, just maybe, he would leave it be…but you knew you were foolish in such a hope. 

“Shall I make a game of guessing?” He asked, tilting his head in just the right way for you to be able to see his growing grin out of the corner of your eye. To see that white and red-tipped hair flow around his face in a way that got all that thinking you were trying to avoid starting back up. 

“There is no game to be had because I am thinking nothing of subsistence.” 

“Ah…I see.” He gave a small nod of his head and you felt yourself relax the slightest bit. Maybe you hadn’t been all that foolish.

“Yes. Thank--”

“Something absolutely filthy then.” He spoke on velvet-dripped tones. Your body tensed up all over again. Tensed up so tight you thought something might snap under the sudden pressure. His words had you coming to a shocked standstill, head snapping around to gaze upon him fully. 

All he did was smirk all too happily your way, a honeyed chuckle sounding from his chest. 

“Did I guess correctly?” He took one long stride forward which brought him right back into your orbit. “You know,” He smoothed, eyes drinking you in and making you feel like you could catch fire at any moment. “I am more than happy to make any daydreams of yours a reality--”

“I was not thinking about that!” Your voice came out all too flustered for your own good because it only seemed to solidify his guess as right. “I was thinking what you thought about--” You almost choked on your own words in your attempt to keep from spilling them. 

One of his circular, blue and red-painted brow rose in question. “What I thought about…?” He let the words glide slowly over his tongue. You watched him angle his head slightly to the side like some overly curious cat--overly curious fox. 

“The sun is setting and we have yet to make it even halfway to the next town.” You rushed, starting back over the path.

“Come now,” Kusuriuri called after you. “Since when have I known you to be so timid around me?” His voice sounded next to you once more, as if he hadn’t fallen once out of step with you. 

“I am not timid.” You again kept your eyes trained on the road ahead. On how there were a few large rocks on the side of it, some trees of the brightest green, and most definitely not on your former thoughts. 

“Exactly.” He spoke in too much excitement. Excitement that had you casting a sharp glace filled with mock irritation his way. “Never. You let it known your opinions and thoughts regardless of who you are speaking them to. Least of all me.” 

He was right. Very right. You were steadfast in your beliefs. In speaking your mind and letting it be known to all they could not change it. You didn’t care what anyone thought of you in turn but…that was exactly the problem, wasn’t it?

You found you cared about what his response would be. What his thoughts would be.

It frustrated you more than anything you’d ever been frustrated with before. 

The brush of knuckles over your had you blinking away your worries and frustrations. Knuckles that guided your hand into his, which he held firm. His touch had you looking into those eyes of liquid gold. Eyes you could get lost in--could always find such comfort in. 

“That wedding…it’s got me playing my own guessing game.” Kusuriuri kept still except for that of his elegant strides down the path. You had his full attention undivided attention. “The topic of which is what your thoughts on such things are.” He gave you a small nod, a hum on his lips as he mulled the topic over. 

“It was a nice ceremony.” You nodded in agreement. “I see no problem with them. Though, I have seen one too many marriages end in the birth of a mononoke.” 

“Oh…yes.” Your words came out soft despite your want to keep them even. 

Of course, you thought, he wouldn’t want that. 

Kusuriuri tugged on your hand lightly, bringing your attention once more away from your thoughts. 

“Something tells me that is not the true topic. Only part of it.” You watched him closely…saw no judgment shining in his eyes at this line of conversion. At the notion that there was more to your thoughts. 

“Have you thought about it? Marriage?” You started, fingers tightening the smallest bit around his. “About getting married yourself?” 

“Marriage is not something I was brought into this world for.” You felt yourself grow--disappointed. You knew you shouldn’t have let him egg you to voice your thoughts. Knew you should have tried to keep such thoughts far from your mind. “I was meant to be alone. Forever. My purpose is tied to the will of the sword I carry.” 

“I see.” You murmured, forcing a small, toothless smile to your lips. 

And Kusuriuri--he smirked. Like he was amused by your dulled mood. You almost snapped your hand away from his just for looking as such when he leaned forward.

“Though, I am hardly alone now, am I?” You--blinked at him, not quite sure where he was going with this. “I have done many things I was not meant to do.” He continued, “The hands I hold were only ever meant to guide. The skin I touch only meant to be felt in the protection of its master. The secrets shared with me only meant to release the sword that guides my being.” 

He stopped walking then, pulling you to a stop with him. His eyes were steady as they looked into your racing ones. Fingertips brushed over the round of your cheek…danced lower so that they could feel the delicate skin of your lips. Touched that sent your skin on fire.

“I was never meant to taste such sweet lips. To feel such warmth in my chest anytime I gazed upon another.” Your heart spiked at his words, sending a tingling jolt through your body. “You’ve changed things for me.” 

“I have?” He gave a small nod. 

“Greatly.” The smile that pulled at your lips was hardly that of a forced one. It was one sprung to life by the very joy rocketing through your soul. “I have many new things to discover thanks to you--with you, and if marriage is one of them, then I would gladly take that vow.” 

You thought your heart might explode right out of your chest then and there. Thought you might melt into a giddy puddle on the ground if you kept staring into those warm eyes of his--kept listening to him go on about you in such a way. 

“You are--madding.” You breathed, pulling yourself quickly away from the peddler you had come to adore to try and calm yourself.

“You’ve told me many times over.” He chuckled as you started down the path all over again. You risked a glance back at him, finding he was following after you. Finding that all too soft warmth in his eyes still shining bright as he watched you back. 

“And I’ll gladly tell you a thousand more times over.”

[therapyandprozac]

Title: I Can Fix Him (or Highway Handjob)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 900

Warnings: Light Gun Play, Handjob, Blowjob, Teasing, Pet Names, A Cheeky Pussy Slap For Fun, all while he is driving a car (Don’t blow and drive y’all, just read about it ;))

Description: Okay, soooo…when I first heard Taylor Swift’s “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)” this fic started writing itself in my head (yes it took me this long, I’m bad at this guys.) A hand job on the highway at consensual gun point. No name for him as usual, but I was thinking of Dean or daddy J. Miller.

————

You’ve been the interstate for hours, you look at the GPS and see not a turn for miles. Looking over you see your man with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. He happily sings along with the radio, while you just watch him from the passenger seat. Cheekbones highlighted stunningly with every smile, the sun shining through his lips as he sings along with the ever shifting radio. His profile is forever painted in your mind, along with that voice and the smell of his cigarettes. Such a shame that that long, thick, and truly beautiful neck remained unmarked and unsullied. As you stared at the bare triangle of flesh between his ear, jaw, and neck.

You imagined the sounds he would make as you sucked a deep, delicious, maroon hickie into his succulent skin. He's rarely not strapped and normally it makes you feel safe but today…it’s having a different kind of effect. This morning you watched him get dressed, laid his holster on the bed and you were able to get a good look at the holster and the colt .45 tucked firmly inside. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since you got in the car, well that and other things. You look out the windshield seeing a large sign that says “Waco 50 miles” and you decide to go for it. You lean over the armrest and lick up his stubbled neck to his ear, immediately he blushes completely surprised what you just did. You bite his ear gently and he’s about to speak when you cover his mouth with your hand.

“Just drive.” You whisper against his skin, you feel him smirk under your hand. Unbuttoning and unzipping you pull him out of his jeans, he’s growing harder as you pull him free from its restraint. “Good boy.” You moan against his ear and grip his cock, moving your hand steadily. His eyes roll involuntarily for just a moment, you smile seizing your opportunity.

“Eyes front.” You hiss. Teasing him is so much fun, but when he can’t do anything about it, it is so much better! He growls which you knew was a warning, but you just keep pushing with a smirk. Increasing your speed up and down, you enjoy the little sounds that he can’t force to keep quiet. “That’s right.” You whisper against his ear, eliciting another groan from deep within his chest. You moan in his ear, teasing him is so much fun you think to yourself as his cock jolts in your hands.

“Trust me I can handle my dangerous man.” You whisper into his ear, biting the lobe gingerly. His right hand leaves the wheel and crosses his body to his hip. You suck in a sharp breath knowing exactly what he’s reaching for.

“Are you sure about that, doll?” His cold tone matched the icy gun barrel now tucked firmly beneath your jaw.

“Yes,” you wink, pull the gun to your lips and kiss the tip of the barrel before leaning down to kiss the tip of his well loved cock. Taking his entire length in one go, his hand finds your hair and lets you expertly suck him. Your right hand snakes from your lap, where you’ve been attempting but failing to palm yourself through your jeans, you play with his tender balls rolling them between your fingers.

“Don’t even have to guide you, ahh look at you kitten, deepest throat I’ve ever ha-AH oh babe I’m goi-” before he finishes you go as deep as you can. Pubic hair tickles your nose as you lose yourself on his cock, forgetting you're in a car, on a six lane highway, you go for gold. Humming around him and swallowing around his shaft he cums hard, eyes glued to the road as the most distracting thing in the universe is completely gorging herself on him. Swallowing every drop, you kiss up his sensitive shaft feeling it twitch, well spent in your hand. You place a quick kiss and than a cigarette between his lips and light it up, he chuckles before inhaling a deep hit and fingering his cigarette. The smoke billows from his thick lips as he looks over at you, slowly shaking his head he says nothing but takes another drag.

“That was dangerous, but hot so mind blowingly hot.” Another long hit has you captivated on his mouth and how his lips wrap around the base of the lit cylinder. “Cannot wait to eat you out my sweet girl.” He laughs at the way you squeeze your thighs together, reaching his large hand over to your thigh and sliding you over to the very edge of the passenger seat. His hand reaches and perfectly cups his thick fingers over your cunt, gently shifting his fingers and watching you wriggle under his grasp. “The moment we walk through that door I want these jeans off, understand?” A question brought home by a harsh slap to your covered pussy.

“Yes daddy!” A gasp as you jump in your seat. ‘Oh it is gonna be a fun night.’ You think to yourself as he continues teasing you.

[hemmyrooney]

Uh, hi?

You’ve known me for a lot of things, and most of those things I do deeply regret coming into the new year with. So I’ve taken it upon myself to be more open to the community, rather then being a figure once feared.

I will not be starting anything, I will not be participating in anything, everything I do and say will be heavily regulated to fit my interests and my interests only for the safety of myself and others in the near future. My apologies goes out to the crit and sparkle community for causing so much out roar and hatred when I used to be a beacon for the exact opposite. That changes going forward, even if my apologies don’t get accepted, I’ll keep walking the eggshells till I one day show the world that I’ve indeed learned from my mistakes and become a better person. What better way to start then to start being more open about my identity.

Who I Was.

hemeruni, unicritcornelius, a burner account poorly written and covered up by me, the Hemeruni archives account. Those are all the documented accounts I used to run during the period of time where I was pushed away from the community for my actions, all in a attempt to rectify a situation that only got worse with time the more it was pushed, which was a result of my bitter hatred and anger towards the community at that time. Being pushed away from a community that truly felt like a home for me for the longest time was painful. All of what I worked for gone in a single instance because I used by creditably to hurt others, including my own partner, which I’ll never forgive myself for. Thankfully I’ve been able to get in contact with someone that I’ve hurt a lot from this whole situation, someone who was very angry with me for valid reasons. We talked for a good few hours about what can be done, and after a back and forth, I apologized both to him and the community I’ve been arguing with for around a few months now. For the safety of people involved, names will not be said, as I don’t want this post to come off as an attack, rather a post catching people up who are out of the loop.

What are you doing now?

Same thing I was originally doing. Posting art and ranting/rambling about stuff I like. I’ll occasionally answer asks whenever I feel like it and I’ll take requests whenever I have time. I’ve been very busy.

So yeah. Welcome to my page

[smokescreenimusprime]

I wonder what Smokescreen and Predaking have planned in the Ghost of Darkmount AU 👀

w e l l :333

after Smokescreen talked Predaking down from just going on a murderous rampage, they realized that this was something that was going to require almost foolproof planning because to ensure the Predacons survival they essentially needed to take out all of Decepticon High Command, something the Autobots have been trying and failing to do for millennia

technically they could've just rescued the other clones and gone into hiding on Earth. After all, Airachnid was able to safely do it with the Insecticons, and she had significantly more numbers. This was actually one of the first ideas Smokescreen threw around

Predaking of course was... well, pretty against it, to say the least, and even with his pre established respect for Smokescreen, he was still angry about it. The idea of having to live hidden like pests instead of proudly and comfortably as a group... yeah, in his eyes its completely out of the question

it takes a lot of debating and even some arguing, but they eventually manage to reach a middle ground:

First, as talked about a WAY long time ago, faking the Predacon's deaths with the Cons actual attempt to kill them. And as first steps go, it was a V E R Y stressful start that would not at all get any easier-

Second is actually taking care of the Predacons and "raising" them so to speak. Teaching them the basics of their situation, letting them form opinions and identities and learn how to transform and all. They alternate shifts whenever possible, and thanks to Smokescreen's previous hacking of the Groundbridge network, portals opening at random is an occurrence nobody really bats an eye. Smokescreen is of course the one who visits most often by simple virtue of being the less missed of the two, but Predaking does try to visit whenever he can

and like... quick side tangent, but I can't stop thinking about it. Predaking loving his kin and subjects more than life itself, being proud of them and wanting to give them a life deserving of them. He wants them to be safe, but also strong, and he will never allow them to be humiliated like he had been at Starscream's hands

but at the same time, Predaking only knowing Shockwave's disconnected and detached form of care as a prized experiment, and Megatron's approval but as one would approve of a hunting dog, and Starscream's punishments laced with flaming vitriol and poisonous insults. He doesn't know how to show genuine care or how to raise someone in a healthy way

All he knows is that you must be strong enough to intimidate and inflict pain, lest you be the one on the receiving end

and in the end, that's part of the reason Smokescreen is so weirdly fascinating to him. Because he uses deception and psychological manipulation, sticking to the shadows to accomplish his goals, and yet even though he's never seen his reputation is one of the most feared aboard the Nemesis right next to Megatron himself

He continually gives Predaking things he's never experienced before: Kindness. Companionship. Patience. Decency.

Predaking and Smokescreen butt heads and argue often about the care of the Predacons and the "right" way to teach them. Predaking teaches them combat, ruthlessness, but also to stand their ground and never bow their heads to anyone as though they were lesser. Smokescreen listens to their hopes and woes, offers comfort and advice and teaches them games and stories to pass the time

both of their ways are flawed, but that doesn't make either of them wrong, not completely. While Smokescreen may be teaching them how to live, Predaking, for all his problems, is teaching them how to survive this war

And then comes the third part of their plan: taking the Nemesis. Kill as much of high command as possible, but the most important goal was to take the warship, and it's databases, for their own

they'd planned to get the Autobots involved, after all it was only fair...

but uh. Then Ratchet gets captured to recreate the Omega Lock, and you could say things changed a bit from there

[i-set-my-autism-on-fire]

My Zalgo is also meant to contrast my Slenderman.

Basically, Slender and his family owns and controls the forest they reside in, which is basically its own dimension of sorts? A pocket dimension, if Google is to be believed.

Slender cares for nature, for the trees and for life itself, he has ever since he was a child. During that childhood, he met an odd centaur creature (deer instead of horse), who had 5 eyes and a smile that stretched a little too wide. They were best friends, though Slender was unsettled by Zalgo's fascination with death. When Zalgo's powers finally developed, it made him a necromancer. Zalgo and Slender argued about whether or not he should embrace the power, Slender saying it defied nature, that dead things should be allowed to rest, while Zalgo argued that it was HIS nature, and if he was allowed to play God then he should.

This ended their friendship, and as they got older Zalgo sought more power, until he wanted to take over and rule the world, using his powers to create an army that would help him. Slenderman, not wanting this to happen, started building his own army to stop Zalgo.

While Zalgo would have his minions kill and replace important people, Slender would find out where this had happened and send his own people to kill the minions, sometimes even saving people BEFORE they got replaced.

Why killers? They're already outcasts of society, on the run from life in a concrete box, so Slender takes them in and gives them the opportunity to be better people with skills they already have and jobs they were already willing to perform.

There are some minions in Slender's army. At first, he didn't want anything to do with them, since he viewed them as "vile creatures", until he was made to realize that their situation was a lot more complicated than he originally thought. Not only did very few of them chose this second life (or in rare cases, simply turning their first life into this one), but a lot of them didn't want to be under Zalgo's control. Slender lets these people live, since the choice had already been taken from them once before, and he didn't want to take it from them again.

Brian (Hoody) - He had been revived by Zalgo shortly after the events of Marble Hornets, to be used as a pawn to manipulate Tim (Masky). Eventually, he was able to break free of Zalgo's control, and Tim was able to convince Slender to let Brian stay in the mansion with everyone else.

Jeff - He is a descendant of one of Zalgo's minions. Because of this, he has powers similar to Zalgo's minions, and the same "Shadow". Liu is also affected by what their grandfather was, on top of being revived by Zalgo after Jeff killed him. Liu is still under Zalgo's control (Shadow's have separate personalities and memories, and are sometimes named by their hosts)

EJ - He had a girlfriend, who was in a cult. She tricked him, and they sacrificed him to Zalgo. He was able to escape before Zalgo could claim his soul, and now lives in the mansion, rarely leaving due to the fear that Zalgo may finally get to him. Luckily, he is an obligate carnivore, so he can eat any meat, not just organs. He simply has a preference for organs, which are brought to him by others who were able to bring any minion corpses back to the mansion.

Jane - She used to live in Slender Mansion, but was never part of his army. She had been dragged there by Jeff's Shadow, barely alive, and EJ was barely able to save her. She hadn't been affected by fire in the same way Jeff was, because she wasn't a minion, nor was she related to one by blood. After being forced to live under the same roof as her attacker for years, she ran away, and Zalgo got to her. Slender had kept her in the mansion in an attempt to keep her safe from Zalgo, but this failed. Now she's one of the biggest threats to the mansion.

There were a few failed attempts from Zalgo to convince mansion residents to join his army, Ben being a big example, since he was one of the first residents of the mansion, and Zalgo had tried to get to him first, with a deal that Ben had rejected. His soul was kinda all he had left, so he wasn't exactly willing to give that up even if it meant getting a physical body again.

Also, while Zalgo kills humans freely, the Slender Mansion has a rule against targeting human victims, your only allowed to harm/kill a minion or Zalgo himself. That's why it was such a big deal when Jeff's Shadow dragged Jane's near lifeless body to the mansion, and why EJ worked so hard to save her when he could've easily just let her die. It was so big of a deal that Jeff was kept in the mansion, with Ben and any other residents keeping a close eye on him so he wouldn't escape again. That's the main reason that Jeff and Ben are besties, and why it's rare to see one without the other being nearby.

I have so so so many more headcanons than this, all in one big AU that's gonna get a fic of it's own soon, but a lot of those headcanons aren't related to the original questions topic, so I'll save those for another post/the fic itself :3

Besides, I already got a little off topic a couple times here, and I feel like if I type anymore then I might as well just post this to Ao3 LMAO

how do you guys headcanon zalgo’s character??? ive heard so much discussion about slenderman, but what about this guy???

i’ve always imagined him as like an oogie-boogie gamblin’ man type character. It’s cool, but it’s also a good contrast from Slenderman’s stoic and serious nature in my crossover au. Also the song “Shady” from the Great Gatsby Musical would give you a really good idea of what my Zalgo is like.

Repost and tell me what your zalgo is like!!