#health things are mostly under control :)

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

When I was hired I was told I'd probably be a night manager but next week I'm exclusively starting at 5 or 6am. She's actually pushed my schedule earlier and earlier. Which is fine.

[vintageandroid]

Horror movie for social anxiety sufferers called Unexpected Interaction. The poster tagline is like "There's a knock at your door...and it's Some Guy."

[dogbunni]

also I am tentatively beginning to feel more alive. I took a walk earlier and sat in the park for an hour and worked on CTTD. I think I have enough for a decent chapter so I might make an iced coffee and try to type it up and do some edits. idk it feels good to have the bandwidth to write again. I've been all but dead for over a month now

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

GYM CRUSH SIMON

sfw + nsfw. unsafe sex. womb fucking. no condom.

you never planned on becoming a late-night gym rat. it just …happened. like most things in your life, it started with good intentions and spiraled into something you weren’t entirely in control of.

you’d made a new year’s resolution to get in shape— because health, discipline, all that crap— and, in a moment of overzealous optimism, you splurged on a gym membership. a pricey one, to add. the kind that made your bank account cry, which meant quitting wasn’t an option.

there was only one problem. you were busy. between classes, assignments, and the absolute joke that was your sleep schedule, the only time you could consistently work out was well past normal human hours.

at first, the idea of hitting the gym at midnight felt… weird. like stepping into a parallel universe where only insomniacs and questionable life choices existed. but then you considered the alternative— going during peak hours and getting judged for your piss-poor form, or worse, waiting in line for machines behind a dude who was live-streaming his workout.

midnight schedule it was.

it grew on you eventually. the routine became second nature. drag yourself in after class, half-asleep, toss your bag into a locker, and start on the treadmill to wake yourself up. a slow warm-up, music blasting through your headphones, then a mostly half-hearted attempt at strength training.

the people who showed up at this hour were predictable. a few other students— dead-eyed, running on caffeine fumes. a handful of older folks, the dedicated ones who treated the gym like a sacred temple.

and then there was him.

tall. broad. built like something out of a military recruitment ad.

the first time you noticed him, you’d nearly tripped on the treadmill. one second, you were zoning out, staring at the clock, and the next— there he was. buzz cut barely visible beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, arms thick with muscle, veins running down his forearms in stark lines. tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, black ink tracing the ridges of his skin.

(the combat boots were what threw you off. who the hell wore combat boots to the gym?)

he moved through his workout with terrifying

efficiency. no wasted movements, no unnecessary pauses. heavyweights. circuits. the kind of training that looked more like preparation for war than casual fitness. he never looked winded either. no gasping for breath, no pausing to rest, just relentless, controlled effort.

you developed a— not a crush— an appreciation for him. admiration. respect. that was it. not the way his hoodie stretched across his shoulders when he adjusted his grip on the barbell. not the way his jaw clenched in concentration. not the way his fingers wrapped around the weights with an ease that made you feel woefully inadequate.

“it’s a crush,” your friend announced one evening, stabbing a straw into his juice box.

you scoffed, flipping through your notes. “it’s not.”

“it is. i’m fit too, but i don’t see you staring at me like you wanna lick salt off my abs.”

you made a disgusted noise. “jesus, shut up.”

he grinned, tipping his juice box back dramatically. “i’m just saying. the fact that you haven’t even talked to him and yet know his entire workout routine is very-"

“i do not know his entire workout routine.”

your friend raised a brow.

you sighed. “…he does back and legs on tuesdays.”

his brow lifted higher.

“…and arms on thursdays.”

silence.

“right.”

“shut up.”

you’d considered talking to him. maybe asking for tips or making some awkward joke about his frankly ridiculous choice of gym footwear. but he didn’t exactly radiate approachable.

the man looked like he’d rather be waterboarded than engage in small talk.

and you? you weren’t some plucky rom-com protagonist who could charm the brooding loner into friendship with a dazzling smile and sheer force of personality. so, you kept your distance. which was fine. totally fine.

What the hell would you even say? “hey, nice pecs, can I bury my face between them?” he’d call the police on you.

so, you stayed quiet..

until the night you made the monumentally stupid decision to start lifting weights.

in your defense, it wasn’t entirely your idea. you were perfectly content with your usual treadmill-and-machines routine. but then your friend had to go and mock you.

“you’re paying for a full gym membership,” he said, flicking a fry at your forehead, “and you’re not even using the weight room?”

“i use it,” you protested.

“you walk through it.”

okay, fine. he had a point. which was how you ended up here, standing in front of a barbell, mentally preparing yourself to lift it like you were about to perform brain surgery.

you’d done your research— watched some youtube tutorials, read some articles. you knew the basics. foot placement. core engagement. not arching your back like a possessed demon.

you took a deep breath, squared your stance, wrapped your hands around the bar, and— nothing.

the bar didn’t budge.

you frowned, adjusted your grip. another deep breath. still nothing.

okay. you could do this. just, more force. maybe a little momentum. you planted your feet, sucked in a breath, and heaved—

"y’need a spotter?"

you startle so hard you nearly fall backward, breath catching as you whip around. close— he’s close, and jesus, he’s even bigger up close. broad shoulders, thick arms crossed over his chest, pale eyes flicking between you and the barbell like he’s already making peace with witnessing an injury. his hoodie is pulled up like always, shadows cutting sharp over the edges of his jaw, but there’s something vaguely unimpressed about his expression. braced for disaster.

you swallow. "uh."

his brow lifts, expectant, as if this is some kind of trick question. "that a yes or a no?"

"i-" your brain short-circuits. every ounce of confidence you had a second ago shrivels up and dies. "i totally got this."

he exhales sharply, something between a scoff and a sigh. he shifts his weight, one foot bracing slightly forward. "sure you do.

your face heats. you turn back to the barbell, fingers tightening around the metal, and pull. it lifts— barely. your arms burn, hands already sweating, but you’re stubborn. you have it. almost.

"you’re about to smash your fucking face in," he mutters.

you falter— just for a second— but that’s all it takes. your grip slips, the weight tilting. shit, shit, shit!

he moves fast. faster than you expect. before you can even panic properly, his hands brace yours, steadying the bar with zero effort. he’s strong, fingers wrapping over yours for a brief moment before smoothly guiding the weight back onto the rack like it weighs nothing. you stumble back, arms trembling from the strain, but he doesn’t step away yet, just watches you catch your breath.

"right," he says after a beat, stepping back. "now that you’ve definitely got it, mind if i give you some actual pointers?"

you blink up at him, still processing the fact that you almost died, and this guy just saved your life like it was nothing. "you train people?"

"no. just rather not watch someone crush their skull in." which is… fair, you suppose.

you wipe your sweaty palms on your leggings, trying not to look as embarrassed as you feel. "okay. please. teach me."

you and simon— you learn his name by the third day!— slowly fall into a routine, much to his chagrin. he hadn’t expected offering to help you not splatter brain matter across the gym floor would lead to... this. a persistent presence. a shadow in his periphery.

he doesn’t know how it happened, how you managed to wedge yourself into the one place he thought was untouchable, but somehow, you did. and now, you’re there. always. not in an overbearing way. you don’t talk his ear off or force yourself on him. if anything, you’re surprisingly easy to be around. and worse— comfortable. which is fucking dangerous.

a routine starts forming. he hadn’t expected that offering to help you not crush your own skull under a barbell would lead to… this. hadn’t expected that you’d still be here, three days later, four, a week, waving at him when he walks in, bright-eyed and warm despite the ungodly hour. he tries to keep you at arm’s length, really, he does.

but you’re not loud. you don’t force yourself on him. you don’t pry or try to push past his walls— you just exist, alongside him, like it’s a natural thing in the world. you ask him questions, ease him into conversations so seamlessly that sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s talking until he’s already halfway into answering.

"you ever listen to anything in those headphones?"

he glances at you, then down at his battered over-ear set, blinking like he’d forgotten they were even on. "sometimes."

you hum, stepping up to adjust your weights. "what kinda music?

he hesitates. "depends."

"on?"

"the day."

you narrow your eyes. "that’s not an answer."

"sure it is."

you mutter something under your breath about how “everyone in this gym is allergic to giving a straight answer,” but drop it— he notices that about you. you ask, but you never push. never press. you’re content with whatever he gives, and somehow that makes him want to give you more.

it’s little things at first. small details. he learns that you hate most protein juices but drink it anyway, that you run cold so you always wear a hoodie even when you’re sweating through it, that you hate country music and give him a long, horrified look when you learn that he doesn’t. ("not all of it," he defends, rolling his eyes. "some of it’s alright." you just shake your head at him like he’s beyond saving.)

you learn things too. that his tattoos are actually a full sleeve ("when’d you get these?" "over time." "wow, thanks, that clears so much up."), that he has an endless supply of grey hoodies and sweatpants that he refuses to explain.

"you ever heard of color?" you ask, plucking at his sleeve, and he swats your hand away. "practical," he grunts. "s’not a fuckin’ fashion show."

and then— of course— you fixate on the boots. the combat boots. “okay, but why?” you prod, nudging the toe of his boot with yours. “you know you can wear actual gym shoes, right?”

he gives you a flat look, expression unreadable under the shadow of his hood. “they’re my only pair.”

you freeze. your face twists, and there’s this flicker of genuine horror in your eyes that throws him completely off guard. “simon... are you... homeless?” your voice drops to a whisper, hesitant, like you’re afraid to even ask. his brain short-circuits. he smacks you lightly over the head, more shocked than anything.

"what the fuck- no, i'm not homeless, jesus."

you rub the spot with a pout, still eyeing him like you're not completely convinced. “well, i don’t know,” you mumble.

“you wear the same thing every day, never see you with a bag or a wallet or-”

“drop it.”

“-you don’t even buy pre-workout, simon, who does that-”

“drop it.”

some days, he comes into the gym in a mood. the kind where his head is full of static, his skin prickling with the restless need to exhaust himself into oblivion. those are the days he doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to be seen. and you— you notice. you don’t come up to him, don’t pester him or try to joke around like normal. instead, you just stand off to the side, watching him with this soft, wide-eyed expression like some kind of kicked puppy.

it’s unbearable.

like an itch under his skin that won’t go away. it eats at him, gnaws at the edges of his concentration, and before he can help it, he’s groaning and gesturing you over with a sharp flick of his fingers. “for fuck’s sake, just get over here already.”

you grin like you’ve won something, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you jog over, and he regrets it immediately.

you bring him coffee sometimes. at first, he doesn’t know how to react. he just stares at it when you shove the cup into his hands, blinking down at the little scribbled name on the side like it’s some kind of foreign object. he doesn’t even like sugary coffee, but he drinks it anyway.

the next day, guilt eats at him, so he shoves a protein shake into your hands, unwilling to meet your eyes. "s’only fair."

you squint at it, shake the bottle, listening to the liquid inside slosh around. “what’s in it?”

he scoffs. "fuckin’ cyanide."

you take an exaggerated sniff before grinning. “smells like peanut butter.”

his eye twitches. “just drink it.”

and then, somehow, that becomes a thing, too. a habit. every other day, one of you brings the other something— coffee, protein shakes, the occasional energy drink when you can tell he’s running on fumes.

one night, the gym is nearly empty. just the hum of air conditioning, the occasional clink of metal, the low buzz of some forgotten playlist over the speakers. the late hour has driven most people out, leaving only you and simon.

you’re exhausted, arms shaking, muscles burning with that deep, satisfying ache, but you’re pushing for one more rep. just one.

simon stands behind you, watching through the mirror. arms crossed, weight shifted slightly forward. tracking every movement, every shift in your stance, the way your hands tighten around the bar.

"you're on fumes," he mutters, but steps closer anyway, close enough that the heat of him presses against your back.

you roll your shoulders, shake out your wrists. “i got it.”

he exhales sharp through his nose, scoff and sigh rolled into one, but he doesn’t argue. just moves in, bracketing your sides, his presence steadying.

"alright," he murmurs, watching as you adjust your grip.

you brace yourself, pull, and the weight barely moves. your arms burn immediately, tendons screaming under the strain. your grip shifts, fingers trembling, slipping—

his hands are there. firm and certain, sliding just beneath yours, adjusting your hold without taking over. his chest nearly against your back, his breath warm against the top of your head.

"fix that grip, sweetheart."

you do, fingers locking down harder, shoulders bracing. he doesn’t let go, not fully, his palms ghosting over your forearms, steadying you just enough.

"lock it out," he says, quiet but insistent. his hands shift, one flattening against your stomach, the other hovering at your ribs, like he can feel where the tension is pulling wrong, where you need to engage. "push through. i’ve got you."

your breath stutters, something curling low in your stomach, and you force everything into that last pull, dragging the bar up, arms shaking, until you finally lock it out.

his fingers press in, just briefly, a quick squeeze at your ribs. "good."

you hold it for a second before guiding the weight back down, slow and controlled. the second it racks, your body gives, arms dead, shoulders screaming.

you stumble, just a little, and his hands are already there, catching at your waist. warm. solid. fingers pressing in just enough to steady you. they linger, just a second too long.

and then— "good girl."

barely above a murmur, just breath and heat against your skin, but it slams through you all the same.

your stomach tightens. your pulse jumps. you freeze.

you turn, still breathless, muscles trembling from exertion.

and he’s right there. solid. massive. crowding you. broad chest rising and falling, sweat clinging to the fabric stretched over muscle. too close, heat rolling off him, sinking into your skin, and making your stomach twist. up close, he’s all sharp lines and thick muscle, biceps flexing slightly as he rolls his shoulders back, tilting his head down to look at you.

"don’t-" your voice breaks. you swallow hard. "don’t do that."

simon’s brow lifts, lazy. "don’t do what, sweetheart?"

your fingers twitch at your sides. you gesture vaguely, heat curling up your spine. "that. the- the praise."

his mouth quirks, amusement flickering at the edges. "what, telling you you’re doing good?"

"yes."

he makes a sound low in his throat. "why? thought you liked it."

you try to start a defense, but he steps closer, and fuck, there’s nowhere to go.

"you did so good," he murmurs. his hand lifts, brushing over the curve of your waist. "pushed yourself real hard. took every single rep like a good girl."

your breath catches and oh, does he catch on to that.

"you like hearing that, don’t you?" his fingers curl, pressing into your hip. "knowing i’m right there, watching you, making sure you finish strong."

low, warm, approving—

"bet that’s why you pushed so hard," he continues, like he’s musing to himself. "just to hear me say it. just to make me proud."

simon’s eyes flicker to the vein in your neck. his other hand lifts, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, slow, almost tender.

"say it, sweetheart," he murmurs. "let me take care of you.”

“please.”

the rest of the gym is a blur. you don’t even register leaving, don’t remember how you end up outside, only that simon’s hand is wrapped tight around your wrist, dragging you through the parking lot with a single-minded purpose. the concrete expanse is empty except for simon’s truck parked just underneath a street lamp.

simon hauls you into the backseat, the door slamming shut behind him. the truck rocks with the force of it, windows already fogging, the stale scent of leather and the last remnants of his cologne in the air. the streetlights outside cast a dim glow that cuts through the darkness in thin streaks, glinting off the sweat at his temples.

his hands are on you before you can think. rough, impatient. he grabs your hips, yanks you into his lap, drags you down until you crash against him. the heat of him burns through every layer between you.

his hips roll up.

you jolt, hands flying to his shoulders, gripping tight as the thick shape of him grinds against your clit. even through the fabric, you feel everything— the ridges, the weight, the solid pressure slotting perfectly against you.

he does it again.

your breath catches, legs tensing where they straddle his thighs. you try to move, to adjust, but his hands flex, fingers digging in, keeping you pinned where he wants you.

"shh," simon hushes, arm against your skin, grip tightening as he forces you down harder, thighs flexing beneath you. "let me feel you."

his hips drag against you and you react before your brain can catch up, instinct driving you forward, grinding down, chasing the pressure.

his breath stutters, shoulders tensing as he watches you move. the friction grows slicker, hotter, the damp fabric sticking between you.

you glance down— and then you see it. his sweats, darkened, soaked where you grind against him, your arousal leaking through, making a mess of him.

"fuck-"

he exhales sharply, hands shifting, one palm smoothing down your thigh before gripping, pulling you into him.

"that’s it." he’s almost slurring his words now, his hips rolling up to meet yours. "so fuckin’ wet..."

your nails bite into his arms, your body working without thought, hips rolling, pressing down harder. the truck shifts with every movement, the worn leather seat creaking beneath you.

"fuck, baby." his lips brush your jaw. "so messy. feel that?"

you nod frantically and his cock jumps at your eagerness.

his patience snaps.

one moment you’re grinding down against him, chasing the delicious friction, and the next you're scrambling for purchase as he lifts you.

simon shoves his sweats down, and his cock springs free, slapping up against his stomach. it's thick. throbbing. the flushed tip leaking pre, smearing along the ridges of his abs, catching in the dim of the streetlights.

he’s big. not just in length— though fuck, he’s long enough to make your stomach clench— but thick, too. veins run along the shaft, disappearing beneath the flushed, ruddy skin. the head is a deep, aching red, fat and swollen, leaking so much it dribbles down, streaking along his cock, mixing with the slick mess you’ve already made on him.

the weight of him makes his cock hang low even as it twitches, pulsing with the rush of blood. it looks almost angry, the veins along the base throbbing, his whole cock flexing with each slow pump of his fist as he strokes himself, spreading the mess of precum along his length.

simon watches your expression shift, pleased. "knew you’d like that.”

he's teasing but you barely hear it. your eyes stay locked on him, pulse hammering as you take in the sheer size, the stretch you’re about to take—

he shifts his grip, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other around his cock. your hips twitch, instinct making you reach for him, trying to press forward, but he holds you back, squeezes to get your attention.

"look at that..” simon presses the head of his cock against your stomach, dragging it up, smearing wet along your skin. "gonna take all this, yeah? let me stretch that little cunt open?"

"yes- yes, please-"

"fuck." his breath shudders, his hold on you tightening. "greedy thing."

he yanks you forward, spreads your legs wider, fits himself between your thighs, grinds his cock through your slit.

the first press makes you jolt, your whole body twitching, a choked sound slipping from your throat. he groans, gripping your waist, shoving you down, rubbing your swollen clit against the head, dragging himself through your slick over and over again.

"desperate," he muses, almost cruel. "thought you could take me just like that?"

you try to answer, try to say something, but your brain doesn't work, body too busy chasing relief, hips jerking, cunt aching, a mess of whimpers spilling from your lips.

his cock is heavy against your stomach, his tip leaving a damp streak along your skin as he drags it upward. the grip he has on your waist is firm, fingers pressing deep into your flesh, keeping you still, making sure you see exactly how much of him is about to disappear inside you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, lilted by something dark and pleased. “gonna fit all this inside, yeah? stretch that little cunt open real nice for me?”

your breath shudders in your throat. the weight of him, the sheer size, sends a pulse of heat through you, thighs trembling where he holds them apart. he presses his cock higher, smearing himself over your navel, dragging slow just to watch the way your stomach flexes beneath him.

simon's fingers tighten at your hips, anchoring you in place. his eyes flick up, locking onto yours. “still want it?”

you can’t nod fast enough, hands fisting in the hard muscle of his shoulders, your pulse drumming against your ribs. “yes-”

he huffs a quiet laugh before shaking his head. then he moves, his hands shifting to your waistband. simon doesn’t take his time, doesn’t tease— just yanks your shorts down in one rough motion, shoving them past your thighs, tossing them aside like they’re nothing.

your panties are soaked through, the thin fabric clinging to your skin, darker where arousal has seeped into it. his gaze drops, and he groans, fingers flexing against your thighs.

his eyes practically shine as he reaches down, hooking two fingers into the waistband, pulling the fabric to the side instead of taking it off completely. “how long have you been sittin’ here all wet for me, huh?”

then, without warning, he lifts his cock and slaps it against your cunt. the obscene sound echoes between you.

you jolt, a sharp gasp catching in your throat. the weight of him presses down, drags over your swollen folds, smearing your slick along the length of him, leaving him just as messy as you.

simon's breath hitches, jaw going tight for a moment before he grins. “feel that?” he rocks his hips, slow and deliberate, the ridge of his head catching against your clit with every motion. “soaked for me. filthy girl.”

he keeps at it, rutting through your folds, dragging his cock against you in long, teasing glides. every lazy roll of his hips spreads more wetness between you, slick growing messier, needier, your arousal coating every inch of him.

his voice drops lower, almost awed. “you always this wet?”

you shake your head. you're not even sure why you're this wet. it’s obscene, every slow slide of him making a sticky, wet sound, the kind that makes your face burn with embarrassment.

his grip on your thighs tightens. he presses against you harder, lets his cock drag through the mess, smearing it everywhere, making it worse.

“just for me then?” he asks, watching the way his cock glistens, slick with everything you’ve given him. “i kind of like that.”

he lines himself up, pressing the thick, leaking tip against your aching entrance. he lets it catch there for a second, teasing, before dragging it up one last time, rubbing against your clit, watching you twitch beneath him.

then he settles back down, pressing again, the heavy weight of him poised to sink inside.

his eyes flick back to yours. “gonna let me in now, yeah?”

the first push is a mistake. he realizes it the second you tense up, sucking in a sharp breath, thighs trembling where they’re spread over his lap. his cock barely breaches you— just the tip, barely an inch— and your body locks up, refusing to take more.

simon grits his teeth, hands firm on your waist, trying to ease you down, but you’re too tight, squeezing around him like you’re trying to push him out. the head of his cock throbs where it’s barely inside you, thick and unyielding, stretching you too much, too fast.

he exhales through his nose, slow and measured, and tries again. rocks his hips, nudging deeper, letting you feel the weight of him pressing in. but you whimper, body trembling, nails biting into his skin. your walls clench down hard, resisting, and—

he stops. groans, and drops his head back against the seat.

"jesus christ." his palm drags over his face. "knew you were tight, but- fuck. you’re not gonna take me like this."

your face burns. your throat aches. frustration coils hot in your chest. "i’m sorry-"

"oh, sweetheart." simon's hands slide up your back, rough palms smoothing over your skin before he leans back, head tilting, eyes flicking over you. half amused, half exasperated. "you apologizing for having a cunt this tight?"

you sniffle, shifting in his lap, arousal sticky between your thighs. "but i wanted to-"

"you will." his voice is steady, calm, but his grip on your hips tightens. "just gotta take my time, yeah? don’t want you cryin’ when i finally get this cock in you."

you sniff again, blinking up at him, vision blurred, lips parted. "too late."

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuckin’ hell."

then his hands are moving again, trailing lower, fingers slipping between your slick folds, pressing in slow.

you jolt at the touch, a sharp, wrecked little sound catching in your throat. simon groans, watching the way you twitch in his lap.

"fuck, baby. so sensitive. all worked up and nowhere to put it, huh?"

you nod, heat crawling up your neck, hips jerking as he rubs slow, lazy circles over your clit. his fingers are thick, rough, dragging through the mess between your thighs, teasing, pressing just enough to make your breath stutter.

"s’not fair," you mumble.

"life’s not fair, sweetheart." his fingers press in again, pushing deeper. one first, stretching you open, curling inside. then another. then a third. his other hand stays on your thigh, keeping you spread, holding you open so he can watch the way you take him.

"gotta get you nice and open." his voice low and warm. "don’t want you breakin’ on me just yet."

you whimper, rocking into his hand, clenching down around his fingers. your clit throbs under his thumb, swollen and aching, every slow grind of his palm sending another shudder through you.

"shh. just let me do this for you, yeah?"

you do. trembling, gasping, grinding down, taking everything he gives until you’re loose, slick, ready.

when he pulls his fingers out, you whine, walls fluttering around nothing.

then his cock is back, pressing against your entrance, thick and hot, teasing for only a moment before he pushes in—

you take him.

the stretch is unbearable. every inch forces you open, slow and deliberate, the thick drag of him pressing deeper than anything ever has. your breath stutters, body shaking, thighs trembling where they rest over his.

"fuck, sweetheart," he groans, voice tight, hands gripping your hips, keeping you still, keeping you from pulling away. "you feel that? squeezing me so fuckin’ tight."

you do. every ridge, every vein, the slow, impossible push of him splitting you open, inch by inch, pressing deep— then he stops.

breath stuttering, you blink at him, dazed, confused, still so empty. "w-why-"

"baby," his voice is almost pained. "m’pressing right up against your cervix. can’t go any deeper."

but it’s not enough. you whimper, hips twitching, shifting to take more, to sink lower. "but i still feel empty, si.."

his jaw clenches, fingers digging into your thighs, trying to keep you still, stopping you from punching a fucking hole through your guts. "jesus, sweetheart. you don’t know what you’re askin."

"please," you breathe, eyes glassy, desperate. "si, please, want all of you-"

he groans, head dropping back against the seat, restraint hanging by a thread. "fuck."

then his grip tightens, and before you can say another word, he forces you down the rest of the way.

"oh-oh my god-" your whole body shakes, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as the thick head of his cock breaches your cervix, slipping into your womb, stuffing you full.

simon grunts, the squeeze of you making his vision blur for a second. "jesus fuckin’ christ."

the moment he bottoms out, your walls clamp down, fluttering, pulsing around him— the pleasure snaps without warning, white-hot, rolling through you all at once.

"fuck- fuck, baby." he curses, the squeeze of your cunt almost painful. his half-lidded eyes are trained on where the two of you connect, the way you gush around him, soaking his cock. "just from takin’ me all the way? filthy fuckin’ thing-"

he huffs a rough laugh, fingers flexing against your hips, appreciating the extra slick easing the way. "makes it easier, at least," he mutters, then starts to move.

it’s slow at first— just enough to let you feel it, to make you ache through the thick drag of him pulling back, just enough to let you whimper at the sheer pressure of his cock pressing against every swollen, overstimulated inch of your cunt.

but you’re already gone.

your lashes flutter, your lips part around soft, wrecked little sounds, your hips twitching even though he’s holding you down, even though you’re already stuffed so fucking full.

"look at you," he murmurs, dragging a palm up your belly, pressing down right where he’s so deep, groaning when he feels the outline of himself inside you. "fuckin’ cock-drunk already, sweetheart?"

you sob, thighs squeezing around his waist, hands grasping at him, trying to find something to hold onto as your hips jerk, rolling forward mindlessly, instinct driving you to take more, take everything.

he groans, gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so he can see all of it.

"can’t even talk, can you? too fuckin’ dumb to think straight."

"s-simon-"

"what, love? too far gone already?"

his smirk is wicked, his grip tight as he presses his hips up, spearing you open all over again.

you scream, body jerking, back arching, thighs trembling around him. "ohh- oh fuck-"

"there we go." his voice is full of praise, full of something dark and indulgent. "there’s my good girl."

he sets a slow rhythm, dragging his cock out until only the thick head is inside you before slamming all the way back in, spearing you open, making sure you feel it, making sure you take every inch.

"bloody hell," he mutterd, feeling the way your walls squeeze him, the way you shudder, the way you drip around him, slick gushing, soaking his cock, ruining his seats.

"listen to that, sweetheart," he groans, shifting his grip, spreading his knees just a little wider to pin you in place. "fuckin’ mess you’re makin."

he glances down, eyes nearly rolling at the sight— your cunt stretched wide around him, slick dripping down to his balls, pooling beneath you.

"christ, love." he has to gasp for breath. "fuckin’ leaking all over me- ruinin’ my fuckin’ truck-"

"s-simon-" you lose your train of thought, babbling incomprehensible strings of words.

"can't think?" simon's grin sharpens. "good. don’t need you thinkin."

then he fucks you properly.

[ds-angel1]

could you do a rafe!drugdealer x reader who is constantly talking about reader’s weight

cw: a lot of talk about weight, calories and scale mentioned, very toxic rafe, mention of sex, crying

It started small. Just a flicker beneath the surface, too subtle to name, too quiet to call out.

"You gonna eat all that?" he asked one night at Tannyhill, eyes locked on your plate as it had offended him. His tone was light, almost teasing, but his gaze didn’t waver.

There was something coiled beneath his words, something not entirely playful. You paused, fork halfway to your mouth. He tilted his head slightly, that smug half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Just saying. You looked better last summer.”

You laughed it off, cheeks burning with confusion. Back then, you still did that, smiled through the sting, convinced yourself it wasn’t a red flag, just a weird comment from someone who loved you. That’s what love was, right?

Honest. Raw. Unfiltered.

But it didn’t stop there. It never does.

At the gas station a few weeks later, you grabbed a bag of chips from the shelf, craving something salty. Without a word, he plucked it from your hands and dropped it back like it was poison. “Empty calories, baby. You already said your jeans felt tight, remember?”

His voice was low, edged with casual disdain. You looked around, embarrassed, but no one seemed to notice. Or maybe they did and just didn’t care.

In his truck, he’d reach over and rest a hand on your thigh, not lovingly, not protectively, but like he was inspecting something. Measuring. Evaluating. His fingers would press into your skin, hard enough to leave a dent. “Gotta keep this from getting out of control,” he’d mutter, almost to himself, like you were some project he was managing, some vessel he needed to sculpt into something acceptable.

Then came the scale.

He bought it one evening after dinner, setting it in your shared bathroom as if it belonged there.

“Step on.” When you hesitated, his voice dipped, smooth but dangerous. “Why? Got something to hide?”

On days the number dropped, he’d grin, pressing kisses to your shoulders, your collarbone, your lips. “See? When you listen to me, things go right, angel.”

His praise felt warm, intoxicating, like sunlight on your skin after a cold spell.

But if the number stayed the same, or worse, crept up, the warmth vanished. He’d go quiet. Distant. His silence stretched through the day like a wall you couldn’t break through. No goodnight kiss. No affection. Just cold detachment, as if you’d failed some unspoken test.

He noticed everything. Every bite, every bloated day, every extra helping. Nothing escaped his attention.

“Two desserts now?” he said once at a dinner party, his voice low but sharp, just for you. “Your greed sickens me.” No one else at the table reacted, your friends were too caught up in their conversations, laughter echoing while your stomach dropped.

Later, after sex, those dizzying highs he was so good at crafting, he’d lie beside you, fingers idly tugging at the flesh on your waist. He’d pinch the soft part of your stomach, chuckling. “I probably weigh less than you at this point.”

You’d flinch, shrinking under the blanket, trying to turn away from him. But his grin only widened.

The next day, you fasted. The hunger was sharp, almost holy, and when he noticed, when he told you how proud he was, you felt a surge of victory. Like his approval meant you’d won something. Like his love was a prize you had to keep earning.

You cried more often. Quietly, mostly. Into your pillow, in the shower, on your way to work. But every time you fell apart, he was there, arms around you like a savior, like the only person who could piece you back together.

“I just want you to be perfect,” he’d whisper into your hair. “You know I love you more when you take care of yourself.”

It sounded like tenderness. It sounded like care.

But it wasn’t about health. And it was never about love.

It was about control. About reshaping you into something that made him feel stronger, more powerful, more admired.

Because to Rafe Cameron, you weren’t just his girlfriend. You were a mirror. And any imperfection he saw in you felt like a flaw in himself. Every pound on your body wasn’t just weight, it was a crack in his image, a threat to the story he was trying to tell the world.

And that’s the cruelest part of it all: how he convinced you, little by little, that your body was never truly yours to begin with.

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 6: I Stray Not From The Path, I Hold Death’s Hand In Mine

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 (Here!) / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 (Part 1) (Part 2) /

Head wounds tend to heal relatively fast. 

All due to the ample blood supply in the head and neck region. The abundant blood flow helps deliver the necessary cells for tissue repair and regeneration. The healing time can vary based on many factors, like wound size, depth, and individual health.

Large and deeper wounds potentially heal up to 2-3 months.

Maximoff’s wound didn’t even leave a scar or trace on her skin.

The butler, Alfred, had mentioned being of help to the young girl the first day until she claimed being able to take care of cleaning the wound and changing the gauze by herself once he explained the steps one by one. She would do it every morning after waking up and after taking her nightly shower, before heading to bed.

But even with a strict cleaning routine, a head wound like the one she had shouldn’t have healed so quickly. 

Especially in only 5 days.

“Someone certainly has some impressive genes…” Rio muttered offhandedly, pretending to be very busy with her files as she took a seat at her desk.

The looming glare from the girl sitting at the examination table had the green witch holding back her grin.

Everything was falling into place.

There was no reason for the girl to come for a check-up directly to the police station. Much less likely to get a check-up from Rio. The Wayne family had their private doctor and were way more capacitated than a nurse with basic paramedic training and a doctor title, mostly directed towards cadavers and autopsies.

Well, that was just her cover story. No need for mortals to know the personification of Death was playing dress up for funsies.

Either way, the only reason her Wheel of Fortune would be here, it would be if she had requested or demanded that she be brought to Rio herself.

She certainly caught on to things quickly, unlike her bothersome twin brother. Even if she had some otherworldly help, Rio had to give her some credit.

Which led to the current tension in the office that was currently occupied by the two of them. The butler was off talking with the chief about some new development in the investigation of the attack.

Red Hood had left almost nothing to identify the bodies with. Rio retained her bubbling anger by dumping the files into her hand on the desk with a controlled sigh.

Endless Above, the Waynes were a thorn on her ass.

Good thing her cards on the table were placed along quite fast.

“Where is Billy?”

She was straight to the point, too.

That wouldn’t do.

“Why would I know?” the woman drawled, spreading on her chair will looking at Maximoff with a raised eyebrow.

Maximoff’s face was all frowned up, the corner of her lips curling in frustration and impatience. Rio thought she looked like an angry puppy about to start yapping and barking at her feet while shaking. Almost like a chihuahua.

That made her laugh sharply, startling and confusing the young girl.

“Ask the right questions, pet. That may get you the answers you need.”

The shiver of disgust at the nickname amused Rio to know end. Getting under people’s skin was such an entertaining show for her.

“...Do you know who I am? What am I?”

Rio could work with that.

“I am familiar with your family’s history.”

The girl gave her a deadpan expression. “That’s the most vague shit answer I ever heard off.”

“Take it or leave it,” she shrugged.

With a roll of her eyes, Maximoff sighed and shrugged in defeat. Might as well ask other questions then, right?

“Fine, then. Who are you then? Because I’m pretty sure you know something that I don’t about the Addams Family on steroids.”

“Ah, the Waynes,” Rio’s tone was sarcastic and low. She got up and stood in front of Maximoff, who listened attentively.

“They have been messing around with things that they shouldn’t, and it’s time for them to pay me back.”

“...So, you are like, mafia or something?”

“Not quite. The mafia still manages to keep up with their parts of my deals.”

That got Maximoff thinking, her head tilting to the side as her gaze moved up to the ceiling in thought.

Yeah, she was just like a puppy. She could now see why Agatha was so entranced with the other Maximoff.

“So,” the girl said while her nails clicked fastly against the metal table. “the Waynes owe you something, and you have it out for them?”

“Seems almost too simple, right?” A grin crept on the witch’s lips. She could almost see the gears turning in the girl’s brain.

Maximoff groaned, scratching her cheek as she tried to piece stuff together.

“You told me to keep a ‘low profile and trust my gut’,” she complained in a higher pitch tone while gesturing around with her hands. “And all that I got from that was meeting a bunch of unstable men who don’t seem to grasp emotional intelligence to save their lives, and way too touchy. And that’s without counting the horror tapes from the poor girl whose body I’m possessing while her spirit-”

Her rambling had sped up halfway through, words turning into a tongue twister for any person listening. It was fascinating for Rio to witness how the girl’s mutation was developing without her even noticing, blending in with such normal things like talking or moving around, and making her stand out easily. But the abrupt stop put the room in a sudden silence.

By how wide her eyes were as she looked at her, Rio could easily guess Maximoff had figured something out.

She remained quiet, waiting for her to find the words.

Maximoff pointed at her, eyebrows furrowed,” You knew her? The Wayne girl?”

“We never spoke directly, but I did know her. And heard her.”

That wasn’t a lie.

“Then this whole owed deal it’s related to her? Or most of it, at least.”

Seeing how such a young being pieced together the bits of small information she had at hand was very pleasing to the witch. 

It had crossed her mind before. The thought of taking on an apprentice. It had crossed several times, and there were very few candidates she had considered worthy (with the very exception of Agatha, of course). 

Only one had been oh so close to be hers by sacred ritual. A deal made by a desperate mother, looking to protect her child from Rio’s own hands.

A child who was hidden from her by none other than Bruce Wayne.

The room’s temperature grew colder at the thought of said man crossing her head. He had cheated her over and over and over and over and over and she had had enough.

Rio took a deep breath through her nose, brushing away the bangs on her face to disguise her slip of control.

“I don’t like it when somebody messes with my deals,” she said with a sickly sweet tone, starting to pace around the room.

“Bruce Wayne and his flock of little birds have been getting away from me with a little too much for my liking. And because of that, I have decided to hit him where it hurts the most. A man like him craves control. He is paranoid and needs to know all the possibilities at the palm of his hand, just so he can have the high ground in any given situation.”

She sharply whips her head back, a loud crack of bones startling Maximoff as Rio gives her a maniacal, wide smile over her shoulder. Her sharp black nail pointed at the girl, sauntering towards the metal table.

“Which is why you, my dear wheel of fortune, make the perfect piece in my chessboard table to make him suffer.”

Maximoff looked at her as if she had spouted pure nonsense. Which it probably was for her, since Rio looked like a madwoman with a chaotic glint in her eyes.

“And why should I be involved in this? I didn’t exactly choose this body.”

“True. You didn’t. But your brother did.”

That made her click her mouth shut and glare harshly at Rio. The woman inclined forward so they were eye to eye, smiling with a sharp edge at the corner of her lips.

“It’s nothing hard to do, just being yourself is doing more than enough to make my plan fall right into place. I only need you to be a tiny little less instigating and let them overthink it by themselves. And, of course, a couple of little favors that only you can help me out with.”

“Are you going to kill them?” Her tone was somewhat small and quiet. Worried, as to say.

How sweet. But that wouldn’t do.

“Sadly, no, I can’t,” Rio took notice of the tension slightly leaving the girl’s shoulders. “The Waynes are vital to the balance of this city, and I can’t mess with that. But I can make them miserable. As retribution.”

Maximoff hummed to herself, never looking away from Rio’s gaze as she thought of what to say next. Their visit was coming to an end, and she needed to get her answers quickly. Or at least, some of those answers.

“What favors would you need?”

“Just some old items that the mother of this new body of yours has entrusted to Dear Old Bruce. And anything that spirit that keeps hanging around you asks you to do.” 

Maximoff gasped and looked around her before looking back at the amused ‘doctor’.

“You can see h-”

“Tick tock, pet. Last question.” That made her curse under her breath as she gave a quick glance at the door. Footsteps coming up the stairs were echoing outside the office. Maximoff looked at Rio with a reluctant air around her.

“If I do your favors,” she said quickly, standing up from the table and facing Rio directly. “Will you tell me where Billy is and help me find him?”

Rio laughed, crossing her arms as she took in her firm stance. Decision and steel in the girl’s eyes and posture.

Oh, she was keeping this Maximoff.

“Don’t you worry, pet.” She teased with a less sharp smile. Maximoff frowned.

“He will come directly to you.”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

“Would that be all, gentlemen?” 

The sharp tone coming from Mr. Wayne had made the business associates look at one another in silence. The air was so tense in the meeting room that it made some of them fidget with their ties, swallow back coughs, and sweat beneath their hair implants.

A poor intern glanced nervously at his boss every 5 seconds, hoping the meeting would be dismissed sooner rather than later for the sake of everyone’s nerves.

Bruce Wayne had not come to Wayne Enterprises in a good mood.

The meeting had been scheduled with two months of anticipation. Worthington Industries had made several business proposals to ally with Wayne Enterprises in a series of funded research projects involving medical substances that have yet to be discussed. First, they had to do some research around said company, avoiding getting involved in any type of scandal before making any decisions. Then, they would weigh the pros and cons of agreeing to the proposals before deciding to come to an official meeting with the Worthington Industries CEO.

All the documents and research had been done thoroughly, and there were more pros than cons surrounding the proposals. Everyone was expecting a positive outcome from the meeting.

But Mr. Wayne’s mood had dampened any ray of hope.

As to why he was in such a mood?

That would have to do with breakfast that very morning with his daughter.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

It had been an uneventful morning. At first.

After Bruce had made sure Tim was sleeping in his own bed without any type of electronic nearby, and that Dick had gone to Barbara’s apartment to get some space to calm down for a bit away from the supposed chaos among the walls of the manor, he was eating his own plate of scrambled eggs that Alfred had made for him in the stove before he left to drive Damian to school.

Apparently, she had slept in for a bit longer, and Alfred would come for her once he had dropped Damian off.

He had gotten distracted by the sudden breakthrough of the case. By the time they finished downloading files from the hospitals and clinics around the area, Bruce was pretty sure everyone had retired for the night.

Meaning that this very morning, he would finally get to see his daughter after days of putting back the said encounter.

The feeling of patheticness loomed over him, making every bite of his food taste as bitter as his cup of black coffee.

He would never admit it to himself, but Bruce was anxious.

Would she be upset he hadn’t checked up on her? She was always so understanding and sweet. At least, that's what he had gathered from their past interactions. Perhaps he could let her stay at the manor another week if she wasn’t feeling like going back to school.

Was she scared of going out, too? He had read the police report over and over again after Dick had shoved it right into his face while yelling at him for not keeping a closer eye on her safety.

He could only imagine the feast the media would have once the information about the attack became public. The press following her around, the school getting swarmed, the flashes of camera invading her space, and making her have another public meltdown.

Maybe considering homeschooling wouldn’t be such a bad idea-

The scraping of a chair against the floor dragged him out of his head, gaze landing on the other end of the table. Far away from his spot.

She was wearing a green jacket and some dark bell-bottom jeans. A clean gauze stood on the left side of her head, which led to noticing how her hair was pulled back in what seemed like a butchered braid with some wavy curls slipping out and framing her face.

Not a single hello. Not a single good morning. Not a single glance his way.

Just the clicking of the fork against the plate as she ate from a huge pile of scrambled eggs as if she had been starved for weeks.

Bruce suddenly understood why the boys were freaking out.

(Y/N) was a simple, well-mannered, and polite. Always greeting, always offering help, and always looking for ways to be close to them. No matter how many times they avoided or ignored her efforts and advances.

If Bruce were by some chance eating at the table, she would take the spot right next to him and try to start a conversation before he excused himself under the guise of needing to finish some work.

And another thing was how impeccably she dressed. Business casual and hair down, not a single strand out of place.

Before him was the total opposite of what his daughter was supposed to be.

He cleared his throat, hoping to catch her attention since she was way too focused on her food.

She didn’t look up.

“Dear?” he questioned. “Do you feel alright?”

His breath got caught in his throat once her gaze snapped up. Making eye contact for the first time in days.

Before him stood the reflection of a woman he had failed to help and keep safe. Dark, soulful eyes staring deep into his own and making him fall back into that dreadful night, where he was too late to make a difference. Where a child lost a parent and gained a mediocre imitation of one. Where he lost another important person in his life. Where he failed a friend.

Where his daughter lost her mother.

“Quite late to be asking me that, don’t you think?” she grumbled, shoving her fork full of eggs into her mouth.

He had to take a quick sip of his coffee, feeling his throat tighten and trying to speak up at least.

“What happened to your contacts?” was all he managed to utter out. He would later realize that was not the best thing he could have said.

Those dark eyes were suddenly sharp, and Bruce could only see Bianca glaring at him as if she was ready to knock him off his seat.

“You sure you want to go down that line, Father?” 

The way that she said father had him standing up from his seat, knocking the chair down to the floor, and making a clutter of noises around the room.

“Young lady, that’s not a tone you will use with me.”

He had hoped that would make her back down. Go back to the sweet girl he swore she was, because there was no way that she had changed this much. Not in the blink of an eye.

Was it though? Had it been the blink of an eye? Had it really been that fast? When was the last time they actually talked? When was the last time he had spent more than a few minutes with her? 

Listened to her talk about school. About her classes. About her hobbies. Her aspirations in life. What she liked. What she disliked. Favorite foods. Favorite movies. Favorite books.

When was the last time Bruce had even hugged her?

His expectations were broken the moment she slammed her fork against the table and got up from her seat, gaze unwavering and lips pressed tight.

Before she could get another word out, two sudden presences caught their attention.

Cassandra stood by the entrance of the kitchen, with Alfred giving a heavy stare over at Bruce.

Without a second thought, the younger girl picked up her now-empty plate and gave it a quick wash in the sink. Ignoring the owlish stares from Cassandra and Bruce. Once she was done, she looked directly at Alfred with an undefined gaze from Bruce’s perspective.

“I’ll wait in the car.” She said, getting a nod from Alfred as she passed between him and Cass. The other girl gave two steps back as she followed her retreating form down the hall with her gaze.

Bruce began walking towards them. “We are not finished-”

“I believe,” Alfred cut him up both verbally and physically by stepping in front of him. “This is a good moment for everyone to have some space to think things through before escalating the situation in a way that there’s no coming back from.”

“Alfred, I need to-”

“You need to get to an important meeting and give her some space, Master Bruce.”

That got him a deep sigh from Bruce, who impatiently rubbed his chin before nodding at Alfred.

“Good. Now, if you excuse me, I can’t keep the young lady waiting.” With that, Alfred was gone.

Cassandra only looked back at Bruce once she was sure she heard the car pull away from the garage. He was looking at the empty chair where she had been sitting not too long ago. A look full of what Cass could gather as despair and confusion. It unsettled her a bit, seeing him like that.

But, she still said a few words to Bruce before walking away.

“That was on you.”

And Bruce knew she was more than right.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

His mind was stuck on that encounter all morning.

His child couldn’t have changed so drastically like that. Was it a new tactic to get his attention? Because it was working extremely well. But it didn’t make sense. His dear daughter was nothing but good intentions and wouldn’t even try to argue back with him. She didn’t even fight back with Damian, and most of the time, he had to intervene himself so it wouldn’t escalate (at least when he was present). 

That hit on the head had altered her personality, and Bruce wanted his old daughter back.

It had to be that damned wound, it couldn’t be anything else. There just wasn’t another expl-

‘But there is.’ A whisper shot through his head, making him tense up.

…There was a very small alternative. But it couldn’t be. It didn’t work like that at all. He knows it.

Even if mental illnesses can be hereditary, that one couldn’t be. There were too many factors that came into play with such a condition, and he had made sure she hadn’t been exposed to any type of heavy trauma. Keeping her at an arm’s length away from his night job and all the repercussions it brought along.

But had he actually protected her enough? Did keeping her away actually prevent any trauma that could affect her personality?

No, he hadn’t.

And now he had a huge problem in his hands.

“Call to organize a meeting with Mr. Worthington as quickly as possible for negotiations. Meeting dismissed.”

Almost everyone let out a breath of relief once Mr. Wayne walked out the door with a hurried step.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

It had been such a shitty day.

First part, finally meeting the man behind this whole family madness. She was hoping to get away without interaction. Just eat her breakfast, dip, and hide in the garage so she could avoid encountering any other member of the family until Alfred came to pick her up. It was a picture-perfect plan, in her mind at least.

But her first mistake had been sitting too far away from Dear Old Bruce. 

Apparently, this family was so obsessed with order and patterns, that they would have freak out if she even stepped out their imaginary drawn lines. Wayne had giving her a splitting headache as punishment for not putting that much attention to those details after she had stormed off towards the garage.

To which she responded by swinging fists at empty air before Alfred caught up to her.

‘Fuck their order and patterns. I ain’t their little doll they can manipulate around.’

That thought put her ghost companion in silence, making the headache slip away as they drove to the police station.

In the second part, the chilling interaction with Rio. Jesus, that woman could make the bogeyman sweat. She had hoped to get some answers out of her, and while she got some, she left with even more questions. And, apparently, got dragged into a messy deal with said crazy lady in order to get at least some information on where Billy was.

As long as she found the items that Rio claimed were owed to her.

Items, that she had not a fucking clue of what they were.

The only bit of information that she had was that the mother of this body (she really should start referring to the body as her own, it was getting annoying) knew about said items and their locations. Which meant that Wayne, her dear grumpy ghost bestie, would also know about these items since she would visit her mother every two weeks.

It had been served on a silver platter. All that she needed to do was ask Wayne!

But that silver platter had been thrown into the Bermuda Triangle when Wayne apologetically flicked the bathroom lights of the thrift store Alfred had taken her to give her boxes of clothes away in denial of knowing about said items.

All because her mother was in a state of delirium and mania. Meaning that any word coming from the poor woman wasn’t coherent or trustworthy.

Another dead end.

Which leads us to standing inside the record shop beside the thrift store. Gaze lost in deep thought, facing a rack of vinyl records of the pop genre, as her fingers flicked through the albums mindlessly with a frown on her face.

Just when she thought a door had opened, another ten appeared in the next room.

Rio wasn’t exactly someone reliable. Something in the back of her head was inclined to think she wasn’t even human. All the vague shit and weird mannerism seemed more than act to unsettle people. If it was an act, then she was very committed.

Still, she wasn’t to be trusted. Not when she was keeping her so in the dark.

The new information she had was still in pieces and needed to be put together with delicacy and patience, or something could slip, and she would end up even more lost than she already was.

That didn’t stop her from trying to overthink it.

‘If the deal had to do with Wayne, why would her Old Man not keep a closer eye on her? Rio is pretty hellbent on getting her stuff back if she is making me pull my weight around to find it. Does he even know her mother made a deal, or was he the one to make it? It wouldn’t make any sense if he did it, though, because then he wouldn’t have just left Wayne go around without some bodyguard.’

She pursed her lips, fingers rattling the record stand by how fast she continued to flip through them.

‘Hell, he never stopped by to check in the bedroom or even bother to pick her up at the police station. There’s no way he knows about this. He doesn’t care enough, clearly. What kind of a father acts like that around his daughter?’

Her nails began to scratch off the chipped black paint of the metal from the stand, switching her weight from leg to leg as her mind sped up in circles.

‘What parent does that? Where’s the warmth and care? Where’s the concern? Where’s the love in his actions?’

Teeth began pulling at the fragile skin of her lips, almost peeling it off. A high-pitched ring was going by her ear.

“My parents would never do that. My mom would make hell on earth to protect me. To protect us. Where is she? Is she dead? Is she gone? Where is she? Where is my mom? Where is my dad? Where? Where is my family? I need them. I want them here. HEre witH ME. HERE. HERE. HERE. HERE. HERE. WHERE ARE THEY-”

“Did Cher do something to offend you?”

A voice snapped her out of it, startling and making her jump, while looking to her side towards the person who spoke to her. 

It was a guy. Just about a few centimeters taller than her, with a well-built body. Light brown hair that seemed almost ginger when the light hit just right. Blue eyes with concern and an awkward smile, dimples showing off his faint freckles over his cheeks.

He took a step back to give her some space once she looked at him down-up, giving an apologetic smile as he gestured to the record she was holding in her hands.

“Sorry for that! Just saw you almost ripping the record in half and thought that I should say something about it.” He fretted gently, hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket.

She looked down at the item and realized he was right. The plastic was torn off, and the edges of the record were already crumbled under her still-fidgeting fingers. 

An embarrassed groan left her throat, covering her face with the crumbled record.

“I didn’t notice. I got lost in thought, ugh,” she urged, pulling down the record with a red face.

Great going, girlie. Now you are a criminal.

“It’s alright, I get lost in thought too!” he quipped back with a stammer and an awkward laugh.

Which plunged into an awkward silence.

Awkward enough to be contagious and make her snort a laugh as well. And making him snort as well. Both of them were laughing before calming down from the tense moment. An easy, friendly air was going around them, making her feel some weight off her shoulders.

She really needed that.

“I have seen you around, at school,” he commented. “We actually take class together, but we never actually talked before.”

That got her attention. 

“Oh, yeah. I usually prefer my own… company.” That last part sounded very similar to a question.

The boy nodded in understanding. “No judgment! I can only imagine how it is for you.”

She rolled her eyes with a snort, moving back towards the records. She could only imagine how public the fact was that Wayne was the least liked amongst her own family. That doom scroll through Twitter last night was very enlightening.

“Wait! I didn’t mean it like that,” he sputtered, with a wide look, realizing how wrong his words sounded out loud.

She let him squirm for a few moments, glancing from the corner of her eye as he tried to stammer an explanation and apologies, before grinning at him. Making him stop talking and shut his mouth.

“I was just teasing. Chill out,” she trailed off, motioning at him to introduce himself.

He nervously laughed, offering his hand for her to shake.

“I swear, I have manners.” His tone was lighter, making her smile as she took his hand for a quick shake.

It caught her off guard how cold his skin was.

Almost as cold as pure ice.

“I’m Robert. Robert Drake.” He smiled brightly. “But I prefer Bobby. It’s what my friends call me.”

Bobby Drake

The young girl nodded, pleased at finally getting a name from the first friendly person of her age. A soft warmth invaded her chest.

“Well, Bobby,” she teased, making him chuckle as he took a place beside her. “Mind helping me out, hiding this broken record and picking a new one before I get banned from this place?”

Bobby hummed with a mocking tone, pretending to look busy by flipping through a few records while she waited for his answer.

“Well, I’m in desperate need of a friend and a lab partner for science class, soooo,” He drawled while giving her pleading puppy eyes.

Now it was her turn to act all busy, before nodding pleasedly.

“You got a deal, then.”

“Oh, thank god. Because I couldn’t let you walk away with that monstrosity in your hands. Do you like Chappell Roan? It doesn’t matter. I have to amend your sins one way or another.”

A friend.

She had made her first friend.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Westchester County, New York - 9:30 PM

Charles Xavier had been holed up in his office for the past two hours. There were documents all sprawled around his desk, all meticulously studied and organized in a way that was only for Charles’s thought process.

Another child had disappeared. A mutant child.

The child was on the list of possible candidates for the school. Their mutation has recently awakened (being able to go through walls and different surfaces). A very fascinating mutation, but still overwhelming for a teenage girl who didn’t understand what was happening.

They had scheduled a home visit with her parents a few weeks back, both of them willing to find the help needed for her daughter’s new development.

Then, she disappeared. Just like the other three children.

A pattern was made. And Gotham City was the hunting grounds.

“Professor, am I interrupting?”

Xavier lifted his head and smiled at the young man at the door. He opened the door wider with a small nudge with his mind.

“Come in, Scott. I was just searching around.”

Scott Summers clicked the door closed behind him, making his way towards the desk with a worried frown.

“No updates yet?”

The professor shook his head, rolling back in his chair and going around the front of the desk to be side by side with one of his oldest students.

“Unfortunately, not yet. Our ‘investigator’ just got settled in Gotham this morning.”

That made Scott grumble under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest and making Xavier give him an amused look.

“Why send him? You know how unstable he can be, and this situation is very delicate.”

“I need you here, Scott.”

The young man gave him a side eye under his red-tinted sunglasses.

“Ororo would be more suited for the job than he.”

Charles shook his head, moving his chair towards the glass-stained window that gave a view of the front yard of his mansion.

His home. His haven. His school for his children.

His children, who were taken away before knowing they were more like them. A place where they could belong.

“The students can’t know something is wrong. It will upset them, and Miss Monroe’s presence is required to keep peace and calm in the mansion. You know she is almost like a mother to the student body. We can’t take that stability, not from them.”

Scott remained quiet, moments passing before nodding with a sigh.

“Fine. But if the Batman finds out a feral man is running rampant amongst his city, I am not saving his hairy ass.”

Charles knew he was bluffing.

But he let him be. For now.

Because he was dreading the moment a certain metal bender found out about this.

And Charles knew that would be a nightmare to deal with.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Author's note: SURPRISE SHAWTIES!!!! Longest chapter up to date and with SO much information because we are finally moving foward!!! I wanted to get done with the introductions of the batfam an most of them are almost done ( I haven't forgotten about Cass and Jason, don't worry.) But we finally have Bobby with us! I was so excited to write him because i love him to bits. He's my golden puppy and I will make you guys love him. We're also back with the Saturday/Sunday updates every week! Let me know what you guys think of this chapter or theories you have in the asks or comments. I love answering! Lots of hugs and love, GG✨

Tag List:

 @bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen @vanessa-boo @livingund3ad @aelxr

Bonus Memes:

[caramel-maive-chiato]

Stuck with you pt. 2 - Viktor ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

✦ summary: You two are figuring out this whole unexpected pregnancy thing (mostly by arguing). It’s late, raining outside, and you’re both still at the lab, too stubborn to go home, somehow, he’s actually not being an asshole.

Requests open! recommendations and prompts list

masterlist | Part 1

✦ genre: drama/hurt-comfort

✦ pairing: fem!reader (afab)

✦ warnings: mild cursing, Viktor being kind of an asshole to you (a bit softer now)

✦ author`s note: godddd I'm so nervousss, I rewriten this like 3 times, I was scared this part couldn’t reach the same hype part 1 did :(, so I really hope you enjoy it! (no proofread btw)

Some weeks had gone by, now you were three months pregnant, your bump started to be more noticeable even when you tried to cover it up with your clothes.

You and Viktor fell into a steady rhythm of serious conversations about paternity and then came back to insulting each other like any other Friday afternoon.

Though his concern for your health started deepening, the worst part wasn’t that you were pregnant.

It wasn’t even that it was Viktor’s. No, the worst part was that Viktor was being Viktor about the whole thing.

Annoying. Sharp-tongued. Infuriatingly composed. And somehow, somehow, still the most brilliant person you’d ever met, which only made it worse.

Life had settled into a bizarre phase at the lab. No screaming, no dramatic arguments. Instead, it was small things;

Viktor shoving a glass of water at you in the middle of a long work session, making sure you didn’t forget to eat, tossing out a casual, accented: "perhaps you should sit down"

'don’t dive your head into a fantasy that does not exist'

That was the mantra you kept repeating to yourself whenever that warm feeling started to swell in your chest, whenever he wasn't being an asshole. As if his bare minimum of decent behavior was enough to set off a whole internal war within you.

But he was still him. Still determined to get under your skin.

Which was probably why, after days of suspiciously thoughtful behavior, you weren’t at all surprised when he ruined it. One rainy, stormy afternoon;

“Your calculations are wrong” he said, not even looking up from his notes.

You glanced up from the blueprints you were working on, unimpressed. “Excuse me?”

“Your stabilizer formula for the gem holder. It is incorrect, very incorrect actually." Viktor tapped a page in front of him, his usual smirk edging into something even more insufferable.

“Oh, please. I’ve been refining this formula for months. There is nothing wrong with it.”

You saw a flash of light before a raging thunder made the windows tremble. His eyes flicked up, sharp and amused.

“Then you will not mind if I...” He took your notebook from the table before you could stop him, scanning the equations.

Your blood pressure spiked. “Viktor—”

“Ah, here it is.” He tapped a line of calculations with his pen. “a rounding error, pretty basic mistake for the mastermind you pretend to be.”

“It’s fine” You grabbed the notebook back before he could say another word.

“Hmm.” He leaned back. “It is unlike you to make such mistakes. Distracted, aren't you?”

“Maybe I am, in fact, distracted. I wonder why” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

His gaze flickered to your stomach—just briefly, just enough for your heart to do something stupid in your chest—before he looked back at your face, unimpressed.

“Do not blame me for your inability to multitask.”

You wanted to throw something at him. Instead, you exhaled through your nose, willing patience into your voice. “You are so lucky that I am too tired to fight you today.”

“Lucky,” he repeated dryly. “yes, that is exactly how I would describe this situation.”

Your fingers curled into fists. “You are so infuriating—”

“and you are exhausting”

“You don’t listen to anything”

“You always have to control everything”

“I am very frustrating, after all, you have said it many times actually" he hummed, shifting his weight onto his cane.

“because you clearly are" you muttered.

"And yet, I am offering you emotional support," Viktor continued, his tone light, almost playful."a noble man, truly a gentleman."

"Such a noble man, nothing screams chivalry like making fun of a poor single mother."

The words hit like punches in a boxing match, neither of you willing to back down.

Then it came out of your mouth before you could stop it—

“no matter how much you hate me, we still have to raise a child together.”

Silence.

Viktor’s expression flickered, just for a second. He exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against the desk.

“…I don’t hate you.”

His voice was softer than you expected.

Your anger didn’t vanish completely, but it dulled around the edges.

His tall -cane suported- figure getting outlined by the lightings that cracked behind him made your body tingle in waves, as if the thunder had strucked you.

You frowned, arms still crossed.

“you sure act like it sometimes.”

Silence.

The next time you saw Viktor around the lab, it was late, far past when either of you should have still been in there.

You were sitting at your desk, staring down a half-eaten sandwich with the kind of exhaustion that came from too many late nights and too many unspoken thoughts.

If Jayce wasn’t a complete mess at doing his annotations, you would probably be sleeping at your cozy, warm house.

Away from your emotionally supportive co-parenting bastard.

The only sound was the scratch of chalk against the board, the occasional tap of his cane against the floor, and the rain outside.

Until, of course, he broke the silence.

“You are eating that as if it’s your last meal on death row, it’s pathetic.”

“I am tired.” you sighed, setting it down, your hand sliding down your face.

“Well, you are here, but you could be cozy at home already." Viktor hummed, flipping a page in his notes.

“So are you.”

He smirked, not denying it. “I have an excuse. This is my life, I do what I want, and what I want is to work.”

For all his stubbornness, all his arrogance, you knew he was carrying this research like a burden. That he had convinced himself he had to solve it, no matter the cost.

"Well, let me tell you something that might surprise you, I work here too," you said, tapping the desk. “Monday to Saturday from 8 to 8."

“So do I" Viktor tilted his head, studying you. “But you never stay this late.”

“Yeah, well. Things change.” You hesitated, fingers tightening around your pen.

There was a long silence. A pause, like he wasn’t sure whether to step past whatever invisible line had been drawn between you since this whole mess started.

Then, quietly, “Are you feeling unwell?"

You blinked. The question was so… simple. Not teasing, not smug. Just genuine worry.

“…I’m fine” you said, but even you didn’t believe it.

Viktor didn’t continue further, just nodded. But something in his expression softened just a fraction, just enough to make your chest tighten.

A few more minutes passed in silence before you let out a breath.

“You know,” you said, your voice quieter, “I still haven’t figured out how I’m supposed to tell everyone.”

"Perhaps not like you told me, you almost gave me a heart attack"

There was a pause, a beat where neither of you spoke. Your voice was softer when you continued.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” Your fingers traced patterns on the desk. “I thought I was going to be a sad single mom"

“You thought I would leave?” Viktor’s smirk faded. His fingers stilled as he fidgeted with a loose screw, and his gaze flickered toward you.

You swallowed.

“I didn’t know.”

His brow furrowed. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“No!” you said quickly, then sighed. “I just… I didn’t want to assume you’d want this.”

You motioned vaguely, meaning the baby, the responsibility, the entire future that came with it.

Viktor studied you for a long moment. His voice was softer when he finally spoke.

"I was an ass," he admitted. "Stomping over you, claiming your research. I shouldn’t have done that."

His hand rested on your shoulder—not pressing, just there, warm through the fabric of your shirt.

His thumb idly brushed against your spine as he moved it down, waiting, patient. Giving you flashbacks you didn’t want to have right now.

"Wow, you are the most morally intelligent person I have ever met, Vik" you said with the most mock-serious tone you could produce.

"I think it is way too late for an apology, sorry buddy.” you continued

"I hand you the best material to argue with me like old times, and you just bitch me around?” he said, eyebrow raised

“You want my attention so bad?"

You didn’t know who moved first, if it was you or him. But the space between you vanished, and then—

Then you kissed him.

Or maybe he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t some heated, reckless moment.

It was slow. Gentle. Like neither of you wanted to admit how long you had been waiting for it.

Viktor exhaled softly against your lips, like he had finally given up trying to fight something inevitable. Rain drops tickling the windows still.

When you finally pulled away, you were still close enough to feel the warmth of him.

“Hmm.” he tilted his head slightly.

“What?” you frowned.

“That was… unexpectedly pleasant.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

“Shut up.”

His smirk was small, shy even.

“Make me.”

You kissed him again.

Just once. Just because you could. And somehow, that was the most dangerous part of all.

Requests are open, here is my request and recommendations list!

thank you for commenting on part one my loves! @ocean-mochi @21-princess @biscuitsaredelish @spongelll @zanate-in-the-stars @rainyforest777 @iviorienne @demigoddesofchimichangagod @my-horniness-is-okay

[doumadono]

A toast to the past - Dabi x Reader

Warnings: a lot of sadness, grieving

Synopsis: some bonds and moments never truly die, no matter how much time passes. This is what you've learned not only from the League of Villains, but mostly from Dabi himself

A/N: as we say goodbye to 2024, I want to take a moment to wish you all a very Happy New Year, filled with good health and an abundance of positive energy. A huge thank you to everyone who has taken the time to visit my blog, read my stories, or offer the support - your kindness means the world to me. I’m looking forward to welcoming the new year and sharing even more with all of you. Here's to more adventures together in 2025!

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The icy wind gnawed at the edges of the dilapidated bar, rattling loose boards and curling under the gap at the door. The League of Villains’ ramshackle hideout wasn’t exactly the place one might expect to find themselves celebrating. It wasn’t often the League found a reason to celebrate, but tonight was an exception. New Year’s Eve was as good a reason as any to drag out the stolen liquor, laugh a little too loudly, and forget - if only for a few hours - about the vain world of heroes that loomed outside.

Yet, the hideout was alive with chaos. 

Spinner had begrudgingly joined Twice and Toga in their frantic attempts to decorate, though the results were predictably awful - streamers dangled half-heartedly from the ceiling, and a mismatched assortment of paper lanterns cast flickering light across the room.

Mr. Compress sipped his drink, attempting to draw Giran into the conversation.

Shigaraki, for once, seemed to tolerate the festive atmosphere, though he sat hunched in his chair, lazily swirling a glass of a cheap champagne, scratching idly at his neck and glaring at anyone who came too close, his Switch laying on his lap.

Kurogiri had been busy behind the scenes, thoughtfully preparing colorful drinks for everyone. He made sure to mix several non-alcoholic ones, particularly for Toga, knowing she would enjoy them without the risk of getting drunk.  He'd always kept an eye on her, knowing well that she could easily lose control if left unchecked, just like Tomura. At the same time, he carefully prepared extra shots for Shigaraki, who had openly mentioned earlier that he wanted to get wasted to dull the unbearable itching sensation crawling beneath his skin. Kurogiri had always been attentive, and tonight, he was doing what he could to ease the discomfort of his comrades, in his own quiet, efficient way.

And then there was Dabi.

The black-haired man, as usual, lingered on the outskirts of the noise, a silent observer. He stood by the window, cigarette in hand, eyes half-lidded as the faint orange glow reflected off the sharp planes of his face. The scarred corners of his lips twitched occasionally as he watched the others, though whether in amusement or annoyance, it was hard to tell.

It was a strange thing, this party. A group like yours wasn’t exactly built for celebrations. You were all too fractured, too worn by the world to embrace something as frivolous as joy. And yet, here you all were, crammed into this shabby room with mismatched streamers hanging crookedly from the ceiling.

"Five minutes to midnight!" Toga announced, clapping her hands together with a giddy grin. She darted to Twice, who was balancing a precarious tower of plastic cups, and immediately knocked it over in her excitement.

"You little menace!" Twice cried, his tone swinging wildly between indignant and adoring.

It was impossible not to laugh. Even Shigaraki's lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk before he buried his face back in his hands.

You glanced at Dabi, who hadn't moved from his spot by the window. Smoke curled lazily around his head, his expression unreadable. Something about his stillness drew you in like gravity, and before you realized it, you were walking toward him.

"You're missing the party," you teased, stopping just short of leaning against the same wall.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze flicking to you. "Looks like I'm not the only one."

"Fair," you admitted with a small smile. “But you’re really going to sulk through New Year’s?” You leaned your hip against the wall, tilting your head as you studied him.

“Sulking implies I care,” Dabi shot back, but the retort lacked its usual venom.

The countdown began, Toga’s voice leading the charge. “Ten! Nine!”

As the countdown began, the League’s mismatched voices filled the air, a cacophony of excitement and half-hearted participation.

Dabi didn’t move. He didn’t turn to the others, didn’t even glance at the clock. His gaze remained on you, sharp and heavy.

“Eight! Seven!”

“You’re staring,” you said softly, though your tone lacked any real accusation.

His lips twitched into something that might have been a smirk. “So are you.”

“Six! Five!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he took a step closer. He stopped just a breath away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him despite the chill that crept through the cracks in the walls. His hand came up to cup your cheek, rough fingers brushing against your skin with a surprising gentleness that made your breath hitch.

“Four! Three!”

The noise around you faded into nothing, the room dissolving into a blur as his thumb traced along your lower lip.

“Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupted into cheers, Toga’s high-pitched squeal cutting through the din as the others toasted and clapped, but none of it reached you. 

Dabi leaned in, his lips crashed against yours. It wasn’t soft or tentative - he wasn’t the kind of man for that. Dabi’s lips were firm, his touch possessive, the kiss rough and consuming. The heat of him, the faint taste of smoke on his lips, made your knees weak, and you clung to him as though letting go wasn’t an option.

The world seemed to pause, time itself holding its breath as the moment stretched. 

Dabi pulled back, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. His breath ghosted over your lips as he muttered, “Happy New Year, doll.”

Before you could respond, Toga’s delighted giggles shattered the moment. “Dabi kissed Y/N! I knew he would!” she crowed, clapping her hands in glee.

Twice let out a loud, exaggerated whistle. “Didn’t see that coming. Well, maybe I did. No, I definitely didn’t!”

Even Shigaraki seemed momentarily stunned, though he quickly muttered something about idiots and looked away.

Spinner groaned, muttering something about how he couldn’t believe he was spending his New Year with these people.

Compress raised a toast to the unexpected romance, and Twice fumbled with the camera app on his phone to snap a blurry picture. 

But none of it mattered. 

All that existed in that moment was the way Dabi looked at you as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

“Alright, show’s over,” the black-haired man groaned, shooting a pointed glare at Toga before grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the door, leading you straight to his bedroom.

The night passed in a blur of heated whispers and shared warmth, his body a steady presence against yours as you made love for hours. The two of you stayed wrapped around each other long after the world outside went quiet. Dabi’s arm draped over your waist, his breath steady and warm against your shoulder. Neither of you spoke, content to exist in the stillness, in the rare, fragile peace of the moment.

The memory still lived in your heart, as vivid and searing as if it had happened yesterday. The hideout filled with laughter and chaos, Toga’s delighted clapping, Twice’s off-key singing, and the way Dabi’s lips pressed against yours at the stroke of midnight - it was a fleeting moment of happiness in a world that had given you so little.

But that was last year. That New Year’s Eve was the last you all spent together.

Everything changed after that night. The war came, tearing through your lives like a storm, leaving devastation in its wake. Too many lives were claimed, too many futures snuffed out. The League, the world, you - it all fractured, irreparably changed by the battles fought and the losses endured.

Now, you sat cross-legged in the grass, the late afternoon sun warm against your shoulders. A simple summer dress clung to your frame, and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers. In your lap was a handmade bowl of soba, steam curling lazily into the air.

“I started a job last week,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “It’s nothing glamorous, just working in the back of a diner. Washing dishes, peeling vegetables, that sort of thing. It’s hard, y’know? People don’t exactly trust someone with a past like mine.” You picked at the soba with your chopsticks, twirling the noodles idly. “People stare. They always do. Even when they don’t recognize me, they can tell there’s something off, like they can smell the smoke that clings to me. I can’t blame them. It’s not like I’ll ever really blend in.” You laughed softly, though the sound was hollow. “It’s funny,” you continued, wiping your cheek where a tear had fallen unnoticed. “The normal life we used to joke about… it’s so much harder than I thought it’d be. People don’t smile much, not really. And some days, it’s like I’m invisible. Maybe it’s better that way.” 

You held the bowl tighter, your knuckles white against the handmade ceramic. “I brought this for you,” you offered, shifting slightly to place the bowl in the grass. “You probably would’ve made some snarky comment about how it’s not your style, but I thought… I thought you might like it anyway.”

The words caught in your throat, and before you could stop them, the tears came - hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks as though the dam you’d built over the past year had finally broken. You didn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point?

It took everything in you to get here. Reaching out to the Todoroki family - people you’d once thought of as enemies - had been harder than you could have imagined. But you needed to know where he was, where they’d laid him to rest. You couldn’t keep carrying the weight of his absence without a place to grieve.

The breeze shifted, and for a moment, it seemed to carry a faint, fleeting scent of fire - charcoal and smoke. It wrapped around you like an embrace, stirring the strands of your hair. It was fleeting, barely there, but it made you pause. Slowly, your lips curved into a small, trembling smile. “You’re listening, aren’t you?” you whispered, wiping at your face. “You always were good at pretending not to care.”

What you didn’t know - what you couldn’t know - was that he was sitting right there, just as you’d imagined. His spirit leaned against the gravestone, one knee drawn up, his chin resting lazily on it. He was watching you, his pale eyes filled with a mixture of longing and sorrow. He reached out, his fingers ghosting over your cheek, aching to wipe away your tears. But it was futile, of course. You were here, in the world of the living, and he was there, trapped in the world of the dead. Dabi whispered, “Stop crying, doll. You’ll ruin your pretty face.” But the words faded into the breeze, unheard and unspoken.

He watched you carefully: the way your hands trembled slightly as you set the bowl down, the way your lips quivered as you spoke his name, the way your tears reflected the light of the setting sun.

You couldn’t see the way his jaw clenched, the frustration in his eyes as his hand passed through you like mist. The space between your worlds was too vast, and all he could do was sit and observe.

You didn’t know he was there, couldn’t feel the weight of his gaze or the ghostly touch of his hand. “I miss you,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you rested a hand on the cold stone. “Every day, Touya.”

He closed his eyes, his head tilting back against the gravestone as if to steady himself. The scars on his face softened in the glow of the afternoon sun, and for a moment, he looked almost at peace. “I miss you too,” he whispered, though the words were meant only for himself.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cemetery. Your fingers brushed over the gravestone, tracing the letters carved into the cold stone: Touya Todoroki. The breeze swirled again, wrapping around you like an embrace. It felt warm, comforting, almost like him.

“I miss all of you. Toga, Tomura… even Twice and his constant grumbling.” You laughed weakly, but the sound was hollow. “The world’s quieter now, but it doesn’t feel better. It feels empty.” And with that, you sobbed more. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. I’m sorry I couldn’t save any of you. I’m so fucking sorry…”

When you finally stood  and brushed the grass from your dress, you glanced back at the tombstone one last time. “I’ll keep going,” you whispered, your voice shaky but resolute. “For you. For all of you. I promise. I promise I won’t let go. I’ll never forget you. And you guys will always live in my heart.”

He watched you turn to leave, his gaze lingering on you as if memorizing every detail - the way the sunlight caught the strands of your hair, the way your shoulders straightened even under the weight of your grief, and a faint smile crossed his lips as his scarred hand rested on the top of the tombstone. “We all know that, doll,” he murmured, his voice soft and low. “Live the life we weren’t destined to have. And don’t forget - I’ll love you forever.”

As the wind swept through the graveyard once more, Dabi’s spirit winnowed like mist under the light of a chilly morning, fading into the air that surrounded you. And a promise, carried on the breeze, was as eternal as the love he left behind.

tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[dollgxtz]

My first and only statement on all the accusations

Hello, I’m sure most of you are aware of the accusations about me and some of the stories I posted on my account. This post is not only an apology post, but an accountability post that details everything that happened from beginning to end. Everything will be here, so I will not be making more posts about this unless it’s to direct to this one.

Adding a tw now for suicide baiting, death threats and mentions of razors. So sorry but it must be included.

First I just wanted to say, no I wasn’t avoiding any of this. When this all started I was still in the middle of finals week, and I don’t live on tumblr 24/7. I had to focus on my finals to ensure I can get my degree and graduate. That was my number one priority. If anyone was blocked or comments were restricted during that time, it was my mostly my irl friend ensuring I wasn’t consumed by tumblr and could focus on my finals. I was already under a lot of stress and she offered to take over until I was finished with finals.

I was also getting death threats (people telling me to skin myself I alive and to jump). So she was ensuring that when I returned to my own blog, I would not see such triggering content. I have a history with suicide attempts and this was necessary for my mental health. The appropriate people were unblocked and remain unblocked to this day.

I always intended to make a statement, I just prioritized my real life first. It also took time to craft the post you are seeing now. I wanted it to be authentic, no misinformation, and well written.

So, as far as plagiarism goes, yes I did plagiarize specifically 3 of zombiekillerbiceps stories. I can’t actually remember the names of them and the author has removed their account from the site. But on my end specifically “Getting Closer”, “Edge of Control” and “Thrills” were not my own writing. Before they deleted their account I had already reached out via dm and apologized. We came to an understanding. I do not know why they deleted their account but they essentially said in DMs they accepted my apology and wanted to put this behind us but they were very hurt that I had copied them.

Edit: I found the post they made calling me out and will attach it.

As far as His Watchful Eye goes, the only plagiarism that took place was specifically the first chapter of it and only the first chapter. The first chapter of Something Permanent and His Watchful Eye are very similar. The remaining 13 chapters are my own writing and ideas. I have already reached out to @explorevenus and apologized. She has responded and made her own statement regarding it if you want to go and read it.

The only reason it was in anon is because this account (dollgxtz) is my side blog. I couldn’t figure out how to send a non anonymous message without exposing my main blog, so anon was the best thing. I didn’t want people sending death threats too that one too. I should’ve put my username in the anon, but it was already very late for me and I hadn’t slept in about 26 hours. I just wasn’t thinking very clearly and for that Venus I am also very sorry.

@manika-whims (the person that first wrote about all this) will remain blocked and some of her followers because I do suspect it was that group of people telling me to die. Manika wrote a very long post as she was upset that I “mischaracterized” Xavier in His Watchful Eye, called me a bitch and a loser because of a fictional man in a fictional story, and I will not entertain such immaturity. Full stop.

One of the anons that sent the suicide bait also called me a bitch and a waste of space. It was just too similar.

I also got this one. It’s too graphic to show the entirety of it.

I apologize for the plagiarism. But I will never apologize for writing characters the way I do or for writing dark content. It’s just not that serious. After she posted that I started getting these death threats and more.

You had every right to call me out for plagiarism Manika, but I stand my decision to keep you blocked. It had nothing to do with plagiarism accusations or me hiding from them, but I do believe you egged on your audience to come attack me over a fictional story and for that reason you will never be unblocked. I’ve attached screenshots below of the entire exchange. This is not to deflect from my own actions. This is simply to explain why she is blocked. She will say it’s because I was trying to hide from this but that is not true. I am just very sure the death threats came from her or her audience. This isn’t to say that she absolutely did but just in case, for my own mental health and safety I had to have them blocked.

Now that that’s discussed, I would like to address my readers and any future readers of mine. The plagiarized stories “Getting Closer” “Thrills” and “Edge of Control”. have been deleted and will remain deleted. Those of you asking for copies, please do not. They are not my writing nor my own works. Any remaining single work story on my blog is my own work and 100 percent my own ideas. My masterlist has been updated to reflect this as well.

When I first made my blog and posted those stories, I was a very insecure writer. I did not think I was truly capable of writing or making a good story. I did those things out of insecurity and not feeling good enough. But as time went on, I began to create my own stories and realize that I can write if I put my mind to it. These are not excuses, only explanations. Nothing excuses my behavior.

If you want to defend me, that is your own choice. I ask that you do not though in terms of plagiarism because I ultimately did plagiarize and that is 100 percent wrong of me to do. But in terms of AI usage accusations, these are not true. I have never and never will use AI to write.

I have spent countless hours writing chapters for His Watchful Eye, pulled all nighters, and even lost sleep making this story. I have timestamps in google docs that show me editing and writing my own story. I didn’t even know AI had advanced to the point that you can write fully blown novels. But make no mistake, Ai checkers are not reliable. I had an incident in my first year of college where a paper I wrote got flagged for 77 percent ai generated content. That paper was written 100 percent by me over countless hours and still got flagged. It was a very scary time in my life and for that reason alone I will never use AI.

If you want to unfollow me, please do so. If you want to block me, please do so. I would never hold that against anyone and am not mad at anyone for doing so. Just don’t come in my anon box telling me to jump, don’t message me rude or disgusting messages telling me to die. I am a human, I am a real person behind the screen. What I did was wrong but you are no better telling someone to kill themselves. Please just block me.

All in all thanks for reading. If you unfollow, thanks for being here. If you don’t, thanks for being here. If you want to be removed from any taglists, please just message me. You will not be blocked. Just removed from any future taglists! I have vowed to only post 100 percent of my own content from here on out, so if you stay I can promise you will only be reading my own work.

I am no longer the insecure writer that I once was, I now know my abilities and am confident enough to make my own stories. I have a 240,000 word fic out right now, I genuinely am still shocked I have done that. Writing has become a joy for me and I will not stop now. I should’ve never been afraid to make mistakes or be bad at it. I’m sorry to the people I hurt, my readers, and anyone reading this in the future. I am still growing and learning from my mistakes, and this has been the biggest lesson I will never forget.

Plagiarism is wrong and hurts authors. If you are reading this and have done so as well, please rethink your decisions and take them down, just as I have done.

I love interacting with you all, when you send me asks and messages about HWE or any of my original single fics. It is amazing getting to explain stuff or gush with you guys over the things that I have truly written. I truly love being an author and want my future as one to be honest and communicative.

The comments on this will be monitored, but not restricted. Voicing your thoughts is okay as long as they are respectful and not a direct threat to me or anyone’s life. Questions are okay as well and I will answer to the best of my ability. Please no:

insulting me or any of the people mentioned in this post (manika, venus, zombie, etc)

death threats or suicide baiting anyone

I want this to be a mature and honest discussion, and that can’t happen if I allow such comments. Despite what has been said about or to me, I do not want to replicate any insults/drama on my own blog. You can voice your displeasure or opinions without name calling.

Same goes for any messages or anon box messages you all may send to anyone involved here. We are all real people with feelings. Keep that in mind please before you message anyone.

We all make mistakes. Without mistakes, we cannot grow as people. It’s what we do after we make those mistakes that truly attest to our character. And this is what I’ve chosen to do. Lay it all out for my readers and the rest of the LADS fandom to see, apologize to the people I hurt and only write my own stories from here on out. Thank you to the readers and friends who approached me with kindness and encouraged me to keep writing authentically. And thank you all for reading, I wish all of you the best in life 🤍

-Umi ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Edit: The first chapter of His Watchful Eye had been rewritten shortly after this statement was released. It now reflects my own writing. That was the only chapter that had ever been plagiarized. All other chapters reflect my own writing and ideas, now including chapter one.

Just putting this here to clear up accusations in the reblogs. I never claimed that either author was okay with me plagiarizing off them…I simply apologized and linked to Venus’s original statement. I stated Zombie accepted my apology, but was never okay with the plagiarism. Venus never accepted my apology, and that’s okay. I even told her I understood and that I didn’t expect her to. I’ve never expected anyone to be okay with what I did. I did everything I could to remedy the situation and that was it.

I apologized, deleted the stories, made a statement and reworked what I needed to. Everyone’s feelings on this are still 100 percent valid, and it’s totally okay to still be mad at me for this. I never expect Venus or Zombie to ever truly forgive me. However, let’s not spread misinformation. Reblogs are off from this point on to prevent the spread of misinformation. If you want to further discuss, you’re welcome to make your own posts. Thank you. ☺️

[baby-tini]

All timeline Mikeys easily manhandling their gf/wife. How often and why they'd do that👀

Manila!Mikey would do it the most often, this version of Mikey loves the physical control aspect of your relationship, and given just how easily he exercises control over people, and just how easy it is for him too put people down physically, it's extremely likely that, that would be relatively abundant in the dynamic that you two share. One of the things that he's notorious for doing is grabbing at your hair when you have an attitude and try too walk away from him, he really doesn't like that. So he'll fist at your hair and bring you back towards him, pulling your head back as asks you too repeat yourself for him, and when you don't, he'd tell you that it'd be best if you drop your little attitude now, before something worse happens. He'd also be very into pinning you down and taunting you, you must not when him too get off you because you're not even trying too push him off... oh, you are? Well you're not very good at it, and he knows that's not the case, Manila!Mikey or just Mikey in general is insanely strong and you not being able too push him off, is no big surprise and he thrives off you struggling under him.

With Bonten!Mikey though, it's not often and he doesn't really. Now don't get me wrong, he's still got a bit of strength but.. he's very malnourished and under-weight. So, manhandling you isn't super common with him, mainly because he kinda can't. That's why he sticks to guns now, because he's not able too exercise the same strength he used too when he was younger and more up to par with his martial arts. Now, if he's pissed with you, he tends too grab at you, mostly grabbing at your shoulders or arms and holding you their, but even then, it's still not that hard, it only hurts because his hands are relatively big and he squeezes tight, so the spot that he's squeezing will start too become sore and it'll start too hurt you.

Kanto!Mikey though, he's a force and he's insanely strong and he's also in relatively good health so he's very physical with you, and I rarely mean in the affectionate way. He's very big about exercising just how much stronger then you he is. Now, he's intimidating enough, so he doesn't have too physically handle you often but it's not rare either. He's pretty big on forced submission, as in, he'll make you sit at his feet and he'll pet you.. like you were a prized pet for him. He's very big in making it known that you are beneath him and that he's stronger and obviously you know this but he likes too keep you on a rather tight leash, not literally, and he wants too keep that in your head that you can't stop him. He's also really into grabbing you up, like if you're throwing, as he calls them, a temper tantrum. He'll grab you up by the arm as he leans into your ear, in a scarily calm voice, he tells you that you need too, "behave or you'll find yourself crying on the floor."

But with Street Racer!Mikey it's only in a playful aspect, he likes too play-fight with you it's actually really fun, because while yes, he is stronger then you, he still lets you pin him down and get on top of him as he pretends too struggle with you, and while you know he's pretending, it's still fun as you guys giggle about and there's a struggle with each other while he pins you down and tickles you. Sometimes that leads too quite intense sessions as he has your hands pinned above your head and you're breathing heavily as he stares you down, his eyes starring you down as they're lidded and he's grinning your face as you squirm under him.

Toman!Mikey really likes manhandling you, he gets quite the thrill from it and you makes it even better when you lean into and playfully provoke him. It's more affectionate with him in a way as he'll hold you to him and keep you their, right against his chest. He's very big in physically leading you, as in he'll grab you by the hands and pull you with because when he has you, and when he's able too be with you, when he's not working, he likes too touch you as much as he can. With this version of Mikey, he's also still pretty strong and pinning you down or picking you up is rather quite easy for him. He likes too grab you by the face and get your face as he squeezes your cheeks together as gives you a peck to your lips.

[richarlotte]

What did you do/use for your facial beauty glow up?

Lip Filler.

I have 1.5 mL of lip filler at the moment and probably won’t get more any time soon. In my mind, it’s the perfect amount; it gives my lips a delicious, just bitten look, and it doesn’t look or feel unnatural. I’m someone who loves subtle changes; I’m not the sort of girl who’d go crazy with surgery, and I prefer to make my changes slowly. I started with .5 mL, slowly went up to 1.5 mL over the course of two more appointments, and I think plumping my lips up completely changed my lower face and made me look younger and more feminine.

Polynucleotide Injections.

This treatment is major in South Korea; it’s very popular, and one of my best friends went and came back singing its praises. After weight loss, this is the most important thing I have ever done for myself. These injections boosted my collagen production and made the terrible dark circles and puffiness under my eyes disappear. It took a few weeks for me to see the results, but I look like I’ve had an upper and lower blepharoplasty now; my eye area is completely rejuvenated and the skin is bright, and while my initial reaction to the set of treatments I had was intense, the end result was better than I could’ve ever hoped for.

A Comprehensive Skincare Routine.

The skin is the body’s largest organ, and the first step to learning how to care for it is understanding that you and it must be hydrated. Learning that what I put into my body was just as important as what I put onto my skin helped me change my approach to skincare. I mostly use French, Korean, and medical-grade skincare products, and I switch them out each season so that I can approach my needs correctly. Washing and changing my sheets twice weekly, going on a low estrogen birth control, and adding N-acetylcysteine to my supplements helped me more than I could ever say.

Minoxidil. 

Using Minoxidil to grow my eyebrows out was one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself. I love the look of thick, lush eyebrows, but I don’t actually like thick brows. I used minoxidil to grow my eyebrows until they were thick and I could have them threaded and thinned out just a bit, straightened, and tinted until they were the shape and shade I wanted. Minoxidil is a great tool; it's decently affordable, and while the results take a while to appear, once they've been appearing, they’re very noticeable. I also use a regular lash serum on my lashes to grow them; it’s from The Ordinary, and I think it works slowly but nicely. You do have to be very precise with your application of Minoxidil, but other than that, it’s very good for filling in sparse eyebrows.

Weight Loss.

Losing over 80 pounds, doing a complete overhaul of my diet and limiting the amount of processed foods I consume, making an effort to care for my body and mind, and changing my mental and physical health for the better completely changed my world. My insulin resistance is totally gone, I’m healed from the PCOS that once plagued me, I no longer eat the foods I have sensitivies to, and the inflammation and water retention I’d have the morning after are gone, and I feel like my best self. My double chin has been vanquished, my bone structure is visible again, and I love the way my nose looks, and I am so much more confident about the shape of my face. Losing weight is the best thing I have ever done for myself, and I’d recommend it to anyone who feels like they need to overhaul their life.

Proper Styling

Learning how to do my makeup, contouring my face with self-tanner, and styling my hair were all major parts of becoming more confident with my face. Now that I know what I’m doing with myself and I’ve been able to identify what suits me best, things come easier. Proper styling is what’ll make or break you. You could be the most beautiful woman in the world, but if you don’t care for your appearance, you’ll struggle. I put a lot of time and effort into learning what looked best on me, learning how to style myself, learning what worked with my facial shape and bone structure, and figuring out which lash maps, brow shape, makeup style, and colors suited the overall aesthetic I was going for. Learning about makeup products, trying a variety of different makeup styles, and new makeup techniques made a world of difference for my styling journey too.

Braces.

I had braces on for just over a year—traditional metal, power chains most of the time—and they were worth every cent. I was always insecure over my teeth, and fixing them has really made it easier for me to smile and express myself. Although they’re not perfectly straight or blindingly white (Kirsten Dunst is known for her smile for a reason), I’m confident, and I love them. Taking care of my teeth is something that I really struggled with at one point, and I have had to make a real effort to get better at that. I still have my dental routines, wear my retainer at night and through the day, and do brightening treatments, but I’m focused on the health of my mouth instead of aesthetics now.

These are the major things.

[molqr]

behold, psychoklok! these goobers are a silly psychonauts/metalocalypse au i've been rotating in my head for almost a year now. less focused on psychonauts characters but more on dethklok, and how their lives would be changed if they were psychic/in the psychonauts universe, and had to deal with all this in their 30s-40s (yeah, their powers would get more intense as the metalocalypse dawns) while charles (also psychic) has to frantically yet hesitantly consider getting the actual psychonauts involved after their mental health declines/spirals out of control post-aotd. much fun!

more ramblings/closeups/textless stuff under the cut!

my sillies...

nathan's good with a few things like psi-punch and mental connection, the latter being how he gets so many of his ideas. his thought train's slowed down now that he's a rich sheltered asshole, though. you'll notice some of their powers have little brackets next to them, and it's because i only think they'll realise they have these powers later in their story, like nathan and his very powerful hydrokinesis. surely that's not a sign of anything at all.

murderface isn't too varied in the psychic department. all of his self-hatred over the years has formed into a very, Very powerful form of blastokinesis though, and he make does very well with how he uses this (who am i kidding, he's using psi-blast to blow up squirrels and frogs and piss off the others) despite his insecurities about knowing only one power. well! good news willy! you're gonna get some command over ice post-salacia possession! surely you won't have complicated feelings about that at all!!!!!!!!

skwisgaar skwigelf is truly taller than a tree here!!! directly contrary to how cold she acts, she's unusually adept with pyrokinesis. which could mean nothing. she's familiar with clairvoyance, she sees the others like this--

(old doodle from like a year ago lol back at the conception of psychoklok, with an example of clairvoyance views from the psychonauts wiki for context on how it works with characters) --with them being extensions of their instruments they play in the band, nothing else, because she's keen on seperating herself from them and insisting theyre just bandmates. girl you live in the same house together. and yeah, toki's guitar looks beat up and stupid for a reason, she's not subtle. despite this, she's sort of insecure too, hence the clairvoyance, she thinks a lot about how people see her, especially in regards to her no.1 guitarist schtick. if you havent noticed, skwisgaar is a woman to me and i use exclusively she/her with her btw. #transgenderism

pickles looks like a pickle on purpose, yeah. it was just too easy! he used to use his telepathy for much cooler things (or sneakier things, like stealing beer as a teen) but now he mostly uses it for grabbing beer bottles that are out of arms reach while he sits on the couch watching tv, or pissing people off. depends on the day. pickles is probably one of the only people in the world who can regularly lace their weed with psitanium, and not suffer a total mental collapse, for some reason. how he works is unknown. the adverse effects of the psitanium consumage is that he's starting to float everrrr so slightly off the ground, but its more apparent with his floaty hair. (which i plan to resemble octopus limbs more, so im keeping his visible shitty white guy dreads down to 8, like 8 octopus legs!) he's silly, i love drawing his lanky ass.

toki seems pretty much the same, but he's very insistent that psychics arent a good thing. ...despite being a (repressed) psychic himself. it's a lore-piece that ive elaborated on in another drawing, but suffice to say, with the parents he has, him being psychic wouldn't end very well. i think he and loboto have a few things to talk about. (notice his head scar. hm...) anyway, his death curse manifests as precognition in this au, once that repressed power begins to unleash itself, toki becomes all to aware of all the death surrounding himself and the band. oh the tragedy! oh, and rockzo isnt a character in this au (because i hate him) but rather a figure from toki's imagination as a child manifested as mental projection, more like an imaginary friend which embodies him impulsivity and things he couldnt have as a kid. he came back after toki got his dad killed as a method of toki coping by being impulsive and shit, now he drinks vodka at 6 in the morning as urged by his little paper clown friend. this rockzo serves in furthering tokis character development only, once toki finally lets go of him and what he stands for (impulsive self destructive habits to cope) thats him gone forever. because iiii donttt likkeee himmm...

psychonauts is a really fun series to work with for aus and character stuffs because the games are just so lovely, i've even got a whole doc focused on what i think their mental worlds would look like! nathan explosion and his mental blood ocean and toki wartooth with the horrors of his icy past.. would love to draw some memory vaults for them sometime!

fun trivia! nathan is the only one here with 4 fingers. this is because he's the only one out of the band with no experience with instruments, he just does vocals :]

anyway thats all for now (on this post at least lmfao) thankes for reading if you got this far...!!

[phoenixyfriend]

Hey have a fun AU I came up with the other day after reading a bunch of fics with related tropes

It's a raised Sith AU. Anakin was found by Sidious well before he was found by Qui-Gon. He was raised by the Sith, is a classically horrible monster stalking about TCW to be Vader (mask and all, just as an intimidation factor instead of life support) while Ventress and Grievous and Dooku do their own things in a different section of the war. He's got a Really Fucking Weird dynamic with Obi-Wan, mostly attempting to kill him etc.

At some point, Palpatine allows Anakin and Padme to meet. The romance that blooms is one that Sheev decides is useful to him, so he lets it happen.*

Padme gets pregnant. Sidious arranges for her death. Anakin loses his entire shit and tries to kill Sidious. Obi-Wan is off trying to save Padme, unaware of Anakin getting his remaining limbs cut off by his this-universe Master. (This is important, because Anakin does remember Obi-Wan trying to save Padme.)

So we have Anakin, who was raised Sith, and just lost the only things that have mattered to him since his mom died when he was a kid, and Palpatine has pushed him further into the Dark than he ever has. Anakin… knows more about the Sith Secrets in this universe.

Anakin finds a Sithly Time Machine. Maybe on Malachor. There's an owl? Whatever.

Anakin, someone who's been Vader for the vast majority of his life, wakes up at age nine. Maybe even younger, like six. His mother is already dead at Sidious's hands. He's already roommates with Maul. He's already being trained as a baby Sith.

Anakin, being a 20 year old war veteran, is much better at escaping than Sidious has planned for. He reprograms a medical droid to take out his slave chip, steals a ship, etc. All the stuff that Maul wasn't very good at, and Anakin was too young for, so Sidious didn't have the preventative measures in place for yet.

Anakin heads for the one place and person he thinks he can trust: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(Obi-Wan is still a padawan. But this Baby Sith just declared him Adoptive Teen Dad, so.)

@lizasweetling (all indented bits from here will be hers):

Because Sith. Bad for mental health of the user and generally bad for their environs But also baby. And if hes dragging Maul around no doubt the dude is constantly himself confused why he is here Like yeah, Sidious sucked, and this 6-9yo is way powerful and knowledgeable on the dark side (?????) But why are we going to the Jedi? And not even trying to kill them apparently?????

Anakin is very much being affected by Baby Brain and Baby Endocrine System. He cries a lot more than he should.

I WASN'T THINKING OF HIM BRINGING MAUL BUT YEAH. THAT'S. THAT'S A POSSIBILITY.

Jedi Council trying to decide if this is more "Adult Sith got shrunk" or "child got evil man's memories." Vader wants to know why it even MATTERS. (He didn't actually plan on telling them, but he has very little self control right now.)

The first Good Act he does is tell them where to find Ventress and Ky. (In the original timeline, he viewed Ventress as like. Cool older cousin.)

Vader's right, that distinction does not matter Aaaw, she deserves that, that's nice Maybe she will be like 20% less homocidally traumatized

Anakin is furious when Maul and Obi-Wan pick him up under one arm like a package. He is a GROWN MAN he is an ADULT he was a SITH LORD and about to be a FATHER, he is TOO OLD FOR THIS.

They point out that he is Baby.

😂 sorry lord of evil, you're too baby, have a nap and maybe your feel better. Assuming the crisis on Naboo is still happening, and as such the vote of no confidence is right now, it might be a great time to report Sidious as a Sith lord. Post-escape from Sidious, both he and Maul definitely will need a nap. It's that kinda place.

Oh, it's probably at least a year before. Anakin keeps trying to sneak off to kill the man himself, but the Jedi are more ready for his Sneaking than Mustafar was, so he keeps getting caught before he can reach the Senate.

At one point he tries to just CHARGE the place and you get Mace and Obi-Wan sprinting after him. The News captures videos of this very small child getting chased by an older Padawan and a Master and they are mostly yelling for him to PUT DOWN THE SABER.

(Sidious might see him but what's he going to do? Might cause too many problems for Sidious to be aware of Anakin's presence with the Jedi, though. Best not.)

It's probably more expensive on average to hire an assassin on a child, just in general But on a jedi youngling??? If he can even find someone to do that, it will be so very, ridiculously expensive And likely 70%+ upfront payments

Ahsoka definitely seeks him out. Toddler baby child. She adores him for reasons unclear to anyone and everyone.

!!! Baby has baby!! Vader's probably a little thrown by this. Been a while subjectively since someone just loved him. And not even for like, a reason. Baby Vader coerced into sitting obediently for nap by tired kiddo: [The council liked that]

The number of times that vader could only be convinced to nap by Obi-Wan grabbing him, caging him in his own lap, and forced to Sit Quietly until he just fell asleep like that...

He has things to do, he's not tired 😡😡😡💢 (He's 9. Distances are between 150 and 195% longer when measured with steps, he's hungry (subjectively) all the time, and has only middling coordination He so is too tired)

Anakin doesn't know Qui-Gon at all but he keeps getting stuffed into the man's top because he's just. Small enough to fit.

Like the bomb boobs gif, but it's a small child.

the indignity

You just. You can't let him get too self-important.

Vader is Disgusted every time the pediatric healers try to talk down to him like they do to other 6yos.

The difference between this and other "Vader goes back in time to the Jedi" AUs (like Force of Many Sights) is that this Vader has never been a Jedi, and doesn't know anything about them except how they fight when he's trying to kill their friends.

Also Maul's there.

Because even he has a hard time taking himself seriously when hes so easy to manhandle Rest of the time; I am fear, I am death personified As luggage child: I am so small. The tiniest. I crave violence He's probably very annoyed they keep taking away his saber And hey! Obi gets practice not losing his! Woooo!

Something something Anakin clinging to Maul's back (piggy back ride) and chewing on his head or something stupid like that. Perfect height for head biting.

You know, the classic anime head bite

Maul probably has been nominally talked into this because this 9yo is a powerful darksider But he is also the world's most annoying tiny kid Maul would've thought his phenotype would make him immune to this ridiculousness He was wrong At least the teeth are a bit less pointy than his other little brothers'? Appreciating the little things

tfw your unwanted little brother drags you to what you think is a cult but actually they're way less culty than your last two places so you just stick around to keep an eye on the little shit

Anyway. ObiMaul for this one.

They're peers They're tired They just want to sit down and not have to chase this weird little murder child They have a lot in common 😊

They are all just a little bit stupid, I love them.

Qui-Gon is a Cool Mom (throws condoms at them and books it).

Yeah, that's about as much involvement as would be appreciated They probably did a lot of sparring before the tension broke Which did not relieve said tension, generally made it worse (Competence, athleticism, sweat-) Vader is confused, but probably doesn't mind He's probably glad they're distracting each other from stopping assassinating a certain someone (Which- that is 9yo hubris. He would need help to do that)

I still can't decide where on 6yo-9yo he falls but somewhere in there

Babies means easier hiding in shirt, teenie Ahsoka, and longer for him to convince the Jedi council to do a Sith hunt before the Naboo situation

Also longer for Maul and Obi-Wan to faff about being all Tension

* Vaguely inspired by the backstory of Rulebreaker/Wildheart, which is great but significantly more of a romance fic than this.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Night cap (Ending 2) (Astro x reader)

Poll under the fic to choose the next ending

Notes: gn toon reader, possible ooc, pre game, sleepy astro, astro isnt so much awkward more so he doesnt really know how to like. be romantic. subtle hint dropping that he wants to spend more time with you, mutual pining, open ended i SWEAR some of these will end with a kiss its just not all of the toons strike me as the type to kiss casually during a game </3, first fic/piece of writing after my return from my mental health break so i may be a little rusty, poll at the bottom to determine the next winner of course! note that may or may not be needed since im writing this before the final vote and its CLOSE so this may be repeated if astro isnt the winner for ending 2- but the poll will be shortened from 1 week to 3 days for now!! no real reason for this asides from "im itching to write and i dont have many ideas for fics and this is really one of the only two writing projects that arent for october that i have going on rn"

Word count: 2.7k

CWs: none

Everyone’s eyes glue onto you as you reach your hand into the opening of the sack and pull out…

Something soft. Almost fuzzy in your fingers as your thumb subconsciously rubs circles into whatever you were- the material almost soothing in your grasp. You had absolutely… no idea what it could be or who had put it in- at least, you didn’t until you pulled the item out into the open. A bluish purple night cap… and in an instant your eyes were on Astro. You didn’t even notice until now that he had taken his cap off and he looked… so weird without it. Quickly- almost too quickly, like you were offended to see him without the accessory- you stretched your arm out to him. 

“I uhm… think this is yours..” You mumble under your breath. Astro’s blanket shifted just enough to free one of his hands… his actions almost seem. Tense under all the eyes on him. “It is,” He finally managed to draw out after an odd pause of silence. From the corner of your eye you catch Dandy’s jaw grow tense for half a second before he ordered the two of you to go to the gift shop. 

He didn’t have to tell you twice- Astro seemed more than happy to get out of everyone’s line of sight as he backed out of the crowd; only slowing down just enough to allow you to catch up to him without having to go over a brisk walk. 

“Nerves?” You ask softly as soon as you are both out of earshot. 

“I don’t blame them for staring, but…” The toon trailed off as you stepped through the gift shop’s main door… it didn’t take long for it to click that you were both meant to go into the storage room. How Dandy had managed to unlock the door was something you’d have to touch on later… Astro lets you step through first. 

“Right… you don’t like having eyes on you,” You commented as you looked through the room. It was dim. The lightbulb had burned out, or maybe Dandy had taken it out to add to the mood of the game. Whatever mood he was hoping to achieve though… you had no idea. Being locked in a room for seven minutes wasn’t the worst thing in the world but you weren’t too keen on a room that smells vaguely of dust and old paper… fabric that needed washing- the material having captured the scent of the air around it… mostly shirts of less popular characters. You feel a soft pang for Shelly. 

“At least it’s dim in here, hard to see…” You trail off as you give Astro a glance over your shoulder. The blue crescent of his face glowed softly and doused the room in its hue. 

Ah…

You had forgotten that was something he could do- and something that he didn’t exactly have control over. 

“That’s alright, honestly it’s better this way- it's a little… spooky in here, all dark and stuff,” You try to shift the subject as you press yourself into the wall and allow yourself to sink to the floor… only somewhat comfortably. Hard wood could only feel so nice. 

Astro followed inside- and just when you thought he was going to take the wall opposite to you… he slips to the floor a few feet to your right. Enough room to give you your space, but close enough to ensure that you both didn’t need to talk across the room to hear one another. 

He shifted himself to try to become more comfortable. 

Hard floor or not, he already looked about ready to lay down for a nap. A part of you envied him for being able to sleep anywhere. He slumped slightly into the wall- almost melting right into it. 

The silence drags on for a few seconds. You didn’t know what to say and Astro- as always- looked ready to doze off. You were convinced that if he wasn’t on his feet and surrounded by the others and- more than likely encouraged- joined the game he would have already found a nice quiet corner to rest after such a busy day. 

He’d be valid for that. Even with less visitors focused on you, the constant bouncing between floors to help everyone prepare for the party had left you a little worn down. 

“Your hats soft,” You suddenly blurted out. Astro’s closed eye cracked itself open. 

“Like, the.. Fabric-” You continued on. No shit the fabric was soft. What else could you have been referring to? Your hands shift around against the floor- the tip of one of your fingers tapping against the wood. 

“Yeah…?” Astro shifted his head to prop it on his shoulder. 

Your eyes lingered on his face for a second or two before you stared straight ahead- the reminder of his hate of being stared at hanging in the back of your mind. 

Though… he didn’t seem to hate it as much when it was just you. Or maybe just one person.

“I could give you one of my blankets,” Astro spoke up after the moment of silence stretched on a little too long. “I’ve got more than I need, I need to free some space anyway,”

You steal a glance from the corner of your eye. “You? Need space? Your rooms massive, Astro-” 

It’s a light tease but it was the truth. All the mains had massive rooms- in fact they all had their own dedicated floors… on top of the themed floors that were open to visitors. Astro’s personal room shared the same overall feel of his themed floors. But there were more areas dedicated to rest. Sofas, bean bags- his bed was massive and nearly resembled a round nest. The staff were kind enough to keep the Toon’s rooms off limits to visitors. 

“Well…” Astro’s eye dragged itself away from you and settled to his feet… before he tucked them under the blanket he clung to. “The offer is still up… Most of them are blue.. Purple… but I think I’ve got a few in different colors, if you want something else… scented ones, too,” He rambled before falling silent. “I won’t make you take one, if you really aren’t interested,” 

The tapping finger against the floor grew still and curled to match the rest of your hand. “I wouldn’t mind looking through your collection- maybe we can run up real quick to your room to sift through it,” You flash a smile. “So long as it doesn’t take all night- I’d like to at least enjoy the party a little more before everyone winds down for the night,” A soft laugh. Astro actually returned it. 

“I’m sure it won’t,” Astro hummed. His jaw visibly tensed as he bit back a yawn. Today really must have been taxing on him. 

“For your sake so you don’t fall asleep?” 

Astro lightly waved your jest off with a hidden hand. “Only a little,” 

Another beat of silence. 

“Well be sure to eat something when we get back, if you’re going to go to bed after,” You stretched your legs out across the floor once keeping them folded and began to cramp them up. The room was… cool. But not cold… but it still managed to crawl through your form. The wall felt… weird… now warmed from your body heat. 

“Maybe… I’ll think about it…” Astro mimicked your legs- his feet dragging his blanket forward and pulling the material slightly taut. 

“Sprout told me you helped him in the kitchen today,”

Instantly you perked up. “I did! Well- Kinda- I mean, I did help but he did a lot of the…. You know, giving the recipes and making sure I didn’t… you know, mess up?” Your now clammy hands pull off of the floor with a soft peeling sound- the sweat sticking your skin to the polished wood uncomfortable- and rest your palms on your knees, patting them softly before allowing them to come to a rest. 

“I promise I didn’t mix up the salt and sugar again- I swear you’ll have sweet dreams tonight-” It was a bad joke but he at least gave you a pity laugh. 

Astro’s head lowered into the blanket as his shoulders scrunched- he tended to curl into himself when he was laughing.

Maybe… it wasn’t a pity laugh after all. 

“I’m sure if I could I would… your baking is getting better, regardless of any outside help.” His shoulders fell as the roll of laughter calmed itself. The compliment nearly went right over your head. 

Maybe he worded it weird, but…

“You would if you could?” You finally turn your head back to face him. “Are you not sleeping well?”

Astro’s smile falls neutral… but he doesn’t really look uncomfortable or upset about the question. “I don’t dream, I’ve been sleeping well otherwise.” 

He said it so casually. 

“Like you just… don’t dream at all- or like, do you mean to just don’t remember your dreams?”

You catch his hands shifting under his blanket- running over each other you had to guess. “I don’t dream at all,” He shrugged. He didn’t seem all that bothered by it… you weren’t sure if that made you feel better about it, though… not that it concerned you. “I’m more interested in giving everyone else dreams and checking in on them,” He only shrugged.

You shift slightly. 

“I don’t usually pry into other people’s dreams, don’t worry,” He added. You fall still and untense. “It’s… hard anyway, and it’s easier to ask what someone wants than trying to look myself,” He continued on. Astro hardly ever rambled. He wasn’t much of a talker in general… so it was a nice change to hear him lead a conversation. 

“You haven’t seen anything weird from my dreams, right? I’ve been having a few weird ones for a while now-” Your mouth curls into a grin. 

It wasn’t a lie. They weren’t nightmares but they often left you vaguely confused as you woke up. The details that didn’t slip away as you’d wake up only left more questions. People speaking backwards, toons not looking or acting quite right, toons and visitors swapping places. It was… weird but harmless, just to name a few examples. 

“I must have missed it, then,” Astro lowered his head- his brow furrowing in thought. A hidden hand scratched at his chin through the blanket before coming to a rest against his jaw. “I don’t check often… but each time I’m always in your dream- not… me, but…” 

You were dreaming about him. Of course he’d sometimes be there with the others… but there were a handful of times where it was just him. 

They were never intense or embarrassing dreams. But the frequency of which he showed up would make one wonder. You certainly did at each encounter… non encounter. You knew it wasn’t actually him. He acted too differently. Didn’t look quite right- but it was close enough to know it was him. 

A quiet noise came from your mouth before your head turned to the opposite side for a second to look anywhere but him. 

“You look like you’re having fun in them, that’s good… I’m glad I give you good dreams, even if I’m not influencing you,” His hands fall to his lap. He shifted into a more straight position against the wall, the blanket making him slip against the wall slowly over the past few minutes…

How much time did you have left? 

Not much you would assume. 

“Well,” Your throat feels awkward- even the back of your mouth felt weird as you tried to pick the right words to not sound as nervous as you felt. There was no reason for your nerves to spark now. It was all innocent, as far as you were aware. 

“You can always come visit, if I can have the real deal-” Your fingers spread across your knees before pressing close to each other a second later. “Of course only if you want to- it feels like I don’t get to see you all that much, since you’re you know…”

“Tired?”

You snap your head back to him and shake it. 

“Busy, more like it. I actually… don’t mind taking a nap with you sometime,” You pressed on even as the glow of his face grew brighter- soft blue shifting paler, closer to white. “I mean- and obviously it’s not your fault but you always get so many visitors… sure not as much as say… Dandy or Vee- or Bobette since she’s…” You trail off. 

“Limited?” His voice has a light waver to it. Like it was coming from the back of his throat- the noise lingering there and rapidly losing momentum as it was pushed out into the air. 

You nod. “Yeah… limited… but- you know, you uhm…” You finally let your odd attempt die off. At least you got your point across- hopefully. 

“Maybe…” Astro didn’t let the air remain quiet for long. Maybe he wanted to keep you from feeling even worse if it had stretched too long… or maybe he already had a response ready before you were done speaking. “We can spend some time together, when Gardenview’s closed,” 

Your eyes darted to him again for a second. “Like on Christmas?”

There weren’t many days where Gardenview was closed. Mostly reserved for holidays… and on occasion when maintenance was required for the building that demanded more than simply closing down an area or two. At your words Astro’s mouth curls back into a soft smile. Faint, barely there… but present. 

“If you want it to be Christmas,” He holds your gaze. You give him a nod. “Right… Christmas.. Today’s the… twenty third, right?” 

Astro hummed.

“Right… Christmas, then- I’ll be sure to hound you as soon as you wake up-” You laughed slightly. Nerves quickly unwound and replaced themselves with a warm giddiness that fought back against the chill of the room. 

The warmth was cut short as a series of knocks reminds you both that you were playing a timed game. 

“Ah,” You mumbled. Time was up, and Dandy’s voice on the other side only cemented that. He didn’t even wait for one of you to speak up before he opened the door- his face softened when he saw you and Astro were a respectable distance away from one another. The light of Astro’s crescent dimmed as the light outside began to floor the room. 

“Time’s up you two,” Dandy leaned forward in the doorway before pulling himself back and stepped aside with a light bounce in his step. Something got him happy, but you were too preoccupied with Astro’s offer of spending time together to ask if you had missed something while you were playing. 

“Do you still want to get a blanket?” Astro asked softly as he shifted out of the doorway behind you. Dandy’s movements stopped for a split second before he resumed his walk down the hall to the party.

“We’ve got plenty of blankets- I made sure of that!” He called over his shoulder. 

Your jaws roll against one another before you find your voice. “Astro’s blankets are softer- we’ll be back soon- promise!” 

The flower doesn’t give you an answer. He simply continued walking a few paces ahead of you and Astro. “We’ll just take the elevator… and we’ll come right back,” You added, though mostly under your breath. 

“I already have a few ideas of which blankets you might like, we shouldn’t be long…” Astro completes your murmur as you briefly rejoin the party and turn to one of the massive elevators. You only vaguely note what everyone else was doing before they regathered for another round of the game. 

“You’ll have to show me which ones you made,” Astro suddenly said. 

Your eyes followed his to the table full of treats near the entrance of the room. The door closed as you pinpointed the plate of cookies you had baked. Ginger was kind enough to arrange them nice and pretty on one of the nicer plates. 

“Will do,” You nodded softly.

The ride up was… nice. The soft shake of the elevator is enough to keep you in the moment. It wasn’t long until the door opened again and Astro led you to where he kept his collection of blankets.

You could only hope it wouldn't take too long. If you were lucky there’d still be some of your cookies left behind- maybe spared by toons who had a rather nasty sweet tooth. 

Hopefully…

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey miss Raven! I hope your recovery is going well. Make sure to not over exert yourself. Wishing you good health and fortune!

I wanted to ask about your honest feelings regarding Grim and more then often obnoxious behaviour especially during events. This is coming from someone who loves cats and one of the things that got me into Twst was the fact that there was a talking cat in it (I still love the little shi* and look forward to his new outfits. I'm basically the meme " i still love them but sometimes i just want to get in a car and run them over".) For me it was annoying but a little cute like the first few times but now that we are done with 7 books of main story and a buckload of events his obnoxiousness is starting to feel really annoying. His character feels like it had no development at all. I know events are not canon nor take main story progress in to consideration but come on! Yuu's motivation to rescue Grim in book 6 didn't felt genuine either. Even now his antics in eternity float didn't come across adorable but exasperating instead. How do you feel about Grim?

Also, curiously if you ,as in you the author not your OC, were in yuu's shoes what would you do? How would you interact with grim? Do you think you can handle him realistically? I know you don't self insert yourself but just hypothetically speaking how would you feel about him?

Hihi ^^ Thank you for the well wishes! I think I've made a full recovery (or close to it?) at this point, but there's some lifestyle changes I made in the aftermath. Thankfully, it's nothing too bad!

Before I give my thoughts on Grim, I want to preface by disclosing my biases so you can understand where I'm coming from. While I definitely prefer cats to dogs, I've realized recently that I don't actually like cats?? I just tolerate them better than dogs. This is mostly on account of the fur, which I generally find very gross and messy. (One of my friends jokes this is because I'm just a Mammal Hater 💀) I do happen to be a pet owner and my (non-specific) pet very much has Grim's personality. They're loud, they're needy, they love to eat, they cause trouble, they act like they're the boss around here--so I'm sort of used to and desensitized to most of Grim's behaviors.

Now, about Grim! I generally like him (mostly because he basically acts like my own nonspecific pet and has cute ribbons). He's unfortunately always going to be my annoying little fur baby, but I totally understand why some people don't like Grim. His voice is admittedly kind of grating, and he always seems to be causing Yuu/the player grief. I disagree with those who dislike Grim for "stealing" screentime from Yuu; I think he's a suitable stand-in for them, since the game has to take measures to keep Yuu vague for self-insert purposes. Grim did nothing wrong, he is just serving his function. I also disagree with those who find it demeaning when Grim calls us "minion". To me, it doesn't feel any different than a friend ironically calling another friend "idiot" or something of the sort. Additionally, several other characters in the Twst cast have derogatory or arrogant nicknames for Yuu/the player or for their peers, but for some reason those have largely been adopted and interpreted as signs of affection by the fandom??? Which has always been super odd to me. I do see a point to be made about being annoyed at Grim for not taking responsibility for his actions (Yuu is often demanded to control him), but I’d say that’s intentional to move the plot along, clunky as it is. This doesn’t feel different to me than your pet, child, or sibling is being a nuisance and you having to get them under control in public. It’s also difficult for me to stay mad at Grim for this when other NRC students arguably act similar (causing trouble but not apologizing or taking accountability) + are ruder to Yuu but they get excused or adored for it while Grim catches flack. Why is there this bias? Is it because Grim isn’t a conventionally attractive anime boy?? 😭 Is it because we are forced to spend more time with Grim so he has more opportunities to be pointed out? I don’t get it.

That being said, that doesn't mean I think Grim is necessarily a well-written character, especially not for most of the main story. As much as I love book 6, the kidnapping + tearful reunion ring hollow if the player isn't already invested in Grim before then. The issue is that the prologue, plus books 1-5 do very little to show moments of Yuu and Grim genuinely bonding. Most interactions between the two involve Grim making trouble, his skipping responsibilities, or generally being cocky, and Yuu having to clean up after his messes. That doesn't endear him to us. We don't really get moments of Yuu and Grim seriously getting to know each other or points where we get to see his good traits. Book 6 would have worked a lot better if there had been moments dedicated to Yuu and Grim being more intimate beforehand. You don't have to make Grim a completely new character; work off of his existing traits and give him scenarios where he is allowed to shine and support Yuu.

Maybe in the prologue or book 1, Yuu is having trouble falling asleep because they're so anxious about being in a new world and Grim tries to act all tough to reassure them they're safe by his side, and this finally helps Yuu drift off. In book 2, maybe Leona's picking on Yuu a little too hard during their practice game and Grim feels he must stand up for his minion against a bully. For book 3, there could be a scene where Yuu scolds Grim for trying to take the easy way out and Grim confides in them about not wanting to flunk out because being a great mage is all he has ever wanted. Then when Yuu asks why this is his dream, Grim can't come up with an answer (which calls attention to Grim not really knowing much about himself or his past). As for book 4, expand more on Grim trying to break them out of Scarabia with a spoon. Play up Grim acting like he has to be the hero and do what he can to help his minion out of a tight spot! In book 5, have Grim help Yuu with coaching everyone or maybe getting a little jealous that there's so many people he has to share his living space with. Then Yuu can reassure him he's irreplaceable!! And sprinkle in more scenes where Yuu and Grim just connect over being outcasts, alone and unsure in this world but able to find solace in one another. By the time book 6 comes around, we'll have all these moments to look back fondly on and motivate us to rescue Grim, who cared so much for Yuu. Grim, whom we've developed a friendship with over the main story... Grim, who is now locked away in an unfamiliar face with no friends around...

For events, I'm willing to be a little more patient with him since 1) they're not canon to the main story and 2) Grim is obviously used just to shoehorn Yuu's presence into several events, especially the hometowns (through his whining about wanting to do something fun/to eat lots of tasty food). I can't recall a specific instance of Grim being super annoying in events... but I will say that I do find Grim annoying in Eternity Float. Grim seems a little overwritten here, if that makes sense??? He's acting more cartoonish and childish than usual... Like, Grim comedically chomps onto a large ham hanging from the ceiling with ZERO understanding that he needs to pay for it first?? And he wants a bigger slice of pizza (but Riddle tells him it's rude to reach across the table), so he tries spinning the plate instead, only for the pizza to go SPLAT on Malleus's face??? Then he hoses people down with a water gun... SORRY, did Grim mentally regress a few years???? OTL

Mmm... If I were in Yuu's shoes, I think I'd deal with Grim similarly with how I deal with my irl (non-specific) pet: sternly yet fairly? I'd try to train Grim, make sure he eats a balanced diet, gets exercise, and keeps stimulated, bathe him, take him out on walks, give him treats and toys if he's well-behaved, put him in the corner and have him think about what he did if he doesn't, always keep a first aid kit on hand... Oh, and I'd carry him everywhere either by the scruff or in a carrier bag. One hand on him at all times, or else he might wander off and cause trouble. I think it'd be hard dealing with his fire magic and rashness but 💦 I've been told I'm pretty patient, so I think I could handle it if I had to. Whether I'd LIKE it or not is another matter entirely. Grim is basically a little kid or a toddler, and I'm honestly not a fan of children. An animal being feisty is... fine, even cute. But the instant the animal starts giving me lip in complete sentences, it's a lot less charming. I still feel like Grim has the potential to grow on me over time though... There's a weird charm to his attitude, haha.

P.S. My (non-specific) pet says hi.

[psilliguykai]

Welcome to the completed tracklist and summarized story of William’s Wanton Weary Wiles!

I want to keep this project manageable and fun for me, while still being able to release the full story. Hence posting this, rather than each cover’s lyrics individually (what I initially intended :)). Most of what’s described here is what would be depicted in each song, though some events would only be implied/have happened outside of the actual “lyrics". These will be put in square brackets.

Basically everything under the cut!

Names and pronouns (Note: these will be used interchangeably. You may use whatever pronouns you want for any of them, these are just what I’ll be using/what feels right to me personally ^^ ref sheets are hyperlinked):

The Heart/Jimmy/Vestal/The Moon - He/it

The Mind/Laplace/Al/Marsha/The Sun - He/she

The Soul/Mr. Capgras/Cotard/The Stars - He/it

Whole/Will/William Racheal McSprout - He/Him

Warnings for: alcohol, abuse of psychiatry, manipulation, suicide attempt, discussions of mortality, and mental health issues. Also very long post + not written in entirely complete/gramatically correct sentences (my futile attempt to keep things concise /lh.)

Without further ado…

-iSH/Ryan I Wonder (Outro from Wanhope)

Opening song! Cotard pondering. Going back and forth between hopeful/determined and tired/giving up. Remembers every time they’ve been through this before - hopes it will go better this time but is losing faith.

2012 (Intro to Warray)

Sorta like Mucka Blucka - each character introduces themselves + a bit of the dynamics are shown. Welcome to the loop and endless suffering, babyy!

I think of “2012” here referring to the past loops. Heart/Mind don’t remember them, but they heard (from Soul) the world would turn to hell! /ref 

“Did you lose yourself? It’s always in the last place that you’d check!” referring (mostly) to them splitting. “Losing” Wholeness. Do with that what you Will (ahahah)

The Song with Five Names, a​.​k​.​a. Soapbox Tao, a​.​k​.​a. Checkmate Atheists! a​.​k​.​a. Neospace Government, a​.​k​.​a. You Can Never Know

Similar to 2012 in the “introduction” sense. A little more of the trio each getting some time in the spotlight + sharing their thoughts.

“You can break a shovel when you break new ground, you dig dirt up when you dig deep down”--the more they try to form new solutions/the more times they split, the deeper they dig themselves into this metaphorical pit of dissonance.

Jimmy sings from the “sunshine is a gaslight” to “and that’s good enough to be not enough to be good enough for me!”, talking about Mind, accusing him of being fake and manipulative + claiming to be more capable and more deserving of power than her. 

Laplace’s Angel

Essentially Mind’s rebuttal to the last part of TSW5N. 

The trio are mostly equal at this point, but Laplace does have a bit more control than Jimmy.

This is essentially Laplace talking himself up + mocking Jimmy for lacking as much free will in this situation + expressing that if it were in her place, he would see her reasoning and do the same as she does.

Everything Is A Lot/Destroy To Enjoy

EiaL is mostly just Jimmy pondering/being generally unhappy. 

He comes to a decision. This is Marsha’s fault - he’s ruining them. He forces Whole to avoid doing the things he enjoys! (drinking, spending money, etc. - self destructive habits which are arguably fine in low doses but should be metered).

[Marsha keeping things under control is good, but he does so to an extreme–deprives Whole of breaks/other needs in the interest of “staying productive”/trying to reach arbitrary “perfections” (more money, more benefitting others, less enjoying life, less rest). Obligatory Nobody-here-is-the-“villian”-or-“hero”. They’re all flawed but ultimately trying to do what they think is best for Whole.]

Vestal resolves he needs to take charge.

Front Street

I imagine this song happening in a bar in Marybell. Jimmy is getting reckless and self destructive in the name of feeling “free”. Drinking excessively and smashing bottles and such. 

I’ve got the line “you say let loose, but you are lost” in my head as Marsha’s retort. Throughout the song as Jimmy tries to convince her and Cotard to “loosen up”, Marsha tries to express to him that this isn’t actually helping the Whole and is only hurting him (though the way he does so is fraught with resentment and only makes Jimmy want to ignore her).

Jimmy does not listen.

Memento Mori

Twist on the original. Instead of using inevitable death as a comfort/reason to enjoy life, Laplace is instead essentially saying “one day we’re all going to die, and with the way you’re doing things it’ll probably be your fault.”

[Laplace is making a decent point, but is largely using this as a way to put Jimmy down. More guilt-tripping/trying to emotionally manipulate him rather than actually properly communicating.]

Red Moon

Vestal singing to Cotard, trying to convince it to hand control over to him. 

“We walk the equator chasing the light” referring to the loops - they all go around in circles chasing the idea of being Whole, but it never stays and they’re stuck chasing.

Vestal says they’ll only be able to “turn around” (break the cycle) with a Red Moon (because like. Heart is moon and Soul is red yeah.)

This leaves Mr. Capgras progressively getting more annoyed/angry. He knows Vestal thinks it’s doing what’s best for William, but is also aware that it largely wants power and the ability to do what it wants with no oversight. He’s pissed that Jimmy thinks he could be manipulated so easily and is exhausted with both his and Marsha’s vies for power

[Capgras is also frightened of both of them, even if he doesn’t show it. He’s worried about Laplace working/depriving Will to death, and he’s worried about Jimmy getting too reckless and over-indulging to the point where it gets them all killed. While CCCC’s Soul prioritizes ending the loops by any means necessary, Cotard is a lot more concerned with keeping Whole alive, regardless of how many times they have to go through Cacophony/Warray to ensure that, and regardless of how much suffering they're in.]

Jimmy Mushrooms’ Last Drink: Bedtime in Wayne, NJ

Jimmy!! Is Not Happy with the trio’s situation, and Laplace/Cotard’s halfhearted attempts at convincing him to keep going (“Jimmy, you’re fine”/”keep trucking it’s all in your mind”) don’t help. 

Hitting a low point after a few days of self-destructive euphoria (see Front Street), and giving up on the idea that they could ever be whole. 

Will is driving home from the bar (yes, very drunk. Don't drink and drive /srs) and Jimmy decides to try and end all their suffering, attempting to take control of Will and crash the car (“gaining speed, wrapping trees”). 

BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA

[The crash didn’t work. Marsha jumped in, physically tearing Vestal away from the wheel.]

[Marsha generally presents himself as a sort of therapist/psychiatrist in occupation, though he has no one–aside from Jimmy who’s not paying for shit--to “treat”. Despite there being no real business, she has an office in Marybell and does extensive paperwork {which IS necessary because it gets Will to do his own work but that's a Whole Other Thing}. This is where Jimmy is locked in as both as punishment and a safety measure–equivalent of Apathy from CCCC. Room resembles the one at the end of the love me normally video.]

The first part of the song would be Laplace recounting “the Jimmy incident” (attempted crash). She goes on to basically torment Jimmy with overcomplicated medical terms and underhanded insults veiled by psychiatric jargon. She considers this both justified punishment, as well as the only way to get Vestal to improve or at the very least, cease to be a threat.

TLDR: Laplace maliciously and aggressively provides unhelpful psychiatric service to a very overwhelmed and trapped Jimmy.

Outliars and Hyppocrates: a fun fact about apples

Marsha is partially ranting about/mocking Vestal to Cotard, and partially continuing to mess with Jimmy to his face. “I doubt that you would even if you could change, the things that make you special are what make you strange!”

Mr. Capgras Encounters a Secondhand Vanity: Tulpamancer’s Prosopagnosia​/​Pareidolia (As Direct Result of Trauma to the Fusiform Gyrus)

Soul steps in. Could be very literally breaking down the door to Jimmy’s therapy room and getting between the two. Up for interpretation!

Think “You seem to forget you answer to me…” in terms of the themes/vibes.

Dr. Sunshine is Dead

Mr. Capgras is tired of both H/M’s pathetic attempts at manipulation. He doesn’t want himself or Will to “be” either of them (“I am not the sunshine, I am not the moon at night”)

Being earnest and trying to explain how he feels + reflecting on the loops and his identity.

He ends the song essentially saying “I could run the Whole on my own, but I want to give you two a chance to reconcile. I’ll wait.” (“I will be my sunshine, I will be my moon at night, I'm nowhere now, here's no one now to be. And if dreams can come true, what does that say about nightmares? I'll stay awake tonight…”)

Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal, NY (Bones)

Vestal and Laplace take a shot at reconciliation. Jimmy starts by expressing how he feels and asking Mind to do the same - “show me your bones” and “Mind unweave again” as metaphors for opening up emotionally.

Love, Me Normally

And he does! Open up! Wow!

Marsha begins to genuinely share his emotions. He expresses fears about Jimmy/the dangers he puts them all in with its recklessness. Admits that he does wish he could “loosen up”/encourage Will to enjoy himself. However, Laplace feels Vestal does it to such an extreme that she needs to over-correct (depriving Will of his wants/needs to keep up appearances/focus on responsibilities).

Falling up

Think of this as a sort of Variations on a Cloud equivalent - one last song together before they become whole

I honestly don’t have a very thorough plan for this at the moment - might elaborate later

White Noise (Outro From Warray)

This is basically them combining. Some final contemplation/reflection from the three as separate entities, but it fades into Whole. Gonna leave this one mostly up for interpretation/to you all’s imagination.

Half Decade Hangover (Intro to Waltz)

Will is recovering from/sorry for what happened while he was split (though he doesn’t know that’s what it was, as he’s not aware of HMS. For him and everyone else in the “real world” it was just a general mental health episode). 

Honestly the meaning doesn’t change that much from the original :’)

…And If I Did, You Deserved It

Completely implausible. Chonny would never cover this one /silly

This would be the CJ version with some lyrics altered to make it less about dealing with “fame” and more about day-to-day relationships.

The Main Character

Possibly one of the most accurately reflective of Will’s personality. The perfect(ly dysfunctional) mix of self absorbed, self loathing, and self destructive.

Um, It’s Kind Of A Lot

Not gonna say this is canon, but I think it would be really funny to change it from being afraid to being pissed off at everything. “I love you so much, it scares me half to death makes me really fucking angry”

This would be about LI.

Against The Kitchen Floor

Mostly directed at LI + somewhat aimed at other people in his life.

He’s sorry! He promises he’s doing his best! He just. Hasn’t learned how to be human as you are yet. /lyr

Yeah I’m not even sure if I’d change any lyrics for this one. Meaning stays the same, man this guy sucks [/aff]

Willard!

Will finds and befriends a rat in his house during a depressive period. He names it Ben (Willard movie reference yayay), cleans it up, and essentially adopts it. Ben appears in Cotard's house after this. He takes care of him (w/ some help from Marsha/Jimmy) and his physical health reflects Will’s health. Very sweet.

Vampire Reference In A Minor Key

It’s Will about himself in relation to LI 👍(not much to say on this one lol)

Whiny Fuck William’s Woke Pie, Weasel, and American Cheese Emporium a.k.a. “Mr. Ben is in the Macca’s again” (Feat. Cheese by Tommy McMinchin) [From “W.F.W.’s WWA: getting auto-suplexed”]

Comedic relief?

Don't look too deep into it idk what the fuck I was doing either

Cicada Days (Outro from Waltz)

This is still a little about LI, but more significantly about Will spiraling again. Very seriously/literally “losing touch”. Things get better for a time, but he still hurts people. Thing’s might’ve been better for a time, but he’s still hurt. Thing’s can get better, but it will take a lot more to “fix” him, and that’s if “fixing” is even a possibility. 

Self- (Intro to Wanhope)

Hey I mean . at least Cotard is back?

Yeah. Timeloop. I’ll leave this one up to your imagination (for now, anyways :))