#higher ground icons

[aew-kun-age-regression]

Scott icons!!! :3 — I will 100% be making more for Scott at some point, I love him sm!!!

[telepath1]

[neon-angels-system]

without exams or labs to study for I feel like a horse in a hospital. like what should I be doing. what could I be doing. so many possibilities.

[azzayofchaos]

Since my other Nether worldbuilding post was received pretty well... I'm back on my bullshit!

This time featuring zoning and biomes of the Neath: Lore below cut

Nether (noun): the formidable hellscape straddling the boundery between the Fragments of the Overworld and Death's Realms.

Derived from Beneath -> Neath -> Neth -> Nether.

The Nether is most easily accessable through outer regions of the nether, regions that are comparatively closed-off, and lacking in biodiversity compared to the Deep Nether where most Neath civilizations are centered.

The Neth is divided into three primary zones, distinguished by altitude and general climates.

The Calfactory Zone: the largest and most icon of the three, the Calfactory zone is blisteringly hot and bone-dry, it's most prominent features are its abundant seas and lakes of magma, and the massive Supermagmas atriums that are common above the magma. In the largest of these atriums, the ceiling may be so high above as to be completely invisible from the ground, obscured by an ever present smog of toxic vapor and minerals formed in the self-generated micro-climates that are generated from the rising heat of the lava that begins to cool at a higher altitude.  

In the Basalt Deltas and other biomes around the edges of these lakes, massive pillars of rock and crystals bulwark the more-visible ceiling. 

The most common of this zone’s biomes is the Crimson woods, home to hearty thermal-philic fungi and plants that grow on the minerals and vapors of the lakes. Many are carnivorous in their lack of access to water or sunlight, and these forests contain many sub-biomes and ecosystems of flourishing life. 

The Wastes are perhaps the most desolate regions of the Neath, irradiated deserts of red-rock, brimstone, and sharp sand. Even the vast majority of nether-folk avoid these deserts due to the leftover radiation that rots and destroys anything that waits too long. The only forms of life are particularly robust lichens and bacteria that are happy to sit by the pools of boiling pools of sulfur and mud and toxic sludge that dot the landscape. Growing within the rocks themselves are colonies of amorphous fungus, called geocorpus molds that get their spores into cracks in the soft netherack and slowly feed on it, a delicacy in nether cuisine. 

The Temperate Zone: Cradled in the heights of the Neath’s atriums and sat bellow the roof is the temperate zones, the rising heat of the zone below begins to cool and forming distinct weather patterns in this zone and leaving it, while still sweltering, a cooler though much more humid climate.

The main biome are the luminescent warped-fungal rainforests that collect the high-rising minerals and odd moisture from the lakes. Liquid is actually precent here, though if it’s not safely filtered through the innards of the various plants and fungi, this water is usually aggressively corrosive, and it is best to shelter from the  acidic precipitation to avoid chemical burns. The nether folk and ender local to these rainforests are suited to deal with these conditions and the ender especially do not have trouble with the extreme pH of the water here like they would in the overworld. The zone is lit almost exclusively by the biolumincense of the organisms there and have often been described as false-stars.

In the Deep Nether, the ceiling may give way, allowing one to pass onto the plateaus of the Nether Roof and the yawning void above. The bedrock of the nether roof is jagged and layered in huge slabs, sometimes broken up my mazes of pillar-like structures and shallow, thermal pools of crystal-clear liquid. The kind you don't want to touch of course. fogs may hang low to the ground, but when its clear, or above the fog, the entire universe seems to spill out into the sky. The nether roof was culturally significant and a source of much knowledge and inspiration in the early days, but I'll get more into that in a later post 0.0

The Rime Zone: Plunge deep enough and one might find themselves bellow the lava beds. Here, where the heat can't quite penetrate, the temperatures will drop rapidly to sub-zero.

Namely, the Rime Zone is made up of the soul valleys, flat steppes of cinder and clotted sand, you can imagine it almost with the blindness effect, a fog that pools by your feet, and a heavier darkness hanging from the sky, it feels massive and endless and claustrophobic all at once. Frost collects as crystals on the irradiated, soul-soaked barrens, and the bones of the massive nether wyrms lie fossilized, breaking up the landscape. The sands are also split with patches of crazing on the ground and vents of blue fire that spills out and sets the sand ablaze.

These same wryms can be found sometimes, ancient things that dig through sand and soft rocks and the magma lakes, far and few between and treated with both fear and reverence.

And in the deepest pits of the Neath are the glowing frozen lakes that are colloquially and rightfully called the Gates to Death, glowing blue from beneath their surfaces. Indeed, any further down and you pass into limbo, the edge of Death's Realms.

Extra Notes??:

Soul sand/soil is tread on carefully or not at all, is one form of remnants from the apocolyspe. Like the general radiated rubble present through the Nether, it's a fault of nuclear fallout. Unlike other areas of radiation, its also been infused with the souls of those who didn't survive the joining of worlds.

This infused quality is also precent in Nether Debris, resulting in a material that takes magic particularly well.

Iron cannot be found in dense veins and crystals like gold or quartz in the nether, but it's a pretty rich mineral a lot of netherack, giving it its ruddy coloring.

Sorry for this massive rant that no one asked for. If you have questions please feel free to send an ask, I may not have an answer yet but I'll certainly come up with one if I can.

I'm also hoping to do a pass on my headcanons about history and culture in the Nether and then we might start talking about character headcanons since this is also an actual AU.

If you read this far, here's some notes on striders and ghast

[monster-disaster]

[wolf-shifter] Hiro

🎃💋 Monster Fucktober Week on my Patreon 🔞🎃

wolf-shifter!Hiro x human!Reader Good to know: shower sex in the gym, rut

Summary: Hiro needs your help.

Hiro's phone chimes with a new notification in his pocket. He can feel the buzz of the device on his thigh through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. The sound is high-pitched and almost drowned out by the bustle of the gym. The metallic clatter and the music from the speakers mingle with the sounds of others. Quiet conversations and grunts reach his ears, but his attention is elsewhere. Each ragged breath he takes makes his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He focuses on his grip, feeling the cool metal press into his palms, grounding him to the bench. He stares at the white ceiling above him. The bright lights irritate his eyes, though he is used to it by now. His muscles are taut and rigid as he holds his arms in mid-air. His fingers tighten further around the metal bar, causing the veins to bulge under his skin.

"Need help?" his friend asks above him, standing a few inches away to catch the barbell if needed. He reaches out slightly but does nothing more without Hiro's permission.

"I'm fine," Hiro replies with a deep breath. His chest expands, and he spreads his legs a little to brace himself more securely. Sweat glistens on his temple and his hair clings to his forehead in damp strands.

After three more lifts, he pushes the weights higher with a low grunt to put the weights back on the rack. His muscles strain with the effort. The tension in his arms eases, and he lets his palms fall back onto his chest with a relieved sigh.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hiro hums, nodding and trying to catch his breath. "Thanks."

When the man leaves to do his own thing, Hiro remains lying on the bench for a few seconds, letting the burn of his muscles gradually subside before pulling himself into a sitting position. He grabs his towel from the ground in the process, dabbing it over his face and neck to wipe away the sweat while stretching his neck to relax the tension in his body.

His gaze sweeps the room, checking to see if anyone is waiting for his spot. The gym is in full swing around him. It's loud and busy. It's no surprise that Hiro prefers coming here early in the morning when it's quieter and less crowded. However, his approaching rut makes it increasingly difficult for him to leave his home, crawling at the back of his mind.

The LED lights cast a vibrant glow across the space, gleaming on the rows of equipment. The treadmills, all new and shiny, hum steadily, their rhythmic whirring blending seamlessly with the clanking of weights being lifted and dropped nearby. The tall walls are covered with mirrors, doubling the brightness and amplifying the sense of space. People gaze intently at their own reflections, focusing on their forms and movements.

Hiro glances at his own reflection, too. He sits on the bench, hunched and breathing heavily. His shirt clings to his body like a second skin. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his hair is damp.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Hiro unlocks the screen to find a new message notification from Charm. Charm is a dating app designed to help humans and monsters connect with each other. Right now, it is supposed to help the wolf-shifter find a partner for his upcoming rut. So far, he hasn't had much success with it, though.

Most of his matches are either too horny or overly fixated on the idea of having sex with a wolf-shifter for a whole week. Their fetishizing is weird and concerning. On the other end of the spectrum, some matches seem to be looking for something far more than he is willing to give; dates, flowers, and constant text messages. It isn't what he's looking for right now. He isn't in search of a girlfriend; he just wants someone who can be his partner for a week, helping and having fun without being too perverted or too serious about it.

He taps on the small icon to open the message with a bit of frustration swelling in his chest. A large part of him has already given up on finding someone online. He read through countless profiles and chatted with numerous matches, but none of them met his needs. It's not like he has high expectations. Don't be a pervert, and don't imagine a family and a happily ever after a few texts. Why is it so hard? It shouldn't be.

The gym's noise fades into the background as he focuses on the screen, but whatever hope he had a moment ago vanishes quickly. The woman on the other end of the chat ghosted him once, almost two weeks ago.

His thumb hovers above the keyboard, undecided if he should write back or leave it as it is. A 'Hi' can't hurt, but to be honest, he is not in the mood to get to know her better. Or at least enough to spend a week with her. And what if she stops responding again? Wasted time and energy. With his approaching rut, he can't afford any of it.

"Hiro?" A soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?" he hums, needing a second to get back to reality. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?" you ask with a gentle smile, still watching him worriedly.

"Oh," he gasps, jumping up from the bench. The wolf-shifter isn't sure how long he sat there, but it seems like it was enough time to make you concerned. "I'm fine."

"I can bring you some water if you need it," you offer, still not believing him.

"You are sweet." You really are. "But I'm fine. Thank you."

Your gaze rakes over the tall wolf-shifter once again for an entirely different reason than making sure he doesn't need your help. Your eyes linger on the width of his shoulders and the hard cords of his muscles underneath the white t-shirt he wears. The thin fabric clings to his body with sweat.

Of course, the wandering of your eyes doesn't escape Hiro's attention. A smug smirk pulls on the corner of his lips, but he tries to suppress it when you look up at his face again.

"Fine, then," you tell him. "You know where to find me if you need me."

-

With his rut around the corner, Hiro finds it more and more difficult to leave his home. The only reason he is willing to go to the gym is because his small apartment in the middle of Meriad doesn't give him enough space to drain the energy that buzzes under his skin, deep within his tense muscles. He needs something to do so he doesn't go insane, especially since his every attempt to find someone on Charm hits walls and barriers. Every suitable match lives far away from the city, or can't take time off from work. The others... well, the others are still too serious or too bizarre for his taste.

So his frustration just grows and grows with each passing failed match and chat that leads nowhere.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with going through a rut or heat without a partner, but it definitely makes it easier. The wolf-shifter wishes for something more than the solitude of his apartment and the company of his hand.

When Hiro visits the gym again late at night, he is already sweaty. A part of him wants to turn around and leave the moment he steps through the entrance, but he knows if he doesn't tire himself out, he will pace up and down in his flat all night.

The wide glass door barely falls shut, and your voice immediately reaches his ears.

"Hiro," you smile at him. Your lips glint with light pink lipstick. "It's good to see you."

"I didn't think you would be here," the wolf-shifter says, approaching the reception. Your presence is a pleasant surprise.

You shrug. "They pay double for nightshifts."

His gaze swipes over the gym behind you with silvery, gleaming equipment. The music is quiet, and he can see the matching video clip on the screen hanging from the wall at the back. The place is almost empty, with a few orcs at the weights, doing their own thing without a word.

As if you read his thoughts, you shrug again with a smile when he looks at you. "It's still early for our nightly members."

And you are right. The gym soon fills with humans and monsters who prefer doing their workout at night for whatever reason. The place gets loud with the familiar clangs and thuds of the weights with the treadmills' monotonous whirring in the background. It's busier than he thought it would but still better than the afternoon he came here a week ago. The wolf-shifter has enough space to be alone with his own thoughts and breathe the cool air of the air conditioner instead of the others' scent and sweat. With his rut so close, his senses are even sharper than usual. Hero's jaw clenches every now and again when the reflection of the lights in the mirror gets too much for his sensitive eyes.

He works for long hours, shifting from equipment to equipment until his limbs shake and his muscles burn. Sweat glistens on his skin, and his clothes cling to his body stubbornly.

"Hiro?" Your voice breaks through his concentration.

"Hm?" he exhales, looking at you while still running on the treadmill. The machine is loud, and his steps are louder.

"We are... closing soon," you tell him with a bit of guilt in your voice. "If you want to take a shower, I can wait for a while longer."

His eyes swipe over the place, surprised by the fact that only you and him are left in the gym. "Oh."

"Yeah," you nod, following his gaze over the rows of empty equipment. "You were busy all night."

And yet, after all these workouts, he still feels frustration and energy surging through his muscles, buzzing beneath his skin. His bones are aching, too.

His rut is close. Too close.

"It's better if I go, then," he stops the machine underneath him, jumping onto the ground easily. "I'm sorry if I caused you trouble."

You grin, shaking your head. "No trouble at all."

His eyes linger on the curve of your lips for a second before forcing his attention away from your face. You have pretty eyes, too. And you are always so kind and polite to everyone.

"I will be quick," he nods to the men's changing room.

"Take your time."

Turning his head left and right, stretching his neck to relax his muscles, he removes his clothes before stepping under the shower. Truth be told, being alone in the showers is much better than when the place is full of loud and sweaty males. Maybe he should do this more often, especially when you take the night shift. You are always so happy and helpful. The image of you flashes across his eyelids when he tilts his head back, letting the water wash over his face, feeling it flow through his hair and trickle down his back. You always wear tight jeans and an even tighter T-shirt with the gym's logo on it. The water cascades down his body, and each droplet follows the hard lines of his rigid muscles. His bones ache and throb, urging him to get rid of this maddening tension in his body.

The change happens quickly and silently. His body starts to tingle, punching a relieved sigh out of his expanding chest as the pleasant feeling ripples through his skin in waves. His muscles and bones grow, redefining his body entirely. His limbs lengthen, and his fingers and toes stretch into sharp claws. Soon, light gray fur covers his new body, soaked by the water still falling from the showerhead above. The transformation is natural and feels much better than working hours upon hours in the gym, fighting his urges.

Finally, his face changes into a muzzle, his ears twitch at the top of his head. His eyes glow with something new and feral, and his long, thick canines glint under the LED lights.

Hiro stands tall and powerful under the shower, his fur damp and his posture hunched so he doesn't hit his head on the ceiling. He can feel himself relax finally, his muscles losing their tension. A sense of freedom surges through him, thrill coursing in his veins.

Well, one problem is out of the way, but he can't avoid the other one much longer.

"Hiro?" The soft tilt of your voice sends shivers down his spine as you search for him at the lockers.

"I'm here," he grunts, still leaning against the wall while the stream massages his wide shoulders.

"Oh," you reply. "Well, you left your phone on the treadmill, I put it next to your bag."

"No!" He snaps, then changes his mind immediately. "I mean, thanks."

A few seconds of silence follow his words before you speak. "Are you okay in there?"

It's the middle of the night. You should be at home by now, and you are still so kind and patient.

Always so helpful.

Hiro's cock jerks at the thought.

"Ugh," he clears his throat. It sounds like a growl. "Can you come here?"

"Are you sure?" you ask back, unsure.

"Yeah," he replies. "I really need your help."

"Oh, okay."

By the time you reach the entrance of the showers, Hiro pushes himself away from the wall to face you. He can clearly see the change in your expression as your eyes fall on him. He fills the narrow stall with a heaving chest and bulging muscles. Your eyes wander down his wolf form, lingering here and there and stopping between his thick thighs. His cock is long and heavy, bobbing up and down with every breath he takes as he silently watches you, waiting for your reaction.

Your throat is tight when you break the silence. "Why do you need me?" You ask, forcing yourself to look up at his face. You can see his nose moving as he scents the air. Underneath the warm steam of the shower, he can smell you. You are sweet and light with a hint of spice he never felt before. It makes his cock throb, and he finds pride in how you gasp at the obvious twitch of his length.

"Come closer," he hums between his sharp teeth. He has to force himself to soften his voice to not frighten you. "I won't hurt you," he adds. "I promise."

The lipstick still glistens on your lips as your mouth opens to say something.

"Help me, Y/N," he continues. "I need your help, sweet girl. It hurts so much."

A smug half-smirk pulls on the corner of his large mouth when you make a few tentative steps towards him. Every fiber in him demands to grab you and have his way with your warm, pliant body. He doesn't lose his mind entirely, though. He has to be careful with you.

"Good girl," he hums with satisfaction when you get close enough so he can wrap his large hand around your arm. His claw grazes over your soft skin, making you shiver with anticipation.

"Hiro," you breathe out his name, but you are not even sure what you want to tell him. He is so close and so big. He towers over you easily, and he smells like musk and wet fur.

This close to him, the cascading water reaches you, too, soaking your clothes within a few seconds.

"I should have told you to get rid of these," he says without any regret in his voice. He tugs on the hem of your shirt before moving his hand up your upper body. His thumb rubs over one of your nipples, teasing the small bud through your t-shirt and bra. The air catches in your throat at the light feeling.

"Y/N," Hiro says your name, making you look up at him. His large canines are barely a few inches away from your face. "Always so sweet and helpful, aren't you?"

You nod, a bit confused. Of course, you are, why wouldn't you? You love your job, and it pays the bills.

Hiro smirks at your obliviousness. "Sweet girl," he says, cupping your jaw. You feel so small and delicate between his fingers. "Do you want to be a doll and help me then? Help poor Hiro out?"

Looking at the tall, powerful wolf, you have a lot of things in mind about him, but poor is not one of them. You nod anyway, and he grins.

"Good girl," he hums with approval as he leans closer to press a searing kiss against your lips. It's strange at first but not less arousing. It's more teeth and tongue than anything.

"Fuck, doll," he growls. "You taste so good." Saliva drips down his black, thin lips as he speaks. "I'm curious if you taste this good elsewhere too."

You forget how to breathe as you stare at him with shock.

The male chuckles. "Don't look at me like that, Y/N, it just makes me want to eat you more."

"Please," your plea punches out of your chest with a ragged inhale.

Hiro grins, showing you his sharp teeth in the process. "Take off your clothes, sweet girl, let me see all of you."

You have some difficulty with your clothes, they cling to your body like a second skin, but Hero does nothing to help you. He finds amusement in your struggle, making you tremble with a bit of embarrassment under his heavy gaze.

Your wet clothes land heavily on the ground, leaving you naked and vulnerable in front of him. His eyes rake over your body with hunger in his eyes while licking his chops.

"Just as I thought," he breaks the silence. "You are sweet in every way possible."

You can't help but smile at his praise. "Oh."

"Hm?" he asks. "Do you like it, sweet girl? Me praising you?"

You nod. Yeah, they definitely feel good, making your thighs rub together to give yourself some friction. Your pussy throbs with arousal ever since you first saw his cock jutting out from his body.

"Be a good girl and use your words."

"Yes."

"Good," he smirks. "Let me get your reward for always being a doll for me."

Before you can say anything, he is on his knees in front of you. He manhandles you easily, grabbing your thighs and pushing you against the wall. A high squeal escapes your lips when he lifts you up and adjusts your legs over his shoulders. Your nails scratch over the white tiles, but you can't find anything to grab onto. The only things keeping you upward are the wall behind you and the wolf breathing close to your exposed pussy.

"Hiro!" His name bursts out of you like a scream when he pushes his nuzzle against you. His nose nudges your clit, and his wide, wet tongue laps a warm path over your folds. He tastes you thoroughly, humming and grunting into your pussy. The vibration of his voice ripples through your spine, making your hips jerk and grind into his mouth.

Within a minute, you forget your position on his shoulders as your fingers rake over the soft fur at the top of his head. You pull on the roots, and the shifter growls and snarls while still feasting on your drenched pussy. He laps up your wetness, nudging your clit with every move of his large head.

The world spins around you over and over again as you hold onto the male between your legs. Every prod and lick of his tongue pushes you closer to the edge while your muscles turn to liquid, and you can do nothing but grind down on him, chasing your climax. Your moans echo off the shower walls, loud and high as Hiro eats you out. Your hesitancy is long forgotten since you can't make your brain work anymore. The only thing floating in your mind is the wolf-shifter's name and nothing else.

The air gets stuck in your lungs when Hiro's tongue finds your hole, pushing and teasing your entrance. The warm, wet muscle slips inside you easily at the same time you cry out his name again. The rough texture of his tongue rubs over your walls, reaching every spongy spot that sends you spiraling.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you pant with half-closed eyes. Your pussy flutters around his tongue, begging for more as you get closer to your high. Your muscles twitch and tense, and the burning coil bursts in your stomach with a searing sensation. It surges through your veins and turns your body limp and helpless. The sound of Hiro slurping up on your juices rings in your ears, almost drowned out by the rapid beat of your own heart.

You barely notice under the thick haze of your mind when Hiro puts you down and holds you close against his large body. Without his arms around you, you are sure you would collapse. His damp fur clings to your skin, and his musky, earthy scent fills your nostrils as you still gasp for air.

"Are you okay, doll?" he asks after a while, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You can barely understand him because of the growl escaping his chest the whole time. It reverberates in your bones, shivering and rattling.

You hum, not knowing how to form words.

"Are you ready for more?" he asks with a hint of impatience in his voice while his clawed hands move up and down on your back, caressing your bare skin to soften his words.

You can't blame him, though. His cock is hard and heavy between his thick, hairy thighs. It leaks with pre-cum and bobs with every small movement Hiro makes.

"I still need your help, sweetheart," he continues, nudging your head softly with his muzzle. His breath is warm at the side of your face. "And you are the only one who can help me."

Straightening your posture, you lean away from him a little, just enough to look at him and nod. You are here to help him, you remind yourself.

"What do you need me to do?"

Hiro doesn't need more.

"Good girl," he grunts. "My good girl."

Before you know it, you are kneeling on the ground, ass up in the air, with the wolf behind you. The white, wet tiles are warm under your cheeks and palms, with the shower still cascading down on your pair. A helpless sound escapes your parted lips at the sudden change of position, but you do nothing against it. Your senses are too busy with the feeling of Hiro shifting closer until you can feel his fur against your bare skin and his erection on your pussy, sliding across your puffy folds. He is thick and heavy, and your body tenses for several seconds.

"Hiro-" you want to say, but the shifter just pats your hips.

"It's okay," he grunts. "Just take a deep breath, doll."

Deep breath, you think. It seems impossible.

How could you do anything when you can feel him moving behind you and soon, the blunt tip of his cock prods at your entrance.

"S-slow," you gasp with your heart beating in your throat.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he hums mindlessly, too busy groping the flesh of your ass to really pay attention to your words.

The press of the head of his cock at your entrance punches a high, mewling sound out of your chest. By the time he forces the first few inches inside you, you are breathless and delirious. Pain and pleasure throb in your lower body, but you do nothing to stop him. You don't want him to stop. Your drenched pussy stretches and tenses around his thick cock, and your legs go numb as you keep your position in front of him. He rocks in and out of you, going deeper into you every time without giving you at least a moment to get used to his size. With a slack jaw and half-closed eyes, you tremble around him while spreading your legs even more in hopes of making your job easier.

It does nothing, though.

"Fuck," the male moans behind you breathlessly, watching his thick length disappear into your wet, tight channel. You hug around his cock like a glove, milking him with every shiver of your overwhelmed body.

"Just like that," he snarls. "So good. You are helping me so much, doll."

His approaching orgasm blurs his vision every now and again, and he needs to bite onto his tongue to keep himself going for a while longer. Cumming so soon would be embarrassing for him, even though the knot at the base of his cock is already swollen.

"Really?" You pant. The hope in your voice that you are doing a good job is humiliating, but none of you care about it.

"Yes," he snarls, grabbing your hips bruisingly tight to pull you against his groin. A high, mewling sound escapes your lips, and your back arches at the sudden, invading feeling. Your tits press against the tiles, and your fingers are sore from the force you try to grip onto the smooth, hard surface.

A surprised, airy gasp wheezes out of your lips when he starts fucking into you roughly, grinding his cock deeper and deeper into your clenching hole. Every drag and press of his erection ripples through your nerves, making your muscles twitch and jerk while you try to keep yourself in position in front of the shifter. He pushes you beyond your limits with every ruthless thrust while you wail and sob, with your vision blurring at the overwhelming sensation. Every time his knot presses against your entrance, you tense and forget how to breathe, but Hiro doesn't try to force more into you, and it's probably a good decision. Even though the gym is closed, you still don't want to get tied together with him in the showers.

His orgasm almost pushes the ground out from under him, making him lean above you while still squeezing your hips in his large, paw-like hands. He empties himself inside you with a feral snarl while you sob and shake, with your own climax rocking through your body. Your blood turns to molten lava as your vision blurs while you cry like a wounded animal with his cock pulsing inside of your clenching pussy. You feel every rope of his cum, and your walls milk him for more.

"That's it," the wolf growls, grinding his hips against your ass roughly and convulsively. His spine is rigid, and his face is contorted into a threatening snarl.

For a long moment, he holds you tight with your greedy cunt squeezing his spent cock while his seed drips down between your legs and washes away into the drain under the water, still cascading down on your bodies.

When he lets you go, you spread out on the floor while Hiro leans against the wall with his cock softening between his thick, hairy thighs.

"How are you?" Your barely audible question surprises him. "Did I help?"

A light, gentle smile pulls on his lips as his head clears up a little. "Yeah, sweetheart," he replies. "You did."

"Good," you hum, already half-asleep.

"Come on," he says, scooping you up in his arms when he wins back his strength and the control over his body. "I can't let you stay here."

"Where are we going?" you ask him, resting your face on his chest. His fur is soaked under your skin.

"Home," Hero replies. "I need more of your help, doll."

"Oh, okay."

[senseichaos]

VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL

I'm crazy, but so are you,

I'm crazy, but you are too

Summary: Alastor surprises you with a Valentine's gift, causing you both to find out things about each other that would bring you closer than ever before

Genre: Romance, Angst

Warnings: Sexual themes, Angst, hurt slight comfort, psychopathic Alastor, implied sadism, self deprecation, talk of murder, let me know if you see any more!

NOT PROOF READ (YET)

Let me know your thoughts!

(tried to do my iconic 3 image banner but tumblr's formatting broke so it didn't work..)

"My fawn, I have a surprise for you!"

You look up from your book, face lighting up as you place the book onto the couch next to you. Currently you were just reading a book in the hotel lobby, mostly alone in the area save for husk cleaning the bar as usual. Niffty is currently fixing some windows that had been broken, Sir Pentious is in his room doing god knows what, Vaggie and Charlie are out getting dinner, and Angel is at work. Which leaves you.

"Hm? Really?!" You ask, not expecting a gesture from Alastor on Valentine's day. Alastor grins, reaching his hand out for you to take which you do politely. In an unexpected movement Alastor pulls you lightly so you come close to him, placing a hand onto the small of your back as he gives you a proud gaze.

"Yes my fawn, it's valentines day is it not? Come,"

Alastor leads you up the stairs, taking you to his room one one of the higher floors of the hotel. This is all a surprise to you, really. You'd never expected Alastor to get you something for Valentine's! Let alone a surprise. You can't hold that excitement inside of you at the fact that Alastor is going to surprise you with something! You practically buzz with excitement when Alastor leads you down the hall, looking up at him as you fiddle with the side of his overcoat.

"What is it, what is it!!" You ask with excitement, bouncing on your feet as Alastor settles in front of the door to his room, not yet opening it. Alastor laughs, adjusting his monocle and shaking his head.

"Patience, dear! Have I taught you nothing?" He utters with a grin, fixing his coat after you had meddled with it.

"I'm allowed to be excited Alastor!" You pout, folding your arms as Alastor rests his hand against the wall. He gives you a humorous gaze, laughing at your words with a grin.

"You are, fawn. But there is a difference between patience and greed~" He purrs, pressing hks microphone to your chin, tilting it up a tad; scowling at this action, you grab the top of his microphone and push it back to his chest. Alastor's lower lids rise.

"I am not greedy! You've never surprised me before..." You frown, looking at the ground beneath you. It wasn't wrong, at least you don't think. Alastor has never really given you a huge surprise like this before.

Alastor takes a step forward, hooking his finger beneath the leather of your collar.

"Now that is a lie. I surprised you just last week with this beautiful collar," Alastor speaks, pulling his finger away from your neck, dragging his claw down the column of your throat as he goes. You can't help but lean into that brief touch, flicking your eyes back into his as he stares at you with an odd adoration.

"I guess that's true.." You mutter, itching the side of your neck as you take your eyes from his own again. You instead look at the wall, focusing on the deteriorating wallpaper. Though you feel Alastor's claw press against your jaw, tilting your face back towards his own

"You guess? But it is true, my dear. I think you forget that I love you just as you love me," He says lowly, leaning in closer to your own smaller, meeker figure. You can't help but shrink backwards, feeling that odd fear buzz through your cold sinner veins.

"Do you really?" You ask, eyes blown as you stare. He chuckles, kissing your forehead and pulling away, leaving your skin burning on the area he kissed. Alastor quickly and deftly places his fingers onto the the doornob, twisting it with a neat skill. The skill of a man with property, you could describe.

"Hm, does this prove my point?" Alastor asks, pushing you into the room by the tip of his microphone staff.

You gasp, looking at the room. His room has a nice, neatly set table in the middle of his forest backdrop, which has cups of coffee and crumpets on it, along with some of your favorite sweet treats that make you drool to even look at. There's even a beautiful bouquet of dried roses set in the middle just near the edge of the table, meaning you can see Alastor completely when you eat.

"Oh my gosh! Alastor, this is.." You clasp your hands over your mouth, tears welling up in your vision as your heart swells from the pure kindness of the action. You watch as Alastor waltzes in front of you, prideful of his actions.

"And you say I don't know you.. I have your favorite music, your favorite food, your favorite drinks anddd" Alastor outstretched his hand, standing in front of the table completely with that grin of his that makes you melt. "Your favorite radio demon~!" He sing songs, causing you to laugh, running up to him and hugging yourself into his arms.

Though often you don't hug Alastor, but it's in these moments where he welcomes it that you value. He always hugs you warmly, as if his whole body is enveloping you in a swaddle. You feel small in his arms, almost like a baby.

You nuzzle yourself into his chest mumbling:

"Oh thank you Alastor this is so.. thoughtful. I didn't think you were capable of such a thing," You giggle, looking up at him with teary eyes as those butterflies swarm inside of you. That way he looks at you is so soft, before he laughs, tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling very lightly.

"Now don't ruin the moment, my fawn. It impolite," Alastor chastises, giving you that sadistic look that makes you fall to your knees and take what's given. Those dark eyes, that tight grip, that sharp smile, those piercing teeth. You bite your lower lip, laughing with a flustered blush as you push his hand away.

"Sorry Al' I just.. this is incredible! I'm so excited! I can hardly hold in my squeals," You squeak, jumping very slightly on your toes. Chuckling, Alastor folds his hands behind his back, though not before resting his staff at the side of the table. "Squeal all you want, my dear! You make a lot of noise anyway," He says with a lascivious smirk, leaning down to your level just to get a good look of your scowl and humor it as he feels necessary.

"Ew Alastor! I don't wanna squeal anymore.. but- EEEEEEE!" You squeal, flapping your arms with joy as Alastor sits himself down at the table. What you don't expect is for Alastors green magic to circle around your waist, effectively picking you up and placing you on your chair. He ignores your frightened squeak and flinch at this, instead leaning forward and resting his chin on his intertwined fingers.

"C'mon my dear, the coffee should be the perfect temperature!" He utters, nodding his head towards the cup of coffee at your side of the table. You nod, taking a small sip of the sweet coffee. Sweet? That's new. Alastor doesn't like sweet things.. which makes it all more surprising that he's given you sweet things.

"Oh actually! It's not huge but i did get you something," You interrupt your thought, remembering the Valentine's gift you had found on the streets of hell weeks ago. Alastor smiles wider, not expecting you to get him something in return. He feels gratitude that you did, though, not often does he get gifts.

"Hm? You did? How sweet of you, my fawn!" Alastor asks brightly, watching as you twist your body to grab something from your back pocket. What he doesn't expect is for you to pull out a light gray feather, a very slight shimmer against its surface. It almost looks like the feather of an angel with it's heavenly sheen.

"I found it on the street a couple weeks ago whilst on my outing, it's an exorcist feather!" You exclaim, passing it towards him with a proud smile. Taking it in his fingers, he examined it with a soft but peaceful smile, taking in every piece of it before smiling brighter.

"Ooh~ now this is a thoughtful gift!" He says, opening his mouth and placing it into his mouth, tasting it. He slowly drags it out, trailing his tongue around its entirety to taste every part of it. You give him a disgusted look, peering at him through your lashes before pulling it from him. Or at least attempting to, he pulls it away before you have a chance to reach it.

"Ew Alastor don't taste it! You don't know where that's been!" You scold, taking another sio of your coffee. Alastor holds it in his hand, tasting a little bit more of it by placing his red tongue against it kn random spots. You give him an exaggerated gag, causing him to finally pull it away with upturned, happy eyes.

"It's tasty, dear! Is that not part of the gift? A beautiful feather of an angel and the tasty remnants of death! I can't think of anything more delicious~" He pauses, lowering his lids seductively. "Besides from my fawn, of course.." He purrs, causing you to flush before swatting his hands.

"Alastor! That's gross...!" You exclaim, taking an aggressive bite from your (extremely delicious) crumpet. You almost forget that you're supposed to be mad before Alastor's condescending laugh rings in your ears, causing you to look back up at him with down turned brows.

"Oh come on dear, I know you just love it when I'm dirty!" Alastor says with a teasing gaze, before leaning forward and attempting to kiss you. You quickly move your head away, causing him to give you a short peck on the corner of your lips. When he pulls away, he seems proud, almost greedy with his affection.

"You just tasted an exorcist feather and you think I want you to kiss me with the same mouth, ew!" Alastor hums at your words, tilting his head.

"I guess you just don't like the flavour the same way as me," He says, taking a sip of his black coffee. Alastor can't stand sweetness, that's for sure. But it does still surprise you that he has a crumpet and a slice of your favorite cake Infront of him.

"Okay fine.." You sigh, leaning forward to invite Alastor into a kiss. He grins, clasping his hand onto your cheek and leaning forward, purring: "Lovely!"

Finally he presses his lips onto yours, quite literally immediately forcing his tongue past your lips. You moan surprised at this, gagging as he presses his tongue to the back of your throat - definitely on purpose - though you don't pull away. Alastor doesn't kiss you often, and that's a fact. So this moment, despite being uncomfortable with his sadistic ways is still powerful and makes your gut rearrange. The way he digs his claws into the back of your neck, twisting your head slightly so he can kiss you deeper, effectively taking away your breath. But you don't care if he suffocates you. You don't care if he kills you. Right now all you want is for him to continue massaging his lips against your own.

Or that was until he finally pulled away, licking a stray piece of saliva from his lip. You finally snap from your daze, flushing deeply and wiping your wet lips.

"Are you done?" You ask, taking a short sip of your coffee in an attempt to calm your fiery veins down. Alastor chuckles, taking a bite from his crumpet and only slightly flinching from the sweet flavour.

"Yes my dear, a kiss cannot last forever." He says, leaning his head against the back of his hand. Nodding, you bite your lower lip, finding something to say to take your mind from that intense kiss.

"So what are you gonna do with the feather?" You ask rather abruptly, chanting the subject with a swift execution of words. Alastor could detect as such, but he choses not to point it out to save your dignity. Instead he nods, twirling the feather between his fingers before speaking.

"Hmm, I will most likely place it at my bedside." He pauses, grinning and looking back up at you. "What do you plan to do with these hours of fun with yours truly? He asks, taking a neat sip from his black coffee. You can't understand how he drinks the stuff, being so strong and bitter. You can only have it sweet.

"I just want to talk with you, Al'. I don't remember the last time we just got to sit and.." Your words slowly jumble off into nothing's, realizing that you're rambling. Though when you look up into Alastor's eyes he doesn't seem annoyed, hell he even looks as though he's hanging off your every word with deep enjoyment. "Talk." You finish, pointed with your words as they drip from your tongue.

"Really, because I recall sitting down and having tea just last week," Alastor recalls, tapping his chin in mock-thought. You shake your head, taking a long sip from your coffee. "No I mean, I don't remember the last time we did something just for us. Just a moment where it's- just unbridled conversation between lovers for hours.." You utter, twiddling your fingers together as a pang of anxiety hits your gut. You swallow it down, not wishing to show your anxiety to your partner.

"Hm, I guess you are correct with one thing. We haven't done anything just for us in a while," Alastor answers, shrugging his shoulders as he looks down at the food in front of him. He seems content, cozy even. You don't often see him at such peace.. and you want him to be at such peace more often- hell you want to be at such peace more often.

"Doesn't it make you sad.. sad that we don't just have time for us?" You ask rather suddenly, looking up at him as he places his feather into his coat pocket. He lowers his lids, tilting his head softly as he speaks with a buttery tone: "Whatever do you mean?" Alastor asks, leaning his cheek on the back of his hand dreamily.

You sigh. "I mean.. doesn't it make you wish we could just be together for hours.. spend a whole day, even! Just us, laying in bed.. dancing to music, having tea.. cooking! Anything.. I just want to feel more connected to you sometimes.." You utter with a soft-spoken tone. Alastor almost seems sympathetic, hell empathetic for a moment. But he isn't, you can tell... But even still he leans forward, that smile across his face as he speaks with such an odd tone.

"Now now, dear. If you wanted a day like this why didn't you just say? Why leave it to the time we are supposed to be laughing and having fun?" Alastor asks, shaking his head softly as he moves his hands as to accentuate his words. You shrink into yourself in realization that all this time you felt a lack of deep connection with him you could have.. told him.

"I-I don't know I guess I just.. I only realize how much I need time like that now, when I have it.." You mumble, rubbing your palm across your eye before picking up the thin fork next to your sweet cake, wishing to take a bite to make you feel less sad. Though Alastor just smiles wider, giving you a soft look with his red intimidating eyes.

"Now why worry about the future when you have what you want right now? I promise you that spending time in the now will make this much more productive and enjoyable," Alastor says with such power, pulling at your strings to make your emotions mold to what he wishes. Though he isn't wrong, even with that later of manipulation with his tone. It is best to let this moment happen without worrying about the future.

"I guess you're right, Alastor." You finally say after a pregnant pause. Alastor chuckles to himself, watching as you take a joyful bite of your cake. After tasting it's sweet flavour you practically buzz with happiness, squeaking to yourself. "Thank you, my fawn."

You finish your happy 'squeeming', laughing softly at Alastor's words. "It wasn't really a compliment, but take it how you will." You say with a shrug, diving into another forkful of the delicious cake.

"You know," Alastor says suddenly, a grin churning on his face. You look up from your cake from big eyes, swallowing your mouthful of cake.

"Hm?"

"I recall this memory from my childhood sometimes when I'm with you, this memory from my childhood that is more pleasant than any other," Alastor begins, looking up at the sky-like roof above in thought and rumination as he speaks. Yet you hang into every word, leaning forward in your chair with such infatuation; You wish you were nestled in your lap to take in every huff of his breath as he tells his story.

"I was sitting beneath this tree reading a book my school had demanded me to read, for a project of some sorts. But the book was actually rather interesting! It spoke of love and loss, and it gave me this odd comfort," Alastor tells, Almost painting a picture with his hands as he describes the story to you. He moves his hands with every word that he annunciates, making everything he says seem even more rich and delightful for your brain as he goes on.

"It was like it was telling me that no matter what I do in my life, one day I will get this feeling again. And now, well now when I'm with you I get that odd feeling of comfort." He finishes, folding his hands in his lap as he watches your dumbfounded expression. He can't help but smirk.

"Alastor.. that's the most you've ever told me about your life on earth." You say with such a grin, kicking your legs in your chair with cheer. Alastor taps his pointer finger against his chin in a thinking moment before shrugging, giving you a sly smile. "Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it?" He asks, those buttery eyes of his low lidded. You bite your lower lip, poking your fork into your cake.

"You aren't lying are you? Please tell me this isn't a joke.." You beg, taking a piece from the cake with your dainty fork. You don't eat it, though, instead holding it at the end of the fork as you speak. "Why would I joke to my love about something like this?" Alastor asks, watching your body as your heart sits tremulous inside of your chest.

You look at the ground "I don't know, this whole thing it just doesn't feel real to me. And this- this childhood memory of yours.. I feel like I'm going to explode with happiness." You finish your sentence with a large almost painful grin, before dropping it down into a rather small smile. Alastor hums, poking his dainty fork into a piece of his own cake.

"Is that not good, my dear?" Alastor asks before taking a bite of the sickeningly sweet cake, he does make a bit of a face and the flavour, but he eats it all the same. You value that in this moment. Not often does he do something that actively makes him uncomfortable for you, so you feel as though he's sacrificing his life right now. You can't help but think of him as sweet for a small moment.

"It is! it's just.. this is the first I've ever heard of your past," You reply, drawing circles on the table with your hand as the other continuing to hold your fork with the piece of cake at the end. Once again you hear Alastor hum in acknowledgement, watching as he gives you a large unreadable grin.

"Would you like to know more about my past, my dear?"

You blink, biting your lower lip as your heart clenches beneath your rib cage.

"Please," You utter with glassy eyes, set on taking in every second of his story. Alastor replies to your enthusiasm with a chuckle, placing his fork down and clasping his hands together as he leans back onto his chair. He begins to speak, a whimsical propriety in his voice.

"Hm, alright then. You do have to understand that my life on earth may not be the most pleasant of lives," Alastor warns, tapping his foot against the grass beneath absentmindedly. You shake your head, dead set on hearing something more about his life as a person."I don't care."

He grins widely, eyes creasing with its largeness."Lovely, now," He begins, talking with such pride you can't help but sink into every word. "I remember this time, I was I think around my early twenties when I killed my first victim-" You interrupt with wide eyes and a tap of your finger against the table.

"Woah woah woah, why are you staring out with this?" You ask. You completely didn't expect Alastor to start out with his murder. You know that he was a cereal killer as a man, that is for sure- but you didn't expect him to tell you about it.

"Listen my dear, it's impolite to interrupt." Alastor chastises, brows high and nonchalant. You bite your lip, shrinking backwards into your seat. "Sorry Allie."

Alastor's smile grows. "Hm. I had killed this victim in the dead of night, it was an act of self defense I do admit. But, that feeling I got was like no other when his lifeless body laid dormant at my feet," Alastor describes, picking up his staff that he laid at the side of the table. Looking at the staff, Alastor drags his hand against its handle, his eyes dark and reminiscent, almost longing.

"I had this system after that. I would kill one person, eat them, and bury their bones in the forest behind my house. I was very good at giving no trace of myself, to the point where my killing became news that I had to cover on my radio show! How comical is that, hm?" Alastor suddenly perks up, laughing to himself as he finishes talking. He takes a sip of his coffee, one hand places against his staff as he watches you laugh awkwardly.

"I mean you are killing people, so not extremely comical." Alastor laughs again at this, swatting his hand in your direction. You finally take a bite of the cake on your fork, eyes pointed at Alastor as you do so in a judging fashion.

"Oh don't worry about that my dear, I promise if you were alive in my time I wouldn't have killed you. You most likely would have become my wife," His voice lowers as he speaks becoming flirtatious with his tone. At his words anxiety pools at your stomach, causing your skin to ripple into goosebumps; And yet you can't help but crave for more.

"In my life on earth I wouldn't have dated a cereal killer.. " You mumble, looking at the grass below as the goosebumps on your skin begin to fade with that fleeting adrenaline filling fear. But when you look back into those eyes of his, it comes back with a harsh waft. Those dark eyes, they send you into a trance.

"Well what are you doing now then?" He asks, leaning forward on the table with a sly gaze.

"..dating a cereal killer..." You utter guiltily. Alastor reaches across the table, planting his and against yours intimately. You feel tiny electric shocks of love go through you there, making you smile at his clawed fingers as they lay against your wrist. "Exactly, my fawn. Don't assume things about yourself, especially when it is just plain wrong. What have I done to hurt you?" You laugh at this, pulling down the collar of your shirt to reveal a healed bite mark across your shoulder.

"Exhibit A." You announce with a grin.

"Well that was during sex, darling. I wouldn't count that. And also you liked it," Alastor responds, taking your hand into his own. You shiver, feeling his claws draw a line from the bottom of your wrist to the middle of your palm. "Mhm.. touche! It still hurt.. and felt good.." Your words slowly jumble off into nothing, realizing that Alastor, in fact, has never really hurt you.

"Well then I didn't hurt you did I? I promise you I would never go out of my way to hurt you in a way you wouldn't enjoy," Alastor assures, tapping his claws against the bottom of your wrist as he grins.

"I love you, Alastor. I also really appreciate this cause I know you don't like sweet food but you're still eating this with me." Alastor chuckles, leaning over the table to ruffle your hair in a condescending way.

"Anything for my little fawn, hm? Anything I can do to make you smile is mine to give." Alastor says, pointed with his words. There is a confidence to his words, as well. Not that there isn't always but specifically when he said smile. He wants you to smile, and yet he loves to make you scream his name and cry out for him.

He wants to break you. And you let him.

"Can I tell you something about my past?" You ask, looking up as him with teary eyes. Alastor nods, taking another bite of his (now finished) crumpet. "Of course, I'm a very good listener." He replies after swallowing, blinking at you with an extraordinarily endearing gaze. You have to stop yourself from getting flustered.

"I know.." You mumble, fiddling with the sleeves of your coat. Watching with dark eyes, Alastor crosses one leg over the other in his chair, ears perking up at the silence. Sighing, you ready yourself to speak, biting your lower lip before just letting the words flow.

"I never liked anyone my whole life on earth, I mean.. I died early, I know that but still I have never felt any attraction to anyone. Anyone ever." The words come out anxious and almost scared, matching the way your hands shake in a tremulous way. And yet Alastor makes you feel better by laughing, humming at words.

"Ever? How odd, me neither!"

Your eyes widen. Never really asking anything about Alastor, you don't know why you are surprised. You often worry that you annoy him if you ask too many questions, so you guess this is your sign to ask him more.

"What, really?" You gasp, clasping your hands together as you lean towards him with attraction. Alastor just hums in affirmation, taking another reluctant bite from his cake. You think to yourself for a moment, before shaking your head and continuing.

"Well.. anyway. The only feeling I ever got towards anything was this idea of.. being with someone like you. And I know that's crazy, that I would feel attraction to the idea of dating a psycho but the label fit. I'd never changed, even into my 20s when I died I never felt attracted to anything but this personification in my head," You start, flushing deeply as you talk. You don't dare look into Alastor's eyes, too scared to see his reaction to your words. Whilst continuing to speak, however, you find that you don't feel any sort of distaste from his frame. "And I have to admit, that you are the embodiment of the personification in my head to a degree I can't even begin to explain."

Silence flourishes the air for a thin moment, making your throat clog up with regret. And yet to your surprise, you feel one of Alastors claws press at your chin, tilting your head to look at him.

"Why do you tell me this now, dear?" Alastor asks, looking into your teary eyes with an unreadably soft gaze. Your gaze shifts away from him and you bite the inside of your cheek, kicking your legs nervously beneath the table."Because I think that I completely understand why," You mutter, tone strangled as his claw begins to press slightly harder into your skin.

"Why is it, my dear?"

You sob, pulling backwards from his hand so you can shrink into yourself.

"Because I'm crazy! I just know it. All of this, this thing we have- it's all part of my delusional self. I can't love anyone unless I have this feeling like I'm in danger. I need to be on edge to be comfortable and feel this feeling I feel right now.." You cry, breathing beginning to become choked and ugly. Staying silent for a second, you take awful whiny breaths in, calming yourself. Not once do you look up at Alastor.

"I hate myself Alastor.." You utter out, another heap of tears dripping down your cheeks. To your surprise, Alastor is next to you in a flash, gripping your cheeks and making you look up at him. His smile is wide and sadistic and yet his eyes are soft and pseudo-empathetic."Now now my dear, do I look like I'm judging you? I'm crazy as well. We are both just psychopaths with a twisted idea of love." He assures, claws digging into you very slightly as he pulls on your cheeks, forcing you to smile.

"How so..?" You sniffle, pulling his hand from your cheeks. Yet instead Alastor just grips the back of your neck, ensuring that your eyes are on him at all times. He needs your full attention. "I like the idea of pulling on someone's strings and controlling them to submit to my every desire. You like the idea of being controlled and that thrill you get from the danger of it all." He says lowly, voice flowing into your ears with such tremor you can't help but stare at him with an adoration.

"Are you saying we're the same? Because I would never kill anyone.." You say softly, blinking at him. Alastor chuckles, shaking his head at your words. He almost tuts them, really, his chuckle being almost mocking in a way that you can't understand. You can never understand him, never completely. And perhaps that's the way he likes it.

"No no no, my dear. I'm saying that you and I fit perfectly into each other's idea of love. We are similar in those parts of ourselves, and that's what makes us fit so well together, hm?"

Your breath catches in your throat. He's right. He's so right. You are both broken souls that bring out the best you can out of eachother. Nothing will ever be normal with him, and nothing will ever be normal with you. And yet.. and yet your heart beats at such a fast pace you fear your adrenaline will spike through your skin.

"I guess this makes sense.." Is all you say, breathless with your words.

Alastor hums, trailing his hand from the back of your neck down your chest, until it reaches your hand. Pulling you by your hand to your feet, he brings you into a warm addicting hug. You moan into his embrace, shivering with goosebumps as his breath tickles against your ear.

"so do you really love me, really really?" You ask, teary eyed and tired.

"I really, really love you my dear. I'd kill every sinner in hell to keep you." There's a sinister tone to his words, and even yet you value them more than you can admit.

"That means a lot to me , Alastor."

"I'm glad, my fawn."

At peace, for now at least.

[illuminakisser]

EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT THE PHIGHTING APRIL FOOLS TOWER AS OF NOW, THIS WILL BE UPDATED AS MORE INFO IS DISCOVERED OR MORE THEORIES ARE MADE.

ok info about whats theorized to be medkits nightmare GO

Title of game : . (its a period)

Icon is the same as base game, background is the default one

The music playing is just overtime slowed down by a lot

1. MAP

You spawn on a road with sidewalks that have candles, you have a lantern in your inventory.

As you walk you will occasionally see an exit sign.

Halfway, pillars stretch up from the ground, most are normal but some are shaped like hands that reach to the sky. On top of the hands are weird figures with glowing green eyes and horns that look like something from the flaming horns series?

(thats the closest thing i could find,,,)

At the end of the road is the default Happy Home, though with minor modifications. An exit sign is right at the stairs and pointing at the door. Tube tvs are inside the home, a giant one at the middle against the wall with two stacks of tvs in the corners. The left side has one tv off, while the others are full of red static. They don't do anything when interacted with.

Note: This sorta resembles the thumbnail for scythe's teaser.

They also look like the TVs in broker's secret room (i reached the image limit so cant show ough)

Outside to the left and on top of the house are the same weird green eyed figures.

2. DIALOGUE

There are many figures running around saying various phrases,

phrases that ive seen:

"Help!"

"you traitor"

"do something"

"be useful"

"please help me"

"Useless support"

"Help me!"

"help"

"please just heal me"

"Please heal me"

"How's your eye?" (Idk if this is random dialogue or subspace dialogue)

Though, some of these figures are saying things from medkit ally dialogue.

Ingame dialogue phrases:

"Do I really want to work with a rebel on my team?" - Banhammer

"Hey!! Great seeing you!!" - Subspace

"How's that eye doing??" - Subspace

3. THE OVERSEER NEXTBOT OR SOMETHING IDK

You are chased by an overseer eye, it can't be stopped permanently. Though, it can be halted by positioning yourself in the right area, however, it has good pathing and can jump extremely high, so you can't hide from it.

Getting caught by it results in an image showing up on the screen, this rewards you a badge the first time you see it.

Random note: the eye is weirdly clean? im not sure if its medkit's eye or not since I remember soda saying that subspace just threw the eye away,, (not sure if this is still canon)

After this you get kicked from the game with the message "You must kill him to become him."

The interesting thing is that this is the description of the overseer eye cosmetic.

This probably means something like "you must kill overseer to become him" or something but what does that mean who is killing overseer huh what

↑ ok theories have been made (thank u discord user ankles0560 for the medkit part)

The one killing him might be either medkit or katana.

KATANA : there is dialogue between katana and ban hammer

Ban Hammer: "You can't get involved with the business of the dudes higher up." Katana: "And who will stop me?"

↑ I will expand on this later but im eepy rn help

MEDKIT : ok the whole thing is about Medkit so the kick message is probably the overseer eye talking to Medkit,,

Soda has said that if Katana knew more about Medkit, he would kill him. This could mean multiple things but very interesting hm

Another interesting thing is the jumpscare noise, it is a jumpscare noise used in old games.

The interesting part is what it is, the noise is actually the sound of the subspace tripmine slowed down, whether this was just coincidence or because of the subspace thing is unknown, it might even be both?

EXTRA . CHURCH OF THE TRUE EYE INFO

Not really related to the tower but just what we know about the cult

A religious group within lost temple, not everybody from lost temple is a member of it.

It is mentioned in Medkit's phone dialogue.

Every member of the cult is missing an eye.

Soda has mentioned that the reason why Sword's eye isn't missing is because he wasn't born in lost temple.

CORRECTION: Sword was born in lost temple, but wasn't raised in it. The point still stands that this is the reason why he hasn't lost an eye.

Based on dialogue between medkit and banhammer, it has been around for a while now. (THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME)

It is unknown what the goals or structure of the cult are currently.

They have a uniform, Medkit, Scythe, and Broker share the motif of outfits of mostly teal.

Scythe calls Vine Staff "blessed" in her dialogue with her, this is related to the cult somehow since in the same conversation Vine says "No! You and your creepy family can buzz off!"

^ According to broker, her curse is rare but she isn't the first one to have it.

They call themselves a family, and call Overseer their Father.

Overseer info:

There is barely any, but this is what we know.

They are referred to as a leader, it is unknown whether they are the faction leader or just the cult leader.

Scythe refers to him as a deity, whether they truly are one, manipulated the cult into believing they are, or the cult simply calls him a deity is unknown.

An alternative is that she isn't talking about overseer here at all, though if that is so we don't know if she's talking about a sfoth deity or a different one. ← if it is a sfoth deity, it is most likely to be darkheart or venomshank (or maybe even ghostwalker? idk)

btw soda said this. soda wdym

Feel free to add more info or things i missed/got wrong in reblogs or comments!!

pls do say more info if you have it im making this based on what the guys im theorizing with are saying i didnt have time to do more than 1 playthrough

[onakomiyaki]

just a silly crush (not) pt.2

pairing : daniel ricciardo x childhood friend-brabham!reader

summary : your wall is starting to crumbling down, thanks to daniel. and the ice exterior you've been putting on for years started to melt, thanks to the daniel, the sunshine himself.

warning: unedited and rushed work, harsh words, slowburn.

a/n : we start to explore what's going on with y/n brabham. and honestly this is one of my favorite chapter to write so far!

most of juniors that tried to befriended you have one same goals; to get you to help them to get close to some of your friends-your driver friends of course. or maybe that's just how you've been treated your whole life when you grow up, so you just assume that they want you for something–link to the drivers in this case.

if there is something you know best about f1 is that it is a hot topic amongst your juniors in modelling world and oh how they wish to be one of the wags of the f1 drivers.

many have tried, from buying you some expensive gift, trying to go on a lunch date with you, or just be your matchmaker–which let's be honest, sound kind of dumb when you surrounded by some of good looking-breath-taking drivers, not only in f1 but on some other motorsports as well–and the list is still counting.

and you, by natural, got a lot of heat from it. but you're fine. by the end of the day you're still the one who spend some holidays with those drivers, not them.

but not even once succeeded to even own your private phone number.

"(y/n) you really need to be nice to your colleagues, the media is onto you again." anna, your manager, watch your reflection with annoyed expression.

"what is it now?" you simply ask, eyes closing as you massage your temple.

"you were voted as the most cold-hearted models to work with." she exclaim, walking towards your direction with ipad in her hand.

you just stare at the pad with unamused expression. you read the headline with a frown on your face, then let out a scoff.

"(Y/N) BRABHAM, THE EVERCHANGING ICE PRINCESS,"

"COLD AS THE ARTICS, HERE ARE (Y/N) BRABHAM'S ICONIC RESTING B**** FACE!"

"i honestly adore (y/n) so much, she's an icon. but it is-it is hard to get close to her. to make friend with her outside the work talk. almost like she build this wall around us."

"i remember she's constantly sat alone in the dressing room-sometimes she just sat there with her headphone on. and when she's alone no one dare to talk to her-she's just that intimidating!"

and there's more articles and some interview snippets from your junior about how unapproachable you are.

"ice princess? what am i, elsa from frozen?" you said, scrolling away.

"i told you to be nice to those young models, (y/n)." anna said, snatching the ipad from your hand.

you finally turn your body, looking up at your manager. "they only want me because they want to get to know my friends." you stated.

"well maybe they want to be your friends? can't you just humor them for once? it won't kill you to gave them some of your friends' numbers..." she asked, sitting down on the sofa, just across you.

"anna, im not trying to gatekeep those men. they are welcome to get to know lewis, lando, carlos, charles, max, esteban, pierre-"

"and daniel."

"-nope. not daniel, not a chance." you finally turn your body, pointing at anna with frown on your face.

"why not? you know him the longest i'm sure you'll find a model that will fit him as a girlfriend." she asked, throwing a little smirk at you.

"that's the problem, i've known him almost all my life! what if i introduce him to a wrong person then shit went downhill? what if they only want his money? i can't risk that anna." you said, voice gone an octave higher.

"(y/n) you know that's not true. that's just you being scared of nothing-"

"anna you don't understand! he is the one constant in my life that i can count on–he keep me grounded okay? i am me with him and the thought of losing him-"

"(y/n)-"

"‐point is im not gonna risk my friendship like that. especially with daniel. if they want to get to know those drivers, just attend the race, get a paddock pass or something. im sure if those drivers truly interested they will come." you finally stated, voice stern as you turn your back on your manager like a kid throwing small tantrum.

anna shakes her head in disbelief as she walk away from you, taking the ipad with her. "you're such a child sometimes."

"oh but you love me enough to stay with me for 10 years." you bite back.

"and i am amazed at myself for doing that. okay back to the topic, can just think about befriending your junior, please? that's all i ask from you, and you know i never asked anything from you." anna said as she walk out from your room, closing the door behind her.

you just sat there, pouting as you return your attention to your original task, watching the replay of british gp on your laptop.

it has been almost 2 months since your party and your meeting with daniel. and its also been 2 months since you call him. yes, texts were exchanged, but of course you miss his voice as well.

between your tight schedule and his race, you never find a time to call him. well you can but choose not to. you don't want to distract him.

as you saw the checkered flag being waved you take your phone, wanting to send daniel a congratulations text for his p5.

p5 bigman. congrats! podium next maybe? i miss watching your shoey thingy.

you stop, hovering at the send button. you want to call him. should you call him? you should probably call him instead. its his highest position of this season afterall.

but what if he's busy? he should be loaded with interviews by now right? ah there's also briefing right? you shouldn't call him. but, it won't hurt trying to call him. worst thing that can happen is the call never got answered anyway.

so you just sat there, phone in your hand as you chew the inside of your cheek, tasting a bit of iron when you accidentally bit too hard.

10 minutes have passed, and you're still staring at your phone. pretty sure by now daniel would've changed his outfit, already out of his race suit and maybe already headed back to his motorhome.

before you chickened out, you press the call button. the call is connected and you shriek, pushing the phone away as if the phone burn you.

"please don't answer, please don't answer! please-"

"hello?"

"p5 mate, that's a good one." one of the engineers welcome him with a clap on his shoulder, but voice is not as excited as it should be.

"yeah, thanks. i can do better, i will do better next time." daniel said, voice a bit trembling from the adrenaline that still coursing through his body.

he pull the baclava off or his head, sweats dripping from his brown curls. his freckled face flushed, chest heave heavily as he wait for his water. if you look close enough, you can see steam seeping out from his racing suit.

he tear the velcro of his race suit, pulling the zipper down. "daniel! points for both of us!" lando, race suit sat snuggly on his hips, greeting the older man with a beaming smile.

"and you did amazing out there. keep up with the goodwork." daniel said, ruffling the younger's hair, smiling proudly at the young brit.

although daniel got points for mclaren, he knew that all eyes are on him. expecting something more from the ferocious honey badger, a win maybe. and truth be told he also expected more from himself.

the fact that p5 is his current highest position in this season really speak something. of course its not a bad thing, but he can't help it. he knew mclaren put a lot of faith on the 7 times champions to take home the first trophy for mclaren.

he silently walk back to his driver room, helmet sat snuggly on his waist beneath his arm. michael, his trainer, follow him while he ramble about their next training session.

but of course the only voices he heard right now is just some static buzz and noises. he is dissosiating, moving autopilot towards the sofa and plop down. his body instantely melts as he stare blankly at the ceiling.

"- and (y/n) will be there and all." michael said.

at the mention of your name, daniel's ears perk up and he only gave the other man a puzzled looks.

"sorry, you were saying?" he said.

"daniel this is getting ridiculous. i've spent 5 minutes explaining how we can improve your training and you just listen to me after i mention (y/n). just call her for godsake." michael said as he put some notes for daniel down on the table, throwing an acussing stare at him. daniel flustered under his gaze.

"sorry i was just– its not that! i–"

"i get it buddy, you're hopelessly in love with (y/n)" michael said, patting the aussie on the shoulder as he walk out from his room. "you really should call her man, stop playing the tough guy card, you're not fooling yourself or anyone."

daniel sigh in defeat, unable to come out with a comeback. to think that everyone but her knew about that–his feeling–is just sad at this point. michael was right, he is hopelessly, pathetically, desperately in love with you. for years now.

he knew he loved you eversince he saw your freckled face blushed under the australian heat, helmet in your hand 20 years ago as you listen to your father explaining how you can improve your turns and how you should control your kart well.

he loved you eversince you introduce yourself, voice cocky and proud after winning the carting session. "(y/n) brabham, and i will be an f1 driver." he remember what you said as you walk towards him and he was stunned, just silently watching as you walk away from him, your ponytail swaying left and right.

he loved you eversince you give him a can of cold soda, putting the can on his cheek. he jumped, flinching at the sudden cold sensation on his cheek. and that was the first time he heard your–oh so cute–cackles.

he loved you eversince he found you hiding away out of the karting field, sitting alone on the grass. he saw how your back was trembling, so he sat down with you. "i will never be a driver. i will never be enough." you said, wiping your tears as you lean into his left shoulder. and daniel listen to the voice of your soft sobs, letting his race suit wet from the tears.

he loved you. still love you. and will always love you. desperately so that it hurts him whenever you call him your bestbuddy ever or whenever he listen how you cry after unlucky relationship with some random man or when he went out on a date with some random girls, trying his best to burrow his feeling deep, which of course doesn't work.

just let me be your man, dammit.

so, daniel let out a deep shuddered breath as he sat down. his eyes landed on his phone that laying on the table, next to the report papers michael left for him.

should he call you?

he shakes his head, raising from his seat to walk towards his fridge. he took one of the bottled juice michael had prepared for him. he took the lid off as he empty the bottle in no time.

after throwing away the empty bottle, he shurg off his race suit, tossing it to the nearest chair.

he was halfway from taking his heat suit off of his body when his phone rang. its so embarassing how his head whipped quickly to his phone and how he struggle to just shrug his heat protector away.

"oh shit-"

he crashed, fall to the floor before quickly running for his phone. he accept the call, let out a wheezed air as he press the green button.

"hello?" he calmly said as he rub his elbow.

"hi danny, you busy?"

"no-no not at all. i was just chilling in my motor home. i have interview in 5 though. do you need something?" daniel finally sat down, this time on the floor.

he wait for your response as lay down, face facing the ceiling.

"oh. no, not at all. i just want to congratulate you on p5."

"you watch the race?"

"i always watch your race, maybe not in person, but i never missed your race."

and now daniel turn into 17 years old girl who got called by his crush, giggling and twirling his hairs. "really?" his voice squeak pathetically, so he clear his throat.

"yes, of course! i will always support my best buddy no matter what, even if it from afar."

oh.

yeah, bestfriend.

ouch.

"aww, geez. thanks, brabham. i knew you're in love with me."

"hah! you wish, ricciardo! anyway-"

"yeah?"

"you're doing great sweetheart. do not forget who you are and what you capable of. keep your chin up, bigman."

daniel smile slowly creeping back on his face. he can feel how flushed his face right now.

"thank you, (y/n)."

"you are most welcome, honeybadger. bite 'em okay?"

he turn his body so that he's laying on his side. he used his left arm as a pillow.

"can i bite you instead?"

silence. daniel held his breath, biting his bottom lips as he wait for your answer. and when he about to apologize, daniel heard you clearing your throat.

"alright pump the brake romeo. anyways, i will leave you be now. i'm gonna catch some sleep here. talk to you later, ricciardo."

"alrighty, cheers, brabham."

and the call end just like that. and daniel feel silly. he pull his phone closer to his face, gently hitting his forehead with it.

"you stupid boy..." he said to himself.

but he can't help it, he wished that you're here with him. god how he want to hug you right now. even better, kiss you right now.

"oi, danny! we need to go now!" one of the pr team shouted as he knocked the door.

"yeah! coming! just gimme a sec!"

meanwhile, you on the other side, had to stop and do a manual breathing after the call. you're slapping your face with both your hands as you watch your reflection on the mirror.

"bro pull yourself together! he is your bestfriend!"

"can i bite you instead?"

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

you let out a scream as you recall what he said to you. his deep voice haunted you–making you both dizzy and anxious (in a good way). no, definitely not. you can't! panicking, you get up from your seat as you pacing around the room.

"that bastard."

prev next

[ph4ngz]

“Suck me off like your future education depends on it. Oh, wait. It fucking does.”

Al-haitham gives a rough shift forward of his pelvis so that his heavy, twitching cock can plunge even deeper into your mouth. So bad, he wants to hit the back of your throat so bad. Archons, he thrives for this exact sensation EVERY moment of the dayyyyyy.

This view… your delectable expression. Plump, quivering lips glistening with saliva and doing their absolute best just to keep their place tight around his length even though you’re on the brink of gagging. Anxious, wide eyes clamping shut every so often to rid of the glassy layer of pesky tears blurring your sight. Knees visibly red and sore, digging into the hard floor each time you lift yourself up to chase after his dick and catch it in your mouth, shamelessly eager to revel in the flavour of him like it’s your last chance. So fucking dirty and… just downright iconic. Nobody can do it for him like you can.

Your scalp pulses with an addictive sting supplied by the scribe’s fist tangled and controlling in your hair. How he repeatedly yanks your head back and forth in time with his vigorous thrusts has your cunt clenching on nothing, sending arousal to come practically gushing from your hole, swollen clit feeling cruelly neglected and longing for the slightest hint of stimulation.

“Mmph… g-grrnm—!” you panic when a particularly forceful rock of the scribe’s hips causes you to tense up and fight for breath.

“Th—at’s right sweetheart, ha-ve-ve a gooood taste.” Al-haitham drawls and stutters an undeniably thirsty low-toned taunt, gazing down at your sweet, vulnerable little self all weak and bruising knelt on the ground below him. The prominent veins decorating his cock create shallow ridges that hardly catch against your tongue, and you would seize the opportunity to swirl around them, but it’s rather difficult with such a surprisingly heavy weight blocking the back of your throat. Fresh streams of tears begin to break out over your waterlines, and fucking hell is he ready to cum all over you. But not yet, no, he tells himself and gasps a large breath when the warning of an orgasm creates a maddening tension in his abdomen, you’re not deserving of that just yet.

At last, the brutal scribe’s actions come to a temporary standstill and he pries your mouth from him, not without a lewd, sticky pop and a cooling thread of saliva connecting the two of you. You can breathe. Speak, even. With a shaky hand, you quickly brush away any loose hairs obscuring your vision and attempt to softly thread a few into Al-haitham’s thick fingers so he’d secure them back for you whilst you teasingly trace messy lines up and down his bobbing length.

“I’m sorry, mister scribe, am I too good for you to handle?” you ask cutely, eyes disguised with innocence although your constricting grasp around the base of his aching dick betrays your visage de façade. Bending over and tugging your locks to tilt your head back, he directs a desirous, mean glare down past the bridge of his nose straight into your deceitful, sparkling eyes. His other large hand occupies itself by pinching your cheek between his thumb and pointer finger, stretching your face as if you’re just some dumb kid to him.

“Shut up.” the harsh scribe orders you, an aura of lust and dominance practically radiating from underneath his clothes. You swear you can feel it, too, due to his tall, lean and muscular frame looming over you so intimidatingly close. Al-haitham’s aquamarine irises seem to darken right in front of you, an illusion portrayed by his control over you. His power could be seen as figurative chains he keeps you bound to him by. Do as you’re told or face the higher-ups, he’d threatened you with a deal you couldn’t refuse after you’d gotten him dangerously close to expulsion by nabbing a folder comprised of detailed information regarding you.

Suddenly, the embarrassing touch on your cheek disappears only to land a firm, swift slap there instead. His hand was a mere few inches away from the area it smacked, so why— how does it hurt this much? A meek and wobbly moan still escapes the confines of your sore, sensitive throat no matter how hard you push it down to start with. You’d best shut up.

“Dirty, dirty little thief.” he chastises, voice deep and seductive through gritted teeth as you pump his pink-tipped cock in hopes that he’ll forget about your pathetic excuse for a “one-up”. Al-haitham mindlessly toys with your pouting lower lip, then by using a smidge more pressure to force your jaw open he glides his fingers over your bottom front teeth, a devilish smirk playing upon his mouth whilst he engraves the ticklish sensation of the toughened skin grazing along every serrated edge into his brain. Before you can clamp down and bite, the scribe removes your touch by the wrist to hurriedly line himself up and help himself to your mouth once more, without notice. His sharp, quiet inhale releases as a hot, sinfully pleased exhale that leaves your own hips wriggling aimlessly.

He watches you squirm helplessly as he holds your forehead to the sexy trail of short hairs leading from his navel to the long, hard dick he’s so generously stuffing your proud mouth full with. You’re barely trying to pull away, staying still until the natural recoil of your body prevents you from passing out. The faint, salty taste of his pre-cum along with his alluring and delicious scent combined and rendering you more intoxicated, cock drunk, by the second. Both addictive as fuck, so much so that your body begins to slump diagonally into Al-haitham’s legs as soon as the pressure on your head relinquishes, a jelly-like arm coiling around his thigh to stay as close as possible whilst your lips glide over his length when it slips out.

“I, I loooove seeing you choke…” the scribe, watching his slick jolting cock thwack against his lower stomach, confesses in a slur just in case you hadn’t gathered. He’s evidently high on the exhilarating pleasure, possibly much more than you are. “I bet you wish, fuck,” he pauses, sex-dazed yet tense with the consistent tightening of his balls, “you’d never have attempted to swipe those documents fr— from under my nose.”

/-/-/-/

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: You get what you give

For this round, drabbles are written based on a random choice of character and image from this pinterest board. Pls feel free to keep adding to it.

Character: Andy Barber

Prompt

Warnings: this drabble includes elements such as mentions of alcoholism and cheating. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

Andy Barber.

You'd know him anywhere but you didn't expect him there. The tight-ass, straight-laced family man in a place like this. His department store suit stands out on the dingy bar. So does the woman grinding in his lap. She's not his wife. 

He has one hand on a pint of foamy beer and his other on her ass. He encourages her with a growl as she nips at the air before him. The tension is palpable. 

Your hand rests on your phone as you hide on the gloom at the other end of the bar. Your vodka tonic is forgotten as quickly as the shitty day you hoped to drown in it. Your thumb hovers above Laurie's name, hesitant, calculating. 

Andy fucking Barber. 

That jackass with the side eye. You're not stupid. You heard what he said about you. He didn't realise you were in his bathroom, that you were witness to yet another row with his long tortured wife. 

Well, you might be a goddamn drunk but you're not a fucking cheater. The only man in your life is the bartender.  

You flick away your contact list. Instead, you tap the camera icon and swipe into recording mode. You carefully angle the lens up to catch the screen. Yoi watch through the screen as the woman straddles him, grazing her fingers through his beard as she draws him into a sloppy kiss.

Oh yes, it's very messy indeed. 

🍺

You expect chaos when you hit send. It isn’t thoughtless or spiteful. The truth is the truth. As he always says, honesty is the greatest virtue of all. You always roll your eyes when he goes on his exhaustive lectures; often treating Laurie no different than their son. 

‘Sorry, Laurie. I didn’t think you’d believe me but proof is in the pudding.’ 

Maybe there is a bit of spite left in you. You hope she’s happy now. Andy may have been right about you but you were just as on point about him. Let it burn, you might just smell some of the ashes as they settle. 

Days pass. No response. You don’t expect one. You were surprised she didn’t block your number when she cut you off. You wouldn’t have blamed her either. But you can still hate them all. 

It’s not Laurie, it’s him. He shows up at your office. You sit behind reception where you always do and tuck away the flask you keep in your bottom drawer. Shit. 

“Hello, sir, how can I help--” 

“Don’t fucking do that,” he points over the top of the square desk and grips the edge, “you know why I’m here.” 

You can’t help a smirk. You wiggle a pen and innocently tap your bottom lip, “I’m sorry, did you have a meeting with one of our agents?” 

“You are fucking low,” he snarls. 

“Ah, yes, but seems like we frequent the same gutters,” you sneer back. “She looked young. Did you check her ID? You might not just be a creep, you could be a criminal, Mr. ADA.” 

“Fuck you,” he bends over the higher shelf of the desk, “do you have any idea what the fuck you’ve done?” 

“Mr. Barber,” you reach for the phone, resting your hand on the receiver, “if you don’t calm down, I’ll have to call security.” 

He quakes with rage as his face turns red, “you’re a fucking bitch.” 

“Might be, but at least I’m not a cheater--” 

“Alcoholic slut,” he sneers. 

You lift the receiver and hit speed dial. You stare him down as you do, “hi, Joey, yes, I have a client here who’s a bit... aggressive, do you mind coming up here? Thank you.” 

You wink at Andy and put the phone down as you sit back. He glares back at you and stands straight. He puffs through his nose like raging bull. 

“Just you fucking wait,” he threatens as he retreats, “you ruined my fucking life. I’m gonna burn yours to the ground.” 

[rae-writes]

Hey, I've had this idea for a little bit involving the obey me characters and wanted to do it, but I'm lazy as f*ck so maybe you can because your writing is very good.

I've just been imagining this but what if the obey me brothers and Mc had, like, a Prank War senerio, like maybe Lucifer vs the anti-Lucifer league and at some point there's a nerf gun war (and it's very dramatic) I don't know, just thought it might be funny. :)

I WAS ON THIS SO FUCKING FAST- LUCIFER VS ANTI-LUCIFER LEAGUE LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The iconic western duel music playing from Mammon's phone in the background almost had you breaking character, but somehow you managed to keep a straight face and raise your [nerf] gun higher.

"Mc?" Lucifer sat with Barbatos, Lord Diavolo, Solomon, and Simeon- all having been in a meeting (read: tea time) together.

"I'm sorry Lucifer..." You broke out into a grin, not being able to take the sight of your demon accomplices poking their heads out from behind the entryway, effectively making the dramatic moment shatter with your laughter.

Satan, Belphie, Mammon, and [a very much bribed] Levi stepped out into the common room with various complaints of you ruining the surprise attack and/or theatrical flair (to which you promptly ignored in favor of laughing harder).

"I just wanna say-" you cocked the plastic gun, aiming it in their direction, "I was promised pudding." and then you fired, hitting Lucifer square in the forehead, before shooting again and hitting Diavolo in the chest.

"ATTAAAACK!"

Hoots and hollers echoed off the walls as the House of Lamentation turned into a chaotic air soft range; Team Lucifer was now firing back with magic while the Anti-Lucifer League + Co was barrel-rolling across the floor and vaulting over furniture as they frantically shot the foam bullets you were all equipped with.

Truly, you didn't know exactly what the hell was going on for a while, only that Satan was going one-on-one with Lucifer, Belphie was taking shots at Diavolo from behind the couch, Mammon had the misfortune of being paired with Barbatos, and Levi was taking on Solomon (Simeon chose to sit on the sidelines and discretely help you).

"Mammon!" your over the top cry got everyone's attention- both the magic and bullets stopped flying as they watched you run to Mammon (who was sprawled on the ground) in amusement.

"M-mc," the second born's performance was even more dramatic than yours, "I feel cold...I t-think m'dyin, mc. U-use Goldy at least t-three times a day for m-me."

Practically in tears from laughing, you quickly tugged Mammon's body up to shield you from Solomon's attack, "LOVE YOU! THANKS!" and made your way to Satan to begin shooting at Lucifer again.

Lucifer is relentless with his magic attacks, not even blinking when you barely managed to dodge, even going so far as chuckling when Diavolo and Barbatos joined him- having defeated Belphie and Mammon.

(Belphie ended up tiring himself out and just stopped mid-roll, allowing Barbatos to land his attack. The seventh born just gave a thumbs up and went limp on the floor so he could just lay there and watch the rest of the game play out).

The five of you were all that was left when Solomon and Levi called a tie ("Shut up, Mammon! I might be a good shooter, but it's kind of hard to land a blow when he's firing shit at me that's breaking apart into more attacks!"), making the competition even more tense. It was evenly paced for at least three minutes before Barbatos withdrew.

"Give up now, Lucifer," Satan sent you a subtle nod, "Or suffer the consequences."

"You couldn't even beat me by yourself. How do you expect to win with Diavolo by my side?"

The largest magic attack that's been used this entire game came from said demon, directed right at Satan with a 100% certainty of landing.

That is, until it slammed into you instead.

Your body flew a couple feet back, skidding across the hardwood upon landing. The entire room went silent as the two opposing members rushed forward with your name falling from their mouth.

Lucifer reached you first, lifting your head to check for injuries softly, "Mc? Does anything hurt?"

"Mc, I'm so sorry-!"

You gripped Lucifer's wrist, tugging weakly (as if you had no strength), "Luci..fer.."

The first born leaned down, conveniently missing the bullet that hit Diavolo's shoulder. "What hurts?!" he was so uncharacteristically worried- it almost made you feel bad. Almost.

"Long live the Anti-Lucifer League."

Satan landed a hit right on the back of Lucifer's neck and a deafening cheer erupted from your other team members. It was all celebration and laughter and recounting the night's highlights until you let out a hiss after trying to sit up.

"That actually did hurt, though, can someone help me up? I might've sprained something....again."

"I'm so, so sorry!"

"It's alright, Lord Diavolo- it was all part of the plan-"

"-getting injured?"

"...Not that part, but winning definitely was. Can I have my pudding now?"

[nolongeronlyhereforthewhispangle]

Here we are, folks. After 5 years, Madness Combat 12 is finally out. Now, let’s deconstruct it.

Spoilers for MadCom 12 below (duh)

The opening. Now, there are some things I would like to highlight.

ONE: Nevada is labelled as “The Occurant”. This will be important later.

TWO: The text on the side.

“THE PLACE THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE” “THE INFINITE ENTROPY AT ALL BORDERS TAX THE HIGHER POWERS THAT GOVERN IT”

Entropy means “lack of order or predictability”. The sheer amount of chaos is literally tearing reality apart.

I just like this shot. The depth in it, vast, but empty. Eerily beautiful.

“TRACKER DATA ACTIVE” “HANK.” “DISSONANT;” “0.01%”

On Doc’s computer. Why is 2BDamned doing this? We’ll find out soon enough. It should be noted that the “Dissonance Triggers” almost look like X, Y, and Z coordinates.

“HANK’S CHARTER HAS BEEN REVOKED” “Fix Nevada.” “DO NOT WAIVER”

A charter is defined as “a written grant by a country's legislative or sovereign power, by which a body such as a company, college, or city is founded and its rights and privileges defined.”

Perhaps the “charter” here is Hank’s soul? His being? We don’t know for sure.

Waiver means “refrain from applying or enforcing”.

The Auditor, in this scene, is basically saying “Hank is not active, and I need to make sure it stays that way.”

This graffiti probably means nothing, but I think it might be describing Sanford. So far, he has not died once in the entire series.

Agony. The text to the right mentions the Auditor, “recovery”, and “suppliment”. I have no idea what this could mean, maybe our red-and-black boy is trying to copy what 2BD does, but in the opposite direction?

Auditor, but without the fiery parts.

Mind fuckery. Note that he tries a “CONVERT”, as well as doing multipe return commands. It also points out, again, how Sanford is NOT DEAD, NOR HAS HE DIED BEFORE.

No hope for those trapped, I suppose.

This looks like the tree from MadCom 1. Nice callback.

I’ll let this speak for itself (refer back to TRACKER DATA ACTIVE).

The text says:

“KILL THEM”

And this is where we see Sanford lose his eyes, although he can still apparently see somehow.

A better look at Sanford overall. He still has that iconic lip, but he is missing parts of his body and his eyes to a mysterious black spot that also functions like a hole in some cases.

This is one of the defining moments of the episode (to me, at least). Sanford, seemingly overtaken by rage, randomly gains the strength to tear a half-MAG agent’s head off their body.

This might be just there for the cool factor, or maybe some other power acted on Sanford in that moment. With the info we have, we can’t really tell.

Here we see an anchor, like the one used on Dedmos in the Dedmos mini-series.

“Employic”, according to my research, is not a word in the English language.

Substrata is “an underlying layer or substance, in particular a layer of rock or soil beneath the surface of the ground.”

This purgatory is apparently underground, which would make sense given that we only see passages to it connected to walls or floors.

The Auditor looking shocked as he is trapped in a capsule of rock. With context clues, we could make a conclusion that this is the same type of “purgatory rock” that now makes up Deimos’s lower jaw.

Hank is connected to a machine.

Sanford has somehow been resurrected, even though he still HAS NOT BEEN KILLED.

The Auditor specifically calls out 2BD. He’s onto Doc’s shit.

Another picture of the tablet screen, shortly after Deimos drops it. We can be certain that “AUD” is referring to the Auditor.

Love wins. What else can I really mention if even Krinkels said it himself.

Deimos was “compensated”. Surprised anything still even has value around Nevada anymore. Maybe bullets do, actually.

Sanford has to return as soon as possible for a “deathless resurrection evaluation”. Wonder what that would even look like.

Hank’s icon, showing up for quite a short period of time before the screen fills with “ERROR” messages. He looks distressed.

Whatever could “OCCURANT LINES ARE CONVERGING” mean?

Well, we know that Nevada was labelled as “The Occurant” earlier.

(You might not be able to read this text in this screenshot with Tumblr image compression, I don’t know.)

————————————————————————

Finally, I have some info that isn’t necessarily what happened in the animation, but could help with understanding it. As this is already getting long enough, I’ll leave it with a short blurb.

The definition of the title word.

The description of the episode on the Newgrounds site.

————————————————————————

Even without looking at it in-depth, Madness Combat: Contravention was a masterpiece of animation. It was fluid, the characters were expressive, and the visuals were stunning. Big props to Krinkels, Cheshyre, Cturix (did the sound effects), and Tarkade (made the backgrounds) for creating the most entertaining 8 minutes of my life.

————————————————————————

Thoughts? Theories? Something I missed? Share it in the reblogs! After all, what is this fandom without the community we’ve formed!

[kinardsevan]

HC? Or something crossed my mind idk, Tommy volunteer as a big brother/or just to help in a group home, and have a special bond with one of the kids there since he sees himself in him..

because I messed up the responses, this is @thatmexisaurusrex's request for Buck & Tommy calling eachother on a slow afternoon at work.

This is m-rated, nearing explicit, towards the end. Nothing too graphic, but definitely suggestive. also, since we're just existing in previous universes of mine today, this one fits in the same world as the prompt for "bobby overhears Tommy call him his father-in-law".

-

Evan sighs, sinking down onto the ground on top of the firehouse. It’s beautiful outside, but the team is still on shift for roughly eight hours, and the shift has been…slow. They’ve only seen three calls so far, which feels a little ridiculous considering it’s a nice day outside, which usually means cookouts, bonfires, and generally reckless behavior when it comes to fire. 

Three. Fucking. Calls. 

He spins his phone on his knee briefly. He tries not to call Tommy too much on shift. They already live together and work in the same field. Granted, Tommy has never once complained about it in the past three years, and he always seems rather cheerful when Evan does call him on shift. But still. 

Any decision Evan thinks he has to make is quickly silenced when the phone starts buzzing in his hand, with the bolded text of “Husband” framed by two blue hearts pops up on his screen. A smile crawls its way across his face as he flips the phone into an upright position and clicks the little green phone icon, accepting the call. 

“Oh thank Jesus,” Tommy mutters with a groan. “I’m so bored.” 

Evan laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” 

“Are you guys doing any better over there?” Tommy whines. “I’ve been on two flights today, and they were both done within an hour.” 

Evan chuckles again. “Three calls so far. Last one was about four hours ago. Cap says everything coming in right now has been east of Pasedena or down in Panorama City. Too far out for us unless it goes three-alarm or higher.” 

Tommy huffs, leaning back wherever he is. Evan assumes he must be in 1701 because it looks like he’s on the floor of a chopper. 

“I have deep cleaned everything in sight, inventoried the helicopters and both planes, even helped with some of the inventory on the trucks,” Tommy says. “Checked up on current registrations and certifications. There’s not a damn thing to do.” 

Evan can only smile at his husband as the older man complains. For all the times they’ve complained to one another over Facetime while on shift, Tommy has never been one to actually complain about being at work with nothing to do. 

Tommy huffs, but after a moment, his eyes are on the screen of his phone again, and he furrows his brow. “Why do you look so entertained at my misery?” 

Evan smirks at him. “I like seeing you flustered. It’s kinda hot, honestly.” 

Tommy gives him that look; the one that silently tells him to tread carefully, unless he wants to find himself pressed into a mattress or countertop sobbing for release. 

“Hey, so what was that story Charlie was telling at the wedding,” Evan asks, referencing back to their discussion over cigars a few weeks back. 

“No, Evan,” Tommy replies, and the tone is there now too. Evan’s lips twitch with unfettered cunning, knowing he’s pushing Tommy’s buttons. 

“Oh come on,” Evan states, clearly egging him on. “Didn’t I hear something about a screwdriver down?” 

Tommy’s jaw clenches and he just shakes his head, although there’s no hiding the way the corners of his mouth are twitching, desperately trying to give in to the smile that he’s trying not to give his husband. 

“You know we’re going into a four day after this,” Tommy reminds him, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “You might want to tread carefully.” 

Evan raises an eyebrow at him, grinning lasciviously back at Tommy. “I think you assume that I didn’t consider that already.” 

Tommy stares at him from the tiny screen, and even though nothing about his expression changes, there’s a multitude of unspoken words shared between them. The smoldering in his eyes that tells Evan about nights pressed back-to-chest, nails drug across his chest and Tommy grinding with fervor, drawing sinful noises out of Evan like it’s his job. The slight twitch of his eyebrows suggests afternoons lost to ‘don’t move an inch or we’ll start all over’ . The way his tongue slips between his lips to wet them calling up memories of being chest-to-chest, teeth biting necks and shoulders, nails dug into spines, tongues lapping into mouths that swallow sobs like water in a desert. 

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to turn yourself up to eleven for the next four days,” Tommy warns, and the smirk on Evan’s face entirely suggests that he does not care. Turned up to eleven is the implication of total control turned over to his husband in the bedroom, whereas one is them meeting on an even field, usually when they want to take it slow and eject romance into things. 

But Evan just did that for a week and a half in Havana. He’s more than happy to turn things up to eleven. Let Tommy work him over. 

“Please, Daddy,” he replies softly, pulling the phone close to his face so that Tommy hears him but no one else does. His tone is just this side of breathy, barely moaning. Still, Tommy’s neck flushes, and Evan knows he has him. 

“When do you get off again,” Tommy asks, switching the subject. Evan pulls the screen down on his phone and then back up. 

“Like seven and a half hours,” he replies. 

Tommy nods. He’s up and moving again, and after a moment, Evan hears a door close, and the smirk reappears on his face. Tommy’s finding privacy. 

Evan pushes himself up from the ground, walking further from the door for rooftop access. It’s unlikely that anyone is coming up to bug him, given that Eddie was taking a nap last he checked and Hen and Chimney were locked into an intense game of Mario Kart. Athena was around for a visit, keeping Bobby entertained. 

Tommy’s phone rests on some kind of countertop and Evan grins as he sinks down into a chair. 

“So when you get home,” Tommy states, pulling at the zipper on his flight suit. He’s doing it slowly, and Evan can tell it’s on purpose. He gulps down the wave of saliva flooding his mouth. 

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Tommy reaches a hand in, pulling up the t-shirt he has on under the flight suit, although his hand stops halfway up his chest, only giving Evan the slightest sight of his abs where the zipper ends. Tommy leans forward then, pinning both hands on either side of the phone, out of frame. 

“You’re going to be a good boy,” Tommy states. It’s an order. Evan gulps, feeling himself starting to get uncomfortable in his pants. The slightest shift of his shoulder has Tommy lifting a hand, wagging a finger at him. 

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises. “No touching. Clock starts now and ends on Sunday.” 

Evan’s eyes go wide. They’ve never started something this early, let alone gone that long. Three days is about as long as he’s handed over control to Tommy, and even then, it usually begins and ends in their bedroom. This is a new layer, and he’s hot under the collar just thinking about the implications. 

Tommy stares at him for a long moment, that extends long enough that Evan realizes he’s supposed to respond. If he has any reservations against the ideas, now would be the time to say something. Granted, Tommy would never be upset with him if he decides to safeword out early, but he’s also silently asking if it’s okay to start now. 

“Okay,” Evan rasps, clenching his hand into a fist and resting it on his knee. It’s all he can do not to moan because he swears just by saying yes he gets harder. Tommy waggles an eyebrow at him, pulling his t-shirt. He adjusts it and fiddles it the zipper, clearly trying to play with Evan the same way the younger man was just playing with him. 

“I’ll be home an hour later,” Tommy reminds him. Evan nods. “I expect to find you silenced and waiting.” 

The slightest moan passes Evan’s lips. Tommy wants him gagged and on his knees, hands behind his back. 

“Sh-…C-can I prep?” Evan stammers, his voice husky with wanton. 

It’s Tommy’s turn to smirk now as he shakes his head slowly. 

“The only way mi amor gets to prepare is if it happens naturally. Everything else will be taken care of when I get home.” 

Evan shudders, and the heat in Tommy’s gaze, the grin on his face, is almost enough to make him feel like his heart is going to give out. He's not allowed to do anything to himself, but if he's aroused, Tommy expects it to happen without any assistance of his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. Tommy grins at him, and then a moment later, someone is knocking on the door of whatever room he’s in. Evan can hear Lucy’s voice briefly, asking questions but not clearly enough that he can make everything out. A moment later, Tommy glances back at the phone. 

“I have to go. I’ll see you at home in a while.” 

Evan nods, forcing himself to take deep breaths. “See you at home.” 

The call ends a moment later, and he has to stay in the chair and keep breathing. There’s no way he can go back inside right now; he’d be roasted for his unmistakeable boner. 

He checks the time on his phone again, and it’s all he can do to stifle a groan. Eight hours. Eight hours until he’s with Tommy in person again. He can hold on until then. He has to.

Eight. Long. Hours. 

[the-kr8tor]

I'll keep saving you over and over again.

Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN Reader/ Spider-Punk x GN reader

Word count: 1.2k

Synopsis: Spider-Punk saves you twice in one day, unbeknownst to you, Spider-Punk and your boyfriend of 2 years are one and the same.

Tags: tw Blood, established relationship, fluff with a hint of angst. Near death experience.

* I do not consent to having my work translated and/or published on other platforms*

Living in London has its perks, good food, walkable streets, and its very own Spider-Man, or some people like to call him Spider-Punk. You like Spider-Punk, you even have a tiny crush on the man. But of course no one can ever replace the love of your life, Hobie Brown. you two became quick friends the moment you were introduced to Hobie, a few months later, your friendship became much more than that. You've been together for a couple of years now, he made your move to London much more bearable, you honestly would've moved back home a long time ago if it weren't for him. You haven't been this happy in a long time.

Well at least you would be, if you weren't running away from this week's villain.

You were on your way home, when a crowd started running towards you, with a sense of self preservation, you ran with them. Knowing this was London, where there's always a villain of the week attacking its historic streets, you kept running away with the crowd without asking anyone what you're running away from. Best case scenario you're in a prank show, worst case, the Green Goblin's up your ass, so you kept running.

Your lungs burn, your ankles getting weaker with every step. 'I need to start doing cardio' you thought. There's a sudden crash behind you, slowly smoke and debris fill your surroundings. Screams can be heard from various directions.

This is definitely not a prank.

With a burst of adrenaline you ran faster than you've ever had in your entire life. Without looking where your feet landed, you accidentally tripped on a piece of debris, you felt gravity take its course. You close your eyes instinctively, before you face planted you heard a thwip sound behind you. Instead of the cold concrete meeting your face, you felt a sturdy body holding you. Slowly opening your eyes, praying to every deity that the one holding you isn't actually Green Goblin or worse, the Vulture.

Instead you meet Spider-Man's iconic mask, the spikes on his head would've looked menacing for other people, but to you it was hope, a reassurance that you would come back home, back to Hobie. He looked down to see the giddy smile on your face, wordlessly he tilted his head in curiosity. He finally set you back down in a plaza where people are gathering.

"Were we swinging?" You asked, swaying, trying to find your footing.

He tilted his head again, adorable you thought.

"Are you-" he cleared his throat, "Are you alright lo-?"

Weirdly enough he spoke in a much higher voice when he corrected himself. But you didn't pay it any attention, adrenaline still rushing through you.

"You're THE Spider-Man! I can't believe it! I just got saved by Spider-Man himself!" You gestured at him animatedly.

"You're definitely alright" He pointed out with a small laugh.

If you weren't fangirling so much you would've noticed the relief in his voice, and how his shoulder relaxed a bit.

"Please stay here" He instructed

"But-" Before you could get a word in, he's already swinging back to the fight.

"I can't believe it! I can't wait to tell hobie!" realization hit you, "oh God! Hobie! He must be so worried" quickly grabbing your phone from your coat pocket you open it, your lockscreen of a selfie of both you and Hobie filling the screen. You call Hobie.

It rings once, before an explosion nearby blasts the sheer force of the explosion knocks you on the ground. The plaza erupts into chaos. You look up and see the gigantic marble statue that once stood in the middle of the plaza, now falling towards you. Everyone's running away from the falling mass. But you just sat there frozen in fear. You're still holding onto your phone, hearing Hobie's voicemail wake you up from your stupor, you pick yourself up and run away from the falling mass. With dust and tears hindering you from seeing where you're running. A wall meets your face, you get knocked down, you look back, the statue still tumbling towards you rapidly. Your life flashes before your eyes. From the corner of your eye you get a glimpse of Hobie's face from your lock screen. You close your eyes to face your fate.

Suddenly an eerie silence seemed to blanket the entire plaza, the only thing you could hear was your own breathing. You open your eyes to see how you're still alive. The smoke clouding the plaza slowly dissipates and you finally get a good look at what's in front of you. A white marble statue holding up a spear fell with its spear pointed at your figure, its tip mere inches away from your neck.

You try not to move or the blade could skewer you. You try to back away but the wall stops you from doing so. You squint at the rest of the statue, web clung to it like a net, stopping it from its tracks. At the end of the web you see a red and blue silhouette dragging it away from you. The body of the humanoid Lizard lay a few feet behind him, with Spider-Man's guitar broken in half next to it.

He saved you for the second time.

He shoots his web towards you, he lands next to your figure. For the second time that day he asks you the same question.

"Are you alright?" He asks breathlessly. His heart beating a thousand times per second, the whites of his mask roam your body for any injuries.

Instead of answering him with the same smile, and energetic words, your lips turn into a frown. You try to bite your lip so that tears wouldn't fall from your already blurry eyes. Slowly blood starts seeping out from your nostrils.

The eyes of his mask widen at your face, he clenches his fists, if it weren't for the gloves acting as a barrier, he would've drawn blood. Hobie exhales, grounding him.

" 'm going to get you out, ready?"

You don't nod in fear of getting nicked by the statue, but you managed to let out a small "Yes"

Without thinking he grabs the front of your neck softly. His hand acts as a wall between your neck and the spear. In turn the tip of the weapon nicks him, crimson flows from the back of his hand. The eyes of his mask looked determined. Despite the pain he slowly slides you towards him. More blood seeps from his hand as you both move in tandem. Everytime you both move the nick turns into a longer gash. You felt his pain, wanting to grab his hand and replace it with your own. Before you could do just that, he finally gets you out with one final pull.

You both fall to the ground, you on top of him. Relieved that you're out of danger, you cry on his shoulder. Hobie cradles your head with his injured hand, you feel the warm liquid drip down on your neck. He could finally breathe, he holds onto you harder, like you're gonna turn to dust right in his arms. Hobie focuses on his breathing trying to calm himself down. If he wasn't so focused in regulating his breathing, he would've noticed your stiff reaction and realization marking your face on why the embrace was so familiar.

A/n: Hope you enjoyed reading! Feel free to like and reblog 💗

[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere Platonic Dad Ghost Headcanons

Warnings: yandere behavior. Talks about alcohol and pot. Another reminder: This is pointed at the platonic audience. Nothing romantic.

A/N: The ghost icon belongs to @/yumethefrostypanda; does not belong to me.

I got this idea from my dream. Idk why, but dad ghost makes me feral. Do y'all have daddy issues too?

As a father, his yandere traits are a bit higher; he’s stricter, always stalking you, and terribly protective. He’s in your shoes most of the time, watching what you’re doing and who and where you’re at; not to the point he’s breathing down your neck, but needing to see if you’re in a safe area with/or without him.

High chance with Simon, since he stalks a lot, he will put multiple trackers and microphones on you: your phone, the backpack you carry, your wallet, and your shoes. He's pretty secretive about it; not only does he put these on. But also there are a bunch of cameras in the home in case of any danger.

Because of how much he worries, high chance Simon will never get back into a romantic relationship. His main focus is on you. He prefers that way as he can watch you more closely than worry about another person. Plus, the relationship between you two is more special than the others.

With him being your dad, he’s always prepared for everything, including teaching you how to protect yourself. By your teenage years, you know how to use self-defense, how to handle guns, and take down men (and women!) twice your size, communicate with Morse code/radios, and know your way around a map. At best, how to drive a car and start it in the movies with the wires.

His work style makes it incredibly hard to pinpoint where and when he will be home, which at times, can be upsetting. Though, as one of your best supports, Simon will always come to your important events, even if you didn’t tell him or remind him (ex. Graduation, going to college, homecoming/prom, etc). But when he does arrive, he’s there in the crowd, possibly on the furthest bottom-left, clapping quietly while Soap is possibly yelling for you beside him (poor Ghost).

Speaking of Uncle Soap or any other member of TF-141, they often visit, if not stay for a few days after a long mission. You probably know all of them and Laswell pretty well; all of them are as protective as Ghost. They also try to attend important events, but because of Ghost’s privacy and his thing about keeping to himself, it’s rare.

Ghost is surprisingly open about everything, except for his past and possibly your mother (depending on the outcome). Other than that, he’s truthful about questions about how it’s asked and if you decide to ask about his work — likely he’ll ask you not to speak about that.

Being a single parent is hard. Ghost takes the space of a mother’s place, teaching and supporting you with certain issues you have in your teenage life or possibly pubescent years. If you ever have your period or insecurities, he's right beside you comforting you and reassuring you when you need it.

Trust issues are a big thing with Ghost. The only people who know about your existence are the team and Laswell. Anybody else he comes into contact with is immediately deemed as a threat to him. This includes him practically web searching and going deep diving into seeing if your friends are your ‘friends’. Don’t be surprised if one day, they decide to not talk to you anymore or ‘suddenly’ disappear one night.

With the talk of friends, It’s a high chance that you’re homeschooled or at least online schooling; which leads to the internet. While he tries his best to make your life as sociable as he can, his paranoia and anxiety gets the best of him. He still does try to let you be a teenager: experiencing friendship outside the house (with his permission), doing dumb shit that may or may not lead you to jail, and getting grounded for a month or two. Hell, he allows you to try pot or alcohol under his supervision. Ghost just has a hard time trusting people and he needs you to understand that.

With the topic of being a teenager, Simon lets you hang out of the house if you want, but you have a strict curfew he expects you to follow. As well as update him every hour, and if you change locations, you need to tell him. And yes, he may do the embarrassing thing where he picks you up late at night in front of your friends or ruffles your hair while kissing the side of your head.

His way of spending time with you is being in your space, or in other words: quality time. He likes having you by himself, and will say no if you ask him to leave the house; an “Because I said so,” Type of parental act.

His way of affection towards you is a bit uncomfortable but fatherly. He’ll occasionally pat your back, ruffle your hair, or kiss you on the side of the head; sometimes letting you hug him. However, he likes his personal space. But! If you need a hug or in the need of comfort, he’d shuffle around and let you cuddle him for as long as you need/of want.

When he does get the chance to catch up with things, he will ask hows school going, how are you feeling that day, and if you two could watch TV together; possibly ordering your favorite food and allowing you to pick the channel, even if it is MLP or TAWOG. Rarely does he judge or care, as long as he gets to spend time with you.

He also loves going outside with you. While he's a homebody, your home is likely in a huge cabin; which means you two can hike, go for walks to rivers or simply go see a waterfall.

While he's extremely protective of you - Ghost won't fully baby you. He’s not the type of platonic yandere who locks you up the minute you scrape your knee or because someone tried to flirt with you. He expects you, or more so, allows you to do things your way, and figure out and express yourself.

However, if he does see/or sense you are ever uncomfortable, extremely hurt (crying type of hurt), or scared, he will step in and take care of it; his dad-mode taking over immediately, which is not a pretty sight.

No romantic partners in the house. He doesn't care if you fight him with it, Simon will not allow you to date.

Though, one of the things he will let you have is having your own privacy. He’s not the type to breathe down your neck and ask if you need anything every 5 minutes. He knows you will come to him if you need it.

He allows you to play with your phone, not asking who you’re laughing at because again, he knows you will come to him if something is/or was bothering you. And if he does see something wrong, he’s gonna get worried and get to the bottom of it. Always reminding you that you can come to him, no matter the issue.

Everything about your life is taken very seriously by him. If you are crying over something ‘small’, he won’t see it as small, because to him and you, it’s rather a big issue because you’re crying over it and it’s making you upset. With this said, Simon is pretty good at helping you with solutions or coming up with plans to help you calm down.

Ghost spoils you rotten; not to the point where you believe you get everything but to an appreciation type of spoiling. On the days he returns from his missions, he comes home with a few gifts he saw that he thought you’d like. Some books and video games that had caught his eye (if you’re into that), and maybe grabbed an animal plushie as big as his forearm to sleep with.

Whatever you want, you immediately get. All he asks in return is for you to follow his rules and spend time with him when he gets off work. He loves being around you, even if on days he doesn't show it.

However, if you do decide to break his rules, you will get treated like a full child; everything all electronic is taken away (besides your phone to communicate with him but he will download Life 360), you have a bedtime, and expects you to talk to him when he asks you a question. Worst case scenario, he will cut off all your friends and tell you that you can't hang out with them till you behave.

He's always worrying. Even if the two of you are at a restaurant, going shopping, or decided to head to the ice cream truck. He's always looking around his shoulder, expecting the worst. The minute it does? Expect him to go ballistic, making sure the danger is obliterated and gone. Simon is immediately grabbing you, calls in Price, and shooting at anyone (or anything) to get you to safety.

Surprise surprise, you will see Simon’s face frequently, if not every minute of the days he’s home. Rarely will he put a mask on, unless he has a nightmare or when he expects company from the other team members. And yes, you are allowed to boop his nose or smoosh it jokingly.

Definitely the type of dad who he allows you to paint his nails, dress his hair in goodies, or put makeup on him; the only request is that you don't do lipstick (but we all know that's a lie :P)

—

Masterlist || Please support me as a writer by reblogging or commenting. It helps a bunch!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Not liking a driver does not give you a free pass to bodyshame them, or to wish literal death and severe harm on them, or to be racist and/or xenophobic towards them. Not liking a team doesn't give you a right to do the above to those afflicted with the team either, or to be misogynistic towards the women involved with those teams. Not liking which team or driver someone supports, does not give you a right to do any of the above.

The drivers and the teams may never see the hate you spill but wait. We all know that they do;

Nicolas Latifi got such severe death threats he had to hire security

I'm not touching on the disgusting racist abuse faced by many of the drivers because there has been far too much to easily unpack but I do want to note that it got so bad last year that Alex for instance got such severe abuse last year his fans had to tell his family to go offline for a few days (not to forget the people who made up conspiracies about him and used his mother's past as a means to justify the abuse they were directing towards him).

I'll never forgot the amount of sexist hate directed at Hannah Schmitz, one of the few and one of the most recognizable women in the paddock who has lead red bulls strategy department the last couple of years, - because apparently women in motorsport are only valid if they're not under the red bull umbrella - which got so bad multiple of the drivers called it out publicly.

The multiple conspiracies created about and general racial discrimination faced by Yuki and Zhou which was and continues to be encouraged and spread by primarily the English speaking journalists and commentators

Let's not forget the sexist chants sung about Sophie Kumpen; Max's mother at Monza, or the literal death threats that were sent to his sister and young nephews.

The way some of you talk about Michael Schumacher, I don't have the words. The ski jokes has not once in the last decade been funny.

I could go on and on. I could literally do this all day.

Sure the drivers might never see it but that doesn't mean nobody will and we all see how conditional any form of your allyship is. "Racism is wrong unless it's about x, sexism is wrong unless it's about y, death threats are wrong unless it's about z, etc". Do better. You cannot claim the moral high ground, if you do any of the above, no matter how much higher you perceive yourself to be than the person you're directing the above towards.

As for death wishes or crash wishes, cop yourselves on to fuck. I would never wish what I've been through, what my family has been through, on my worst enemy, let alone some driver I'll probably never even meet. F1 is nowadays a safe enough sport but that has not always been the case and there is still no 100% guarantee of completely safety. The risk is still there even with all the advancements in safety. So many drivers have lost their lives or have had their lives altered forever as a result of a crash. Some of the drivers on the current grid are directly impacted or know those whose lives have been lost or altered because of a crash. Nearly everyone on that grid has a story. Some of you have their photos as your icons as you wish literal death and injury on their coworkers, their friends. They would be beyond disgusted by you. I can name far too many drivers who lost their lives in this sport, it shouldn't take naming them to make people realize that wishing for some to die like they did is a disgusting act. If it were to come true, would you celebrate? Would you cheer as the red flag came out? I don't think I want to know the answer, considering some of the things I've seen in the main tags over the last couple of years (see that one person who wanted to violently and literally stab and kill a driver or see that disgusting poll about which way would be best to literally kill another driver).

Don't start with but x did this or y fans did that, if they jumped off a cliff, would you? Why are you so eager to lower yourself to what you feel are their low standards or morals? And I don't blame a driver for the actions of someone who calls themselves a fan while doing anything that I've mentioned in this post, because they're not fans, they're people who use the driver they claim to back as a shield and as an excuse for their appalling behavior.

Also, if you have to say "I don't like driver x but I agree nobody deserves this type of abuse", get rid of everything before the but. You don't have to like someone to offer them basic respect or human decency.