#i just got one but maybe phantom hearts like phantom limbs

[time2memedrjones]

I lobe him too

MOBIUS in Loki | 2.01 'Ouroboros'

[sentientgolfball]

for the requests maybe a slice of life (but smutty) for the aftermath of Phantom having his ass pounded for the first time by Mountain? Anal virginity stolen by Mountain who showers him in aftercare afterwards and Swiss who walks in and teases him about his cute little gape? yeah… yeah

This ended up more sweet than smutty but ough I love it when that happens

No further tags the ask has it all :3

My requests are open !

Their ears are ringing, breath coming in short pants. They can feel their hair sticking to their forehead with sweat. They stare up at the ceiling, head completely devoid of thoughts as they slowly come back down. They barely even register Mountain’s large hands rubbing up and down their thighs. 

“You with me love bug?” He asks in between his own shallow breaths. 

They nod, eyes still glazed over as they slowly come back into their body. 

Mountain chuckles, “Good. How are you feeling?” 

Phantom has no idea how to answer that question. They hurt, but deliciously so. They feel like they’re floating, like they’re watching the scene play out in third person. Part of them wants to beg for another round and the other says they’re already spent. They also feel like they were just split in fucking two. Phantom truly did not understand why Mountain was so hesitant when they came to him asking him to be their first Topside. They get it now. Fuck do they get it. 

“M feeling…full.” It’s the only word that comes to mind. 

Mountain smiles and kisses in between their horns “I didn’t hurt you did I?” 

Phantom shakes their head and a deep purr rumbles through Mountain’s chest. He was surprised when they asked him of all ghouls to be the one to break them in. He honestly figured Swiss had already gotten to the little bug with how often they show up at breakfast together. Oh but when those lavender eyes looked up at him with blown out pupils and a desperate little plea fell from their lips Mountain couldn’t resist. He couldn’t lie, the knowledge that he was the first one to get his hands on their little bug only sweetened the deal. 

Mountain looks down at them, really taking in their appearance for the first time since the haze of lust has subsided. Their eyes are closed, little chest rising and falling steadily. Not asleep, but probably inching closer and closer to it. Their neck and chest are littered with deep purple marks. Mountain almost feels bad for how prominent some of his fang indents are. He bends to press kisses to the worst of them, a silent apology. Phantom squirms and giggles, chuffing with each soft press of Mountain’s lips. 

“Mounty stop, stop. It tickles.” They try to faux shove him away. 

He smiles against their skin, kissing them one more time before sitting up. He shifts forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of their nose before tilting his head to press their lips together. It’s nice for about five seconds before Mountain furrows his brow and pulls away. He looks down between them and grimaces at the mess that got smeared around. Phantom’s cum now coats both of their stomachs and it has gotten unpleasantly cold. 

“Okay bug let’s get you cleaned up.” Mountain carefully pulls out of them, soothing a hand down their thigh. 

Phantom whines at the loss, “I don’t wanna move ever again.” 

“You can lay in cum all you want but I’m not cuddling you if you’re sticky.” 

Their head shoots up to look at him. They look at him like a kicked puppy and Mountain’s heart throbs. He lifts one of their hands, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. 

“Stay here. I'll be right back.” He stands from the bed. 

Phantom watches him go into the bathroom, ears twitching with each click from his hooves against the floor. They shift around while they wait for him to come back, fixing the pillows to be able to lay more comfortably. There’s a pleasant ache that radiates through their whole body. Their limbs still don’t quite feel like their own, heavy and full of static. All they can think about is how good they’ll sleep tonight as they idly trace over the teeth marks on their collarbone. 

Mountain returns from the bathroom with a washcloth in hand. Phantom chirps when he sits on the side of the bed, tail thumping happily against the mattress. Mountain huffs a laugh before gently wiping their skin off. He goes slow, running the warm cloth in gentle little circles. Phantom chuffs the entire time, happy as long as Mountain keeps touching them. When he’s satisfied that Phantom is no longer a sticky mess he tosses the cloth into his laundry basket before sliding back into bed. Phantom immediately clings to him, burying their nose into his neck to inhale his herbaceous scent. Mountain chuckles, wrapping his arms around the little bug and pulling them onto his chest. He runs his hands up and back their back, fingers tracing the raised lines of their lichtenberg figure scars. 

He can feel Phantom growing heavier by the second, muscles relaxing as they get closer and closer to sleep. He grabs his phone off the nightstand, scrolling through his messages until he finds the one he’s looking for. He sends a quick text before placing it face down once more. A moment later he gets a reply, the ping making his ear twitch. He doesn’t check it though, he’s content to close his eyes and breathe in Phantom’s frozen apple scent. 

He tries not to, but his mind ends up wandering. He can’t help but think about how Phantom looked just a few months ago when they were first pulled from the Pits. Skinny and gaunt, ribs and vertebrae clearly visible under their skin. They hadn’t spoken more than a few words for the first week, too anxious to be caught making a sound. They had hid away in their room, only letting Aurora in until rehearsals finally began. Even when they did start to come around they were still wary around Mountain. He understood, a ghoul his size is something to be afraid of. 

Mountain never would have guessed he’d be here now, Phantom half asleep and drooling into his fur. He was sure the little bug wouldn’t be comfortable with him until well into the tour. He was pleasantly surprised the day they found him in the greenhouse, curious about the brightly colored flowers. Who knew that was the spark that was needed to turn the mumbly little quintessence ghoul into someone as boisterous as Swiss? 

He’s pulled from his thoughts with a knock to his door. 

“Haven’t heard a noise in like twenty minutes, is my bug still alive?” Swiss calls as he steps into the room. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

Mountain smiles, motioning for him to keep it down. It’s too late though, Phantom is sitting up and rubbing at their eyes. They smack their lips a few times after they yawn. 

“Swiss? What are you doing here?” They mumble sleepily.  

“We’re throwing a party bug. Gotta celebrate, it's not everyday your cherry gets popped by the big green giant.” Swiss laughs, walking over to set the plates of food in his hands onto the nightstand. 

Phantom furrows their brow and looks at Mountain, “Sarcasm?” 

“Sarcasm.” Mountain nods. 

Swiss grins and bends to kiss in between their horns, “I was instructed to bring dinner. Something about someone never wanting to move again.” 

Phantom suddenly perks up at the mention of food. Their nose twitches as they finally notice the two plates. They make grabby hands at Swiss, tail wagging hard enough to smack Mountain in the leg. 

“You’re lucky you’re adorable.” Swiss hands them the plate, ruffing their hair once his hands are free. 

They crawl off of Mountain, sitting with their back against the pillows as they dig in. They pop the dumplings into their mouth at an almost alarming rate, devouring it like they’ve never eaten. Mountain pats them hard on the back when they inevitably choke. 

“Please remember to breathe,” Mountain says in between his own bites. 

While they eat Swiss digs through Mountain’s closet, mumbling his disapproval of each item he touches. When he finally finds what he’s looking for he turns around, fully intending to throw the hoodie at Phantom. Instead he stops in his tracks, completely frozen by the sight before him. Phantom is leaning over Mountain, reaching to place his empty plate back on the nightstand. The position gives Swiss a full view of their ass and he gets light headed with how quickly the blood rushes to his dick. 

He stalks over to the bed, gripping Phantom’s tail when he’s close enough. He yanks it upwards pulling a surprised gasp from them. 

“Swiss? What—“ 

“Phantom. Baby. You’re fucking gaping.” He can’t take his eyes off of the way their hole is still wide open despite being completely empty. 

“Could probably fit inside you right now.” Swiss reaches forward. 

He’s stopped by a low growl coming from Mountain. He looks up, meeting his emerald eyes. He can see the warning in the way they darken. Swiss grins, fangs flashing in the dim light of the setting sun. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge. 

[mumms-the-word]

I may make something more of this later maybe but one thing I love about Neve and her prosthetic leg is that the writers didn’t make her disability the entirety of her character

Like she’s not Neve, the Disabled One, Who is Seeking a Cure for Her Leg or Makes Her Leg Her Entire Personality (aka the Token Disabled Character)

She’s just Neve, the Dock Town Detective with a heart for the people of Minrathous and a desire to do as much good as she can in her broken weird messed up city

...and also she has a prosthetic leg (and it looks very cool)

In fact she never really talks about her amputated leg or prosthetic at all, aside from one conversation that you only get under very specific circumstances, and even then it’s a quick anecdote

There is one late game banter with Lucanis (which I’ve edited here to avoid total spoilers) that puns on her leg, and it goes like this:

Lucanis: But will she listen to me? There’s no arguing with her. Neve: If you need a leg to stand on, I’ve got a spare. Lucanis: [laughs] Not even that would save me!

But that’s it! Which is kinda great in my view. There’s no talk about using magic to regrow a limb, no discussion of whether she misses her leg or not. No one is like “I sure hope Neve can keep up on that leg of hers” or “I feel bad for her sometimes, you know?” There's no heavy-handed moment where someone is like "Would you ever use blood magic to grow your leg back" and then Neve gets to lecture us all about how ableist that question is and how she's offended you'd even suggest it and so on

(*cough* looking at you, certain elements of the Taash nonbinary questline)

Her disability is just…there. Unremarkable. But it’s not ignored or dismissed entirely either. You hear the clank of her prosthetic footstep behind you as you travel with her. She has an extra, less ornate prosthetic limb in her room in the Lighthouse. She puns about her leg lightly with Lucanis! And even the fandom isn't suggesting she's less beautiful, less sexy, or less interesting because she is physically "less whole" (a silly notion that I'm glad we've moved on from!)

Sure there may be a larger discussion of Neve not necessarily showing all the nitty gritty realities of prosthesis use (phantom limb syndrome, caring for the end of her biological leg so that it doesn’t develop pressure wounds or sores, keeping the prosthesis in good working order, etc) but like...I rather like that she's disabled and it's unremarkable

She's Neve. And she has a cool leg prosthetic. She's not Neve, who is cool because she has a cool leg prosthetic, and neither is she Neve, who is pitiable because she has a leg prosthetic. She's just Neve the Detective of Dock Town (who also happens to have a cool leg prosthetic).

idk I find that refreshing and neat

[avionvadion]

side effect from the puppet magic

El: needs a cane to walk

Grim: becomes far sighted

Jack: asthma like symptoms

Vil: skin peeling

Jade and Floyd: Heart problems

Trey: is half deaf

Leona: IS AFRAID TO STAND STILL TOO LONG, AND THEREFORE CANT SLEEP

Why should Elmbe the only one who suffers 😀

Oh gods I could never curse Jack with asthma he doesn’t deserve that 😭😭😭 OCs yes but NOT MY BOY.

That said LEONA HAVING SLEEP PARALYSIS IS SO GOOD. I think Vil being scared of standing still too long would be good too since he’s a MODEL and models probably HAVE to stand still for photo shoots. LEONA HAVING INSOMNIA. THE IRONY. Jack COULD have insomnia too. He’s very particular about going to bed on a certain time. It’ll definitely interfere with his sleep schedule not being able to sleep because of the trauma of staying still.

I think Jade and Floyd should have the skin peeling when in their human forms since they’re Merfolk. Azul is gonna be so confused because since they’re merfolk their skin should be naturally moist (gods I hate that word, thanks high school) and shouldn’t be dry enough to peel at all yet it is.

…I hate drawing glasses, so I’m gonna make Grim deaf in one ear.

I’ll totally give Trey the asthma though. (Sorry, Trey, but the most exercise you usually get is baking, you’ll be fine.) Cater could be the one who ends up far sighted and has to start wearing contacts and/or reading glasses. (He would totally own this? He’d be like my eldest sister, with like five different colorful and differently shapes glasses that he’d change depending on his outfit.)

Hmmmm. Am I missing anyone??? Aside from Ace, Ortho, and Kalim.

AH, LILIA. Maybe like ghost pains kind of? He came SO CLOSE to being fully puppet. Sometimes it feels like his limbs are still wood and he has to jolt his arm or leg to snap himself out of it. His fingers ache where they had once been twigs. Sometimes his legs don’t move the way he wants them to. Other times he’s frozen still and he can’t move his mouth to speak and someone has to snap him out of it. Jade also probably gets this too, along with the skin peeling.

Just… really really creepy ghost pains. The trauma be REAL.

EDIT:

Thinking about it more, and the boys who suffer the most are going to be those who were wood the longest.

I don't remember the exact order of who got caught save for Jade, Lilia, Yuu, and Grim who were the first to get cursed, but those who were wood the longest will most likely share in phantom pains, insomnia, sleep paralysis, an inability to remain still for too long, and/or suffer a more physical aftermath such as potential anxiety-induced asthma as Fellow does imply that turning into a puppet makes it hard to breathe.

All of them will have nightmares. The majority will probably feel cautious/anxious about going near Amusement Parks. Grim will never be able to eat Apple-Core Popcorn or Fried Tuna again because of the bad memories it brings up.

Those who were wood shortest will probably jolt/jerk and rub/scratch at their arms because they just suddenly felt that awful sensation of being transformed out of nowhere only to realize they’re fine. Gidel escapes without out too much trauma since he was cursed just before the Hero Trio and Fellow went out in search of the "Boss" and was therefore the last one to get masked.

Ace, however, despite not being turned into wood, will be having extreme nightmares and guilt and anxiety.

For reasons that will be hinted at in the chapters I'm currently working on and will be fully revealed at the end of Book Two, he'll be blackmailing El into going to the Amusement Park with him- and thus blames himself when she turns into wood.

He already has nightmares from Riddle's Overblot when Eleanora fell into a temporary coma (though it hasn't been really shown that he has nightmares, his fear of her dying and getting hurt badly does make itself known in his protectiveness- which we have seen) but, because of his pettiness, she died. Even if only for a couple minutes, she was gone.

He's going to have severe nightmares about Eleanora dying again and again because of him, and her turning into wood being sold off as a puppet. Ace is going to despise puppets in all their forms, sock, wood, paper- etc.

And every time he sees her walking around with her cane, he's going to remember what happened at Playful Land. Ace, Ortho, and Kalim may have avoided getting cursed in this, and Ortho and Kalim are overall unbothered (Kalim being used to trauma and it just being par to the course, which is in itself its own trauma, and Ortho being a robot who merely just feels bad because if they had listened to Eleanora to begin with, none of this would have happened) but Ace?

Not only will he be blaming himself, but Deuce is going to blame him as well and beat the ever living crap out of him when he discovers Eleanora in another coma and Poma, our sparkly school nurse, pushing his unique magic to the limit trying to heal her.

It's gonna be rough.

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 6

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader, 6.2k words

Warnings: Violence, Cursing

A/N: GUYS I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. But it is finally here. After this we only have one more chapter, so y'all I'm just so emotional. Thank you all for your patience and all the love you have shared. I'm so grateful. Special shoutout to @hoodeddreams13 for letting me chat them up to discuss this chapter because I was STRESSED. Anyway, sending all my love to you guys. Enjoy! - Mo

Alfie had convinced himself that he was doomed to hell for all of his evil deeds in life. The lying. The bloodshed. The rage. But perhaps he had done something good in this life. Maybe God finally took pity on Alfie Solomons. Perhaps the Angel Gabriel had put in a good word for him. He must have, because there was no other reason that he got to have the blessing of you nestled in his lap, face buried in his neck, small hand tangled in his unruly beard. He had dreamed of this forever, and now it was finally true. He never thought that he would get to have this. Warmth. Love. Safety. "Alfie? Darling where is your mind at?"

He felt your lips at his neck, and sighed, "Nowhere sweet. Just enjoying your company."

"Hmm… Alfie, I wish every moment could be just like this. I don't want to be anywhere else but here in your arms."

He shifted beneath you, to bring your face to his. Nose to nose, breathing in one breath. "My sweet girl, whatever you wish, you shall have yeah? You can stay here, right next to me. And we'll never leave this spot."

"We'll grow old here in your chair. I on your lap. Till the ages go by. And the vines and trees grow around us. And all of Camden will fall away and here we will be together."

"Exactly right my pet. Exactly right."

As if the Somme had suddenly emerged, Satan's army came hurtling through Alfie's door, with Sabini at the helm. The gun fire lit up the room, and all Alfie could hear was your screams of agony. In his arms you were no longer there. The silken white dressing gown he had just been caressing was stained crimson, and the color in your face had turned to ash. Alfie, who has never been lost for words, who has always had something on the tip of his tongue, had nothing come from his mouth but horrified screams. He kept shaking your shoulders, hoping to God that you would wake up, but your limp limbs gave nothing to life. He screamed and screamed your name, until his lungs gave way.

In a sudden jerk, Alfie sat up in his freezing room, his bare chest covered in sweat. The room was bathed in a light blue from the bright moon outside his window. He was alone, save Cyril on the floor by his bed. The house was quiet, and he was alone. You weren't there. Your lifeless body wasn't there. It wasn't real. None of it was real. The fear that took over his body from the dream shouldn't be so potent anymore. He'd had the same dream every night for the past week. And every night he woke up with his heart coming out of his throat and tears streaming down his face. And every night he would stop by the house you were put up in, patrolling around it with the man stationed there, ensuring that every door was locked.

The plan Tommy and Alfie had concocted had become a bloody mess across the city. Tommy’s men had marked every business and alcove the Sabini’s even had minimal connection to. One by one, they were blown up, burnt to the very foundation. Alfie’s boys had been performing psychological warfare as well. The major Sabini players had been followed by phantoms, never being truly alone, until they were slaughtered in their beds, door frames set ablaze. Everyone in Camden was talking about the horrific curse that befell the Sabinis. How it would soon overtake all of them. The city was simmering, about to burst through and explode. Though the Shelby and Solomons boys were making headway, Alfie couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop.

This war was killing him. The business was killing him. He felt it. And you were seeing it. He was drinking more. Eating less. Even when you tried to touch his cheek, to remind him of the moment you two shared and the fact that you were still here and alive, he huffed and moved away from your caress. Your touch brought back the visions of his nightmares and the smoldering tailor shop. It was killing him. It was killing you.

Alfie had created a moat around you, keeping you at a distance and protecting you from him. You had been relegated to simply his secretary. No more. No less. No longer his confidant. No longer his support. No longer the sweetness or the warmth to his day. And while you knew that he was doing this out of fear and out of wanting to protect you, you couldn't help the feelings of rejection from rising in your stomach. You couldn't shake off the feeling that he saw you as a child. As a small ceramic doll that needed to be shielded and held in a box. He didn't look at the sketches you had drawn up for the club. He wasn't even letting you in on the meetings anymore. It was no longer just hurting you. It was now irritating.

On a cold and wet morning, you had enough. This could not stand. You were more than just a desk girl! You were not a girl who needed to be shielded damnit! During an hour you knew there was not going to be any meetings or meddlings, you knew you had your time. You pulled your sweater tighter around you, and pushed in to Alfie's office. "Alfie, we need to talk."

Alfie didn't even look up from his desk and the accounts he was checking, "Not now Ms. Abraham, I am currently checking your math. Tomorrow yeah?"

You pulled the chair out to sit, "No Alfie we need to speak right now."

His broad shoulders slacked down like weathered masts of a ship, and the breath released from his lungs was low and slow. His eyes pressed together as he scrubbed his face. Looking out the window of his office, rubbing his unkempt beard, "What could possibly need discussing now? You already finished all the work I gave you. And there are no more meetings. You can go home."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, the room freezing but your neck hot, "That's exactly it Alfie. You are treating me like a simple secretary."

"You are a secretary love."

"Let me rephrase for you. You are treating me like an idiot. An idiot secretary. You're treating me like a child."

Alfie just stared at you, eyes smoldering like kindling in the stove. He stayed silent, lips tight, you couldn't even tell if he was breathing. If you didn't know him you would think that he was going to fire you. But this was just Alfie. He was thinking. Plotting his next move in this eternal game of chess. Maybe if you were a more ruthless and emotionless player you would have kept you mouth shut. But who cares about winning a chess game when your heart is being chipped at slowly and painfully.

"Alfie, You shut me out. If... if what happened in the jewelery shop was a mistake -"

"It wasn't a mistake."

You paused, staring into his eyes, but he merely nodded at you to continue. "Alright. Well... if it wasn't a mistake. Why are you shutting me out? Why aren't you... letting me be your secretary like I have been all this time. Who does this benefit Alfie? Because you look even worse every day and... well Alfie I feel alone. I feel alone Alfie. I'm scared. I don't know what is going on. I feel lost. And you aren't sharing with me what I need to know. Do you think i can't do this job anymore?"

Alfie stood up, going to the window, looking out at the rain tapping the window and stones below. Though you were screaming inside for a response, you knew this movement. He was thinking, calculating. Trying to figure out the right thing to say to you in this moment. He turned to you, then walked to the door of his office, "Tea?"

It was so odd watching him make his and your tea. Frankly, you didn't even know that he had remembered how you took your tea. It was perfect. Though it was the perfect cup, and the atmosphere should have made a comfortable and relaxing time, your brow was still furrowed, confused as to what Alfie was playing at. He was drinking his own tea, staring at you in between the breaks of his scribbling in the notebook.

After what seems like hours, he finally paused, "Alright treacle. Let's talk business."

"Business?"

"Yes my dove, because what we have here yeah, is quite a bit of a conundrum so to speak."

He took a long drag of his tea before setting it back down and beginning again, "Now...treacle. Like I said yeah? We have a great conundrum. Because you... my viper... have performed a feat like none other. You yeah, have become two people at the same time."

"What are you talking about?"

“Just listen alright? Now, not only are you a damn good secretary… a very damn good secretary; but you are also someone I have grown rather… fond of.”

"Just fond?"

"Actually a third thing too, a pain in my ass. Damn woman I am trying to talk to you! Shit! Listen! I... may... feel quite fond of you. And in this business.. it is very dangerous to have people who you are fond of. Much more dangerous to have people know about your fondness for others. Now... do you understand what I'm saying treacle?"

Eyes wide, playing with the loose string on your sweater you nod and Alfie grunts in assent. "So you see my dove, I am very very fond of you. In fact it makes me absolutely sick. But... I don't want my fondness for you, to affect your safety. You understand? So that is why I have been... more reclusive."

Alfie watched you nod, your eyes wandering to the corner of the office where some spiders had begun building the foundation of their new home. He watched the quirk of your lips, and waited. You weren't about to agree. "Well... Alfie... what if you weren't the only one who was deeply fond of someone? Hmm? What then?"

"Well that would be a problem right? Because that would be a mutual deep fondness and it would be highly innappropriate."

"Why?"

"Because you are a good girl and I am a bad man."

"I don't care."

"Well you should."

"I don't."

"Well fuck treacle it is entirely out of the fucking question. It doesn't matter who is fond of who it does not matter. What matters right? What really matters, is that I keep you safe, and you get to walk out of this office and find someone your age and who is not damned to the fucking gates of hell!"

"I don't care! I don't fucking care! Because even if you are damned to hell, I have been living in one! You think you keeping me in a box will keep me safe and make me happy? I'm alone! I'm scared! And the one person in this whole fucking world who makes me feel safe is keeping me at a distance!"

Tap

Tap

Tap

The large drops of soft rain trickle down the steamed up window panes like tears from God. And soft blue light of the covered sun illuminates the storm brewing behind Alfie's eyes and the gale force winds sighing from his lungs. These past few weeks you have felt like one of those palm trees you saw in a painting in your childhood books. Swaying in the wind of Alfie's hurricane. You were in the eye of it. You were the eye. The small bit of calm in the center of the madness. But one move to the left or right would put you in the throws of it, threatening destruction and death. Yet it was suffocating in the center. No where to move. All the oxygen being sucked out.

"Alfie... don't keep me away. I can't stand it."

Alfie never took his eyes off you. In his stomach he felt as if rocks had taken up residence. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to do. He loved you. He loved you and he couldn't say anything about it. He couldn't for a million and one reasons and yet it was cutting him up inside to hold in this declaration. He loved you more than anything in this world, and he would absolutely evaporate if anything happened to you. And that is why he couldn't love you. That is why he couldn't say anything. But God did he want to take your tears. To hold you in his chest, to kiss you and tell you that everything was going to be ok. That he would kill every person who even looked at your house or you. That he could do it. That he could change the tides if it meant you were happy. If he could have you... you would never want for anything again.

But that's not what is best for you is it?

With a grunt Alfie stands up, motioning for the door as the clock struck 2, "Come on darling... let's get you home. "

Alfie's heart cracked into two pieces when he saw that first rivulet fall down your cheek. Silent tears that never ended all the way home. He thanked God that you let him walk you up to the door, but was not shocked when you walked in without another word. As Alfie turned back around to head back to the car, your father stopped him, "Mr. Solomons... won't you come in for something warm?"

Alfie had this house furnished and ready for the family in the wake of the fire. But your family brought another level of color and warmth that could never be bought, and it brought back memories of his mother so vividly in his mind. It was warm and rich, and the tea provided by your father was strong and invigorating, much like him. Alfie hadn't noticed how much Esther favored your father. The crease in the brow was carbon copy, and Alfie had to supress a smile on his lips when he made the realization. After the formalities often afforded to business associates, your father spoke, "Mr. Solomons... I will be candid... I know that my daughter works as your secretary. And I know that Eli works in your shops."

Alfie slowly blinked. Nothing could be said, and he had prepped already for this exact scenario millions of times.

Leaning back, letting his hands rest on his stomach, your father continued with a sigh, "And...man to man... I know that my daughter not only loves her job... but also Mr. Solomons... loves you. And I suspect, that you have loved her and do now. Yes?"

This was not something Alfie had prepared for.

"Please do not deny Mr. Solomons. Though you are a gangster you are a man and I have seen many a man fall over their feet for my eldest but you," pointing his finger at Alfie, "you have done more than trip over feet. You love her. Do you deny it?"

"No Mr. Abraham. I don't."

"You want to ask me for her hand in marriage?"

"Fuck me."

"Please Mr. Solomons, Mrs. Abraham will have a fit if she hears that talk. What do you want with my daughter? She will not be made a fool."

Alfie waved his hands in the air, trying to clear out the fog in his mind, "No Mr. Abraham I- yes. Yes Mr. Abraham, I love your daughter very much. More than I should. More than I deserve. If I were a better man I would... I would have married her weeks ago. Proper marriage. Proper ceremony. Or whatever she wanted it doesn't matter to me. She... she's the best moment of my day and the worst is when she leaves. She gives me a headache every time she argues with me but makes me feel better than I have since I was boy right? But I can't love her proper. I can't give her the life she deserves Mr. Abraham because of the nonsense that I bring. Mr. Abraham I'm man enough to say that I don't deserve her. But I'll protect her and your family until a better man comes along."

Your father hummed, looking into Alfie's eyes, as if reading all the other words that Alfie couldn't say. "You know... Mr. Kahn... he told me when I was a young man... that it is often the people who are most deserving of love who think that they don't deserve it. It is the most bravest people who think they are not brave. And the best people who think they could be better. And I wonder... Mr. Solomons... if you have forgotten that love is not a token something to be earned, but rather a gift which is freely given. It's there whether we think we deserve it or not."

Your father put a finger up to Alfie, and tip toed to the cabinet to pull out a clandestine box of cigarettes and match. Handing one to Alfie he says, "Mrs. Abraham has been trying to get me to quit for 30 years and I can't shake it. Indulge with me won't you?"

Alfie greedily sucked in the smoke, as if sharing a secret with a classmate. After a few moments puffing in silence, your father spoke up again, "My daughter is very stubborn as I'm sure you know. My wife and I know she loves you but she cannot say it to herself. She's never been good with admitting a vulnerability like that. But she will. But she won't if you keep pushing her away Mr. Solomons. And I'm sure the last thing you want is for her to be far from you yes?"

Alfie nodded in assent, reeling from this conversation. Your father's large cheeks raised in a smile, nearly concealing his eyes, "Good then. Now Mr. Solomons. regarding your shirts, Eli will be by your house at 8pm with a pack. And I’ve taken the liberty of adding a more secure button and stitch pattern.”

As he turned away he added, “I think you’re a better man than you give yourself credit for Mr. Solomons. Don’t let fear get in the way of life. We’ll all be ok.”

Alfie nodded once again, placing his fingertips on the ornate mezuzah on the doorframe. Feeling a strange peace wash over him as he touched his fingers to his lips. On the drive back to the office and the drive back home, he thinks about what your father said, the way he was welcomed into the home and table. Maybe this could work. Maybe… maybe this war could end. And he could keep you safe. And he could make you happy. Maybe… maybe it will work.

The next day when you came to work, Alfie was already in, talking to Ollie and Ishmael, maps and ledgers all over the place. The fire in the stove by your desk had already been lit and brought to vibrant life. A small bouquet of lavender and baby's breath was at bright attention in a chipped cup on the desk, right next to a blueberry scone and a little note reading 'Can't do this without you' in large and jagged neat script. "Ah treacle! Shalom. Ollie, Ishmael that will be all, get to it yeah? I want proof of death by this evening. Treacle come in please?"

You walked in tentatively, nodding and saying good morning to Ollie and Ishmael as they left. As you take you seat, Alfie is pouring out your tea and putting out the cigar he had been nursing all morning. "Here you go love, drink that down. Listen... I've been doing some thinking... and as much as it stabs me in my cold rotten heart... I do believe you are right, and I'm in the wrong."

Your tea must have been poisoned, because you spluttered at Alfie's admittance, "Alfie? Are you not well? Are you dying?"

Alfie rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small chuckle that spilled out, "No I'm not dying you vile woman! I'm apologizing! Wipe your mouth darling you'll drip on your nice dress. Like that by the way, is that new? Anyway treacle. I have been keeping you away from things. I am fond of you I worry about keeping you safe and away from the mess. I know you ain't a child, but I can't help but feel rather responsible for you. Especially now that your family knows that you're working for me."

"He told you?"

"Yeah, yeah he did treacle. Real shit espionage on your part dear, you will not be given any jobs that require being discreet love I'm sorry, but frankly you cannot lie worth a damn."

Your nostrils flared at the dig at you, but you couldn't help the smile at the corner of your lip due its' truth. Alfie continued on, "This war love, it ain't nothing new to me. And it is necessary for both me and the Shelbys. The Sabinis are right rats and I'm quite sick of their activities. If I am too... rough in my handling of you I am sorry, I do want you in this, and I can't do it without you. But I need you safe. Understand?"

Your eyes bore into his, and he was teetering on the thin line of relief and vomiting due to his new found vulnerability. "So you won't send me home early anymore? We'll go back to business as usual?"

"Yeah... If you'll have me."

You bit your lip, trying to hide your happiness and relief, "I think that is amendable to me."

You shook hands, and shivered slightly at the renewed contact that you had secretly craved for weeks. With a quick release of breath and a final firm squeeze of your hand, Alfie released reluctantly, "Beautiful. Get your little notebook and get comfortable love. We have a lot of business to attend to."

Did you ever. You had mistakenly thought that though Alfie had been sending you home, he was handling everything swimmingly. However, Alfie was actually about to collapse under the amount of plates he was spinning. You reorganized his calendar. Argued at length about the numbers and the accounts until they were perfectly balanced. You reviewed the designs for the gaming club, now named Crown and Horse, and chastised Alfie for failing to choose the wallpaper despite opening night coming in three weeks. More had been accomplished in a single day than had been done in the past week, and you both were abuzz. Alfie could not deny the fact that he had felt better than he had in weeks having you back in his atmosphere. He felt lighter. He laughed easier even if it was at his own expense. Looking at the way your eyes danced along the pages and listening to the ringing of your voice as you hollered and laughed brought him more bliss than any rum or draught that could be cooked up.

As the weeks went by, more and more Sabini strongholds and hiding spots were blown to pieces. More and more Sabini men and soldiers were driven mad by the dark spectors haunting their steps, until they were quietly taken in the night. You were aware of it all, through the whispers in the street and the information Alfie shared with you. The tailor shop was nearly finished, but business was booming more than it had in years. Whether it was due to people feeling sorry for the fire or due to peoples new found respect in the family's tie to Solomons, you couldn't tell. But your father looked more settled than he had in ages, and that was enough for you.

Opening night of the gaming club was to be a grand affair. The Shelby boys had opted to hire a band to play, and gaming tables were to be pushed to the sides to keep room open for dancing. Despite protestation from you, snow would be available along with good drink, anything to keep the crowd raucous and loose lipped. “The only difference between high brow and low brow people treacle, is how willing they are to get their good clothes dirtied up.”

Alfie had asked to escort you to opening night, you tried to decline, as you had nothing quite so suitable for an event. But Alfie scoffed, suddenly producing a wine red evening dress, with nearly black beads dotting the dress, catching the light to look like the night sky. Of course, you scolded him harshly, it was not in the budget you had set for the opening. Alfie smirked, touching the gold locket,that he refused to take back, on your neck, “There’s always room in the budget. I’ll pick you up in the car. 7. Make sure that locket stays on yeah?”

The last ‘date’ you had been on was a abject disaster. You were 17, and your date reeked of cigarette smoke and paint thinner. He took you to the pictures, where he proceeded to kiss a girl who sat next to him on the other side. To add insult to injury, Eli sat behind you to see the entire thing, and swiftly began to punch the living daylights out of your date. Eli did win, but did sport a black eye for a good while, and teased you about him for years to come.

Not that this was a date! This was not a date! This was merely a business event. A business event with your very handsome boss in a dress that he bought that just happened to be the perfect fit.

Or so you argued with Eli as he teased you from your doorway watching you pin your hair up. “Uh-huh of course. So do you think that Alfie will propose to you tonight? Or is the little locket the sign you’re using for your betrothal?”

“Get out! God don’t you have anything better to do?!”

“Mmm no Im off today. Watching you put more effort into your appearance then you ever have in your life is amusing to me.”

You spun around, “I look terrible don’t I? I look ridiculous! Oh damnit that’s it when Alfie comes you will have to tell him I caught a pox or something!”

Eli threw his head back hollering in laughing, throwing himself on your bed, “Oh my gosh!! Dear heart you don’t look ridiculous!!! You look nice!! Like a regular star! I’m only teasing you. Please please you must go. I don’t think a pox lie would keep Alfie from pushing his way into the house to get to you anyway.”

Watching him from the mirror you said, “You don’t think so?”

“Alfie? No nothing. And I don’t think it’d keep you from seeing him either. Am I wrong?”

Your head fell on the desk, “Eli… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what?”

“I don’t know if… I’m allowed to feel… the way I do.”

“Well you have to say it in order to know if it’s right.”

You turned to face him, “Eli,.. I feel… home. I feel like I’m right where I need to be when I’m with him. And I want to be next to him all the time. I don’t like not being near him. It feels like… I’m missing my favorite book. I’m still me if I’m not with him. But I’m always searching for him.”

With a soft smile Eli responds, “and why wouldn’t you be allowed to feel like that?”

“Because… well… I don’t want him to feel responsible for me. He has enough to deal with.”

Eli looked around the room, waving his hands, “Well… he did all this… and had only asked that you don’t quit. So… not that I don’t think you’re smart… but I don’t think you’ve really thought it through… it seems… like you’re looking for a reason to not love him so that you don’t feel vulnerable… am I wrong?”

Chewing on the nail of your thumb, a persistent habit you've tried to kill for years, you mumble out, "I hate it when you do that."

Eli merely smirks, mirth glittering in his eyes, "What is a brother for if not to see you past your walls? Now!" Eli stands grandly, as if finishing a fabulous routine for a crowd, "It's nearly seven mouse. Finish up so Mr. Solomons isn't kept hostage by Esther for too long."

You waived him away giggling as the memory of Esther attempting to put fake rouge on Alfie glimmers in your mind. Eli was right. He usually is, as infuriating as it is. While you had lulled yourself to sleep with fantasies of loving Alfie fully and replayed the moment in the jewelry shop every quiet moment you had and felt Alfie's breath on your neck with every whisper of the wind... you never allowed yourself to truly imagine and consider love. Never allowed yourself the pleasure of the thought of him loving you. But.

If he does.

If Eli is right.

If Alfie Solomons loves you.

And you love Alfie Solomons.

Who is to say that you can't be together.

What is to keep you apart?

What is to make love unsafe?

Your reverie and final touches are interrupted by sweet Esther bounding in joyfully, "He's here!! Mr. Alfie is here!"

She pauses at your seat on the vanity, mouth agape, teddy dragging on the floor from where it hung from her grasp, "Wow... you look like a princess..."

You laughed out, gathering Esther in your arms to carry her downstairs, "Well thank you my sweet girl. But surely not as beautiful as you."

She sqeauled and giggled as your pressed kisses to her chubby cheeks, dark red lipstick smudged on. Alfie's eyes were drawn away from Eli's story to land squarely on you and Esther. It was as if everything melted away. You were always beautiful. Always. Not a single moment was different. But in this moment you were otherworldly. Your beauty was only enhanced and amplified with the fine clothes and extra time put into your makeup and hair. The smile you had on your face was radiant and true. The love in your heart shone out adding a glow around you. Alfie wanted to live in that glow forever. Eli stopped talking and smiled at you as he watched Alfie walk towards you like a man in a trance. When you finally set Esther down, you turned in a circle, letting Alfie get a full view, "Is this ok Alfie? You don't think it's too much?'

Alfie shook his head, motioning for you to spin again, "It's absolutely perfect. You look like a right star. Every man will want to dance with you sweet."

You chuckled, "Well they'll be disappointed won't they? I only dance for one man."

For the first time in his life, Alfie felt a blush rise in his cheeks. He had never been flustered before. Silently, he grabbed your hand and pressed a whiskered kiss to your knuckles before leading you out. You waved by to Eli and Esther, excited for the evenings festivities.

You were shocked that the floor hadn't broken underneath you. It was packed. It was alive. It was proving a success. The band John Shelby had booked was relatively new but had shown the crowd the best time they would ever have. The dance floor was vibrant with sequined and bejewled bodies. Gaming tables were sending men to the grave and to Olympus in equal measure. Drinks were flowing like a river, and no one was exempt from its effects. When the Shelby boys whisked Alfie away for drinks and business, you were quickly adopted by Esme, Ada, and Polly. And though you knew that the Shelby - Solomons relationship was at some moments rocky, you felt immediate connection with the women, and knew in your heart that a friendship with them would be more than just business. Your face was hot and your body was buzzing from the energy in the room. You and Ada became fast friends, dancing and twirling like silly girls in the playground. Soon enough you collapsed into barstools laughing and whispering about the scenes surrounding you. But soon enough, your conversation with Ada was cut short by a warm and calloused hand on your shoulder. Looking up you see Alfie's glowing eyes and flushed cheeks. Ada smiled and slipped away as Alfie leaned in to your ear whispering, "Dance for me?"

You nodded, allowing yourself to be pulled from your seat to the center of the dance floor. You felt weightless as you were sucked into Alfie's embrace. A slower number was being played by the band, and though you were surrounded by couples, you would never have known. All you could sense was Alfie around you. In any normal circumstances you would have scolded Alfie for holding you so possesively in a public setting, it was improper. But you couldn't care. How could you, when your body was wrapped in Alfie's strong arms, your fingers raking through his hair, and his beard scratching against your cheek. How could you care when you were living in heaven.

"Are you having a good time my sweet girl?" Alfie husked in your ear.

You smile, bringing his nose to yours to whisper against his face, "Yes, now that you're here. Only one thing could make it better Alfie."

"What's that?"

You force your eyes to meet his storming ones, letting your hand run through his beard, "A kiss."

Alfie's large hand slides to the back of your head, making a mess of the pins holding your hair. His face came to yours, kissing you fiercely, and all the months of waiting, debating, and worrying finally melted away. You let your hands rush into his hair, mussing it as you have longed to do for nights and nights and nights. Sweet and tender and hungry and longing, Alfie's lips against your own was the only thing you could understand in that moment. It was the only thing you could comprehend. Pulling away, Alfie huffed out, "Fuck..."

You laughed at his toussled visage, "Is that all it takes to make you silent Mr. Solomons?"

His eyes grew dark, and you suddenly felt a thrill in your stomach, "Careful treacle might just have to do that again."

Alfie was reaching for you again when a commotion began at the bar.

On top of the crowded bar was Sabini, with a gun pointed directly at you. You could see Tommy pushing people out of the way telling them to get out, trying to get to Alfie. John and Arthur and other Peaky boys were fighting men off, trying to pull down Sabini

"SOLOMONS! You think this is how business is done?" Sabini howled from his place on the bar. "You think you can do this to me? You think this is how you kill a Sabini? You think I'll let a bitch destroy this business? I'll kill you all!"

Bang. Bang.

You fall to the ground. The smell of smoke and iron filled the air. You felt warm liquid on your body, and the sound of people screaming and running fill your ears.

But no pain. No fading and no light coming towards you. A heavy weight is on you groaning out your name. It takes a few moments to understand what was on you.

Alfie.

Your body suddenly awakens. Sabini was on the ground, pale and being carried out by his men leaving a trail dark blood in his wake. Alfie had pushed you to the ground to take the shot meant for you, covering your body with his in his fall. You pushed yourself out from under him, holding his face in your hands, screaming above the crowd, "Alfie! Alfie look at me!"

His eyes were searching for you, "Treacle... treacle you alright love?"

"Alfie you stupid stupid man why did you do that! Alfie please!"

He smiled weakly, "It's alright sweet girl. Old Alfie's alright. Barelt a scratch on me love. Couldn't let my best girl get hurt yeah?"

You looked down at his stomach, a sickly red bloomed on his crisp white shirt. Not a scratch. Not alright. You felt the tears streaming down your cheeks, "Alfie we need to get you to a doctor. We need to go now."

Alfie shook his head, raising his hand to your trembling face, "Nah... I don't think so sweet girl. Just give me a moment. Just let me look at your sweet face for a little. Just give me a moment."

Alfie's eyes fluttered shut as he passed out. Shaking, you began screaming his name, "Alfie... Alfie! Alfie wake up!! Ollie!!! Ollie fuck get over here! Somebody help!!! Somebody please help!!!"

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog , @teapartydreams , @sciencewithottsnpotts , @6asm0ne , @purrrrfect, @bluejellyfiish @jassiefayee

[sukunasun]

TANGLED WEB | SPIDERMAN 2099 GETO SUGURU X READER

"i'm worried about you," you said to him then. it's not that there's anything wrong with him. flaky, yes. forgetful, sometimes. but it's starting to become increasingly clear that he's not all he seems to be.

suguru moves around his lab with soft, padded steps as the room is slowly lit by a hundred holographic screens. he's programmed it that way so it doesn't spook him. he hasn't had a good night's sleep in the last ten years. well, maybe forever actually, but he's stopped counting the all-nighters.

jumping from universe to universe does that to you, where time becomes a jumbled mess of past, present, and future. doesn't help that more of them explode into being each day. he's seen himself as a child in one and an old man in another, happily easing himself into his lazy chair while his beautiful wife grumbles on about how he needs to exercise more or his limbs will start creaking.

that one hurts a little too much he'll admit. would rather not think about a life where he'd been happy and perfectly content. instead, he taps on a few buttons by a console, sifting through screens, and moving windows out of the way with a swipe of his hand. news footage, maps, weapon inventory, plans and projects he's left on hold, some of them dating back years before he ever resorted to this life—bringing about order to chaos. there was no swinging from death-defying heights, no bank robbery chases and saving cats from trees, no...putting the multiverse back together, piece by fragmented piece.

his fingers grasp at the spandex of his mask, tugging it loose til his skin feels that familiar brush of fresh air. letting his hair fall down his shoulders and back, breathing a sigh of relief when he feels the tension leaving his scalp.

a video plays before him, lighting up his face from the dim. he remembers recording it at your wedding dress fitting. it wasn't necessary he told you, the dress, the rings, the reception, thinking he'd been above all these ritualistic traditions. now it's all he holds onto really, standing by the same spot, with the same video playing on a loop.

"sorry, it's been a while," he speaks, his roughened voice echoing around the walls. he makes a motion with his fingers and the video blows up in size. pixels painting a picture of your smiling face, a soft, love-filled gaze focused on him. or it seems that way. back when you still loved him anyway.

"hey," you say, a little self-conscious, "do we have to do this?" palming the material of your dress nervously, your engagement ring twinkling. he feels the phantom weight of the one he used to wear on his finger all the time. so much so that he rubs a thumb over the empty space, feeling only his suit there. 

he's removed his voice from the clip, only because it allows him to talk to you—at least some semblance of it—like he does now, "not if you don't want to...i just miss you is all," he replies.

"what kind of an answer is that?" his heart clenches at your laugh ringing through. a younger him would have said something funny when he should have been better with his words. should have told you how beautiful you were, how much you meant to him. but they always get caught in his throat. 

he's ignoring the fact that there are hundreds of other spidermans surrounding him behind these walls and any of them could waltz right in. watching the tough leader of spider society talk to an old tape of his ex-wife. they'd see just how...lonely he is.

two of them sit in a corner somewhere doing whatever task he's given them for the day. and they know there's nothing they could do about it. because he's got an oh-so-impossible plan of rewriting the canon. changing the outcome. for this is not up to technology or anything that isn't you and your wish to love him again.

and if he knows anything about multiverse travel, is that it's heartbreaking. how often he's lived in different shoes, loving a different you every time. multiple lifetimes, occurrences, origins, and resolutions. reliving the first time he held your hand, the first kiss, the first time he took you in his college dorm, how it was awkward and messy, but he'd cradled you in his arms when your body was a sweaty, blissed-out mess after, the expression on your face so rewarding he couldn't feel the sting of the scratch marks you've left all over his back.

you were hot to the touch one moment, a rousing sight, perfect in every way. and then you were cold, losing all colour, and grasping at him with your final breath seconds later. suguru realizes he was no longer in the comfort of an old junky room but on a street corner. buildings crumbling and him barely withstanding the weight of rubble on his back. his naked skin now in his suit drenched with blood. he swore it was just a glitch, but he saw with his very eyes, each of his timelines colliding and ripping apart, each tangent leading back to his inevitable loss. losing everything. losing you.

so they keep working on it. and he keeps watching you on a screen. shrugging and slumping his body and averting his eyes away because he can't bear to face you. always guilty and for what, he doesn't exactly know. can't pinpoint the moment he felt you slip through his fingers. only that he couldn't be the person you needed him to be.

"pathetic right?" he says, timing it right for the moment you reply with a—

"i forgive you," you say, hand reaching out to his. and he pauses the video there, placing his own hand against the screen and watching it glitch when his fingers make a hole through the display, plunging through and feeling only emptiness in return. at the very least, it buzzes around his form and it feels warm, but it's nothing compared to the way you'd hold him.

"promise?" he whispers, knowing you won't reply, and that the answer is already there. but he pulls his hand away, rewinds it, and starts all over again.

——————————————————

he still dreams about you. on the rare occasions he does manage to fall asleep.

but they're not scenes and sounds he's conjuring up, a random bunch of no-names his consciousness collected throughout the day, hazy blobs of red and blue. it's only ever one thing. a moment from his past he can't let go off.

vividly he sees you standing in the rain. in nothing but a pair of jeans and a tshirt. huff . huff.  his breaths are labored. here in the cold of night, they puff out in short gasps of white.

it all feels so real. in the flesh. in his suit. hanging upside down on what appears to be tangled strands of webbing in his grasp. body covered in black spandex, red covering the pads of his hands and feet, thick lines spanning across broad shoulders and chest, an angular pattern of a spider sitting right in the middle.

"so tell me spiderman...you've got a million eyes and ghastly fangs?" cupping his head gently, you're fingers move on their own accord. thumbs caressing over the material, feeling the flat planes and deep grooves of his features. a strong nose, soft cheeks...shaping and sculpting him in your mind's eye.

"go ahead," he whispers, his voice hoarse and ...desperate, "take it off and find out..." screw it, he thinks, he can have this, just this once. he's allowed to. it's just a dream anyway. spiderman is everything he's not. he's done more with the suit on than when it was left crumpled and untouched in his closet.

tugging at his mask, the hem starts to peel away from his neck. sliding and stretching over his throat. tucking folds moving upwards with every pull. pale skin revealed, now blooming red the moment you ease it over his adam's apple, over the cut of his jaw, and finally the edge grazes past his lips.

he gasps. mouth parting with every exhale, his fangs retracting and peeking from beneath, his chest rising and falling in time with his rapid breaths, his thumping heart. "thank you, for saving me," you whisper, before pressing your lips to his, feeling them part as his tongue slips inside the warmth of your mouth. fuck, this is exhilarating. even though it could just be from the last time he kissed you, the taste of you is unlike any other, forever etched in his memory.

——————————————————

"i'm worried about you," you said to him then. it's not that there's anything wrong with him. flaky, yes. forgetful, sometimes. but it's starting to become increasingly clear that he's not all he seems to be.

in that restaurant you like—the one serving the huge rice bowls and unlimited tea refills—you eyed the new injury he's gotten that week. he should have tried to hide it at least. but scarily enough, it was probably the best his efforts could afford. it'd been a bruise on his cheek, no bigger than a few centimeters, and knuckles so raw, so red, the skin splits down the middle of those nubby slopes.

"it's really fine," he brushes you off and you noticed the slight wince in his expression, giving it away. if he were better at acting you wouldn't catch how his arms rested on the table, placing most of his weight on it and shielding his torso from you. just underneath his shirt, two broken ribs sealed themselves back beneath skin and muscle at a snail's pace, a bullet wound in his shoulder closed up inch by inch. felt the dermis stitching itself back segment by segment in circular motions.

you sighed heavily. he didn't miss the disappointment laced in your features. "i think we should break up, you're...hiding things from me." a part of him knew it was coming, but where does he even begin. he's left these things out for a reason. spiderman doesn't have a place in all this. that...version of himself is his own burden to bear.

geto suguru was your boyfriend, unmasked and uncovered. the one who has a strict hair care routine and likes spending his time cooped up in a lab. less mad scientist and more aloof inventor who's dedicated his life to a cause. he's charming, intelligent, and sexier than he should be—"are you sure you're not lying to me about your job? i don't think researchers do pull-ups at work," you squeeze at the swell of his arms in wonder, palms pressed into his pecs, admiring the bulk, the brawn, down the curve of his slim little waist.

geto however, can only blush. chuckling to himself nervously whilst grateful the cut of muscles is enough to distract you.

you've mentioned it once or twice. that it's just a bonus he's so hot, the real appeal is where on most days he's dorky....disheveled. and so captivating. drooping eyebags kissing the steam wafting from his mug, coffee today, because he needs the extra boost. how he's scratching at his toothpaste-stained shirt while a blanket hangs over his head in the mornings. when warm light hits just right, you notice the alluring streak of silver hairs, shining against dark locks. swooping and silky. oh how does stress look this lustrous...this indulgent. trotting about his messy kitchen with a lazy, drowsy gait.

"where the fuck is it," he mumbles, noisily wading through last night's clutter for..."my thingy!" he exclaims. because everything's a 'thingy' at this hour. when his brain is still fuzzy and he's got no energy. he's brandishing what happens to be a teaspoon like he's found the holy grail. and yes, it is that important because "this teaspoon isn't like any other teaspoon, it's actually perfectly accurate in measuring the amount of sugar i like," he's so particular.

sometimes he goes back there, he'd swing past heavy traffic and crowded streets from below. a route he knows by heart. by instinct. awed and frightened faces alike, feasting their eyes upon a masked man and his reflected grief in skyscraping windows. regrets when he'd been fighting crime and it slipped his mind. he promises he'll be early from now on, hoping to see you waiting for him by that same table and maybe this time, you wouldn't want to end things.

[ferrarifinnick]

3 times | kimiko

kimiko x reader

that sweet smile only breaks out for two reasons...

saw this gif and just had to write about it. enjoy this short little drabble about the different situations where kimiko pulls this little face on you. also, kimiko supremacy is the only correct opinion. i don't make the rules oh but i do on this. kimiko girlies where are you i love you. as always, i hope you enjoy!! love <3 masterlist

warnings: smut at the end. sexting, fingering, drooling, boobs, kimiko in clothes that aren't black lol

955 words

kimiko only ever pulls this face in three situations.

the first, when she's trying to slip off the hook for a mistake. those times she's caught thieving the last sweet treat stashed in the office of the boys, the one hidden behind the cobweb-ridden stale fruit bars. your emergency snacks.

sweet-faced kimiko. found innocent by judge and jury despite the crumbs still littering her glossy lips.

you'll also find this smile in the times when she knows she's gone too far. when on missions, too often she falls victim to taking too many risks in the name of assisting the movement to take down corrupted supes. her life, needlessly in jeopardy, earns her a secured spot on your naughty step.

"kimiko, that was stupid!" you'd scold, shaking her shoulders as if to knock some sense into her. or maybe it was you who needed sense for not suspecting she would pull such a reckless act again. "you could have gotten yourself hurt—killed even!" but the part that would really get her is when you'd ask, with a trembling lip, "i can't be the only one who makes it home, kimiko."

her heart would sink. she had seen you furious enough to know that this time was different from the rest. the rage that overcame you meant nothing to her. she could handle it, just like she had before. but the terror hidden behind it is what broke through to her. seeing you like this, frightened at the prospect of losing her. that she couldn't take.

her arms would coil around your waist so tightly, desperate even, as if a thousand helium balloons threatened to carry you up and away. out of her reach, like everyone else in her life. forget her powers. no amount of bullets she could ricochet, no number of limbs she could regenerate, none of it could ever matter if she didn't make it home to you. so she would hold you tight, terrified she might have finally pushed you away.

only when your shoulders would relax in her hold, anger floating away with the phantom balloons, would she release you from her iron-clad hold.

her face in your hands, you'd say, "don't overwork my heart, kimiko. it's already in overdrive for you. i can't bear to think of it stopping if something were to happen to you."

your emotional vulnerability, something she had not been blessed enough to experience before you, drew out a warmth in her eyes that only you were privy to. but even with your heart in your hands, your cards face up on the table, at her total mercy, that little smile floated its way onto her face.

was it gratitude? pride to see how bad you had it for her? you'd never know. you'd always be too busy shoving back her shoulder, signing out a quick and affectionate fuck you in response to her signing you got it bad for me, huh?

this smile would also make it's return when you'd be in the middle of a lecture from mm about the next mission he had planned. you'd feel your cellphone vibrate in your pocket, and when you'd hold it in your hands, you'd find a text from kimiko.

your confused glance would be ignored. all you'd get is a nod to your phone, and so you'd oblige and open her text message.

a picture of her taken in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. all you would see were the toned muscles of her long legs clad in knee-high socks. the ones you said were a turn on for you.

you'd glance up and find just a hint of a smirk, gone just as fast as it appeared. you'd cock a brow. she'd know you were asking when did you take that? the vibration of your phone would signal another text from her.

another image, this time of her thighs and—was that a white skirt? you'd squint at the image, trying not to move too quickly so as to avoid drawing mm's attention. the white skirt would fail to conceal the pink panties underneath, and was that a wet patch you could see?

finger and thumb would meet on the screen. pushing them apart, you would zoom in and right there, where her slit would be, was a shade of pink darker than the rest.

your jaw would be clenched. slowly your eyes would drag up to find the smirk she could no longer hide. one corner of her lips would curl even more, and then you'd be met with the final vibration.

this time, it would be a video. volume all the way down, just like your brightness, you would open it.

in and out, so fast you'd struggle to follow, her fingers would plunge in and out of her swollen pussy and it would be wet—no, gushing—spreading all over her hand and dripping down her thighs.

the camera would pan away from her abused slit, and your stomach would drop at the loss. but the beating in your chest would soon speed back up as the camera turned onto a dumb kimiko, eyes rolled to the back of her head, tongue sticking out, drool leaking down her chin and onto her bare, bouncing breasts.

the video would end there.

the fire between your legs would be nothing compared to the desperation to cross the room and tear off kimiko's black jeans. would you find those pink panties? and where was she hiding that white skirt?

when you'd find kimiko staring back at you, cocky and entertained by your suffering, you'd shoot here a glare.

and right then, spun with sugar, sickly sweet, there it would be. that fucking smile.

[robthegoodfellow]

May I Find You One December RENAMED Here I Go Again

1: Don't Know Where I'm Going, Sure Know Where I've Been

for @fizzigigsimmer

(caligator, referenced past harringrove, age difference, referenced character death, references to neofascism/evangelicalism)

.

Billy’d been warned against stopping in Stark County, but when you had to go, you had to go—and anyway, he was running low on gas. And snacks. 

And, since he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, it’d be wise to get out, work the rust from his joints a bit. 

Glancing around as he filled the tank, the town looked normal enough; your average main drag in Middle of Nowhere, North Dakota. Couple sleepy shops, general store, dinky diner—one of those blue lives matter flags hanging limp by the door, vivid polyester garish against all the beige. 

Basic shit. 

No obvious signs of a place under the iron thumb of a white nationalist evangelical militia, and he was just about to roll the dice on that diner, maybe snag a coffee and a slice of pie, when a police cruiser ambled into view, pulled into the fueling station opposite.

Just his fucking luck.

Billy studied the pump, face schooled a pleasant bland. Marveled at how, even after all these years, his days of tussling with fascist pigs long behind him, the same wolves were stirring in his head. One baring its teeth on a low growl, ready and willing to tear the fucker to shreds, the other poised, still as stone, itching to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble.

At fifty years old—fifty plus, but who was counting—he preferred neither option. The meter clicked off, and he watched his hands replace the nozzle, screw on the gas cap.

Even his hands were fucking old. Thicker—blocky knuckles. Veins starting to bulge. Grandpa hands. 

Sense memory flashed, suppressed so quick and smooth it left barely a ripple. Wouldn’t do to indulge in fond longing for those gay glory days, for the hands he still missed like phantom limbs, some nights, this aching absence. Not within spitting distance of a patrol car. 

Because why test the thought police, right? He could reminisce on youthful love lost when he was back on the highway, heading west.

Good boy, he heard, like Billy had a tin can cupped to his ear, the string trailing off into the fog of time. 

So strange what stayed sharp, he mused, rounding the hood, gripping his keys. Behind him, the cruiser door swung open with a creak. Like—despite the photos, it was hard to really conjure the face, hold it steady in his mind. A face through a window in the rain, and more so as the years slid by. But that voice still whispered clear as day—sometimes a Jiminy Cricket, keeping Billy out of trouble, sometimes a little prankster demon, pure trickster. 

And the hands. The feel of those hands had never left him, touch embedded in the skin.

He sniffed, ducking his chin, scolding himself. So much for smothering his inner queer.

The door was open, sanctuary of the driver’s seat calling his name, when something drew his attention across the way—some movement, maybe, or shift in the air. Pulling his gaze, against his better judgment, to meet the bored stare of the emerging cop.

His chest—seized, breath caught in tight lungs by a tighter throat. Distantly wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like—crushed in a cold fist.

Because the eyes staring back at him were Steve’s. The furrowed brow above lips pinched in a frown. The lines of his jaw, his nose. Like the rain had stopped and he could see him clear through the pane. Then the lips twisted, a sudden sneer, straight out of senior year.

“Got a problem, pal?” 

Billy blinked rapid, took in the flak jacket and badge announcing him as the Sheriff’s stooge, the douchey camo hoodie layered underneath, dark hair slicked back, sides shaved like he’d stepped off the cover of Nazi Vogue.

What the fuck.

“Asked you a question, old man.”

Billy coughed, half a laugh, half choke, and shook his head. Same voice—his voice. Steve’s. Only the tone was all wrong—mean and self-important—more like… like Billy, once upon a time.

Like if his old bratty attitude and Steve’s voice had a baby. That’s what he was hearing right now. Like—

Wrenching his brain back on track, Billy rebooted. Cut him off before the brat could launch another volley.

“Sorry, officer,” he said, and couldn’t help it—the amusement thrumming beneath the words, or more accurately, the unhinged hysteria. “Must be going senile.”

The eyes narrowed—assuming that if he wasn’t in on the joke, he must be the butt of it.

“In fact,” Billy went on, blindly following some instinct, he knew not where. “Think I might be having some heart trouble.”

The cop did not spring to the aid of a needy citizen, but eyed him skeptically. “You smell burnt toast?”

“That’s for a stroke,” Billy corrected, and he’d gone and done it again—only this time a fondness threading the wry mockery. “Heart attack is pain in your arm and whatnot.”

The brat didn’t shoot him dead for perceived disrespect, which was something. Really he just seemed—confused. Baffled. And boy, Billy was right there with him.

This wasn’t Steve, he reminded himself. Wasn’t him. Just a random dead ringer in Middle of Nowhere, North Dakota, a likely foot soldier in the brutal local militia.

And Billy should just leave him to it, obviously. Because this wasn’t Steve.

So—bid the doppelganger adieu, get the hell out of dodge. Billy cleared his throat.

“Don’t suppose protect and serve extends to helping some geezer find a place to eat while he rests awhile?”

Now the perplexed indignation was out in force, head tilted so far to the side it was liable to roll off his neck.

Hand to God, Billy thought he’d kicked the death wish long ago—his Y2K resolution—and yet here he was. Still talking, coaxing the neofascist to come closer, chucking all caution to the wind for a pair of pretty, over-familiar eyes.

“C’mon,” he said, and made the smirk self-deprecating. “I make it across the street without keeling over, I’ll buy ya a coffee.”

The brat straightened, something like tolerant intrigue settled in the quirk of his brow. “All right, then, old timer.” As they stepped off the sidewalk: “Don’t expect me to hold your elbow or nothing.”

“Oh, nah,” Billy replied, waving him off. “Dignity won’t allow it.” And then—he winked. Winked at the boogaloo boy. He’d lost his mind. Farewell, sanity.  “Name’s Billy.”

No response from the boy in blue until they reached the diner steps. “I’m Gator,” he said, hauling the door open, gruffness at odds with the tinkling bell.

To his credit, Billy didn’t break down into gibbering laughter.

Gator. This asshat wearing Steve’s face, this Duck Dynasty heir apparent—was named Gator.

Way off in Indiana, Steve must’ve been rolling in his grave.

Next

[averagegtenjoyer]

hellooooo this time you get a silly little drabble!! i just finished fighting this guy for the first time and got inspiration!!!

" joooooooker ... " a voice drawls out, anger and hunger evident within the tone. a voice that akira knows a little too well, causing him to bite his lip and remain hidden; no matter the cost. he'd been split off from the others on purpose, his pursuer clearly wanting nothing else than to deal with the leader himself.

this little phantom thief is elusive. he's quiet, reserved, and most importantly, patient. willing to wait if the situation calls. but how long will he have to wait against no other than ... goro akechi? so much happened within that last hour, from figuring out akechi was involved with both the psychotic and mental shutdowns, able to wield two personas, the black mask reveal, and then ...

SLAM.

" come out, come out, wherever you are! " akechi rasps, digits scraping against the walls as he searches in desperation. " oh, once i get my hands on you ... " the hoarse voice soon turns to a sinister cackle. akira was not at all ready to deal with that, and that could easily be told by how hard his heart is racing. it might as well burst out of his chest.

" ... i'll crush you beneath my heel! or maybe i'll just tear you limb to limb! i'd LOVE to hear your bones snap and feel your blood run down my fingers! "

out of pure anxiety and the inability to stay in one place out of distress, he jumps onto another nearby table, which undoubtedly makes noise. ah, well, that's not good, now is it? should he continue moving? or maybe hiding would be a better option ... no, his mind is a mess, he can't think-

suddenly, there's an overwhelming pressure around his body as he's suddenly lifted up into the air so fast that he becomes dizzy. the little thief looks down at what almost looks like claws squeezing his body so tightly that he's starting to lose feeling in anything below his waist. biting his lip, he hesitantly looks up with fear in his gaze, those terrified eyes of his meeting akechi's semi-bloodshot, but amused ones through the red tints of the helmet.

there's silence between the two as akechi revels in that of his catch. his prize. he brings the smaller up towards his face so he can see that terrified yet quite adorable expression better. a smile slowly tugs at his lips before he speaks. despite the rasp, his voice almost sounds like a purr.

" ... finally caught you, my little criminal. now what to do with you? "

MY GODDDDDDDDDDDD im literally chewing on my own hanrd i love this so much i cant i just i !!. God i have nonwords i love this Oh insane giant akechi you have my heart vvvvvvv

[ifyouhappentoremember]

Quick Toughts - Phantom of the Opera - Broadway - March 6, 2023

The main trio was Laird Mackintosh, Julia Udine and Paul Adam Schafer

For those unaware, this performance was Laird’s last day with the Broadway company and his last performance as the Phantom. 

Every time I see Nehal Joshi’s Andre I just appreciate new details of his performance. Like he awkwardly bump into Meg during Hannibal Rehearsal on two separate occasions and then after the number was over he had a conversation with Meg (presumably to apologize). When Andre is introduced to the company, he gives a courtly little bow. I truly love those details.

Okay, I’m not gonna talk about anyone else now. The rest of this post is going to exclusively focus on Larid. 

There is an old school quality to the way he moves. There is an inherent graceful, yet somewhat non-human about the way he moves.

The way he said the first ‘sing for me’ during the title song??? It was so deep and resonant. It made me sit up straighter in my seat. 

The intense eye contact with Christine during “I have brought you’ only for him to break it during the ‘my music’ bit.

The man was vocally batting 1000 on this performance.

The way Laird’s Phantom would flinch when Julia’s Christine got close to him (right before the line ‘turn your face away’ and a second one!!!! right before the line ‘let the dream begin’).

Laird may have the fastest STYDI crawl I’ve ever seen? It was so unsettling, like he didn’t have any control of his limbs (but also somehow he did?

“a ToAD, madam? Perhaps... it is you... who are ... the toad.”

The quiet, whispered “stop” when Raoul and Christine are singing during All I Ask of You reprise hurt.

When the Phantom pops out in ‘Before the Performance’ scene, Laird knocked over the little table (maybe another chair?) that was in box 5 lol.

I think Laird’s Phantom wanted to go in for a kiss during the proposal. The way Julia’s Christine unmaksed him you know she did it to make him stop.

Laird get really in Julia’s face, shoving his deformed side during the line ‘an eternity of this...’

Oh god, his Phantom got so sad when Raoul said the line ‘why make her lie to you...” almost like he truly hated himself for what he was doing and was about to just about to let them go but them Julia’s Christine reaches out to touch his back and his resolve just hardens. The way he then just tossed away the veil he had been clutching was almost cold-hearted.

The ring return hurt. He is so happy for a moment. When Christine breaks her hand from his grasp, he lets out a sharp gasp of pain. When he finally lets out a second I love you, Christine is long gone and Laird said it in such a child-like way.

When Raoul and Christine are sailing away, singing, Laird’s Phantom almost relaxes, when he hears Christine sing.

I’m used to Ben’s Phantom singing the final line to the audience, so Laird directing the first half of that iconic line to the disappearing figures of Raoul and Christine was a nice old-school touch.

I did cry, but surprisingly at the line “it’s over now...” I think it really just hit me that Phantom really is closing and I am rapidly approaching my final visit :(

[closetkitsune]

Trying to figure out what I am...

I first discovered therianthropy from, of all places, a random tweet on twitter informing people that therianthropy wasn't cultural appropriation. I did some research and...it just kind of fit? It wasn't a massive mind-blowing moment or anything, but a more subdued "...huh, I guess that explains various things", and a short bout of research later, I finally accepted the label for myself more formally.

Now my issue is figuring out my theriotype... That part so far is tricky.

In the past I was unsure; only that I was some kind of mammal with a long tail, like a cat or something. I later thought I was a fox, or a cat, but shied away from picking either because I do love both of those and I'm wary of "You only picked that theriotype because it's your favorite, it's not actually you!" kind of stuff. I later considered a grey fox, and then bobcat. Aaaand that leads to now.

Thus far I'm pretty comfortable with the Kitsune type. I mean, I do like kitsune; they're one of my favorite mythical creatures! But I also know I have a past life as a kitsune, and I often wonder if my adoration for foxes was a hint. (Fun fact, I kept changing my favorite animal growing up, I don't know why lmao. First it was cats, then I got really into horses for a bit, then dogs for a brief time, then rats/bats/snakes, and now I feel like I've finally settled on foxes being my favorite. What a wild ride.)

I had a past life as a Canadian Lynx as well, and that made a little more sense than a bobcat. I don't feel this theriotype quite so strongly, though, if that makes sense? I'm told that it's normal to feel certain theriotypes more strongly than others, though, so maybe I'm reading too much into it.

Recently I started considering that I might be dragonkin, too, instead of just dragon-hearted. A while back I fantasized *hard* about being a dragon, and I was obsessed with them. I still come back to them a lot, too, and I had a dream once that I was transforming into one and I felt so excited.

I know that I feel fangs, and some kind of phantom tail...sometimes phantom ears? Or horns? Pretty sure it's ears. Recently I felt phantom wings as well. I think? Phantom limbs for me are super super faint. Like, I can feel where they're attached to me, but I can barely feel the rest, if at all.

I've always had such a fascination with transformation sequences, too? And sometimes I'd fantasize about transforming, myself. That's probably not the best metric for figuring myself out, but I feel like it *could* help, somehow? Maybe?

Maybe I'm thinking about all of this too hard, lol. I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually, but so far it's been a challenge because I'm torn between what feels right and trying to do it "correctly" thanks to past trauma making that a bad habit :'D

If anyone ends up reading this, I'd be grateful for advice regarding this, or tips on things to try.

[herrscherofsentence]

Noel Gruber x Male Reader

(platonic !)

〜♪

summary ; read request

☆〜♪

Warnings ; Minor description of injury, implied mentions of blood, character death, angst w/o comfort

〜♪

A/N- Apologies but I decided to completely redo this :) enjoy !

-

[Name] tugged at his bowtie, his heart completely raising it felt as if he was just going to burst down into tears at any moment. He stepped through the doors that lead to the choir room, expecting maybe one or two kids his age but atlas he was the youngest one in that room. He made eye contact with one or two members in that room but none of them exactly talked to [Name]. Noel seemed to notice the newest and youngest member of the choir all alone, the newest member of the choir seemed to have been on his phone and that's when Noel noticed what [name] was looking at it was just some prompts that could be used for novels.

[Name] stayed quiet when noticing Noel coming up to him, “Hey,” Noel said in a light voice, “What are you doing?” he questioned, [Name] looked up, at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? In the end all [Name] did was give Noel a notebook that showed a rough draft of the novel he was working on. “It’s inspired by some of those..French cinema movies..” [Name] said quietly, Noel immediately got interested in what he had to say. “I need to know, What is your favorite movie in that genre?” Noel sat down next to [Name].

[Name] and Noel eventually got closer to each other, before the two knew it, it was already close to the end of the school year. Noel always came to [Name]’s side if he noticed someone was making fun of him, possibly coming up with some nasty rumor then they wouldn’t annoy [Name] anymore. Noel was like a worried parent if [Name] would get injured or it being something as simple as him falling. [Name] was Noel unofficial adopted freshman and [Name] was happy.

Until,

“I’m feeling a little sick..” Noel admits, this gets the younger one’s attention, “I”ll go for you,” He offers to Noel, Noel tries to deny but eventually comes to terms with [Name]. Noel will stay on the sidelines as [Name] rides on the Cyclone with the other members of the choir. It took a moment to notice it, when it derailed..One second joy the next, panicked screams, fear filled his eyes. [Name] was launched out of the cart but it didn’t stop the cart landing on top of him. The world started to fade in front of him, a crimson taste fell into his mouth, What was happening? Red kept spilling out of him, tears threatened to fall. “Noel..!” [Name] tried to yell out, it even hurt to speak..Wait? Where was Noel? There was no response so perhaps Noel didn’t hear him or went to safety as the derailment happened.

It felt as if he just blinked before waking up in a hospital room. Bandage wrap covered almost the entirety of his body, it felt as if some covered his head. [Name] could barely move a limb in his body, how many bones were broken? There was still a phantom type of pain from the cart being on top of him. A doctor came in to check in on [Name], to the doctor’s surprise [Name] was awake. “Where’s Noel..?” he managed to squeak out, breathing heavily. The news is revealed to him, a new no one would ever want to hear, Noel was dead. In the fall he saw [Name] get launched out and only focus was on the youngest member of the choir. The now derailed cart ended up falling right on top of Noel, crushing all of his bones and organs; all they could identify Noel with was his head. Which was the only part of him which showed.

[raymans-husband]

oc schlop

Drew all my Rayman ocs excluding myself green bean and those 2 other rayman variants i didnt wanna add,,theyre not important except green bean i guess here stay happy also the sketch :Grin

Fun Facts + voice claims

-Lovebug hates hades -Hades & Stix r like this secondary species of thingamajigs that was formed on accident n theyre all based off animals i dont have a name for the species yet god bless SAME WITH BUZEER AND WIRES EXCEPT THEYRE LIKE A SECONDARY SPECIES OF TEENSIES -all the electoon ones actually dont have full bodies they just use magic that gives them a sort of phantom-limb effec tos they can wear clothes and armor and stuff (A lot of their clothes are very lgihtweight bc while hte magic gives them a phantom limb effect it doesnt make them any stronger- WK's just strong on his own though so he can wear the big heavy armor no problem) -Stix & Buzzer can both fly but Buzzers a fatass and cant get off the ground without Stix's help and even then he cant get very high without it of course -Lovebug actually used to have 3 roommates but they all just kinda dissapered or smth idk maybe they died -Plum is afraid of lava and theyre also a they/them lesbian god bless -all of them except buzzer and plum dont actually like rayman -Oh hades is also an adopt i got from fritz & stix is one i got from odd bless their hearts

[vulpecular-draconic]

calling myself a pocket dragon hasn’t felt quite correct recently (since a little while before this post, but it’s only really stood out to me since then) and i think i’ve figured out why. i’m still a pocket dragon, but i’m also a big dragon.

(big as in bigger than a pocket dragon. and more sapient. relative to some other dragons i’ve seen around tumblr, i’m still on the smaller side, i think.)

section one: quick little backstory

i remember being a (not pocket) dragon since i was about nine or ten. i may have had an idea of what my own species looked like, but i don’t clearly remember it if i did.

as i got older (fifteen-awakening?) i started subconsciously trying to ignore any shifts. they didn’t mesh well with my main daydream worlds, and i think i did subconsciously view it as “cringe.”

i had my first pocket dragon shift a month or two after i initially awakened as alterhuman. it was very strong, the most acute shift i’d had yet, so i assumed that the big-dragon stuff i felt in the past must’ve just… turned into a pocket dragon. (now, obviously, it’s making a resurgence.)

maybe i was suppressing it even then — i think i internalized some of the stuff i saw on the therian guide forums, and was worried that admitting i was still a big dragon would somehow mean i was wrong about being a pocket dragon.

section two: the reasons (besides phantom limbs)

me as a pocket dragon is only concerned with basic life things. i have a simple thought process. communication isn’t nuanced, sounds and movements are used to convey emotions rather than ideas. eating, sleeping, crawling in little hiding spots, and finding pretty things to look at/play with is my natural state. it’s nice. of course, it’s all filtered through my human brain and non-pocket dragon thoughts still leak in, which can be annoying or stressful. but i can feel what it’s supposed to be.

but i’ve also been having other dragon-related instincts and thoughts that don’t match that.

it’s… hard to explain, the thought side of things. there are times when i am thinking, and i am a dragon, and the thinking is definitely related to me being a dragon, yet not at all related to me being a pocket dragon. they’re completely different somehow. not just the fact that i’m more articulate, but the… color, i guess you could say? the color of the world is different. not literally, my eyes don’t literally change to see different colors. but something about my perspective or mood is not the same. it’s like the difference i observed between being a fox and being a borzoi, during my borzoi cameo shift a while back.

i also relate with the sentiments of other dragons on tumblr in ways that don’t make sense if i’m just a pocket dragon. for example, longing to fly high enough to reach the clouds — my pocket dragon species stays close to the ground, not even really flying above the trees if we can help it. (this longing to fly isn’t connected to being an avian-person either, since that ‘type [whether kin- or heart- or something else] doesn’t seem to come with instincts, just high-def limbs.)

being territorial is another one. i can tell that while it’s tied in with several of my ‘types, it’s also tied in with me being a dragon, and yet not with my pocket dragon species. things like this: things that feel distinctly dragon to me but distinctly not pocket dragon.

(i would give more examples, but i don’t know much about this bigger species compared to what i know about my pocket dragon species. in my defense i did just rediscover it after a year or three of not thinking about it much.)

conclusion

i feel i’m just repeating myself at this point, so, conclusion: calling myself just a pocket dragon doesn’t feel right. calling myself a pocket dragon and a bigger, different kind of dragon, does, because i am both.

[the-graves-family]

“I’ll be your victim” + [ MESSY ]:   things  get  steamy  while  one  or  both  muses  are  wearing  face  paint  or  makeup.

(For my bby ace)

@murdersinthemaking

Ace is really happy about being allowed to host his own costume party. And! And, and, he convinced (read, Adrian threatened without telling him) all his guards to wear costumes! Everything looks really pretty, just the way he envisioned it, and he's over the moon.

Father isn't attending, because he's very busy, and Adrian is... somewhere, but that's alright, because Jacob and the rest are here, along with all the invited guests.

It's not that big of a party, around one hundred people. Could have been bigger!

Ace is halfway greeting the guests, when he realizes someone is missing. Someone he definitely does not want to be missing. Where's Murdock? He's his favorite (but don't tell Jacob that).

(Maybe Murdock is only his favorite because he has a huge, massive, uncontrollable crush on him.)

Politely, Ace excuses himself and makes his way to where the guards had been told to get ready before the party. A nice room with lots of cushioned seats and mirrors. He avoids looking too hard at them, because even with his half-mask, he's not comfortable with his reflection.

He's going as the Phantom of the Opera! Although 'Ian had teased him and told him he'd be better off going as Christine.

Finding Murdock in the room makes him happy, and he trots forward with the intention of pulling him to the party, but stops in his tracks when he sees what the other man is doing. Make-up? Looks like fake blood. But it's not quite right.

"Are you going as a vampire?" Ace asks, watching as the man turns towards him slightly, hands still near his face. There's a moment of silence before Murdock responds. He's so cute.

"A serial killer, actually."

A serial killer? It's appropriate for Halloween, and Ace smiles.

"Where are your victims, then?" It leaves his mouth before he processes it, and immediately regrets it, because he's sure that was terribly rude, and Murdock is definitely going to be upset at him. "I, ah, I mean, I could be your victim, if you wanted?" No, he sounds desperate. What kind of question was that?

He's so embarrassed. Why can't he behave in front of his crush?

Ace clears his throat, and before Murdock can reply again, takes a few steps forward and holds out his hands. "I can help with your make-up." As an apology for being so weird.

It's only when he has the brushes and fake blood in hand, and is carefully applying it, that he realizes just how close they are. Which makes him really grateful for his own mask and make-up, because he's sure that otherwise his blush could have been seen all the way from the Moon.

There's been something between him and Murdock for a while now, but he always gets the feeling that the other man pulls away every time. Which would make sense, considering Adrian and Father are... who they are.

But this time, gloved hands cover his own before pulling him closer. Ace's heart is in his throat, warmth spreading through his limbs and chest.

"Hey, is this okay?"

Fuck. Ace chuckles almost hysterically and nods. So okay, more than okay. They are so close, and Murdock's leaning in, and he's so handsome and strong and—

Lips press against his own and Ace fuking melts. There's a buzzing under his skin that has him opening his mouth and inviting Murdock to deepen the kiss if he wants. This is a bad idea, but he doesn't care. When they pull apart, Murdock swipes at his lips with his thumb.

"You've got blood on you... my perfect victim."

[thebnha-auhoard]

Shaker Anon

YOU'VE GOT ME INVESTED NOW.

The art. The story telling. I crave more! What happened after! Does Kaminari get Electricity back?

you have something written for Izuku after?👀

Why thank you! And he might. Eventually. Not for a good while tho.

Anyways. I call this Rediscovery Of a Hoard.

Its kinda long!

Izuku Gasps awake. He slips into the kitchen for water and something with protein. He didn't know exactly why.

The recent encounter with Kasumi had left his Sensei and Kaminari shaken. And honestly. He was too. He hated Familiarity, and he hated the Implications.

He grabs some of the dinner's leftovers and silently watches it warm up.

He decides he needs a Familiar voice, he rings up his mother as he slid down by the Refrigerator.

"Hey mom"

"hey honey. What's up? You don't call this late usually."

"Events. Mom. Did I ever.... Seems weird to you as a Kid. Any weird behavior?"

"Well.... There were some, but they kinda passed after you were four."

"Can I know?"

"Of Course! You always loved warmth. And you sat way too close to the fireplace of my mother's. Scared me to death. Oh and your little Jewelry piles! Oh how you kept them so shiny, if you could keep it. You kept it."

"Mmm."

"Oh how Hisashi called you his little Dragonlet. Before he went missing he would hold you to his chest as you held his Fingers, what large hands he had compared to your tiny body.... He loved you so much"

Izuku hums. Dreading the answers

"Mom.... When did I stop?"

"Oh. Just before Katsuki got his Quirk. Why?"

"Research. Can't tell you yet. But thank you so much."

"Anything for you Izu. Get some sleep now"

So much for Sleep now. His heart pounds as he considers, it wasn't a Stretch unlike before.

His sight blurs as he hugs his knees.

He knew the Theories of Quirks affecting personality. For Nedzu's Sake! He Researched that himself! He hoarded Things. He knows that he was missing something, but it felt so much more literal.

"I had one. I had a Dragon Quirk. I felt it in Kasumi. I knew what she was going to do."

He paces. A strange itch to his neck and a pain in his bones edge his sleepy consciousness. The dull ache waking his mind more and more.

"I knew. And I was late" he growls. He grabs his phone and his jacket, needing fresh air.

Stepping out, he tries to calm his pounding heart and foggy mind.

Scratching his neck he sets off into a run under the moonlight. The pace of his feet sparking and flowing.

Missing, Null, Worthless, Quirkless. Words echo in his brain and tears flow as he goes faster.

He knows his eyes light up, he reaches that desperate ache of surpassing his limits. Black and green lightning arcing around his body like a warm embrace. One he clings to desperately.

Then he trips. He quickly rolls into a Tumble and lays on the ground. A sob escapes him, the itch worse and worse as he stares at the star filled sky.

Then the absolutely worst person to come at that time leans over him.

"What the fuck is going on Deku"

Great. Katsuki Bakugo.

"Go away"

"No"

Izuku stares and huffs, the itch getting worse. "Look. Bakugo-" a Flinch. Weird "- I am not okay and I just need you to leave me alone"

"No. Tell what the fuck is with you."

Izuku glares, a Perfect Mimicry of His Father. The lights casting his face in darkness.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that I know what it's like to be Quirkless and I can't fucking say a word to one of my Friends! The fact that I POSSIBLY HAD A QUIRK AND IT WAS USED TO MAKE A NOMU. AND SHE TOOK KAMINARIS QUIRK!? AND ACCIDENTALLY GAVE IT TO LOUD CLOUD?!" AND I PHYSICALLY FELT IT. LIKE A FUCKIN' PHANTOM LIMB.

Izuku flares his hands as he stands up. It felt good getting his anger out, especially to his main tormentor. The ache in his bones slipped away.

"Or the fact I knew in an instinctive way. That she was grabbing. That she was going to Hoard it. That I could've had that and done that to someone."

Katsuki looks pale as a white rose Izuku notes. "I-"

"don't" Izuku warns, his voice low. That damned itch coming back. Word poison on his tongue as he steps forward

"Goddamnit Deku, get your head out of your ass and suck it up" Katsuki snips and immediately Izuku sees his hands flex and spark. Unwanted memories scratching his mind.

Izuku's face darkens. The morning fog licks their feet, maybe that's what should have tipped him off.

Izuku just screams "go away!" And his back explodes. Whips of Green and Black Energy tearing at the air as he screams in both anger, Pain and everything else. The ache in his bones exploding as the whips lash. Izuku's eyes widen, his hands shake as he tries to keep them from hurting his Childhood friend/Bully.

At one point Izuku screams and for a Split second… Katsuki was Afraid of him.

The way the Whips formed into a tangled Mimicry of a Dragons wings and the whips that flow out of his childhood friend's mouth like Dragons Breath.

suddenly Izuku can't see, cold water droplets soothing his sore eyes and itchy throat. And Katsuki runs from the terror that he saw in Izuku.

A gentle calloused hand grabs his own. He knew those hands. "Cloud Sensei. It hurts. Help me it hurts" Izuku begs. Cold clouds gather on his back, as Shirokumo slowly guides him in a silent breath exercise. Izuku practically collapsed against Shirokumo, tears dripping into his shirt.

Izuku would later ask how Shirokumo knew what he needed at that time.

A sad look passes over his Sensei, like a wound that couldn't heal.

"I was once in a similar spot-" a small smile. Storm clouds lick his face. Bringing up memories and a popular theory to Izuku's mind. "-May have ended up with a Quirk Awakening as well and I would have loved someone giving me a silent hand of help instead of me getting so bad….." Shirokumo trails off. And all Izuku could do was watch as he walked away. He silently wonders what layers are yet to be seen of his teacher and his cloudy past.