#i know hypno is more than this but for me it takes the fun out of domming

[domwitch]

Thought about hypnosis? You could literally make me believe your pussy is the best thing I've ever tasted with nothing more than a word

I don't really like hypnosis bc I need the sub to choose to eat me out ya know? A big part of why I get turned on by domming is bc the man wants to submit to me and willingly does so. Hypnosis takes away their ability to say "no," which turns me off. Cuz then they're subbing bc I've hypnotized them, not bc they want to be dominated by me.

[wittlesissyb4by]

Alphabet Soup

She really could steep so low when she was angry. He wasn’t suggesting she was dumb. He was just saying he’s smarter than her. Logically, there’s gotta be one above the other in a relationship, doesn’t there??

Ryan always prided himself on his intelligence. Constantly correcting people’s grammar, inserting a fun fact, discussing philosophy at length, and the only reason people spaced out when he started relaying the Socratic method of question and answer was because they couldn’t possibly match his intellect. But, most importantly, he always had to let Wren know when she was wrong, he couldn’t have her going around embarrassing him with inaccuracies. Just the other day she said there’s “got to be a million mosquitos out tonight”, and obviously there couldn’t possibly be that much. As smart he was, he couldn’t understand why she would get so butthurt about him correcting her in front of all of their friends. 

“You treat me like I’m stupid, Ryan! All the fucking time. I’m a doctor for crying out loud! I may not know everything, but I’m not an idiot!” She was white hot, taking sharp breaths to keep her blood from overheating. “And you know what? Not that it matters or I would ever fucking care, but do you ever think maybe, just maybe, I could know a little bit more than you about certain subjects? Like, everyone has their strengths Ryan…”

She looked at him expectantly, glaring into his soul, could he just admit he was wrong about something for once? Ryan could have kept himself from smiling–if he was just a smidge less smug. “I’m sorry, but in the years we’ve been dating, I just haven’t found something you’re smarter than me at. And if you really believe in hypnosis, you may be dumber than I thought…”

Steam erupted from Wren’s ears.

“Jesus, you are the most arrogant asshole I have ever met!”

“What??” Ryan scoffed exaggeratedly, throwing up his hands as Wren stormed off, “I’m just saying that that hypno bullshit is a bunch of crap! I don’t care how many so called ‘studies’ you try to show me! There’s no way you could possibly think that works!!”

Wren stopped in her tracks, clenching her fists. She wanted to just go into the room, slam the door, and make him sleep on the fucking couch, but she just couldn’t let him win this one. She couldn’t let him even think he had her beat, even if it was just in his own fucked up head. 

Letting out a hefty sigh to maintain her composure, she pivoted on her heels. “How about this…” She said through gritted teeth, “you think you’re sooo smart? Well we’ll see. I’ll bet you that in one month, I can drop your IQ down to less than 20.”

Ryan had no choice but to absolutely guffaw at the proposition. “Are you kidding? Twenty?! Wren, my IQ is at least 140, no way you could actually lower it. Much less by that much! I mean, Twenty?! That’s like, the average IQ of a todd–”

“Do we have a deal or not?!” Wren interrupted with rolling eyes.

“Well you haven’t set the stakes, young lass.” He said with a swaggering smirk, “What do I get if I win?” Ryan replied, crossing his arms.

It was Wren’s turn to scoff. “Pshh, I really don’t care…cause you’re not going to win. Name your prize.”

“Blowjob.” Ryan said almost without a thought, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even gotten one. He had no idea why.

“Fine.” Wren said without even blinking.

“Every day.”

“Sweetie,” she said, softening her tone as she brushed a hand to his cheek, bringing her face so close that he could feel her breath on his lips, then let out a whisper, “If you can maintain an IQ above 50, I’ll give you three of them! Every day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Ryan laughed, unable to find this preposterous notion any more amusing. “You’re really that confident?”

“If you agree to my methods without putting up a fuss? Yes. I absolutely am. I bet I can make you so stupid in just a month that you won’t even remember the fucking alphabet by the time I’m done with you!””

Ryan grinned from ear to ear. This was going to be the easiest bet of his life. His balls would never be full. 

“You’re on.”

******

Ryan scoffed at the patronizing nature of it. Was she really going to make him use his left hand?

“You have to color while you listen to the tape.” Wren told him when she placed a crayon in his hand. She sat him down ‘criss-cross applesauce’ in front of a little table with a coloring book on it. Wren flipped it open to the first page, which had a big letter ‘A’ on it. 

“Now Ry-Ry, can you tell me what letter this is?” She asked in a sardonic tone. 

“It’s an A.” Ryan grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

“And can you tell me what ‘A’ stands for?”

“Apple, asparagus, aardvark, apostesism…”

“Very good, Ry-Ry!!” She clapped mockingly, pulling out a large set of headphones. “Now you just sit here and color your wittle pages while you listen to this lovely music! I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours…”

“Hours??” Ryan repeated incredulously. Was she really going to make him sit and do a fucking coloring book for that long? There were much better things he could be doing with his time. But he had to play her game. A bet was a bet, and he planned to prove her wrong. 

She tapped something on her phone and the music kicked on shortly after. Much to Ryan’s chagrin, it wasn’t even good mysic like Bach or Tchaikovsky or even Tame Impala, it was some nursery lullaby bullshit, but with a weird reverb effect added to it. He could also hear faint little voices in the background, but they were too drowned out by the other noises for him to discern what they were saying. He could only pick out certain words like ‘baybee’ and ‘diapers’ and ‘poo poo’s”, which made sense, because it was nursery rhymes. 

He found himself zoning out, but that was just from the sheer boredom of it all. He was better than this. He’d submitted dissertations on complex epigenetic interactions of the human genome, and now he was just coloring the letter A a hundred times over. 

How was she going to make hom forget the alphabet if she was ‘teaching’ them to him? Maybe she was just exaggerating, it’s literally impossible to forget something that’s been embedded in his brain since before school even started. 

After what felt like an eternity, she finally came over and tapped him on the shoulder, removing the headphones. His mind was a little hazy, but again, it was probably just from the lack of any complex thought for the first time in his life. She shooed him and allowed him to resume his more age-appropriate activities. 

*****

The next day went much like the first, except instead of ‘A’, he was doing the letter ‘B’. 

“Boredom, beneath, balderdash.” Ryan sighed, listing off words to convey how ridiculous this whole thing was. 

“And…” Wren said, placing something down on the table next to the Crayons. “ Bottle.”

Ryan chuckled heartily. It was an actual bottle. A baby bottle, with a little nipple and everything. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do you give up?”

“No.” Ryan said quickly, “but i’m not drinking…whatever that is. Especially not out of that!”

Wren just shrugged. “You don’t have to, but it’s there if you get hungry.”

She put the headphones over his ears once more, clicked them on, and left the room. 

Ryan was already over this whole thing, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of quitting. He swirled the blue crayon through the loops of the big B’s while the music played. The little voices seemed to be louder this time, but it still wasn’t worth paying attention to. 

About halfway through his 4 hour session though, Ryan’s mouth felt a bit dry. Something at the back of his throat was pulsing. His cheeks felt empty.  For whatever reason, he needed to have something in there. 

At first he bit his nails. That was nice, for a little. But that soon turned to his finger tip, and eventually his whole thumb. 

After another hour of suckling his fingers, he looked to the bottle. He was hungry, and Wren refused to give him cheerios and goldfish like she did yesterday. 

He picked up the bottle, pressing the rubber nipple to his lips. Jesus that felt good! He gave a little suckle, then another, then gagged. The liquid wasn’t milk, it was…something else. It tasted awful. But he couldn’t stop drinking. The nipple felt too good in his mouth, it was worth putting up with the disgusting flavor. 

He finished every last drop. 

Wren had to practically pry the bottle from his hands when it was time to remove his headphones. Ryan couldn’t explain why he was so attached to it all of a sudden. Why was he getting so angry and flustered over such a silly thing?

Thankfully, Wren had an alternative ready, another ‘B’ word:

Binky. 

******

Ryan sucked on it the whole night. His cheeks ached in the morning, but luckily a fresh bottle helped to ease the pain. 

His brain felt fuzzy, but it was probably because he didn’t sleep that well. He was too busy worrying about the binky possibly falling out of his mouth while he slept. 

The lack of sleep was also why he couldn’t think of complicated ‘C’ words. He could only come up with ‘Car’, Cat, and whatever the word is for the thing you put water and juice in. 

Luckily, after his hypno session, Wren had the perfect thing to help him sleep better: a Crib. 

******

Something happened that night. Maybe his bottle leaked, or maybe it was the ceiling. But when he rolled over from his cramped position in the undersized crib, the sheets were warm and wet. 

Wren assured him that this happens all the time but, just in case, she had something for him to wear. 

Ryan threw an absolute fit when he saw what it was. She was holding up a big giant diaper. 

He tried to tell her off, but his mind was too foggy to form a coherent argument. He really wasn’t sleeping well. 

Still, he tried to fight her when she took his hands and laid him down, but his arms and legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate. It felt like he was moving through molasses. 

She had him on his back. He stared at the clouds on the ceiling. Were those always there? Or was that just his vision? No, they had to be new. His whole room was starting to look different. Another large cloud floated into view. But it wasn’t a cloud, it was a diaper. 

His mind was back. She wanted him to wear a diaper. Absolutely not! This was perposter— prepos—perslweterous. 

“D’awww!! Don’t be scared!!” Wren cooed, it sounded like angels singing. “It’s just a wittle diapurr!! You’ll get used to them!”

Ryan felt something screaming inside him. Something deep down. But then Wren said “look! It has the ABC’s printed on it!” And that made him feel better. He recognized those letters, even though he couldn’t think of much else. 

But the padding felt weird when she slid it underneath him. Not bad. Just…weird. Different. Like something wasn’t right. 

He started squirming on the floor, flailing as much as he could, but even in his foggy vision he could see that his arms were only making minor twitches. 

So he did the only thing he knew he could do: he started crying. C-c-Crying. That starts with a C! He knew that for sure. He was so smart. 

He felt the tears slide down his face, one after another. He could hear his wails, could hear how ridiculous it sounded, but he didn’t want to stop. That is, until something rubbery entered his mouth. Then he immediately stopped crying, and felt instantly better. 

He suckled the binky while Wren made a cloud of powder between his legs. He watched as she pulled the diaper up and taped it on. It was hard for him to explain—especially now—but he felt this amazing sense of comfort once it was on. He really liked it. Which may be why something warm and sticky formed inside the diaper almost immediately. 

He spent the rest of the day coloring in ‘D’s’ while wearing his diaper. 

A few times he had to get up to use the restroom, but Wren insisted the headphones needed to stay on, even if his diaper was down. A very agitating song played the entire time he was on the toilet, and the words that the voices used were not very nice. It made him feel bad, very bad, almost guilty for doing something so silly as using the potty. 

Ryan didn’t get a bottle that night, just some chicken nuggets that Wren had taken the liberty of cutting into tiny pieces for him. 

When he was done, she took him by the hand to his new room. He didn’t know why, he didn’t need her help, but without her he probably would have gotten lost. Not because he was dumb, but because he just wasn’t used to sleeping in the guest room. 

Wren stopped in front of his new crib, making a show of checking his diaper. Another absurd display, just because he was playing her little game and wearing this stupid garment didn’t mean he would actually use it. So when she was finally satisfied that every square centimeter was not wet or ‘messy’, he climbed into the crib. 

When he laid back on the plastic mattress, he noticed there was a new mobile hanging above him. It had little geometric shapes and symbols that he didn’t feel like naming right now because he was tired, he could definitely do it if he wanted to though!

She placed his binky in his mouth and he gratefully accepted it, he was terrified of having to spend the night without something in his mouth.

Wren clicked a little button and the dangling shapes on the mobile started to spin. It was mesmerizing, even more so because it played a happy little tune from the speakers. The very same tune that played through his headphones earlier that day.

 ******

Ryan’s diaper was plump and swollen the next morning. His mind wasn’t as fuzzy, so he must have finally gotten a good night's sleep. 

Wait, his brain said, finally catching on to what was happening. He was in a diaper, and he’d wet it. Several times by the feel of it. 

Wren was smiling when she came through the door, even though Ryan was spewing vitriol. The words were coming easier to him again, but so was the gravity of his situation. Had she really been making him wear diapers and drink from bottles??

Wren continued to smile like a mother letting her little one get his tantrum out. Ryan hung over the bars of the crib, he was too scared to climb out himself, but he wasn’t scared to call Wren all sorts of names. 

After almost a minute of Ryan’s blabbering, Wren had had enough. She clicked a button on her phone which made the little mobile over Ryan’s bed start whirring again. Playing that tune that Ryan was really starting to grow attached to. 

Suddenly, Ryan didn’t even feel like calling Wren a bitch any more. He wasn’t even sure what that meant. Instead, he let out a hefty sigh, and brought his thumb to his mouth. He couldn’t find his pacifier. 

“How’s your diaper, little one? Did somewon have an uh oh’s last night?”

Even though Ryan was calm, he still felt this combative stirring rising from his chest. Something was wrong. He knew he wasn’t supposed to wear diapers. He knew he was too old for them. And he definitely knew he wasn’t supposed to pee in them. He shook his head ‘no’ in an exaggerated fashion. 

“No? You didn’t have an accident?” Wren tisked, squeezing the saturated padding, “what is this then?”

Ryan could feel shame welling up inside him. He was a grown man and he’d pissed inside a pair of pampers. He couldn’t even remember doing it. It was all while he was asleep, while those stupid songs were playing. He would do better. This would never happen again. She might have had an upper hand on him, getting him to agree to the diapers and cutesy shit, but he was not about to—wait. Was that a bottle??

He made grabby hands at the little container of off-white liquid, practically spilling some when he snatched it away from her. 

She let the bars of the crib down, allowing him to clamber out, rubber nipple not leaving his mouth. He would have walked, but he felt it was easier to scooch around on his knees.

About halfway through the liquid, Ryan felt something stirring in his tummy. 

“What is it, dear?” Wren asked sweetly, placing her hands on her knees while she smiled down at him. 

“I have to go potty.” Ryan said, unsure why he said it like that. 

“Oh?” Wren asked, looking overly surprised, “is it #1 or #2?”

Ryan couldn’t understand why she was talking about numbers right now. Wren giggled at what must have been a perplexed look. 

“Do you have to go pee pee or poo poo?” She clarified. 

“Poo poo.” Ryan said, feeling his face flush. Something told him this was a weird conversation with a little too much information, but he brushed that away. 

“D’aww! You need to make poopies?!” Wren exclaimed exaggeratedly, “well you don’t wanna have to go all the way to the bathroom do you? It’s a pretty long way…”

She was right. It was a long way, and his legs did feel tired…

“Hmmm…mayybee…” she said, deep in thought, tapping her chin, “maybe you could just use your diaper?”

The very thought was revolting. She wanted him to make a stinky poo’s all over himself? “Na uh! No way!” 

She dangled the binky in front of his face, “I'll give you a little present if you make a present for Mommy!”

Ryan immediately agreed, and he got to suck on his binky the entire time he was crouching down, pushing a warm load of mush into his pampers. 

Wren was so proud of him. She clapped and cheered and giggled uncontrollably, even while she pinched her nose and teased him about the smell. 

But with the warmth came a deep sense of displeasure. Disgust. A part of Ryan’s brain was ridiculing him for what he just did. The words were coming back to him now. 

“You’re doing something to me!” Ryan shouted. He knew it was wrong. Something was happening to him, he couldn’t figure out what, but he knew that the normal him wouldn’t like it! “Stop all this right now! Whatever it is you’re doing isn’t fair! You’ve got me shitting myself! I’m not doing this anymore! I’m not gonna—“

“Shhh…” Wren smiled, placing a hand to his droopy diaper. “Don’t be sad!” She whispered softly. Her voice was like honey, l angelic, the greatest sound in the whole world. “I’m your Mommy, remember? I’m right here.”

Ryan could feel his anger and shame evaporating from his body. 

“Do you want me to stop all of this?” She asked, rubbing her palm against the bulge of his diaper. “Do you want me to take your binky away?”

Ryan’s eyes immediately went wide. Why would she even say such a thing? Why would she need to take his binky??

“Nooo you don’t want that do you?”

Ryan heard himself whimpering, felt his head shaking. 

“And what about your diapers? Do you not like your diapers?”

No. He didn’t like them at all. They were sweaty and itchy, but they were also sooo soft…

“Do you think you should stop wearing them?”

His head moved up and down. 

“But what if you have another accident? What if you wet the bed again? That would be really embarrassing, wouldn’t it?”

It would. She was right. It would be embarrassing. 

“But if you wear a diaper you don’t have to worry about that do you? All your messes go in there! You don’t even have to walk all the way to the potty! You can use them any time, anywhere!”

She was making such good points. She always made good points. She really was so smart. 

Still, some weird logical part of his brain was firing again. 

“But I’m a big boy!” Ryan whined around his binky. 

“Oh?” Wren asked, shaken. “Do…big boys have accidents?”

Another great point. 

“And big boys surely wouldn’t use diapers, even on purpose!” Wren said, turning into a very scary tone. “But what did you just do, Ry-Ry?”

Ryan’s face flushed. “I pooped them.”

“You did what?”

“I made poo-poo’s…” he could feel the tears welling up again. He wasn’t even sure why. All of this was so confusing. 

“Awww! Don’t be sad!” Wren cooed, switching to that heavenly tone once more, “good baybees use their diapurrs all the time! Like you just did!!”

Ryan smiled, a flood of warmth seeped through his chest, and maybe also into his diaper as well. 

“And baybees that are good get to make a different type of mess, too!”

Ryan wasn’t sure what that meant, but Wren started rubbing the front of his diaper, squeezing it, massaging it, and that felt really good. 

“Tell me you’re a good baybee!” She said, rubbing faster. 

“I’m a good baybee!” Ryan squeaked. 

“Tell me what you did in your diaper.”

“I made pee pee’s and poo poo’s”

“Do you like making messies in your diapurrs?”

“Yes”

“Yes Mommy.” She corrected.

“Yes Mommy!”

“Which do you like to use better? The pampers? Or the potty?”

“The potty.”

She stopped rubbing. 

Panic coursed through Ryan’s veins. He was so close!

“Pampers!!” He corrected, “I prefer peeing and pooping pampers!!”

The rubbing started again. 

“Every time you poop your pampers, Mommy will give you a reward!” She said. 

Ryan nodded, moaning and groaning while Wren rubbed his defiled diaper. It felt so wrong, so disgusting, but he couldn’t stop her. He couldn’t tell her no, because it also felt so good!

It felt even better when he started spasming, and another warm load leaked into the padding. 

Wren patted his padded butt. “Such a good baybee!”

Even with her kind words, a huge rush of shame hit Ryan in the face. His horniness was gone, the haze was lifting, his complex thoughts were coming back, and so was his attention to this disgusting diaper! 

“Wren what the fuck are you doing to—“

But he couldn’t hear himself say the rest, because the headphones were back on his ears, and that lovely tune was playing again. His mind melted away, but before it did he could see her place the book in front of him again, a giant letter ‘E’ emblazoned across the page. 

“You just stay right here and finish your coloring” Wren said, even though he probably couldn’t hear her. He was laying down flat on his tummy, swishing back and forth in his pissy, poopy pamper, smiling and humming the little tune to himself.  “I’ll be back in a few hours to change your diaper.” She continued, patting him on the bottom, “Then we’re going to learn a new ‘E’ word: Enema!”

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

21 Letters to go! What else could be in store for little Ry-Ry? This is one of my favorite stories I've ever done, so if you would like to read the rest, head on over to SubStar! It's available for all tiers! Credit goes to @dj-kinkster for his help and ideas on making this story a reality!

[dr-spectre]

Hello everyone, I got some announcements to share and some plans for the future of this blog now that the Grand Fest is over and the news drought begins.

(LONG POST AHEAD!!!!)

I think going forward I'm gonna change how I approach myself acting online and be less "OH MY GOD HOLY SHITENWIOEDISIWIEOE GUYYS!!!"

Because to be honest with you all... I've been feeling very self conscious about the way that I've been acting online and I feel like I gotta channel my passion for Splatoon in a much more healthy and less EXTREMEEEEE way.

I am aware that um.... people have blocked me... and you know, that's to be expected of course when you are online and you're slowly building a following. Still really stings, though, and I think it's due to the fact that sometimes I can be sorta- "This is what happened, and if you disagree with me, you're an idiot and you're wrong!!!!!" When I make posts. And I don't wanna do that, and I don't want to come off as a gatekeeping fan that thinks lower of other people who might not know my stances very well. I wanna educate people and present my stuff as more of "Hey guys, this is what I think actually happened in this event. Feel free to take a look! I think this is really cool and I wonder what you guys think of this perspective that i have?"

And sometimes I can be pretty loud mouthed and stuff and I have talked shit towards certain characters. I remember one time I made a post where I said "what the fuck is wrong with Marie?" And said some stuff... I probably rubbed a lot of people the wrong way with that post... and other posts. I'm so sorry if I have made some of you upset in the past or have said some awful things about your favourite characters in the series...

As you guys probably know, I am passionate about Hypno Callie and I have very strong stances and opinions on her. And that leads to me get a bit... out of control. Callie is my biggest comfort character and to see certain people try and push this vile and disgusting event that happened to her... that she was kidnapped by Octavio and the Octarians when she was alone, and that he brainwashed her and forcibly put the shades on her, or he tricked her and he removed her memories too...

and I try to see the same event in a completely different lens... I see it as more of Octavio manipulating her in a more subtle way and due to Callie's poor mental state and desperation, she heard him out. Octavio used the shades as a way to control her more easily but he doesnt have full direct control over her because her influence helped motivate the Octarians. Octavio still wanted Callie to be... well... Callie. Plus, Callie was more than willing to help the Octarians as well, as she thinks they are cute. I do have evidence to back it up as well as articles and definitions explaining how hypnosis actually works and its limitations.

But this perspective gets compromised and put into question in my head when people keep pushing and pushing and PUSHING the other thing. Then it feels like I have to yell and get mad.... I've seen it as recently as when Blushing Tide came out and I looked at the YouTube comment section on one of the uploads and I just kept seeing people say "oh it's like Tidal Rush but without the brainwashing" or some shit like that idk. I dont remember it well but i know I saw the word floating around. (Don't look at YouTube comment sections. You won't get anything of value from them.)

Anyways, I also wanna cut back on swearing too because sometimes I border on being a hazbin hotel character and I DO NOT want myself to get to that level LMAO!

So what shall I be doing now that Splatoon 3 is officially wrapped up? Well... I wanna do more creative projects and fun stuff like that. I got good reception from my haikus for the Grand Fest and I think doing more stuff like that sounds really really fun!!! And it might actually give me a reason to finish stuff as well lol...

Like I have a God damn Splatoon 2 hero mode finale rewrite that's nearly done and it's been sitting on my Google docs since JULY!!!! I have also made plans to do a fan sequel to the Squid Sisters Stories that takes place in between Splatoon 2 and 3 because that time frame for the Squid Sisters has been barely touched upon. I'm also doing a personal project where it's basically what I want to see out of a Splatoon 4 and I've been really enjoying making that. I dont know if I would ever share it but... it's something to do for me at least.

I also wanna involve myself in the community more, I received an ask where someone said (I forgot who asked I'm so sorry) if I could do a thing where I receive Splatoon OCs and critique them. That sounds really fun!!!

Maybe i can do photo mode competitions or showcases!!! Where I choose a theme (Callie, water, Splatsville, etc) and people submit their photos and I critique them and showcase them to everyone!!! Does that sound like something people would be interested in?! I would love to know as virtual photography is a hobby I love to partake in and I wanna encourage more people to try it!

There is also other stuff i can do like going over the Idols outfits and rating them, but I don't have the motivation to do that at the moment and I know it's not gonna be as in-depth as the one I did for Callie.

Anyhow, that's basically what I have so far. I think im gonna slow down on posting and I'm gonna chill out. Or at least I'll try to chill out.

I've just been feeling incredibly guilty and kinda... sad that I've been acting in a certain way for a while. And I really wanna change that. I dont like making people upset and I don't wanna be the kind of Splatoon fan that puts down others who don't even know any better and don't know who I am....

But enough being sad, I wanna focus on the present and make sure that my future on here is bright!!!

[crissiebaby]

A Steady Stream

“Hey guys! It’s SleepyLunaHypno, back again with another Lil’ Luna stream!” said hypnosis streamer, Luna Hideri, kneeling on the floor and waving to the eyeball-shaped camera perched on the edge of their computer desk. Their heart raced as their heels sank into their padded rear, never letting them forget the fact they were currently double-diapered; a necessity considering what they were planning. “So, for tonight’s stream, we’re going to do something a little different.”

Sitting before a pair of earmuff headphones, Luna became flushed with arousal as they lifted them up and presented them for their viewers to gawk at; the spiral-painted sides filling their hypno-loving brain with horny thoughts. “Those who’ve been keeping up with me on Xwitter know I’ve been hard at work on a special secret project,” they said, increasing anticipation and viewership simultaneously. In real life, they were a shy fox who actively avoided others. But here, in the safety of their room with thousands of horny people watching their every move, they felt like a Goddess. Slipping the headphones over their ears, a lustful smirk curled across the kitsune’s face as they continued their opening monologue. “For the past two months, I’ve been hypnotizing myself Pavlov-style by listening to a pinging noise whenever I wet my diaper. And tonight, you’re going to help me test my progress.”

Unsurprisingly, the chat for Luna’s stream instantly blew up over the lascivious news, causing their watcher numbers to excel past their previous highs well before the fun had even started. This was definitely going to be their best stream yet. “Hehe! Happy to see everyone is as excited as I am!” they said, their tail wagging eagerly at the camera. “Each dollar given to my steam equals one ping in my headphones. I wonder how long it’ll take before I’m leaki–”

PING!

“W-Woah!” stuttered Luna, already receiving their first donation before they could finish their introduction. After weeks of dedicating themself through Pavlovian conditioning, part of them found it hard to believe a simple sound could cause them to lose all control. However, Mr. Ivan Pavlov’s classical hypothesis turned out to be resoundingly correct as urine gushed into the base of their inner diaper. “Holy crap! I-I actually did it! I’m really wetting myself!” Their libido was sent spiraling out of control as they fruitlessly rebelled against their body’s natural impulses.

PING! PING! PING! PING! PING!

Without warning, a large influx of monotonous dings impacted Luna’s eardrums, resulting in the grasp on their potty training further slipping away. “Oooh!” they moaned as they continued to piss themself silly with a seemingly endless amount of fluid. Stretching their neck upward to see their monitor, their eyes went wide with fear and fervor over the three-digit total they’d already amassed. Perhaps charging more than $1 per ping would’ve been wise. “I d-don’t think two diapers is gonna be enough…”

💜 Artwork By CodiBaby 💜 💕 Story By CrissieBaby 💕 💛 Commissioned By SleepyLunaHypno 💛

SubscribeStar: subscribestar.adult/crissiebaby pixivFANBOX: crissiebaby.fanbox.cc All CB Links: linktr.ee/crissiebaby

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

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlushyBen DD JFN Nike Pansy Jason Sissikins PrincessKittenLizzi Rosie Princess SissyDina Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca Tony & Two Anonymous Investors

[diamondthehypnohornydom]

Hypnotic language ahead, prepare to drop for me

Suggestions to send me asks talking about your fantasies and memory play

You clicked that so fast, such a Good Girl for me. Scrolling tumblr horny as ever, looking to be dropped into trance by some random guy online, being made submissive and to be used as porn, most likely at least, but there are also some of you that like to stay hidden, that scroll tumblr anonymously and let themselves drop to all of these amazing inductions but don’t interact. This is for you no matter which category you fall into. You’re going to have some fun

Just take a nice deep breath in, easy peasy, but as you inhale and exhale, you’ll find your mind becoming foggier and foggier. You feel yourself keep trying to take deeper breaths to clear it but it keeps getting worse, as you keep taking in these big gulps of air your eyes focus themselves on my words effortlessly and your body starts to relax

Feeling this fog spread to the far corners of your mind, blanketing it completely as you just

Drop

Dropping down into trance as you go back to breathing normally, instead filling you with pleasure, bringing in pleasure and obedience, letting out any resistance you may have in you because you’re safe, comfortable, and relaxed

It’s like being wrapped in a warm hug as my words make their way through your mind effortlessly. You’re being such a good toy for me.

Now comes the easy part, when I bring you back up, you’re going to message me your biggest hypno fantasy, if you want me to post about it, send an ask instead, and if you want to keep it anonymous, send it anonymously. It’s as easy as that, you’ll feel so horny thinking about it

Even now, knowing what you’re about to do, you can feel yourself getting more and more aroused as part of your brain thinks about all of your favorite fantasies, everything you want done to you.

And now for the best part, you aren’t going to remember what you sent me until I respond to it, then your memories will flood back in reminding you what you did and when that happens, you’ll become even more aroused than you are right now.

I’m sure you can do that for me, you’re so obedient and horny already, might as well put it to use.

It’s as simple as that, so now it’s time for you to make your way back up in

3, closer to the surface

2, being able to see and your eyes darting around a bit

1, almost there, stretching for a brief moment to finish bringing yourself up

0, wide awake and feeling horny, messaging me or sending me an ask automatically before forgetting

I hope you enjoyed the quick trance, remember to repost it so others can enjoy it too and follow me for more

[xjulixred45x]

OKAY, I know I should work on the requests but I recently discovered the story of the game HADES and as a Greek mythology nerd that I am, I became obsessed, so I ask you to imagine this scenario that unfortunately I have not seen anywhere:

Platonic Yandere Zagreus+ Reader x son! reader

let me explain myself.

Imagine that we are between Hades 1 and Hades 2, where everything seems to be going well for Zagreus and his partner, both living in the Underworld and occasionally visiting the surface, but paying attention to their duties in general.

then they have a son! reader. Their pride and joy.

Zagreus probably thought that it would be difficult to have children without any kind of divine intervention, so seeing that his son was born alive by himself was a great relief and even pride, because it meant that he probably wouldn't have the same problem as his father, he would be freer than him.

son!reader ends up being a child who is super spoiled by his parents thanks to this, filled with affection not only from them, but from the vast majority of the beings in the Underworld, Achilles being a kind of Fun Uncle, Meg a cool teacher, Thanatos and Hypnos second father figures, etc.

even HADES loved this child.

the only problem that son! reader has is that, like his father and mother, he was very curious and stubborn. which led to the incident before he reached puberty.

It was an occasion where Zagreus and Reader were away due to a hasty visit to the surface, so son! Reader, like every child, did what he was told not to do:

get off the safe path.

From then on son! reader can die however you prefer, perhaps by the Hydra, by one of the enemies on the upper levels, by the river Styx, but my favorite excuse is that he found where the titans were and fell from the shock, dying instantly ( drawing a parallel with mythological Zagreus).

And when Zagreus and his partner find out? God, to say that they are devastated would be an understatement for their pain.

Everyone is hurt and sad about what happened, everything feels so silent now, heavy, empty...

to the point that the prayers of the beings of the Underworld reach the ears of Zeus, who in a certain way feels sorry for his brother for having lost a grandson and Zagreus for his son, who decides to apply Dionysus's typenof move, that is, leave the heart of the child in the womb of a human woman.

Zagreus is difficult to convince, he wants Zeus to do this directly with the reader, but if this is the only alternative, he will accept it. More when the mental health of both has also been seriously affected by this(Zagreus having mutilation and Self harm tendencies bc of grief and incapility of die? yep, although he'll probably be very worried if reader starts to seem like them too.)

And so the agonizing wait begins, the weeks go by, the months go by, and Zagreus and the reader are increasingly anxious and impatient. more distressed with a new day of silence at home, with each day of inactivity, with each hour that their child's room is empty...

But the wait pays off, when Zeus gives them the news that the time has finally come for them to go look for their son.

Zagreus takes off at full speed, with various bonuses given by people like Thanatos, Charon, some Olympians, hell, even his father goes easy on him.

and he begins to search quickly with the little time he has on the surface for his son, being guided by Zeus to where his son was.

When Zagreus was beginning to weaken and felt that he had come in vain, he heard it. a laugh, a small voice that he hadn't heard in a long time.

His son...alive again...

Here things are separated a little. two different scenarios.

1: SON! READER REMEMBER HIS LIFE LIKE GOD

This case is the fluffiest of all and definitely the least yandere.

when son!reader sees Zagreus he's running out to meet him, melting the godling's heart, relieved that his son is not only back in body, but in spirit.

They both return to the Underworld and receive them all with great joy, they ruffle the child's hair, give him gifts, Dionysius may even throw a party in honor of his return.

but it doesn't mean there isn't Yandere stuff.

Zagreus becomes incredibly overprotective of son! reader, to a disturbing degree, now practically does not leave him alone. the same with reader. If he is not with one, he is with another.

they make son! reader accompanies them everywhere and can only play with their supervision, only them, not anyone else. because the previous one was very effective last time.

I think the reader would use the death of son! reader like an auk to keep him fearful and thus avoid another incident. in general both being very obsessive with this new opportunity to have their son back.

Although it's not so bad, Zagreus and the reader continue to bombard him with love and affection, bringing him gifts, reading to him or telling him legends, even now they take him to the surface with them! It is within the scope of a happy ending, they could overcome their unhealthy tendencies over time...I hope.

The only way in this scenario for both of them to become yandere as is is if some person on the surface is "badly influencing" son! reader to be more independent or worse, go to the battlefield.

There Zagreus will directly get rid of said influence with the help of Thanatos.

Now, the most intense and interesting scenario.

2: SON! READER DOES NOT REMEMBER ANYTHING ABOUT HIS LIFE AS ZAGREUS'S AND READER'S SON

Imagine that you are an apparently normal child with some strange characteristics (like maybe red feet or heterochromia), living peacefully with your parents that you have known all your life as a mortal... and FROM NOWHERE the fucking GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD comes to tell you who you are HIS child and not of your PARENTS....

practically this reader.

Zagreus would believe that after having spent so much time among mortals his son has forgotten his true lineage and even finds his innocence cute with the whole thing, but they must return to their TRUE home as soon as possible.

Since he is a god, A SON OF HADES, even if the reader's parents love him, they cannot fight for him, so they give him to Zagreus.

Zagreus is overjoyed with this, reader is so confused.

because after all he does NOT know these people, he does not know this supposed father who ripped him away from his birth family, he does not know his supposed mother who greets him with tears in her eyes when they arrive at the damn Underworld.

He doesn't know any of the gods who welcome him warmly, who ruffle his hair, who call him cute nicknames, who seem to have known him all his life when they don't.

reader is feeling like some kind of glorified pet. an empty replacement. This is not his house, his HOME.

while Zagreus and reader think that their son must be feeling very shocked by all the information and come home that they simply shower him with more love. much to the child's displeasure.

If the reader continues to insist that he doesn't really remember them, Zagreus will probably dismiss it as something temporary, which is simply the adjustment after an event as traumatic as dying (he gets it, seriously! he dies every now and then, but he doesn't want to think about on what it must have been like for his son).

while reader will try with Thanatos to make him remember things from the past, show him family photos and portraits that they made before the tragedy, his room, his old toys and stories behind them. all with so much love that the reader feels uncomfortable, as if he were usurping the place of their true son.

I think the reader would be especially uncomfortable if mom!reader were also a goddess, he feels VERY intimidated by both of them, but when they show this very...vulnerable and loving side...he doesn't know what to think.

In this scenario, both Zagreus and reader are more overtly manipulative and yandere. Zagreus can use his thousands of failed attempts to try to get out of the underworld on his own so that reader doesn't even think about doing so, while reader uses the reader's death as a way to guilt trip him so he doesn't leave them.

The reader feels bad for them and their son, but is very afraid of them. More after seeing Zagreus angry.

At first they would see Reader's attempts to escape as something "cute" thinking that he was "imitating young Zagreus" and was not serious. Of course, if he ran into a shade, Zagreus would appear and take him home. simply a game.

But when they were lost for long periods of time, they had a panic attack thinking that the accident had happened again. and when Zagreus found the reader, on a higher level and with scratches, he was furious, almost killing all the beings on that level.

It was enough to solidify the reader's decision to want to leave. This man was not only terrifying, he was dangerous.

I think that in this case there would be characters like Meg, Patroclus, Odysseus, even Thanatos himself who realize the reader's discomfort around his "parents" and even become his only allies in his escape attempts.

but because they isolate him so much, so much to the point that he can only leave the house of Hades if it is with them, no one else, and they see the desire to RUN in his face. They feel compassion for him.

This is how a new story in Hades begins. As a reader you will have to face many powerful deities, shadows, and more to escape not only from the Underworld, but from your delirious new family.

but Zagreus would not be himself if he were not stubborn and persistent . I wouldn't let him run and escape easily. not this time.

Could reader do it? let the game begin.

Shares, reglogs and comments are very welcome!

What can i Say? I'm obsessed over games i will NEVER get to play :,) but at least i'll try to see gameplays.

[romirola]

For the first time since February 2020, I am sick. 🤒 As a distraction, I thought I'd share a bit of my current WIP. Under a cut because the full fic will be rated E for my typical brand of soft-smut. 18+ only, please!

I'm thinking this fic will be multiple chapters, and I always take the opportunity to remind people that I'm a SLOW writer. I don't start posting on AO3 until the story is drafted in full. It'll be awhile before this one gets to that stage, but oh, it has been a lot of fun to imagine so far.

“You’ve got a hypno-kink,” Milo repeated, giving a thoughtful nod. “So, what do we do about that?”

When Sweetheart had volunteered that information about themselves, Milo was shocked, to say the least. But he knew he needed to be strategic. One wrong move could make them retreat back into their defensive shell.

“I…” Sweetheart grimaced, feeling woefully unprepared for the conversation. “I don’t know,” they answered. “I thought you would think it was weird or something. I didn’t tell you to pressure you into it or anything like that. I’d never, ever want that.” Their hand found Milo’s under the covers and squeezed, the pulse matching the beat of the subtle song their core always sang when they were together. “I just thought you should know. Because I want you to know all of me, and that’s something about me.”

But Milo wanted more than just understanding. Much more. Understanding was a great start, but nowhere near the finish line he had in mind.

He eventually convinced Sweetheart to tell him all about their fantasies involving hypnosis that the stealth had spent far too long pretending were nonexistent or, at the very least, irrelevant. As they delved more into the topic, Milo began to connect the dots. It certainly was in character with Sweetheart. After all, time had shown that Sweetheart was something of a soft dom, which was a preference Milo knew quite well, being one himself. Still, the pair had never gotten caught up with rigid labels or limiting roles. They were way more focused on each other, frankly, and the love between them, to be concerned with trivial things like that. When their nights did veer more towards defined dynamics, however, both Milo and Sweetheart were content to trust each other to discover how to let things play out. It was a system that worked very, very well.

(some other stuff)

Slowly, and with constant prompting from Milo, Sweetheart had revealed more details about what drew them towards hypnotism.

“I like the idea of giving that kind of deep relaxation and guidance, to make you feel good. Accessing that control in a way that helps take away whatever might be holding you back— anxiety, insecurity, worry, whatever. And being in a position to do that for you…” Sweetheart’s thick eyebrows bounced twice. “I like the thought of that a lot. A lot a lot.”

In his quest to understand, Milo continued to press them for more details.

“Me being in the hypnotist's role,” Sweetheart declared with certainty when Milo asked them for more explanation. “And just to be clear, no, not in like a ‘I'll make you do things you don't want to do because I like power and control.’ Like a supervillain or something. Not at all like that.” Sweetheart swiped their flat palm across the air to emphasize their point. “For me, it's more about supporting you so you can do what you want to do and experience it in a really clear, pure way. Giving you that opportunity to just listen, to just be, to not even have to think, only feel. Maybe it’d take shape as me giving you cues that heighten your sensation or let you focus on pleasure,” Sweetheart explained. “Or…” They swallowed. “Maybe I’d have you on your knees, hot and begging and ready to obey any command I gave you.”

[fandomworld9728]

Random headcanons about the sins and their relationship with Luci and Charlie? Maybe Lilith too?

(Since there's no AU/fanfic attached to this, I'm going to assume you mean from the canon show. Since there isn't much that we know about Lilith I'm only going to do Lucifer & Charlie)

(Also, I'm sorry this took me so long to respond to!)

Beelzebub:

While not actually related, treats Lucifer like he's her precious baby brother

Is the only one who makes a drink strong enough to get Lucifer drunk (And finds any excuse to get him to get him totally wasted, loving how he finally relaxes and cuts loose)

Totally threw the baby shower when it was announced that Charlie was going to be born

The fun Aunt who tries to show Charlie how to have a good time (Especially with her being high strung like her father)

Sends the two lots of goodies from her Ring. Doubly so when she knows they've had a rough time/bad day

Helped get Charlie get ready for prom with Lucifer, Lilith & Asmodeus

Asmodeus:

Acts like the older brother/father figure to Lucifer

Always ready to wingman for Lucifer be it during his marriage to Lilith or after when Lucifer tells him he's ready to get back out there

Always keeps a table or two open at Ozzie's for Lucifer & Charlie just in case they wanna bring a date to the Lust Ring

Definitely tag teams with Beelzebub to help Charlie & Lucifer threw heart break and to dress them up for parties/special events

Most supportive of the Sins on the two Morningstars' crazy ideas (And often the voice of reason)

Mammon:

Used to be close to Lucifer until he ripped off Lulu World

While it is his Sin taking over, the other side of it is that he is very much the living embodiment of imitation is the sincerest form of flattery with Lucifer (He doesn't know how to properly express it and is heavily influenced by his Sin that he doesn't know how much damage he is actually causing) (Please someone smack some sense into this guy)

Absolutely loves Charlie to pieces and teaches her all his favorite tips and tricks of the trade

Easily breaks under Charlie's famous puppy dog eyes

Satan:

Is like that brother who looks for any reason to fight. Finding any excuse to punch Lucifer in his face (Mainly the face because he finds it amusing whenever Lucifer screams not the face)

Whenever Lucifer visits Wrath he greets him by using his lasso to capture and tie him up

Just loves bullying Lucifer in any way possible & complains about him 24/7 (Yet misses him when he doesn't visit)

Despite his willingness to cause harm to Lucifer, he would lay down his life for him and especially for Charlie

Was the one who taught Charlie who to control her emotions so her demonic form & magic didn't go haywire

Feels most at peace whenever he's around Charlie. Something about her sooths his Sin

Leviathan:

Sees Lucifer more like a father than a brother

Uses his hypno-eyes as a form of hypnotherapy on Lucifer when he's at his lowest

Envious (shocker I know) of how much Lucifer loves Charlie

Despite that he very much loves Charlie like she was his younger sister

Belphegor:

Lucifer is her favorite patient since he only ever comes in for sleeping pills (when he finally took her advance to use them for his shitty sleep schedule

Will sometimes just appear in Lucifer or Charlie's bed and have what she calls a Nap Party or Group Nap

Only goes to parties at Beelzebub's when Lucifer drags her (no she doesn't have favorites) (even though she totally does and it's him)

Is Charlie's only doctor and will accept nothing else on the matter

Was the one who delivered Charlie when she was born

[kallie-den]

Your Type

Paige, a trans woman, goes on a date with a reality-warping lesbian who is determined to mold her into ‘her type’

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!  For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - 4 pieces of hypno-smut a  month, including the latest chapters of all the multi-chapter stories I write. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

---

“So,” Paige said, watching her date carefully over her wine glass as she took a sip. The bar’s house white - good, but a touch dry for her palate. “What’s your type?”

Sophia, the woman sitting opposite her, laughed, amused. “Quite a question, for a first date. It really puts me on the spot.”

“Does it?” Paige challenged playfully.

She was having a good time. Paige had been skeptical - when you were a trans lesbian, dates with strangers could be risky. But she’d decided to take a chance and, fortunately, Sophia was making a good first impression. The woman her friend had set her up with was dressed smart, in a white, satin dress that matched nicely with her fair skin and platinum hair. She was pretty, too, and seemed professional - a good match for a career woman like Paige. Yes, it was strange that she was wearing darkened sunglasses inside a bar, but Paige was happy to overlook a small affectation.

“Well,” Sophia mused, stroking the rim of her glass, “if I tell you that you’re my type, it sounds like nothing more than boorish flattery. But if I describe anything else, then I’m offending you. I’m in a bind.”

Paige laughed too. She was pleased her date could enjoy a little verbal sparring. The atmosphere was perfect for it. The bar was classy - quiet but not dead - and the two of them were tucked away in a private corner so they could talk. Paige had come straight from work but she’d still been able to steal some time to freshen up, and she knew she looked good in her tailored suit, with her long, brunette hair up in a nice ponytail and her nails newly-manicured.

“It’s actually something I ask on all my first dates,” Paige explained. “The answer tells you a lot about someone.”

“And what are you looking to hear?” Sophia shot back, smiling.

“The truth.” Paige shrugged. “Look, I’m not expecting to be exactly your type. That would be one in a million. I just want to see if we have a real shot. I turned thirty a few years ago, I don’t feel like playing games anymore. I’m in your strike range? Wonderful, and we can make sure the mismatches aren’t deal-breakers. If I’m not? We make this just a drink, maybe a night of fun, and go our separate ways.”

Paige knew exactly how that sounded. In fact, it was part of the test. If Sophia got spooked by Paige’s no-bullshit way of doing things, it wasn’t going to work out. Better to find out now than in two months’ time. Fortunately, Sophia was still smiling. The other woman raised an eyebrow as she sat back to sip her wine.

“You’re a woman who knows what she wants,” Sophia noted. “I like that.”

Paige nodded appreciatively. “Oh, and I’m not afraid to put my cards on the table first. You are definitely my type.”

Sophia giggled. “Well, thank you. I’m happy to share, really - I love games, and this is a delightful one. So, let’s get very clear on something first, shall we?”

“What’s that?”

Suddenly, Sophia leaned forward and reached up to lower her sunglasses. She fixed Paige with a devastatingly sharp gaze.

“You are going to be my type. In fact, you need to be. You’re desperate to be.”

For a moment, as Sophia spoke, Paige stopped breathing. It wasn’t Sophia’s words. It was her eyes. Her irises. Paige had never seen anything like them. It was impossible. They were moving, shifting, a hundred times a second, endlessly; an infinite fractal-pattern of shapes, sharp and round and spiraling all at once. And the colors! Every color was in those eyes. In those patterns. A rainbow, kaleidoscopic, but more than that, too. Colors Paige had never seen before. Impossible colors. Maddening colors.

Staring into Sophia’s eyes was like looking into a glitch in reality. And the longer she looked, the more she felt like that unstable glitching was spilling out. Enveloping her. Engulfing her. Paige felt the very fiber of her being as it was unwritten and rewritten - and all just because she’d seen those eyes. It made the skin of her own existence feel so perilously thin, and her very reality feel dizzyingly malleable.

But then Sophia pushed her sunglasses back up over her eyes, and it was all gone. And then the words caught back up with Paige.

“I’m going to…” Paige repeated dumbly. “I need… desperate…?”

She looked at Sophia, in urgent need of clarity. Sophia just nodded.

“That’s right, Paige. You’re going to be my type. You need to be my type. It’s probably why you’re so keen to ask me about it.”

Paige’s mind was racing with a million questions. The big ones - what was wrong with Sophia’s eyes? What was that feeling that had washed over her? - were far too great to fit into words. Perhaps that was why, instead, she found herself latching onto the small incongruities.

“N-no,” Paige said slowly. “No, that’s not right. That’s not why I ask. Like I just told you, it’s because I think-“

Paige stopped talking. She froze because she was realizing that somehow, impossibly, she was wrong, and Sophia was right.

She needed to be Sophia’s type. She was desperate to be. And she was going to be.

Paige barely understood what that meant, but all the same, she was filled with a breathless eagerness. She felt like a butterfly about to burst from its cocoon, ready to taste the world in newly metamorphosed lungs - but to experience that plunge, that freedom, she needed an answer. She needed the answer that only Sophia could speak. Suddenly, Paige’s need for it was agonizing. She was trembling. Craving it, like an addict for a fix. She needed to know what Sophia’s type was.

But clearly, there was something more important than that going on. Paige suppressed the new urge and gripped the edge of her seat, knuckles white, to steady her nerves.

“What did you do?” she demanded, shocked.

“Hm?” Sophia seemed faintly surprised. “Oh, yeah, you’re probably a little distracted, aren’t you? Let me explain, although I won’t get technical on you.” She reached up and tapped the corner of her sunglasses with a fingertip. “With these eyes, I’ve got reality wrapped around my little finger. Past, present, future. Body, mind, soul. All of it.”

“You… you can just… change reality?” Paige was dumbfounded. It sounded impossible, but the urge welling up inside her was all the evidence she needed. Was the woman sitting across from her a superhero? A goddess? “How is that even possible?”

“Tsk.” Sophia shook her head. “This always happens. Sorry babe, but we’re supposed to be on a date. I’m gonna need you to focus on me here. So…”

Once again, she reached up and lowered her sunglasses. As soon as Paige realized what was happening, she tried to look away - but it was too late. The very first glimpse of those impossible, reality-glitch eyes had her captivated. And there it was again: the gnawing, discomforting awareness of her own malleability. As she stared, entranced and powerless, Paige felt like nothing more than an origami doll. Her existence was as thin as paper - and here was a woman who could bend and fold her into new shapes.

“Just don’t worry about it,” Sophia told her.

Paige blinked back to life as those eyes once again disappeared behind the sunglasses. As the existential unease faded, Paige expected her intense concern about the nature of Sophia’s abilities to return - but it didn’t. It just didn’t. Somehow, Paige couldn’t seem to muster up any particular feelings about what Sophia could do, or what she was doing to her. It simply didn’t seem important.

She wasn’t worried about it.

“Oh…” Paige said faintly, as that dawned on her. “OK.”

Perhaps not worrying should have itself worried her, but she proved to be equally cut off from that. Instead, as momentous as Sophia’s power seemed, it quickly became unremarkable to Paige. She wasn’t worried about it. Her date with Sophia was far, far more important.

And Paige’s new need came roaring to the forefront of her mind.

“So, um,” Paige said restlessly. She took a sip of wine to try and calm herself. It didn’t help. “What’s your type? I really need to know.”

“You do, do you?” Sophia's thin smile widened. She sat back again, clearly pondering. “Let’s see… what’s my type today?”

Paige was hanging on her next words. She could sense they would mean everything to her.

“You know,” Sophia said eventually, with an air of frivolity that was entirely at odds with how Paige felt about the pronouncement, “I think my type is girls with short hair.”

A pang of disappointment made Paige inhale sharply as, for the first time ever, she regretted her commitment to growing her hair out. But it faded just as suddenly as it had appeared, when Paige realized there was no problem whatsoever.

She had short hair.

Paige had to reach up and check, which was funny, because having short hair was perfectly normal for her. That was just the kind of girl she was. Sure enough, instead of a ponytail - why had she expected a ponytail? - her fingertips touched the ends of her short bob. That seemed wrong - but only for the briefest of moments.

“I… I have short hair?” Paige said dumbly. She wasn’t sure why it came out like a question.

She had short hair. Of course she did.

But why? That fact seemed oddly incongruous. After all, long hair had always been so important to Paige. It was a symbol of her transition. Of her femininity. She’d always hated the thought of getting it cut. So, why would she have short hair? The more she dwelt on the incongruity, the more it became an insisting, throbbing ache at her temples. She needed to make it make sense.

And then it did.

Paige felt herself plunged into an unfamiliar memory. Herself, rushing to a salon the morning after a sobbing breakdown, voice trembling as she asked the stylist to cut her hair off. It had felt so freeing. Her long hair had become a prison of expectations. Cutting it off had been a ritual. An affirmation.

She didn’t need long hair to be a woman. To be feminine. She simply was. Paige could look the way she’d always wanted. Peering further back, to those miserable college days before her egg had cracked, her memories of her transition goals were shifting. Sigourney Weaver in Alien. Winona Ryder in Girl, Interrupted. Of course. Of course Paige had ended up with short hair. It made perfect sense.

Soon enough, her memories lost that unfamiliar flavor. They had always been like that. She had always been like this. Paige had short hair.

“Wow,” she giggled, “I’m off to a lucky start. Looks like I’m your type.”

Right away, the fact of her short hair became euphoric. She had short hair. She was Sophia’s type. That was wonderful. Amazing. It was the best news she’d heard in months. It was what she needed.

“Indeed.” Something twinkled in Sophia’s eyes. “You’re rocking the look.”

“Thank you.” Paige reached up and touched her hair. She did that a lot. It made her happy. Short hair didn’t take a lot of effort to keep neat and sleek, but still, it was nice to be complimented for it. “I’m glad you like it.”

She was. She was unbearably glad. Paige just had to hope her grin wasn’t too off-puttingly eager. Knowing she was Sophia’s type made her so happy.

Only, surely Sophia’s type went beyond just hair. The gnawing craving in Paige’s chest itched at her anew. It wasn’t even close to sated.

“And…” Paige pressed. “What else? Tell me more. What’s your type?”

She had to strain to keep her voice measured. Paige didn’t want to make this creepy. But she couldn’t help sounding a little urgent. This was so important.

“Hmm…” Sophia mused. It was plain that she was enjoying the way Paige was sitting forward, shoulders tense, desperate for an answer. “Now that you mention it, I’ve always felt like girls who are all about pink are my type. Know what I mean?”

“P… pink?” Paige said plaintively.

She tried to reason with herself over it. Paige liked pink. She liked it as much as the next girl, anyway. Didn’t that count? In her heart, she knew it didn’t. Sophia’s type was girls who were all about pink, and Paige had always felt faintly at odds with the color. Pink clothes, pink lipstick, pink accessories - they all made her feel like she was stereotyping herself a little. Girls didn’t need to wear pink all the time.

But Paige did.

It hit her like a roaring wind. The infatuation. The obsession. Paige loved pink. It was a touch stereotypical, yes, but that was exactly why Paige adored it so much. There was something indulgent about surrounding herself with it. It was something she could rest her identity on. Blue was for boys, but pink? Pink was for girls. Girls liked pink.

“Pink,” Paige sighed happily, reverently, as the story of her life flailed and twisted out behind her like a serpent’s tail.

When she’d started her transition, pink had felt like coming home. Everything pink she’d bought had become a source of joy. It was funny, though, because Paige remembered feeling a little tokenized whenever someone - a family member, a friend - had given her something pink to clumsily signal their acceptance. Then, a moment later, she remembered more. She remembered overcoming that little hang-up. All of a sudden, her unwillingness to embrace pink was recast as early-transition blues; as holding back, as instinctive repression.

She’d overcome it, of course. And now Paige was all about pink.

Paige looked down. Her suit was pink. Of course it was. She owned a black suit, sure, for somber occasions, but mostly it was consigned to the black of her closet to gather dust. Paige always wore pink suits to work. It turned heads, naturally, but she didn’t mind - not as long as when people looked at her, they saw ‘pink’. Plus, she rationalized - and as she rationalized, it became her truth - it was a nice way to make sure her short hair didn’t mislead people into thinking she was aiming to be androgynous.

“I’m all about pink!” The words burst out of Paige; a cry of joy, a plea for attention. She was Sophia’s type, and she needed Sophia to know.

“So you are,” Sophia giggled. “You’re quite the Barbie.”

The comment made Paige shockingly euphoric. But why wouldn’t it? She was all about pink, and what was pinker than Barbie? Paige remembered seeing the movie posters, and the ads, and- no, no, suddenly she remembered seeing the movie itself. Making time on opening night, despite the pressures of work.

It had been so worth it. So much pink.

“Thanks,” Paige replied, still glowing with the pleasure of being Sophia’s type. “I know it’s getting a little much, at my age, but I just can’t help-“

“At your age?” Sophia seized on that gleefully. “That’s another thing. My type is younger girls, actually.”

“Younger girls?” Paige was immediately crestfallen, but she could already feel the explosive energy of change welling inside her. Already, lines were disappearing from her face. She was caught between despair and hope. “Younger than… you?” She wasn’t sure how old Sophia was, exactly. Suddenly she was hoping for late thirties. Perhaps even pushing forty. “H-how young?”

“Oh, you know.” Sophia seemed to be deciding. She made a little show of counting down on her fingers. “Early twenties, say.”

“Fuck,” Paige breathed - both out of regret, and out of awe at the reality shift that was starting to take her.

This one was different. It made her head throb like nothing else. It felt like her skull was going to implode. Paige could feel her past not just changing, but contracting. Memories gone. Birthdays snuffed out. Suddenly, the nineties she’d grown up in was nothing more than a set of images on TV; a set of anecdotes recounted by older coworkers.

Growing up without the internet? It was a crazy thought, suddenly. Paige found that, even in her last moments of remembering it, she couldn’t seem to comprehend it.

The process was terrifying - or it should have been. But Paige wasn’t worried about it. Couldn’t worry about it. Instead, her eagerness to please, to be Sophia’s type, forced its way through her confusion.

“T-that’s good,” Paige struggled to say. “I’m y-younger.” And she was so pleased about it, too. “I’m… I’m…”

It was a little alarming to realize that she didn’t know quite how old she was. Paige’s age was still in flux. It was like Schroedinger’s cat. She’d yet to settle on it. Paige found herself torn. How young was ‘younger’? Part of her wanted to push her luck. To save what could still be saved of her past. Twenty-four? That could still be ‘early twenties’, right? It was younger than twenty-five, at least.

But what if it wasn’t good enough? That was the other thought, and it soon carried the day. Above all, Paige needed to be Sophia’s type. It was so important.

“I-I’m twenty-one!” Paige sang out, in a voice that was suddenly just that bit fresher and higher.

Twenty-one. Of course she was twenty-one. It had only been last month - her birthday, that little ritual, going to a bar, buying a drink with her real ID as her friends cheered and the bartender winked. As moments passed, that memory became more and more solid and concrete in Paige’s head. It was real, undoubtedly. Far more real than the ten or so years she’d just lost, all of that life and time metaphysically shredded into nothing more than hypothetical abstraction.

“Twenty-one?” Sophia cocked an eyebrow playfully. “That’s kind of hot.”

Paige tittered and blushed. That was so naughty. There was something thrilling about going on a date with an older woman - why did that thought taste so new? It wasn’t. Paige was sure of that. At least, she thought she was. She’d been giddy with anticipation ever since her friend had, with a knowing wink, proposed setting her up with Sophia.

Paige had a thing for older women. She must. Why else would she be on a date with Sophia? Her attraction to Sophia took on a new flavor.

“Twenty-one,” Paige repeated. The thought was settling. “Yeah. Um. Yeah.”

Twenty-one. She was twenty-one. Fuck. She was younger than Sophia.

She was still dizzy from the change. So much of her life had been put into flux. Only slowly was it falling into place. Paige struggled to make sense of it all, grasping at possible solutions that turned to stone - to reality - as soon as she latched onto them. Her transition moved backward, to her teenage years. The miserable, closeted portion of her life was high school now, not college. College - that felt like just yesterday. Paige had only just graduated. She was so young!

But of course she was. She was twenty-one.

It changed everything. Only the bare outline remained fixed. Suddenly, instead of Sigourney Weaver and Winona Ryder, Paige had been showing her hair stylist pictures of Miley Cyrus. Kristen Stewart. Those were her idols now - at least, in some ways. Neither of them was quite pink enough for Paige’s liking.

2010s pop culture was pouring into her head, replacing what she’d lost. It was a wild experience. And somehow, it felt like it had always been there.

And then there was her job. Paige was a successful career professional. She worked in management. A twenty-one-year-old manager? Wasn’t that absurd? Paige tried her hardest to cling to that one thing. She was so proud of it, after all. Mercifully, the thread of reality she was pulling on didn’t quite snap.

Right. Yes. She remembered now. She was a twenty-one-year-old manager. Paige had started interning in college, and she’d made a big impression at the company she’d worked for. They’d been willing to take a chance on her and hire her into a senior role right out of college. She was a rising star. It was rough sometimes, of course, having so many subordinates who were younger. It was a fight to get them to take her seriously. Especially given all the pink she wore. But Paige couldn’t be stopped. The pink became a statement. Young women - young trans women - of her generation could do anything. She was a girlboss. The world was her oyster.

And a thousand other things about her reality shifted. Big changes and small ones, spreading out along implications and possibilities like cracks in ice. With the strange power Sophia had infused into her, Paige was rewriting her entire being - and all of it, just to be Sophia’s type.

“How old are you?” Paige asked. She just wanted to hear it.

“Old enough,” Sophia replied rakishly. “The waitress probably thinks we’re mother and daughter.”

Paige shivered rapturously. It wasn’t the age gap, not really - although, yes, she found that hot, now. Frankly, working in management was a little distracting in that department. So many hot, older women were Paige’s coworkers. It was the kind of thing a young lesbian could get worked up over. But what mattered far, far more than that was that she was Sophia’s type.

“So… I’m perfect, right?” Paige was desperate to be. It was written into the fiber of her being now. “Perfect for you?”

“You’re getting there,” Sophia offered. Just hearing that was intoxicating. “But… oh, I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t say it.”

“What?” Paige’s heart skipped a beat. The mere possibility of a mismatch between herself and Sophia’s ideal was panic-inducing. “No. No, tell me.”

She needed to know. She needed to know, so that she could become.

“It might be a big ask,” Sophia warned. The smile on her face was more than a little cruel. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes!” Paige answered at once. Her apprehension was swept away effortlessly by gnawing desperation. “Please.”

“If you insist,” Sophia replied. Her manner was painfully unhurried. “The thing is, my type happens to be girls who are… well… dumb.”

“W-what?” Paige whimpered. “That… that’s…”

It was awful. Sophia’s type was dumb girls, and Paige had always prided herself on her intelligence. But as much as she feared losing her brains, the inexorable pull towards becoming Sophia’s ideal was stronger. Paige could already feel it, taking her into its flow, draining hard-won knowledge out of her head.

“I’m dumb,” Paige pleaded, half-sincerely, searching desperately for an angle to shoot for. “At least… um… m-maybe a little forgetful? My friends are always saying-“

She froze. Saying what? Paige could feel reality shifting beneath her feet as the memories came back to her.

Ditzy. Airheaded. That’s what her friends always called her, wasn’t it? After all, she’d always been the slow one in the friend group. Even in college, someone had to be the dumbest. Of course, in Paige’s case, they even joked it was a miracle she’d been able to graduate. Paige could feel it, even now. Her head getting a little foggier. Her thoughts, a little simpler and cruder. As soon as she felt it, it became familiar.

“Oh, no,” Sophia said, dashing her hopes. “I’m afraid it goes a little beyond that. I’m talking about really dumb girls. That’s my type.”

Paige’s head throbbed painfully as she absorbed that, and reconfigured herself again. College? No way. She’d tried, sure - middle-class family expectations - but Paige had ended up dropping out in her first year. She simply couldn’t follow along in lectures.

“I’m… I’m really dumb,” Paige confessed bashfully. It was kind of embarrassing, coming right out with it on a first date - but hey, it was better than a new lover dumping her after three months once she realized Paige couldn’t hold an intellectual conversation.

Not that she had to worry about that with Sophia, of course. Dumb girls were Sophia’s type, and that alone made it something to be proud of. For the first time ever, Paige was truly, wholeheartedly glad of what a total ditz she was.

"That’s really cute, honestly,” Sophia told her, any predatory glint in her eyes concealed behind those dark sunglasses. “Adorable.”

Her approval was like a red rag to a bull. “When I first got my job, everyone was, like, so surprised!” Paige gushed. “I mean, me? Working in management? That was… was… um… I-I mean, that wouldn’t even make…”

A fresh wave of dizziness hit Paige as the total incongruity of her career dawned on her. It didn’t make sense. A twenty-one-year-old working in senior management was already pushing it. Only exceptional aptitude could possibly justify that. Now that she was dumb - which, of course, she’d always been - that particular thread of reality was finally snapping. It gave way, plunging Paige into another pit of uncertainty.

What was her job again?

There was only one real answer, as embarrassing as it seemed. Paige was a secretary. Not a manager. A secretary. Why had it ever seemed like she’d been anything else? Secretary work was the only kind of office job Paige could handle.

“When I first got my job,” Paige said slowly, trying to pick up the anecdote, “people joked that I might not be cut out for all that, like, reading and typing. Sometimes I kinda need help with some of the more, um, technical documents.”

It was true, she realized a moment after. Paige could now remember hearing workplace rumors about how she’d only been hired because her pink outfits really brightened up the office. She looked down. Her legs felt a little chilly all of a sudden - only, it wasn’t sudden. Paige had been wearing a cute little pink pencil skirt all day. Not pants. A pantsuit was a little much, for a secretary.

“I guess I’m kind of a bimbo,” Paige giggled self-consciously, as she joined the dots between her ditziness and her obsession with all things pink.

And she was. She really was. Maybe that was why she was so confused. Maybe that was why she kept half-remembering another Paige - a Paige that was older, and smart, and successful, and serious. But that wasn’t her. Not anymore. No, not ever. That Paige wasn’t real.

She was becoming less real by the moment, as the waves of this latest change rippled back into her past. Her high-school grades retroactively plummeted. When she’d first started transitioning, there had been more than a few sexist little jokes about being girly and pink suited her better than trying to be smart and serious and masculine. The dizziness started to recede as, more and more, Paige’s life started to make sense again. Once again, the implications went deep. Everything about Paige was malleable. The only fixed points were the things Sophia liked.

Paige wasn’t worried by that, of course.

“A real girly girl,” Paige added, as her reality settled. “You… you like that. Right?”

“You know?” Sophia mused. “Now that I’m seeing it, I’m not so sure. It’s a little, well, cliché.”

“Cliché?” Paige echoed, in a wounded voice. “Is that, like, bad?”

It certainly sounded like a reprimand, but Paige had to be sure. Already, she felt her existence becoming fluid again. The sensation was like nothing else; a dizziness, a fuzziness around her thoughts, around her memories, especially, as they blurred, ready to change.

“I suppose what I had in mind was something a little… rougher?” Sophia continued. “Punk? Is that the word I’m looking for? You know what I mean. A little bit of that blue-collar charm. Dumb, strong, rough.”

“B-blue… collar?” Paige panted. “Punk?”

The headache was like thunder inside her skull. Gale winds, too, blowing away the Paige she’d been steadily coming to terms with. There was no fighting it. At once, Paige’s head was flooded with stereotypes. Punk girls. Working-class girls. She dredged up every impression she’d ever had of them to fuel her transformation. A transformation that tore her life story to shreds.

College? Fuck no. Her family had never had a lot of money. They couldn’t afford to waste it paying tuition for a girl with rocks for brains. Paige had struggled to graduate high school, let alone get a degree. What would have been the point? You didn’t need book smarts to haul ass on a construction crew.

Right. Construction. That was where Paige worked. Suddenly, the idea of herself as a secretary seemed preposterous. Lame. Paige would take fitting joints and carrying pipes over some stuffy office any way of the week. Hers was a good, respectable, union job. Those ran in the family, didn’t they?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Paige was good at it, too. Strong. Sophia had mentioned strong, hadn’t she? Paige was sure of it. Her self-confidence was bolstered back a little. Everyone wanted a strong girl like Paige on a construction site. Even a trans girl. Oh, sure, she’d heard plenty of shitty comments about that. But Paige didn’t take them lying down. She wasn’t that kind of girl. She could stand up for herself. She was rough.

Paige smirked at Sophia. She let her legs fall apart as she slipped into her natural, girlspreading stance. For some reason, wearing a pencil skirt crossed her mind. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. That sounded so needlessly restrictive compared to her loose-fitting pink jeans. The glass in her hand wasn’t wine anymore. Beer.

“Good news, miss,” Paige said, and her accent sounded classless and coarse to her until it didn’t, because she’d always talked that way. “Looks like I’m your type, right down to a fucking T.”

Sophia giggled. Paige lapped up her approval. It felt wonderful. Being Sophia’s type was all-important. Now, though, she was used to girls giggling at her that way. What kind of lesbian didn’t love a tough, strong, working-class dyke?

“You sure are,” Sophia cooed. “You look really punk.”

Paige really did, she realized. In fact, she was a little out of place at a classy bar like this, with her studded choker, heavy boots, and her battle jacket - blue, but covered in pink patches and pins, of course. She’d always dressed that way. Ever since… when? Paige soon supplied the answer. Ever since she’d come out as trans. Her transition goals shifted again. Siouxie Sioux. Joan Jett. The goddesses of punk rock.

For a moment, the fact that Paige liked pink so much bothered her, but her warping mind soon resolved the contradiction. Pink was punk. That was now - always - Paige’s defiant battle cry every time someone questioned her punk cred. In a world that hated women and denied trans women at every turn, pink was punk.

Paige’s music taste, having lurched violently away from pop, started coarse-correcting back. She was punk, for sure, and she loved the classics, but she had to admit that pop punk was a guilty pleasure. Avril Lavigne was so hot. She really got it. Pink was punk.

"So. Anything else?” Paige asked. In this new reality, she was cockier and more confident than ever - but she couldn’t help being insecure about exactly one thing. “Or am I completely your type?”

“You know,” Sophia said slowly, looking Paige up and down as she weighed her up. “I think you’re exactly what I was feeling today. Yeah. You’re my dream girl.”

Paige grinned. Her whole body was thrumming with the delicious pleasure of affirmation. It was like a gnawing emptiness inside her had just been filled. And now she felt so good, there was only one thing on her mind.

“In that case,” Paige said, sitting forward, “how about we get out of here and I show you exactly how good I am at laying pipe?”

She laughed at her crude double entendre - by her standards, an impressively witty joke. A classy, older woman like Sophia was out of her league in at least three different ways, and Paige would hate to blow her shot by moving too fast, but this kind of bar really wasn’t her scene, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up in conversation. Besides, she knew Sophia liked her rough edges. She was Sophia’s type, and she couldn’t wait to have her moaning all over Paige’s bed.

Paige had undergone a head-splitting number of metaphysical changes throughout her date. But one thing that had remained constant throughout was that Paige was a top - and a damn good one.

But Sophia didn’t seem to agree. “Actually, maybe you’re not my type after all,” she said, with an air of particular malice.

Paige was immediately heartbroken. “W-what?” she gasped, shocked. There were tears in her eyes.

“Sorry.” Sophia didn’t sound sorry at all. “It’s just, I’m not that interested in the kind of girls who lay pipe. Bottoms are really my type.”

Paige head started throbbing dangerously again. “I…” she pleaded. “I could… I can bottom.”

And she could, Paige realized as it became true. She called herself a top, sure, but that was just part of the game. Paige could feel her orientations and preferences shifting beneath her feet.

“Really?” Sophia replied idly.

“Yeah!” Paige panted, eager to convince. “I-I love to bottom!” A secret thrill entered her voice. Oh god, she really did. It went against her vibe, her style, her demeanor - but that was part of why it felt so fucking good. “ I’m, y’know, v-… um… I’m… vers?”

It just didn’t taste right in her mouth. Paige wanted to say it - wanted to keep that part of herself within her grasp - but she soon realized why she couldn’t. Sophia had said she wasn’t interested in girls who top. Even being vers was out of the question. Paige felt a sorrowful pang as that part of herself vanished into abstraction - but then the sorrow vanished too, because this was just who she was.

A complete and total bottom.

“Are you now?” Sophia queried.

“No,” Paige admitted. She blushed and leaned in, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I just… god, if word got around, I’d never hear the end of it, OK? Big, tough Paige? But I’m… um… yeah. A bottom. Totally.”

Still the rough kind, of course. Paige wasn’t the type to go down without a fight. She needed to be overpowered. To be dominated. To be shown who was boss. A punk brat. That was her, she decided. It was a little frustrating people always mistook her for a top. What did they think all the pink was about? Couldn’t they take a hint?

Sophia giggled, and said in a teasing voice, “A punk bottom. Now that’s fun.”

Paige stiffened briefly at being mocked, before that, too, was folded into her sexuality, and she squirmed in her seat. Sophia liked bottoms, so she had to be a top, right? Paige loved getting teased by tops. It was so hot.

“It’s kinda embarrassing,” Paige offered, eager to please. “I get these subby girls coming on to me all the time, but… god, I just wouldn’t even know what to do with them in the bedroom.” Her blush deepened, but she made sure to flash Sophia a defiant look that she hoped would stoke her interest. “But… I don’t know if I believe you’re the kind of woman who knows what to do with me.”

Prove me wrong, she was begging with her eyes.

Sophia didn’t rise to the taunt. At least, not directly. “You wouldn’t know what to do with them?” she repeated curiously. “That’s pretty cute. So would you say you’re a pillow princess?”

Paige bit her lip. She could feel it inside her again. The empty, gnawing need that was the furnace of her transformations. “Would… you like it if I was a pillow princess?”

“Oh yes.” Sophia laughed at her. “Definitely. That’s my type, for sure.”

“Fuck!” Paige whimpered, as she was rewritten once more.

She was so pleased. An older woman who liked pillow princesses? Paige had hit the jackpot. She couldn’t let herself fumble this. She just needed to stop pretending to be something she wasn’t.

Bratting? Giving a top some attitude? She’d tried it once, sure. It had seemed a little more dignified, somehow. A little more like what people expected from a punk girl like her. But it hadn’t felt right. Paige was the kind of girl who blew over in a stiff breeze.

She loved the way Sophia was toying with her. Playing with her expectations. Making her change to match them. Paige could feel herself getting hard under her jeans. She’d never been so turned on. And the best part was, she could sense that she could count on Sophia to understand that just because she had a cock, it didn’t mean she was interested in using it.

“That’s better,” Sophia purred approvingly, as she watched Paige whimper and squirm. “Yes, that was just the finishing touch you needed. Now you’re perfect.”

“T-thank you,” Paige whined instinctively. God. She knew how absurd it was for a rough-and-tumble punk like her to sound so meek and submissive. She hoped Sophia was going to bully her about it. “So, um. Maybe, if you wanted, w-we could… get out of here now? Please?”

It was pitiful to beg, but Paige couldn’t help it. She was burning with need. Being around Sophia made her feel even stupider and more tongue-tied than she always was.

Sophia just stared straight at her. Paige could sense those ineffable, eldritch eyes burning behind her sunglasses. “Please what?”

Paige let out a low moan. “P-please, mistress.”

“Good girl,” Sophia told her. Paige moaned again. She could feel herself making a mess of her panties. “Very well.”

Paige shot to her feet with embarrassing eagerness. “Thank you! Um. God. Thank you. I-I’m just really excited, you know? I really got lucky here.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sophia replied kindly, as she rose to her feet. “Besides, I’m the lucky one.”

“You really think so?” Paige asked timidly.

It was hard to believe. A young, dumb punk with a construction job? Paige knew she wasn’t much of a catch for a lady like Sophia. Compared to her classy outfit, Paige’s pink, punk style and short hair were more than a little garish. And she couldn’t even top.

“Of course,” Sophia giggled, leading Paige towards the door of the bar. “How often do I get to meet a girl who’s exactly my type?”

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, Grillfan65, The Secret Subject, Morriel, Dex, orangesya, Red, dmtph, MegatronTarantulas, Vanessa, Madeline, BTYOR, Sarah, Mattilda, Emily Queen of sloths, ntad, Shadows exile, Abigail, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, Jade, mintyasleep, ZephanyZephZeph, Michael, Be_Be, Tasteful Ardour, Chris, Dennis, Full Blown Marxism, Morder, S, Brendon, Drone 8315, Jack the Monkey, Jim, Erin, HannahSolaria, Christopher, hellenberg, Kay, Miss_Praxis, Violet, Noct, Charlotte, Faun, BrinnShea, B, Foridin, Jennifer, EepyTimeTea, Slifer274, Roxxie, Phoenix, Jim, Sebastian, Joseph, Yaoups, Thomas, Liz, naivetynkohan, Basic dev, SuperJellyFrogEx, Katie, Lily, spyrocyndersam13, zzzz, Mal, Jose, Bouncyrou, Anonymous, Bacon Man, Nimapode, Melody, Kunoichiru, FemKUltra, Flluffie, Ash, Artemis, Geckonator, TheRealG, Anonymous, Bob, J, nathan, GladiusLumin, Ada, Kyle, Marina, Space Prius, Alex, Michael, Thomas, Lavender, Dasterin

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

A Requested Birthday Gift

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DARLING NOVELIST MY MAIN MY HEART MY -screaming- also i totally reference this fic lol

Rated Explicit | Warning: threesome, consensual use of drugs

“Hypnos,” You stop midway heading toward your room for a much-needed nap when the Novelist approaches you, “Do you have a moment?” Politely and gentlemanly he strolls over invading your personal space, his hand caressing your cheek giving you the physical affection you much needed. Post-match aches are annoying like it is how you imagine phantom pain is, it lingers and you often seek comfort or nap it away.

“Anytime for you.” Closing your eyes as you tilt your head to the side basking in his presence and touch.

“How easily you say such things,” Orpheus’ hand slips down your cheeks until his fingers dance upon your chin. Tracing your jawline, he moves much closer until his other hand holds your waist, body moving and guiding you, “I shall take you up on your word.”

Orpheus is smooth, well aware, and skilled in getting you to bend to his will, have you pressed against the wall in the hallway to the private guest bedrooms. Your hand goes to his chest grabbing his suit coat tugging him even closer as he kisses you. Sweet, reminding you he misses your presence, and then consuming as wants your attention completely on him.

“Orpheus.” Breathy as he switches from your lips to your neck, “We should go to– Oh!” His leg is between yours applying pressure to your crotch.

“In a moment, allow me to be adventurous, my little writer.”

You nod trying to keep your mind in the presence and not drift off giving into the sensations of his touch.

“I have a request for you,” He is careful not to remove clothes though it is tempting as he kisses your neck and under your chin, “A personal request.”

“A-anything.” Barely able to stay focused.

The Novelist smirks before holding your face to look directly at him, “It pertains to my– Our birthday, my love.”

You blink to regather yourself, “Oh? Do you want to change plans?”

“Of sorts, we would like your permission to try something new with you.”

Something new? You raise an eyebrow while biting your lip as Orpheus rubs your crotch against his thigh, it makes you nearly distracted, “Okay, ah, I am at your ah ah Orpheus!” Covering your mouth when you moaned far too loud.

“At my…?” Teasing you as he keeps going, “Grant us permission.”

“All that I am is yours to use as you wish.” Poetic and romantic, needy and wanting, he adores his little writer.

“I shall hold you to that.” Kissing your cheek as he removes himself from your person, “Find us in the library.” Whispering in your ear.

You shiver both aching and yearning, you wish he would finish what he started but you know the reward is at the end.

Especially when us mean both Nightmare and himself.

Orpheus leaves you after giving you a heated kiss, one that leaves you further flustered than what you are. When he leaves, you adjust your clothes to look decent before moving away from the wall to chase after him.

The door of one the room opens and you turn to see Luchino leaning against the door frame with a casual and clearly known smile.

“Seems you'll be having a bit of fun,” The older man says, it is a bit embarrassing to know he heard all that, “Orpheus restraining himself after such words spill out of his lover is commendable.” A clap before he moves to return to his room, “Good evening, Hypnos.”

God, you are lucky it was the Professor and misfortune it was the Professor who heard that.

The library is well secluded, rarely anyone but the Journalist or Novelist come here. You have a few times but again it is always empty. Yet, you still try to keep your voice down despite the library always being seemingly avoided.

You can wonder about that later, right now you are barely able to keep your mind from drifting to that pleasant numbing abyss brought to you by Orpheus.

Orpheui because there is more than one? That makes you giggle as Nightmare is rubbing his beak against your face, that rough two-tone voice saying your name followed by a chuckle when you try closing your held open legs.

“Such a lovely voice, my love.” Orpheus speaking from between your legs, he kneeling with his hand guiding Nightmare's unseemly large cock against your well prepared hole. “Let us see how long you can keep using it, hm?” The cock, of dark purple coloring with precum glowing purple, catches and enters your wet heat.

“Ah!” You have taken his cock before with plenty of prep, but God, it is always a deep stretch inside of you. Nightmare groans, his grip on your legs a bit firmer as he lowers you carefully.

“Beautiful, truly.” The Novelist made sure before doing this to have your explicit permission before attempting this. There is a drink he used on himself and a mutual acquaintance that he gave to you, a cocktail of an aphrodisiac based along with alcohol— He made sure it is extra sweet for you. It is both to help with handling Nightmare (who is enjoying himself watching you attempt to ride him), and to last longer— You are not very well trained yet in lasting more than a round with either of them.

“Easy, easy,” Nightmare speaks as he rests your legs on top of his open legs, “We have you.” His hands on your waist as Orpheus stands up to hold your upper body, your hands reaching out yearning to be touched again.

“Say what you need.” They both speak to you, your eyes struggling to focus on who is in front of you. When you open your mouth literal gibberish comes out with whiny moans. Your hands gripping and tugging on his open shirt begging, or trying to form words, for them to start using you.

With lack of awareness, you spill easily how badly you are enthralled by Orpheus— Both of them.

“Next time a lower dosage,” Touching your face, examining your dilated eyes, the way you cannot properly form words, and neediness behavior. “Oh, dear one, you are enjoying this quite well.”

His gift is you, you who has given him a new perspective. Orpheus loves you, they both do terribly so, the thought of him once more not having you will never be entertained.

“Orpheus!” The raven creature is not willing to wait for his counterpart to enjoy the sight.

“Good, you can say our name.” Praising you as he pets your hair affectionately, “However, I am going to need to use your mouth for my own pleasure, Hypnos.”

You nod but he doubts you actually know what you are agreeing with, he will only take as he usually does.

Using your mouth on Orpheus’ cock, Nightmare uses your inviting hole, delighting in their gift.

Even better is you stopped caring about how loud you are, all that matters is him him him.

[teddybearsandspaceships]

Again, way too detailed notes about a Cleo stream (15.3.2024) because it was great and I want to remember. (Please Cleo upload your VODs again please.) Featuring an Ancient City, Hermit scariness ratings, a new Emerald Daddy, and Life series reminiscing with the Clockers.

Plan for today: Ancient City raiding!, to get books

She´s definitely going alone because Ancient City raiding on her own is terrifying but you know what else is terrifying? The other people on the server.

The only person on the server Cleo is afraid of is False. Not Gem, Gem´s a kitten. False could take Cleo in a fight and kill her dead, but more importantly False can scare Cleo because she´s quite sinister. 5am Pearl is kinda cute. “can kill you, probably won´t,” if you entertain her. Cub isn´t scary either, the only thing to be scared of with Cub is the grind. Doc is 95% bark.

(In hindsight, finding a Swift Sneak II book so early is a tease knowing that it´ll be the only one.)

Chat is way more scared of the Ancient City than Cleo is. Worst that can happen, you summon a warden, you die, and your gear despawns, so what. Cleo thinks people are trying to freak her out and scare her into making mistakes.

This stream was right after or during Mumbo´s video on Hermits´ weird playing habits came out so there were plenty of questions about Cleo´s set-up. Cleo defends their choices, also they have a desk now.

Hypno drops by to show off his new armor and announce a raid. Cleo calls Cub her Emerald Daddy because he supplies her with emeralds.

Hypno drops off a shulker full of emerald blocks for Cleo, for free. Cleo then tells him he gets free books now. Hypno is astonished and delighted, and asks for a written voucher. Cleo writes him one and calls him Emerald Daddy too. Cleo: “Double Emerald Daddy, I´m good.”

Cleo won´t tell her fellow Hermits that they´re great to their faces because it would ruin her tough guy image.

Fun in chat: Etho sleeps. Bdubs: “sorry dad” Etho: “son I am at your place to give you a scolding” Bdubs: “be right up” – Cleo is sorry she saw that

Cleo discovers Joel´s glow ink shop and the glow squid Joel built from candles and is delighted. Joel is now her absolute favorite person. Armor stand buddies!

Taking advantage of the fact that all words are made up, Cleo makes a few more hoppadingdongs

Bdubs demands quiet because he and Etho are about to record one of their famous Bdubs-and-Etho clips. Cleo says they should get in a group. Etho: “Mum is so bossy, right Bdubs?” Bdubs: “She´s so bossy.” Cleo: […] *hits him* “Don´t talk to me that way.” Bdubs: “I´m sorry.” Cleo: “You will be.” Bdubs: “I´m sorry. That was a no-no, I´m sorry.” Etho: “Never talk back to your mummy.” Bdubs: “No, never.” Cleo: “Yeah, you two role-playing this thing again, it´s weird.” Etho, laughing: “You´re done with it, aren´t you, Cleo.” Cleo, also laughing: “I´m done with it. I was kind of done with it when it started, to be honest.” Bubs: “That shows your level of commitment.” Etho: “I feel like we move on from it and then Scar brings it up once in a while, and then Bdubs…” Cleo: “Me and Etho are kind of over it, so…” Bdubs: “Really? I saw Joel today and I thought, this is my uncle.” Etho: “Baby-sitter, right?” Cleo: “Cousin.”

Cleo offers to mute again but Bdubs asks her not to, having her there is great. Like audience chatter.

Bdubs shows Etho and Cleo his scaffolding challenge as his shop advertisement. Etho: “He´s so clever.” Cleo: “He is, he´s a genius. That´s our special boy.”

Bdubs starts his spiel: “You think you´re so cool…” Etho: “I thought I was…”

Bdubs wins the first game because Etho has trouble ringing the bell. And the second one. Cleo soon realizes that it´s easy to make Bdubs lose by sabotaging the scaffolding. Bdubs swears Etho and Cleo to secrecy about this easily exploitable weakness.

Cleo keeps talking about how wealthy they are. Very profitable shop, after all! (…true but I saw Cub´s stacks of diamond blocks the next day. Fear the grind.) Cleo bankrolled Etho already.

After a conversation about pricing Etho tells Cleo they have to teach Bdubs about peer pressure. Then remembers that “she doesn´t like it when we do that, we gotta stop.” Cleo says it´s fine. (Yay boundaries.)

Cleo asks Bdubs for a horse. Bdubs accuses Keralis of fraud (secretly swapping the horses people bought from him if they don´t buy the extended warranty.) Cleo asks if Keralis is gingering his horses. They talk about the meanings of the word, and why ginger is also used for red-heads. Etho: “Is it ´cause gingers are spicy?” Moment of silence. Cleo: “…sure?” Bdubs: “Yeah…” Etho: “I think we nailed it.”

Some talk abut spelling variations. “You can just say you don´t know how to spell, Etho, it´s fine.” And then talk about British dialects, how they drop the “t” in the middle of words (or phrases). Etho and Bdubs try to imitate it, badly. They don´t seem to understand what “in the middle of a word” means.

Shopping district talk, and some reminiscing about Shade-E-E´s. Cleo steered clear because she didn´t know Etho very well back then. Etho has a different glass prank in mind for this season. Etho and Bdubs also remember an end rod exchange thing they did, they neither remember what started it or how it ended. 

Cleo: “I feel like you´re not spiteful enough, Etho.” He lets too much go. Bdubs protests that Etho lets it go with him, because they have a history – Etho: that´s right – but to anybody else Etho is very spiteful. Cleo: He´s never been particularly spiteful to me, “and I deserve it.” Bdubs, dismissive: nah. Etho: “Well, to be fair, Cleo *builds up a dirt wall like he did between them in Third Life* I am kinda scared of you.” Both crack up. “You´re not necessarily who I wanna be poking.”

Cleo clarifies that the reason why False is the only one who scares her is because False is very quick on the insults. Cleo can be fast, but False can be faster. Bdubs: “Now I´m scared.”

Etho tells Bdubs the story of why he´s scared of Cleo: “I always viewed Cleo as, like, sweet, innocent, you know, quiet…” Cleo cracking up. It was because Cleo stole Pizza, for no reason. “She was laughing the whole time, like a crazy psycho.” Cleo: “It´s a llama.”  “I just thought it was interesting, I had a complete shift of what I thought of you at that moment.” Bdubs: “Yeah, she can do anything.” Bdubs was also shocked at that moment. They hadn´t talked about it, Bdubs just supported her in her plan to cause trouble. Stealing Pizza was more of a crime of opportunity because Scar didn´t want to talk to her and left Pizza there. “Bold move.” “It´s just Scar.” Etho reminds everyone that the Life series was fresh at that point, they know now that this sort of thing happens but they didn´t then. Cleo didn´t know most of the people in the series very well so she went full-on chaos gremlin. She blames Bdubs.

Etho repeats that that´s when his perspective on Cleo shifted. “And it never shifted back. Like, the more stuff she did, it just got further in that way.” Cleo can understand that: she got worse, as time went on, chaos-gremlin-wise. Etho: now we´re in season ten of Hermitcraft, she´s stealing villagers… Cleo points out that it wasn´t her idea, but admits that she fully embraced it. Etho isn´t sure he would have, Bdubs says he wouldn´t have. Cleo: “What´s Doc going to do to me.” Bdubs: “Uh, have you seen the sand dial?” Cleo: “Have you seen what´s inside it?” Bdubs, clearly grinning: “Oh, yes, yes.”

Scar is online and Bdubs invited him over to find out if he was actually upset about Cleo stealing Pizza. Scar arrives on his horse, but stays away a few blocks. Etho walks up to him: “You may approach, Scar.” Scar ender-pearls up to them. Bdubs asks how mad he was at Cleo over Pizza, Scar claims he was looking up tickets to the UK to seek his revenge. “Pizza meant more than I can express.” Does a whole sad monologue. Cleo and Etho think it was funny, Scar demands they take it back. Worse, and what also really threw Etho, when Scar asked Cleo to her face if she stole Pizza she denied it.

Cleo: “Yeah, but I´ve had my punishment now, ´cause now I´m your mother forever.” Scar just realized: “The family! What a wonderful moment.” Etho: “Out shopping together.”

Scar has to wait for Skizz to enforce rules in the shopping district, but Skizz is off on the high seas. Scar: “What if the boat went down.” “What the hell, Scar!” “That´d be awful!” Scar imagines it as, you float for a while, maybe see a shark, then get rescued in a helicopter. Cleo: you might see someone else die, while you survive ´cause you´re the main character. Scar asks after a Titanic character and is surprised Etho immediately knows her name because Etho is usually bad with movie references.

Cleo: “I would never do anything to you guys, you´re my family.” Bdubs: That´s sweet.” Scar: “That was sinister.” Etho: “Trolls us.” Cleo: “Correct.”

Scar got a tip to keep a horse from wandering off inside a circle of berries from an e-mail. Only the best things come from e-mails.

Bdubs tries to prove scaffolding superiority to Scar. Etho and Cleo support the pitch. Scar is disappointed by mom and dad. Etho and Scar agree to give it a try sometimes. Bdubs says Tango puts redstone on scaffolding sometimes, Etho is horrified. Etho shows them that you can use scaffolding to clutch a fall. Scar tries it because it would also work on leaves – unfortunately Etho forgot to tell him that you need to crouch and he dies. He´s not going to be happy, but ultimately it was clearly his own fault. It´ll take him a while to come back, Bdubs feels like he should go get him but Etho and Cleo need to leave.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 56

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

It's all about perspective in this week's chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay

Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Donnie was brooding. About what, you weren’t sure, but he was lost in thought. The kind that pinched up his face, he appeared compliant if you asked, but was clearly dodgy if you tried to figure out why. Asking for additional time with each question on his well being, it made you feel a sort of hopelessness. He was clearly feeling guilty about something out of his control. He did his best to make it up to you where he could, but there was something vexing him deeply.

For the time of year, you acknowledged the two special occasions coming up. One for hearts and the other of sentimentality, it wasn’t like Donnie to think so openly. You doubted he’d sulk over planning anything as important as your anniversary, which meant something else was bothering him.

It had gone on for nearly a week and not once had you gotten used to it. Instead, it was like an ever present weight in your heart each time you saw him thinking over his cause. You found him more often as of late, when you got home from work, still listlessly sitting at his desk. He’d been obviously ruminating and the way his monitors had timed out said how long he’d been at it. You played the dutiful partner and only pressed for hugging reassurances that you would always be there, whenever he was ready.

That day just so happened to be today.

“I… need to go to the Hidden City.”

He’d spoken suddenly after making you both warm drinks and offering one to you.

You had been reaching out to take yours and felt your hands hang there. “Is that…?”

“My status remains ‘wanted’.”

“Do… you need to go back into hiding?”

The cup offered in his hand lowered. “No.”

“I’m guessing the others haven’t broken their promise since you haven’t gone to maim them.”

“The rat’s word still stands.”

“Is something wrong?” You hesitated on the topic you were bordering on.

“I didn’t mean to make you guess.” He renewed his effort to give you your drink.

This time you got proper hold of it. “I’m not going to force you.”

“I’m…” He held out with distress painting him until he exhaled a modicum of it away. “I’m going to withdraw my holdings there.”

Your eyes shot wide. “Wait…”

“I know.” He gestured that he would sit.

You scooted backward into your spot on the couch so he could take his.

“I’ve been… debating. Pros and cons. Gut reactions. Integrated decision maps. I’ve run analysis. I’ve dusted off age-old algorithms. I’ve-!” He caught on more and sank down to stare into his mug. “Recently, you’ve allowed me to dabble further in my old habits and it has… summoned… interesting feelings.”

You folded yourself up close to translate you’d listen for as long as need be and sipped the liquid. Something new, you glanced down at it and found it in line with your tastes.

“I… enjoy my work, but I wonder if I prefer it because it is familiar or if it actually brings me joy.”

“You seemed like you were having fun watching Hypno and Warren destroy the place.”

He smiled a little and took the tiniest sip. “True, but… they made up.”

You nodded, letting the drink warm your body. “You were hoping otherwise.”

“I saw their qualms as advantageous. With Warren out of the way, I could extract more product from Hypno, but… to what end? Why? Why… do I… do this? Why…?”

You waited with curling fingers around hot ceramic.

“My holdings here make more than enough money. I live comfortably. I have what I need. My freedom, my… you. That comment Warren made…”

He’d made many; you took a sip.

“Is that our future?”

“No.” You broke in. “Warren’s an idiot and a jerk.”

He looked right through you. “Are you doomed to be my accomplice? Will you allow me to break and pillage and ruin while looking the other way because you care?”

“Donnie…”

“And the aftermath!” Something about the way he looked at his mug made you think he might pour it over his head. “To keep you separate is to keep you at bay. Allowing you close endangers you. I cannot undo what I’ve done. That is my life!”

You set your mug aside and crossed the space to hold his forearm.

The liquid in his cup vibrated outward.

“Hey.”

This time he saw you. “I don’t want that for you. For us. For our kids.” He gasped on the admittance and choked looking away. “I like it. I do. I enjoy it. I know it. I’m good at it, but-!”

You took his drink and set it aside.

“Do I do all those things because it’s all I know? Like that fucking worm… Like… a wheel. I’m trapped on a wheel and I was supposed to live. How long have I been stuck-!?” He wheezed.

You rose to your knees and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He held you and sank against your form. “I’ve been trying to parse it out, but I no longer know what’s real.”

You squeezed harder and he reached up to claw into your shirt.

“I’m scared.” He admitted with a heave and you felt the droplets seep into your clothes.

You held tight.

He’d never once admitted that.

Even after you’d been kidnapped, he never used those words.

He pulled you into his lap and buried himself down into the safety of you with only the plip plop of his running tears as a signal he was still present.

You refused to let go.

“I can only think to try.” His voice became shredded, warped and raw. “Start with the smallest, most superfluous holding in my portfolio and shut it. Tend the power vacuum and see how I feel. Will I experience loss? Will I care? Will I even notice?”

You stroked his carapace.

“I need to find out. I need to be sure before I do anything else. Before my declaration. Before I marry you. Before we move even a single step further forward. For me, for you.”

“You first.” Your own voice had a broken quality.

“Me first.” He agreed.

“I-” He teetered.

You found his chin and lifted him to eye level. “Not until you’re sure.”

He smiled through a shallow weep and touched the tip of his beak to your nose.

-

Compared to any other version of Donnie’s planning stages, this was something else entirely. He was under his own microscope and you could tell every move was one carefully scrutinized. It left him operating slowly and deliberately. He was hyper aware of each action and reaction to the point where you were sure something was penning down his existence with millisecond timestamps. He existed only as a written caricature, something without freewill that was only allowed to work within a script.

It was hard to watch.

A journey of self-discovery, he had to go about it alone.

You didn’t even know how to help even if you were allowed.

He was in a liminal space where the not knowing shredded him further. He held himself in such high regard and you had seen, first hand, what unknowns did to him. A whole spectrum of reactions, he’d gone the distance and yet still resided at a mysterious point. You were the sure thing in his life while everything else he’d known fell apart. You knew your part was played, something of a shepherd leading a weary traveler. You’d met while he was already on his journey, following a trail toward a life that was truly his own and he’d appeared on your field. There you had walked beside him to your boundary line and this marked the point where he would have to continue his quest alone.

You never left the fence.

You stared after his form no matter how tiny it got on the horizon.

The fact his path deviated was a far greater choice than any he’d ever been presented with. It was one, in fact, that he had thought was fully removed from him. Damned from an early age, he saw one trajectory of his life possible until that road lost pavement and turned to rubble. Soles cut and rotted flesh from neglect, he’d meant to die of his malady, but carrying on had widened his course.

Only he never looked up.

He stared down at the slog of his feet. 

You’d been there when his lids had first cracked and the full sight of his existence was one wider than he could comprehend.

He tried to force it, but it blinded him.

He couldn’t have it all.

A crossroads represented not only his choice in the matter, but that there was a greater existence possible for him.

The layered options overwhelmed him and their potency stripped him of his sense of self.

A vessel repaired, he stumbled forward not knowing which direction would be one that got him to his goals.

He’d wanted peace to work.

He acquired it.

He’d opened himself to love.

It was his.

He sought pleasure, big and small.

They were within his grasp, often and always.

What was left?

He didn’t so much lay out his business structure as he pinpointed what needed to be done. A dark that was meant to keep you safe, he gave you an itinerary. He would leave for the Hidden City on Monday and had projected a week to take care of letting this one business go. It meant laying low and moving under guise so as not to alert the authorities or competitors of his existence there. Somewhere he was wholly unallowed, he still had significant reach in that no one threatened his work even when he couldn’t be present.

That speaking largely to what he’d wanted and achieved, you had a certain awe for your mate.

He was an unstoppable force and though you knew he wasn’t unbreakable, it helped your faith in that he would make it through this.

He’d reach the other side.

He’d get his answer.

He’d return to your field, take your hand, and carry on with you in tow.

Until then, he would approach his business partners and contacts for this particular field and walk them through new procedures. Not expressively telling them he was removing himself, they would instead be under a child-like guise. One where you tell one parent the other said this and the other guardian the opposite, both parties would think responsibility was covered and they’d be none the wiser until they spoke.

Donnie estimated that they wouldn’t realize for at least a month and by that time the new system would be a stabilized one where they would simply accept he wouldn’t need them.

Their big mouths were the only thing left to chance. In the underworld, information reigned as the most important asset. Without that there was nothing to gain. You made no money without knowing its source. You held no power without holding something coveted. You were nothing to fear if you had no back up. The best case scenario were these contacts grew slovenly in their new positions and didn’t pipe up to ruin a good thing when the tyrant Donatello handed you gold on a silver platter.

It was the easiest of the sins while the others dictated the worst roads that could be taken.

Pride and bragging of having supposedly pulled one over.

Gluttony in thinking they could grab more.

Wrath that they were tricked.

Envy of one another and a vie to take full control.

Lust to use their growth as one alluring to conscript more onto their sides.

Greed in selling his weakness out.

Time would tell and Donnie was going to also strengthen certain protective holdings, as he called them, so as the filth would stay in the rotten city he despised.

You believed in him because he believed in you.

One week.

Seven days.

Technically 8 because he was due to arrive back first thing Monday morning.

You turned to your own plans.

You already knew you would need to keep busy. With Donnie out and wearing himself down both in a place that wanted his extermination along with all the danger the job itself entailed, you were ready to be a wreck. Communication wasn’t off the table this time, but it was a dodgy thing. He himself had been the one to wire the Hidden City for surface communication, but only so many Yokai cared to adapt. Usually only the ones that crossed the barrier wanted it, so connection points were relatively scarce and more often than not he wouldn't have service.

He promised you he would try to at least check-in once a day.

That would come in a variety of forms depending on his state, but even that wouldn’t be a guarantee or alarm.

You had to trust him to come back to you.

You did.

He didn’t pack and he bid you farewell clad in one of his convertible villain pieces. Dark layers that concealed both a litany of weapons and armor, there was little to hug that was actually him. You settled for what you could which ended up being slung high around his head and he had kissed you in stages.

Desperation.

Longing.

Love.

The last lingered with promise which he trailed to your ear to whisper not reassurances, but his affections. Everything save the titular confession, you held him in to press foreheads and noses before releasing him. He committed you to memory, brought his scarf up to hide himself, thought enough to lower it so you could see his parting smile, and left.

You were alone.

You had work.

You had also gotten ready for it too soon.

It meant you had little to do and ended up at first pacing the apartment. Looking for even the tiniest spot to maybe put something neglected away, you found little. Your deep cleaning had been done not too long ago. The most you found was one errant piece of mail that only needed to be moved from the kitchen counter to a sorting bin on Donnie’s desk and you were left with nothing more to do. You decided to text Shelly. When you had made your plans with him for tonight, you’d realized all too quickly that you’d only ever reached out to him via your tech gauntlet. You’d felt infuriated having had to ask Donnie for his number, but when you texted to automaton the revelation, he only chuckled and said it hadn’t occurred to him either. 

You: You up?

Shelly: File that under the ways to start a booty call

You: Why do you choose violence at all hours?

Shelly: I take after my papa

You:  Alright, I see how it is

Shelly: ☹️

You: Just checking in about tonight

Shelly: Ah dad just left I see

You: Please!

Shelly: You only ever text me when you’re lonely 😭

You: I do not! Since I got your number I’ve been sending you all kinds of stuff

Shelly: …

You: ?

Shelly: I GUESS!

You: Gotcha

Shelly: But yeah we’re still good. Want me to sleep over?

You paused and stared down at your phone.

You: That’s sad

You: Sleepover with your mom just cause dad’s on vacation?

You: Makes me sound like some elderly person who’s been with their spouse for like 30 years and is going to die of heartbreak

Shelly: Cause he died and left you all alone with the farm house!

You: Hey!

You: NO

You: SHELLY

Shelly: FUCK

Shelly: I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

Shelly: WAIT STOP GO BACK

You: YOU GO BACK WTF

You: YOU SAID IT!

The next message you got was a video of S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. making a rectangle with his hands before one of the mechanical arms of his came into frame and sliced the box in half.

You: what was that?

Shelly: It wards off bad luck!

You: It better!

Shelly: Sleepover to make up for it? 😀

You: Spoiled brat

A digital sticker appeared of S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. snickering and it distracted you all the way to work as you found out he had an entire set of emotes based on himself. Working in tandem with shotty service on public transit, you got the pack uploaded to your phone.

Work took over next. There was a busy enough load of things to do and they were just interesting enough to be distracting. Your ex-roommate Coral checked in around lunch under the guise of making fun of you and you ended up talking to her on speaker perched somewhere outside while you ate. It was a bit too cold for it, but the conversation kept you warm.

The afternoon tumbled away and eventually you were on your way home. Shooting a message to S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. that you were inbound, you found a shadow figure exuding way too much energy standing right outside your apartment.

“Someone’s going to call the cops on you.” You folded your arms behind him.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. turned with a bright glowing smile. “They already did! Mrs. Kaczmarek!”

“Of course it’d be her…” You wilted before something buoyed you concurrently. “You didn’t talk to her did you!?”

“Nah.” He pointed up the building. “She was staring at me through the blinds so I waved.”

You caught his arm through the sleeve of his big jacket. “She cannot see you go into my apartment!”

“Why?” He tilted his head with genuine curiosity.

“She thinks me and Donnie are living in sin! I don’t know what she’ll do with the whole kid thing!”

He snorted. “I’m gonna introduce myself.”

“No! Didn’t you hear me!?” You meant to tug him, but he scooped you up like the bag he had under his other arm.

Hanging your limbs in indignity, you glowered at him as he merrily skipped up the steps with loud percussive metal thumps. “Let’s spin it! Donnie is a single father widower!”

“I can walk!”

“This is more fun!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. sang as he ascended the steps two at a time. “Okay anyway, so he had me way too young and it was all a mix up and omigosh what if you guys were high school sweethearts and you had a tryst, but then my fake mom passed me off as yours and also you were conscripted into the mafia and then it’s enemies to lovers!”

“What have you been watching?!” He set you down when you reached your apartment’s floor.

“Telenovelas. Wait, why?” He paused to think.

You yanked the bag out of his hand in a fit of retaliation but immediately wilted under his weight. “Holy shit!”

“Ah!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. shouted more for sympathy and caught both you and the bag.

“What is this!?” You stared up at him.

“My pajamas.” He checked you over.

“Pajamas?” You unfolded the top and screeched as S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s lifeless head appeared as the contents.

A metal hand clamped over your mouth. “Okay, I’m gonna own that it’s been pretty funny keeping your heart rate up, but the bag thing wasn’t meant to be part of the joke!”

You hummed ‘what do you mean?’ as loud as you could against his paw.

“It’s just my drone body. I was going to switch to it so I can fit in bed with you. I’m pretty sure I exceed the weight limit like three times over in this body.” He let go slowly. “Pajamas? Get it?”

You pinched his hat and yanked him down to eye level. “Punishment! No scary movies!”

“Mom!!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. whined loud and long.

“Mom?” Mrs. Kaczmarek’s distinct voice came from down the hall.

“Fuck.” Your eyes widened and you didn’t have to look to know she was headed your way.

“Language!” Mrs. Kaczmarek huffed and you heard her shuffling footsteps.

“Mafia?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s brows wiggled digitally.

You glared mania right into his eyes. “Big brother program and you’re weird. That’s final.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. clucked happily as the old woman cornered you.

-

After S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. had dragged you out early for breakfast the next day, you bid him farewell on your way to work. He had a multi-day tournament that would be keeping him busy the next few days and Coral was next on your docket. Another working grind smoothed out the edges of your sanity and you ended up meeting her for an impromptu dinner. On her dime, you were relentlessly teased for being codependent which then rolled over into how badly you’d fail at long distance. You did your best to defend yourself, but when you got a ping from Donnie, the speed at which you’d scrambled to your phone only confirmed all her points.

You didn’t even care to defend yourself as the single purple heart in your message chain was one that sent your spirits sky high.

It inadvertently ruined her fun in the process and you were invited back to her place for drinks.

Now onto more genial conversation, you’d entered your old apartment to find your nervous friend Nelson, bent over the oven with the frilliest apron you had ever seen covering his torso.

He lifted up with a tray of cookies and, as you both roasted him, he defended himself saying form didn’t matter as much as utility.

Still cackling, the conversation shifted to a light hearted one as Nelson continued to bake for a donation sale.

Instead of stumbling home, you crashed in Coral’s bed and she kicked you out bright and early as if she hadn’t been there as your rock for the last 12 hours.

Doing a walk of shame that felt particularly comical since it no longer cracked the top ten of your worsts since meeting Donnie, you felt the first bout of truly missing your boyfriend. Something about walking the streets alone and knowing he wasn’t there or home waiting for you stung. Your shower at your apartment was a sullen one and the trip to work moved at an achingly slow pace.

You: Hey

You: Not sure when you’ll get this

You: Looks like the messages are going through though so that’s good

You: I did not want to relive those stupid red errors

You: I just wanted to say I miss you

You: Hang in there and best of luck ❤️

Staring long at the message chain even when no read receipt came, you pocketed your device as you went to work. A clock in and clock out sort of day, you’d had lunch with your gossipy coworker who you felt like you hadn’t seen in ages. He was the same as always and had many dishes to serve up. Trying to focus on consuming what he offered, who’d been kicked from the #random slack sat in your head like an ear worm until the end of the day where tonight marked the resurrection of game night. One where you only knew your chill friend Kaleb, as the host, and his board game obsessed friend, D-Kline, the rest of the attendants were new to you and you hoped keeping up with the crowd would offer a better distraction.

The night had been one of hotly debated conspiracy theories which went well with the game where you had to oust the player who was a secret villain.

The imagery was thankfully one that only nipped at your heels.

Home came especially dark when you clicked on the light and the lived in feel of the space was one that felt synthetic.

Another sleep would fast track you to Thursday which led to Friday. Both days you’d been unable to fill, you’d be on your own and, for that fact alone, you didn’t want to go to bed. You ended up staying up until the wee hours of the morning scrolling and feeling worse for it mentally and physically. It made the next day an absolute slog and a part of you enjoyed the suffering.

It was hard to think about being lonely when your head was pounding relentlessly.

Getting home came with crashing on the couch and waking sometime late. A devastating blow to your sleep schedule, you ate something microwaved for dinner. Consuming it standing in a dark kitchen, you checked your phone as almost an afterthought to find yesterday and today’s messages from Donnie.

Donnie 💜: As busy as I am, I also have time on my hands. It gives me the space necessary to consider what I must. Though manufactured for such purpose, I care little for it. Introspection is not something I’ve ever had the luxury to entertain and going about it alone has been trying.

Donnie 💜: I want to know I am doing this for the right reasons and I can’t help but think of you when I attempt to consider what those are.

Donnie 💜: I miss our bed.

Donnie 💜: I miss your scent.

Donnie 💜: Your smile.

Donnie 💜: My chest aches.

Donnie 💜: I should have taken more photographs.

And.

Donnie 💜: You have not responded and I hope that is because you are busy.

Donnie 💜: Take care of yourself.

You stared long at his messages until you felt weepy.

Squeezing your lids shut in an attempt to turn off the main for waterworks, you typed out a lengthy explanation of all the things you had been doing to keep busy. Veritable walls of text, you hoped that would give him some distracting material so he wouldn’t have to suffer completely alone with his thoughts.

You knew that curse all too well.

You punctuated the whole thing off with something short and liminal.

You: I’ll dream of you tonight, meet me there

You lowered your phone and felt exhausted at the prospect of having to prepare for bed when a little vibration in your hand caught your attention.

Donnie 💜: I will try as hard as I can.

With your phone crushed to your chest you drowned in your love for him.

Washing up, changing, and getting into bed, you lay in the middle with your body turned toward his side. There you conjured a ghost of him, the one you knew long and well. You willed him to your subconscious. Transferring residuals of his essence that must have been left behind, you focused all your thought on bringing his memory with you to the dreaming world.

You woke after a night of empty sleep.

It stung.

With little will, you prepared for the day which felt like sand falling through your fingers. All too fine for you to hold, it trickled between meetings and calls. Through the cracks of your mailbox and debris in the bottom of your water bottle, you refilled it only to disrupt the silt. It manifested tiny pebbles in your shoe that no amount of shaking could rid. It made seats in public transit craggy ones and as you entered your apartment you dropped to the floor with dramatics at the thought of having to repeat that process.

You fell asleep on the couch with a movie blaring all night.

The next morning, Friday, you barely made it through your routine and had started to berate yourself for your theatrics. The voice grew louder as you exited the apartment and you saw, but didn’t respond to a few messages from friends. Donnie’s daily message had been lost to yesterday’s sieve and you soured further. Your aura read one to keep away and that only exaggerated your loneliness.

You ate alone.

You worked alone.

You went home alone.

You were done.

Done with work and done with distractions, you fell into self loathing.

Five days?

There were people who lost their loved ones for lifetimes.

They carried on.

You felt pathetic and small.

A fury misplaced, you couldn’t send it to your partner because he was trying to maneuver something monumental.

That left you the punching bag and with it came takeout.

Far too much and way too expensive, you ate pure grease and turned on trash TV. Soon yelling at those pandering, you fell asleep sitting up and buried amongst blankets and Styrofoam.

When you woke up with a start the next day, it came with wiping fingers and leaving greasy marks on your shirt.

You forewent cleanliness in an attempt to wallow.

A crawling sensation of oil coating you inside and out, your phone was your magical friend that could bring more food without you having to move much.

Counting 23 steps from your spot on the couch to the door, you lapped that on the return trip to devolution with TV and a dripping to-go boxes.

Your frame of mind shifted with your meal.

You would have this.

You would let yourself mourn that which wasn’t even gone.

Why fight it?

You were allowed to be sad your boyfriend had left.

You weren’t supposed to trust your thoughts and feelings from late at night.

Everything was a process.

When was the last time you’d become a vegetable?

The terribly named cheat days were supposed to be a thing.

They kept you even and sane.

There was nothing wrong with indulgence as long as it was done in moderation.

You put yourself on a timeline.

You could live this way through Sunday if you wanted.

Then you were going to boil everything for safety.

You’d welcome Donnie back as if you hadn’t fallen off the wagon momentarily.

You’d tell him what happened.

Maybe later.

Way later.

After you knocked him clean to the floor and hung off him like a koala for say five to six straight hours.

You’d get your fill and then open up.

Donnie 💜: Switch in progress, results tentatively promising

You felt like you weren’t present in this world when you got the message.

A ground ball that you dove for, you came up dusty from it, but satisfied you’d staved off a run.

It felt like a cosmic truth.

You were okay.

Your feelings were valid.

Things would work out.

The Indian food you’d gotten for dinner was lethally delicious.

This time the food coma you put yourself in was a willing one.

No guilt, only decadence, you were cradling a far too large slab of garlicy naan and chewing on one end like a cow with cud. Saturday evening entertainment came in the form of a television show about a burnout trying to make their way. With bigger narratives obviously edging into the plot, you binged through season one and two before you felt yourself losing lengths of dialog. The bread on your chest had gone, but its scent and weight lingered.

A confusing ghost, you fell to the side, kicking napkins and tissues away until your own blanket acted as your pillow and you were the wad of gum stuck inside. Characters kept talking, they were relentless in that way, and your lids fell with the dialog feeding ticker tape into your dreams. Coming out your ears on a steady pump, the click clack of the printer was a metronome that dictated your heartbeat.

There was the distinct click of the door.

You cracked your eyes and saw a TV logo appearing and disappearing on a screen long fallen asleep.

Blue light bathed your form and you sat up to hear something soft like the weight of a bag hitting the floor.

Slow to turn, you found a large silhouette standing in the doorway and eating up darkness like a growing mass.

Without definition and somehow not rim lit by the television, you squinted at the mannequin and how it was half bent in setting a messenger bag down.

“Wrong… apartment…?” You ventured to the apparition.

“Y/N…?” Donnie’s voice came from it.

You stared as the being stood straight.

Silence beat dehydrated percussion in your ears.

“Did you…?” You asked and were interrupted by a wave of nausea.

You felt repulsive.

What a time for him to finally show up in your dreams.

He stepped towards you and you sort of registered one of his hands raising up to his face. “Did I what? Why are you sleeping out here-?”

You blinked one at the rude manifestation of your boyfriend.

Your mind had gone for a portrayal that was a bit too accurate.

You wanted dream Donnie to whisk you away on a white horse.

“What is that smell?” He gagged and finally took on close enough clarity to highlight that he had pulled his scarf down.

You might have been mad if you weren’t trapped by his face.

Lit from below, his hollowed out eyes were cast in a worse light. Pupils thin and lifeless, they sat atop eye bags that were triple the natural ones baked into his body from years of neglect. From around his scarf, his cheeks sunk against his features and there was visible grease blotched and giving his already green complexion an even sicklier hue. “You look like shit.”

“You smell like it.” He stared down at you.

You had to squint one last time before you pulled your arm from your cocoon.

Pinching your shoulder, you winced at the jolt of pain before turning up comprehension to your partner.

He softened a little around his scrunched beak.

In what felt like exactly three moves, you unearthed yourself, climbed straight up the back of the couch, and launched yourself at him.

He caught you with open arms and you both collapsed onto the floor where you wiggled until all of you was wrapped around him.

“What are you doing here?!” You yelled into his tympanum. “It’s Saturday still, right?! Did I miss it!? Did I sleep through Monday!?”

He squeezed you hard around the center until you squawked with pain. Then he went a calculated slack before his digging digits held you close to him with no intention of letting go. “It’s technically Sunday. 1:07am when I unlocked the door. I…”

You rose up and he relented from cupping the back of your head to holding your cheek.

You kissed him.

He returned it in earnest.

“Donnie…” You cooed against his mouth and he sealed the sound back up.

Now drinking each other in, you felt him shudder as he licked into you and you could only imagine the sour taste. You hadn’t properly showered since Wednesday and your teeth had gone unbrushed for at least 24 hours. Breaking every one of his cardinal rules and only seeming to care on some subconscious level, he nipped at you to get your attention back.

You.

He wanted you.

Even in this state. 

You kissed him hard enough down into the floor that it clicked his skull against the ground. He cared little and hoisted you up further, trying to keep all of you held as you made out. Taking time and then some, you eventually broke with a gasp where lightheadedness said that you had gone way past some reasonable point and your usual sensors for self-preservation were offline if only to have more of him.

His beak twitched with repugnant scents and you rooted down to tug messily at his scarf. It loosened and revealed musky skin where sweat had been long baked in. It made you remember he’d left in the same outfit he had now returned in and you licked a fat stripe over his pulse to taste the salt and sour of neglect.

“Acting all high and mighty.” You tutted against him and began to work a hickey into the flesh despite knowing it probably wouldn’t work.

He gave his first chirp.

You immediately sank your teeth into his throat without holding back.

His knees kicked up and slammed into your ass as he gave you a honed chirp.

“Fuck!” His limbs went loose.

You removed your fangs and mouthed satisfaction.

“Me?” He grunted, shoving up your dirty pajamas to feel the skin of your back. “You were busy. You were taking care of yourself. What happened?”

“I was.” You broke from his skin with a pop and pressed a wet kiss to the underside of his chin. “Then I got lonely.” You returned to your spot and sucked as hard as you could.

He quaked beneath you. “W-wait…!”

You relented only enough to talk against his skin. “What?”

“Are you alright though?” He pet you with worry.

“Now, I am.” You gave up your mark to kiss his neck tenderly. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you.”

“You say it so easily.” You tempered your voice to speak against his head.

“There’s been a change.”

“Oh?” You lifted up to see him.

Though it pained him, he pleaded with you. “Shower. We must shower. Together. Has to be together and now.”

“Fine, but you talk while we do it.”

“That was implied.” He gave the barest smile before your whole world shifted.

Now bundled in his arms, he carried you with a bouncy step to the bathroom. He deposited you next to the sink and you watched him prepare your toothbrush. Passing yours over and then getting his, you shared coy glances in the mirror. As soon as you were done, but right before you could spit, it had clearly been too long because he dipped down and forced his minty mouth against yours.

The kiss pushed you into the wall and you made a little spindly moan.

He retreated with a dry heave and was forced to scrub his mouth out a second time before he finally rinsed.

You followed soon after and fluttered your lashes at him as you spit.

He looked away with a gag and gave a stubborn grunt.

“I gross you out.” You teased him and he went only far enough to turn the shower tap on.

“The horror…” He said without emotion and caught your waist.

“You still want me though.” You leaned in sweetly.

What you thought was a tender move was immediately subverted because he’d actually caught your shirt and yanked it straight up, muffling you.

“Hey!”

“Feel free to return the favor.” He pulled too hard which snapped your arms up.

Even you could smell your body odor.

It caused him to slow, where his pupils changed sizes and your shirt fall like an afterthought to the ground. “Odd…”

“What?” You caught one end of his scarf and pulled so it choked him.

He snorted, wheezed, and wiggled his fingers up into the threads to loosen it. “Your scent.”

“I stink. I got that much.” You were undoing buttons on his outermost layer which you had never realized was a cardigan.

“Filth should deter your natural scent, meaning it should be repulsive but…” He was clearly trying to follow some line of thought, but you got his top undone and shoved backward.

He shook with a form of whiplash and countered by rocking back to shove your bottoms off. 

Now nude, you gazed into his eyes where he’d dropped to your level.

He caught the back of your neck to save it from the force of his kiss.

A wet one, it spoke of salvia and how you’d made his mouth water.

You curled into him and despised the layers he still had on as it separated you.

He found it just as annoying because he released and together you both stripped him in a stumbling mess.

He nearly fell into the shower as you whipped the curtain back and chased his unstable form into the warm spray.

Both instantly lulling at the sensation, you pressed together to enjoy it at the same time. A fire smothering flame, it held a heated tiding that reminded you that you were together and that was the point. It shifted to tender touches, drinking in the moisture on each other’s skin as you both reached for soap. Washing each other without pretext, you would often find yourself simply leaning against him for the sake of it. He churred loud enough to beat the nozzle and, as he mapped out the lengths of your skin, he tapped his beak against nearly all points as if to leave unseen pieces of himself behind.

By the time you exited, you had found there was a limit to what had prior been an endless stream of hot water from Donnie’s systems.

You dried off in fluffy towels and Donnie looked like he’d collapse from satisfaction at the slightest provocation. Wanting only to pamper him further, you showed him his muscle cream. He went to take it, but you pulled back to indicate you wanted to apply it. It pricked his eyes with happy tears that he squeezed away and offered you his arm. Working the solution into his neglected muscles, it was with such great comfort that his churrs broke. Imagining them on some supersonic level, you moved in an overflowing silence to get his other arm, neck, and finally his carapace.

He was without bones as you finished and you had to act as his walker to get him to bed.

He looked like he might say something, but was teetering in and out of consciousness as you sat him on the edge of it.

You gave a soothing hum and got a hold of clean wraps.

This time he was completely malleable in offering his limbs.

With the best approximation of the many times you’d seen him wrap himself, you applied them one slow rounding at a time.

It brought his churrs back and by the time you secured his neck, he kissed you with sweetness. 

“Marry me.” He mumbled between brushes to your lips.

You were equally drunk on the moment, you relished the little way your lips tried to cling to each other. “What…?”

He only kissed you more, in a way that spoke of need and pulled you into the bed.

Falling to his side, he turned right into you to give chaste press after chaste press and stroked your cheek for good measure.

You spent what must have been hours like that until exhaustion kept him from reciprocating.

Laying the wrong way in bed, you pulled up the bottom sheets to cover him the best you could.

He gave that honed chirp unprovoked and you kissed him with the desperation it always conjured. “What is that, Donnie? Please…?”

“You’ve… never asked…” He told you as his hand ghosted over your form as if to absorb your energy.

“Tell me now?” You pressed the tip of your nose to his beak.

“Mating call.”

You blinked wide, looking at him up his snout.

“For my mate.” He spoke, almost cheeky and stole another kiss.

Your heartbeat a little too fast and you found yourself cuddling into him.

“Mate.” He confirmed again and this time you found him checking your pulse to feel how your heart skipped a beat.

“You asked me to marry you.” You spit without venom.

He had the audacity to chuff. “There’s no way.”

“You did. Tonight, or… uh, this morning. Not that long ago.”

“I did not.” He gave a gentle pressure to your arm to make you look up at him.

You saw a dash of fear swirled into worry and fatigue in his gaze. “You did…”

“No…” His expression grew grave.

“Donnie.”

“That can’t be. Let me take it back.” He gave a faint growl as he rolled you over to hang above your head. “I didn’t!”

“Don.” You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Don’t laugh! Before I’ve said I love you?! Do you know the amount of planning I’ve had in place!? To work up to this?! I refuse to waste it on-on-on being mildly out of sorts at most!” His eyes darted wildly and without source. “Erase it! You will forget that you ever heard-!!”

You stared up at him with a watery expression that you were trying very hard to contain.

“Did…? Did I…?” He hung, mortified, above you.

You could only nod and tried to hide your mouth.

He tipped once, then twice, before his body came down around you in a whine. “I’m a mess!”

You moved deliberately in petting his carapace.

His churrs were weak and sad.

You thought against his head for a moment before summoning your strength. He felt the tide of your body shift and turned to study you curiously. Surely only seeing your face puckered, you breathed in as deep as you could and mustered the sound only he’d been able to produce.

You gave your approximation of the mating call.

Before the sound fully left you, his lips were on yours and his tears met your cheeks to escape.

You held him tight and returned the fervor.

“You-” He broke the lip lock as if to scold. “You-you-!”

You held his head so you could send him a honeyed gaze.

He shook your frame with a deafening mating call and kissed you deeply.

Melting into one, he slowed with reluctance to pull you the right way into bed. There you snuggled down together, giving pecks where possible to soothe the need until you were wound into a singular form.

“We were silent all during the washing. It was supposed to be a given, but I haven’t given my explanation…” He lamented.

“Now or later?” You nuzzled his throat.

He gave a faint hum. “I rushed my return home.”

You pursed your lips and pulled away to view him.

“I couldn’t stand another day without you.”

“Coral says we're codependent.” You told him while stroking his plastron.

“After this showing…?” Donnie’s brow ridge lifted in what had once been his patented look.

“I think… I mean I was in a dark place for a day, but… I don’t know. I think we’re fine. We do live our lives separate, but together. So what if we don’t want to be apart long term? Isn’t that why we’re dating?”

He gave a faint smile and kissed your forehead. “Which day was dark, my heart?”

“Friday…” You tucked your leg further where it was between his.

You felt his tail curl against your skin as if to hold you. “Then four days is too many. Three will be the max from now on.”

You couldn’t help the little jolt of joy that gave you.

It must have felt similarly for him because he gave you a bubbling peck.

You hummed content and he returned it with a similar chirp.

You gave your mating call.

He returned it with his.

You shoved into him and he welcomed you close.

“How were you?” You asked, settling into his scent.

“Let’s say it was all dark.” He spoke into your temple.

“I thought there was a change?”

He gave an affectionate chirp and nuzzled you. “There has.”

You slid a hand up to his neck to feel his pulse.

It beat evenly for you. “It was around the same time as yours. Before I gave my progress note. Days spent in the slums. Breathing the rancid air I once favored… I… I suppose it is at your lowest you receive the best perspective.”

“Donnie-”

“I know…” He kissed an apology for cutting you off. “I must learn the hard way it seems.”

You gave a reluctant nod.

“I don’t like that way of life, experiencing it now. If distilled, I suppose I like controlled chaos. I like knowing an outcome. I like watching the world burn, but… I don’t believe I prefer it by my hand. Call it entertainment as it would need to be a collapse that doesn’t affect you in the slightest.”

You leaned up where you were tucked under his chin.

He stroked your spine. “I did not sleep once the entirety of the time I was gone. Not for lack of trying, but it was as if my body could not rest knowing it was without yours.”

Your eyes closed.

“Hallucinations came at a certain point. I am built for higher tolerance, but that does not mean my mind does not slip.”

You slipped your fingers into the hinge of his shell.

He squeezed you lightly. “Nothing to fear. Can I share with you what I saw?”

You forced yourself to hear the first half of his sentence. “What?”

“I saw you. I saw us. I saw memories. I saw things yet to come…” He trailed off and you could feel him smiling. “I saw happiness that I was worthy of.”

You held him close.

He dipped his lips to press your forehead. “My truest desire was not one of ruin. It was working in my lab, you visiting me with a stroller. A life full.”

“Those loose lips of yours.” You kissed his neck. “You’ve brought up babies a few times now. What happened that being only pillow talk?”

“Would you like kids?”

“With you?”

He gave a single offended grunt. “Who else?”

“We might need to adopt…” You leaned your worries into him.

The blood test. 

Negative.

Not for a lack of trying. 

There was the catchall of his birth control, but you weren’t sure if that was really the only cause. 

He seemed unaffected. “The child would still be ours.”

You snapped your head up to see him.

“It would still be with me.” He spoke reassurance.

You kissed him. “Yes, someday.”

He lingered against it. “I’m withdrawing from the Hidden City completely. I’ll transfer all my holdings. I’ll cherry pick my successors. I will go only legitimate… with more than a few offshore accounts.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed…?”

“I’m not allowed to fully quit. I will forever be a sort of target, but I also know the system better than anyone. I was raised by it. If I restructure everything and leave no one wanting, they will be less inclined to come after me.”

“It sounds easy, but-”

“It will not be. This will be an extremely dangerous, arduous, tedious, and a miserable change. Any other version of me would despise how flagrant I’m being. Needlessly selfish. I’m spitting in my own face.”

You studied him before stroking his jaw and smiling. “You’re morally grey.”

He bobbed with laughter. “I like that.”

“Yeah?” You moved to kiss him.

He took your lips, greedily. “Very much so.”

“You’ll be happy?”

“I am happy.”

You swam in a light blush. “I meant doing this. This is… huge… Donnie, this has been your life.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, I will kick and scream. I may also have to bend our rules and commit a few vile acts. A show of power even in retreat is a potent one.”

“You’re going to kill?” You stared at him knowingly.

“A few… It is yet to be seen, but I imagine… five…? Or so tops…?” He grimaced.

“Only if necessary.” You leaned into him with a shake of your head.

“Of course.”

“I… I’m not sure how to feel. If this is what you want, you know I support you, but it feels…?”

“Surprising? Sudden? As if this isn’t actually occurring?”

“That and way more.”

“It has been a drawing culmination. I feel as though I am dangling from an invisible thread. I am sure I am held as I haven’t fallen, but it seems improbable that I have not died.”

You tried to picture that.

“I suppose I could have… What an interesting choice of afterlife for someone such as me…” He flicked his gaze and caught your lips.

You kissed back his comedy.

“My concerns are my own. Overall, I have full confidence. You cinched it.”

“Me?”

“Seeing you. I have spent all this time back in my natural habitat unsettled. Miserable. Plagued by insomnia. Taking no pleasure in my favorite game of manipulation.”

You gazed into his eyes.

There was only truth in them. “The moment I stepped into our home, all that ill will evaporated. I was whole again. Immediately soothed. I believe that is why I enjoyed the hacking and the destruction of the double date. I had you by my side.”

“You like being bad with me?” You asked with a light tease.

“I like being anything with you.” He bumped his beak to your nose. “However, I did take that into account. I played out exercises in which you were my cohort.”

“We’ve played that more than once already.” Your lids lowered.

He lapsed into a momentary churr before clearing it with his throat. “In guise, yes. Enjoyed. Relished. Savored. In reality… I wanted to vomit. The thought of you having to deal with any percentage, no matter how small, of what is required to do of what I have done. Of…” His attention dipped, haunted. “More than what you’ve already suffered.”

You kissed him back to the present.

He came and nuzzled into you. “Never.”

You settled comfortably against his lips.

He pulled away the slightest amount and you felt the flicker of worry. “Unless, of course, that is what you desire…?”

You opened your eyes wide to translate how serious you were. “No. Not even. Heroes and villains… the whole thing is… not good. I don’t… I don’t want to do either. I just want to be me and I just want to be with you.”

You watched emotions march through his ragged form. “You are so sure you won’t make mistakes…”

“I’m not.” You pressed your hands into the plastron over his head. “I’m as scared as anyone else.”

“You’re not scared of me…”

“You’re not a mistake.”

All hitting a breaking point, he enveloped you like a tide. You let the warm waters wash you out to sea where you had no worries for the depths supporting you. They were all known, even if they weren’t, and you had full trust that you and your partner would navigate whatever necessary.

NEXT

Both my betas are getting pummeled with work but they still make time for me! I can't thank @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 enough!!

[ohbo-ohno]

this is bad. this is REALLLLL bad. i was just a normal gal til I read your ghoap puppy play. i. just. what the fuck. now, first of all, i’m even MORE kinky than before, and you’ve infected my writing too

like soap gets all pouty when ghost first starts training because what the hell, he didn’t sign up for this :((( and like when ghost makes him sleep in the crate because he’s been bad, edges him for weeks because mutts don’t get rewards, he can’t help but hump the bars and whine all night ‘til ghost groans, wakes up, and then degrades him until he falls silent again :(((

and ghost doesn’t even give a shit. cuz it doesn’t matter if Johnny is our talking with literally anyone on base, ghost can literally just say a few little words and poor soap just slips right back into the puppy headspace :(( and then he gets all whiney when they’re alone and can’t help it when he starts to bark, nuzzling closer like the good boy he is :(((

omg ew what have I become

i love hearing that my stuff is what got people into puppyplay but it never fails to fucking BLOW my mind. ME??? are you sure????

anyways the last paragraph of this ask made me loooooooose my fucking mind. i don't think you meant it this way but i would KILL to be able to write hypno properly, there's sooo much fun there. hypnotizing someone to be your puppy.... they don't know why they feel like dropping to their knees every time you whistle :(((

equally as fun, of course, is just regular ol' training. ghost getting soap conditioned to certain signals and sounds, doing it so casually that soap doesn't even notice. goes so far that soap stops responding to commands from other people - the first time soap looks to ghost instead of price in the field (ignoring price, waiting for ghost), simon nearly fucking melts. praises his boy for hours when they get home

"ghost makes him sleep in the crate because he’s been bad, edges him for weeks because mutts don’t get rewards, he can’t help but hump the bars and whine all night ‘til ghost groans, wakes up, and then degrades him until he falls silent again" has been something i've been meaning to actually write a full scene out for for MONTHS now but i never have. it's just. godddddddd i fucking. ugh i can't. SO goddamn hot, it's egregious. i can't

ghost playing with soap (even in public) with miscellaneous items... love. ceilidh has this tweet that i haven't stopped thinking about since she posted it. just...

ghost making soap grab him things by saying "fetch that for me" and eventually shortening it to just "fetch" :( holding things a little too long when he offers them to johnny, making him play a quick game of tug of war :( grabbing johnny by the jaw and shaking his head real rough when he's not listening :( taking him on walks when he gets all wound up so he doesn't make a mess of himself or ghost's room :( goddamn i could write a whole drabble for every single one of these ideas if i was in the right fucking mood. hate it here

[neverchecking]

Could I please ask for Sub!Four with hypno kink? Poor guy has too many thoughts in his head with the Colors... But Reader wouldn't mind taking them away for a bit of fun ;)

You absolutely can! Subby boys are my jam!

What are the personalities of the colors? Like I can't find it anywhere and I'm trying to be very strategic when writing four that I don't have to include them right away-

ANYWAY-

(I'm currently out of town so I'm posting my stocked drafts. I'm not ignoring my asks or the reblogs I wanna add to, I'm just not near a computer where I can answer them properly.)

Smut so 18+, MDNI

Smut CW: Hypnosis, Sub! Four, Dom! Reader, AFAB Reader

He was going to need to re-evaluate the amount of trust he put in you.

Honestly.

This might've been pushing his limit just a bit. He probably wouldn't have even considered this should he have not been so enamored by you. He wasn't even sure the absolute chokehold you had on him was enough to keep him on his place on the bed.

"My jewel, you know I would never doubt you-" Never. Never in a million years. He would follow you to the ends of the Earth. "But, are you sure about this?"

This was insane.

You nodded happily nonetheless, weaving a delicate gold chain around your fingers. The clock hooked to the chain swung hypnotically beneath your hand, picking up a steady tempo as it rocked back and forth. It entranced him, making his eyes follow it's every move--despite all the voices screaming at him to do otherwise. To pry his attention away from the pendulum and instead focus on you. But this was what you wanted. You wanted to see if you could hold his ever moving focal point on one thing. You wanted all of his attention on you and you alone.

And while he never wanted it to be on anything other than perfect, divine you, it was a struggle to get everyone's attention on one place. One would be off, worried about enemies lurking in the trees. Another would go off on tangents about how beautiful your eyes were and how he could get so lost in them within moments. Another was reminding him of all the ways you had been whimpering beneath him, crying for his every move. Another was cataloguing your outfit and every bit of it that he could mend or better or-

It was a lot getting everyone's attention on one point.

You figured this may help in the very least. And whatever you wanted, he would give. Anything at all. If you wanted someone slain in your name, it would be done. If you wanted the kingdom of Hyrule to fall before you, it would just be a moment. If you wanted to strip him of his will, to make him nothing but a mindless servant for you to use?

Your wish is his command.

The clock kept his attention as he felt his raging psyche gently melt away. One by one, each of the colors settled into nothing, their voices shutting down and falling away. For the first time in a long time, there was silence around him. He didn't even notice you pulling the watch away, settling it down before you were gently cupping his chin with a hand.

"-ear me, my love?"

You were asking him something. Could he hear you maybe? Either way he nodded. It was all so blissfully quiet. All he could see was you. Everlasting, exquisite, paradisical you. Treating him like fine glass, you touch was never anything more than positively featherlight, gently tracing the lines of his jaw and neck.

He nodded slowly. It felt like someone had laid a blanket over his busy mind, clouding it in a layer of pure mindlessly feeling. He could feel the cotton of the blanket beneath him (Why were you sleeping with something so rough? He would need to replace it right away.), the give of the pillows stationed behind him (Those were too flat, you deserved only the best.), even the feeling of the mattress beneath him (It was so firm. How would you be expected to sleep soundly when it felt like a freaking rock beneath him?! How had he never noticed this before?!). Things he never would've thought of before were now jumping out at him only to flit away in the blink of an eye.

Anything he previously found issues with simply fell away at the feeling of your touch on his leg. It started at his knee, igniting a fire in it's wake, before trailing up his thigh and towards his pelvis. His entire being lit up, nerves firing to life, sending impulse after impulse to his brain, overloading it with just the knowledge of you. The way you smelled, the way you felt, the way you were so close he could feel your breath against his shoulder as your fingers brushed along his shaft.

His nerves clenched, as if to jump at the action, but the action never came. No, instead, he laid there limply. Morphing himself to your every whim.

It was different, to have someone else take the forefront. Even when one of the colors was in charge, he was still there. With this, he was completely giving himself to you.

And what better way was there to show his absolute devotion to you?

He couldn't think of any other way. Actually, he couldn't think of any thing as your fingers wrapped around his shaft, thumbing the head of his cock to spread the bulbing precum down the skin.

"-hats it, Link. Just let me do the thinking for you."

He'd let you do anything to him. Absolutely anything. You could say jump and he'd say how high.

His entire body was yours to use and manipulate, anything you so wished.

Your hand moved, making his thighs tense in anticipation. Some sort of whine left his lips as his every sense was overloaded with just you. His muscles coiled like a viper, tight and poised to snap at any moment. His eyes burned as tears collected in the corners of his eyes, feeling too overstimulated to do anything but without any of the relief of release.

It was nothing but pure pressure building in his gut as you sped up your ministrations. The coil was tightening further, and further just begging to snap and give him any form of release. He would take anything at this point but he would never dare disobey you.

"Cum for me, Link."

The coil snapped as his hips bucked up to meet your hang, thick, viscous strands burning like magma against his skin before cooling enough he gave himself goosebumps. Flashes of white blinded him from behind his eyelids as he jolted and cried, fat pearls of tears trailing down his cheeks as drool shined against his lips.

Everything was abuzz, his skin feeling too hot to the touch, as you retracted your hand. A part of him wanted to beg and plead for your touch once more, but another part knew that it would do nothing but burn his nerves wit overstimulation (He'd leave that for another day).

The first thing that came back to him from any of the colors was one simple thought.

'Holy Shit, dude.'

[beautifulchris]

a simple favor

wc: 0,9k

pairing: demigod!minho x gn demigod!reader

summary: you happen to ask a favor to the guy that has a crush on you

genres: fluff, demigod!au, camp half-blood!au, crush!au, son of hermes!minho, child of demeter!reader

tw: flirting, magic

notes: minho is a simp in this one and i'm not apologizing for it. i'm reposting the works i posted while shadowbanned, please don't mind me

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @whipped-kpop-creators

permanent tag list: @badwithten​ send ask/dm/comment to be added!

Minho was a chill kid from cabin 11. He wasn’t about all that “thievery and trickery” lifestyle. Of course, as a Hermes kid, he was skilled for both, but it didn’t mean he’d use them if he could help it.

You were a sweet and beautiful child of Demeter, like herself in many ways. Need a hand? You were there to help. Tending to the Strawberry fields and chatting with the nature spirits about gardening and agriculture in general were your favorite hobbies.

Back in your dad’s neighborhood, you had a best friend. You two shared everything— quite literally, since she could see through the Mist.

She passed her driver’s license test the day you went to camp, so she promised she’d let you know the results.

But only if you could find a way to contact her, because everybody knew phones were monster magnets.

A cabin mate had once said he saw Minho from the Hermes cabin successfully deliver messages in dreams for a friend of his from cabin 5.

It could be a long shot but you wanted to know how your best friend did.

Now, I know what you might ask—

“Why me and not any Hypnos kid? They’re specialized in sleep and dreams.”

Minho was arms crossed against his cabin’s wall, examining you with his cat-like eyes.

“I’ve been told you’re good at it and you’re way more focused than any of them. I don’t want to spend hours explaining something that could take minutes.”

He smirked. “You could’ve just told me you wanted to spend time with me, gorgeous.”

Cheeks burning, your eyes opened widely. “That’s not—”

“It’s okay. So, what do I get in exchange?”

Ah. You didn’t think this far.

“... A flower crown? Cookies?” You were genuinely searching for a fair trade when he bursted out laughing.

“You’re cute.”

“If you’re just gonna make fun of me, I’ll just go to Jeno, sorry—”

He straightened, suddenly serious. “No," he said loudly. He coughed, "I mean no, I’m sorry for laughing. I’ll do it. I’ll take the flower crown and the cookies, though.”

You smiled so sweetly, his heart hammered in his chest.

“Thank you.”

“Sure,” he coughed again, probably to hide his red ears this time.

You walked away a few steps then turned around. “When do you want to do it?”

“Tonight, if it’s okay for you.”

“Okay, see you soon!” You waved him goodbye and, as you jogged away, Minho couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

Deep down, he was thrilled to have you asking him for help. He had developed a tiny crush on you after seeing you using your magic in the fields on sunny days, your skin glowing with beauty. Or whenever you gracefully walked past him on your way to the dining pavilion or the combat arena.

He wanted to know more about you. That was the only reason he accepted your request, because he wouldn’t do it for anyone.

“I really thought you’d only do it for friends,” Changbin fake pouted, “or am I nothing to you?”

“Shut up, I did it because you begged, and you are my friend.”

“Oh… so that means that Demeter kid is someone to you. Got it,” he grinned before running away, avoiding his friend’s murderous hands by a centimeter.

“You better not tell a soul!” Minho yelled, before getting ready for his archery lesson.

After dinner, Minho followed you to the Demeter cabin.

“Everyone is at the bonfire, I thought it would be better if we were alone,” you said, sitting on your bed.

The gifts were placed on your bedside table and Minho was standing in front of you, a little uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Of course. Let’s do this.”

He made you lay down on your bed, walked to the front of it and placed his hands around your temples without touching you.

“Relax, think about your friend. I’m going to touch your head, you can tell me to stop at any time.”

“Alright, you can proceed.” After giving him a smile of encouragement, you closed your eyes and focused.

Minho quickly shook away his feelings and concentrated on the task at hand.

It lasted a few minutes, and you could see your best friend vividly like you were actually there with her.

Thanks to him, you got to talk to her, cheer for her when she said she aced the test and give her a hug.

When you finally opened your eyes, Minho was standing next to your bed, contemplating the flower crown you made for him. It was placed on the bedside table along with a batch of cookies.

“Everything went well?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you Minho,” you beamed. “Take it, it’s yours.”

He hesitated, so you got up, took it and put it delicately on his head, all the while his eyes were locked on yours.

“I thought you’d be more interested in the cookies. You look handsome with it,” you complimented, taking a step back to take in his appearance.

Doing his best to ignore the sensation in his chest at your words, he bit into a freshly baked cookie. “Honestly, you didn’t have to give me anything, I would’ve helped you either way. Hm, it’s good.”

“You literally asked for those,” you reminded him.

“You proposed, I accepted,” he countered, shrugging. “But if you insist, you can remind me of our earlier conversation while we walk on the beach together.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Lee Minho?” you smiled, biting on a cookie too.

He mirrored your expression. “Depends, will you say yes?”

“It’s indeed good. Yes, I’d love to talk some more.”

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, here's the masterlist <3

[ultrajtb]

Making day 4 a bit later than normal. Sorry guys, I’m a bit sick.

So wrapping up origins today because I’ve run out of characters that I think are necessary to include

So hypno steve

I originally planned on fully overhauling the design, but found it to be really difficult with how complex the skin is, so I opted to give him faint steve detailing on the body, some hair, and brighter colors.

In terms of story, nothing really changes. He’s still an experiment created by dark with the ability to manipulate a person’s mind. Really all I want to do with him is expand slightly on how he was made.

So basically, Dark butchered several steves and stitched bits and pieces of them together to make hypno. He then infused a bit of shadow stone alongside several more steves to give his creation life. Unfortunately for dark, Hypno was fully aware of what he was, and more importantly, who each part of himself was before the experiment.

In the end, dark couldn’t control hypno because every part of Hypno wanted vengeance on him. This ended in dark having to lock him inside a machine for his own safety.

Months after the experiment went wrong, Sabre and blue steve stumble upon the island that dark did everything on, eventually finding a lever that they flip to see what happens, inadvertently turning off the machine and freeing Hypno from his stasis.

Hypno quickly finds the two and starts messing with them, starting out small by making them hear each other in different directions, separating the two. Hypno proceeds to focus on rainbow, having a fascination with him since he too is a combination of steves. He starts probing Rainbow’s mind, searching his memories and dreams. He then projects a twisted image of what rainbow wants to the hero, showing him a world ruled and corrupted by him. A world of nothing but rainbow color. Hypno joins him under the guise of blue Steve, explaining what this world is.

Rainbow is obviously horrified by it, which convinces hypno of his intentions. However, rainbow freaks out and starts trying to attack hypno out of fear, which ends up with him actually attacking blue Steve in reality. Hypno, now sure of Rainbow, leaves for the time being.

Hypno’s story ends when Rainbow is at his lowest. His best friend is dead, nightmare is stronger than ever, and he still doesn’t know how to use his powers. Hypno makes him the offer to put him into a deep, trance-like sleep for generations to allow him to build up power. Rainbow accepts, giving hypno the remaining artifacts. After putting rainbow to sleep, hypno destroys the artifacts, feeling that they had no more use.

From then on, he’d act as a sort of guardian from the shadows; forcing himself to stay alive until Rainbow safely reawoke, at which point he finally let go and allowed himself to move on.

Yes I’m taking hypno out of the actual steve saga. He made a single appearance and honestly it kind of ruined the moment for me when he did.

So finally starting the actual steve saga with the main character himself, Sabre

Now, I actually have 2 redesigns for him

The left one is obviously a proper redesign, keeping the chicken body while making it look a bit more detailed. Fun fact about the chicken skin, Sabre has said before that it isn’t actually a onesie. It’s in fact, his face on a humanoid chicken’s body. I just think that’s funny.

So design 2 on the right is based on his modern skin. I felt like the chicken skin was a bit goofy so I put together a fully human one that I think looks pretty nice.

Shared design traits between the two are reshaded/recolored hair and a blue blindfold

So starter lore. Sabre enters the steve world, discovers the steves, and out of curiosity starts making machines to see how they work. He eventually meets and captures the awakened rainbow, and accidentally breaks him during his experimentation. This makes rainbow more hostile towards him as well as begins a slow decay from the damage, corrupting him more and more over time

That’s all I have for today. Lmk if it’s any good

Have a good day/night guys