#i mean hes a size of a post stamp but hes there?????

[berrysquared]

Alright then keep your secrets

[angelfrombeneth]

MAGICAL DRYING DISASTER - T . NOTT

Mature Content Ahead

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: After waking up late and discovering you left your washing in the machine over night. You had no other choice to use magic to dry it - except it did dry but also shrunk, massively, in the process. Once Theo finds you let's just say he manages to keep it kept in till the common room. Then it's all fair game from there.

Warnings: SMUT, No Protection - PIV, Theodore is a munch - Fem Oral, Body Worship, Smidge of SubWhiney!Theo, Cursing

A/N: This is my first one-shot fic I've posted in a long time but also my first one EVER on tumblr. I used to write on wattpad and ao3 but took a very long hiatus. So excuse if my smut writing is a bit off or any spelling mistakes I currently have acrylics on - its quite hard to type.

Click Clack.. Click Clack...

You ran towards your class quickly, pulling town the absolute belt of a skirt you wore today before entering into your potions class. Late.

"Miss Neveah.. Thank you for finally joining us" Snape panned. His face expressionless as he stared at you. A slight hint of disapproval in his face.

"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again!" You scurried to your seat beside Pansy.

"It most definitely will not" He groaned before turning back to the chalk board to continue his explanation.

You shimmied on your seat, pulling as much skirt down as you could. Practically flashing those behind you of your bright red thong and gorgeously placed star tramp stamp.

Nice touch is what you thought when you got it a few months ago after a night out in the muggle clubs with Pansy. She persuaded you and said Theo would love it. Or which he did.

"Y/N.. your skirt is practically a belt. Trying to flash us all?" She whispered, giggling as he peered down as your legs, absent of any tights aswell.

"Girl.. It shrunk when I tried to use magic to dry it. All my other skirts are dirty" You pouted. "I also couldn't find a pair of fucking tights, I was running so late"

"Its not that bad, just don't bend over if you can" She smiled as she reached to your ponytail tieing in a little green piece of ribbon into a bow. "And don't let Mr Lover boy see you" She snickered.

You sighed, focusing in the rest of your class. Praying not many people noticed. You were pretty daft thinking that. You were already the hot goss. It was only so long till Theo found out.

Though alot of boys in Hogwarts fancied you, they all knew about Theodore Nott swooping in, in 4th year the year before you 'blossomed' as they said. They say he saw the potential and snatched it up while they could.

You walked down the hall, pulling your books to your chest as your red bottoms clipped the wooden floor that spanned the whole school. Many turned your way gawking as you, mostly more than normal due to tour skirt size today.

You weren't a bad girl. You has good grades, you were overly nice to everyone just the people you hung round with were opposite. Many saying you were too nice.

After a quick detour to pick up an extra book from the library you shuffled down the corridor, your heels clicking their signature click against the oak as you walked towards your friends who stood beside your regular post class meeting pillar.

"Sorry I'm late!" You skipped towards them hurriedly. You watched as Theo whipped his head around, his jaw practically dislodging from his face as he stared at you.

Mattheo wolf whistled as he looked you up and down. Smirking as he pushed himself off the wall - "Damn Y/N, I didn't know you had this hiding somewhere"

"Neither did I" Theo's gaze burned through you as he bent his neck to get look at you from behind. Definitely a sight for sore eyes.

"I'm sorry- I fucked up a spell and I was running late I didn't mean to- OUCH! THEO!" you got cut off as he slapped his hand harshly against your ass before gripping a handful as he smirked down at you. The boys laughing at the pair of you.

"As much as I am thoroughly enjoying the sight Bella" He looked down at you, his gaze growing darker by each word that fell from his lips. He leaned in, practically growling in your ear."I don't like to share amore mio"

You gulped at his words as he pulled his jumper off, wrapping it around your waist. Slightly tugging on the fabric jerking you forward into his chest as he smiled down at you before kissing your forehead softly.

"As cute as you two are, everyone's looking. Can we clear out" Pansy groaned.

You snapped back into reality, quietly ushering an apology to the group as Pansy pulled your hand as you both walked hand in hand ahead of the boys.

You heard a smack and an 'ow' turning around quickly as you turned the corner seeing Theo slapping Mattheo across the head. "Flirt with someone else" He groaned. You giggled slightly at his protectiveness.

Once you arrived to the common room everyone scattered to do their own thing. Theo once more approaching you.

"Now..." a cheeky smile appeared on his lips as his hands held your hips softly as he peered down at you. The height difference really getting to you. "I can't stop thinking about that little skirt on you.." His hands slowly moving down and around to the curve of your ass as he nibbled at his lip. "..and how much I want to fuck you in it" He whispered the last part lowly as his tongue poked out and slid across his bottom lip as he squeezed your ass through his jumper.

"Then do it" You caught his gaze, already out of breath from his minimal touch.

It's like that's all he needed to hear. Like without warning and no regards for the fact your friends were just a few steps away bundled in the corner on the coaches - he pulled you tightly, hand on your ass against him as his lips crushed into yours. Needy kisses as if he hasn't kissed you in months.

The sudden rip of his jumper loosening the knot as it dropped to the floor. His hands sliding under the little fabric the skirt had as his nails gripped into the flesh on your ass cheeks. You yelped slightly and he took that as permission to shove his whole tongue down your throat. The kisses grew messier and messier as you both backed up towards the stairs, bumping into everything possible as you both chuckled.

Breaking the kiss as you both removed various pieces of clothing as you scrambled up the stairs. By the time you got to yours and Pansys' room you both had disregarded of practically everything. Theo quickly finishing unzipping his trousers before pushing you into the room, kicking the leg off quickly, flinging his trousers into the centre of the hallway as he shut the door behind him.

You stood infront of him in just your skirt, bra and panties as he ruffled his hair, staring at you like a kid in a candy shop, pondering what you try next.

"DONT WORRY WE'LL CLEAN UP AFTER YOU TWO!" Draco yelled, annoyance plastered in his voice.

That broke Theo out of the trance he was in as he lunged at you, unclipping your bra swiftly as he threw it across the room before pushing you against the bed.

"Fuck, I'm so hard. I can't- I just need to fuck you now" He groaned, biting at his lip anxiously as he stared down at you. "Get on all fours". You obliged and quickly.

You felt the sudden cold breeze against your clit as he tightly yanked on your thong, splitting it apart at he threw it on the floor aswell as he kicked off his boxers.

"Fuck your so hot" He groaned, dropping to his knees as he gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks wide as he licked a nice wet strip up your pussy.

A moan lodged itself in your neck as you bundled up the sheets in your hands as he let out a shaky breath.

"Wanna eat you out so bad, but my cock is throbbing.. Need to treat you well tho" He whined as he spat into his hand as he began to fuck it. His free hand gripping your ass as he dove his tounge deep into you.

You hung your head forward as you let out an exasperated sigh as your toes curled. Theo's tongue worked wonders inside of you. He ate you out like it was dire need. The roughness of his mouth sopping against your pussy as his tongue drilled into your hole. The wetness of both his mouth and your pussy mixing as he moaned against you as he continued to fuck the shit out of his hand. Loud moans rumbled against you as he sucked and twirled like no tomorrow.

You were drawing to your high as you noticed he stopped, pulling away for a moment as he let out a deep growl before a light whimper escaped his lips as he came up the bottom of your bed frame and on the floor. He panted for a moment, light whimpers leaving gis mouth as he toyed with his sensitive dick.

"Fuck- Sorry Principessa. I came, naughty of me to do so before I helped you. I'll make sure you feel extra good" His other hand colliding with your ass again as he dove back in. His nose rubbing harshly against your slit as he flicked his tongue continously against your clit. Sucking and nibbling at it from time to time as he continued to grip and massage at your ass.

The sudden overwhelming feeling drove you over the age as you screeched, yelping as you squirted all over his face. You gasped loudly, crashing to the bed as your legs shook slightly as you panted.

"Mhmm.. Love it when you squirt" You looked at Theo as he wiped the cum from his face, sucking his fingers like a dessert he's got to finish.

"You're so gorgeous, so fucking beautiful.. Beautiful body" He groaned as he slid his hands up your curves, moaning softly as the scene infront of him. "S'lucky.. So fucking lucky.."

He tapped your thigh, as you led on your stomach on the bed, your legs hanging off the end slightly as your tippy toes held against the floor.

"Gunna make you feel so good, amore" he cooed as he lied up his tip with your slit before thrashing it in harshly. You yelped once again at you looked back at him.

"Going to teach you not. to wear. a slut. short. skirt. again. fuck!" He growled with each thrust as your body jerked against his movements. Your body slid up and down the bed as your feet struggled to stay on the floor much longer as he pushed you up the bed.

It wasn't before long till Theo climbed ontop of you, straddling you as he drilled into you. Loud whimpers left you as you clawed at the sheets as you screamed into his duvet.

"FUCK!! ARGH- TEDDY!" you pleaded as your back arched, shoving your ass harder into him as his hands gripped your hips tightly, his nails scatting cresent moons to your flesh as your bodies recoiled against one another.

"Yes! Like that.. fuckkk Teddy more..  please!" You babbled. He reached over grabbing your neck as he pulled your body up against his chest. Your legs trapped between his as he squeezed them shut. His arm tightly against your stomach as he continued to drill up into your pussy. You gasped and whined continously as he groaned and growled into your ear. His grip growing tighter around your neck as he flexed his biceps, his tongue sliding up your jawline to your ear.

"Teddy- I'm gunna cum! Please please please PLEASE! Cum with me!" you whined as your eyes rolled back. The growing feeling in your stomach as his cock continued to thrash into you. You were drunk on the feeling of him buried into you. You tightly shut your thighs together for any ounce more of pressure you could grasp.

"Good girl- M'close" He panted.

Your eyes began to roll back as you gasped for air at the tightening of his arm around your neck. The bursting feeling in your stomach as your whole body recoiled and shook as you screamed like bloody murder with all the air you has left in your lungs as you came.

At that moment Theo threw you down, as your body twitched conthously. He gripped your ass as he thrusted deep before cumming in you. Groaning deeply as he threw his head back. Sweat trickling down his forehead and chest as he panted heavily.

Neither of you moved for a moment to compose yourself. You occasionally twitched at your body recoiled against his dick.

"Fuck me.. So good" Theo pulled out, sighing as he watched cum pool at your slit and began to slide down. You felt his tip against you again as he collected the escaping cum and slightly fucked it back into you. His dick entering you once more as you gasped at the feeling.

"Good girl.. such a good girl.." His light thrusts as he peppered you with kisses all over your back and shoulders.

He gasped slightly as he froze above you. You were about to question him till you felt a slightly release.

"Did you just cum again Teddy?" You giggled as he thrusted once more before pulling out and collapsing next to you.

"Its hard to last with you. You make me so addicted" He smirked, his head turned to look at you. He rested his hand on your ass, squeezing it lightly from time to time.

"I'm glad this skirt shrunk" He chuckled, his smile wide.

You shook your head as you laughed at him. "You're a fool" You shimmied towards him, flicking your leg over his chest as you cuddled into him. His body warm.

He kissed your shoulder softly before softly kissing your cheek, nibbling at your ear before whispering;

"Ti amo amore mio".

If you enjoyed this fic and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here!

[magicalbats]

Tavern Nights (Sampo x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5949

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, alcohol, coercion, manipulation, just generally skeevy/predatory behavior, age difference, size difference, public fondling, public nudity, implied public blowjob

A/N: My second commission from the donation's for Parm. I was once again lucky enough to get permission to post this for everyone to read and (hopefully) enjoy, and I am very glad for that. I just don't think Sampo gets enough love! Someday everyone who's been sleeping on him will regret it, I promise you that! Anyway, thank you so, so much for working with me on this @rabbbitseason I had a blast! ❤️

⭐

It's been a long, long time since he last frequented The Tavern as much as he has in just the past week alone. When he was young and still figuring out his place in this expansive universe, he’d spent countless nights here simply taking in the ambiance and the drink, with maybe even a bit of gambling on the side here or there. Maybe a bit of fucking too, when he found an interesting partner to take into one of the frequently used back rooms. And the Masked Fool’s had no shortage of interesting people. 

But now he was older, arguably wiser and not quite so easily taken in by all the revelry and merrymaking of the familiar old haunt. In truth, he hadn’t thought he’d ever visit this place again after willingly parting with his mask. Sparkle drove a hard bargain though and after spending too much time with her on Penacony it was hard to tell her ‘no’ and actually mean it. 

He’d tried. Really, he had. But he hadn’t meant it. 

She’d seen right through it, of course. 

Sparkle isn’t with him tonight, nor had she been at his side the previous time either. Just that first fateful evening, wherein she’d pretended to be the good little chaperone accompanying her charge back to where he belonged (according to her, at least) like a shepherd returning the lost sheep to its flock. She’d ditched him quickly enough after that but he was fine with it. Glad, actually, because he’d managed to find someone much more his speed than ole’ miss Sparkle who in many ways had proven herself nothing but trouble. 

“Mister Koski! I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon!” 

His poor heart practically melts into an unrecognizable puddle right then and there as you come bouncing over to him with an excited grin on your face. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had been so excited to see him, if ever such a person had existed at all. It does his ego a world of good, and he pins you with a dotingly indulgent smile when you come to a stop before him. 

“Now, now. I told you to drop the formalities, didn’t I kiddo’? Just call me ‘Sampo’.”

“Okay, mister Sampo! Will do!” 

Cute. He thinks it’s really quite cute in a way that doesn’t seem particularly fair to him, or any other man with a working pair of eyes and a functioning cock, but he isn’t about to tell you that. You were already fidgeting before him like you were flustered under his attention, or perhaps excited to be on the receiving end of it, and he didn’t want to break the illusion just yet. 

In terms of young rookie Fools, you were perhaps the most bright eyed and bushy tailed he’d ever met. He’d seen more than his fair share over the years, had even been one himself at some point in the far distant past, but he’d never known one quite like you. Even putting aside your obvious fascination with him (only partially owed to his usual charms, he's willing to admit) there was something about you that just screamed … naive and a little too trusting. Like ‘please take advantage of me’ was stamped across your forehead in permanent ink. 

Sampo wonders, not for the first time, how exactly you ended up here with a dainty little mask perched atop the crown of your head like a hat. A somewhat unsettling hat, albeit, but a hat nonetheless. It looks like the blank face of a doll, which he finds rather fitting for you, with a full set of luxurious lashes but no eyes and no hair. Just an adorable button nose and a tiny mouth set in a neutral pout. He probably would have found it a bit creepy had it not only added on to just how very interesting he considered you to be. 

“Alright, enough of that. I’m just stopping in for one last drink before I head out.” He tells you with a velvety drawl. “Would you care to join me?” 

At some point he was probably going to end up regretting this but for right now at least he deemed that a problem for Future Sampo to worry about. In the present, he was much more keen on having some fun with you first before any silly notions like impropriety or moral obligation managed to sink its claws into him. 

At your eager nod, he reaches out to take your shoulder in what most would likely consider a too friendly gesture but you don’t even bat an eye at it when he steers you towards the back of the establishment. Finds a nice unoccupied booth in the corner, away from all the other Fool’s who have largely gathered around the bar to have their drinks and play cards with one another, the wagers of which could have ranged from anything as mundane as simple credits to the outrageous sort he’d seen on more than one occasion here. A long lost relic from a forgotten civilization, once, or even a mutually assured self destruction button courtesy of miss Sparkle herself. It was her favorite toy, after all. 

Much to his satisfaction, you obediently sit when he nudges you into the booth, scooting over along the bench to give him some space to join you. Bending at the waist when a chorus of hoots and hollers rises up behind him, Sampo has to lean down and get close to your ear in order to ensure he’s heard over the raucous noise. 

“What can I get you to drink, sweetheart? It’s on me.” 

There you go squirming again, looking really quite pleased as you sit up a little straighter and round your shoulders for him. “Whatever you’re drinking is fine.” 

How precious. 

“Ooh, now that might turn out to be a bit dangerous if you’re not careful. I have a feeling I’m a tad more experienced than you when it comes to, uh, drinking.” 

If you find the sleazy note in his voice at all off putting you certainly don’t show it, looking up at him with the kind of bright faced confidence only someone in their youth can pull off. ‘Take advantage of me’, indeed. 

“Don’t worry, I can handle myself.” You tell him candidly. “It’ll be your mistake if you underestimate me.” 

Was that a challenge? If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were doing this to him on purpose. 

“Pft. I bet. Okay then, just sit tight. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though. I’ll be back momentarily.” He starts to straighten up but not without sliding his hand down from where it had reached out to brace against the backrest of the booth seat just behind you. Perfectly casual about it, Sampo palms the top of your head in a quick, harmless pat that shifts the little mask and ruffles your hair just so before pulling away entirely. He doesn’t stop long enough to take in your reaction or gauge what you think about it. He doesn’t really need to. 

This was not the first time he’d touched you in such a seemingly off handed manner and he already knew you were preening under the attention. No matter how many times he’d tested the waters the reaction was always the same. You liked him. Wanted him to keep touching you like that, either knowingly or unknowingly, he couldn’t yet say for sure, but he was more than happy to give it to you regardless of the reason. Lucky you. 

He returns to the table a few minutes later with a freshly made drink in both hands, watching carefully from under the fringe of his hair when he sets yours in front of you. It’s a dark, murky looking concoction that seems to announce in no uncertain terms that it’s potent and strong with just a glance. As expected, you don’t look quite so sure of yourself anymore when you take in the thick consistency inside the stout glass. 

But you keep a brave face, which he has to give you credit for, especially when you don’t hesitate to pick it up at his nudging insistence. The first tentative sip has you choking at the taste even as you desperately try to blink away the tears that come into your eyes, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing at your expense. 

Sampo doesn’t push it on you anymore than that though, finding it much more entertaining to watch you slowly try to drink it all down completely of your volition. He doesn’t even need to wheedle you or coerce you into it. You just do it — because you had something to prove? Or was it because you wanted so badly to impress him that you were willing to get yourself drunk just to accomplish it? He isn’t entirely sure on that front either but it doesn’t actually matter. You were doing exactly what he’d hoped you would and that pleases him a great deal. 

By the time an hour has gone by, you’re slumped against him in the booth with your head tilted back, resting along his bicep where it’s curled over the back of the seat. He’s kept you talking for the greater portion of your time spent together, alternating between one triviality or another just to ensure you don’t accidentally doze off on him. He could now name your favorite color, the school you’d attended back on your home planet and the breed of your first pet. You hadn’t struck him as the sort to be fond of Pettu Hamsters, bizarre little rodent-like beasts that laid eggs and curled themselves into tight balls for protection, but you’d assured him that you were quite fond of them. Given the no nonsense look you’d leveled on him, he believed you. 

“And you know what happened next?”

It’s obvious you’re a little too relaxed to be self conscious anymore, and he doesn’t say a word about it when you not so subtly shift closer to him on the bench. You’re practically pressed right up against his side now but, still, he doesn’t make his move yet. Sampo may have technically been working to pull one over on you but that didn’t mean he was going to be a pig about it. 

“I’d never seen a meteor shower like that before. All up close and personal, right outside my window. It was pretty cool but kind of scary at the same time.” You’re rambling about nothing in particular. Just a fond reminiscence of the long list of firsts you’d experienced upon leaving home, which Sampo listens in on as much as he needs to. There were a few other first time things he wanted to introduce you to, provided you didn’t fall asleep on top of him before then. “I thought for sure one of them was going to slam into the ship and — and vacuum us out into space! All I remember going through my head at the time was that I didn’t want to die like that. I can’t imagine it would feel great. What do you think?” 

You tip your face towards him with the sluggish, heavy lidded lethargy of someone well and truly buzzed. Sampo just chuckles as he tips his chin down, cheek braced against his propped up fist for support. 

“I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night, darling. What was that you said earlier about being able to handle yourself?” 

Unmistakable fluster creeps across your expression, distant though it may be under the hazy mask of intoxication. “I didn’t know you’d get me something so strong. Are you sure you weren’t purposely trying to get me drunk?” 

Feigning hurt, Sampo draws his brows together in an overly affected lift and places his opposite hand over his heart. “Why, I never! Such a serious accusation to lobby at a gentleman of my esteemed standing. Just ask anyone here, missy, and they’ll tell you exactly what kind of upstanding, trustworthy guy Sampo Koski is!” 

You giggle at his theatrics and reach over to weakly shove at him. Your arm seems to immediately lose all of its remaining strength though, and rather bonelessly flops down to stretch out along his thigh. He can see his moment to strike fast approaching but it still wasn’t the perfect time. Soon, very soon, just not quite yet. 

“You’re funny.” 

“We’re all a bit funny here, I’m afraid.” He murmurs, dropping his voice to a slyly suggestive drawl again. “You’ve still got some growing to do if you want to fit into that mask on your head. Want some pointers?” 

Huffing softly at the suggestion, you visibly muster up the strength to send him a weak look of warning. “I’m already grown. I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now if I wasn’t, would I?” 

Sampo sends a slow look of appraisal down at your chest, noting the weight behind the thin material of your blouse while images of what your bare breasts might look like dance through his head. Yes, there certainly would be no denying that you were of a mature build and filled out in all the right places. 

“Mmm, if we’re talking physically then you’re right, of course. I doubt anything I say would help you get any taller.” 

“Hey.” 

“But I wasn’t talking about that,” He goes on, ignoring your interjection. “I meant your future as a Masked Fool. You haven’t drawn Aha’s gaze yet, have you sweetness?” 

“… no.” 

You look like you want to pout about that, and Sampo chuckles at the petulant tug of your mouth. Seriously too cute. 

“Oh, but fret not, little one.” He coos. “You’ve got me here to show you the ropes, don’t you? I promise I’m a good teacher.” 

You seem to think about that for a long moment, giving it the due consideration of someone who hasn’t yet picked up on the scam. Not that he could really blame you or the alcohol making your eyes look so heavy and tired. Sampo was good at the game. Always had been, even when he was younger, and his technique had only continued to improve over time. Most people assumed him far too goofy and painfully obvious to harbor any ulterior motives after he started laying it on thick enough. That was the real angle to his schemes, once you got right down to it. Hiding in plain sight was in many ways his specialty. 

“What will you teach me?” You finally ask, roving your attention up towards his face once again. The way you look at him is so unassuming and guileless that he knew he could have offered you a tropical vacation home on Jarilo-VI and you probably would have bought into it without question. Poor thing. 

The muscles along his back gradually start to tense with the building anticipation of finally making his move, of pouncing on his chosen prey to claim it for himself, and he leans down, practically engulfing you in the mass of his much larger frame. You feel as tiny sitting next to him on the bench seat as you look, far outclassed by his much taller, broader build and such a sharp contrast to your feminine stature. He could have easily overpowered you if that was how he’d wanted to go about it but, well, Sampo Koski was never one for doing things the hard way if he could help it. 

His face now hovering just over yours with precious room to spare, he slowly reaches up to brush the tips of gloved fingers under your chin. Your lashes flutter at the touch, threatening to slide shut, but an attention grabbing upward nudge prompts them wide open again. 

“There are a few things I can think of,” He purrs, secretly delighting in the way you start to squirm for him. Nervous or eager? He’d find out soon enough. “An old dog like me has his trusty bag of tricks, rest assured. I’d be happy to share some with you, if you’re interested?” 

Your mouth parts, a tiny pink tongue inching out to glance over your lips and wet them. It almost makes him crack. Almost throws all of his self control and restraint right out the window, but he forces himself to wait. To let you respond first before he goes in for the kill. It would make everything so, so much more satisfying in the long run. 

“Okay.” You finally murmur. “I’m game.” 

“Glad to hear it. Shall we seal the deal and make it official then?” 

A small sound of confusion slips out of you but then he’s leaning the rest of the way in, closing the scant distance. You don’t protest or pull away. Just watch him with wide, fascinated eyes as he tilts his mouth to slot against yours, and a dull jolt works through your body at the contact. He keeps it brief and gentle, a mere brushing of mouths, before pulling back enough to pin you with a lopsided smirk. 

“There. Now it’s a promise.”

Tentatively, you reach up to touch your bottom lip. “Is that how all the Fool’s make their promises?” 

He shrugs broad shoulders, tracing shapes along the side of your neck with blunt fingers. “Only the really fun ones.”

Extending his thumb to prod the underside of your chin, Sampo carefully nudges your face back up at him until your hand finally falls away and you comply, offering him a vaguely flustered look. 

“Another, for good luck?” 

The first real glimpse of uncertainty flashes across your face at that. You hesitate, flicking a quick glance behind him at the rest of the bar and — 

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about them.” Soothingly, he cups your cheek in what otherwise would have been a comforting gesture had it not been for the way he gives the roundest part of your face a quick, mostly harmless pinch. “They’ll mind their business so there’s no need to get shy on me now. Besides, I’ve already kissed you once haven’t I? What harm could one more do?” 

You still don’t appear to be totally convinced but you give him a brief, stilted nod anyway. He’s pretty sure it’s the unmistakable gleam of excitement he can see reflecting back at him in your gaze, unsquashable despite your obvious nerves, and Sampo feels a smoldering hot rush of victory sear through his veins when he leans into your space again. 

His mouth brushing over yours in a light, coaxing caress, you simply sit there for a long moment of indecision like a frozen, petrified statue. So still he isn’t even sure if you’re breathing. But then, thoroughly dashing that impression against the floor, you come alive under him all at once. Give a squirming shudder and press up into him, fervently kissing him back as if in outright challenge. He feels your lips trembling against his and he can’t quite keep the leer off his face when he increases the pressure to kiss you just a little bit harder, claiming you as his own. 

The discordant noise of revelry and drinking, Fool’s eternally at play, seems to highlight the poignancy of what’s happening in the booth situated in the far back while at the same time it also recedes to a far distant thrum of vague sounds. Like everyone else in The Tavern was on the other side of some great, reverberating tunnel. His attention is focused entirely on you and the way you slowly bring your hand up to tentatively brace the palm of it against his chest. Your fingers feel dainty, something small and fragile, and he quickly decides to return the favor. 

Sliding his own hand down off your cheek, over the line of your neck and past the soft jut of your clavicle, he takes a slow pass over one breast. They’re big but his hands are bigger still, and it easily cups around the full weight of it behind your blouse. You react like he’d electrocuted you, jolting in your seat as your head tips back and your lips slacken, dropping open as if to moan. But he just follows you, keeping his lips sealed over yours so he can plunge his tongue into that cute, hot little mouth and truly taste you for the first time. 

Noising an incomprehensible kitten mewl against him, you close your hand around his shirt and give it a halfhearted tug. Like you wanted to pull him in closer but you weren’t quite confident enough to follow through on that urge; like your head was spinning a shade too fast from the alcohol as much as the surge of physical responses in your body to make any sense of what was happening and act on it. 

Sampo can tell you’re enjoying it though. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure that out. 

The proof is as plain as if you’d spoken the words aloud. You don’t bite at his tongue when it invades your mouth to explore every little nook and cranny inside, nor do you pull away in revulsion when he leisurely fucks it towards the back of your throat in slow, suggestive motions. You also don’t attempt to slap his hand away when it comes back up to caress over the fullest part of your breast again. He can feel your nipple rapidly stiffening underneath the layers of your clothes, responding to him with a great deal of eager enthusiasm that has you shuddering and pressing your legs together. So sensitive. 

He could really exploit that if given half a chance. 

At length, he breaks apart from the kiss with a low, seedy exhale of deeply felt masculine pleasure. Peers down at you with an easy, self satisfied grin, but you look to be a bit out of it and lost in your own little world. With your head tipped back and rested against his arm where it’s still curled over the top of the booth seat, you merely blink up at him through a hazy, distant gleam in your eyes. Panting softly, as if you couldn’t quite catch your breath while he was idly fondling your tit. Hardly any wonder there, given how much you seemed to be feeling everything in stunning high definition, but he wasn’t quite done with you yet. 

“Oh my, it seems like someone is having a good time now. I wasn’t expecting you to look at me like that, kiddo’. You’re gonna’ have this old man falling in love if you’re not careful.” 

Your breath catches in obvious surprise, a vaguely startled expression creeping onto your face. Sampo doesn’t give you a chance to question him or realize that he was only teasing though, and instead tips his attention downward to regard the weight of your chest. A fresh wave of innate satisfaction washes over him when you do the same, following his line of sight to peer down at yourself as well. 

“You’re looking a little hot under the collar, y’know. Let me help you with that.” 

Fingertips tracing the path over your breast, he reaches lower and you finally seem to snap out of it. You give a quick start, fumbling to get your hands down to try and grab at him, but even with both sets of digits locked around his blocky wrist it’s easy enough for him to tug your blouse free of your cute little skirt and get it inched up enough to reveal a smooth strip of your fluttering stomach. 

“M - mister Sampo!” You squeak, halfheartedly twisting in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable. “We’re — we’re still in public, you can’t - -“

“Hush now, sweetheart. Your ol’ pal Sampo’s got you. There’s nothing to be afraid of. See?” With a taunting flick of his hand, your blouse rises up another inch or so, and with it so too do your eyes grow even wider. “No ones even paying attention to us over here so they won’t see anything. Trust me. I’ll make sure of that. After all, you’re mine now, aren’t you? Can’t have anyone else eyeballing the goods, right?” 

Numbly, your gaze roves up to regard him again. There’s an unspoken question behind your expression, a sentiment that you hesitate to give voice to, and he just hums a playful little tune under his breath while he continues to toy the hem of your top. One more nudge is all it would take to reveal what sort of bra you were wearing and he couldn’t wait to find out. His bet was on something soft and girly, with a bow or maybe even a bit of lace? But first … 

“Don’t tell me you’re really that scared, sweetness? Even with me here?” 

Your brow pinches inward, creating an adorable little crease between them to go with the almost petulant pull of your mouth. An internal war wages, bloody and violent, behind your eyes while you no doubt weigh out the multitude of options at your fingertips. The truth or a deceitful lie, which would you ultimately decide? Sampo knew which one he would pick had it been him standing under the spotlight but he’d meant it when he said you still had a lot left to learn. That part, at least, hadn’t been facetious. 

Finally making your decision another series of heartbeats later, you at last give him a mute nod. It pulls a soft, doting sound from deep within his chest and makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside as he dips his face close again, rumbling a low sound of approval. 

“Aww, you poor thing. It’s okay though. Just trust your old friend Sampo, okay? Here, I’ll even make it better with another kiss.” 

This time you eagerly tip your face up to meet him halfway, and a soft sound of need puffs out of you when your lips meet again. He kisses you deeply now, claiming your mouth for himself and swiping his tongue inside with a possessive, demanding gesture that has you mewling faintly in response. As he’d half suspected you would, you positively melt under him like you were happy to give into the pulse pounding heat and the risk of the moment as long as he was there to guide you through it. To lead you and to teach, just as he’d promised you he would. 

Thoroughly placated now, you don’t protest or make a move to stop him while he inches your shirt the rest of the way up, but you do shudder uncontrollably at the first waft against your exposed chest. Still fervently kissing you, Sampo cracks an eye open and peers out from under the fringe of his hair to look at what he’s working with. A dull thrum of pleasure promptly races up his spine when he sees that your tits are just as juicy and tantalizing as he’d thought they’d be, and he voraciously watches them heave within the confines of your pale peach colored bra. It’s a lovely shade that complements your skin tone perfectly but he’s a bit too impatient to simply admire it or the dainty blue bow on the front for very long. 

You groan into his mouth, arching against the booth, when he casually slips a long digit under the middle center of the dainty undergarment but he just swallows the noise and tugs. Doesn’t even give you a moment to understand what he was planning to do, and your breasts spill out with a meaty jostle as the cups slide up and away. Your nipples are already stiff and aching when they hit the air, pointing up off your chest in demand of attention, and you finally tear your face from his with a threadbare, faltering gasp. 

Sampo can’t quite find the wherewithal to follow after you and lay claim to your mouth again when he was so damnably transfixed by the sight of your bare tits, round and squeezable in all their fleshy abundance. He feels suddenly faint from how violently his cock instantly springs up in his pants to shove at the inside of the zipper, only vaguely aware of you turning your head away in bashful reproach while your hands come up to crowd together over your chest. 

Oh, that wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all. 

“Come on, don’t be like that.” He coos at you, the usually soft inflection of his voice noticeably absent now. It seems to have been replaced by a deeper, gravelly edge that makes his customary sing-song fall short. 

You don’t seem to mind though, much too preoccupied with softly whimpering when he takes one of your hands by the wrist and gently pries it away, curling it up and back so he can juggle it over to his opposite hand. Half restrained now, you can’t do much else but anxiously squirm in place when he reaches back down to lightly tweak the exposed tip of your breast between thumb and forefinger. 

“Ahhn!” 

“Mmm, these are awfully tender, aren’t they?” 

He doesn’t really expect a response, which is good, because you can’t seem to catch your breath long enough to actually speak. All that comes out of your mouth are short, tender little gasps and the softest moans his old ears have ever heard. It sounds like the sweetest music and he makes an effort to file it all away for later, when he was back in Belobog and lonely in the middle of the cold, frozen eternity that had yet to see any noticeable improvements since the Stellaron Disaster there was neutralized. Maybe someday it would, hopefully even soon, but he wasn’t expecting to return from this trip to find lush fields of green stretching as far as the eye could see. 

This night spent with you here in The Tavern was going to keep him comfortably warm for many more to come though, and he eagerly folds himself over you so he can bend down and seal his mouth around that pert, straining bud. You give a tiny little cry, a sensitive yelp that you quickly try to stifle, but not fast enough. 

Releasing his hold on your wrist, Sampo snakes his arm around the back of your head and covers your mouth with his broad palm. You let out a muffled protest behind his glove and try to turn your head away but it’s no use. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you that he can easily hold you in place no matter how you squirm or weakly shove at his forearm. Still sucking on your sore little teat, his mouth working the fleshy nub to a tight coil, he rolls his eyes upward to look at you from this angle. 

If he’d thought you were pretty before, now you were downright gorgeous. That hazy, flustered look of begrudging pleasure really suited you. Especially when it was because of what he was doing to you. 

He isn’t sure how much more of the anticipation he can stand when his cock was already aching, practically throbbing inside his pants, and he at least disengages from your breast with a noted hint of regret some moments later. In the wake of his attentions your stiff little teat is left flushed a noticeable shade darker than when he’d started and glistening with a fine sheen of sticky, fast cooling spit. The sight alone makes him groan, low and gravelly, as he looks upon it with longing. 

Oh, how he would’ve loved nothing more than to simply suckle at both of them for an hour or two but this was hardly the right place or time for him to indulge like that. Even what he had in mind for you had the potential to backfire with spectacularly disastrous (yet still amusing) results. It was time to get on with it before anyone’s attention was drawn towards the far back corner and curious interlopers came creeping over to check what was happening. 

“You seem to be quite sensitive, darling. Even moreso than I initially thought, and somethiiiiing tells me you’re going to be a screamer so we’ll have to play it a bit safe.” He murmurs, teasing you with a quick wink as he straightens up and allows his free hand to slide down lower to pinch at the hem of your skirt. 

Already askew from all of your fidgeting, it doesn’t take much for him to pull it up enough to reveal your panties moulded to the puffy outline of your cunt. Even just a quick glance assures him you’re wet and sticky given the way the matching peachy material sticks to you and he gives his tongue a soft click as if in reproach. 

“Really now, are you sure the possibility of getting caught isn’t exciting you? Well, you’re a hundred years too early to try and pull one over on Sampo Koski, I promise you that.” 

He shifts back into his seat to settle in next to you again before releasing his hold on your mouth. You promptly suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air, swaying somewhat unsteadily on the bench, but the reprieve is short lived. Grabbing you around the middle, Sampo effortlessly manhandles you around so he can pull you half into his lap, partially sprawled out across the seat and perfectly positioned over the tent in his trousers. Your little mask has been almost completely dislodged from its perch atop your head in all the shuffling, and he reaches up to pull it the rest of the way off while his other hand busily works on his zipper. 

“How about this,” He starts, using his most effective and well practiced salesman pitch, feeling much too hot and reckless to reconsider the wisdom in this move. If you finally decided you’d had enough of him and all his pawing it wouldn’t be hard for you to put him out of commission for the foreseeable future in this particular position. But, well, he didn’t really think he needed to worry about that too much. “Let’s keep that mouth of yours busy for right now and I’ll make it up to you later, huh? Whaddya’ say? I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

Panting and flushed, you slowly lift your face to regard him. A bright, sparkling gleam flashes through your eyes and you grin, looking like you were seconds away from bursting out into uncontrollable, wild laughter. You looked like a kid on Christmas morning being handed the one present she’d wanted more than anything else in the whole wide world and that youthful, beaming enthusiasm just makes his balls draw up achingly tight in heady anticipation. He couldn’t wait to sink himself into you. Any part of you. It didn’t really matter which, when you had him so painfully stiff in his pants and more worked up than he could recall being in a very long time. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mister Sampo.” 

He almost laughs too, feeling the familiar bubbling sensation gleefully rising in his chest, but it’s swallowed up and doused by a shaky groan of relief when he finally manages to fish his cock out. It was starting to make more sense to him, why you were here rather than anywhere else in the vast cosmos, but he didn’t care enough to dig for any real answers. 

All that mattered was that you were interesting and you were fun, and as long as the two of you were having fun together then everything else was irrelevant to him.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[heretodestroyou]

heart-shaped sunglasses.

pairing(s); matthew lillard!william afton x reader

fandom; five nights at freddy’s [movie]

w/c; 592

trigger/content warnings; slightly unholy thoughts from william about you in your uniform, fem!reader, (reader wears lipstick, has boobs, is called 'girl' by william and has medium-length hair), heavy lana del rey influences (diet mountain dew), mentioned that reader smokes cigarettes, age gap (william is late 40s, reader is mid 20s), no explicit romance but it's heavily implied there's mutual pining, written from william's pov, reader knows his real name, not proof-read, NO use of y/n, lmk if i missed anything.

stella speaks! at this point someone reblogs/tags me in a shitpost about this man, i add tags while my brain is inconsolably horny, and then all of a sudden i'm writing a new draft. and yes, ik lana wasn't really a thing in 1990s, but for now let's pretend he's still a silver fox in the 2020s.

tags; @truecobblepot bc ofc🫶🏽🫶🏽

inspired by this post and the shenanigans that ensued.

“I just wanted to know how much I appreciate you staying late these past couple weeks.”

William’s voice is smooth, he’s demeanor calm, the slight tilt of his head and the casual clasp of his hands in front of him giving no hint to the turmoil in his brain.

You’re his employee. His best employee, no less. He can’t afford to lose you, to drive you away. So he’ll make sure you’re not looking him in the eye when his roam your body.

The words that come from your mouth are sincere. He knows this. He doesn’t much care in this moment however. That red vest is pulled across your breasts, and the top button of your shirt is undone, your tie looser now that the building is empty.

It’s his fault, how tight your uniform is on you. He has your size on file, but he always orders a size down, just for him. He doesn’t pay mind to the way teenage pizza boys and older brothers here with siblings watch you, because he knows he’s miles better than they are.

His eyes linger in the plastic heart-shaped sunglasses hanging from your collar, and he nods towards them. “And those? I do hope you haven’t been wearing those all day.”

It’s a gentle correction. No matter how much William favors you, he still must keep his image up. You shake your head. “No, I just got them out of my locker when I closed up with Robyn.”

“Where did you get them?” He asks, leaning forward. The movement is subtle, but he knows you catch it.

“It was a gag gift from some party,” you answer, taking them off your vest and sliding them on. William's breath barely catches in his throat. The frames are the same shade as the blood red lipstick you love wearing.

It’s your signature. It’s how he knows you’ve been in the break room, paper coffee and water cups stamped with your lips in the trash, lipstick printed cigarette buts in the back alleyway that he’s convinced himself are prettier than anyone else’s.

William's brain is rapid firing all kinds of signals, ranging from you're nearly 20 years younger than him, to why have I never felt this was about my ex-wife?

Everything about you seems to catered to William's preferences. You hold eye contact with him and customers, you're great with kids (including his!), and you actually appreciate the care he takes of his animatronics.

He chuckles as you look around his dim office with your heart-shaped sunglasses. "Well, now, look at you. Never was there ever a girl so pretty." You giggle, tugging on a strand of hair and sliding them up into your hair. "That's so sweet, Mr. Afton!" William chuckles. You're picture perfect and William is damn well aware that he's no good for you. "Please, call me William. It's only fitting that we remain on first name basis...as of your promotion to assistant manager."

Your eyes widen, and you let out a little gasp. "Do you really mean that, Mr. Af-- William?"

God, the way your lips form his name is intoxicating. He nods, his demeanor wavering slightly as you beam at him, thanking him.

It’s a power move, he knows. A selfish one, no less. But he can’t risk losing the one competent employee. And besides, the assistant manager’s uniform is closer to his, the pale purple shirt and darker tie, black slacks and black shoes (of your choosing, of course).

And who is he to deny himself that view?

[tinycozycomfort]

rest in the cup of my palms (part two)

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x art student f!reader

chapter two: do you feel it, too?

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

series summary: you went back to school to find out who you are—to make another leap in the hope of self discovery. when you finally find that first glimpse of yourself, it’s in someone else. what happens when the mirror tries to pull you in? or  you’re everything joel could’ve hoped to find. he doesn’t let go easily.

chapter summary: you fight hard to keep old habits at bay. joel falls into his head first.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n, (for everything) -> mutual pining!, possessive behavior, smut (w individual tags to come), ellie is joel's daughter, ellie and reader attend the same university but reader is in post-grad, age gap (joel is late 40s, reader is not), alternating pov, slow-ish burn / (for this chapter) -> semi-public dry humping, kissing, mentions/fantasies of p in v sex, possessive thoughts, no one is drunk but everyone blames the wine, joel miller loves his kid!

word count: 5.3k

rating: explicit (18+ only! mdni)

A/N: i'm in shambles over the response to the first chapter, this series is my baby and it means so much that you guys liked it. thank you a million times for reading!

read on ao3 / main masterlist

“The wait begins as soon as I wake up. There is never any “after”. Life stops from the moment he rings the doorbell and enters.”

Annie Ernaux - Getting Lost

───────

Joel hasn’t touched the plastic tube since he brought it home last week. 

It’s become something he has to hide from, a nagging thought that pulls at his pant-leg like a child, clawing for his attention—open me, open me. Over and over he hears it, while in the office or cooking dinner or folding the wash, a whisper that begs him to reach in and claim his prize. When he’s really tired, brain damp from the days he has to work, the voice pours into something smoother, and suddenly it's that pretty girl—the one who’d made the thing—asking for the same; to be peeled back and stretched wide for him, cunt and heart and all. 

He finds himself losing a lot of very real time in the fantasy, chunks of his life spooned out to make room. 

The compulsion isn’t unfamiliar; it’s one that Joel thinks has something to do with his protective nature—or maybe that he’s seen enough living through the filters of hurt and mistrust—that makes him cling to the things he finds precious.

It traces back as far as the girls in grade school, when they would bring him little home-made valentines and wave him kisses first stamped onto open palms. He grew enamored with them, picking them flowers and scribbling symbols of promise in their note-books—the very beginnings of his acts of service. His heart would swell with it, a cartoonish thing, growing and pumping until he could keel over to one side from the size. He chased it in those early years, back somewhere between the brothering and fathering, moving through many someones he could fawn over, easing his need to possess. 

He can feel the need rising now, for the first time in too long, his body hurtling itself towards the ledge of something scarier, and he welcomes it. His hands itch for it, for the kind of love with teeth, that bites and tears into the edges of a substance much meatier, providing a place for the points to pierce and hold. He won’t call it what it really is, prefering to stomp out the whisper that warns him of its arrival—obsession. He likes to use less severe terms: thoughtful, involved, fascinated.

Knowing better in his age, he tries at least to be realistic during waking hours, and around Ellie, reminding himself that he has a hard time stepping down when he builds his hope high enough. He moves instead to just dreaming about you—in little tidbits and at guest-star capacity—to tide himself over until the week rolls back around.

Now, on a new Monday, he lets his daughter head off to class before he allows himself the privilege of unwrapping his reward.

He fishes around in the back of the hallway closet where he hid the case, retreating to his room to finally have his time alone with the creature he’d made of the object, letting it free from its cage.

He pops off the cardboard top of the roll, pulling the drawing out with the very tips of his fingers to not smudge something on accident. The sound of it sliding out sets his skin alight—this gift is one he asked for, but it feels like it was given to him all the same. Sharing a piece of you with him so freely, he feels special. 

He’s gotten used to seeing himself around the house, Ellie’s ever-growing library of renditions of him are fixed to the fridge by mis-matched magnets and framed in little glass panels in her room. It leans on the side of betrayal to have someone else’s version of him up, but he just wants to see it—if it’s as intense as he remembers it. As different.

His knuckle follows the curl of the paper to flatten the image, tacking it up to the wall with painter’s tape to avoid damaging the surface, like his daughter taught him. Joel sits on the corner of his bed and feels a hot wave of emotion fill his chest. 

He looks hopeful. It’s a garment he’s never seen himself wear. He’s soft and shy and child-like, face penciled in with detail that reads like a well-worn novel, bending and twisting to the curve of his expression. It’s a finely crafted summary. It’s guide-lines. It’s instructions, the very important parts of him spelled out in bold, black charcoal, with the gray shades of his complexion filling in the gaps. 

Was he that easy to pick apart? 

He’d seen some of the other drawings, the way everyone else had chosen to capture solely his pose, perfectly articulating the crook of his elbow or the network of muscle under the skin of his calf. 

But you’d chosen to show him. 

Something about it looks so familiar, enough to bring forward a memory of the conversation that had him feeling the briefest pass of deja vu—of you glancing down at the ground, quieted maybe by his proximity or his compliments; bashful. 

He walks out into the living room where Ellie keeps her sketchbook, the one with all the references. He thumbs through it—she’s given him permission to see this one—and flips to the page he remembers watching her use last week. And when he sees it, he feels like he’s going to faint. 

It was you. 

That was your face his daughter had been so beautifully replicating. Upon examining the fragmented portrait, he sees a striking resemblance to the one you’d made of him. They’re the same. Not the likeness, of course, but the visage. You knew what he felt like—had felt it yourself.

He already knew you, before you’d even spoken a word to each other. He admits that Ellie was only capable of piecing together so much of you, and even with the extra bits he’d caught in your brief meeting, he feels like he’s missing out. He wants to see the whole picture. You, in totality. 

When he arrives at the school building, he’s overtaken with a wash of what he thinks might be stage-fright. It makes him feel sick, stomach rolling with an embarrassment that scorches like youth—fight low and flight high—and his body starts to feel sore with the effort it takes to keep himself from fidgeting. 

Ellie’s teacher meets him in the hallway and passes him his slip, and he hums his way down to the bathroom to undress, admittedly working up the courage to confront you. 

As he enters the classroom, his excitement bottoms out. You’re not there. He keeps sweeping the room with his eyes, hoping you somehow had been hidden amongst the other bodies. He tries to sell himself the idea that you’re just in the bathroom, or on a break or late, but the wooden bench you’d sat in last week is obviously untouched. 

He clambers onto the stool, trying to replicate his pose from the previous lesson, much more uncomfortable now that he has nothing to distract him. The two hours are painful, and he finds himself counting seconds to fill the minutes in increments of ten until he can leave. 

His back hurts when he stands. 

On his way out, the blonde woman hands him a little flier, two pieces of neon copy paper glued together to make a double-sided image, advertising the group show this coming Friday. Ellie has already reminded him more times than he can count, but he takes it from the woman with the best smile he can muster, slipping out the door in a stride he’s hoping doesn’t come across as wounded. 

───────

The on-campus gallery is what someone a lot kinder than Joel would call cozy—a tight, short chamber with no windows and a single entrance, like a trap. 

He’s too keyed-up to be kind. He feels like nitpicking.

The metal door at the head must have been an afterthought, kicking back into the frame loudly every time someone walks through, nothing implemented to catch it. A continuous beam of fluorescent lighting wraps around the room in an all-encompassing spotlight, cooking the smell of fresh paint off the wall. It reminds him of picture day, or apartment hunting or something else equally unpleasant. 

He was always going to come to this, because he can’t imagine a version of himself who wouldn’t support his daughter, but he’s not happy about it, and he’s starting to feel dizzy from the too-fast swirl of anxiety in his stomach. 

Ellie had removed herself from his side the moment they made it into the building in search of her friends, with just a squeeze of his forearm and an ‘I’ll introduce you later’ left in her wake. He’s clung tightly to the wall ever since, making his way around the room to look at all the drawings, again and again and again until he feels like he’s on a track. 

Discomfort is a factor, but most of his indignation has to do with not seeing you in class—pointed at himself for the absurdity of his expectations—the voice in his head taking a bitter turn. Were you avoiding him? Would you not attend this, either? Did he do something wrong? His mind rambles on as he fiddles with his imitation cocktail glass, the shiny slip of plastic sticking to his fingers. There’s still a generous portion of what has to be five-dollar wine pooled at the bottom, bitter and opaque enough to stain. The woman who poured it for him did so nearly to the top, maybe sympathetically, disregarding that there was money obviously trying to be saved—deeming his cause a worthy one. He doesn’t even want it, really, nauseous at the idea of actually finishing it, but not having something in his hand was winding him even tighter. So he nurses it—even as it goes warm between his grasp, more unappetizing now than it had been twenty minutes ago—sip after sip to try and appear engaged. 

Eventually Joel grows tired of waiting, for Ellie to come back or for you to come at all or for this night to just be over, and picks a drawing to pause in front of. It’s a portrait of someone he’ll never meet, another graceful stranger coming together in an amalgamation of grays. He can hear people walking behind him, talking quietly and occasionally stopping to look over his shoulder at it in passing. 

“Hm. Quite the fan of my work, are you?” He almost ignores the comment, thinking it's for someone else, as it usually is, until there’s a figure taking up too much of his periphery. 

He’s a little dazed when he looks over, the hot, sour wine settled now in the pit of his belly, buzzing with a flare of something not-missed. He’s prepared to see more than one person beside him, perhaps a couple that had been talking near him rather than to him, but when he swivels his neck, it’s you. You’re just as pretty as he remembers, the face that he looks for in his sleep, but this time you’re not as shy, staring at him straight on—maybe similarly loosened by the pale yellow liquid in your own cup. 

Heat gathers at the rim of his jaw—his neck is red by now, he’s sure of it. Already exposed and driven by the faint whisper in his mind, he opens his mouth to speak without thinking, “You weren’t there this week.” 

You make quick quotes with just your pointers half-heartedly, “‘Sick,'” and breathe a laugh, “Had a few academic duties to fulfill. Gotta keep the scholarship intact.” 

There’s a thick moment of silence, but he can’t look away, eyes weighty and cheeks stinging. It’s awkward but he finds comfort in it, embracing the adjustment like it's a step towards better connection. 

Someone brushes his arm as they walk by and Joel uses it to his advantage, “Do you want to step outside? It’s a little hot in here.” 

There’s a flash of something like surprise across your eyes, but you shrug, “Sure.”

He crowds behind you as you walk step-in-step out the unarmed emergency exit, just to feel the closeness of your body, much better than the distance he’d felt in your absence on Monday. 

The night is worse than cold but it feels good against the heat in Joel’s chest. He can smell your perfume wafting back as he follows your movements, and it makes him pant. He’s ill, has to be—that or the wine was stronger than he thought, because the weird tie he feels is one he can’t explain as being healthy or normal or not fucking scary. But when you turn on your heel to face him, taking a seat on a hip-high planter in a secluded outer corner of the building, it feels right. Natural. 

He shuffles so that he’s far enough for you to be safe from his touch, and he shoves a hand in his pocket for good measure, “Thank you again for the drawing. It’s really beautiful.”

“Yeah, of course. Thank you for saying that.”

He wants to say something more, like you’ve captured me in a way that makes me hopeful about myself, but settles instead for, “My daughter liked it a lot, too.” It’s a bold-faced lie, but he thinks that keeping your gift a secret would look less appealing. 

“Is she here?”

“Somewhere, yeah. Ran off the second we got in. I’m not a comfort anymore, I guess.”

“Is she yours? Comfort, I mean.” You pick at the crown of the cup, rolling it gently in your hands like its real glass, and you both watch the fuzzy pattern of light that catches on its uniform surface. Joel wonders if you have a comfort of your own—if you need one.

“Is it bad if I say yes? It feels cheesy but the kid is my rock. Dunno what I’m gonna do when she grows up.” He shoves at the concrete under the toe of his boot. It didn’t taste as bad coming out as he thought it might. He hasn’t said that out loud to anyone other than himself, but you look at him like you know exactly what he means. The delicate beginnings of a smile crest on your face, cheek pinched, void of all the uncomfortable sympathy he's gotten from Tommy and Maria at the few things he made the mistake of revealing. He can’t find it in himself to stop now with your gesture, feeling relief in having a place to voice his heartbreak, “Honestly I’m scared, but not just for me, y’know? I worry about what she’s gonna find in the world. I just want to keep her safe.” 

“She knows it, I’m sure. I know what it feels like to have no one to root for you—I would’ve killed for that. The only thing you can do for her is be there when she comes home,” You’re looking down again, and he doesn’t like whatever’s made you want to pull back from him—be shy, “Spend time with other people you care about and that care about her. Make that network for her to lean on.”

“All I got is my brother. His wife too, sometimes. My nephews. A few years ago it was just me and him. Ellie—that’s her name. She, uh, isn’t ‘mine’,” he makes the bunny-eared quotes with the hand holding his drink, “Not by blood, anyway. But she popped up out of nowhere and I don’t know how to go back to being on my own.” 

“It’d be good to have a network of your own, too—if you’re up to it. It’s hard to do, trust me, but I don’t think I could do a lot without my friends.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think that’s in the cards for me anymore. I can’t conjure up much of anything worth listening to these days. Forgot how.” 

“Don’t do that. You have a lot to say—you’re plenty. Just start with one person. There’s always time to make more.” He knows you’re talking to him, but it feels like you’re also talking to that little boy inside of him, small and unloved and still bleeding.

“Do you need any more? Friends.”

You look up from your lap, pushing a piece of your hair back from your face like you need to get a better look, searching for a way you could be misinterpreting him, “I might have room. You have a recommendation for me?”

He reaches out, grabbing the empty cup from your grasp, stacking it with his own and depositing them by your side. He doesn’t miss the way you watch him, how you widen the spread of your legs on instinct, enough to suggest his entrance. He wades out on one leg to bring himself in, testing the water.

Your lips are parted, and when he looks into the opening between them he imagines he’s seeing to the center of you, and everything else keys out. Cars pass by on the strip of street behind him, driven by ghosts, providing nothing but a low song for your bodies to dance to together, his chest swaying closer to yours with every breath. You move with him, and it feels rehearsed, like all of the steps you've taken to get to this moment were purposeful, done in perfectly orchestrated succession for the hundredth time. 

“Do you feel that, too?” He asks, wanting to know if he’s reading too much into it, feeling that sweet edge of thoughtful-involved-fascinated scrape his skin like a sharp knife, “Do you? Like you know me?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, and it’s all the permission he’s ever needed. 

He leans in, lips skating yours, the warm cave of your mouth begging to be explored. He tries so hard to take his time, soft brushes tethering you to each other with the weight of everything he’ hasn’t had the time to say. His whole body is pins and needles—a fierce heat that floats so high it feels like ice. You sigh into him, the start of a moan, and his composure snaps. Service, he reminds himself, act on it—it feels almost divine when he thinks about all the ways he could pledge his loyalty, ready to bend at your altar every day of his life if it meant you’d sing for him again.

Joel brings a hand to the side of your neck, thumb digging into the pulse point at the corner of your jaw to bring you forward, licking into your mouth in search of more noise. He groans when you relax into his hold, so pretty and willing, and works you until you’re just as fervent, daring to suck his bottom lip between your teeth—going for blood. 

The voice in his head is yours again—open me, eat me, unhinge your jaw and swallow. 

He slots his other hand around the bone of your hip, pulling you nearer to the ledge of the planter, pressing his cock into your inner thigh as it swells to life. You gather his shirt in your hand, a tight fist, shifting yourself against him so you can grind into it instead. No one else exists, no one else could ever exist in this moment, or any moment you attend, for the rest of forever. He wants to fuck you, to see how far the attachment could go, how far he could reach down before he finds a warm, bed-shaped slot for him to rest in. He wants to live inside the body of someone who sees him so clearly. He wants to know every thought in your head before it comes to fruition. 

The wine tastes better coming from off your tongue, and he’s gleaning the flavor from every corner of your mouth like he can achieve a second-hand high. His full weight is rocking into you with enough force now that he has to plant a heel in the ground to keep you both from tumbling. He risks a thumb in your waistband in the flurry, tugging at it in the hope of another invitation. 

Before you have a chance to decide, the loud press of the swing-door at the front of the building opens, and Joel staggers back, remembering where he is and why. 

You look winded to say the least, hair bent from the imprint of his hand, mouth in a perpetual ‘o’, and he’s scared to see the state of his own face, not to mention the visible strain of his cock in his pants. He kicks an ankle out to try to adjust, heaving through an open maw at the thought that you might be affected in that way as well, picturing the slick wet in between your legs—a beautiful sheen from just his mouth on the top half of your body. 

You shimmy off the edge, straightening your shirt and he immediately steps back in for more, draping the full breadth of his hand against your collarbone, curling the tips around the top of your shoulder.

“Joel. I— I need to go inside.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?” 

You lay a hand over his with a squeeze and he retracts it, “Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting… I don’t know if I can do this right now.”

He can feel his breath restricting, heart plummeting down so far it feels like it’s landed in the ball of his foot; the second time this week you’ve pulled away. He thinks back to the face you made at him in the gallery, back before he fucked this up. Maybe you never meant for this to happen at all.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice strained, “I just need a little time. Just some time, I’m sorry.”

“No, no I understand. Don’t be sorry. Will you take my number? Just in case?” He wants to make sure you’re okay after this, if you want that, and selfishly he wants to give you a way to have him, knowing this might be the last time he runs into you. He’s too afraid to leave it up to chance.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” You pass him your phone with shaky fingers. 

“Only if you want to, honey,” He’s disheartened by the whole thing, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so he’s careful to double-check, even if it’s a blow to his hope, “You don’t have to.”

“I know. I’m just—the wine, sorry. I think it was bad.” You huff out a strained laugh, “I want it. Your number, I mean. Promise.” You practically shove the thing at him and he takes it this time, entering the contact with as little squinting as possible to save himself from any further humiliation. 

───────

You all but run into the bathroom in the back of the building, needing a moment alone to consider what the fuck it is that’s going on right now—what’s been going on since he walked into your class two weeks ago and overstayed his welcome. 

You stumble in, bracing yourself against the porcelain basin, switching on the faucet to drown out some of the pounding in your head. You’d been lying when you said the wine was catching up to you—very much sober—but now, in this suffocating, gray room, you feel like it must have at least accelerated the churning in your gut. 

You let water gather in your hands, bending to dip your face in the too-cold pool between them. 

Every day has been mostly encouraging if not indifferent but this feels like the start of a bad dream you won’t be able to wake up from, dragging you right back to that dark box you’d been existing in. He came in from nowhere, kicking down your reserve, for what? For a fuck? To enjoy you in passing? Or worse, to stay? You’re unsure which would be harder to receive.

And it’s unfair—for him to show up right at the point of being fully on your own, as soon as you’ve chosen to avoid getting caught up in that part of your life. You’re past the point of surrendering your time—know better than to want to be bogged down by a crush or the preconceived idea of the perfect stranger. 

You don’t know him, and you don’t need to. 

But you want him so bad it hurts; so bad you had to fake a cold to skip class because you couldn't face the idea of seeing him for the last time. You debated skipping the grade for the exhibition too, but you used any excuse to convince yourself he might not show. You weren’t sure who his daughter was, or how enthusiastic she was about the program, so you figured it was a fair shot. You outwardly willed him not to come, at yourself in the mirror and in the shower and out loud the car, all while secretly praying he’d be in attendance, right up to the moment you saw him.

When you stand up, staring at your rigid body in the plastic mirror above the sink, you’re pained at the sight. You look tired, shoulders tense and eyes bleary. Stray beads of the cool water stick to your skin, refusing to dry in the lingering humidity, balling up together to drip into the open lip of your shirt. You can barely feel it falling over your chest before being soaked up by the material. You feel outside yourself.

Someone starts to knock at the door, a quick and invasive interruption to the moment of absolute panic you’d been enjoying. You managed to twist the lock shut on the door at least, so you click your heel against the tile in a wordless someone’s in here, but the knocking persists. 

“Occupied.” You try, wet hands slipping against the edge of the sink. This shit isn’t normal. None of that even comes close to normal. 

Still, the heavy thrum against the hollow metal continues, and you take a deep breath before practically ripping it out from the socket of its frame. When you have it open, Ian’s posed between the V of the slot, face bewildered. 

“Really, truly, I love you, but what the fuck was that?” 

───────

Four days from the start of spring break, you’re out at some stranger’s place off Maple, invited by both Ian and your roommate—making it a little harder to get out of—in a joint, well-intentioned attempt to make you leave the safety of your room. A party will be nice, they’d explained, nothing serious, and a week off’s supposed to be fun, right? 

The house is pretty, but whoever owns it has demanded everyone remain out on the cobblestone patio, uneven flooring making for a jagged line of bodies packed too tight to fit. 

A fire burns in the middle of the yard, billowing out puffs of smoke you know will linger in your clothes for at least two washes. You swipe at some soot that's gathered in the bowl of your jacket sleeve absentmindedly. There’s no music tonight, maybe because there’s real school tomorrow—the elementary school down the street not quite on the same schedule—and you start to think going out on weeknights is quickly becoming more your speed. There's just the soft blanket of everyone murmuring, trying to stay warm in the chill of the wind. 

Ian’s prepping some guy across the fire to meet you; you can tell by the look on his face, like he’s planning something elaborate. You smile at him, at least amused by his effort to help you forget the weekend. He’s right, it is spring break, and Joel is nothing but a consequence of your stress-induced impulsivity. 

Still, despite your efforts, you’re thinking about him again, even if to punish him. You can still feel the line of his cock against your thigh, pressed hot and heavy into your body like an offering. You rub your thighs together, cursing him for giving you enough material to fantasize about for weeks—your punishment in return.

Ian crosses the circle with your new prospect, and you tilt your cup in mock cheers. Behind him he mouths hot and nice, tell me what you think. You nod, and the guy steps forward to block the flame. He’s handsome, airbrushed face and sweet cologne and long, thin fingers, nothing like how someone else’s had felt at the junction of your hips. 

You swallow, hard.

You honestly don’t hear a word that comes out of his mouth from the second it opens, not even to catch his name. Instead, you think about how nice it’d be if you could pay attention, how much easier it would be to fuck someone you thought was nice and safe and not at the forefront of every free moment you’d been afforded in the last two-and-a-half weeks. About what a relief it would be for him to mount and rut into you without consequence—no emotional burden, just boring and lukewarm like the last bite of something you can’t find a place to throw away. It’s always been easier when you didn’t want more. Yet now you want every night, hold out a hand in your dreams and let him into the part of you that has already carved out a hole in his shape. 

This guy couldn’t pull your mind off of Joel even if he was fucking you. 

When he offers to grab you a drink, you agree and then head into the house, like you’re not supposed to, as soon as his back is turned. There’s a few locked doors, and then one at the end of a hallway that opens up into a bathroom. You slip in, not bothering to switch on the light in an attempt to hide out from being found.

Here you are searching for reason in a dirty mirror above another sink, with nothing but the weak glow of a plug-in air freshener to guide you, too soon after the last time. 

You’re angry, suddenly, at how far he’s burrowed himself into your head, with so little to go on. He’s doing nothing but showing you yourself, a tired tactic to get you to fall in love with him while you do all the work. He was just pretending, right? He couldn’t actually want to love you. You groan, when the fuck was love even part of this equation?

You dig your phone out of your purse. The lock screen is bright—bold lettering reminding you it’s nearly midnight—but you click into your contacts anyway, because it’s not like you’re going to call him or anything. His page is still open, the Texas area code populating under Joel - Ellie’s dad—typed out with caps and all like that’s his only meaningful identifier. You scroll to see where he’d punched in ‘just in case‘ in the notes section of his info-card, and that decimates the cliff of restraint you'd barely managed, sinking in on itself under you.  

Your hands are wet with unease, held hostage by the way he’d read your thoughts out loud. You did feel it too, that searing weight of knowing—of being acquainted with him despite only meeting once before. He had to have been honest in at least that confession. You ask yourself for permission—‘was he going through this as well? what exactly was he feeling? would he explain if you asked?’—until it turns into selling yourself justification—‘you could just fuck him, right? that’s all this has to be, right?’.

Yes, you decide. Just another test of will—you can do it. You can pass. 

Your finger hovers over the number, closing the screen and opening it again and again and again until you just bite the bullet and fucking press it, the screen going black as you shove it against the side of your ear, covered again in darkness. 

He picks up within two rings. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi. Joel,” You offer him your name like a secret, “It’s me. Did I wake you up?”

“No, sweetheart. Are you okay?” 

“Can I come see you?”

[rat-butch]

impera ghouls' fav art medium, from an art school dropout

found this in my notes app, i previously sent them to @gravehags but i'm posting it here because why the fuck not.

mountain's kinda obvious, but he really likes working with natural materials. enjoys woodworking and land art. despite his size, has very deft hands and is extremely delicate. makes a trip to the farm each season to get some beautiful fresh and golden hay to weave it into ornaments and jewelry. and let me tell you that's a testimony to his skill cause i literally cried over hay last october and I had to soak it in water to be able to bend it. the texture was disgusting and i got destroyed at the critique anyway lol

i've already said it before, but cumulus is totally into stamp carving and linocuts. 11/10, very calming, probably has rough hands since you have to use lots of white spirit to get the ink of off the lino, and you gotta use a special rough scrub to get ink out of your skin. puts her creations everywhere, gives you and the ghouls little cards and patches she printed herself :)

cirrus and sunshine probably share the screenprinting workshop. it's a very delicate craft, especially when you go for traditional paper stencils. but worry not, ghoul claws are sharper and more precise than your average cutter. though, a intricate multi-colored stencil implies there's a lot of drying time involved, especially on fabric. they always have some kind of brunch during that time, with tea and snacks and such. invite you to join them if you happen to pass by. (it's them printing the merch i know it)

aether makes very cool metal sculptures. he's got both the strength and the patience for it. you know those adorable little bird-shaped garden ornaments made from scrap metal ? yeah he did some because the local old ladies are always commissioning him to make them. also the workshop's babysitter, has to keep an eye on swiss and dew when they start beefing with a circular saw in their hands.

rain is very skilled in needlework. originally considered himself a better painter, since he's got a sharp eye and is good at color theory, but discovered all the ways you can use embroidery and sewing with an artistic approach during a workshop in his first year. sewed a costume made out of dried orange peels and called it 'orange leather' once. also interested in book binding. will get snappy if the others call him a little grandma while he's embroidering.

phantom is a photographer, and a pretty good graphist as well. he's too shy to admit it, but he really does know how to present his work. has the cleanest portfolio around, and is probably a huge perfectionist. i mean, perfectionism is kind of a must in art school but bug is an anxious wreck (give him a hug). very gentle, handles the lenses and lights with lots of care. mainly photographs landscapes and nature mortes, but enjoys taking portraits as well. makes a lot of self-portraits and will very shyly ask you to pose for him.

aurora makes little pop-up zines. it's a prefect way for her to give way to both her gentleness and chaotic nature. while pop-ups may look tedious to make, it's actually lots of fun, and you can get pretty chaotic with it too. has a whole collection of patterned and textured papers, she made most of them. probably has a 'cool paper stash' she hasn't touched because she doesn't want to 'waste them' and said paper is like christmas wrapping paper from 2016 (it's me i'm guilty).

dewdrop is more interest in contemporary art, especially sculpture. little guy has no patience and likes to break stuff, i see it as a match made in heaven. uses his fire ghoul abilities to burn different matters and experiment with them. kinda see him as my friend who burnt a humongous quantity of human hair for a project. was pissed no one cuddled him for two days because of the smell.

swiss is totally a performance artist. i mean, technically, all of the ghouls have a huge affinity with it, but swiss especially. a big fan of contemporary composers like john cage and karlheinz stockhausen, as well as bauhaus performance art. he likes to let loose, have fun exploring his body's and voice's capicities in an artistic light. probably submitted some kind of sextape as a project, but it's okay because the professor likes provocative stuff.

bonus : all of them probably were nude models for the evening classes at some point. i haven't included anatomical study in the hcs because no one in their right mind would enjoy sitting on a stool and drawing greek statues for 8 hours straight, but none of them would mind being the models. although they'll probably ask you for a massage afterwards because of how tiring it is to stay in the same position for so long.

[plus-size-reader]

Peace

Troy Otto x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 3842 words

Warnings: None

Summary: The reader comes across Troy’s notebook while he’s out, and notices something strange. 

—————————————————————————————���———

You hadn’t meant to snoop.

Jake had asked you to find Troy, said he had to talk to him but didn’t have the time to track him down. He was a busy man, after all, and if Jeremiah needed help, he couldn’t exactly make him wait.

So, you agreed.

You took off toward Troy’s room, assuming that given the time of day and schedule for rounds, that was where he would be.

He wasn’t.

His bedroom was unoccupied by the time you reached it, but not empty.

On the floor, out of place in the immaculate space, was that leather-bound notebook he carried with him all the time. It was one of his most prized possessions and you knew he would be missing it, if he didn’t realize it was gone.

That was it.

By all accounts, you were trying to do something nice. You figured it had fallen out of his back pocket when he was getting dressed or rushing out the door to get to his post.

You had to find him anyway, so when you did, you could take it to him.

It was innocent, at least, at first.

You had only good intentions and you weren’t even going to open it, but almost on instinct, as soon as you touched the leather, you flipped open the front cover. Whether out of curiosity or habit, you weren’t sure but it didn’t matter.

All that mattered as soon as it was open was the ink, dried to the page and committing his every thought, as if recording for posterity.

On the first page, he’d written his name, followed by a date. If you had to guess, you’d say that was the day he obtained it.

It was interesting.

Troy’s handwriting was delicate and even, and you could tell that he put time into every single letter and number. Like he knew they would be there forever and couldn’t handle a mistake.

You smiled, letting yourself sit at the foot of his bed, your fingers tracing each letter as you read them.

For the most part, his notebook was filled with what you would have expected. Factual scribblings and miscellaneous numbers that held no meaning to anyone other than Troy.

In all honesty, you barely understood what you were looking at.

…but it didn’t matter.

Troy had been carrying this time with him everywhere he went since you’d met him, and never once had you held it like this. Never had you looked upon the pages, or even asked what he was always writing.

You just let him keep his secrets, because everyone had something that was just for them, but now that you were seeing it, you didn’t regret picking it up.

No matter how wrong it was.

You felt like, for what was probably the first time, you were seeing Troy for who he was and he wasn’t even in the room with you.

The next few pages were less interesting, though just as telling, with every inch of the paper covered with dates and times.

The watch schedule.

After that, you found what seemed to be a detailed list of miscellanious items, and quantities that had to be supply logs from his runs. You could tell because of the delicate little checks beside each thing, telling you he'd cataloged them.

That was who Troy was.

Organized and meticulous, even when he was within his own private thoughts.

It continued on like that for a while. Page after page full of numbers, little symbols and time stamps, but you didn’t skip over a single one. You took your time considering each little marking, far more than you’d ever studied anything in your life.

It was almost as if you were reading a roadmap and you couldn't forget a single detail, which in a way, you were.

This notebook was a reflection of Troy, and not just who he presented to people on the outside, but the real Troy.

This was the closest thing he’d ever keep to a personal journal, and while it didn’t contain any written feeling or sentiment, you could feel it.

With each word you read, and each number you attempted to quantify, you got it. You understood who he was, more and more.

In a way that he could never have expressed to your face.

You were remarkably relaxed as you read, considering you were actively betraying the personal privacy of one of your closest friends, but that all came to a screeching halt as you neared the center of the book.

There, above everything else you’d seen so far, you found something that surprised you. Something within the collection of thoughts that actually confused you more than anything else had.

It was you.

There, on those worn pages, was you. Or, at the very least, some sort of tribute to you. The resemblance was stark, and you couldn’t have explained it away if you tried.

Which obviously wasn’t what you expected.

Still, you didn’t move to make anything of it at first. You knew Troy well enough to know that there could very well be drawings of every single person he’d ever seen hidden within the covers.

Maybe he just didn’t want to forget the people he knew. Maybe he didn’t want to forget their faces.

That would have been a perfectly reasonable thing to do considering the world you lived in, and how frequently people left your lives.

The second drawing was harder to explain away, and by the time you reached a seventh page, you couldn’t deny it anymore.

They were all of you.

Each one was different, and just as great a resemblance, but they were all of you.

You could feel your face scrunch up slightly as you considered what you were looking at, before eventually turning back to the first drawing of many and just looking at it for a while.

It was good.

A simple pencil sketch, with harsher lines and shading in some areas, where Troy had deemed necessary and softer, lighter emphaisis on others. Complete, of course, with the date in the corner.

It looked a lot like you.

The first one, the one that had caught your attention in the first place, was of your face. There was a soft, almost serene smile on your face and you looked happy.

You looked pretty, if you could look pretty in a pencil drawing.

The second was farther away, and featured you in the middle of cleaning your hand gun on the picnic table. The third was of you reading, your back against the shed and a sharp look of concentration on your face.

Did you really twist your face up like that when you read? You must have.

There were a few others, all capturing you as you existed, in the exact way you must have looked and you couldn’t help but feel like you were watching yourself through Troy’s eyes.

It was strange.

Still, you didn’t stop your quest and continued looking from page to page, until you came to the most recent drawing.

The last drawing in the set.

This one featured you, sitting in front of a roaring fire with the full expanse of the desert at your back. By all means, it was no different than the others, but for some reason, it felt different as you studied it.

You looked peaceful, almost comfortable, with a wide smile on your face and it would be a lie to say that you didn’t find it beautiful.

It was.

That was when it dawned on you.

You remembered this, remembered sitting in the dirt like you were on the page, telling the militia jokes and listening to their stories about what life was like for them before the fall.

Troy had been so quiet that night. This notebook of his had his full attention the entire night, and at the time, you thought he was taking notes, strategizing and planning out your next moves.

…but he wasn’t.

If the date in the corner of the page was correct, that meant he was doing this that whole time.

His mind wasn’t wondering to far away possibilities, or bloody disasters that no one could prevent except for him. His was watching you, studying the lines of your body and the contours of your face.

Listening to your voice and doing his best to capture the emotion on your face to the page, so that it didn’t have to live in his memories alone.

Wow.

You were quiet for a moment as you thought over the implications of this, or if they were any implications at all, only stopping when you heard the sound of Troy’s truck coming up the road.

It had to be him.

It was always him.

At the sudden distraction, you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding after a moment, and forced yourself to close the notebook, but you didn’t put it down.

You couldn’t.

For some reason, you felt like if you allowed the leather to separate from your fingers, it would go away somehow. Like, if you set it down, what you now knew would be lost to you forever.

So, rather than be caught in his room without explanation, you tucked the book into your back pocket, where Troy often kept it on his own body, and left.

In a lot of ways, it was the perfect crime.

There was no way that Troy could actually prove that you had been in his room, and considering the fact that you were sure he didn’t realize his journal was missing, he wouldn’t know you’d seen it.

He didn’t have to know.

…but part of you didn’t want that.

Part of you didn’t want to get away with what you’d done, to get away with reading his notebook and learning what you had without something changing.

Everything had changed.

This proved it, whether Troy meant for it to or not.

~

You decided not to say anything at first.

Not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t know how. It wasn’t as if you could just go up to him and ask why he’d been sketching scarily accurate portraits of you in his spare time.

So, until you could make up your mind about what you wanted to do, you decided to do nothing.

Instead, you focused your energy forward toward where Troy was, unloading his pack and guns from the back of the truck with Cooper and Blake.

They weren’t scheduled for a run this morning, at least, not to your knowledge but you didn’t have time to care about that. The important thing was that they just got back and they were too preoccupied to notice you.

…but you weren’t preoccupied.

Not anymore.

In fact, as you looked upon Troy at this moment, you felt like you were seeing him for the first time. Like, you finally had a point of reference for how he thought and what happened inside his head when he got all quiet.

Like you were looking at a brand-new person.

You tried to think back to the way he looked at you, looking over that notebook of his, that soft concentration consuming everything else around him. Maybe if you saw the world like that, it would be better.

If you saw him the way he saw you.

In your head, Troy had always been this untouchable force. He was stoic and solid, barking orders and burying everything he felt no matter how unpleasant it may have been, but that wasn’t all there was to him.

There couldn’t be.

As you watched him and took note of the way his face faltered as he scanned the crowd, you saw it. A glimmer of something that wasn’t quite as untouchable as you would have thought.

He was unsure, and given the way, he winced slightly after slugging on his pack, tired too but that wasn’t all. There was a silent joy in the way he wiped the blood from his hands and a whisper of adrenaline clear from the pep in his step.

How was it possible?

Had he always been this complex and you’d just managed to miss it? Or was it simpler than that? Maybe you didn’t want to notice because you couldn’t handle the gamble.

You couldn’t handle being let down, not by Troy. He was too important to you, and if you were to fall too hard, you knew you’d never be able to claw your way back up.

Not that you had much of a choice now.

You had picked up that notebook, and there was no taking that back. The most you could do now was keep going, and deal with what followed with as much grace as you could muster.

“Hey, there you are”

It was the sound of Troy’s voice that brought you out of your head, but not in time to actually prepare yourself for having to face him.

The best you could do was smile, desperately hoping that your face didn’t look as guilty and conflicted as you felt.

“Yeah, here I am,” you tried, willing yourself to focus on the conversation at hand and not on the way the midday sun made his eyes sparkle. Was he watching you like you were watching him?

Stop it.

“I was supposed to tell you to find Jake. He was looking for you” you forced, giving the blonde a soft smile before continuing on your way, brushing past him only slightly in your hurry.

You couldn’t do this.

How were you supposed to just go about your life like you didn’t know he was silently studying every little thing about you?

How did you do that?

“Y/N, wait up. What’s going on?” Troy called out, shocked by your uncharacteristic briefness and evidently choosing this very moment to start caring about other people’s feelings.

Perfect.

You stopped, considering your options for a second as you waited for him to meet your side, his boots keeping time with his usual stride.

On one hand, you could just abandon your original plan and tell him about the notebook, confess that you’d read it and that you had seen the drawings. On the other hand, you could keep it hidden and say nothing, but that was a bandage at best.

Eventually, you would have to give it back.

So, you took a deep breath and made up your mind. Today was going to be the day that you faced Troy Otto and the feelings you had for him that you’d been steadily burying since you’d met.

You didn’t have any other choice.

It was unceremonious, all things considered, the way you just pulled the small book from your pocket but you didn’t really care. Of all the things currently fighting for the top spot in your mind, finesse didn’t even crack the top ten.

There was no getting away from this and the longer you tried to play it off, the worse it was going to be for both of you.

There was probably a perfectly casual explanation that you just had yet to consider. All you could know for sure right now was that you were never going to know if you didn’t give Troy a chance to explain himself.

“You found it” he allowed, gingerly taking the book from your hands and inspecting it lightly before returning it back to where it belonged.

Safely away in the back pocket of his jeans, away from prying eyes like yours.

“Yeah, I found it.” you could practically feel your blood dropping in temperature as you forced yourself to take the leap. “And I read it too”

Troy’s blood ran cold as soon as you spoke.

You read it? What did that mean? Most of what he’d cataloged in that book wasn’t something you would have been able to understand, even with as clever as you happened to be.

It was an extension of what happened inside his head, and if he was being honest, Troy was lucky he could understand what he’d written most of the time.

It wasn’t possible that you’d read it.

It just wasn’t possible.

“What do you mean?” his words were much more pensive this time, as he waited for you to explain yourself.

Troy was smart, and he knew better than to incriminate himself, even if technically he hadn’t done anything wrong. The drawings were creepy, sure, but not necessarily disallowed.

“It’s a good likeness. It could have been a lot worse. I mean, I didn’t even know you could draw” you shrugged, telling him everything he needed to know without having to actually admit to what you both knew out loud.

It was the most painless option, but knowing that didn’t stop Troy from panicking as he considered what this might mean for the two of you in the future. Of course, he wouldn’t blame you for whatever choice you made.

He’d crossed a line, again.

“You weren’t supposed to see those” he tried, ultimately preparing himself for the yelling or screaming that would follow your discovery.

It was strange.

Troy knew that when he started the sketches, but for the life of him, he couldn’t stop once he’d started. There was just something about you, and the way you looked when you were completely in your element.

It was like the rest of the world fell away, and even if for a moment, he wanted to capture it.

…but there was no way for him to explain that to you without making the whole thing a lot worse than it already was.

After all, the only thing more inappropriate than drawing you without your permission or awareness would be justifying it with unreciprocated feelings of admiration.

Feelings he could hardly rectify within his own head, let alone out loud to you.

“Why do you draw them?” you wondered, heading back down the hill toward your own cabin, Troy following you gingerly.

You had no idea what you were doing here, or what difference this whole thing would make but you knew that you had to talk about it. You had to figure out where to go from here, and you’d rather do it without an audience.

This definitely wasn’t the business of anyone else at the ranch.

He sighed, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you moved, making no motion to say anything else until he spoke. “Got bored” he tried, his voice wavering in a way you’d never heard before.

“Don’t lie. It’s okay, I just want to know why” you shrugged, practically pleading with him to tell you the truth.

You didn’t blame him for assuming the worst. That was just who Troy was, and who he would always be, but you weren’t angry with him for this.

You were just surprised.

Most of the drawings, kept between important data he’d collected, were of you out in the world, going about your day and unaware that you were being watched.

Which, to some, may have been unsettling but you didn’t think so. You knew Troy and you knew that in order for him to put the time and effort into these, they were important to him.

Because you were important to him.

All you wanted was to hear him say it.

“Truth?” he hummed, more for himself than you as he bought just a little more time before you finally stopped, just far enough away from the center of the ranch to have some privacy.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way his gaze shifted around your face before finally dropping to the dirt.

“You’re real. Real and beautiful” Troy shrugged, in what had to be the most pitiful attempt at minimizing himself that you’d ever seen.

This wasn’t who he was.

Troy was strong and self-assured. You had never seen him doubt a decision or second guess a choice once in all the time you’d known him unless that was just another one of his illusions you’d never looked twice at.

Sensing you weren’t content with just that, he continued, laying his soul bare in a way you’d never expected.

Not from him.

“You know that feeling when you’re staring them down out there, and you know that if you make one wrong move or miss anything, that will be it?” he questioned, clearly referencing the dead and the thrill he got from the sick little game of chicken you’d had to put a stop to quite a few times before.

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with me?” you started, only to stop again when Troy continued, “The feeling after, when they’re all dead and everything is okay again…that’s how I feel when I’m around you”

Troy paused, his eyes meetings yours for a moment as he breathed, clearly trying to gauge your reaction to his confession so far.

He found nothing.

You knew the feeling he was talking about. The relief that flooded your body when the adrenaline peaked after the danger had already faded away and you could revel in what you’d accomplished.

…but the drawings.

You didn’t understand how they were related.

So, clearly following your train of thought, Troy fished the book out of his pocket and opened it, pausing only briefly before showing you the page he’d ended on.

It was further along in the journal than you’d gotten in your initial search this morning but it would seem that there was a reason for that.

It was another drawing of you.

This time, you were curled up in your sleeping bag, fast asleep. It wasn’t entirely different from any of the others, but considering that it was the one he’d chosen, you knew it was special.

It was his favorite.

This was the first one he’d drawn. The one that had started the habit that he’d yet to break, even now.

You had been out with the rest of the militia. Under his direction, you’d wandered too far away from the ranch and bunked down for the night in a cave, but for the life of him, Troy couldn’t sleep.

He couldn’t quiet his mind and he certainly couldn’t have hoped to get any sleep, so he picked up his notebook. At first, he was just going to read over his notes from the outpost, but then he glanced over at you.

You were too peaceful and too beautiful. It made him feel something he’d never felt and some part of him felt like if he didn’t commemorate it somewhere, that feeling would just slip away and he didn’t want to let it go.

He couldn't let it go.

“I won’t say I love you, because I don’t think I’d know even if I did, but I draw these because they remind me of what I do it for,” Troy muttered, admiring the graphite as if he’d done it a hundred times before, and maybe he had.

“They remind me of what peace feels like”

[irrlicht-ghostfront]

HC time!! I have some HCs about Hazbin and its characters, and I wanted to jot them down somewhere (so I don't forget bc my brain is the size of a dead pea) Some of them I'm standing by until they get disproven (and will stand in anything I write) and others are more wonky (for when they seem applicable)

These will likely be mostly about Alastor bc whaddya mean he's my fave?

Apart from being a radio host, Alastor was also the on-call handyman for just about anything when he was alive - while he kinda only wanted to repair radios, he eventually became the man for everything

The children wolud also call him "the teddybear doctor" because his stitches for their toys were the best

Mimzy kept sitting on the jukebox in her bar and thus breaking it, requiring Alastor to fix it at least every two weeks

The Vees are the newest Overlords, and they're basically a 3-in-1 deal - they might not be considered Overlords if they aren't in a group

Alastor knows how to use most modern technology (and how to fix it) he just dislikes it

Alastor meets Rosie and Mimzy at least twice a month

Alastor's always wanted to partake in a stage production but everyone else was too afraid of him to actually get anything done

Alastor's father killed his mother - it was an accident but it still happened

Alastor cooks most meals in the Hotel - nobody else can really be trusted in the kitchen. Charlie accidentally exploded the stove, Vaggie rations the food, Husk just won't, Niffty's food can only be consumed by Alastor and while Angel has the skills, he doesn't have the experience

Valentino and Alastor have never really spoken to one another

Velvette and Alastor would get along splendidly - albeit only over text

Charlie thinks Vaggie's wings are the coolest thing and she's read all about proper wing care

Alastor reads Niffty bed-time stories sometimes - they always end in the most gruesome way possible

Alastor owns several hats he'll never wear but he keeps them clean because they were a gift from Rosie

Husk and Alastor play poker for fun

Niffty brings Alastor pretty rocks she found

Vox has a room dedicated to his Alastor-merch (this one's canon)

Alastor likes fluffy things

Alastor has hooves, but unlike Angel he isn't ashamed of his feet - he wears shoes because hooves and indoor flooring don't mix well

Before the Hotel, Alastor and Niffty were squatting in Husk's house

Vox was a scamartist - he sold useless products over the TV

Vox was stalking several people he thought were pretty, often young girls

In Hell, Alastor suffers from Chronic Waste Disease

Alastor has white scars all over his body - they were a result of several bottles falling onto him when he was a boy

Zestial is perfectly capable of speaking normally, he just doesn't to fuck with people

Rosie collects husbands like stamps

Susan thinks Alastor is a bad influence on Rosie and does not approve of their relationship (they don't have a relationship but Susan has selective deafness)

Alastor is far-sighted

Alastor stores his souls in furbys

Velvette is the only one left with a brain in the Vees

The remaining Egg Boi adopts Alastor as his new boss and nothing Alastor does can get rid of him

Okay that was it I think! I'm sure as soon as I hit post, I'll think of more but this will do for now :D

[transformers-mosaic]

Transformers: Mosaic #567 - "The Gift Of Friendship"

Originally posted on December 23rd, 2010

Story, Art - Simon Reeves Colours - Ibai Canales Letters - Franco Villa

deviantART | Seibertron | TFW2005

wada sez: What do you mean, Christmas was a month ago? The Transformers: Mosaic archive train stops for no holiday. On deviantART, Reeves talked about the strip: “was a really rushed mosaic art wise but luckily we had a great (and super fast) colourist to help improve my rushed line art. and of course, franco's lettering skills are awesome considering there was so much text and such small panels. breast feeding flowers are always funny, as is 'angel bee' and finally we now have an answer to the question on all transfans lips- if prime has an energon axe in the cartoon, what energon weapon does cosmos have hiding behind his hand? an energon spade/trowel!! doubt anybody noticed, but ive got sideswipe beating up sunstreakier like he did in last years 'appreciation' xmas mosaic. sludge is a really annoying character to write about. it's awkward to read his narration when he has such a broken speech pattern, but you can't have him speak normally so trying to find a middle ground was challenging. [...] from the time i thought up the story to the final finished product i think took about a week and a half. never again.” He also shared his original idea for a Christmas strip, which he would’ve done if he “had more time”; I’ve mirrored it below, after Villa’s Italian translation of the strip.

festive mercy 'christmas: late night' starscream is in a security room at decepticon hq arguing with megatron. monitors show the decepticon party. various funny images such as laserbeak tied down on a plate like an xmas turkey.

screamer says "you have no right megatron! i deserve to be at the christmas celebration. not stuck on security detail" megatron says "deserve starscream? you deserve to be stamped down into sub-par decorations for your pitiful performance against prime earlier"

'earlier: christmas afternoon' outside in the snow prime is beating the shit out of starscream using a huge christmas tree prime says "you shall not ruin today for the humans starscream. not this day. not christmas day!" screamer says "mercy prime- i beg of you"

'christmas: early evening' decepticon hq party. starscream is obviously scared as the decepticons are running around. the decepticons have their head replaced by optimus heads. thundercracker says "merry xmas starscream" screamer says "eeep!!" screamer thinks 'everywhere i look i see his face'

now we see that the decepticons dont have prime heads- its just starscreams imagination. a decepticon is throwing up as others get drunk. screamer says "er yeah thundercracker. you too." screamer thinks 'my nerves are shot. i dont know how much longer i can bare this' megatron is watching starscream shake with fear megatron thinks 'look at him. the coward. however, when pushed, prime is an intimidating foe. perhaps his temperary fear is somewhat... understandable?' starscream is whispering (keep away keep away) as his fellow cons dance around him (imaginary prime heads on the decep bodies). megatron thinks ' exposing his fear- humiliate him- a truely delicious present for myself.' decepticons are all cheering "merry christmas!!" megatron thinks '... and yet...' megatron says "starscream relieve soundwave in security. the spoils of war are for winners only" screamer says "th- this is intolerable!! " relieved yet afraid to show it. megatron says with a smirk "and one more thing- merry xmas you waste of energon" screamer replies "merry xmas you over sized scraplet"

[i-am-beckyu]

Don’t forget to mention that...

Well I never expected this to be the first finished bit of writing I posted here. I promise I’m still writing that other one I’ve hinted at, I just want it to be perfect!! I actually wrote this back in August and was re-reading it and thought: huh its not bad so edited it a bit and here we are. (this is literally the 2nd fanfic I’ve ever written as well as g/t piece and I haven’t even finished the first so please be kind qwq)  This was inspired by an artwork that @dingbatnix created! Original post here  I hope you like it ❤️

cw: mcyt g/t, soft, slight panic, mention of death man I hope that’s right

word count:  2375 Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.

“A nap in the sun would be nice right about now.” George said as he made his way to the top of a big red toadstool. Winter was fast approaching and the time for napping in the sun would soon be over while the cold months of snow and ice overtake the world. George didn’t mind the thought of snow though. I mean, when you’re 2 inches tall, snow isn’t exactly your friend when even a light powder can have you buried and frozen alive. It was going to be tougher to find food and shelter soon too. Part of him wishes he hadn’t left the colony; that he had stayed with his own kind rather than travel the vast world. But he had lost his parents long ago and had never made any real friends back home, so what real attachment did he have in staying? So George had instead chosen a life of adventure. He’d been wandering the forest and plains for a few years now. Learning about its hidden wonders and knowledge unknown. While he wasn’t exactly born for magic, he had certainly picked up the odd spell or two. He had once befriended a size-shifting fire-born demon named Sapnap, that he had spent the winters with in the past and learnt some basic spells anyone with enough practice could use. Although he had never actually seen his friend's bigger form, he missed Sapnap dearly. He had left to go meet with an old friend of his for a while and George had decided he wanted to continue to explore. But whilst George was curious and loved discovering new things, he tended to stay away from anything larger than a bush. Or if he was being more specific; Humans. When you live in a world that’s 100x bigger than you, sentient beings 100x bigger with it are terrifying. He’d seen the destruction beings of such caliber could cause. If they wanted to, they could tear through trees with massive iron blades, light fires and cause havoc in an instant. But at worst? They’d stamp out life in a heartbeat. And while you think they may only be stories told to young children to keep them within the safety of the colony walls, George had seen it first hand. His parents had hidden him in a small grotto before leading the monsters away. And because of that, he’d never actually encountered a human in person. That was definitely something he could be grateful for. He’d only seen a little of what had happened to his parents before they had passed and he had opted to drown out the sounds of destruction rather than watch it in horror. Who knew it would be the last time he would ever see them. He missed them dearly but was thankful that in all his time traveling, he’d never seen a human and hopefully never would. Hope might have been an understatement….

George placed his little toadstool hat to the side of him as he removed his satchel from over his shoulder. He brushed over it lightly, a small smile gracing his face as he reminisced in fondness. He had fought with Sapnap over how to do smaller stitches rather than big uneven ones that left room for holes, rambling on how his attention to detail was just George being picky similar to his other friend. George then smoothed out his moss cloak to lie on and laid back onto the toadstool, resting on his back using one hand to cushion his head. His other hand fiddling idly  with his light blue shirt. He adjusted his white rimmed goggles on his face with delicate care and closed his eyes as the warmth of the evening sun shone upon him. It’s ray’s practically dancing along his skin as it warmed each cell of his very being. It was nice. On rare occasions he would find himself being able to enjoy the sun like this. Too often this world was out to get him and yet somehow he would find the odd times that he could let himself drift away in bliss. Drift away…. Maybe to sleep? Yeah, that sounded nice. 

George continued to keep his eyes closed and began to focus on the sounds around him. Despite his loud and rowdy personality, Sapnap had shown him how to enjoy moments like these. He missed him dearly. Perhaps their paths would cross again during the winter? It was unlikely since he could size shift and had said his friend traveled around a lot, but George was happy for him. A small part of George wished he had stayed with him. Sapnap had even offered for George to accompany him and meet his friend, always saying how he thought they would get along so well and how much he knew they would just love George. But the fact that Sapnap was a size shifter implied that his friend was also one and that scared George. He wasn’t ready for that no matter how much Sapnap insisted that they wouldn’t harm him. George shook away those thoughts for now though, because he was going to drift away. Just for a bit… 

The sounds of rustling leaves in the breeze began to get fainter as George felt himself lulling off to sleep, the sun continuing to blanket him in its warmth. He was almost asleep when he suddenly felt the surface beneath him move. ‘Probably the wind’ he thought. Then it moved again. ‘Okay maybe there’s a deer nearby. That’s ok.’ And again. George opened his eyes slowly. “So close to a nap” he grumbled. The toadstool shook again. George’s mind quickly came back to reality. He could hear the steady sound of massive footsteps approaching as his world began to shake over and over. “Ok, maybe not a deer.” George said out loud as he slung his satchel back on and his hat. Whatever was coming was big and that was never good. The footsteps continued to come closer and the shaking worsened. The steps were timed and even, something that animals rarely did. Whatever this was wasn’t an animal. “Oh no.” George said as the realization dawned on him. “Please don’t be that. Oh please anything but that.”

George raced to slide off the top of the toadstool. He was practically exposed if he didn’t get off there fast enough! He managed to make it off the top and landed to the ground with a thud as the sound of tree branches parted. The sound of footsteps ceased right in front of where George was hidden beneath the toadstool. Not a single sound followed. Carefully, George peered his head around the side of the Toadstool and let out a small gasp. In front of him mere inches away was a giant boot. Starring up and up at the giant being before him was his worst nightmare. A human. The man wore a bright green hoodie, blonde hair just in view peeking out from behind a white smiley face mask that covered most of his face from view. But the most terrifying thing about this being was the black shiny purple axe he held in his hand. He’d seen weapons like that before. It was an enchanted netherite axe: one of the most dangerous weapons in existence, and it was held by a human. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” It said.

George slapped himself in the face as he clasped his hands over his mouth. What a fool he was. He was trapped with the only cover being the toadstool. The next closest cover was too far away to run too without being exposed and even if he ran, the human would probably reach him within seconds. He stayed perfectly still. It felt as if he moved even slightly the toadstool would disappear and he’d be discovered. The human had yet to move. George could only imagine it was scanning the area searching for something. Someone. Him. Carefully he peered out from under the toadstool, trying to get a better idea of what the human was doing. Said human had its back turned to where George was and as predicted was scanning the area looking and listening intently. He watched as the human turned its head slowly as it scanned the area once more. As it began to get closer to looking in his direction, George ducked back out of view. His breathing picked up a little as he did so but he focused on the matter at hand. There’s no way the human saw him right? Right?!? Without warning, the toadstool was suddenly yanked up out of the ground and into the air. George shrieked, eyes wide as his only cover was ripped away leaving him completely exposed and at the mercy of the human. The human and George suddenly fell deathly still, shocked by each other’s presence. Even though the human wore a mask, George could still feel the human's eyes burning a hole through his soul. It had found him. What was he going to do now?

“Wow.” The human whispered in amazement. “Look at you.” Well George didn’t care how amazed the human sounded, his words were enough to snap him out of his frozen state and make a dash for cover. “WAIT! NO! Come back!” The human yelled as he suddenly made a move for him. George ran for the closest bush he could find. He didn’t care where he hid, anything was better than being in the open at the humans mercy. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it far before a large hand gripped itself around his body. He wasn’t held overly tight but it still felt suffocating. It was too warm, too big, too strong! All it would take is one good squeeze and the human could pop George’s head off! 

George tried kicking and thrashing in the Humans hand. His arms were pinned to his body so he was limited but anything was better than nothing in hopes of getting the human to let him go. He felt gravity shift as the human lifted him up higher and higher from the ground. Sapnap had tried to take him flying on a bird once and he had not enjoyed it being up so high. Finally, the grasp loosened around George and he found himself sitting cupped in both the humans massive hands. The human still wore the mask but while he couldn’t make out the human's eyes, he now felt as if it was studying him over. Taking in every last detail of his appearance and it was terrifying. “You’re actually real.” The human said as he poked him with a finger. George hugged his legs to his chest and curled in on himself, willing himself to just disappear. “Please let me go.” He whispered out. He could feel tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to meet the same gruesome fate his parents had. Maybe if he was obedient it would show him mercy? “I’ll do whatever you want, please just let me go!

“Hurt you?? Oh no, is that what you think I’m going to do?” The human said the sound of disbelief coating his voice. “I just can’t believe you’re actually real. I thought all this time he was just making you up.” George dared to open his eyes. The human still had its mask on but somehow he looked calmer, gentler. “But still, he never said just how small you were. You barely even fit in the palm of my hand.” 

Now it was George’s turn to be in a state of disbelief. This human was speaking as if it knew George but couldn’t believe he existed. That someone had told him about himself. “What do you mean ‘He’ was making me up? Who on earth are you talking about??” George asked. “Oh Sapnap did. He kept going on about how he met this tiny person called George and that you used to live together.” The human replied. “He always goes on about how much we’d get along and how much I’d like you.”

Sapnap? SAPNAP?!?! This was the friend he was always talking about?!?!?! A human friend. How had Sapnap failed to mention the one most important detail that his friend was a human? Sure he’d said that his friend wouldn’t hurt him but never once had he mentioned or implied that his friend was Human. George began to fume. “I’m going to murder him first chance I get!” George yelled. “He never said you were a human! He always said the same thing to me too about how great you were and that we could be like some dumb Dream Team!” George said steaming.

“Really? I rather like the name Dream Team.” The human said, laughing a bit at the end. “Then again, I’m biased with my name literally being Dream.”

“Wait, your name is Dream???” George said as he stared up at Dream, the apparent human. “Wait he didn’t tell you my name? Oh Sapnap’s an idiot I swear.” George laughed in response. “Oh don’t I know it.” They both laughed for a bit at the dumbness of their friend. “Well it’s nice to meet you then Dream. I’m George, but I’m guessing you already knew that huh?” George said as he began to relax. Dream shifted George into his left hand as he grabbed his mask with the right and lifted his mask. A face dotted with Freckles adorned with a mischievous grin and bright green eyes looked back into his own brown and blue eyes. “Yeah I knew and man I’m gonna mess around with Sapnap for not telling you more about me when we get back.” Dream said as he turned and started to make his way out of the Forest.

And as the two trekked back to where Dream and Sapnap had set up camp, George couldn’t help but be at ease. Even though Dream was a human, he couldn’t help but feel safe in the human's grasp thanks to Sapnap and all those stories he had shared. Even if he’s never told him once that his friend was a human, he knew he could trust Sapnap and that was enough. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I actually finished a story. I never thought this day would come T-T. I really hope everyone enjoyed this it was a lot of fun to write and I’m glad I did get around to finishing it. Thank you @squishys-soft-stories for reading the draft ❤️ Stay tuned for the first fic I’ve been writing tho!!! I’m dying at not just sharing it now but its not far off being done!! I promise its going to be worth the wait! Thanks all again if you read to the end ❤️❤️❤️

[hiseternalmayfly]

🔧Peace Through Superior Fire Power

Here it is! I finally put it down into words. It's a bit of a jumbled mess of random thoughts and I apologize for that but here is the story of my S/I Seven and Vash. Please let me know what you think about it! How she feels about Meryl, Milly and Wolfwood are also mentioned in here. This post is ok to reblog!

CW: Mentions of alcoholism, blood, wounds, mentions of sex. Ask me to tag if you need anything tagged!

Seven’s story before meeting Vash:

Seven grew up in a large family with 12 other siblings. Due to the large size of her family, she was very reclusive. Most of her time was spent reading or tinkering to keep away from loud, screaming children. It should be noted that despite this, she adores her family above all else. Her family means the world to her. She left home at 16 to pursue an internship as an engineer in Augusta. She left without taking much money with her, so Seven was really scraping by on the small amounts of commission she got from her internship or taking up random jobs around the city. At one point, her desperate jobs cost her her eye, which she replaced with one she created herself.

Their first meeting and beyond:

Since everyone on Gunsmoke knows "Vash the Stampede," she was well informed on all the rumors about him. Much like everyone else, she believed there was no way a single man could actually reduce an entire city to ashes in one night and assumed all rumors about him were exaggerated. It wasn’t until her mentor told her about the custom gun that the "Humanoid Typhoon" carries that she became interested. While everyone else was after him for the $60 billion dollar bounty, she wanted that gun. So when Vash the Stampede rolled into town, she took her chance and made off with his gun. Of course he noticed instantly and chased her down until she gave it back, but that didn’t stop her. Seven is incredibly stubborn. Despite giving his gun back, she attempted this multiple days in a row. After the 4th time, Vash had enough and was about ready to hand her over to the sheriff, but the two of them struck a deal. Vash would let her study his gun, and in exchange, she would repair it.

Seven did such an excellent job at repairing it that Vash was thoroughly impressed. Most people he took it to would complain it was too complex to repair, but she had it back to normal in record time. Another deal was agreed upon with them where he would bring her parts from his trips and she would fix his gun every time. It worked in Seven’s favor, as Vash would often bring large hauls back with him, meaning she didn’t need to spend money on spare parts.

This exchange lasted for a couple of years while the two became friends. Seven thought it strange that she continued to grow but Vash never changed in appearance, but she chose not to question it. Her hard labor and simple joy of drinking spiraled into a bit of a drinking problem for her once she turned 21. Vash would often bring a bottle of whiskey with him as well as parts for payments, and she would chug the whole bottle in an hour.

It started to change between them when Vash drunkenly stumbled into her home one day. He was drenched in blood, and his coat was torn in multiple places. He was so wasted that she couldn’t understand a single word he said. She quickly took him in and roughly patched up his wounds to the best of her ability using torn cloth and alcohol. Seven was very aware that Vash had no one else to turn to. Anyone would kill him for the price on his head. This was the first time she saw just how badly scarred he was. Seeing multiple chunks of his flesh simply missing made her gag, but she held strong once she saw Vash look violently insecure about all of it. It was the first time they had a real heart-to-heart where Vash talked about his refusal to kill anyone, the reasons why he can’t stop moving, and the things that scared him. Seven listened to all of it, and on that day she realized all the rumors about "Vash the Stampede" really were overdramatic. She saw Vash for who he really was: A "man" who wants to protect everyone on the planet and spread a message of peace and equality.

Their meetings started turning from gun repairs to simply hanging out. She offered her home as a safe place for him to stay when he wanted a break from being on the run. During this time, she was introduced to Meryl, Milly, and Wolfwood, with whom she became good friends. Wolfwood and her butt heads a bit, but she was thankful there was someone out there looking out for Vash. Vash had made it clear that Seven was never allowed to go with them, and she was okay with following this rule. She knew how dangerous it was to follow him around, and she wasn’t ready to risk her life like that.

One night when Vash visits alone, the two of them get a bit too drunk, and it gets handsy between them. They end up sleeping together, and it makes things a little awkward between them. Seven begins to realize she has feelings for Vash, but Vash is terrified of commitment. They try to move past the event, but each time they hang out again, the air feels tense as their feelings for each other get stronger and stronger, even though they stay quiet about it.

Fast forward a bit, and the Augusta incident happens. Seven and many others thankfully escaped due to Vash’s vigilance in scaring everyone out of town, but as she sees the town reduced to ashes in the distance, she’s horrified to know Vash is still in there. Seven, Meryl, and Milly were all forced to watch in horror, not knowing if Vash was even alive anymore. She chose to go with the insurance girls, as her home had now been destroyed and the man she was in love with was now missing.

The three temporarily settled down in Jenora Rock. During this time, Seven’s mental health started to spiral. Vash was hated even more, as not only had he leveled a second city, but he blew a hole into the 5th moon. Every Time she walked outside, someone would be gossiping about Vash, usually in a nasty manner. Her drinking problem became much worse because of this. Meryl and Milly would often find her passed out in the streets in the middle of the night after drinking her sorrows away.

Despite her drinking problem, she was able to get herself a small home and a job in Jenora Rock, making it her new home. A while after settling in, Milly brings her a letter from Wolfwood in which he says he has something she’s going to want to see. Seven is fearing the worst—that Wolfwood found something that signified Vash was dead.

What she didn’t expect was for Wolfwood to knock on her door late one night, bringing with him a man with long blonde hair and a scruffy beard. As soon as he greeted her, she knew it was Vash. She threw herself at him and punched him as hard as she could in the stomach (making him double over in pain), but then proceeded to hug him and cry as hard as she could.

She hurled insults at him while he held her and comforted her. Wolfwood left to give them room and speak with the insurance girls.

From there, Vash tells her the truth about him. That he’s not human, that his brother is after him and all the humans, and that he has to stop him. He talks about how, after the Augusta incident, he spent the time living a hidden life as a man named Eriks because he wasn’t ready to face the world. Unfortunately, Wolfwood wasn’t going to let him keep that peaceful life, but he knew it was for the best. He realizes from the obscene amount of empty beer bottles that Seven’s drinking problem had worsened while he was gone.

Seven is normally closed off, but already tipsy and shaken by Vash’s reappearance, she spills her guts. She’s nearly in tears the entire time, insulting him for leaving all of them unaware if he was alive or not. The way she speaks causes Vash to break down as well. He admits the same feelings but keeps saying he’s scared because people who get close to him always get killed. The two have lots of back and forth with tears, laughter, and stories before they end up sleeping together once again.

After it, they hold each other, and that’s where their relationship starts. Vash keeps the harsh ground rule that she is never to follow him or get in his way, and she agrees. All she knows is that when he holds her, she sees some happiness form in his dark, cloudy eyes, and all she wants to do is give him the life she knows he deserves.

He’s more than "Vash the Stampede" or "The Humanoid Typhoon." He is a broken man, backed into a corner by the world.

[unrealwasteland]

Now with a theme: Time Travel Shenanigans!

This one is a bit shorter than my previous rec list, and includes mostly Mav/Roos/Mav with a side of Mav/Mav. This territory comes with some big age gaps, and while that shouldn't be an issue for Roosmav shippers, I still want to mention it here. Also, none of these fics include underage sex (or other archive warnings), but a couple of them feature a teenage character. And as always, you should take a look at the full tags and info on AO3 before reading.

Take These Broken Wings by pohjanneito 11k, E, no archive warnings apply young Maverick/canon era Rooster, emotional hurt/comfort

Bradley leaned against his cue stick, his eyes glued to Mav’s baby-smooth face. It was uncanny, like an old home movie bleeding out of the TV screen. Mav's voice was soft and pitched a little higher, but he carried himself like he did thirty years in the future, with the bravado and ego of a man twice his size. Or: Rooster travels back in time to 1986 and meets young Maverick.

I know this one was also on my previous post, but I'm reccing it again because it's just that good and I love how the time travel is handled in it.

Three is the Magic Number by liabilitea 7.5k, G, no archive warnings apply Mav/Roos/Mav, road trips, fluff and angst

Three different stories from the perspectives of Maverick, Rooster, and Pete respectively on their road trip to participate in the Halloween Air Show.

This fic is very beautifully written. Soft and sweet with a touch of Mav's self worth issues, so this was like catnip to me.

Hot blood running through our veins by violation_of_faith_and_devotion 7.5k, E, no archive warnings apply Mav/Roos/Mav, dirty talk, verbal humiliation, breeding kink

“So? Is that…?” “Is that me? I don’t know. Where did you find him?” “I told you already, he just knocked on my door and said he was lost. At first, I thought it was your kid, but then he introduced himself, and…” Bradley trails away. There’s a slight glimmer of hope in Maverick’s eyes. “So, there is a chance this could be just my son?” Bradley sighs. “No, Mav, I told you. I made him show me some documents and he gave me his library card. The stamp said nineteen eighty-fuckin’-one. And he sure acts like he came from the eighties, he saw me use my phone and asked me if I stole it from NASA.” Or, the one in which eighteen-year-old Pete Mitchell meets thirty-eight-year-old Bradley and fifty-eight-year-old Maverick.

Bradley just wants to take care of young Pete, somehow they all end up fucking, I love to see it. This fic was just delightful.

in which a teen Pete appears out of nowhere (series) by Lake 4k, E, no archive warnings apply Mav/Mav, a little bit of Mav/Roos/Mav

The Darkstar accident caused a rift in time, and brought an eighteen year-old Pete into the current day.

There are currently 2 fics in this series. Featuring super cute young Pete, delicious sexual tension, first time 69 - I love pretty much everything by this author and this series is no exception.

living your life between your legs by finistra 3.5k, E, no archive warnings apply Mav/Mav, pwp

Young Maverick is feeling a little narcissistic and a lot horny when he meets a stranger in a bar after a time travel experiment...

This is super hot, and somehow also a lovely character study at the same time. With a dash of identity porn. Obviously I was going to love it.

Bonus: These two amazing comics by @godwithwethands :

Mav&Roos&Mav

young Mav/canon era Rooster

The first is pre-slash, 2nd includes kissing. Both have ADORABLE young Pete. This AU means the world to me.

[androidcharles]

I guess this is my way of saying that I'm not longer doing fun covers for my fan-fic chapters anymore. It was the thing that was kinda stressing me in terms of posting them and hopefully that will mean that chapters will come out a lot quicker in the future.

Chapter four is like, halfway done, but in the meantime, enjoy chapter three! Like I said, this is a bit of a filler chapter, celebrating a certain someone's date of birth :3c

ALSO I should probably let ya'll know that if there's anything here that makes you uncomfortable PLEASE LET ME KNOW. Don't be all passive aggressive and make vague posts about me or w/e.

Charles opened his eyes, groaning as his processes started to boot up. It had been at least a few weeks since he had been kicked out of the government. A few weeks since his upgrades and such. In between some of the missions he had helped Henry and Ellie with (he could consider himself an official member of their PI agency he supposed), getting a new helicopter license (at the suggestion of Ellie and Henry, for whatever reason), and of course, the Toppats causing trouble, he was pretty wiped out most of the time.

In fact, his sleep schedule was starting to take a toll as well. Usually, he would manage to boot himself out of sleep mode without much problem at around six or seven AM, but thanks to being kicked out of the government forces, Charles was now waking up as late as eleven AM or even one PM. He kicked himself for his, as he looked at the UI and saw that it was now twelve thirty six.

I wish Henry or Ellie would wake me up earlier, Charles thought as he rose out of bed, trying to get himself to walk as he crookedly waltzed towards the door and opened it, heading down the long hall.

“Charles! You’re finally awake!” he heard Ellie say through static. He finally managed to get his ears working as he rubbed his eyes (another habit he had picked up from watching the other humans do it).

“Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-yeah, I’m sorry Ellie, I was just-” Charles gasped as he looked at the scene in front of him. In the kitchen, surrounding the table were Henry, Ellie, Rupert, and Dave, smiling as he saw a stack of pancakes on the table with eight candles on top. As the four of them began to sing happy birthday, he very hastily opened his calendar app and looked to see what day it was. May twenty seventh… his birthday. How could he have forgotten his own birthday?

“Happy birthday, Charles!” Ellie shouted, doing a flourish with her arms. Rupert clapped his hands as his cheeks turned bright red as Dave bounced in place and Henry smiled sweetly at him, almost sort of proud as Charles covered his mouth.

“Guys… you didn’t have to…” Charles said softly.

“We totally had to!” Ellie said, “In fact, it would be great if yoooouuuu got out of the apartment for like… a few hours?”

“Really?” Charles said, “But I haven’t eaten my birthday breakfast…”

“You can do that, but afterwards, get out,” Ellie said bluntly.

“Ellie,” Henry said gently as Ellie covered her mouth. He turned to sign to Charles as he sat down to take one of the candles, crunching on it.

SORRY, IT’S JUST THAT ME AND ELLIE HAVE A REALLY BIG SURPRISE FOR YOU AND WE DON’T WANT TO SPOIL IT WHILE YOU’RE HERE. YOU CAN SPEND THE DAY WITH RUPERT AND DAVE WHILE YOU WAIT FOR US TO GET DONE WITH EVERYTHING, Henry signed at him as Charles nodded his head.

“I have a present for you too, Charles!” Dave said, “It’s just… back at my place.”

“You didn’t bring it with you?” Rupert said, “Geez…”

“It’s not a big deal. Since Charles is getting kicked out, it’ll be a good excuse to head out there and uh, hang out you know.” Charles had been to Dave’s apartment before. It was very small and not very comfortable. Even his room was cramped, being only enough to hold his bed and a small dresser, which didn’t even hold half of the things he wore. And his kitchen was the size of a postage stamp as well.

“Tell ya what: how about we meet Rupert’s apartment and you can bring your present there?” Charles said.

“Ah… right, my apartment is kinda… yeah…” Dave fidgeted nervously as Charles took a bit of pancake on his fork and hovered it in front of Rupert.

“Want some?” Charles said as Rupert’s face practically turned crimson.

“Um… sure…” Rupert said, opening his mouth as Charles fed him. The three of them giggled as they started to pass around some more pancakes. Before long, Charles was lacing up his shoes, ready to head out as he waved to Ellie and Henry.

“Bye you guys! See you tonight!” Charles said.

“Bye Charlie! Stay safe!” Ellie said, “How much more do you have to do?” Charles couldn’t hear anything else as the apartment closed behind him, Rupert taking his hand to lead him away from the door. Dave waved nervously as he rushed over to where he lived to grab Charles’ present as Rupert and Charles walked with each other to his own.

“Now now, you’ll know what your surprise soon enough. Maybe you should contact your other friends? Maybe they left some messages for ya?” Rupert said.

“Besides Calvin and Konrad?” Charles opened his messenger app to see that it was practically lit up. Scientists from the research and science division of the base had individually messaged him wishing him a happy birthday. Meanwhile, he had gotten a lengthy message from General Galeforce wishing him a happy birthday (and something about Santa Claus and Rupert having his present for him). He tried to push that out of his mind as he glanced at the near identical happy birthday messages from Calvin and Konrad. Even in internet text form, they seemed to be the same, even sending him identical birthday memes.

And of course, Amelia wasn’t exempt from the birthday wishes, wishing him a happy birthday (and telling him it was off by a few days but it was within the range, so it still counted). And that she had a present for him too, so if he had the chance to sneak away, he could grab it. Charles made a face at this, but in the end, whatever it was had to have been gotten through some legitimate means, right? And it was another present and he loved getting presents, as immature as it sounded.

Charles and Rupert finally approached his apartment building, heading inside and riding the elevator up before Charles collapsed on Rupert’s couch.

“Uh, by the way, General Galeforce said he wanted me to give you this,” Rupert said, handing him a wrapped box, “He said he’d send you a message, but he wanted me to tell you ‘Happy Birthday Charlie.’”

“Wow…” Charles said, taking the box gingerly as he glanced at it. It was pretty light, so he probably guessed it was another model. As he tore the wrapping paper off of the box, he confirmed it as he smiled, seeing the model helicopter flying on the box and hugged it tightly.

“I can’t wait to get home to build this!” Charles said, “Ah, I’ll have to message him and thank him. Did you get me a present?” Rupert blushed as he rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“Ah, well, I might have gotten something for ya, but… it’s not here yet. It’ll be here… later?” Rupert was making up all sorts of excuses because his gift was something a bit more personal. Something that he couldn’t openly talk about with anyone else but Charles. Maybe it was also a psuedo gift to himself as well. After all, you couldn’t exactly wrap your feelings in a box, but he had been bottling his emotions for years…

“Aw, come on, give me a hint!” Charles said, “Is it like a box of pens? I can eat the pens!”

“No, no, it’s something else,” Rupert said, “Something you can’t quite wrap up.”

“Ooooh… it’s a metaphor gift. I can’t eat that, but I kinda like the sound of it!” Charles said hopefully, “What is it? Give me a hint, give me a hint! Is it a speech about how great friends we are and-”

“Charlie,” Rupert said impatiently, causing Charles to shrink back a bit. Rupert cringed at this before he glanced to the side, “Sorry, it’s just that… I’m not sure how to put it into words. Maybe it would be better if I did it later.”

“OK!” Charles said, back to his usual cheery self. But something in his eyes said otherwise, they were searching, almost curious. He couldn’t help but notice a little bit of shine in them as well, despite being artificial.

It didn’t really matter though, because Charles had gone back to admiring his new model kit and Rupert couldn’t help but smile back warmly, almost feeling the fluttering in his heart.

It was interrupted by a knock on the door as Rupert jumped, a little annoyed by the interruption. Charles looked up hopefully as Rupert answered the door and Dave entered sheepishly, holding two boxes in his hands.

“More presents! Are they empty? Is it a metaphor?” Charles said.

“Huh? What? No?” Dave glanced at Rupert with a confused expression on his face as he shrugged.

“Charlie’s hyped up on birthday energy right now. I bet you if you looked at his processes, there would be little birthday cakes in text… pictures…” Rupert said, stumbling a bit.

“It’s called ASCII art,” Dave said, handing the first box to Charles as he smiled at him. Dave sat on the couch next to them, smiling as Charles opened up the box and pulled out a t-shirt with a slogan that said “Thinking. Please wait…” with a progress bar between each line.

“There’s a couple more in there. I figured you’re probably getting tired of wearing the same thing, you know,” Dave said.

“’Downloading Will to Care...’ sometimes I do feel like that…” Charles said, “Wow, Dave these are so cool! And you got me a couple of plain ones as well.”

“I’m glad you like them!” Dave said, “I was so afraid that you wouldn’t like them and I would have to you know, return them… Anyway, I also baked these for you.” Dave handed Charles another box as Charles opened it up and gasped. There were a dozen colorful cupcakes lined up, decorated with buttercream frosting and lots of little items, like paper clips, fake gemstones, and little erasers.

“Woah! There’s thumbtacks on this one!” Charles said, pointing at a cupcake and picking it up, licking his lips.

“Guess you can’t share those…” Rupert muttered.

“Well, maybe if you pick them off…” Dave said.

“Nah, let’s let him have them. I’m pretty sure he would love to have them all to himself,” Rupert said. Charles flinched at this before handing a cupcake to Rupert.

“Ah, no thanks I’m good. I’m thumbtack intolerant,” Rupert said sheepishly as Dave giggled. Charles began ate another cupcake or two before plugging himself into Rupert’s TV as the three of them decided to play some video games. After a few rounds of Mario Kart, Super Smash Brothers, and Turf Battle XLR Mach 7, the three of them decided it was time for lunch.

“So where should we eat your birthday lunch? I have a feeling you have a meeting with a certain person after you’re done with us,” Rupert said.

“Ah, well…” Charles fidgeted nervously, “I mean, I guess old habits die hard, you know…”

“It’s alright, I’m not gonna chew you out too much for it, I suppose,” Rupert muttered, “But it just bothers me a little bit, you know. I don’t understand how you can make friends with those… heathens.”

“Yeah, I know, but even heathens have their high points. Like Henry for instance,” Charles pointed out. Rupert puffed his cheeks out, trying to come up with an argument as Dave cleared his throat.

“Uh, are we gonna go eat?” Dave asked.

“Sorry Dave…” Rupert said, “Just don’t fall too hard under their spell. I don’t want them tricking you.”

“Yeah, like I’d let them,” Charles said, “I’m not gonna let them trick me that easily.”

“Alright,” Rupert said, “Shall we depart than?” The three of them headed out of the apartment, heading down the street to the park as they eyed the food trucks.

“I want something a little more sustaining for you guys. And maybe prepared in a building?” Charles said, “We always eat at Gouda’s though… maybe we should eat something like…”

“Pizza?!” Rupert said hopefully before covering his mouth, “Ah, wait, it’s your birthday, you should eat what you want.”

“Now I want pizza,” Charles said, “We should eat pizza.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, there’s a place I had in mind actually,” Rupert said, “If you guys are up for it, I mean.”

“We’re up for anything,” Dave said. Charles bounced in place as Rupert smiled, nodding his head.

“Well, than follow me,” Rupert said as he started to lead the group.

“Lead the way, Pizza King!” Charles said.

“Go Pizza King go!” Dave shouted as they followed Rupert through town. They headed through the shopping district, watching people holding bags of clothes, groceries and other things as they walked through town, taking in all the sights.

“It feels nice just to get out once and while,” Dave said, “I love walking through town with you GUUUuuuyyyss… Charles what the heck?”

“They can’t see me, they can’t see me, they can’t see me, they can’t see me…” Charles said over and over again as Rupert and Dave looked to see a poster for a kids restaurant. Appropriately named Pizza-PALOOZA (in all caps), there were three colorful looking cartoon animal characters, a bright looking cow character in the middle with a big smile on their face, a cartoon bubble saying “Moooove over, dudes!”

“It’s just an ad for that new kids place that opened recently,” Rupert said, “Charles, it’s just a poster, it’s not real.”

“THOSE ANIMATRONICS ARE FREAKY MAN! They’re like androids that have lost their free will…” Charles shouted.

“Geez,” Rupert said, patting Charles on the back, “C’mon, it’s not gonna get you, don’t worry.” Charles eyed the poster nervously as he walked with the pair.

When they finally reached the restaurant that Rupert had in mind, Charles bounced in place as they were seated at a booth.

“This place is amazing. They’ve been around for twenty years and have not changed their recipe at all. I swear this if this was the only place I could eat pizza, I would. It’s probably the closest that it’s gotten to another place I used to eat pizza in New Stick City,” Rupert explained as Charles bounced in place a little, looking around warily.

“There’s no animatronics here are there? Please tell there aren’t,” Charles said.

“Uh, the claw machine over there is rigged if you wanna have an argument with that,” Rupert muttered as a waiter walked up to take their order. Rupert accidentally let it slip that it was Charles’ birthday, so they had to sit through an awful routine that the waiters felt like they were being held at gunpoint to do while they ate their food. Even Charles seemed a bit uncomfortable after the little song and dance was over.

“I would have been more happy with more pizza…” Charles muttered as the waiters dispersed, looking to the crowd of people muttering amongst themselves. Charles recognized two Toppats, who were wearing civilian clothes and decided to keep an eye on them, hoping they wouldn’t be bold enough to rob a family restaurant.

Luckily, nothing came of it as they tipped the waiter and headed out of the restaurant, catching a glimpse of a child who was begging their mom to go to Pizza-PALOOZA.

“There’s pizza here, honey. Pizza that doesn’t taste like cardboard…” the mom said tiredly as she opened the door.

“Man, why do you think the pizza at places like that tastes like cardboard?” Dave asked as they started to walk towards a park to relax a little bit.

“I think they have a deal with the recycling plants,” Rupert said, giggling a bit, “They probably cart all the cardboard that doesn’t get used to those places and they try to pass it off as pizza.”

“Do they really?” Charles asked, a little shocked.

“No Charles, they don’t, it’s a joke about how pizza at kids places tastes terrible,” Rupert said, “Heck, even when I was a kid and went to Chester Cheezy’s, I hated the pizza there. My mom and I always just went to play the arcade games and take advantage of the free refills.”

“That sounds fun. Minerva seems like a gamer to me…” Charles said, “Did she ever get a high score?” Rupert gave it some thought before he smirked.

“Once… my mom was a whiz at the original Turf Battle XLR. She practically kicked butt at that game. I think there’s an old picture in our attic of her playing the game while a bunch of kids crowded around her,” Rupert said, “It was amazing.”

“I saw that picture! Remember, when we visited?” Charles said, “Does she know today is my birthday?!”

“You just want more birthday presents, Charles!” Dave teased, slapping his arm as Charles giggled.

“OK, a little bit,” Charles muttered, “But it would be nice to get more birthday wishes.”

“My mom really seemed to like you when I introduced you. If she were here, she would have baked you a big old birthday cake,” Rupert said.

“Even better than my cupcakes?” Dave said softly, a little hurt.

“I thought your cupcakes were delicious Dave! Especially the one with the little erasers on top! It’s like you know me five thousand percent!” Charles said. The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon in the park, watching people fly kites and drones, walking through and taking in the scenery and even playing a game or two.

Charles ended up giving Rupert and Dave a hard time during their impromptu game of hide and seek, but Dave was eventually declared the unofficial winner and Rupert was happy to buy him ice cream from a cart nearby.

Around six o’clock, Dave ended up heading back home, saying he had to get ready for work and that he would definitely love to hang out again sometime. Charles and Rupert walked back to his apartment so Charles could pick up his birthday gifts and be on his way as well.

“So, Rupert, you never gave me your gift,” Charles said as they approached his apartment building, “Didn’t you say you had a gift for me?” Rupert flinched as he pushed the button on the elevator, trying to form the words in his head. He had, for the longest time, tried to figure out how he was going to confess his feelings to Charles.

He remembered something his mom had said about confessing your feelings to someone. It’s like diving into the deep end of an icy cold pool. You just have to take a deep breath, plunge in, and hope you don’t get hypothermia. He shook as he turned the key to apartment, opening it up and gesturing for Charles to sit down.

“So, what’s up?” Charles recognized the look on Rupert’s face. He had a serious look in his eyes, obviously telling of something being wrong.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking about… how I really feel about you and stuff,” Rupert said, trying to piece together what he was going to say, “I, well, I just… I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete doofus, but remember when I was in the med bay a month after we met? I couldn’t stand being without you next to me. You were right there next to me and I felt calmer and safer somehow. I hadn’t felt like that since I was so young.” Rupert took a deep breath in as he tried to calm himself down.

“And than when I was sick in February, you stayed right by my side again. You were literally holding my hand and telling me I was going to be alright and all of the sudden I just felt… happier with you. I had spent so much time with you at that point and I knew it was love. I just knew it was…” Rupert said, “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is-” Rupert looked up at Charles hopefully, who was staring at him, dumbfounded.

“I’m in love with you Charlie. I’ve been in love with you for the past two years! I’ve just… had a hard time trying to put into words how I felt.” Charles tipped his head to the side, a strange set of processes suddenly going off in his RAM. He didn’t understand what the heck was happening, more or less could he even think about it at the moment. But he started to feel strange… and weird…

[WARNING! OVERHEATING!]

Charles fanned himself as he stood up, trying to think of what to say. Rupert suddenly felt sick to his stomach as Charles sat down again, letting out a small sigh.

“Alright, that’s interesting to say the least,” Charles said, “I guess that’s the reason why I’ve felt so funny around you, too.” Charles looked to Rupert, his eyes shining again. Though Rupert couldn’t help but notice the little hearts in his eyes flashing, his eyes red and determined.

“It was love, wasn’t it?” Rupert gulped as he shrugged.

“I don’t know, man. I mean, I’m not gonna tell you how you’re supposed to feel,” Rupert said, “I just wanted to get those feelings off my chest.”

“Can we try something?” Charles said, “I wanna kiss you on the lips, like in a romance movie or whatever.” Rupert felt bile building up in his chest when Charles said that. But he had to stay calm. Maybe Charles was onto something. After all, if he could kiss Charles without having a panic attack, maybe he could have a stable relationship with him. Rupert nodded his head as Charles tipped his head to the side.

“So… I’ve never kissed anyone…”

Oh for the greater ones sake…

“Here, I’ll show you. First, you pucker up your lips like this…” Rupert squeezed Charles’ cheeks as he puckered them a bit too much.

“Not too much, just a little bit…” Rupert said, “Than, I lean in and…” Rupert touched Charles’ lips to his, tasting the slight metal mixed with the ice cream he had eaten earlier. At first, Charles didn’t seem to know what to do, but as Rupert guided him with his own lips, he seemed to settle into it and before long, they had managed to succeed in kissing each other. Despite how mechanical Charles’ insides must be, he couldn’t help but feel warm when kissing him as he parted his lips with his. Charles’ eyes were flashing all different colors, more hearts in his eyes as he touched his hand to his face, his inseams steaming as his lips quivered.

“Rupert,” Charles said softly, “My face feels like magic. Is that normal?” Rupert smirked as he hid his face in his hands. Charles tipped his head to the side before Rupert started to burst out laughing, almost giddy. Charles was probably just as nervous as he was about all this, after all. It wasn’t like he was accustomed to this kind of thing after all: he was still pretty young in robot years. But it wasn’t like Rupert had any experience either, so maybe they could somehow work it out.

“Charlie,” Rupert said as he grasped Charles’ hand. Charles gingerly took the other one, his eyes hopeful and bright red, with excitement and love (if the hearts weren’t any indication).

“I hope you know that this is going to be a learning process for both of us,” Rupert said, “I’m not used to being in a relationship either, you know. The first time I kissed someone, I threw up and had a panic attack…”

“Yeah, I know, you told me,” Charles said, “But I don’t know much about relationships either so… I guess we’ll just be learning together. Right?”

“Right,” Rupert said, “So, we can do this than, right?”

“Mhm!” Charles said, “So… when’s our first date?”

“Uh, whenever you feel like I guess,” Rupert said.

“This Saturday maybe? Since I picked lunch, you can pick the date location. Even if it just more pizza,” Charles said.

“You just wanna eat more pizza.”

“I would rather eat pancakes than pizza!”

“Oh you would!” Rupert giggled as Charles nuzzled Rupert’s cheek before planting a soft kiss on it.

“Alright than. I’ve gotta go meet a certain troublemaker…” Charles said. Rupert puffed out his cheeks as Charles rolled his eyes.

“Hey, if you don’t like it,” Charles started before Rupert shook his head.

“No, no, it’s fine, but… like I said just be careful. I don’t want them to trick you or anything,” Rupert said. Charles nodded his head as he headed out of Rupert’s apartment.

“Bye…” Charles said, hearts in his eyes as Rupert waved at him shyly. As he closed the door, he felt a sort of strange swelling in his chest as he walked down the hallway. As he exited the apartment building, he opened his messenger app and started to type a message to General Galeforce.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Is it OK if I still call you dad?

H_Galeforce: Charlie, is everything OK?

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Everything is fine, I just Rupert said that he’s in love with me.

H_Galeforce: Welp, I guess Quentin owes Josh twenty dollars than

xXBold_Action_ManXx: OMG what

H_Galeforce: Don’t worry about it. I guess you need some advice than huh?

xXBold_Action_ManXx: It would be nice. I’m so scared of messing this up.

H_Galeforce: Well, I’ve only known Rupert in the two years he’s been enlisted, but I know that he’s a bit of a hard guy to crack. He tends to hide his emotions but once you get him out in the open, he’s Well, I’d say he’s a lot like you, Charlie!

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Geez, I know that. I’m just scared that we won’t be able to be friends after all this.

H_Galeforce: After you guys eventually break up or during your relationship?

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Yes?

Charles got a strange feeling in his stomach as General Galeforce typed. He hadn’t even thought about what would happen if the two of them broke up. It was almost hard to imagine, comprehend even, but General Galeforce’s next message helped reassure him a bit.

H_Galeforce: You two are very close. Heck, even your friendship with Stickmin didn’t compare until you made friends with him. I highly doubt that a break up will ruin your friendship with each other. As long as you talk things out, keep communicating with him and help each other out, you will be alright.

Charles smiled as he typed another message.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Thanks general Dad* I really am sorry, by the way, about what I did. I know that’s not enough to get me back in and I understand if you hate me or something but I just wanted to let you know.

H_Galeforce: Charlie, I could never hate you. I only hate what you did. I can’t stop you from doing what you want now. The best thing you can do at this point is start growing up. And I guess getting in a romantic relationship is a Good start? I don’t wanna say that I’m not rooting for you, but I hope things work out between you and Price.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Alright well thanks I love you

H_Galeforce: I love you too. Have a good birthday.

Charles jumped up and down as he messaged Ellie and Henry next, finding out that his present still wasn’t ready yet and was told to “distract himself further.” Letting out a frustrated sigh, he contacted the only other person he knew wouldn’t be too busy. Hopefully, if she wasn’t out causing trouble.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: If you’re robbing a bank, at least tell me if it’s from somebody who’s like A jerk Like they kick puppies on a regular basis and bite baby’s heads off?

GlitterToppatGirl: What I’m actually waiting for you at the cafe. But my dad and papa are here… So embarrassing 😫

xXBold_Action_ManXx: The leaders? I don’t think they should be out in the open like this considering how wanted they are

GlitterToppatGirl: You obviously don’t know how our cafe rolls

xXBold_Action_ManXx: All I know is that your rolls are super expensive. And your croissants and scones and such.

GlitterToppatGirl: You’ve been there?

xXBold_Action_ManXx: I might have wanted to do some snooping. Not much luck though. Either everyone is talking in code or I’m just dumb

GlitterToppatGirl: Wow LOL, maybe I should hit up the army base next time they ask for some moles 🤣 Just meet me there please And try not to pay any attention to anything my dads say. They’re probably gonna tell some embarrassing stories, but just don’t listen.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: LOL I’ll listen extra hard 👀

GlitterToppatGirl: Shut up!

Charles giggled as he started to head towards the Toppat cafe, carefully trying to balance the boxes that he was holding, silently wishing he could have asked Rupert for a bag to hold them all in. Than again, in his state of euphoria from the kiss and of course, getting a boyfriend, he didn’t really think about it.

Either way, he finally approached the cafe, taking a deep breath and attempting to open the door as he tried to balance the boxes, keeping them from falling on the ground with a small whimper. Amelia looked up and giggled as she dashed towards Charles and caught one of the boxes before it hit the ground.

“Hi Charles,” Amelia said, gazing at the box, “Oh, it’s a model helicopter…”

“Yeah, I build and paint them. Do you want a cupcake?” Charles said as he set the boxes on the table. Amelia nodded her head as Charles opened the cupcake box and handed her one, just as her dad snuck up behind her.

“Don’t I get a cupcake?” Reginald teased, messing with Amelia’s hair as she whined a bit, rolling her eyes.

“If you like plastic gems on your cupcakes, than yeah, go for it man!” Charles said, handing Reginald one of the plastic gem cupcakes as Reginald smiled, wincing a little as he gingerly took it.

“Ah, well, it’s the thought that counts. Happy birthday by the way,” Reginald said, starting to pick off the little plastic gems as Charles sheepishly grinned, not sure if he should be grateful. He had to admit, despite the Toppat leader being a wanted criminal, there was a certain air about him that made him want to stand up straighter and actually have a conversation with him. Perhaps this is the dreaded charisma that people often warned others about.

“Well, I would offer you some coffee or maybe some tea, but since you’re an android, you can’t drink it,” Reginald said, sitting down across from his right hand man, who gave Charles a cold gaze. He knew exactly why too; he had locked up him as well as his entire clan, so he wouldn’t be too fond of him.

Obviously, he wasn’t trying to start anything for Amelia’s sake as Amelia sat across from Charles, smiling at him.

“I hope you’ve had a good birthday,” Amelia said, “Judging from all the boxes you’ve gotten, you have some nice friends.”

“And I have a boyfriend now!” Charles suddenly blurted out. He covered his mouth as both Toppat leaders gazed at him in awe.

“Well, that’s wonderful! The best gift is love after all! Remember when you confessed to me, Right? It was in a cafe kinda like this one, remember?”

“Mmm… in Greenwich,” the Right Hand Man muttered, sipping his coffee shyly as Charles gazed at the two in wonder. Reginald had a bright blush on his face while the Right Hand Man gazed to the side sort of shyly, a hint of red in his cheeks.

“Yeah, and then after that I overthrew Terrence!” Reginald said, “Love sure is magical like that!”

“Geez, whiplash much,” Charles muttered as he reached for another cupcake. The Right Hand Man gazed at the boxes that Charles had received and looked to see the model helicopter. He grabbed the box before Charles could stop him, gazing at it with a sort of fondness in his eyes.

“How interesting,” the Right Hand Man muttered, handing the box back to Charles.

“Uh, yeah…” Charles said.

“Don’t worry about papa. He’s not really a conversational type. He’s like… a listener type,” Amelia said.

“You said your dad’s would be the ones embarrassing you, remember?” Charles said as the Right Hand Man’s blush deepened a little bit.

“Oh, you’re not gonna get any embarrassing stories about Right from me,” Reginald said, “Although, I have to admit, he is probably a bit nervous. Out of all the people that Amelia had to make friends with, it had to be you…” Reginald set his tea cup down as he stared down Charles.

“Uh, well, I mean, it couldn’t be helped. Amelia knew me from Project SAI and even though my memories were wiped, she wanted to connect with me, you know. I mean, if you had a friend like that on the opposite side of a battle that you knew was like that, I mean, I guess what I’m trying to say is-” Charles started to ramble as Amelia rolled her eyes before she grabbed his hand.

“I think my dad gets the message, Charles,” Amelia said. Charles chuckled sheepishly as he tried to think about how to form the message in his head.

“I guess it was still wrong no matter how we tossed it, huh?” Charles said softly.

“Oh, well, these things happen for a reason. Fate is always strange like that,” Reginald said, “I’ve been a subject of fate myself, you know.”

“Fate?” Charles said.

“Yeah, my dad’s super into it. I’m beginning to think he’s onto something…” Amelia stared at her dad with a bit of worry.

“You’d be surprised at how fate works…” Reginald said, tracing the rim of his cup with his gloved finger, “I used to be skeptical myself until I became a right hand. It was only than I realized what my true purpose was.”

“You’re not gonna break out into song are you?” Charles asked.

“Do you want me to?” Reginald said, smiling coyly.

“I kinda wanna hear you sing,” Charles said, beaming a bit as Amelia slammed her hands on the table.

“NO! DON’T YOU DARE!” She ducked behind her Toppat, steam fuming from her inseams as the Right Hand Man giggled a bit.

“Right, I should save that for karaoke night, when you can’t stop me!” Reginald said, playfully winking as Amelia gave her dad a hard gaze.

“Oh, come now, Amelia. I know what will cheer you up. You said you had a gift for Charles here, remember?” Reginald asked.

“OK, but no stories about me when I was younger! Please!” Amelia stood up before heading towards the back of the store. Charles smiled awkwardly at the two Toppat leaders, knowing they were going to drop their facade and start the threats.

“Look, guys, I know that you’re mad at us about the whole thing with arresting you guys, but… maybe if you guys didn’t do bad things-” Charles started before Reginald put his finger to his lips. Charles fell silent as Reginald shook his head.

“I have to admit, the fact that you’re going as far as to apologize makes me wonder if you really think that we’re really worth locking up,” Reginald said gently. Charles glanced to the side shyly before he sighed.

“I don’t know actually. I’ve thought about it for the longest time and I just… you guys still did a lot of bad things. You still have blood on your hands you know,” Charles said, “You may not have killed anyone while Amelia was breaking you out, but I swear, you still did enough bad things to justify our arrests!” Reginald was a bit taken back by Charles’ words as the Right Hand Man rolled his eyes.

“Well, what did you expect? In your eyes, we’re always going to be the bad guys no matter what,” the Right Hand Man said. Charles nodded his head as the Right Hand Man turned his head towards him, a look of determination on his face.

“But it’s not like you can justify the actions of the government forces either. Or the police. Sometimes innocent civilians are caught in the crossfire of our little scraps. People who don’t get compensated properly for what the government does to them. And in the end, how are we the bad guys?” the Right Hand Man said.

“I know the government does bad things too but…” Charles glanced to the side, trying to come up with a bit of justification for any of their actions as well.

“You know, you guys still killed countless prisoners you know. What about Dave? He was mentally scarred when we rescued him. It took him months before he could find a stable job and income to actually function in society and you act like you’re the good guys!?” Charles said. Reginald winced as he sighed.

“We only take prisoners when we need to keep people quiet. We don’t kill them needlessly though. Not unless they actually deserve it. Dave unfortunately, had done something that warranted us keeping him locked up as long as we did,” Reginald said softly, “I do regret keeping him locked up for so long, but if things were perfect, than we wouldn’t have had to lock him up at all.” Charles only narrowed his eyes at Reginald, not really convinced by his reasoning.

“Whatever. Just stay away from him…” Charles muttered. He looked up and saw Amelia hovering at the door, a small box in her hand and tipped his head to the side, wondering why it was taking so long for her to come in. Than he realized something; she was trying to see if he could get along with her dads. Another little step in the ultimate plan to keep them from arresting them it seems.

Maybe it was conniving, but in a way, Charles knew that if he gained their trust, they could start spouting secrets to him as well. Secrets that could lead their arrests in the future he supposed. Yeah, sure it was conniving himself, but if they were going to try to slap them, he might as well slap back.

“Sorry,” Charles said, “We kinda got off on the wrong foot, didn’t we? But in the end, I guess it makes sense. We’re enemies after all.”

“Well, we could always be friendly rivals!” Reginald said, tipping his head hopefully.

“Not even,” Charles chuckled a bit.

“Nope,” the Right Hand Man agreed as Charles started to giggle a bit more.

“Oh come on, I can be hopeful of at least that!” Reginald said.

“Well, maybe if you guys don’t cause too much trouble, we could get along,” Charles said.

“That’s not going to happen…” the Right Hand Man said flatly. Though his eyes said otherwise as they twinkled a bit. Charles giggled a bit more as Amelia approached the table, smiling at them.

“Amelia, I saw you lingering at the door. If you really wanted us to get along, you could have stuck around,” Reginald said.

“She wants to see if we’ll get along without her babysitting us,” the Right Hand Man said.

“You mean more than usual?” Amelia rolled her eyes as she sat down again, fiddling with the box she was carrying.

“I’m sorry,” Amelia said, “Maybe Charles finally realized what we’re up to.”

“YOU GUYS ARE GETTING ME AN EVEN BIGGER BIRTHDAY PRESENT!?” Charles said, trying to play dumb.

“We would if we weren’t so stingy!” Reginald said, trying to calm Charles down.

“And we actually had the budget,” the Right Hand Man muttered.

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Amelia said, tapping on the box, “Open the box already…” Charles wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but he didn’t seem to mind another present as he opened the box, looking inside to see a red bandanna, perfectly folded in the box. On top of it was a charm bracelet, with charms in all sorts of shapes and sizes. He decided to look at the bandanna first, turning it over a couple of times as he admired it. He couldn’t help but feel it was a bit familiar.

It was the one that Amelia usually wore, sure, but it was a bit more worn and there were a couple of places where you could tell it was repaired a few times. He admired it, feeling a bit strange as he looked at Amelia for an explanation.

“The bandanna was yours when you were in Project SAI. You gave it to me before your memories were erased at one point because you said it would look nicer on me…” Amelia said, “I have plenty of spares now. Heck I usually wore them when I went out on heists and such. But that one was really yours. I kept it all these years because I hoped I could give it back to you.”

Reginald covered his mouth, letting out a small whimper as he looked away, trying not to let Amelia see him cry.. The Right Hand Man was silent, but even someone from far away could tell that his eyes were a little wet.

“I still think it looks nicer on you, even if I don’t remember that…” Charles said. Still, that didn’t stop him from taking the bandanna and trying to tie it around his neck (before Reginald ended up helping him do it).

“There. It looks dashing on you!” Reginald said.

“Ah, thank you,” Charles muttered, “And this bracelet… how likely am I to get in trouble for wearing it?”

“Oh, well, I made it myself from other jewelry, so it’s not likely,” Amelia said, “It’s a little charm bracelet, so I figured you could wear it whenever, you know.” Charles sighed, deciding to let it go as he tried on the bracelet as well, jingling it a bit and giggling as it did.

“It’s nice. Thanks Amelia,” Charles said. Amelia glanced to the side shyly as Reginald patted her hand. Suddenly he got a ping in his messenger.

RoseyRose: Where are you?

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Where do you think?

RoseyRose: If you’re hanging out with Toppats again, I swear…

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Don’t worry, I haven’t told them about your allergies, lol.

RoseyRose: Tell them I’m allergic to chocolate, I love chocolate Wait that’s not why I messaged you. I messaged you because your present is here now. Come home please

“I gotta go,” Charles said.

“Oh, so soon?” Reginald said, “I was going to sing some karaoke and stuff!”

“No. You weren’t…” Amelia said very sternly as steam once again erupted from her inseams, the Right Hand Man patting her back.

“Trust me, I’d love to stay a little longer, but I’m gonna have to leave. But, it’s been fun!” Charles said, “Also, you guys will never trick me!”

“Well, it was worth a shot. But next time, we’ll worm our way into your heart,” Reginald said, “Have a good rest of the day.”

“Bye Charles,” Amelia said, hugging him tight, “Be careful going back.”

“I will,” Charles said, picking up some of his stuff, “If I don’t drop half of this first…” He opted to carry most of it under his arms as he awkwardly waved at them, before exiting the cafe and letting out a small sigh.

They’re not too bad I guess, he thought, Still criminals, but they’re really nice once you get past that…

- - - - -

As Charles approached the apartment, he thought about something that he hadn’t thought of until now. He was eight years old. For a human, eight years old really means nothing, but for him, for some reason it felt like a big step. How come, he wondered to himself. He remembered General Galeforce’s message about how it was time for him to start growing up. He didn’t really believe that he had been babied his whole life; in fact if anything, life on the base was nothing but stern.

Even than, he still felt a strange sense of unease as he realized the full ramification of what he had done. Of what he was going through and what he was going to become.

He was eight years old.

He was being told to grow up.

That was scary.

He quickly set the boxes down on the ground and unlocked the apartment door, before picking them up again and entering the apartment. Ellie and Henry were sitting on the couch, all smiles as Charles smiled back.

“Hey guys,” Charles said, setting the boxes down on the coffee table, “So, what’s this big surprise that you guys have been hyping up?”

“Well, in order to do that, we have to go to the roof!” Ellie said, “C’mon, right this way!”

“Wait, we have to go to the roof? Is my present you guys finally getting rid of me?” Charles asked.

“No… no no no,” Henry said softly as he pushed Charles out the door. The three of them walked outside and headed towards the stairs at the side of the building, usually only used for maintenance as Henry unlocked the gate and headed upstairs.

“We got the key from the landlord. We’ll be giving it to you in just a sec,” Ellie said.

“Why is that?” Charles said as they headed up to the top of the building. He gasped, feeling static at the edges of his UI as he looked across the roof. Henry walked towards it, all smiles as Ellie hopped up and down excitedly, grabbing Charles’ arm and pulling him forward.

“TADA!!” Ellie shouted, gesturing towards it as if she were a game show hostess, “It’s all yours!”

On the rooftop, painted dark green with the insignia TT (for Triple Threat) on the side was a brand new helicopter. Charles shook as he approached it, placing his hand against it, first softly, than firmly, as if he was trying to confirm that it was real and not just a figment of his imagination.

“We really REALLY missed your helicopter,” Ellie said, “And we thought that it would be great if we scraped up most of the remaining fortune from Henry’s diamond heist to buy it for you.”

HAD TO SELL MY YACHT. BUT IT WAS WORTH IT, Henry said.

“It was actually an old decommissioned one. They were gonna sell it as scrap, but Henry and I scooped it up after you got kicked out because we figured we could repair it. Than I got some old friends of mine to pull some strings and get it repaired, repainted, and have it all fixed up in time for your birthday,” Ellie said.

AND THAN THERE WAS THE PAPERWORK. OH GOD THE PAPERWORK… Henry signed as he shook in horror.

“Well, what do you think? You haven’t said a word since we got up here!” Ellie said. Charles didn’t know to think. His friends had literally went to the ends of the Great Continent and managed to find a decommissioned helicopter just for him and have it repaired so he could have something to fly again.

“I…. I…. I LOVE IT! GUYS, THIS IS THE BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER!!” Charles shouted, running over to hug Ellie and Henry, “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU MANAGED TO DO THIS! I’M SO HAPPY!”

“You do realize you’re gonna have to take care of it though, right?” Ellie said.

YEAH, YOU’RE USED TO THE GRUNTS AT THE BASE DOING THE DIRTY WORK BUT NOW YOU HAVE TO DO IT, Henry said.

“Oh, I can handle it! I’ve done it before! Hey… do you guys wanna take a spin in it!? I wanna see if it works!” Charles said, bouncing in place. Henry tossed him the keys as he opened the hatch, taking in how spacious it was. It wasn’t as big as the military grade helicopters he was used to, but it was still big enough to hold at least four to five people.

He climbed into the cockpit, taking in the controls and smiling as he started up the engine, pushing a few buttons and putting his hand on his headphones to adjust them. Henry and Ellie were already in the back, sitting carefully on a bench as they fastened their seat belts.

“Alright, guys, here we go!” Charles started to lift off as Henry and Ellie grew excited, feeling warmed by the big smile on Charles’ face as they started to fly over the city.

Already, Charles was making note of all the routes and airways he could legally go on, focusing himself as he kept his hands on the wheel, thoroughly in his element.

“I guess we win the birthday contest, huh?” Ellie said, taking a selfie with Henry. Henry giggled as he waved his hand.

I’M PRETTY SURE THE OTHERS HAD SOME GOOD GIFTS, Henry said.

“Charles, what else did you get for your birthday?” Ellie asked.

“Uh, I got a bracelet from Amelia. And General Galeforce gave me another model to build. And I got some shirts from Dave,” Charles said, “Oh, and uh… I got a boyfriend too.”

“What?!” Ellie said, “Charles, when we get down from here, you have to tell me all the details!”

“It’s Rupert, isn’t it?” Henry teased.

“Sh-shut up! Our first date is in like… a few days I guess,” Charles said, the helicopter suddenly losing altitude.

“WHOA! C’mon, Charles, you just got this thing, you don’t wanna break it on the first day!” Ellie shouted.

“I know, I know… hey… Mr. Copperbottom is down there,” Charles said.

“What?” Ellie stood up, carefully navigating her way to the front as she peered out the window, seeing the faint silhouette of the Toppat leader in an alleyway.

“Whoa, yeah… why don’t you head down and we can have a little chat with him?” Ellie said, cracking her knuckles. Charles felt a bit uneasy about her intentions, but that didn’t stop him from following her instructions, finding a safe place to land where they wouldn’t get in trouble and climbing down a building until they managed to find the leader.

“Hey, Toppat leader!” Ellie shouted, “How are you this fine evening?”

“I don’t have time to fight right now…” Reginald stared at the Triple Threat group, a sort of empty look in his eyes as he tried to smile, “But if it makes you feel any better, once my Right Hand Man gets back, I’m pretty sure he’ll be more than happy to tussle with you.”

“What happened?” Charles asked, “What are you talking about?”

“He went around that corner… over there…” Reginald said, pointing down the alleyway, “If you guys can find him, maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

“Something’s wrong…” Ellie muttered.

“Mmm,” Henry hummed in agreement, I’M GONNA GO DOWN AND SEE WHAT’S GOING ON.

“Uh, OK. Charles, he probably trusts you more than us. Talk to him,” Ellie said.

“Uh, hey buddy. It’s gonna be alright…” Charles said, trying to take Reginald’s hand, only for him to flinch away, almost insulted that Charles touched him. His gaze softened as Charles flinched back, trying to look innocent as he sighed. Charles found it so strange that not thirty minutes ago, he was perfectly fine. Just what had happened between now and when he was at the cafe talking to him?

“Sorry. I hope your friends can find him. I haven’t had much luck…” Reginald muttered.

“Didn’t you say he was coming back, though?” Charles said.

“Oh, he’s coming back! And when he does, he can take care of you obnoxious kids!” Reginald laughed, almost manic looking.

“THERE HE IS!”

“It’s one of those Triple Threat bastards!”

“Wait!”

Amelia held her hands up as two other Toppats pointed their guns at him. Charles, acting on instinct, turned his hand into a laser cannon, aiming it at the group.

“Charles, it’s me,” Amelia said.

“I know it’s you, but in this situation, we’re going to have to be enemies for a minute…” Charles said.

“I can assure you that I’m not in the mood to fight. Right, dad?” Reginald nodded his head wearily, a blank stare on his face as he gazed at his daughter.

“What? You haven’t found him? That’s a shame…” one of the Toppats muttered as they spoke into a headpiece.

“It is a shame… it’s indeed a shame… but he’ll be back, I can assure you…” Reginald said, almost in a daze as Amelia ran towards him.

“Geez…” Amelia muttered, picking her father up, “C’mon dad, you’ve gotta walk.”

“I’M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT HIM!” Reginald shouted, starting to run towards the alleyway.

“GYAH! CHARLES HELP!” Amelia shouted, crying out as Charles helped hold him back from running further down the alley where Henry and Ellie had gone.

Meanwhile, the two of them had rounded a corner and gasped when they saw the blood trail leading up to the roof. Their eyes gazed down at a top hat, a bit torn, but still in tact as Ellie walked over to pick it up.

“Property of Andrew. I guess that’s his real name,” Ellie muttered. Henry reached down and touched a couple of the blood stains, feeling a bit queasy as he realized how recent they were. They felt a strange pit in their stomach as they heard shouting coming from the alleyway.

“C’mon, let’s go tell him the bad news…” Ellie said. Henry nodded in agreement as they headed back around the corner to see Charles and Amelia struggling to keep Reginald from running further into the alleyway.

“Amelia, stop working with this government dog for one second and let me FIND HIM!” Reginald shouted.

“The others are trying to find him! Just please come with me so you can get some rest!” Amelia shouted.

“NO! I DON’T WANNA GO WITHOUT HIM!” There were tears pooling out of Reginald’s eyes as Charles struggled to hold him, looking at Ellie and Henry and gazing at what they were holding. Ellie heard a ping on her messenger app as she gazed at her phone.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Yeah I know… this isn’t good…

[miles2g0]

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

Thanks for the tag @a-canceled-stamp for another tag! 💕💕💕

For this one, I’ll post a snippet from each of the WIPs in the last post. Asks are still welcome for more info. :)

- Tim red hood, reverse robins His—he’s—Jason’s talking about his photos. Of Batman and Robin. They were in his room when he died. Hidden in a compartment in his closet. “Alfred found them,” Jason explained. “He has a bunch framed, all over the Manor. Damian kept some—he keeps them in his apartment. There’s one on his damn fridge, Tim. He does miss you.”

- Renegade au "I also trained Red Hood when he was working with the League of Assassins." He didn't know where the sudden pettiness came from, but he couldn't help but add details. "I gave him his first gun. Taught him how to hold it, how to shoot. An FN 509 compact tactical. He liked the size and weight—he hadn't hit his growth spurt yet, his hands were still so small—" "That's enough."  It took a minute for Batman to compose himself. Renegade felt a rogue flare of satisfaction. 

- all birds have talons 2 - edited: He'd killed those two men right in front of her. He'd killed them, and that poor, broken little girl looked back up at him with stars in her eyes. Sasha had stood there with someone else's blood splattered on her hospital gown and looked at a remorseless murderer like he'd hung the moon.  And she hadn't stopped following him around since.

- villains win au Dick found him in Roman's office. He was—he was in a dog crate. A large one, but Jason was big. There was no room for him to fully sit up or stretch his legs, so he lay curled on his side. There was no lock on the cage and—that meant that something was very wrong.

- homeless Tim That winter had scared him so bad he'd stayed home for a full six months after. It was the longest Tim had been home since he'd turned twelve. He'd paid for it, but it was better than dying in the cold. But it, inevitably, didn't last. It took his dad breaking his arm to have him climbing out his window this time. As soon as it had healed enough that he didn't technically...probably need it in a cast anymore, he'd sawed it off on his own and found himself right back across the bridge to Gotham proper.

- blurred blue bleeding But the pain was a cleanse. He understood, after. It was a necessary evil. He'd grown up away from the Court, where he never should have, and it had sullied him. It made him too soft, tangled him up with too many people. Relationships outside of the Court were a weakness, a liability. The pain had cleansed his mind and soul of all of that. He felt like a weight had been lifted, like he could think clearly for the first time. So now he obeyed because he wanted to. Because the Court was all he had, all he needed. And if he disobeyed he would be decommissioned, and he didn't want to be rejected by his family. He wanted to be useful to his masters. He couldn't disappoint them. So when they sent him after Jason Todd, he just nodded and picked up his blades.

- mazes in our minds He was startled awake again by the jarring sensation of something touching him. Hands burning against his cold, paper thin skin, and he bucked away from them, flailing wildly again for the walls, for his safe corner. But it wasn't there and the hands came back again following him but he was too weak to fight, muscles atrophied from lack of use. He tried to scramble away but his arms and legs wouldn't take his weight and he rolled uselessly against that terrible, soft ground. There were sounds assaulting his ears—frantic voices. Jumbled words swimming around his head, but they didn't mean anything, words hadn't meant anything to him in a long time.

- bar hopping Jun slid his arm closer to where Tim's was resting on the bar so that their forearms were almost brushing. An invitation for contact, but not a violation of boundaries. Tim could easily move away if he wasn't comfortable. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Jun said simply. Tim pressed his lips together. Then he shifted and his arm was pressed against Jun's. His raw nerves chafed at the contact, but he forced himself to breathe through it and the warmth of Jun's skin slowly began to overtake that feeling. He hadn't really known the other boy long enough for this kind of intimate contact yet, but he was surprised to find that it didn't feel... uncomfortable. The power of tequila. And vodka. And whatever was in that shot Jason had pushed into his hands earlier.

[odaclan]

Oda Nobukatsu’s seal stamp.

Caption: This seal stamp has the same double-ringed horseshoe shape, like his father Nobunaga’s Tenka Fubu seal. It also has the same size. The inscription says ika kaidai 威加海内, which means “Impose one’s authority in all within the seas (all over Japan)”. A valiant declaration, not inferior to his father’s.

I’ve actually already posted a (different) picture of this seal a very long time ago, but I happened to see this recently, with the caption comparing it to Nobunaga’s Tenka Fubu, so I thought I’d share it again anyway, and have a longer chat about it.

Ika Kaidai is a phrase taken from the classical Chinese poem Song of the Great Wind (大風歌 Dà Fēng Gē), written by the Emperor Gaozu of Han (Liu Bang) after he won against one of his final enemies, and became the supreme ruler of China. The full sentence within the poem goes like this:

威加海内兮帰故郷 

wēi jiā hǎi nèi xī guī gù xiāng 

Now that my authority ruled over all within the seas, ah, I return to my homeland.

You’ll notice that this does not actually mean “I will conquer”, but “I have already conquered”. 

The problem with Sengoku slogans that are taken from Chinese classics is that, much like with Tenka Fubu, one is never sure if the person had intended it to adopt the original Chinese meaning, or if it has since been imbued with Japanese sensibilities and thus have a different meaning/intention in the new usage.

If this Ika Kaidai is supposed to mean what it originally meant in Chinese, then that’s a rather bold claim to make (”I have already conquered the nation”).

I wonder if this seal implies that the theories saying he actually was Nobunaga’s successor as the new head of the Oda clan is true, and he was not just a stand-in “regent” until his nephew is of age. Some theories say that Nobunaga already had conquered the “Tenka”, after all. Not literally conquered the whole nation, just that he’s already viewed as “the ruler of the land”. The letter bearing this seal was written during the battle of Komaki-Nagakute in 1584. 

I’ve seen a museum article saying that, purportedly, Tokugawa vassal Sakakibara Yasumasa saw this battle as Hideyoshi launching a coup d’etat against “his master”. Since there’s no full transcript of the documentation that I could find online, I’m not sure if he meant “master” singularly, and that Nobukatsu is in fact the new lord of the Oda; or if he meant “masters” in the sense that Hideyoshi was rebelling against the Oda clan as a whole, so Nobukatsu may well be really just a temporary lord managing the clan’s affairs in place of his toddler nephew.

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse Rewatches SPN 04x01

Lazarus Rising

OMG ITS CASTIEL TIME. LOVE OF MY LIFE. THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS. 

“Are we going to get away with all that blinking on TV?”

Told spouse that Jensen was buried under dirt for this scene

“being buried underground is the only way to make it legit”

“If Dean didn’t show up on the first episode of the new season, there would have been riots in the street”

“Thats an oddly shaped soft dirt man-sized hole” “Did they bury him in some shit hole?” “The trees don’t look like they’re down to me. I think that’s a weird shot” “The title card is pretty bad” “The red glitchy whatever the fuck” “I can imagine someone just saying to open it since the sign was open”

“Yes...breathe harder. We’re almost there” 🎶on a random Thursday in September🎶

MENS TITS

“Gotta have that stupid smile when you see the porno mags” “fucking condiment theft” “that noise is pretty fkn annoying. I’m not going to lie” “pretty awesome shot” “Sugar glass!!! Isn’t it just sheets of sugar?” “huh” “you would just hold the wires together to crank the starter” “not even one day back and you’re cutting yourself open” “let’s have a big bloody hug. Delicious” “this is the season where Dean starts to have that look”

The post-hell glow

“Is he bull-shitting or does he remember hell stuff later?” “he rode you out alright” “Star Wars reference” “there’s a heart on the door even” they’re married in real life

“Hug it out bro” “That was some serious panties” “nerd” “classy motel. He should be wearing a silk shirt” “first time we get a closeup of the amulet. Can you actually buy it?” “so he does remember things.” “2nd most important thing in life and you almost forget about her?” “titters” “Is this the room?” “Really? You’re going to kick your brother over a tramp stamp?” “slutty”

TO be clear - we support all sluts and whores in this house. 

“You are not invited then back to titters” “Lots of boobies in this episode” castiel

“Aw damn. That’s right - she gets fried” Isn’t this good horror? “It’s pretty decent” “They did a little eye click sound now” perky nipples

“Is he referring to the insurance commercials lady?” “sounds a little more gruesome than vaseline and a firehouse but it’s not clear where that fire hose is going” “what the fuck do the demons care about money for pie?” 🎶the boys are back in town🎶

“Do we see him now?” “I don’t know shit man” “is he going to be in the leopard print hotel?” “with the mirror on the ceiling? Oh my god. What a sex dungeon” 🎶church bells ringing in my head🎶

“Why are they lying to each other?” 🎶get caught with my pants down around an angel🎶

I mean they eventually do have their pants down in all the books I read

“Dude is probably dead. it’s not the answer you want” “is this when he learns about exorcising demons without talking? I don’t remember how he does it” “a little young to be Darth Vader but sure” just imagine watching this live

“Oh he’s been fkn ruby this whole time right?” “thats a fake ass scene. Couldn’t even bother with a stock photo”

“Oh this is the real sex dungeon. They were just fucking around before” “He’s drinking her blood right?” “calm your tits.” “that’s a really shiny knife there dean” “he’s rattling the roof” “fireworks!”

There he is!!!!

“First time I saw him - I thought he was a Russian dude from a shit show” “look at that fkn hair” “we need to figure out which one of us is prettier” “god he’s so fkn awkward” “they never use that line again about the volume” “they really worked the camera for this whole scene” “this show is finally good again”