#i'll probably be fine i just. i don't know

[iwashie]

Sevika, and reader on her period headcanon...

Sevika is in her late 30s and probably doesn't suffer with her period-or do-, but dating a younger woman, at the peak of hormones and period, makes her think about her time and asks herself how she handles you and all your versions during it.

She knows your period is coming by just seeing your breasts swelling, some complaints about your back hurting, and mood changing during the day as you always do but never remember it's that time of the month.

She always has a lot of pads, your favorite food stockpiled, medicine for your various pains, always ready to massage your back, legs and belly, brings you a lot of water and a hot water bottle for cramps.

"Doll, it's normal to have a period. Don't be angry or disgusting for it. I know you don't like having pains, and all that stuff period brings on, but it's normal. And you have me by your side."

Your mood swings are a challenge for her, but she handles somehow. Just like the day you two were walking around Zaun, enjoying a street food you begged her to buy and then she notices you're not by her side, looking back to see you stuck in the place, your eyes on the ground, on your food on the ground. She immediately ran back to you, soothing you as your eyes filled with tears and mumbled that you haven't even bitten. "That's alright, doll. Have mine and everything is fine."

Or the day she made a joke at the wrong time and wrong place, making everyone at the table in Last Drop alternate gaze between you two just to look away when you lashed out on her and left the place without her. Or the day a woman looked at her for too long, and you had to show that woman that your woman was your woman. Or tried to throw punches at every man whistling at you- Ran had to stop you and Sevika at this one.

She thought your period cravings were something else. Why so much sugar?!? It's was possible worse than pregnancy cravings. "Are you on your period, or are you pregnant?

"I'm craving something sweet, like really sweet." You said, searching for something in the cabinets. "Have some sugar." You looked at her with fire on your eyes, and she felt a cold sweat run down her back. "What about some chocolate cake, ice cream, or some food deep-rooted with sugar? I'll buy it, doll."

She can't keep up with your energy, always accepting whatever you want and following behind you everywhere with a scowl, but making sure you're good, safe, and happy. She doesn't understand how you have so much energy left after doing a lot of things during the day to her about your day and plans, just to fall asleep suddenly.

She also handled you crying over everything and making traps for her, like asking her if she'd love you if you were a worm, or her worst nightmare: "Would you love me if I was from topside?" and her long silence was answer enough for you to start weeping. "Doll, it's just a dumb thought. Of course I'd love you and gonna be with you forever. I promise!"

She prefers to handle you when you are calmer, too sore to handle the world on your back, and stays in bed, being doted by her. She always cuddles you, her human hand on your belly to warm it up, whispering sweet nothings or watching a movie with you, both wrapped in the blankets. "I love you too, doll."

Maybe the best thing about your period is the much horniness you have during it. Your wild side is always showing up at this time of the month; always teasing her with dirty whispers, handsy. She loves fucking you, making love to you, making you cum and all. But, damn, you've come three times already, and you're looking at her with those eyes again, and she isn't young anymore, she needs to catch her breath. "Please, Vika. Just one more. You can use your fingers on me this time. Pleaseee."

She loves it when you are horny and take the lead, playing with yourself, teasing her until she does something about it and makes slow, tender, sweaty love to you. "Fuck, doll. Your pussy is so wet and creamy for me, gotta fuck it properly, huh. Do you want this? Want my cock deep inside your pussy? Good girl, doll..."

Your crazy ideas always caught her by surprise. She is sure that these ideas are made up before your period, and you only come with them to blame on the "period hehehe"

"You know what? I really want-" "Please, a normal thing for once." "You to impregnate me." A silence in the room. "Impossible, doll." "What do you mean it's important? DON'T YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?!?" "It's biological Impossible to get you pregnant with my babies." "Well. We gotta keep trying, vika!"

Your low self-esteem is the biggest problem, like how she's gonna put inside your head that you are the most beautiful person in Zaun? The prettiest woman she's ever laid eyes on! "Your body is completely fine! Your skin is normal! You're not fat, square, or I don't know! Your clothes are completely fitting, you're fucking beautiful and perfect. The only woman for me, doll!"

At the end of your period, she would be exhausted, needing vacations away from Zaun, but glad to have you surviving another period without trying to kill her and every other Zaun citizen. She would be so glad to have her girl back, not that you're much different but still.

@iwashie 2025, please do not translate, modify or republish my works

[buddiekinard]

a thing because i keep thinking about lou's naked body and i can't stop thinking about mpreg .....don't look at me..... This is just in my head and sometimes it's gotta get out. I am not starting another wip on tumblr. I am not.

Tommy turns off his truck outside of Eddie's house. He'd gone by the station first, but Evan is apparently off today. He wasn't at the loft either. Tommy could just call him, but this isn't a phone call conversation. This is a face to face in person conversation.

He sees Evan's jeep in the drive way, so at least he won't have to ask Eddie where Evan is. He hasn't talked to Eddie in over a month either.

He wonders if Eddie's decorated for Christmas. He doesn't know what's going on with Eddie and Christopher. He supposes that's what happens when you break up with your friend's best friend. They kind of aren't your friend anymore. (Not that Tommy had tried to contact him, either, even though he had texted him, once, the morning after he'd broken up with Evan.)

He grips the steering wheel and lets out a slow breath before getting out of his truck. He passes Evan's jeep on his walk up the drive and almost turns and runs back to his truck. Evan would never know he was here. He could keep his secret, figure out what to do on his own. Evan would never have to know.

Evan probably doesn't want anything to do with Tommy, and Tommy can't blame him. He'd run instead of talking, but then. Evan had jumped head first in to move in with me without talking, too. So he's trying not to blame himself too much.

He's just about to ring the buzzer when the door swings open and Evan is standing in front of him, box in his hand.

"Tommy? Wh-what are you doing here?"

"Would you believe me if I said looking for you?"

"How did you know I was here?"

"Well, you weren't at the station or at home, so I thought I'd try Eddie's." Tommy tries to remind himself why he's here, so he doesn't cut and run again. He knows this man has the power to break his heart, and it's a hart power for him to give up.

"You could have called me instead of driving all over the city?"

He pushes past Tommy with the box in hand and drops it in the back of Eddie's truck.

"This isn't a phone conversation."

"I spent two weeks doing nothing but try to talk to you." Evan turns to go back inside and then Eddie walks past with a duffle and tosses it in the passenger seat.

"Tommy? Hey, what are you doing here?" Eddie looks between them, raises an eyebrow at Evan in question, and then turns to give Tommy a skeptical look.

"It's fine, Eddie. I'm fine." Evan looks back at Tommy. "If you want to talk to me you can follow me inside. I have another suitcase to bring out.

"Is Eddie leaving?"

"No, but he's going to El Paso for a while." Evan picks up a suitcase. "You have really great timing."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for your timing? Sorry for breaking my heart to save your own? Which one is it?"

"Evan, can you stop for two seconds?"

Evan stops walk and drops his shoulders to look at Tommy. His face crumbles a bit, and Tommy can see he's not angry. There's something behind his eyes that says he's trying not to break. Tommy understands. He's felt that way for a month.

"I've stopped what do you need?"

"Maybe not here."

"Look, this is where we are, and Eddie is leaving today, so I'm not going anywhere, so you can talk to me here or we can meet later."

"Evan - "

"I miss you." Evan says. "I'm glad you're calling me Evan. It felt like a knife to the gut when you called me Buck." He sits down on Eddie's couch, slumping into it a little. "Sit."

Tommy does as Evan says.

"What's going on, Tommy? I'll listen." "Evan, I have to tell you something."

"I get that. What is it, Tommy?"

"I - " Tommy feels like he should run. Maybe running was always the right choice.

"Tommy." Evan rests his hand on Tommy's thigh. It's just a soft gesture. Tommy missed touching Evan. He's not mad at it. "What is it? You're not dying, are you?"

"I'm pregnant, Evan."

"Uh - " Their heads snap behind them to find Eddie standing there. "Right, I'm going to just, uh. I'm gonna go to the kitchen. Right. Coffee for the road."

Eddie disappears into the next room.

Tommy looks over at Evan, and he's just staring, not saying anything.

[gullemec]

Cross the Line

Golden Cage - Chapter Five

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader

Summary: Truth or Dare, Murder, and Sex. Or, you and Butcher go on a road trip.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ mdni), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, nipple play, dirty talk, creampie, discussions of previous murders, language, unsafe driving, attempted flashing, One Bed Trope™️, reader has poor self esteem and is Going Through It, straight up vehicular manslaughter, brief description of dead bodies

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 7.7k

A/N: Here she is!! My first ever f/m smut scene! Please be kind. Also a very action-packed chapter. Please read the tags before diving in because there's a LOT happening here.

Monday morning rolls around with an alarming speed, the pace of your days having taken a decided turn toward the speed of light. 

It had nothing to do with your apprehension around being with Butcher again, you were sure. 

Certain. 

The plan, not unlike the last plan, is supposedly simple. As the CytoGenix van carrying the vials of V2 makes its way upstate, you and Butcher will tail it at a distance, waiting until the time is right to strike and run the van offroad using a spike strip.

You've thought up about two thousand ways this could go wrong. You could probably think of a thousand more, but your brain started to hurt when you tried.

You pull your bag over your shoulder, every step to Butcher’s van downstairs weighed down by a strange mix of adrenaline and dread. He’s waiting for you, leaned against the driver’s side door with his usual cocky smirk, dark aviators shielding his expression.

“Look alive, sunshine,” he says as you climb in. “Big day ahead.”

You settle into the passenger seat, forcing yourself to play it cool. The hum of the engine fills the silence as you pull away, but within moments, the tension in the van feels as suffocating as the thick summer air.

The first two hours crawl by. Small talk feels like dragging a boulder uphill, each attempt to bridge the gap between you met with curt, monosyllabic responses. Weather. Traffic. A half-hearted quip about a roadside diner that doesn’t even earn a smirk from Butcher.

It’s maddening. Days ago, this man had kissed you like the world was ending. Now, he's talking about the possibility of impending rain. You feel insane.

Eventually, you can’t take it anymore.

“Truth or dare,” you say, throwing it out like a grenade

Butcher glances at you, his brow furrowing beneath his sunglasses. “The fuck did you just say?”

He scoffs, muttering something under his breath about it being a child's game. “And how exactly do you suppose we play truth or dare in a moving vehicle, hm?” He asks. 

“I don't know, but what I do know is that we have a four and a half hour drive ahead of us and if this awkward silence is going to continue, I'm going to jump out of the window right now.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “What are you, twelve? What’s next, a round of bloody ‘I Spy’?” He shoots you a look of bemusement before returning to the road, ignoring your request. 

He's not getting away that easy. 

“Look, it's either truth or dare, or we talk about the k—”

“Jesus Christ, alright I'll play your fucking game,” he relents. 

Success. 

You nod toward him expectedly. 

“What?” He asks 

“Truth or dare? You have to pick, it's kind of how the game is played.”

“Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “Fine. Truth.”

You pause to think for a second, racking your brain for a good question. You could, of course, go straight for the jugular, asking him why he pulled away from the kiss, why he didn't push you down on the couch and take everything you were willing to give him right then and there. But you think that might be a little intense for a first question, so you settle on something easier. 

“How many people have you killed?”

His reaction is instant, an incredulous laugh that’s more bark than humor. “Straight for the jugular, eh? You don’t muck about.”

“I’m curious,” you say, holding his gaze. “Isn’t that the whole point of the game?

“Sweetheart, if knowing how many people I've kidnapped is a second date question, this has gotta be a fifth date question.”

“Okay,” you say thoughtfully. “Well, if you count all the late night stake outs, and if you count our first date, the one where you kidnapped, me as three dates, which I do, I think we're well past the fifth date by now.” You raise your eyebrows at him, laughing.  

“Alright, alright,” he huffs. The smirk on his face betrays the fact that he kind of wants to play, but his tough facade necessitates that he put up a valiant fight about it first. 

But once your laughing subsides, his grin falls, and you realize that this was perhaps not the best question to ask. His eyes are fixed on the road when he answers you. 

He exhales sharply, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “I lost count. Got to twenty-five, maybe thirty, last time I bothered to keep track.” His voice is calm, almost too calm, but there’s no pride in it. “You happy now?”

His admission is like a shock to your system. You knew that he'd killed before, having tossed the idea around in your mind, considering the things you knew about the man you were unquestionably attracted to. He has killed, yes, but he has also lost. He has lost everything, and he has helped, and he has been kind, too. And yet, hearing the words from his mouth, putting a number, if only estimated, on the amount of times a life has been lost at the same hands that were wrapped tenderly around your body only days ago, sends a painful jolt to your heart. 

“I know what you might think,” he starts, his voice faltering. “You think I'm cold and evil, or whatever.” His fingers readjust around the steering wheel, an anxious tic you're picking up on. “But I had to do it. I believed it was for some… greater purpose, I guess. I believe that, but maybe because I have to.”

You're speechless. You weren't expecting this sudden moment of vulnerability in Butcher, this emotional nakedness. If you're honest, it scares you, because it causes the sand beneath the already unsteady foundation of your relationship with him to shake. You have to say something, anything. 

“How do you feel about potentially killing two more people today? Does it make you nervous?” You ask. You're vaguely aware of the van driving ahead of you, a pinprick dot of white on the endlessly winding highway. 

He sighs, then smirks, looking entirely too pleased in comparison to his somber expression only moments ago. “Uh–uh, your turn now.”

He's got you there. 

“Truth,” you say, and it's only fair that he throws you a hardball too. But he doesn't. 

“What’s your favorite memory with your mum?”

The question throws you for a moment, its tenderness blindsiding you. You have so many, you could almost argue that this isn't an easy question at all. All the same, your mind wanders to the same memory that always pops up when you ask yourself this question. 

“My seventh birthday,” you begin, your voice tinged with nostalgia. “Dad was off in the Bahamas for some meeting, and I didn’t have any friends because we’d just moved. So it was just me and her. She took me to Coney Island, and we spent the whole day there. Rides, games, cotton candy. It was the best.” A tear twinkles in your eye, but you wipe it away before it comes to fruition. 

He looks like he's about to say something, maybe offer some comfort or ask a follow up, but you're too quick for him. 

“Now you, truth or dare?”

He picks dare, following your lead and ignoring what you shared about your mom. You appreciate his ability to pick up on your nonverbal cues. 

You resist the urge to reach across the console and brush your fingers through his wild, wind-tousled hair. You let yourself imagine for a moment a scenario in which the two of you are out for a drive on a beautiful day for pleasure rather than business, where you might entwine your fingers with his on the center console. But these thoughts are dangerous, and you need a distraction. 

“Drive in the oncoming lane for ten seconds.”

“Are you bloody mental?” he snaps, glaring at you. “We’re trying to keep a low profile, and you want me to pull a stunt like that?”

You shrug, and you relish in the utter frustration that Butcher exudes, the way his accent comes out in full-force when he's this worked up. 

“You said dare,” you counter, your tone teasing. “A dare’s a dare.”

He groans, muttering a string of expletives as he slows the van. “You’re a bloody pain in my arse, you know that?”

“Slow down a bit, so they won't see us,” you suggest, your voice low to control the giggles that threaten to peek out. “Come on, Butcher.”

He hesitates. It's a sick kind of satisfaction knowing that, if it was anyone but you, Butcher would have probably just let you jump out the window at this point. 

“One, twooo… Threeeee…” You exaggerate your words, giving him every opportunity to acquiesce to your demands. 

Finally, you feel the van slow and dip to the left as Butcher careens into the oncoming lane. 

This is getting too easy. 

You count out the next ten seconds slowly, agonizingly. 

Ten. 

Nine

Eight. He shifts his eyes between you and the road, imploring you to call off the dare. Absolutely not. 

Seven. 

Six. 

Five. A speck materializes on the horizon. An oncoming car. 

Four.  The speck transforms into a white sedan. 

Three. “I'm switching lanes,” he yells. “Three more seconds!” You argue back. 

Two. You can tell now that there are two passengers in the sedan. “Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!”

One. The driver of the sedan lays on the horn, the loud bleat sending shockwaves through your system. 

Butcher swerves back into the right lane, a chorus of curses spilling out, the sedan’s honking fading out behind you. Your laughter spills out, obnoxious and loud and absolutely drowning out Butcher’s string of profanities. Shortly after he course-corrects, the white van falls back into your line of sight. 

No harm, no foul. 

Butcher’s breathing evens. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” you retort, still grinning.

“You better pick dare this turn. I didn't realize we weren't playin' fair,” he smirks, and you're knocked back again. It's criminal how this man speaks, so deep and yet so melodic, his accent and charm breaking down whatever defenses you still had standing. 

“Do your worst,” you dare, and he smiles widely. For a moment, you feel a real flare of heat in your chest. You don't want to think about what you'd realistically do for this man right now, but the thought crosses your mind, sending a pang to your core. 

“Flash the next car that drives past us.”

Now it's your turn to blanch at the request, your face scrunching up in response. 

“You can't be serious,” you say. 

He simply nods, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead in feigned concentration. 

Well, the best way out is always through. 

You pull your seatbelt off, balancing on your seat and the console as you pull yourself through the van’s open sunroof. You pretend not to notice Butcher's right arm snaking protectively around your left leg. 

You watch as a dark green truck materializes before you, a lone cowboy hat wearing man inside. You pinch your fingers around the edge of your shirt. The truck speeds by as you begin to lift it up. Suddenly, the arm wrapped around your leg pulls down, forcing you back into the van. 

“Hey! What was that for?!” You exclaim, annoyed at the unwelcome intrusion. 

“You weren't seriously going to flash that truck, were you?” He asks. 

You nod. “I mean, yeah? You dared me to do it. A dare’s a dare.”

He huffs and puffs, shaking his head intermittently. He's frustrated with you, and it's pissing you off. 

Time to turn the tables. 

“Okay, well it’s your turn now I guess. Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” he says smugly, and you laugh, because you know what you say next is going to shake him. 

You take a second to stare at him, an unabashed good look at him. The way the breeze tousles his dark hair, the angle of his jaw catching the golden hour light. The warmth in the glow softens him somehow, makes him seem almost human, almost kind. You can't deny that you want him, and you can’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wants you too.

"Did you like it?" you ask abruptly, your voice low but clear.

Butcher furrows his brow, clearly puzzled. "Like what?"

"When you kissed me," you clarify, your heart pounding in your chest. "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

The silence that follows is deafening. You hear him inhale sharply, see the slight hitch in his posture as the words settle between you. His face shifts, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came. He stares straight ahead, jaw tightening, fingers curling around the steering wheel like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

Your pulse quickens. Oh, God. Why did I say that? The weight of your own recklessness presses down on you. Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity as he struggles with something unspoken, his lips parting as if to say something—

Your heart stops.

—and then, with a sharp gasp, his hand slams the horn and his foot hits the brake.

"Oi! Cunts!" he shouts, jerking the van to a sudden halt. Both of you lurch forward, your seatbelt biting into your shoulder.

Your head snaps toward the road just in time to see the CytoGenix van swerving off into the parking lot of a run-down motel.

The spell is broken. The tension you’d built up between you vanishes, replaced by adrenaline and a sinking sense of inevitability.

At least he'd stopped you before you'd shown your tits to some unsuspecting cowboy. 

Butcher’s face hardens, his attention fully back on the road as he mutters a string of curses under his breath. He keeps driving for another mile, the air in the van heavy and stifling. It’s as though the cracks you’d glimpsed in his armor have sealed up entirely, leaving only the impenetrable man you met at the start.

Finally, he pulls off just past a mile marker, the van grinding to a halt on the side of the road. He throws it in park and turns to you, his expression unreadable.

"Out," he orders, his voice clipped.

You blink at him. "What?"

"Get out of the van," he repeats, this time more firmly.

Despite every instinct screaming at you not to trust him, you obey. He follows you out, slamming the door behind him, and gestures toward the dense line of trees. "Start walking. Don’t stop ‘til you’re deep enough in that you can’t see the road anymore."

“Now wait a goddamn minute,” you fight, “I want to be a part of this. You're not exiling me to the woods while you do the dirty work. I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” he snaps, his tone cold and final. “You don’t want this blood on your hands, love. Trust me.”

Your temper flares. "You’re such an asshole, you know that?" you spit, heat rushing to your face.

You're all bite, all fight, until you see the look on his face. The harsh lines of his face are softened, his eyes weighed down with something heavier than anger. Guilt? Regret? He doesn’t want to do this, you realize. He thinks he’s protecting you.

And maybe you just don't have much of a fight left in you anymore.

You swallow hard, clenching your fists. "Fine," you say through gritted teeth. "But don’t think for a second I’m letting this go."

Without waiting for a response, you storm off into the forest, branches snapping underfoot as you push past ferns and brush.

You find a mossy rock and sink down beside it, hugging your knees to your chest. The familiar ache of being abandoned washes over you, pulling you back into yourself. You wrap your arms tightly around your body, closing your eyes and imagining the comforting embrace of your mother. The memories come easily, like they always do. Her laugh, her warmth, the way her hand always found yours when you were scared.

You lose track of time sitting there, flipping through those memories like pages in a well-worn book. Hours could have passed, or maybe it’s only minutes. You don’t know, and for a while, you don’t care.

It’s the crunch of heavy footfalls that pulls you back to the present. You blink up to see Butcher looming over you, his expression grim and drawn.

"If a van crashes in the forest and no one’s around to hear it, does it even make a noise?" you quip, smirking despite yourself.

He scowls. "What the fuck are you on about now?"

"Either that was the quietest car crash in history, or you lost them," you say, crossing your arms.

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. "They never came through. They’re holed up at the motel for the night. We’ll head back, stake it out, and wait for them to move on." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the road.

He extends a hand to help you up, but you ignore it, pushing yourself off the ground and brushing dirt from your clothes. Without a word, you start walking ahead of him, back toward the van.

"Bloody hell," he mutters under his breath, falling in step behind you. 

The short drive back to the motel is silent, the energy between the two of you having soured considerably. You stare out the window, arms crossed, seething. You're pissed and you want him to know it, to feel it. The mission feels like a joke, like you’re a joke. No matter what you do, you’ll always be the inept kid getting in the way.

The Piney Point Motel comes into view just as the sun dips behind the pines, the sky streaked in pinks and oranges. You spot the CytoGenix van immediately, parked conspicuously by the entrance of the motel. As far as you can tell, it's empty. 

“Did they really just… leave it there?” You ask, incredulous. 

Butcher chuckles. “Your old man really should stop cuttin’ corners on security.”

A flurry of hope stirs in your chest. “So we could just break into the van and steal the vials, right? And then no one would have to get hurt?”

He gives you a look, one that’s half pity, half impatience, before gesturing to the motel’s facade. Security cameras dot the walls, floodlights primed for motion. “Sorry, sweetheart. Looks like your dad could learn a thing or two from Piney Point.”

And just like that, the spark fizzles. 

Butcher pulls the van into a shadowed corner of the lot and kills the engine. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed.

You stare at him. “Well, are we going in?”

“Nah. You can crawl in the back if you wanna sleep. I'll take first watch.”

He can't be serious. 

“You want me to sleep back there?!”

He shrugs. “Or up here, but I don’t reckon it’s any comfier.”

You shoot him an incredulous look. “Or—and hear me out—we could sleep in the motel right in front of us?”

“And risk losin’ ‘em? Yeah, no thanks.”

You argue back and forth but the man is an infuriating, unflinching wall of stubbornness. Eventually, you give up, arms crossed as you glare at the moonlit motel. You consider going and getting a room just for yourself, but you reason that Butcher won't hesitate when he sees the men leave and you'll be left behind. Sleep tugs at you, but you refuse to crawl into the cramped backseat. Not after this.

The moon begins its arc across the starlit sky. Stars scatter above you, brighter and clearer than anything you’ve seen in years. You step out of the van, stretching stiff legs, the cool night air brushing against your skin. For a moment, you forget your frustration, gazing up at the wide, sparkling sky. It reminds you of Muskoka, your last vacation with both parents—before the office bedroom became your dad’s permanent home.

The ache of the memory lingers as you climb back into the van, only to find Butcher slumped in the driver’s seat, snoring. His chin tucked into his chest, a low rumble filling the space. You burst into laughter before you can stop yourself.

Butcher jerks awake, eyes darting wildly until they land on you. His expression shifts to a mix of annoyance and embarrassment.

“Alright, laugh it up,” he grumbles, voice gravelly from sleep. “Your turn to keep watch. Good luck stayin’ awake.”

You plant your hands on your hips, glaring at him. “I’m dead tired, and so are you. We need actual sleep, Butch. I’ll pay for the rooms. Final offer.”

He pretends to consider your offer like the thought of a bed, even a springy motel bed, doesn't sound downright heavenly right now. After a moment of feigned thoughtfulness, he pulls himself from the driver's seat and stalks toward the motel. 

“Don't look so pleased,” he mutters as he stalks past you. “We’re up at 4:30, no later. Understand?”

You trail behind him, hiding your grin. Right now, you’d agree to anything.

~~~

The reception area of the Piney Point Motel looks like it hasn’t been updated since the 1970s. The wood-paneled walls are warped in places, lined with crooked shelves cluttered with knick-knacks, miniature ceramic animals, a faded “World’s Best Grandma” mug, and a jar of mints that looks more like a trap than an offering.

Behind the counter sits a bespectacled woman in her sixties, a paperback romance novel in one hand and a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray beside her. The air smells like pine-scented cleaner and stale smoke. She looks up as you and Butcher enter, giving you both a thorough once-over.

“Hourly or overnight?” she asks flatly, like she’s heard every excuse in the book.

The question hits you like a slap. Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

Butcher doesn’t miss a beat. “We’ll take two rooms for the night,” he says, ignoring your mortification.

The receptionist shakes her head with a lazy shrug. “Only got one room left. One bed. Last two-bed went to a couple of truckers about an hour ago. It’s that time of year.”

You and Butcher exchange a look, sharp and synchronized.

“No,” you and Butcher say in unison, your sharp tone and immediate refusal surprising the older woman. 

But your mind wanders back to the van, it's aging leather upholstery and stiff cushions and lingering coffee smell. The weight of your eyelids expands tenfold at the thought. No way in hell are you going to be prepared for what tomorrow brings if you have to sleep in there. 

“Fine,” you sigh, taking the key from the receptionist’s outstretched hand, replacing it with a stack of bills.

“What d’you mean, fine?” Butcher asks, trailing after you as you head to the room. His boots echo dully on the cracked linoleum floor. “We’re better off in the van. Safer, too.”

You ignore him, jamming the key into the lock and twisting hard. The door creaks open to reveal a shoebox-sized room with peeling wallpaper, a squeaky ceiling fan, and a bed that looks like it’s seen more fights than rest.

Still, it’s a bed.

Without a word, Butcher follows you inside, closing the door behind him. For a man so determined to sleep in the van, he seems strangely reluctant to leave now. You glance at him, confused but unwilling to ask.

“You’re not staying, are you?” you finally say, half-turning to face him.

“’Course I’m stayin’,” he replies, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Not leavin’ you alone in some dodgy motel where the closest weapon’s probably that broken lamp in the corner.”

You blink at him, torn between irritation and a flicker of gratitude. Before you can respond, he smirks and brushes past you toward the bed.

“Dibs,” he declares, flopping onto the mattress with all the grace of a drunk elephant. The springs groan in protest, but he doesn’t care.

“No, no! Absolutely not!” You shout, but he's already stretched his arms behind his head, feet crossed. “You're not taking the bed, you didn't even want this room!”

“And yet, here I am,” he replies, tucking his hands behind his head. The smugness radiating off him is enough to set your teeth on edge.

“You're an asshole, you know that right?”

“Yeah, you keep remindin’ me,” he says with a grin. “Now are you gonna stand there gawkin’ all night, or are you gonna make yourself comfortable?”

You grab the pillow out from behind his head and secure it alongside yours down the middle of the bed, creating a makeshift wall between your bodies. 

“What’s this, then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“The Great Wall of Don’t-Touch-Me,” you deadpan, climbing onto your side of the bed and glaring at him over the makeshift divider.

He chuckles, low and amused. “You think I’m gonna bite?”

“More likely that I’d be the one biting you,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

The second the words leave your mouth, your cheeks flush hot. You busy yourself adjusting your pillow, pretending you don’t see the way his grin widens.

“Noted,” he says, voice dipping just enough to make you shiver.

You roll over, facing the wall. The bed creaks as Butcher shifts, and you’re hyper-aware of his presence. His scent, the warmth radiating off him, the way the air seems heavier when he’s near.

Neither of you bother crawling under the covers, facing away from each other to make it extra-clear that this is a no-nonsense, all-business sleepover. 

“Goodnight, asshole,” you mutter, hoping the bite in your tone masks the thrum of nerves in your chest.

“’Night, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice softer than you expect.

You want to savour this moment, but you're out in seconds. 

~~~

Suspended in a haze of warm sunlight, the cool edge of unreality covers you like a blanket of fresh snow. Strong arms wrap securely around your waist, across your chest, their weight pressing into you like a protective cocoon. The scratch of a beard grazes your neck, and the faint warmth of breath tickles your skin. Gentle snores vibrate against your back, a low, steady rhythm that lulls you further into the dreamlike state. You fight to stay there, curling deeper into the embrace, savoring the rare, fleeting serenity.

But serenity never lasts. A creeping discomfort nags at the edges of your mind, like an itch you can’t quite reach. The illusion splinters. The sunlight grows sharper, the weight around you heavier, the awkward press of something hard on your ass undeniable.

Your eyes snap open, reality crashing in. It’s blindingly bright, far too bright for what should be the early, predawn hours. Panic spikes through your system as you take in the scene, your body reacting before your brain catches up. You thrash instinctively, and Butcher’s grip loosens just in time for him to tumble unceremoniously off the bed.

“Bloody hell!” Butcher groans from the floor, rubbing the back of his head.

Your voice comes out in a frantic rasp. “Butcher, wake up! We slept in!”

The words are like a starter pistol. He’s up and moving in an instant, yanking on his boots while simultaneously reaching for the door.

“Shit! Goddamn it, move! Move!” he barks, his voice sharp and commanding.

The two of you are a blur of motion, grabbing, stumbling, swearing. Your bodies move on autopilot, faster than your sleep-addled minds can process. In seconds, you’re in the van, Butcher slamming the door shut and peeling out of the motel parking lot with reckless urgency.

Anxiety builds in your chest, each erratic swerve of the van feeding the dread coiling tighter inside you. As you glance back at the motel, the sight of an empty parking spot—a lone Mustang where the CytoGenix van had been—confirms your worst fears. They’re gone.

Butcher’s jaw tightens as he accelerates onto the highway, weaving through lanes with a focus that’s almost terrifying. The towering pines blur into streaks of green on either side of you as the van hurtles forward. You scan the horizon frantically, desperate for a glimpse of white metal that refuses to appear.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours before Butcher finally slows the van, pulling into a deserted roadside gas station. It’s eerily quiet, the pumps sitting idle, the building dark and lifeless.

“This is the last stop for miles,” Butcher says, his voice low and grim. “That's the last stop they would've made before going to the lab.”

The weight of his words slams into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your heart races, panic tightening its grip. This was it, the window of opportunity to intercept them had closed. It was all your fault. You’d fought tooth and nail for the motel room last night, insisting you both needed the rest, convincing yourself it was a small indulgence that wouldn’t jeopardize the mission.

You were wrong.

Maybe he was right, maybe your father was right, maybe they're all right, everyone who's ever doubted you. It's cruel, the way that the frayed threads of meaning in your life seem to continually fall from your grasp. 

Shame and guilt crash over you in waves, heat rising in your face as your chest constricts painfully. You blink back tears, but they gather stubbornly at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Butcher, I’m so sorry,” you stammer, your voice trembling. “I—I screwed up. This is all my fault.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable as he stares out the windshield. The silence stretches, unbearable. Fear claws at you, the thought of him cutting you loose from the Boys—or worse, giving up on the mission entirely—hitting like a punch to the gut.

“Please,” you continue, desperation creeping into your tone. “I know I fucked up, but don’t… don’t give up on this. Don’t give up on me.”

Butcher’s head swivels toward you, his eyes softer than you expect. His voice, when he speaks, is gentle, almost unrecognizably so.

“Hey,” he says, holding up a hand. “Breathe. It’s okay. Hold your apologies, yeah? We’re not done yet. I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve.”

You blink at him, stunned into silence. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, not the anger, the harsh words, the fury you thought you deserved. Instead, his calm confidence throws you off balance, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

“Butcher…” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat.

“Just wait,” he says, lips quirking into a faint, reassuring smirk. “Keep it together. We’ve still got work to do.”

With that, his foot presses down on the gas pedal, the van lurching forward and pinning you back against the seat.

You're certain you've never driven this fast before, not even during those rare joyrides with your father in his Bugatti. The van rockets forward, moving like a bullet out of a gun, the world outside warping into a blur of trees and sky as the tires scream against the asphalt. Your grip on the door handle tightens with every jolt, the tension in the cabin as visceral as the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Despite the chaos of the day, the abrupt wake-up, the panic, and Butcher’s uncharacteristic gentleness, the unbridled anxiety screaming inside you speaks only of the lives of the two men in the CytoGenix van, unknowingly hurtling toward their end. Anxiety claws at your chest, raw and unrelenting. You shut your eyes and try to focus on breathing, but it’s no use.

“Oi, cunts!” Butcher’s voice explodes, and your eyes snap open.

Thirty feet ahead, the CytoGenix van comes into view, its white exterior glaring against the green blur of forest on either side. To your right, the trees abruptly fall away, leaving nothing but a battered guardrail and a steep ravine beyond.

“Hold on tight,” Butcher orders, his tone calm but edged with a manic sort of energy.

Before you can question him, he floors the gas pedal. The van lurches forward, barreling into the oncoming lane to overtake the other vehicle. Butcher twists the wheel expertly, positioning your van just ahead of the CytoGenix one. Then, in one brutal motion, he jerks back and rams into the side of it.

The impact is bone-rattling. Your body slams against the seatbelt, the van shuddering violently as both vehicles swerve erratically. For a moment, you lock eyes with the other driver, his face contorted in a mix of rage and confusion. But Butcher’s already at it again, pulling back just enough to ram the CytoGenix van a second time.

This hit sends the other van wobbling wildly, the driver fighting to regain control. Your ears ring, blood rushing so loudly that you’re not sure if the scream you hear is yours or simply imagined. And then, with a final, sickening crunch, the CytoGenix van plows through the guardrail and plunges down the ravine.

Butcher swerves hard, narrowly avoiding the gaping hole in the guardrail. The side of your van scrapes against what remains, metal shrieking as sparks fly. He brings the van to an abrupt stop on the shoulder a hundred yards ahead, slamming the gearshift into park. The engine dies, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing in the cabin.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Holy shit,” Butcher echoes, his grin wide and reckless.

You both sit there for a moment, staring straight ahead, before the tension breaks. Anxious laughter bubbles out of you, and to your surprise, Butcher joins in. The two of you volley expletives back and forth between bursts of laughter, the absurdity of the situation sinking in.

When the laughter subsides, Butcher reaches for the door handle. “Stay put,” he says firmly. “You’re not gonna want to see this.”

That sends your adrenaline spiking all over again. You throw your door open and stomp after him, slamming it behind you. “No. You’re not doing this. Not again.”

He turns to face you, brows furrowed. You jab a finger into his chest. “I’m capable of this, Butcher. And if I’m going to be part of the Boys, I need to prove it. No more babying me.”

For a long moment, he just stares at you, his hazel eyes searching yours. The tension between you is almost unbearable as you silently plead with him to understand. To let you have this. To understand just how important this is, how this transcends the circumstances you currently find yourselves in. Finally, his shoulders sag slightly, and he gives a curt nod. “Fine. But don’t make me regret it.”

Together, you make your way down the ravine, the incline steep and unforgiving. Butcher offers his arm to steady you when you stumble, and you grudgingly accept. At the bottom, the wreckage comes into view. The CytoGenix van lies on its side in a shallow creek bed, its back doors hanging open.

You rush to the driver’s side, heart hammering in your chest as you peer inside. For the past week, nightmares have plagued you—visions of Adam and Emily lying lifeless in the wreckage. But when you see the two men slumped in their seats, necks twisted at unnatural angles, neither is familiar. Relief washes over you, mingling uneasily with guilt.

“They’re nobodies,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Butcher. “Collateral damage.”

His hand falls heavy on your shoulder. “The hard part’s over,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “It gets easier from here.”

You desperately want to believe him. 

You both turn your attention to the back of the van. Butcher grips one of the broken doors and yanks it free with a grunt. Inside, a sleek black lockbox gleams ominously. Without hesitation, Butcher brings his boot down on it, cracking it open.

Inside are rows upon rows of vials, their green liquid glowing faintly in the fading light. You pick one up, holding it between your fingers and marveling at its beauty. The liquid seems alive, swirling and shimmering with an otherworldly energy.

And then, without thinking, you hurl the vial at a nearby tree. You watch in awe as the glass shatters, the glowing substance splattering across the bark and dripping onto the forest floor.

“Shit—I don’t know what came over me—” you start, but Butcher is already laughing, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Fuckin’ diabolical,” he says, grabbing a vial and smashing it under his boot. You both gape at the way it explodes under his foot, staining his boot like a glow stick, before you burst into shared laughter. 

You both fall into a wild, unhinged rhythm, smashing vial after vial. The forest around you glows eerily, the remnants of V2 painting the trees and ground in streaks of neon green. Laughter bubbles out of you, uncontrollable and cathartic, as the absurdity of your destruction takes hold.

When only one vial remains, Butcher reaches for it, but you stop him with a hand on his arm. “Wait. We should keep one. For testing. Just in case.”

He looks at you, then smirks. “Knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease. “You keep me around for more than that.”

His smirk fades, replaced by something darker, more intense.  The air shifts between you, the laughter forgotten as your proximity feels suddenly charged. Whatever force is behind the constant push and pull of your attraction to Butcher is now pushing in full force, the glowing green crime scene around you fading into nothing. It's just you and him and the screaming urge inside of you to untether. 

Butcher advances toward you, pulling your face into his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. This time you get the chance to react, the opportunity to reciprocate. And you do, wholeheartedly. You pull at the lapels of his jacket, fingers fumbling for purchase in his wild hair. His hands move over your body, down your back and across your ass, squeezing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes are wild. “Someone’s gonna notice the skid marks and the guardrail. We’re gonna have company soon if we don’t move.”

“Back to the motel?” you ask, bold and breathless.

His answer is immediate. “Yeah.”

Without another word, he grabs your hand, practically pulling you back up the ravine toward the van.

You had a taste of Butcher's penchant for speeding earlier, but something about the way he races down the road back to the motel now has butterflies erupting in your stomach. His right hand is placed firmly on your left thigh, your own hand keeping his there. You're ashamed to admit that his touch alone is driving you crazy. 

Thank god you never had time to return the key this morning, because you both race back to the room, his mouth in your ear, arms encircling your waist as you fumble to unlock the door. The second the door closes behind you, he has you pushed up against the door, his tongue parting your lips and hands digging into your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck as he lets a hand fall to your ass, squeezing tightly. He lifts you up, wrapping both of your legs around his middle. You moan at the way his hands explore you, the closeness of your bodies. 

“Do that again,” he instructs. 

“Make me,” you dare. 

He throws you down on the bed, both of you using the opportunity to work your shirts off. He spends an unabashed moment staring directly at your tits, chest heaving. Like you're a work of art he can't wait to defile. You unbutton your pants before Butcher pulls them off of you, leaving you bare before him, save for your underwear. He crawls up onto the bed, knees nudging your legs open, his imposing frame towering over you. 

“You have no idea how goddamn much I've thought about this,” he admits. Your eyes search his face, hands combing through his hair. He kisses you deeply, tongue exploring your mouth, before moving down to place licks along your collarbone. He moves down to your nipples, your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. He looks up in silent request. 

“Please,” you beg. “Don't stop.”

And, with your permission, he practically rips the soft cotton as he pulls them down, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders. You share a glance, both with bated breath, before he finally puts his mouth on you, eating you like a man starved. 

Your head tilts back involuntarily as he licks at you, alternating between languid, savoring strokes, his wide tongue exploring deep inside of you, and quick, tight little circles over your clit. You've never been the kind of woman to be particularly loud or vocal in bed, a complaint you'd heard from lovers in the past. But now the moans fall freely as you fall apart on Butcher's tongue. Your sounds only serve to egg him on, his fingers digging deeply into your plush inner thighs, his growls reverberating through your pussy, matching your low moans. You barrel embarrassingly quickly toward the edge. 

“‘m so close,” you whimper. 

He doesn't stop, every determined movement a silent encouragement for you to chase your high. 

Your hands reach down, tangling in his messy hair. He responds, deepening the push of his mouth against your core, rhythmically drawing his fingers back and forth against your inner thighs. Your fingers clench around the tendrils of his hair, pulling so hard you know it must hurt him. He doesn't seem to notice, his rhythm never stalling. Then, starbursts exploding behind your eyelids as you fall over the edge, legs clamping involuntarily around his head. 

Dizzying, pure, unadulterated bliss.

Head falling back against the pillow, you're sure you've never come this hard before. Your limbs are absolutely weightless, cheeks flushed. A euphoric smile on your lips stretches so wide you're certain you look deranged. 

But not to Butcher. 

“You're so bloody beautiful,” he says from between your legs, and you can do nothing but laugh deliriously in response. 

He gazes up at you, working his way back up between kisses to your stomach and swirling his tongue over your pert nipples. You grasp a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him up to kiss him on the mouth, your other hand reaching down to encircle his hard length. 

You're pleasantly surprised at how much of him there is, pumping his thick length several times before you position him at your entrance. 

You feel his body jolt involuntarily as his cock makes contact with the wetness he just created.

“You sure?” he asks, and you nod, words refusing to form on your lips. 

He shifts his hips forward and you gasp sharply as he breaches you. You reach your other hand down to caress his ass cheek, pulling him in deeper, desperate for more.

“Fuck yes,” you moan. “Yes, Billy, just like that.”

That's all he needs before he's driving himself deep, stopping only when he's fully seated inside of you. You gasp as he stretches you out, like he's splitting you right down the middle. He pulls your knee up, hooking it over his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper. You whine at the fullness, earning a growl from him. 

“You like this, baby?” he asks as he pulls back, looking down to where your bodies connect before plunging himself back into you. “Fuck, because I really like this.”

“R‒really like this,” you manage to sputter out. “P‒please, please, fuck me Billy.”

“I got you, love,” his voice is raw. He sets a punishing pace, his cock filling you over and over and over again, pushing you toward the brink of something you've never experienced before. 

Your hands wander over him, tracing every scar, fumbling through his hair, squeezing his ass as you pull him in even deeper. You want to memorize everything about this, the sweet aroma of his sweat, the weight of him atop you, the stream of consciousness filth that flows from his lips as he falls more and more pussy drunk. 

He reaches down, thumb on your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. His mouth explores your chest, dividing his attention between your nipples and sensitive, open neck. You bound toward your release, fingers scraping down his broad back. 

“Fuck, fuck, Billy, I'm gonna come,” you moan between huffs. He continues, pace unrelenting. 

Then, stars. 

Expanding blooms of light, full-body eruption. Sweet release, a dynamite stick in your core, exploding out your mouth in a silent scream. You heave around him, bucking your hips, impaling yourself deeper on his cock. He fucks you through it, half words falling from his lips into your mouth. 

Tha's right. 

Mm, baby. 

You go’ it. 

It's all too much, the soft moans escaping your mouth, the image of you in ecstasy before him, falling apart on his cock. He's too close behind you to stop now. 

“Fuck, you're gonna make me come. Where d’you want it?” he asks frantically. 

You can't help yourself. “Inside,” you beg. 

He really doesn't try to make it a habit of denying you, and he certainly won't start now. He groans, spilling himself inside of you. You moan at the heat that grows between your legs. 

He collapses atop you, the weight of him pushing you I to the cheap, springy mattress. You feel the wetness spill out onto the bed beneath you. 

“Holy shit,” you manage to get out between gasps for air. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit is right,” he agrees. 

Over the next eight or so hours, you and Butcher acquaint yourselves with each other, very, very, closely. On the bed, on the floor, against the dresser, in the shower, on the bed, again. You speak only a few times in rushed half sentences, too preoccupied with finding out just how many orgasms you can achieve in one go to think about much else. All of the tension that has stewed since the day Butcher first laid eyes on your dazed face has been unleashed in Room 206 at the Piney Point Motel. You stop only long enough for Butcher to drive twenty minutes down the highway to retrieve a bag of greasy fast food, hastily devoured fuel to allow you both to continue at least a few more times. 

By the time you both succumb to your utter exhaustion, you're sweat-sticky and bone-tired, with a soreness between your legs you know is going to have you walking funny tomorrow. You don't notice it though, because Butcher has you pulled in his arms, lips on your ear, your heart firmly in the palm of his hand. 

@bluemerakis @mystic-writings @imherefordeanandbones

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I don't have an ask but I have a vibe

"My spine is screaming and the next person to ask me a question is gonna-"

"What do you want for dinner, Angel baby?" Wade asked hanging over the back of the couch, wincing slightly when you made a frustrated noise he could only describe as a muted scream- the dulcet sound of a bunny being strangled. "Yeesh-"

"I'm not thinking. I'm not doing. I am not accepting questions or critiques of any kind until I have had a hot bath and at least one glass of wine."

Wade flipped himself upright and crossed the floor, taking your bag off your shoulder and stealing a kiss, "Normally, I'd fully support you drinking a bottle and going to bed but- pretty sure you can't drink on your new meds."

"Wade."

"We were all in that Doctor's appointment beautiful," he said, tweaking your nose. "You've got spine damage and you already don't-"

"I never have- like ever," you sigh. "This isn't new. None of this is new. Born broken, remember?"

"You're not broken-"

"I have x-rays that say otherwise," you hum, smiling a little. "But fine. If you wanna be my nanny I'll just take a bath." You pat his chest and tilt your head to pop your neck, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort.

"I can help-"

"You don't get to be a mother hen and then try to see me naked babe, Freud doesn't have a place in my bedroom," you kiss his cheek and walk towards the bathroom.

"I'm telling-"

"Logan would have handed me the glass of wine in the bath and we both know it," you call over your shoulder. "If he gets home before I'm out kiss him for me."

_____________

Logan let himself into the apartment and frowned when he found Wade frantically typing on his phone and going through your pill bottles, "What's going-"

"Trying to see if these meds cause mood swings," Wade pouted, "my sweet little angel baby is all snarly today."

He snorted and helped himself to a beer, wrenching the top off, "No shit?"

"Peanut-"

"Listen, Mouth," Logan said, "if she's awake she's in pain and the only way she can sleep is to take pills that knock her the fuck out- she can't fuck, walk, or even drive like she wants so... yeah. She's probably a little inclined to be pissy."

"Surprisingly insightful Logi-bear," Wade groused, "guess I shoulda just gave her the wine-"

"I woulda," Logan shrugged. "It's not like someone's not here to watch her."

Wade frowned and reached back to pick up the wine bottle on the counter, "One sweet white with ice cubes I guess."

"Smart man." Logan nodded, "Just hand it to her and ask her if she wants some popcorn or something-"

"Alcohol AND a snack. Damn it, why didn't I think of that?"

"Works for just about anybody," he said taking a drink of his beer. "Short of fucking her brains out-"

"Which she desperately needs-"

"Tell me about it," you grumble, toweling your hair. "I'm gonna end up a born-again virgin-"

"That'll never happen, Princess," Logan chuckled, pulling you closer to kiss you hello. "We wouldn't let it."

"And aside from that," Wade said putting ice in a wine glass, "after taking Logan's cock that hymen is NEVER coming back."

[george228732]

COMISSIONS! MUSIC EDITION!

Hello! I am Hourglass! I decided to expand my market, I'll make music for commissions as well! A character theme or even a boss theme is allowed here!

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Examples:

HELLO, HELLO! THE NAME'S HOURGLASS! I AM SURE YOU ALREADY KNOW!

Golly Gee! I am so happy to see you all again! Here I am! Here I am! I apologize for speaking in caps beforehand! I was just so excited to see this day come by! I shall be more calm now.

Ahem! Anyways, anyways! I am here to show a project me and my creator have been working for a while!

And that is...

*Drumbeat*

ART COMISSIONS! WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL!

My prices are listed below, along with what I am willing to draw!

For 5 USD, I can make a sketch of the character you want me to draw! Easy peasy, Easy Peasy!

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For 15 USD, I can add the sweet basic shadows to make it far more presentable! Fun! Fun!

And for 20 USD, I can add the rest! Lighting, shading, and that wonderful glow that makes drawings come to life! (And probably strangle you for the amount of angst you drop onto them!)

Want me to add an extra character to the drawing you'll request? No problem! Just add ten more USD to the mix per character and that job is done! I'll even shade it to your convenience if that's what you prefer!

Last but not least! We have the backgrounds! Aren't they precious? We'll have to amp up the price a little for these ones! 45 USD should be just fine! Just fine!

IMPORTANT UPDATE! IMPORTANT UPDATE!

I decided to add more options to this! So you can get a better grasp on everything!

You should already see what I want to show with these templates so let's leave it there!

Certain amount of USD per page! I don't want misunderstandings.

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(Also qtoo complex designs! I'll manage, but you know! You know!)

---

If anyone wants to request this little guy for art, feel free to reach out in either DMs of this account, or in my Discord if you know me well! You can even use my account below

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[oli-ribbun-ver]

EP 4 RAMBLE PART 3 FINAL!!

(ft the other episodes! but mainly ep 4!)

okay actually i think this is more of a gangle ramble now but thats fine

part 1

part 2

CONTINUATION OF THE GANGLE PEOPLE-PLEASER PART OF THE RAMBLE FROM PART 2!

lets see... where did i leave off... RIGHT!!

There are a lot of parts in ALL episodes where she doesn't want to cause problems for people. Which is typically normal for everyone, HOWEVER. Her idea of 'causing problems' is her opening up to people about how she truly feels, or even voicing her feelings in general if they're about someone.

I've already gone over the Pomni conversation and the bit where she has a mini breakdown, and I said I'd include even more of the other episodes in this, so! Let's begin at Ep 1!

Let's talk about what I've observed in episode one.

YES THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Notice how it's emphasized she says it quietly? (I know it's for comedic effect, but EVERYTHING seems to be important for every character, like how the darkness from the bucket on Kinger's head in Ep 2 helped him remember something about Ragatha before immediately forgetting it and then the reason he only remembers things in the darkness is explained! Seems like a minor detail that means nothing, turns out to be HUGE.

She doesn't want to cause a problem. In this case, the 'problem' would be her fully interrupting the conversation because she's worried about her friend. In the mind of a people pleaser, even if it helps someone out, you feel a sense of pressure on you when mentioning someone needs help to others, because "What if I cause a problem or make them mad? I don't wanna do that!", those thoughts are pretty normal, ESPECIALLY for people-pleasers.

"Wait, what about Zooble?" Is said so quietly, you can barely hear it. She either doesn't want her voice to be heard, or she DOES but is too scared to say it more loudly because of some version of the thoughts I described.

not as important but I'd like to note how she literally says NOTHING. like. nothing. i just think its kinda funny but also she just. doesnt give her opinion at all? she wasnt even asked if she wanted to go with them to check on kaufmo they just dgaf about her 😭

ANYWAY

This is the only time she gives her opinion and its not even an opinion HELP

Also I'm trying to save space so I don't have to make a part 4 so shortly into this, since I know I'll have to make one anyway, but I wanna mention how she hides behind her broken mask to protect herself after he screams which kinda hits different now that we know more about her mask.

But anyway, I'll make a seperate little portion of this ramble for that!

I'd like to mention too, anytime she is shoved, has something mean said to her, or has her comedy mask broken, she doesn't complain or say anything about it except for maybe an "ow". I find that interesting, because I think the reason for this is that she doesn't want anyone worrying about her. AKA, she doesn't want to cause a 'problem'.

She wants to please. One does not please by being a 'problem', right? That's probably how she thinks, anyway.

When Jax tells her to do something she doesn't want to do, whether he pressured her like that or not, it wouldn't have made a difference, because she can't bring herself to say 'no.'

In my opinion, from what it sounds like when she says "I don't think we—" she probably would've ended up saying yes regardless. Hell, if he'd just followed it up with "do it," I don't see a world in which she wouldn't, although she'd probably be more hesitant.

also why does his back bend like that he looks like hes gonna become an old man any second now HELP 😭

Also, when Jax threatens her by saying "Do it, or I'll tell Ragatha about the figurine thing," I think that really does something to her.

Every time she's either built up the confidence to say no, or someone has tried to help her say no, she's kicked down in one way or another INSTANTLY.

Episode 4 did not help with that. I believe in the next few episodes, she will not be better about saying no. She might even be worse off, knowing Ragatha thinks her being happy is annoying.

People-pleasers are in different worlds. Being the type of people-pleaser Gangle is, it's an entirely different world from others. It carries a lot of what I can only describe as delusion to it.

If Pomni had not stepped up when Gangle thought she was alone after work hours, Gangle would have abstracted. I am a firm believer in that. She was breaking. Losing her mind.

Gangle tells herself to stop trying to achieve her dream while breaking down over the fact her efforts to achieve her dream might not be enough.

So let's go there, and get a

Closer look at Gangle's mental state.

(and why she's most likely the least unwell character)

Gangle is mentally ill. Everyone knows that already, but to what extent?

I'm not sure if we'll ever know.

But what we do know is this.

More likely than not, Gangle almost abstracted in Ep 4. And out of everyone who has EVER vented so far, Gangle has shared relatively nothing. Even after the Spudsy's adventure, what we've seen so far is her never mentioning her feelings except that she feels like she messed everything up.

Gangle doesn't know how to help herself. Zooble can make her feel better, but not for long, because Gangle doesn't think she can get better.

When she was about to vent to Pomni, she stopped as soon as she felt like her feelings were REALLY about to come loose, put her new happy mask back on, said she had no time to talk about her feelings, and fled.

What I think is that Gangle thinks everyone is more important than her, so when she FINALLY got to be important she was happy. Really, truly happy.

The worst thing you can do is make someone think they're not wanted or loved.

Something that makes me sad is that Gangle does not feel wanted or loved.

Gangle was almost gone in Episode 4.

We almost lost Gangle. Had Gangle abstracted, she'd die without ever feeling like people cared about her.

For all we know, she could be the first person to abstract after Kaufmo.

I personally believe that.

The end of Episode 4 was a su¡cide attempt. (is that word allowed? im not sure..l ill censor it anyway)

I saw someone say this in the comment section of either the episode itself or a reaction video, and I completely agree.

They say before people commit su¡cide, they have a sudden boost of joy. Everything will be over soon. Why not enjoy that fact?

I think it was a subconscious su¡cide, at the very least.

She was happy. For the first time without a happy mask to hide how she feels deep down, she was happy.

She had a sudden boost of happiness, and then stepped backwards into oncoming traffic. When someone experiences a near-death situation by their own hand, there's a moment of regret before they are gone. I've experienced it myself, and it is horrid. That feeling is one I will never be able to forget. Even if I never so much as blacked out, I felt faint, and I will NEVER forget that fear, that horror, dread, regret.

The shock. Wondering if it was truly me who did it.

And I think. That is what Gangle experienced.

And then, that feeling was brushed off by Caine, whether she knew he doesn't understand the feeling of wanting to disappear or not, she was quick to blame herself for it all. Both about her performance to Caine, and alone, to nobody but herself.

"I guess I just... cracked under the pressure I suppose."

And maybe, just maybe.

That crack will never heal.

Thank you for listening and reading my ramble, everyone!! I appreciate it more than you know!

Bye bye for now, friends! Have a lovely day!

[rintarosluvr]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊

• Sylus × Reader

Topics: Y/n being dense, unresolved romantic tension and flirting, Y/n teasing sylus, Zayne, Xavier and Rafayel mentioned!

Note: Probably slow updates because classes started again

Word count: 3k

Chap.2

Chap.3

"I've been thinking a lot lately" you say

"About what?" Davina asks, glancing up from her phone as she scrolls through details about the trip your class and some other classes were going on for a project

"You guys might be right" you admit, sighing as you close the suitcase

"Finally!" Leanne exclaims "Took you long enough. So when are you going to confess?"

"What? No!" you shake your head "I'm not even sure he has feelings for me. I'm just going to figure it out during the trip"

"And if he does have feelings, you'll confess?" Leanne presses

"I never said I have feelings for him" you point out, raising an eyebrow

"Is she making sense to you guys?" Leanne asks turning to your friends

"She does" Vanessa says, nodding in agreement

"Yeah, totally" Kaori chuckles, leaning back

"So how are we gonna room?" Davina asks, reading out loud from the trip details "It says four people per apartment but there's ten of us"

"I'm not rooming with Amari, I still remember his snores" Kaori says dramatically, clearly haunted by the memory

"Yeah, I'll pass on rooming with Eydis or him. Knowing them, they'll be out all night and come back drunk" you add

"Fair point" Vanessa agrees with a nod "Maybe we should call them in case they've already picked their roommates"

"Smart" Leanne says

"Y/n, call Sylus" Davina says, suddenly

You raise an eyebrow "Why him specifically?"

"He always picks up when you call. The other guys have their phones on do not disturb all the time" Kaori explains

"Fine" You roll your eyes picking up your phone and call Sylus, within a second, he answers

"You called?"

You immediately frown "Why are you acting like I'm interrupting something?"

He chuckles "What's your question?"

"Do any of you already have roommates for the trip? We're trying to figure out who's with who" you explain

"From what we know, Mar and Roy paired up with Xavier and Zayne" Eydis says, leaning over the back of the couch next to Sylus

"So, who are you guys rooming with?" you ask, already sensing trouble

"The two of us are obviously a duo" Eydis replies casually

"Continue" Leanne prompts

"Also" Eydis says, grinning mischievously "I already submitted who we wanted to room with"

"You did what?!" Davina exclaims

"Uh yeah" Eydis continues "Y/n and Vanessa are rooming with us"

"What the fuck?" Vanessa mutters under her breath as you abruptly hang up

"That just pissed me off" you groan, tossing your phone aside

"I was really hoping we'd all room together" Leanne sighs, clearly just as annoyed

"That probably wouldn't have worked anyway since there's five of us" Davina points out

"Doesn't make it less frustrating" Vanessa says, crossing her arms

"Right" you mumble

Kaori sighs "Well, at least we're in the same building. We'll just have to spend most of the time hanging out in one place"

"So are you excited about rooming with Sylus?" Davina asks

"Please don't remind me" you groan, sinking back into the couch "Wait, if he has a crush on me, why hasn't he confessed? He's such a direct guy?"

"Maybe he's waiting to see if it's mutual?" Vanessa suggests, shrugging

"That would make sense" you mumble, the idea settling uncomfortably in your mind

"Or maybe he's just enjoying messing with you" Kaori teases

"Very helpful Ri, I already know that" you deadpan

"Hey, I'm just saying. Sylus is definitely not the type to make a move without knowing he has a shot" she adds with a knowing look

You sigh grabbing a pillow and tossing it at her "I don't need this kind of analysis right now"

"Too late" Leanne chimes in "You brought this on yourself the moment you started overthinking"

[The Next Day]

"You really not speaking to us?" Eydis asks, leaning over to catch your gaze as you turn your face away, arms crossed, you don't respond still pointedly ignoring him as everyone lounges at the airport, killing time before the flight

"You guys really fucked us up" Vanessa says glaring at Eydis and Sylus "Why us tho?"

"Yeah" Davina chimes in, equally annoyed "You could've added Kazu and asked Rafayel to join you or something"

Sylus shrugs, unbothered "Wouldn't one of you still be forced to room with three random people? There are five of you?"

"We would've figured something out" Kaori says "But now Kazu is stuck rooming with us"

Kazuo shrugs "I've done it before. Don't mind it"

"Yeah, because last time we didn't want to room with strangers" Leanne points out

"You should be mad at them" you mumble, still refusing to look at Sylus or Eydis

Kazuo laughs and casually throws an arm over your shoulder, squeezing your cheek affectionately "We'll both survive. Don't worry"

You groan "You wanna switch? Please say yes"

He chuckles shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good. Rooming with them is hell"

You let out a dramatic sigh, tilting your head to the side until it rests against his chest "You could save me, but instead, you're just letting me drown"

"It's all love" he teases, patting your you head

"Liar" you mutter, tossing Kazuo's arm off of you as you make your way over to Amari and Leroy

"So when we get there, we're gonna find something to smoke" Amari says, grinning as you take a seat next to him

"For sure" Leroy nods, turning to you."You joining us?"

"Why not" you shrug

"You smoke?" Sylus's voice cuts in as he sits down nearby

"Yeah" you say, like it's common knowledge "Here and there"

"Since when?" he asks, his brows furrowed

You shrug again "Don't know, like a few years now"

Before Sylus can respond, Leroy stands up "We're gonna hit the store. You guys want anything?"

"Yeah, grab me a drink, whichever is fine" you say

"I'm good, thanks" Sylus adds

Both guys nod before heading off, leaving you and Sylus alone

"So why'd you agree with Eydis's stupid plan?" you ask, turning to Sylus even though there's a seat between you two, eyeing him suspiciously

"I didn't really have a choice" he shrugs "He went ahead and did it himself"

"But you didn't stop him" you point out, narrowing your eyes

He smirks leaning back in the seat "Why would I? I don't mind rooming with you"

"Oh, how generous of you" you say, rolling your eyes "Did you ever think that maybe I mind?"

"Nope" he replied "You get to spend quality time with me. Sounds like a win"

"Quality time?" you scoff "Please, I'd rather room with Mar and Roy"

"Sure you do" he teases "You wouldn't last five minutes before begging to switch back"

"You wish" you fire back, narrowing your eyes at him "You'll be the one regretting it when I cockblock you whenever I can"

Sylus raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips "Oh, really? You're that dedicated?"

"Absolutely" you say with confidence

Sylus leans forward, practically daring you to keep going "You'll just end up cockblocking yourself"

You blink in confusion, still processing his words "Wait, what? You can't just say stuff like that and walk away"

Sylus flashes a grin, clearly amused by the reaction he's gotten "Sure I can" He picks up his phone and steps a few feet away, clearly intent on ignoring you now but you can still feel your body heat up from his teasing

"You're so annoying" you mutter under your breath

But it doesn't stop you from wondering what he meant and part of you hated how easily he managed to get under your skin

"What did he say?" Davina asks siting down, her eyes narrowed in curiosity as she watches you

"What?" you ask still processing the conversation you just had

"You were shocked, why?" She presses

You let out a deep breath "I told him l'd cockblock him for rooming with me and he said that l'd end up cockblocking myself"

Davina's eyes widen and she leans in, lowering her voice "He wants to fuck you" "I thought he meant he-"

"Nope, you thought wrong" she interrupts, You roll your eyes, clearly not in the mood for her teasing "Why do you look so happy about it?"

She places her hand on your shoulder, giving you a knowing smile "Because he wants you, Y/n. Stop acting so dense and accept it"

You scoff, shaking your head "Never"

Davina leans in closer "You lowkey want him too"

“Believe what you want”

"You've been staring" Vanessa says, glancing at you with a small smile

"I'm not" you reply quickly, not wanting to admit it

"So you haven't been staring at his thighs?" she adds, raising an eyebrow

You let out a dramatic sigh throwing your head back in frustration "I hate Davina"

Vanessa chuckles "She was right" "Yeah, I figured" you mumble, feeling your body heat up

"We're ready! You guys ready to explore the city?" You hear Eydis call from across the room, snapping you out of your flustered state

"We've been ready for the past thirty minutes" Vanessa says, crossing her arms and looking at the guys "But guess you pretty boys have to take all the time to get ready, huh?"

You chuckle standing up and grab your small bag "Right"

"So you're admitting I'm good looking?" Sylus says, joining you as you walk toward the door

"You're sounding delusional. Never said that" you say, pulling out your lip gloss and knocking on the door next door

"You did agree with Vanessa, so you do think we're pretty boys" Eydis states, throwing an arm over Sylus's shoulder as you apply your lip gloss

You roll your eyes "Living in a world with delusional men is exhausting"

Eydis grins while Sylus just watches you, his gaze lingering on your lips as you finish applying the gloss and put it back in your bag

"Get out!" Kaori mutters as she opens the door, trying to push Leroy out of their room

"I didn't do anything!" Leroy protests

"Farting is something" she snaps, glaring at him

You frown "You guys ready?"

They both stop, mid action. Kaori was still pushing Leroy out while he clung to the door knob

"Your first mistake was letting them in" Vanessa says, glancing at the three other girls approaching you.

"We came to ask if we're going to the karaoke building we saw" Amari says, giving you a hopeful look.

"Should be fun. Why not?" Eydis grins

"Be aware, there are some people that are tone deaf, so your ears might start bleeding" you warn, glancing at Sylus

"That was aimed at Sylus" Leanne adds with a chuckle

"It's that bad?" Davina asks

"Terrible, actually" you mumble meeting Sylus's eyes

He gives you a small smile, clearly enjoying your teasing "Glad you're paying attention" he says

"Sure you do" you reply and follow Vanessa, who's already being pulled along by Davina

You feel an arm slip over your shoulder "This trip is gonna be funny, isn't it?" Eydis says, pulling you closer as he wraps his other arm around Sylus's shoulder

"Don't forget about the project we have to make while we're here" you remind him

"Such a buzzkill you are" Sylus mutters, You roll your eyes at him

[5:54PM]

"I'm honestly disappointed. I wanted to hear Sylus sing" Davina says, finally putting her phone down

Amari shakes his head "You guys didn't even give us a chance to sing. Mic hogs, the lot of you"

"I thought they were great" Leroy cuts in as he leans forward "You girls should seriously consider being a girl group. You've got the vocals and the moves"

"Yeah, I agree" Kazuo adds, finishing off his drink "Especially considering how you all used to dance back in the day. You've got the talent, it wouldn't be bad at all"

Vanessa shrugs, sipping her soda "Doesn't sound like a terrible idea"

"If you're serious, I know some people who could help you out" Sylus says casually

Kaori nods "We'll keep that in mind. Could be worth exploring"

You reach across the table to snag a few of Sylus's fries without asking, a habit you've had since high school

He doesn't even flinch, letting you grab as many as you want

Leanne, catching your quiet amusement, turns to you "What about you? What do you think?"

You pause, mid reach for another fry, blinking as all eyes turn to you "Uh... sounds fun" you say, shrugging "I mean, younger me always wanted to be famous. Maybe it's something I've always lowkey dreamed of"

"Same" Davina agrees "It's giving childhood dreams, for sure"

"Us all being in a girl group? Absolute chaos. But honestly, it'd be amazing. You can't tell me we wouldn't crush it" Vanessa says

You feel the brush of Sylus's legs against yours, making you stop mid motion, narrowing your eyes as you glance up at him

Without saying a word, you pull the tray in front of him toward you, raising an eyebrow in question

His expression doesn't falter, unreadable as ever "What?" he asks, his voice calm but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes

You don't respond, instead slowly sliding the tray closer to yourself as if daring him to make a move, His legs stay where they are, practically caging yours under the table

He leans back in his seat, resting an arm lazily on the chair next to him "Don't look at me like that. You're the one stealing my fries"

"And you're the one being invasive" you shoot back, though you don't move your legs either

He smirks "You're not moving them, though"

You roll your eyes grabbing another fry off the tray to avoid addressing his comment. Sylus just chuckles, leaning forward to steal a fry from the tray you just claimed

"Touché" he murmurs, his smirk widening when you glare at him

You slide your feet out of your sandals under the table, brushing them lightly against Sylus's bare legs

The sudden contact makes him pause, his eyebrow arches, an amused challenge flickering in his eyes

In response, you flash him a sweet almost innocent fake smile, as if daring him to call you out

"Oh, so we're doing that now?" he asks, his tone low enough that the others at the table don't notice

"Doing what?" you reply, feigning ignorance as your foot trails higher against his calf

His smirk deepens, but he doesn't move away "You've got some nerve, stealing my fries and starting something you can't finish"

"Who says I can't finish?" you counter, still maintaining your mock innocent demeanor as you grab another fry from his tray

Sylus leans forward, lowering his voice so only you can hear "Careful, Y/n. I might just call your bluff"

The heat rising to your face betrays you "Try me"

The tension lingers for a beat too long before Sylus shifts slightly, his hand brushing under the table

Without warning, he stops your foot from going even higher on his thighs, his fingers wrapping lightly around your ankle

You tilt your head, a sly smile spreading across your lips "I win" you say simply, your tone dripping with confidence

He raises an eyebrow, his thumb grazing your ankle in a way that sends a chill up your spine "You think so?" he asks

"I know so" you counter, leaning back, satisfied with your small victory

Sylus smirks, leaning closer across the table as if to close the distance between you "Games like this can backfire" he says, his grip loosening just enough to let your foot slip free

You shrug slipping your foot back into your sandal with deliberate slowness "Only if you're not good at them"

Taking a long sip of your drink, you try to ignore the flutter in your stomach, the way the tension still hangs between you like a taut wire

Sylus eyes never leave yours. The corner of his mouth quirks up in that maddeningly smug expression that makes your heart race and your irritation flare in equal measure

This wasn't over and you both knew it

"Alright, let's head back. We gotta start with the project" Kazuo says, standing up and stretching

"Yeah, I agree" you say, your tone breezy as you finally break eye contact with Sylus, sliding your bag onto your shoulder

"I still haven't read the email the professor sent" Amari admits, rubbing the back of his neck

"Which isn't shocking" Davina chimes in, You chuckle shaking your head "You're always unprepared"

"Hey, I like to keep things exciting" Amari grins

Chap.4>

[compassionatereminders]

Hi...I need to get something out of my chest, because I just can't life like that.

So...im asexual, right? But im in that weird spot of the spectrum where im only attracted to fictional media. Like, I don't like porn because there are real people in there and that's disgusting, BUT if I see a suggestive art or read spicy fic then we're fine. But that's not the issue...

I have been trying to understand my sexuality for a long time now, and the more I learn, the more disgusted I feel with myself. I like morally wrong things. And when I say morally wrong, I don't mean weird kinks that are usually shamed. No. I mean WRONG things. All of them. But like, I don't support them! If I'll hear about those things happening in real life, to real people, I'd be horrified! But then I'll go and read fanfics about those stuff and I'll like it. (But again, it's never real people or events for me, so at least that's good...)

I hate that. I can't control it. One moment Im fine, then boom, it happens, and then i feel disgusted by myself for the rest of the day...

And also I can't get support in my life, so I usually chat with bots so that I'd get it, but even that I fuck up. I'll create a scenario where I'll be loved and supported and I'll get healthy love and then a few minutes later I ruin it by making the bot be abusive and making me suffer and then i will never use it again because I just wanted to be loved, not...that. Even if I did it to myself. It's so confusing.

Why the fuck does my brain sabotages me?? Im seriously so confused and scared. I don't want to be a bad person. I don't want to do bad things.i don't want to like bad things. I don't want to be abused. I want to be normal. Why can't I? I genuinely don't understand...

Its the first time I talk about this because i feel so guilty and Im afraid that people would hate me and I understand that they have the right to do so. I want to get better, I really do. I can't get professional help and I don't know what to do. I don't expect for you to know, obviously... Maybe I just want to know if my fear and disgust is valid or am I just genuinely a horrible person...

I am probably going to get hate for saying this, but I don't think fantasizing about OR reading fic about bad things inherently makes you a horrible person. Of course an awareness that certain things cannot ever be acted out ethically between real people and a commitment to never attempting or endorsing that is necessary, but what's happening exclusively in fictional text or inside your own head isn't actually hurting anyone - and hating yourself for "thinking wrong" generally isn't a very constructive approach.

[goodluckclove]

Your Eccentric Older Brother Has A New Artist to Suggest (Free Surrealist Musical/Comedy Albums)

Hey, fucko. What's up?

No, I'm fine. I mean - it's whatever. I'm just...I don't know. It's whatever. It's good. Stop looking at me like that.

Oh, mom and dad told you to be extra nice to me because I'm depressed? I don't know, man. I don't know, man. I don't think that means you have to talk to me like I'm grandma's old-ass dog. I wouldn't call that nice. Makes me worry that I'm about to be put down.

I - you can stay. No, I'm not busy. I'm just listening to - oh, you heard?

I mean, it's not music. It has music. But, uh...okay, so just sit down and I'll tell you about it.

So it's this guy called The Minute Hour. It's one guy, and maybe five albums and a bunch of other little bits and bobs and stuff over, like, ten years. There's music, but it's mainly short-form sketches. Like Monty Python, but specifically the albums.

Yes, they made Monty Python albums. Albums of the sketches. It's like radio theater, you know?

Don't give me that look. Shut the fuck up. I know you aren't talking but shut the fuck up. I get it, liking British humor makes me seem like a specific kind of shitty guy. This guy's American, okay? Happy now? He's American, he's not from the 70s, if he probably is at least aware of the same types of dank memes as you are. Fucking hell.

Fucking hell. Sorry. Ignore me. Don't ignore me, though. Keep listening.

So this guy does short form sketches and sort of like - absurdist monologues. Some of them have been animated and they are really great and a particular kind of chaotic. I personally love the energy of comedy albums - not only Monty Python, but also That Mitchell and Webb Sound. Maybe I'm nostalgic for it because I used to listen to them a lot growing up. I don't care. It kicks ass.

The Minute Hour is one of those things that's underground enough that you can't easily access it. Only one of the actual albums are on Spotify. This is like one of the ultimate niche, hidden gems, and more people should know about it. The guy is a seriously brilliant artist and an even better collaborator with other crazy alternative creators. He also seems to be a little mentally ill - he's either going through psychosis right now or building up hype for a new project, it's hard to tell.

But left-of-center artists, right? People who bring something new to the table and create communities of intensely passionate people. And you can download all of his work for free on his website. I did it already, man. It's fine. It's great, actually. Physical media is cool. I saw that post you reblogged saying that, it's time to put your money where your mouth is.

Anyways. I don't know. It's not important, it -

You want to listen with me?

Uh. Yeah! Yeah, that's - yeah. I'll just start this over. No, fuck it, I don't care. If you're going to do it you should do it right.

I was eating Cheese-Its do you want some?

cool.

[penquinnpebbles]

Dysmorphio's Back At It Again! | Bill Cipher x Reader

Was feeling not so good today, but then I was inspired by a certain page in my Book of Bill! This is incredibly self-indulgent lmao

Synopsis: You don't like the way you look. Bill decides to cheer you up in his own weird way.

Content: can be read as platonic or romantic, established relationship (timeline is unclear but like assume he's just living with you or something), OOC Bill Cipher, talks of dysmorphia and self-deprecation, attempt at comfort, mostly lighthearted and silly, Bill's advice may not work for everyone!! but he does mean well (or is trying to anyways)

You feel like you're doing something wrong.

You stare at the mirror, eyes zoning in on every flaw. The more you look, the more things you find that makes your chest tighten. A zit there, some dry skin here...

Your hair is unflattering on your head, and your face shape reminds you of lumpy clay. Your lips are dry, and your eyes have bags that make it look sunken--like a skeleton or a corpse. Your body is awkward looking, and you're barely fashionable enough to pull it off.

Who are you kidding? Nothing looks good on you. The styles you try to copy off of Pinterest or any other site never end up working out: You never seem to look as good compared to the people in the picture.

...You don't get it. You thought that, by now, things would change. As a kid, you believed that you'd look better when you grew up. Nicer. More attractive. That was how puberty worked, right? You go through an awkward phase as your body grows, and when you become an adult, you'd be the stunning and most drop dead gorgeous looking person you dreamed of being.

Of course, you understand now that's not how it really works. Technically, yes, puberty is like that. But realistically, you're probably not going to turn into a super model. And that was fine with you.

Really, it was.

Until you saw your friends and can't help but think how lovely they look. Then you see the people around you and think that they look lovely, too.

Then you look at yourself.

And you can't help but think that 'lovely' is the last word you'd use.

You know that beauty is subjective. You know that your younger self's mentality of 'I'll instantly look amazing when I grow older!' is flawed, because good looks aren't something you can grow into.

But looking at everyone else, and how they all seem to grow into that 'good looking/attractive' person you imagined... Meanwhile, you feel like you're still stuck in the awkward phase.

You let out a quiet sigh.

You just want to see yourself and feel good about how you look. Is that too much to ask?

"Hey there, slick!"

You startle and let out a yelp, stumbling back. Bill laughs from his spot next to you.

"Wow, you're awfully jumpy! Too caught up in your self-deprecation spiral to even notice I'm here?" Bill summons his simple black cane and twirls it in his fingers, eye shining with mirth. "Be glad you evolved to be a predator species, kid. Being that distracted usually means you'd end up as someone's dinner!"

He cackles, and you calm down your racing heart.

"Anyways," Bill snaps his finger, cane disappearing. "I can't help but notice you staring blankly at yourself in the mirror for the past 2 minutes! You finally lost your mind after being around me for so long?"

You open your mouth to say something, before thinking better and closing it. Bill takes in your silence with a hum, eye raking over you.

"Ohh, I see what's going on. You don't like the way you look, huh?"

You turn to face him. Wow, it's like he read your mind. Though, knowing Bill, he probably did.

Bill only shakes his head. "Looks like Dysmorphio's back at it again!"

Your face twists into confusion. Dysmorphio? Bill catches your expression and his eye crinkles like he's smiling.

"He's from the mirror dimension," Bill clarifies. "And let me tell you, he's a real piece of work! He's the reason why people stay inside because 'your face looks weird today'." He does air quotation marks and rolls his eye, and scoffs. "Pretty stupid, if you ask me."

Bill's words make shame trickle in your gut, and you look away.

He falters at that.

"Hey, c'mon, I didn't mean that you're..." Bill trails off, hand outstretched and voice softening just a tiny bit.

Bill almost touches your shoulder before he stops himself, fingers curling into his palm. His eye looks to the side, contemplative... Then he steels himself with a familiar spark of confidence.

Bill grabs your collar-

"C'mere!"

-And drags you in front of the mirror. You let out a strangled noise at the sudden movement and try to find your footing when Bill lets go.

After you balanced yourself, Bill clears his throat.

"Alright, kid, there's no easy way to break this to you. I know it's not hard for creatures like Dysmorphio to get in your head- I mean, look at me! I got in easy peasy!" He leans forward, finger pointing at you. "But that doesn't mean you should ACTUALLY listen to him!"

You perk up at that, and Bill leans back casually, floating at your eye level.

"Here's the truth, slick. You are disgusting."

You deadpan.

"BUT!" He quickly adds, "Guess what? So is everyone else! If you think about it, you're ALL just a bunch of meat computers in a slowly deteriorating flesh prison. So why not FLAUNT it? Here-"

He grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face the mirror.

"Repeat after me," Bill says. "And I mean actually repeat it. Don't just read my words, alright? Actually repeat after me, or I'm going to eat your hair while you sleep."

Bill clears his throat, looking at you in the mirror.

"I am a REPULSIVE BEAST OF UNFATHOMABLE WRETCHEDNESS!"

Bill waits for your response. You sigh and decide to humor him. His eye lights up when you do, and he continues.

"I FEED ON YOUR DISGUST!"

"I AM REPUGNANCE INCARNATE, AND SHAME CANNOT CLAIM ME. Don't forget that last bit, that one's important!"

You repeat his words as you look at yourself in the mirror. The sheer goofiness of it all makes you feel... Lighter.

"There!" Bill pats your shoulder, proud. "Doesn't that feel better?"

You nod.

"Good." Bill lets his hands fall to his sides. "Now HEADBUTT THE MIRROR TO SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS!!!"

You give him a look. Bill huffs.

"No?" You shake your head in response. Bill crosses his arms. "Fine... I'll do it for you!"

He points a finger at the mirror and shoots out blue flame like a gun. The mirror shatters, glass shards flying everywhere as Bill laughs maniacally.

Thankfully, none of the shards hit you, considering an invisible shield comes up to protect you and Bill. You wonder whether or not you were safe because you happened to be near him, or if he included you on purpose.

The thought makes you smile.

Bill dusts off his hands, "Welp! There's your lesson for the day, slick. Beauty is overrated and fake, because EVERYONE is revolting! Try reveling in your own horrifying nature for a change. It's great, trust me!"

He slings an arm over your shoulder, eye shimmering in satisfaction.

"Embrace the weirdness! Be proud of your fleshy outer shell! And don't forget to DESTROY all mirrors to taunt Dysmorphio on how he TOTALLY FAILED to get to you!!!"

Bill starts laughing again, swaying you back and forth in his hold. You look down at the floor and spot your reflection on the several glass shards scattered around.

And you find that you like what you see.

Yeah yeah cheesy ahh ending or whatever IDC!!! /lh

This was honestly just written as a personal pick me up, because I was feeling down. And what better way to make urself feel better than to write about your blorbos!!

Also, first time writing for Bill Cipher!! Dont think I got his character quite right, but eh, I'll get better at writing him in the future.

It's also wrote this in the middle of the night, so it's barely proofread WAHHSHSA I hope you still enjoyed it, tho!!

[muse-hodgepodge]

"Heh, I mean if I weren't born with power like that then yeah I'd probably be slow acclimating too... Though I think with how cautious and aware of this fear you are you're probably fine bud." In a way Sans was slightly jealous of her power but not by much. Sure, quite a number of issues could likely be solved but would it in the long run? He didn't know.

When Reyna speaks about potentially breaking the barrier he has to think on it for a moment. If she was that powerful then it could break no problem and that would be good for them save for one small problem... Would it last? Wait, if she was essentially a goddess then... Hm. "Hey... Y'know, it might work, but before we run all that way to find out can I check ya out first? It's something I've been trying to do this whole time if I'm honest since it's part of my job but given what you are my efforts were kind of in vain..." He still has an easy grin though his eyes do quickly dart behind her as if he's looking behind her as what sounds like a massive crack sounded.

"Plus I don't know exactly how much time we have before the major problem with you helping comes along. Shit if that was the bran-- no wait here it comes, go wait over there and do not let the kid see you got it? I'm begging you and I'll explain in just a minute." The skeleton points to the dense wood cover nearby as he teleports away. Soon enough a human child is walking up the path with more confidence than a lost human child in the snowy woods should have. Were they covered in dust as well?

Soon enough the child passes by the area looking determined, then there's what sounds like a massive canon firing and after a few more minutes Sans teleports back looking a bit more drained than before, clearly rattled and leaning against a tree and shaking his head as blood comes from his mouth. "W-Well... Can't say I've seen them do this before... Should be... any second now... Heh, bud, seems my explanation is gonna have to wait..." He turns his attention to where he told Reyna to hide, "wh-when ya find me again just mention Gaster okay...? Head East of here..." Not too long after that his body dissolves into dust but maybe a few minutes later the world gains a massive glitched effect before Sans' dust and clothes vanish in the blink of an eye and the snow didn't look disturbed in the slightest.

Then at the same time in his home Sans jerks upright in his bed and stares out at the wall as if he was just struck by massive dejavu... again but the memories were still too fuzzy. He just knew one thing and that it must have been a reset. Despite the overwhelming desire to just return to bed and ignore this time something pushed him out of it, got him dressed and had him heading towards his sentry post with his brother. Who knows... Maybe it'll be different this time...

Reyna nodded. "It's crazy to think I am still, really. It's quite overwhelming, and I've taken slow to fully acclimating to begin with. I don't want to end up like how the old gods in my world were like." She admits, a bit sad. It was one of those things that she feels like she'll never fully be able to rid herself of. That fear that permeates the power she holds. She ignores that for now, and focuses back on what Sans says about the barrier.

"Well, with the strength I have, I might be able to do it. I don't know how powerful human magic is in this world, but I'm more than willing to see what I can do to help you all out." She offers. It was natural inclination, really. People in need, she's already offering help. Small trouble, monumental trouble, it doesn't matter which. She'll be there to help wherever she can, however she can. It's one of the benefits of this power: There's a lot that she can do to help.

[egophiliac]

As someone who hasn’t played the twst game very long I just got into it. I wanted to know about events? Like do some not come back? For example do the Masquerade, Port, Beanfest, Ghost bride, starsending events. Do those come back? I hear people say how they missed their chance to get this great card like as if it won’t ever come back and then someone on Reddit will say something like “Oh beanfest happened twice on the JP server” so which events have gotten reruns so far? I would ask about more recent ones like the Easter one but idk if it’s too recent to know if get rerun or if they clarify that it won’t come back? I was really sad to find out about the Silk outfits I missed out on when they visit the scalding sands. I also was really sad to find out i missed out on the anniversary cards because I didn’t play the game yet. I wish they would add the anniversary cards to the store at least…I want to be apart of the celebration :’)

I was looking in the shop and saw all the different groovy items you need to groovify event cards and this question just came to me so I had the urge to ask someone…

welcome to Twst! 🎉 it is a bit confusing to jump right into, especially because. they're not always consistent. :') it sounds like you're probably playing on Eng, which I'm less familiar with, but I'll try based on what I know! (I also don't always remember everything, so somebody please correct me if I get something wrong!)

first, I do recommend the Twst wiki.gg, which seems to stay pretty up-to-date on events for both the Eng and JP versions! it's a great resource for when you want to see if/when an event ran or rerun. in general, I believe that the Eng version only does reruns that have already happened in JP, so if JP has a rerun that hasn't happened yet in Eng, they should get it too eventually! on the other hand, I don't think either version has ever rerun an event more than once. :( BUT this doesn't mean you're entirely out of luck, because:

anniversary events (March for JP, January for Eng) will usually offer a chance to get both an older event SSR and an older birthday SSR in the shop, via buying a special item with exchange currency (which you get by doing pulls on the anniversary gacha, I think you need to do 100-150 pulls for enough currency to buy the item to exchange for an SSR). only SSRs though, and you're limited to one each (one birthday, one event). so if there's an SSR you REALLY want and it's already had its rerun, it's probably worth planning to save up some keys for!

as for actual reruns, they seem to come in a few different flavors:

straight-up rerun, no changes or extra cards

unchanged event story, with a new SSR of a character who wasn't in the story (e.g. Applepom Jamil)

slightly rewritten event story that includes a new SSR (e.g. Ghost Marriage, they don't seem to do this anymore though)

completely new event story that acts as either a sequel or alternate-universe version of the original (e.g. Beans Day part 2, Fairy Gala IF) (though this is pretty rare and might actually count as a separate event, rather than a rerun?)

Master Chef/Culinary Crucible events have never gotten reruns (though they might start now that we've finally gotten through all the characters in JP, time will tell). birthday and Halloween events will also rerun the previous version in addition to the new one -- for instance, Eng should be getting a Glorious Masquerade rerun this year, followed by the new (Playful Land) Halloween event. and a birthday campaign will, in addition to the new card, have a separate pickup for the previous year's birthday card.

for the specific ones you mentioned -- I think Beanfest, Ghost Bride, Fireworks, and Starsending have already rerun in Eng, so those most likely will not be rerun again (at least not anytime soon). Masquerade should be coming back for you guys this Halloween, and Portfest JUST got its rerun in JP, so that should be coming too sometime in the future! (no new SSR though, alas, I was really hoping for a little marching band sailor boy Leona. 😔) the Easter event is the White Rabbit Fest, right? that one hasn't gotten a rerun in JP yet either, so it's still on the table!

all that said, it's entirely possible they'll change the rules at some point and start doing more reruns/chances to get older event cards, especially since the game's been going on for a few years now and some cards haven't been available for a pretty long time! there's only one card that they said was for-realsies limited-time-only and wouldn't ever be available again -- Platinum Grim, since he was to celebrate the 100th anniversary -- so. there's always a little bit of hope for everything else. :D (fairy gala Ortho PLEASE COME BACK SOB)

[triangular-static]

look i understand if people just don't like the idea of billford, i think we have a different internal concept of what shipping means (they're not good for each other at all but i need to dissect their dynamic like a bug. you understand. it's fun) but it's fine to avoid things you don't like, good for you genuinely

however people saying they like. don't see it. like. i'm not saying there's no platonic way to read it, i'm aroace spec myself i'm all for reading things in different ways. but i do think saying they weren't partners in any queer sense at all is trying too hard to go against what the narrative is trying to say, or missing it. somehow

anyway media literacy time if a character makes a joke like this

and the previous context of that joke within the show is that it's about an ex wife. what connection do you think the text is trying to get you to make.

and that's just from a writing point of view. not even noting that from an in universe perspective ford likely knows the joke from the same source as stan. and is therefore. placing himself in that role of the joke are you seeing where i'm coming from

(not to mention bill's side of this text which is. extremely manipulative but also does not read very platonic. again, it can technically be read as platonic! bill literally can manipulate ford's feelings. but the specific wording used is very much meant to look like possessive ex partner wording whether the character means it that way or not. it's coding. look again i'm not saying it was good for them i'm just saying there was something there.)

and then there's also the divorce/break up/rock bottom input on the website. like. how else is that supposed to be read. and the corresponding page in the book itself.

the language being used here. like yes he's saying it in a joking way but then there's the other side that isn't joking which is him crying at the bar. it's the both sides (the very coded language on top of the very genuine emotions and dynamic beneath)

i know most of us are on the same page with this i've just seen a couple people saying they don't see it when this is some of the most clear cut coding i've ever seen. and these are just the things that explicitly reference a relationship off the top of my head i'm not even including the general vibes of Everything

tl;dr it's barely even subtext anymore it's all but straight up text. what's not clicking have we forgotten what coding is (lighthearted i just enjoy the phrase what's not clicking. what's not clicking)

[emberglowfox]

closing time

[chungmyungenthusiast]

Banter

Notes I Pure fluff maybe + chung myung content ?!?! woah.. keep in mind that this is not edited and checked :3

Chung Myung will never let you live this down. No way. Especially when he, quite literally, had you pinned down. "Give up yet?" He asks, his tone teasing as he looks down at you with that shit-eating grin he knows you have a hate-love relationship with. God, you want to wipe that grin off his face so bad. "Love," You start, your tone seemingly pleading as you look up at him. The one and only Mount Hua's Divine Dragon, Chung Myung, swore he could explode at any given moment. And while that normally is a threat to the other disciples, it means something else now. Slowly but surely, you lean closer to him. You then pout, "Please.." A kiss, then you turn the tables on him. For a split second, he was caught off-guard with that kiss; you didn't waste any time switching your positions. How cute he looks when he's under you. "I'll kiss you, okay? So please, keep your voice down."

Notes II Chung Myung deserves all of the kisses and hugs in the world.

[shima-draws]

Me: Oh god. It's time for our company's yearly performance review. Where my boss will judge my performance over the past year and see how awful I am at my job and--

My boss: You're doing such a great job and I'm so happy you're here <3

Me: