#im surprised i still have storage space

[perpetualproductions]

Thanks @spatialwave for the tag!! 😎🤟💙

No pressure tags: @minthandsoap @pinkcrocss @freakshowtwopointoh and anyone else who wants to do it!

[rassicas]

hello!! lately i've been thinking about houses/interiors in splatoon as i've been pondering some up for my ocs, & i was wondering if there's any info on them in canon? so far the best that comes to mind is the splat 1 loading screen & that new art of acht, but I was curious on if there's anything about apartments & interiors specifically... tysm! :-]

Unfortunately we don't have much, and considering how much living spaces vary in real life even within the same culture, it's hard to say x thing applies to all splatoon households. the game developers are japanese, the game takes place in japan, and takes inspiration from japanese culture and daily life. taking that into consideration, where canon fails, i use modern japanese living spaces as a reference for imagining what an interior may look like in inkadia. headcanon aside. time to dig up what canon info i've found regarding homes and living spaces

In the Octotune album booklet we get one of the few examples of an inkling home interior, the Houzuki mansion. though pearl, as well all know, is Insanely Fucking Rich and our average inkling is NOT going to be living this luxuriously. one useful tidbit we can get from the text is this:

Q5: Wow! Is this the garage? Pearl: That's just the shoe storage, man.

the word she's using for shoe storage is ゲタばこ which is a cubby you're meant to put your shoes in before entering a house, located in an entryway. in other words, implying a cultural norm of taking your shoes off before entering (something adhered to more strictly in japan vs america). not like this is really followed in official art showing inkfish at home (except for this s1 era piece of an inkling watching tv) probs because shoes are cooler lol

let's see what else ummm bedding.

s1 and s3 dialogue for flounder heights mention futons. traditional japanese bedding typically laid out on the floor when in use, and folded up and put away in a big cubby during the day. its a common sight to see them hung out in the sun on the balcony to not get moldy. some of those things draped over the railings in flounder heights are futons.

not everyone in japan does this though- youll still see western style beds or even futons on bed frames since taking it out and putting it away is a pain in the ass. also not every apartment has a built in proper futon storage space. (...mine does, but i repurposed it into another closet and just use western style bedding lol)

same is true for inkadians too -the bed in the s1 splashscreen doesnt look like a futon to me. point is there's options for what do with the bed situation.

speaking of the apartment splashscreen for s1, there is a blurb in the artbook about it and how inklings are typically pretty tidy with their living spaces.

im sure there's plenty of messy inklings too. anyway there's just a few tidbits about living spaces in relation to canon info. unfortunately there's Nothing about the bathroom or how they bathe, though previously i shared my headcanons about how i think that could work. for the kitchen i think all we can do is assume. Acht has a fridge how surprising /s at the start i mentioned that i take inspo from japanese life where canon fails. ive spent a few years in japan so this works conveniently for me LOL but i assume most people following me do not have that experience. so for those who wanna take that japan inspo too, here's a few small things that are different in japanese living spaces that ive thought may be true for inkopolis? -living spaces are so much smaller on average (of course) -washing machines do not use heated water and like Nobody has a drier in their house. laundry is hung on the balcony, or by the window if there is none, to dry. you want a drying machine? go to the laundromat. -big ovens? like for baking? casseroles? this is Rare in japanese homes. more likely youll see like a little toaster oven. microwaves with an oven setting. i have a gas stove with a fish grill drawer like this. ive never seen this in america but i KNOW in my heart inklings would have this -tiniest fucking kitchens sometimes. a pattern ive often seen for little one room apartments is a pathetic kitchen space in the hall between the entrance and bedtoom where its like. one sink. and space for an electric burner. you want counter space go fuck yourself. if youre a broke inkling who doesnt cook much this may be the option for you. -i think every house ive been in has had a genkan in some form.

[kingofthe-egirls]

STRIPPER: LUFFY x Y/N (part 2)

part 1

@coocoocatchoo @shoyoist @bowsa-jr

(cw: parrot-parrot fruit reader, pole dancing, stripper!reader, kissing, sorta mean dom luffy for a sec, piv sex, creampie, “slut”, licking spunk off floor)

(a/n: im obsessed. parrot-parrot fruit for life)

words: 1.9k

****

Luffy sits on the edge of your bed, smiling delightedly. His hands are softly caressing your shins, as he kneels between your legs.

“So!” He chirps, squeezing your slightly stubbly shins. His eyebrows twitch up as he challenges you: “Parrot-Parrot fruit, hah?”

You nod sheepishly.

“Wings are pretty,” he says, stroking the blue-turquoise feathers. You’re a Zoan Type, Blue Macaw specifically.

You have daffodil-yellow feathers on the inside of your wings, sprouting from your shoulders blades and stretching out strong and wide from your back. The turquoise-blue feathers fade into an ombre to the tips of your long, velvety pinions.

Luffy kneels up, settling between your crisscrossed legs to drape his thighs over your lap.

His hands are soft and warm as he strokes his fingers through your feathers. It sends shivers through you, and a small whine escapes your plush lips as he preens you.

“S’nice…,” you whisper, fluttering eyes betraying just how nice it feels. You swallow, the lump in your throat giving way to desire. “Feels sexy,” you admit, smiling slightly.

Luffy’s voice is dry as he says, “Yeah? Sexy, hah…,” he assesses your feathers, eyes raking over the blue and sunlight wings.

“Y’know…,” he rasps, evil glint in his pirate’s eyes, “Every pirate needs a parrot, dontcha think?”

His fingers are still so soft as he strokes through your wings. His smile is six inches from yours, his lips hovering dangerously close.

“You should join my crew!”

You stare.

He’s serious.

You swallow, licking your lips as he assesses your face. And you assess him in return. His copper skin, his dark curls. His sparkly eyes that undid you the moment he asked for a lapdance back at the strip club.

“Yes.”

He smiles—wide as the sky—and clasps your face in his soft hands. He leans forward and pecks a kiss onto your nose. “So happy to hear that,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. “You can be my baby, sweetheart…if ya want.”

You nod eagerly.

“Yes, please.”

He snickers against your skin, nuzzling his scrunched-up nose into your cheek. He presses his face lightly to the side of yours, his eyelashes fluttering at your skin in sweet little butterfly kisses.

“Yer the prettiest parrot any pirate could ever ask for,” he praises you, his hands wrapping around your soft waist. He squeezes you, tightly.

“You’re the hottest pirate,” you say, arching an eyebrow as his confidence starts to rub off on you. You toss your head, dark hair flicked over your shoulder with chipped-polish acrylics. He smiles, thunking his head into your shoulder. He kisses your collarbone, sucking on your skin.

“Ya think so?”

“Mhmm,” you scratch his curls, “Hottest damn pirate in all the seas.”

He smiles against your skin, his thumbs stroking your ribcage.

“So happy ya said yes…,” he shivers against you, pressing his face into the swell of your breasts. He smooches the squishy, sensitive skin.

“Wouldn’t have dreamed of sayin’ no,” you confess, stroking his hair.

“Really?!” He lifts up, so excited.

“Really.”

He smiles even wider than before, squirming in excitement.

“Can’t wait ta bring ya back home with me…”

****

“I have a surprise for ya,” Captain Luffy whispers in your ear, his hands on your shoulders. He’d just introduced you to his crew, and now his friends had scattered back to their shiply duties. He scrapes his teeth against the shell of your ear.

“What is it?” You tilt your head, curious. His hands move to your waist, as he guides you toward his captain’s quarters.

****

He’s set you up a dance studio.

****

The floor is shiny, glossy wood. It’s in the below-deck space of the ship: storage unit no longer necessary. Since Luffy had Usopp clean out the space, they’d both helped set this studio up for you. There’s mirrors lining the far wall, with a glossy barre strung across it. There’s a shiny metal pole in the center of the space.

“Captain…,” you whisper, slowly approaching the center. Your hands skim over the silver metal, feeling its stability with just the exact amount of give you favor.

“It’s just Luffy,” he reminds you, coming up to skim the shiny metal himself. His fingers are so long, they almost wrap double around the pole. He smiles at you, excitedly waiting for your reaction.

You stare up at the ceiling, where the stripper pole is secured. It’s stable.

“This is perfect.”

Your voice is a hushed whisper, the enormity of this man’s kindness crushing to dust. Gold dust.

Luffy cheers!

“YES!!”

He bounces around, so happy, as he whoops and laughs and hollers. You can’t help but join in.

Some of the crew members eventually come down the stairs to see what’s wrong; Zoro’s the first to peak his head through the wooden door. He smirks.

“She likes it, hah?”

He stalks into the room, staring like a wild tiger as he watches you experimentally spin. Luffy is clapping and cheering you on, so brightly delighted that his first mate can’t help but laugh (softly under his breath). “She looks great,” he says, arms crossed as he scuffs his boot across the floor.

“Hey!” You say, from where you’re upside down and spread-eagled, “Don’t scuff the floor!!!”

“You heard her!” Luffy snickers as he claps Zoro’s chest. “She’s the crew’s entertainment! She’s our stripper,” his voice turns husky, staring at you as you slowly spin back down to the ground.

“Sanji’s gonna bleed out,” is all Zoro says as he appraises you.

“Oh!” Luffy shouts, suddenly inspired. “Oh yeah!! Nami said she could help ya too!!!” His captain’s command takes over as he bounds out of the room and above deck.

You stand at the barre, starting up a plié/relevé technique.

Zoro stares at you in the mirror.

Soon enough, Luffy is springing back into the room, with Nami and Usopp in tow. They’re sharing the weight of a shiny metal rack, like something you’d hang clothes on.

“This is where you can hang your costumes!”

He grins at you broadly, and a sound escapes you somewhere between a lustful growl and an excited squeal.

You bound forward, leaping into Luffy’s arms and nearly tackling him over in the process.

He laughs, loud and hearty, as he supports your weight. He smacks a kiss onto the top of your head, as his voice lowers. His crew mates filter out of the studio, sensing the shift in vulnerable intimacy.

“So…ya like it?”

You smash your lips against his, aggressively making out with him without a second’s hesitation. His lips are soft and his breaths are ragged.

Your pussy is aching.

“So fucking sexy,” I gasp, lips nibbling at his soft cupid’s bow. I tug at his bottom lip with my teeth. “But…seems like we’re missing something,” I tease him, stroking his hair.

His hands are still supporting your thighs as your legs are wrapped around his waist. He holds you safely, securely. “What is that, my angel?” He asks softly, his nose nuzzling at you. You snort.

“We need a chair for you.”

His eyes light up like sin.

“Say less.”

He devours your lips again, his grip starting to bruise. He sinks slowly to the floor, laying you softly on your back. The door is locked.

“Sweetheart,” he moans as he licks up and down your throat. “Wantcha…so bad.”

“Mm~!” You croon, his weight and warmth pinning you to the floor.

“C-can I?” He asks desperately, sucking at your pulse point. “Can I make you mine, birdie?”

His nickname, his sweetness…

It melts you like honey.

“Sweetheart,” you squeak, stunned to bits by his seductiveness. It’s working wonders, for your pussy.

It’s aching.

“Please?”

He smirks, suddenly the infamous Mugiwara no Luffy.

Wanted posters don’t fucking do him justice.

He’s so much sexier in real life.

Luffy bites at your skin, skimming his hands up your ribs to softly cup your breasts. He squeezes them, kneading them gently through the lace of your bralette. His hips grind against yours, starting shallow thrusts as he dry humps your clothed cunt. “Take these off,” he whispers, plucking at your shorts. “And…,” he smirks, “I wanna see those wings.”

****

So now you’re straddling your captain’s hips, speed-demoning your way to a second orgasm. Luffy’s lips hardly ever leave your skin; his sounds cloud the room with echoing moans and affections.

“So sexy f’me,” he’s growling into your shoulder.

His hands roam over your feathers too, snickering as he fingers the soft down between thumb and forefinger. “Such a pretty birdie…such a sweet lil girl f’me, aren’t ya?”

His words sear like hot irons into your skin—setting you aflame with each honey-spiced syllable. His hips rocket up into you from below, gunpowder explosions happening beneath your core.

“Say it,” he grunts, slamming you down into his hips with brutal force.

“S-say—ah!—say what, Lu-uffyyy~?” your voice is a mess.

He snickers at your desperate pleas, slowing down ever so slightly. His cock is bruising your pussy, sticky and slick with your wetness and his own pre. He slows his strokes to hit it nice and deep, the slap of his balls against your ass nothing short of erotic. Explicit.

Pornographic.

He laughs, his head thunked back against the glossy wooden floor.

It smells like sex, in here.

“Say you’re m’pretty lil parrot, hm birdie?” His thumbs circles you clit, and you squeal.

“Ah—ah! Yes, Luuuffyy…m’your pretty little…parrot—,” you choke out, the aching in your core nigh on unbearable. The clit orgasm he’s slowly winding up inside you isn’t helping much, either.

Your voice is squeaky and high-pitched. Embarrassing.

He snickers, reaching up to gently caress your face. “Sweetheart…,” he says, staring at you with stars in his deep brown eyes. The studio’s lights send sparkles reflecting off them.

So not fair.

Luffy sits up, slowly gentling his pace. He’s sensual now: romantic and sweet. His touches are all with his fingertips or the backs of his knuckles, all skimming and slow.

He’s cradling you against his heart.

“Sweetheart,” he moans again, eyes fluttering shut as you start to roll your hips. His hands sink into the flesh of your ass, supporting you as you rise up and down. “M’so…close!”

His hands slow your movements, as he savors every second of his release. “Ah—ahhh!” His cries are orgasmic, spastic as he stutters his hips and spills his spend til you’re bursting at the seams.

It slips down between you, splattering against the hardwood slats.

“Clean it,” he rasps, lifting you off his cock. He snaps to the puddle of semen on the floor, “Slut.”

“Hah!”

You rasp, groaning as he commands you. Apparently, you don’t respond fast enough because he’s grabbing you by the scruff of your neck and shoving your head down into the steaming pool of his own spunk.

“Shit!” You hiss, your cheek smushed against the floor. He lets you tilt your head, so that you can clean it up with your tongue. He’s staring down at you with a snakelike glint in his chocolate eyes.

“Kiss it.”

Moaning, you start smooching the floor that still tastes like him.

“And don’t you dare wipe that up later,” he releases his hold on you so he can smirk as you sit up.

You swipe your forearm across your chin.

“Your spunk tastes like shit, Monkey.”

“Hah!” He laughs, scrunching his face as he scratches his head. He’s sheepish now, smiling and boyish. “Sorry bout that…”

(He wasn’t.)

****

[skele-bunny]

ARU IM GONNA SHAKE YOU LIKE A SNOW GLOBE IN THE MOST POSITIVE WAY POSSIBLE !!!!!

ALPHABELL IS SOMETHING I DIDN'T KNOW I NEEDED, AND I LOVE IT SM !!!

I love that bell knows so much about buttons and has someone who will listen to her ramble about them <333 ((I also love and have an insane button collection)) and how in love alpha is too just oughhhhh /posssss !! 💗🌷

OH WHATS THAT??? MORE?? YOU WANT MORE!???! FEEDS IT TO YOU LIKE SOUP....

Alpha who instead of giving flowers, he gives little "crow" trinkets. Just showing Bell the little items he's collected for him; definitely buttons on the ground, an old key that's broken from the storage room, tiny crystals that he got from Omega's desk. It's always wonderful to see how he crafts them into bigger works

Bluebell who's started picking up what Alpha liked to eat and always making sure that her and Spec's kitchen has it. Different varieties of meats and vegetables, and ESPECIALLY cashews... Alpha fucking loves cashews and one time Special ate some and Bell got SOOOO (light-heartedly) mad over it

Alpha knows Bell is on the spectrum and always asks if certain things are okay first. There's never, ever, any surprises and everything is planned out so she can understand everything better. As much as Alpha would like to have spur of the moment dates, having Bell be comfortable and not on edge is worth a LOT more to him. He can always ask for tomorrow :D

Bell who knows Alpha is still sexually active and needs a release, as Bell is asexual, perfectly content when Alpha has intimacy with others. There's been a few times she's masturbated in front of him as that's as comfortable as she'll be, and Alpha will never be annoyed or upset, nothing. They have their "outline" and that's perfectly fine with them

#1 couple that understands needing space, boundaries, and seperate rooms. Sometimes Alpha needs cool down time, sometimes Bluebell needs his own too! Touch can either be everything or make it worse, so they always ask each other first before touching. Also!!! Seperate bedrooms and one shared, just so they can still have their own areas and one combined

After showers Alpha has to hold up a towel to 'protect' himself as Bell will literally shake herself out and all that fur? PHEW.... But, Alpha's done it a few times too. They're both guilty of it LMAO

Alpha when he gets invited to the family dinner for the first time is nervous as all hell, sweating. The Emeritus, Omega, and Special just staring SO hard.... Alpha just keeping his eyes down as he can feel Bell's brothers just glaring at him. Omega sympathizes cause he was there too at the beginning shjejxj

[missmarveledsblog]

Bet on it ( Bradley Bradshaw x Reader ) part 9

summary : two years have passed y/n has finished the programme and instead of staying back like she said she would she knew there was no place like home only the faces she most wanted to see were currently on a ship somewhere in the atlantic ocean just for a past video to blow up

summary : more fluffy fluff and no angst , time jump

previous part

Two years later: 

This was different so different to how  it was when she step off the plane four years ago now, standing off the plane feeling the sun hitting her face  and the san diego air hitting her lungs . every stress and worry melting off of her shoulders  , that blonde fucker was right to that place was never home this was even stepping off the plane it was an instant feeling . she did try the whole two years of being in new york she tried  her hardest to make it home but moment her uncle asked if she wanted to stay on or go back she answer probably embarrassingly fast . It wasn’t  all bad they did end up getting more funding and more entertainment to come to the kids but what started it was her favorite. They also got new head of the department six months into the program and actually finally started learning things they should of from the start apparently a skew of nurse report daniel for sexual harassment  not that she was surprised one bit . she even tried dating but it never worked out , like piece of her heart was missing and it was right her in fighter town. 

a bright beaming smile as she headed towards her dad who honestly looked like he was gonna take off and become airborne with how excited he looked . the two heading off to her new house one he view over and over for her . it had to be perfect his words not hers but it wasn't  an apartment it was a home.  some thing permanent to cement the fact she was actually home , sort of planting her own roots in a way . 

the only downside to the whole thing was they wouldn't  be there .  the timing of her coming home and both jake and bradley being deployed to somewhere in the atlantic for three months seemed to merge at same time. promises to hangout when they came back . over the course of  two year she was able to mend herself , build back up friendship with both aviators . both she and jake were best friends again and she and rooster where friends , something was always hung in the air though , something that even that space of time couldn't  stop . 

he knew it , she knew but neither said anything in fear it would ruin what they just got to the base of friendship . and even thought since the programme started so late she didnt get to visit that long or often maybe a few time when she did see him it was awkward at first  then it was got better . keeping in touch by phone , emails , text and facetime ,  something  that would be prolonged for temporary time frame . stepping out of the car there they stood the dagger squad holding beer and pizza in their arms ready to welcome her home and  help unload the box Mav had gotten out of storage for her.  a wave of sadness washed over when she stepped into her new home , when she was coming home first she thought it would be to a shared one not this empty one story house . now that she wasnt going to have that promise made so long ago it wasn't end of the world but it stung a little at a fond memory that never came to the future with her. 

“ you ok?” nat asked arm around her shoulder , yet her face and tone filled with concern . 

“ im good just surreal being home again … for good this time” she smiled softly. 

“ no leaving me with these boneheads i will pull you back kicking and screaming i've been lost without you, really it was torture  “ she beamed as they all rolled their eyes. 

“ they're  not so bad “ y/n mused. “ well now “ she added . 

“ we learned our lesson really we are still so sorry” fanboy gulp still feeling guilty  . 

“ he ugly cried … a lot “ payback blurted out . 

“ im sure it wasn't that bad “ she defended . 

“ it was “ everyone including fanboy called as his own face grew hot and red. 

her first day back at work beth almost crushed her excitedly even marcus got one of the bone crushing hugs from the wonderful and divine nurse . pretty much everywhere she went she was shown once again why it was home. from the hard deck to the hangar restarting an old tradition as she carried the box of food in ton the base nearly first hand viewing  fanboys “ ugly” crying face as he ate , he wasn't the only one it looked like the all would  . she was happy to be there really but honestly it felt like something or some people missing.  the blonde and brunette men she adored more than life itself .  

he woke up the creek in his neck  never would  get used to the bunks on board . sleeping on the floor would be more spacious and comfortable but if he had his had his way he would be home , seeing her , seeing y/n the little comfort she would be there when they got back but still .  he tried dating , he tried moving on , not one of them were it for him not even close  to feeling what he felt for y/n but if she was in his life as his friend he could live with that  it was a month into the deployment he read her letters and email talking about how happy she was to be home and how she definitely  didn’t miss the cold weather of new york , she would tell him about the house something bittersweet to the both of them but he was happy if she was .  Still he hope the feelings would go away  ones that just kept creeping up on his , like she had a hold of him body , mind and soul .  finishing get ready he barely had time to rub his eyes walking lazily down to get breakfast it was strange he could of sworn people were looking at him .  even when he walked into the canteen seeing jake being surrounded by females wasn’t new seem tall and blonde was a favorite anywhere they went . But one did a double take like her eyes lit up and she whispered to the others soon they were all looking at him . 

“ wow it’s really you “ she smiled up at him 

“ sorry do i know you ?” he asked taking his seat. 

“ oh no but we know you “ her friend winked  as he and jake shared a look. 

“ can we get a picture ?” the first woman asked .

“ erm sure why not “ he shrugged thinking people were still talking about the mission he went on with Mav for a while he was a celebrity among his fellow navy officers . 

“ hangman how come you never told us he was your friend “ she cooed arm squeezing bradley arm pulling it from her grasp  as he sat and ate his breakfast. 

“Why would i , it’s just chicken “ he snorted seem to be out of the loop too . 

“ rooster  “ he corrected. 

“ well if you need anything rooster let me know “ she smiled seductively hands gliding on his shoulders. 

“ i’m good thanks though” he shook his head eating his food last thing he needed was a hook up on the ship , yeah she was hot but she wasn’t doing it for him that way . 

Throughout the day it was getting more and more confusing , handshakes and hive fives from people he barely even said hi to or more women given him blatant fuck me eyes as he was in the gym . Even someone said he sounds great it was probably one of the strangest day he ‘d had on the ship in last month . now he was ready to go sleep enter dream world were life was better til jake stormed into his cabin . 

“ you and darling y/n  are viral “ he panted holding the doorframe as bradley shot up in his bunk almost hitting his head. 

“ what you mean viral”. 

It was strange day , from moment she started her morning routine before work walking into the cafe she could of sworn she felt eyes on her the whole time , the barista seemed a little nervous as she took her order . every stop light cars honked at her waving as they drove past . it didn’t stop when she got to work not even a bit she felt like it was worse when she felt the eyes on her and strange comments began from patients, their parents and even coworkers . she could of sworn she heard people humming a familiar tune . she checked herself over in the bathroom probably way too many times thinking it was her clothes or something on her face . it wasn’t til beth and marcus pulled her to the breakroom beaming smiles on their faces . 

“ so you weren’t gonna tell us you were famous huh ?” beth crossed her arms and arched her brow only for y/n to tilt her head in confusion . “ it’s all over that clock app so don’t lie to us missy” . 

“ she means tiktok and every other social media website  shit it’s even on some news outlets “ marcus nodded excitedly. 

“ did you both hit your heads why would i be all over tik tok and news outlets “ she snorted only their eyes widened .

“ shit i thought you were being humble , you really don’t know do you ?” beth asked . 

Before she could say anything further marcus pulled out his phone showing her the video , one taken two years ago in the hospital in new york  , the day bradley and jake came to visit the kids . 

Clear as day it was her and bradley singing great balls of fire and the millions of views that showed making her eyes widen even more she was sure they would pop out and her jaw would fall off and hit the floor . 

“ your famous baby “ beth chuckled as she looked up completely shocked. 

“ the hospital posted it as memory thing along with other entertainers but you and rooster are all over the place its insane “ marcus smirked . 

“ i need to talk to bradley “ she gasped looking down at her own phone seeing messages from everyone from her friends to people she hadn’t spoke to in decades reaching out and yet none of them where who she needed now . 

The moment he got the chance he went to check it out and what was worse was he didn’t even have to search for it .  he couldn’t help smile hearing her voice hit his ears or her smile shit if anything it made him miss her even more and hate his deployment more . He was curious when he hit the comments  and jesus he was going to need  holy water to cleanse himself if he thought the women on deck were bad well the comment section made them look like girl scouts it was just at him hell he seen shit ton about y/n and even about them together . He couldn’t help chuckle at some saying the bumped into them saying they were married couple how he wished he could say it was true  or even in a relationship  at all .

He now sort of understood how the attention on deck changed , some blatant on the fuck me vibes  , some asked him to sing to them it was definitely his strangest deployment that was for sure . yet in the reality of it all , he just wanted to talk to her , make sure she was ok during this whole chaotic situation . so when jake offered to switch call time bradley jumped at the chance. It would of been midnight there he was sure now hoping to even get an answer but the relief hit the moment he saw her face pop on the screen wearing an over sized shirt , hair in a messy bun  showing she was in the comfort of her own home .  looking ever part beautiful to him , wishing he was there in every sense. 

“ roo hey shit ok so happy to finally called but over the last couple of days , you are not going to believe what happen , but trust me it’s real” she said looking wide eyes and nervous . 

“We are viral “ he asked making her nodded with vigor . 

“ good you know but honestly what the fuck “ she broke out laughing. 

“ oh i found out , been hearing it non stop but shit it’s not good as us “ he winked as his head fell back that laugh that made her insides melt . 

“ guess we have the fan base set for out tribute band huh “ she joked. 

“ oh and then some i’ve been offered so much head” he snorted only for her face to fall it was for a spilt second  . “ but i  didn’t except it groupie thing isn’t for me “ he covered almost studying her reaction . 

“ well if we’re bragging i haven’t had to pay for a single drink in hard deck last night … although they tried getting me to sing after a while “ she snorted. 

“ yeah can only sing with me hope you told them that” he winked as she flushed . 

“ of course i did  … you said same right “ she asked . 

“ course told them i only sing with y/n or too her now “ he said watching her eyes soften like something shifting in the conversation almost a flirty air to it . “ you’re ok though cause that really what  i wanted to know ?” he said not being able to take his eyes off of her. 

“ i’m ok it’s strange to say the least it’s a video from two years ago “ she snorted . 

“ have you seen the comments?” he asked feeling brave . 

“ i’m afraid to not gonna lie “ she winced . 

“ mostly positive and some out there but  most positive as i just said other than it’s a pr stunt from the navy and hospitals “ he chuckled. 

“ i wonder if recruitment went up “ she joked . “ i’ll read them “ she added. 

“ good i got  to go sweet girl this is gonna cut out  get some rest and no singing with anyone but me “ he smiled softly . 

“ be safe … and same goe for you “ she said before the call cut .  he could help smiling so widely as he headed down the hall , standing a little taller , something was different and yet similar something from the past , something good . 

“You talked to her” jake smiled . 

“ i think i might be able to get her back “ he beamed . 

She sat on the bed her book long forgotten as she stared at the now blank screen . she could easily pretend it wasn’t that way but something was different , flirty and intimate in that call . like she couldn’t stop herself letting what she wanted out by its own accord and now she felt herself berating herself and yet telling herself at same time it’s what she wants right? .

Hitting the call button  as she sat looking up  at her ceiling . 

“ i think i’m fucked “ was all she said thinking of what to do with her feeling hitting her all at once. 

last part

taglist : @peachmartini @shanimallina87 @kawaiiskeletondragonbanana @paisleebubbles @emosrkool

[evilgabe29]

Chapter 2: Magic Space Prospectors

Sir Lanyard Wayne did his best to not shiver in the cold air of Artagan’s port. He tried to keep his back straight, years of working in cramped guild ships had done a number on his spine. He hoped that keeping his back straight would maybe undo some  of the damage, so far it hasn't done much.

Two hours had passed since Vik arrived. there was still no sign of the heaver. the job listing had clearly reached the centers so what was taking them so damn long? right as he finished that thought he snapped out of his thinking. Lan had been doing this semi-regularly to prevent himself from getting snuck up on again.

Lanyard scanned the crowd of people milling about for someone who might be walking towards him. Unfortunately it didn't seem like anyone fit the description. Lan relaxed unintentionally letting some of his slouch creep back in. 

“Excuse me?” a voice came from behind him accompanied by a tap on his shoulder. 

Lan jumped back in surprise, reaching for his coat pocket where a Keno shard sat in a fiery magenta cloak draining into Lan’s gloved fingers, Kenek stain crawling up his arm just that little bit more. a force pushed up against Lan granting him weightlessness. Lan bounced off the ground like a skipped rock. giving him a good ten half-yards of distance between him and whoever scared him. His brain finally caught up with what his eyes were seeing. a woman stood on where he'd been, she wore a blue port guild uniform. Lan stopped his levitation by putting his Athos back into the shard in his pocket making it burn a brilliant cyan.  

“…you’re Wayne I assume?” the woman asked unfazed.

“Uhm yes, you can call me Lan,” he said, letting himself relax a bit now that he was sure he wasn't in any danger. “you're the heaver then?”

“Yes, you can call me Kali. is that your ship back there?” Kali asked, pointing to Theo behind him. 

“Hum? Uh yeah, my brother and i built it for fun, we call her Theo after the-” 

“Yes, I know who Theosunis is. A fitting name for her,” This surprised Lan, the common person didn't know much about the niche subjects that Lan found so interesting.

“Yep, anyway we need to get going, we only reserved so much dock time” Lan said, beginning to walk towards his ship.

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

Lan opened the door to the ship making a loud squeaking noise. He heard a soft gasp from Kali as she entered. People always seemed to underestimate how big the inside was, sure a large amount was taken up with air storage and insulation but if you account for it you could make the inside as big as you want. Lan sighed seeing Nell passed out on the couch to his left.

“Did you and your brother really build all of this?” Kali asked behind him. 

“Well  Nell did most of the building, I did most of the designing and drafting,” Lan said, glad that he could finally boast to someone about it.

“Impressive,” Kali said, trailing behind lan

“Yeah it was quite the project.”

“So what's the plan? The job offer said it was a scouting job but that could be anything from looking for comets to looking for planets,” she said leaning against one of the bedroom doors. 

“I'll explain everything once we get the dasher up. ”Lan walked over to the rightmost room that he could see was locked and knocked on the beige metal door. About a minute later Vik stumbled out of the room after struggling with the lock for a few seconds, their light brown hair a complete mess, gray shirt that was a bit too big for them slipping down off of one shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm awake, I'm awake” Vik said, yawning. 

“You're the dasher then? How old are you, kid?” Kali asked 

“Hum? I'm eighteen, at least last I checked,” Vik responded, still very groggy.

“Really? You look quite young for your age”

“Thanks, I think it's the rat diet. Anyway, what's your name?” 

“I'm Kali, what's yours?”

“Oh right, im Vik, sorry i'm not used to having a name again,”

Lan walked over to the kitchen area, letting the two get to know each other while he went to make himself a coffee. He filled up the metal carafe with water till it hit the inscribed line, placing the jug onto the white heating plate that seemed to glow a very faint yellow. Now that they have a dedicated dasher they don't need to keep a constant level of Athos running in the plate to make it work but there was no guarantee Vik could heat objects so it would be best to play it safe. He walked over to the large yellow cloaked Keno engine at the front of the ship. putting his fingertips to it and sucking just a bit of Athos into himself causing him to glow a very faint cyan. After injecting Athos into the hotplate, the carafe began to heat up. Once the water boiled he removed the athos from the plate leaving just a little bit, and transferred it into the Keno shard in his coat pocket making it glow just that little bit brighter. He dumped a bunch of coffee grounds into the pot and let it sit for a few minutes while he listened to the conversation Vik and Kali were having.

“-i mean it's probably convenient to be small since you're a dasher, you would have less air resistance to worry about when running around” Kali said, taking a swig from her canteen she kept in her coat.

“I do wear a relatively large coat though, so that probably counteracts any benefit I get from being short. Anyway, could we not talk about my height for a bit. You said you're a heaver what's that like?” said Vik, leaning against a perpendicular wall to Kali.

“Oh it's alright, means I never really need to worry about how much I'm carrying. But i think it shines more with other Kenek since so many things are dependent on the mass of the object so having the ability to change that value makes just everyone’s jobs easier”

“Makes sense, by the way, where are you from? Your accent doesn't sound like you're from Artagan”

“I'm surprised you noticed, i'm from Kuralon, i thought i had adopted the accent pretty well” 

“You put too much emphasis on your ‘E’s and not enough on your ‘A’s, it's not that noticeable you still did quite a good job of adopting the accent. I've just always had a good ear for spotting those kinds of things. It's easier to steal from folk that that aren't from here”

“That makes sense. So you lived on the streets eh? How's that like?”

“Eh it could be worse, rats are abundant and more or less safe to eat, and the NDM have soup kitchens set up where you can get a bowl for a sliver which is pretty affordable and the food itself isn't too bad. Sleeping conditions are about what you’d expect. The most dangerous thing would probably be others trying to steal from you but as long as you look poor enough most will leave you alone. Also if sleep high enough up on the escapement ladders most won't even think about coming up there”

“Interesting i expected street life to be a lot worse”

“No, yeah, it's not too bad, although that's probably because the NDM wants a population that actually wants to work for them, if they treat people like shit then no one will want to work and then well the whole city goes to shit. By the way, what brought you to Artagan? Surly you didn't come for the scenery,”

“I actually came here with the Port guild when they needed more staff at the Artagan port. But then they ended up laying me off and I've just been hanging around for a bit hoping I could find a job that would get me off of here before I ran out of shards. I'm surprised that there isn't a bigger demand for Kenek on ships. I heard they made crafts that don't require Athos for propulsion but I thought they were rather expensive and a pain to maintain.” 

“From what i heard most civilian spacecrafts have Kenek that are either friends or friends of friends, and most commercial aircrafts don't tend to use the local job centers”

“Really that's good to know, makes me wonder what we signed up for here…”

Lan snapped out of his musings that most would call eavesdropping but hey what do i know. He put the lid on his carafe, put a new filter into it and poured it into two metal mugs, filling the ship with the smell of fresh coffee. He walked over to Nell who was still passed out on the couch. Lan tapped him on the head waking him up and handed him one of the mugs. He sat down next to Nell, mug clenched between his hands while he rehearsed his speech in his head.

alright, yall mind imagining that i used gender neutral pronouns for Vik in the first chapter? thanks.

oh and i absolutely recommend this vlog playlist if you're doing a long stint of writing, its really relaxing and honestly just people being nice to people, its really cozy.

anyway i need to tag a bunch of folk now eh?

first mutuals,

@ohnoitsslime @kaylinalexanderbooks @theeccentricraven

@illarian-rambling @beloveddawn-blog @caligusabs

@weird-dork37 @ratedn @leahnardo-da-veggie

@you-need-not-apply @elsie-writes @fwoofz

and now non mutual tags,

@mr-orion @squarebracket-trickster @the-ellia-west

[dangerouslyintofictionalloves]

Are these just casual movie nights anymore?

Author Notes- so my friend on tiktok had done these 3 videos with her biases in each group and then what their booktok trope would be. And I told her I'd so write her these fanfics BASICALLY A YEAR AGO! AND NOW IM FINALLY PULLING THROUGH! I loved writing this tho. It made me giggle and kick my feet as I thought of the scenarios. Anyways Highway 1009 was what I was listening to on repeat... while writing this.

Pairings: Liliy & SKZ Hyunjin

Trope - Friends to Lovers

Story Tags & Disclaimers: Fluffy, Cute, Hasn't been edited or anything, it might be a little bad since I don't think I'm that good of a writer, English is my dominant language but not my first so I'm just BYElingual, Basically Idol x OC when really idol x bestie, idk what else to say... I hope yall enjoy

For as long as they could remember, Liliy and Hyunjin always had movie nights once to twice a week since they were kids. It was always easy for them to do so when they lived right next door to each other.

Hyunjin always had a stash of Liliy’s favorite snacks in a locked box tucked away in the back of the pantry in his home, while Liliy would always have a duplicate of Hyunjin’s favorite hoodie and blanket stashed away in the small square ottoman that was always tucked in the corner of her family’s living room since no one in her family liked to use it due to its limited amount of storage space and they didn’t want to just get rid of it either. It cost good money for that little baby ottoman.

As the pair grew older, starting in middle school and continuing on, Liliy and Hyunjin started to celebrate a ‘friends’ Valentine’s Day together every year. They both weren’t really interested in casual dating like their peers.

This made many people suspicious of the true nature of their relationship but the pair always denied the dating allegations they received from both their mutual friends and classmates.

That brings us to today. Where our story takes place with a more grown Liliy and Hyunjin, now in university, living in the campus dorms.

……

On the opposite sides of campus from each other.

H: hey you still have time for our traditional singles valentine’s day?

L: of course, i wouldn’t miss it even if finals were around the corner

H: alright cool, give me a call when you get close to my dorm building and i’ll come out and walk you inside.

L: 👍🏼👌👍🏼

Hyunjin looked around the living room with a smile feeling accomplished and proud of the surprise that he planned with his roommates for Liliy. The boys helped him set up everything in the living room down to the sign.

They’ve been celebrating Valentine’s Day together every year since they were kids under the guise of being just friends but they just never wanted to admit the tension that would build up every year to themselves.

I know it’s pretty cliche right?

The pair had a secret crush on each other for YEARS and just kept denying it to themselves and everyone else around them, even their families.

Well- Hyunjin planned to change that forever. He wanted to make this night as memorable as possible for Liliy. He wanted this to be a joyful, one day nostalgic core memory for her. Something she can always fondly look back on as they’re growing old and gray together.

The boys were all out of the dorm suite and staying the night with their girlfriends tonight to give the pair privacy they need for something like this.

L: Jinnie Boy i am in viewing distance of your dorm building.

Hyunjin smiled at the text and took one last look around the living room before making his way to go and escort Princessa Liliy to hopefully a good night to remember forever.

Liliy eyed Hyunjin suspiciously as she was processing what he was requesting of her the moment they got to his floor. “Now, why do you want me to close my eyes before we go inside?”

“Don’t worry about it, when have I ever been unworthy of your trust?” he chuckled.

With that logic that she couldn’t deny, Liliy huffed in defeat and covered her eyes with both hands as she turned towards the front door. Hyunjin smiled and led the smaller girl inside the dorm suite making sure that she would not bump into anything.

Just as they made it to the living room Hyunjin leaned in close to Liliy tense, her heart racing a million miles per second. “Alright, you can open your eyes” he whispered as his lips ghosted over the shell of her ear.

With a small gulp, Liliy slowly lowered her hands and looked around the living room in shock. Hyunjin had set up a cozy romantic movie night picnic for the two of them. It was like something out of a romance book she had read and told him about.

“You put all of this together for me?”

Hyunjin’s heart swooned as he realized that she was getting a little emotional as she looked around the room slowly this time to take in each and every detail of the decorations, the cushions, and the picnic itself.

Before he knew it, his arms were securely wrapped around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder as he smiled, happy with her reaction.

“I hope it’s not too much, but I just- I wanted to be the one to end the friendship and take a leap in bringing our relationship to a different level”

Liliy leaned back into his embrace wiping away stray tears and giggled softly as she shook her head in disbelief. “You know it always baffled me on how you stayed single for all these years when you have treated me so well.”

“Well, I didn’t want anyone else and needed to make sure it was the right time before making this decision.” he responded as he kissed the top of her head.

“This is my official confession to you Liliy.” She pulled away from his embrace, turning to face him with a warm smile. She wanted to be as attentive as possible with the feeling that he has more to say.

“I have been falling for you more and more every day since we were in middle school. Now that we are where we are in life, I didn’t want to waste time by pretending like we aren’t anything more than just friends. I’ve finally admitted it to myself and now to you. I like you, I can feel that you like me too. So, will you officially be my girlfriend?”

She giggled as he got shy and looked down to his feet towards the end of his speech. Not sure if he was going to be rejected or not, Hyunjin kept his head tilted down.

“Yes Hyunjin, of course I will be your girlfriend”

His head shot up fast as he looked into her eyes to see if she was just joking around with him or if she was serious. With a cute little nose crinkle, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. “It took you long enough to ask me, Jinnie Boy,” she teased.

Heat rose to Hyunjin’s cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Liliy in return and nuzzled her hair with a sigh of relief.

[actualbird]

is the mattress on the floor so bad tho 😭😭 i grew up just having it on the floor. still do because i move around a lot and have fallen off the bed so often i would probably break my neck and die if the mattress was higher than like a foot (....lukes previous bed was kind of cute tho maybe i just have bad taste 😔)

irt luke and mc's bed on the floor in their anniv 3 home

anon im so sorry in advanced because the response im about to type is probably way too much infodumping than you were expecting but, just to preface all of this, nah having a mattress on the floor Is Not Necessarily Bad and especially in cases like urs where falling off is a risk, having it on the floor is a great workaround!!!

that being said.........There Are Some Cons To Having a Mattress On The Floor :(

note that i said "mattress" specifically because thats honestly where the problem comes in, because there are many other different types of sleeping materials that can (and should!) be put on the floor for a floor sleeping arrangement, but mattresses Specifically (and uhh just to be clear, definition of mattress for this post is a bed/bed portion created with Fabric and filled with some kind of firm material as the guts) but like NOT TO SAY THAT IT'S THE WORST THING EVER LIKE full disclosure a good 65% of why i rag on luke having a palette bedframe (and later on just having it on the FLOOR) is cuz sometimes it just heals my heart to make fun of my fave. it's like how i'll always slander his blocky xmas partyland event sweater even if at this point he's definitely worn Worse Sweaters (like his mr butterfly kisses cards sweater....what WAS that) but making fun of the blocky xmas partyland sweater is just so much fun now that i cant let go of it

but in addition to "making fun of my baby beloved loserboy luke pearce is fun", i also have a One Subjective Reason for being averse to beds on the floor + Two Objective Reasons + just to round it out, a bunch of Good Ways To Have A Floor Sleeping Arrangement

Subjective Reason On Why Luke Floor Bed Irks Me: doesnt maximize storage space

so this is subjective, it's wholly just something i think personally. but man not having a bedframe is nerfing one's self at a whole bunch of storage space!!!

in small spaces especially!! in smaller living spaces, maximizing space Vertically (shelves, bunk beds, raised types of structures, loft designs, etc) is a much more efficient way to go about making more space into Usable Space. and luke's original home, the third floor above his antique shop, is pretty cramped. the kitchen is right next to his bed and hes got a bunch of objects just strewn around on the floor and god god i wanna clean his room so bad because LUKE. WE CAN FIX THIS. THINGS DONT HAVE TO BE ON THE FLOOR AS A POTENTIAL TRIPPING HAZARD, BUT IF THE REASON THEYRE THERE IS CUZ OF A LACK OF STORAGE SPACE IVE GOT A SURPRISE FOR U........BEDFRAME! which leads to space Under the bed to use for storage or whatnot

Objective Reasons On Why Luke Floor Bed Irks Me:

can leave u more susceptible to dust (bcuz ur closer to the floor, where dust gets) and thus activate allergies. this can be avoided by regular cleaning of course but just be careful cuz yknow when u sweep the floor around bed, clean the bed right after too cuz who knows how much dust or whatnot had gotten stirred up and landed on the bed. n

i live in the philippines and the weather is often very humid and wet here and if where you are is also very humid then BEWARE BEWARE BED ON FLOOR MIGHT GET MOLD. mattresses are big chunks of usually absorbent material and if it's on the floor it is Not getting as ventilated as a bed on a bedframe (since air can pass under and around it easier) and if ur not checking ur mattress regularly, funky stuff can grow compleyely unbeknownst to u.

But There Are Obviously Good And Great Floor Sleeping Arrangements

im no bed expert or whatever but based on my general knowledge and experience, what makes Mattresses not suited for the floor is the fact that theyre Chunks, and Chunks tend to absorb things around it and keep it inside to create all sorts of problems and evils. to battle that, Chunks generally should be elevated via bedframe just so they have more surface area to breathe instead of absorb.

so Chunks dont do great directly on the floor. but yknow what does? MATS!!!!! FLAT PLANES!!!!! examples!! banig (philippines), tatami (japan), and probably MANY MORE BUT THESE R THE ONLY TWO I CAN REMEMBER AT 5AM WHEN IM WRITING THIS RESPONSE

these r not Chunks these are Planes and also by virtue of being made from Dried Materials (palm leaves, rice straw, etc) and also built for asian climates (tend to be humid and wet for significant portions of time) theyre less likely to absorb and create problems. obviously theres still Upkeep and Cleaning involved but in general, yknow, still better

tldr: modern mattresses are not engineered for a bunch of the problems that the floor can pose. Mats Were Made For The FLoor so theyre Built To Withstand General Floor Problems. of course, every person will have different sleeping needs and sleeping problems to solve, so there is No Single Correct Way To Be Doing This, it depends on u and ur lifestyle and sleep-style. but also i just want luke to maximize his living space. let me in there i gotta clean his room plEASE PLEASE

again, im sorry for this response. u unknowingly activated a portion of my brain that has too much passionate knowledge on the mundane

[yogorlhilanne]

My commentary and opinions of the recent Inazuma musical event 😄💕💕 + screenshots!!

Actually I took this during the first day of the event so it wasn't really like the beginning but technically it was. Honestly, for such a small space it was genuinely nice and chill yet so pleasant at the same time. Though it was claimed by Itto it was gonna be rock n' roll, the event entirely gave comfort and not much lore drops but it was nice to participate in. This is actually my first time ever interacting in an event bc I left during Sumeru when it came out and only came back when Fontaine was out for quite a while because my old phone didn't have enough storage. Yada yada, over all, I would give this small event a 4.8/10. Could've done better but still cool I guess?

(Maybe no spoilers or maybe some?? 👀)

OMG I FEARED FOR GOROU'S LIFE AND I WAS SO IN SHOCK I HAD TO MAKE COFFEE AND COME BACK TO MY PHONE CAUSE I GENUINELY CAN'T HANDLE SURPRISING AND POSSIBLY EMBARRASSING SHIT. (maybe im being overdramatic lolz) Thankfully, Itto didn't find out gorou's secret identity at the end but jesus I was gonna go tooth and nail to save Gorou, man 😭😂

The sibling-like relationship with Paimon and Itto is definitely every genshin fan's favourite. You canNOT tell me otherwise. (Side note, I think Paimon's voice has gotten more mature and calmer a bit. Perhaps the VA's voice got tired from all the screeching and shit) Also, I love how much more expressions that Hoyo is actually putting into characters and facial expressions, I can't FATHOM over Paimon and Travaler's shared expressions oml 😂💕💕

I KNOW WHAT YOU AAAAARRRRRRREEEE‼️‼️‼️‼️ 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

... I'm normal.

I JUST WANTED TO TAKE A SCREENSHOT OF MISS HINA IM NOT WEIRD PLEA— okay anyways. I had to make my phone lag a bit by fixing my in-game graphs so the photo wouldn't be too shit and I can still see Miss Hina. Perhaps I could draw Miss Hina someday but, oh well!

Okay, that's all! Uhrm... I'm a gonna disappear again for another year or more lol!

[anos-sensei]

Imagine hc.

Mammon snaps.

Parts: one two three four

I hope you enjoy this.

I've had this hc for a LONG time bubbling in my head twisting and crunching up all the little space storage It had left.

Love I'd APPRECIATED!

Warning: strong language, cursing, mild angst, mammon centric. No mc.

Mammon was tired to say the least, he was, in fact. Exhausted.

A few famillars of him had been catching anomalies up in the human worlds, people abusing of his blessings and his curses getting out of hand.

He had been working his ass off the past few weeks and today was FINALLY the day where he could sleep a bit.

Even though he was a demon, unlike Levi, who by simply raising the temperature of his room could stay awake months on end, or Lucifer who simply refused to sleep because of his fucked pride, he was semi normal. He needed sleep every once in a while.

And the witch that summoned him this morning didn't help, that BITCH pissed him off to no end.

How can they even expect him to act nice and docile, when they KNEW, he has been this busy.

Opening the door to his room he was expecting to find his ol' beautiful room. Goldie framed on his bedside table, his pretty pool table, his perfect bed, but instead, His room was completely empty.

He came home in the early afternoon, his head pounding from the incesant calls he had been having from both devildom and the human realms.

his familars had been going insane from the sudden rupture in balance.

Unfortunately for him, he didn't have the time to tell Lucifer before he had to go, it was an urgent matter and as much as he would've liked to delay it even he had some sense of importance.

His heart sank.

What the fuck happened? He was only away for what? Maybe three weeks?

Sighing mammon drops his bag on the floor, making his way to the dining room where he most likely would find the oldest, sipping a cup of coffee with probably a newspaper in hand.

Sniffing the air he could still smell the faint presence of his belongings... and the strong smell of Lucifer.

Hearing the noise the eldest looks up, his eyebrow rising at the sight of his younger brother.

Entering the hall, just like expected Lucifer was seated at the end of the table, his aura proud and relaxed.

To his surprise though, beelzebub, asmodeus, Leviathan and satan were there too, each doing their own thing.

Too tired to care though mammon walks in a straight line to Lucifer placing his hands on the table with a soft bang.

"Give me back my stuff." Mammon says dryly before lucifer could say a word.

And if it wasn't for his current mood, mammon would have laughed at the surprise in lucifer's face.

"Ugh mammon, it's not a big deal you had too much stuff either way." Asmo snaps quietly, going back to his phone.

Satan was watching with a slight smirk and asmo was already starting to feel annoyed at mammon's rude behavior.

"Yeah, you should be happy we didn't sell it, you still owe me about 80.000 grimm." Levi added absentmindly, focused on his game.

The growl that escaped mammon shut asmo and Levi up immediately, surprising Satan too. They had never seen mammon in such a palpable mood.

Mammon was still trying to keep his cool by supressing his aura, but it was getting harder by the minute.

"Shut it. I'm talking to Lucifer." Mammon whispers harshly, venom lacing the edges of his words. He side eyes asmo briefly, His eyes glowing a cold blue.

"Im not in the mood for you guy's worthless teasing and useless grudges." He stares coldly at his two younger siblings, for a moment asmo's blood runs cold, shievers running through his body, his own body feeling the urge to look down.

Turning his head back to Lucifer he repeats, letter for letter, his demand.

"Give me back my stuff."

Lucifer's eye twitches at mammon's sour mood and disrespectful tone.

"You think you can act like this without consequences?"

Mammon straightens back up, pinching the bridge of his nose, a clear sign that he was reaching his last straw... If he wasn't already biting through that straw.

Swiftly Levi swats asmo's phone down, getting the fifth born's attention.

"Ya seriously think I give a shit about the consequences of shit right now? I just want to take a fuckin' shower and pass out on my bed. Don't push it, luci." The anger in his tone and voice is clear, catching levi off guard. He pauses his game, pocketing his console.

To someone who had never heard it, it sounded like he was just annoyed, none of the brothers besides Levi had ever heard or experienced mammon's anger.

"We have to leave" Levi whispers and signals it to Satan who was absolutely confused, but he trusted his brother's judgment.

"This isn't going to end well" he mouths, and Satan nods, his curiosity peeking but his concerns for beel were greater. He nudged beel getting the giant's attention.

"We've got to leave." Satan whispers and beel looks up, confusion on his face when he sees mammon.

"Mammon! You're back!" Beel exclaims excitedly, his puppy like eyes looking up to his big brother who's cold glowing eyes direct to him.

"go sleep, beel." Mammon says, lacing his words with source magic source. With that single phrase beel's body started swaying, eyelids drooping before closing.

his massive body gently swaying to the side softly lying over another chair.

"You three, leave. Now. Take beel with you." Lucifer orders and the three of them can only obey, Levi transforming swiftly and taking beel with his tail. Ushering the two others outside.

Mammon had //never// used magic, let alone source magic on any of his brothers, especially not beel.

Satan's eyes widen when he finally realises the gravity of the situation, he uncounsciously takes a step back when momentarily a crushing suffocating magic permeates the air before immediately disappearing again.

Lucifer inhales sharply, keeping his surprise down at mammon's anger. For mammon to let his aura slip...? Sighing he places his coffee cup down.

"Mammon, try to calm down.." Levi whispers and quickly runs out when a fizzle of electricity sparks besides his head.

Levi hisses, shutting the door behind him.

"What just happened...?" Asmo asks, having seen the spark next to levi's head too.

"We're in for some violence... If you could even call that violence... I haven't seen mammon this angry since... " Levi sighs remembering the last time he had seen mammon this angry.

During their fall, when one of the angels had injured belphie who was reaching his limit, the angel had mocked them and mammon went feral. He went on a rampage killing hundreds of angels in the few minutes that followed.

And while his attention was turned away lilith got shot, which pushed mammon over the edge, forcing him to use source magic. Mammon's transformation as a demon had started then, horns already pushing through his skull, blood running over his face from ruptures formed by it.

Just thinking about that time send chills up leviathan's spine. He never wanted to see his brother like that again.

"Since?" Satan asks, having zero recollections of mammon being angry at all. Irritated, yes, crying, yes, annoyed, yes. But never angry he would always brush off things like these and beg for forgiveness.

Levi gives Satan a side eye, glancing at asmo who seems to get it. Asmo hadn't witnessed mammon in his full glory, but he had heard of it. After all rumors travel fast. The one who had corrupted destroyed and annihilated entire countries and civilisations, consumed by greed, his blessing enriching some countries and sinking others in the depths of poverty.

Asmo sighs and pushes Levi and Satan up to the attic.

"It's not important, let's go put beel to bed and try to get belphie to cast a resting spell on the dining room... If it not too late... At least."

[southernlynxx]

Autumn Night

Rating: Gen Status: Complete Fandom: RDR2 Characters: Arthur Morgan & John Marston Canon/AU: Pre-Canon

Summary: “What do you think’s going on?” John asks, kicking his feet idly as he follows Arthur’s attention to the town. John has yet to visit, so knows nothing of the decorations that line the streets; scarecrows pitched in patches of grass and pumpkins lining peoples’ porches with carved grins and grimaces. Little ghosts fashioned from old handkerchiefs hanging in shop windows and paper bats dangling from the ceiling by lengths of string.  “Harvest festival,” Arthur supplies, to which John hums. Warnings: N/A Notes: Written for @rdrevents Halloween Bingo!

The sun sets early now; in its absence comes a chill that whispers of winter months lurking just beyond the horizon. But it’s still early days yet, and the ambient heat of the fire beneath the stew pot easily chases away the nip of fall from Arthur’s skin as he pours a ladle of broth into his bowl.

“Ah, a second helping, Mr. Morgan?” Pearson asks from his table nearby, sounding pleased as he carves up a slab of meat to be smoked and salted for long-term storage.

“Nah, I’ve had my share, Mr. Pearson. Figured I oughta take some out to John; he’s probably gone through his rations for the night already,” he offers dryly.

Pearson laughs and nods in agreement. “Boy eats like a horse! Gotta wonder where it all goes.”

“Right through ‘im is my guess; it certainly don’t stick around,” Arthur scoffs. Even in his twenty-first year, John Marston is slimmer than a string-bean and lanky as a foal with only the broadness of his shoulders and the surly jut of his jaw to give him any credibility as an outlaw.

With a parting wave to the cook, Arthur makes his way through the camp; familiar even in its many iterations with every move and pitch. A new wagon now joins the caravan encircling the outer edges of the camp, procured to cart the belongings of their newer members that Pearson wasn't content to store in his chuckwagon any longer.

For Dutch, the acquisition is a sign of their growing strength and comfortable means of living in the face of their nomadic lifestyle, despite it being their crimes and his grand philosophies that propelled it. Or perhaps even in honour of it; proof that they didn’t need to bend to the laws forced upon them to thrive in a world trying to stifle their free-minded thoughts. Arthur is frankly just relieved not to have to listen to Ms Grimshaw and Mr. Pearson’s incessant bickering about the lack of space anymore, or the sound of Pearson cussing the air blue every morning when he inevitably tripped over a trunk or got caught in the canvas of a spare tent, even if the memories still tease the beginnings of a smile out of Arthur.

He steps beyond the outermost wagons, which hoard the light and warmth of the campfires within their walls of wood and canvas; deprived of that, his skin bristles with gooseflesh as he’s exposed to the sudden chill. While the brief thought to collect his jacket crosses his mind, his gait doesn’t falter, pushing him forward away from the remnants of light and into the surrounding trees.

---

They’d settled down not a week ago in an old woodland not a stone’s throw from the town of Weststead; a quaint little commune that looked like it had upped and migrated straight from Massecheusettes to nestle on the fringes of the American West. It’s a small but serviceable town, with pretty painted houses and shops lining a cobbled mainstreet, the outlying land utilised for farming and ranching. The people were unusually amenable to strangers, and Arthur would bet his hat that’d been what convinced Dutch and Hosea that this was the perfect place to pitch-up for winter. After all, what could be better than a town yet to be jaded to travellers by criminals and conmen?

What surprises Arthur is that winter still lies some weeks worth of travel away. While a blanket of fallen leaves crunched beneath his boots, the trees are still flush with red and gold foliage, their shades distinguishable even in the low evening light. They won’t be seeing snow until at least late November he reckons, but he certainly ain’t the type to complain about settling down in one place for a good few months, though he can’t guarantee that certain others wouldn’t find themselves quickly growing restless.

“How goes the watch, boy?” Arthur drawls, picking his way out the trees to an old forgotten wagon atop crippled wheels at the forest’s edge. A slim figure perched on the end of the wagon bed sits up sharply, but the nose of the rifle in hand remains pointing upwards.

“You checkin’ up on me?” John rebuffs him, sounding annoyed at the accusation manifested in his own head..

Arthur snorts. “Should I be?” he asks, “Or d’you just not want this food I brought you?”

“You bought food?” John’s tone shifts immediately, his gruff demeanour perking up at the prospect of dinner. He sets the rifle aside, brushing off the damp leaves from the wagon and patting the wood next to him in invitation for Arthur to sit. With a shake of his head, Arthur passes over the bowl and spoon he’d brought along and leans back against the wagon, John’s leg a faint warm pressure against his hip and thigh.

“You’d think you’d learn to bring enough food to see you through the night,” he remarks, to which John scoffs through a mouthful of stew, chewing obnoxiously on a particularly grisly bit of meat.

“Y’know Grimshaw only lets me take so much,” he mutters, “barely lasts me half the night.” “Y’ever think to not eat it all in the first few hours?” “Whats’it Hosea says? I’m a growing boy?” he grins, to which Arthur can’t help throwing back his head with a barking laugh.

“You’ve been a ‘growing boy’ for near on ten years now, y’greedy bastard.” He tilts his head to follow the already empty bowl that John sets down on the wagon - damn near licked clean - before looking out over the fields below.

There’s a perfect harvest moon hovering large and gold in the twilight sky, casting light over freshly cropped wheat fields dotted with haystacks and abandoned tools. The town of Weststead is a point of illumination in the pitch landscape, warm with the glow of fires and lanterns. Even distant as they are, he hears the ever so faint sound of commotion; the peals of shrill childish laughter the easiest to be heard, innocent and joyous.

“What do you think’s going on?” John asks, kicking his feet idly as he follows Arthur’s attention to the town. John has yet to visit, so knows nothing of the decorations that line the streets; scarecrows pitched in patches of grass and pumpkins lining peoples’ porches with carved grins and grimaces. Little ghosts fashioned from old handkerchiefs hanging in shop windows and paper bats dangling from the ceiling by lengths of string.

“Harvest festival,” Arthur supplies, to which John hums.

“Didn’t realise it was that late in the season…” He feels John’s eyes on him before the younger man opens his mouth. “Got any snacks?” Arthur snorts. “-for later, I mean!” John insists, “C’mon Arthur, I’ll be here hours, and you’ve always got somethin’ in that purse.” 

“Ain’t a purse,” Arthur shoots back, affronted, eyebrow twitching when he spots John’s shit-eating grin. “You got a funny way of gettin’ what you want, boy,” he mutters, but nonetheless dutifully fishes out a handful of candy from his bag and drops it into John’s lap.

“Holy shit,” John responds, rifling through the mixture of hard candies and chocolate drops, even a toffee or two. He shoots Arthur a smirk. “You been handin’ out sweets to the town kids? You mean ol’ outlaw!” He laughs, rough and gravelly, when Arthur shoulders him, head ducking down so his hat shields his eyes and his ruddy cheeks. “Don’t worry, Morgan, y’already bought my silence,” he teases, popping a toffee between his lips. “Well, make sure t’stay silent,” Arthur huffs, despite the smile traitorously twitching at the corners of his own mouth.

Their conversation lapses and Arthur opts to listen instead to the distant sounds of the town and the gentle fall breeze rasping through the wheat fields. The whisper of the leaves that drift down from the treetops and the creak of the old rotten wagon as John shifts and resettles. The rustle of foraging critters in the undergrowth, accompanied by the unfaltering chores of crickets hidden away in the weeds and thicket

The perfect fall night; set to welcome winter yet defy it all the samel with the warmth of the fires and tangible joy of the season’s end, shared in a long, companionable silence beneath the harvest moon.

[keijifairy]

big little things 〃

♡ kageyama, nishinoya, oikawa, iwaizumi, bokuto, akaashi, atsumu, osamu, suna do that show how in love they are with you.

genre. fluff fluff fluff

warning. kinda spoiler for timeskip! bokuto

author’s note. hi,, im so sorry for promising to write but not writing :// i hope this disgustingly fluffy thing will make up for it as a late thank you for 400+ followers!!! aaaaa what 💗💗💗!!!!! 

+ writing this was super fun but also kinda upsetting bc sum of these are inspired by real life love stories wow </3

༘ kageyama frozen by your door with a painfully awkward smile and an assortment of wildflowers in his grasp is truly a sight to behold. before he picks you up for a date, he plucks flowers from the park near his house and shoves them into your hands with an incoherent compliment he exclaims (along the lines of “your face looks pretty”, you realize when he mumbles it the next minute and looking at anywhere but your face). you accept them with a giggle and return the sentiment with your lips brushing his cheek which blossoms into a deeper shade of red. hinata doesn’t believe that the rigid boy with a volleyball for a brain could be a sappy romantic like how you describe him to be.

༘ nishinoya is well aware of your sweet tooth, which is especially fond of chocolates. packs upon packs of the tiny chocolate kisses you secretly pop in your mouth during classes are stashed in his fridge, backpack, and even in the pockets of his uniform as a result. “it’s for emergencies,” he assures you with a proud grin whenever you find yet another family bag of hershey’s somewhere near him. you didn’t guess that not getting a particularly good mark on a test or homework piling up as the days pass were the so-called emergencies he proclaims: when your shoulders sag and your feet shuffle on the ground without a thought, the taste of chocolate lingering in your lips come as a surprise. his favorite laughter finally reaches his ears and nishinoya can’t help but gift you with another of his own chocolate kiss.

༘ oikawa is stubborn, incredibly so, but he’s only doing his best — even tries to push himself past his limit. it’s no surprise to enter the gymnasium to the thud of the ball as it hits the ground and you observe how strands of his hair stick to his forehead while his heavy breaths fill the room. you offer to help, to wait for him until he’s had enough—for too many to count—but he only flashes you a grin and lightly urges you out to the door every single time. oikawa couldn’t bring himself to focus if he watches you jolting awake every now and then instead of resting after bearing the weight of school — though he worries either way. with his phone leaning against his bag, he initiates a video call that gives you the perfect view of the boy jumping in the court through your screen as you make your way home. 

༘ iwaizumi has never gotten used to the ridiculous amount of nail polish you have collected ever since the both of you settled into your own home. he looks back and forth between your face and the small bottle of polish in your hand with his lips pressed together. “do you really need six bottles of blue?” you scoff and correct him for the nth time about the exact name of each color and end it off with a “none of your business, haji.”, causing him to narrow his eyes at you in concern with an exasperated sigh. quite ironic of him, acting so bothered and all, when you catch him watching a “how to build a nail polish shelf” video the next day.

༘ bokuto still calls one of his teammates every wednesday morning to inform them that he would have to miss practice, and atsumu still snickers on the other end of the line with an, “again? are ya sure yer not just slacking off?” wednesdays are scheduled for your doctor’s appointments, after all, so bokuto always makes sure to make it up to the other guys by doing extra drills or staying another hour the next day because he doesn’t intend on missing a single meeting. hospitals and clinics aren’t places you enjoy and you don’t feel comfortable talking with the doctor on your own, but you don’t worry too much — especially with bokuto seated beside you, listening intently to their words with his thumb rubbing circles on the top of your hand. his presence alone is enough to ease your anxieties. (his teammates don’t have it in them to be mad, only thinking about how whipped bokuto is for you).

༘ akaashi knows the moment you open the door with your eyes trained on your shoes that the day hasn’t been the kindest to you. he approaches you in quiet steps, taking your bag from your hands and placing it on the couch. you think the way his hand holds yours so delicately is enough to make you cry as he guides you to the bubble bath he had prepared at the right time, as if his sixth sense had told him of what you were feeling. the scent of lavender oil lingers in the air, and the flickering candles cast a soft glow throughout the room; it’s a comforting silence, save the occasional sniffles that tone down as akaashi gently scrapes through your scalp with shampoo. when the suds of soap are rinsed off of your body and he caresses your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in the comfort of your bed, sleep crawls into your eyes as a “thank you, keiji.” falls from your lips. he only kisses your forehead in response.

༘ atsumu takes tentative sips on the cold can of cherry cola you offer to him every day. it’s the only drink you purchase at the vending machine during lunch period and what you grab when you two stop at the convenience store for movie night snacks. he doesn’t bother to buy himself one, as you immediately nudge the can on his cheek as soon as you open it. its taste is something he could never get used to, but he swallows it nonetheless, only to convince you afterward that he couldn’t finish it on his own — and of course, he teases you, just like in every opportunity he grabs when you’re simply minding your own business and completely unaware of the trick up his sleeve — and always, you’re left stumbling over your words as you stare at him in shock? embarrassment? offense? perhaps a bit of all of them? but he does know that “that was an indirect kiss just now.” of his and your adorable reaction make cherry cola worth it.

༘ osamu comes home in your arms with drooping eyes and a worn smile. his words are almost incoherent when he mumbles them on your shirt, eventually turning into snores when you tell him to at least wash his face. owning quite a famous shop with the best onigiris in town (your words and his) can be hectic; with the day spent molding countless onigiris and tending to every customer, that ends with his arm limp on top of your waist. with your own work to deal with that occupies almost the rest of your days, there would be no room to breathe with just the both of you — but with osamu, it’s not like that at all. the soft sizzling from the kitchen wakes you up to an empty space beside you and your stomach’s quick to grumble in anticipation. the shop opens early, but osamu doesn’t leave until the both of you start the day eating at the dinner table and talking about the events of yesterday. it’s no doubt he’s still exhausted, so the small gesture of waking up early in the morning to cook your favorite breakfast and the gentle hum that greets you when you wrap your arms around him is enough to make you full. 

༘ suna must be obsessed with you! might be the first thing someone would think when they get their hands on the boy’s phone. his gallery is a gold mine: full of images and videos he takes of you in unknowing times that he has definitely used for blackmail at least twice a week. nibbling on your pen with your eyebrows scrunched when you attempt to start homework, cheek squishing on your pillow as a line of drool slides down the side of your mouth, clutching your stomach and throwing your head back because you’re wheezing too much over something he said, and plenty more embarrassing moments you don’t like looking back on are what fill his storage space. he refuses to delete even a single one, despite how blurry they come out or how you complain about how ridiculous you think you look. suna is obsessed with you — you would know if only you notice how he stops after he snaps a photo, with a small adoring smile that disappears as soon as it comes before he teases you to no end. 

[bitch-im-your-biggest-nightmare]

No! This isn’t how you’re supposed to play the game! [Father!Corpse x Child!Reader]

Part 2 of Goddamnit kid, now they know I’m a single father! Warnings: None Summary: While streaming Among Us, Corpse decides to teach his kid Y/N how to play the game! A/N: And yes my warnings have the non-warning as well, just so you know what to expect from the story. Also, Requests for Cr1tiKal and Corpse Husband are always open! Ask or message me if you have any ideas. Also, message or ask if you’d like to be tagged- just please state what kind of fics you wanna be tagged be on. I’m always open to tag people! Request: Yes  Tag list:  @save-the-sky @alilshit @whatifwedo @hughugh20 @fleurmoon @bi-andready-tocry @itsminniekat @yoongi-holland @loraleiix @hacker-ghost @fanworrior @marvelous-musicals @annshit @unknown-and-invisible @letsloveimagines @hairbrush-anon @babyhoneystvles 

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“Oh by the way guys I have Y/N here for the stream today.” Corpse said to his chat as he moved his little guy around in Among Us. “Hai!” Y/N said happily. Corpse had them sitting on his lap just chilling and watching their father play. It has been a couple months since the announcement of Y/Ns existence happened and everyone fell in love. Corpse did have to tell Y/N how to deal with it and not to share his identity to anyone who asks. He was enjoying a happy life, getting so much support by his fans and his friends. Life was good, for once. But with happiness comes sadness, and of course with friendliness comes hatred. And there was hate.

People did not trust Corpse with a child, sadly. The hashtag ‘CorpseCPS’ trended on Twitter before someone came out and told everyone to fuck off. But even if that hashtag stopped, that didn’t stop the haters. People still tweeted about it, hated on Corpses kid, and just been assholes. 

“Corpse Husband is not fit to be a father. He already told a majority of his fans about his mental problems, so do you really think he will raise that kid properly? #CorpseCPS” 

“Wouldn’t be surprised if Y/N will grow up to not be able to sleep at night. Just like their father.”

“I stg I bet Y/N is terrified of Corpse. Have you heard his music and seen his videos? I wouldn’t trust someone like him with a child, he could emotionally abuse them. Someone call CPS!!! #CorpseCPS”

“Who the fuck is accepting single fathers? Children belong to their mothers, not their fathers. I hope @Corpse_Husband realized how he fucked up and gives that poor kid back to its mother.”

“Bet that the mother of Corpses kid fought so much for custody on that poor child on god.”

“Someone save this child. #CorpseCPS”

It really got to Corpse, making him think he wasn’t capable of raising Y/N. Was everybody right? Was he going to mess this child up? He didn’t like thinking about, but his mind always trailed back to it. It worried him, the only thing he wanted was to make his kid happy. Was he doing a bad job? Was his kid going to grow up wrong? 

“Can you guys please let me live my life and raise my kid? Don’t think you’d feel good if someone said you weren’t capable of raising the kid you had. Jesus.”

Corpse Tweeted that when the anxiety and bad thoughts got too much for him, hoping this would calm them down. But one small Tweet doesn’t go a long way sometimes. He was glad most of his fanbase supported him, at least his friends did. And now he didn’t have to worry about the haters. Right now, it was streaming with Y/N time.

“Alright Y/N, you control the little astronaut like this..” Corpse put Y/Ns hand on the mouse and put his over it, moving his horned avatar through the halls on the screen. “Those red words are my gamer tag, Corpse. Red means im an imposter and white means crewmate. The goal of the game as an imposter is to kill everyone without them finding out its you. The crewmates need to find out who the imposter is an eject them.” 

“Okeh!” Y/N said excitedly and laughed.

Corpse smiled fondly. He loved Y/Ns laugh, it melted his heart. “Ok, see those cameras?” Y/N nodded, “You gotta be careful killing people around those, someone could be watching.” Corpse moved to electrical, “See? This is electrical. And there's, felix. Whoop, now hes dead.” 

“That was mean!” Y/N whined. 

“It’s the point of the game though!” Corpse quickly vented. “Okay, to kill people, you click this.” He showed Y/N how to kill people, “And to hop into a vent to get away, you click this.” He showed Y/N how to vent. “Now, during an emergency meeting you need an alibi.” 

“Whats an alibi?” Y/N asked, glancing up at their fathers face. 

“If someone blames you for wiping someone out, you have to have an excuse to why you didn’t do it. That’s an alibi.” Corpse explained, heading down the hallway. “So next time after the next emergency meeting, you will play! Sound fun?” He smiled when Y/N replied with an upbeat yes. Then a body was reported, “Ok Y/N, don’t tell anyone it was us, alright?” Y/N nodded. 

“Where was the body?” Poki asked. 

“I found it in electrical.” Sykkuno replied. 

“I did see Sean go that way.” Corpse said, making Sean instantly reply. 

“I was just passing by!” Sean argued, “What about you Corpse? Didn’t you go near electrical?” 

“It was you Sean I saw it wit my own 2 eyes!” Y/N called out, making everyone nearly die. 

“Well you can’t really argue with that one Sean.” Charlie chuckled.

“Vote Sean the council has decided.” Sykkuno declared. 

“Wha-- I- B--” Sean stuttered as everyone vote for him. Soon, they all watched him float into the abyss of space.

Corpse chuckled, “You’re my superpower Y/N. Ok, I’ll guide you along but its your turn to play.”

Y/N made a happy squeal, putting their hand over the mouse and moving the astronaut across the screen excitedly. Corpse guided them along, having his hand placed over theirs. “Ok Y/N, be careful. remember, there are cameras.” 

“Okie.” Y/N said, heading down the hallway. They walked around for a bit and Corpse helped them fake tasks. “Ok, see Toast? We’re gonna kill him.” Corpse checked for cameras, “Do you remember how?” Corpse asked. 

“Yah!” Y/N moved the astronaut forward, killing Toast. 

“Ok now vent, vent vent vent!” Corpse said, leaning forward and moving the astronaut to hover over the vent. Y/N stalled but clicked the right button, quickly venting right when Poki walked in. A dead body was reported, and they were back at the emergency meeting.

“It was Corpse!! It was Corpse!! I saw him vent!” Poki screamed, being way too loud to Corpse, but he didn’t mind anymore. 

“That wasn’t me.” Corpse lied, “Where was the body?” 

“I found it it navigation! You vented!” Poki said. 

“Mmm nah it wasn’t me. I was in storage.” Corpse lied again, making Y/N feel pretty damn bad. I swear, this child was so innocent. They couldn’t stand seeing lies and murders happening. So, they said “It was dad!” 

“HAH! They just exposed you!” Sean laughed loudly. 

“Oh my god the betrayal.” Charlie laughed as well. 

“Vote Corpse!” Poki yelled, “I told you!” 

“Y/N knows whats right.” Sykkuno said, voting for Corpse. 

Corpse gasped, “Noo! that’s not how’re supposed to play the game!” Corpse sighed, watching as everyone voted for him. Y/N frowned, “Im sorry..” Corpse hugged Y/N, “no no it’s fine. Just don’t betray me like that.” he chuckled, watching his astronaut float through space. He sighed again, “Better luck next time. Guess I have to train you how to be a ghost.” 

Y/Ns eyes lit up, “Yaaaayyyy!~”

~The End~

[mandoinevarro]

An Overdue Debt

Words: 4.3K

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut, fingering, mentions of violence, spoilers for The Mandalorian

a/n: rip IG-11 but im different

The Mandalorian had gotten used to finding you on his cot. On the nights he’d manage to make it back to the ship, after capturing quarry or escaping bounty hunters chasing the child; after making it out of every peril that crossed his path within an inch of his life day after exhausting day, he’d climb the ramp and find you on his cot.

Usually, by the time the hunter had shut the hull and carbon frozen his bounties, the baby would already be asleep, the ship orderly, and all controls double-checked and ready for takeoff. You were thorough. It seemed to him like you had a sixth sense. From the day he’d hired you, he’d seen you tinkle with every item in the sad collection of the Razor Crest’s old and overused equipment that would’ve fallen apart otherwise. You would oil his gear, check controls, and do any number of things to facilitate the smooth sailing of his ship.

He hadn’t heard the kid cry in weeks. Before the tiny infant could get a chance to work some tears out of his sooty eyes, you were already feeding him, burping him, or providing him with whatever it was that would sooth the surging tantrum immediately. It amazed him how you seemed to be able to fix just about everything you’d touch with those soft little hands of yours. The same hands that he would imagine fondly tracing every dip and scar on his chest and raising goosebumps on his skin, on the days when he’d feel particularly lonely.

Little by little, you’d repaired, oiled, and mended your way into the Mandalorian’s existence, making yourself a crucial part of his everyday life. It only took a couple of weeks for the bounty hunter to realize how essentially fucked he’d be if you ever decided to leave for a more promising and peaceful future than he could ever offer you. Sometimes, he’d study the patched up cables that stuck out of bullet holes on walls and the monitors that had stopped glitching so often ever since you’d focused your attention on them. He would envy the lifeless machinery then, for having the privilege of benefitting from your careful ministrations. The Mandalorian had wondered whether you’d also be willing to offer your healing touch to him, who—as far as you knew from the beskar that covered every inch of his human self and the modulated voice that filtered out all emotional depth—was half a machine himself.

Eventually, he had obtained his answer.

You’d responded to his mute question after he’d gone back for the kid in Nevarro. The bounty hunter had told you to wait for him on the ship, but hadn’t mentioned his intentions in the gray city. He’d only left you with the ominous instruction to take the Crest and never come back to the planet if he wasn’t back in an hour.

After three and a half hours of shooting his way out of the contained battle he’d unleashed near the gates of the city, he hadn’t expected to see the Razor Crest unmoving in the darkening horizon, right where he’d left it. He definitely hadn’t expected the rush of relief that made his spine dissolve when he found you still waiting for him once he’d climbed back through the hull—your eyes sunken in their sockets with concern and your lips chaffed from anxious biting—nor the way your gaze softened at the swampy child he knew you’d both learned to love.

You hadn’t asked any questions when you took the baby and carried him to the cockpit to cradle him in your arms. You hadn’t talked to him as, once in hyperspace, you and the Mandalorian had crafted a makeshift crib together for the sleeping kid from a rectangular metal container and some old rags. Adrenaline and urgency still beating like drums in his ears after such a close encounter with death, he hadn’t dared say a word either, out of fear of what he might reveal to you in his delirium.

But you’d known.

Somehow, among the aftershocks of fighting and below the cluster of stars and supernovas that shifted like snakes in hyperspace, you’d managed to see through the helmet and figure out exactly what he needed, like you’d done so many times with busted motors and faulty sensors. After finishing the crib, you’d taken its unconscious owner down to the hull. The Mandalorian had sentenced himself to his chair to try and still the punchy beating of his heart, that he knew had more to do at this point with the knowledge that you’d put your own life on the line to wait for him than with his altercations in Nevarro.  

But you’d come back.

You’d silently slithered your way back into the cockpit and stood right in front of him with trembling legs, looking for his eyes behind the visor. Wordlessly, you’d unbuckled your belt, slipped your pants down, and climbed onto his lap. His fingers had dug into the leather arms of the chair as you’d started moving on top of him in gentle circles. He remembered blushing at how fast you’d been able to get him hard and how all the blood had dropped from his face to his genitals when you’d lowered his zipper and freed his swollen cock. He remembered the persistent smell that had crawled underneath the helmet when you had shoved your underwear to the side and guided him inside your dripping folds.

Mando had fucked you then, with quick, hard thrusts and a vice grip on your ass that had most likely left bruises. He’d fucked you every single night that followed, as well. After freezing whatever bounty he would manage to catch and setting coordinates for the Crest’s next destination, he’d descend the ladder to find you. He never needed to tell you a thing, since you would just shove what little clothing was necessary as soon as you’d catch a glimpse of him and present your body to him, to do as he pleased. Night after night, you’d welcome him wet and willing, perched on whatever surface you two would see fit for your fucking. So, after trying the pilot’s chair, the floor, and several storage boxes, he’d gotten used to finding you on his cot.

Mando knew he was always rough with you. Whether he was coming back from a hunt or from a stakeout, it was always stress, anguish, and burning lust at the mere sight of you that guided his every movement, and they translated to a fistful of your hair or a sudden bump against your cervix. From the first time, he’d lost himself in the dizzying sensation of your slippery walls around him, clenching tighter with every thrust and squeezing every drop of sanity out of him. He’d become addicted to the clammy sound of your cum around his length as he took out all of his frustrations on the stretch of your pussy.

He would only ever take you from behind while you knelt in front of his bunk or against a wall, spilling his seed outside, every time. He’d never actually seen you naked. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it—the curiosity of how gorgeous you probably looked like with no clothes on haunted his every waking thought—, but he knew it wasn’t part of the unspoken deal you two had struck. Out of pity, he assumed, you’d offered yourself to him as a stress reliever, and nothing more.

At first, though, Mando had been surprised at how often and loud you’d moan for him; later he’d figured it was just another way you’d though of to please him. The whimpers would float around the recycled air of his empty ship and bounce on his helmet, unable to pierce through the tough beskar. So he would take what he could get and tried his best to shut the desire for a more profound intimacy that he ached for. Until, one day, it could no longer be held back.

After his clash with Moff Guideon and the army of Imps, it took Mando a few hours to grasp that he had survived. Somehow, hugely outnumbered and wounded, the bounty hunter’s own small army had managed to defeat the enemy troops and get away with the child, not without two losses that still hung too somber on his guts for him to process properly. He sat on his chair with his son resting next to him for hours, watching space break down to pieces from the cockpit. He thought about IG-11, how he’d lifted his helmet and seen his most secret self through red sensors. Mando remembered how much he’d wished for you at that moment, wanting nothing more but to replace the droid’s neutral features with your own lovely ones. He’d known his son was safe and had made peace with his impending death, but he hadn’t been able to shake a feeling of unfulfillment for knowing that he’d never gotten to truly see you or feel you.

But he had survived.

So Mando sat in the cockpit until he lost track of time, almost hoping that—as always—you’d simply guess what he yearned for and provide it for him.  But, eventually, when you didn’t magically appear in front of him like the first time, he knew it was his turn. Nervousness stifling his movements, he climbed clumsily down, stopping every once in a while to reconsider. What if he offended you? He’d never forgive himself if his stupid requests drew you away once and for all. But temptation was gripping his heart hard, and he knew that he’d never know peace again if he didn’t at least try to get this one favor from you.

When he jumped down the last steps of the ladder, he didn’t find you in his cot. You stood in front of him, as if you’d been waiting. You didn’t push your pants down or move to kneel at the entrance of his bunk like you always did. You simply looked into his visor with a hesitant expression, waiting for him to make a move, for a change.

His voice was tight and unsteady when he finally said, “I want… Can—can I touch you?” He cleared his throat and couldn’t help the telling dip of his helmet as he absorbed your figure in front of him. “I mean really touch you. And…and see you. Please.”

Your shoulders slacked and you moved your head to the side in confusion, like you had been expecting literally anything else. And then, once you saw the way his helmet hung defeated and his hands were clasped in front of him, almost as if he were apologizing for asking, your face went back to its natural comprehensive expression. Except something else was growing in your eyes that made your pupils expand and darken.

“Yes,” you breathed out, with a begging tone that mimicked Mando’s own.

Mando’s lungs collapsed at your permission; he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding his breath. He looked around, trying to figure out a way to quickly engineer a surface comfortable enough for you, but you simply sat cross-legged on the floor looking up at him with inviting eyes that got his heart pounding a little faster. So he knelt down in front of you and unclasped his cloak to lay it in next to your legs. It wasn’t ideal nor how he’d imagined it—nothing about this situation was—but he was determined to make you feel as comfortable as he possibly could.

You clutched his pauldrons as leverage and shuffled on your knees to rest them on the worn fabric. You reached down with one hand to remove your shoes and socks, before trailing it upwards to your belly and grabbing the hem of your tunic. Mando quickly caught your wrist.

“Wait,” he asked, “let me.”

You simply bit your lower lip and nodded, and Mando liked the way your cheeks turned pink when his gloves grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Every new inch of your skin made it harder for him to keep his hands on the cloth instead of the soft flesh that he was seeing for the first time. When he got your tunic far up enough that it went past your breasts, he had to force himself to keep going, instead of immediately rolling the tips in his fingers. His already half-hard cock twitched at the thought.

By the time your head poked out of the tunic’s hole and he discarded it, his body was burning inside the armor. He trailed his gaze across every crevice of your upper body, stopping at some softer-looking spots he quickly decided were his favorite. You apparently noticed, because the blush on your face was darker than before and it spread to your chest. Mando found your pigmented skin endearing. Maker, after weeks of burying himself inside your most private places, how was it possible that this was the most intimate moment you two had ever shared? And why was he so much more fucking nervous right there than any of the other nights?

He reached his hands out slowly to unbuckle your belt, but looked up at you for permission first. Still biting your lip, you managed a small smile, but your teeth were digging deeper with anticipation that made the gentle expression falter. So he removed your belt and pushed down your pants, taking your underwear with them. You shuffled awkwardly on your knees to slide your them off your legs and would’ve toppled over if he hadn’t grabbed your arms and held you steady. You laughed nervously at your clumsiness and grabbed his arm for balance, as your other hand stretched behind you to pull the trousers off completely and throw them to the side.

The hand on his arm let go and your back straightened again. And there you were, bare in front of him as he’d asked, your skin covered in goosebumps from the cold air of the ship. Like staring into a mirage, he instinctively grabbed your wrist to make sure you wouldn’t evaporate in front of him. Stars, for all the hours he’d spent mentally sketching a picture of your nude body, he could never have expected this. Mando’s eyes traced the lines of your neck and dropped to a pair of smooth shoulders that he would’ve paid good money to lick. Your heaving chest caught his eye, and he went dizzy with the way your nipples hardened under the attention. He skimmed lower to your belly, and would’ve gladly stayed there if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of something glistening between your thighs. His breath audibly hitched at the modulator when he recognized the clear slick of your arousal.  

Once you understood what the visor was directed at, your shoulders hunched and you shuffled uncomfortably in your place. The movement snapped him out of his trance.

It was Din Djarin who stared straight into your eyes when he finally said with a disbelieving, low voice, “I’m sorry, it’s just…You’re so beautiful.”

You smiled fully for him then, your lips plump with arousal and your body arching towards him more confidently to try to coax him to reach out.

“Please,” you pleaded in a raspy tone he’d never heard before, “touch me like you wanted.”

That was all Din needed. His hands approached your body, before he reconsidered and took the gloves off first. Fuck, where to begin? He wanted to feel everything at once, brush his fingertips down your neck and grab your thighs hard and press a hand into your belly. He wanted to grasp your round tits and trace a finger down your spine to make you shiver. Most of all, he wanted to sink his digits into your wet heat and feel you squirm over them.

He settled his hands on your shoulders instead, like you’d done moments ago. The bare-skinned contact made you both tense, until he started caressing up and down your arms to try to relax you. You let out a shaky breath as his calloused hands tickled your skin with a feather light touch.

“It’s smooth,” he mumbled, “your skin. I—I didn’t know.” The helmet was trained on your chest, though, and his hands followed, two large palms settling just above your breasts. Din felt your heart beating faster and faster against his palm to the beat of his own unstable huffs that he knew you could hear. He glided his hands lower, grasping your tits with a strength that painted a stark contrast to his previous, careful fondles. The sensation worked a gasp out of you that pierced beskar and cloth and went straight to his cock. Encouraged, he kneaded the fat and pinched your pebbly peaks, earning him another, louder whimper.

Fuck, why did it feel that good? Din could already feel his array of problems slipping further and further away at the sensation of your hot skin against his, not to mention the sight of your mouth gaping and your half-hooded eyes. A scent he already knew well crept into his nostrils and settled on his lower half, reminding him of the growing lubrication between your legs.

He traded your breasts for the curve of your ass and, when he squeezed, he pulled you closer to him, your chest hitting the cool surface of his armor. You yelped at the cold contact, but the surprise turned into pleasure when he started grabbing handfuls of you to press your body tighter against his. His fingers slipped down to the backs of your thighs and sunk on the pillowy flesh between them, making you buckle forward as a reflex and wrap your arms around his neck. The flesh underneath his palm was soaked and boiling, but it wasn’t until he parted your thighs and shoved his metal cuisse between them that he thought you were working up a fever.

Before he could give you any instruction, you buried your head in the crook of his neck and started rubbing your core on his cuisse. It was an awkward angle that only offered so much friction, but the way you moaned for him sounded like it the sensation was melting you. Every desperate little noise was absorbed by his pores and climbed to his head, making him drunk with the knowledge that he could do this to you.

He needed more.

“Lay back.” He placed his hands on your hips to stop your grinding. You threw your head back to look into the dark visor, flushed and confused.

“But—” you started, before Din placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you with his other one onto the worn cloak. You relented and laid on the floor panting, watching him through long lashes and pressing your legs tightly. Towering over you on his knees, Din grabbed the tops of each thigh and massaged them carefully, both to coax them open and to continue reveling on how your body pulsed alive under his touch. You were writhing and moaning under him, too busy rubbing your legs together to ease some of the throbbing between them to understand what he wanted from you. As much as he enjoyed watching you completely exposed, desperately trying to pleasure yourself, he needed to see. He needed you open to finally take a look at the heat where he’d been losing himself for weeks.

Din pinned down your ankles to the floor and looked straight to your face.

“Please, just—just let me see.” He slowly slid your feet towards you, making your knees flex and your legs bend. Back to reality, you swallowed hard and nodded, propping yourself on your elbows to see exactly what he’d do.

Din pushed your ankles to the sides, revealing little by little a blushed, pulsating cunt. He only stopped once your legs couldn’t open any wider. Your outer lips were plump and swollen, while your inner folds glistened wet and pink under the artificial light of the ship. Your clit was sticking out completely, imploring to be touched. Din felt something stab his chest. He held his breath and felt his member grow fully erect at the erotic sight.

“Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, “f-fuck, is this what I’ve been missing?” He placed his palms on your inner thighs, where he could feel the warmth radiating from your cunt. “Huh?”

You furrowed your eyebrows and opened your legs a little wider. “You never touched me,” you whispered, “I thought you didn’t want to.”

“Maker.” Din’s gaze was trained on your pussy, unblinking. “It’s the only thing I’ve wanted.” When glossy arousal oozed out of you at his admission and pooled on his cloak, Din felt his mouth salivate. He ran his tongue over his lips.

“Then do it.” You sounded desperate now.

Din watched you intently—searching for a reaction—when the index and middle finger of his right hand made a V shape  over your outer lips, before pressing hard against them. It was difficult for him to decide whether to focus on how your head dropped on the ground and your breath hitched, or how your inner lips spilled outside around his digits and your lower muscles hardened under his touch. The pressure made more of your arousal seep and coat his fingers, as he worked them back and forth over the outside of your core. He knew he was leaking precum but couldn’t bring himself to remove his right hand from your cunt nor his left from your thigh, so he simply pressed his legs together, hoping the sight of you wouldn’t be enough to make him cum.

You were pushing against his fingers, silently asking for more, and Din was happy to comply. He removed his middle finger as his index brushed your soaked slit from the bottom to the top, stopping right below your clit. Exasperated, you slapped your palms over your eyes.

“Mando, please,” you whined, “do something. You can’t just—” Your own moan cut you off when he brought down his left hand to pull your inner lips open and gather some more moisture. Fuck, he had a clear view inside you. He could see your innermost walls drowning in their own juices turn a dark pink, almost purple. He used both hands to open you further. Deep inside you, your tight hole clenched around nothing, spitting out more and more fluids.

Stars, Din didn’t know anyone could get this wet, not even when he used to mindlessly fuck you. His hands were drenched already, but, greedily, he still gathered more slickness and rubbed it on his finger, across his knuckles. He wanted it everywhere. He scooped more and smeared it all over your folds and inner thighs, still avoiding your bundle of nerves. Fascinated by your body and trying to ignore how his cock strained against his pants, he lifted his hands to coat your tits with your own cum.

You were almost crying beneath him, but you seized your opportunity when you felt his wet hands against your chest. Suddenly, you grabbed his wrist and yanked it down, pressing the heel of his hand against your neglected clit. Your eyes closed as a broken sob of relief escaped your throat. You moved your hips against it, using his body for your pleasure as he’d done so many times with yours. Din was delighted.

“Been so good to me for so long,” he muttered, as his other hand creeped stealthily back towards your slit. “I want to pay you back.” The primal sound that left you when he sunk two fingers inside your snug hole made his cock jump and get itself a little wetter than before. He willed himself to ignore it and focus his attention on the long fingers inside you. He pushed them as far as they’d go and them some more, while you were still grinding against his palm.

Din was sure he was going to black out from lust when you started moving faster and his fingers curled into something that made your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You were breathing quickly, high little mewls leaving your lips as you clenched tighter and tighter around him. His torso leaned down to see how he was stretching you open.

“B-but I liked it,” you blurted all of a sudden, catching your companion by surprise, “I like it when you f-fuck me—” you groaned when he couldn’t help himself and added another finger, “—when you fuck me angry. When you—when you take it out on me.”

Din didn’t answer. He couldn’t when your words sank deep into his stomach and braided his insides. He only moved his fingers faster and deeper, letting your walls distract him—once again—from the difficulties of his turbulent life, as you pulled tighter around him.

Tighter—tighter—tighter—and—

Din was sure it was your own orgasm transferring over to him when you came undone with a loud cry. He didn’t stop moving his hands into you as spasms took over your body, but he felt his own organs contract and release waves of pleasure into every corner of his ragged body. It was only after you stopped shaking and he took his creamy hands away from you that he noticed a dark, moist patch on the crotch of his pants. You noticed it too, and managed a brief, breathy laugh before falling back on the floor, pulling the cloak to cover you and closing your eyes.

Din slapped your leg gently to stop you from falling asleep before standing up.

“We’re not done yet,” he told you plainly, as you stared at him with confused, tired eyes. “I haven’t tasted you.”

He clicked a few buttons on his arm, and the hull became pitch black.

–––––

Edit: Part II here

@artaxerxesthegreat​

[mintmatcha]

9 months, 28 days

Chapter 3 of 10 Months

CW: discussions of death

A/N: this is the end of the beginning! im not sure exactly how long this stories going to be but yolo

The cafe is almost empty, just like always. That’s why they loved this place so much as kids. No one they knew was ever here, sitting in the mothball scented booths- only the occasional elderly couple who didn’t give a fuck that the place hadn’t updated it’s decor since 1995. Clouds rolled in overnight, painting the town a somber grey. Mattsun feels like it should match his mood, but it doesn’t. He’s not sad, he just… is. There’s this weird, turbulent void in his chest where his despair should lie.

Hanamaki’s in the corner when he arrives, nestled into the booth with a mug. He watches the rain trickle down the window, tracing the paths of the drops with his finger tips. It’s very ‘white girl protagonist’ Mattsun decides. Like he’s the star of a Hallmark movie. The void in his chest pulses and he swears, just for a flash, it was warm.

“Hanamaki.” Mattsun slides in across from him.

“Well, lookie here at the big boy in his big boy suit.” Hanamaki taps his nails against the glass, not even looking at his friend. “Did your mom help you pick that out?”

“This is technically a business meeting, so I had to wear something nice.” he explains. “Or else my boss is going to think I’m just screwing around.”

That’s what it feels like. It feels like work. He’s just putting all of this into his little box, so he can file it away in the storage files of his mind. He’ll process it later, when the moment’s right.

Or never.

Makki tents his fingers together, like he’s some sort of super villain. He’s always had this casual, uncaring air about him, but it seems to have developed further into a chaotic mess. “Ah, so you’ve decided to plan my fun-eral.”

The black haired man sighs. “Only if you stop calling it that.”

The waitress wanders up, expecting orders in her typical, unfriendly way. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the same woman from years ago, still equally sick of her job.

Neither of the men look at the menu. Mattsun orders a cheeseburger omelette and a coffee with six sugars, the same horrible thing he’s been getting since high school. ‘The American Experience’, they called it. Makki orders plain toast, notably not the same thing he’s been getting since high school.

“You should eat more,” Mattsun says, “You’re too thin.”

“Who are you? My mom?” he takes a long swip from his mug,

“If I was, I wouldn’t be-” Mattsun stops himself, much to Makki’s delight.

“Oh, please make a dead mom joke. Please.” Makki’s on the edge of his seat, leaning halfway across the table, “My mom would have loved you making a joke about her.”

Mattsun slinks down so far that his knees pump against the booth across from him. “That’s… yeah, you’re right. She would have loved it.”

Mattsun wants to say he misses her, but it doesn't seem fair. To miss Hanamaki Hana would be to miss Hanamaki Takahiro, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to miss Hiro.

Makki looks exactly like his father. He's there in the too thin nose, the gap between his canines and molars, and the clubbed way their fingernails grew.

but his mom's in his idiosyncrasies. She's in the laughter, the winks, the tiny things that make Takahiro himself. Truly a mama's boy, Makki taps his cup against his front teeth the same way she did. It's their thinking face.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mattsun regains control. His notebook and reading materials jut out against his stomach from their spot in his coat.

“Are you really sick?” It surprises both of them. Maybe it was the thought sitting at the top of his head, maybe he meant to say it. All of this just feels too sudden, too random, Mattsun just can’t quiet his doubts.

This is why the time apart was good; Makki made him do stupid things, made his brain stop working.

“I- uh. Yeah.” Makki's face doesn't change, but his shoulders fall. The tension in his body deflates as he goes back to looking out the window. "You're such a dick."

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You really think I’d lie about all of this?” he laughs, but it's flat, "To do what? To crawl back into your life?"

"That's not what-"

"Newsflash, asshole- I've been doing great without you.” the mug slams against the table, “I've been really, truly, wonderfully happy since-"

The other man picks up one of the pieces of toast and examines it, before carefully ripping the crust off. It’s a delicate procedure, carefully peeling off the edge on one, long piece. Makki opens his mouth to continue, then closes it with a low, thoughtful hum as he rolls the crust into a little ball.

"Makki." Mattsun holds up a finger, pausing the conversation for a moment as the waitress approaches. They sit in silence, mumbling only a quiet thank you as she

drops off the plates. She doesn't seem to notice the tension in the air or if she does, she doesn't care. She pours the coffee carefully, counts out the sugar packets like she's rationing them. As soon as she turns, he sighs and curls his hand into a tight fist, holding it in the air for a second before letting it fall. "Continue."

“This was a dumb idea. Forget I even asked you to do this.” he tosses the bread ball into his mouth and chews, “I’m just gonna go.” Standing suddenly, he grabs his coat from the booth beside him.

This would be the third time he let Makki leave and, according to the time left, the last. Life is fickle, an unpredictable lace pattern made by the people in your life coming and going. Mattsun was used to dealing with the final goodbyes and usually found comfort in it. No more chapters to write, all secrets buried and forgotten- truly, nothing left but what you can see in rose colored glasses.

And yet some part of him- the stupid part, the crazy part, the self loathing part- panics at the thought of seeing this end.

"I know you're better without me." Mattsun sighs, "But I want to help you, if you'll still let me."

“Stop.” Mattsun’s heart pounds so hard, dancing across his skin, that he can barely recognize he’s touching Makki, holding his wrist down against the table. “Sit. Eat."

Makki just raises a brow.

Reluctantly, he complies, but not before he tugs his hand out of his friend's grasp, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer. A boundary has been set- no touching.

"I'll let you." he turns his attention back to the mangled food on his plate, "But only because I want to finish my toast."

"We good?" They are not, but Mattsun prays for a lie.

"For now. But watch yourself." It's a win, albeit a half hearted one. Mattsun pulls a tiny notebook from an inner pocket of his coat and flips through the pages until he reaches the last page; it's the farthest out thing he's planning, of course. It’s marked ‘The Hanamaki Service.’

They let the silence sit between them as they pick at what’s in front of them. The terrain of this relationship is uneven, constantly changing. It’s like hiking a mountain in the winter, Mattsun decides, one wrong move, one noise too loud, and the whole thing will come crashing down,

Why does he even care?

Makki’s happy without him, he’s fine without Makki.

He shouldn’t care, and yet he stays.

The black haired man stabs a hunk of egg and watches the half melted cheese try to stretch. “So, to put it all simply: what our home does for you is the basics: Legal procurement, transportation, preparation, and disposition- you don't have to worry about any of it. We also offer a location for interment and service, depending on the type of service you require, of course."

"Location?"

Mattsun takes a bite. "For the service and for you to, um, rest."

"You mean rot."

Maybe eating wasn’t the right choice for this conversation. The texture of egg now feels wrong in his mouth.

"Don't say it like that." The preservatives slow that down, so the rot won't happen for a long time, he brain reminds him. It doesn't help.

"I already have those places picked out though." Mattsun waits for a joke to follow, but he’s surprised when his friend says, "Bury me near my mom and hold the service here."

"Here?" Mattsun asks, “There’s nicer places.”

"Save a dying business with a dead guy. It's irony."

"Okay, well. That's-" he sighs and scribbles into his notebook. This wasn’t going to be a traditional job, was it? "At least the catering is done then."

"Perfect." Makki pushes away his empty plate, "I'm a natural at this. You should hire me.”

"Long term positions only, sorry." It slips out before Mattsun can censor himself, but Makki just snorts into his tea.

It’s frustrating that they click together so well, especially because nothing’s been resolved between them. One minute everything threatens to break, the next they can sit here and joke with each other. The issues sit there, waiting in the corner of the room, cocked and ready to fire. If they just didn’t look, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when it finally attacked.

If they didn’t look, maybe they can pretend nothing happened.

Mattsun reminds himself that he doesn’t care. There's still that blank space inside him.

“Next step would be flowers.”

It’s not. They should discuss embalming versus cremation, but the words stick to his throat. He’s asked so many times before, stared forward as loved ones debated what to do without a care in the world. This time shouldn’t be different.

“I’ll think about it. Can’t say I know too many flowers off the top of my head.” Makki digs his phone from his front pocket and scrolls, looking through everything before tapping out a quick question. There's a twitch of his brow, barely furrow, but it's gone in a flash. Before Mattsun can even ask, Makki's gathered his coat in his hands. “Gotta go.”

“What? We just started-” The whiplash is what hurts. Just as Mattsun feels like he's found his footing, it's gone again, slipping out from under him. This must be some level of hell

"Something came up." he shrugs, "Don't worry about it."

"I won't."

"You're such an asshole." he says, "You're supposed to at least pretend to care."

Yeah, he knows. That's how life works. But he can't just pretend; it's a gateway to actually feeling.

"I'll try." Mattsun offers, "It was nice to see you."

Makki rolls his left shoulder over and over again, like he's trying to work out a kink. "Was it? Was it really?"

"Kind of."

"Thanks," there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "We'll do this again."

And like that, with no formal goodbye, he just starts to leave. Mattsun wants to protest, but he’s grateful. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how hard he'd been digging his fingers into his thigh. The void in his stomach somehow feels smaller and larger all at once. He kind of wishes it would just swallow him up and this would all be done with.

It's so easy not to care.

“Oh, and Mattsun?” Makki pauses by the door and picks out a familiar black umbrella that was leaning against the doorframe. He twirls in in his fingers like a baton before pressing the button and letting it unfold. It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Mattsun just looks down at the table. His food is barely touched but he doesn't plan to eat anymore. With his heart in his throat for no good reason, he feels nauseous. Despite himself, he wonders if Makki still smells like cedar aftershave and the discount brand laundry detergent.

“That fucker didn’t pay.”

[justletmeplayminecraft]

So um. I saw the dialing thing and the line “never speak of this again” with Scar and Mumbo or smth? I dunno I just really liked their dynamic together in their recent eps and I’m super interested in what you’d do with this :D

i couldn't resist the urge to write some fluff with these idiots. based in a future where mumbo's base is fully operational, here's ~1.7k words of mumbo & scar desperately trying to share their single braincell. i hope you enjoy !!

Of all the stupid things Mumbo has done this season, he did not expect getting trapped in his own base to join that list. But, here he is, in his pitch black storage room, in a smaller yet cobblestone and dirt shelter. Trapped for the foreseeable future as he frantically scrolls through his communicator to see if any other hermits are online. It's embarrassing. Absolutely and utterly embarrassing. And the worst thing is, he should have been able to see it coming!

There are reasons he's part of the one braincell squad. Several, in fact, but this moment has to be up there in his top ten.

On the other side of the wall, a zombie groans too close for comfort. He's sitting on grassy ground in a one block space, with only the light of his communicator for comfort. His stuff is going to de-spawn at this rate. This is terrible. Why is nobody else online? Usually there's at least a few others around at this time of day!

<GoodTimeWithScar joined the game>

Ah. Mumbo's not sure if he should be relieved or kiss his items goodbye. Maybe both. He sighs, fingers already moving to send a message.

<MumboJumbo> scar

<GoodTimeWithScar> Mumbo! Good morning!

<MumboJumbo> i need your help

<GoodTimeWithScar> Oh?

<MumboJumbo> could you come to my base? with a golden apple please?

<MumboJumbo> i promise i will pay you back but im in a bit of a pickle

<GoodTimeWithScar> The great Mumbo needs my help?

<GoodTimeWithScar> What do you even need a golden apple for? Just a normal one, right?

<MumboJumbo> second question, yes

<MumboJumbo> first question, my base died with me trapped in my storage room and it needs feeding to revive it

<GoodTimeWithScar> You know maybe I shouldn't have asked.

<GoodTimeWithScar> I'm on my way. Call?

<MumboJumbo> thatll work.

Mumbo leans his head against cobble, navigating through Scar's contact until he's able to find the call icon. He takes a deep breath, thankful for the good connection across the server. What would he do if he couldn't contact anybody down here? Cry, probably. Die a lot. His communicator dials, then rings for two seconds. Two seconds too long, if you ask him.

"Mumbo!" Scar's voice is accompanied by the explosion of a rocket, wind crackling through the call. Mumbo sighs in relief.

"Scar you are a... sound for sore ears?" Scar laughs, and Mumbo can't help a small giggle in response. He moves to his headphones, hoping to block out the mobs filling his storage room. Why did he think this was a good idea for a base?

"Okay, Mumbo, you're going to have to guide me through what I need to do here." It's strange to hear Scar so straight forward, honestly. His voice still holds that light-hearted note in it, it'll be dark day when Scar loses that.

"Right, okay." Mumbo takes a deep breath, picturing his base in his mind. What's the most Scar-proof way he can explain this? Oh, if Scar dies as well- "So, on the outside of my base, there should be these big towers of redstone lamps, right? They'll all be off right now. But, near the bottom, there should be a chest. You put the golden apple in there."

"Ah, in the like. Big blocks of four?" Mumbo claps, before wincing at how loud that probably was over the microphone.

"Yes! That! Can you see a chest at the bottom?" Mumbo listens closely to the burst of a rocket, the sound of feet stumbling on the ground. He holds his breath, waiting for the confirmation that this situation might finally be over.

"I see it!" His body sags with the release of air. "Okay, uh, I've put the apple in." Mumbo listens closely, taking out a headphone. Distantly, underneath all the mobs, he hears pistons, a familiar heartbeat starting up. If he sinks down any further he's going to become a puddle. "The lights are coming on!"

"Okay-" Mumbo's hands wave in front of him as he speaks "-Go to the centre of my base, there should be nether portals and a massive hole leading downwards." The sounds of movement, footsteps echoing on the walls.

"What the heck, Mumbo, how many mobs do you have down there?" Mumbo sighs, closing his eyes. They're so close.

"Are all of the lights on?" He checks.

"Well, it's lit up. I can see your chests, and I think that's your stuff? Jeez, if I knew I was going to need to fight I would've been more prepared."

"How bad is it?" The high hum from Scar is a pretty good answer.

"Could be better." He hears a block move, followed by Scar telling him, "Alright, I've set my spawn. I'm gonna try to snipe them." Mumbo leans forward, awkwardly manoeuvring so he can break a dirt block against the ground. Light floods into the one block space. He can see the feet of mobs wandering between tall grass. In the distance, there's a clang of an arrow finding a skeleton. He breathes out, wincing at the ache as he pushes up from that position. He's too tall for this.

He thinks he remembers where his stuff was. If the coast is clear, he might be able to run for it and duck back in here. Get his sword equipped, elytra on, and things will be fine! He could salvage some of his dignity. Hopefully. Probably not.

"Scar?" He asks, "Could you tell me if the coast is clear so I can grab my stuff?" It takes a second to get a reply, marked by the ding of a successful hit.

"I can do that." Scar sounds distracted, focused. "Wait- oh, nononono-" Mumbo's communicator dings. He doesn't need to look to know what message will greet him.

<GoodTimeWithScar fell to his death trying to escape a skeleton>

"So, uh, Mumbo. We might have a bit of a situation." Mumbo buries his face into his hands. He twists his body down again to get an idea of how many mobs are left. Counting the number of feet and shadows he can see, it's not looking good.

"Yeah, we certainly might." His voice is high, stressed laughter escaping him with his face pressed into the dirt. "What do we do now!" Scar's bubbling giggles are accompanied by the scramble of feet across stone.

"Um, die a bunch?" Scar suggests. Mumbo's arms give up and he falls into a heap. His shoulders shake with his own giggles, the two in harmony over the call.

"Maybe it's a good thing nobody else is on."

Scar has to wait for his laughter to die down to speak, "I bet I'll die less than you." Mumbo smirks.

"You're on."

-

About half an hour later, Mumbo is sorting his stuff whilst Scar scrolls through their death messages. He's bruised all over, has collected a few scratches from loose arrows, but it looks like all of his items are here. This has gone better than he expected. He still wants to crawl into bed and never get out again.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I've won," Scar announces, looking up from his communicator with a pleased grin. Mumbo makes a noise, pulling up his own screen.

"Absolutely not. There's no way, you died so many times!"

"Yeah, but I died eight times. You died ten." Honestly, he's probably right. Mumbo lost track after death three. Everything blurred into a mess of sprinting off the bed to get his items, picking up half of them, maybe getting a swing or two, dying. And then repeat that apparently ten times.

He sighs as he finishes counting up the deaths. Scar did indeed win. He puts the last of his items in the right slots, leaving the rest to the sorting system. Finding his bed, he flops onto it. Scar is sitting on the stone centre beaming at him. The cut on his forehead is barely healing up, a bruise on his cheek.

"No, no. I want to know exactly how you ended up in this position." He's leaning forward, smug curiousity on every inch of his expression. Mumbo shuts his eyes, whining at him.

Mumbo lifts his hand, gesturing towards his chests, "I should have potions in here somewhere, if you want one." Scar giggles, shaking his head.

"Do you have to?"

"I want to know why I died eight times, Mumbo!"

"You're going to laugh."

"That's the plan." Mumbo shakes his head, rolling around so he can sit on the bed. Scar is waiting patiently, even crossing his legs like he's expecting a bedtime story.

"I made my base alive?" Mumbo explains, not sure why he's questioning himself. He did the redstone and everything. "And, as it gets unhappier, more things close off."

"Including your storage room?" Scar asks, clear amusement in his voice. Mumbo finally breaks into a giggle, falling onto his knees.

"I thought it was a good idea at the time!" He exclaims. "It stops sorting items, the lights go out, and then it locks itself down!"

"With you in it."

"I forgot Xisuma was working in the area!" His groan gets mixed with a laugh. "Oh, I am such an idiot."

"How about we agree to never speak of this again?" Scar suggests. Mumbo's halfway through nodding when Scar adds, "For a few diamonds?" Mumbo bursts into surprised laughter, quickly dissolving into giggles.

"You know what, you deserve them after this." Scar laughs.

"Maybe I'll have to die for people more often," he teases, watching Mumbo as he heads to his diamond chest.

"I wouldn't advise it personally." Mumbo looks over his shoulder at him. "That's how Grian gets you."

"Mm, very true." Scar takes in the storage room again, pocketing the diamonds Mumbo offers him. "Do you think you could show me some of the redstone behind this place? I am absolutely fascinated by how you managed to make such a counterproductive system."

"Well, you know I'll never miss an opportunity to show off my redstone." Scar takes the hand Mumbo offers him, smiling.

-

It's an hour or so later. Mumbo is showing off how he sends the signal between floors when their communicators beep.

<xisumavoid> should I be concerned about the number of deaths in the log?

They share a look and laugh.