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captain-huggy-bear · 4 months ago

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In Sickness and in Health

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talks of sickness and the grossness of it

Summary: You've convinced yourself that you're not actually that ill, mostly because setting cover for your lessons is more trouble than its worth. Quinn is having none of it.

Notes: I have a chest infection and convinced myself that I was making it up and it wasn't that bad, apparently it is. So I figured Quinn is the voice of reason that I need in my life.

Thank you for the 400 followers as well! Very much appreciated :D

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Quinn's watching you like a hawk from the doorway to the living area, you're bundled up on the couch with at least 3 blankets (far too many for how warm the apartment is), tissues piled high in a bin next to you as you wheeze into another. You've opted for your most comfortable clothes in an effort to make yourself feel better as you cough and cough and cough some more. Your cough is harsh and can only be described as hacking, for someone who has never smoked a day in her life you sound like you've smoked 20 packs a day for 50 years. Your chest crackling and rattling, wheezing in a way that sounds unnatural and decidedly unhealthy.

He hates it, hates that every single night for the past few weeks you've been awake in the night, coughing so hard you make yourself throw up violently, head hanging over the toilet bowel, his hands coming to hold your hair out of the way. He hates that you've taken to sleeping on the couch in an effort not to disturb him, worried about his sleep schedule even though he can hear you through the walls and would feel better if you were beside him in the night. He hates that you've been going into school, teaching while struggling to breathe simply because you feel guilty about taking a day off, about the extra work for others and because somehow you've convinced yourself that 'its not that bad'. He hates that he can't snap his fingers and make you better. He hates seeing you sick, worse still seeing you sick and not properly looking after yourself. Worse still feeling powerless to help.

His eyes narrow this time as you cough so hard you bend in two, whimpering as your body tries to expel phlegm from your chest and fails. Only succeeding in causing your chest to hurt even more and for you to taste blood in the back of your throat. You're practically shivering from discomfort and he decides he can't take it anymore. He's fed up of being the nice boyfriend that lets you hurt yourself further because you're feeling guilty and deluded. Because you're being a bit of a brat, a stubborn arse. A stubborn arse he loves, but a stubborn arse anyway.

"That's it. I'm taking you to the doctors." He's already reaching for your coat by the door, and bending down to pick up your shoes. Even as your head turns to him slowly, eyes half-open and fatigued, mouth opening in protest.

"I'm fin-" You're cut off by your own cough, wheezy and rattling, the sort that is definitely not 'fine', "I'm fine, it's just a cough. It's nothing, it'll go soon..." You've been saying this for 2 weeks and it's less reassuring and believable at the near 3 week mark.

"You've been up every night for 2 weeks. I'm taking you to the doctors." It's a Saturday morning and he knows the walk in clinic is open, he also knows he won't get you to agree to go on a school day. This is his best chance and Quinn's decided, as he looks at the pallor of your skin and the limpness of your body, that you're going even if he has to carry you out to his car. Even if he has to drag you kicking and scream like a naughty toddler. Even if he has pictures all over the internet and headlines exclaiming 'Canuck's Captain, Bully of a Boyfriend?'. If it means you'll get better he'll take all the press, all the stares, all the heat.

"I'm not even that sic-" Once again, your cough interrupts you and this time, Quinn cuts in before you can continue. He's crouching in front of you, your shoes placed beside your feet in their snoopy socks.

"Baby, you might have gas lit yourself into believing that, but I know better. I'm taking you to the doctors, we're going to get you some meds. That's final." Quinn treats you like a princess, always has, and sure he usually takes a more dominate and traditional role in the relationship. But, it's rare for him to lay down the law, for him to outright remove your choice. Mostly, because you usually make the wise one anyway...today, you seem determined to put your health at risk and if that means he has to force you to do something you'd rather not? Well, the captain in him will come out to play and nice boyfriend Quinn will go take the bench. Nice isn't going to keep you healthy. Letting you get your way isn't going to make you better.

"Quinn..." Even the way you say his name is wheezy and it hurts, it hurts your chest to breathe, to speak. A sort of dull ache, a discomfort that deep down you know isn't normal...even as you try to push through.

"Shoes on. Now." His voice is sharp, not unkind, but firm. It's an order, not a request. A voice he rarely uses with you. Quinn only uses it under 2 scenarios: 1) You're putting yourself at risk and he's sorting it out or 2) it's an agreed role choice for your bedroom. He'd rather not have to use it for the first reason, but you're not really leaving him any choice.

"Bu-"

"Shoes, baby." He softens the tone, pulling back a little on the captain voice even as he grabs your right foot and forces you to put your first shoe on. You seem to give in, letting him help you into your shoes, tying them so they're supportive and comfortable.

He stands, reaching for your hands to pull you to your feet, holding onto your arms as you sway, lightheaded and dizzy at the upward movement. It takes longer than he would like for you to recover and it settles Quinn's mind even firmer on the course of action he's taking, helping you into your coat before leading you out of the apartment.

It's slow going, you're dizzy and short of breath and each step seems to take you even longer than normal. But, he's just happy to get you to his car, knowing that the next step is the triage walk-in centre 15 minute away.

You practically slump in the passenger seat, curling towards the door, blinking as the streets pass by. You have to admit, even if not audibly, that Quinn's right. This isn't just a cough, you feel like death warmed over and you know there's something not quite right. Even if you're loath to admit it. Even your students had picked up on how ill you were this week, being extra nice for once and not forcing you to yell at them like they knew you physically couldn't raise your voice even if you wanted to (which you didn't). Even the two boys you'd asked to stay behind to talk to about their behaviour had been patient when you'd had a coughing fit, unable to address their poor behaviour for a good minute.

When you finally arrive at the medical centre, he's very tempted to carry you inside, but you just about accept his arm as he helps you to the door and to the front desk. He takes over, describing your symptoms to the receptionist as you wheeze beside him, pressing your face into his arm as you seek some sort of comfort and you don't stop when you sit in the tiny uncomfortable seats waiting for your turn to see a nurse. Seeking his body for comfort, Quinn runs his fingers through the ends of your hair, occasionally rubbing the nape of your neck. He hates the way you whine into him, like everything is wrong with the world. He hates that he can't immediately fix how you're feeling.

It takes longer than Quinn would like for your name to be called, in the time it takes you're so tired from the outing that you're almost falling asleep on him. Your breathing is shallow and laboured as you wheeze in and out. All he can do is offer comfort and support, even as he forces you to stand once again and make the walk to the nurse's examination room.

You struggle through describing your symptoms, Quinn jumping in when he feels you're underplaying them or have missed something out. The nurse takes your blood oxygen levels, tutting as she does, and gets up to listen to your chest.

"I know what I'm going to hear already, but let's have a listen." The stethoscope is cold as she lifts the back of your shirt and slips it against your skin. You try to breathe in and out as normal as she moves from each section of your back, the top down to the bottom, left to right.

"Just as I thought, very crackly in the bottom left of your lungs...you've got a pretty nasty chest infection, lovely." She gestures for you to take a seat and you ignore the look Quinn gives you from the corner of your eye, the sort that screams 'I told you so.'

"Right, I'm going to prescribe you a course steroids and a course of antibiotics. You need to take 8 of the steroids in the morning for 4 days, just take the first dose the moment you get home today. The antibiotics you need to take for 5 days, 2 today and then 1 a day for the remaining 4, okay?"

You nod at her instructions, not feeling much like talking. You know Quinn is mentally cataloguing each instruction so that he can make sure you take your medication right and fully. A relief because you're so tired you're not sure you'd remember right now.

She prints out your prescription and hands it to you, which you promptly hand to Quinn, who holds it tight like he's scared it'll blow away in the windless room.

You both thank her as you leave and Quinn insists on going straight to the pharmacy next door and putting your prescription in. It takes longer than he wants, 20 minutes before you have your meds in hand and he's ushering you back to the car and strapping you in because you look too tired to do it yourself. You hold the little paper bag of medicine on your lap and watch him as he drives, your blinks are slow and tired and he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, clearly worried. Quinn's hands tighten on the steering wheel.

The moment you're in the apartment, he's helping you from your coat and shoes, ushering you to the coach and helping you sink down into it, your head drooping as your arms dangle between your knees.

"I'm going to get your meds ready, okay? Just sit right here, baby." His hands run over your hair, across your shoulders, comforting strokes as he watches you struggle. He's relieved you have medicine now, even if he's angry that it took so long to convince you to get checked out. The anger isn't directed at you, but at himself and at the schooling system, the guilt its put into your head. The feeling that you can't be sick, can't take a day off. Anger that he'd allowed you to put this off for so long when he should have pushed more.

"Okay...Thanks, Quinny..." Your voice is fragile, delicate and his chest aches at the way you look up at him with tired, red eyes. Tired, hardly sleeping, fatigued from an infection attacking your body and still so thankful for him.

"No trouble at all, baby." Quinn leans down pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering slightly as you sway into him, eyes closed and nearly fall forward when he pulls away. But, Quinn's hands are there to right you, gently leaning you back against the couch pillows.

In the kitchen area he pours you as big glass of water and counts out 2 antibiotics, dark green capsules, and 8 tiny uncoated steroid tablets.

When he reaches you he hands you the glass, watching as you take a big gulp, holding it in your mouth as you gesture for the first pill. One at a time he hands them to you, watching as you swallow each with a healthy mouthful of water to make them go down easier. You shiver at little after each, like your body doesn't want you to take them, but they go down easy enough.

"Baby, I think you should go lay down in bed..."

"Mmm..." You're starting to feel sick, nausea hitting as your body processes the unfamiliar but strong medication. Your head is pounding, you feel like you're going to be sick and it's with nothing short of gentleness that Quinn scoops you up into his arms, your head nuzzling into his neck.

"C'mere..." You're not a light person, adult humans generally aren't, but Quinn has spent years as a pro-athlete training his body and in more recent years making sure he can bench as much weight as possible so carrying you isn't ever an issue. For reasons like this. The need to support you when you're sick or hurt. The idea that you might need him like this and he be unable to provide was simply unacceptable.

He moves carefully, steady so as not to rock you too much or too harshly as he walks you the short distance to your shared bedroom. He's gentle as he deposits you on the bed, helping you pull the blankets up around you as he sits beside you, fingers tracing a path over your forehead and down your cheek.

"How you feeling, baby?"

"Dizzy...nauseous...feel horrible, Quinny..." You almost sound like you might cry a little, a shakiness to your voice that pulls at his heart strings.

"I'll go make you some ginger tea for the nausea..." Quinn goes to get up but you're gripping his hand as hard as you can, eyes blinking up at him blearily, a pout directed his way that you know he can't really say no to. "No. Stay, cuddles please."

"Okay, baby, cuddles."

Quinn wastes very little time getting into bed besides you, letting you curl into him, your leg slung over his hip and your face pressed into his sternum like you could bury yourself in his chest and hide away from how you feel. All he can do he does, wrapping you up tight in his arms, hand rubbing soothing circles across your back.

Your breathing is shallow and shaky, swallowing as the nausea hits in waves. You can feel Quinn pressing kisses to your hair, your temple and it makes you feel better even if it doesn't take the sick feeling from your stomach.

"Thank you for looking after me..." You mumble it against his jaw, pressing a light kiss there, energy to do anything more none existent. Quinn responds with a kiss of his own to your hair, fingers reaching up to run through the ends as you nuzzle closer to him, chest to chest.

"I'm always going to look after you, baby. That's my job..."

"No...you're job is...your job is to play hockey." You sound a little confused and dazed, not really a surprise with the brain fog you've had this entire sickness. You seem to struggle to realise that he's not being literal, but it's cute. It's cute now he knows you're being medicated and not letting yourself get progressively worse and more and more likely to end up with pneumonia.

"Mm, that's my paying job, sure...but you're my real job. I just want to make sure you're okay, baby...especially when you're stubborn." Quinn's fingers rest on the nape of your neck, massaging the tense muscles there as you press further into his neck, little kisses being left like it's the only thing you have the energy for. It's sweet, even as you wheeze and rattle like an old change machine.

"I'm sick, don't be mean to me." Your voice is pouty and playful, and there's a slight relief in it for Quinn. That if you're being playful you're probably feeling a little better, a little more like yourself. He readjusts your leg around his hip, a hand resting there to keep you close.

"Never, baby. I love you too much to be mean to you."

"Liar." There's no animosity in it, just playful back chat that has him leaning back slightly to look at you with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, I see you're already feeling better? Absolute brat." Quinn grins at you for the first time in days, the relief that you're feeling even slightly better, the feeling of accomplishment at having convinced you to go to the doctor's, all combining to make him feel lighter than he has in a while.

"I'm sick, a sweet baby actually." Even you smile slightly as you look up at him, eyes slightly delirious and hazy like you're not all there right now which is probably about right. Your voice is croaky, but no less sweet to listen to.

"Mmm, sure y'are, baby. My sick, sweet girl who's also such a brat."

"Fuck off." You pretend to shove him away but he barely moves, your push weak and completely not serious. Even your voice has absolute no bite, just humour in it, the sort he's missed from you. You've been so down, so tired, so sullen that he's missed the banter, the back and forth, the playfulness that you two have.

"Alright-" Quinn pulls away, starting as if he's going to get up, but you're leg locks over his hip, arms practically crushing him to you as you stop him leaving your cuddle pile, the nest you've made, "No, stay! 'm sorry, Quinny...stay, feeling so much better with you here." You mean it. Maybe you still feel sick, nauseous and achy. Maybe your chest still hurts, your cough still rattling through you. But, being close to him helps, it makes you feel comforted in a way that you need right now and the idea of him going makes you want to cry. Even though rationally you know he's joking and not serious.

"Okay, sweet girl. I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He settles back into space next to you, hand running from your knee to your hip in soothing strokes as his other hand rubs circles over your back.

"Love you so much." You mumble it against his neck, face pressed as tight as you can, inhaling his cologne, the smell of his skin, the distinctly Quinn scent that brings you a sense of safety and comfort.

"Love you too, sweet girl."

Maybe Quinn hates the way you refuse to get help when you're sick, maybe this whole episode had terrified him to his core, made him worried sick, but God, he loves you enough that he'd do this every single year of his life if he had to.

In sickness and in health, right?

#huggy bear writes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes #nhl x reader #nhl imagine

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livelaughloveluffy · 7 months ago

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imagine luffy confessing his admiration and love for you after seeing each other after 2 years, before being separated the two of you were becoming more intimate with each other and seeking one another out during downtimes cuddling, holding hands, or just wanting the comfort of one another

confession - monkey d. luffy

a/n: thank you for the ask!!! it literally came at the perfect time!! i was planning on writing a confession series with the boys and i love your addition to the prompt!! since you specifically said two years, i think you know exactly where i'm going with this, so luffy's confession will take place post-time skip!! these will definitely be longer fics, but know that there will definitely be similar fics in the future!

a/n: i did proof-read, however it was more like proof-skimmed if im being honest

enies lobby // paramount war spoilers under the cut!!!

ngl, there's a little bit hurt here... but there is also plenty of comfort and fluff to make up for it 😭💀

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the first thing you learned about your captain was that he has zero concept of personal space. this wasn't something that particularly bothered you.. however it was definitely an adjustment from what you were used to.

as one of first few members to join the straw hat pirates, you and luffy had lots of time with just the two of you, giving you more than your fair share of opportunities to get to know each other. the captain really enjoyed your presence, as you seemed to just get him. it was one of the many reasons he asked you to join his crew in the first place. but in actuality, he was always drawn to you from the second he first saw you.

something about the way you carried yourself, so elegantly but so sure of yourself, even in combat you were a wonder to his eyes. when he finally got a chance to talk to you, he suddenly just had this overwhelming feeling that he couldn't imagine a life without you in it.

many days and night on the going merry were spent making sharing jokes and obnoxiously laughing at them, sneaking way too many snacks from the kitchen until sanji caught you both, and tons of crazy and fun adventures were shared together.

the countless times luffy would run up to you with a huge smile on his face, grabbing your hand in his, exclaiming "you have to see this!! come on!!" before he would whisk you away to some small silly shenanigan of his was a frequent occurrence, but one that you had become to enjoy dearly.

the second his fingers interlocked around yours, everything just felt better, even for just a second. and you could've sworn he felt it too. he'd smile just a bit wider, laugh a bit louder, and pull you a little bit closer.

•♡•

it wasn't until the shock of losing robin and breaking into enies lobby to rescue her that had finally bonded you two even closer than you already were. watching luffy being unable to move after defeating rob lucci had to be one to the scariest moments of your life.

it wasn't until the whole crew was back together on a new ship ready to conquer your next adventure, that you finally got some alone time with luffy. you and chopper had to beg him to rest and recover from his injuries. but he only agreed to do so if you kept him company.

"lu, are you awake?" you whispered, walking into the dark shared boys room, finding luffy laying down on his cot. "chopper said it's time to take your meds, so i brought them for you."

a tired and groggy luffy rolled over to greet you, taking a seat at the edge of his cot, you smoothed down his crazy bed-head before handing him is meds. "do i have to take them?" he pleaded, eyes wide in hopes he could make you pity him enough to say no. "i'll get sanji to make you an extra dessert if you do" with that being said, he took his meds without any more hesitation or fussing.

you began standing up from his cot, ready to sweet-talk your way to a special dessert made my sanji (he didn't need to know who it was really for anyways), when luffy grabbed your hand stopping you in your tracks. "where are you going? i thought you'd stay here with me?"

"i was just going to get sanji to start on-" but before you could finish your sentence, your captain pulled you into his arms and cot. "i don't want you to leave yet.." he said, whining with his face buried in the crook of your neck "stay for a little bit longer.."

who were you to disobey the captain's orders?

•♡•

cuddling with your captain was truly a special event. it wasn't nearly as common as you had hoped, since luffy often refuses to sit still long enough for it to happen.

warm rubber limbs wrapped two times too many around your body, his soft dark brown hair tickling your cheek as he buried his face in your neck and shoulder. luffy smelled like the ocean breeze, sweat, and sunshine (which sounds crazy, but if sunshine had a smell, it would smell like luffy), a scent that you had grown so extremely comforted by, it felt like a warm hug, or just getting home after a long day.

"lu, don't you want me to get your dessert?" you whispered. his soft tired voice only had enough energy to mumble out a soft "later.." before he drifted off to sleep.

and just for tonight, you would stay. soaking up this opportunity and holding onto it for dear life.

•♡•

when your crew had initially stopped at sabaody, you truly thought you were in for a fun time. yes, you always expected a little hitch in the plans, that's just natural considering your captain, but nothing could prepare you for what was to come.

•♡•

as per usual, you're running for your lives from government officials, and countless other enemies, this time the stakes higher than they had ever been before, with crew members disappearing right in front of your eyes. before you knew it, it was just you and luffy left. tears welling in your eyes as luffy lets out an ear-shattering scream for you to just run.

you swear you didn't even see bartholomew kuma in front of you, but the next thing you knew you were shooting through the sky, heading god knows where, separated from your crew and your beloved captain.

•♡•

the island you ended up at was less than ideal. between fighting for your life daily, attempting to find some sort of civilization, and being separated from the people you loved the most in the world, you really couldn't imagine anything worse.

that wasn't until the day you finally found a town, hordes of people were crowding a newspaper stand, after making your way through the crowd, and grabbing a paper to see what all the fuss was about, did your heart finally break into two.

the headline read: portgas d. ace - died in action during paramount war

your eyes began to overflow with tears, just imagining the amount of pain luffy was in, and you could do absolutely nothing to help. you momentarily lost yourself in the grief of it all, the man you loved, separated from the people he loved and trusted the most, witnessing the death of his brother right in front of his eyes, all alone.

and the shock didn't end there. when a couple days later, a pit of dread inside your stomach when you heard the same crowds out again huddled around the newspaper stand, only to find your captain on the cover.

at first, knowing he was safe and somewhat okay made you drop to your knees with relief that you almost overlooked the drawing on his arm: 3D2Y

•♡•

the only thing that got you through those 2 years always from luffy and the crew was keeping extremely busy. if you weren't constantly training in combat, practicing new techniques with your devil fruit, reading anything and everything under the sun from history to medicine to stupid trashy romance novels, learning new languages, and a thousand other skills. you hardly had time for sleep, let alone time to think, because if for a second you stopped, you would fall apart.

•♡•

it was by sheer luck you managed to avoid the hassle that caribou and his crew had caused, turns out you made the right call to just stay aboard the sunny.

the second your eyes met luffy and his feet touched the deck, his arms were already wrapped around you so tight that you forgot how to breathe for a second. after 2 years of holding back your tears, this one hug is what finally made you come undone. you buried your face into the crook of your captain's neck, and he placed his hand on top of your head, stroking your hair as you sobbed. "i missed you too, so much more than you know." he whispered as he held you, this time he'd never let you go again.

•♡•

the voyage to fishman island proved to be the best time for the crew to finally relax and get to enjoy in each other's presence for the first time in years, truly a great reason for an over-the-top banquet on its own. and boy, what a banquet it was.

•♡•

you had deeply missed girl talk with robin and nami, all three of you sharing stories from your time apart, when a hand suddenly slipped into yours. you turn your head to the bright wide hazel eyes of your captain "um.. there's something i want to tell you...in private.." he said, with this adorable little lopsided smile with a hint of blush spreading across his cheeks that you had never seen before, but committed to memory the second you did. the girls smiled at you, gesturing it was okay to step away and you could catch up later.

he whisked you away to his favorite spot, the top of the hull, in a painful amount of silence. your mind suddenly overwhelmed conjuring up the millions of things he could possible say to you. after helping you get atop the lion's head of the thousand sunny, with luffy standing in front of you, he placed his hands hips lifting you up and letting you wrap your legs around his waist before he gently sat down, and then your mind just stopped.

the familiar warmth of luffy's chest pressed against yours, arms around your back, and cheek pressed up against yours with his chin resting on your shoulder. oh, how you had missed this.

turning your face ever so slightly to look at his, did you finally meet his eyes. with a small smile, he looked at you and with a small giggle and a tiny voice he said "hi". you couldn't help but let your heart melt right there as you shyly smiled back and returned the greeting.

with your eyes still on his, you couldn't help but ask "lu, what did you want to talk to me about?" the curiosity and suspense was starting to make you want to crawl out of your skin.

"oh! right!! i wanted to tell you that i love you!" he cheerly replied, so casual that you questioned if you had misheard him.

you couldn't help yourself but to ask for clarification "wait, what did you just say luffy?"

and with his usual luffy smile, he loudly and proudly repeated the words you thought you misheard "i said i love you!!"

for a second, your heart stopped. "you love me? lu, are you su-"

but before you could begin to question him, he put a hand on the side of your face and pulled you in for a small kiss. once his lips finally left yours, you looked at him with wide eyes and bright red cheeks, searching for an explanation.

he softly began to explain "i couldn't wait to tell you any longer... after these past two years.. i just... i want you to know that i love you."

your eyes turned glassy, and with your captain's wide waiting eyes, you couldn't stop yourself as the words "i love you too, lu." poured out of your mouth. pulling your captain as close as you could to you, you held him knowing this time you'd never have to let him go.

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a/n: ahhhhhhhhh, i live and die for calling luffy "lu", its truly my favorite pet name in the world for him 😭😭😭 hopefully i was able to do your ask some justice!!

a/n: i just checked my activity center on tumblr and !!!! omg thank you so much for 100 followers!! the amount of love and support i've been receiving on my fics genuinely means the world to me!! so if you're new, or just now finding my blog, thank you for being here!!!

a/n: enjoyed this fic? you can find my masterlist here!!

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece fanfic #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece monkey d luffy #one piece luffy #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #op luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy fluff #fluff fic #via's fics

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o-sunny-day · 7 months ago

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INKTOBER-DAY 7: Love - song inspo: Love Love Love by The Mountain Goats

first of all- @forgettable-au fanart!

second of all. :D i’m bouta get so violent GOD THEY KILL ME SO MUCH okay rant time

THEY WERE JUST KIIIIDSSSUHHH I DEMAND a gacha youtube video made by a 12 year old where younger Sans and Wingdings react to the comics/present day them

Also- I SERIOUSLY doubt theres ever gonna actually be a scene like this in the comics for a lot of reasons BUT IF IT DIIIDDD, DUDES. Id never recover. id be done for. cast away. dead.

The main idea is, HEY! How. Would Gaster feel. About seeing SANS AGAIN. CAUSE I DON’T KNOW.

I DON’T KNOW HOW THINGS ENDED, I ASSUME BADLY- SO I DON’T EVEN HAVE THE VAGUEST IDEA, AND IT HURTS EVERY PART OF MY BRAIN AND SOUL AND HEART AND BRAIN AND

and also if Sans knew that THATS was what his “brother” is now… IS GASTER EVEN CONSIDERED HIS BROTHER ANYMORE?? I FEEL BAD FOR SANS RIGHT NOW HES GOT LIKE 3 BROTHERS AND 2 OF THEM ARE DEAD AND THE OTHER IS DEAD ONLY SOMETIMES AND ALSO THEY’RE ALL KINDA THE SAME PERSON also I miss sans in the comics :((

Theres a lots of ways this interaction could go down, and SO many ways it could be written poorly, SO IM NOT EVEN GONNA TRY TO SCRIPT THAT just go for the good ol 1 frame and let you fill in the blanks with your own angst ridden decrepit minds.

ALSO TOMORROWS PROMPT IS “REINCARNATION” AND I AM SCARED OF WHAT IM GONNA COOK BUT ITLL MOST DEFINITELY BE MORE FANART

okay im sad now, time for an extra silly unfinished comic I made a bit ago after wondering where their parents were

Moms asking for more money to fund her online gambling addiction

also- does Wingdings also have the googley eyes or is that just Papyrus?

#undertale #undertale fanart #forgettable au #forgettable au fanart #undertale au #I hate them so much/aff

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naughtyjjk · 2 months ago

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nanami kento nsfw headcanons

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, general mentions regarding sex notes: i saw this A-Z list of prompts and thought it'd be fun to imagine nanami in these scenarios! let me know what you think of it

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

he fully understands the importance of aftercare and will do everything he can to give you the best treatment. communication is key, so he'll ask you what you prefer and follow through with 100% effort including things like cuddling, whispers in your ear about how good it was, running a bath for you, etc. the more rough he is during sex that day, the more he'll make up for it after. he is truly the best at aftercare and goes above and beyond to make sure that you feel loved.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

the reason nanami works out is so that he can be strong enough to protect you, so his favourite body part is his arms and hands. he loves wrapping them around you in a hug or being able to lift you up, manhandling you and throwing you on the bed. he likes being able to pin you down, one hand holding your wrists together above your head while he pleasures the rest of your body.

on you? if you ask him, he'll get all blushy and shy about it. what he says aloud is your eyes, your smile, something safe even though he does really like those aspects of yours. but privately, he's a boobs guy, and he just loves how your breasts look when you wear slim-fitted clothing, the way it outlines your curves. if you're riding him, he's for sure staring at your breasts and how they bounce every time you move. and he loves to grope them, massage them, feel how soft they are in his hands, the reaction he gets out of you when he flicks at your nipples.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

the two of you don't have sex super often because you're both busy people, so when you do, he always comes a lot. you can feel it when you fondle his balls, how heavy and full they are with all his pent up desire. you can feel it when he thrusts his cock into your pussy and comes deep inside you with a loud moan, releasing everything he has. and it always takes a long time for him to finish coming just because there's so much of it, his cock twitching and spurting out ropes of come for what feels like forever. and then it's nanami's favourite part: pulling his cock out of you and watching his come drip out of your pussy, hot and white and sticky, all overflowing as it spills from between your legs. the sight of it alone is almost enough to get him hard again.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

before you two officially got together, he would have wet dreams about you almost every night, and he'd wake up painfully hard every time. then he would jerk off while imagining you in his head, creating his own fantasy of how he would fuck you if you were there with him. this happened so often that he would get embarrassed when he saw you in person because he didn't know how to act around you anymore.

after you started dating and you found out about this, you definitely took advantage of it. you told nanami to masturbate and get himself off while you watched him, and he had to narrate one of his fantasies to you. so he would stroke his cock while telling you exactly what he imagined and whenever he got shy, you'd tsk at him, who said you could stop? it turned him on so fucking much even though he never admitted it. and then, of course, you would recreate that fantasy with him, and when he finally orgasmed, it was the hardest he'd ever come.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

nanami's not the most experienced in terms of how many people he's slept with because he only has sex with long-term partners rather than hook ups. he's had a few previous relationships so he's not completely inexperienced either. but what nanami is good at is learning and figuring out what works for you because that's the only thing he cares about. he wants to make you feel good and he's a quick learner, always watching your reactions carefully to see what you like and how to get you to come. he becomes so good at it that he can have you falling apart within seconds, and it's something that he's very proud of.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

this one is obvious but of course nanami loves when you ride him. it's a great time for him when he's able to lean back and watch as you bounce on his cock while he admires every inch of your body. sometimes he'll tie your hands behind your back and that turns him on too, seeing you ride him with only the movements of your hips, making you work for it. if you get tired, he'll be so generous and help you out, holding you up so that he can thrust up and pound his cock into you. he loves it when your mouth falls open, moaning uncontrollably, and when you throw your head back in pleasure.

missionary is another favourite of his because he really likes the intimate aspect of it, being able to see your face and kiss you. he's in full control here with his body above yours as he thrusts his cock in your pussy as fast or as slow as he wants. and if you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper—fuck, that really gets him going, and he'll fuck you even harder, cock throbbing with need.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

he's pretty serious in the sense that he's not like cracking jokes in the middle of sex or anything. but he loves to tease you and he's not subtle about it at all. it's his favourite thing to get you more and more riled up, all horny and frustrated, because it makes him aroused to hear you desperately beg to be touched, beg for his cock.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

he cares a lot about personal hygiene so he's always well groomed. maybe not fully shaved all the time because the hair grows back too fast and he can't be bothered to keep it entirely spotless, but it's usually trimmed and well maintained.

in other areas, he also has some hair on his chest and a happy trail that makes you absolutely feral. he knows it too because sometimes he'll push down his pants a bit so that it's partially visible and he smirks at the effect it has on you, how it gets you almost instantly turned on.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

it depends. there are times when the two of you go slow, making love to each other, and it's the most intimate and romantic thing you've ever experienced. other times, maybe when he's had a particularly stressful day at work, he'll be rough almost like he's taking out his frustrations on you, and he pounds his cock into you without mercy. he knows you can take it, knows you'll be good for him, and all you can do is moan and moan...

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

i wrote about this here.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

some light bondage really gets him going, like using his tie to restrain your hands or some rope to loop around your breasts and spread your legs for him. this doesn't happen too often, but he likes dominating you and you like being dominated by him. with the bondage, your movements are restricted and you can't touch him so he's in full control over how much you get (you want to be touched? you want to come? only good girls deserve my cock) and how much you're forced to take (yeah, that's it, take my fucking cock, look at how badly you pussy needs it).

another thing is semi-public sex or a small degree of exhibitionism. this is just him getting turned on by having sex in taboo places, like when he brings you to work and closes his office door and fucks you over the table where all his important documents are laid out. he'll say, shh, don't make so much noise unless you want everyone to hear you moaning on my cock and the forbidden aspect of it gets him off even more.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

in bed when he's feeling intimate and romantic. against the wall in the living room when he's too fucking horny to wait any longer and he can't make it to the bedroom in time. at his office when he wants to relieve stress from work. the closest private space that he can find when you tease him in public and get him all hot and bothered, knowing that all he can think about is how he needs you right fucking now.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

nanami gets the most turned on when you're tempting him but he can't do anything about it at that moment. such as:

you wearing revealing clothing and purposely bending over so that he gets a glimpse of your cleavage. or you sending him naughty photos while he's at work and he has to hide the growing boner in his pants. or when your touches linger on him for a few seconds longer than usual, hands brushing past his nipples and palming at his erection for a brief moment. or when you whisper something dirty in his ear in a public space like i'm so wet right now... want you to fuck me right here, bury your cock deep in my pussy and then walk away as if nothing happened. all of those things will have his cock stirring between his legs, planting the most obscene thoughts in his head.

you can tell that it really gets to him when he starts clenching his jaw and he's breathing harder and his cock strains against his pants, twitching helplessly. if you keep it up, he'll become so horny that the minute you two are alone, he'll push you against the wall and fuck you right there, not caring about whether other people can hear or not.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

if you two haven't talked and agreed on doing something, he won't do it. he wants to make sure that both of you enjoy the sex. and probably nothing too hardcore in general.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he likes to give more than receive when it comes to oral, and he's so damn good at it too. he's an expert at eating you out, knowing exactly where to lick and how to drag his tongue to have you writhing and squirming above him. he revels in the sounds you make, your gasps and moans and whimpers. it gets him so aroused when you come from him swirling his tongue around your clit or thrusting his tongue into your pussy. your hands clench around the bedsheets, grabbing at his hair, thighs shaking at what he's doing to you. his cock is so, so hard as he licks your pussy, feeling it throb and pulse as you come on his tongue.

when it's your turn to give him a blowjob, nanami cock twitches just at the sight of you sinking down and kneeling between his legs. it's the best kind of torture when you start with gentle kisses up his shaft and licking all over. he sees heaven as your swirl your tongue around his tip and swallow him down all the way, bobbing your head on his cock. you take him so well and he goes a little crazy at how his cock disappears in your mouth. his horniness is off the charts now, and he always tries to resist, but he can't help thrusting his hips, fucking his cock in and out of your mouth. you suck him off, flicking your tongue under the crown of his cockhead, and he explodes in your mouth with a guttural moan. you keep going even as he comes and it drives him wild, reduced to a moaning mess, his mind hazy with pleasure. he's panting when you show him all of the come that you've collected on your tongue and that makes his cock twitch again. fuck, he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of this.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

listen, nanami has the range. it really depends on the day and circumstance, but he's definitely capable of going at any pace. on mornings when you've just woken up, he'll be slow and sensual. if you've been apart for a while, it'll be a heated reunion like you can't get enough of each other. if he thinks that you've been a brat and need to be punished? get ready because it's going to be rough and he won't take it easy on you at all.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

not a fan of them. he likes being able to take his time with you without feeling rushed. of course, there are instances where he's just so horny that he needs a quick fuck right now, but if he had a choice, he would prefer a slower pace.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he's pretty open to trying new things if you express interest in them, and sometimes he surprises himself at how into it he gets. he would be willing to do spanking, choking, hair pulling... anything that makes you turned on will turn him on, too.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

oh boy, nanami seems to have endless stamina so you can only hope to keep up with him. it takes a lot to get him to come, or rather, his self-control is unmatched and he's so good at holding himself back to draw out the pleasure even longer until he absolutely can't take it anymore. sometimes he even ends up edging himself multiple times simply because he doesn't want it to end yet. he uses this skill to focus more attention on you, and he almost always makes you come before he does. you've tried to outlast him before, but he's too composed, too good at breaking you down.

not only that, but he can go for multiple rounds, as many times as you want. it takes him a while to get hard again after he comes, but when he does, you better believe that you won't be able to escape while he fucks you over and over until you can't think anymore.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

not much, and if he does have toys, it's usually to use on you, like a vibrator. you fall apart so quickly when he uses a vibrator. it's fun with the different settings too, because he gets to control your pleasure. he'll have one hand with the vibrator pressed to your clit or thrusting in and out of your pussy while his other hand jerks himself off to the sight of you trembling on the bed. if he times it really well, he can have both of you coming at the same time, moaning together as the pleasure peaks.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he teases you, but usually in retaliation to you teasing him first. you enjoy getting him all riled up at inappropriate times like the time you were kneeling under his desk while he had a business meeting. or accidently grinding your ass on his cock when he's spooning you. it's fucking hot to see him try and hold back, to resist the temptation when he's clearly aroused. and he always gets his revenge, teasing you relentlessly and not letting you come until you're completely wrecked, pussy so sensitive and throbbing, aching to be filled. he rubs the tip of his cock by your entrance, taunting you, feeling how wet you are. he says, you don't seem like you want it badly enough. maybe i'll just leave you here. you beg him, beg him for his cock, for him to stuff you full, promising not to tease him again. when he finally fucks you, properly, he stops right before you're about to come and it's so cruel. so fucking cruel. he pulls out, watching your hips buck up desperately and pussy pulsing in his absence. he does this again, building you up to your orgasm only to deny you at the last second. you're going to lose your mind. he leans in to whisper in your ear, this is what you wanted. you love it when i tease you. and you do, you do, but you also want to come.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he's not loud but his moans are the sexiest sounds you've ever heard. with his deep voice, especially if he moans right by your ear, it'll send waves of arousal through your body and make you clench around him just to hear it again. every noise he makes feels like a reward, a way for you to know that you're making him feel good. he grunts when he thrusts in and out of you. he groans when his hips start to stutter, cock throbbing as he gets close. sometimes you'll get a whine or whimper out of him and those make your pussy so fucking wet, hearing how desperate he is to come. and of course his moans—low and drawn-out, broken, lost in pleasure. moaning your name, moaning about how good it feels, a choked out moan as he fucks you full of his come. his moans are the hottest sounds you've ever heard.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

he loves to see you dressed up in lingerie, any kind of clothing that shows off your curves and exposes your skin in a scandalous way. he'll often buy you sexy lingerie sets for you to try on as foreplay before you have sex. his favourite is a bra that's pretty much see-through with an opening for easy access to your nipples and a thong that comes with a garter belt to wrap around your thighs. and if you give him a lap dance in that outfit, oh he'll get hard so fucking fast and his hands will be all over you. the fabric is so thin that grinding against his erection feels so good, feels almost like you're fucking him right there. the lingerie stays on when you finally have sex, and it makes nanami absolutely feral, like it unlocks something in him and he snaps.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

oh, he is big. definitely bigger than average in terms of both length and girth. if he's wearing tight pants, you can see the outline of his cock so clearly between his legs. and when it's hard and leaking, his bulge is obvious to anyone who looks, like his cock is fighting to break free.

unzip his pants and his cock will spring up, curving toward his abdomen, flushed red at the tip and drooling with precum. it twitches and throbs, hungry and desperate for your pussy. if he takes a dick pic and sends it to you... oh man, you better free up your afternoon because you'll be either masturbating yourself to his picture or finding him right that moment to have his delicious cock inside you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

fairly average overall, though it's funny because he thinks he has his desires under control... then you send him a sexy photo or say something suggestive to him and suddenly his cock is stirring, arousal rushing through his body. it's easy to get him in the mood, especially since he finds you so attractive.

and his sex drive is definitely higher than the public perception of him. the way he presents himself is so put together that people tend to think he's boring in bed. but the first time he brought you to his office, everyone saw how he looks at you and how he's always finding excuses to touch you and they realize that he gets it more than he lets on. they quickly learn that nanami kento fucks.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it's very rare for him to fall asleep before cleaning up both of you and making sure you're comfortable. he doesn't like the mess and much prefers going to sleep with a clean set of sheets. but there are times when he's so fucked out and in a state of bliss that he just falls asleep right away and that's when you know the sex had been really good.

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree @maskedpacific @genshingeeksworld @itsnotmelo @goddexxluv @jaeminsmilk @eggphobic @thejujvtsupost @sadcabbage @magicalgirlb @therealisttheillest @fushigur0slut4 @nanamiswifeyy

(comment to be added)

#GOD writing all this out just makes me realize how much i need nanami to fuck me #i need him so bad #ugh why is he so fucking hot #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk men #jjk smut #jjk imagine #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk nanami #naughtyjjk #nanami x reader #nanami imagine

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cloversnstrawberries · 5 months ago

Note

will you do platonic yandere alastor x teen reader for the “refusal/acceptance” prompt? like the teen reader was kidnapped by him and refused to accept him as their father but as time goes on he manipulates them into accepting him.

"refusal / acceptance" plantonic!yandere!alastor & teen!gn!reader ! !

[2024 christmas/holiday event, entry 3]

event post ! | event masterlist !

description; When you fell to hell, you hadn't expected yourself to make it this long. 5 years wasn't very much at all to most sinners, but to the younger ones-- it was a massive milestone, you included. However, your relatively peaceful (as peaceful as it could get in hell...) existence was abruptly interrupted by your own curiosity getting the better of you.

Really, you shouldn't have poked around the house you'd basically been squatting in for the past 5 years like you were, all it could lead to was trouble, and you should've known that.

additional notes; the first part is very focused on the reader themself/the mysteriously unoccupied and very nice house they found after first falling, but i promise you alastor does show up and is very much his usual overprotective self :D

warnings; Kidnapping, vague possessiveness, overprotectiveness, imprisonment, entrapment, Reader is convinced Alastor wants to kill them, brief/vague mentions of violence, murder, torture, etc etc, Reader has trust issues (for a good reason, it is alastor we're talking about), manipulation, and if i missed any others, please let me know!!!

w/c; 5.5k (oh lord)

You aren't sure how long you've been here, isolated with The Radio Demon in some messed-up pocket dimension(?).

In all honesty, you don't know what you did to deserve this. To catch his interest like this, and by god you don't know how the hell you've been keeping it.

Both in life and death, you knew many people like The Radio Demon-- you knew how they operated, the ins and outs of what their main goal was. For some, they prioritized wealth, and others prioritized power above all else--

You've come to the very clear conclusion that the Radio Demon prioritizes his own amusement above anything else in the world. Yes, he most definitely has a thing for power (as all Overlords do, it's practically a requirement for the position), but that's certainly not his intentions with you.

Being a younger sinner wasn't necessarily rare-- it was hard to come by them, yes, but that's because they're usually snuffed out before they could even get a look around the place.

It's a wonder you've made it this far, five years wasn't much in the eyes of Sinners like Alastor, but to you-- it was far beyond how long you'd expected yourself to make it.

The Exterminators that come down each year-- they target the younger ones, the vulnerable. On more than one occasion, people have claimed they heard Adam, the leader of the Exterminators, proclaim "Oh, I just love killing the small ones!"

Not very holy in your humble opinion, but that opinion was not asked of you; so you'd never shared it to anyone but yourself.

Dying at the hands of other sinners wasn't uncommon for the younger ones either, obviously-- which is why you were (understandably) a bit of a hermit.

This is, ironically, how you encountered and was promptly swiped up by no other but the Radio Demon himself. You never interacted with others much, but you'd still heard tales of him-- little snippets of conversations as you did your monthly grocery shopping. One of the few times you'd ever leave your little shoddy cottage on the outskirts of Pentagram City.

You were always a very curious person-- cautious, so you'd keep your curiousity to yourself. Let yourself silently mull over information, but forcing yourself from never seeking any more than you could passively pick up.

But this one time-- God, you really don't know why you did it. Perhaps you were getting bored with it all, with the monotony of your afterlife; always on edge, even in your own 'home'.

This cottage you lived in was abandoned once you found it, just a few days after you'd fallen into hell. It was close to the field you'd woken up in after dying, and you'd curled up on the cold, scratched up wooden floor and slept for the first time in Hell.

Ever since, you'd claimed the place as your own. The first few months-- scratch that, the first few years, you were always on edge, expecting its true owner to come crawling back-- and slaughter you, who by all means was a squatter, simple as that.

You didn't mess with the items much, and you stuck only to where you needed. The bathroom, the kitchen, and the living room-- where you'd set up shop, claiming it as your bedroom.

Only recently had you begun exploring the other rooms. The kitchen was simple, having an icebox and a gas stove; besides the archway was an apron hanging on a hook that read "Don't kiss the cook". You'd snickered when you first noticed it.

You never used it, you only used what you had to-- never rearranging, never touching what wasn't absolutely necessary to your survival. Forever in fear of if-- or when, the original owner returned.

A few months ago, after residing in this cottage for so long, you came to the conclusion that owner probably was never coming back. They'd most like died in an extermination-- when you'd first discovered the house, it already had a light covering of dust over all the objects.

And yet, nothing looked out of place. Nothing stolen, nothing broken. That's what put you on edge, making you certain for so long that the owner would come back and rip you to shreds.

You started small, looking and eventually locating an unassuming hall closet in search of cleaning supplies. You pulled a duster out, a wooden handle with a metal bit attaching the real feathers on the end-- it was ornate, in your eyes, because you were so used to having a duster made of synthetic fibers. It looked quite old, but that fit with the rest of the house.

You pulled it out and began dusting-- once you were done, you were surprised by how much nicer the place looked by then. You turned the feather duster back to its home in the closet, still careful about disturbing anything else.

A few days later, you took a mop and cleaned the floor of the living room and kitchen.

The next day, you cleaned and reorganized the bathroom, but didn't dare throw away anything.

Then, a week later, you finally removed those mounted heads of various cervines, stashing them in a corner of the living room. Out of sight and out of mind, no longer looming over you as you slept on the cushy sofa every night.

Your boldest move by that point-- but after that, it was like a gateway had been opened. No longer so nervous, you moved furniture around; inspected all the cabinets of the bathroom and kitchen, looked through the large oak armoire standing by the entrance.

In it, you found a few coats, an umbrella, a couple hats that hadn't been in style for decades, maybe even nearing a century-- and a few bits and bobs a like. One thing in particular caught your eye-- a coat made in beautiful earth-toned colors, with jewel-red accents as well.

You took it out, and began wearing it around your house.

In the following months, you'd branched out into a few other rooms-- no longer sleeping in the living room, you settled down in what you assume to have been a guest bedroom. It was plain, with a queen-sized mattress held up by a metal wire frame.

It was done up in blues, and it looked like it'd been rampaged through when you first entered. Slate blue covers ripped off the bed, drawers pulled from the dresser-- spilling its contents all over the floor; and a 1950s CRT TV on the floor, a hole running right through the screen and out the casing. The glass of it was still strewn about the floor.

You cleaned it up with careful hands, and took the broken TV to sit beside the mounted stag heads in the corner of the living room.

A few more changes-- you found a storage room, stacked high with neatly folded clothes; hunting gear, and various different items from a bygone eras, along with dozens and dozens of boxes-- most, if not all, were labelled in some shape or form. You placed the TV and mounts in there, not having the heart throw anything away. You'd even kept the glasses pieces, placing them in a Tupperware you'd discovered in a particularly dusty cabinet in the kitchen.

One night, you'd grown bored again-- a terrible thing to be in a place like this, something you both did and did not consider your own. But, you'd ventured into the storage room regardless; careful of the items piled high, you pulled out a random cardboard box from the top of one of the less precarious towers of stuff.

In neat, swooping cursive; it was cryptically labelled "Cherished Belongings". Against your better judgement, you pried the top open--

Inside were a few radios, far more modern than the rest of the cottage appeared to be. Deep gouges were in the side of some, but the marks didn't dig deep enough to make it unable to be used.

A stack of letters you didn't dare touch, feeling like it'd be going too far to look into the private affairs of your home's previous owner-- a couple small boxes, that once you opened revealed little knick knacks that reminded you of your great-grandmother.

She had a farmhouse out in the country, and every time you'd visit her when you were young and she was still alive, you were always so enamored by the little trinkets placed all over a wooden shelf hanging above a corner-countertop.

They were delicate, bisque porcelain and well maintained. Your grandmother had a thing for rabbits and birds, many of those trinkets being one of those two things;

In the box, wrapped oh-so delicately in bubble wrap, were three tiny bisque porcelain deers. By the looks of their make and paint job, you guessed they were from the 50s or 60s.

You set them aside, along with the other boxes like them (though, you didn't open those yet. you wanted to explore the big box in its entirety before delving into the details), and explored the box a little more.

You found a beautiful Cathedral radio, from the brand Philco-- it was at the bottom, obviously an antique model. It appeared to be a custom, made of red wood and brass accents; it was polished to perfection, obviously a treasured item to the person who lived here before you did.

You pulled it out, and then closed up the box. You didn't place it back on its tower, as there was still more you could dig through in the large box; you took your findings to the living room, and set them carefully down on the accent table near the sofa.

You opened the rest of the little boxes, and placed the little figurines all around the kitchen, a few in the living room as well. Once you were satisfied, you sat down on the couch and began fiddling with the radio.

When it buzzed to life, it was already on a station. It was playing... swing music, you think it is-- you weren't too sure, since you weren't incredibly familiar with that era of music.

You tried turning the knob, but it always managed to come back to the same exact station. A second or two of static as you moved the knob, a spark of hope-- before it was quickly dashed as you were redirected right back to the same station.

Still, some music was better than none-- you'd found yourself going stir crazy without much background noise, save for the woods outside and the occasional animal prancing around; so this find was actually quite nice, you'd thought.

Until the song ended abruptly-- you thought it might've been a technical error of some kind, interference on your end. Until, right as the song stopped midway through a word, a talking segment began.

The show host was directly addressing you. And in that moment, you knew that you were done for-- one you heard that voice, everything started to make so, so much sense.

"My oh my, it seems like we have a special listener!" He'd started out, and it felt like there was somebody watching you. Hair on the back of your neck stood immediately, skin crawling as you nearly dropped the radio in fear-- your hands having grown clammy and trembling.

Laughter, cruel and mocking-- as you fumbled with the radio "Ah ah ah, don't drop it! That is quite priceless to me, you little thief."

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and in a moment of haste, you haphazardly tossed the radio onto the sofa-- not doing it too hard, making sure not to damage it in the meanwhile-- and quickly stood, ready to get the hell out of dodge.

Something grabbed at your ankle, and you shrieked-- a shadowed, clawed hand was coming out from the ground. Its nails dug through the cheap material of your pajama pants, and you toppled over; wincing as you landed directly on your tailbone.

That was, by far, the least of your worries at that point of time.

"I apologize, loyal listeners! We'll have to go to intermission, but I assure I will be back-- a new guest in tow, if all goes accordingly!" More laughter-- cackling, before it cut to a soft, almost lulling sort of music.

It did little to calm your nerves-- in fact, it worsened them tenfold, knowing what was to come next. Who was to come next,

A wordless cry escaped you, frantically clawing at the hand around your ankle-- but it was almost... slippery, non-corporeal as well. You couldn't seem to get a grip on it, as it just--

Your fingers just moved right through it, and it tightened its death grip in warning. But you were too afraid by now, the realization that for the past five year you'd been staying in the Radio Demon's house came crashing down on you in an instant.

That's why it hadn't been ransacked already, why it had such nice things, why there was barely anything that exceeded the 1930s technology or aesthetically wise-- the mounted deer heads, the-- the everything!

You'd fallen after he took his 'sabbatical', but you still heard so much of him. In the past few years, the fear of him had died down-- but still,

You knew exactly what he meant by a 'new guest'.

In that moment, you had the stupid thought of I'm too young to die like this, which was ridiculous, because you were already dead. You were in Hell,

and yet, the truth lied in the 'like this' part of that statement. You didn't want to be tortured and eaten on air, you didn't want all of Hell (or at least a very, very large portion of it) tuning in to hear the first 'guest' The Radio Demon got on his show post-disappearance.

Stomach flipping, vision blurring from your tears, your ears rang as your heart worked overtime-- You're sure your face was red and blotchy, tears already making tracks down your cheeks.

Half-hysterical, you were saying "Please, please, please--" in such a desperate tone, directed to no one but yourself. begging yourself to just grab the hand and rip it off, to make it out of this in one piece--

You don't know why you fought so hard, and as you look back, you realize that might've been what made Alastor want to keep you (for the time being). Surely, he adored the fact that you-- teetering on the edge between child and adult, crying and begging-- fighting so hard for a life not worth living.

Really, you had nothing to fight for. No family down here, no friends or even acquaintances, nobody knew you; you were a hermit, one of the younger sinners that people assumed would be snuffed out quickly, and leave behind little to no impact.

Panic surged as you look to your right, a pool of shadows forming-- then, out came the tip of antlers. Then, fluffy ears-- a head, shoulders...

And soon enough, the shadows dissipated. Leaving behind what you assumed, what you were so sure would've been your killer.

He'd opened his mouth-- but as he looked at you, for a reason entirely unknown to you; he buffered. Looking down at you, sobbing and shaking-- lip wobbling, face red and soaked with tears.

You know you looked pathetic at that point.

Maybe that's why he did what he did, why his demeanor entirely changed as he crouched down. Antlers shrinking and the static surrounding him dying down (though never ceasing entirely) as he extended his arms your way. Like he was trying to beckon forward a scared child.

And maybe you did look like one-- but you hardly believe that he genuinely saw you as one.

You know men like Alastor, you know that they could never make room for anyone else in their hearts but themselves-- and a select few people who'd managed to worm their way into his close circle; one way or another.

You were not one of those people.

And yet, he did not harm you.

Even as an indeterminate amount of days, weeks-- maybe even months, passed; he still hasn't harmed you once. He clothes you, he gives you gifts upon gifts (nearly all of which go unopened, shoved in an ever growing pile in the very corner of your room)-- he set you up in a nice room, he feeds you; he claims that you can have all you ever wanted, as long as you ask.

You never did. It was a trap, and you knew it. He was-- was trying to lure you into trusting him. You don't know why he was doing this, maybe he got bored with every horrible act he did being a one-and-done thing.

He was fattening you up like a pig to the slaughter. Making your life all nice and cushy, only to pull the rug from under your feet and reveal what you knew all along.

No matter how many times he said something along the lines of "I won't hurt you, you're safe here, my fawn." or "I view you as my own, a child I never knew I wanted before you came along.", you knew how people like him went about life. People were stepping stones to their goals, his being entertainment; always getting the last laugh.

Once upon a time, you'd heard that his youngest 'guest' he had featured was an 11 year old-- early in his stay in Hell, right as he began to blossom into a fearful Overlord, that child had done something to upset him.

That was, allegedly, back in the mid '30s; and that after that, he never dipped lower than 19 year old. Now, you aren't entirely sure how true that could've been, either part of the claim--

But it was all you had.

You were curious, but not foolish enough to externalize that curiosity. Especially not to like Alastor.

He didn't keep you in the cottage you'd grown accustomed to-- he took you somewhere else. It looked like the cottage; all the way down to the knick-knacks you'd placed all around, right before you made the mistake of touching that radio,

It was always dark out, and when you look out the window-- it was not a forest, but a swamp-- bayou, what-have-you. It was a wetland, with fireflies buzzing around at all times,

There never was a moon, the only light outside came from what seeped out of the faux-cottage and the fireflies that were all over, but that hardly illuminated much.

You didn't leave your 'room'-- the room that looked like the one you'd claimed as your own in the real cottage. He tried coaxing you out of it a lot-- tried making you move rooms, saying he'd set up a room much more suited to your needs.

Every single time, you gave a quiet shake of your head-- that was the furthest those one-sided conversations ever got. Alastor didn't seem too pleased with it, but he laid off it. Didn't force it on you, and he'd then bring you food on a little bed-tray.

Today, you got a little too bold-- or perhaps you just wanted it over with, finally coming to terms with the only way out of here was... well, to force Alastor's hand and get him to snap-- then kill you.

It was obvious he wasn't going to let you go any other way.

You left the room for-- jesus, it must've been the first time you'd done so since the first couple days after you got stuck in this strange other-cottage. The living room didn't look very different.

Noticeably, the trinkets you'd placed before were right where you'd placed them. Not a centimeter out of place.

You tried to ignore it, and sat down on the sofa. You frowned at the Philco Cathedral radio beside you, sitting oh-so-innocently on the accent table near your head.

You glared at it, and while you knew that, realistically speaking, you were entirely to blame for getting in this situation-- not so much the radio, it was still a little cathartic to have something else to blame but yourself.

You turned around and laid on the couch, arms crossed as you pulled your legs to your chest-- back of your head resting against the arm of the couch, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. Tried to pass time that way,

Predictably, your nerves refused to let that happen. But you retreated into your mind-- and soon enough, you heard Alastor shadow-warp in. You kept your eyes closed, tried to look as peaceful as possible. As vulnerable as you could, open and easy to atta--

A hand, a hand landed on your cheek. it was soft, caring, even. It confused you. Did he know you were awake? Was he trying to pull one over on you as well, because theres no way he'd do this if he didn't know you were witnessing it--

His hand pulled away, and you heard his footsteps pattering away; a door opening, fainter footsteps, the door closing-- and his footsteps getting closer.

Then, you felt something being thrown over you. It wasn't easy, resisting the urge to snap your eyes open-- obviously he knew you were awake, trying to trick you by being all sweet; reaching levels of deception you never thought possible before.

You realized he was trying to deceive you, because you were trying to deceive him-- and any such combination, made your head hurt if you thought about it too long.

Then, he leaned forward; you knew this because his hair brushed against your cheek in the process; both hands went to your face-- cupping your cheeks as he leaned forward and planted a little kiss on your forehead.

He began to tuck you in, and brushed some stray hair from your forehead. In a soft, almost reverent tone, he said "Sweet dreams, little fawn.", then ran his hand through your hair one last time--

Then he was gone. And nothing more came of it-- it was a little embarrassing to admit you'd really fallen asleep, so you reasoned with yourself that you hadn't. Just as you opened your eyes (which you'd totally just been resting, absolutely no sleep having found you. nope, nuh uh), you realized you hadn't been alone.

On the other side of the sofa, pressed as far against the other arm as possible-- almost like it was afraid of startling you if it got too close, was Alastor's weird Shadow creature. The same one that had restrained you that day you'd turned on the radio and spelled your own doom.

"...Hi?" You asked, trying to make yourself sound as groggy as possible (as if you needed to put any conscious effort into that in the first place); trying to sell the impression that'd you'd just been asleep, even though the Shadow probably knew otherwise (you hoped it believed that you hadn't actually fallen asleep, but you're pretty sure it did because nothing felt out of place-- obviously it hadn't attacked you while asleep).

It chirped, jolting up. It's face split in to a jagged grin(?), bright neon blue made up its mouth and eyes as it jumped from its seat and ran to the kitchen. You sat up, blanket falling into your lap; it was a nice, large quilt made up of reds and earth tones. Alastor's signature colors, and if you had to guess, he'd probably pulled it from the storage room.

You'd never been in his bedroom, but you doubt he'd sully a blanket he sleeps with by putting it on you. Even if the point of doing so was to manipulate you or whatever the hell he was playing at.

Around 30 seconds later, Alastor popped his head out of the archway leading into the kitchen. He found you rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm, just now awake enough to realize you smelled something cooking in the kitchen.

Oddly enough, he didn't speak until you pulled your hand from your eye and registered his presence. You looked up at him, eyes wide-- confused. His... his smile,

It looked so real, so genuine. It was soft, something you never thought a man like him could accomplish-- either in a genuine or otherwise manner. It reached his eyes, causing the skin around them to crinkle slightly.

And for a second, just one second, you believed that he actually did care for you.

When he spoke, he did it quietly. He sounded... different, and at first you couldn't quite place your finger on the difference.

"Mornin' fawn! Did you have a good rest?"

First off, he sounded way too... eh, cheery-- actually happy to see you, and like he actually wanted an answer to his question. And secondly, he sounded southern! With how much he talked about being from New Orleans, you should've made the connection that he had an actual accent underneath that transatlantic one; it was so jarring, hearing it gone completely like it was.

You sat in silence for a little bit, Alastor waiting for you to respond to pick up the conversation. Not rushing you, just standing there. God, if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was being patient with you!

In lieu of a verbal response, not trusting yourself to keep the bewilderment out of your voice; you gave a quick nod, and his smile grew by a fraction. He probably thinks he's caught you in his trap--

He gave you one last look, before turning around and heading back into the kitchen. You heard something boiling, and you didn't know what he was making-- it smelled good, though.

"That's good." He called from the kitchen, and it felt so terribly domestic that it had your stomach flipping. Him peacefully cooking, continuing to talk to you even as he did so.

You were beginning to feel nauseous, no longer liking this game he was playing (let's be honest, you never did-- but it was getting too real, blurring too many lines. you knew that, at some point, he would up the ante; but you really wish he hadn't),

(he's beginning to make you believe it, despite you knowing for a fact it was all a dirty trick to get your guard down.)

"I'm so happy you've started to warm up to me!" He started again, and you clenched your hands in the soft, probably expensive, quilt fabric. I'm not warming up to you, your mind supplied-- trying desperately to grasp at straws, and hide away from the fact that you were, you were starting to really believe his lies.

You suppose that it was inevitable, that being isolated with just Alastor (and his shadows, but they were extensions of him-- they didn't count much as another person) for long would get to your head.

You'd like to think that you were mature, hardened by living in Hell for 5 years beforehand-- but deep down, you knew you weren't. That little showcase you'd done when you two first met, cowering on the ground as you sobbed and shuddered and fruitlessly clawed at your restraint was more than enough to prove that.

After everything, you were still a child. You were still that scared little kid, who thinks they're so much better than all their classmates because one of your teachers said "You're so mature for your age!" as an offhanded comment.

There was some clanging and clattering coming from the kitchen, a cabinet opening and something being taken out. A pan, probably; it sounded like a large, flat metal thing. A baking sheet, actually; not just a regular pan.

What on earth was he making in there? A dangerous, curious part of you wondered. Urging you to stand up and go look, but you keep firmly rooted to you spot on the couch. You wouldn't walk right into a trap, you refused to be that unknowing fly that didn't see the spider-web right in front of their face.

You heard (what you assumed to be) the baking pan placed on the tile countertop, a drawer being pulled out, metal utensils clinking together--

"You know," He started off, a bit more rustling came from the kitchen before he continued his though. "I was starting to worry that you never would," He paused, and if you didn't know any better-- you'd say he sounded sad.

But as soon as it showed up, it was thrown right out the window-- Alastor exchanging what seemed to be genuine emotion for the upbeat, almost saccharine sweet tone he'd held moments prior.

"But, I'm so glad you decided to prove me wrong! It was torturous for me, my child refusing to so much as look my direction when not forced to..." Alastor trailed off, leaving you in relative silence-- the conversation went dead for a while, as you process his words.

When you realized what he'd called you, panic flooded you. He'd never called you that before-- or maybe he has, and you just tuned it out. He said so many things, all of which you had a very hard time believing were based in even an ounce of truth;

Maybe it was the tone that finally brought your attention to the title-- his child. You were not his child! You were some random squatter who just so happened to be a minor! You weren't a kid, and you certainly weren't his kid--!

"I'm not-" You tried to say, spine stiffening, hair on the back of your neck standing straight up at the realization. But, in true Alastor fashion, he quickly cut you off and diverted your attention-- out of the blue asking "Could you come and help, my dear? I think it's about time you start learning how to cook."

okay, rude, you thought. Alastor couldn't have known you for more than a few months; you're sure you would've realized if a year had passed (you hope you would, anyways), and never once had he asked if you could cook.

You had half a mind to try and push how far his patience could go, refuse to stand-- to follow his 'invitation' (demand) for you come help him in the kitchen.

A much more rational part of you screamed at you that no, no-- don't do that, you absolute idiot!

You wish you could say you didn't give in to him, that you stayed right where you were and tested how far he'd go with his promise of not hurting you. That would, however, be a lie.

It was almost like you were on autopilot, pulling the blanket off and making a half-assed effort to fold it before setting it on the couch. You felt a little numb as your feet seemed to move on their own, eventually leading you to the kitchen.

One hand of the edge of the entryway, you stood cautiously at the very edge between the living room's hardwood floor and the kitchen's black-and-white checkered tiles.

You're not sure how long you stood there-- not long at all, you think. Alastor turned around, offering a small, horribly soft smile and quietly beckoning you.

You took one step in, and Alastor laughed at that; he lifted his arm, gesturing to his right. Obviously, he was instructing you to come stand by his side.

It was out of fear, you told yourself-- that when you'd followed his orders, standing next to him; you didn't fight at all when he laid his arm over your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

"Isn't this kind of impractical?" You asked, mumbling under your breath-- you were halfway between wanting Alastor to hear and not wanting him to, but of course, the former was the outcome.

Alastor's hand had settled on top of your head, absent-mindedly smoothing down your hair as his other hand whisked eggs into... something. He laughed, amused. Not entertained, not the joy he so obviously took in toying with others-

He sounded endeared.

That spelled the beginning of the end for you-- for your staunch position on the idea that Alastor was just messing with you, playing the long game and what not.

The realization of how... real he was being, with his actual accent out in the open... it opened the floodgates, and your grip started slipping on the idea that Alastor wanted to do you harm.

He was patient, more patient than you'd ever think he could be (from you'd heard previously, of course), he cares about your boundaries (somewhat, but that's way, way more than you ever thought you'd get with him), he fed you, he provided you with clothes and books-- claiming he'd give you anything if you'd just ask.

Your head felt full of cotton, ears ringing slightly-- drowning out Alastor response of "Mm, i suppose it is. But is it such a crime for a father to want to have his darling child close?"

Numbly, you shook your head, only have vaguely registered what he said. He gave a pleased hum, and went back to his cooking.

Really, he wasn't teaching you anything-- just doing his own thing while he kept you glued to his side.

You found yourself not minding it too much. You couldn't find it in yourself to care that you didn't mind it, actually.

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brandwhorestarscream · 8 months ago

Note

If d16 was carrying in the movie that could have saved him.

OOH I HAVE. THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS

Part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here!

Hear me out, ok. Sentinel Prime heavily, heavily advocates for chastity. He very publicly denounces casual intimacy, waxing poetic about how it's a very special thing that should only be shared with someone you truly love and trust. To give yourself away to a stranger in a one night stand or even casually to a friend is one of the greatest disservices one can do to themselves. Interfacing should only be done with your bonded mate. While it's certainly not illegal, their Prime's warm concern and insistence that they're all special and should be treated as such keeps a lot of mecha's panels closed. The vast majority of them are saving themselves for their conjunx endura.

Now, the real reason Sentinel doesn't want them having sex? He doesn't want them breeding. Specifically the lowest of society, he doesn't want his cogless servants sparking each other up and having babies with t-cogs. It would raise too many questions, and while he has no qualms about taking a newspark's cog out before they're presented to their parents, accidents happen. People slip up. Some sparklings come before their parents can get to a hospital. Some nutcases want home births because it's "more intimate and natural". Some just plain don't realize they're carrying until they start having contractions. Cogless bots popping out babies with cogs will only cause problems, so the best way to prevent such a thing is to convince them that chastity is their best option. Most of them die before they can find someone they want to be with forever, and even among those that do, they struggle to save up enough money for a bonding license. Keeping them repressed and chaste is just another means of his control.

Now, as for sweet D-16 >:) he practically worships Sentinel Prime. He has such blind adoration and trust in him. Orion adores him too, of course, but not quite on the same level. He doesn't look at Sentinel with the same stars in his optics, though certainly has boundless respect and admiration for him. When they're visited by the Prime post-Iacon 5000, they're invited up to his personal suite 👀

Consider: instead of getting immediately jumped by Darkwing, they actually do get escorted up there. It's grander than anything either of them have ever seen, a shining and spotless penthouse with a 360° view of the city, expensive chaises to lounge on and bottles of the finest, smoothest high grade, even a jacuzzi! Sentinel Prime meets them there, and, placing a gentle hand on each of their faces, purrs that he wants to reward them.

"I've never seen anything like what you two did today," D-16 whimpers at his praise, beaming sunshine, and Orion is awestruck. "Come... sit with me."

They follow their Prime obediently and he relaxes onto one of the lounges, pulling the two cute little miners down on either side of him. They talk--or rather, Sentinel talks and they hang onto his every word, each tucked under one of his arms and nestled close against his chassis--and eventually he pops a bottle of champagne and pours them each a glass. Neither Dee nor Orion have ever had such high quality energon before: it goes down thick and smooth and warm, sending a blast of heat through their little bodies that pool in their tummies and make them start to squirm and feel woozy. Sentinel prompts they drink the whole thing, each of them, and by the time they're done they're gasping and swaying. So strong! Too strong!

The Prime's huge blue servo slides onto D-16's face, admiring his dazed expression. His optics are flickering, shutters at their halfway point, and he's visibly flushed, mouth dropped open and pretty lips parted as he pants. Swaying gently back and forth like that, Sentinel can't resist. He leans down and kisses him, gentle but controlling, and D-16 makes an honest-to-Primes squealing noise.

As soon as Sentinel pulls back, Dee wavers and collapses back against the chaise, optics blown wide even as an uncontrollable smile splits his face. He starts giggling, covering his face and rocking back and forth as euphoria bubbles out of him in uncontrollable, adorable laughter. "Oh my stars-" he gushes. "Oh my stars omistars omistars wow...!" His first kiss has left him breathless and elated, barely able to speak, worship and the greatest joy imaginable shining in his optics.

Sentinel Prime has them, both of them, in his suite, over and over and over again. They're both virgins, have never touched another mech or been touched in turn, and their leader takes great revelry is breaking their seals. Fucking their tight little valves until they're wailing and cumming in his lap, sobbing in ecstasy into his neck, clumsily kissing at his plating and swearing that they adore him, they love him, please more, more, more! He frags them on the furniture, against the wall, on the floor, even in the hot tub. He has them both on their knees in front of him on the lounge, licking and sucking at his spike and pushing each other to lap up drops of his transfluid, asks them to use their mouths on each other while he watches. He even asks them to bear their sparks and they do: he doesn't share his own but he's glad to tease at theirs, and it reduces them to mewling little piles on the floor, twitching and rocking and moaning as they crash through overload after overload. Such beautiful little pets, so eager to please, he could definitely get used to having them around for awhile.

When their time comes to an end they've started to sober up, snuggled against his sides on one of the lounges, still whimpering and panting high on pleasure, excess charge making them woozy and giggly even though the high grade is nearly out of their systems. Airachnid arrives and doesn't even give them a passing glance, informing the Prime that it's time to depart. He sends them back to their home in the mines, promising to see them again soon, just as soon as he returns from his next crusade to the surface.

D-16 and Orion stumble home giggling and shoving each other, still adjusting their armor and poking at the paint transfers spattered all over them. They're euphoric, there's no other word for it, high as a kite on pleasure, on the knowledge that Sentinel Prime wanted them and they were able to satisfy him! No longer virgins and instead claimed by the Prime!

Their batchmates welcome them home with a cacophony of cheers and hugs and jostling--MINERS! In the RACE! Their very own brothers, in the Iacon 5000! And- wait, why are you two all wet...?

They weren't intending to tell everyone, but the way they look at each other and blush and start snickering and struggling to explain is telling enough. Ratchet is already approaching with a wrench to scold them, they know better than to let a moment of excitement cloud their judgement-

"Uh, w-well-"

"Sentinel Prime wanted to-"

"SENTINEL PRIME?!" The entire room screams out in shock at once, before the cheering resumes tenfold. Their batchmates got the attention of THE Sentinel Prime?! Sentinel Prime made love to their batchmates! A couple of miners got the attention and affection of their Prime! If they thought the Iacon 5000 was inspiring that's nothing compared to this: before you know it the entire sector is mining energon at a lightning fast pace and they've hit their quotas before shift is even a quarter of the way done.

Orion and D-16 happily get to work as well, eager to do their best so that when their dashing Prime returns to them, they can tell him about how hard they worked and how much energon they mined and how well everyone is going to eat because of them!

When Sentinel Prime suddenly returns and orders triple shifts, they're surprised. Very surprised. It's not like him at all! Pretty soon the miners are running on no sleep and little fuel, some are injured and being denied time for repair and seek medical treatment. And D-16, despite his best efforts, is starting to fall behind after several weeks of the brutal demands. He's getting dizzy which he attributes to the lack of recharge. His servos keep dropping things even when he's sure he has a tight grip on them. He's nauseous, all the time, and multiple times a shift stumbles away from the rest of his crew to gag and vomit in a corner of whatever energon vein they're currently working in. Orion tries to get him to slow down, to stop, because he's clearly sick and needs medical care, but Dee isn't willing to stop. "Sentinel Prime needs us, Pax! We can't stop now!"

It all comes to a head as they're dragging themselves out of a tunnel with a full load of raw energon to be refined. D-16 suddenly stumbles, clamping one servo over his mouth and running off to the side. Orion hurriedly follows him after making sure Ironhide and Jazz have got the minecart.

"Hey, easy, easy-" he comes to rub his back as his best friend bends over, servos braced on his knees and body already rolling with slow, threatening heaves. He moans that he doesn't want to, he's so sick of purging, it hurts, please Primus, not today! "C'mon, just, let it out. You'll feel better once it's out, Dee."

D-16 groans and hunches over further, arms wrapping around his middle. "No... Primes, please- hgk-!"

"OI!" A miserably familiar voice suddenly bellows behind them, and Orion's sympathetic expression drops to sheer annoyance. Oh, no. "YOU TWO! Whaddo you think you're doin'?!" Darkwing is storming up to them. "Sentinel Prime wants his energon, so GET BACK TO WORK!"

"Darkwing, please," for once Orion is polite, one servo still braced on his friend's back. "D-16's sick, he needs-"

"I don't CARE what you think he needs!" Their superior roars, grabbing them both by the shoulders and forcing then around to face him. "I said, get back to-"

Dee promptly hurls all over the slagger's pedes.

He can't hold it anymore, but he tries, clamping both servos over his mouth even as he purges again. Half-digested energon splashes through his fingers and sprays all over Darkwing's chassis, who roars in disgust and backpedals away from him. Dee crumples to his knees, gagging, both servos planted on the floor before he throws up one final time, emptying his already meager tanks and ejecting a puddle of digestive acid that burns at his throat. It dribbles out of the vents on his neck and nasal ridge, and he sobs. Primus, he feels so sick!

Darkwing's response, naturally, is to grab them both and throw them down to sublevel 50 😌 there they meet B-127, and the plot kicks off, though a bit later than before. They make it to the surface and set out to find the Matrix. The journey is significantly longer with D-16's condition, constantly having to stop so he can rest or purge. Orion, at one point, offers to carry him, and Dee is too miserable to protest. Let's Orion gently hoist him onto his back and promptly passes out with his helm on his shoulder. He's overly warm, Orion notices: feverish, surely a sign that he's getting worse. They need to find the Matrix, soon. Maybe it can help cure Dee's sickness! And if not, well, once energon flows again they won't have to mine, and D-16 will be able to see a doctor as soon as they get home. They'll get him the medicine he needs and he'll be just fine.

When they finally arrive at the Grave of the Primes, D-16 is in bad shape. Shaking like a rust rattler, dry heaving because there's nothing left in his systems to throw up, and very hot to the touch. Orion nor Elita nor B-127 have ever seen a mech in quite such a miserable state, and they're all very worried. Orion sits him down on a rock and tells him to rest, and D-16 just hunches over, helm between his knees and arms folded over his head, the epitome of misery. Whimpering softly and praying to the Primes to please, please, make it stop. Whatever this virus is that's tormenting him, please just make it stop!

Then, they find and awaken Alpha Trion.

The Prime notices Dee's condition. Immediately. He can see it, an invisible aura none but the divine can see: this young mech hosts a precious newspark inside of him. Before he tells them the story of what happened, he opts to examine the little one. He's so young, probably too young to be a carrier yet, but he's undeniably sparked. A few decacycles along.

He tells them what's going on, why D-16 is so grievously ill. "Your sparkling is starving," he tells him seriously. "You are not receiving enough donations. Their protoform is cannibalizing your body, that is the root of your sickness. Where... is the sire? He or she should be caring for your needs."

All four of them are staring at Alpha Trion with their mouths open. D-16 is carrying?! He's pregnant?! But who-

Elita one punches Orion in the face as hard as she can, sending him sprawling into the dirt with a cry of surprise. "OW! What the-"

"You slagger!" She plants one pede on his chassis and presses down til she hears metal creak and he goes 'ow ow ow!'. "It was you, I know it was you! Who else would be so dumb?! You got him sparked up and haven't been taking care of him?! You worthless deadbeat! I should rip your fragging denta out with pliers! One at a time! I should!"

"Omigosh, Dee," behind her, B-127's voice has gone airy and light in excitement. He comes up to the silver mech's side, grabbing his servo to squeeze. "Congrats, dude! You're gonna be a mom!"

D-16, for his part, is sat there in shock. Shoulders dropped and loose, mouth hanging open, staring at Alpha Trion with his optics so wide they're at liberty to pop right out of the sockets and need recalibrating. "I'm..." his voice is barely above a whisper, shaking servos drifting toward his tummy. "You mean- I'm-?!"

He's starting to smile, joy bubbling up in his chest. Excitement, too. And terror. And a million other things that he can't name because he's too shocked, but suddenly despite how sick he feels he can't help but start to laugh. Delight blooms in his chest and forces it's way out of his throat as he starts to giggle and chuckle, and before long he's doubled over holding his stomach and laughing with tears of joy streaming down his face.

"I'm- I'm having a-" he jumps up to run over to Orion, shooing Elita off of him and throwing his arms around his friend. "Pax I'm sparked! I- I can't wait to tell Sentinel, he's gonna be so excited!"

"Sentinel?" Alpha Trion's voice goes cold and harsh behind them.

"Yes! Oh- Oh yes, Sentinel Prime, he-"

"He is NO PRIME!" The old mech bellows, and all four of them turn to look at him in confusion. "He does not bear our name!"

"...WHAT?!"

The grand reveal is even more sour this time around. So, so much more sour. The betrayal runs so much deeper, and D-16 is horrified and sickened. Watching the mech he adores and admires so much bowing to the quintessons and giving away the energon that they worked so hard for. It was already bad, but now? Now, he's carrying that monster's offspring. A sparkling conceived under false pretenses, under coercion, under lies. This baby hadn't been created by love and mutual respect, it has been made by a mech that lied to their faces to get them into his bed, to get access to their bodies to use for his own pleasure however he saw fit.

D-16 feels disgusting. Violated. Worthless. He feels tricked and used and abused. He stares down at his body feeling more nausea already roiling in the deepest pits of his tanks. Sentinel had touched him everywhere. There's not a single inch of space anywhere that's clean of that mech's touch.

No one is surprised when he suddenly folds to his knees and screams. Screams with all the force of his anguish, his shattered trust, his broken and reviled body. Manic, he claws at his chassis with feverbright optics, wailing at them to, "Get it out of me...! GET IT OUT OF ME! I don't want it, I don't- I don't want it, GET IT OUT!"

Orion is at his side in an instant, yelping, "Dee, no! Stop, you'll hurt yourself!" As he forcibly grabs his friend's servos to stop him from tearing himself apart. D-16 shrieks a wordless noise of agony, and then collapses forward onto Orion to begin sobbing violently into his shoulder. Clutching onto him like a lifeline, wailing with all the devestated force he can. Bawling against Orion and falling to pieces, brokenly asking what he's going to do.

...

Ok im gonna cut this here cuz it's getting long, like really long and my hands are tired. I can barely move my left side today lmao. Poor poor Dee 😌 hope you enjoyed this nugget of angst! If ya'll wanna see a part 2, you know what to do. The box is open uwu

#transformers one #megatron #orion pax #d-16 #sentinel prime #elita #b-127 #your daily dose of angst #brandwhore writes #valveplug

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yanderes-galore · 3 months ago

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46.) "Even monsters can love, can't they...?" For yandere Ace who’s fallen for the islands local sweetheart , who doesn’t want to leave her island to go sailing with him 👀🦋

Sure! Let me see what I can do with this, it's been sitting in mt drafts and I've been meaning to get to it.

Yandere! Portgas D. Ace Prompt 46

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Slight stalking implied, Manipulation, Threats, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Delusional behavior, OOC Ace probably, Kidnapping, Dubious relationship.

Ace has traveled to many islands since he became a pirate. He's met many people, both friends and foes. He's even met many pretty faces on his travels.

But when he arrived on your island, you were a whole other story.

He originally came to your island for more supplies. Being out at sea can leave a guy hungry. He didn't expect too much of a welcome, it's a small island.

Although, when he managed to get to a place where he could eat and sleep, you came up to him.

Despite him being a pirate... you seemed so cheery around him. You greeted him warmly to your island and asked why he was here. You seemed so innocently curious of him... so sweet...

It was clear you don't get off your island much, so seeing a pirate or Devil Fruit User was probably only a rumor to you.

Even at the inn he stayed at he could feel all sorts of eyes. Many of them were suspicious of him, no doubt because of the tattoo on his bare back. He's part of an Emperor's crew.

But that wasn't the only reason people seemed wary... It appears you're rather popular on your island.

Apparently you happened to greet travelers often. So often that other people had to keep an eye on you so you wouldn't be hurt. Ace couldn't help but feel intrigued when he met you...

You're the island's sweetheart... just a woman who naively wants to meet people who explored the world.

Talking to you made Ace feel at ease. Part of him wondered if you had a power yourself... or were just naturally charming. Your interest made him feel oddly at home....

It made him stay at the island longer than he thought.

He knows he probably should get back to exploring the world. Yet here he is, spending all his time with a cute girl he found. One who smiles brightly and makes him feel... seen?

Ace wasn't originally intending to go sightseeing. But asking you to show him around for a few days while he prepares to leave was a way he could learn about you. Many still looked at him with disdain... they saw him as something to be scared of...

He's the son of an infinite pirate... allied with an Emperor... and wields enough power to burn a fleet of ships by himself...

They probably think he's a monster... which he's used to...

You don't.

You just look at him with those big eyes of yours, expressing a genuine curiosity in everything that makes him... him. For just a moment, he can forget his self loathing. It's a foolish idea but...

He wants you to love him... To always give him such a look.

Even when he's not around you, he can't believe himself. He's so distracted. By the time he realizes he's catching feelings for the island's most precious girl...

He's been here for days.

Is he that touch starved? So desperate for another human to love him that he'll latch onto the first nice girl he sees? That's so pathetic...

He wants so much more.

He has no right to feel on edge when you speak to others. His eyes can't help but glare whenever you be sweet with another. He knows that's just how you are...

But he nearly caught the table he was sitting at on fire due to his flames sparking.

Ace admittedly tried increasing his charm around you after he realized he was in too deep. He compliments you, calls you 'sweetheart' and 'doll'. He leans against walls as he gazes at you, he tries to put an arm around your shoulders.

To him, he thought you were fine with it. You let him do it. You smiled at him.

It just made him fall even harder.

He felt himself getting desperate when he realized he should be going. He really needs to get back to the crew he calls family. Yet he keeps feeling himself get heated when he sees you.

He can't leave you... He can't...

You're the sweetest girl to him... so pretty and accepting...

He hates to admit it so soon but... He needs you.

"Sail with me." It's not really a question. More like a plea as he stands where his Striker is docked. He had asked you to meet him there... to see him off...

In reality he was hoping he could convince you of the love he had for you.

"I-I know it's soon..." Ace murmurs, feeling his confidence waver at your confusion. "But you want to explore the world, right...? You can do that with me...."

"... Ace..." You struggle to find the right words, seeing the desperation in his eyes. "I... I don't want to go with you. I'm not meant for adventure like that...."

"But you'll have me!" Ace continues, stepping closer. "I can keep you safe... I can... I can love you...."

He curses to himself for letting the confession slip through so early. You look at him bewildered. That expression... It hurts him more than he'd like to admit.

"Ace, no, sorry... I... I don't feel that way—" You try to explain but Ace can't hear it over the shattering of his heart.

No... No you must....

"Sweetheart..." Ace whispers, reaching out gently when you pull away. "Is... Is there someone else? There can't be, right? No... No, you'd never do such a thing, right? We had a connection."

"Sorry, Ace...." You sigh before going to walk away, "I wish you luck on your journey... but I don't think I can—"

You feel Ace press against your back, hands wrapped around your wrists. His touch is hot, as if threatening to burst into flames. You tense immediately, Ace burying his face in your hair.

"Sorry, baby... I can't let you go..." Ace whispers, feeling an uncomfortable anger pool in his veins. "You know if anyone else had you... I might just burn the whole place down...."

You freeze, breath hitching as Ace grins. The threat was so casual. You debated on if he really meant it... but with how hot his grip was...

He probably did.

"Does that make me a monster, sweetheart?" Ace whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "I've heard that countless times before... I understand that I'm a monster..."

His tone is filled with irritation and self hatred. He knows he's just scaring you at this point. But he really was considering setting this island ablaze just to obtain the heart of his precious girl....

"... Even monsters can love, can't they...?" Ace murmurs, turning your face to look you in the eyes. "I know you'll accept me in time, doll... It's not a hard decision to make... Will you join me, or will you need some encouragement?"

His grip feels like it's searing your skin... and the thought of your island becoming nothing but ash scares you...

"Yes... Yes I'll sail with you...!" You squeak, relieved when Ace lets go of your wrists. You look down, grimacing at the red irritation on your wrists.

"Good girl!" Ace praises with a kiss to your forehead. "I knew you'd accept me...."

You then feel him spin you around to walk you to his Striker. It was a small vessel but you both could fit. If Ace held you.

"I know it may take time for you to love me..." Ace murmurs, gently nudging you onto the Striker. Afterwards he settles on to hold you close. "But... know something?"

You look at him, tears pricking your eyes. Ace just leans down to peck your lips.

"I'll wait as long as it takes... you'll be mine eventually..." Ace promises quietly, holding your face with a fond expression.

"No matter how long it takes you to love and accept me... I'll wait... as long as you're all mine in the end."

#yandere one piece #yandere one piece x reader #yandere portgas d ace #yandere ace #yandere ace x reader

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rekino2114 · 4 months ago

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How about 3 with fem kaiser and male reader

I imagine she'd give you a blue rose bouquet

Fem!kaiser giving you a bouquet and chocolate

Valentine's prompt #3

Prompts list

Pairing:fem!Michael kaiser x male reader

A/n:my first Valentine's Day post, and it's with one of my favorite characters to write for

"I-i'm sorry ma'am but we don't carry-"

"Tch"

Kaiser didn't even let the florist finish her sentence, a sentence that she had heard way too many times in a day. She hated when people repeated things to her, especially if it was something she didn't want to hear

"I should have expected that, this place is so trashy anyway"

The woman she was speaking to wanted to say something, but she knew better than to talk back to one of germany's most famous and important football players and people in general which was currently looking at her like she could buy this entire store 5 times and still have enough money to afford the incredibly expensive box of chocolates she was holding, which was actually very true

Kaiser sighed and simply walked outside of the store, not saying anything else. She sat on a bench inside of the mall she was in and ran a hand through her hair sighing even more heavily, she knew she fucked up and this was all just her fault.

She knew she shouldn't have waited until the last day to try to get the bouquet, but she was overconfident just like she was in football except that there her skills backed her confidence up but in this occasion there was no skill she could make use of, just the unpredictable mechanism of luck.

Unlike most holidays (Christmas especially), Michelle actually likes Valentine's day, sure it's cheesy and corny, but she can't deny that ever since she started dating you, she has become a bit cheesy and corny herself, giving you a blue rose bouquet every month with a note entitled to "my emperor💙" constantly showering you in praise and compliments and still using pick up lines even after years of dating but that's what feeling love for the first time ever does to a person. Kaiser loved you, and you deserved nothing short of perfection....which was exactly why she was disappointed that she couldn't give it to you today.

Her usual blue rose supplier had gotten sick and couldn't do his job. She was about to tell him to get up and do it anyway since she would still play a match while sick, but she didn't want to be that mean on a day about love so she just hung up without saying anything and went to look for blue roses in basically all of Munich's flower shops.

Of course, she knew that blue roses were very rare and literally unobtainable in nature. That's the whole reason why she got the tattoo in the first place, but what else could she have done? Give you normal roses? As if! She was the blue rose empress, that was literally her symbol. She wanted to get you blue roses so that every time you looked at them, you would think of her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. When she took it out of her pocket, she was relieved to see it was you calling her and not someone else to bother her even more.

"Hello, what is it schatz?"

"Hi Michelle, noa wanted me to ask you why you didn't come at practice today"

"Oh, I'm just shopping"

".....really, for what? You usually just send ness to do it or go with me"

".......well-"

"Speaking of ness, where is he? He didn't come either"

"Yeah......i sent him to buy something too"

"So.....you two are trying to buy the same thing but you're not together?"

"......yeah"

"....it must be important"

"It is"

"I see well I'll just tell noa you're busy and not bother you anymore, love you bye"

"Thanks, love you too"

The conversation kaiser had just finished made her feel even more guilty. You were just so sweet and perfect. The roses and chocolates you had given her this morning had already proven it to her among the mountains of other things you did for her.

You knew she didn't like receiving gifts, that she genuinely wouldn't have known how to react, but you still did it, simply telling her that it was just because of tradition and she didn't have to get you anything, but she wanted to, she wanted to get those damn blue roses.

She gritted her teeth as her anger rose. Why today of all days? Somehow, not being able to give you what you deserved felt even worse than getting a goal blocked by isagi

*ring ring*

"What is it?"

This time kaiser didn't even try to hide her frustration at however was on the other side of the phone

"K-kaiser, I found the roses"

"Finally! Where are they?"

"I-it's just-"

"Listen ness, I don't care what's happening there, I'll get the roses even if I have to kill someone to have them"

"But it's 800 euros for a bouquet"

"......ok and?"

"Isn't that......super expensive?"

"Yes and wildly overpriced. Like i told you, I'm getting those roses no matter what ,plus it's not actually that much for me, I can make that back in a match if I play well, and I always do"

"........o-ok"

After going to get the roses, kaiser and Ness went back to the bastard münchen building and were greeted by noa scolding them for not attending practice which Michelle mostly ignored as she told the magician to tell you to come to her room later.

"Hey babe, what-"

You gasped as the first thing you saw when you opened the door was kaiser holding a blue rose bouquet, smiling at you

"Happy valentine's day schatz"

"You didn't have to do this you know?"

"Yes, but I wanted to. You do so much for me. I would have felt terrible not giving you anything back"

She kissed you, wrapping her arms around you and guiding you to her large bed, where she placed the bouquet and opened the chocolate box

"Want some?"

The chocolates all looked amazing....and expensive, some of them had golden wrappers or phrases like I love you written on the chocolates themselves

"How much did this cost?"

"Please schatz don't worry about that"

She grabbed one of the chocolates with her fingers and held it out to you

"Do you need me to feed it to you~"

"I certainly wouldn't complain about that"

You opened your mouth as kaiser fed you the chocolates, you swallowed it, and your eyes lit up at how tasty it was

"So good!"

"Of course, I made sure they were all your favorite flavors. My emperor only deserves the best"

"What did i do to deserve you?"

"Just.....loving me"

Kaiser got close to you once again and hugged you. You hugged back as you let yourself fall on the bed with her on top of you. She kissed you passionately another time and continued kissing your face, leaving blue lipstick marks on it

"I love you so much schatz"

"Me too, I love you so so much"

Kaiser's smile widened as she moved to your right, hugging you even tighter. You were now fully cuddling on the bed

"Should I add the bouquet to the ones you always give me"

"If you want, I'd say this one is special, though. It cost me a lot, both in money and effort"

"Awww and you still brought it for me, you're so sweet"

"It's nothing, I'd do anything for you"

With those final words, kaiser kissed your forehead as you two continued to cuddle in silence. Her love warmed you up as you felt her heartbeat, which you knew was beating for you, the only person who showed kaiser love, her boyfriend, teammate, emperor, soulmate and now her valentine.

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ronearoundblindly · 4 months ago

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Hi!! I just found your blog and 😭😭 you're so talented, like, what?? I def need more!!! I dunno if this is how it works, or if you're still doing the dirty asks game, but I was thinking maybe E,K,U and S (or Z!) for Johnny?

Have a lovely day!! oh, and well, happy new year 🙂‍↕️

Prompts are from this ask game and part of my ongoing list of answers! You can also find A, B, C, D, and V already answered for this boi.

Warnings for...well...they are dirty asks so be prepared for sexy and sexual content 😉 including (but not limited to) discussion of oral, somnophilia, ummmm tickling? emotional unavailability? and idk other stuff. MINORS DNI.

Happy New Year! I love ya! I appreciate you taking the time, dearie 💜 Happy reading... 😈💋

K - Kissing

So this...implies some romance that's not typical for Johnny. His kissing is less emotional and more intense and deep--but seriously, it's not an indication of his longterm interest or level of affection. (There is an exception to this which is Johnny has no problem giving hickies. He will mark. you. up. ((He can't be marked in the same way due to healing.))

HOWEVER, those small, nonchalant pecks--if Johnny ends up smooching you and it doesn't lead to sex, it wasn't in the middle of sex, or especially if there's no one around to see it,--that's THE REAL DEAL. Something utterly devoted has sparked inside him if (and when) Johnny slows down to kiss you. Or slows for any reason, really.

In regards to where Johnny likes to kiss or be kissed? Again, he's not much of a kisser. He's big on touching and groping and tickling, since he's a goofball and true 'player,' i.e. Johnny is nearly always playful, but once there's a connection made with you, he...

okay, so, the thing is, he actually does like to be kissed, and the place that drives Johnny wild is above his dick, right at his adonis belt, that v-cut, the pubes. This is so ridiculously intimate/possessive/reverent; he can barely handle the conflicting drives to melt beneath or conquer you. Strange thing...he would have thought the proximity would just make him want a blowjob but instead he's a goner.

U - Underwear

Commando. Easy-Access Man. Next question.

LOL, just kidding. Mostly, Johnny wears nothing, certainly not with his Human Torch second skin. He used to wear boxers but lost too many of those to a smoldering heap. No point.

On women? Crotchless panties are his favorite, but there's this new trend of booty shorts--he's very, very into them. Generally, he would have thought anything less-is-more would be best in his eyes, but there's this kinda *pop* in the stretchy fabric when it jumps over the swell of your ass...mmhmmm IT'S GOOD.

S - Sleepy Sex

Sleepy morning? You are 100% welcome to wake him up with some head or ride his cock to your heart's content, but Johnny himself doesn't usually start stuff first thing. This goes hand in hand with him being unable to slow down much. He's all about releasing tension before bed though. A good romp to tire him out and calm the mind? Absofuckinglutely. No, he doesn't particularly care if you were already asleep. You'll thank him later. Don't worry. It's always worth your his while.

Z - Zones

Classic man. Go for his neck or his crotch. Johnny is a #basicbitch in this respect. It feeds his ego to be touched all over--duh, he's got this glorious bod, you should want to touch him,--but he has never been a fan of biting, on him or on others. Since he's just about always in the mood, it does not take a lot of foreplay to get him ready.

E - Extra Info

Unpopular opinion: I imagine that perhaps the ultimate show of love/devotion/possession to Johnny is not marriage and all that normal stuff but, instead, if you let him brand you.

He works hard and focuses to not burn people, so you allowing him permanently claim you as his--which he would not do in a casual way, not with random hookups and one-night-stands, not until he is sure that word won't get back to Sue who would kill him--shows a level of trust he didn't believe he would want much less earn.

Johnny is aware he's a ridiculous and kinda stunted man-child emotionally. He's smart enough to know that. Johnny will never stop being grateful to the woman who can stick around, see past it, and grow with him...playfully, of course. You should never stop roasting him about the man-child-ness.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #dirty asks #ask game #johnny storm fanfiction #johnny storm smut #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm x you #johnny storm fic

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beawhatchumean · 1 year ago

Text

BOOM! IT'S FINISHED!!

after so long, it finally done and dusted and ready for public release :3c

LMK SIX EAR MACAQUE SHIMEJI VER 1.0!!

Just click on the big words and ya can download, ye :D

Contains 2 zipfiles: The normal version and less frames version

Read down below for explanations on that

if got any problems launching and stuff, dont be afraid to message me, i'll try to help ya out :>

but as seen in the quick lil poster i made there, it says extra animation + more more info about that underneath the read 👇

from the top,

EXTRA ANIMATION

Same like the SWK Shimeji, this one is has unique frames for each action of the Shimeji. best example is the walk, run, dash actions seen below

there are other actions that have unique frames like these, you are free to explore them :>

CUSTOM ACTION NAME

There are a few actions renamed in the shimeji code. Here is a guide for what they do:

Take Out Lantern = Mac takes out his lantern and admires it

Create Clone = Shimeji breeding 1

Visit Shadow = Shimeji breeding 2

disclaimer, I plan on making a full action guide list in the future so you can much easier reference what each action does :>, so stay tune when that happens

CUSTOM ACTION

Just like SWK, you may pet the Macaque!! >:3c give the lil bugger all the love he deserves~ (credit to Kilkakon for the original script)

as seen in this gif :3

Steps to do this action is as followed:

Make the shimeji sit down (any surface is okay, ie work floor/window top)

Move the cursor to the shimeji's head

Make sure it is a hand cursor and not an arrow cursor

Pet away!!

If you want to pick up the shimeji without prompting the pet action, just move the cursor lower until it turns into the arrow icon

NON-SYMMETRICAL SHIMEJI

One more thing that causes this to be my fav Shimeji so far. HE HAS NON-SYMMETRICAL FRAMES. Meaning his black sleeve stay on his left, while yellow stay on his right.

To do this, Mackie needed much more frames compared to SWK, which might cause him to lag on some devices. Hence why I prepared 2 versions of Mackie here. One with symmetry and one with none

PLEASE DOWNLOAD THE LESS FRAME VERSION TO NOT FRY YOUR PC'S!!

UPDATES WILL HAPPEN!!

just like SWK, this is version 1.0

updates will happen and I am at work working on the next csutom action. But it will not come out anytime soon since it requires me to draw a bunch of more frames again hhhh

BUT DO STAY TUNED >:3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

but for now that will be all for ver. 1.0

many thanks to anyone interested in this project and of course

BIGGEST THANKS TO THOSE THAT HELPED BETA TEST THEM

for privacy reason they shall stay anonymous but

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ >:3

PLUS EVEN MORE HEARTS!! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

#monkiekid #lego #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #six eared macaque #6 eared macaque #lmk macaque #shimeji #monkie kid macaque #lego macaque #liu er mihou

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easy-there-leftovers · 2 years ago

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Hiii can I just say I’m OBSESSED with ISY,D!! Amazing work truly the best ❤️

I saw asks are open so I thought I’d slip in a little prompt 👀

Astarion and Tav have a bit of a spat at camp. Tav is trying to convince Astarion that ascending would make him just as bad as Cazador, but Astarion craves the power and the freedom. Tav, upset and frustrated, ends up leaving for a walk through the late night streets of the gate to clear their head. One of the vampire spawn out looking for their next prey find Tav, recognizing them immediately as Astarion’s love (and one true weakness) and kidnaps them to bring to Cazador. Cazador, being the sick fuck he is, locks Tav away and sends a note to Astarion that he finds the next morning, saying that he had Tav and that if Astarion wants them back he has to surrender to Cazador and go through with the ceremony. Astarion loses his mind and races to the castle with the gang in tow, praying that Tav is unharmed. Will he be there just in time to save Tav? Or will he be too late, will Cazador have already turned them by the time he gets there?

Sorry for the paragraph but this has been in my mind for DAYS and I would cry if you could make this story come to fruition ❤️

-��

Hello 🌸anon!! Thank you so much for liking the series, I'm glad that it's something that you enjoy reading! Also, I've decided to include @simp-4-astarion's request as they were rather similar in nature!! Thank you so much for liking my work :,DDD

In addition!! Just a heads up for people who'd like to request or send an idea in, I don't just write for Astarion! Feel free to include your favorite romanceable pcs (and non romanceable npcs lol) into the mix!!

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

That night at camp had been fraught with tension, like a fraying rope ready to snap. The campfire crackled, the tongues of the flame dancing and flickering about, mirroring the storm within the heated pair.

Your voice, something that he's come to find solace in as of late, quivered with frustration unlike any he's heard directed at him before as you tried to reason with him.

"I don't relish it. but my," He pauses, wondering what he should call them. "--Siblings lured thousands of people to their death over the years. I doubt Baldur's Gate would miss any of them." He seems rather taken with the idea, and you worry about what this could mean for him.

"But we don't even know if it's possible, Astarion. You're hypothesizing that you become the Vampire Ascendant at the expense of eradicating the other spawn." Whether or not they had done things as horrendous as your,-- gods you don't even know what you are,-- as the ex-magistrate, they did not deserve to be subjected to such a ritual.

He paces around you, ascertaining your reactions, and making quick work to think about how he could convince you

"And so what? I've obviously thought about it. If I completed the ritual, this evocation, I'd have insurmountable power. And--" He nears himself to you, practically whispering the following words into the skin of you neck. As if anything he said would etch its way into your skin and carve you anew.

"I could walk in the sun without fear of becoming a mindflayer. Don't you want that for me, darling? For us?" The question instills an indescribable fear in you. Not the same fear that's been riddling you as you wonder if you'd perish in one of your many battles, oh no, it was the fear you'd bear witness to when you lost something dear to you.

It's as if he's giving you an out.

Agree with him, and you seal his fate as the Vampire Ascendant with a sure place at his side.

Or disagree, allowing all those spawn the same chance he had been given all those tendays ago, and snuff out whatever growing relationship you had between you.

He senses your uncertainty.

And he feels lost.

He figured that you would be so sure to keep him at your side. Doing anything it takes to make sure it stays that way, but now you're getting cold feet with his blatant proposal of companionship because of what?

These monsters he's hunted with?

These damned spawn that represent everything you've seeked to correct about the world?

"Astarion, please, give them a chance. They were just like you once, give them that much."

At any other time, he would've admired your efforts to help them. But in this moment, he thinks you a fool who could never truly understand what it means to be a slave.

To want for power.

"You did not know them. And you do not know me as well as you may think, my dear, if you think they deserve a chance more than I do."

He doesn't know why it all happened the way it did. The way that his thoughts came tumbling out of his mouth and only allowing the worst of things to escape him.

All he knows was that it had surely hurt you and that he doesn't think he's ever seen your retreating form look as small as it did as you walked towards somewhere in the city.

And that he wished he had remembered where they were. So near to where his consanguines and he used to hunt.

So when he and the others are greeted with a letter smelling of undeath, telling them that they had their precious leader imprisoned in Cazadaor's manor, he knows not to tell them about the little argument you two had.

Knows not to tell them anything to dampen their mood as they search for you.

Knows not to tell them that the likelihood He kept you alive was slim to none, now that he has Astarion's attention.

Once they had been alerted of your whereabouts, a clear ploy to lure him back to his master, there would be no use for you anymore. They don't know Cazador like he did, and he was sure that by the time they reached their destination, you would be no more.

Stil, he's willing to take any chance he can get to get you back. No use in proclaiming you dead if he hasn't seen you, and he'd be damned if he let Cazador take any more from him.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

#astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x tav #baldur's gate 3 x reader

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 2 months ago

Note

Popular consensus is that one day Alastor is going to eat Valentino.

So imagine if he did.

Angel is now free, Alastor on the otherhand is curled up in the Bayou with severe stomach cramps and drugged up on so many toxins it's surprising he hasn't developed spidey senses, wishing he'd thought with his head instead of his stomach and just stabbed Valentino with a Angelic Steel dagger.

Imagine if Valentino is the key to making Alastor swear off Canibalism and this time he means it. Rosie trying to talk him back into it because Alastor's deer is a Wendigo and unlike regular black eyed cannibal's who can quit with sufficient willpower Alastor will actually starve without sinner meat.

Funny if the Hazbin Hotel try to convince one of their staff to go back to canibalism because watching Alastor starve, die, regenerate and starve all over again because he is 90% of Pentagram's stubborn pride, is awful.

On the one hand, that's HILARIOUS

On the other hand, Alastor's from a time of bathtub gin and moonshine stills and cocaine in cough medicine. I feel like he'd take the hit like a champ, but still have indigestion about it...

Charlie asks aunty Bel, the sin of Sloth and also the paragon of healing in hell, for like... a demonic antacid...

If they did a urinalysis test right now it'd have Everything.

Every station in Hell and on earth is playing simultaneously on the radios beccause he's not in control and it is LOUD. Charlie goes to confront him about it because maybe it's in lieu of being able to broadcast screams (the whole thing happened in an ambush that went bad for the moth much to Al's delight)...

and she finds him like:

this man is looking through dimensions.

Lucifer, being the ass he is, finds it fucking HILARIOUS.

-----

On the other hand, the idea of each one of the hotel team bringing random people to the hotel and parading them past the clearly hungry but revolted Alastor like 'this one? you want a chunkier model? more lean? too much fur?'

is hilarious, I love it.

Lucifer offers to find something in the right flavour because Charlie is beside herself watching the wendigo starve... and she already veto'd just letting him kill the sinner for good. Twice. She made it clear if anything happened to the deer she would be coming for him next.

"You keep this up, Bambi, and I'm going to make you the sin of this ring because I'm starting to think you've got a more ridiculous allotment of Pride than I ever did..."

"...given the amount of paperwork you've been ignoring for literal centruries, your majesty, I honestly would prefer to double-die than manage that role..."

And that gives the King (and Charlie who was prompted into it) an idea.

"Alright, you wanna ignore the ever-present cannibalistic hunger and whatever? How about you help me with the fucking nightmare of paperwork, and I get them to stop shoving sinners in your face for food reasons?"

"A Deal? With me, majesty? Why... how interesting."

"I'll fistbump you for it, if needed, but let's not use the D word. It's an agreement... I guess."

"If you want to suck the joy out of it, like you've been doing to Princess Daddy Issues for years, then I will have to acquiesce..."

"Oh you absolute FUCKER-..."

And the library was about to get rearranged but Lucifer paused when he realised the other was too deep in his sravtion cycle to even pose a threat. Which pissed Al off more but really, what can he do but hiss and spit?

And that's how it starts. Alastor doesn't really eat other foods, except for the chance to feel (briefly) 'full' despite it being about the same empty calories as a plate of fairyfloss. It's not helping but it can make his stomach shut up for a while.

It's intriguing the lengths the others will go to keep him fed despite it all, Alastor thinks as he's fed a strawberry milkshake with an odd edge to it. But perhaps it helps to some degree, because he does feel a little better...

And then there was a very heartfelt attempt (they were close but someone held back on the spices, one should NEVER hold back on the spices) on several meals he'd made in the past. Again, not actively nourishing, but... perhaps spiritually, as much as physical satiation for a moment. To let him concentrate on anything else.

The paperwork was diabolical, though. The letters and missives alone were dated even millennia back. How had this gone so violently, disgustingly wrong? Well, anyone could see the King was quite... detached and depressed, but really. He had entire courts of Goetia who got aroused by parchment, could he not have asked one of them to be secretary? Maybe a judicious office of hellborn?

Give them a chance to move up in the world and secure a better future for their families over the centuries. Even just sorting this into piles would have been some form of efficiency.

When Lucifer first showed him the ballroom sized piles of crumbling paper and ominously glowing objects, he'd been a bit put off... but he had poppets to help-... ah, of course. Not at this time.

It was only when he realised this was one of many rooms filled with the mess that he really felt the existential dread of hellish punishment. But his pride insisted he could do this.

His shade was good at categorising as well, they worked as two sets of hands with a mind fast enough to split between them. He paused to check in on the hotel, or when someone brought a meal, or simply to let himself die for a bit before getitng up (the palace staff were quite gracious about it, they often left a pillow under his head, a blanket over him to prevent chill and a bottle of water outside of reforming flail-reach, for when he returned to life).

It took a few weeks, but eventually, half the room was overturned into piles of paperwork with chronological order to them. He did read or skim most of it to decide if it was current, hstorical, worth putting in a quick report, or for the pile for the trash.

Imps often popped in for the piles when they got too large, and would take notes if he explained any updates for the king. Such as an intriguing odd series of accounts about Envy, and an outbreak of hynarian pox in Greed that seemed to be cyclical. Almost every 12 months on the dot, actually, around tax time... Mammon was really pulling the one with bells on, wasn't he?

Let Lucifer deal with the idiot.

Alastor justified this all to himself by seeing this not as creating order from chaos, but instead organising the chaos into piles of future misery, sowing future chaos, and being able to use words to topple sins. How the little king's face paled when he saw hidden missives from the Sins begging to meet Charlotte, all hidden away in different corners of the rroom and his heartbreak at realising this was deliberately done?

How fascinating to eavesdrop on Lucifer calling different sins and goetia to account for things in reports they thought long-since brushed under the rug... as he reminded them that he was eternal, and judgement could be just as long if they attempt to play these games.

How... oddly endearing to see him overturn a conviction against a hellborn falsely accused (and the evidence was Right There, Satan was just being a big bad tough cowboy swinging his genitalia about like he owned the place, ugh). Sometimes, though, centuries too late for the individual, but a pardon to the relatives was appreciated and lifted some of the social stigma of the censure from them all.

It was not Nice that the King was finally doing his job, but it felt less... stale in the ring, now. Like things were chugging back to life, no matter how the engine spluttered and fought back , bellowing smoke (or hellfire in the case of Satan during what Alastor liked to think of as his Little Tantrum the other day).

The damned lizard had dared to imply that Alastor and the report writers / appeal seekers / clerks of his own court were all falsifying records. It had taken a few moments of pure revulsion to tap about on the phone Charlie had insisted Alastor have (though he held it like one does a full vomit-bag) to find a video of the most recent court drama for proof. Against one of the princes, no less.

And that, of course... had been delicious drama.

He'd actively asked his shade, and the few poppets he could manifest now, to seek out more on this matter and found a few propositions and appeals and requests about the matter. Collating it and putting it before ucifer with a pointed missive about how he felt the whole thing was a joke, and that the guilty party had been rewarded... and a request to please let him at least try eating a goetia to see if that might help things.

In all truth, if he'd met an Andrelphus or Stella when he was alive, they'd be in his cooking pot so swiftly the self-righteous bastards wouldn't even have time to call their daddy to ask him to get a lawyer. Spoiled rich brats with no empathy always stepped on others... and to blatantly try to murder Prince Stolas for his power? Well, expected for Sinners but not Goetia. But to do so when the ffather was, for all Alastor could read into it, the only one showing any level of love and care to their child together... whom Stella seemed to see as a key to power?

Hmmm. He couldn't help but feel a sympathetic pang of resonance for this goetia princess, and see a trace of his mother in Stolas. Sentimental nonsense, of course, but... Stella and the peacock fellow seemed like all the worst traits of the people he'd murdered slapped into two overpowered bodies.

Lucifer, infuriatingly, had told him no. Then amended that he would love to see Alastor throw down with a Goetia and he might even be inclined to give him a boost just to watch the insufferable pair crumble (they'd been part of a group of Goetia just fawning over him since he'd come back to power in a flagrantly false attempt to covet favour and Lucifer apparently had the same distaste for it that Alastor did when newer sinners tried to cozy up for no-deal based protections)... but right now Al was more likely to throw up and die than anything.

Asked if maybe Al would like a sinner? What if they sauteed it or put it in chilli or whatever that spice was that made even him hiss in surprise the other night?

Alastor coldly turned it down and left. "I'm going to eat both of them... I rarely choose a female victim, so do let this shrieking harpy and his sister know how honoured they are."

He doesn't notice, as the first room clears to almost nothing but a few tables of paperwork, that he is getting more strawberry milk than usual. Meals are done when focused on different tasks and letters. It's easier than to try and fight himself.

Perhaps there's somehting in it, in the hearty stews and unusually sweet pastries he normally abhors, that is helping. Because suddenly he can conjure more poppets...

Perhaps they grew complacent, then, because it was working. As, one day as he was midway through a rather ludicrously long report [about one Goetia being entitled to land from another but their third cousin's sister's uncle's best gardener's fourth son's preschool teacher had broken an agreement with both parties and blurred a legal line. He'd read it eight times and the nature of the complaint only grew more bizarre as he read it... Alastor had started checking the damn thing for cyphers, just in case this was some other hidden meaning to this frivilous nonsense] he absently bites into a sandwich and is halfway through the next before the taste catches up.

...there's no denying it's not breef or chimkin or pyork or whatever the feesh situation is down here. That's sinner. Well-cooked, and fantastically seasoned but unmistakeable.

He would get the best from raw meat, but this... this also would be helping. He's suddenly aware of how well-spiced his meals have been, how carefully flavoured everything he was brought had been.

It wasn't the fault of the lovely little imps who ran the food back and forth, (he'd taken pains to learn their names because the idea of treating them as faceless entities appalled him... for various reasons, and not merely because his mother had been some faceless maid to be treated as the owners willed). This was planned.

He tips the milkshake over... now he thinks about it, it was an odd choice for every meal, no matter what was served. The liquid spilled across the table... and then a few gluggy strands of something red that was clearly NOT strawberry flavouring eeked out at the bottom.

Ah.

The cakes though? He'd seen no way to hide blood or bone or sinew or flesh in them? A thought occurred, like a lightning bolt. Surely not?

They had had caramel and buttermilk frosting, he didn't normally enjoy such things, but they'd tasted... too sweet. Much like the angelic delicacies from after the extermination... he was certain if he watched the kitchen he'd catch angel blood being slipped in a drop at a time. Rosie was behind that one, he's sure.

She'd sent him boxes of fingers, but he just didn't feel for it... and gave them to Niffty and Mimzy apiece. They couldn't go to waste.

Rosie'd even tried bringing him a still-trembling heart a while back, and that had done nothing but give him a headache as the revulsion and hunger started a war between them. She'd also offered it to Charlie, as a way to 'ensure a growing gal has the strength of her enemies to rely on' which had turned the princess the most charming shade of Green that it'd really lightened the mood.

She'd also offered him a piece of her flesh, which Angel had initially shouted something lewd about and 'eating her out right' until he recognised Rosie was rolling up a sleeve and offering Al her arm. Watching Angel look like he was ready to jump off the hotel roof had almost been distracting enough to help Al ignore the equally enticing and disquieting lure of Rosie's flesh.

It's not unusual for close friends, family and even lovers to share bits of flesh as a means of bonding, of helping one another regnerate, and the like. He'd lost more than a few little chunks here and there and once a whole arm to Rosie... and at least a finger to that damned Susan, but she was the kind of ornery bitch you wanted to keep around, if only to use as a shield during Exterminations. He desperately hoped to one day see her demand to speak to heaven's manager and bully her way through the gates. It would be DELIGHTFUL!

He'd turned it down.

Rosie had threatened to tell Vox, and you know the man would send him eight interns all sauteed, in a heartbeat. Despite their tiff... they were friends once. Also they wanted to kill each other, Vox was more likely to send his own arm over to avoid Alastor dropping dead to this pathetic fate of starvation, than anything.

Ah, Vox. This had the digital fingerprints of the boxy fool all over it. just the sort of thing he'd done when Alastor had been severely injured back in 1962 and refused to seek help, but the infected wound refused to heal or kill him. Vox had slipped medication into bowls of warm blood and pretended Alastor was just healing normally later on. They'd fought about it, naturally. But had Alastor not done the same later n slolwy reattuning a broken pathway for Vox, when the other was too stubborn to have it fixed by a professional?

A wave of comforting static and his own would be slowly repairing and nudging it into place until ,w ta dah! it worked miraculously one day. 'See, I knew it would heal...' Vox said, and realised what had happened. They fought then too.

How long had they been slipping bits of sinner in his meals?

It's not like he could die forever like this, it was a mere inconvenience of several days dead... but he could come back.

To ignore his choice and-... and it was so obvious that it was working, wasn't it? His poppets? The extended periods between death cycles? Being able to play the radio without a physical one close by... they must all be patting themselves on the back, at having pulled one over on the radio demon.

He was growing FURIOUS.

He was growing... period. It'd been nearly six months since he was last able to manifest his demonic form, and while it felt shaky and tenuous, it was as exhilarating as always. He broke a wall entering the hallway and was still surprised that he could stand upright in there, with only some antler scraping. Given how tiny Lucifer kept himself...

But then, he did used to entertain Sins in their intermediary forms, all towering power but not the full unfettered selves they could be. Of course they'd need the space.

He's not really thinking of anything but his rage and humiliation and indignation as he slams open the door to the throne room.

Lucifer pauses mid-conversation with a smug-looking Asmodeus and a furious but cowed looking Mammon. "Oh... well, I'd ask you not to get mad, but I'm assuming you aren't feeling like letting me explain."

"Did you think it was funny?" he snarls, the stitches pulled and even snapped in some locations as the form fought him. The little king, oh so squeaky-toyy like with their size differential, walked over to him, waving the sins away.

"I mean, I did... at first, but you know how important you are to Charlie... and it was killing her seeing you that way. All of them, for some reason, have an insane attachment to you despite the fact you're a-... I'm not listing off your resume, I know you consider those your good points."

Alastor croches, hands bracing himself so he can look the little King right in the eyes. "Then WHY?"

"Because they care, you fucking idiot, and seeing you die over and over again for something so stupid was ridiculous. You're lucky I didn't let the TV guy have his way, he wanted to try hypnotising you..."

"It doesn't work. It's never worked, same frequency..."

"Usually? Sure. Now? I stiff wind could have killed you. What would you have done if someone had demanded a battle? Just let Hunk and Nixxy go to whoever defeated you? You're an ass, and you definitely should apologise for the threat to the cat guy, yeah i saw that i have like a dozen eyes here deer-boy, but you don't seem to actually hurt them. Not like the moth guy you killed... not like some of those you killed before."

"So why not? Why set up ths charade of paperwork... just to trick me to eat?"

"Well, it was this, or one of three other options and you would have HATED them. Charlie was going to do intensive hug therapy everyday for two hours to build self esteem and positive-talk or mindfilled-mess or whatever it is you through the whole thing."

Alastor reared back in pure horror.

"Yeah, thought you'd say that. Option two was Vox... and option 3 was me letting Beezlebub up here to like, forcefeed you in her super peppy way, but I think you would have found angelic steel rather than that. And she's also... a hellhound sorta, and Hunk said you aren't a dog fan so..."

"You wanted to let a Sin force-feed me sinners?" Now he was just perplexed, especially if Charlotte was also involved in such a plan. That seemed like something she would sign off on. "And... I do not mind hellhounds, as long as they aren't sprung on me. However I stand by hurling the dog sinner out of the hotel, he was being vile to everyone..."

"The one that tried to hit on anything that moved and didn't like the word no? Yeah, I was going to make him play fetch with his own spinal column, you just got there first." Lucifer grmaced. He'd been hit on for centuries but... that was quite the experience. He normally loved dogs, but that one was (heh) barkin up the wrong tree with lines like that. And then he went to Char Char and Maggie to make a suggestion like THAT?!

"You didn't answer my question."

"Hunh? Wha-...? Oh, no. It's not funny to us, it's not a game... your little aversion and death cycle thing was freaking them out. You saw even Maggie-"

"Vaggie"

"Vaggie brought you sinner options, right? I thought she'd rather rip her wings off again than be part of that, but she volunteered. Because you might be an asshole, but you're the one they like around the hotel... and I don't think you're as annoying as you were when we first met. Although if you drop another piano on me, I 'm going to send you to Lust... wearing one of Angel's tiniest outfits."

The sheer horror that pulsed through Alastor at that moment...

"Hey, don't make it cound like that, Lulu! We're ALL about consent... people can wear what they want in my realm and it's hands-free baby." Asmodeus interjects, feeling his sin maligned. "No one would touch if you didn't want them to, but they sure might look..." he winks.

Those gargantuan ears flip back and forth in confusion.

Lucifer starts to laugh. "Oz, this guy would rather face an extermination solo than be in anything less than his suit in its entirety. It's exhausting... you know it's not the 30s anymore, right? You can show off an ankle without someone getting flustered..."

"I own several casual outfits, thank you very much, but I just don't think that anything Angel owns would be flattering on my form."

"They would." Okay, the king said that way too fast. "I mean, comparatively, you're about the same size and shape... I don't see why it wouldn't? Wanna test the theory? I got good at proportions when snapping clothes up for Lillith and Charlie..."

Radio static warbled and slipped into an emergency alert.

"Oh, and you mock the tv guy when you send him into a meltdown... but look at you, the idea of putting your wrists on display and you're the one buffering."

"You're stalling. Why are you stalling?" Alastor asks, feeling heavy and slightly dizzy. This conversation was not the confrontation he'd anticipated...

"Because in about ten seconds you're going to use up that burst of energy you got from the sinner meat and drop. Then, when you're less of a hazard to my ceilings, we'll talk."

Out of pure spite, he lasted eleven seconds, before the power dissipated, leaving him on his hands and knees, shaking. His ears pressed flat, hating to feel so vulnerable and defenceless right now.

Lucifer flopped to the floor next to him, wings haphazardly in all directions. "We don't have to fight, you know... I mean, we can when you're well, because it was fun to go head to head with someone who wasn't afraid of me... but, we're helping each other here. You've managed to work out nearly a millennia of paperwork in a few months and cleared out a whole ballroom through sheer bloodymindedness... and I'm keeping you as alive as I can."

"Wait, this is the administrative cu[clown honk] who got me dragged before you?" Mammon yelled, storming over and growing bigger.

Alastor sat back, glaring up at the sin. "Your own reckless stupidity brought you before Lucifer. You could have at least changed the times of the alleged outbreaks or fabricated a better ailment... it was like a child writing their own sick note and signing it 'My mum and dad' and expecting a teacher to believe it."

"Luce, who the fuck is this c[clown honk]? He's a spicy little bastard... with an attitude. No respect..."

"No deals between Pride and Greed, you know the rules." Lucifer sighed. One of his wings tried to block Alastor from view.

"Oi, I'm all about entertaining you know that, Luce... and he's the-... the radio guy right? I could make him bigger than that! You're cockblocking my progress!" Mammon whined. "Well, what about it? Working for Mammon gets you like, some sort of perks... not money, but something."

"At half my normal power I can reach radios, phones and any devices touching my airwaves in all the rings. The only boundary is not being able to push past the pentagram in the sky... much the same as the picture box. What could you possibly offer that I would care for?"

"Uh, fame?"

"Notoriety is more fun..."

"Bitches?"

"No thank you."

"A litle bit of money?"

"I own millions of souls, money has never been an issue for myself or for them."

"What? You PAY your employees? That's just bad business!"

"A well-paid and cared for soul is less likely to rebel, because then the money and the housing and the safety stops. You should try it... and not with that vile little mammon-coin nonsense you've been spouting. The hellborn may not know about scrip, but there are a lot of sinners who would go out of their way to ensure they learn, and rebel against you for such a heinous slight."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Alastor, the Radio Demon... displeasure to meet you, I'm sure. Do you always smell of fried chicken and flopsweat, or did you plan to impress us all with this cologne?"

Asmodeus flared brightly as he tried to hide his laughter.

"Alright, legend... let's fuckin' go! I'm gonna KILL YOU!" Mammon roared, and twisted into his gargantuan form.

"Oh, do go ahead... I've been doing it all week. What's one more regeneration?" Alastor sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm not getting up, so do as you will..."

Lucifer was going to put a stop to this, but Mammon paused at the lack of reaction. "Er, hey... what the fuck mate? Trying to kill you here and you're not really living up to expectations."

"Well I'm certainly not going to start running around waving my hands in the air and shrieking, unlike you I do rather care for my dignity."

"Okay enough. Mam, we'll talk about the tax thing later... but you're also forbidden, by royal decree, to bother Ozzie's boyfriend or try anything. Including sending other people to try something. The little guy has been through enough."

"But he's my top earner!"

"Just do whatever with those twins from Envy, they're new and fresh and whatever right?"

"Eh, they're okay..." Mammon shrinks back to his normal size. "But don't you worry rudolph, I'll find something you want sooner or later and then you can run my ads throughout all the rings on your little talky show or whatever, get the oldies and the sinners all hot'n'bothered for me."

"Lucifer... if I said eating a sin would help, would you let me?"

There's a very long, loooooooooooooong pause of consideration.

"Hmmmmm, no..." Lucifer replied slowly, "I think he'd be a worse experience than the psychotropic moth was and we'd never get you to eat again..."

"Hmmm, shame."

"Okay, you keep the freaky fucker away from me, Luce. I'm outta here!" Mammon exploded into a loud array of confetti and circus sounds.

"Does he do that every time? Quite obnoxious."

"Says the guy who turns into shadows to escape anytime he doesn't want to deal with emotional nonsense..."

"Well of the two of us, you're the-... well I was going to say better emotionally equipped to parent Charlie's needs in that department, but then I remembered who I was speaking to."

He's immediately smacked with a wing, which nearly knocks him over, and Lucifer has to grab his shirt sleeve.

"Whoops. But how dare you! What're you going to teach her now? How to be a condescending prick to people who could kill you in a second and then how to bluff your way out of it? I already taught her you don't take shit from other demons."

"Yes, and that's why she walked right into the Moth's studio the first time and nearly got herself molested and Angel killed. Try tempering the information with the reality that you sheltered your little princess so intensively she has no concept of pain or suffering or how the world leads to the outcomes sinners have... that a song and dance won't make a lifelong addiction disappear because she wills it hard enough. The trust falls, on the other hand, will certainly get someone redeemed, I'm sure."

"Hey, you butted in and decided to be Dad part 2, you have to deal with that side of things. I'll do the hugging and other fun stuff... you be creepy weird uncle dad guy who eats threats to her, and reminds her how sinners work." Lucifer rolls his eyes. "Buuuuuuut, for that to happen, you gotta eat... and you know what... or should I say who... you gotta eat. If you want, I can transform them into other stuff until you get the taste for it back... or I can erase your memory of discovering our subterfuge. Let you work it out again later."

"You will do no such thing! It may avoid your notice, your lowness, but the very few things sinners can hopefully cont on are having a body they may own the rights to and having some of their memories intact." He snipes back, incensed. how could htis little fool say something like that?

"Whoa, there's a lot of tension here... you two need couples counselling? I've got some amazing-..." Asmodeus steps in, and startles the pair, who forgot he was there given Mammon being Mammon.

"...that would not be necessary, we are most certainly not together. I merely decided that Charlotte needed a better and more consistent father figure in her life and used that as a verbal knife in his side when the king swept into the hotel and sneered down his nose at us all. Metaphorically."

"I didn't sneer-..."

"You looked disgusted from the moment you walked inside, refused to acknowledge a single sinner, got everyone's name wrong and talked over Charlie to the point she was distraught. I could see you intended to be helpful, but you DECIDED what she needed instead of asking. And then you were rude to me, which earned you the piano."

"Oh? What would have happened if I told you to get the fuck out and made it a royal demand?"

"Then I would likel have asked Vox if he still intended me to join the Vees and started a multi-ring slander campaign that would have sent you scurrying back to your palace a broken creature, for centuries."

"You think I wouldn't just smite you all?" Lucifer didn't sound furious, he was coldly curious. There was an age behind those eyes that was fascinating and terrifying to behold; like if you looked at an antique doll and the eyes sparkled in a way that reminded you it had watched generations live and die and play with them. And it would outlast you too.

"Given how easy it was to bait you into a song battle with a few words about Charlotte, and how quickly you fell into despair at her disappointment... no. Safe to say we could watch an angelic panic attack within five seconds of a broadcast."

"You'd upset Charlotte."

"True... but if I apologised or pretended to, she'd believe it."

"Hey, fuck you."

"Poetry. Now are you going to cease this infuriating nonsense of hiding flash and blood and bone in my meals like im a dog that needs a pill hidden in bacon... or shall I simply have to stop eating again? The meals don't technically do anything but blot out the hunger for a time... it would just be inconvenient, because it hastens the death cycle."

"Oh for fucks-... no, you're going to eat even more sinner and whatever else we can put in there. This can't be how you want to spend eternity?"

"I have lived... or unlived... through exactly this on several occasions before. I can survive it, it's merely invconvenient."

"Bullshit, when?"

"Well, falling here I didn't have an instruction manual for whatever the hell I was and theey didn't exactly have wendigos on the curriculum at school... the little any of us were allowed to attend. Rosie explained the whole thing when we ran into each other hunting the same sinner... hah, that was quite the story. She loves to tell it when she's quite tipsy."

"Well that's one..."

"And after the battle, that one was more a nuisance though. Because I couldn't actually let myself die and regenerate when I had a chest of holy light, I wasn't certain how that would play out. But it's hard to hunt like that... Niffty did her best to bring bits of sinner corpses, but it's never quite the same as flesh."

"Well you could have just said something..."

"Absolutely not. It dissipated on its own eventually..."

"No, M-Vaggie just figured it out and went to Charlie, who went to me about it. Had to get Angel to dose you with something when you weren't looking and then I fixed it for you. You're welcome."

"I don't recall-..."

"You wouldn't. He put this patch on your skin, it's fast acting, and you were out in seconds. Wipes your memory, apparently... once I heard about it, I sent some people out to find where it was being made and distributed to have it removed from the Rings. That's dangerous to have for many reasons... excepting medical. Ozzie here is working on removing the last traces of Love Potiokn from shelves... I know you hate that one too."

"You realise admitting to hiding things in my meals, lying to me and drugging me to have your way against my consent is absolutely giving me cause to never return to the hotel, yes?"

Lucifer actually scrambled back with a horrified expression on his face. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don't put it like that! That's not-... I would never-... Charlotte and Vaggie were there the whole time... I didn't even really have to touch you to fix it... just pulled the light out. Don't say it like that-..."

"But I would never have consented to it, and you let a porn star slip me something unknown to enable it. Doesn't sound too good from the outside, does it?"

"Okay, look... sometimes the therapeutic approach requires you rebreak a bone so it sets right. Or that you have to drug someone before they die of Grace eating them alive, because they're stubborn as fuck."

"Not exactly making this more appealling. How do I know you won't simply do whatever you want or have the staff turn against me in such a manner to take revenge, in future? You've already proven completely untrustworthy."

"No, no stop that line of thought it's a spiral you don't want to go down. I know you overlord types are paranoid, but you don't want to go there. Besides, what other option do you have? Your original tower was annihilated in the battle... and you were away for like ages apparently?" There's a pause, "Actually, you've never said where you were."

"And I cannot. Suffice to say... it was a very long seven years, but it adequately prepared me for this very situation. So if you can leave me to either complete your paperwork without being harassed, or just let me leave altogether and forget this, it would be appreciated."

"And go where? Run off for seven years again? You'd devastate Charlie... and the flower lady? Maybe even the rude little flapper who brought the loan sharks to the hotel? Misery was it?"

"Mimzy. She has others she asks for aid from, I'm not special." Lucifer's words register, and Alastor fights the transformation desperate to rip free, because there simply isn't enough energy there for it. "Do you think... for one second... I CHOSE to GO ANYWHERE?! Maybe if you hadn't been such an ABSENT KING AND FATHER YOUR W-..." it chokes off.

The chain is tugged sharply... and the collar, humiliatingly, glows violently violet in the now too-silent room.

Lucifer seems shellshocked. "Is that...? Lily? Did you-... how did she-... where is she?"

"Up."

"No. She can't be."

"Yes... having been in contact with God's specialist boy... though I wonder how that works given he is deceased now."

"What does she have on you? What does she want?"

"Charlotte's safety..." he seems to roll the words around, trying to test for barriers and deciding the words were allowed. "Your abscence. The failure of-..." that cuts off.

"Failure of the hotel? Redemption? Char Char?"

Alastor half-nods. There's nuance there he can't provide.

"And what about if we took the fight to Heaven?"

"Not to raise arms against Heaven."

"Wait... is that why you refused to ake angelic steel to the roof with you? Charlie was very worried about that when she couldn't find you after the battle. Said she should've insisted."

"Perhaps."

"And you... you were with Lily? Up? For... the whole time you were away?"

"...yes."

"Why?"

"She refused to take no for an answer, a common trait of the morningstars, when I turned down her initial deal. She felt starvation and torture would change my mind. It didn't. But she did find a fmaily member in heaven and threaten them... which forced my hand."

Lucifer looked like he was going to be sick. "No... no she wouldn't do that."

"Uh, Lulu? Yeah she would. Something's been weird with her for the last four centuries, she went cold, man. Blocked us from seeing Char Char and locked off the rings. Told us you didn't want to see us anymore." Asmodeus added, reminding them all he was there. A small imp poked his head ou from amongst Ozzie's flames to peer at them. "This is my partner, Fizzarolli... he's very discrete, I promise."

"The one you're at war with Mammon over." Alastor stated idly, claws digging into the tiles to keep him upright. "I dislike the television and the little phone videos, but I did quite enjoy hearing you tell him to go fuck himself, my good man..."

"It was amazing, and terrifying, and I oved every moment of it!" Fizzy replied. "Its so surreal to meet you, though... Blitz and I used to listen to your programming all the time when we were younger. Before his dad sold the radio on us... tightwad. Really liked the screaming parts."

"Hmmm, I have them recorded somewhere on my staff, anyone in particular?"

"Er, I kind of liked how melodic the screams of that one Opera Overlord were. She used to come to our ring and do fucked experiments on the hellborn all the time... it was nice to hear her suffer."

"I'll cue it up when next I have my staff, for you and the rest of your ring."

"Later, when you've actually eaten sinner meat... Ozzie, stop giggling or I'll never get him to do it... and stopped dying."

"Oh psshaw, I'm fine enough."

"I had my like, limbs burnt off in a big fire at the circus once... took a while to learn how to live so fucked up and with these robo limbs. Fire used to freak me out, couldn't eat anything that'd been cooked... you ever tried to eat a raw thing of brockalli? Hard as a rock... well, I mean yeah, naturally, but its fine if you cook it." Fizzarolli started talking and couldn't stop the words. "And it took a while, but I came back around to food of the cooked variety... slowly. Got tricked too, little by little bit. Until I felt able to eat it... and then I met Ozzie, and I realised fire isn't all that bad. Look at me now!"

He kisses each of the three heads in the flames and not a single ember burned him.

"See, in compaison to that, you've got nothing to complain about." Lucifer said, gesturing.

Fizz looked startled, "Whoa your Majesty, I didn't mean it like that..."

"No he's right... it's not like he's the worst thing I ever ate, but the mixture of drugs, biochemistry and whatever in the seven rings he'd contracted all warring against my healing was a protracted nightmare I won't soon enjoy repeating. But it wasn't worth all this fuss... I know it's silly and I hate that I can't get over it."

"Well, being a baby over a case of Fuck Around and Find Out does that to a sinner..." Lucifer mumbles. He yelps as Alastor pulls on his wing. "Whoa, rude! Do you see me grabbing you by the tail? No... 'cause it'd hurt if someone started pulling at things fused to your body..."

A blurb of static exploded. "How do you know I have a tail? What else did you do when you had Angel drug me?"

"Whoa, no, no not that! We had to take your coat off and the concealment charm was damaged in the lining... I fixed that, by the way, you're welcome. No one did anything other than that and check the wound for infection. You want apinky promise on that one?"

Alastor settled slightly. "If that is all... I suppose I will need to accept the indignity of it all. It's hard enough to exist with Vox's little electornic eyes everywhere, without finding out the people of the hotel I have to guard might give him direct access to such things by taking photos or videos when I was compromised."

"The tv guy? Hunk said he was kind of a stalker."

"We were close friends, he wanted more and didn't like my disinterest in the matter... he tried to kill me several times over it, in fact. Shockingly, that also didn't bring the interest he craved surging forth. So he settles for watching my every move. I can distort myself to cameras, but it takes thought when my abilities are low."

"Why not just kill him?"

"...thought about it. He was a friend, and occasionally I see that in there still... also sentimental garbage. What's the odd betrayal amongst friends and family in hell, after all?" He laughed.

"Well... that sucks. Would you consider eating something proper if only to make sure you can keep yourself blurred to his electronic eyes?"

"When you put it like that... I can try."

"Then we work out how to stop whatever Lily's planning because I don't like that. But... if you do feel like going back to eating sinners and not just giving my staff a heartattack each time they find you dead, would you still consider finishing the paperwork? I don't even know where to start in the next room and you've cleared one in under a year."

"If you give me just enough power to match the icy bird and his heinously mannered sister... I do so want to devour them."

"Paimon might be pissed about it but... yeah, I'm willing to consider it. When you're well."

"Alright, I will go finish up in the primary mailroom or whatever you were calling that mess..."

"Nah, I mean you've used all your energy for today, you can just chill and take a nap or something."

"And ruminate on hunger unitl I die? I've been there and done that for years at a time, your shortness, not a fan. It's worth the distraction."

"I don't think so." Lucifer reaches out with a wing and drags the startled sinner over, latching onto a forearm with one hand before he could shadow out. At this rate he might fragment across pride, and that's not something anyone wants to do...

He deftly bats aside the claswed hand coming for his face, and presses a glowing hand to the sinner's forehead. "Sleep"

Alastor crumples into his lap, and Lucifer looks very old in that moment. Hovering a glowing hand over the other, letting little trickles of healing flesh out some bits lost to starvation, to give them more time to work on it.

The shade snarls at him from the floor, but winds about Alastor's form like a protective blanket.

There's nothing he can do when the issue is deep in the mind like this, that's why Belphagor was the best option here but Al wouldn't allow it. Soem psychoses he could help with, like breaking through delusions or hallucinations or using angelic light sparingly to guide someone back from a full panic attack.

This though...

"Lulu, baby, you just promised not to do exactly that again... I don't think he's ever going to trust you or that hotel of Char's after this."

"Well he'll be alive and healthy enough to spit in my face, I guess." He sighs, deflating. "This is so fucked, Ozzie... Charlie's dream led to war with Heaven, this guy nearly died fighting Adam and his weird little not-daughter stabbed the guy to death. This idiot does something nice for once in his afterlife murdering this rapist moth overlord to free someone else... well, all of them actually... and then gets a cripplng aversion to flesh, which keeps him alive. And now I find out he's trapped in it all becaus eof Lily... who has been in heaven for who knows how long. What is this? What am I meant to do with any of this?"

"That's a lot. Sounds like you're frustrated that you're beginning to care about Charlie's rag-tag group of sinners and suddenly it hurts that you were forced to agree to the Exterminations. Because now your heart is thawing you're wondering... how many sinners that were killed could be as weird and multifaceted as these sinners I know? Am I right?"

"Like a slap to the face."

"Good. Like the way your Overlord friend has been breaking down the ballroom, we're going to approach this mess the same way. Methodically, piece by piece. Work out what needs to go where, and make plans. It will be okay, Lulu. You have Charlie and all of us, and some of the sinners are on your side too I hear."

"...true. It's just... they look to me for answers and I am so very, very old Ozzie, and I don't have them at all."

"No, YOU expect you to have all the answers. The rest of us are just as flawed as you and your sharp-toothed pal there, its the imperfections that make us real. Just let go of that expectation, and we'll make it through."

"I suppose I could try. Now are you gonna help me get this gangly fucker off me or just stand there trying not to laugh as your king is stabbed to death by sharp boned sinners?"

"Now who's being the big baby?"

"Shut up, and stop saying we're friends. I wanted to smite him the first time we met and the desire grows every single damn day he opens his smug mouth. He thought he could swoop in and take my daughter... the AUDACITY!"

"Well you are coparenting well enough from what I heard..." Fizzy interjected, and got a glare from The Devil Himself. "Hey, I call em like I see em..."

Asmodeus took Alastor into one giant hand, and grabbed up Lucifer in the other. Much in the same way a mother cat would scruff her kitten. Lucifer wriggled and hissed much in the same way.

"Hey, I'm your King!"

"And you're adorable... now, show me where this guy sleeps, and then you can come chill with me and Fizzy-frog here in your room 'til you also fall asleep. I think everyone would benefit from nap time..."

"We're millennia old, nap time is for infants..."

"No, Bel was just saying that an overworked mind and bpdy need additional rest periods to avoid burnout. Let's try it, okay? We can even snuggle if you want..."

"What?"

"Don't you like making a nest and then snuggling? You ued to."

"Yeah but... I mean, I don't actually have to sleep, so I've just been ignoring that. Oh, this door... gave him the guest room closest to the ballroom-mailroom-nightmare admin place. Just drop him on the bed, I'll ask one of the hellborn to check if he's died later..."

Fizzzy wriggled down Ozzy to pull the sheets back as the Sin slipped Alastor onto the bed, and then pulled them back up. "Is he alright like that? the bowtie snd suspenders and shoes?"

"Hmmm? Oh, I think he won't mind if I snap them off while he's under the covers and his virtue is intact or whatever..." It took less than a half second's thought, and the items including the coat were tucked away neatly.

Ozzie grinned. "And you said he isn't a friend..."

"He isn't. He acts like we're divorced dads seeking custody of our adult daughter, and I have no idea how to handle it without getting pissed off every five minutes. I'd kiss him just to see if that's what he's angling for, because it wouldn't be the first time a sinner tried to climb the ranks by trying to climb me before, but I think he'd claw his face off in horror. I don't think he's interested in any of that. And like I said, I'm all about consent... except for emergency healing. That's different and I stand by it."

Ozzie narrowed his eyes at the deer, and his aura changed colours to a rather recognisable flag for a split-second, then faded back to blue. "You're right, he's not interested... but he definitely cares for Charlotte. I might be the muted form of love, but I can still taste the different flavours from sinners and hellborn when I really focus. So don't worry on that account, its genuine... I just don't think he realises how strong it is... that's either going to be hilarious or heartbreaking when he figures this out."

Lucifer frowns. "Huh."

"Alright, show us to your room... you got a nest ready to go or you wanna build one with us?"

The door shuts to Alastor's room as the king starts frantically teleporting the piles of rubber ducks from his room whilst engaging in pleasant conversation. Can't let them see the mental illness. Must hide the ducks. Remain calm.

------

Unfortunately for Alastor, when he next wakes, he finds that he's about two feet below a veritable sea of the bloody things. And his furious shout shakes the nestled, nested trio of Asmodeus, Lucifer and Fizzerolli awake halfway across the palace.

Lucifer frog blinks, and realises. His grin could rival Alastor's in that moment. "Oh yeah... oops."

"Not friends, my voluptuous ass..." Ozzie murmurs and turns over. "You go fight, I want five more minutes. Wait, where's Fizzy gone?"

The answer, of course, was riding on Alastor's gargantuan shoulder as he crashed through the wall seeking vengeance.

"Oh for fucks-... I JUST gave you that energy and you're using it for a tanrtum, AND you fucked my wall. Can you just settle down?"

Fizzy swung off an antler, seemingly not bothering the overlord at all. "Burger time. Burger time. Burger time!"

"For breakfast? I mean... I've had weirder... " Lucifer concedes and magics some up. "Bambi... catch!"

The sight several hellborn staff came upon later that day was truly fascinating, and very hard to explain. But at least the King had managed to get Mr Radio Demon to eat someone... if only there weren't so many burger pieces strewn about the carpeted floor.

That was going to be a bugger to clean.

And then, the Devil sent an angel unto them...

"Hi, I'm Niffty!"

#hazbin hotel #alastor #lucifer #charlie #vaggie #husk #angel dust #niffty #asmodeus #mammon #weird idea i wrote #phoenixwrites #fizzerolli

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oh-stars · 1 year ago

Text

Topps

Love is secretly studying up on the nerd shit he’s into.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 2249 words | CW: N/A | Rating: T

It’s not often that they all make their way to Indianapolis. It’s no Chicago and getting everyone together to make a big trip of it is getting harder and harder every month. But Will’s birthday falls in line with the grand opening of a new collectibles store that promises shiny new dice and rare items among their comics and board game memorabilia. How could anyone deny his pleading eyes to make it a part of his birthday celebration: to go see the store and find a place to eat, a day trip that’s on the simpler side.

Eddie’s just as excited as the boys are, but he’s more surprised to find Steve is practically vibrating out of his skin with how eager he is to get to the store. He’s just not showing it in the same way the others are. It’s all vibrant eyes and small smiles, bouncing knees and one too many questions.

Eddie’s still trying to figure out what he’s excited about.

Over the last year, Eddie’s learned how to read Steve Harrington. The man may think he keeps an even, cool composure about everything, but Eddie’s an expert in the minor details to figure out how Steve really feels. When he talks to Hopper about some sports thing, his hands will have a small tremor and he stumbles over his words sometimes, always playing it off as some headache or not getting enough sleep if you point it out. Eddie knows better, he knows Steve gets so excited that he can’t contain it and is embarrassed at how eager he is to share it, about his interests all together.

The kids don’t help, he knows. Outside of Lucas, the others just tease him for being a meathead jock or some other bullshit insult – pulling the same shit they get bullied with, the same shit Eddie encouraged. He’s trying to get them to see how fucked up it is, but it’s a work in progress.

They’re driving separately so Eddie doesn’t get to watch Steve’s excitement build other than the glimpses he gets in his rearview mirror of Steve, Robin, and the girls singing along to whatever mundane Top 40 shit they’re blasting. He’d listen to the shitty music with Steve over Dustin and Mike arguing over D&D editions any day, though. At least he can control the volume of the music…

“I’m this close,” Eddie holds up his pinched fingers, “to leaving you on the side of the road,” he tells them.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Steve wouldn’t let you.”

“I think I can convince him,” Eddie says with a smirk. Only Robin knows about their relationship, even now after it’s been a year, but that doesn’t mean the kids don’t know they’re close. They know they’re inseparable and good friends. Just not… naked in bed, touchy-feely ‘friends,’ ya know? “We’re nearly at the store. Can you at least pause the screaming match until you have the editions in front of you for proper comparison?”

That buys Eddie a few minutes of just his music as the boys have a more reasonable discussion to figure out how to split their small funds to maximize their haul. They may be turning sixteen this year, but they’re not exactly loaded. It’s the same shit he and the guys used to pull, and sometimes… still do. It’s nice seeing them like actual kids for a little while longer.

But he’s still happy to climb out of his van and meet back up with Steve and the gang.

He slings an arm over Steve’s shoulders, feels how keyed up he is and how his muscles are tense despite the relaxed looking posture. “Are you mortals ready to blow your minds?” Eddie asks, voice rumbly as he leans in to stare at the girls.

Max rolls her eyes as Erica levels him with a stare of her own.

“Let’s go already!” Dustin calls back as the guys are already booking it toward the store.

Nancy and Jonathan have only just pulled up as the group passes. Robin, Jane, and Max wait for them, happy to hang back from this particular stop on their day. Or maybe they’re scheming about Will’s surprise that the rest of them have been left in the dark about.

Either way, Eddie doesn’t drop his arm from Steve’s shoulders until they reach the door.

The store’s packed with nerds of all ages, shuffling here and there as they browse the small space. It’s like nerd paradise, with walls of collectibles and big crates of comics and books, and big displays of art and promotions everywhere. It even has that musty book smell he loves so much!

Eddie squeezes Steve’s shoulder before he completely drops his arm. “Permission to go feral?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but shoves Eddie lightly. “Go. Have fun,” he says.

“You could always follow me, you know. Don’t want you getting lost,” Eddie says, getting back into Steve’s space even as his eyes flickered around the space.

“I’ll come find you, okay?” Steve says, then he walks away with his hands in his pockets like he’s just strolling through the store. But Eddie can see the sharp way his eyes are searching the space, hunting for something. It’s enough to have Eddie trailing behind him, eager to figure out this mystery.

Okay so Eddie gets briefly distracted by a wall of dragon figurines, but he manages to pull himself away when he sees the price tags are dangerously close to having commas. He stumbles his way around, only getting swept into conversation with Will once about the variety of figures they have and able to dodge Dustin’s badgering about the new Justice League comic.

He finds Steve hunched over a glass case that’s near the cash register, at the far end where people aren’t huddled around looking at trading cards or the pricer collectibles. Eddie tucks himself partially behind a bookshelf so he can see Steve from the side. He watches as Steve’s eyes squint and he squats lower to look at the case from a new perspective. It takes a lot of effort to not let his own eyes wander to how his ass puts his Levi’s to the test, but Eddie’s stronger than that (sort of).

And because of that strength, Eddie gets the rare experience of seeing Steve’s eyes light up as his jaw drops. He looks… in awe of whatever he’s found, like someone just showed him the Holy Grail.

Eddie can’t help himself as he walks over. Steve’s so entranced, he doesn’t even notice. For a split second, Eddie feels that familiar panic creep up his throat before he hears a soft “holy shit,” from Steve.

On this side of the case are… sports cards. Trading cards of different sports people in various conditions, some are in little wrappers, some in packs, and others loose in the glass display case. Huh. Go figure.

He’s kind of surprised, if Eddie’s honest with himself, he never would have taken Steve for a collector of any kind, much less trading cards. But here he is, so amazed at whatever he’s found that he still hasn’t noticed Eddie’s presence.

Eddie squats down beside him, knees popping with the movement, and rests his forehead on the glass. “Which one is it?”

Steve curses under his breath as he jumps, snapping out of it. “Jesus, Eds,” he says, standing up.

“Sorry,” Eddie says with a grin. “Seriously, though. Which is it?”

His face is red and he looks almost ashamed to be caught staring at the cards. “Find anything cool yet?” Steve asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Eddie frowns. “Steve…”

Steve just shakes his head and turns his back on the glass. “Looks like Lucas found something,” he says with a forced laugh as he points to where Lucas is struggling to carry a few different boxes of figurines as he searches for the others in the busy store.

“And so did you,” Eddie says softly as he stands beside him, shoulders touching. “Trading cards, huh?”

He just shrugs.

“I think it’s pretty cool,” Eddie says. “I don’t know anything about them but,” he glances back at the rows and rows of cards, some with tiny words and charts, “those stats have to mean something. And you know how I am about stats, Stevie.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “They’re player stats, Eddie. It’s from their games and shit.” He sighs. “You don’t… don’t have to pretend it’s cool, man. Just sports shit, right?”

“Hey,” Eddie says, a little more forceful, “I don’t mind sports shit, remember? We had fun watching that basketball game the other day.”

“You were just being nice,” Steve says.

“No,” Eddie counters, “I was a little confused on the language and how it works, but I love seeing you get passionate about something you love, Steve. Even if it means seeing how angry you get at whatever the refs are saying.”

Steve’s face darkens as he grumbles out, “It was a shit call.” He hasn’t been able to let it go since they watched it.

“C’mon,” Eddie says, turning back to the case, “will you just show me which one you like?”

“It’s not necessarily about liking them,” Steve starts, turning as well, “but the players themselves.”

Eddie hums. “So which player did you find?”

“Nolan Ryan,” Steve breathes out, pointing at the card, “he’s a pitcher for the Astros and that,” he lets out a whistle, “is a rare 1985 Tiffany.”

“What makes it rare?” Eddie asks.

Steve waves him off. “Don’t worry about that–”

“No,” Eddie insists. “I told you, in detail, about my Lord of the Rings theories and you listened to every word. Let me hear about your Tiffany card.”

“It’s not mine,” Steve reminds him.

Eddie nudges his shoulder. “Steve.”

Steve lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, so the cards are printed here, right? Like it’s one of their things? But the Tiffany cards aren’t, they’re printed in Ireland. And you see how that one is a little brighter than the one next to it?” He doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response. “They printed the Tiffany sets on white cardboard instead of gray. And they only made a limited run of the sets, right? So to just… find one,” he says, voice soft and light, “and Nolan Ryan’s card at that?” He whistles. “Kind of a big deal.”

“So you’re getting it, right?”

Steve shrugs again. “Maybe I’ll drive up later for it. I don’t want to deal with the kids–”

“We’ll put it in my bag. I haven’t even really started to look, but you know I’m emptying my wallet in here, right?” Eddie says, smiling.

“Why haven’t you looked?” Steve asks, brow furrowing. “We’ve been here for twenty minutes, Eds, what have you been doing?”

Eddie feels his face soften as he tilts his head and plays with a strand of his hair. “There’s this guy I’ve got a thing for,” he whispers, “and he was really excited to come to some nerd store, but wouldn’t tell me why. So I had to figure it out myself.”

Steve’s blushing again as he looks away. “C’mon,” he says, grabbing Eddie by the elbow, “show me what you want to look at.”

He allows Steve to change the subject and does look for himself, but he doesn’t forget the wistful look in Steve’s eyes when they end up by the case again for check-out.

“Hey,” Eddie says, mostly to Nancy and Robin who have joined them in line, “should we send some of us down to the restaurant?”

Nancy looks at her watch, then at the line. “Yes, that’s not a bad idea.”

Steve nods and hands Eddie some cash. “Just in case the kids need help. Nance, Rob and I’ll go check in at the restaurant. See you there?”

Eddie lets the three of them walk out the door before he steps out of the line. Sure, he’ll lose his place, but it’s worth it.

“Excuse me,” Eddie says to an employee behind the counter, “I need to get this card.”

The guy knows his shit, so while the line dwindles, Eddie takes the opportunity to ask some questions. He even gets a few more card packs from the newest run, card holders and sleeves to put them in, and a booklet that explains the set. There’s even a book on the history of the game that the cashier suggests; Eddie doesn’t hesitate to buy it all. Sure, he had to put away a few figures and the new dice set he found, but it’s worth it.

He hides all of his new goods in with his other nerdy shit and carefully puts his bag in the glove box so it doesn’t get mixed up with the kids’ bags. “You guys ready?” Eddie asks, arms draped over Mike and Will’s shoulders.

As they walk to the restaurant for the next stop in their plans, Eddie listens to the kids share about their hauls and what they want to come back for. It all goes in one ear and out the other, too busy mulling over the information he learned from the cashier. He’s kind of surprised by how excited he is to read the materials he bought, but he really can’t wait to give Steve the card.

Now if he can just get Steve to admit he’s a nerd, too, it’d be icing on the cake.

Thanks to @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #whatislovedailyprompts #ohstars posting challenge

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blackberrysummerblog · 4 months ago

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Hi all! I’m just out here being three weeks late with my 2024 Writing Round-Up, and thank you so much to @monbons, @forabeatofadrum, @confused-bi-queer, @rimeswithpurple, @nausikaaa, @prettygoododds, @ileadacharmedlife, @artsyunderstudy, @best--dress, @j-nipper-95, @roomwithanopenfire, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @imagineacoolusername, @mooncello, and @thewholelemon for tagging me! I hope I didn’t miss anyone, and thank you as well to everyone who’s been tagging me for Six Sentence Sunday and WIP Wednesday this month. Without getting too much into it, I am BURNT. OUT, and it’s making me retreat from even the things I enjoy the most, like writing and catching up on everyone’s beautiful fandom works.

But, I’m determined to make this round-up post, even if it takes me a couple of days to put together. There’s a lot here! Almost all of it was from COC, which I was hellbent on finishing this year, and did! Here’s the list, in chronological order, of all published writing for 2024:

The Field Trap, 1/2 (5272, M) This has been sitting unfinished for a bit, but I do anticipate it being completed. I discovered a real love for Watford-era fics toward the end of the past year, but it probably all began for me two years ago when I wrote Field Trip of Dreams, the prequel to Field Trap. At any rate, I haven’t forgotten the fic, and Field Trap may end up with an E rating in the second chapter.

Time Will Lie Down and Be Still (26,201, M) This is the fic I’m most proud of this year. It’s the result of my COBB collab with @rimeswithpurple, and it’s been such an inspiration to work with Arianna! I highly recommend the experience :D This fic has 3/5 chapters published so far, and I’m getting there with the 4th. I’ll share that Arianna finished the art for Chapter 4 the other day and it is STUNNING, so I need to get my part done! For anyone who doesn’t know, the fic is a retelling of the movie Practical Magic (I’ve never been able to get very far in the book, for whatever reason, so I wouldn’t count on the fic lining up with it). This one is close to my heart for many reasons, but I’ve especially enjoyed building Dev’s character and his relationship with Baz.

Absolutely everything else I published was for COC, and I’ll put it below a cut due to length. Thanks to everyone who read my work this year! As always, the output of this fandom is just incredible, and I’ve enjoyed being able to take it in as well as contribute a little myself. Happy New Year, everyone!

Something Old (1146, T) Simon finds something unexpected while clearing out space in the wardrobe.

Chosen (880, G) Agatha and Simon have just begun dating and Philippa attempts to engage her in a little friendly roommate squee. Agatha isn’t quite so sure.

I Hate You, Never Leave Me (2339, M) Simon and Baz have found a new and better way to settle their differences, by getting each other off all over campus. Will it evolve into anything more, however? (I love this one, honestly. Might have to someday write a more extensive version)

Greek (1565, T) Simon has to keep a very close eye on Baz in Greek class, for reasons.

Let Me See You (1205, T) Simon is the one to find Baz draining a deer in the forest instead of Agatha. His reaction is not what either of them was expecting.

Truth or Dare (2608, T) Does what it says on the tin—the gang play a game of Truth or Dare, and the dares reveal a little more truth than anyone expected. (Definitely not a groundbreaking take on the prompt, but I never really tire of reading truth or dare fics, and hoped readers would feel the same :P)

Gently, Gently (668, M) Simon and Baz spend the morning in bed, skiving off class and not regretting it at all. (I came to realize that an embarrassing number of fics I write either start out with the boys waking up in bed or that is the entire premise of the fic. “Waking up” is a weird fetish to have, but OK me, I guess)

Looking for Knives, Looking for You (1181, T) Baz reflects on all the wounds he and Simon have given each other over the years. (Despite the vicious sounding title and depressing summary, this one was meant to be sort of cute and sweet)

Hold You Safe (1015, G) At the start of Eighth Year, Dev and Niall’s relationship is still very new as they get some bad news from home.

Dinner (Guess Who’s Coming) (3525, T) It’s half term, and Baz’s parents want to take him to dinner. They invite him to bring a friend, but unfortunately for Malcolm, he pisses Baz off first, and Baz decides his guest will be Simon—the Mage’s heir, his family’s mortal enemy, and Baz’s undying secret crush. (As with nearly all my COC offerings this year, this fic was knocked out during my lunch break the day of, and it shows. It really could have stood to be longer and more developed, so maybe I’ll revisit it one day, since I did like the premise)

Stay with Me (878, T) It’s Eighth Year and Simon gets home late and injured from a mission. Baz arrives at a resolution. (I was a little baffled to get a comment about the Mage already being dead, since this fic takes place during the school year and makes mention of a very much alive Mage in multiple places. It was more of a statement than a criticism though, I think.)

A Charmed Life (1449, E) Baz and Simon have an utterly normal morning getting frisky in bed. (Again. Huh.)

A Horse Named Jane (736, T) Simon has that song stuck in his head again. The one Baz can’t stand. They work out a (sort of) compromise.

Sour and Sweet (3060, G) It’s Baz’s birthday and Agatha has just given Simon his walking papers. Oh no :P However, the breakup does little to lift Baz’s spirits. (This one has two chapters and filled two prompts, sour and sweet, natch. Chapter two’s summary is: Simon decides he needs to make something sweet for Baz’s birthday, even though he’s two days late and doesn’t know how to bake. Well, he’s got magic at his disposal, so things are sure to turn out just fine. :P)

Punk (828, T) Baz is making Simon join him for lunch with Fiona again, but Simon figures he’ll debut a new look & attitude. Will they actually make it to the restaurant? (I really enjoyed writing this one. Simon being frustrated with Fiona’s behavior and still being silly with Baz about it was just a happy place for me)

Surprise (733, M) Simon and Baz are engaging in one of their classic Mummers’ House tiffs. What will happen? :P (I did write a little surprise into this one, but it was very much in keeping with some of my favorite themes)

Cast in Fire (791, G) Simon comes to Watford and learns about how his roommate will be chosen.

Fluff and Nonsense (1627, T) The prompt is ‘fluff’ and did I once again take the opportunity to write a light-on-plot secret relationship fic about Watford-era Simon and Baz being cozy and silly in bed? Yeah, I might have. Simon is going home with Baz over the Christmas break. Not a lot going on here, they’re just really comfy and in love.

Pieces of Me (1557, M) Baz has been having nightmares. Simon comforts him and encourages him to open up.

The World Was Open (956, T) Agatha and Niamh attend Simon and Baz’s wedding, and Agatha overhears another guest making a snide remark.

Find Me (2374, M) Eighth year at Watford was unremarkable, and Simon and Baz last saw each other when they graduated. Seven months later, Dev and Niall drag a pining and protesting Baz out to a club for a night of drinking and dancing, but there’s a familiar face behind the bar. Simon Snow is serving drinks, and worse, he’s flirting with a Baz lookalike. What will happen :P (This was yet another fic that could have been developed a little more, but I was still happy with the result overall)

Warm Spell (1795, M) Goatherd Simon has been almost-encountering a beautiful stranger for several weeks now, but one hot summer day, they finally meet.

Lost and Found (575, G) The boys go shopping together and Baz temporarily loses Simon, but it’s all pretty plot-free :P

Truce (1101, M) Simon pesters Baz while he’s trying to study, and needs to learn a lesson. Will they be able to call a truce? (This one was where the trouble began—I changed my settings to allow comments from unregistered users, because I like to fuck around and find out, I suppose. And find out I did! Luckily, the rude comment I received took aim at some writing element that didn’t even make sense for this particular fic, and I quickly realized it was a bot. Not long after, I started getting comments on other fics as well, all very nonspecific to the fandom, characters, and genre. I’m so sorry because I know it upset a few readers who were very kind to clap back and reassure me, and I changed my settings back so that it wouldn’t happen again.)

Savour (1189, T) Simon has been away on one of his missions for the Mage, and Baz has been awaiting his return by leaving out plates of food in their room every night. (Bot’s review: “the worst fic in the fandom”. It’s not even the worst fic in my own oeuvre, so joke’s on you, guy XD)

We Were Always Together (2239, T) During cotillion class, Simon is forced to dance with Baz. The horror! (I flipping loved writing this. Full on had a blast and Would Write Again)

Let It Snow (925, M) It’s almost time for Christmas break at Watford, and it may not turn out as the boys planned. However, thanks to a spell gone wrong (or very right) it may yet work out for the best :P

Always (551, G) It’s Christmas Eve and Baz has just finished putting the kids to bed. Simon is putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree.

Something New (990, T) Simon and Baz have a little tiff near the end of eighth year, but it’s not fated to last long. I’ve written a lot of secret!relationship Watford era fics for COC this year, some that could go together and some that were in separate universes. It’s been so much fun to write about the boys sneaking around, but this is…something new. :P (In which I was very pleased with myself for how I wrapped things up in accordance with the prompt. I really, really enjoyed COC this year :D)

Thanks for reading! I’m sure most everyone has already made their own round-up posts, but consider these no-pressure tags and hellos: @valeffelees @stardustasincocaine @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @c0nsumemy5oul @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @tender-ministrations @basiltonbutliketheherb @ghostpepperworld @larkral @letraspal @cows4247 @fiend-for-culture @palimpsessed @hushed-chorus @shrekgogurt @raenestee @cutestkilla @drowninginships @youarenevertooold @iamamythologicalcreature @beastmonstertitan @ic3-que3n @supercutedinosaurs @stitchy-queerista @alexalexinii @asocialpessimist @shutup-andletme-go @prettygoododds @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @wellbelesbian @bookishbroadwayandblind @orange-peony @papierhaikuphoto @martsonmars

#snowbaz #baz pitch #simon snow #year in review #coc 2024 #carry on countdown #carry on countdown 2024 #cobb #Cobb 2024 #carry on big bang #wow I’m even tagging these late #my brain has been mush lately #eep #72327 words in 2024 #40854 for COC alone #31473 words of other writing

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