#loved the way he was grinning manically at the beginning of the play

[succulentsofa]

genuinely sooo obsessed with the current west end cast of the book of mormon btw

[angelyuji]

OKAY SO this one has been cooking in my noggin for a while. you’re dating ford and he lets bill possess him but bill fucking hates you and wants to destroy everything about the relationship so he makes ford do some noncon to you if ykwim 👀💦

RICYTP_O)(+*_&)*Y&T THIS IS SO HNNGGG

tw // noncon, somno, implied billford, bill cipher sucks, ford pines fluff at the beginning thoo

bill most defintely did not get the appeal about you. ford is sooo obsessed with you and he loves egging his bad behavior on, but at the same time, he didn't get why ford likes you so much.

you giggle, sitting on ford's lap, watching him journal his findings. "why write that in invisible ink? it seems pretty important."

he kisses your shoulder, "to keep important information out of the wrong hands." you hum in understanding. the two of you sit in silence, letting your hearts beat together.

"i don't get it." you had just left and bill had decided that it was the right time to question ford.

ford continued working as bill sat on his shoulder, "get what."

"them! your little," he waves his hands. "toy? plaything?"

"partner." ford interjects, annoyed. "they're my partner. i don't take kindly to anyone calling (y/n) names."

bill raises his hands in mock surrender, "fine. fine. i just don't see what you see, sixer." he shrugs.

"(y/n) is.... someone who understands me. they're patient, kind, open, and loyal to a fault." he laughs a little to himself and bill frowns, feeling a surge of jealousy. ford's voice was full of love, every word he speaks of you felt honest and true.

"whatever you say, fordsy. a warm hole is a warm hole" bill shrugs and disappears before ford can retort.

ford is gonna spend all night thinking of ways to convince bill about you and urethra🤓! he's got it!!

"would you like to meet them?" ford moves his queen, looking up to see bill's eye wide in surprise.

"you sure you want to introduce me to your "partner", my muse?" bill mocks, but ford only smiles, continuing the chess match. silence fills the room, but bill's interest in you won, "how would we do this?"

they'll decide to let bill posses ford and meet you, not tell you about bill of course. ford didn't want you to freak out and leave him and bill was happy to play along with ford's lies.

repetitive knocks wake you up from your sleep. you look over to your alarm clock, blearily reading 1:22 AM. "what the hell." you mumble, rubbing your eyes. the knocks don't stop and you're forced out of bed. you look through the peephole and see a very familiar face.

"gooooood morning, cutie!" his voice was loud, echoing through the empty street. you shush him and pull him inside.

"stanford, it's 2 in the morning. what're you doing here." you fight a yawn, trying to sound stern.

"baby, come on, is it a crime to want to see my angel?" he takes a seat at your dining table, looking around your home like it's brand new.

you raise an eyebrow at the new nicknames, "are you okay? you're acting... weird." ford grins, abnormally.

"i think you're just tired." he waves off your concern, "let me stay over, baby. we'll have some fun." his grin stretches across his face, unnaturally. he stalks towards you and you slowly back away.

"ford, i think you should go." your voice wavers as you point to the door.

"noooo, i don't think so." his arm snaps out, grabbing you by the throat. you choke, digging your nails into his hand, "this is the thing sixer was impressed by? you?!?" he laughs, loud and manic. "a weak, useless, human." he spits, anger coursing through bill's mind.

hes soooo sillyyy. you're gonna end up passing out from the lack of airrr and then his original goal was to kill you, but... i mean a warm hole is a warm hole.

you could feel yourself getting stretched, legs held above and pressed against your chest. you hear a familar voice grunting above you. "h-hurts..." you moan, eyes slowly opening. ford's wide smile comes into view.

"sixer was right, you're realll open." he grinds against you. you feel tears stream down your face. he grins, bending over and dragging his tongue up your face. he licked up your tears, giggling. "you'll never forget this face ever again."

afterwards, you're laying there unconscious and bill's like.... damn.... you're kinda fun :))) he gets ford now

[taesanluv3r]

laser tag!

kim woonhak x reader

a silly laser tag date with bf!woonhak, turns into a cheeky first kiss. fluffy cuteness, slight betrayal (in a silly way) :3 lowercase intended, excuse any grammar or spelling errors! this is kinda messy but enjoyy

wc: 1,383

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"your first kiss was during...laser tag?!"

okay, maybe to the untrained eye this wasn't the most ideal scenario. romantics might argue that the first kiss should be special, warm, filled to the brim with roses upon a candlelight dinner and - well, not in the middle of an intense laser tag match.

to young and naive lovers like kim woonhak and yn ln however, this was just the right time and place for such a thing. i mean, what's more romantic than a gruesome battle in an awfully humid indoor space, accompanied by extremely cheap plastic guns?

exactly, nothing.

"i'm gonna get you, yn!" woonhak yelled as he ran across the room. he held onto the laser gun tightly, a bright blue circle at the centre of his plastic armour - it glowed, indicating he hadn't been defeated yet. he follows his girlfriend, chasing after the glowing red on her own suit.

"oh yeah? we'll see about that!" yn retaliates, a giggle escaping her gloss stained lips as she skips through the maze-like battlefield. she doesn't stop running, and he doesn't stop chasing; they had seemingly forgotten of the other players, bending the rules of the game to focus solely on each other - as if it were a one on one match.

"hah! got ya!"

the boy's teeth peeked through as he grinned. he had successfully cornered the girl at a dead end, now it really was a one on one fight. "you gonna shoot me or what?" she asked, her weapon locked and loaded, pointed at him and ready to go. he was in the same position, an eye squinted as if he were trying to get a better aim. "aren't you?" he asks as they begin to rotate in a circle, covering the area of the small grounds they stood in.

"how many more shoots do you have left?" woonhak inquires, his head tilts to one side when he asks but the rest of his body stays alert - there was no room for distraction. "i'm not falling for that, you're gonna shoot me while i check...child's play" yn replies, scoffing at her boyfriend's dirty tactics. she has this smile on her face, it's smug and somewhat annoying, but something about it made his stomach turn (in a good way) and he couldn't help but break character for a moment, letting his guard down.

bad idea.

"FUCK!" yn cursed almost way too loudly - especially at a place dominated by children. woonhak laughs manically, in a split second he had managed to dodge her shot. "HAH! i'd like to see you try that again" he snickers, watching her face as her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed. his own expression changes quickly however, when she lifts her gun up to point at him again, right at his chest.

"kim woonhak, consider yourself...dead?"

fuck.

"looks like someone's out of shots..." the boy smirks, watching as a look of shock washes over her complexion. "this is seriously so unfair" she whines, dropping the, now useless, gun onto the floor. yn frowns when woonhak begins to walk towards her. she steps back each time he comes closer but this method only worked for as long as she didn't come into straight contact with the plush foam walls - which, obviously, she did.

"woonhak, babe, don't do it...spare me!"

he laughs again, the same manic laugh as before, as if he could already feel the glory of victory reeling in. he fully corners her this time, her back against the wall and one of his palms pressed onto the surface right beside her head, caging her in so that there was no escape.

yn sighs, she's about to give up. i mean, there really isn't any other way to win...unless of course if she could stall him long enough for the time to run out. but how? if there's anything about kim woonhak that anyone should know it's that he's dead serious about games like this, nothing in the world could distract him - well, maybe a true loves kiss but where would yn ln find a true loves kiss at a time like this? hey that rhymed, also! yn you idiot, you're the true loves kiss!

"what are you thinking so hard about right now?" his words pull her out of the short trance she was in. observant as ever, the boy caught on immediately to the smirk that played against her lips. "what are you plotting, yn?" he sounded almost nervous.

"aren't you gonna shoot me?"

he chuckles, "i'm savouring it. gonna wait till the very last minute", she raises a brow, "what if you don't make it on time?" and he rolls his eyes, "with you weaponless and cornered, no one else around, and the clear shot i have? fat chance" she sighs, "fine then..."

"you can't say i didn't warn you then"

before the boy could even try to question her odd statement, he was pulled forward by the two hands she had hooked between the straps of his armour. in a matter of seconds, kim woonhak had gone from feeling rather victorious to losing himself in his girlfriend's mouth.

not that he was complaining though, he's been waiting for this moment to happen since the very moment they started dating about two and a half weeks ago - he just never thought it'd be at laser tag that he'd get his very first kiss from her. again, not complaining though.

the kiss was simple. distracting, sure, but for the most part it was simple; sweet and passionate - maybe a little sloppy, but what would you expect of two amateur teenage kissers?

kim woonhak was on cloud nine! i mean, he's got the love of his life - namely, yn ln - locked on his lips, his hands in his hair and everything, and on top of that, his laser tag victory was just inches away...at the edge of his finger tips, literally. nothing could go wrong now...nothing in the whole wide world could ever ruin this moment in any way...nothing could-

'shots fired! player freshboy has been defeated! congratulations red team you win!'

"huh...?"

woonhak's face went pale as the speaker intercom voice filled his ears, he finally pulls away from the kiss, "what...?" his confusion is answered when yn laughs from her spot in front of him. his eyes widen at the sight of his girlfriend, pretty - as always - but something was different. why was she armed? her weapon was gone minutes ago! and where did his weapon go? what...

"got ya!"

he couldn't believe it. about a billion thoughts raced through his mind as he watched his girlfriend cheer with glee - cheer in glory of her victory, the victory that was meant to be his. but amongst all these thoughts only one read clear in the very center of his head, in big and bold letters, in a colour so brightly red, a singular word floating with a background of fire:

betrayal.

"aw woonagi don't be upset, it's not the end of the world!" yn giggles at the large pout on his face as they return the plastic suits and weapons to the counter. "yeah it is, my girlfriend totally betrayed me! worse! she distracted me with a secret weapon! that's totally against the rules and so very unfair and i think that-" woonhak didn't finish - or rather, he couldn't finish. his words all swallowed up by her lips that attached themselves onto his again.

once more, she laughs at his bewildered face. "you're so adorable, hakie. now let's go, dinner is on you remember, loser" he frowns again, but wraps an arm around her, pulling her close to kiss the top of her head. her nose scrunches at the contact and she tumbles to side a bit, walking lopsided as a result of their difference in height.

"you're so lucky i love you, yn"

they went to dinner after that, on woonhak's latest pay check from his part-time job. then when they parted that night, neither of the pair could fall asleep; lost in space as images of their spontaneous first kiss flashed against the stars. the rest was history, a story to be told over and over again until everyone and their mother's got sick of it.

"so yeah...we did have our first kiss at laser tag"

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

YAYYYY FIRST FIC(ish) IN A WHILE 😭😭😭😭 hope u enjoyed it <3 sorry to have kept u waiting. love, kona.

[thr0wnawayy]

Chapter 429 has been my Dabi's Dance

I can't stop smiling.

I wanted to start off by saying thank you. Not to Hori, but to you all. Every last one of you in these tags for your contributions. Be it analysis, re-reads, fan works or simply your perspectives. I look forward to seeing what you will make in the future.

So, Thank you.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. MHA was always in the background of my life and I hated it. I don't watch anime and yet still MHA related media would make it's way onto my socials in all it's obnoxious forms. This went on for years.

And then suddenly, it stopped. It seemed like MHA's craze had died down, I'd still see it from time to time through merchandise but never to the consistency it had prior.

That was until Dabi's Dance was published and the net went wild.

I knew a few things about Endeavor from my past exposure, he was universally hated and abused his kids and wife (to the point she scalded her son in a fit of psychosis).

Deciding I had nothing better to do, I found myself searching to see what kind of consequences would befall such a monstrous character.

Would he fall like Icarus, be torn apart by the public, how would the family he ruined react to the news?.

And then, nothing. No punishment, no reaction. Just dead air.

I recall that my face dropped internally. My blank expression mirrored my phone screen's sterile nature, as it displayed the information in front of me.

He got away with it. So I did some digging and it got so much worse.

Bakugo's evasion of any consequences or damages, coddled and shielded by Hori's inability to go through on anything.

Hawks who murdered a near crippled man on a hypothesis, for the mere crime of having the "wrong" quirk, for not giving up, for being "unlucky"

Aizawa, Hori's little mouthpiece. who decides to play judge, jury and executioner with the futures of students he's supposed to be teaching. Only for the Nedzu and the narrative to allow him, his friends turned into lapdogs that agree to the letter.

The Commission who strive to keep theirrotting husk of a system alive through assasins, child soldiers and indoctrination.

Even if it's gears must be lubricated with blood, even if it means lying to the world and having them clean up the mess. They MUST stay on top, the illusion must be upheld.

I just couldn't fathom how this was seen as a good thing.

And somewhere along the way I began to feel something akin to hate. Not your typical ire, one powered by anger, no.

I wanted to see how low Hori would go, just how horrifically he would mangle a series that everyone had once praised.

I wanted to witness what wonders a jaded community would create, to show what they were capable of (to create and understand MHA in a manner Hori wishes he could even emulate a fraction of)

I wished to see your own expressions of love and hatred.

The thought of witnessing the breaking point, the dust settling to expose all the glaring flaws and infested wounds of MHA. It buzzed in my brain like electricity.

The idea that when all was said and done, you, the people would do what Hori couldn't/wouldn't and forge the bones and salvagble bits of MHA into a story worth remembering.

One where abusers are punished for their crimes instead of rewarded

Where victims can have a voice, feel and grow, carve their own paths and move forward from their trauma.

Where the implications of MHA's rotting and disingenuous society get explored instead of swept under the rug

Where people get a chance.

I waited eagerly for the day it would all fall apart.

So, do you know what I did when I logged onto the tag and saw your posts!?.

I laughed, the shrill giggle in the back of my throat quickly surging into an almost manic cackle. It was like lightning, vindicating and sobering all at once. My face was stretched to it's absolute limits with how wide my grin was. I could almost hear the shattering of MHA's last bit of integrity and I loved it.

The realization MHA's greatest threat was the author himself, It's one that I grasped long ago (as far back as the Dark Dekiru Arc) and I'm sure most of you understood this as well.

But to see that more of you are starting to get it, to realize there's no going back. That as the curtains draw near and the lights begin to dim, there is no other side here. Violence begets violence and Hori's gone past the event horizon.

It feels, hopeful. Perhaps we can build something worth saving.

It's been a wild ride so far and it's still ongoing. Hori's time is long over, it has been for a while now, so I suppose what I'm asking Is:

Now It's Your Turn, what's your play?

_______________________________________

Update:

IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!

[tainted-liquor]

'Fuck Around and Find Out٠ ࣪⭑

e42!Miles Morales x BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles! TWs: Miles being a dumbass, sassy men, N-word usage, probs incorrect spanish so pleaaase lmk! W/C: 695 A/N: BERLEEZY REFERENCE EUUUUGHHHH!!

It was a peaceful Saturday, and you and your boyfriend Miles were hanging around in the living room when you got a sudden idea. You were going to make Miles play phasmophobia. "Hey Miles? Can you c'mere for a sec?" You called to his crouched form that was 'miles' deep into the fridge as you powered on the TV. He made his way over to the couch, a mix of confusion and amusement as you slid the headset over his head. "Whatchu doin', ma? What's all this for?"

"Shhhh, just play the game. I wanna see what you think of it," You persuaded as you slid both controllers into his hands. "It's...a new game! Yeah! We're experimenting with genres today. Just follow the instructions aight?" You booted the game from your TV and patiently waited as Miles hoisted himself up from his slouched posture, standing in the middle of your living room as you watched the screen. He looks around the electronic space, muttering a confused "The fuck is...phasmophobia" as he begins toying with the various objects in the van.

You explained the game's goal as he nodded in what he thought was your direction, giggling silently as you grabbed both of his wrists, gently guiding his hands to the necessary items and showing him how to pick them up. "Mami, you know I don't fuck with them fuckass ghosts. Why do you have me playing this?" he chuckles as I show him how to move. "Whaaat? Who said anything about ghosts?" you teased, trying to hide the main enemy of the game to get his raw reaction. "I swore I saw a cross over there, so it's either ghosts or demons...n ion rock with either of 'em. The spirit of the lord is HEEEREEE" he exaggerated as he began to play the game. He spent 30 minutes stuck in the van, debating what he should bring to the farmhouse.

When he finally got into the flow of the game, he was scared as bitch. "Why's it so dark in here? This shit got me tight like why am I doing alla dis in the dark?" He spat as he descended the dark halls with his flashlight. He was already antsy as he took out the EMF reader, watching as it spiked to about four with an annoyed fearful groan. But you decided to take it a step further and taunt him just a little bit more. You snuck up to his side with an absolutely evil grin on your face and breathed cold air on the side of his neck.

He unleashed the most unhinged, barbaric, high-pitched, off-the-rails fearful scream as he swung at his side blindly. He would've knocked you clean out had you not already gotten yourself out of the way as soon as you saw his muscles tense. "CHILL, NIGGA DAMN!" You giggled as you watched your boyfriend fearfully run out of the house. He faded in and out between English and Spanish, losing his shit as he desperately tries to explain to you what he felt, not realizing that the ghost can actually...hear him.

"MAMA BICHO! AAAH- MAMI, SENTÍ SU COLD ASS BREATH DE MI LADO!! NO ME DIJISTE IT COULD BREATH!" He practically yelled as he lifted the headset slightly. You laughed manically at his reaction, watching as he scowled and lowered the headset back to his eyes, only to be scared right back out of his headset by the entity. You watched as he jolted backward, hitting the back of his head rather aggressively on the wooden coffee table. You couldn't help but laugh twice as hard, face turning red as you rolled around on the floor, silently crying and clutching your stomach for dear life. "Shit...! Oh my god, Miles, baby are you okay?" You muttered in between harsh giggles, reaching your hand out towards your boyfriend's crouched form with both hands behind his head. "I will KNOCK. yo ass out." he enunciated as he subtly shook on the floor.

"I'm sorry my love!" you cackled as you scooped what was left of a man into your arms, tears coursing down your face from laughing too hard.

[maxblonda]

vulnerability and the william carter puzzles

i've been looking at the william carter puzzles for the upteenth time this week after i got back into playing this game after months and i know a lot of people notice the changes in the portrait in maxwell's apartment (and the only time iirc he's ever seen canonically using light magic as opposed to the shadow magic he's known for but that's another post for another time) as the sequence of images goes on.. but only after looking closer have i noticed that before and after charlie first enters, the picture is that of both her and maxwell, right? that's not a surprise to anyone. he has that picture as well as other pictures of the two of them in his apartment and in the fireplace scene in the beginning of the "inevitable" musical.

but what has only just caught my eye after years of this image sequence being out is the fact that i always assumed that after maxwell returns to his apartment in person that the picture behind him turns back to normal. it doesn't. when he picks up charlie's hat mournfully, there's a different magician in the picture next to his assistant. that's not maxwell- at least not maxwell as the persona he puts on that's far more secure and confident in himself. next to charlie in that picture frame is william carter. the same unsure, nervous magician he was before he reinvented himself. but despite maxwell's sadness, there's an endearing, dopey smile on the stupid, foolish man behind him. the man who no one ever really bothered or cared to watch, unlike the amazing maxwell of san francisco, whose magic feats are nothing an average person could even imagine.

unlike maxwell, william's body is turned to face her, and his hands are not behind his back. his hands are palm up, and their figures overlap with one of his arms behind her head. he is not smug in his grin. he's not looking at the camera, but at her. because it was always about her, wasn't it? maxwell closes himself off, not expecting the warmth that she brings, or the way she makes him laugh, or the way she all but jumped into his arms with glee when he unveiled the poster announcing their next magic act.

but charlie's seen right through him. because it was always about him, wasn't it? but her gaze, her new knowledge has left him vulnerable in a disquieting, upsetting way. a narrative no longer in his control. we don't even know if he ever read the contents of the letter charlie wrote, or if he was in the right headspace to even process her genuine concern and love to him. the most he can do in his powerlessness is to bring the manic scribbles from his study out into the picture in the main room of his apartment. the picture that reflects a man back at him that he never wanted to be known as ever again. a stupid smile, a foolish innocence that makes him want to yell "can't you see i'm about to lose everything?!" because someone else knowing about the existence of Them, no matter their benevolence, is a recipe for fucking disaster. so he scratches that face right out.

for a man so guarded, the shadows are more than happy to give him what he wants. the man in the picture left behind after he and charlie disappear into the constant makes it clear that he's left william carter behind in the rubble of the real world for good. and it's not a big deal. that william carter died in a train crash years ago anyways.

the king of the constant isn't the pitiful william carter. the crown weighs heavy on the head of king maxwell. and charlie is relegated to the darkness that she was convinced was merely a powerful illusion. the same darkness she was afraid of as a child.

and the only way they will ever take the stage again is with the former assistant watching, lying in wait where no one can see her as the disgraced magician and failed king reenacts a their old lives with none of the grace and all of the anger she has (and They have) held inside for not letting her in. for not being brave enough to be vulnerable.

[gabessquishytum]

SO I JUST RECEIVED THIS AD ON TUMBLR:

and now I'm thinking about how omega Hob is now of proper mating age (18-20, whatever floats your boat) and now he must participate in The Hunt.

The Hunt being a 24 hour event where alphas hunt for an omega mate by scent and skill alone. Wearing said outfit, ofc 😉

Hob's a smart omega, he's been prepping for The Hunt his entire life. Some omegas are happy to be caught by the first alpha who wants them, but not Hob. Hob wants a mate he can be feisty with, a mate who will really go the extra distance to chase and try to tame him. His fellow omegas think that's just asking for a mean and cruel alpha but Hob disagrees.

Enter Dream. Dream has been on many Hunts, but either he's never found a omega that smells right to him (or if you'd like angst, his previous mates didn't work out). But Hob. Dream smells Hob as soon as he steps onto the Hunting Grounds and he goes feral. He has no idea who this omega is or what they look like but he. will. have. them. He will murder his fellow alphas if he must.

Hob doesn't make it easy for Dream. They nearly tear apart the entire area with how ferociously Dream chases after Hob and how hard Hob fights not to be claimed. There's fallen trees, torn up grass, a few smashed rocks, destroyed flower beds, you name it. Long after everyone else has mated and gone home, Dream's still chasing Hob with just as much energy as he had the beginning of the hunt.

Finally, in the dead of night, Dream gets Hob pinned down, leashes him, then claims him. It's loud and messy and everyone else thinks Dream's murdering the poor omega but Hob is having a fantastic time.

OH YEAH IM EATING THIS. Absolutely love a completely unhinged tumblr ad by the way.

I can imagine Hob really enjoying/looking forward to these hunts. For an omega he's big and strong, on a par with most alphas. He's fast, he's a little bit feral, and he loves the thrill of the chase. No alpha has caught him yet - they all give up and go home before Hob has finished enjoying the game. All he ever hopes for is that one day, an alpha will come along who can actually hunt him down like he really deserves.

Dream is absolutely that alpha. He's relentless. He may not have huge muscles, but he's got stamina. He can run for just as long as Hob can, and even longer. He's utterly determined to get this delicious, fascinating omega who seems to be playing with him.

Hob is amazed to find that he actually runs out of breath and strength to run!! And by that point he really wants to be caught. He's thrilled when Dream pounces and tumbles them both down to the ground where they roll around in the dirt, biting and holding each other and exploring each other's scents. Hob gets to feel the thrill of getting leashed by his mate! He's so horny he's basically humping the ground to find relief, and Dream is already obsessed with him. HIS omega.

He holds Hob by the back of his neck and pushes him down, and watches as his legs fall open automatically. The scent of his slick is so much stronger, and the harder Dream holds Hob against the ground, the more aroused he seems to get. His attempts to escape from Dream’s hold are more like tests of strength which he really wants Dream to win.

And being claimed in the open air by his alpha is everything Hob has been dreaming of and needing. His body is a perfect sheath for Dream and he knows that he's coming across as slutty and eager, but he can't help canting his hips back against Dream to get more of his cock. Oh, and the knotting? It's a religious experience. Hob's sexy little outfit is torn to shreds and only the leash remains tightly grasped in Dream’s hand.

When the knot finally deflates and the cum is drooling down Hob’s thighs, they limp out of the hunting grounds with manic grins and big hearts in their eyes. Hob is on top of the world. His alpha is so strong and determined and he's gonna give so many babies and they're gonna be feral in the woods together every year to celebrate <333

[dnf171]

slightly delayed day 4 of the 12 days of maxiel advent calendar! for @catofthecanals289 from our alzheimers universe! set in the same universe as this and this.

“Daniel, you have to, of course, aim higher.”

It’s as though the words snap everything back into focus while Daniel tries to remember anything getting blurred in the first place. 

In front of him, rows of red-nosed clowns topped with frizzy orange hair stare down at him. Them, he’s not alone. There’s something heavy in his hand. A baseball, he realises. He looks between it and the lines and lines of manic grins, and then Max’s face. His voice is full of laughter, so Daniel must be okay.

“What-“ Daniel begins, but it’s too embarrassing to ask what am I meant to be doing. Max just told him.

Max steps closer to him, his smile already flickering at Daniel’s obvious hesitation.

“Daniel?” He asks, cautious in a way Daniel doesn’t like. He doesn’t want Max to stop smiling.

The flashing lights of the arcade dance at the periphery of his vision, red, yellow, blue and then red again, as a mechanical imitation of circus music plays in a loop. A cheery voice reminds him over and over to down the clown.

“Sweetheart.” The word sounds like a question again, but at the same time unfamiliar. Wrong. “Schatje,” Max says then, and that’s- That’s better.

I love you, Daniel thinks, an electric shock of realisation that is as manic as their surroundings, like maybe it’s being felt for the first time. Then, the settle of it into the familiar warm weight in his chest tells him the truth; I’ve been loving you for a long time.

Wherever they are, he’s safe here.

Daniel turns back to the clowns, noticing now how they aren’t real and are just faces painted onto bowling pins. He does what Max told him to, and throws the ball higher.

To the applause of strobe lights and chiptune, he wins.

Throwing his hands into the air, he lets out a noise of delight in time with Max’s behind him. Ki ki ki, aye, a corner of his brain echoes, but he can’t make the words trip onto his tongue.

“Good job,” Max tells him, his hands a warm weight on Daniel’s waist. A champagne fizz fills Daniel’s belly like it’s maybe been a long time since he’s been touched there, but- No. That can’t be right, because Max loves him too.

I love you, also, he always says. Daniel wishes he would say it now. He can see that it’s true in the softness of Max’s eyes as he pulls him in to kiss him congratulations. Daniel wishes--

--

--Daniel’s hands are twisted into soft purple fur. At first he thinks it’s a jumper, but then his fingertips catch on the crinkled material of the horn, and it’s obvious what it is. A unicorn. For his sister’s baby, maybe.

As he searches the murky waters of his head for her name, his eyes catch on the landscape flying past him. Too vast and green to be Monaco, the car moving too fast. Monaco is the orange glow of car break lights, sitting bumper to bumper and swearing under his breath. He’s not the one driving now, but he doesn’t know who is either.

“Daniel?” The man says his name when Daniel glances at him, so it can’t be a stranger.

“Where are we going?” Daniel asks, cuddling the unicorn a little closer. It feels nice under his palms.

“Back to the ranch,” the man says. His eyes are very blue and pretty, but thinking that makes Daniel’s stomach twist. He shouldn’t- He has somebody who wouldn’t like him thinking that about somebody else, he’s sure.

Daniel nods. They’re on the left side of the road, so-

“I need to get ready for the race,” he says, with more confidence than he feels, but that must be why they are in Australia. The Grand Prix. Except, the weather outside the window doesn’t look quite like autumn. Looking down at himself, he realises he’s not wearing anything with the Red Bull logo, which means he’s probably late. “Christian is going to kill me if I miss practice.”

The man’s face does something complicated that Daniel doesn’t understand. Daniel is about to ask for his phone to call someone- Laura, he thinks his assistants name is maybe- when the man speaks again, his voice softer than before.

“The race has already happened, don’t worry,” he promises, but his voice is shaky. “I’m taking you home to get some rest.”

“Very good,” he says again, which is a little unhelpful, but then he adds sounding a little more genuine, “Everyone is very proud of you.”

“Oh,” Daniel says, feeling a little stupid, but also relieved. No one can be angry at him if it’s his time off. Unless he fucked up on track. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Did you watch it? How did I do?”

He watches the man’s hands tighten on the steering wheel for a moment, his eyes fixed firmly on the road.

Happy butterflies beat their wings inside Daniel, flying between his stomach and his chest. He made people proud.

“Gangster,” Daniel says with a grin, and because he can’t resist being cheeky, “did I beat Max?”

But saying his name out loud as the butterflies wilt to lead weights at the bottom of his belly. Daniel is pretty sure Max should be here, so where is he? The guy spoke about the ranch, and the ranch means family time, which means Max time. Max is- Max is-

Daniel turns to look at the back seat, but it’s empty. He tries to remember when he last saw Max, but where his face used to be there is only a fuzzy outline framed with a Red Bull cap. He touches a hand to his head and finds only his own curls under his fingertips.

“Where’s my boyfriend?” He asks the man again, his voice high now with panic. “My boyfriend, Max, where is-“ Then he breaks off to swear, because no one is supposed to know. Max might be angry that he told this man.

“Easy easy,” the man soothes, his nice blue eyes back on Daniel as his hand makes an awkward jerk forwards, and then backwards again, as though he was going to try to touch him. “Easy, Daniel, it’s okay, I promise. Max will-“ He breaks off to smooth his face into a gentle smile. He really is so pretty. “Max will be at the ranch. I’m taking you to him now.”

Daniel studies the man’s face for a moment. He seems nice, and Max loves Daniel, and Christian is proud of him today, so they wouldn’t let him get into a car with someone they didn’t trust to look after him. Besides, something in this man’s face has Daniel trusting him.  His mouth is kind. There’s a mark just above his top lip.

“Have we met before?” Daniel asks, surprising himself with the question. When the man’s smile turns sad again, Daniel tries to laugh apologetically. “Sorry if that’s a dick question mate, when you’re famous it’s- It’s easy to lose track.”

Strangely that gets the man to laugh. Daniel can’t help but join in as the sound tugs at the loose threads of his mind. Sunshine streaming through tall windows, the glitter of the sea just beyond them. Chasing a spotty cat down a hallway.

“That’s okay,” the man says, “I have driven you lots of places before, do not worry.”

His words are the final piece Daniel needs for his hammering heart to slow. Pitifully, he finds himself lifting the plushie to his face to press his cheek against its softness. It’s even nicer than when it was against his hands. He’s going to-

“I’m going to give this to Max,” he says, words muffled a little. “He- I- I think he’ll pretend it’s silly, but secretly love it. He’s a little shit like that.”

Max will like it, Daniel is sure. Max will like that Daniel was thinking about him.

[daflangstlairde-art]

A Catalog of Non-Definitive Acts — Chapter 1, 6167 words

Part 3 of DFL's Whumptober 2024

Work Summary:

Love was cauterized out of him young, because that is how you survive.  But coming back home with the Splintersons, Leo craved.  He craved and he ached and he hungered. Because the Jitsu family loves. They love ardently, fervently, they love in a way Leo has never, ever seen before, they love in a way Leo could never even conceptualize much less dream of. (She’s always taught him, by word but much more by example, to take what he wants and settle for nothing less.) 

“Three, two, one–” 

“TAA-DAAAAAA!” all the Jitsu siblings yelled in a chorus, Michelangelo doing jazz hands, Donatello setting off some sort of sparkler, April popping confetti, all as Raphael yanked the off-white curtain aside to reveal–

Oh.

...A cell. 

Leonardo—well, Leo, he supposed—shouldn't have hoped for anything different. He was new to their family, and he hadn't proved himself yet. It made sense!

“Wooowww!” he hummed, grinning, stepping forward with none of the disappointment he felt, to look around the cell. It was a nice cell, to be fair. Nothing like his old bedroom, but leagues better than Big Mama’s dungeons, eugh. Those things were a violation.

This cell had an actual bed with a bed frame, and a mattress, and bed sheets! Even a pillow. Wow. 

And it was all furnished! It didn't have a window—which made sense, they wouldn't trust him to not run off at first opportunity, and they probably wanted to keep an eye on him at least in the beginning. But really? Not even a window with some thick metal bars or something? But it had a ceiling light, and a night light on a nightstand by the bed. 

There was also a wardrobe, which implied he’d get to keep some of the outfits he would be given! That’s fun. He was looking forward to that. Well, if they were nice outfits. The Splintersons weren't really the “dressing” type... 

Even now, they were just... wearing gloves and socks and sashes and stuff. Only April had the decency to be in her usual fit. Leo himself was dressed decently. Not his favorite, but hey, he was in a rush, and he needed to be comfortable. Just a white button-up of a flowy material, and black slacks—not exactly comfortable wear, but it was better than the fancier stuff, and he hadn't exactly had access to his Nexus fits designed for movement. And he had to literally move, during his “moving out”. He took exactly zero accessories, too. 

There was also a desk, so that meant they had some studies planned for him! That could also be fun, maybe... depending on the studies. He usually preferred learning hands-on, not... hunched on a chair, but, he’s excelled at his teachings for years now. He was sure he could keep impressing even more. 

And there were empty shelves on the wall. For... he wasn't sure for what. Weapons? Gifts? Probably gifts. 

While he was doing his inspection, the Jitsus all had their hands clasped, leaning in, waiting for him to act out his part of the script.

“Soo?? What do you think???” Michelangelo– well, Mikey, since they were brothers now. Officially, that is. 

Oohh, that meant Leo was pushing it, if he was being nudged so obviously to reply. Had to play up his reaction even more then, to justify the build-up.

Because he was long, long trained in easily picking out the meanings of people’s words that laid underneath what they said. In this case: Where are your manners? We did this for you, now return the gesture and behave as we want. Be grateful.

He whirled around, a grin on his face (not too wide, so that he doesn't look manic or obviously artificial), and exclaimed “I love it!” 

“YAAAYY!”

“WOOOO!” 

The other four cheered and wooped, and it threw Leo off for a second. That wasn't the script he was expecting, but, okay! That was a lot of emotion, but he was starting to learn the Jitsus are... kind off... like that. In general. 

No wonder Mamá had tricked them so hard in their first meeting. If Leo hadn't interfered– well. 

...Oh no. He didn't know where the script went from here. Usually when it was Cell Time, he’d just... be left inside, locked, to endure his punishment or until he did better or something.

But they were just looking at him. They expected something–?

Oh, right! Leo was such an idiot, how could he forget? Years of classes on manners and how to do social interaction, and the moment he’s starting his own life, boom, fail.

“Thank you so much,” he told them, smiling. When receiving gifts, he has well learnt he needs to show his gratitude (even if he didn't like the gifts), and then work hard if he wanted to keep the gifts (even if he didn't want them) and to repay them. Big Mama liked giving gifts. And then taking them away. And then giving them again. Making sure the script stuck with Leo. “It’s wonderful,”

“I installed air conditioning,” Donnie pointed to a sort of vent close to the ceiling. So it was secured, then, if he was pointing it out so obviously. No escape from there either, emphasizing that it wasn't worth it to even try.

Leo, of course, read the meaning under the comment: Look how much effort this is. Your reaction isn't satisfying. 

Damn, what was he missing? He didn't know their specific scripts yet, but he was trained for this stuff! He should figure it out quick. For now, he’d just rely on the standard ones. 

“Oh, that is great, I love my air conditioned,” Leo said cheekily, and felt a little relief and satisfaction as Mikey giggled and Donnie rolled his eyes and all. 

Okay, not perfect, but he’ll figure it out. He will.

He wanted to stay here. He wanted to be with the Jitsus—they were nice, and not fake-nice, actually nice. Even when it was at their detriment. 

He’d gone through aaall the trouble of... hm, let's call it moving out, away from Big Mama to join them, because he really did think they could be worth it. 

And he was grateful, he was over the moon actually, that they also wanted him here. That they had not only accepted him, but helped him make his elaborate, arduous get-away. 

So he would put in the work. Learn their scripts and earn his place until they even allowed him to be in a room and not a cell. 

“Bathroom one is down the hall there, and bathroom two is next to it,” Raph pointed. 

Oh, was Leo even allowed to go to the bathroom whenever he wanted? Sick! 

“Wanna see my lab??” Donnie said, excited in a manic sort of way.

“Of course!” Leo voiced his dialogue, grinning.

“And then we can have dinner all together!!!” Mikey waved his arms around. 

And you can show us how well you behave now that you are in our territory.

“Sounds like a plan!” Leo agreed.

“Let’s go!” Donnie declared, whirling around to lead the way.

Leo followed. He couldn't help but note that he had no door. It was just a curtain. 

No lock, to keep him inside. But no privacy. It was the final confirmation—this was his trial period. They’d observe how he followed his schedule and behaved and they’d judge whether he was fit to earn a real, permanent place in their home.

He really, really hoped he would.

—

Dinnertime rolled around, and if Leonardo didn't have years of experience, he’d be drained. The last few days were already so close to leaving him a wreck—he had to not only spend weeks planning how to “move out”, the whole time not letting even a single sign that anything is happening; and then he actually had to execute that plan. With all the obstacles that had popped up. 

And let's just say—outplaying the biggest criminal boss in the entire Hidden City wasn't easy.

Good thing Leo was probably the one person who could match her. He was raised by her, after all, and she was thorough in teaching him her ways.

But it's fine. Leo could handle a dinner! Even if mealtime was always one of the most taxing slots in his schedule. He had to watch all tableside manners (which he used to really struggle remembering), while also keeping his perfect act. 

But he was good at the social events. He was a master at them, at this point. He could handle the underlying meanings of conversation like a professional handling a bomb. He could navigate conversational minefields in his sleep.

...

Even if the Mad Dogz evidently had no interest in, like, any of that. 

There was no order to the seating arrangement, because the table was circular, so Leo had no clue who was supposed to be the head. He was currently between Raph and Donnie, April next to the latter, face propped on her hand with her elbow on the table, and there was one seat left for Mikey because he was serving. Right, they didn't have servants, that's... weird to them, apparently.

It smelled really good. Some sort of soup. Fish stew?

Donnie had his feet up and was tapping away on his phone. Raph was already chewing on bread before any set of cutlery was even arranged. April was debating with Mikey... uh, which types of fish prep was better? Wait, was she also a chef? 

“Leo! How hungry are you??” Mikey asked in the middle of their argument(?). 

Weird way to ask, but Leo knew his lines. Like he said—social events are so his thing.

“Hungry as a turtle,” he said, cheeky. When uncertain, he could always rely on answering with a half-joke—it was just ambiguous enough to be inoffensive and charming, and therefore had a low likelihood of bring incorrect. Even if the lack of commitment and confidence showed, which made him look incapable.

But the Jitsus were highly receptive to his smartass responses so far—and again, Mikey giggled and April snorted.

“So, two ladles? Three?” 

No. Leo hadn't eaten nearly all day. He was hungry.

“Perfect,” he said easily. 

“We were gonna order pizza to celebrate, but Mikey wanted to do it with a homemade meal!” Raph chimed in, and Leo hummed in acknowledgment.

We're doing even more for you. You’ll have to pay it back. 

“Awe, Mikey, that’s so touching,” Leo commented, with the appropriate amount of heartfelt-ness. 

Mikey flashed him a grin, and then he started serving the soup.

And, insanely enough, he placed the first bowl in front of Leo–? Instead of... whoever was the head at the table???

...Oohh, right, he was like... an honored guest! Right? Yeah, that made sense. Like a special occasion.

The second bowl went to Raph, who immediately started eating. Third bowl to Donnie, then April, then, at last, Mikey, and he sat himself down as well.

So Raph was the head of the table. Got it. 

Well, he was eating, so Leo followed suit. 

...Even if... they had only one spoon per person, that's it, not even a napkin. And also... no glasses for water or other beverages–? Except for Donnie, who had a single regular glass cup???

Boy, Leo had a lot to learn. He's barely been here for a few hours and already everything was wildly different than his previous life.

“Man, Leo, can't wait to show you Jupiter Jim–!” 

“Oh we really gotta skate together–!” 

“Oohhh and we can show you our favorite spots around NYC–!” 

Leo nodded along and agreed to their enthusiastic ideas with a smile. Chipped in with a fun little comment or joke when there was a pause.

It really felt like the Mad Dogz might want him here.

Anyway. In the middle of the conversation, April just... got up, opened a cupboard, and poured herself water from the sink. Sat back down, continued like nothing had happened.

Aaaalright theeeen. Soo... there was a level of self-serve...? That– that made sense, Leo supposed.

Right, again, no servants. And they had insisted multiple times that they were all “equals”... he was still trying to understand that. 

Still, he didn’t risk it for now. Wouldn’t want to majorly goof it up on the first dinner! That would be humiliating. He’d save that for the thirddinner. 

Plus, they were being so welcoming. Making a nice meal just for him. He wouldn't want to be unappreciative and rude.

—

They were only waiting for April and Donnie to finish up their meals, and after that dinner would be–

“So, how ya feelin’ Leo?” Raph asked. “We can have a movie night! Or do you wanna head back to your room and rest? You gotta be pretty tired,” 

–oh, dinner was ending now, apparently.

Leo inwardly groaned. Damn, thanks Raph, giving him virtually nothing to figure out the correct response.

He knew what “movie night” meant in concept—they’d mentioned it, during that one conversation about Lou Jitsu and stuff, way back when they'd realized he was the current Battle Nexus champion. It was one of the ways they spent time together, like, bonding and stuff. 

I.e. it was their time. It was family time. Wouldn't that be intruding, if he joined? Or would it be rude if he declined the offer, instead? Raph had suggested it. But he’d also offered Leo go to his cell. 

...Oohh, or! Or maybe it was a weird way of saying, join us and behave, or do you WANT to go back to your cell? You know, behave or be punished.

All this figuring out, of course, happened in the span of a second, because not replying for long periods of time is awkward and rude. Man, all of this had become like second nature after years of practice—it was wild, being back to having to actually think about it.

“I’d love that,” Leo answered. 

“Watching movies or going to your room?” Donnie asked flatly, just looking at his phone, and Leo kept his reaction entirely internal. It felt a little like he’d been shot with a dart.

Nuts. He totally blundered that. Idiot. Get a grip, think. Be better!

Come on, he had to give an actual, clear answer now, commit. 

“You guys wanted to show me some movies, right?” he replied indirectly, still grinning, always grinning. 

“YEAH!” Mikey yelled, grabbing him by the arm, and wow the little guy was as intense as always with his reactions. It was a Mad Dog Thing™. It still took Leo off-guard, though, especially in tense moments like that. “You will LOVE Jupiter Jim, I JUST know it!!!” Mikey exclaimed. 

Leo exhaled unnoticeably. Great, perfect, he’d nailed it. Okay, more social time. He’d be introduced to something they love and to a nigh sacred familial ritual of theirs, he could not mess this up.

...

Easier said than done, because rules and structure at the Jitsu household were only getting more confusing.

In front of their projector, there was a couch and two beanbag chairs at each of its sides. Leo wasn't sure where to sit. Nobody told him. 

The three brothers were too busy squabbling over which movie to start with, which was a little funny. April was the only one who sat on the couch like a normal person. Well, sort of like a normal person, considering she kicked off her shoes and brought her feet up, stretched out, instead of just... sitting. 

Leo stared at the tussle happening while he tried to figure out his place in this arrangement. The couch? No way. He hadn't reached that level of... acceptance, yet. That'd be invading on their turf. Not his place. 

So, one of the beanbags? But which one? There were two, so probably, usually two of the Splintersons would occupy them? Which one belonged to who, however?

...Aaand then April noticed he was still standing and leaned over, patting the spot on the couch next to her. 

Okay.

So.

The couch then.

A clear invitation like that overrides previous structure. He was grateful to her as he moved over to the couch and sat. Normally. 

The brothers were still arguing which Jupiter Jim movie was the best, and Leo absentmindedly kept track of their conversation, as he did with all conversations. Well. Whenever he could. 

Paying attention wasn't... his strongest suit. To this day, he struggled with it, always a tiring fight. But! He really cared about figuring out the Jitsu ways and mastering them, so he paid attention to each specific word use and each preference stated, keeping a log in his mind. Memorizing their personalities. You never know what information could turn out to be useful, and if you're skilled enough, all information can be useful in some way, even minor.

Like, for example, if he was one on one with one of them, and they asked which movie was his favorite, he could say, well, I quite liked– and then say whatever their favorite is. One of his favorite cards to play, because it always worked well. It let him charm them by saying their favorite, while not explicitly marking it as his favorite, so if two opinions clashed, he could say I like both of them and please all parties.

“BOYS!” April finally cut off their arguing. Pretty sure all three had resorted to biting, hah! “Just pick the first one and let's start! We have loads of time, Leo will see them all!” she reasoned with them. Good compromise. 

They huffed and grumbled for a moment, but quickly moved on, inserting the first movie. 

Everyone sat on the couch. Luckily it was big enough. 

Everyone besides Donnie, who sat on the beanbag to the left, pulling his knees in. Actually, Mikey also sat with his legs crossed, right next to him. Okay, so, Leo was slowly learning they had... no care for how you sit. He was still going to sit properly, but, good to know.

Despite the movie not being their chosen favorite, all the Mad Dogz were full of energy as they watched it. Donnie sang the musical numbers and Mikey commented on the set design and Raph reacted to some scenes like he was seeing them for the first time, even though by the way they were able to recite the dialogue, Leo was sure they’d seen it at least a dozen.

And April seemed to be mirroring Leo’s own reaction—watching the goofs do their goofy thing, amused and affectionate. Even if she was far more open about it. 

She also seemed to have lower energy like him (she had school today), which made him feel more comfortable with not forcing himself to be... well, like the other three in order to fit in. 

It was... nice. 

Busy with the movie, there wasn't a whole lot of performing that Leo had to do. He could just observe, and occasionally react with the emotion that a specific scene called for. But he really could just... enjoy the others’ presence, the expectations for his behavior far lower than he’s used to. 

He hoped he would get to get used to this now. 

—

Leo kept his composure until he was cleared to finally leave to his cell. He kept his composure as he brushed his teeth with a toothbrush they’d gotten him. He kept his composure as Mikey and Raph hugged him for good night, although that had been a close one. It's not that Big Mama was never physically affectionate, it's just... it was just different. He didn't know how or why.

(“And don't hesitate to holler if y’ need anything!” Raph clapped him on the back.

“Will do,” Leo was smiling back, and made a mental note that he should go to Raph if there was a medical emergency. Weird, he would've thought Donnie was better at that stuff, what with his affinity for science stuff.

“Yeah! Even if you just wanna hang out!” Mikey beamed, and that– hm. Leo would decode that later.

“Thank you,” he said simply, and thankfully it was enough for them.)

He kept his composure even when he was finally alone in his cell, because first he had to check for cameras. He found none, which meant they wanted to observe him without him knowing it. Ugh, he always hated that. 

Only when he finally got in bed (a bed!), and almost completely covered himself with the blanket, facing the wall, did he let the act slough off of him just a little.

They didn't give him his schedule, which was unpleasant since he didn't know what to expect from tomorrow, but that's alright. Thinking on his feet and adapting are some of his best strengths. They probably didn't have time to quite organize it yet. He had a clock in his new cell (which, again, big step up compared to his old one), but he was not informed of when to wake up. 

Would someone come wake him? Or would it be safer to wake up early and just wait until they came to get him for his first slot, whatever it contained? Hh. 

Leo sighed soundlessly. All of this was kinda bringing back unpleasant memories from his early childhood. Before he got good. Before he started understanding how the world works. 

Back when a cell was his only room, and he didn't have the plush, spacious, beautiful-though-still-locked, real bedroom. Back when he’d go weeks at a time in there, months even, with barely any human contact, except for Big Mama and whoever Big Mama approved that’d work with him on his education and behavior.

He'd been such a... raw child, was the only way he could describe it. He’d expressed his emotions as they were, the moment he felt them. He hadn't understood a lot of things. He’d been desperate for an affection that just doesn't exist and would only ever be given to him as a manipulation tactic. Which always worked shamefully well on his stupid, stupid brain, always starving for even a shred of love, even fake love. Heck, he still sometimes fell for it to this day! That desperate, childish, emotional hope that he could be loved, actually loved, in the way that just doesn't happen.

Except when Raph picks Mikey up in a tight hug and spins him until Mikey laughs. Except when Mikey gets Donnie going on a real good infodump. Except when Donnie spends hours neticulously personalizing a gift for them. Except when they cuddle up and watch movies and share hugs and snacks and I love you’s, again and again and again–

Leo gritted his teeth. Curled into his blanket more.

...He wanted that. He’d learnt it would never happen with Big Mama, but... with them? 

Maybe. Just maybe, it could. He was almost actually grateful for all the lessons she’d commanded be branded into his bones, because now, when it mattered, he could prove himself. Could prove just how perfect he was, so perfect it was basically art. And maybe like art, he could be loved.

But for now, he went to sleep, dreaming of things he’d learnt to regard as nonexistent.

—

Okay, Leo was awake for three hours already. He'd managed to wake up at 7 a.m., which he would usually consider late. 

He frantically got dressed, luckily his one and only current outfit was simple. He made his bed—ages ago, he'd tried doing it even if he didn't have to, considering the staff usually did; but Big Mama had been pleased with him, so, trying to be a good son and impress, he kept it up. It was a habit now.

He’s checked everywhere for anything out of place, and everything was as it was the night before.

Aaand then nothing happened. 

He’d already waited, he’d already done some light exercises (handstand push-ups, some split stretches, the usual). And then he'd done some more waiting and exercises. 

Kept checking the clock. With each empty minute, he got more and more worried that he was doing something completely wrong. That he hadn't gotten the memo for what he’s supposed to be doing. 

He was doing his best to keep calm, but it was really building up, because he really, really didn't want to mess up on his first real day with the Mad Dogz. 

It was as the second hour passed to the third that it occurred to Leo, oh. Right. 

Cell. 

Of course. 

He relaxed once he remembered that. Duh! Of course he’ll be made to stay here! This is how cell time always goes! 

It’s like being told to stand in timeout in the corner, but, you know. For a few hours at minimum. A couple years at most, haha. He was deeply familiar with it. 

He could never decide which type of punishments were worse. Sure, Cell Time wasn't really... painful, like the other types, or emotionally awful. It wasn't boring like doing piles of paperwork. 

But Cell Time was its own kind of awful. It was fine for the first few hours, when Leo could take it as a sort of... break. Rest on the cot, take a nap, enjoy the relative quiet that differentiated it from his otherwise incredibly packed schedule (he hoped the Jitsus would give him his new schedule soon, and he secretly hoped it would be lighter, considering they weren't managing all of the Hidden City’s crime). 

He’d get to stretch, his wounds would get to heal more naturally, if he had any leftover from his most recent performance at the Nexus. 

But as it all dragged on, it really started dragging on. Despite the sheer amount of energy and stress that all social situations brought, Leo was a social kinda guy. He liked mastering social situations, he liked single-handedly manipulating the flow of it, he liked being charming. He liked talking to people, being in their presence. Most of all when it was someone... how could he say this... plain. People who weren't as educated as he was on manners and manipulation and whatnot. People who just said what they thought, who had sincere dreams and experiences instead of a carefully crafted life script. 

It fascinated him. He liked studying them. He liked being around them. Maybe they felt less threatening.

So being deprived of all contact for hours upon hours? It... it reminded him of a lonely and locked off childhood. As the boredom and isolation started settling in during Cell Time, he often wanted the worse punishments. Cell Time was way too good at wearing him down, because at least with pain, he could feel strong and active as he endured it. 

Cell Time always continued until Leo cracked and started saying exactly what was wanted of him to say. And especially in the past, that took a while.

But!

That wasn't happening yet, for now. Well. He was close to it. He really really did want the Jitsus to like him, so he was sitting at the desk’s chair, fervently trying to analyze all interactions he's had with them—before and after getting away from Big Mama—for the right things to say. Should he apologize? What for? Did he make a mistake? Or did they want him to ask politely? Beg? Promise to be better? 

He had to be careful, because whenever he got Cell Time and said the wrong thing, Big Mama would just chuckle or sigh, and say oh, turtely-boo in that condescending tone, it is more than obvious you have learned nothing, my dear, and are simply saying anything to get out, hm?

Which... he was, because he wasn't always sure what got him in trouble. He had to figure it out. But he couldn't show that he didn't know, that was the problem.

He got better at it over time. He was smart and adaptable like that. 

But he got smart with Big Mama’s rules. He was playing by different rules now. And it was like he was eight all over again, crying about how sorry he was and how he would be better, face pressed to the cold door. Because he didn't realize he was in timeout because of all the crying (it was loud and ugly and improper, and it broadcasted your weakness and emotions to everybody). 

He hated being reminded of all that. It was embarrassing, and it was tying his stomach in knots. But if he figured it out once, he could figure it out again. He will figure it out. 

So when there was a knock at– not his door, the wall beside the curtain, Leo shot to his feet. He appreciated the signal to let him know he should compose himself, that was nice.

He smoothed out his shirt and schooled his face into the same easy grin, standing to attention. Hiding away all the tension, because dammit, he still hadn't figured it out, and time was up.

“Heeeyyy Leeeooo–” Mikey’s hand pulled the curtain aside slowly, and then he paused and blinked with an “Oh! ...You're awake!” 

He was surprised? Didn't they see it on the cameras? ...Hm, no, the monitors had been in Donnie’s lab, he was probably the one who handled security. 

“Ready to face the day,” Leo said easily. 

“Nice!” the praise eased him a little. Okay, he'd done one thing right. He made a note to always be awake when they came to get him. 

“Good morning!” Raph also poked his head in, pulling the curtain further to the side, and oh, Donnie was also there. All of them looked to be in a good mood, so, that's good. And they weren't really... good, at hiding their emotions, not like him and Big Mama.

“Good morning,” Leo returned. 

“We have gifts for you!” Donnie declared.

“Yeah! Like... welcoming gifts!” Mikey grinned.

Wow, really? More gifts? Jeez, they were really hamming up the love bombing. Leo would have to watch himself, make sure he didn't get lost in it. He reminded himself it would be pulled away the moment he messed up or they wanted something. 

“Oh? That's so sweet of you, you didn't have to,” Leo said, humble. 

“‘Course we did! You're our brother!” Raph stated proudly, and something inside Leo twisted and lurched. An ache, a hunger, something grasping for that title—brother. Brother to them meant love and belonging and support and care and a myriad of other things that Leo has only ever gotten the fake, cheap version of. 

He wanted it so badly. 

And Raph said it so easily.

“That’s...” Leo said quietly, a little in awe, and then blinked, and caught himself slipping, and recomposed his act. Get it together, Leonardo. You can't blunder it now. “That means a lot,” nuts, too sincere, too genuine, reign it back in or it will be used against you–

“I drew us all!!!” Mikey was striding forward first, handing Leo a... drawing. Of the Jitsu family, all three turtles and April and their sensei Splinter, smiling and together.

All four turtles. Because Leo was there, too.

...First gift and he was already breaking. Damn, perhaps he underestimated them. Perhaps they were master manipulators, and they were actually so good Leo hadn't even realized it. 

Emotions were something he’d been conditioned for years to bury and hide and lock away, burn whenever possible. And yet here he was. Feeling... feeling... he wasn't even sure what. Just an overpowering emotion as he stared at the drawing, with him included. 

...There was... one detail that stuck out to him. Because, well, April and Splinter are a human and a rat, of course they’d be a little different to the rest, though they remained just as loved and just as accepted. 

But Leo was... the only turtle with a bare face. As always, Raph had his red bandana and Donnie had his purple one and Mikey had his orange one, and only Leo’s face was empty, save for his markings of course. He was grinning, neutrally smug, the way he’d been taught and the way he’d practiced in the mirror. To always look in control. Casual, easy, unbothered, unshakeable, intelligent, coy even.

All the others were smiling in joy or amusement, some of them with grins so big their teeth showed. 

Leo wanted to be part of that so, so badly. 

...Oh no, he’d lingered on it way too long, no no, dammit, now they knew it had affected him, oh no–

He wrenched his gaze away from the drawing and again recomposed himself, thinking up a response on the fly–

“And this is Boss Bearhug!” Raph declared, placing a... stuffed turtle plush in his arms. It was big enough to be called a tiny pillow. "'Cause he gives great hugs!"

Leo couldn't help but notice the red markings on its face. That looked exactly like his own.

Like... like the plushie was personally customized for him. 

“And I,” Donnie spoke up before Leo could process that emotional hit, because Donnie can never be too behind, hah, “thought I’d give you a more practical gift, to hopefully aid in the integration within semi-human society, because while I know you weren't entirely shut off from humans, you were mostly distanced from their—and our—way of casual living, and phones are–” he started rambling.

“It’s blue,” Leo whispered, staring at the smartphone in astonishment, and Donnie paused. 

“Huh?” he blinked, and fuck. Fuck. Leo has apparently completely lost his filter, huh? He's messing everything up, he had to get ahold of himself, he was going to ruin all of this– “Well, yes–? I– based it off the color of your mystic powers,” Donnie bulldozed ahead, unaware of Leo’s internal nervous breakdown (as he should be).

When he was little, Big Mama had taken one look at his face and immediately began building his brand around the color red. And Leo quickly caught on and began always claiming his favorite color was red, so when his red clothes or red make-up or red toys would get taken away as punishments, he could only act like it had an effect on him. 

But the truth is... well. When that whole fiasco at Laberinto de Muerte happened, and he was forced to save those dum-dums from “saving” him (he’d been training), things got a bit... heated, haha. And when that was the moment that his mystic ability decided to unlock itself after a lifetime of being a disappointing dud? 

Well. Secretly, Leo had been pleased. Because the portal was blue. 

Blue was his real favorite color. Like the pattern on his shell! But, well, red sold more. Red was aggression and passion and blood and attention and confidence, or, at least that’s what Big Mama and her consultants and Leo’s marketing tutor claimed. It was a great color for his stage presence in the Nexus.

Blue was always something he kept close to his heart.

The phone... case, he was pretty sure it was called. It was a light blue. It wasn't Leo’s favorite blue but it was blue. How did Donnie know to make it blue? 

“...I... I can swap it for, um, rrrred, if you don't like it...?” Donnie spoke up again, and was he hesitant?

No! Leo did not want that!

Okay, Leonardo, time to grab the reins of the conversation again. 

“Donnie, I adore it,” Leo said, smiling, hands too busy with the gifts to gesture with them but that's alright. Donnie’s eyes still widened and he still grinned with those sparkles in his eyes. “In fact, I love all of them, really,” he turned to the other two as well, and they were also smiling.

“We wanted you to have something for your room!!!!” Mikey was flapping his hands in what Leo had learned was excitement. 

“And to not be alone at night!” Raph added.

“And to feel less out of place,” Donnie nodded along. “And to have an easy, convenient way to communicate with us even when we’re not around, and to entertain yourself, and to learn about the world–” he once again picked up rambling about the greatness of phones. 

Leo nodded along, turning around to place the plushie on the shelves, the drawing on his nightstand, and... uh... where was he supposed to keep a phone–? A pocket? Yikes, he didn't have pockets on these pants– 

Wow. This cell... was really looking a bit weird. Like... a hybrid between a cell and a room. There was no window like the big-though-locked one of his old room, no plush carpeting, no fancy wallpaper, the bed was small and didn't have all the fluff and frill he was used to. Leo wondered if they'd keep the same furniture or give him new when he earned his own room here. 

He could hear the Mad Dogz losing their minds with excitement behind him over his enjoyment of the gifts, even though they were trying to be inconspicuous. It made his grin even more real, amused. Dang. These idiots are so charming. They're open like children. It was fascinating. It was endearing. He politely made no mention of it, because he didn't want them to stop. 

“Oh!!!” Donnie exclaimed. “Wait! I can show you how it works!” he waved his hands. 

So, bizarrely enough, that's what they did over breakfast. No manners, no behavior, no script, no rules—leaning over plates and talking with their mouth full, showing Leo how to use the phone. 

Insane. Leo was kinda loving it. 

[thesightstoshowyou]

Christmas Cheer

Pennywise x GN Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Christmas music, blood, gore, supernatural elements, a bit of predator/prey, fingernail trauma, thigh riding, threats, alien anatomy, noncon, forced orgasm, facial, really dumb Christmas puns, Pennywise is a tiny bit sweeter than I usually write him.

(This is my secret Santa gift for the lovely @fingersinmyhair )

~~

‘Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring tingle tingling too (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)…!’

Every nerve in your body twitches. This song, this fucking song has played nearly thirty times during today’s shift. You swear you’ll go postal if you have to hear it one more god damned—

“Have a great day!” you chirp, handing the customer their purchases. They don’t even acknowledge you, too wrapped up in the flurry of last minute Christmas shopping.

The smile immediately slips from your face.

‘It’s the most wonderful time of the year…!’

Fuck this holiday.

***

Your shift complete, you cannot get to your car fast enough. Chilly air bites at the exposed skin of your hands and face and snow crunches underfoot as you make your way through the mostly empty parking lot. Your breaths curl white before you in the darkness, only the odd streetlight to guide you.

Inside your vehicle is hardly a relief, and a thick layer of frost has settled on the windshield. Great.

The engine rumbles to life as you attempt to rub warmth back into your fingers. The radio starts up—that’s weird, you’d had it synced to your phone on the way to work—

‘…he sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows…he knows…he knows…he knows…HE KNOWS!’

You freeze, alarmed when the song begins to skip, the crooning voice growing deeper and more menacing with each pass. The back of your neck prickles, your eyes growing wide the longer you stare at the radio. This doesn’t make any sense. How could it be skipping like that…?

Wild cackling suddenly explodes from the speakers and you startle. Hurriedly you dive forward, fumbling with the radio and clapping your free hand over your ear as the laughter rises to deafening levels. The click of the knob plunges you into silence, save for your gasping breaths.

Desperately, you try to rationalize what just occurred. They had some kind of technical issue at the radio station. Your car’s wiring is on the fritz. It has to be one of those, right?

Yet, as you pull out of the parking lot, manic laughter still echoing in your head, you can’t shake the eerie feeling hanging in the air. You drive in silence, too afraid to try the stereo again.

Turning down your street, all the familiar decorations flash and twinkle, your neighbors apparently never short on Christmas spirit. You feel a little guilty you hadn’t decorated this year, but there simply hadn’t been time with your work schedule. You hadn’t even put up a tree.

Foreign red light illuminates the last houses on the block. Someone must have put out new decorations, but why so close to Christmas? You nearly pass your house, your frazzled mind not registering what it sees. Slowing to a crawl, your jaw falls open.

The snow blanketing your lawn glows red, reflecting the…Christmas lights splashed across the front of your home. The lights form the shape of a face, if you can call it that. Eyes blink and lips curve in an unnerving grin, too wide and too toothy to be natural. Worse, every single bulb is red, and not the typical, cheery Santa red. These are an evil, deep crimson that bathes the entire block in ominous color.

Someone must be playing a prank, right? But who would have the time and skill to do such a thing? Your neighbors certainly don’t know you well enough to joke with you like this, and your friends are all working, as far as you’re aware. Who then…?

Dumbfounded, your nerves buzzing, you pull into the driveway and turn off the engine. Cautiously, you slide from your car and approach your front door, the flashing red lights reflecting off your keys as you work the lock open.

You’ll just go in, find your gloves, and then figure out where these decorations are plugged in to shut them off. Taking them down will have to wait until tomorrow—

Inside your home is deathly silent. You freeze, acutely aware of your own breathing. Even the blood rushing in your ears sounds like a tsunami.

Outside, red lights blink and reflect off something on the floor…something wet. You take a step closer, bending down slightly and squinting. Realization hits and you recoil in alarm.

It’s a large boot print, but instead of being clear like melted snow, it’s red. Red like the lights outside. Red like blood. Your gaze is drawn to the others just past it, a trail of them leading further into your house.

Whipping around, you reach for the door handle and twist, intent on escape. You’ll race to your car, call the police. Maybe you can stay with a friend—

The handle doesn’t budge. Baffled and winded by barely contained panic, you jerk the door and throw your entire body weight into another twist. Your sweaty palms slip on brass. It’s like the whole knob has been frozen in place.

You pull, kick, and beat on the door with your fists, but they could be feathers for all the good it does you. The wood doesn’t budge.

You’re trapped like a rat.

How is this happening?

Hastily, you pat your pockets in search of your phone. Your heart sinks when you find them empty. It’s still sitting in the cup holder of your car.

Slowly, you swing back around. You’ll have to try the back door next, but this requires you follow the bloody tracks deeper into your darkened home. You swallow thickly, heart beating a tattoo against your ribs.

You tip-toe forward, careful not to step on any noisy floorboards. Every sense heightened, you’re acutely aware of the disturbing absence of sound. You should hear the hum of the refrigerator, the buzz of the heater, the drip of water from the leaky sink, but the only sounds come from you as you creep down the hall. The hair-raising feeling of being watched keeps your head on a swivel and your skin crawling.

The living room is up ahead. A few more steps. Then the kitchen and back door are just beyond. You can do this.

When you step into the room, you must clap your hands over your mouth to stifle your horrified scream.

Illuminated by the flashing red light pouring through the windows is a massive spruce tree, a tree that wasn’t there when you left for work this morning. Instead of tinsel and baubles dotting its branches, dripping innards hang and twist through its needles. Right at the top, completing this macabre imitation of a Christmas tree, sits a severed hand—a star.

You stare in shock, rooted to the spot in bone-numbing terror. Blood drips from intestines and patters onto the wood floor below. Who would have…could have done this? Whose body parts are those?!

You need to get out of here—

Before you can force your legs into motion, a cheery giggle echoes around the room. Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes drawn to the fireplace. It had come from the chimney….

Rustling. Soot puffs from the fireplace. Your chest heaves, your heart stuttering.

Long, white fingers—gloves—sneak out from the chimney to grip the facing, one hand, then another. The muscles in your chest freeze, terror choking you.

Next comes a blood red Santa hat perched atop a wild tuft of orange hair. A cracked, white forehead emerges from the gloom, followed by a pair of glowing, golden eyes trained directly on you.

You can’t move. You’re frozen in disbelief and dread as the entirety of a lanky body unfurls from the fireplace, joints popping and cracking as the creature stands upright to face you.

It is tall, menacingly so, and dressed in a tattered, soot-covered Santa suit. But what draws your gaze is its visage: It’s painted white with streaks of crimson curling over yellow eyes to its mouth. The same color stains its nose. It’s like clown makeup….

Almost.

The impossibility of it all leaves you reeling. This man, this thing…it isn’t human. Of this, you’re certain. Your mind races but no thoughts stick, no plan for what to do. You teeter on the edge of hysteria as you internally scream at your seizing muscles to move.

You jolt when the creature inhales deeply, unseen bells jingling when he moves his head. Drool, thick and viscous, spills from his fat lower lip to drip onto the floor like the blood raining from the grisly tree. The red mouth curls into a wicked grin.

“Gingerbread and cocoa. Just in time for Christmas,” it says, voice lilting. Raising a hand, it points one spidery finger toward the spruce. “Do you like the tree? Pennywise decorated it all by himself.”

Finally, your limbs react. You spin on your heel and sprint, a choked shriek tearing from your throat when maniacal laughter echoes through your home. It’s the same laughter that had filled your car not an hour ago.

You stumble, grip the wall, use the leverage to launch yourself around the corner, only to skid to a stop when you find the front door has completely vanished. Only a wall remains, smooth and white like the rest.

Panic, panic, what do you do, where do you go—

Long fingers wrap around your ankle and yank. You crash to the floor with a cry and a heavy thud, palms stinging where they catch your weight. Whirling around, you find your leg clutched by the intruder. Its mouth spreads far too wide across his face—much like the mouth lit up on the outside of your house. It grins at you with too many pointed teeth.

You loose a blood-curdling scream when you’re dragged back down the hall. You writhe, scream, flail, claw at the floor until your nails crack and break off, but the grip around your ankle holds firm. The clown, unaffected by your struggle, simply drags you along like Santa’s sack of gifts, whistling the tune of Jingle Bells all the while.

He deposits you before the gruesome tree, your shirt growing damp and heavy as it soaks up the blood that has pooled. Frantically, you attempt to push to your feet but the clown pounces, hateful cackling filling the room as he grips the back of your head and shoves your face into the wet floor. The overpowering stench of iron fills your nose and you gag, your cheek sliding in gore the harder he presses.

“W-WHAT DO YOU WANT?” you sob, your feeble attempts to buck and wriggle thwarted by the clown’s weight against your back. More chortling, close to your ear this time. The scent of its carrion breath and the chilly drool smeared against your ear makes you tense and retch in disgust.

“Poor Pennywise never gets any Christmas presents. Always left off the list, always forgotten. Boo hoo hoo,” he sings, feigning sorrow. He shifts and shoves a thigh between your thrashing legs until the limb is flush with the apex of your thighs. The sudden warmth right against your most sensitive parts pulls a yelp from your lips, your eyes growing wide as saucers.

“Rut against it, little treat, or Penny will tear your face off. I bet it tastes like cookies. Cookies for Santa!” You whimper and furiously shake your head, but the prick of needle-teeth against your cheek has you raising your hips and grinding.

You snap your eyes shut, doing your best to ignore the heat that blooms in your gut at the contact. As though he can read your mind, the clown gleefully giggles and matches your rhythm with pressure from his own leg. You grit your teeth, a pathetic little sound lodging in your throat.

“A good toy! The pretty toy wants to moan, wants to float up, up, up and away! Pennywise has a little angel for his Christmas tree, hmmm?”

“N-No, no,” you whine, your tone more desperate than you wanted. Your face heats up, hips rocking of their own accord, want burning in your gut, your underclothes growing wet the more you leak. This is wrong, this is sick, what are you doing, stop this, stop, you’d rather die than admit this is good….

Wouldn’t you?

“Time for Pennywise to open his present!” The clown rears back, grips ahold of your pants, and rips. Fear tips the scale over desire, a scream leaving you in a rush, struggle renewed.

His weight quickly returns and pins you to the slippery floor, jagged teeth setting against your ear. He hisses, “Bad toys get broken. You’re not a bad toy, are you?”

Frantically, you shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. Pennywise grips your jaw, the sound of fabric tearing making you jolt. Out of the corner of your eye you watch as his fingers elongate, the tips of black claws piercing through white gloves. They come to rest just under your ear, sharp points threatening.

Pressure against your center instantly draws your attention. Something thick and hot writhes against your entrance. You choke on a cry and begin to fight, only to gasp and still when claws scratch bleeding lines down your neck.

“Show Pennywise what a good toy you’ll make.” A shaky breath hisses between your teeth. The drooling head of what you now understand to be this creature’s length prods then burrows into tight muscles. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as you’re stretched and filled by the clown’s seemingly endless girth.

Finally, his hips come to rest against your ass. Pennywise sighs, his painted nose nuzzling your hair, a breathy chuckle puffing against the shell of your ear. “Soft and sweet and allllll wet, just for Pennywise, yes?”

He gives a quick thrust. All the air you hold in your lungs leaves in a huff, embarrassingly wanton sound following close behind. The stretch is incredible, discomfort toeing the line of pain. Still, it’s satisfying, being stuffed so full where you need it the most. It’s too much, yet so delicious your eyes cross.

Slow rocking of hips gradually turns to harsh snapping until you’re scooting forward along the slick floor. Each thrust makes you keen; so dizzy are you with sensation you hardly register it’s you making the racket. In your ear, the clown grunts and growls, hidden bells jingling with the pistoning of his hips.

With his grip on your face, Pennywise tips your head so he can drag his tongue through the blood dribbling down your throat. He licks up your cheek, noisily slurping up tears. “Pennywise was right! Tasty little snack, a tiny treat. Swallow you in one bite, he will, ohhh yes….”

Pleasure mounts. You reach the precipice so quickly you don’t even have time to protest. A feeble, “Wait, wait,” leaves your tongue in a garbled mess when the pressure deep in your belly explodes. Ecstasy ripples under your skin, your toes and fingers curling, an unchecked moan filling the room.

Pennywise growls, the sound ominously deep and rumbling, like some primordial beast. It vibrates against your back and sends a frightening thrill up your spine. He rips his cock from your spasming channel and flips you onto your back. You manage to snap your eyes shut a millisecond before thick ropes of sugary-smelling cum paint your face and chest. Accidentally, you swallow what lands on your tongue, the taste so overpoweringly sweet you gag once again.

Breath reeking of rotting meat washes over your skin and you quickly wipe away the seed coating your eyelids. You find the clown’s painted face inches from your own, golden eyes gleaming in your darkened living room. Gloved fingers—no more claws—smear spend across your cheek and shove more into your mouth. You grimace, your tongue slick with the flavor of cotton candy on steroids.

Another insane laugh, another flash of shark teeth. Will he kill you now? Add your guts to the tree? Swallow you whole?

“Frosted my little ginger snack, didn’t I?” he jokes. You stare, bewildered, terrified, exhausted, and trembling from head to toe.

Long fingers pat your cheek, tap, tap, tap. The clown jumps to his feet, boots clicking together. He bends backwards, bones snapping deafeningly in your quiet home. Long legs swing up and over, his body twisting and bending unnaturally until he’s sliding back up the chimney. The clown winks once before disappearing from view.

Then, silence.

You barely breathe, listening intently. Is he…?

‘JUST HEAR THOSE SLEIGH BELLS JINGLING, RING TINGLE TINGLING TOO!’

You jump and scream, hand flying to your chest when your television flicks on, volume at max. Sleigh Ride blasts through the speakers, the screen fuzzy static.

Groaning, you slump backwards, head thumping against hardwood.

Fuck. This. Holiday.

[southerndragontamer]

Happy Halloween 2: Tricks and Treats

Halloween was known for being the time of year for costumes, for pranks and candy, for scary stories and for those who practiced magic to find a zenith of power from the veil between worlds being at its thinnest.

Of course for you, this meant you were at home for the night, porch lit for trick or treaters with a big bowl of candy and baked goods nearby and while you waited for anyone to show up you were watching scary videos. More specifically you were watching Mark’s and Jack’s older Darkiplier and Antisepticeye videos. What could you say, you loved the pair of dark sides and their stories even if Dark’s was more fleshed out at the moment, Anti’s was catching up with the lore from Anomaly.

As you switched from Raspy Hill to the start of Sister Location, you shivered as it suddenly felt like it got colder, as you heard the hum of your lights increase. You pulled the blankets more around yourself in response and tried to tell yourself you were being silly, you’d done this before and there hadn’t been anything like this. It was just the excitement of the holiday getting to you.

But for a split second you could’ve sworn there was an extra giggle in the video from the glitch.

When you switched again, this time to Dark’s part in ADWM, there was definitely an electronic almost static hiss and the lights dimmed a bit more than usual…you felt chills down your spine. You could’ve sworn for a second there was a smugness to Dark’s smile when he appeared. You had the urge to go check the breaker and out of worry for the wiring, you paused things and did so. Your flashlight scanned over the breaker box, nothing seemed out of the ordinary and when you touched any outlets they were room temperature so you didn’t think anything was in danger of catching fire, which relieved you as you went back to the living room.

You blinked, the video you’d had your phone on had changed to the PAX video for Anti. You hadn’t changed it before you left, had you? You must’ve though there wasn’t any other way for it to have switched, you shook your head and told yourself you were getting caught up again. But while it was there you clicked play.

When Anti said that you’d found someone to replace him, there was this sneer to his face that hadn’t been there last time…he spoke with more of a snarl. You swallowed down the instinctive rebuttal as there wasn’t any way for him to hear you anyway and this was an old video it shouldn’t be changing…Then Anti suddenly laughed, a feral grin stretched across his face and you felt your stomach drop as his voice whispered in your headphones.

“Are ye so sure o’ tha’ puppet~?”

You threw your headphones off, paling as the realization that you were in the middle of something you really should not be and yelped as a clawed hand broke through the screen of your phone like it was little more than water. You threw your phone as the lights flickered and started to flare green and then red like an alarm.

Anti glitched his way out of your device in a way that looked painful considering how small the screen was, his form flickered between the more animalistic and more calm fury he’d shown recently, scar dripped with almost black blood as his eyes either green eyeshine or a manic green and blue or black, locked onto you.

You bolted and he cackled, the sound piercing and made your head ache to the point you almost collapsed, you were half blind in panic as you ran through your own home to try to get to the backdoor. It felt strange all of a sudden, the wood creaked and groaned and seemed to warp under your feet, the static and white noise was right behind you. Lights popped and glass shattered from the overload of power that was forced through them with a near hungry hissing growl.

“Ye can run but ye can’t hide from me puppet~”

You felt your lungs begin to burn, your blood roared in your ears and you couldn’t speak from the terror that constricted your throat, the static felt like it was right at your back. Anti was closing in on you, you had to get away you didn’t want to be caught, you sprinted and leapt for the doorway.

The ground suddenly fell away underneath your feet as if it had never been there, a furious, brain scrambling sound that was almost a roar almost made your ears bleed as clawed hands swiped against the ends of your hair in an attempt to grab you as you fell into cold black that surrounded your home.

The air was stolen out of your lungs, you didn’t have any time to scream as wind whipped around you and you subconsciously flailed blindly in an attempt to try to catch yourself. But of course in the void there was nothing to grab onto, instead a hand clamped around your wrist and almost wrenched your shoulder out of its socket. Your head snapped up, wide eyed as you began to pant now that you weren’t in an endless free-fall into oblivion…to meet Dark’s gaze.

The shadow smirked at you as he lifted you to the patch of land that appeared underneath him. It looked like glass…or maybe a frozen lake, it shined like a black mirror…and let you go. You panted hard, trembling as your body tried to leave the adrenaline fueled survival state you’d just been in. There was a soft tsk, and your chin was being tilted up just so to make eye contact with Dark as he softly rumbled.

“You poor thing, so terrified…Anti’s always been a brute on these nights. You’re fortunate that you weren’t solely in his camp hmm darling?”

You shivered softly and swallowed, you didn’t really know how to react to any of this even as on reflex your cheeks tinted with heat. You felt calmer now, the last of the panic left you as he talked like a hypnotic charm. Dark stroked your chin just once before he stepped back, his touch lingered on your skin. You took a deep breath and stood up as you refound your wits, about to answer him when there was a cascade of static and green flared into black as Anti manifested on the other side and prowled over to reach Dark.

“Oh no ye don’t ye icy bastard! They’re mine!”

Dark chuckled and smirked, hands behind his back in his usual position as he responded back with a twitch of his lip.

“Your name isn’t on them Anti, and they quite literally fell into my hands. Am I supposed to just ignore that?”

Anti bared his teeth in a feral manner, crackling with energy as his body flickered and glitched and you couldn’t really look at him for long or your eyes almost crossed.

“Fockin yes! Ye know what my strings feel like and they’re covered in em!”

You looked down at yourself confused and partly in shock and concern and gasped a little as you saw green strings coiled around your wrists and body, you felt them tight around your throat like a choker. Dark’s scoff made you look up to the arguing Egos.

“And you know what my shadows feel like, and they’re also covered in them.”

Your eyes widened more as you saw them as well now, wispy smoke-like shadows curled around your body just like Anti’s strings, the two forces were mixed around, the static sparked against the frost that the shadows created. Clearly, neither of them liked ti share, which was proven when Dark sighed and let out a growl at the same time.

“It appears we’re at an impasse, they’re equally claimed.”

Anti didn’t speak in words but the visceral sound of fury he made in response made you clamp your hands over your ears to try to stop the pain that erupted in your mind. Your vision swam in and out of focus after it stopped and you whimpered a little, unsure if it was the aftermath of whatever pulse had been through your body or if it was the fact that you were in the Void but Dark and Anti didn’t..look normal.

Anti was a mess of static, glitches, multiple eyes of different shades of green, black or blue even brown, and too long limbs with knife like claws, too wide grin with too many teeth, for a few moments his neck looked like a second maw, as his body contorted and twisted you felt nauseated.

Dark was almost the same shade as the abyss around you all, outlined in red and blue that was cracked and fractured and held together like broken glass, three pairs of eyes, one blue, one red, one outlined in a faint silver, his body looked too big, too much in the space and you felt squished.

You couldn’t really…focus, it felt like too much for your human mind, the next second the two of them flickered back to ‘normal’ human bodies again. Masks back in place. They looked at you, then each other and then they both smirked.

“Looks like you have to make a choice darling.”

“We do not share puppet, yer lucky I’m even entertainin t’is shite”

You looked between them and your heart sank slowly in your chest and you swallowed hard. You didn’t know who you should pick…what would happen if you made the wrong choice…but you had to. The clock was ticking, unless time didn’t exist here? Time was broken for the both of them after all.

There was a soft hum and it was both of static and shadow as they waited for you to speak up, to make a choice between them. Between Dark’s cold nature that spoke of blunt truth, that you’d be treated like a bird in a gilded cage who would hardly notice when something happened. Or Anti’s unpredictable nature that was hard to tell whether he lied or told the truth, that you’d be treated like a plaything who would need to pay attention.

This was a twisted Trick or Treat….and you had no way to know which would be which until you picked it.

[kanazawa-division]

The sun was beginning to set on a certain homicide detective's birthday. Joey was currently hanging out in his living room playing a video game when the doorbell rang. Pausing his game, Joey walked over to the door and opened it. Bouncing in front of him was Kaoru Shinozaki.

"Quicksilver! Happy birthday!" Kaoru cheered, showing off a bag with the gifts she brought with her.

Stepping inside, Kaoru gave Joey a quick hug before shoving her the bag with her gifts in his hands, a manic smile spreading across her face.

"I got you a few gifts, including one that I personally built myself." Kaoru gleefully explained, waiting for the blond haired Otaku to open his gifts.

"Uh….Kaoru? When was the last time you slept?" Joey questioned, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"It's Monday, right? So last Saturday. Not the one that just passed but the one before. Don't worry about me, though I'm fine!" Kaoru flashed Joey a thumbs up. "Don't worry about me. It's your birthday, so go on." Kaoru motioned for Joey to open her gifts.

Joey just stared at Kaoru as if she just didn't confess to going over a week without any sleep. It explained a lot, and Joey just knew she was running on fumes and enough caffeine to kill a full-grown elephant. However, considering she came all the way out to Kanazawa to drop off his gift, Joey quickly pulled out the first gift and began to open it.

Inside the first gift was a collection of graphic tees, each one with something quite weird on it. Joey laughed as he read what was on them. His personal favorite was the shadow wizard one.

"I was strolling through TikTok when I saw these, and I knew you'd get a laugh out of them." Kaoru wheezed.

"They are pretty good." Joey agreed, putting them aside and pulling out the other gift Kaoru had given him, opening it.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something." Kaoru muttered to herself.

Inside the second gift was a lightsaber. Joey could feel a huge grin spread across his face as he picked the sword up, swinging it around. Seeing a button on it as well, Joey pushed it.

"JOEY! WAIT! ITS..." Kaoru shouted, trying to stop him.

It was then when Joey heard the infamous sound of a lightsaber turning on with a bright purple beam sprouting from the handle. Only to watch in shock as the lightsaber sliced through his living room curtains like butter.

"...real." Kaoru finished watching Joey's curtain fall to the floor. "Well…that was something."

Joey could only stare at the lightsaber in his hand, wondering if what he just saw was real.

"Kaoru, what the hell?" Joey questioned his mad genius of friend, his mind wondering how he was gonna explain this to his boyfriend.

"In my defense, I've spent the last week awake and giving you a real lightsaber as a gift seemed like a good idea." Kaoru defended. "Speaking of lack of sleep. It seems like it finally catched up to me. Damn I probably should've listened to Yuriko. She's gonna give me shit for this."

It was then that Joey watched as Kaoru tilted forward a bit before she collapsed onto his living room floor, and much to his relief, a loud snoring could be heard from her prone form. Joey blinked, not sure what to do when he suddenly heard a chime from his phone. Pulling it out, he quickly saw a message from his old friend.

Hey Joey! I'm coming over soon to drop off my gift. - Lyall

“….Joey.”

“…..Honey sugar sweetie baby bear.”

Mamoru repressed the urge to both sigh and cringe at the convoluted nickname as he stared blankly at his blonde boyfriend who stared back with just an equally blank expression except Mamoru could clearly see the amusement dancing in his lavender eyes.

He loves his boyfriend, truly, he does, but sometimes he worries about the company he keeps, not to say that he doesn’t trust Joey or don’t want him to have friends, of course not, but ever since Joey joined the Division Rap Battles, it seems like the shenanigans that would sometimes occur increased nearly tenfold.

The horribly singed and ruined curtains they had just put up was a testament to that.

Mamoru pinched the bridge of his nose while Joey grinned sheepishly. “To be fair…you did say that we should get new curtains…”

“We just put those up!”

“….yeah, I know, that was a shitty excuse, even for me.” Joey deflated with a sigh as he placed a pillow under Kaoru’s head, he had placed her on the couch after she had passed out but not before being grilled by Mamoru on what the hell just happened, why is Kaoru unconscious in their living room, and why are the curtains so badly damaged, which lead them to now.

“Is she going to be okay, at least?” Mamoru asked, keeping an eye on the unconscious Kaoru, while she was more of Joey’s friend, the two of them do manage to get along well, especially since they both work with computers. Joey looked at the purple haired girl and nodded, while he hadn’t known Kaoru for a long time, he was familiar with the girl’s horrendous sleeping habits…minus the sleeping. “Yeah, this happens a lot, she’ll be fine and besides, a friend of mine is coming to pick her up in a little bit.”

Mamoru nodded, somewhat satisfied with his answer before turning back to the curtains, really he wasn’t that pressed about it and honestly he found the situation pretty funny, he knew that hijinks and the like would become the norm when dating someone like Joey but it seems that everyday seemed to find a new way to keep him on his toes.

Joey, seeing where his boyfriend had set his sight on, moved to where he was and pulled him into a hug, nuzzling his neck and looked at him with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry about the curtains, I promise we’ll replace them.” He said and Mamoru shook his head and lifted a hand to ruffle Joey’s blonde locks, “Don’t worry about it, they’re just curtains, what I’m thinking about is how badass that lightsaber is, you do realize you definitely need to go as Luke Skywalker this Halloween right?” He smiled and Joey grinned widely, pressing a huge kiss to his cheek.

“Babe, I love you so much but we both know that I’m a Han Solo guy.”

Thank you for the gift!

[keira-kaz2y5]

Ok so finally found the time to watch episodes 7x02 - 7x04 with my mum. (I’ve already seen them all at least twice, this was her first watch)

The whole episode I was kinda nervous but super excited.

Can I mention again here that she previously did not ship buddie at all, said me and people these days are “always making things gay when they’re not” and said they were “just friends” and the Ravi Buck Eddie sewer call she reiterated this statement saying “see? They’re just good friends” after buck’s clear jealously, which, fair. Yk it can def be seen as friendship— unless you’re open to the fact characters are allowed to be queer and not stated, and also that he’s been played as bisexual since s1 with sooooo much TEXT and SUBTEXT abt it—

When it finally got to the loft apartment scene I was shocked it had come round so quick (I swear that episode felt longer when I watched it alone), and immediately I felt my heart beating a lot faster in anticipation. At the buck Tommy kiss, to my surprise she reacted by grinning wide smiling like in disbelief and stayed like this until they pulled away and we saw buck’s reaction then she sorta manic laughed at buck’s “that works” I think out of disbelief and shock and amusement at buck’s starstruck reaction, “… Saturday? 🥹🤩”and his joke about fake mouth static.

Then as Tommy was walking out and talking about a date my mum said “that’s gonna make.. Eddie, really… mad.” (She was distracted listening to the rest of the scene and dialog)

😆 so her initial reaction was soooo much better than I’d expected/feared!! (From here it turns into kinda a trauma dump with 911 about I realised I’m so so so repressed.. read at ur own risk lol!)

But then of course I went and fucked it up by getting too excited and blabbing.

(I voice memo recorded this whole scene to get her reaction) she asked me about how “so he’s (buck) saying he thought he was jealous but it wasn’t of Eddie it was of him (Tommy).” And I sorta spiralled saying yeh because that’s how he saw it in that moment because he’s trying to figure out what these new feelings are and who they’re for etc and went down the rabbit hole of Tommy being gay from the start (army, ‘begins’ episodes..) and so on and my mum heard like 4 seconds of this and stood up and collected dishes and stuff and walked away saying I was getting too much into it (fair, my adhd does tend to make me mentally jump subjects fairly quickly in ways it doesn’t make sense to other people)

But she never really has healthy conversations with me about queerness, don’t get me wrong I love my mum and she isn’t like throwing me on the street for saying I’m bisexual, but she also isn’t exactly having healthy conversations about it with me either. She prefers to avoid the conversation a lot and stay silent about it, so the repression is real and tbh I didn’t even realise how repressed I was until about 3rd December 2023 I saw a picture of two women kissing and I fully went “oh shit I’m bisexual, I almost forgot I liked women”. Yeh. The repression is so real.

I then went on a Pinterest spiral downloading women photos and made an album on photos app to put it all in so that I had that place to go to and look and I would never be so repressed that I forgot again. I have since been much happier and more queer and open within myself

(For reference this is the picture)

(This is the photo album - not my photos, all from Pinterest)

(Note: I am a teenage girl)

And the only other time I realised I was repressing it, was on holiday with my auntie that I see like once a year, when she teased me about a girl I’d spoken to from a street vender thing and I realised that “oh this is normal” like, families should tease me and be comfortable about it. (Although they don’t tease me about boys much either so..)

Because my family never feel so open about my sexuality to be that comfortable. Whenever the subject comes up it turns into almost an argument because they think I only think I’m gay because I hung out with two lgbt girls for 3, 4 years and they were my only close friends.

Apparently the gay is contagious 🤣

My Nan is homophobic, she’s “of a different generation” apparently and can’t change. She’s not super bad about it but does make comments like “it’s wrong” so I never really talk about it. My brother had the “my friend is gay so i can’t be homophobic” mentality, and also believes like my mum that im only bisexual because of my old friends.

But fr they don’t say it’s a phase specifically but they sort of play it off like one saying I only “think that” because of them (my friends at the time — who I’m not even friends with anymore)

And one time watching the hen and Karen begins episode with the nasa lab explosion- when we get that make out scene between them, my mum laughed and said she was uncomfortable because it just looked “unnatural” and I know she said this because they were a bit fumbly in the scene, knocking things over and kicking off shoes and both plus sized women, but that reaction has just stuck with me since. Because it’s still a beautiful moment and yes they look different to typical people making out but it’s still sexy and a vibe but also I am a plus sized woman, so yes that could be my future. Another time before this when there were some HenRen scenes in bed my mum said to me “is that what you wanna do, cuddle up to some woman in bed like that 🤨” and I was sooo unprepared for that question and sorta went ‘uh yeh no yeh but not like them two because Hen isn’t my type yk but yes’ and she went 🧐 hm ok 🤷‍♀️

These things have stuck with me

And also when I had a therapist last year the one time I mentioned being bisexual and she that’s something we should talk about I completely shut her down and said it’s fine nothing to talk about and looking back… man I was repressed. Like dayum.

And now I realise I have so much to say.

And the tipping point for all this, is the bi Buck canon, of course. Only 3 days ago but feels like a lifetime already, just the portrayal and the delivery and perfection and sentiment of it all hits so hard, especially the fan reactions, but also actor and director and journalist reactions and everything Tim has had to say on it including Oliver and Ryan interviews. And it’s made me so emotional about it all, I can’t even express how genuinely happy to my core i was the first 2 days every second, and I was dancing around my kitchen, grinning every 3 minutes when I remembered… it was bliss. I felt so seen and happy and loved, appreciated and respected and represented. It’s unreal. Especially the joy and care Oliver has given this.. i can’t explain. It’s so validating.

Within myself I feel much more at peace, and I have realised that in fact I was repressed, and still kinda am.

So bringing it back to the start was that after watching this with my mum I tried to express to her how much this means and the backstory and what’s going on online about it with the directors and actors and everything but I hardly even said a thing and she kept saying how “it’s just a show” “it’s 9-1-1!” “You’re getting too much into this/too attached” even when I tried explaining how queer storylines is something we have to search for to watch in media, and how this will change media from now on and the representation.. she kept walking away, trying to change the subject and invalidating it all saying stuff like

“it’s just a series! You act like it’s a real person!” “You do, you get carried away with it.” “Ok Keira 🙄🚶‍♀️.. yeh! You’re just getting a little far-fucking-fetched” “right… Keira.” “It’s just a show!” Me: “It’s more than a show.” “In your head it is.” “You’re just going on”

Bear in mind I wasn’t actually going into depth, I was stating how this is a big thing and said literally what I’ve written here, like this is 30 seconds of me talking. Because I wanted to have a healthy conversation about it all, but clearly it didn’t work and i should’ve just been happy with the smile reaction and left it at that.

I tried directly pointing out the problem, too, saying that she never wants to have a healthy conversation with me about it all, to which she replied the “it’s just a show/you’re getting too much into it” part and when I addressed that this family is slightly a little bit homophobic but none of them will admit it she was laughing and going “it’s 9-1-1! It’s 9-1-1!” “(I) make it out into some big drama” (I wasn’t raising my voice or anything I just wanted to have a conversation about it with her, she was the one raising her pitch) and how I’m “just taking it all to another level!” Me:‘Because it is at another level, this is so huge for the industry and the queer community’ “oh god, Keira.. you make such big dramas out of it,” (me literally not being dramatic at all, just wanting a nice discussion about this and both the reactions of fans/non-fans/people, how it’s done so well—compared to other storylines and shows— and the impact this will have on so many things) my mum:… “you always twist me to make it out that I’m some horrible person” to which I responded “well no, because you’re not but you could be more healthy about it, you always laugh it off or change/avoid the subject” (me talking about queerness in general, not 9-1-1, to which she replied) “nanna gets like this over Coronation Street! And I just don’t understand! It’s just a show.”

These quotes she said are direct because I audio recorded everything. Probably not in the right order bc the explanation is a little messy what can I say it’s adhd like I said 💅😵‍💫🤷‍♀️😅

Yeh so I guess this is turning into some Reddit thing like AITA am I the asshole for wanting a healthy conversation and for my family to be more comfortable about queerness in general as well as my own (bi)sexuality but also it’s just me expressing how tonight went to anyone who’s stayed to read this. Maybe I should go back into therapy. It’s just my old therapist I never really told her the deep things but also finding someone new that works with me is expensive and exhausting. So it’s been a hard night but I will still rewatch the scene to find happiness in it all again. I just want to wait until I’ve slept it off so I can be fresh and remember the happiness and validity I felt on friday & sat

[doyl1st]

A long, rambling post about Ignatius.

Ignatius (Iggy) Duncan is Isaac's younger brother. He's a goofy, kind, and sweet man with an almost childlike innocence to him, despite his bloody backstory and violent tendencies. He'll never hurt an innocent person, but if he feels like you deserve to have your nose broken, he'll break it. The thing is, though, he'll do it with a smile on his face. Not a malicious grin or anything. Just this silly, almost dopey little smile.

Iggy is as much of a manic chaos goblin as Isaac is, if not even more so.

As detailed in my other post, he and Isaac have a great many things in common.

Where they differ is in their interests and specialties. Isaac is a man of science who loves math, engineering, and languages. He's got three PhDs and a doctorate. Art and music are totally lost on him, though. He likes them, but he's no good with them.

Iggy, on the other hand, dropped out of college three months in and started working at a record store. He's still extremely intelligent, definitely a traditional genius in his own right, but his true brilliance resides in music. Iggy's the sort of guy who can compose symphonies in his head and play any music he picks up. He's also the kind of guy who genuinely listens to everything, his favorite genres being energetic rap and the heaviest metal known to man.

He considers himself to be the Facility's failure, and has kinda low self esteem. That's really what's defined him for most of his life, allowing others to worm their way into his head. Isaac was a manipulator, but Iggy was manipulated.

Like I mentioned before, Iggy worked at a record store after dropping out of college. It was a really nice gig, expanding his knowledge and interest in music and teaching him a little bit about how the real world works. It didn't last too long, though. The store went under after only a few years and Iggy was lost again.

He was found after a bar fight that ended with him breaking the jaw of a gangster, some dude working for the local mob. That probably would've been the death of him, if the guy's boss hadn't been impressed by it. He brought Iggy into the fold, feeding him plenty of lies about how they weren't all bad.

Iggy wasn't stupid. He knew the guy was just telling him what he wanted to hear, but that was alright with him at the time. The guy was nice to him, made him feel like he belonged somewhere, and that's something he's craved since childhood.

At first, things weren't too bad. Iggy would run errands and do favors, doing pretty much whatever he was told. Then it graduated to him being something of an enforcer. If his boss told him to hurt someone, he'd do it. Iggy might've been only 5'4", but he had one hell of a right hook. He was fast, too, and not above using dirty tricks or improvised weapons in a fight. When it began, his boss would tell him some kind of lie about how the guy whose leg Iggy was breaking deserved it in some way, but eventually he stopped bothering. He knew Iggy would do what he asked even without an excuse.

Eventually, that progressed into Iggy doing hits for the guy. Same story as the last. He'd tell Iggy the guy deserved it, and Iggy would listen. The first few might not have been lies, if only to acclimate Iggy to it. It was hard for him in the beginning. He threw up after the first one. Cried himself to sleep. But over time, it got easier. Knowing the men he was killing would do the same to him if given the opportunity made it easier, too. Iggy eventually began to rationalize it as if they were playing some kind of game. If they die, he wins. If he dies, they win. If you're in the life, you're fair game. No hard feelings either way.

Iggy wouldn't say he necessarily liked killing, but he did enjoy the thrill of knowing he might die if something goes wrong. He's an adrenaline junky just like Isaac, but the difference is that Isaac likes daring heists and outsmarting his opponents. Iggy likes shoot outs and fist fights.

His life in the mob ended with a raid that landed him in police custody. It was almost immediately obvious that Iggy wasn't just some run of the mill crook, and after some talking, some phone calls, and negotiating, some kind of deal was made.

Iggy is now, effectively, a secret agent. He's on a tight leash, but he's at least free. Isaac's deal actually used Iggy's as a basis, but Isaac doesn't find that out until years later when he and Iggy reconnect because of a shared case.

Like Isaac, Iggy has continued to grow and evolve as a person after being forced into a safe environment. He's learning how to become his own person, how to exist without someone telling him what to do. It's difficult, considering some high ranking official is still doing that, but still. He still has a pretty warped view on life and death, but he's at least not as apt to kill as he used to be. With a good enough reason Iggy can and will chase someone down with a fire axe.

He's still pretty eager to fight, though, and now that he's had some formal training, he's a lot more effective. He'll never hurt an innocent person, though. Never, ever, ever, as he'd say.

Iggy's unofficial theme is Insanely Illegal Cage Fight. Even the title is fitting for him.

[nocentis]

let her kiss his brand...

He sees her in the way that bees see flowers; the way that leaves see sunshine.

╳┆Honey spilled over the horizon and painted the high tide. Gilded fingers twisted into the amber silks draped upon the throne of cloud, wrapped them up in their glittering palms, around their wrists, and the day's ruler hoisted themselves slowly to claim, leaving blood and syrup in their wake. Their white robes did little to shield their pride; their radiance. There was something to be said about that immeasurable beauty and the karmic toll of viewing it. The price of a look, one held long enough to truly see, was to surrender the gift of future sight. There was something to be said about the periphery. Something about those colors, that warmth, that marvel, and how maybe close enough should be good enough, and why couldn't it be? Something about the cost of love, something about moderation, and maybe something about the comfort of cowardice.

Winter and Spring began their waltz, slowly slinking ‘round and ‘round with fingers interlaced high above their heads, eyes locked in lovers’ snares. Winter, condemned to play the role of callousness; of indiscriminate reaping, and Spring, the tender, the nurturer, tasked with the labor of rebirth. They found their compromise in the snowdrop’s bloom; in its frozen dew. They found it in the chill of the morning and the warmth of the afternoon, in the cool breeze, in the jewel-toned sky and the first blades of grass yet bitten by frost.

It must’ve been love, he thought, for what else could compel the harsh hand of Winter, cold and cruel as it was, not to strike, but to dance? It must've been love, he thought, because when Winter slipped from her grasp, Spring, in her loneliness, would begin to weep. Beautiful things bloomed from her pain, and so her pain was expected, demanded again and again. It must've been love that drove Winter to destroy those sorrow-sewn fields so that Spring would come back to him comfortably, and so just for a little while, they could find peace together.

Today, they were dancing.

╳┆The swell in his chest shined through his broadened shoulders, the length of his neck, the lift of his chin. Still, the habit of treading brazenly, maskless, through stone-laid streets, was one he’d yet to pick up. His formal pardon hadn’t barred the eyes from prying, and it certainly hadn’t muted the whispers. If anything, they’d only grown louder, more opinionated, so he'd yet to find comfort in the breeze's naked palms.

The repetitive swish and clang of his garb and the thud of his armored boots against the cobbles were familiar enough to become mute to the mind, like absorbed by his black-bleeding subconscious. Gone with it, the songbird’s tune, the whistle of the breeze, the sway of the trees. But not today. No, today he heard it—the way the wind howled in harmony with the river’s steady rush, the beat of his own pace, the trill tittering above, the cheerful chatter of life—like it was his first time. In a way, he supposed it was. Every other time he’d walked this path, he’d walked it with closed eyes and wool-stuffed ears, in thrall to the rotten echoes of his own mind. But not today. No. Today, his chin held high, as his spirits did.

He must have looked every bit the manic fool that morning, sliding through the doors of the Fairy Tail guild at the first wink of sunlight, sporting that glued-on grin he'd still yet to unstick, with nothing more to present than a pair of mismatched daffodils and their attached note. Thankfully, Mirajane and her sister, Lisanna, were already in-house preparing for the day ahead, undoubtedly taking advantage of the peace and quiet of the empty hall while they still had the opportunity. Though naturally surprised to see him so elated, they were both pleasant in their greetings and eagerly agreed to deliver his message (though he was nearly certain they were teasing him about his intentions with their fair lady Erza).

His cheer was met equally and enthusiastically. Both sisters were practically teeming with glee by the time he turned to leave, giggling and covering their mouths like they knew something the rest of the world was yet privy to. While he found their giddiness puzzling, he surely welcomed the departure from gloom; from the doom-written reeds he so often dragged in. It was nice, he thought, to share weightless words, to have a laugh, to venture beyond Winter's shadow into the first light of Spring.

From there, he'd practically skipped to his next task. Never in so many years of travel had he received such bemused faces from passersby. He'd actually paused once to check his skin, just to make sure he wasn't actually glowing. Heaven knew how long it'd been since he felt something so carefree as genuine excitement. Long enough that he found it uncontainable. Long enough that it felt like sunshine in his chest, crawling up his throat, bursting through his teeth.

Mrs. Ito was no exception to the day's pleasantries. She'd always been kind in the short time he'd known her. Recently widowed, she decided she had too much house and not enough home, in her own words, so she moved in with her eldest son, his wife, and their children. He'd met with them all one evening for dinner (Mrs. Ito wanted to know to whom she was handing over her home), and even after stories were shared and intentions were laid, he was met gently with understanding smiles, warm hands holding his own, and Mrs. Ito's hushed, "It's time to go home, son."

When he arrived to pick up the keys—his keys to his house—she greeted him fondly, like they'd always known one another. Her son stood in the doorway as he exchanged the gift of home with a box of market candies, his smile slowly melting like he'd finally found the bitter side of sweet. He'd waved goodbye with a promise to visit again soon, but as he turned towards his new tomorrow, he missed the pinch in Mrs. Ito's brow and the tears that followed. He missed the shake of her shoulders as her son ushered her back inside and the red-rimmed eyes that lingered on his back.

His elation carried him through thinning streets and into the countryside. Horse-drawn carriages passed him by with blinders on, kicking up dust and bouncing rocks off their spokes as they went. The folks tending their land paused to spare him a sprinkler's glance. Just around the bend, there sat a humble brick house on a quaint piece of land. Its stone pathway stood out in the sparsely grown, mostly browned lawn, and it drew a path straight towards that painted-red front door. The very same one that he was now standing in front of, staring at.

The key poised betwixt his fingers had been left to steep in his pocketful of sunshine long enough for the heat to transfer, and now it was burning, blistering his skin, and it felt something like rejection. Like the soul of the land had its hands on his shoulders and was shoving him backward. Like he wasn't meant to be here. He was never meant to have this.

But he wasn't ready to give it up just yet.

He tapped the door with a single knuckle, just to see if it'd turn to ash. It held steady, materially, before him, just the same as it ever looked. Its bricks spoke no threat of crumble, its roof showed no sign of collapse, and yet none of it truly felt real. Even as his head bowed and his forehead pressed into that cool crimson, even as he traced the ridges of the keys in his palm, even then, he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

A moment of silent prayer. A deep, grounding breath. Eyes open, back straight, he finally found the will to turn the key. The door slowly creaked open, allowing light to pour in through the front door.

His lingering joy was a sweet wine on the brink of spoil, turned to vinegar in his gut. The morn's candied shell cracked between his teeth and its well-concealed bitterness flooded his tongue like it had been waiting for the opportunity all along. It leaked from the corners of his still-smiling mouth, even as his lips began to twitch; even as heat brimmed his eyes and tears threatened to spill. He stood in the doorway, still, watching the walls of that front room stretch higher and higher as the moment dragged on, like he was waiting for something—something like Karma—to come along and destroy it all, strip it all away; to take from him again, as he'd taken from so many others.

He forced himself to step inside, to turn, to close and lock the door behind himself.

And then it was quiet. Devastatingly so. Gone were the wind, the leaves, the birdsong and the horses' trot. Static rushed in to fill its place, skating rings around his ears, and his periphery began to blur, his chest to ache—oh, he felt ill, and the dam threatened to burst, and his throat tightened until he audibly choked. A hand rose to cup his neck, and another to cover his mouth, stifling his upward bubbling sob as heat rose to cloud his vision. He sunk to his knees as the first tears fell, crushed by the weight of overwhelm, one hand scratching helplessly against hardwood while the other heeled at his bleeding eyes.

How audacious could he be? Already living on borrowed breath, daring to walk the path of the benevolent man. Now he dared to seek normalcy for himself, to smile gleefully while so many still woke in a cold sweat, in terror, at the sight of him, and others would never wake at all. A sick joke. He hardly deserved a proper burial, much less a place to lay his head, and yet he wanted it still.

He turned and sat with his back pressed against the front door, and he tried to find comfort in the nothing. He tried to find comfort in the emptiness, the darkness, the hollow and desolate, but the shadows had autonomous hands. Those mangled fingers were rotten down to blackened bone and had mouths where their nails should've been, and they'd been picking at the threads of his mind's drawn curtain, picking, pulling, unspooling, until they made their hole big enough to climb through. When they finally reached him, they were dripping ink like blood, wrapped up in memories' silk that they used to bind him where he was.

How long had it been? He was a child when he'd last called a house like this his home, before the raid. If only his mother and father could see him now, what would they say? Would they smile? Would they cry? Would they be proud of their son, even to this day, with all years considered, and would they love him still? Would they hand their heads in shame, or would they lift their chins in disgust? He never got the chance to know them well enough to answer those questions with any certainty.

His head thumped against the wall, tears trailing unbidden as he stared through the ceiling. His breath shook as he exhaled, voice straining when he pleaded directly to God, "Please," his face curled inward and he nearly choked, "It's more than I deserve, but please, may I have this?"

But it wasn't God who'd condemned him. It wasn't God who'd damned his soul to roam, so God need not answer.

The silence was a swarm that eventually overtook the sounds of his wet misery. The numbness accompanying that insidious peace was a welcome shift. It gathered over his shoulders and draped from him, robe-like, as he finally rose from the floor, intent on washing his face.

A few short steps brought him to the bathroom. He blindly palmed at the wall until he found the switch. Light sprung from the top down, bathing the back of his hand as he turned on the sink. He let it run over his fingers until warm and watched years-old blood run off and stain the porcelain. The water he gathered in his palms was soon spilled over the flesh of his face and beyond his sleeves.

While the salt may have washed clean, the evidence of his deluge clung to the skin beneath his eyes and around his nose in Pollock pink. That much became obvious the very second he met his own glassy stare, though its juxtaposition to the hot iron's bite made its consequence seem all the more fleeting. The tips of his fingers idled against his still-dripping skin, at first tracing the risen path, then covering it. He tried to imagine what he might've looked like without it. Would he look more youthful? Would he look kind when he smiled? Would children be less afraid when he waved to them?

He supposed it didn't matter. The choice was never his to have. That glowing sunset crest lived inside of his eyelids, lurking there, daring him to blink. Within each lapse, he saw the devil's eyes. He saw split-curl smiles and broken teeth outlined in stolen blood. He heard the devil's laugh, shrill and gleeful and giddy, and felt its dank breath against his neck, and he felt its hands curling around his ankles, his wrists, his arms and legs, puncturing his skin with nails of obsidian glass, and he felt it climb onto his chest, crack his ribs, and he felt his face begin to sweat, even though he was so, so cold.

It was so, so cold. White cold. And he was awake. Wide-eyed, shocked mute. His skin shrieked as its moisture fled, and it began to peel away, to bubble and blister and burn—God, it burned, and the smell—

Knock-knock, knock!

His visitor's early arrival nearly sent him out of his skin. He quickly turned the water off and killed the light, and he hoped that his sorrows stayed in the drain depths where they belonged.

The door swung inward, and she was there, waiting patiently, graciously, for him like she always had. His breath turned to dust in his lungs.

In her hands, those inverted daffodils dressed in yellow and white, not a petal out of place. Gold spilled over her crown, revealing that halo he'd always known was there. The breeze tossed her scarlet flames about semblant of Venus, and rosey lips sat in their gentle curve, smiling softly at him, yet before they could split to spill a greeting, he'd already begun to pull her towards him. As he wrapped himself around her, his eyes began to burn again, and the second he felt her hand at his back, returning his embrace, he broke, and the tears spilled forth once more. His head fell to rest against her armored shoulder, and through the rain, he began to laugh.

She pulled away to view him at arms' length, mouth slightly parted as though a question had come to peer through her teeth. He wiped at his face with tremors in his hands, chuckling softly when Erza finally shoved out, "Tears?"

"It's silly, really," he holds up the keys, "I'm overwhelmed."

It didn't take her long to put it together.

Warmth graced his jaw with the weight of a whisper, so faint he'd thought surely that he'd imagined it. That is, until it struck again, soft and sweet against his cheek, beneath his eye, his forehead. His eyes blinked open as she sunk back to her heels, bashfully peering up at him through the veil of her lashes; waiting for him to do something, anything.

The raucous buzzing faded into a melodic hum like the swarm had finally found its queen.

His blood sang as it rushed red-hot through his shoulders, crawled up his neck, and began burning its way through the skin of his face. The ear-popping clarity of his thought-storm's sudden abandon left him staring mindlessly with eyes much too wide and jaw much too lax, narrowly remembering to breathe, until her shy expression began to melt into something more reminiscent of unease, like she was preparing to flee.

Perhaps a touch too quickly, he grabbed her hand, careful to keep his grip loose enough that she could pull away if she wanted. Slowly, surely, his opposite hand reached to tuck her hair behind her ear, and his palm cupped her cheek in a silent plea not to retreat from him. A silent plea to stay here, right here, in this moment, in his grasp, just a little while longer.

And she did. She stayed. She smiled gently, warmly. Her head fell to rest against his chest and she leaned into his sway. There, in the silence, they found their rhythm. They began to dance.

"Welcome home, Jellal." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- @mamorigami

[munsontm]

aftercare:   for our muses to participate in aftercare together — from steve 🥺

@harringtontm & @musecraft / NSFW

Planet Caravan went through a fourth replay in Eddie's head. That song was the best way to describe how he felt and where he went when his and Steve's bedroom scenes got heavy. And after pushing himself through a fourth orgasm for his and Steve's pleasure, he plunged into a headspace that, in his opinion, was the closest to feeling like he'd taken drugs. Sometimes, he flew through endless skies where stars shined like eyes and the earth was a purple blaze; other times, his head emptied. Eddie liked both states, but the space fantasy had gotten him good tonight. He wanted to spend his time of ecstatic bliss in that beautiful place.

Eddie hummed the song intermittently while a very naked Steve carried an equally naked him into the bathroom to clean up because he couldn't stand, let alone think a coherent thought. His limbs were like jello, and they ached, but the really good kind of ache reminded him of how good Steve fucked him until his brain went to another plane. Eddie briefly giggled at the rhyming of brain and plane, imagining his literal brain getting on some fantastical space jet to Venus. So cool.

The abstract joy suddenly disappeared when Steve set him down on the bathroom counter to run them a bath, taking the comforting heat of his body with him. Was he going to come back? On instinct, Eddie reached for him like he did when they drifted apart during sleep or when they were caught in the manic crowds at a club. It made him think about the nightmares where he reached for his love only to find a mutilated corpse. A whine slipped from him, making Steve turn back and rush across the short distance in their bathroom to him, pressing in between his bare thighs. The warmth that was wholly Steve returned to Eddie like sun rays, and he buried his face in the broad hairy chest with a content sigh. "Stay," he muttered quietly. "Don't leave me, baby. There's no air in space."

Steve chuckled. "We have to stay in the caravan, right?"

Eddie nodded, eyes daring to flicker closed until his boyfriend tugged his face up by the chin to check on him and ask his colour. He replied green after a long moment where his fingertips absentmindedly rubbed patterns through Steve's chest hair. Of course, being the world's best boyfriend, Steve wanted to make sure and asked him for the third time that evening if he'd liked the rope play, to which Eddie nodded but said his skin felt a bit raw, that maybe they needed softer rope. Steve agreed after inspecting his wrists and ankles, delivering little kisses to the burns with apologies. God, thank you for Steven Harrington.

After some further wind down in Steve's arm and praise for how well he did. Eddie was okay, not thrilled, to let his boyfriend begin running the bath and get him some snacks. Plain water didn't quite cut it for Eddie when coming out of his headspace, so Steve always brought him a fruity juice box instead with his crackers. He sat quietly, sipping on pineapple, orange, and lemon, idly swinging his leg about and watching Steve add the fancy bath oils to the bath water. The song had almost ended, reality pushing its way back in. But Eddie didn't mind so much, especially when Steve was bent over the tub. "I can see your chocolate starfish." That earned him an amused look. He grinned mischievously; clearly Eddie Munson had returned to earth.

"Eat your crackers, brat," Steve said, standing to brandish his dad pose like a real weapon and looking reminiscent of Michael Angelo's David, except with a much bigger cock. Fuck. He was perfect.

"Yes, sir!" With a mouthful of crackers, Eddie saluted his love, shimmying off the counter onto sturdier legs and to the bathtub, all with the same grin still in place. Although, he didn't miss a concerned Steve almost diving across the bathroom to catch him, afraid he might fall on the hard tile. Now, Eddie was just going to have to kiss him for that, like a million times.