#new pinned since the old one was kind of a mess.

[objectlovernonhuman]

They/it

18 bodily

Polyfragmented DID system, introject heavy.

Collectively objectum, nonhuman & queer, specifics of this vary.

A lot of aspects of our identity heavily overlap or are completely not divorceable from eachother.

We post and reblog whatever the hell. It's not super consistent, this is our anything and everything blog.

Sometimes we do engage in discourse, but we mostly don't like discoursing. we avoid system origins and alterbeing discourse as much as possible.

We reclaim various queer slurs (including the word queer itself in a slur way) and unless it's a maintagged fandom post, we rarely CW/TW tag it anymore.

We try to keep it down to an absolute minimum, but sometimed we may reblog stuff about adult topics. Filter out "minors dni" if you're under 18 and following us.

Do not follow & preferably don't interact if (genuinely sorry about the length):

- Pro/"neutral"/"complex" contact on any paraphilia for which the other party cannot consent to (such as minors, animals, dead bodies), or otherwise significantly/inherently harmful of other beings, yourself, or the enviroment.

- Radqueer.

- TransID/transX*.

- Anti xenogender/anti neurogender, transmed, or if you treat like man/masc and woman/fem as "opposing" and inherently exclusive of eachother (many of us who are multigender are so sick of this.)

- Anti objectum/anti ficto/anti auto or consider either to be inherently/only sexual or inherenly/only paraphilias.

- Heavily post about queer descriptor/label, alterbeing/nonhuman/etc, system origin and flag discourse.

* Transspecies is a term that originated in otherkin/therian spaces and has existed before transID/radqueer ever did. the latter communities appropriated/stole the term, and the claim transspecies is a transID term is false.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hi gorgeous how you doing? I have a request for a few things so just hear me up on this. I just had this in my mind by the way jey uso x reader Rhea and Damian has been friends with the reader since NX T but when the Yeet master comes along they started to be friends but the reader gets hurt  badly not so good judgement day ( i’m sorry to say that but the new judgement day nah) and who comes out and saves them terror twins and jey

jey uso x reader (romantic) / terror twins x reader (platonic)

likes, comments and reblogs are always welcomed !!!

‼️ a little angsty, fluff, the new judgment day being awful (just like they are)

forever my girl

the bond between you, damian and rhea was unique. you’ve been friends since the old days at nxt, where the three of you tried to make it up to the top in the company. if you had any problem, any doubt, any question, you knew that you could count on rhea and damian, the same way they could count on you.

you all made it big, being drafted from nxt to smackdown and raw where you all gained more respect and success.

being on the big rosters meant that you all got to make more friends and so a few people started hanging out with you.

rhea and damian got lucky that they got paired together for being a part of the judgment day while managers thought of giving you a solo push. it was working really good for you as you have been both raw and smackdown woman’s champion. you won your matches at wrestlemania and summerslam, so everything was really working out for you.

even if you were all pretty booked, you never stopped seeing each others outside work. a few people joined you too, especially jey uso who couldn’t stop teasing and annoying rhea. you thought it was funny and you pranked her a few times together.

jey was nice to hang out with. he was kind and funny and never fail to make you laugh. you were all like one big happy family, the judgment day members too. but when the judgment day broke up at summerslam you knew that rhea and damian were going to be alone. jey was busy with the whole bloodline mess again and you knew that you had to pick a side.

so you went ringside at bash in berlin and stopped finn when he tried to ruin the match for rhea and damian. you helped rhea when her leg got stuck over the ring and you were ringside again when, much to your surprise, jey joined damian in a tag team match.

but now it was you facing liv morgan. one on one. and it was an easy match as you were basically destroying her. she wasn’t as strong as you were and it was easy for you to pin her down quickly. she was mad that she lost and of course, in judgment day style, she started hitting you. she hit your back while the ref held up your arm as you won the match. your back immediately feeling an intense pain, you tried to get up but she shoved you on the ground. finn, dom, jd and carlito circling the ring, so now you were trapped. live kept hurting you and it felt like hell.

suddenly, rhea’s music echoed in the arena and she tried to run as fast as she could to help you inside the ring.

but she was alone and hurt so she was an easy target for the group. only a few minutes later both damian and jey ran out and followed rhea’s lead.

as rhea tried to stop dominik from running away, finn and damian began fighting. jey ran inside the ring and liv, as the coward that she is, ran away and tried to save dom from rhea.

you were laying there, hurting.

jey kneeled next to you, trying to see if you were still conscious “y/n…” he softly whispered “are you still with me love?”

you wanted to answer but no words came out of your mouth, instead you nodded but the slightest movement made your head pulse.

“medical staff is coming…we got you, i got you love” he gently whispered, moving some hair from your face.

“everything hurts…” you whimpered, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. jey’s heart broke, he couldn’t stand to see you in pain.

he didn’t understand why. it’s not like you were dating but the idea of seeing you hurt and crying made his blood boil. he was so mad and at the same time so conflicted because he couldn’t do anything to help you.

medical staff got there immediately and when they tried to move you, a soft scream left your lips that made jey shiver.

“i got you love…” he whispered “let me carry you backstage okay? the stretcher is too uncomfortable for you…” you nodded at his proposal and even though you felt like your whole body was in flames “hey shh…i got you, you’re safe with me” he gently whispered leaving a kiss on your forehead “i got you” he kept repeating, mostly to himself because he needed to be sure that you were okay.

once he brought you backstage, rhea and damian followed along, both worried about your condition. jey followed the staff instructions and he gently laid you down over the stretcher waiting for you in the medical room.

“she will be okay” one of the nurses tried to reassure the trio but non of them dared to leave the room.

rhea and damian were pissed. it wasn’t fair for you. you won your match without cheating and yet they cheated and doing so, you ended up badly injured. jey was stressing out, he couldn’t really understand what he was feeling. he always thought that you were beautiful and kind but he never thought about you in a romantic way so why was he so angry? why was he hurting? he hated seeing you barely conscious on that bed, doctors working on you. you shouldn’t be there, no, you should be backstage happily celebrating your victory with your friends and family.

“is she okay?” jey asked, pacing back and forth around the room.

“we are still checking her out…she has a concussion from the hit on the head she got when liv attacked her from behind…probably a few broken ribs but she should be fine…we still need time to finish all the tests” one of the doctor spoke and jey felt like fainting. he was beyond mad.

rhea and damian watched how stressed jey was and they couldn’t really understand why.

“uce” damian called him “what’s going on?”

“what you mean?” he pretended everything was fine.

“we mean, why are you so stressed? rhea stepped up.

“why aren’t you? she is your best friend and you’re here without saying or doing anything…” he said, passing a hand over his hair.

“uce you gotta stay calm…” damian tried one more time.

“i can’t…” he whispered, trying not to break.

“what is going on jey?” rhea was confused. she never seen jey so agitated and uneasy.

he took a chair next to them and shook his head “i don’t know…when i saw her in the ring and she couldn’t move, i felt like someone was ripping part of my body off…i don’t know how to explain it but it hurts seeing her like this…and when i brought her backstage she was softly crying in my arms…and i couldn’t do anything to help her…”

damian was still confused but rhea immediately understood why jey was acting like that. a smirk appeared on her face, shocked that none of the men were able to understand the situation.

men - she thought.

“you have feelings for her jey” rhea said, a little smile appearing on her face.

“what?” he was shocked. he knew he had feelings for you but hearing someone saying that out loud made him unsure.

“you like her and it’s pretty evident. you can’t even stay sit for five minutes, always checking on her or what the doctors are doing…you have feelings for her and that’s okay…she’s my best friend and if you hurt her i’m gonna kick your ass, but you like her and that’s normal…” rhea tried to reassure a very confused and scared jey uso.

he looked at rhea with a confused look. maybe she was right. he couldn’t understand the sudden pull towards you. but all the time you’ve spent together, pranking rhea, flying together, watching movies and training together, he never realised how much he actually liked you and now, seeing you hurt, laying on a hospital bed made him feel so helpless. he wished he realised it sooner, he wished he could tell you how much he likes you.

“she needs to rest…at least one month at home, no wrestling, no training, just rest so she can get better” the doctor said to the three adults. all of them nodding their heads before medical staff left the room, leaving them alone for some privacy.

“do you wanna stay alone with her?” rhea asked jey. he nodded, moving the chair next to your bed while the duo left. you were still unconscious. jey didn’t know if you actually fainted or if the doctors gave you some painkillers to ease your pain and to calm you down, but anyway, both cases sounded bad to him as he wanted to see you awake and smiling.

he gently stroked your cheek, his calloused hand moving delicately on your face “you’re so pretty y/n” he smiled to himself “i wish i realised sooner what i feel for you…”

you, on the other hand, woke up when the doctors explained that you had a concussion to the team. you heard rhea talking with jey, you heard him confessing. you didn’t know what to feel. you’ve always had a little crush for the twin but the idea of him actually being in love with you never crossed your mind.

your body was still on fire, your head hurting but you needed to let jey know that you were there, that it wasn’t his fault, that you were in good hands and that you were going to be okay.

“jey…” your broken voice caught his attention.

“hey…” he whispered, a soft breath escaping his lips, relaxing a little bit.

you coughed a little before opening your eyes. they were burning, meeting the strong and white light of the room. it took you a few minutes to get adjusted to the ambient light and temperature “by the way, i think you’re very handsome…” you took him off guard and you saw it by his embarrassed face.

“how much did you hear?”

“pretty much everything” you tried to laugh but you coughed more and jey, trying not to panic, handed you a glass of water “thanks…”

he smiled “so you weren’t sleeping uh?”

“i was but you all couldn’t keep your mouth shut and you woke me up” you made him laugh. that’s what he always liked about you. your sarcasm and funny personality, the way you always tried to find the good in bad situations. you were so similar and yet so different at the same time.

“everything i said it’s true…i like you, i should have realised it sooner…but i really, really like you…” he confessed once again, making you smile. you tried your best to not to laugh but he was jey uso, always trying to be funny and sarcastic, so a few laughs escaped your lips “girl, im trying to be serious”

“sorry sorry…” you smiled, making him chuckle “but i think you’re pretty cool too…”

“just cool?” he teased you.

“cool, funny, very good looking…” you were playing his game and he loved it. you were making him go crazy “and i think i like you too…fuck, i’ve had a crush on you since rhea introduced us…”

“oh wow, you’re good at keeping secrets uh?” he winked, making you laugh again “would you like to be my girl?” his voice got a little bit too serious now “i’m serious when i say that i like you, a lot…i’m probably just too stupid because i could have realised it sooner…but i promise you that i’ll be here for you, i’ll help you heal and you’ll get stronger than ever…”

“this means a lot to me…it sucks not being able to be at bad blood though…i needed to see liv crying after she loses the title” you faked being disappointed, earning a laugh from the uso.

“i’ll take care of you girl, my girl, forever my girl if you let me…” he whispered, looking into your eyes.

“how can i say no when you look at me like that?” you matched his serious tone, making him smile.

“then say yes…be my girl” he moved closer to you, sitting on the bed instead of the chair next to you. his hand gently caressing your cheek, brushing delicately over your lips.

“yes…” you whispered meeting his smile.

he felt relieved that you were okay. probably not okay mentally and definitely not physically but you were there with him. comfortable in his touch and that was enough for him.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt 58 Part 7

The long dining room that held the ornate old dining table that seated way too many people already held  most of the family. Bruce was missing and Damian informed them he was at work, the only other person missing was Jason but it was typical for him to skip out as he didn’t live there and didn’t have the best track record with the rest of the family. That left Damian, Tim, Cass, Duke, and Dick seated.

Damian sat next to the chair that Bruce normally sat in at the head of the table. Tim sat across from Damian followed by Dick, Duke, and Cass. Danny sat next to Damian and Jazz sat next to Danny. 

“So, how was school?” Dick asked his elbows on the table with his head on his hands and a smile. He was the only adult in their life besides Bruce that actually cared about their schooling. 

Danny had actually forgotten that all of this had happened in just one day. The thought was a little jarring if Danny was being honest with himself. He wasn’t sure what to tell Dick, on one hand he was just asking about school on the other… no he wasn’t going to think about what happened right now. Just the thought caused phantom volts to go through his body like he was reliving the accident. He felt a nudge to his foot from the right and looked up to see Damian giving him a quizzical look. He cleared his throat and looked back over to Dick who was giving him the same kind of look. 

“I-I’m, uh… school was fine, didn’t learn much since school just started,” He eventually decided to say after stumbling on his words a little. 

“Dash isn’t picking on you again this year is he?” Dick asked with a concerned look on his face. 

Danny wished it was just Dash, the pain he felt from the portal was a thousand times worse than anything the bullying blond could pull. If it was just Dash, Danny could have just laughed it off and forgotten it probably, but it wasn’t just Dash and Danny couldn’t help but take a deep breath trying to gather his thoughts and calm himself.

He startled as he felt a hand on his knee, he looked to his left to see Jazz giving him a look of sympathy as she rubs her thumb comfortingly on his knee. She then spoke, “Danny you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Okay?”

Danny gave her a small nod, a small smile on his face. 

Before a new topic could be discussed Alfred arrived with their food and began serving them. Danny loved the food the old butler cooked especially since he was able to do so in a kitchen that wasn’t contaminated. Alfred did his best to make sure everyone was served food to their liking, as long as it was a balanced meal at the end of the day the elderly butler would serve just about anything you’d request.

Danny picked up his fork to begin on his salad, however when he tried to push the fork into the lettuce his hand felt a cooling sensation with pins and needles and his fork went through his hand. He stared at his hand for a moment wondering what just happened. He then picked up his fork to try again and was able to get a mouth full, but when he went for a second bite it happened again, his fork clanging against the bowl again.

“Something wrong Danny? You're staring at your hand weird,” Danny heard Dick speaking and looked up to see Dick staring at him giving him an odd look. 

Danny couldn’t help but rub his neck nervously with his other hand, he hoped to get ahold of whatever this was so no one noticed. Though knowing his luck everyone probably did notice, over the years he and Jazz both noticed that the Wayne family was much more observant than their media persona’s showed. 

Dinner continued and Danny struggled to eat anything as anything he tried to hold fell through his hand frustratingly and Danny couldn’t help but get agitated. 

Eventually his glass he was holding slipped through his hand and tumbled onto the floor shattering into a thousand pieces. Danny let out a frustrated sigh as he stared at the mess he made. 

Before he could stand to clean up Alfred appeared by his side with a dustpan and broom and began cleaning it up, “are you still feeling unwell Master Daniel? Perhaps you should retire for the evening, I will attend to this mess.” Danny begrudgingly nodded his head and made his way out of the room.

He wasn’t alone for long as Damian and Jazz tailed him out of the room. 

“What was that? It looked like your spoon was going through your hand,” Jazz asked after they were a ways from the dinning room.

“Jazz, honestly I don’t know, it felt cold and then anything I tried holding fell through my hand.” Danny brushed his bangs away from his forehead and they dropped back into his face as he dropped his hands back down to his side.

The walk went silent after that, although it didn’t stay for long as Danny felt the cooling sensation again but this time through his whole body, he let out a yelp as he felt his body sink into the floor.

Damian and Jazz looked at him with panic but as they grabbed at his arms or his hands to pull him back up they went through him just as the spoon and apparently the ground now. 

He let out a panicked yell as the floor swallowed him whole, so now he was sinking further down further into the earth. What was going to happen to him? Would he ever find his way back up?

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long as the cooling sensation left and as gravity took hold of him again he fell. Apparently there was a cave under the manor and he was able to turn back into solid as he felt air again. There was no way he was surviving this, even with new weird powers now was when he’d get impaled by spikes right?

The cave was too dark to make out much but Danny thought he might have seen a computer with several monitors. That didn’t matter now as he finally landed, and he grunted as he landed on a person who also grunted as having a teen land on you couldn’t be the most comfortable.

He knew he was in big trouble when he realized who he landed on, “Batman??”

[prodagustd]

the road not taken | myg (teaser)

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension? lmao, slow burn, flashbacks, ANGST!!

—words: 403

—RELEASE DATE: 24/09 here

a/note: I'M BACK!!! And with a new project!! This is just a teaser but with this I want to open a new taglist, if you want to be on it please let me know!!

Yoongi, your brother’s best friend, was painfully always there in your life, you didn’t know how the mess that was your brother was able to have such a good friend, they knew each other even before you were born, when they were only four and met each other at basketball practice. Yoongi was always like your brother’s conscience, the voice of reason, the calm one, the designated driver ever since he was sixteen, the smart one, the boy every mother wanted as their son. Yoongi was the boy who helped you with your math homework when you were eleven, he was the boy who defended you when your brother made fun of you, the boy who gave you his joystick so you would stop crying when you found out your brother was making you play with the one that didn’t work. He was sweet and kind with everybody, you wished you knew that when you were twelve so you could save yourself the eternal heartache that came along with being in love with a man who only saw you as your brother’s little sister.

Yoongi was always mature, always wiser, always older. And you were always immature, always stubborn, always younger. Just a brat who couldn’t stand the fact that he was the only one you wanted, but the only one you couldn’t have.

Maybe forgetting about him when he went away to college was the best thing that happened to you, you pretended he didn’t exist during the school year and made yourself believe you got over it, that your heart didn’t jump every time you called your brother and you heard his voice in the background, that you didn’t read every birthday message he sent you since you were sixteen until you memorized them, that you didn’t compare every guy to him and that you weren’t annoyed when you realized that none of them was half as intelligent as him. You were obligated to pretend you weren’t condemned to look for his face in every crowd ever since you were a teenager. All that mental effort was wasted away when you came back home for the holidays and saw him sitting on your couch again.

You repeated the cycle every year as you pretended that your heart wasn’t tired of it, like seeing him that morning in your kitchen didn’t make your heart drop like you were twelve years old again.

[falloutjuli]

Thanks to my beloved fellow unhinged Chuuya simps, I wrote this monster. Please do let me know if youre interested in more domestic malewife Chuuya, because woo boy was this fun to write. <3

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Chuuya Nakahara x Reader - Domestic Adventures Wordcount: 4,7k Short summary: Chuuya, being the kind man he is, gives you an empty room after moving together to do with whatever you like. While he is gone over the weekend, you get to know his subordinates and take him up on that offer. Warnings: NONE - Reader is an socially awkward mess, Chuuya being a cutie, author is too dumb to propperly proofread, author is unsure at this point what sap means, but also doesnt get a clear answer from google, so she will let it stand the way it is.

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"Chuuya... I eh.. that's really kind, but seriously I dont-'' Rudely you were interrupted by a chaste kiss that your favorite ginger pressed into your lips.

"No back-talking. I insist you take it and make it yours. I never used it for anything anyway. Was planning to turn it into a wine room perhaps but it serves a way better purpose as your room." You looked at him, annoyed, a sigh escaping your lips.

"But you like wine." You mused, trying to convince him again, but he was a stubborn man after all. "Yeah, but I like you more, doll. And you moved into my apartment, so I think it's fair you get a room where you can destress and take a break from me if you ever need one." 

Leaving your side he picked up his hat from the kitchen island, before coming up behind you, pressing a few kisses to your neck.

"I'm leaving my credit card with you, the pin if you need it is our anniversary. And since I unfortunately have work to do, I have two of my subordinates waiting outside if you want to go anywhere. They will also gladly help you with anything regarding the room, just ask yeah?"

You looked at the room one last time, before turning around to hug him. "Okay. I'll see what I do with this room. Be careful okay?"

He nodded, kissing you one last time before leaving out the door. His heart ached each time he had to leave for a while, especially over the weekends but it also gave you time to fully focus on this project and he was more than excited to see what you'd do. 

Back inside the apartment that now was your home too, you really were unsure what to do. Being given a rather spacious room to do whatever you want with it... that was a new thing.

But it wasn't like you had no Pinterest boards filled with room inspos. Scrolling through them while drinking tea helped you to get a better idea of what you wanted to do.

So a little paint would be needed, some furniture, and loads of tiny decorations. But how would you even manage to paint, the last time was when you moved into your old apartment, and that sucked majorly.

Remembering that your trusty boyfriend had left his subordinates with you, you could ask them perhaps. After getting ready to go out you went out into the spacious hallway that lead to the apartment, where two men dressed in black suits were already standing.

"Um, hey." You said awkwardly. Could you even ask hardened mafia members to please help you paint a room? Well, you'd find out now. The burly guys nodded, signaling you to continue, no emotion readable on their faces.

"Well, I was planning to paint a room and I wondered if it was alright to ask for your help?"

"We'll do anything you ask of us, that was Nakahara-san's instruction." The blond one said, adjusting his sunglasses.

"I figured, but still, I want to ask, if you don't want to, you won't have to." 

The ensuing silence felt awkward as you shifted from one foot to the other.

"Is the paint already inside or do you need an escort to the city first?" The brown-haired one asked and you responded with a weird ramble of all the things you would need and places you planned on going to. 

"Well, we better get going then right?" The blond one said and guided you over to the elevators. 

It wasn't long before you sat in the backseat of one of the Port Mafia's Standart black cars, with your new companions sitting in the front. The ride was silent and you kept accidentally meeting their gazes whenever they went to look in the rear mirror to check in on you. 

"(L/N)-san?" The brunette spoke up, making you cringe a little being addressed so formally.

"Just Y/N is fine!" You said.

"Right, Y/N, you can always call a friend if you want to have someone more familiar with you. We can pick them up on the way." You shook your head.

"No, it's alright." 

You'd rather not subject your friends to suddenly seeing you with an entourage since most didn't even know you're dating a Mafioso. You had lied and told them he was working a government job and therefore needed his privacy.

So far no one had ever questioned you further about your elusive boyfriend and you preferred it to stay that way. 

The first stop at Ikea made you grateful Chuuya had left these guys with you, since it was really helpful having four strong extra hands who lifted heavy packages and drove the carts around for you.

You still wanted to disappear in a hole whenever customers or workers turned their head, watching you with confused expressions but yeah, you'd need to get used to that now.

Chuuya was overprotective and now that it was more apparent that you belonged to him, there was no chance you'd have much alone time while out and about. Somehow the Mafia would always have an eye on you, even if it's just to calm Chuuyas mind. 

"We scanned everything in, you can now pay." The blond said and you nudged past the many cartons to hold Chuuyas card to the card reader that happily asked you for the pin.

Typing in your anniversary date made the window close and a long paper came rushing out. You quickly collected it, stuffing it in your purse before you and your companions went back outside. Just outside the building, you noticed there was no way in hell all the new stuff would fit.

"Hey eh, guys, how are we gonna get this to Chuuyas?" You asked and the guys exchanged looks, obviously not having considered that either.

"I'll stay here, make a call and deliver them in a while, you go and pick up the rest." The brown-haired one offered, making you immediately feel bad.

"But won't that be... boring or rude?" You asked but he shook his head. "It won't take long, don't worry." You nodded and waved goodbye, following the blond to the car. 

Once back on the road you finally asked what had been on your mind. 

"Mind if I ask your name? It feels weird not knowing who's driving me around and all." You said and you spotted a smile from the rear mirror. "Sato and the other guy is Hiro."

You nodded, the awkwardness still barely fleeting.

While picking up the paint and anything else needed to mount the furniture later you and Sato fell into some Smalltalk. Nothing deep or noteworthy, just anything to ensure no awkward silence could take place again as it drove you up the walls.

The ever so slim fear that these guys could tell Chuuya how much of an awkward mess you were had a chokehold on you. 

After being sure you had everything needed for the start, you two drove back, only stopping by a bakery you spotted near your new home.

When you were finally back in the familiar four walls of your home, you saw that Hiro had been a busy bee, by having gotten all the new furniture already up and inside.

"Oh wow, thank you so much." You said and placed the bakery goods on the kitchen island. Meanwhile, your new Mafia friends, if they could be considered that even, sorted things away and then quickly grabbed everything to start painting Soon.

"So what's the plan?" Hiro asked you eventually and had you pull up the references you picked out.

"You guys think you can manage that?"

"Don't doubt our capability." They humored you and got to work, while you began putting together the little nick-nacks that would soon find home in the room. 

Around the early evening, you made tea and coffee for the two men and served some of the cake you got earlier, which the two thanked you wholeheartedly for.

Even later again, they called it quits, the room now colored just how you wanted it. "Wow, that's perfect! Thank you two so much." You beamed at them and though they would never admit it, they felt glad you enjoyed it.

"Well, it'll need to dry overnight before we put in the furniture tomorrow, so we will leave you to it for tonight, alright?" Hiro stated and you bid your goodbyes, now once more alone in the spacious apartment that currently was inhabited by Swedish packages, and loads of decorations, only waiting to find their place soon. 

Yeah, this was all coming together.

The next morning started slow, the bed always felt the worst if Chuuya wasn't in it with you, but you managed to pull it together once you were munching on your breakfast. Especially when a quick message pops up on your phone. 

Chuu Chuu: Thinking about you

He was a sap, even if he'd never admit it. It was tiny gestures like these that had you know how much he loved you. Even when he was away on missions or errands, he tried to find the time to let you know his heart was with you. 

Same here. Can't wait to see you again.

You replied and put it down to walk to your front door which had just been knocked on, opening it to be met with the two guys from yesterday.

"Morning." You said and they replied the same, as you let them in. "Coffee, tea, anything I can offer you guys?" You asked, still feeling guilty for taking advantage of the fact that Chuuya had ordered them to fulfill your every wish. 

"Am fine for now, what about you?" Hiro asked Sato, who agreed to not need anything.

You shrugged and watched as the two inspected the now-dried walls in your room, then making plans on the next steps.

"Need any help?" You chimed in, but again, the two declined.

"No need. Enjoy your morning Y/N." You nodded slowly and sat back down on the red, expensive couch with your tea, while scrolling through your phone. 

Ever so often you'd look up, watching the two Mafiosi rip open packages, bicker about what they'd do first, and carry things around. 

Soon little to no big packages were left, Sato and Hiro currently working on a bookshelf, when your scrolling was interrupted by a phone call from Chuu Chuu. Surprised you picked up immediately. 

"Hey, didn't think I'd hear from you so soon." You said, getting up to satisfy the odd urge to walk around while talking.

"I currently have a little downtime before I'm probably am right back in the middle of annoying shit, so I called my doll. How is the room progress coming along? Are the guys helping you?" 

You slyly took a peak in said room, watching the almost finished bookshelf and replied; "Yeah, going great. At this rate you won't even see any trace of package material." You laughed and he chuckled along too.

"I cannot wait to see you again. I miss you." He sighed, his longing clearly audible.

"Chuu, it's been barely twenty-four hours."

"And? Even a minute without you inflicts me more pain than any other wound I have received over the years." You bit your lip, trying to not laugh. If anyone knew the scary gravity manipulator and Mafia executive was one of the most domestic and sappy guys you knew, no one would believe you.

"You're exaggerating."

"Perhaps a little. But my point still stands. I'll treat you to dinner on Monday when I'm back alright?" You leaned on the kitchen island, a dreamy smile plastered across your face and you could only imagine that Chuuya must look similar.

"Alright. See you Monday yeah? I don't wanna keep you from work. Watch out for yourself." You said.

It felt unnecessary to tell him to be careful, he was the strongest man you knew, but you still said it. And while you did it, Chuuya appreciated it each time.

"Of course. The same goes for you. I love you Doll."

"Love ya too Chuuya." And then there was silence, except for the hammering coming from the room. A sigh escaped your lips.

Fuck, him calling you only made you miss him like crazy. How cruel of him. 

It only took another hour after Chuuya had checked in with you, for Sato and Hiro to have finished building and placing all the furniture. They watched you inspect the room and felt relieved when you gave them a thumbs-up. 

They were kind enough even to help you sort in all your stuff, the new plants, lights, books, figures, even when you had said multiple times that it wouldn't be necessary.

As you poked a fork into your takeout you finally asked the two, "Don't you like... I dunno, get bored of hanging around me..?" 

Looking up from their portions, they immediately shook their head. 

"Not really. Even if, we couldn't complain since Nakahara-san gave us this order, and the order is to "keep his most priced possession safe"." The three of you finished the sentence, imitating Chuuya.

Yeah, he really was obsessed with your safety ever since he knew he wanted you by his side. Well, being in Chuuyas Highranking Mafia position, he of course had enemies and while you knew you could be targeted just to get to him, you always found him to get a little too paranoid.

Sure, he had lost so much already and was afraid of losing again, but you weren't a child. Though you still appreciated his concern and knew he'd never trap you, make you depend on him or anything, he simply wanted your safety assured so his mind was calmer. 

You knew him too well by now. 

"Well, thanks anyways for all the help! Don't think I could have gotten the whole thing done this quick without you." The two guys smiled at you, nodding their heads. 

The evening soon came to an end as you declared you'd take a bath and then go to bed, feeling exhausted even if you barely did much today.

Sato and Hiro bid their goodbyes, telling you they will check in tomorrow around noon for your well-being and then left to keep guard around the block.

Once more, an evening alone. It was spent with some snacks in front of the TV, catching up on some series that Chuuya wasn't interested in.

It was a nice distraction from the now lonely feeling in the apartment. When you could barely keep your eyes open, you decided it was time for bed.

Sinking into the luxurious and spacious bed, you fell asleep right in the middle, hugging Chuuyas pillow close to you, his scent slowly lulling you into a well-rested sleep. 

Well, the well-rested was a lie. You had woken up, groggy and exhausted, despite having slept rather long. Thanks bunch weird nightmares that don't even make sense. 

With a hot mug in hand, you took pictures of the room, sending it to your friends to flex a little. 

Youre kidding? Holy shit that looks so cool?

Does your bf have a brother or something?

A whole ass room to yourself? Wow you really finally got lucky. When are we finally gonna meet him?

You hated that question. Chuuya had told you countless times since moving together that you were more than welcome to invite people, but you always felt uncomfortable in a weird way.

First off, you didn't wanna come across as a sugar baby. This whole apartment screamed money and luxury and then there was you, a regular person from Yokohama, that'd beg questions.

Second, you liked to keep Chuuya away from your relationships with other people. He wasn't the only worrywart in your relationship. You simply felt uncomfortable, possibly spilling what Chuuyas occupation actually was.

Sure, it sucked having to always plan meet-ups elsewhere, but you liked it better that way. 

Soon perhaps. He's currently out working over the weekend

You replied and watched as your friends flooded your phone, jealous that you seemingly found the perfect guy™. 

Chuckling you sat down on the new couch in your room, putting on the LED lights.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

Maybe it was good that Chuuya didn't relent. 

It was already pitch back outside when Chuuya parked his motorcycle in the garage of his apartment complex. He was spent. But back a whole day earlier.

He could still have a nice relaxing Sunday evening with you, and that was all he currently wanted. He checked his phone for the report from Hiro, which had him chuckling as he rode the elevator up. 

They are truly a sweetheart. You made a good catch Nakahara-san. 

He had expected nothing else. Your kindness and irresistible smile was what had him at his knees all the way back then and he had suspected that even his subordinates would like you. 

Sighing contently, he unlocked the apartment door and when you didn't immediately rush to him, he figured you must be occupied or aren't hearing the rustling of him taking his coat, shoes and hat off.

The dinner he had picked up on the way was placed in the open kitchen and spotting colorful lights coming from the room he left to you, he knew where to find you.

But first he got rid of his second jacket, vest and leather accessories, remaining in only his white dress shirt and black dress pants. Creeping up to the open door, he knocked before entering, finding you playing video games on a new couch.

The shocked expression as you pulled your earbuds out warmed his heart, especially when you broke into a huge grin.

"But it's not Monday." You said and got up to embrace him. Hugging you tightly and enjoying just having you in his arms he finally replied; "Worked extra hard to get back quicker. Can't leave my doll all alone for so long, now can I?"

His hands found your face, holding it still, while he pressed kisses all over it, until he eventually, finally, kissed your lips. 

After enjoying the sweet sweet bliss you stepped away a little presenting the new room.

"So what you say?" You asked, gauging his reaction. It was your room, but you still wanted him to like it.

"Looks lovely. I really like what you have done with the place. Better than a wine room for sure." He hugged you from behind as he looked around, taking in all the details.

Your favorite books, merch from shows and games you enjoyed, lots of LEDs and fairy lights, plants, a comfortable carpet.

Yeah, it was truly pretty, just like you.

"You know I won't enter unless you give me permission right?"

 "You're in here right now and I don't remember giving you permission." you teased him, humming as you swayed from left to right. "You know what I mean."

"I do. And I appreciate it Chuu." 

He pressed a kiss to your neck as you pulled him with you to the couch. Quickly spinning around to face him, your hands hooked around his neck, pulling him with you as you let yourself fall down onto the soft material, with Chuuya obviously having used his ability by the way you very softly landed. 

Reuniting your lips again and again was now the agenda, the smiles never fading from either of your faces.

When Chuuya then lifted his upper body up, you looked at him puzzled.

"I brought food." Pulling him back down, you kissed him again, your tongue softly swiping over his and he gladly opened his own mouth to let your tongues meet.

Your hands moved from lovingly brushing your thumbs over his cheeks to his soft hair, playing with some strands, which had him groan into your mouth.

He was a mess in your hands when you played with the ginger locks. It took minutes until you pulled away, and when you looked at your boyfriend his pupils were blown wide. You loved having this effect on him.

"Want to eat now?" He asked and you contemplated. On the one hand... making out with him ... on the other... food. 

"What did you have for lunch even?" He asked and you looked to the side.

"Nothing." You whispered but he heard you well and got up immediately, pulling you to the kitchen.

"Nothing? Yeah, no, you're gonna eat now." Rolling your eyes you still helped getting cutlery, glasses, and drinks to then finally sit down and eat. 

It was a quiet dinner, like always, the only extra thing was Chuuya seeking out your hand to fold while he continued eating.

How could a man become so touch-starved after having been away for barely 48 hours? You couldn't imagine how bad it'd be once he'd be needed to get out of the country. 

"What's got your mind running?" He asked, having noticed that you only poked your food with a smile on your lips.

"Oh just this really cute guy I know." "Oh." He mused, feeling up for the game. "He must be a pretty great catch if he's got you smiling like that." 

Digging around in his pockets, he found his phone and started playing music over the stereo. You chuckled when he got up, inviting you to dance with him.

"Oh he is..." you murmured as Chuuya pulled you close, swaying with you softly to the music.

"Respects me, makes me smile, always puts my comfort first, insists even that I get a to have a personal room in his luxury apartment."

"Well, that does sound nice. Hope he's good-looking." You laughed as he dipped you, your head tilting all the way back as you couldn't meet his gaze. You know he was smirking waiting for an answer.

"Well..." You started as pulled you back up, straight into his chest. "He's got reeeal pretty eyes. Like I can get lost in them for ages. Nice and smooth skin, which he better should have, since he spends ages in the bath."

Chuuya laughed about your backhanded comment as he twirled you so your back was pressed against his chest, his hands roaming you still swaying body.

"His hair is also so nice too. I have never seen a haircut like that, but he absolutely rocks it. And the color... reminds me of the most beautiful sunsets."

Having heard enough, you were twirled once more, so Chuuya could lean his forehead against yours.

"What a guy. Do I know him?" You leaned closer to his lips, your breath ghosting over them as you spoke.

"Yeah, it's you, you fool." He broke the last piece of distance kissing you once more. As the song came to an end, he pulled away, only giving your forehead a quick kiss, and then quickly began cleaning up the kitchen.

You sighed as you watched him quickly clean.

"Are you tired?" You asked, knowing that since he came back a whole day earlier he must have been working hard.

"Yeah a little. Been on observation the whole night."

"Then let's get to bed soon, you need some rest." Not wanting to admit to needing that, the ginger waved his hand.

"Soon. Oh yeah, I haven't asked, but you have been alright with my subordinates, right? Like they didn't make you feel uncomfortable or anything?"

You chuckled, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Not at all. They were very sweet. Did they complain about me?"

"Of course not." Chuuya would genuinely like to see someone try and badmouth his partner to him. A laugh escaped him.

"It really seems that I wrap the Mafia about my finger. Are we sure I don't have an ability? The ability to make any mafiosi putty in my hands." 

"To test that theory I should get Akutagawa to meet you. If he likes you, then I'll call it an ability." Chuuya immediately shuddered as he imagined the strange situation.

"Never mind that, I prefer you in one piece."

You laughed as he kindly pulled you along into the bedroom, flicking on the light so you both could change into more comfortable clothes.

"In one piece? Is he the eh..." You rummaged through your brain. It was rare that Chuuya was ranting and raving about his higher-ranking colleagues, so you desperately tried to find any information your brain had anchored to "Akutagawa".

"He's the dog guy right?" Chuuya started laughing his ass off, doubling over, he pulled his shirt off. "The silent rabid dog of the Port Mafia. That's what you mean right?"

You felt your face warm up. Wow, you kinda missed the mark.

"Yeah. But don't laugh so much, you kept confusing my best friend with that annoying customer from work!" You said and remember how shocked you had felt when Chuuya had casually offered to order a hit on your best friend, only to find you he had meant the annoying customer that had been bothering you for weeks. 

"To be fair, they had really similar names!"

"They really aren't similar." Chuuya pouted and pulled out some jogging pants and a loose t-shirt and changed into them, still chuckling to himself that you called Akutagawa the dog guy. 

"I'd prefer if my colleagues don't know much about you." He stated content when his ginger head pushed through his t-shirts opening.

"Why's that?" Instead of answering directly, he pulled you into bed with him, snuggling up to you, relinquishing in everything you had to offer.

"Well, you're mine. Don't want you to see what the Mafia has to offer." You snorted. As if that really was his reasoning, but it gave you another opportunity to stroke his ego.

"Pft, as if anything better than you is walking around there. You're already the Port Mafia finest." 

Chuuya pressed a kiss on your hair, his warm hands already stroking your body in a gentle, soothing way. 

Comfortable silence ensued, where you two only enjoyed the presence of the other.

This is home.

Chuuya is home. The feeling of being content, comfortable, and warm, Chuuyas simple presence gave all of this to you and he felt very much the same. 

Before you, he had little to come home to. He didn't mind working longer, didn't mind doing more work, but ever since he knew you'd be waiting for him, he had cut back, less overtime, less spending the night in a bar and then power napping at the headquarters. 

His life was just perfect right now.

And then you speaking about a dog came into his head again. 

"Hey, doll... what would you say about getting a dog?" 

"Huh?" Confused you looked at him, checking if he was joking.

"I have wanted one for ages but my duties leave me with so little time to properly care. But with you now here... I think we could manage."

"Are you forgetting I'm Working too?" He shook his head, his red locks of hair, bobbing around.

"Of course not. But your work times are actually normal and don't require you to fly out of the country in case of emergency."

"True true..." you mumbled. "And you'd be less alone! When I'm gone you'd at least have a companion." 

He was really convincing and the way his eyes sparkled, you could only guess how long and deeply he has longed for a dog.

"That does sound enticing. I'll think about it." A bright smile stretched across Chuuyas face and he immediately peppered you in kisses. 

"You're the best." He whispered in-between them, hugging you tighter. 

This was your life. If someone had told you that you'd end up dating a Mafia Executive who controlled Gravity and was also the vessel for a god... you'd have laughed. That was simply absurd, but here you were, in bed with that exact guy.

You meeting him had been so long ago. It felt like ages.

And as the time went by, your love for Chuuya deepened, and the two of you faced life's challenges hand in hand. You knew that life with a Mafia Executive was far from ordinary, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Despite the odds, you had found your place by Chuuya's side, and he had found his home in your arms.

---------------------- Tag list!; (Im finally one of the cool kidz and have one of these too!) @pillow-princess-diaries <3

[jay-m3]

Hazbin Baby

Pilot

Part 4 Male reader insert! Warning: Language Continuation of Part 3 Next Episode 1

“Well, this just won't do! I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up.” Alastor, holds up his cane, snapping his finger once.

A new fireplace has replaced the old tattered one.

You hold on to your mamá as the fire that puffs out scares you.

Vaggie holds you close, a hand smoothing down your back in reassurance as she watches Alastor picking up a small figure that’s covered in soot.

The figure shakes off the layer, an eye opening.

“This little darling is Niffty!” Alastor introduces, dropping the small woman.

“Hi, I'm Niffty! It's nice to meet you! It's been a while since I've made new friends! Why're you all women?” Niffty picks up Charlie with ease, surprising everyone there beside Alastor, who already knows about the lady and you, who just watches the new sinner in amusement.

“Are there any men here?! I'm sorry, that's rude. Oh, look a baby. Hi baby!” She waves at you once she puts down your mommy.

“Oooh, man! This place is filthy! It really needs a lady's touch!” Nifty looks around before crushing a spider.

“Which is weird because you're all ladies, no offense. Oh, my gosh! This is awful!” She speed cleans throughout the hotel a feather duster in hand.

“Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope!” She spots a roach, stabbing it with a sewing pin before dipping to clean more.

You watch the small lady scurrying around, the popsicle in your hand finally dropping from its thin stick. The sound of your sugary treat seems to capture the lady’s attention as she runs up and cleans the floor before looking up at you.

“Hey!” Vaggie yelps as Niffty snatches you down and starts to wipe you off with a rag.

Startled, you squirm around but the little sinner doesn’t budge at your effort.

“Dirty baby. Be clean.” She states, nodding once she deems you clean, running off.

“I ain't doing no fucking charity job.”

A new voice snaps your attention from the little sinner.

“Well, I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment! With your charming smile and welcoming energy, this job was made for you! Don't worry my friend, I can make this more welcoming! ...If you wish.” Alastor reveals a bar that doesn’t match the hotel but it seems new and improved. Not only that, his magic reveals a bottle of alcohol on top of the counter once he’s done messing with Husk.

“What? You think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?! Well, you can!” Husk goes to grab the bottle, already tired of arguing with the redhead.

“Hey, hey! Hey, hey, hey! No! No bar, no alcohol! This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of mouth…brothel…man cave! Plus we have a baby in the vicinity.” Vaggie stands in front of the bar before Angel pushes her away.

“SHUT UP! SHUT! UP! We are keeping this!” Angel leans on the counter, flirty eyes racking up the gloomy cat sinner.

“Hey~”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Only if you watch me.” Angel quickly replies, eyes fluttering at the man.

Seeing a new place to venture, you run behind the counter.

“Shit!” Husk cursed out in surprise as he spilled his booze when you ran in between his legs.

“So, whaddaya think?” Alastor asks, watching Charlie with a sharp eye.

“This is amazing!” She replies, rubbing her cheeks excitedly.

“It's... okay.” Vaggie shrugs, not wanting to show how impressed she is as she grabs you from behind the counter of the bar.

“Hahaha! This is going to be very entertaining!” Alastor brings the little family of three together.

[lovemybluebully]

Masterlist

Thought maybe I oughta make one of these pinned posts so people can find my fics easier. 😁 They are all tickle fics btw so if you don't like that kind of thing then this is not the blog for you. lol They are of the SFW variety though.

Currently obsessed with Deadpool and Wolverine.

Just gonna list my new DP/W fics here below the cut and then put a link to the page with all my other fics. 😎

Listing newest fics at the top here.

All Hail Queen Bea! - After a comment from Logan induces some ticklish consequences, Wade finally gets the confirmation about his friend that he suspected all along. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Wakey Wakey - Wade gets Logan out of bed in the best way possible. 🤭 Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

It's For Science - Wade gets it into his head that maybe not all humans have the same number of rib bones. His logic being that since Logan has a shorter body then he may be an exception. Unfortunately for Logan this is far too ticklish of an experiment for him to bear. A small bit of ticklish!deadpool at the end too. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Over My Dead Body - Logan just wants to watch the game, but Wade can’t help but mess with him and discovers he’s ticklish in the process. Logan is pissed at first, but eventually comes to terms with the benefits and has a life altering epiphany. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

A Small Lapse of Judgement - Logan is adjusting to his new residence in Wade’s apartment. And that includes enduring his countless tickle attacks against him. But then Wolvie decides it’s time for a little payback. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

How To Pet a Wolverine - Wade makes an irresistible discovery about Logan during their brawl inside the van. Deadpool and Wolverine-verse M/M

Here's the drawing I did of Wade tickling Logan. 🤭 I have other tickle art I've posted on here if you look hard enough. lol

And the other one I did here of Wade giving Logan ticklish raspberries to his tummy. Heheh, he likes it. 😊

And below is the link to the rest of my fics. All SFW. Mind you some of them are around 10 years old and may not be written that great so proceed at your own risk. lol I mainly wrote for the cartoon/comic versions of X-men (99% being Wolverine lol I love him 🥰), Venom, Punisher and The Wolf Among Us. Got one random Overwatch story in there too.

Tickle Fics Here! All fluffy, SFW stuff.

I have a Deviantart account as well but warning that there is some NSFW stuff I've posted on there over the years. I am an adult woman and do find tickling to be a kink in very specific situations. 90% I don't though, and I just enjoy tickling as a cute, fun, bonding activity between friends and lovers. I'm not gonna link my DA here. If you're interested, I'm sure you'll be able to find it.

[spider-jaysart]

1: how did Jon and Damian meet in earth 1015?

2: how would they tease each other romantically?

3: how do they cuddle?

4: is the super-sons stories canon? Is so is it exactly the same or is there some difference?

5: who is their arch nemesis? Both together and separate

@pin-crusher2000

1: how did Jon and Damian meet in earth 1015?

The same way as the books, but they were slightly younger instead, like Damian was 10 1/2 and Jon was 9 1/2. Currently in my canon, Damian is now 12 and Jon is 11

2: how would they tease each other romantically?

It's pretty similar to how they used to do it when they were just best friends, but the only difference is that there are plenty of snuck in flirts thrown into it now lol and ends with some kind of affection or them playfully trying to hit eachother. Their love for eachother is too disgustingly cute and it grosses everyone out lmaoooo. It makes them wonder if their old constant fighting was better before this lol/jk

3: how do they cuddle?

Hmmm, the regular position usually. Jon is also the big spoon and initiates them a lot. He is always ready to grab Damian into one lol, even in his sleep, and he doesn't let go so easily when passed out

Despite being annoyed with it way back in the beginning of their friendship, Damian has grown used to them overtime ofc and now loves being in Jon's arms. Sometimes he even initiates them himself too when he's had a bad or long day and just wants peace and comfort to destress and get away from it all in his head, and his boyfriend is the biggest go to for all of that

Sometimes one of them sleeps on top of the other, while the other wraps an arm over them while also playing with their hair. Whenever Jon is laying on Damian, he's listening to his boyfriend's heartbeat, which is his favorite sound out of all things hehe

Other times they just come back from patrol and fall on top of one another and end up in a messy cuddle in their sleep lmao

4: is the super-sons stories canon? Is so is it exactly the same or is there some difference?

Yes, they all stayed the same for my universe, but that only goes for the og books, nothing after those like the age up and Jon solos for example are canon in it. The only thing I would change up though is the way Talia was written, but that's it. What I would rewrite entirely is the after books to fit my version of my universe better, which I already already have kind of done actually lol

5: who is their arch nemesis? Both together and separate

Hmm well, I saw your ask about Jon and a villian Peacock Boy/Man lol and I think it's a very clever and cool idea you came up with, so that's who I pick for him (I haven't answered it yet btw because I have a design that I wanted to put with it lol, so dw). I'm thinking it could be a creepy man who represents Peacocks as something more terrifying then what they are (to Jon at least lol) and happily uses Jon's fear to his advantage as much as he can to overpower him and win in fights between them. But overtime, Jon being forced to deal with this villian a lot of the time only helps him to unexpectedly become stronger against his big phobia so much better, helping him grow the courage to really start kicking this dudes butt and show him who's really boss. But the guy ofc always comes up with new ways to get back at Jon once again until next time, since he is so used to the good old pattern of messing with him as a victim before he learned to finally stand up to him properly, so with this, they still stay arch nemesis no matter what

And then for Damian, hmmmmmm, I got this on the spot tbh, but maybe someone who is just as skilled as him in combat, but with different techniques ofc, and they also have the ability to control the minds of animals they kidnap and makes them commit crimes for them (I'm thinking it should be a girl) and Damian is ofc very against it since he's an animal lover. I have don't have further details to go into rn, but I think it works well as something😅

And then for together, mmmmmm, I feel like this maybe needs more thought since I can't think of much rn, so I'll probably have an idea next time if that's alright

Thanks for the ask, crusher! :)

Hope I answered these well. Send in more if you want

[the-archetype-of-civilization]

More little things I noticed in my third rewatch of ATSV.

-SPOILERS AHEAD-

There was a moment that confused me where Spot was robbing the guy of the ATM and he was setting down some cans for (seemingly) no reason. He was actually placing the ATM on top of the cans so he can roll it out.

I can't confirm if this is what was actually there, but when Uncle Aaron was telling Miles they "gotta roll," there was an acrylic stand of Spider-Man there that looked like Miles Morales Spider-Man (color and all).

When Miles was swinging through 42 NYC, there was an advertisement for "Vulture" something, I'm assuming a company. Messed up.

When Miguel first introduces himself by ramming into Vulture, Gwen gets to the spot and does this really slick landing animation where she kinda just gracefully brushes against the bannister briefly before landing on the ground.

42 Rio being given more hours at the hospital shows just how bad 42 New York has gotten without a Spider-Man. Terrifying.

I think I may have pointed this out on a previous post, but 1610 Uncle Aaron had a lucky black cat while 42 Uncle Aaron had a lucky white cat instead. I also like the parallels of Peter being tied up against a punching bag by Miles in ITSV while Miles is tied up by Uncle Aaron in ATSV.

I find it hilarious that Miles STILL doesn't know about ComicCon and didn't bother to look it up since ITSV when 42 Rio brings up "ComicsCon."

When Hobie is blocking off Miles from walking through to Miguel and Miles bumps into him, there's a tiny skull that appears when they make contact. It might just be a punk thing, but I wonder if it's an omen for the bad thing that's ahead of Miles.

Lego Spider-Man's vocalized "boop boop"s killed me.

I love the reveal when Miles realizes he's in the wrong universe, the camera pulls into his face and twists slightly. Obvious but nonetheless cool film styling of "his world is spinning" aside, I love that it feels like a 40's/50's kind of thing. Like this is something that you would see in The Twilight Zone, it nails the old comic book-y vibes too.

42 Miles' facial posture has his head up high and his chin slightly jutting out and up, like he's this "in-charge," cold, dignified superior while our Miles has his chin straight, sometimes pointed down and his head straight, showing he's trying to appeal to his humanity and trying to be humble and unassuming. It's awesome details like this that I love.

Hearing Spot say that he couldn't get a job because of what happened to him at that deli really hurts, honestly. Even if, in a way, he himself is partially to blame, it sucks that he has to resort to this. And the way he says it, almost in a "well, I can't do anything else so this is the only thing I can do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" kind of way is really saddening, like he's trying to take it in stride and as a matter of fact. As awful as Spot becomes, I still feel bad for him.

Miles has a "#BLM" pin on his backpack. I'm sure people saw it already and it's probably a given, but in a world where media is trying to appeal to as wide of an audience as possible, it's nice to see the studio make a clear stance with a character that absolutely fits the bill.

That title drop for Earth 42 when Uncle Aaron tries to dab up Miles going into slow-mo with the music subdued was dope as fuck.

Miles throwing his arms up when asking when his dad dies ("When does it happen?!") is so on-point and well animated, it feels like something every New Yorker would do (I would personally know, since I am one).

When Gwen asks Jess if she ever made mistakes, Jess' reply, saying "yeah, but I got over it," is pretty toxic. It feeds into Gwen's need to avoid her problems rather than address them and face them, and I think that's why she probably chooses to avoid discussing things about Miles to him directly.

That look of disgust on Miles' face when he's being surrounded by Spider-People ("What is this? Some kind of intervention or something?") was so real.

The long silence between Miles choosing to go into the portal to follow Gwen is so good, I love when the movie speaks for itself rather than the dialogue. You can see the hesitation in Miles' eyes and face and then his determination as he jumps headfirst into the portal. A great character scene and fitting transition into the next act.

The album cover for the soundtrack is so good and comes from the scene where Miles goes into the portal. It feels like a mix of something from a Golden Age comic book cover, Miles' hand opened out towards the camera like he's being thrust into another world. And the colors of the portal and transition to Mumbattan are gorgeous. Fills the 40's/50's vibes I was talking about earlier, too.

Jeff's toast is really well done and I like how heartfelt and real it feels. Makes his anger, unfortunately, justified on Miles, even if Miles was trying to do the right thing for him and Rio in the end.

"I was just cool the whole time" is such a boss line, I love Hobie.

Miguel casually (almost lazily) swinging around rescuing civilians at the Guggenheim whilst talking to Gwen about a serious conversation is unironically cool. And it fits to his character, he's probably done it so many times that it becomes child's play in the end.

"I ain't got Scooby-Doo, mate."

How does Hobie know that Miles should use his palms for those powers? Curious.

"But now...I'm not afraid of anything." I love Miles so much, he's grown and become so strong not just for himself but for others. He's the best Spidey. Full stop.

I love the reversal of reflections for Gwen. At the beginning of the movie, she's in her casual wear but with the reflections always showing her in her Spider outfit. At the end, she comes home in her Spider outfit but with herself in her casual wear in the reflection instead. She started off alone in the world as Spider-Woman and ended feeling like Gwen. Her arc was completed and she's facing herself, the real Gwen Stacy and not Spider-Woman.

I felt bad that the deli clerk got bonked by the bat :( But, at least he's all right.

Miles saying "Don't do that" to the kid licking the subway window is real. That shit is nasty, the windows are the least clean parts of NYC's subway.

I love that both Gwen and Miles use comically deep voices around their respective dads. It's cute.

When the police officer was saying "I think we found our sign" when Gwen webbed them up, George's silent head turn with unamusement was awesome.

I will not have anymore George Stacy slander. Yeah, he made a bad call in seemingly arresting his daughter, but he QUIT his job for her. He loves her that much that he quit being, not just a police officer, but a CAPTAIN, for HER sake.

Speaking of which, when George had his gun pointed at her before she unmasked, he had his gun down the whole time after she unmasked, even while he was re-relaying her her rights. And when she tries to approach him, his gun flinches up a bit but stops.

"Can you go easy on the penguin?"

This is actually a follow-up post, since I said before that I might make another. This movie is too much for me and I love taking it apart.

Edit: I'm sorry for the constant updates and changes/revisions, but I can't stop thinking about this movie.

[greenishghostey]

Glass Gorgon

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie made sure to only wear his glasses at home and when he was in a quiet corner of the Hawkins public library. Hellfire campaign planning called for him to be on top form; therefore, his browline glasses were a necessity. You had taken notice of Eddie's weekly library visits and his new bespectacled look. It was a good look on him.

Word Count: 3,339

Warnings: None! This is a fun little fluffy one-shot because one man wearing some reading glasses. Also, the stories of Cu Chulainn are really cool bits of folklore, here's an overview if anyone is curious!

DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

///

Eddie had needed to wear reading glasses since he was eight years old. After years of reading and drawing late at night, with only a shitty flashlight as a light source, his big eyes were more than a little bit messed up. 

After one too many comments from teachers about Eddie potentially being “dim” after he couldn’t read the board properly, Wayne took him for an eye test. Crappy eyesight was just another cross to bear for the Munson men, so Wayne knew he was going to be shelling out for some glasses. Eddie got to pick whichever frames he wanted, but damn, was the little boy annoyed about having to do it. He huffed and grumbled the entire trip to the opticians - so much so that Wayne bought Eddie some ice cream to cheer him up. Wayne didn’t like it when his nephew wasn’t his usual smiley little self. 

Since then, Eddie had tried out a few different styles of glasses. He tried to find a pair that didn’t make him look too dorky or take away from his metalhead exterior. Eddie had a reputation as the town freak, and as much as he disliked being labelled as that, he had to keep it up. 

Eight-year-old Eddie had thought wire-framed glasses were a good choice. But after getting that pair broken by an “accidental” football to the face, Wayne suggested a sturdier choice. Sturdier meant thicker, which meant Eddie was going to be getting more sports equipment aimed at his face. 

Bad eyesight just wasn’t metal. Eddie quickly learned that there was next to no chance of him pulling off reading glasses. They made his eyes look even bigger. Every pair did make him look like a dork. Plus, if he didn’t wear them consistently, then his eyes would only get worse. Eddie kind of hated that he had to sit in the back of every classroom to maintain his attempt at being a “cool, bad boy”. In reality, he was squinting enough to get a headache just so he could read Miss O’Donnell’s handwriting. 

Like hell was he wearing those glasses, though.

-

The Hawkins public library was always a bit of a ghost town. Eddie loved it for when he needed time away from the trailer but still needed some quiet. 

Not a lot of people knew that the fantasy section in the library was so varied. But Eddie did. He’d read almost all of the books in the section cover to cover. Wayne didn’t always have the means to get Eddie new books when he finished one, so a library card was the best option. The old librarian back then had been so excited to see such a young kid so eager to devour any book that he could. Wendy was her name. Eddie found himself missing Wendy during his library trips. 

The history section was tucked away in the back corner of the library. Far away from any prying eyes and close to a big window where the sun streamed in just right. This was the other area where Eddie could be found when he made his weekly visits. While the main American history books weren’t his speed, the range of dusty, heavy mythology anthologies that were crammed onto one shelf certainly were. Comparing mythology and fantasy books was a hobby of Eddie’s - it sparked a lot of D&D inspiration and helped him pin down the whirlwind of ideas already in his head. The day he noticed that Tolkien lifted much of his work from Irish Mythology, he almost lost his twelve-year-old mind. Wayne got his ear talked off about the stories of Cú Chulainn.

Black browline frame glasses were perched on the bridge of Eddie’s nose as he hunched over one of the three notebooks he’d brought with him. After forgetting his walkman and headphones last week - and suffering through the droning background noise of the library - he had made sure to bring at least one tape with him at all times. The first one his hand had come to was a new one he found in a bin at a music store in the next town over. The band was called Manilla Road, and they were pretty good - weird castle art as the album cover and heavy guitar solos. Eddie was easy to please. 

The weekly library visits were purely so that Eddie had time to plan for upcoming Hellfire sessions away from the distractions of his bedroom. But also so that no one would stumble upon him wearing his glasses. He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them within a mile radius of school - his time there was bad enough, and the added taunt of having four eyes just wouldn’t be worth it. 

However, the bespectacled Eddie Munson had been seen by someone he knew somewhat. You had been working at the Hawkins library since graduating two years prior - the same year when Eddie was supposed to have paraded himself across the stage too. You had been working every time Eddie came in and took up his usual space at a desk by the history section. 

You never knew he had to wear glasses. He looked good with them. Really good.

-

Eddie had been digging the heels of his hands into his eyes for the last minute. You had been silently observing him as he appeared to be more stressed than usual. There was a Greek Mythology book open in front of him - you knew because he had been picking it up every visit for the past three weeks. Pieces of paper with numbers and drawings on them littered the desk. Pens and pencils sat beside his hand, bunched together with a rubber band. You had no idea what he was doing, it definitely wasn’t studying, but it seemed to be causing him a lot of trouble.

“Hey? You okay?” You hadn’t meant to startle him; you really hadn’t. Eddie could be jumpy and skittish at the best of times. He was often off in his own world when in the library. No one ever tried to talk to him - he even made sure to be absolutely silent so he wouldn’t risk being kicked out. 

Eddie almost jumped from his chair as he ripped his headphones off and turned to glare at whoever had scared him. The heated glower on his face faded quickly when he met your soft, concerned gaze. 

“Are you okay? You looked stressed, a little grumpy too.” You repeated, giving him a slightly awkward smile as a peace offering for spooking him. You, scaring the big scary town cult leader, no one was going to believe that story for a second. Hell, you didn’t believe it, Eddie was a little intimidating at times, but he was far from scary or capable of all the rumours that clung to him like a bad smell. 

Eddie cleared his throat and turned to you properly, “Uh yeah, ‘m fine. Just stressed, as you said.” He grumbled. So, he was grumpy about something. 

“You doing a project on mythology monsters or something?” You asked, gesturing to his book that was open to a page about Gorgons. “Didn’t think they’d cover that sort of stuff in school. Times’ve changed since I was there.” 

“God no, this isn’t for school. Nah, I should be reading up on the industrial revolution for that.” Eddie relaxed, letting his shoulders drop, and a small smile worm it's way across his face.

He remembered you from school. The two of you hadn’t really talked all that much, but when you did, you talked to him rather than at him. You didn’t speak about him in hushed whispers. Once, you had actually snapped at one of your friends, Vanessa or something, for saying “he might have rabies” when he was your chemistry lab partner. Eddie remembered you pretty well, in fact. You were the library girl now, but he knew you as that one nice girl. 

“I didn’t think you’d be coming in here to study, no offense.” You snorted.

“You been keeping tabs on me when I come in here?” Eddie asked, a mischievous lilt returned to his voice. He was genuinely curious if you had been watching him, but he also couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be slightly suggestive.

“I have, actually. You come in here and sit in the same spot. You’re the only person who even looks at these books. Colour me curious, I guess.” A similar glint could be heard in your voice. You remembered that Eddie was big on getting under the skin of others in any way he could. He didn’t always mean it in a bad way - part of you had wished a scene like this one had happened in school, maybe in the chemistry lab. 

Eddie hadn’t expected you, of all people, to match him beat for beat with the… flirting? “I, uh, I come here specifically for those books. Pretty much all of the myth and fantasy stuff. This is, like, my unofficial Hellfire planning office.” Eddie chirped, knocking his fists against the desk. Him stumbling over his words slightly didn’t go unnoticed. You had forgotten how much of a nerd he was. You were glad he hadn’t changed. 

“Ah, yeah, the D&D club. You know, a lot of middle schoolers come in here looking for those big game guidebooks.” You explained, watching Eddie’s eyes widen almost comically. The glasses made the sun bounce into his eyes quite nicely. “I know, right? You’d think their mommies and daddies would have told ‘em all about the scary Satan game.” 

Eddie surprised you when he pulled out the chair beside him with his foot, gesturing for you to join him. You couldn’t remember him being quite so open to chit-chat back in the day. Well, you also hadn’t ever mentioned D&D to him before - that probably would have helped. 

“Pull up a pew. I can tell you all about the Satan game and why I’m here.” Eddie smirked, huffing out a laugh. You also couldn’t remember him being this smooth. The addition of him looking up at you over his glasses just topped it all off. “I’m surprised you still remember Hellfire…” 

“You guys had cool club shirts, so that helped.” You grinned, sitting down beside Eddie and sneaking a peak at what he had been working on. There were three drawings of Gorgon-like women. Hissing hair and jagged teeth made them appear a lot more monsters than pretty ladies. Eddie had scribbled a note beside the drawings, “keep scary or make hot for distraction???” 

“Cool, huh?” Eddie was now the one coloured with curiosity - you were strange in the grand scheme of Hawkins. His shirts? Cool? Unheard of. “You know, I designed these bad boys myself. Jeff tried to make some creative suggestions, but he fucking sucks at art.” Eddie gloated, itching his nose under his glasses. Finally, he got to brag about the shirts. 

You noticed that he was wearing one of those Hellfire shirts. It was Wednesday, so it wasn’t a game day. Maybe the tee got him in the D&D headspace? 

“Between the little demon guy there,” you poked Eddie’s sternum. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “And the gorgons. I’d say art is very much your thing. I like that you kept the gorgons a little more monster-y like they’re supposed to be.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows had disappeared under his bangs, molasses eyes still widened. “Thought I was the only person that looked at these books?” He chuckled. Eddie knew that you must have read anything and everything, but the Greek mythology knowledge was a nice little shock to his system. 

“Ah, yeah, um - only for cataloguing a few months ago.” Eddie was sharp, sharper than anyone gave him credit for. You had started browsing the mythology books after seeing his fascination with them. It was time for a subject change before he caught on more. “Are the gorgons going in your game?”

“That’s the plan anyway.” Eddie nodded. He quickly gathered together his pages of notes in order. You were getting the campaign rundown whether you wanted it or not. 

You did. Definitely. Eddie had to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. It was something so mundane but endearing to see on him in particular. 

“I wanted to keep the ladies as monsters since they’ll be in a swamp forest kinda place.” Eddie gestured to a small, rough map layout of the landscape. “But, but, buuuut Gareth and Wheeler’s characters are huge virgins, so hot girls that can kill them would just be fun.” 

“How about having them look hot when you first see them, then they go full monster mode and start turning people to stone?” The thought had tumbled from your mind to your mouth before you could stop it. “Sorry. I don’t know enough about this to make any comments. Ignore me-“

“No, no. That’s good. Repeat that.” Eddie interrupted. “Wait, I need my red pen.” His hands scrambled around for the pen that was resting against your forearm. You poked his bicep with the pen, and he itched his nose again. You were comfortable with touching him, and he actually enjoyed that. Enjoyed it because it was someone good - you. 

“Okay. So, they look hot initially, but then when the guys get close enough,” Eddie slapped his hand against the desk as quietly as he could, “then bam! Hair starts hissing, and they’ve gone full creature from the Black Lagoon style!” He said, full of excitement. It had been so long since he’d been able to brainstorm ideas with anyone. 

You couldn’t hold back a giggle at how happy he was. You were talking about something so niche and more than a little odd, but that was Eddie’s thing. He never seemed like the type for small talk - he probably hated when people tried to talk about the weather. You admired that about him. His quirks and the fact that he was upfront with them. 

“I’m glad I could help with torturing your friends’ characters.” You giggled, now trying to focus your attention on a spray pencil. You weren’t sure looking at bubbly, bespectacled Eddie would be a good idea. You were still on shift, after all. 

Eddie pulled off the aforementioned glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He had been sitting at the desk for close to three hours - barely moving an inch the entire time. “Wheeler’s probably gonna bite it, to be honest. Hope you’re okay with that on your conscience.” He laughed. The laugh was soft but still a touch loud, too loud for a library, but you weren’t going to tell him that. 

“It’ll be character-building for him. A learning experience with women.”

“Hmm, kid’s got a girlfriend already, somehow. Poor little lady.” 

You continued to chat about his campaign ideas and the goings-on of your lives. The last time you had talked that much was in the chemistry lab in senior year - well, your senior year and his first attempt. 

Eddie told you about the power scaling for the gorgons and how they were going to fit into his overarching story. You listened intently, nodding enthusiastically - his words were like they were taken straight from one of the fantasy books on the shelves in the library. 

Eddie had taken to fiddling with his glasses. Rubbing at the lenses with his sleeve, spinning them in his hands. He was doing everything to avoid putting them back on, it seemed. The lenses caught the sun, and you saw they were quite smudged. 

“You can put your glasses back on, by the way.” You offered, trying to make him feel a bit less nervous about the object. Browline frames were a bit more physics nerd rather than a metalhead. Eddie hummed at your comment. He was still hesitant. Once he’d realised that he had been wearing them for so long already, he was a bit mortified. 

“Hmm, nah, I’m good. I can’t get them clean anyway, so they won’t be any help.” Eddie rambled. You weren’t going to be able to sit by and let him feel insecure about something so outside of his control. Maybe that’s why he was so worried about wearing them. He didn’t really have an option about it. 

You started digging in your large cardigan pockets for your own reading glasses case. “Well, you’re in luck because I have a wipe in here.” You pulled the small, silky plum cloth from the case, along with your round tortoiseshell glasses. Eddie had taken to looking at you like you were insane, even though all you had done was put on glasses. He blinked a few times before taking the wipe and rubbing at the lenses - making sure to get rid of all old and new smudges. 

“The glasses look good on you. Not the usual metal vibe, but you make them work with the hair and the outfit.” You were grasping at straws for how to compliment Eddie. Of course, you wanted to make him feel better, but you didn’t want to make it painfully obvious that you thought he was cute with the glasses. 

No, he was hot with the glasses. 

“You’re bad at compliments; you know that?” Eddie laughed, allowing his smirk to spread across his face once again. Much better. 

“No, I do know. But take it or leave it.” 

Eddie laughed again, his face heating up in an unfamiliar way. He placed his glasses back on. Clean lenses now let you see his eyes in all their chestnut-like glory. 

“Thanks - um, for not laughing at ‘em. I know I look ridiculous wearing these,” Eddie started fidgeting with his rings again before he rested his gaze entirely on you. “But, never thought I’d be hearing; what was it? They look good on me?” No matter how flustered he was, he wasn’t letting you off the hook with that comment. 

“I’m still on my shift. I’ll leave right now.” You threatened as a blush crawled up the column of your throat. 

“Okay, okay, that was pushing it, I know,” Eddie yielded. You swore you heard him giggle. This man was insane. 

The laughter had drawn the attention of your colleagues, Janet and Vince. Janet was winking at you like a proud aunt. Vince was glaring at you and tapping his wrist. He always was a spoilsport, but he was right. You were still on the clock. 

You had been waving both of them off when Eddie spotted them too. His smile faltered slightly, “you need to get back to work?” 

God, he made it sound so sad. The emphasis on his big, molasses eyes just made everything worse. 

“Yeah, Vince is tapping his wrist at me. I’ve got some middle school study guides that need filing by tomorrow.” You said dejectedly. The clock above the desk read 3:03, and your mood immediately picked up. A new idea had formed in your head, it was a shot in the dark, but you were feeling brave. 

“Are you still gonna be here for like another hour? I finish at 4, so I can come back,” you asked. “If you want the company, totally understand if no-“ 

“I’ll be here,” Eddie stated, nodding and nearly staring a hole through your skull. There was that blush coming back again. 

You clapped happily - god, you were going to humiliate yourself very quickly. Eddie did the nose itch again. That had now become a staple for him. It was strangely adorable on him. In reality, it was a means of fidgeting because you made him a touch nervous. Good nervous. 

Eddie had worn glasses since he was eight years old. He hated almost every second when he wore the frames. He was convinced that he made him look ridiculous, more dorky or just plain dumb. 

But the nice girl in the library, you, said he looked good. He made the glasses work for himself. Maybe they weren’t so bad. 

[morning-star-joy]

Hey there! So this crazy idea crossed my mind and even though as of now you only write for joel and recently javi, i still need to share this with you bc i think you’re just the right person: tim rockford fic based off no body no crime by taylor swift where reader has either committed or helped someone commit a murder (of either reader’s or someone’s abusive husband) and he is the detective but he falls in love with her 🤯

no body, no crime (Tim Rockford x F!Reader) part 1

Unfinished & Discontinued

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Themes of Murder and Grief, Sexual Tension, Language, Alcohol & Cigarette Use, Smut (f and m masturbation, separately)

Wordcount: 5.5k

A/N: Okay so, first of all, hi anon ilysm, you have infected me with Tim Rockford brainrot. This has quickly become my new favorite thing to write, there's so much creative freedom, this entire concept is GENIUS and I've been obsessing over it since you sent it in. I quickly realized that it's going to have parts JFKDLS SO, I hope you enjoy because this one is for you my friend!

Smoke still curling up into the stuffy air of the mess of an office from the cigarette not properly snuffed into the ashtray perched precariously on the edge of the desk, Detective Tim Rockford couldn’t help but think that these were the nights he loved and hated the most.

Nothing and nobody to keep him company other than the mess of evidence that may not even be evidence strewn across the room, spending hours pacing back and forth to pick up pictures and put them back down, wearing a hole through his polished dress shoes when he’d pivot on his heel once something clicked, and he’d race to grab a paper to pin on the large evidence board taking up one wall.

It had been wiped clean the moment he took this case, and the detective was taking his time collecting his thoughts to put the pieces of the puzzle together night after night.

That was, until this night in particular.

Tim was seated at his desk, reaching for the takeout container he had been mindlessly eating from, recoiling with a wince as he quickly realized he had accidentally grabbed an old one without looking.

Place needs a serious clean, he thought to himself as he leaned back in his chair to toss that container into his overflowing trash can before actually looking for and finding the one he had been eating from that night.

Lord knew he wouldn’t clean it though. He wouldn’t even let the janitors in, worried that something would be misplaced and throw off his entire externalized thought process that was his disaster of an office.

When a knock sounded on his door, he hardly glanced up as he called out an invitation to come in, setting down his chopsticks in the container to grab a pencil and jot down a possible lead on a piece of paper before glancing up to see Abigail, the sweet red-head receptionist, standing tentatively in his door.

“Somebody here to see you, Detective,” Abigail said, shifting in her short heels and glancing behind her shoulder, and Tim frowned at the thought of having a guest, because he never had those. “Said she’s here about that case of the housewife?”

Tim straightened instantly, setting his pencil down as he began to rise from his seat, reaching out subconsciously to pinch out the still smoking cigarette in the ashtray before nodding at Abigail.

“Send her in please, Abi,” Tim said, pulling back his hand with a wince as the tips of his rough fingertips singed a bit on the cigarette, shaking his hand out before glancing around the room that was very much not in a state to receive any kind of witness, if that’s what this woman was.

Abigail murmured a confirmation behind him, closing the door before moving back towards the front desk where he assumed the woman was waiting, and Tim was racing around the room then, simultaneously trying to make it at least a smidge presentable while also getting rid of anything too telling about the case.

Of course, he couldn’t do anything about his painfully old-fashioned method of an evidence board in the corner of the office, but hopefully it was too chaotic for anybody to be able to glean anything from it.

Tim shook his head to himself then, rolling his head across his shoulders and rubbing at the back of his neck to try and soothe a perpetual ache from too many nights hunched over in a chair going over cases combined with the telltale pains of age.

The creaking of his office door opening made him turn halfway around, glancing back to see Abigail gesturing for somebody to enter.

And that was the first time Detective Tim Rockford saw you.

Standing there in the doorframe of his office, face half-cast into shadow from the warm wash of the yellow light in the hallway behind you, even as it cast an almost halo glow around your hair as your head turned, glancing about the room before fully stepping in.

Abigail shut the door behind you, leaving Tim alone and at a complete loss for what to do with you when he saw your face properly in the gentle glow of the lamps set up around his office, breath catching in his throat at the stunning clarity of your eyes when they met his.

“Detective Rockford?” you asked, voice a melody even in its slight hesitation with the question, and the sound of his title snapped Tim back into action, giving a nod as he strode forward to extend his hand to yours for introduction.

“At your service, ma’am,” he replied automatically, his fingers twitching as yours slid against them, your smaller palm finding its way into his for a shake, and Tim pulled away quickly, clearing his throat before asking for your name.

When you gave it, he nodded, repeating it once out loud as his mind wouldn’t stop chanting it in the dark crevices of his thoughts, glancing over the humble cardigan and knee-length skirt paired with dark tights you were wearing before spinning away, telling himself he was simply trying to get a read on who exactly you were as he gestured towards his desk.

“Please, sit,” he said, moving back towards his own seat, glancing back over his shoulder when he realized you hadn’t moved.

“Um,” you hedged, shifting in place with uncertainty, and his brows furrowed, glancing over you again as you asked, “Where, exactly?”

Only then did Tim look over across from his desk, mumbling some colorful swears he hoped you didn’t hear or would graciously ignore as he realized there was no chair for you to sit in.

“Uh—let me just—” he spun in place, eyes moving around the room quickly before he found a fold up chair crammed into the corner, and he hurried over to it, arms flexing in the tight fabric of the white-button up he wore as he extended it with a quiet grunt before walking over quickly to set it in front of his desk.

“Sorry about that,” Tim murmured, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he gestured for you to sit, which you did, slowly sinking down into the uncomfortable seat before smoothing out the fabric of your skirt while he moved around the desk to sit in his own chair.

Once the both of you were settled, Tim looked over your face again, brows furrowed as he noticed the heavy lines of sleep and something else, something distinctly weary covering the beauty of your features—fuck, not beauty, don’t think that way at work, Rockford—as you pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself.

“My receptionist mentioned you were here for the case of Mrs. Haim, is that right?” he asked, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the desk as he watched you carefully, noting the way your eyes darted up to meet his at the name.

“Yes,” you whispered with a nod, licking your lips Tim just now realized were painted with a soft pink lipstick that accentuated the natural color of them and no, stop it, you were saying something now, and he was embarrassed he had missed the first part of it until the next five words caught his full attention.

“I think he did it.”

And with just that simple confession, that quiet declaration, Tim Rockford knew you were not only going to become heavily intertwined in this case, but completely wrapped up in his life.

Your best friend was dead.

It didn’t matter that they hadn’t found the body.

It didn’t matter that you were still setting up “have you seen me?” posters around town and the next two over, ignoring the looks of pity shot your way each time you taped one up on a wall or streetlight.

It didn’t matter that the detective in charge of her case had assured you that they were doing everything they could to find her.

She was dead. 

You knew she was dead.

You knew it because she didn’t show up at your traditional Tuesday night dinner, a habitual get-together to vent about your weeks and giggle over glasses of wine that she had never once missed in all the years you had known her.

You knew it because the last time you had dinner like this, she had confessed to you her sleepless nights lately, plagued with the doubts and suspicions that her jackass of a husband was seeing somebody on the side.

You had never liked Jonathan, the Mr. Haim who had been married to your dear Este for nearly a decade. You hadn’t liked the way he looked at her when they met, or the way he held her once they got married. Possessive, and not in a healthy consensual way, judging by the look in her eyes whenever he was around.

Still, Este had assured you time and time again that she loved him. And you had no doubt that she did.

But whether he loved her, respected her, or treated her right was another matter entirely.

“Last night,” Este had said slowly as she pushed her fork around the plate of alfredo she always ordered every Tuesday, avoiding your gaze as you sipped at your glass of wine. “He tasted like merlot when he kissed me.”

You paused, understanding exactly what she meant when you looked at the glass in your hand, and then the bottle of her favorite pinot noir that was sitting on the table.

“There’s charges on our account,” she continued quietly, almost curling in on herself with the information she was revealing, and you could feel your rage rising with each shaky breath she took as she told you all this. “Jewelry—silver, I think.”

One glance towards the gold ring on her finger, and you stiffened, trying to keep yourself under control at the revelations.

“Two timing son of a bitch,” you whispered angrily under your breath, setting your glass back down on the table in a way that caused the wine to slosh around inside. “Leave him.”

Este looked up with a sigh, saying your name quietly, and you said more firmly, “Leave him right now.”

“I’m not you,” she snapped, and your eyes widened, leaning back into your side of the booth as the words pierced your heart in the same moment Este realized how sharp her words were.

She sighed, leaning forward to place her face in her hands, shaking her head in a way that made her flowing blonde hair fall past her shoulders and catch the light of the Olive Garden that had been your meetup spot for these dinners for years.

“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean that,” she whispered, bright green eyes watering as she lowered her hands and looked up at you, and you brushed off the way the words had hurt more than you would ever let her know, because you knew she didn’t really mean it, and you didn’t want to upset her any further when she was already aching so deeply.

“So?” you asked quietly after a moment of tense silence, playing with the stem of your wine glass as you watched her set her shoulders back when you implored, “What are you going to do?”

Este took a deep breath, holding it in her lungs and letting it fill her with confidence before she exhaled the words, “I think I’m gonna call him out.”

And that was how you knew her fate.

Because you knew her husband, you knew his pride and his lack of real love for your best friend.

You knew that when you showed up at Tuesday night dinner, and your usual booth was empty, without her showing up the entire night even as you sat there waiting with her favorite bottle of pinot noir—she had called him out, and he had done something about it.

It was the third week in a row now without her sitting across from you in that booth, time spent with you staring at the empty space, glass of pinot noir untouched beside you as you ripped yourself out of your depression to look down at the small notebook in your hands.

Those pages were filled with every detail you could remember of Este’s life, words crossed out and underlined, some even highlighted or emphasized in ways only you could decipher if they seemed especially important.

You had always had an analytical mind, a path that had led you to pursuing psychology in college. But then you had chased a picket fence dream instead, and now you didn’t have either a husband or a career, spending your days running your little cafe on a street corner, where you were lucky if you had even five customers a day.

The end of the pen was placed against your lips, rolling it there as you tried to recall any further details, when a voice caught your attention.

It was deep, masculine, but there was an underlying softness to it that brought your head up from your little notebook, eyes meeting the dark brown you had only seen once in person.

The other times you had seen those eyes were on a screen, collecting all the information you could about the detective in charge of the case of your best friend’s disappearance online before you showed up at his workplace to try and convince him of your theory.

Every pixelated image you studied could not have prepared you for the depth of that gaze, how wide and calming those brown eyes were when they had fixed on you from across his desk as he listened to you unravel your suspicions—and now, looking down at you next to your table, peering kindly at you through wide-rimmed glasses you hadn’t even seen online.

“Detective,” you finally found your voice, straightening subconsciously as you glanced over him, noting the same white button-up he had worn in his office, paired with another tacky striped tie, but this time with a long brown trench coat to complete the look.

How wonderfully cliche, you think with a small smile at his fashion choice, one you quickly bit back as you glanced back up into his curious face.

It was still as kind as when you had met him, but there was something else to them. A keen observation as he glanced from you, to the empty seat across from you, the untouched wine next to your little notebook, and back to your face again.

This too was something you had noted about Detective Tim Rockford from the first moment you had stepped into his office—he was a smart man, and you weren’t sure yet if that was going to help your case, or harm it.

“What are you doing here, Detective?” you asked with a tilt of your head, your hand coming up to gently close your notebook and slowly pull it closer to yourself in a way you hoped would escape his attention.

It didn’t.

In fact, his gaze seemed to hone in on the movements of your hands, focusing on your fingers as they tapped against the cover of the small notebook, and you tried to ignore the way the attention sent a shiver of something you really shouldn’t feel for this man through you.

“Dinner,” he replied simply once he pulled his gaze back up to your face, a half-smile stretching across his face.

The smile was easy, carefree almost, but there was still a hint of that cleverness to his dark eyes, and you found an eyebrow arching as you replied slowly, “Right.”

Your head tilts down, turning your wrist so you could glance over the ticking hands of your simple watch, your mind going back to the mess that had been the detective’s office as you remembered the piles of takeout containers on his desk.

The gears in your mind were turning as you looked at the face of your watch for another moment before glancing back up at him, seeing there was something else in his gaze now. A studious way he was observing you, and for some reason it sent a thrill through you, as well as stoking a need to challenge this intellectual who had found his way to your table tonight.

“A detective who lives on ordering food went to a town over from his for a bite to eat,” you found your lips moving as the challenging words fell from them, watching with satisfaction as his eyes widened a fraction before you glanced down at your watch again, “at the exact day and time his witness mentioned getting dinner with a missing woman?”

Your head lifts, a larger smile than before curling onto your lips, and you couldn’t hide it this time, nor did you want to as his eyes flickered down to it, his own lips parting slightly before curving into that same half-smile he had given you before, though there was something distinctly more mischievous to it this time.

“Ah, well,” Detective Rockford cleared his throat, reaching a large hand up to rub across the patchy beard on his chin, and you watched the way his fingertips brushed the scruff, shocked by the way your thighs squeezed together subconsciously at the sight, “Seems I’ve already been had. This is embarrassing.”

He glanced back towards you, still a kindness to his eyes as he chuckled quietly, and you let out a soft laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit in your own embarrassment as you realized your body had been attracted to him for a moment.

“I promise, I didn’t come here to spy,” the detective said as he raised his hands in a gesture of peace, but your eyes were drawn to the lines on his palm, how thick and long his fingers were, and suddenly you knew that you weren’t attracted to him for just one moment.

“No?” you found your voice replying anyway, eyebrow lifting as you forced your gaze back up to his face when he lowered his hands back to his sides. “So I’m not your prime suspect that you’ve come to do a stakeout on, then?”

Detective Rockford laughed again, glancing away from you as his smile grew, and you weren’t sure if the avoidance of your gaze was because you were right or wrong.

“I’ve actually been there,” he said as he turned to point at a booth behind him, one that was down a ways from you, but leaving a perfect view of not only your table, but the rest of the restaurant. “For about half an hour. And, uh, yes, it was a bit of a stakeout, I suppose.”

He winced at the admission, lifting one of his hands to rest in the other, rubbing his thumb along his palm and you swallowed thickly, reaching out for the glass of wine you had avoided sipping from all night that you suddenly felt like you needed as the detective sheepishly met your gaze and murmured, “Sorry. Occupational hazard.”

You shrugged, taking a long sip from the wine that you almost choked on as you could almost feel the way his gaze intensified on you when you swallowed it thickly, but you managed to force the drink down, and when you looked back he was looking away again, glancing over the nearly empty restaurant.

“So why come over here now?” you asked, stroking your fingers up and down the stem of your wine glass subconsciously, breath hitching at a rush of desire when his eyes followed the slow movement.

You blamed your next course of action off being a fucking lightweight, the small sip of alcohol going right to your head and empty stomach as you pulled your hands together, wrists up and offered towards him as you asked slyly, “Come to take me away, Detective?”

A laugh punched out of his chest with a heavy breath, and Detective Rockford leaned back with a startled wide-eyed gaze at your teasing, though there was a wide smile on his face and a spark in his eyes as he stared down at the soft skin you were displaying for him before he shook his head quickly.

“No, of course not, ma’am,” he assured, and you noted the faintest hint of pink coloring his cheeks, the sight making you bite your lip as that desire you should really feel ashamed of having for him right now only heightened. “Sorry, it’s just—”

The Detective bounced back on his heels for a moment, a sign of nervous energy that he quickly composed himself from, straightening up as he gestured towards your table.

“Couldn’t help but notice you haven’t eaten anything,” he admitted in a quieter tone, and you paused, your good mood fading to a pensive sorrow you had been spending most your days in lately. 

For a moment, you simply stared at the empty booth across from you, remembering the smiles, laughter and bright green eyes that used to cheer you up every single Tuesday night, before shifting beside you brought your attention back to the present.

“Well, I’ll—”

“Would you like to join me?”

You shouldn’t have asked.

You knew as soon as the question left your lips, you shouldn’t have asked it.

Maybe Detective Rockford knew it too, based on the surprise on his weathered face when he glanced back at you, the way his lips parted to answer even as he hesitated with whatever he was going to say.

It was loneliness that had made you extend the invitation, and loneliness you would surely return to when he said—

“Yes.”

And that was how you found yourself in the indescribably bizarre situation of eating dinner with the detective in charge of the case of your best friend’s disappearance.

“Murder,” you corrected as you swirled the spaghetti noodles around your fork, bringing them to your lips as Detective Rockford shook his head.

“I can’t discuss case details with you,” he said for what might have been the third time that night, and you sighed, nodding a confirmation even as you both knew you would try again eventually.

It reminded you of the first time you met in his office, how you had tried to lay out a strong case for him, watching as he took notes on what you were saying while also fending off any subtle prying from you on the details of the case.

“Do you have any evidence for your claims?” he had asked back then after you had repeated yourself with absolute conviction in saying that you thought your best friend’s husband had killed her.

“Isn’t that your job?” you had asked right back, arching an eyebrow after he raised his, stubborn intellect from both sides of the desk as you tacked on to make a point in the guise of being respectful, “Detective?”

There was a shift in him then as he regarded you, a way he was looking at you again now as you poked at him for any revelations you could get.

“We’re doing what we can, Ms.…”

The detective trailed off then, fork pausing halfway to his mouth, a piece of pasta falling from it back to his plate as his gaze suddenly shot towards your hands.

“Mrs.,” he corrected himself, and you froze, stomach turning to lead as you followed his line of sight to where you were holding your wine glass, unassuming ring on full display, small diamond sparkling in the warm glow of the cheap lights in the chain restaurant. “Sorry. I didn’t think to ask if you were married. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

Detective Rockford broke off then, and you found yourself leaning forward slightly, curious as to what he shouldn’t have assumed, but he didn’t finish that line of thought as he set his fork back down, eyes downcast away from yours now.

“Divorced, actually,” you forced the words from your mouth, wincing even as they were the truth. But the way the detective’s eyes snapped back up to yours so quickly made you feel a bit less self-conscious as you shrugged, shifting your hand to wiggle your fingers, showing off the ring more as you clarified, “The ring’s just a force of habit. And it tends to scare away most of the unwanted men.”

He chuckled a little then, shaking his head to himself as he rested an elbow on the table, placing his forehead in the palm of his hand with a mumbled, “Most of them. Not all, huh?”

Embarrassment surged through you then as you shot up in your seat, eyes wide as they tried to catch his and you stumbled over an explanation, “I mean—Detective, I wasn’t—”

Your heart was pounding, worried he had thought you were alluding to him, and not sure why you wanted him to know you weren’t.

But then his face lifted, hand curling into a fist to rest his cheek against, a slow smile curling onto his lips that looked so cunning, so knowing and fuck, there was that desire again, burning with something else, a feeling more dangerous at the softness to his big brown eyes.

Neither of you said anything else at that point, turning back to your meals to finish them in silence, even as you wondered if his heart was racing as quickly as yours every time your eyes met by accident and lingered on purpose.

“Thank you, Detective,” you said quietly once you both stepped out into the cool night air, pulling your cardigan tighter around yourself and giving him a small smile as he rifled through the pocket of his coat. “You didn’t have to pay.”

“I know,” he replied with another small smile, still knowing in a way you couldn’t put your finger on, and your pleasantly full stomach flipped as he pulled out a box of cigarettes.

He offered them silently, and you gave your own tiny smile, biting your lip again to try and hold it back even as you nodded.

The two of you moved around the side of the building, finding yourselves cast into darkness in the alley between restaurants that were in the process of closing down for the night, an atmosphere that was only broken when a flame came to life at the beckoning of his thumb on a lighter.

You watched with parted lips as his brow furrowed in concentration over those dark eyes that looked almost black behind the flickering flame, lighting the cigarette perched between his own lips before those very eyes you were admiring so openly flashed up to meet yours.

Breath catching in your throat, you felt a heat grow between your thighs as he watched you watch him for just a split second before the flame disappeared, the lighter slipping back into his pocket.

That heat began to pulse in time to your heartbeat as you heard the slow inhale of the smoke from where he stood so close now, smelling the tempting nicotine as he blew it out slightly to the side so it didn’t quite hit your face, but was close enough to tempt you before he held the cigarette out to you in offering.

Your heartbeat was pounding now, in more places than one as his other hand reached out to your side, finding yours to gently wrap his rough fingers around your soft ones, lifting your hand to wrap it around the cigarette carefully, guiding you so you wouldn’t burn yourself as you took it from him.

When your lips wrapped around the end of cigarette, you could almost fucking moan, tasting the lingering tang of the wine you had shared with him and the savory hints of the pasta you had watched him eat across the table from you.

This was bad, you realized suddenly.

This was so, so bad.

So bad because you wanted to fuck this workaholic detective, ride his cock until you both forgot about the disappearance that had taken over your lives, coming so hard with him and living in that bliss until you would eventually remember again.

Then you could do it all over again.

Your breath was trembling as you sucked in the cigarette smoke, holding it deep in your lungs to try and satisfy your lust with another vice before blowing it back out sharply by instinct.

A quiet moan that took you a split second to realize wasn’t yours told you that you had blown that smoke directly into the face of the man you had been fantasizing about, and your eyes flashed up to meet his, searching for his handsome face in the darkness that shrouded you both in this moment, giving you the allusion that nothing else existed except for this desire.

A desire you now suddenly realized you weren’t alone in feeling as your mind replayed that sound he had made just from the sensation of the smoke blowing from your mouth into his face, residue of nicotine caressing his lips in a way you wished you could—with your own mouth, your fingers, your pussy, anything.

Fuck, maybe you had too much to drink tonight.

But you hadn’t even finished the bottle together, and both of you had eaten your entire meals, but that didn’t stop Detective Rockford from leaning closer now, your head tilting up as you subconsciously shifted backwards until the wall of the restaurant hit your back.

“Detective…” you whispered, eyes half-lidded as he hummed, only able to see his head shaking in the darkness, and not the exact expression on his face even as it leaned closer to yours.

“Tim,” he murmured, and your lips parted after you pulled the cigarette out from between them, gently blowing another stream of smoke right up into his face and revering in the shuddering breath that left him as you passed the cigarette back to him. “Just Tim.”

Now it was your turn to hum, considering the offer to make things considerably more personal between you, a large step in a very dangerous direction that you were getting the distinct feeling would quickly snowball if you called him by his first name alone.

“I get the feeling you won’t be going home tonight if I did call you that,” you whispered, mouth opening to inhale the smoke he blew down towards your lips, aching to feel his own lips there instead of just the nicotine he was breathing or the taste of his tongue on the cigarette you were sharing. “Detective.”

The ache between your legs was hot and throbbing, almost unbearable now as you both stayed like that, breathing in the smoke from the same cigarette that was close to burnt out, and you knew that if he stubbed it and walked away, you were having a very long session with your vibrator tonight.

And you were right.

That intense desire that had crept up out of nowhere lingered, haunting you with its heat when the detective managed to pull himself away from you, tossing the stub of a cigarette to the pavement and crushing it under the heel of his polished dress shoes.

Neither of you acknowledged anything that had happened as you followed him out of the alley, a rush of the night breeze running past your face. You inhaled it deeply, trying to rid your lungs of the heady cigarette smoke that had mixed with the taste of him you were aching to experience first-hand, even as he backed away from you towards his little old brown car sitting a couple spots over from your small steel colored one.

“Good night, Detective,” you offered as you pulled your door open, daring a glance back over your shoulder to see him standing with one hand on his own door, still closed as he watched you about to get into your car.

“Ma’am,” he greeted cordially, although the look in his eyes you could now see more clearly in the moonlight was anything but respectful.

It was an image you clung to desperately that night, eyes squeezed shut as you replayed that quiet moan of his over and over as you rocked your hips up against the vibrator stimulating your clit and sending delicious waves of pleasure through you, pulling as many orgasms from your body as you could as you imagined how those full lips would feel on your pussy instead.

Little did you know that in the next town over, that very man was picturing you in much the same way, fucking up into his hand as thoughts of you plagued his mind. Images of you biting your lip and those intelligent eyes peering up at him invaded his thoughts every time he twisted his wrist, picturing how you would look on your knees between his thighs, whimpering when the thought of you sucking him off with that coy mouth made him cum all over his own fingers.

“So fucking unprofessional,” Tim groaned to himself after he cleaned up his mess, glaring at his face in the mirror as he shook his head and said firmly to his reflection, “Stay away from her. She’s a goddamn witness. Stay. Away.”

There was no way for the detective to know that when his case didn’t go anywhere, you were going to become much, much more.

taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @cupofjoel @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi

[toxicanonymity]

Rock Bottom, Part 3: You don't wanna do that

4k l Corey x Reader is primary but both smut scenes involve something to do with Michael

Summary: Cleaning up Michael's mess leads to Corey staying over with the female deputy and possibly risking it all.

Rock Bottom Index - All Chapters

Warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, NSFW, 18+ , IT'S DEPRAVED! Dubious consent; Violence (aftermath)

Notes: The first smut scene is on the nastier side for sure, but it kind of wrote itself. If you like the fic, you can reblog here or interact on AO3 (don't have to log in) to keep this story a priority. Thank you for reading!

Michael is larger-than-life, and the rumors about him are dark: Violent, incestual obsession.  Cannibalism.  Any of it could be true and shock no one.  But somehow, Corey is surprised that Michael Audrey Myers absolutely railed someone in front of him.  The way he fucked her was human.  His strength was reptilian.  Maybe it’s the fact that Michael left her alive - left them both alive. 

Corey doesn’t bother trying to catch up with Michael.  He stays on the ground, his temple resting against the window, his breath fogging the glass.  Exhausted.  There’s a dead guy in there. He wonders if the female deputy Michael fucked will call it into the Sheriff's Office.

Inside the house, she stirs on the floor. Her eyes meet the window and she does a double-take. She doesn't look scared this time - he's not wearing a mask.   She holds Corey’s gaze, then pulls her unbuttoned shirt together, crosses her arms, and shrugs: what are you looking at?   Something tells him she isn’t going to call for help.

Corey can't pass up the opportunity to take it all in.   He walks around the side of the house and enters through the carport. He's heard about these scenes on the news like everyone else, but seeing it right in front of him is something different entirely. 

The house smells like cigarettes with notes of metal and balsamic. The smoke from the smashed TV has settled into a light haze. Flies buzz in the kitchen.   There's a dark, set-in stain on the linoleum from some other time - their struggle the night before?

The body is face down on the carpet, sparing them a grisly view of his sliced-open neck, but a significant pool of blood has spread around him, its edges continuing to creep. A few flies have migrated this way, but they’re not swarming yet.

“You’re different," she croaks. Her hair is wild. 

“I’m not Michael,” he announces.  He cautiously approaches the hall and leans against the wall opposite her.  

“No shit,” she says, sizing him up.  “No offense.  No, I meant I remember you, Cunningham."

"Yeah?"  

"You’re like him now.  What happened to you?”  She wheezes.  No man-eater vibe at the moment – she seems utterly spent. "Looks like life was rougher on the outside ."  Corey had barely spent any time in jail, and it was years ago. But aside from being penetrated by evil, he had really thrown himself into lifting weights since the accident.  He was already built, but now his frame was bordering on hulkish for his height. 

"Why aren't you calling the cops?" Corey demands before he'll say anything else.  His voice is deep and gravely.  

 "I could ask you the same thing.” 

“Fair enough.”  Corey pushes his butt into the hall wall and imagines what it must have felt like for her, pinned by Michael's shaft.  He gently scoots the fallen picture frame aside with his boot.  It's an old family portrait. He looks up at the other frames. Some are too faded to make out.  The ones that have held up look nothing like anyone he's seen in the house so far.  He slides down the wall and takes a seat, leaving one knee up.

She nods toward the dead body in the living room and says, “This genius was out of the slammer for two days and couldn’t keep his nose clean.”  This was not the answer Corey expected. Whether the guy deserved it or not, she was sitting in a crime scene. Most people would be freaking out. He wondered if she was afraid or in shock.  

"Aren’t you hurt though?" He prods, secretly hoping she'll go into details about what it feels like being impaled by Michael's rod.  

With a far away stare, she starts to fasten the buttons that remain on her shirt.  

“Why did he let you live?” Corey asks.  

“Why do you think?” she says. She lifts her butt off the ground and Corey catches a glimpse of two shiny inner thighs and a pink seam between them as she tugs her skirt back into place.  

“I mean – was that – did you let him?” 

She sighs.  "He can't help it.”

“What does that mean?” 

She scoffs.  “God, I mean."  She searches for words.  Corey waits, knowing she doesn't owe him an answer.  She shakes her head.  "It means you should see the size of his cock."  He’s speechless.  Something stirs in his jumpsuit. He looks at her skirt, then away.  His face is hot.

“You want to, don’t you?” For the first time, she smiles a little.     

Corey turns red and almost starts to protest, then realizes there’s no air of judgment in her words. She might even have meant he wants to fuck her, which he does.  He wants to insert himself into the scene, the experience.  He wants to be everywhere Michael was.  He wants the sheath of Michael's sword around his own.   

"Why did he let you live? I’m sure you’re not the first kid to start following him around.”  She yawns.  

“Really?”  Corey asks.  

She starts to stand, wincing in pain.  “Help me clean up this mess and I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know.” 

 “It’s a crime scene.  You’re really not gonna call it in?” Corey wants to be sure before he gets his fingerprints all over everything.  

“Really.  The bleach is in there.”  She points behind her to the pantry. 

Corey sighs and opens the pantry.  Duct tape, rope, lye, gloves, salt, tarps.  “No bleach.” 

“Damnit.” She grabs a pair of keys off the wall, and tosses them underhand. “Ben’s Hardware. They don’t ask any questions.”  

Corey glances at the floor to avoid stepping on the picture frame, and he sees her tattered underwear lying there.  Michael’s trail of destruction.  His cock thickens, thinking about Michael fucking her. He looks up at her, and his eyes darken..  

She returns his gaze and approaches slowly, step by step, until her body is against his. His breath quickens.   When Corey looks at her, he sees another survivor.  A chosen one.  Someone who knows what it’s like to have Michael’s hand around their throat then walk away. Changed. 

Corey swallows and doesn’t move.  He realizes out loud, "that wasn't the first time." 

"No."  She backs up against the pantry door, closing it with her ass as she grabs his jumpsuit with both hands, pulling him against her.  His hand goes to her neck as hers explore his muscles.  Her neck is so delicate, so soft, it’s a wonder Michael didn’t snap it in half.  

***

Corey breathes heavily and pushes his clothed hardness against her skirt dutifully, needily. "How did you meet?" 

She hikes it up. "Smith's Grove. Pre-transfer surveillance."  She inhales through her nose then closes her eyes as she grinds herself into the bulge in his jumpsuit.  He forgets to breathe.  She curls one of her legs behind him, hugging his ass with her calf.  She nestles her heel below his crack to beg his hardness even closer.  His balls ache pleasantly.

Corey shudders, imagining her heel is Michael behind him.  Corey doesn’t know what it feels like  to be entered, invaded, forcefully taken.  He’s wanted to find out since the moment Michael grabbed his throat.  His arousal grows.  She brings her hands to Corey’s curls and caresses them affectionately before yanking his head downward. 

He resists, not wanting to give up the sensation of her body against his, then slowly begins crouching down, lowering his head first, leaving his butt against the door.  Corey wants to know every sensation she felt as Michael fucked her. He wants to absorb it transitively.  He lightly drags his fingertips over her skin.  

He breathes heavily into her chest.  She undoes the remains of her button-up shirt and shrugs it off.  His rough hands run over her supple skin.  It feels like a warm peach.  He palms her hard nipples as he slowly drops to his knees at her urging. 

She swings a knee over his shoulder and pulls his curly head in between her legs, pleadingly.  Corey takes her ass in his hands and starts with light, hesitant kisses above her seam.  He aches with want.  He tugs at the zipper of his jumpsuit.  It’s stuck.  

“Please,” he breathes, palming himself hard and slow with his wrist, like he’s trying to get a knot out of a muscle.    She enters herself with a finger, then brings her slickened digits to her hidden pearl. “Come on, Corey,” she breathes, giving herself a rub then putting her hand back at the crown of his head, making his curls sticky.  

Corey's eye is drawn to the sheen of a translucent river on her skin.  He runs his fingers over it.  It’s crusty at the edges.  Michael’s cum is just now drying.  Corey kisses the milky trail feverishly, tonguing it as he recalls Michael’s final thrusts, every muscle of that hulking back moving gracefully under blue fabric like a beautiful machine.    

With his face between her legs, Corey flares his nostrils and inhales until his chest can't physically hold any more air.  He can smell the tinge of Michael’s load.  He aggressively noses her most sensitive place as he breathes it in.  He plants a wet kiss on her petals, then on her pearl.   She breathes heavily and massages his scalp with her short nails as he begins to work his tongue. 

His large fingers dig into the flesh of her buttocks.  She bucks her hips with both hands in his curls.  She whines and her beautiful face contorts.  Corey’s hardness throbs, and pre-cum seeps from his cock head.  He's thirsty, parched, desperate for Michael’s seed. 

He brings his tongue to the moist little hole where Michael emptied himself.  He flattens his tongue and laps at her, at Michael, with all his strength.  Then his tongue sharpens and plunges inside her. Her breath accelerates. He keeps one hand on her ass and unzips his jumpsuit with the other, thrusting his tongue, lapping her entrance up and down. He savors every salty drop.  “Don’t stop,” she says, and he doesn’t until he’s desperate for his own release. 

He comes up for air, replacing his face with his hand.   He flattens several expansive digits against her.  They dwarf her folds.  He rubs her the way she rubbed herself.  Then, he plunges a thick, meaty finger into her and swirls it around, desperately raking her walls for more of Michael. 

He watches her breasts bounce as she bucks her hips against his large hand.  He feels her thighs quiver against his chest and shoulder. The air is cold against the slick on his face.

The sight and smell of froth on his hand shoots pleasure through his body.   He slickens his cock, then his mouth returns between her legs. Corey chokes his cock like Michael choked him.  He devours her, and him. He laps up any trace of Michael and swallows, dying to have Michael inside him by any means.  The seed of a god.  She pulls his hair and moans. Her voice is small.

Corey puts his hands on her hips and tries to gently nudge her downward, hoping she’ll ride him to climax, but she won’t.  He can’t blame her – she’s probably sore.  

He works her clit with his nose as he hungrily laps her entrance.  She gasps and moans and cries. She rolls her hips as she comes.  She contracts and pulsates.  Again,  again,  again.  He feels it through his nose and gives her special place one last kiss. She lets her head fall back and catches her breath.  

Corey tears his jumpsuit open. She dismounts his shoulder.  He pumps himself just a few times before he erupts all over himself, her legs, and the floor.   She holds his shiny chin in her hand and looks down at him apologetically. "Careful. He doesn't share,"  she says.  

"What?” Corey’s heart skips a beat.

"Um.  Just make sure we clean that up."  She pulls her skirt back into place, then urges Corey up by his hair.  “If you’re not back in an hour I’ll make the call.”  She lets him go with a shove, 

-

Corey goes to the hardware store, and it's true, no questions are asked.  It’s a new store, and there’s not another shopper in sight.  He finds the bleach at the back of the store and can’t help but notice the end of each aisle seems suspect.  The contents are similar to the pantry -  ropes and chains, tarps, duct tape.  There isn’t a murder aisle per se, but the way the store is organized sure is convenient. 

Back at the house, the lady deputy has showered and changed into ripped jeans and a white tank.  She’s sweeping up the glass from the busted TV.  The body is still face down on the carpet.  They roll the body onto a tarp in the kitchen while they clean the living room. 

Corey takes his jumpsuit off before opening the first of several gallons of bleach.  He doesn’t need Ronald asking any questions about a bleach-spotted uniform, especially since Joan still does Corey’s laundry.  The deputy puts the uniform in the wash while they clean up.  Now he's practically captive unless he wants to walk out of here soaking wet or half naked.

He's left with a tight blue undershirt and gray boxer briefs. His sleeves hug him tight as his biceps flex to scrub the floor.   Below his boxer briefs, his thighs fade from white to tan as they bulge with muscle, peppered with fine, chestnut hair.  He asks her questions as they scrub.   Is he a cannibal? Does he come here a lot? Does he live in the sewer? What was it like the first time? Does the kill turn him on? 

She pauses, sighs, then sits back on her knees. Corey does too.  She takes a ripped latex glove off and puts her bare, soft hand on Corey's face.  “Michael’s not gonna fuck you, baby,” she says. "He loves pussy." 

She pulls on a new glove and starts scrubbing again, letting him collect himself.  Corey's lips part, but he doesn’t respond.  Her words sting for a moment, but they shouldn't: She can't possibly know for sure that Michael only loves pussy.  

Corey may not look big compared to Michael, but no one does.  Corey is built and has a nice shape.  His shoulders are broad, his pecs are strong, and his solid torso narrows slightly before broadening again to his powerful thighs.   He catches her staring multiple times while they’re both on all fours scrubbing.  She’s not trying to hide it. Corey can’t help but watch her, too.  

Navy blotches of sweat consume the blue of Corey’s tee until he peels it off.  One side of his boxers looks rusty with diluted blood.  They strip the body and wrap it in a tarp and duct tape.  Corey dresses himself in the guy's clothes for a minute to haul the body to the bed of the truck in the carport.  The broken TV and lampshade follow.

When he comes back inside, he can't get the clothes off soon enough, even though his sweat is cold and the air is chilly.  Corey feels dirtier from wearing the dead guy's seedy, woman-beating clothes than he does from anything else.  He feels dirtier than he did in the sewer.  She seems to read his mind.  "There's water, but it's not hot." 

There's a bathroom attached to a bedroom with a full bed, low to the ground.  In the shower, the icy water shrinks him and grounds him.  With blood rushing back to his brain, he thinks more about the practical side of getting close to Michael. 

He still thinks bringing Michael his prey is the best bet.  She said he doesn't share.  Corey wonders if Michael trusts him not to do anything to her, or doesn't mind killing him if he does.  Hopefully sucking Michael's cum out of her didn't count.   Unless it gets Michael's hand around his throat again, on second thought.  

He turns off the water.  She pops in to hand him a towel.  He wraps it around his waist and exits into the bedroom.  There’s a small shelf with a TV and VCR.  The TV has an old-school antenna.  The shelf has a small VHS collection. 

Corey sits on the edge of the bed and goes through the tapes: Black Christmas, Scream, Hellraiser.  The Blair Witch Project is on the bed.  He picks it up from the mattress and lies back against the wall to read the cover.  He’s exhausted.  He never intended to stay this long.  It's inertia at this point.  And lack of clothes.

The doorbell rings, and Corey's heart goes to his throat. An adolescent voice asks, "Blair?" It's pizza. She ordered pizza with a dead body in the carport.   At least she used a fake name.  He looks at the VHS box and smiles.  He listens as she flirts with the pizza boy, then the door slams.  Corey shakes his head and laughs silently.  She sure knows how to entertain herself.  He's starving.   

She brings a meat-lovers pizza to the bedroom along with clean-ish clothes: a white tee and her own pajama pants.  The pants are small but stretchy and soft. The shirt is too tight and not stretchy, but he's too cold not to wear it.  His curls are still wet.  They eat on the bed and turn on the Blair Witch Project.  He should really get going soon, but when he thinks about Joan fussing over him, it's an easy decision to stay awhile longer.  

The small shirt exposes the bottom of his solid torso, and the PJs give him a prominent bulge, even soft. Corey feels exposed, but at the same time, the soft pants feel great as they hug his ass and cradle his junk. 

The two of them huddle under an old crocheted blanket.  They start off side by side, then she puts her leg over his, and her head in the crook of his strong arm.  A while later, he turns away from the movie to face her, with his head resting in one hand.  His other hand strokes her midriff, making her look small. "Do you think he'll kill me?"

"Your hands are cold," she responds.  She wraps her arms around herself.  "He hasn't killed you yet."  She sits up and takes off her jeans. 

"Do you want these back?" He looks down at his pants. 

"Nah, they look good on you. Just keep me warm." She smiles.  When she gets back in the blanket, she lies in front of him so they're both facing the TV.   She pulls the blanket tighter.   Her hair smells clean. She settles into his body.  He inhales her hair and relaxes.  His hand drifts into her panties, and he presses the hardness of his pants into her.  

"You don't wanna do that," she says.  

"But I do," he whispers huskily.  She sighs softly, but remains resolute.  He gives up on getting into her pants and wraps his arms around her tighter.  The curves of her body will keep arousing him, but he's already come twice today and taken a cold shower.  He'll survive.  

Corey hasn't thought about Allyson for hours until now.  He feels amazing with Allyson because it's the first time he let his guard down in so long.  Allyson is pretty, she's funny, and she seems to really like him.  But she's not on the same wavelength. He's not even sure she's living in the same dimension, or if there's a way to bring her over.    He feels understood by the deputy. With her, he feels close to Michael.  Michael doesn't share, he thinks .

He drifts off pretending Michael is a third spoon behind him.  

***

The VHS ends with a click and the TV turns to static.  There's no light from outside.  Corey dreams he's in Michael's lair.  Michael hugs him tight from behind, then puts him in a sleeper hold. Corey wakes up horny and gasping for air.  

His bedmate is roused by the gasping, grinds her ass into him, and sighs in her sleep as she settles again.  She must be cold.  Corey grinds into her and pre-cum begins to wet the pajama pants. The pants are so tight.  He reaches down and frees himself. The waistband under his ballsack urges him into her.  

He nestles his wood between her thighs in a warm nook that feels made for him.  It's so cozy. She grinds her ass back and he feels her folds moisten against his cock.  He gently slides against her, barely moving at first, back and forth with small  pulses.

He doesn't enter her, yet. He slides his cock along her seam until he passes her  clit and feels the cold air on the other end, then pulls back and does it again.   She grinds back more, and her relaxed hand sleepily comes down to his cockhead.  His cock is hastened by her slickness. 

He breathes heavily, fucking the sleeve formed by her thighs and seam.  The tunnel barely accommodates his girth. She moans in her sleep.  Her hand stays in front of her.  Her slick fingers graze the head of his cock every time he reaches the wall of her hand.  Soon her fingers are pressing back each time.  His eyelids grow heavy.

He thrusts gently again and again into her thigh gap.  The head of his cock hits her fingers and they press back harder this time.  They curl.  They nudge him in line with her entrance.  The next time he thrusts, he's sheathed by a much tighter, warmer, wetter sleeve. His breath hitches and his chest fills with butterflies.  

She moans softly, tilting her hips and pushing back with her ass.  He tries to stay still and briefly considers pulling out. Her ass pushes back again, then again, and again in a slow rhythm. She fucks herself on his cock.  

Corey tries not to move, but he can't resist.  He's already inside her.  He wraps his top arm around her for leverage, cups her breast, and thrusts his full length into her pussy, his girth spreading her folds.   He plunges into her deeper, his entire shaft engulfed by her warmth.  He presses his mouth to her hair and tries not to make a sound. Her hair smells like mint.  

He slides himself into her even harder.  She's so hot and wet.  It feels unbearably good.  Better than he's ever felt inside anyone.  He bites his lip, trying not to vocalize.  Her walls clench around him.  She moans and breathes, "Michael ." 

The sound of his name is too much.  Corey's balls tighten, his ass clenches, he gasps, and his cock erupts.   He repeats  "Michael," deep and soft, as his load pumps into her.  It’s a surprising amount of cum, given his recent relief.

He stays inside her, breathing, falling back asleep. He feels safe.  As he dozes off and shrinks out of her, she stirs.  Her hand comes to her seam and hits his cock.  She jolts awake and flips over. "Corey! What the fuck?" The fog clears from his head and a sense of shame and dread sets in. 

"You should really go, she says," as she gets up.  The backs of her thighs shine with their combined juices.  She pulls her jeans over her perfect ass but doesn't button them.  She stomps down the hall, fetches Corey's jumpsuit, and shoves it into his chest as he stands there, stunned. 

"I'm sorry, really - I thought you wa-"

"I want you alive, you idiot." 

"You do?" This shouldn't flatter him, but it does.  If he were her – that is, if Michael owned him - he can't imagine caring about anyone else.  

They stand in the hall and look at each other. Corey's heart is racing.  She softens her gaze, steps closer, and plays with a ringlet of his hair.  Her eyes are sad.  Corey breaks the silence, "How will he know?" He feels like he knows the answer -  Michael is an apex predator.  

"Following him around like a puppy isn't going to help.” Her face looks pained.  “Stay away from him, Corey."  He opens the front door.  Dawn is breaking.  She puts her hand on his to stop him.  She searches his eyes and seems to sense his plans.  “Hey, seriously.  Don’t do anything stupid.” 

He stops and turns around.  He presses his nose and lips into her hair and inhales, then tilts her chin upward.  He gives her a long, hard kiss, breathing in through his nose.  His lips release hers and she brings her hand to her mouth, her eyes darting around outside. 

He closes the door behind him, undeterred.

CONTINUE WITH CHAPTER 4

[evesaintyves]

989 words, for @remadoramicrofics prompt "haunted."

Read it below or on AO3 🎸

Tonks's old bedroom floor is a mess of rumpled t-shirts and her rattiest underpants. Five days since Remus took off his ring, knotted the strings on his traveling case, and told her he'd made a terrible error. All she's done is sleep. She dozed off on the macrame throw pillow and it left a crisscross red rash on her cheek, went downstairs before she noticed, and her Dad gasped, "Dora?" 

She just fled back upstairs without breakfast.

It's not even her throw pillow. Mum has snuck them in her old room sometime since she's been gone. Other things, too, an elegant white bowl to hold all the knuts and plastic hair clips and ticket stubs that were scattered across her chest of drawers. Mum's things, minimal and clean, make Tonks's stuff, the fairy lights and the thrashing band posters, seem like they're trying too hard. It's just like her last year at school, the stress-cracking of all the faultlines between who she is and who she is supposed to be. She was constantly reinventing herself back then—a new chin, a chelsea cut, a ring in her eyebrow. But she's not the only one in charge of her body anymore. It's making decisions without her.

And it's so shit to want Remus here to settle behind her on her squeaky old bed, tuck his bony knees into the parenthesis of her legs, stroke his skinny fingers up her arm and say, like he does, that he's sorry—but at the same time to want to scream at him so hard he vapourizes into a fine red mist.

In the afternoon, her mother does her two-tap no-time-to-pull-your-knickers-up knock and comes in with cups of tea.

"Your father tells me you've been looking ill."

"I'm not."

Andromeda sits on the side of the bed.

"You were a terrible pregnancy," she says. "I'd have sworn you were trying to fight me from the inside."

Tonks pulls her knees to her chest. "This one's a scrapper. I can tell already."

Andromeda smiles into her cup.

Tender moments have a way of making Tonks show her belly. Her mother doesn't say much, just sits and keeps her company, and before long Tonks is compelled to overshare. That she isn't even sure Remus ever really loved her, but maybe loved an idea of her that she led him on into believing while they were still just awkwardly clicking teeth in stolen moments at headquarters; an idea worn smooth and shiny by those months they were apart.

Almost as soon as she married him she was up the duff and puking, breaking out in spots faster than she could morph them away. Still having dreams that Sirius was just tilting on his heels—suspended in the moment he might have been saved—waking up choking. Remus seemed perturbed that she could spend hours staring at the telly, not watching, just trying to shush the noise in her head. It seems so stupid now, but she'd really thought that he, of all people, would understand.

"My mother used to tell me," Andromeda says, "that I'd better stop all my moping about, that men don't care for girls who brood. And that I'd never get married and out of her hair, acting that way."

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything. I made a plan and then I climbed out my window in the middle of the night. Your father picked me up in his old car and took me to his parents' flat—you know the story. Let me tell you, Nymphadora—" She pins Tonks with a look. "—how much brooding I did in his old bedroom. I was a wreck. The room smelt of some horrible potion he used on his model railway. The carpet crunched underfoot. And I was worried about what was going to happen to—to some of the people I left. I was crying every night. Waiting until your grandparents left for work in the morning to creep into the kitchen like a ghoul. I had..." She pulls her posture up straight. "Difficulty adjusting, at first."

Tonks's throat is getting tight, and tears are needling the rims of her eyes. It's not just that she's grabbed for that kind of love story and missed; it's also that her mother never talks to her like this—spilling the way Tonks sometimes does, talking fast, saying things she probably shouldn't. It makes the world feel all the more unfixably cracked.

"Dad—Was Dad...?" Tonks can't even finish, her voice is cracking and squeaking. She curls forward and hides her face in her mother's sleeve.

"He'd lie with me—and touch my hair. He used to tell me if I didn't eat I'd disappear and it was going to be very difficult to explain to the officiant why he had an invisible bride."

She says it gently, sadly, as if she knows what it'll do to Tonks, and she's right. It's full waterworks now, the type Tonks has always sworn she wasn't going to do over a bloke. It's coming out her eyes and nose, it's thick and salty in her mouth, it's getting all over her mum's silk blouse. She's going to hate that. Tonks flops back against her pillows, sniffling, wiping her face with her palms, automatically morphing the puffiness out of her eyelids.

Her mother turns to inspect the shiny web of snot Tonks has left on her sleeve. Her face gets that pinched, long-suffering look for just an instant. Then she takes Tonks's empty cup of tea and stacks it in her own, and tucks Tonks's feral bedhead back behind each ear with her cool fingers.

"Supper's at seven," she says. "Your father's trying out a lasagna."

She shuts the door behind her when she goes, and it's just Tonks and the frenzy of the rock bands on her walls: forever joyfully flailing, forever faithful to their own silent beat.

image: egon schiele, woman lying on her back

[hauntingkiki]

Heyo! Could I request a platonic Venture headcanon list where the reader is a conservation ecologist? Prefferably transmasc but gender-neutral is okay too.

Bonus: reader is a huge animal lover

Please and thank you!

omg yeah!!:D i’ve NEVER knew about conservation ecology until now so if i get anything wrong i apologize!!😓

i’m also kinda inspired by linda/tulio from rio😭

Platonic Venture x Conservation Ecology! Transmasc/GN! Reader

Overwatch

2nd POV

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

- the two of you met in a cave, venture exploring with the wayfinder’s while you were with your small research group, looking for new species and whatnot

- your group heard the drills and you immediately headed over to the sound, thinking that it was people coming to mess with the wildlife

- “hey! what are you guys doing here?!” you snapped, waving your arms around.

“what are WE doing here?!” a bigger, taller man laughed in disbelief, pointing a thumb at the group. “we’re working! what are YOU doing here?”

“i’m working too!”

- one of the workers pushed their way through the small group, drill in hand as their other hand lifted their googles off their eyes.

- you told them what you were doing work down by a water source further down, you’ve never seen someone run as fast as they did

- they THREW their drill, grabbed your hand and dragged you deeper into the cave until they found your site

- on the way to the site, they asked about your pins on your vest and asked about the trans flag one

- “oh, you’re transmasc?” they asked, pointing at your transmasc pin that was on your vest. they admired your other pins that were scattered around on your worn uniform.

“yeah?”

“that’s so cool! i’m still figuring stuff out, but i’ve been sticking with nonbinary for a few years now!”

silence.

“i’m sloan by the way!”

“i’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you!”

- the two of you got to the site and you told sloan about your work, and even showed them what you were working on!

- since the two of you would be seeing each other a lot, due to both of your work sites being in the same cave, so you two would hang out together

- since you and your group was leaving earlier than the wayfinder’s, you and sloan exchanged numbers so you two could hang out!

- it’s kind of hard for both of you to find time to hang out since you’re both working/out of town or even state/country

- but when you do both hang out, you two have a lot of fun:)

- if you two are in the same area for work, you two will meet up and talk! and if you both have time, you’ll go say hi to the other’s coworkers

- if you’re hanging out at your place, you have a lot of animal related stuff like posters, some pictures of the places you’ve been at and some maps

- bonus points if you have a pet, like a bird or sum :}

- ^ sloan is OBSESSED with your pet, doing everything in their power to hold or even play with your pet

- but if you hang out at their place, there’s a lot of rocks, paintings of old buildings like the pyramids and rome, they also have some pictures of places they’ve been and a lot of work related stuff

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

i hope you enjoyed! apologizes if it’s all over the place😓

[tigereyes45]

TIGER !!! I AM HERE TO ASK FOR SULU FIC !!!!! DID YOU KNOW I LOVE SULU !!!!!

Haha was all the sulu content I wrote for trektober not enough? (I'm being sarcastic of course.) I hope you enjoy Nala!

Summary:

Five-year-old Demora falls asleep after having a lot of fun, leaving her father to pick up the mess.

Story:

Being a father is a lot different than what Sulu expected. In a way it’s more vast. He has always been the kind of man whose hobbies were varied. His interest, and attention, often wanders. Botany, astrosciences, piloting, even his career has been as varied as his spent personal time.

He didn’t expect the object of Demora’s attention to change so often. Perhaps he should have. Not considering the possibility was his first mistake. Doing his best to give into every one of her whims may have been the second. May have. He still wasn’t quite sure that Chekov was right about that.

Even now as he’s peeling paintings apart.

Her room was disastrous. Silly putty was stuck to the wall, with bits of gemstones sitting inside of it. The paper mache of Deep Space Station 2 they had started together last week, was half painted, with three new layers on it. None of which were accurate to the photos they had been modeling it off of. There are also a pair of vulcan ears on it now. Ear that were made of the clay he had gotten her months ago.

In retrospect maybe his only mistake was not locking up all of her messier toys.

He just hadn’t considered it. Demora had always just asked him for them before. She’d never got into the arts and crafts shelf alone.

Well, she couldn’t reach it before.

Sulu considers waking Demora up. This is her mess, after all, she should have a helping hand in cleaning it. She’s asleep on her back, splayed out over a dozen individual pieces of paper. Chalk lies open by her feet, and her little hand is still curled around the black marker he’s going to be wiping off the walls for a long while.

She’s comfortable. Darn his weakness he doesn’t want to ruin that. Not until he has too.

So Sulu does his best to clean the mess as quietly as possible. The paintings that could recover, are laid out on top of a towel over their table. They can frame them, or simply pin them up once they’re dry. So long as she wants to. Though even if she wants to throw them all away, Sulu plans to keep the red and purple piece he had to pry a particularly sticky blue one off of.

After two hours, her room is finally clean again. Well, save for the pile of papers she’s sleeping on top of like a dragon on its hoard. He lifts her carefully. Demora’s head bobs the way he imagines all fast-sleep five-year-olds do. Sulu smiles. He crouches down, setting her back against the wall. Frayed, uneven crayon lines on the wall seemingly sprout out from behind her head. Sulu pauses, appreciating the silly sight. Lines reach high towards the sky, taking off for star stickers. Well as high as she could set them.

Sulu pulls out a change of clothes. Thankfully aside from a few stains on her overalls, and bits of clay under her fingers, she’s not so messy that he’ll have to wake her up for a nap. Sulu changes her. Once that was done he lifts her up, cradling her neck this time. He leans Demora against his chest and carries her to bed.

Her body curls instantly as her back hits the mattress. She rolls onto her side and reaches out for the blanket. Sulu pulls it up and gently tucks it over her shoulder and under her chin. Demora relaxes instantly, her fingers tightening around the corner of her pillow instead.

He pulls back. A part of him wants to run a hand along her head or rub her back. Sulu has long since learned better. She wakes too easily. Once her eyes are open she’s taking off. So he crosses his arms over his legs. Best to let her sleep.

Whatever she decides to be, she’s going to be great at it.

[starlitaritican]

Sheezy.Art

Sheezy opens today for 250 new members for their beta at 2 PM EST along with a stream :3c and I think if things go well they plan to have more openings every friday??

https://sheezy.blog/registrations-open-tomorrow

https://github.com/Sheezy-Art/sheezy-hub/wiki

The past week has been nothing but lovely since coming back and I'm so excited to meet more people 💕its like a beautiful blend of old DA, tumblr side blogs, TH's pretty customizable pages, and bluesky's custom feeds. They're against AI and NFTs too. Obviously its still in beta so there will be bugs that need to be worked out, but so far everything seems incredible

currently there's a limit of being able to post 5 images every 24 hours, but honestly?? that's been amazing so people don't flood each other out too much trying to catch back up. lets you easily space out your uploads and find others easily

I really hope it continues to thrive and everything goes well. Its been so long since I've really had a place where I felt like I fit. I hated twitter with a passion and struggled to get into tumblr since I'm not really someone who reblogs funny stuff since that's not what I'm here for. The only way to really get noticed is to hope and pray someone more popular reblogs your stuff which :'D. I still absolutely love toyhou.se and have been enjoying bluesky so far, but they aren't exactly meant to be art gallery sites and have that kind of community.

also if u do decide to join I highly recommend TweakSheezy its super nice for tweaks you might wanna make :D

screenshot of my profile layout to give an idea of what pages can look like...mines a bit of a mess rn and I need to mess around with HTML more but LMAO also you get a little pagedoll :3

the browsing area. I have my maturity level set to general, but there's ones for mature and explicit. You can choose to have mature content blurred as well even if you have it switched on

you can have little custom pixel icons by your username that stay with it where ever u post :3

you can also make silly little pin boards of things ur interested in, art you've gotten, or just random memes if you wanted to its so funny how I've been seeing people use them

I turned mine into a shrimp tank that people can draw a shrimp to put them in the tank, and it leads you to their profile when you click them (bc yes you can link credits to the images!!!)