#not giving too much attention to this one as it's just a preamble

[mintmatcha]

i second that other ask more of that sero x reader I beg

cw: depression, mentions of unhealthy weight loss

Kirishima hasn't seen you for days. When he knocks on your door, he can hear you moving around inside, but you never answer. The meals his mother makes sit on your welcome mat until they start to rot and he's forced to bring them back inside.

He knows it's because of Sero. He just doesn't know what to do about it.

It's one night that he manages to trap you by the apartment's garbage bin. You're carrying a box that's overfilled with things, wearing sweatpants and a dreadfully oversized top.

"Hey!" He tries to keep his voice friendly, unconcerned. "I've missed you!"

The roundness of your face is puffy and ruddy from crying. You shrug, eyes cast low. Your frame is thinner, but in a way that looks gaunt and unhealthy.

"Been busy."

"My mom wants you to come over for dinner soon," he tries. "She said she'll made whatever you want-- hey, are you throwing out your anime stuff?"

The box in your arms is stuffed with plastic pieces and ripped scraps of paper, most brightly colored, some back and white. It's the unmistakable hues of anime merch, carelessly jammed into a box and purposefully ruined.

"Yeah." With no preamble, you hoist the box into the garbage and let it fall with a thud. "I don't want it anymore."

Something doesn't feel right in his chest. It's raw, like an exposed nerve, begging for attention.

"What?" he tries to laugh. "That's crazy. Your apartment's gonna be so empty."

You don't react to that. All you do is scuff your slipper against the concrete, back and forth, as if you're just waiting for this to be over. You'd never been a social person, but this feels different. It's like you're not there anymore, gone behind the eyes.

"I'm sorry. About Sero being an asshole." Kirishima blurts out. "He shouldn't have-"

"Don't, Kirishima." You've never called him by his family name before. "It's my own fault."

You dip around him and his trash bag to go back inside, no goodbye, no eye contact. Just like that, you're gone, and he's left standing there, under the fluorescent street lamp with his quaking, horrible sickness brewing inside him.

It rocks in his stomach all night, so badly that he can't eat breakfast. By lunch, he's starving, but Sero has sat himself on Momo's desk and the memory of how dad you looked makes bile bite the back of his throat.

"You okay, buddy?" Fatgum asks that night during his internship work. Tamaki watches silently, but with an equally concerned look. Kirishima thinks that you two would have gotten along-- and that thought nearly makes him throw up. "You haven't eaten anything."

For once, Kirishima is aware of how young sixteen really is, how helpless youth can leave him. He's just a kid and he's dealing with too much.

"I think there's something wrong with my friend."

The next few weeks go quickly. One day, you're there. The next, the apartment is up for rent. Both Fatgum and his mom reassure him that you're okay, just back home with your parents for the time being. He asks if he can visit, and his mom just gives him that look she always does.

"Oh, Eijiro." his mother cups his cheek. "You're a sweet boy."

The next day, Sero is talking to some girl in class B. Kirishima'a stomach still goes sour.

[tinycozycomfort]

made by hand

pairing: contractor!joel miller x housewife f!reader

day five of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: bondage -> read her day five here

summary: He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, bondage, unprotected piv, joel's pov, age gap (joel is 40s, reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, joel is mushy, fixation, pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc), infidelity (reader is married)

word count: 1.5k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: in the same universe as this one-shot but set far enough after to be readable w/out it!

main masterlist

Joel doesn’t know what he did to be able to have you like this—to be able to steal this time from you—when you have so much else.

Even worse, you’re a dream. Soft and gorgeous and strung up for him, belly flush to the mattress with your wrists laid over the knobs of your spine, gathered in a twist of baby blue. 

He sits against the backs of your thighs, his own bracketing the swell of your hips, cock bobbing in a sticky pool over the smooth surface of your inner leg. You suck in a breath and punch out a whine each time you can feel the firmness of him, grazing over every slice of skin except where he knows you want him most. 

He peers down, runs a hand across the link of your wrists, smiling when he sees the way you’ve tucked two fingers into the hollow of your palm—holding your own hand—like you have to discipline yourself one extra degree.

After taking his mouth and his fingers for as long as he’d pleased without too much push-back, your efforts don’t go unnoticed, “Go on and ask me what you want to ask me, sweetheart. Think you’ve earned that much.” 

“Can you touch me?” He can see you tug against where you’re bonded, an extension of your plea.

Joel thinks it’s a sad thing, the made-by-hand contraption he’s used to restrain you—a wide loop of tall ribbon sewn through the center to leave a pair of loose cuffs. He’d originally crafted it because he wanted to give you something pretty—a gift that wouldn’t cause concern or raise any unwanted attention, perfectly mundane when stowed in the safety of your sock drawer. It was the first for-you-from-him that went beyond his body, something he selfishly hoped could also serve as a memento should he ever become just the past.

It took him one weekend to make and two months to bring to you, driving up that long stretch of unfinished pavement and pulling it out of his pocket, red-cheeked and anxious. The seams are jagged where he spent hours sealing them shut, barreling over each other in a weave to keep the integrity, the deep color of the thread more than a few shades off—steel against pastel. He had tried to hide the imperfections, smooth side up in his hand as he muttered some lame preamble about something nicer than using the underwear, sometimes. He remembers the face you made at him when you unwound his hold, no huff of laughter at his break in character like he thought, telling him you loved it. 

It’s the only thing you use now.

“‘M already all over you; already put so much of me on you, in you. What do you mean, baby? Be more specific.” 

“I need you—need it inside.”

He tugs on the center strip—the binding—rolling a finger over the lip to tighten the slack that allows the accessory to be slip-on. That feature, other than making the contraption reusable, alleviated the issue of markings; his stomach sinks when he’s reminded evidence is even a factor.

He bends down, initially careful to keep his cock at surface level when he hovers over you, the bristle of his beard behind your ear making him sigh, that spark of possessiveness bringing something hungrier, “Say it again.”

“Can you please put–”

“Don’t be smart. You know what I want to hear; say it again.”

Tipping forward on his knees, he lets the length of him run down the crest of your ass, passing through where he can feel your heartbeat, shining folds of flesh that beg to be parted—ever the fool who can’t deny you much for long.

“I need you.” 

His chest constricts, heart dimpling underneath where you’re always holding it in your clutch; just the weight of your desire for him is enough to pull his body down through the ground, to the other side of the earth. He needs you, too, so desperately. Naively, in moments like this, with declarations like that, he sees success in all of this—sees keeping you.

Joel leans back, thumb sliding against the stripe of wet at your cunt, peeling back the seam to get a better look at the hole he wants so horribly to fill. His cock aches, heavy and hot and ready to take. 

He wishes he could savor it—tries to every time—but he never knows how long this will last. How long it will be before you attend the couples counseling sessions your husband asks of you. How long before you decide that a house and kids and the life he can’t provide for you might actually be enough. How long it’ll be before you just tire of him. So he’s greedy, takes everything you feed him straight to the stomach; he doesn’t have the patience to chew, in fear of not being able to finish. 

He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself. 

And he does—uses that exploring hand to guide the head of his cock to the slip of warmth you so meanly demand him to enter, so sweetly beg him to stay in.

“Again.”

He rolls his other wrist to gather up more of that silk, dragging the mess of limbs higher up your back, both for leverage and to remind you he’s strong—worth that, too.

When he slides himself in, he can feel the squeeze run through to the very tips of his toes, the points of his ears—boiling, syrupy heat that forces his body to lock up, terrified to fall over and take his last breath as a result.

“I’ll give you as much of this cock as you want, honey. Just want to hear a few little words.”

He pushes in firmly despite his threats, and so easily does he meet the end of you, apex of your womb perfectly made to receive him, like you’d been fitted for each other. He pants as silently as he can, setting aside his pleasure in favor of yours, not even to be distracted by his own voice. 

Joel forces as much of his weight as you can handle on the bundle at your back, swinging into you with the power of everything he’s too afraid to confess. He can fuck that reassurance into you, instead—make up for his inability to be confident in those more tender moments with the role he takes in this swirl of lust. 

He can tell by the way you constrict around him that you’re close, the squelch of where you meet heightening every time he moves in to the hilt.

“I’m gonna come, Joel. Fuck.”

“Don’t like askin’ twice. C’mon, focus.”

He bows again, bracing his legs so he can wedge his right arm through the slot at your hip, elbow flat to the bed as he reaches down, in. Your clit is smeared in your slick, running down from where he’s giving you everything, and thinks maybe you understand what he’s trying to tell you without words. He pushes as best he can against the bead, fingers working rhythmically to bring you there, knowing he won’t be able to take much more.

You’re crying now, it seems, from the broken shape your words take as they fall out, “I-I, Joel. I need you. Please. I love you.”

He can’t handle that, the pulse of his orgasm almost immediate, the fierce curl of your cunt around him no help. You whine under him, and if it weren’t for the risk of crushing you, he’d take his mouth to yours.

He fucks you until he can’t, until he expresses his response to exhaustion. He’s heaving by the end, forehead to your shoulder where it’s glued down with sweat. 

It takes him much longer now to come down, to shimmy out from over your body, to release and turn and fold you into his lap. 

Cruelly, he keeps the silk in his palm, thinking he can force another memory into it by making it bear witness to all of this; another knot in your ‘relationship’—as close as this will ever come to being that, anyway. 

Joel breathes at the crown of your skull, hair tickling his lips when he finally decides to break the silence, “Do you really?” And before it has the chance to be taken away from him, “I love you, too.”

[ghostly-penumbra]

Ectoberhaunt 2023. Day Nine

"Dragon"

Ao3 and as a stand-alone

“Would you like a drink, Danny?”

“Just some pop, please.”

Danny’s boss snorted but accepted easily enough, handing Danny a can of cool Pepsi whilst he twirled his whiskey.

“So, do you like your job, Danny?” His boss asked without preambles.

Danny didn’t really need to think about it, he answered honestly, “Yeah, it’s chill. The pay is good and I’ve been kinda nocturnal since I was fourteen so the late hours are no problem for me. The tips are great too, and the patrons are… wild, yes,” his boss huffed a small laugh at Danny’s understatement of the night-club goers, but didn’t interrupt him, “but no one has, like, tried to punch me or something, so I don’t mind.”

“That’s good.” His boss said softly and drank some more of his whiskey. “Look, Danny, contrary to what you may have heard of me, I am not in the habit of conquering other realms and enthralling their rulers, so know that you are not my vassal and I don’t want your Kingdom. I don’t even want my Kingdom! I’ve quit! But! You don’t look like you want to leave.”

“I would very much like to keep my job, if that’s at all possible.”

Lucifer Morningstar, owner of the nightclub Lux and Danny’s current boss (so far, at least), put his tumbler aside and gave his full attention to the young man sitting across from him.

“I don’t want you to leave, either.” The Devil said. “You’re a good employee and even Maze likes you!” He said this like it was either the biggest honour or the biggest abnormality.

Mazikeen was cool, even if a tad violent, so he took the comment both ways.

“But you do know that it’s not a good look for the King of Ghosts to be working for the King of Hell, right? No matter that I’m retired or that you are alive.” He rolled his eyes at the last bit.

“Yeah. That’s, I’ll get an earful for that.” It would be from the Observants, though, and he really didn’t care for their opinion, so it would just be a minor annoyance.

“And whether you stay at Lux or not, the pantheons have certainly taken notice.” Mister Morningstar rolled his eyes again and looked at Danny with pity, which, yeah, inter-pantheon relations was not something the Ghost Zone wanted or that Danny was interested in engaging with.

“Ah, yes, the rammies.” He made a face at that. He really didn’t want any god (lowercase g, all of them) snooping in his realm to see what his relationship with the Devil was.

But if shit was going to hit the fan anyway, why not keep his well-paid job?

“It’s not a problem for me,” the Devil kept saying, “I’m happily retired! For you, on the other hand, they’ll see you as my vassal if you don’t really get anything out of this, –no, a weekly salary with legal benefits means nothing to these beings.” He said before Danny could interrupt. “If there was something I could just give you as a boon–” He stopped and a large smile slowly spread on his face. “That’s it! I am a genius!” He stood up and began pacing back and forth whilst Danny just clutched his can of pop.

“Uh, what is it?” Asked Danny, sipping his pepsi.

“I will give you Hell!” Ignoring his employee choking on his drink, the Devil carried on. “We can say you are my apprentice, or you can be my actual apprentice if you want me to teach you the ropes, and I will give you the Key of Hell and you can add it to the Ghost Zone! No one will be stupid enough to give you any trouble for it, and I will finally get my annoying family off my back.”

“But they’ll be on mine!” Danny protested once he stopped choking. “I don’t want to have Hell! I didn’t even want to be King of the Ghost Zone, I was just the dumbass that defeated the old one! I- I just wanna get through college, afford my half-life, and become an astronaut…” He put his head in one hand, the other one holding the can against his forehead.

Why this? Why couldn’t he be fired for sleeping on the bar, like a normal person?

“Oh, please, Danny, you’re a young King, hardworking too; you must want more than that.” Mister Morningstar looked him in the eye not obstructed by pop and spoke slowly, with intent, “Tell me, Danny, what do you desire?”

“To protect everyone I care about, anyone that needs it, to help them.”

“Mm, kind of basic and boring but-”

“And to reach the stars, to sail through them in the infinite night.” Danny blinked hard and shook himself off. “That’s not cool, sir.”

“Dual Obsession?” The Devil said, easily ignoring Danny’s complaint. “Not very common; befitting for a King. So what you want to do is help. You can do it being King of Hell!”

“That doesn’t sound likely.” Danny’s response only made his boss’s smirk return, and then the Devil really began his sales pitch.

How, if Danny became the new King of Hell, he could totally help redeem the souls of the damned, and since he was already King of the Ghost Zone, he could take the damned souls of the innocent there if Heaven refused to open the Gates for them, wankers that they were.

“What do you mean innocent souls in Hell?”

That only made the Devil lean in cheerily, “Oh?” He asked. “Haven’t you heard?”

Sold souls, of course. From people who sold their soul to delay their loved one’s death, to wronged firstborns whose parents wanted power no matter the cost. All of them, in Hell.

“That’s not fair.” Danny said with clenched fists.

“Well, it’s not like I have a neutral realm where runaway, wronged souls could take refuge in.” Mister Morningstar said, knowing he had the young adult hooked.

“I-” Danny tried to speak, but felt his core thrumming writhing him. He wanted to help. “I will… consult it, first, it’s- it’s too much.”

His boss nodded sagely, and once again looked him in the eye. “I will extend your insurance to your family and include dental.”

Danny would still consult it with Clockwork and his friends, but he knew he was sold.

[cressidagrey]

Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours- Chapter 3: Eris Vanserra, Heir to the Autumn Court

Summary:

5 Times Cassian thought that Azriel had feelings for somebody and then 1 time he finally met the girl his brother was in love with.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

Sadly, trying to find out who Azriel’s secret lover was…turned out to be a bit of an impossible feat. 

There wasn’t anywhere Cassian could follow along to that Azriel wouldn’t find out about. There was nothing that Azriel was doing that was making it obvious who he was seeing. 

It was so annoying that Cassian had no clue what he was supposed to be doing anymore. Why couldn’t it just be easier?

But he wasn’t the General of the Night Court Armies to give up that easily. He was not. 

Cassian was going to figure this out. 

One way or another. 

First things first: Badger Azriel about the stupid Siphons. 

“So can I have the name of the blacksmith that you are using?” he asked Azriel without preamble, watching him attentively. Maybe that was gonna give him a hint of what was going on with his brother. Maybe that would be helpful…

“I am not using a blacksmith,” Azriel answered, after a moment. Cassian took in the way the shadows seemed to swirl around him more like they were telling him something and how his hands tightened nearly imperceptively. Azriel didn’t have many tells, but Cassian could see them. He knew him for long enough to know him that well. 

So that was the truth. He wasn’t using a blacksmith. But it wasn’t the whole truth. Of course, it wasn’t. 

“Then who else did the whole thing with the siphons for you?” he asked curiously. If it wasn’t a blacksmith…though he had snuck a peek of the mechanism that held the siphons in place. It seemed too delicate for a simple blacksmith. More something a goldsmith would use. Definitely not Illyrian by origin. 

But where would Azriel have found a goldsmith…

“A friend,” Azriel answered, looking decisively shifty. Interesting. 

“The same friend who made Nesta’s hairpins?” A stab in the dark but a good one. Azriel looked less than pleased about it…maybe his friend had something to do with whoever he was seeing… “Where did you meet that friend?” Cassian kept pushing. 

“Since when do you care how I spend my time?” Azriel gave back with a sigh. 

“Since you got new toys to play with and aren’t sharing,” Cassian shot back immediately. 

“I gave Nesta the hairpins, didn’t I?” Azriel defended himself. 

He had. Hair pins that Nesta absolutely adored and wore nearly every day these days. Azriel had come through with another set after the first, that one set with moonstones of all things. Nesta loved them just as much as the first set. 

“You aren’t answering the question,” Cassian pointed out and Azriel gave him a very pointed look that seemingly told him, Oh really? 

“You aren’t going  to, are you?” Cassian said with a sigh before he grinned.  “Worried he’ll like me more than you?”

The flinch was the last thing he had expected. Yeah, he had hit the bullseye. Unintended though.

“No. Just that I won’t get any more new toys,” Azriel gave back, crossing his arms. 

So whoever that friend was…he was important to Azriel. Very important. 

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Cassian agreed, even when he was already plotting his next steps. “But I want first dibs whenever he figures out something really cool.”

Next step: Once again get on Rhys’ nerves. Maybe Azriel had told him more than he had told Cassian. 

“Do you happen to know the friend that made the siphons for Az? ” he asked Rhy at the next family dinner. Even Lucien and Elain had come over from Day Court, with Elain happy to catch up with her sisters, the Archeron sisters secluded in one corner, milling about before they would all sit down for dinner. 

“A friend?” Rhys asked him curiously. 

“Not a blacksmith apparently. But with the siphons he got new toys to play with and I don’t get any. So I wanna know,” Cassian admitted easily. 

“Well, if Az doesn’t want to share…” Rhys gave back with a shrug. Well, that was helpful. Cassian looked around the room, the inner circles dotted around, but no glimpse of Az. 

“Is he coming to dinner?” he wondered. 

“He is.” Rhys sounded so sure when he said that. 

“Are you sure?” Cassian asked, doubtful. These days, Azriel didn’t come to all of them. Not even half. Sometimes he went but then didn’t stay for dessert or one of his shadows whispered something in his ear and off he went to do something . 

It was just another thing in a long line of them that had changed through the years. 

Cassian never said anything, because to be the only one in a room full of people that were in happy relationships while he wasn’t probably wasn’t very fun to Azriel. 

And then there was that ELeain and Lucien were coming and…putting Azriel in the same room as the female he had been in love with and her mate, just seemed especially cruel. 

“He didn’t want to but I changed his mind,” Rhys said evenly. 

Oh for cauldron’s sake. 

“Do I want to know how you did that?”  Cassian asked, holding back a grimace. 

He didn’t know what exactly had gone down between Azriel and Rhys…but ever since that one solstice…something had changed. He had never dared to ask, because neither of his brothers had seemed inclined to not rip off his head for daring to voice his thoughts. 

So he had hope that it would go away with time. Well, three years on…and it didn’t seem like that was the case. 

Azriel came to some family dinners, took part in the annual snowball flights, played with Nyx, treated Rhys with all the respect benefiting a High Lord…and also seemingly turned even quieter. He did his job just as well as he always had, Cassian didn’t doubt it but…there was a distance there that hadn’t been there before. 

“I told him that moping around his house didn’t count as plans,” Rhys quipped. “He was not amused.”

Right. 

Maybe Az had just wanted to get out of seeing Elain and Lucien. 

“Maybe he wasn’t moping around,” Cassian offered. Maybe Azriel had somebody else to spend time with. Somebody that he loved and wanted to court and…

“Ah yes. His secret lover,” Rhys said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Nesta was complaining to Feyre about how that’s all you were talking about,” he answered Cassian’s unspoken question. 

“You don’t believe it?” Cassian wondered. 

“You think he would be able to keep it a secret from me ?” Rhys asked him, arrogance seeping into his tone. “Besides, he needs to get over himself eventually. I think he can sit through a single dinner.” 

Cassian held back a grimace. 

Did he think that Azriel would be able to keep a secret from Rhys? 

If Azriel thought he had a very good reason for it? Yes. Absolutely. Cassian didn’t even doubt that for a second . 

Azriel would go to the end of the world if he thought he could protect somebody he loved. 

Cassian just wondered why his brother thought he needed to protect them from Rhys of all people. Why he didn’t tell his family about what was going on?

Cassian would be happy for him. If Azriel showed up tomorrow and told him that he had found somebody he loved and who treated him like he deserved to be treated, Cassian would be happy for him. He wouldn’t fucking care who it was. As long as Azriel was happy, he was happy. 

Azriel did show up finally. Quiet and withdrawn, sitting down next to him and more playing with his food than actually eating, but he did show up. 

Sitting through that dinner, doing what Rhys demanded of him. Not voicing a word of protest. 

What’s he thinking about? Cassian asked Rhys, curious at how Azriel seemed far, far away, lost in thoughts.

Table linens, Rhys gave back. 

Tell me that’s a joke.

No. Azriel is thinking about table linens.

Table linens? What was that about now? 

The plot thickened. 

The table linens didn’t stay the most interesting thing though. That was the sharp repartee Lucien provided while Azriel tried not to be anything but helpful. 

Cassian was one more pointed comment away from interfering. 

All that Azriel had been doing was trying to help, for cauldron’s sake. 

He kept calm for longer than Cassian had thought he would. And then he came around the corner with: “I also know that you are related to one.” Meaning an enchanter and Lucien seemed not happy at all about this. 

Lucien’s knife hit his plate, the sound loud in the suddenly quiet room. “How do you even know that?” he hissed. 

“I am the spymaster of the Night Court,” Azriel said, his voice quiet but even.  

“So what, you care about gossip from 3 centuries ago?” Lucien demanded. “Do you have nothing better to do?” 

Cassian opened his mouth but Elain laid a hand on her mate’s. “Luce,” she said, her voice soft, calming him. 

“If it’s useful, yes ,” Azriel said, voice quiet.  

“How could it possibly be useful to you? Also, he’s dead. Has been dead, for over a century,” Lucien snapped. Azriel stayed quiet. “That didn’t show up in your research, did it?” Lucien sneered. 

This was unlike Azriel. If Azriel used something like that, then he would have already known that whoever he had meant was no longer living. This was just…weird. 

This was weird. 

But what seemingly wasn’t these days? 

One of Azriel’s shadows came darting a few moments later, doing that weird thing they sometimes did, where they became nearly bodily for a moment or two and left something for the shadowsinger. 

Even after over 500 years of being around Azriel, the shadows were still a mystery to Cassian. 

They left a simple note for Azriel, dropping it next to his plate. He reached out to open it without hesitation. 

Cassian was curious enough to try and sneak a peek. The only thing he could read was absolute gibberish. 

That didn’t seem to be the case for Azriel though. He removed a second sealed note, placed it on the table and then without hesitation put his own note in his empty water glass.

Seconds later, it burst into fire with a bright flame. 

Cassian just stared at it. 

He had seen that a few times. It was how the Autumn Court sends correspondence, making sure that nobody else but the intended recipient could read it. Destroying the evidence, after it had been seen. 

And suddenly…it all made sense!

The reason why Azriel kept a secret from Rhys because it wasn’t just some random female that he had met in Velaris that he was seeing. 

It wasn’t a female at all! 

It was Eris Vanserra. 

That it must be. That would give Azriel a reason to keep the relationship quiet, away from every single one of them, because all of them would have tried to talk him out of that. 

Him, Rhys, Mor…

“By the cauldron, you are seeing Eris!” His mouth moved on his own accord, the words leaving his body without his input. It was the pure shock of that realisation that made him spit out the words. 

“Cassian!” Nesta complained, long sufferingly, rubbing a hand over her forehead.  He could feel her annoyance over the mating bond but he couldn’t help himself. 

“The letter just went up in flames! That’s how the Autumn Court sends correspondence!” Cassian defended himself. “You are seeing Eris!” he accused Azriel wide-eyed, who sat frozen in place, still staring at his water glass. 

How could Azriel even…How? When had that happened? How had that happened? What had happened? 

Cassian had so many questions.

“And because of that, you are now thinking that Azriel has a love affair with Lucien’s half-brother?” Feyre asked haltingly. 

“Yes!” It made perfect sense! It did!

Azriel was in love and didn’t want to admit to it! And he was in love with Eris Vanserra.

“No.” Azriel’s voice put a halt to his speculation. It was icy. 

“But…” Cassian started, but he didn’t even get out more than the first word because Azriel cut him off. 

Azriel could have cut glass with how sharp his voice was. 

“Cassian, I have absolutely no idea what makes you think that I am in some kind of romantic relationship with Eris Vanserra but I’ll gladly swear to you on my own life, that that is not happening in a million years. And Eris was not the one writing me.” 

Oh. 

“Who was writing to you then?” Rhys asked, curiously. “Must be somebody from Autumn.” 

True. Maybe it was Eris after all!

“I know somebody that knows somebody,” Azriel repeated, picking up the other note and handing it to Cassian with a glance at Lucien. Cassian handed it over. The handwriting was elegant and loopy, the note closed with a wax seal, showing a stylised O surrounded by…something that he couldn’t place. “An enchantress is willing to meet you tomorrow. Bright and Early,” Azriel explained to Lucien.

That wasn’t what Cassian had expected. It was the exact opposite, to be honest. 

No secret relationship with Eris after all? Just some message from Azriel to get Lucien the enchantress he needed? 

After how snippy Lucien had been with Azriel, Cassian was surprised that Az had even bothered to do that. It would suit Lucien fine if Az didn’t even bother helping him. He could just keep his whirring eye. 

Especially when Azriel had never even done anything . He had been nothing but supportive of Lucien and Elain’s relationship. Hadn’t said a single thing against it. Done nothing. Attended their wedding quietly and then left as soon as it was polite to do so. 

Whatever Lucien’s problem with him was these days…Azriel had done nothing to deserve his ire. 

Lucien hesitated at taking the note. Cassian wanted to roll his eyes. Like Azriel would curse it. 

“If I wanted you dead, the plan would be a lot less convoluted. Just for your information,” Azriel pointed out, his tone even. 

Lucien finally took the note, glanced at it, and Cassian watched him swallow. 

“Where did you meet her?” he demanded, his voice hoarse. 

“I know somebody that knows somebody,” Azriel repeated. “That’s my job. And that reminds me, I have to go.” And there he was, already standing up, not even having eaten half a plate. 

“So soon?” Feyre asked, sounding surprised. 

“I have plans,” Azriel didn’t seem willing to share more than that. Still, Feyre watched him, curiosity painting her gentle features. 

“What kind of plans?” She asked. Feyre and Nesta were probably the only two who could ask him a question like that and not get their head bitten off. 

“The kind of plans that I am not willing to change.” 

He had never heard Azriel’s voice quite like that. There was no use to argue with him. Not when he sounded like that. 

And off he went, disappearing again. 

The mystery was still unsolved. 

“ Eris ? Really, Cassian?” Rhys asked with a sigh.

“Excuse me, it made perfect sense!” Cassian defended himself. It did! It made sense! 

“It did not,” Nesta snorted, for once agreeing with her brother-in-law. “Why, Cassian?”

He pouted.  

“What enchantress did he find for you?” Rhys asked Lucien curiously. 

“My cousin,” Lucien answered with a sigh. “She has been living around here for…a hundred years, I think. Give or take a few.” He turned to Cassian. “Though I still wonder how did you come up with Azriel seeing my brother?”

“Cassian thinks that Azriel has a secret lover,” Nesta answered the question. “Eris is the latest of his theories. Disproven once again.”

He glared at his made. 

“I’ll figure it out,” he said tightly. 

He would. 

So it wasn’t Eris Vanserra. It must be something or somebody else. The question was just who.

[uss-edsall]

In a previous post, I spoke of my adoration for ArmA III’s primary campaigns.

The game is ten years old and feature complete, except for “Community DLCs”, that is, third-party expansions given official sponsorship. As such it is unlikely the game will get any further official content. The game’s lore is scattered across every aspect of it - tutorials, challenge scenarios, single-player scenarios (there’s one memorable scene in particular snuck into a free charity event mission), and of course, the campaigns.

Each official DLC added their own singleplayer scenarios, mini-campaigns, etc - aside from the Karts DLC, which started as an April fool’s joke. Some of these campaigns are in and of themselves very neat, if much shorter than the main campaign. I might someday go into detail about them, but for now, I will focus on my favourite, and perhaps, the most important of them all.

Spoilers below.

Preamble

The Laws of War DLC from 2017, four years after the game released and today nearly six years old, came out of a very strange event. The following information comes from this article.

In 2010, the International Committee of the Red Cross began a research project where one man, a Swiss ex-artillery officer, spent two months looking into videogames, and depiction of virtual war crimes. It was not a very important project, not one with priority. Certainly nobody, at the ICRC expected what came next. After he presented his findings at the 31st International Conference of the Red Cross and Red Crescent, news organisations started shitflinging. In attempting to call some small amount of attention on war crimes being portrayed in games (and all too often without the casual player being aware the action in question would be a real life crime), the media took ‘hey, we should be more aware of what we’re depicting’ and went “the Red Cross wants to prosecute six hundred million gamers for war crimes!”

Albeit having to backpedal and go, "no, that's not at all what we meant," the ICRC realised they’d struck a nerve. For the first time, thousands of people were talking about International Humanitarian Law who would otherwise have never touched it. So they sent out letters to major game developers (particularly of shooters) asking if they would like to meet, to talk, to collaborate. Most ignored them. Those that didn’t chose not to reveal they happened; “they think their gamers or their fans will get scared that their games will turn into training courses or that morality, as they say, will take over everything and games will not be about shooting anything anymore.”

One studio didn’t.

One studio was quite interested in collaborating and creating with the Red Cross publicly.

On 3 September 2017, Bohemia Interactive released as a DLC for the military simulator ArmA III…

Laws of War

War does have rules. . . In a firefight, things aren’t easy. . . We just ask you to remember. Actions have consequences.

ArmA III’s Laws of War DLC is the result of that collaboration between the Red Cross and Bohemia Interactive. It adds a fictional Non-Governmental Organisation, International Development & Aid Project (IDAP). Equipment includes a van, a utility drone, press gear, new bags and helmets, and most curiously of all… In order to depict war crimes, they had to add munitions for committing war crimes, in the form of an APERS mine dispenser and cluster bomb munitions for aircraft. ArmA previously hadn't had it, being one of few games to try to avoid including banned weaponry.

“Everyone on the forums says, ‘Yes! Thank you! Give us civilians and humanitarian workers and cluster munitions and we will use these new guns to eradicate as many of the first group as possible . . . But by saying that, it means that they will have consciously been saying, ‘We are going to break the law.’ It means that, even if it's at a very low level, they now have an understanding that there was a law in the first place.”

Those are the bones of the DLC. The meat of it is in the Remnants of War mini-campaign.

Remnants of War

The trailer for the DLC linked at the start telegraphs the intent of the campaign's story. Every side is depicted in the trailer. NATO forces, AAF troops, FIA guerrillas, CSAT spec-ops - they’re all there. All of them are depicted in the midst of conflict, at the cusp of committing a war crime.

The DLC takes place after the end of the primary ArmA campaign. “All’s over but the crying,” right? Not quite, not so. Even now, the actions taken back then have consequences. People are still dying. Questions remain unanswered.

The Brother - 15 August, 2035

The first mission begins with you in the shoes of Markos Kouris, the man on the left above. Five days ago, 10 August, 2035, the short but fierce war 'Altis Incident' that saw Akhanteros overthrown and the nation devastated once more, came to an explosive end. Peace returned to the country, shaky, unstable, but peace all the same. But the memories of the fighting in the fallen rebel stronghold of Oreokastro a year ago remain. The knowledge that your brother Alexis was killed in the fighting only days ago weighs heavily - now that the war is over, perhaps you can enter the obliterated town, find his remains, and bring him home for the last time.

When you step close to the ruined church, a hidden landmine triggers, detonating, and killing you - killing Markos Kouris, one more victim of the destruction of Oreokastro.

The EOD Expert - Several Days Later

You next take the role of a man named Nathan MacDade. A middle-aged American, he is a former marine who fought in Chernarus in 2009 (ArmA II), and after leaving the military, joined IDAP as an Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technician. His job is to find unexploded ordnance (UXO) and safely disarm it, or failing that, detonate it safely without harm to human life. He’s good at his job, and has been at it for over twenty years. He’s on a voice call with Katherine Bishop, a journalist pursuing the story of Oreokastro.

As Nathan explores the town, he’ll find mines to defuse, unexploded ordnance to disarm, tripwires and hidden explosives… and several flashbacks. During these flashbacks to earlier events, Nathan MacDade narrates, speaking to Katherine Bishop asking questions, together depicting the various actions you can choose to do. If you take up arms as a civilian he’ll comment on it; if you choose to execute wounded combatants he’ll condemn it; so on and so forth. She'll share a draft of her article at the end of the campaign, which changes depending on the actions you take within it.

From here on out the DLC can be taken in non-chronological order. The flashbacks can be done in whichever order you find them. For the purposes of this post I will write of them in order of events.

The Peacekeeper - 28th May, 2034

Nathan’s been to Oreokastro before. Prior to the ‘Altis Incident’, IDAP had an aid camp within the town. As unrest in the nation grew stronger and bullets began to fly between the dictatorship’s troops and FIA guerrillas once more trying to fight for freedom, it became clear that aid supplies would not get to Oreokastro by land. They’d be ambushed or stolen, by both guerrilla forces and government troops. Thus, you put on the combat boots of an American peacekeeper of Task Force Aegis, Staff Sergeant Adams. The peacekeepers are unable to prevent the conflict, but they do arrange for aid supplies, IDAP priority, to be airdropped in. You drive around to collect aid supplies dropped by parachute, and defending some against a guerrilla attack. This is a short and simple mission.

ArmA is no stranger to the dangers of the remnants of war. Staff Sergeant Adams’ role is swift but deadly in the main campaign; he is your commander in the first mission, leading you to safety when TF Aegis is attacked… until he steps on a landmine, injuring you (Corporal Kerry), and killing him, leaving a terrified logistics driver to make his way alone out of the minefield and find allies in the CTRG.

The Guerrilla - 30th September, 2034

After NATO was pressured to begin withdrawal from the Republic of Altis & Stratis by Colonel Akhanteros (on the orders of his new CSAT puppet masters), the civil war began to truly heat up. Kostas Stavrou, a charismatic leader, took the reins of the FIA guerrillas. He encouraged the citizens of Oreokastro to rise up and take control of the town, with its high ground and natural terrain advantage, and turn it into a fortress.

As the Altis Armed Forces (AAF) lay siege to the town, the guerrillas prepare. One such guerrilla is Alexis Kouris, the brother Markos was searching for. In his flashback he lays mines on the road to Oreokastro - mines that you as Nathan MacDade just disarmed - and search the town for vehicles to use as roadblocks (one of which can be an IDAP van, which is a crime to do in and of itself, using humanitarian aid and stealing from humanitarian organisations for war purposes).

The roadblocks work. The mines work. The AAF’s offensive is frustrated…

… and so Akhanteros orders a brutal measure to gain victory.

The Redacted - 13 October 2034

You take the shoes of a CSAT special forces team - supposedly. Paradropped behind the guerrilla lines into the castle ruins overlooking Oreokastro, the three-man team silently eliminate the guerrilla sentries and set up an overwatch position on the town. They observe - and use a laser designator to call in a cluster bomb airstrike. It matters little who lives or dies, as long as you don’t directly hit the IDAP camp - though there’s an optional objective to try to avoid hitting an IDAP doctor in the town. Akhanteros wants the town obliterated for rising up against him so successfully.

The airstrike comes in and destroys everything. Roadblocks go up in smoke and flame; buildings collapse; men are eviscerated; and the AAF offensive begins.

This mission is the most blatant crime. Over a hundred countries banned the use of cluster munitions in 2008. Dozens die at minimum due to your actions as the faceless CSAT soldier who designated the target.

Faceless… CSAT… or are you so faceless? Are you so explicitly the Designated Enemy Faction?

“Idunno…” goes Nathan. “There were shell casings, found at the castle.” Strange. CSAT weaponry are explicitly caseless, and don’t leave behind brass. “NATO mil-spec.” Albeit you are depicted using a CSAT camouflaged laser designator in-mission, outside of it, the flashback trigger is a NATO sandy brown.

As the flashback ends, the three CSAT troops turn into the forms of Captain Miller and two other members of NATO’s CTRG.

The Survivor - 13 October, 2034

Heavily injured by the cluster bomb munitions, you take control of Markos Kouris from the beginning. The town is rubble; smoke, fire, and fog alike covers everything; the overcast skies fully block the sun. AAF forces and guerrillas fight a vicious and horrendously chaotic gunfight through the streets. Your objective is simply to survive, to escape to the IDAP camp. You are an unarmed civilian and a non-combatant… though you can choose to take up arms from the dead and join the fight. this flashback ends with getting to the IDAP camp for medical aid.

Oreokastro is ruined, depopulated. The rebellion here is over. As soon as it is safe to do so, IDAP too abandons the town, forced to vacate by the AAF.

There is nothing more they can do for the dead, after all.

The Major - 8 August, 2035

Ten months later, the Altis Incident is coming to a brutal end. The U.S. 111th Infantry Division heads NATO’s vengeance, supported by the FIA guerrillas. Two AAF soldiers, Major Gavras and his assistant Kostas Dimitriou, head into Oreokastro. AAF forces across the island are being overwhelmed. Gavras hopes making a stand in Oreokastro will buy time for other forces, drawing NATO units away from Kavala and other AAF strongholds. With NATO owning the skies there is little to no way to get reinforcements; Gavras’ forces are decimated, and the extraction helicopter is shot down. Gavras elects, then, to make a final stand in the church where the IDAP camp used to be.

You are Kostas, and you are faithful to your leader. If this is where you die, so be it - but you’re not going quietly. Knowing it is a cruel thing to do you deploy three APERS mine dispensers as a seperate act. There seems no other way to inflict as many casualties as possible on the attackers. They succeed. Somehow they survive the battle - through a storm of shot and shell, you kill or incapacitate all the guerrillas and American soldiers who attack the church. Surprisingly, the AAF manages to send a rescue helicopter that extracts the two of you.

Major Gavras is the reason the AAF held out for three days against the full might of a vengeful American and NATO force, not just one. He survived the war. He even was part of the peace process. He also gave IDAP the location of the mines he had his assistant plant in that near-final stand at the church.

Gavras and Kostas killed Alexis Kouris in that stand in Oreokastro. So, too, did they indirectly kill Markos Kouris, who stepped on one of Kostas’ mines searching for his dead brother. Their actions had consequences.

Who’s To Blame?

This ends the flashbacks, and little remains of the campaign. Katherine Bishop has one more question for Nathan MacDade.

“Now, there's just one last question I'd like to ask you. It's subjective, so, take your time. In your opinion, who's most to blame for all the suffering in Oreokastro? NATO? The guerrillas? CSAT? The Altis Armed Forces? Or, I don't know, something else?”

Who is responsible for Oreokastro? Who killed this town? Who’s to blame? Who is, if any one can be? Can anyone even be blamed at all?

You choose.

Every option leads to different thoughts from Nathan’s part. Perhaps one faction of them is higher than the rest in terms of blame. Perhaps together they form some sort of collective blame that, in the end, leaves everyone with no clear answer as to who to point a finger at, all dissatisfied, ashamed of themselves and angry at others.

NATO is to blame - “They had the capacity to make a difference, y'know? The airdrops were helpful, but it was never enough. And, ultimately? Their invasion caused more bloodshed. If they'd just had the guts to stay in the first place? A lotta killing could have been avoided…” The peacekeepers of Task Force Aegis failed to accomplish their mission. They didn’t have the influence to peacefully keep the peace without shots fired; they didn’t have the strength to keep peace by force of arms; their leaders didn’t have the guts to stay when demanded to leave. The NATO invasion led to even more deaths, once more devastating the FIA guerrillas (in a friendly fire incident, Kostas Stavrou was killed by a NATO air attack, too). Not to mention the suspicions of NATO spec-ops being responsible for the cluster bomb attack… Oreokastro is a monument to NATO’s sins.

CSAT is to blame - “That cluster strike? It took the whole thing to the brink - and with so little to gain from such a terrifying show of force. The whole thing's felt like a power-play from the get-go. One big pissing contest. It always is…” There was a shaky peace after the original Altis civil war ended in 2030. It held for four years. It only devolved back into civil war after Akhanteros got cozy with CSAT. They looked the other way when the AAF committed atrocities; they were the ones who supposedly carried out the airstrike. Unknown to Nathan, the entire struggle that eventually led to Alexis and Markos Kouris’ deaths are due to CSAT’s testing of the Eastwind Device, and the CTRG’s attempts to capture it.

The Altis Armed Forces are to blame - “It's one thing fighting against a resistance - it's another to make the civilian population pay for it. As they clung on to power, they wound up scarring the very country they'd pledged to protect…” Perhaps the most direct perpetrators of all the violence. Ceasefire agreements violated; their leader being the ultimate authority who called for the cluster bombing; they punished the weak and innocent along with those who chose armed resistance, cruelly harming the populace for the actions of a few. An army of thugs acting on the orders of a thug, caring not about the atrocities committed in the moment, the unexploded ordnance and mines left for generations of Altians to suffer from.

The FIA guerrillas are to blame - “They hid themselves among the population. These guys didn't give a damn about what it cost. They wanted power, and would do anything to get it…” The guerrillas incited the armed conflict. Though they seemingly had a moral high ground, the guerrillas resorted to underhanded tactics that violated the laws of war, even targeting humanitarian aid and taking from relief efforts for their own ends..

All sides played a part - Oreokastro’s destruction was not solely one side, one group, one man to blame. “No one side can be held accountable for the bloodshed here. No one action got us where we are now. And the folks here in Oreokastro? They're the ones that've suffered. This is the reality. This is war.” The citizens of Oreokastro paid that ultimate price, whether they wanted to or not, just more victims of a great power proxy struggle and more local regional conflicts alike.

Choose.

You’ve seen every side, parts of it at least. All throughout, no matter which side you thought was most responsible, the primary theme of the DLC remains consistent: Actions have consequences.

No matter what you think, the dead are dead and will never return.

Nathan MacDade says farewell to Katherine Bishop. The mines and UXOs in Oreokastro have been defused, and it’s time to move on. Oreokastro has become a silent mausoleum, as the IDAP vehicles drive away. A ruined city on a hill for all to behold and contemplate - or to forget, as all things are doomed to be.

There are other Oreokastros in this devastated country. There are more mines to disarm, more UXOs defuse, more potential casualties to prevent from a war long ended - more atrocities left behind in the sands of time.

Just as in Oreokastro, there may never truly be a definitive answer as to what happened in those places.

Real Life Consequences

The Laws of War DLC was made in collaboration with the International Committee of the Red Cross, and thus half the initial sales were donated to the ICRC. That came up to $176,667 USD; pretty respectable for a $10 DLC.

The community has a high number of people who, as was mentioned in a quote early in this post, reacted to the addition of a humanitarian aid NGO and medical vehicles with, "great, more things to commit war crimes on." The comments on the trailer are rife with them. But as a Bohemia Interactive employee put it:

"We knew this DLC's theme might seem a bit unusual, but we also felt that it has a rightful place in a game like Arma 3 . . . what has made it even more amazing to see the immense level of player support for the Laws of War DLC, which really shows again how both games and the gaming audience have matured. If you also consider that some of our players are in the military or might pursue a military career in the future, then we're glad this DLC has been able to increase awareness for this important topic. And being able to also make a financial contribution to the ICRC's efforts is a great bonus."

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Tainted By The Taste Of Your Love

GIF by sersi

Carol Danvers x Reader

We’ve Loved A Thousand Lives

Same beginning, different story every time.

Part 17

Dom/Sub dynamics, Medical procedures, Pet names, Nudity, Valkyrie x Reader.

Beta'd by @cordeliasdarling <3

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: Trying something a little different with this one, let me know what you think!

Masterlist | This collection | AO3

Carol walks back to her ship after another successful mission wanting for nothing more than to relax and rest while reaching her next destination. As soon as she enters the vessel, she hears muffled sniffling coming from her bedroom.

She stands in place as she registers the sound, quickly recognizing what it is. She makes her way to her room and finds you curled up on the floor by her bed, crying.

You hear her walk in and look up to meet her form, "I’m sorry, I broke in," you whimper, she immediately sits on the floor with you and hugs you tightly in a comforting gesture.

"Hey, hey, come here," she tries to soothe you.

"I snuck out, I’m so sorry," you stammer in between sobs.

"It's okay, angel, I’m glad you're here."

You both remain on the floor for hours until you calm down. Once your breath evens out, Carol picks you up and lays you onto her bed as you drift off to sleep.

The next morning, Carol is getting ready for work when she receives a call.

"I lost something last night, I think you might know where it is," The Avengers director states without any preamble.

Carol takes a seat in front of the hologram in concern, "What did you lose?"

"A mutant."

"They are people." She frowns.

"Whatever you wanna call it," he shrugs it off, "the one I’m missing seemed to be thoroughly attached to you."

She cocks her head in faux confusion, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? Because her tracker indicates she's in your ship." Fury punctuates the 'p' at the end of his sentence.

Carol holds the armrest in a vice grip and almost screams, "You chipped her?"

"We do what we gotta do," he remains composed as always, "please give her back."

"I don't have her," she insists, making Fury lean into his desk.

"You have no clue what her powers can do."

She squints her eyes and utters a challenging, "Do you?"

Their conversation reaches you in the bedroom and you get up to find Carol, when you see her in the cockpit, you come cuddle on her lap, fully ignoring Fury.

"Come on, now you're just mocking me."

Carol joyfully welcomes you into her arms, never breaking eye contact with him, "I thought your prisons were top notch."

"She’s property of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"She’s a human being and she's staying with me."

"Don’t make this harder than it has to be," he warns, Carol is well aware of the implications of his threat, but she remains unfazed.

"If you send people after her, you will face my wrath."

He takes an angry breath in, "I hate it when you use your powers to get your way."

Carol’s lips curl into a subtle grin, her voice turns husky and her expression dark, "Then you shouldn't have taken something that belongs to me."

She hangs up.

After a bit, you ask sadly, "Are they coming to get me?" You were trying not to pay too much attention to their conversation, you don't like to meddle in Carol's business.   "They'd better not, but that's not something you need to worry about," she begins to gently rub your back, "I’m not letting them get their filthy hands on you again." You nod into her chest as you take a deep, stabilizing breath, "Did they hurt you?" she coos into your ear so tenderly.

She tries to meet your eyes, but you're too nuzzled into her chest, you shake your head and mumble, "I didn't let them."

A proud smirk forms on her face, "That’s my good puppy, you did the right thing coming back to me, just like I taught you," she praises with a kiss to your temple.

After a while, she makes breakfast and sits at the table offering you a plate, "I’m not hungry," you simply say.

"I didn't realize I asked," her tone remains honey sweet, "you have to eat puppy, you wanna make me happy, don't you?" You nod in response without a doubt, to her great satisfaction, "Then you will finish all of it."

The rest of the day, she lets you be as she gets some work done around the ship, which means you spend all of it on the couch.

A few hours after you both had dinner, she yells from across the vessel in curiosity, "What are you doing?"

"I’m just watching TV."

"Turn that off, too much screen time isn't good for you," you immediately follow her instruction, "come here."

You find her in the cockpit and softly ask, "What is it?"

She gestures to her lap and you take your place, allowing her to wrap her arms around you, "I like having you close to me, is that a crime?" You respond by curling up into her with a content sigh.

She runs her hands over every inch of your body and eventually settles on the right side of your neck, before she continues working. You start mindlessly nibbling at her earlobe, "It’s getting late, you're getting tired, aren't you, puppy?"

Almost as if she had cast a spell on you, you begin to yawn and your eyelids become heavy, but there isn’t much you can do about it.

After she's done working, she takes you to bed and tucks you in, you reach out for her as she's letting go, "Shh, I'll just be a minute."

She leaves for exactly 60 seconds and then comes back to lay beside you.

The next morning, you’re having breakfast at the table together when the ship's door opens making you immediately alarmed, you think they've come to take you.

You stare at the entrance and catch Carol out of the corner of your eye, noticing that she remains completely calm, so you do the same. As the door is closing, she gets up, greets the visitor, then looks back at you, "Come say hi, angel," she instructs.   You walk slowly to her, almost on autopilot, the strange woman places a gentle kiss on your cheek as she marvels at you, shyly standing before her.

"Do you remember Val?" Carol’s voice brings you back to reality, "She helped me rescue you the first time."

You don't remember a lot about the time you met Carol, it was very long ago and your mind has begun to turn those memories into mush. You look to the ground, a little ashamed, and shake your head as you mumble an apology.

"That’s quite alright, I recall she was sedated beyond her senses." Val tells Carol, "I see you've taken great care of her," she remarks, gently caressing your cheek.

"Of course, only the best for the best," Carol smiles, "which is why I must ask you again," her features turn stern, "are you sure you can get it out?"

Valkyrie looks confident, "Absolutely, they're the same ones I used to handle in Sakaar." Carol gestures for you to give them a minute, so you go to the bedroom, as they both lower their voices to a whisper, "Will it hurt?" Carol’s eyes are full of concern.

Val hesitates slightly, "I’ve never had one in me, but I would assume so." Carol worries her lip between her teeth, "I promise to be careful," Val reassures, "plus, I don't really think you're gonna find anyone else in the universe willing to get that chip out of her."

"You’re right," Carol sighs in defeat, "can you do it now?"

"Sure."

At that, Carol calls for you, "Come here, puppy." Valkyrie's ears perk up at the pet name, but she makes no comment about it.

You come back out and follow Carol to the small medical room, she instructs you to lay down and quickly explains what's gonna happen, you silently agree.

The strongest sedative in the ship is barely enough to restrain your squirming away from Valkyrie's gloved hands.

Carol sits on the other side of the bed, keeping your gaze trained on hers. She rubs little patterns on your arm and whispers sweet nothings into your ear so you focus only on her.

She knows this is gonna hurt more than she could possibly imagine, but she wasn't going to leave a S.H.I.E.L.D. tracker inside of you and wait for someone with less than honest intentions to find a way to tap into it, so this is a sacrifice that has to be made.

You hate hospitals and doctors and, although this situation has neither, the similarities are uncanny. The bright fluorescent lights, the staleness in the air, the smell of the sterile equipment and the feeling of latex on your skin it's all too much for you to handle.   Carol asked you to be brave for her and she always does what's best for you, but you can't help yourself when you start to hyperventilate. Carol notices the quickened rise and fall of your chest and gets up from her seat, struggling to keep her own anxiety at bay. She places a warm hand on your chest, "Shh, look at me, angel, deep breaths for me, you're doing so good, just a little longer," she tries desperately to soothe you.

"I’m almost done, sweetheart." Valkyrie's husky voice is what finally helps you get a hold of your body again and work on evening out your breathing.

A few moments later, Valkyrie is done sealing you up and goes to clean herself off.

"That’s it, angel, you did it, I’m so proud of you." Carol plants a kiss on your sweaty forehead. You shut your eyes from exhaustion and pain as you nod, soaking up her voice.

Strong but gentle hands lift you up, and when you open your eyes again, you're in your room and Carol is laying by your side, "Rest up, I'll be right here."

You wake up the next day to a pounding in your head and an empty bed, feeling dizzy, disoriented, and drained. As if on instinct, you get out of the room and look for Carol in search of comfort.

As you step out, you find Val lounging quietly on the couch, she hears you coming and turns to you, immediately reading the confused disappointment in your face.

"Marv had to answer an emergency call, but I told her I'd stay here and look after you," she explains.

You slowly take in her words and rasp, "Thank you." You sit next to her in a bit of an awkward silence.

Val has never been good at looking after others, but she really wanted to do this for Carol…and for you, "So, what do you usually do around here?" She asks hesitatingly.

"Whatever Carol tells me to." Your tone is nonchalant.

"Anything?" Val’s voice comes out tentative, you hum in response, "Even—?" she stops herself mid sentence, but you know perfectly well what she wants to ask, you give her a mischievous look and nod in response, she subtly crosses her legs a little tighter. Suddenly, her brows furl in confusion, "Why?"

You look to the side as you think, "Because I love her, and it's easy to let her be in control."

"You know you're strong enough to take her out, right?"

"Yes," you state confidently and Valkyrie slowly begins to understand, allowing you to settle into a more comfortable silence.

After a moment, she speaks again, pointing at your neck, "How are you doing?"

You swallow thickly and mumble, "Hurts."

That's what she thought, but you seemed much too well composed, "How come you aren't doubling over in pain?" she wonders almost in amazement.

"It’s rude." Your voice wavers ever so slightly.

Her features soften, "Oh, darling, you don't need to pretend with me, I am here to take care of you." You look into her eyes and find that she means it completely, so you take that as permission to lay your head on her lap and let your body crumble as you feel all the pain you've been suppressing take over.

Val only hears your sniffling followed by teardrops falling on her thighs, she gently runs her hand up and down your back, hesitatingly at first, "It’s alright," she reassures, "I’m sure Marv has pain killers here somewhere."

"Those don't work on me," you barely whisper back.

"What should we do then?"

You don't have half a brain to think about it, if Carol was here, she'd know exactly what to do. Val realizes taking care of you won't be as easy as she expected, but she has to figure something out. She promised she'd take care of you as if Carol was here herself, and the mere sight of you being so helpless is tugging at her heart in ways she never thought possible.

She overcomes her slight desperation once she accepts that there is nothing she can do to take the pain away, but she concludes that she doesn’t have to do that if she can get your mind away from the pain.

She taps your back so you'll lift your head off her lap, "Come with me." It’s a direction, but not quite an order.

As much of a stranger as she is to you, she doesn't exactly feel like one. Being around her isn't as nerve wracking as being with a stranger, plus, the way Carol trusts her makes it easy for you to trust her yourself, so you get up and follow her to the bathroom.

She sits you on the edge of the tub and starts the water. Once the bath is ready, she gets rid of her clothes and climbs in, exhaling as the warm water covers her skin.

She doesn't think about it too hard as nudity is a very natural facet of Valkyrie culture, she felt so at ease with you, that she forgot that being naked around others isn't so common for humans. She almost panics when she remembers, until she meets your gaze, observing her in awe.

Out of all the places you could be staring at right now, your brain decides her biceps are the most wonderful thing you've ever seen, she lets you revere her body for just a moment, before getting your attention again, a huge grin plastered on her face as she lays back, "Are you going to join me?" Her voice turns suggestive.

You blink a few times as you register her question. It’s a funny thing, really, you were so enthralled looking at her, that you almost forgot about the searing pain in your head, so, without a second thought, you discard your own clothing and settle between her legs, your back leaning on her chest.

You take deep breaths and close your eyes trying to relax, focusing on the feeling of her heartbeat against your body.

The deafening pounding in your head returns and you instinctively squeeze Val's hand tight enough to make her grind her teeth, but she allows you the comfort without complaining.

"You’re okay, sweet thing," she coos into your ear when you let go of her hand.

"I’m not a thing," you mumble, that word reminds you of being locked in a cage.

"You are absolutely right, I’m sorry," she quickly corrects herself, "what would you like me to call you?" you shrug in response, "Can I call you 'love'?" you nod shyly, but she isn’t convinced, "'Little love'?" She can't see the smile that forms on your face, but you hope she can sense it, your nod is firmer this time.

She begins giving you a back rub and leaving soft nibs and bites on the untouched side of your neck, feeling your body melt into hers and causing small whimpers to leave your lips. Every little touch helps you take your brain away from the pain, bit by bit.

You bask in a familiar comfort even though you only met Val the day before. The gentle contact seems to come easily for Valkyrie as your whimpers turn to moans of relief and pleasure.

She continues to find more sweet spots all over your body to soothe and kiss and love until the water begins to get cold, "Feeling better?" she asks in a velvety tone.

"Uh huh," you breathe out, your eyes still closed.

"Do you want to get out now?"

You nod and hum in response, Val isn't quite sure if you're telling her what you want or what you think she wants to hear, but either way, you're both getting pruney so it's time to get out.

She stands and steps out first, drying herself off before helping you do the same. You both get dressed and come out of the bathroom.

You consider going to bed, but decide that you want to keep being around Val, so you slump on the couch again. She follows behind you but doesn’t sit down, "Are you hungry?" she asks, thinking it’s probably been too long since the last time you had something to eat.

"No," you respond sincerely.

She squints her eyes in a playful challenge, "Do you have to eat anyway?" She realizes she’s starting to get the hang of things when you smile cheekily and nod, "I'll fix something up for you."

She starts to walk to the kitchen, but your voice stops her, "You have to eat with me!"

So she turns around with a grin on her face, "I’ll fix something up for us, then."

After you eat, sleep starts to take over you as the headache returns, so you go back to the couch and Val guides you to lay your head on her lap once more.

She gently plays with your hair and rubs your back telling you sweet nothings until you’re dozed off.

You wake up an hour later and soon remember where you are and who you’re with. You try your best not to move so Val won’t know you’re awake, but it doesn’t take her long to notice.

"Hey there, little love," she whispers, still playing with your hair, "are you awake?" you lazily shake your head, "You don’t have to pretend with me, we can stay this way even if you’re not asleep." Her voice is so sweet it almost drizzles into your ears.

You meet her eyes trying to tell her that you would love for nothing more and she understands you completely, so she begins telling you mythical stories about her past with her sisters, as you curl further into her.

You lose track of time, listening to all the marvelous tales until the ship’s door catches your attention. Carol is back. You instantly sit up and away from Val, your body triggering your fight or flight response.

As Carol makes eye contact with you, you jump to your feet waiting for her next instruction, "Stay with Val, angel, I’m gonna take a shower," she says, softer that anything you expected. You nod in return, feeling your nerves settle down and go back to your place with a small smile on your lips.

Val can't help but admire the way Carol has you wrapped around her pinky finger, without the need to use force or be aggressive in any way. Every single time she's heard Carol speak to you, she uses the kindest tone and she still has you at her beck and call. It's mesmerizing.

Once Carol comes out of the shower, Val stands up, "Well, my job here is done," she announces with satisfaction, although she’s a little sad to be leaving.

You pout, looking up at her from the couch, "Do you have to go?" Your soft, almost pleading tone makes Val’s heart jump, prompting you both to look at Carol.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" she quickly offers.

"I would love to."

Over dinner, Carol and Val sit across from each other and you sit in between them. The entire time, you can't help yourself from being all touchy with Val. You play with her rings, interlock fingers, trace the lines on her palm, until you see Carol notice and you freeze, caught like a deer in headlights.

You hurriedly take your hands back to yourself as your heart begins to pound in your chest. Carol can smell your fear like a wolf, mostly because she hates it when you're scared.

She carefully grabs your hand that wasn't on Valkyrie's just a second ago and her features soften to encourage your actions, making your heart continue to pound but for the complete opposite reason.

By the time Valkyrie has to go, you’re comfortably clinging to her with all your might, making it difficult for her to move, "I’m so sorry, little love, but I really have to go now." It’s her turn to pout.

Carol extends her arm for you to come to her and you immediately do, "Valkyrie is a King, you know?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, "A real King?" you whisper to Carol, thinking she's joking.

Carol hums gently, "She has a whole Kingdom to herself." You look at Val, speechless, there goes Carol upselling Val's humble town.

Valkyrie returns your look in amusement, "You can be a Princess if you want," she offers nonchalantly. You only nod in response, unable to form any words and making Val chuckle, "Alright then, I'll talk to you soon, Princess," she winks and leaves a kiss on your crown, "see you, Marv." She bids you goodbye and then dissolves into rays of light.

You remain looking at the spot where Val was, until Carol's voice pulls you back, "You really like Val, don't you?"

"Yes." Your tone is small.

"I like her too, maybe we should have her over more often," you nod excitedly, "I’ll let her know," she says with a huge grin.

She gently lifts your chin and places a sweet kiss on your lips, "I love you, puppy."

"I love you, Daddy."

[youknowwho-mustnotbenamed]

November 12 - Moving Staircase & November 16 - Hospital Wing | word count: 893 | @wolfstarmicrofic

There is something inherently wrong with the scene before him. There is no reasonable explanation for it. Which means, he is imagining all of it. Because why else, would Sirius Black—who can out-magic almost everybody at this school—be lying in the hospital wing, looking like he… like he…

This should never be something Remus has to witness. He is supposed to be the one lying broken in a bed of the hospital wing. He isn’t supposed to see one of his friends with their arms twisted at awkward angles and their faces black-and-blue. So why, is he standing over the bed, looking down at Sirius who looks as though he got into a fight with a centaur and lost?

Madam Pomfrey left almost two hours ago now, with promises Sirius would wake soon, and yet there are no signs of him so much as stirring. He is certain the crescent moons on his palms will be there permanently from how long he has been clenching his fist.

Then suddenly, Sirius’ eyes flutter open and the rest of the world falls away. Remus never found himself focused on Sirius eyes—there are so many other wonderful parts of him—but right now, he clings to them like a lifeline. They are open, and though he can see a tinge of pain the crinkles around them, they are open. Sirius is awake, and everything is going to be okay.

“Moony?” He croaks, trying to shift in bed, before wincing and giving up the effort.

“Who did this to you?” He finds himself demanding without any preamble.

“Huh?”

“Who did this to you? Who hurt you, because I’m going to make sure they get what they deserve.”

“And what is that exactly?” Sirius asks, eyes hungry, almost predatory.

“They are going to get what they gave to you. Now, who did it?”

He hates this. He hates being violent, and he hates that seeing Sirius like this brings out the violence in him. But he doesn’t try to tamp it down. Not now, not when rage is flowing through him and needs some kind of outlet. Not when Sirius has his full attention on him, and doesn’t appear to be looking away any time soon.

“Well, I fear that would be counterintuitive. Bit Romeo and Juliet, yeah?”

“I—what?” Remus asks, heart stumbling at the comparison between them and lovers.

“You want to hurt the person who did this to me, so you shove me down the stairs. Then, you would be the one to hurt me so you would have to fling yourself down the stairs.”

“Sirius, what are you going on about?”

Suddenly sheepish, Sirius ducks his head, clearly trying to hide the bright red flare along his neck and cheeks.

“Sirius…”

“Ifelldownthestairs.”

“You—”

The door to the infirmary bursts open, swinging back closed from the force with which I hits the wall. Without looking, Remus knows exactly who it is. And the guilt and dread pools even heavier in his gut. Merlin, how could he have forgotten about James and Peter? Especially James. He was being too selfish and wrapped in his own head to think about the others. How can they forgive him now? He knew about their best friend being in the hospital wing unconscious, and didn’t mention it at all? What a twisted way to lose friends than betrayal?

“What happened?” James exclaims, hitting the side of Sirius’ bed so hard it skids a bit.

His voice catches in his throat. He wants to shrink. He wants to disappear. He doesn’t deserve to be here, getting between two best friends, two soulmates. He is an intruder in this friendship, and it needs to be him who takes leave.

“Fell down the stairs” Sirius says with a smirk, the embarrassment completely gone from his face. Of course, he wouldn’t be embarrassed telling his ‘other half’ what happened. How can you be embarrassed in front of the person who would do anything for you? Remus on the other hand? Remus is the embarrassment.

He stands, managing to take a few steps before Sirius’ voice lures him back. “Moony? What are you going?”

He swallows passed the lump in his throat. “Just going to get Madam Pomfrey. She needs to do some tests now that you are awake.”

Before he can make a bigger embarrassment out of himself, he keeps walking. He walks out of the infirmary, down the corridor, down several flights of stairs. He walks away. As far away as he can get. As he is walking, he catches a glimpse of something out the corner of his eye. A notebook. It’s peeking out the corner of a hidden alcove, but Remus can spot the S.O.B on the corner.

Scooping up the book, he flips through. Inside, there are hundreds of small sketches. Views of the rolling grounds, animals, some tattoo ideas, even some random nonsense shapes. But overwhelmingly, the sketchbook is filled with… him. His far too knobby hands, his crooked nose with a deep scar, his eyes, his face buried in his sweater. And on the last page, the drawing Sirius must have been working on when he fell…

A close up of his face, each detail worked on in intense detail.

Remus drops to his knees, ignoring the harsh crack against the ground, and sobs.

[avocado-writing]

thinking abouttttt reader (perhaps nightingale!!) and crowley fucking etc on a couch in the bookshop while aziraphale works nearby, trying to distract him and moaning his name begging him to join them

perhaps even leaving a perfect space for him to fit in 🤫

notes: yes teehee tltdatsib-verse. utter filth.

pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley

rating: E, minors dni

“Time for bed, angel.”

Aziraphale looks up from his desk to the two of you. Between you and Crowley you take up most of the doorframe, a double hit of pleading eyes and soft hands. Crowley’s just wearing silk boxers, and your short pyjama set leaves very little to the imagination. Aziraphale knows what you actually mean when you tell him it’s time for bed: we’re both feeling up for it, and we want you to come and join us.

And to be fair, usually Aziraphale says yes. He might be an angel but he’s a sinner when it comes to lust, when it comes to the both of you. It’s a delight to have one person’s hands on you, but the touch of two? Two who love him to the ends of the earth and desire nothing more than to have him between them, caress him, hold him, make love to him? How does one not fall into that temptation?

Bookseller issues, that’s how. He’s had a smarmy letter from someone claiming there’s a family heirloom in his shop, donated by an ancestor years ago, and they want it back. He needs to work out how to squirm his way out of this one or the word will spread that he can be bullied into surrendering his stock. So he slides his glasses off his face and into his hair and gives you both a resigned smile. 

“I’m sorry, my darlings. I won’t be joining you tonight, for anything but sleep anyway. But don’t let my absence stop you. I’m sure you can find ways to entertain yourselves.”

He says this last part with a wink and hopes it will solve the matter, but you and Crowley exchange a look. The two of you are masters of silent communication. Aziraphale is a little jealous of it if truth be told, but usually when you do this it’s because the two of you are scheming something about him. 

“Alright,” you sigh, taking Crowley’s hand and heading to the sofa, “we won’t go to bed then.”

Aziraphale furrows his brow. 

“But—”

“No angel, you’ve made yourself quite clear,” Crowley says, raising his palm to silence his husband. He takes a seat and pats the area next to him, where you slide in perfectly. There is just enough room on the couch for Aziraphale to join you. 

“I don’t know what the two of you think you’re doing —”

“We’re just not letting your absence stop us,” Crowley explains. You sling a leg over his so you can mount his slim thigh, and then the two of you begin to kiss. There is no preamble to it. There is no warming up. Suddenly the two of you are lips-akimbo, pressing your tongues together in a way which borders on pornographic. No, scratch that, there is nothing bordering about it at all - the moan Crowley releases into your mouth, the way your back arches as he grabs a handful of your arse, this is all practically choreographed. 

For him. To make him pay attention. 

Aziraphale will not let it work. He turns back to his papers and stares down at them, but the letters turn into a jumbled mess before his eyes. A moment passes but when you groan his head whips around involuntarily.

You’re riding Crowley’s leg, pressing your sex to it and dragging it back and forth slowly. You’ve reached into his boxers, too, and pulled out the length of him: half-hard and already beginning to leak. His precome shines on your fingers. Both of you are looking directly at your angel.

“Stop it,” he says, but doesn’t mean it at all. He’d very much like for you to continue, actually. Aziraphale reaches down to adjust himself in his trousers, where his cock is beginning to grow heavy and ache.

He didn’t even realise he’d manifested one. He must have done it subconsciously. This is what the two of you do to him.

“Gosh, I wish our husband was over here,” you sigh, dramatically, swiping the moisture off Crowley’s slit, “you’re lovely, Crowley, but Aziraphale’s thighs are so lovely and thick. I could fuck them all day.”

“Normally I’d take that as an insult, nightingale, but I can’t help but agree,” Crowley murmurs. You capture his lips in another filthy kiss to show you didn’t mean to offend your demon, digging your hips down more roughly. You must catch in a pleasurable way because you let out a needy little mewl.

“Oh, Crowley–” you huff, matching the speed of your thrusts with the timing of your hand. You look wickedly back to Aziraphale.

“There’s room. You could join us. I’d love to feel your thigh under me, darling. I’m sure Crowley would too, you have two of them after all. And his pussy is just as pretty as his cock, don’t you think? Isn’t he such a lovely demon?”

You lick a line along Crowley’s throat and bite at the hinge of his jaw, teasing the skin with your teeth. The two of you let out a twin little cry, and it snaps the last thread of self control Aziraphale was hanging on to.

He stands, suddenly, and you both look delighted.

“If you’re going to terrorise me, you’ll get what you asked for,” he states. A motion of his hand has the two of you scrambling to make space. Aziraphale sits heavily between the two of you and pats either one of his thighs.

“You want to ride me? Ride me. And whoever comes first I’ll pay special attention to.”

You and Crowley exchange a look. This has gone from an allyship to a competition with one sentence. Aziraphale is overwhelmed by the feeling of the two of you suddenly mounting him, your sexes rough and needy against him. 

He slips a hand around either of your waists and holds you both close. 

Perhaps the outside world can wait.

taglist: @angiestopit @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t @am-i-obsessed---maybe @bakerstreethound@a-mediocore-writer

[screams-in-writing]

*launches Mr. Puzzles into the air then choke slams him into the ground*

One shot below, if you just want to read it here. Be advised, it’s near 10k now:

Summary:

A tattered, beaten-up Mr. Puzzles plush comes into your possession; it makes you wonder when you’ll get to see the real one again.

Tags from ao3:

- The day started off normally enough. 

There was the usual struggle upon waking to blink the bleariness out of your eyes. 

Finding clothing in the dark made extra difficult because you forgot that there’s a light switch in your room. Or, you know, actual sunlight, if you’d thought to open up the curtains. 

Rummaging around the kitchen for breakfast while continuing to struggle to wake and see through continued blurry eyes.

Taking so long with breakfast and finding clothing beforehand making you end up jogging to work with said breakfast down the sidewalk. The later unfortunate recollection that you’d left your lunch at home. 

A typical day, really.

But what wasn’t typical was being stopped by a coworker at the end of your shift to be given the saddest, most beaten-up pathetic excuse of a plush.

-

A coworker called out your name, causing you to turn back to see what was up.

”Here you go.” Your coworker said without preamble, thrusting a plushie out for you to presumably take. 

It was one of those long-limbed Mr. Puzzles plush.

“I found this in the dumpster behind the cafe while taking out the trash.” Your coworker was staring somewhere near your shoulder as she continued to speak in a hushed tone. “I felt like I was being watched, but no one was there. Still, I didn’t want to tempt fate, so I took the plush out, left the garbage bag, and decided I’d give the plush to you.” With a quick moment of eye contact, then away, she added. “Mr. Puzzles liked you, right? So he  probably wouldn’t take it as badly if he saw a plush of himself in such a terrible state if you had it. Instead of someone he thought might have vandalized the plush on purpose.”

Mr. Puzzles sure did seem to take offense to his likeness being destroyed or otherwise ridiculed.

“He hasn’t been to the cafe in years.” Your coworker said bluntly. She then paused, blinked, then awkwardly looked down when she caught a glimpse of the saddened expression on your face. “Sorry. I forgot he hasn’t visited and you...” Another pause. “I mean, I’m sure he’ll turn up again; everyone on the cafe and your podcast friends miss him too.” Another awkward pause as her own expression twisted into discomfort. “Sorry. We know you took him being gone out of the blue the hardest.” Off to the side. “Dammit, I’m shit at this.”

You accept the plush from your coworker as she abruptly thrusts it closer. Then, you watch your coworker randomly walk back into the cafe, but you don’t take it personally.

She tended to have trouble looking people in the eyes and spoke bluntly what she felt in the moment, but you always appreciated the honesty. 

Turning your attention to the plush in your hands with its ridiculous long limbs, you find that you do actually feel bad for this plush version of Mr. Puzzles. 

Your coworker had been correct; the real Mr. Puzzles hadn’t been around for some time. Years, in fact, since you haven’t even gotten to speak to him.

It wasn’t his fault or yours that the portal between your worlds had been destroyed. 

You hoped the smg’s would be willing to make another one, but there was no way for you to communicate with them, so all you could do was wait, and hope. 

…you missed Mr. Puzzles a lot. 

Smg4 and his friends too, but not as much as the tv headed man who’d begun to mean so much to you.

Stubbornly swiping a sleeve over your face, you head back home with the poor plush, planning to clean it free of any dirt. But you did have an aversion to putting it in the washing machine, or even in a laundry tub to do by hand, unless you didn’t submerge the plush’s head. 

This was because you remembered Mr. Puzzles couldn’t have his metal tv head submerged underwater. 

You knew this was a plush that you held, and that getting it wet wouldn’t do anything, but you couldn’t help but fall back into memories the longer you stared at the tattered Puzzles plush. You think you may even have another plush like this (one of many the man sneakily smuggled over to your world, and into this town, some of the people delighted by the silliness of his long-limbed plush).

As you got to cleaning, you take in more details of the incredibly poor condition of the plush. 

Its left arm was missing from the elbow down, some wires poking out of the cotton inside. Incredible attention to detail, you thought, compared to the other plushies of the same type. You turned the plush over and back to scrutinize the chest area. 

Why did the tarted fabric show material beneath that looked like the color of the grayish skin Mr. Puzzles had?

It was kind of in poor taste, considering whoever had this plush decided to slash the plush’s chest and torso with what appeared to be a knife. 

It unnerved you to see what looked like traces of dried blood on the areas of the ‘wounds’ with cotton poking out of the cuts too. 

You hoped it was just ketchup. 

…there was a lot of cotton poking out of the poor plushie. 

The color came off with some extra scrubbing, and once you deemed the Mr. Puzzles plush clean, you decided that you couldn’t leave the body torn open like that.

It just so happened that you had thread that matched the plush’s oddly Puzzles’ skin tone colored body, and set about sewing. You were careful to not leave much of the stitching visible, using the ladder stitch you’d learned to use some time ago. 

Once that was complete, you finally allowed yourself to focus on the worst of the damage apart from half a missing arm. 

The face of the plush. 

Usually, it had a mad grin on it along with the eyes that Mr. Puzzles tended to get when he was visibly agitated or feeling a particularly strong emotion. Aka when he was trying to tamp those emotions down instead of flying into a rage. 

This plushies ‘screen’?

Completely gone.

The plastic was missing. 

The face itself was cut beneath the eyes, and it looked like someone had peeled the top half of the screen face up and off to the side, cotton practically bursting out from the seams no longer there. Beneath, the was a long cut that tore deeply across the technicolor smile. 

You used some spare fabric to wrap around the upper half of the plush’s head to prevent the stuffing from coming out further (why you did that, you weren’t sure, but it felt right to do in the moment. 

Tomorrow, you’d sew up the mouth, so it didn’t tug at with side of the plush’s head. 

It was going to take a lot to fix the poor thing, but you decided to do just that. 

As you set the Puzzles plush up on the fireplace mantle and propped it up against a box you put behind it, you kind of just…stared at it for a moment. 

Just seeing its condition made you sad. 

You inwardly agreed with your coworker from earlier. 

The real Mr. Puzzles wouldn’t appreciate the sight of a plush in his image so shabby and beaten to. 

…you missed him.

So, so much.

It had been so long since you’d last seen Mr. Puzzles. 

Giving your head a little shake, to not fall down those spiraling thoughts, you decided to let the plush dry overnight. Then, you could see what you could do to piece the rest of it back together. 

Seeing the poor state the plush was still on, you wanted to do your best. It was unnerving that it looked like someone had been torturing Mr. Puzzles via the plush.

~

I was unable to move. 

It was dark. 

A darkness stretching out before me with no light in sight. 

I couldn’t see; there was only a darkness that stretched out before me. 

A murkiness, with any speck of light denied to me.

I was alone, suspended in this dark isolation that seemed unending. 

Not even my own mind was like this, even if I was alone, because I at least had the light of the numerous televisions all around me. 

Here?

I had nothing.

It had been a long time since I’d seen anyone.

Heard anyone.

So long since I’d last held you in my arms that I almost feel as if I’d forgotten the sensation, with how trapped I currently was. 

The fear and terror paralyzed me as surely as my currently useless body outside of this darkness was.

There was no way for me to even know how long I’d been in this state. 

It was a shame that whenever I was released from this terrifying prison that I wouldn’t even be able to put it to use in a show. 

I couldn’t even say why I thought that, but I presumed it had to do with how I ended up in this predicament in the first place. 

Now, would this be considered horror, or a thriller, I wondered. 

It wasn’t like I was being haunted by some ghost or being hunted by a creature. 

Something had caused me to become like this.

Suspense, I guess.

Fear of the unknown when there was a sense of something not quite right, only to be unaware until it was too late.

It certainly felt more horror-esque, considering I was aware and yet unaware to do anything about my current situation. 

Hm.

I might be able to make something after all.

A freezing chill flowed over me.

Or not.

This was quite unpleasant, and if I could have screamed, I would have done so, regardless of the possible ridicule that may have come from Smg4 or the others, should they happen to be anywhere nearby. 

The cold slowly dissipated.

I felt a little better, for some reason I couldn’t place. 

Warmer. 

Almost safer.

Then it was gone.

As I settled into a listless state of unfeeling immobility. there was only one thing on my mind, apart from escaping this place.

I hoped you would forgive me for being away from you for what seemed like such a very long time.

~

Today was your day off, which had now become ‘fix the Mr. Puzzles plush’ day. 

You gathered the materials that you thought you might need, including another Puzzles plush to replace what the damaged one was missing.

It seemed a shame to ruin a perfectly good plushie, but for whatever reason, you wanted to fix the Puzzles plush you’d placed to dry overnight on the fireplace mantle. 

Maybe it was because your coworker had found it in the dumpster, indicating that someone had decided the plushie wasn’t worth keeping and had thrown it away? The thought didn’t sit well with you, perhaps considering how isolated you’d leaned Mr. Puzzles had been once you’d gotten to know him better. The way the man worried for the longest time he’d be rejected by you, even though you, too, were concerned about the same in return. 

The whole ‘this other person couldn’t possibly want me, could they?’

How wrong the both of you had been in that regard.

A pant of sadness, as you went about getting the supplies spread out while reaching for the plush to lie in on the kitchen table, musing where to begin with the poor plush.

The fabric wrapped around the head was hiding the worst of the damage, so you decided to start there.

First, you carefully used as similar colored thread you could find to sew the damage across the technicolor smile. 

Next, you unwrapped the fabric around the upper half of the plush’s head to begin to push the cotton back inside, and, using gray thread, began to sew the edges of the television screen between the fabric peeled away that held the eyes and the teeth. Then, folding the fabric with the eyes on it back down, you slowly began to sew that back together, until the face of the plush was restored. 

It wasn’t perfect, but no one would be able to tell that the face had all but been torn open with cotton spilling out.

Carefully, you took the plastic screen part off of the other Puzzles plush, and arduously began to attach it to the initially damaged Mr. Puzzles long limbed plushie. 

With the face of the plush restored, the screen you’d just put over it a near perfect way, you realized that the previous damage to the face was more difficult to see through the somewhat reflective surface. 

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Smiling at the plush, you look over its ‘clothes’ and the half missing arm. “It’ll be even better when I finish fixing you up a bit more.” Your smile fell as you stared a the plush you’d picked up, holding it under its arms. “I hope I’ll be able to see the real Mr. Puzzles in person sooner rather than later.” Your voice became a hushed whisper as you hugged the plush to you. “I miss him so much. There’s so much I’d like to say to him.” 

You prop the plushie up on the table against a box of sewing supplies, and grasped its right hand.

The plush hand was oddly limp.

“But maybe I can just talk to you, silly as that is.” You flopped the small plush hand in your hand in a wave. “That way, when I do see him again, it will be easier for me to say some things to him. What do you say?”

Naturally, the plush Mr. Puzzles said nothing.

~

There was a jarring of this cold, lifeless place. 

It felt like I was on fire, but wherever I was couldn’t possibly be a real fire. I felt I would have somehow been able to know, but then again, how could I know that?

I knew nothing but the darkness and the silence, wherever I was. 

All at once, I regained my sense of feeling in my body, but with that came a variety of horrors that hit me one by one. 

I couldn’t rightly parse through all of these sensations and the creeping fear while I continued to immobile and therefore, completely helpless. This was only slightly made better by the fact that the darkness was slowly leaving my vision, allowing me my sight once more. But what I saw, I could almost not comprehend, and while my sight may have been restored, I found myself unable to speak, no matter what I did.

My body hurt with a deep, painful ache, but that was something I could handle because a massive relief washed over me upon seeing you.

I wasn’t alone anymore. 

Somehow, someway, you’d found me, but there was no chance that you had any idea what you’d found.

As you spoke to me, I yearned to reach out to you. I wanted to wipe away your tears while you talked to me. I so desperately wanted to hold you in my arms, but I wasn’t able to as was now.

Trapped. 

I was trapped and unable to do anything about it. 

Only watch, as you spoke your hopes and sorrows to me about us reuniting, while you continued to sew up the tears within this body.

When I was back to normal, I was not going to trouble you with just how painful each stitch was, nor how much I wanted to scream and writhe in agony as you sewed the forearm and hand you’d taken from the other plush and attached it to mine.

I had no idea how that would translate when I was restored back to my usual handsome self with my beautiful metal head.

I wouldn’t hold it against you, however, since you had no idea what it was um you held in your hands as anything other than a plushie.

That was a worry for when there was a plan to help me change back, and for that, I needed to get you to realize it was me.

To figure out how to have you understand what you held in your hands; that it wasn’t just any old Mr. Puzzles plush.

It was me.

The real Mr. Puzzles.

And the longer you spoke to me while putting the finishing touches to the plush’s (my) body, I realized that you had no idea that I wasn’t in my home world.

I was here with you, in your’s.

But for how long?

Was I in danger, or did being in my current state mean that I would be fine?

While you made little fixes to my (stupid) plush body’s clothing, I was rather flattered that you’d decided to put together a little ensemble different than the usual long-limbed plush’s of the me’s I’d brought here to your world. 

In fact.…the outfit was beginning to look like my suit tailcoat I’d worn to a party with you, complete with little puzzle-pieces and stars adorning it that you’d likely found at a local craft store.

I loved the care you put into it, even if you thought I was merely a lifeless plushie.

In a way, I was, unable to speak or move.

As the day progressed, you eventually were satisfied with my restoration, and set me back up on the mantle of the fireplace.

I desperately attempted to get your attention, and the only way to do this was to play with the trick of light on the ‘screen’ of the plush. I figured out that I could subtly change the expressions beneath the plastic 

So many times, I almost caught your attention, but whenever you turned to look at me, you obviously saw nothing out of the ordinary.

I wanted to screen in both frustration and despair.

This wasn’t fair.

We were together again, yet I couldn’t speak, was unable to move. 

Useless. 

This plush body was useless!

Please.

Just let me get your attention, for one moment.

Please see me.

Even if you yourself couldn’t fix this situation I found myself in, at least you would have been able to know it was me.

I couldn’t stand this; the watching and the waiting. 

The only time your hands were on me was when my stupid body ended up sliding one way or another on the mantle of the fireplace.

When it happened for the third time, not of my own volition, I was certain you’d have grown weary of it, and put me somewhere out not sight. 

Instead, you picked me up, and brought me to your bedroom for the night to hug me.

I dearly wanted to embrace you in return, but all I could do in this state was just lie there, useless, as you used my plush body to comfort yourself by holding it close to your chest. At the very least, it was nice to be good for something, despite being unable to speak to you. I couldn’t even to let you know that I was there with you. 

It was infuriating, if enlightening, to be motionless, hearing both your heartbeat and your voice as you spoke to me. 

Had I been able, my screen would have been lit up bright with a heartbeat covered blush and averted eyes. 

It took longer than I would have liked for there to finally be an opportunity to get you to see that I was right there next to you until finally, I had one. 

It was just unfortunate that the way I was able to let you know who I was ended up being distressing for both of us.

To think that my plush body could take actual damage that caused it to bleed made me wonder if I’d taken more damage right before and after I’d he’d been in that darkness from before. 

I couldn’t recall how I even ended up this way, and now all I could think of was the very real deep aching pain from my neck.

~

You could not believe that there was just a random dog who just so happened to be near your home’s front porch that snuck the Puzzles plush away from you to use as a chew toy.

And just a week after you’d finished restoring it!

There were so many branches in the yard, so why couldn’t the pooch have gone after those?

You chased the dog around to your backyard, the silly thing thinking it was a great game while it shook its head now and again, which furiously shook the Puzzles plush as well. The play bows the dog gave you when you got close were cute, as wee the snorts of breath from past the dog’s muzzle closed over the plushie. And when you got too close, the dog danced out of range to solidify its actions with the ‘play’ part.

It took some time trying to catch the dog before it could dart away, and when you finally got a hold of the plush, you got the weird sensation again that you needed to be careful. You almost immediately let go, however, when the dog thought you were changing the game to tug of war.

But this got the dog to follow you around, and even waited outside on your front porch as you dashed in and back out with a treat in a last ditch attempt to get the animal to galley go.

You weren’t so sure why you were so frantic to get the Puzzles plush away from the dog, but here you were.

“Here boy.” You paused, tilting your head at the dog. “Or girl. C’mere good doggy. Look what I got for you.” You held up a dog bone and waved it; you’d grabbed from inside the house to bribe the dog to let go. One of your roommates’ friends had given some dog bones to all three of you, as a joke, since that friend knew none of you had a pet dog. But hey, it was working out to have those on hand now.

The dog’s ears perked up upon seeing the treat. With a big, wagging tail, the dog dropped the Mr. Puzzles plushie near your feet and sat, intent on the dog bone.

”Good job.” You praises the dog, waving the treat, then tossing it off the porch. With a furiously wagging tail and happy barks, the dog picked up the treat and darted off.

Distantly, there was someone yelling for the dog over the pet having the gall had to somehow jump the fence to run away.

Sighing and shaking your head, you stoop and pick the plush up. You look the plush over after feeling it damp in some places from the dog’s mouth. Your grip shifted and became more firm on the plush when you noted, in alarm, that it was not only saliva making the plushie wet. There was something trickling down the plush’s neck.

It looked like blood.

Unnervingly enough, it was warm and tacky like blood while it sluggishly slid down along the plush’s neck to its upper body.

That was not normal.

Your mind wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this, but there was something telling you to help.

Sooner rather than later.

You head back into the house and wrapped the long-limber Puzzles plush up in a blanket, as if this would somehow help whatever was going on. Washing your hands free of dog saliva and blood (?) you picked up the blanket with the Mr. Puzzles plush tucked within. After locking up the house, you hurried down the sidewalk.

It wasn’t a very busy time a day, so no one saw you booking it down the sidewalk with a panicked look on your face.

You didn’t exactly have a plan, apart from maybe finding something useful in the house Mr. Puzzles used at the edge of town when he visited your world.

Why?

You weren’t sure.

It wasn’t like you were exactly thinking very clearly right now.

In no time at all, you reached the house.

Standing in the front entryway, you fret about what to do.

Really, what were you thinking? This was a plush you were carrying.

Why would it be bleeding?

Was it from the dog instead?

You were about to leave the house, feeling self-conscious about the overreaction, when you recalled you’d not checked on the portal for months. The house you were in just so happened to be where the portal between worlds was located, safely in the basement, behind a password locked door.

Might as well take a look before you leave. It really was a shame it wasn’t working.

Sighing, you walk over to the door to the basement, and, entering an passcode, entered then closed the door behind you.

One safety check passed.

You closed the door behind, and walked down the stairs after flicking on the light. Holding the blanket close, you made your way down the staircase, mind drifting with each step.

What was it you were expecting to find, other than to confirm whether or not the portal was back up and running.

Hope to see other friends again? 

Sadness that the portal may not be there after all?

You paused at the base of the staircase, blowing out a slow, slow breath as you steeled yourself for disappointment.

Just look.

Might as well get it over, and who knows?

Maybe things will be different this time-

You sucked in a sharp breath, looking first with confusion, then with slowly dawning hope.

There was a telltale light beneath the door on the other side of the spacious basement. 

It couldn’t be…could it?

Holding the blanket with the Puzzles plush tighter to your chest, you cautiously stepped forward and reached out to carefully enter the code to the door. Taking another breath, then  letting it out slowly, you shove the door open and step through it, before leaning back into the heavier door in order to it shut behind you to be resealed.

As soon as you heard the sound indicating the door was secure, you turned.

And stared.

Uncomprehendingly at first until slowly, a smile made its way onto your face as excitement grew.

The portal was back.

It was working again!

It looked stable, the glowing swirl that looked like a galaxy of blue and white.

The portal looked exactly like it was the first time it had been created. And to prove that it was working, the computer on the desk was on.

When you appraised, you were able to see that there was a note that was left open a document.

‘Sorry that it took so long to fix and stabilize the portal. I hope you’ve been doing okay. It’s hard to tell how much time passes between the two worlds, but since they’re parallel to one another, the time ought to be similar. 

Is Mr. Puzzles there with you? No one has seen him for about three years over here.

Is he all right? Tari was wondering, since she mentioned something about seeing him enter the portal, but said she doesn’t remember seeing Puzzles coming back through before the connection went down. Even if he did go through, he does have tools over there to keep up on maintenance. Tell him that he still has to fix one of the sheds here in the showgrounds that he put together and then left everything in limbo.

Everything should be good to go with the portal though, so feel free to visit!’

You figured the message was from Smg4, even if he (and 3) merely tolerated Mr. Puzzles’ presence for your sake. As did many of their friends and acquaintances. Smg3 and 4 were both well well aware that it made you happy to be with Mr. Puzzles, and the tv headed man just so happened to behave himself, for the most part, while around you.

Wait.

You reread the document note, and frowned worriedly.

Mr. Puzzles wasn’t in his home world?

For years?

That seemed rather specific, considering you’d not seen Mr. Puzzles for three years as well.

You gaze drops to the blanket and the plush there. 

There was no way.

You turned the blanket bundle to get a better look at the Puzzles plush.

But…could it be…?

“Mr. Puzzles?” You asked incredulously, as you tentatively checked the plush’s neck again. When you pulled your hand back, you came  away with what was undoubtedly blood, tacky between your fingers. You gripped the blanket near the plush’s head as you leaned over it. “Is that…is that really you? How in the world did you end up like this? Have you been like this for three years? How…when did…?”

Questions later.

Right now, you didn’t think about the craziness that was the possibility of Mr. Puzzles being turned into a plushie. All you thought was to get him somewhere he could get some help. This also meant that you didn’t care about whether or not the portal would remain stable when you use it. 

“If this is really you, we’ll figure out how to get you back to normal, don’t you worry.” You told the plush. Holding the blanket to your chest, you start up the portal, and barely wait for it to form before you step into it.

Once on the other side of the portal, you’re actually met not only by Smg4, but 1, 2, and 3 as well.

Convenient, that.

You hoped that one of them knew what the hell happened to Mr. Puzzles because you sure as heck didn’t. 

None of the Smg’s were able to speak or even greet you as you practically thrust the blanket wrapped around the long limbed Mr. Puzzles plush (possibly the real one too?) and spoke hastily. 

“I thought this was just some random plush thet my coworker found in the dumpster, but a dog just recently had it in its mouth, shaking it around. And now it looks like the plush is bleeding around its neck like what happens to Mr. Puzzles when he spends too long in my world for too long. Can you help him?”

At least, you believe this is what was going on, as you couldn’t think of any other explanation as to why there was honest to goodness blood on the neck of a plush toy filled with cotton.

Thankfully, no one asked questions, because the moment all of them saw the fresh blood sluggishly trailing down from the plush’s neck, all four of them took you seriously that you were serious, that this was actually urgent and you very much were not a joke.

~

There was a wave of relief when I was finally back in my home world, but I wasn’t especially keen on being around Smg4 and the others like this. 

Helpless, and unable to move in this stupid long limbed plush body. 

There was still the fear that someone would want to take further revenge against me for what I did in the past.   Even if things were better than before, even if I’d made some amends with a few of Smg4’s friends, I knew there was a long way for me to go. 

And that not everyone would forgive me.

I could live with that, when I had others I was able to rely on, including you.

It didn’t mean that fear didn’t rise when I saw not only Smg4 and 3 approach me, but also the ones I leaned were called Smg1 and Smg2. 

And when my vision was lost again, I was scared.

What were they doing to me?

I…

I couldn’t do anything to stop them, but you were there too, and I trusted you. Trusted you to make what you believed to be the right decision to figure out how to get him out of this predicament.

But it didn’t change how scared I was that something might go wrong.

I was nervous, in that darkness I was suspended within, while I waited for whatever it was the Smg’s were going to do to me. 

The longer the darkness continued, the worse what could happen began to filter through my mind.

Would they trap me in this plush, so I would never be able to escape or do anything ever again, to never be able to speak to you or anytime else? Were they actually going to be able to help me return to normal?

Time seemed to stretch out in an agonizingly slow manner. 

My hearing went next, leaving only silence within that darkness. 

I held onto the knowledge that you were in the room with the others, and that you would yank my pathetic plush body away should anything happen to go wrong.

The pain soon began, interrupting the usual numbness I had been within. The aches and burning agony began to trickle in, then a fire of sensation rippled across me like lightning.

The sensations like he was being stretched out soon followed. 

It was uncomfortable.

After being unable to move for so long, I couldn’t even begin to fight back against such a sensation. As much as I wanted to, I felt too weak to resist the feeling that was returning to my body.  Despite how unbearable it was becoming, I would withstand whatever was currently happening to me.

I trusted you.

There wasn’t any way you would let them hurt me. Not after everything we’d gone through to get to where we were now.

All at once, my hearing suddenly snapped back into existence. The voices around me slowly become clearer, until I heard someone saying my name.

Sensation came back to me, as I realized I could suddenly feel my own body. My own non-plush body, feeling utterly exhausted and in pure agony like I had stayed for too long in your world. 

…I likely had, if my neck was bleeding as a plush.

Someone said my name again, a hand patting my metal head incessantly.

My…my head.

My television head!

At another thump that rattled my handsome metal head, then my screen flickered on when someone turned the dial on the side of my face. 

I let out a simulated gasp while convulsing on what appeared to be a flat cot or gurney. My left arm felt significantly lighter than my right. In fact, my entire body felt very heavy, especially what was left of his human body. I felt like I’d run a marathon, or had been beaten up and tossed down a tall staircase. 

Unfortunately, you sewing part of the plush arm onto mine did not save my left arm now that I was no longer in that plush form.

It was missing from the elbow down.

But my metal arms and legs could be fixed now that I was home. I was certain that I had extra pieces in the house at the edge of the showgrounds to make the necessary repairs. 

Once I was more lucid and less like I was just staring off into space, I was able to see just how I was able to return back to normal, and they I had, in fact, been taken somewhere else than the place the portal was.

E. Gadd had been a part of the help, along with the Smg’s.

I must have been out of it longer than I’d realized, because as I lie there on what was, in fact, a gurney, I found slowly growing dread within my chest.

Three years, I heard someone say.

Had I really been trapped in that plush for so long?

Struggling to make sense of my rather unnerving experience, I had trouble listening in to all of the voices speaking around me.

I’d been away from you for three years.

And yet, you’d still held out the hope of seeing me again, when you’d believed that I was just on the other sides of the portal.

So much lost time…

I absently tuned back into the voices speaking around me to avoid the unnerving way that my time as a plush had ruined my sense of time for so long. And as I listened to the explanation provided to me, the whole situation was made worse in my mind.

From the gist of it, I had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A simple mistake, that had caused so much grief and uncertainty for you, and suffering as well as mental torture for me.

From the sound of it, someone had been aiming for Luigi, who’d been working in his flower shop.

I just so happened to be browsing the selection that was being offered. I’d likely been considering getting you something for one reason or another before everything had gone dark.

King Boo was a name brought up as a likely culprit, or someone working for him, and that Luigi was more than likely the target and I’d just unfortunately gotten got caught in the crossfire.

But it was neither here nor there, since I was back to normal. It wasn’t like I could tell anyone how I’d ended up in your world, anyway; unless someone had thought it a particularly funny idea to send more of my marketable plushies to your world, and I’d just so happened to be tossed in with a box of them.

I’d likely never know.

I would just have to be more aware of my surroundings, out and about, until I could confirm it was an isolated incident.

For right now?

I was just relieved to be in my own body once again, and not trapped within that of a plush’s.

I hummed noncommittally when I heard Smg4 say that he and the others were going to give me some space to get myself back under my own control. I suppose I was rather stiff and felt far more weighty than I ought to have been.

Oh, I was not looking forward to performing maintenance in myself when my motor control properly returned to me. But it was nice to be able to have some privacy to relax and adjust to being able to move again under my own power when before, I was helpless and unable to move at all unless someone moved me.

But the quiet was a double edged sword, as the situation slowly sunk in and the silence reminded too much of what I’d just escaped from.

It was just as well that I was left alone for a time, as emotions began to overflow, right before I broke down, overwhelmed as well as immensely grateful that I was myself again.

~

You waited (impatiently, really, really impatiently) outside of the laboratory room like professor E. Gadd, Smg4 and the others had asked you to. It took quite some time before you saw anyone, which made you a little nervous for Mr. Puzzles wellbeing.

Would something go wrong?

Would the tv headed man be all right?

Would there be any lasting impacts for Mr. Puzzles by being trapped in the form of a plushie (or was the plush itself)?

Either option had its own horrors that came with it, but with both, you were very concerned about just how aware Mr. Puzzles had been in that state.

Did he remember the whole time, only bits and pieces of it, or would Puzzles just think he’d taken a very long nap?

You weren’t sure if he would tell you, considering he’d likely not want to think about it long-term. He’d kept silent on his past actions with the Smg4 crew for a long time, so this could be something that he either touched on at a much later time, or not at all.

Again, it likely depended on how much Mr. Puzzles remembered his stint as an immobile plush.

The time couldn’t pass quickly enough.

It seemed like hours had gone by before you were finally allowed into the room where Mr. Puzzles was.

You do think a lot of time had passed, but for you, in this world, it was much harder to tell the time without seeing the sun or the moon. And not to mention the physics and such were distorted here for you. One benefit seemed to be not needing to eat as often, while on the other hand you needed a very long, good nights’s sleep to feel refreshed. 

The moment you were offered an open doorway into the lab room, you went immediately with quick murmurs of thanks that you’d be sure to voice better later on. Right now, you were just happy to be able to see Mr. Puzzles. You sure hoped that being shaken around like a dog toy didn’t cause him any lasting harm, but since no one told you anything to be concerned for, you hoped he really was fine.

The man was ridiculously durable for someone with a television for a head.

There was always lingering concern that Mr. Puzzles might eventually take too much damage for him to easily recover from. 

As you entered the lab, and slowly closed the door behind you, the telltale sound of Mr. Puzzles having a breakdown could be clearly heard. You located Puzzles quickly due to this, and found that he was on a small gurney in the corner of the room. You could see that the man was on his side, partially scrunched up in order to make his tall, lanky frame smaller. Mr. Puzzles’ hand, the only one he currently had, was pressed to his screen, the tear-stained expression of misery visible beneath it.

He hadn’t noticed that you were in the room yet.

Slowly, you approached the gurney, thinking it had to have been uncomfortable for him to lie on it all scrunched up like that.

In the same moment, Puzzles almost immediately curled in on himself further.

“Mr. Puzzles?” You softly called out, coming to a halt alongside the gurney so he could see you. 

The man’s left arm twitched at the elbow joint, metal showing with wires sticking out. There were also small cables twisted around one another that allowed for motion, which twitched in your direction. The gloved hand over Puzzles’ screen parted fingers to peek at you between them with a sorrowful digital eye. It was quick to switch to a softer expression, the ‘tears’ remaining as the screen was slowly revealed. A tremulous technicolor smile with digital eyes gave off the impression of immense relief.

Seeing the way his hand dropped self-consciously to his neck with an averted off to the side look, you locate some fabric nearby and offer it to him. You waited for Mr. Puzzles to wrap the fabric one-handed around his wire neck. Seeing him struggle, then pause with a slow tilt of his head, you held out your hands in quiet offer. You allowed Puzzles to gratefully guide your hands to help him secure the fabric around his neck, to help support what remained of his cervical spine. 

No words were spoken.

Not even when Mr. Puzzles curled his right hand over yours once you tied the fabric off. His hand slid to twine fingers with yours to give your hand a light squeeze, as if in silent thanks. Once Puzzles let go of you, he didn’t even have to ask you to join him, when the man’s body language was all but screaming for you to come closer. So you carefully crawled onto the gurney, surprised that it held your weight as well as Mr. Puzzles.

It was a different world than yours with its own set of rules, so maybe it held because it was just assumed it would if someone was on it?

That didn’t really matter right now.

You sank into Mr. Puzzles’ side and wrapped an arm just beneath what was left of his left arm. Your grasp tightened as you realized that Puzzles was really back; that he was really here with you.

Mr. Puzzles slid his right arm out from under you to wrap you in a snug embrace in return. He’d uncurled himself enough to let you join him, but had almost instantly curved his tall frame around you. He also held you to his chest in a tight, desperate squeeze of someone who feared the one they held might vanish from right in from of them.

You understood the feeling well as you cling back just as tightly.

Another long silence passed, as the two of you just clung to one another. 

“Thank you, for taking such good care of me.” Mr. Puzzles was the first to speak, murmuring softly. His hand pet down along your spine a few times before settling between your shoulder blades. “I’m sorry that you were alone for so long, without me being able to visit you or to speak to you.” There was a short pause, then.  “Your roommates and your ‘podcast buddies’. Thwy kept you company?”

It was a big thing for Mr. Puzzles to ask that, and without any of the usual derision or scorn. The man had been initially jealous of the time you spent out of his company, up until the two of you had had a serious heart to heart talk about that behavior when it had begun to go too out of control.

“You were all alone too. I’m sorry that you weren’t found sooner.” You pressed your face into Mr. Puzzles’ chest, listening to the heartbeat beneath.  “Being stuck as a plushie had to have been terrifying for you. I’m so glad my coworker found you and passed you on to me. I don’t know what would have happened if you’d remained in that dumpster.”

“…I don’t care to know. The very idea I ended up in one is worrying enough.” Mr. Puzzles murmured overhead, as he absently nuzzled the top of your head with the bottom of his casing. 

“Could you hear me talking?” You asked after a moment of enjoying the careful nuzzles.

“I…yes, I could, once you’d restored the plush I was trapped as.” Mr. Puzzles said quietly, after a pointed pause. “It was nice to be able to hear your voice again, even if I couldn’t move or speak in return.”

“I hope you know that I meant everything I said to you.” You told him. “And I very much don’t want to let go of you anytime soon.”

“Oh, my dear, you’ll find that won’t be a problem at all.” Mr. Puzzles’ voice, while exhausted, was quick to take on a low, sultry tone while he leaned closer, and drew you closer, in order to whisper alongside your head. “You see, I do not plan on letting go of you anytime either.” 

Your breath nearly left you as the tv headed man clung determinedly to you, even going so far as to hook a leg over yours at the ankles.

“I missed holding you in my arms.” Mr. Puzzles murmured, pressing his metal head in a nuzzle lightly alongside your head. He paused, then, chuckling. “Well, one of my arms, anyway.” A happy static sigh as his fingers pressed down along your back. “I don’t want to let go of you.”

“Then don’t.” You grip the fabric beneath your fingers. “Keep holding me.”

“I won’t let go then.” Mr. Puzzles let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “I am holding you.” He stated, as if in disbelief. The tv headed man curled around you as much as he was able, in order to hold you as closely as possible to him. “I most certainly am holding you.”  The nuzzling resumed. “I won’t be letting go. You’re trapped here with me.” Mr. Puzzles lightly teased as he traced fingers along your spine.

“Even if 3 and 4 try to kick us out?” You asked dryly, comfortably sagging into Puzzles while you hugged him around the waist just as fiercely, lest he somehow vanish from your sight. “Even Professor E. Gadd, since it’s his lab?”

“Even then.” Mr. Puzzles agreed, languidly stretching the leg over your ankles before settling it back. Then, Puzzles tucked the lower edge of his metal head’s casing over yours. After placing a quick spark of a kiss from his screen to the top of your head he spoke a low growl of a promise. “I won’t be parted from you so easily.”

The two of you didn’t anticipate Mario barging into the lab, though it ought to have been a possibility, considering where Mr. Puzzles and you now were.

Mario came to a halt while watching the close snuggling that was currently occurring on the gurney.

You froze.

Mr. Puzzles let out a static crackling noise.

“That’s-a so nice.” Mario raised a phone, a hint of a smile visible under that mustache even from a distance. “How about Mario help you out?”

A snap of the phone’s camera had Mr. Puzzles lunge up off the gurney, while holding you, and made right for the Italian like he was holding terrible blackmail. Mario no-clipped out of the lab without preamble, leaving Mr. Puzzles to let out a growl of frustration as he got to his feet, and immediately gave chase.

The tv man was unsteady on his feet, but he didn’t let that prevent him from stalking after Mario, or from letting go of you.

Yup.

That was right.

Mr. Puzzles was still holding on to you, and was currently actually carrying you in the crook of one arm. This would make it difficult to catch Mario while Puzzles’ left arm was partially missing, but it seemed that the tv headed man was taking the ‘not letting go of you any time soon’ very seriously.

Mario ‘helping’ turned out to be leading Mr. Puzzles on a merry chase until all three of you reached the showgrounds, and the irateness the Mr. Puzzles held began to dissipate conveniently right near the house you and Puzzles used while spending time with one another in this world. Mario winked at you, and, with a glance at Mr. Puzzles, the plumber continued on his way, whistling his theme song as he went.

You didn’t comprehend for a moment about not having to run to keep pace with Puzzles.

But then it clicked.

Not only did Mr. Puzzles carry you this entire way, but from his screen’s expression, he was considering whether or not to continue to his pursuit of Mario. You were allowed to slide out of the crook of Mr. Puzzles right arm, where he’d held you propped in the crook of his arm and against his chest (with your arm loosely around his neck to hang on).

“Puzzles?” Turning, you witness the way Mr. Puzzles had straightened up, his screen reflecting his annoyed right now. But you gave him a quick once over, and you were now paying more attention to the way the man’s chest rose and fell with false breaths, the tv headed man’s mechanical supported heart working overtime with false lungs.

Oh.

And Mr. Puzzles’ dress shirt had three buttons undone and the whole vest was unbuttoned, which gave you a very nice view of grayed skin around the collarbones.

You’d not noticed the bow tie missing until now, which allowed the sight in the first place.

Ah.

Now you knew what Mario was insinuating.

Giving Mr. Puzzles more one on one time with you, so that he could recover in a quieter location he was more familiar with.

Thoughtful.

But you believed you could get Puzzles to calm down and relax a little more if you happened to tease him.

Just a little. 

Reaching out before Mr. Puzzles could make a decision on what to do, you grasped him by the open top of the dress shirt. This did quite a lot in securing a rather intense look from Mr. Puzzles. You gave a tug while taking a step in the direction of the house. 

Mr. Puzzles was startlingly quick to follow you, and even kicked the door in, as if unlocking it was going to take much too long. The man did put the door back, sort of, by propping it in place when you’d let go of him.

By the time you reached the bedroom, Mr. Puzzles was already in the doorway.

You ended up with Mr. Puzzles practically plastered agaisnt you, his arm wrapped around you the moment you’d torn the top blanket off the bed in case of dust.

Puzzles chuckled low in his chest over your head, then he fell backward onto the bed with you, catching his metal head on some pillows. 

Only to make hacking noises as dust entered one of his vents.

Oops.

You’d not thought about those.

But the coughing gave you enough time to discover another, non-dusty, big blanket in the closet. By the time you got back onto the bed, Mr. Puzzles had recovered, despite his screen showing a sniffling expression. But it quickly flashed to an eager, soft smile when you cuddled into him again, this time on your right side so that Mr. Puzzles could lie on his left to wrap his right arm snugly around you. The blanket was swiftly settled over the two of you before Puzzles placed several lingering, tingly electrical sparks of kisses along your throat and neck. He ended the perusal with a lighter static against your lips before Mr. Puzzles leaned his screen to press to your forehead to for a time.

“I love you, my dear.” Hushed, nearly inaudible, as a heartbeat line with a flush over it appeared on Mr. Puzzles’ screen, digital eyes with hearts in them, and technicolor smile lovey-dovey. “I missed you so much.”

A comfortable silenced then a shy stuttering when Mr. Puzzles realized what he’d just said. 

“Love you too.” You cling to the man to prevent him from scrambling out of bed and he defeatedly sagged into you. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not!” Mr. Puzzles’ screen was awash with a deep red heart rate, eyes and a self-conscious smile. “Everyone loves me!”

“I think Smg4 would prove you wrong with a few of his friends.” You playfully swat one of his shoulders.  “C’mere.”

Mr. Puzzles indulgently shifted beneath the blanket to allow you to pet either side of his metal head. The uncertainty was still there, but he pressed into your touch regardless.

“What I said before? About meaning everything I said to you when I thought I was just talking to a plushie?” You trailed your fingers down along the sides of the television set, before going to rest near the antenna with one hand, fingers gently rubbing the metal there, which drew out a shiver.

“Y…yes?” Mr. Puzzles groaned softly in response as his metal head leaned to one side to encourage you to keep petting his antenna.

“That also means that even if you don’t say ‘I love you’ out loud, I can still see it in your actions when you’re around me.” You scoot closer across the sheets to reach for the other antenna and Mr. Puzzles all but dropped his head to your shoulder as his right arm tightened around your waist. “You gift me things, you spend time with me, you listen to me when I get going on an idea for my podcast. You stay with me if I’m feeling under the weather, and you’ve gotten so much better at giving me the space to hang out with my other friends.” You pet the antenna lightly, before slowly tracing back down over the vents to rest at the back of Puzzles’ neck. “You trust me to help you when you need it.”

Mr. Puzzles lazily leaned his body into yours to carefully topple you over onto your back as he pressed his tall lanky body around you again. He didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to.

The joyful noises beneath the static and the man’s renewed interest in bestowing you gentle zaps of kisses was enough to have gotten him into a loving, affectionate mood again.

But Mr. Puzzles was clearly overwhelmed from both turning back to normal from a plushie, his own words, and yours, uncharacteristically quiet but for the wordless vocalizations as he gripped you in a firm embrace under the blanket.

The two of you would stay like that for hours, enjoying one another’s company, until it would become your turn to be given kind words of all you did for Mr. Puzzles once he’d gathered himself together. Sadly, being wooed by your boyfriend’s suddenly low, playful voice as he detailed your actions and gestures toward him would have to wait.

Screaming had begun outside, and from the sound of it, Mario and possibly Smg3 had done something to the carnival rides in the showgrounds that made them run loose all over the place. And one such thing was a bumper car that miraculously (somehow) managed to get into the bedroom of the house.

That was one quick, sure fire way to end the mood.

You did, however, prop yourself up on your elbows and held your head up with your palms to watch as Mr. Puzzles failed miserably in his attempt to shoo the bumper car out of the house.

Not only that, the tv headed man was somehow kidnapped by said bumper car.

Mr. Puzzles pitched forward, head first, into it with a high pitched scream, his legs sticking up annd out. Speechless you watched the bumper car zoom out of the hole in the wall. 

When Smg4 checked on you to be sure you’d not gotten hurt, you were laughing while peering out the window of the living room. 

Your poor boyfriend was taken for an impromptu, unpleasant joyride around the showgrounds in a runaway bumper car.

Once Mr. Puzzles finally escaped (with help from Tari and Saiko) the tv headed man hobbled back to the house to sulk. He’d even half draped himself dramatically over your lap on the sofa (you’d remained in the living room) while you pat his back consolingly. 

This was more like it.

You had missed the crazy antics of Smg4 and his crew, but you’d also missed just spending time with Mr. Puzzles like this.

And now, with the portal back in place, and Mr. Puzzles no longer trapped as a long-limbed plush, the two of you would be able to make up for lost time.

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 16

Find the series masterlist

You attempt to gather more intel, with limited success. Fortunately (or unfortunately), Price isn't going anywhere.

Warnings: Price needs a whole warning label by now, flirting, swearing, Valeria also needs a warning label, more backstory for Ace, Flirting.

Word count: 1.9k

John Price x f!reader

You took over an empty office to make your call, shutting the door on Captain’s (admittedly mild) objection. You needed privacy to make this call, and Kate, at least, was used to your ways. 

You just hoped that Valeria would answer still. 

“Marigold.” She sounded faintly surprised. 

“You did me a big favor,” you told her without preamble. “I’d like to return the favor.”

“I’m listening.” She spoke carefully but didn’t sound suspicious, thank goodness. 

“There are… people who know about AQ and are working against them,” you said, hesitating briefly. There was only so much you could tell her without breaking your own rules. “If you’re still involved, I’d recommend you back out. Immediately.”

Valeria hummed softly to show she’d heard, undoubtedly weighing her options. “You’re certain?”

“Saw the plans myself,” you confirmed. “I’d rather not see you face this.” 

She was quiet for a few moments, and you remained patient. “Is this to do with the name that sent you running?”

For a moment, you debated asking how she knew. But you tabled that for a later discussion. “Yes.”

She huffed softly. “I wondered. He is a little too cozy with Al-Qatala.”

“Don’t suppose you know more about that?” It couldn’t hurt to ask.

She laughed softly. “Nothing that will benefit you, Marigold. You find somewhere to hole up until this blows over, then come visit me. We can build in the ashes.” She hung up without giving you a chance to respond.

Well. Good to know that you had a place with her if things didn’t work out. 

Now you just had to survive this whole mess. No problem. 

You opened the office door and found Garrick sitting in the hallway, typing on his phone. He didn’t seem like he’d been paying attention, and unfortunately you didn’t know if he spoke Spanish or not. 

“Kate ordered coffee and pastries,” he said, glancing up at you from his phone. 

“Thanks.” You stepped past him to the conference room again. Captain was gone, nowhere to be seen, leaving you and Kate alone. 

“That was fast.” She didn’t look at you, one hand waving to the pastries in a clear invitation. 

“I got lucky, caught my contact at a good time.” You picked out something that looked good, taking a careful bite. Mm. Yeah, you were definitely hungry now. 

“How are you?” She was fortunately still focused on her tablet as she asked. Well. Knowing her, she’d done it intentionally, giving you a little space. 

You puffed out a breath, taking a moment to decide how to answer. “Been better,” you managed lightly. 

“Understandable.” Kate breathed out slowly, glancing up at you. “We’re in a better position now than last time.”

“Yes,” you agreed mildly. But you didn’t voice the thought that so was he. 

So you decided to ignore the unease settling in your gut and just focus on helping Kate. 

The amount of information she had was a little surprising, and idly you wondered how hard she’d pushed to get it all. But that worked in your favor - the more information, the better. 

The main problem, as far as you were concerned, was that she had no information on Gray, and you didn’t have a way to get that kind of information. 

Captain and Garrick dipped in and out of the room, talking to Kate. You mostly ignored them, focused on your tasks and putting puzzle pieces together. But you did notice something… not odd, perhaps, but quite interesting.

Captain touched you every time he was near you. A hand to your shoulder, two fingers to the back of your hand, his knee pressing into yours under the table. Each touch warmed you, little sparks lingering on your skin long after he’d moved away again.

You knew what that meant. You’d felt something similar before. But you had no idea what to actually do with that information. 

So you didn’t. 

“The others will be here tomorrow,” Captain said, which finally made you tune back in. “Some of the Vaqueros volunteered to help, too.” 

“Of course they did.” Kate’s smile was small but pleased. “They’re good men.” 

“Sounds like a fun little war council,” you quipped, leaning back and squeezing the back of your neck. “Also sounds like not my area of expertise, so–”

“Not a chance,” Captain interrupted, smirking down at you. 

You shrugged, though you did eye him. “What if I promised to stay put?” 

“You’ll do more good here.” Captain returned his attention to the map. 

“You’re outmatched,” Kate told you, quietly smug. You flipped her off. 

“You should be on my side,” you grumbled at her. “I doubt I’ll be of any use to you lot.” 

“We’ll see.” Kate leaned away from the map finally, checking the time. Darkness had fallen outside the window, and you finally realized how late it must be. “I’m calling it a night.” 

“Good plan.” Captain helped roll up the map. “Meet bright and early, then?” 

“With coffee,” Kate promised. 

“Can I get you dinner?” Gaz asked, near-gluing himself to Kate’s side. “Mum has a recipe she wants me to pass on.” 

Those two left, their voices fading as they walked down the hallway. 

Leaving you with Captain. 

“Gaz’s got the right idea,” Captain murmured, stopping next to you. “Dinner?” 

You swallowed. Oh this was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea. But you tipped your head to look up at him, catching the flicker of a smile across his lips. Bad ideas hadn’t killed you yet. “Yeah. Sure. I know a place.” 

Captain motioned you out first, flipping lights off as you two left. “Why here?”

“Hmm?” You looked back at him, blinking. 

“Why have this be your bug out city?” He slowed his steps a little to match yours, hands brushing as you walked. 

You puffed out your cheeks, briefly debating how to answer. You could lie. Easily. But… You could also tell him the truth. What would he do, mock you? Somehow you doubted it. 

“I grew up here,” you admitted. “My father had a house in the suburbs.” 

“Seems a bit on the nose,” Captain murmured. “You’re certain Gray won’t think to look for you here?”

“Nah.” You grinned. “I’ve been back here several times over the years, you know. Even been here with Kate before. Gray abandoned this place long ago.” 

Captain hummed softly, stepping ahead only to hold the door for you to get outside. You hunched your shoulders a little, not expecting the chill. Captain stepped closer to you, lending you body heat in a way he probably thought was subtle. 

“I need to run in here,” you told him, nodding to the nearest store. “Got an order to pick up.”

He blinked at you. “An order?”

You shot him a wry smile. “Was in such a rush I didn’t grab clothes yesterday. It’s a bit out of the way to drive back there, so.” You motioned to the store. 

He snorted softly. “How long had you been awake?” 

“Not sure,” you answered honestly. “Way too long.” You were not in the least surprised when he followed you into the store. Picking up your order was quick, at least, and he took one of the bags for you. 

“You can give me directions,” he said, half an order, as he steered you back to the car. You just gave in. Honestly, it was easier. 

And, if you really wanted to be honest with yourself, you didn’t feel like arguing with him. 

You were surprised when he asked for a booth and sat next to you, though. He didn’t talk much until you’d both ordered and the waitress had left. 

“You make a habit of taking snarky information specialists out to dinner?” you joked, leaning back in the booth. 

“Nah.” He pressed his leg against yours, smirking at you. “Just you.” 

Your pulse fluttered in surprise, and your lips parted, just a little. His gaze dipped down, slowly, leisurely. 

He may as well have started a bonfire between the two of you for how quickly you warmed. 

“Well.” You licked your lips, watching him track the movement. “I’d ask if you know what you’re doing, but you seem to have things well in hand.” 

“Usually do.” His hand landed on your knee, a relatively safe location. And yet it sent your pulse thundering. 

“I can see that.” You let your gaze drop purposefully to his hand before meeting his gaze again. But you didn’t complain. Far from it. “What are you hoping for here, Captain?” 

“Getting you to use my name is a good start.” His fingers inched up to your thigh. 

“I’ll think about it.” You smirked, amused. 

“What’s it going to take to get you to use it, hm?” He leaned closer to you, voice dipping lower. 

You smiled slowly, tongue darting out to wet your lips and tempt him into looking. He didn’t quite give in, holding your gaze instead. “You’re a smart man,” you murmured. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” 

He hummed soft acknowledgement, fingers gripping your thigh gently. But he didn’t do more than that, gaze lifting to the waitress who brought your drinks and food.

Quiet fell between the two of you again, charged but also oddly… peaceful. Easy. 

You really needed to stop being surprised at how much sway this man had over you. You also had to decide what you wanted to do about it. 

Captain paid, waving off your offer. He even opened your door for you when the two of you got back to the car. 

The trip back to the hotel was silent. Charged but peaceful enough. And it gave you time enough to decide what you wanted.

You knew that if you said the word, he’d back off. Let you shower in peace and give you the bed again. Because that was the kind of man he was. 

And if you didn’t tell him to back off, if you gave him permission to continue… Well. You would be in for a hell of a night. 

You just had to decide what you wanted. He was already close, closer than most people ever got. He knew you better than most. And he already had a place in your heart. Which was the most dangerous part for you. 

He could so easily hurt you. 

But a part of you, a small part, wanted to trust him. To see if this would work. 

He parked the car but didn’t get out yet, simply sitting. You blinked and looked at him, shadows from a light in the parking lot playing across his features. 

If there was anyone you would want to try this with, it was him. He had Kate’s trust. Surely you could piggyback off hers and extend your own? 

“Plannin’ on looking all night?” he asked, low and amused.

“Still deciding,” you quipped back. “It’s an awful nice view, after all.” 

He chuckled, low and quiet, and popped his door. “Might as well have better lighting then, hm?” 

“Suppose so.” You flashed him a grin before you got out. He took one of the bags for you and walked you inside, hand light on your back. 

By the time the elevator made it up to your floor, you’d decided. 

When the door closed behind the two of you, you dropped your bag, uncaring of the contents at the moment. You turned, hands lifting to his mutton chops (surprisingly soft), guiding him down into a kiss.

[shizukateal]

Miraculous Ladybug Magical Girl Fashion Review -Part 1

Preamble

Ok, so. What do you people generally think of as a "superhero outfit"? Spandex, right? Tight-skinned, uninterrupted spandex covering almost all the body, or at least not straying away from the body line if you're a girl and only get a swimsuit. Maybe a cape (hood optional) depending on how dramatic you are to add some flow or, if you're a woman, your hairstyle will do that job. Otherwise you can have some form of helmet or headpiece to distinguish yourself, and that's it. That's the extent of options you have. If you're extremely lucky, they might allow you to wear a jacket.

While this description might be a bit of an exaggeration (not by much, though) I think we can all agree that this is a very restrictive set of rules to work with. It's very hard to make something that completely contours to the body visually compelling. It's hard to distribute colors and shapes and patterns in a neat way that makes you stand out when you have to compete with thousands of millions of characters with the same 3 allowed bodytypes (lean, broad, or Woman™️). Which is why we should clap even more at designs like the DC holy trinity and especially Spiderman, who not only has a fantastic design in spite of how alienating it should be, but whose look is also currently inspiring thousands of artists to make their own variations, technically also including today's very own Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

This is all a very lengthy way to say that some of the MLB people wear their fursuits better than the rest. Skin-tight onesies with fur patterns are not something everyone can pull off. Doubly so with how inconsistent the art direction in the show is, with everyone in the cast reaching different levels of uncanny valley and swagless drip. I personally think that many of them would do better if they thought a bit outside that box of "standard superhero fashion" and went for something more specific to the personalities of the characters, but there are some winners amongst the rabble. Much like the writing of the show itself, the show's design averages into a trashy sludge pile that still manages to look tempting thanks to some unexpected moments of competence. Let's sort through the pile *cracks knuckles*

Ladybug (standard and ultimate version)

You'd think it would be easy for me to just say "yeah, the bland, near fully uninterrupted polkadot bodypaint onesie is both boring and silly and the other more balanced version is a LOT better by comparison" and leave it at that, but unfortunately I also have to talk about the hairstyle. And the hairstyle is wrong in a very specific way which I don't have concise terms for, so I need you to pay attention and stay with me here.

The pigtails work well for Marinette. They are distinct, practical, realistic enough while bordering just slightly on the fantastic, and their mild childishness enhances Mari's romantic nature. In theory they also match the polka-dot theme and they are not impractical considering the function of Ladybug's suit, but they still go against what it's trying to do. There's probably a concrete term in shape and action line theory that better educated people than me know about, but to give you the gist of what I mean I'm gonna do another Shitty Paint Edit™️ so I don't go in too many circles explaining myself:

Ok, you get what I'm trying to say here now? The pigtails match the balance of this specific pose, but the suit is too skin-tight and it highlights Marinette's neck, so they interrupt the buildup. They don't even work well as pieces of flow for contrast, because the hair is so stiff and the ribbons are barely noticeable. Compare to itsanarkee's cosplay and how much better she looks because she has an updo. The worst part of it all is that, usually, matching a body-paint suit with a hairstyle to provide contrast in a female superhero is, like, babyshit, the bread and butter of superheroine costumes, but Astruc managed to find the one hairstyle in the world to make it work wrong because he was to proud about Marinette's design to change anything. Just give her the fucking buns already.

Chat Noir

He serves cunt. Pops pussy, if you will. The only very mild itch it gives me is that I can't see what his ears are attached to and it bothers me, although he's not the only one with that feature and I understand why they would want to hide a hair band especially in his design. I can forgive that when everything else in this design is genius. The belt tail. The way his mask sharpens his features alongside the hair and ears. The flaps on his boots and gloves that highlight how his movements put more weight in his joints. The acrylic claws, the paws on his boots. The lines that highlight his figure in just the right way. The fucking bell. Chat is easily the best design amongst the heroes.

And while this my purely subjective interpretation, I truly do think it's understated how much this outfit manages to sell Adrien's clark kenting. It makes complete and perfect sense to me at least that Marinette wouldn't recognize him like this. Adrien is just slightly generically pretty enough that you wouldn't assume they are the same person just because they're both blonde bishies, and the contrast between the two personas is high enough that it could be realistic that some people wouldn't put them together if they are not looking for that connection. Doubly so for Marinette, who is way too enamored with Adrien's personality of generic un-disruptive niceness with a touch of rich boy angst to fully reconcile it with Chat's outright spicier demeanor lightened with Pathetic Wet Beast Energy for potability.

Rena Rogue vs Volpina

Yeah, this one merits a comparison. It's a perfect example to elaborate on my first rule. Lila already stands out as another of the best human designs amongst the cast, and the sleaze she exudes lends itself a lot better to this slick body-paint tightness and form-highlighting curves. The tail-sash around her waist is also brilliant. She'd probably look even better in something more grounded, but the fact that she's already pulling the outfit off like this is still an accomplishment.

Rena Rogue on the other hand... well, everything around her head is very good and cute, and I especially appreciate the eyebrows on her mask. On paper I also like the top with its longtail, but overall Alya looks a lot blander than Volpina, because her outfit doesn't reflect her personality the way it does Lila's. It's not ugly, even if the patch of white starts to bother me because it has no interruptions as it goes down. In fact it succeeds in making Rena look kind of adorable, really, but Alya is not a cutesy girl, and tbh the overall general texture of the outfit is a lot more body spray-painting-ish than Volpina's, which also makes it look cheaper in a bad way.

The Fox miraculous may be summarized as the power of Illusion, but both girls represent two facets elaborating on that concept: where Lila is the Fox as Deceit, Alya is the Fox as Cleverness. So Lila may be... smart manipulative -Ok, sincerely speaking Lila Rossi is the single most blatant Villain Sue I have ever seen put onscreen, but what I'm trying to get at is that while she -supposedly- has some cunning, her pettiness and eagerness to speak on the fly is -or rather should be- a contrast to Alya, who goes around sniffing for the truth and thus always has a fuller picture. Because remember: the best liars tell the truth. So Rena's outfit should reflect that. It should be less slick and more street-savvy, something that the pendant with its long chain is especially well suited to.

Speaking of all these thematic parallels, am I the only one in the fandom who is extremely weirded out that Lila isn't a rival to Alya? Like, aren't they extremely obvious foils beyond both of them being fox-themed? The girl who bases her clout on lies vs the one who searches for the truth? The girl who pretends to be friends with Ladybug while bullying her civilian identity vs the girl who is friends with both? Have the writers ever exploited this ever since I stopped watching?

Carapace

Nino is almost perfect. I am genuinely impressed at how well they chose the angle of this costume. It's so easy for me to imagine a much shittier version with an ugly cowl/spiderman wannabe facemask -because other characters in this series take that approach-, but taking a page out of spider-gwen's book instead paid amazing dividends. He looks great as teenage not-mutant ninja turtle.

He only has two significant faults. One is that I feel his goggles should be tinted opaque orange, and he should wear a mask over his mouth and nose. You know, make the clark kenting a little easier, the stealth more pointed, maybe he can have a cool graffiti of a turtle beak over the mask for a sprinkle of his actual personality. The second is that the partition he chose for his crotch area is a bit iffy and yes, I am very sorry to talk about this. The shape of the partition itself is not bad but it's the same color, so it doesn't actually help the transition all that much and instead, sadly, it only brings more attention to the middle. My suggestion is that he should take a page out of Rise of the TMNT's book and make the plastron into actual armor that goes from his chest to his navel, instead of just a logo on the front. Then he can either wear black shorts or he can go the Rise!Casey Jones route and wear pants that are slightly baggy but still cinch to his ankles.

Then there's only one last thing he needs to be completely perfect and that is having an actual relationship with Master Fu since he is the direct successor of his miraculous and one of the first characters to be akumatized on account of his resentment towards adults, so I feel like there's a whole bunch of narrative foiling potential not being explored there, you get me?

Queen Bee vs Vesperia

Zoe's face is more interesting and I appreciate that, as well as the design team giving her a braid, but Chloe still wins this one. Vesperia's outfit is reasonably cool on its own, but it does very little aesthetically for her. Perhaps if the colors of her top and pants were inverted it could work, but there's something about the aggressive sharpness of its lines that Zoe's bubbly face is not matching, made worse by the black being at the forefront. That might not be a problem in civilian outfit, but only because that look is balanced with other colors. Or rather, I think she also needs a more casual fit to pull it off instead of a skin-tight jacket. I also get what they're trying to do with her bangs and I would love it were it not for the fact that it doesn't look good in this artstyle. Chloe also has that problem with her hair, but Queen Bee's style fits her a lot better in a much obvious way, and for added points I think Queen Bee wears the cord as a belt better too., so congrats to Chloe on her one win, I do hope the writing allows her to have proper character development later instead of constantly resetting her to square one for conflict.

[seramilla]

Another idea for homophobic heaven au where the elders have Sera try to get Carmilla to reveal who her lover is. Sera who both out of fear and not wanting to go against whatever Carmilla said hasn’t reveled it to them. The elders are outside the cell listening to them as Sera goes into to talk to Carmilla who has suffered. Sera who is willing to get in trouble if it means helping Carmilla tells her to tell the truth about your love and she would want you to be safe to keep the elders from figuring out it’s her and Carmilla telling Sera that they would punish her and I love her too much to do that. It ends with no progress and Sera in tears the elders think because she’ll lose her friend

"I would like to see the prisoner."

If the guards standing watch over Carmilla's cell question Sera's presence at the Elder's jail, they don't voice as much. Looking at one another briefly, the guards move their weapons out of the way and stand aside. Sera enters standing tall and at attention, betraying none of the anxiety and panic that's coursing through her body at that moment.

Carmilla's cell is easy to find. She's the only one being held prisoner. Very few in Heaven test the limits of what would make them end up in this place. Where she's being imprisoned is right next to the entrance, her cell encased with bars infused with angelic steel. Even touching the bars would be quite painful for an angel. Based on the burn markings across the metal, Sera can tell Carmilla has already tried to do so, in multiple places across the expanse of her prison, and failed.

Carmilla paces around her enclosure, as if she hasn't been practically beaten bloody to the point of collapse. It's just like Carmilla to not show weakness. Even to her own detriment, when all else is hopeless. It's one of the things Sera loves most about her.

"You came," Carmilla says. It's curt, and to the point. Sera's not certain she'd have the energy to say much else.

Sera wants to go right up next to the bars, hug Carmilla desperately through them, and stroke her face, and tell her everything will be all right. Unfortunately, the guards are right outside. They would notice the two angels embracing immediately through the little window at the entrance.

Also, she doesn't want to be burned like Carmilla. Walking out with scorch marks would give her away just as much as a hug would.

"Of course I did," Sera says, with as much composure as she can. "How could I not? Carmilla...what have they done to you?"

Carmilla laughs, but it's pained. "I tolerated the 'torture' they put me through. I thought the Elders were made of stronger stuff than this. They must think I'm weak. They went easy on me."

Sera walks up to the bars. As close as she can, without touching.

"Carmilla. You need to...tell them the truth. There's a chance they might let you go. You could get a reduced sentence."

Carmilla smiles, and huffs. Doing her best not to betray herself or Sera to the guards who are almost certainly listening outside.

"And what? Have my...my lover suffer the same fate? I don't think so. Not happening."

"I can help you!" Sera says, getting much too close to the bars than she should be. The steel reacts to her angelic presence, vibrating at the force of her angelic abilities, but not harming her. Yet. "I can advocate for you better out there, than in here!"

Carmilla stands. She also moves toward the bars, until they're practically within touching distance, the gentle hum of the bars vibrating in response to two angelic beings standing so close. Carmilla flinches slightly. It's muscle memory, at this point.

"No," Carmilla says, without further preamble. Then, looking at Sera with all the words she cannot voice aloud, telling her how she really feels with her eyes only, and that the love she has for her is not worth sacrificing Sera for a lesser sentence, Carmilla backs away slowly, and goes to lie down on the pathetic excuse for a cot they've provided for her.

"Carmilla!" Sera says, standing much too close. The cloth of her sleeves singes a little bit, and she pulls her arms away quickly, before her hands burn. "Please! Let me help you! I--"

"Out of the question," Carmilla retorts, lying down now, turned away from Sera, so the Seraphim can no longer see her face. "Goodbye, Sera."

Sera waits until she's outside of earshot of the prison before she breaks down. She falls to her knees, tears falling from both eyes like twin waterfalls. She wails. Loudly, longingly, for the woman she loves. Knowing that their fate is never to see one another again. Carmilla will fall. She is as good as dead, at this point. She doesn't know how she'll ever find happiness again.

[maskednihilism]

A statement

ooc.

I'll just get straight into it. No preamble.

Rath, Terios, Typho, @ huijarii / @ dupliciti / @ coldbulwark /@ smusmaes, whatever the fuck you decide to call yourself, and I had a falling out last year, sometime in November 2023.

What pushed it is honestly none of anyone's business. What was a stupid drama between two people should've stayed that way. A stupid drama between two people. However, ever since that time, it has been looming over my Honkai Star Rail rp career.

Every new person I'd try to interact with, Rath was right there to snipe in and push me out. I couldn't make connections for months without the looming fear of this person running to them and worming their way in to push me out of interactions. 

Since then, I've made friends, people who didn't care about the drama or quite frankly didn't know about it. It took ages and at times I felt like giving up. I felt so paranoid because of how Rath acted around me that I kept wavering from being kind to manic. You will understand why in a bit.

I never asked anyone to choose a side nor will I do it in the future. All I've asked from people is to not mention them and more recently, due to reasons, not to roleplay with me if they actively interact with them.

That's how things should've been. But people talk. People make connections. Others are dropping Rath faster than flies. Jokingly, it's been so many victims that I suggested to one of them to make a union with me and make ourselves unionize against them. That's how many there are of us.

I won't speak of their stories as that's not my own to speak. But mine I will gladly tell, with admittedly low evidence as I, the stupid fool, thought I didn't need to screenshot every single weird moment Rath had with me. I did genuinely believe we were friends but there's a repeated pattern of behavior with them. They will emotionally suck you dry and expect you to give more and more while you are given nothing in return.

And to be honest? It wasn't even the worst of it. I got off easy. Others not so much. Again, their story to say, not mine.

What I can say is that if Rath wants to refute it, go ahead. Post the FULL chat log between us on discord. From our group server to the dms. Post it all. I give my full consent because I know if you did, it would prove to everyone how unhinged you are. If there is any problematic content or not pc wording in those dms, I will gladly explain though I'm confident even without me explaining them, the dms explain myself fairly well. I have nothing to hide.

Now you may be asking, “Prince, why are you saying all of this? Is this a call out? Is this drama?” 

Yes this is drama. And why I'm saying this is well, again. People talk. I had a chat with someone about it, and they confirmed by a third party, another victim, that Rath was indeed, stalking and watching over me. This is what pushed me over the edge.

It explains why they kept mirroring me, my posts, my headcanons, how they knew who I followed and didn't despite my efforts of keeping them blocked and them also having me blocked.

I genuinely believed I was insane, that I was overthinking things when they kept dangling interactions with them only to take it away because idk. Maybe there was a different, better, roleplayer out there. I felt alone and felt like I was seeing things when there wasn't anything.

I wasn't. Others see it too. They're simply too polite or too scared to say it. Everyone in the rpc says they don't want drama but how can there be none when someone is actively doing this kind of shit behind the scenes? 

And it's the same methodology. Rath befriends you, love bombs you, slowly starts cutting attention away from you and then drops you for a shiny new roleplayer. But if that person drops them, you have to be there for them. No, that's not how this works. 

So rather than speaking in hush tones and whispers, I'm saying it out right. Unlike Rath, I will make myself known. I think you need help. I think you should march yourself into therapy and tell them “hey, I'm not mentally well. I need help.”

Because people will not offer that help to you if you use them the way that you do.

This will be my only post about this situation. I'm holding myself accountable. Originally on a previous draft of this post I said I would have a friend bonk me if I mentioned this again on main. I removed that statement because that isn't holding accountability. I need to do it myself.

To the victims, I offer sympathy. We were all misled in one way or another, choosing to believe a friend instead of investigating the matter. I know I did. And it almost cost me a friend. If I knew what they also went through, I would've done more to get them away from them. What's done is done. We both reconciled and are making amends towards each other.

I also don't want to become a “Foster's home for Rath’s victims”. If you were hurt by Rath and you want to follow me because you want to bond over that, I rather you didn't. While I have trauma bonded with at least two victims this way, I think we all deserve better. You deserve better.

If you want to follow because you believe Sampo and your muse can engage in shenanigans, then please by all means, go for it. Though I will say I feel a bit wary of those in Rath’s circle. Both to prior members and current ones so forgive me for being a bit jumpy around you if you do end up following me. I will offer as much kindness as I'm able to regardless.

If you're wondering why I keep saying Rath rather than Terios or Ty or whatever goofy ass name they have now… Well because I want them to know that no matter how much they want to change their name, their url, their editing style or goodness knows what else, their actions will always speak for them. This is the legacy you left.

Another person made a post about you. And how you nearly wrecked them. You're as dangerous as you are pathetic. You're what, 26 now? Please change and grow up. Roleplaying is meant to be a fun hobby, not whatever this is.

For my moots who have written with me, I apologize for bringing this issue out. I swear this will be the last of it. If I do vent, hopefully it'll just be family issues or personal stuff. Though I rather not have either of those.

With all this being said, I thank you all for reading this post to the end.

To reiterate to Rath, stay in your lane. I will stay in mine. 

[sf-libet]

Fascination (f, dd/lc)

fuckin...i haven't reread over this fic in a while, and while i posted it in discord servers i never really felt confident enough to post it on here publicly, but i'm doing it now because i saw a post about android sneezing and felt like i should contribute my thoughts that i had a long while ago. there's nothing terribly objectionable here it's just the first snzfic i've seriously written and never felt confident enough in lmao, but seeing as i reignited my dd/lc hyperfixation a while ago (and i have a few other floating drafts maybe) i might as well post it now

preamble out of the way, cw for some mess and implied sexual content, you know the drill, have at it you filthy animals

Tktktktktktktktktktktktktktktktktktk...tktktk...tktktktktktktk-

“What are you working on, Anon?”

She interrupted his typing with a simple question, one which he didn’t quite look up to answer. More that he looked past her, or...through her. It was difficult to place where his eyes were, really, it was one of the limits of the avatar he’d made of himself. Monika appreciated the work to give her something to interact with, but it was...less than perfect. Between their worlds apart, it was a miracle he’d managed to send something through her window, let alone make it functional enough that they could see each other in every movement. Not that he didn’t have help.

“...Something new. I’m curious if I can get something to work...but so far it’s...not cooperating with me.”

He pushed a finger against his cheek, down to his mouth, absently moving his finger as he reviewed the code. It was a strenuous process to get this to work in the first place, and at this point, he was curious to test his limits, but...didn’t want to go too far. He’d been given an initial framework, and they’d expanded it together. But the more he’d pushed the edges of what it was capable of, the more he realized how...human her construction was.

She giggled, which he noticed but only half processed it as he focused...where was the error coming from? What was going wrong here?

“...Heheh. You’re so cute when you’re working, Anon.” “Hm?”

He peered up, painted eyes giving her full attention.

“You push your lip around with your thumb when you’re thinking about something. It’s adorable.”

Though she couldn’t tell he was blushing, she noticed his body language change--he shifted slightly, uncomfortable, still unused to this much attention. She delighted in teasing him, but at the same time, felt a twinge of guilt each time he reacted--he was so sweet, he dedicated himself to building this world for her, and spent so much time expanding it, so why had nobody else spoiled him, when he deserved it? 

...Well, as far as she was concerned, it just meant their relationship was destined. Or something like that. It seemed like they were made for each other’s needs.

Snf.

She sniffed, suddenly feeling a burning sensation in her left nostril. It was sharp, unexpected, nagging...she rubbed a knuckle harshly over her septum, attempting to stave it off...pushing the delicate skin of her nostrils around.

This did not go unnoticed.

In fact, at the sound, Anon’s head literally perked up. She was, at present, flipping through a book of poetry (courtesy of Z-Library, thanks to a little modification enabling her to peek into ebook formats), intermittently watching him type away at his keyboard. They were on a bed--He had his laptop, both literally and digitally, in his lap as he typed. Legs intertwined.

So in their closeness, he didn’t miss the sniff. Nor the slight pink that her nose took on after she rubbed it. He had an idea of where this was going--he just saved his changes--now he needed to do a little probe for information.

“...Feeling sniffly?” Awkward, but it got the job done. He needed to know if this was actually working.

“Ugh, yeah, haha...you noticed?”

Their eyes met. His were focused on her nose, though she wouldn’t know. “Well...Never seemed like an issue in here before.” He was playing coy, but it was also the most natural thing he could think to say. He couldn’t let on too much too early, he needed to get it to work all the way first…

“I don’t know why, but my nose has been tickling all afternoon. Must be some quirk of the environment, or something…”

No, it was him. He’d done an obsessive reading of what were essentially the innards of her code after the first time they’d...gotten intimate. The more he’d been working with the environment, the more he’d grown curious about her. What did her programming look like, and what modification was possible between the two of them? What could she do, and what couldn’t she, that maybe he could add? There was a lot to explore.

And, well...he had an interest in this, so...might as well take advantage of it.

“...Okay, well...I understand what this error is now that I’m looking at it…”

“That’s good. So what is it?”

So he could control the amount of irritation in her nose with this code. He was right about this much. Her eyes pried into him, closing her book and giving him full attention. 

He needed to see if the routine would work or just error out. He was glad the orgasm routine had already been programmed in...it made the syntax...shockingly easy to figure out, at least, if he was correct about it.

“Uh...I’ll explain in a sec, let me see if I can get it working first.”

One eighth, right?

He had been messing with irritation values for a little while, but kept getting the same error: Resistance threshold too high; routine aborted…

He was growing frustrated. There were no values for resistance defined here. How was he meant to beat it out without going overboard? He didn’t want to just make her suffer…

On the subject, direct irritation like this seemed a little on the nose, no pun intended. If it wasn’t making her breath even hitch...well, it was probably just burning. That kind of tickle in the back of your nose where it just hurts. That wouldn’t do. He needed something more...subtle. Easy.

...Well, there were set variables and syntax for a dietary intolerance here, so...maybe, with a few extra pointers…

...Monika sniffed again, harder this time. As she breathed in and out through her nose, something began to brew. There was a slight, niggling itch throughout both nostrils this time. It grew steadily, blossoming forth, a billowing, feathery itch slowly rising through her nose, growing with every breath, pushing to the forefront of her senses. She rubbed at it again...and again, more aggressively this time. Suddenly, without warning, the tickle brushed the back of her left nostril, and drew an unstable “hUeh-!” from her throat.

Her head lolled steadily upwards with jutting, bobbing motions, rising in time with her increasingly unsteady breathing, eyes pressing themselves shut as she struggled-and failed- to maintain composure, hand firmly squeezed over her nostrils, attempting to squash the sneeze before it could escape. Anon stared along, all the while, watching his handiwork in motion. Her breathing-- “hh-AHhh...heEH...hUH…” --more and more a slave to the irritant at work in her nose, teasing her, bending her will. Her hand loosened from its iron grip around her nose, revealing reddened skin, and presently, one rubbed at it, while the other waved helplessly in the air. But it continued unabated, ferociously twisting itself through her entire nose, brushing on every surface, tiny bombs exploding against sensitive skin, slowly wearing her down until she wanted to do nothing but sneeze, and sneeze-- “Hh-eHH! I...hUHHEHH-!...I’m gonna...I’m gonna sneeze!...” It came out as little more than a whisper as she continued to lose control...seemingly giving up the fight, rubbing wildly at her tortured nose, growing closer and closer to climax…

And then...stopped. The irritation was evidently still there, she was still stuck, mouth agape, nostrils flared, sniffling, hitching, perfect, beautiful face, contorted into that sneezy expression, trapped in that moment. She’d go up, and up...and then stop.

Okay, why… “Oh, shit, I--” With a quick tap of his keys, he fixed the error, and saved-

“hEAHH--nGKkt!”

“...forgot a semicolon.”

It worked.

She sneezed. Head pitched forward into the crook of her elbow, smothering the sound in the sleeve of her shirt, picture perfect as with all things. He felt lighter than air, on pins and needles, the scene playing in slow motion in his head, over and over again. She sighed in relief, sniffling once more (more wetly) as she brushed another knuckle over her poor nose.

“...uh...B-bless you, Monika…”

Her eyes met his face, again, a light blush on her cheeks as she regained control of herself, and was reminded of where she was. That was more dramatic than normal. What came over her? 

“...Thank you, Anon...”

And all of a sudden, she was avoiding eye contact, cheeks about as pink as her nose.

Internally screaming, he read over the log output. “EXECUTED SUCCESSFULLY” was what caught his eye with a giddy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “So,” she cleared her throat, both a functional action, and intending on clearing the air after her outburst. “You forgot a semicolon? On -snf- what?” Attempting to ignore the persistent tickle in her nose, she subtly scrubbed the underside with her finger. 

“...Well...I’d been thinking.” Playing coy. But...maybe he should be honest, too...it would make this a lot less awkward. “If--uh, well, I mean…” Another sniffle, watery eyes doing their best to remain open and attentive on what he was saying. “I thought, since we’d expanded our own home here so much, I should do some deeper reading into what we started with on terms of infrastructure.” He wondered how red his cheeks were. She’d always commented on it before. But she wasn’t focused on that now, she was focused on fending off this torturous tickle, ignoring it, and paying attention to what her lover was saying. “Yeah? A-hahh-nd?” Her entire face quivered as her breath hitched mid sentence. Eyes wavering towards half-lidded, mouth hanging open a moment longer, nostrils flaring as her rubbing picked up intensity.

“Well, I-I mean, I ended up taking a peek into your code, and read over some keynotes of what you were actually programmed to be able to do.” He was uncertain of how she’d take even that. It did certainly sound a little creepy now that he said it out loud. Admittedly, she was unsure of how she was even supposed to take that. He’d...basically looked into her internal organs, more or less. And into her mind, she supposed. Then again, she had said, if she were in the same position… “h-uehh-!” She blinked hard, feeling the itch shift deeper into her nostrils. Despite her best efforts, she just--she couldn’t squash it, she couldn’t stop it-! It was--oh, it was coming on so fast! She was going to sneeze, she-

“--nGxt!” As quiet as she could make it, it came out, twitching forward into her pinched fingers this time. Ordinarily, these were nearly silent. She hated sneezing in front of other people. It was a necessary bodily function, sure, but...it was such a powerful loss of control. And her sneezes were so loud, and on occasion sounded so wet...it was embarrassing. But this tickle was so powerful, so insistent, she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a sound. It was so uncomfortable, and she was fighting such a losing battle right in front of him. Maybe she’d be fine letting one go...no, that would be so embarrassing at this point! And it’d probably gross him out...

Little did she know how close to heaven he felt.

“Well, I noticed that with all of your personality, and how well you function as a person, it seemed like it excised a large number of...human elements.” Oh--another one was following after the second! She couldn’t speak, she could barely think before sneezing again! She was stuck making that face, her brows furrowed together, mouth slightly agape, nostrils flaring, twitching in response to the irritation wrestling control of her body-- “--!” Ah! Aha! It was silent! She couldn’t help the motion, but it was completely- “--! --! --nt! --nntt!” More ran off its coattails, and at this point, she was stuck in a loop, with the irritation remaining consistent, driving sneeze after sneeze out of Monika’s poor nose, forcing her lithe frame back and forth. No matter how many times she went through the same motion, it seemed that her nose was unsatisfied. No matter how she tried, the irritation was not cleared. Something needed to change, and she could feel a shift in her nose as the tickle intensified.

“Bodily functions,” He whispered, watching his handiwork closely, tapping his keyboard upwards to the allergy section, ready to comment it out so she could speak. “...Like sneezing.”

Her mucous membranes, unhappy with the vicious assault of this unknown irritant, did what they did best, producing new snot in her otherwise perfectly immaculate nostrils. Her nose, rubbed raw at this point and almost glowing red in hue, twitched and shook as her head rose backwards, last annals of her will crumbling as the tickle reached the back of her throat. Hitching breaths teased her lungs, as finally, she decided to give in--she needed to just sneeze, and get rid of this--she needed to sneeze! “Hh-hehHuHH--” Eyes screwed shut, a single tear pushing just past her cheek as it fell, nostrils quivering at the mercy of what felt like a billion tiny feathers in every part of her nose. “HHUEHH-! I’m--I’m gonna-!” In spite of her embarrassment, she felt the reflex to warn others. How paradoxical.

And, with one final deep breath, and a full anticipating dip backwards, her head flew forwards into two cupped hands, hair swimming in the space behind it.

“HEAHH-nnNNGTTSSCHUU!”

She sneezed, powerfully, and wetly. 

She rose slowly from the position, eyes still closed, and hands still cupped to her face. A low moan escaped her, embarrassment overriding everything else in her head. She’d just sneezed, loudly, messily, into her hands, in front of her lover. She didn’t want him to see the aftermath--hell, she didn’t want to see the aftermath. She could feel how wet her hands were, and as she slightly shifted she could feel the snot stuck from her nose. 

And, as slowly as she had risen her head, she opened her eyes.

What was he saying? That he’d programmed her--to be able to sneeze?

Well, that much...made sense, she supposed. She hadn’t remembered sneezing since she’d met him...in fact, she hardly felt a prickle in her nostrils…

Wait, so he’d programmed her to--

Suddenly, she turned away, brow furrowed in anger this time. 

“...Well, I hope you’re happy with your results.” She sniffled, a harsh, wet sound, which seemed to do nothing more but stir what was already out. She shuddered slightly, the uncomfortable feeling of slime over her fingers, but...they didn’t have tissues.

Her words seemed to surprise him out of a stupor. “Oh--I--I’m sorry...B-bless you…” 

She was silent for a moment again, still facing away, pouting and with hands covered in snot, weighing her options.

“...thank you. -snf-”

The sheepish reply goaded him further.

“...I--uh, I guess I should confess,” he brushed a hand over her shoulder, trying to emphasize as much comfort over the situation as possible. “I...err, I-” he swallowed, “I...kinda have...a thing for sneezing? That sounds weird. I know. I’m sorry.”

“...What?”

Well. That was the last thing she was expecting.

“...yeah, I…”

“...You could have said something sooner!” 

Half turned, her annoyed voice stung a bit more than he was expecting.

“...So, like a...a...sexual thing?”

Eye contact. Wordlessly, he nodded.

Her eyes went down to his pants. Sure enough, a bulge matching what he must have had in real life.

...Well, it wasn’t the weirdest fetish out there. And it wasn’t the most painful for her. “...Well, okay. I feel better.” Sure, she’d read different message boards, she was aware it existed. It was unexpected that he would be one of them, but, well...this was her anon, after all. “It’s easy to do for you, I guess. It is a natural bodily function, after all.” Behind her hands, a warm smile had formed. Relief. This wasn’t embarrassing or gross to him--this was what he wanted! That certainly changed the playing field.

“Uh, -snf- well, are you into...snot?” Awkward question. Awkward sentence. Erotic to him, she guessed.

“No...well, kinda, I don’t know…” He moved slightly, considering it. “I’m not into all of the crazy snot play that certain porn gets into. And I don’t want you to sneeze in my mouth or anything like that. I just like it when you sneeze...and messiness is a bit of a turn-on I guess. And...blowing your nose, I suppose?” Okay, that made Monika’s problem easy to solve. “Well, could I...uh, could I get some tissues then? I’m kinda covered…” “Oh! Yeah, hold on just a sec.”

After some more quick typing, a blue box with soft white tissues sticking out of it appeared above–and then dropped into Monika’s lap. With an unproductive sniffle, she slowly moved her hands from her nose...only to quietly shriek in disbelief and disgust at what her own body had produced.

Twin streams of snot, clear but sticky, connected her nostrils to her hands. Quickly, she put her hands over her nose again, shutting her eyes. “Hey…” With a soothing, what he guessed was a cooing voice, he ran a hand over her shoulder again...and quickly moved to cop one of the most bizarre, but exhilarating feels he has ever copped in his life. With one hand, he grabbed one of her forearms and began to pull it down gently, with the other, he grabbed a few tissues from the box.

And with the same gentle touch that he pulled her hands down with, he began wiping the streaming mucous from her hands...and face, brushing against the delicate skin with the tissues, before pushing it against Monika’s nose...he couldn’t believe this was happening…

“Blow.” He commanded, voice just barely above a whisper. Wordlessly, she put her own hands over his, adjusting his grip, and did as she was told, the sensation...oddly sensual. She gave a productive, gurgling blow...the world induced irritation had certainly left its marks, and she was definitely stuffed up. One nostril...then the other, he could feel the moving air and fluid against his fingers as she blew her nose into the tissue.

Afterwards, she sniffled again, and removed her hands, giving a solid signal for Anon to do the same, half compelled to look into the tissue before crumpling it up and tossing it into the Recycle Bin. He resisted the urge, resolving it wouldn’t be much better than what had just happened...and tossed the ball out.

His heart was beating out of his chest. She smiled at him, as he watched her move towards him, dumbfounded. One hand to the back of his head, bringing him closer, to kiss...the other down south, attending to matters she’d stirred up. “Thank you, Anon. My nose was so stuffed up…”

This was going to be a long night.

[blackjackkent]

Ask meme prompt fill for @eluvisen from this ask meme: even more popular text posts ask meme Karlach/Hector: "life really isn’t what i expected it to be. less quicksand. almost no quicksand to be honest. lots of metaphorical quicksand tho."

-----

“So, dear reader, I found myself stranded not upon the shores of distant planes but instead upon a desert of Toril itself.” Hector reads aloud from the battered pulp novel with a gravitas better suited to the historical records he was known to study at Silverlight. The Tenebrux Morrow novels are, of course, tripe - but charmingly earnest tripe, and more to the point, tripe for which Karlach has a taste.

He first started reading aloud to the camp as far back as the Underdark, when it became clear that Karlach couldn't lay hands on a book herself without setting it aflame. She claimed she didn't care - “haven't read a book since I was a kid,” she'd say dismissively, casually evading the obvious addendum that it was because she'd been trapped in the Hells that whole time. But he'd guessed - even back then before he knew her, before he knew that he loved her - that she might have more of a taste for a good story than she let on. 

And so it had proved. Astarion had scoffed and Lae'zel rolled her eyes the first time Hector began, without preamble, to read out from books they'd found. But the others listened with growing interest, night by night - perhaps grateful for the distraction of entertainment to fill the dull hours between their meager camp dinner and bed. 

It's been a fairly motley assortment of literature, to be sure. Sometimes history tomes and academic texts, which only really interest Gale and Hector, and once, memorably, a romance novel unearthed by Shadowheart (that one made Hector's ears burn to read aloud, much to Shadowheart and Wyll's amusement).

But by far the biggest hit has been the adventure stories they've occasionally found; these sometimes draw even Astarion and Lae'zel to the fire to listen, and elicit a rapt attentiveness from Karlach that makes Hector feel warm all over. 

Tonight's installment is another volume of Morrow's tales. Usually they center around plane-hopping adventures, but this particular volume finds the redoubtable (or perhaps simply doubtable) captain marooned in the deserts of Calimshan, awaiting rescue from her shipmates.

“My only hope,” he continues to read, “was the scent of water upon the air, which heralded the possibility of a nearby oasis. Had I been in less desperate need, perhaps I might have noticed that the water lay not ahead but beneath, for the sand grew soft beneath my boots, and softer still, until its true treachery became known.” He lets his eyes go very wide and drops his voice into as dramatic a growl as he can muster. “A field of quicksand stretched around me, its subtle fingers reaching up to snare me down into its depths.”

Karlach snickers. “Ah, Hells, quicksand again? Didn't she run into that in the Feywild too?” She's curled up at Hector's side with her head resting comfortably on his hip; her tail gives an occasional lazy flick in the firelight. “I remember Dad reading me this sort of stuff when I was a kid, too. Always lots of quicksand.”

“And why not?” Wyll says cheerfully. “It's dramatic!” 

Shadowheart nods agreement. “Yes. Lends itself to a good tale of daring escape.”

Karlach grins, shifting her head a little so one of her horns is better braced against Hector's thigh. “I'm just saying - we've had a whole lot of adventures by now, and I haven't seen a single quicksand, not one. Have you, Soldier?” She squints up at Hector intently. 

He turns a page in the book with a soft laugh. “Literal or metaphorical?” 

“Well, literal, I guess.”

“Not a one.” He chuckles. “Metaphorically, though, the quagmires around us seem more numerous every day.”

Karlach ticks them off on her fingers. “The Absolute, the Chosen… that bloody brain. Yep, getting weirder all the time.”

He lifts his eyebrows, his lips twitching. “Not to mention the greatest quicksand of all… the tiefling temptress I've encountered, distracting me from my scholarly pursuits, ensnaring me with her wiles, sucking me in…”

Karlach smirks. “Hmm. Sucking, you say? Tell me more.”

“Please don't,” Shadowheart groans. “We're only a few days now from a city full of inns, and I for one can't wait for you two to get your own room.”

[moirindeclermont]

Happy Saturday!! It's day 26 and tonight's episode of BridgertonS3 Polin Kinktober brings us.... Foreplay and mommy kink (because as everything with them, they are definitely not staying still in one role) So... Enjoy!

There are two things that Colin loves more than being inside his wife. One is when Pen takes the rein in the bedroom, and two when the preamble was actually the main event. Sometimes those two things combined, leaving him wondering what he did right to deserve such lucky.

As everything in their relationship, they were happy to switch as often as needed, sometimes even in the same night.

That day Comin was nervous and overstimulated. He did snapped a couple of times.

He was going to bed, ready to apolige, when he saw Pen, the Robe on and a determined glimpse in her eyes.

"Someone needs to be reminded of who is in charge here," she said. Her tone was stern but calm, exuding confidence.

Colin went on his knees on reflex, knowing what was about to happen.

Nervous him? When? Pen had such power over him that he didn't need to be told twice. Pen got up and walked until she was in front of him, her hand finding its way to his hair.

He moaned on contact, as always.

"Untie me, wih your mouth," she ordered him and he was quick to obey, reaching to the knot that kept together the Robe and undoing it, revealing her naked and so beautiful.

"I apologize, Mommy. I was snappy and sarcastic today," he said, waiting more than anything to play with her m, in whatever way she wanted.

"Good boy," she purred and he responded in kind.

"Lift me and bring me back to the bed. When I'm settled, you can come on the bed as well."

Again, he was more than happy to do it. Pen was on the bed a minute later, her robe now down her shoulder, exposing her chest. He waited for her nod before going on the bed.

"Play with my bosom. You're not allowed to come until I said so."

He hesitate a bite "may I kiss you first?"

She looked like she was thinking about it, until she nodded and he kissed her with all his love, already playing with is fingers, teasing her nipples.

He went down, kissing her on her neck, before reaching his destination. He was hard in his pants but he ignored it.

He could literally stay hour just licking and sucking her t1ts. Her light moans giving him something to focus on as he showered with attention both breasts.

There was no rush. No need to be fast.

He was exactly where he wanted to be.

"Yes, Colin. Such a good husband for me," mmm he always had to moan when Pen called him a good husband.

Time seemed to slow down as his mind went blank, focusing just on the task ahead.

"You may touch my core, just with your fingers," she said eventually, just when he was about to ask her as much.

Touching her like that was always so special, no matter how many time she had done it.

Finding her wet didn't matter. He was a tool for her desires tonight. If she didn't want his d1ck, that would have been okay too. He went instead for her pearl, light pressure that made her moan.

"Yes, so good," she sighed and he continued single minded, until she was almost close. Then, she looked at him in the eyes and said 'since you've been so good, you may take out you cock and come on my tits after you made me come. But you have to clean the mess," she said and Colin just nodded, happy to get to come at all.

He reprises, touching and sucking and licking, until she was moaning under him.

"Ahh- yes. Colin!"

As she laid down, he took himself out. She looked at him with such pride and affection as she squeezed her chest for him and he was so hard that it was only a few minutes when he made a mess of her.

Then, as promised, he cleaned her thoroughly, as Pen sighed in pleasure.

He laid on her side, caressing her slowly.

"Are you good now?" She asked him, and Colin nodded.

"How you can get me from nervous to happy it's such a miracle to me."

She laughed. "It's the same for you, dummy," she answered, smiling as they fell into sleep, breathing in sink.