#or alternatively fuck you *turns you into a small reptile*

[th3basementdweller]

I turned the gang into small animals

[meltastic]

Reptile Rehab and Your Eyes Only/As Luck Would Have It for the WIP ask game :D

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ Reptile Rehab was an obamitsu au idea that never really made it past the outline stage, but I still love the concept and think its super cute, I might revisit it some day!! The alternate title was Itadakimasu!

▷ the premise is that Obanai has a youtube channel/social media presence where he rehabilitates a ton of different reptiles and adopts them out. He always gives them super cutesy names, he's almost never fully on camera, it's just mostly his hands. whenever he does show his face, his mouth is bandaged/covered (because of the facial scars ofc.) he has a niche but dedicated following! his fans are obsessed with his asmr-like voice :)

◁ || Mitsuri is a mukbanger with a huge following. she started the channel at the suggestion of her therapist, to help get over her disordered relationship with food. she never eats in public because she's self-conscious of how much she eats-- and neither does iguro because that would require him showing his whole face. all of their off-camera meals are very lonely...

◁ unbeknownst to each other, they are each other's biggest fans. they eventually end up collabing for one of mitsuri's mukbangs, but iguro doesnt eat anything and just stares at her with heart eyes the whole time.

i wanted it to culminate in them both helping each other eat in pubic together for the first time! on their first date :,)

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹

And oohh I'm so glad you asked about the second one, because that's a one-shot WIP I've had mostly-written out since like, January, with that title picked and everything, and then I'm perusing the uzen tag and what do i see but TITLE TAKEN!! And the fact that it's your fic (i think), just makes that way way funnier omg. That other working title, I don't know where I got it from. It doesn't have anything to do with the themes of the story, so, I've no clue..

Anyhow, it was like a small idol au concept. wherein Tengen is Zenitsu's producer/manager, the wives are Tengen's former starlets-turned makeup/choreo/costuming team, and Zenitsu is a fucking mess (naturally).

ıılıılıılıılı ♬♬ Zen basically cannot perform until he passes out from crippling stage fright. Then he performs while unconscious and he's flawless onstage. But his eyes are always closed during his sets, of course. And his fanbase, while rabid with speculation, never get to see his gorgeous sad wet baby cow eyes. Only Tengen does :)

♬ It basically culminates in like, a very fluffy somno smut scene full of praise kink and post-show aftercare. Tengen basically worshipping his little star... damn now I really wanna revisit and finish writing this thing... anyways here's a very rough snippet under the cut >:3

[domesticated-whores]

list of reasons why i kin angel dust

absolutely nobody asked or cares, and it absolutely goes into headcanon & projecting territory, but it's my void and i can scream into it how i please, so--

also, tiny note, i am loose and casual with kinning. i'm just saying heavily relate to the point that i can easily see myself parallel that character.

gay femboy supremacy 💅💅

nice tits (his are fluff, i'm transmasc and am too fem to care to go into debt over physical transition... either way, we got soft titties)

wearing pleasers ✨️exclusively✨️ (i also wear demonias, but they're owned by pleasers)

earlier iterations of him were more genderfluid but he's now canonly a cis man, i use to think i was more genderfluid due to being super fem (presenting) sometimes and being just meh about my body but am now confident that i'm just a really genderqueer trans dude.

doesn't overly mind fem language, *sometimes* intentionally uses it. refers to self decently androgynously (alternating between "fem" and "masc" shit)

pet mama 💕

my cats are my babies, i'd die and kill for them, genuinely one of the only lights in my life

animal lover in general, honestly!! babes, they're so fucking cute!!

i also prefer fucking ugly/weird animals like farm animals, trash animals (possums, raccoons, etc), some reptiles, and spiders

spiders are my very favorite creatures, so yeah i fw the spider character

overworked at a shitty job that there's no real way out of

like, i didn't sell my soul ig but i live in a small area and don't drive, and my cats need food and a roof over their little baby noggins, so mama needs a job no matter the cost

also, TOXIC fucking work environment. not comparable to workplace abuse, but FUCK--

and i ✨️ain't doing that shit sober✨️ bbgirl, i DRINK because of that place.

((that's a half-truth, i don't go TO work drunk because i am not subtle, but the instant i'm out and have any money--))

i also work A LOT, honestly. icky, nasty, 'sgusting.

✨️inferiority complex and heavy masking✨️

feet are weird, i especially hate my own

don't touch my feet, don't look at my feet, if anyone's around imma be in socks or smth, feet are a hard no for me

let's 👏 talk 👏 kink 👏

into bdsm and generally kinky shit

✨️ SUPER sex positive ✨️

growing collection of ✨️toys✨️ that i'm becoming increasingly proud of

it's a part of life, so i really don't see any taboo in fucking??

willing to try almost ANYTHING if i stand to gain from it or just to see if i'm into it

✨️ switch ✨️

PRAISE ME

... or, alternatively DEGRADE ME

on the regular, i just want to feel safe and loved and lowkey spoiled--

but i also fuck HARD with the spicy stuff

honestly, hardcore things are more professional than intimate

((i don't do sw, but i am into kink in a very nerdy, special interest, academic type of way... fuck me so i can write an essay about the dynamics at play, daddy~!))

on that note,, ✨️ trauma ✨️

specifically, sa :)

sa that really changes how you see and use sex, and how you outwardly PRETEND to see and use sex

being manipulated by someone you cared about in some way

((luckily, mine was short-lived... only the aftermath was long-lasting))

there's also family trauma :)

the idea of going no contact--

i kin people that are no/low contact because FUCK~ it's a lovely concept. i personally can't for... reasons... but if i could

will make the cheap-shot sex joke

i vape only the fruitiest bullshit flavors and, like, rip angel you would have loved this straw-blueberry vape with this funky abstract art on it bby

that's just, like, off the top of my head. idk, idk. he's literally me. not on everything, but he's the character i've related to the hardest in a HOT SECOND.

also, love the fact that all of this is true but also valentino is my fucking all time favorite character and my pfp. like, i look at angel and am hit with most deep and profound sense of "this is a character a that i relate to and see myself in to an insane degree" and then i turn around and see his fucking abuser and, with my FULL fucking chest go "scrumbly wittle bpd princess man 💕, i wuvs him 💕, i couldn't fix him but i could break him and mold him into my little disaster housewife 💕" like a fucking insane person. it's fine, it's fine, their literally cartoons!! i'm delulu about drawings!! it's okay!!

[talenlee]

3e: Kythons

Where the creeping edges of reality ripple and shimmer, where foul and dark powers reach into the world to try and plant their foul fingertips there, there lay hallmarks and signs. There is a chance your world has tasted them, the chance that they have been left there, at some point by some errant and cruel source, and therefore, the only opportunity you have now is to wage war on their very existence, or to abandon your world, knowing it is a matter of time before the ultimate predatory violence bursts forth from some forgotten earthen womb, and renders all that you considered a civilisation into the same, cyclical, eternal pereptuum of feasting.

Content Warning: This article is going to be about a creepy monster from 3rd edition, D&D, and involve discussing some of the details of its source book, the Book of Vile Darkness. The art gets gory and bloody after here.

Kythons are a threat. They are a menace. They are first and foremost a creature of violence, a ravening mouth with a selection of limbs around it; sometimes just two and a tail, running feet that let the maw chase you, or sometimes it’s four limbs and two legs, with hands that can grasp and wield weapons and threaten your life and limb.

Most resembling some mix of insect and reptile, a Kython is an intelligence that seemingly exists on a different plane to other intelligence; they have seemingly no need or want for conversation or diplomacy, and they wield weapons they manufacture entirely on their own. While weak as — children? infants? nymphs? spawn? — they still are threatening to full grown adult adventurers from birth and it’s only a matter of time before they overcome, overrun, and consume everything.

The Kythons are dangerous not because they hate you but because they are incapable of good, honest, human, hatred, or somesuch. You see this is a Kython broodling, a smaller kind of Kython. And when they eat your face, nobody can hear you scream.

Look, they’re nasty gribbly things that are both alien (in that nothing is like them) and alien (in that they were put on the world from an outside place) and alien (in that they very much are trying to create the feeling of fear and horror as you remember from the movie Aliens if you’ve seen it). They are the tension of a blockbuster movie about failure and incompetence and desperation against the implacable inexorable force of a pitiless consuming force, turned into a D&D monster you can hit so it drops treasure.

Now, setting aside how useful or reasonable these things are as a threat, there’s a lot of work being put in to making these things both incredibly nasty and monstrous while also badass as hell. These things are a mix of traits that would require some truly breathtaking 1990s animatronics and material effects. There is an alternate reality where I got into painting miniatures and had a bunch of secret Kython OCs along with the Tyranid OCs and the Xenomorph OCs who shapeshift into these things instead of much more wholesome and fuckable werewolves.

The Kython aesthetic is a mix of generic bug in the carapacey design, with specific traits of praying mantises, and how we imagine preying mantises to work. They have big jagged fanglymouths, lots multiple limbs, but they’re also blind, you know, to avoid having eyes you can look into and see their humanity. They see somehow, and that’s between them and whatever got regrets making them.

They have poison? Well, venom really, but you know that discrepancy is the kind of thing that only matters to huge fucking dorky nerds. They have venom. They come in a variety of forms showing an evolutionary lifecycle that is both recognisably an escalation in the way we’re familiar from baby to adult to oh no, and in the process they get less cute and more dangerous. This means that any given encounte with Kythons can include small medium and large members, and that they can present a variety of different combat opportunities in tactical combat. You can pick some small Kythons to be a doable combat encounter and you can pick a big Kython to be a dangerous kind of stalker threat harrassing the player characters.

The gameplay versatility of the Kython is part of what I think represents its enduring gameplay presence. I haven’t seen them in 4th edition (my native grounds) but there are people making art and campaigns that involve Kythons even this year. The urge to use fanart of Kythons for this article was strong, but contacting all the people involved seemed very hard. And we wouldn’t want to inappropriately credit in an article about the time D&D tried to riff on the Slivers riffing on the Zerg riffing on the Tyranids riffing on the Xenomorph.

What really sets the Kythons apart is one of the enduring problems that a truly free form tabletop roleplaying game with a polar morality system as Dungeons & Dragons 3rd edition has: How do you represent a completely alien intelligence? There’s magic in the world, magic capable in multiple ways of breaking down barriers for communication. There really is no reason why, if one wanted to, one could not, somehow, communicate with a Kython.

The problem the Kython presents is that they are meant to be a thing that cannot be communicated with, cannot be reasoned with, and will not stop, until you are dead. Er, wrong movie. No, the Kython is meant to be the Predator and the Alien, bound up together in one horrible insect-crustacean-reptile-beast form, with bio-organic weapons. They’re an environmental horror: You find some eggs, you have to destroy the eggs, and if you don’t destroy the eggs, if you leave the problem to later, the problem will get out of hand. There is no natural ecosystem of the Kythons, they are just going to get out of control no matter what because that’s what they are made to do.

They are the Zerg, they are the Tyranids, they are the Swarm, they are the Hive. They are a monster in the purest sense, an un-rehabilitable enemy that is smart enough to be able to be evil and inhuman enough to not want to negotiate on that fact. They need to be capable of thought to be capable of a moral framework and they need to be incapable of communication to keep you from interacting with that moral framework.

A truly feral, animal threat – something in the vein of an actual form of the xenomorph – would be a problem. That presents something natural, something that should be placatable, something that doesn’t fit in the D&D generality of nature as a stable ecosystem where everything is okay until someone messes with it. A genuinely hostile ecosystem isn’t a thing that works within the framework of absolutes of evil and an irredeemable creature that doesn’t care about you.

Kythons are what people imagine nature isn’t and what nature is. It is a reinvention of bears and bees and bacteria, the violence that meat does to meat, but given a moral dimension because if it’s not given a moral dimension, you can’t be morally superior to it. And they are presented in the Book of Vile Darkness because they wanted a truly terrible, nasty thing to put there.

The nastiest thing they could imagine was mid-tier copyright infringement of the Tyranids for a second time.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[underthehedge]

Ok time to learn about Pancrustacea

Right so I've explained on that "don't eat cicadas if you're allergic to seafood" post a bit but I love a weird factoid so: Insects are actually a weird subgroup of crustaceans.

"But how?!" I hear you cry, "what forbidden knowledge is this? surely it cannot be true!" I imagine you say because I've decided you're all incredibly melodramatic about Arthropod taxonomy like I am. First things first, let's start with some key players.

Arthropoda - a group of animals with exoskeletons and jointed (arthro-) legs (poda), your bugs your crabs your spiders your millipedes etc. Nature's crunchy bois.

Hexapoda - insects, springtails and a couple of other small arthropods, all notable for having six (hexa-) legs (poda). Flies, cockroaches, ants, moths, get stickbugged etc.

Crustacea - a massive group of arthropods that includes crabs, lobsters, water fleas, copepods, woodlice, brine shrimp, seed shrimp, scuds, mantis shrimp, barnacles and also a bunch of secret ones you've likely never heard of. Nearly all of them live in the water.

Chelicerata - not so relevant here but that's your spiders, your scorpions, your ticks, your mites, also now found to apparently includes horseshoe crabs which is a bit of a mind fuck.

Myriapoda - Centipedes and millipedes and a couple of their less famous cousins, name means "ten thousand feet" which is a bit of an overstatement but these lads sure do have a lot of legs.

Ok so if you don't know how Cladistics works, well you can google that but briefly, taxonomists organise groups of animals by descent: who's closest related to who. Groups can be monophyletic, polyphyletic or paraphyletic, but the only valid taxonomic units are monophyletic ones. I'll put a short explanation under the cut, with pictures and alt text.

Aaaanyway, so there are many different groups in the Arthropoda and their relationships to each other is A Whole Thing, taxonomists have been puzzling and fighting over it for centuries at this point. Traditionally, morphological analyses have come up with various possible configurations for the trees, like grouping Hexapods with Myriapods into Tracheata because they both breath through tracheae as opposed to Crustaceans which breath through gills. Alternatively, based on some shared features of the simple eyes it was the Crustacea and Hexapoda that were in fact sister groups, which they called Pancrustacea; there were good arguments for both. There have been a lot of competing theories but genetic data is much easier to obtain now and has confirmed and refuted many of the well reasoned theories based on morphology alone, which is great.

It's also sometimes throwing a rather exciting hand grenade into the fruit salad of existing theories, as with the Pancrustacea hypothesis. In the 2000s people started to work on that, collecting genetic data for key genes and comparing them across groups, building trees and finding that...wait what? Pancrustacea was right, but also, it wasn't. Pancrustacea clearly formed a monophyletic clade but uh, not quite how people thought it would.

Genetic data showed that Hexapoda are definitely not the sister group to Myriapoda, but they were also not a sister group to Crustacea, because when you work out the trees they're sat firmly within the Crustacea as a sister group to either the Remipedia, Branchiopoda or Cephalocarida.

Remipedes are weird centipede looking swimming crustaceans that are found in coastal cave systems, they're small, blind and kinda elegant if you go look up a video.

Cephalocarida are weird tiny looking buggers that live buried in mud, grow no more than 4mm long and generally look a bit like a worm. Some phylogenies put these with the others and other's say they go with the crabs instead. Idk.

And then there's the Branchiopoda, a large group that you're probably familiar with if you've ever raised sea monkeys, triops, fairy shrimp etc. They live in a number of habitats but almost all prefer temporary pools and lay special eggs that can survive desiccation.

These are all undeniably Crustaceans but...they're all apparently closer related to Hexapods than they are to crabs and lobsters for instance. The exact relationship is kinda fucky to work out, even with genetic data but it's kinda like people looked at humans and great apes and said "ah, we are similar to them, they are a group and we are the sister group to that" except eventually it turned out that, despite superficial similarities between the chimps(and bonobos) and gorillas, actually, humans and chimps are closer related so we're not cousins to the great apes, we are literally great apes.

So either Hexapods are crustaceans or we have to evict like, half of all Crustacean classes from Crustacea.

Ok so in this imaginary tree, A, B, C and D form a monophyletic group all descended from (1). A and B also form a smaller monophyletic group descended from (2), and likewise for C and D from (3). Shit nests like Russian dolls.

If you decided to group A, B and D together though, that would be a paraphyletic group as it doesn't include all descendants of (1), excluding C for no good reason. This has happened a lot in the past before new information has come to light, it is not a valid taxonomic unit but the names are sometimes preserved out of habit, e.g. most people don't include birds when they say "reptile", but birds are totally in that group.

If you decided to make a group from B and D because you think they look kinda similar that's a polyphyletic group, like grouping birds and mammals because they're both warm blooded. This is not a valid taxonomic unit at all.

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 8

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: Connor and the prototype check out the Ravendale district, and as per usual, the android doesn't listen to him.

AO3

Story banner by @uh-kitty-got-wet​

It was raining. Again.

And Connor was standing out in it. Again.

At least Colin seemed as miserable as he was, wrapped in his expensive leather jacket while shivering. It was more than a little satisfying that Connor’s practical windbreaker was holding up better under the never-ending deluge.

“Damn thing robs a convenience store, and no one sees where it went,” Colin complained, hunching his shoulders against the November chill. “Why don’t you tell Barbie over there to fetch?”

“Don’t call it that,” Connor muttered, sneaking a surreptitious glance at the android in question. It was standing next to his Mustang, back ramrod straight as it remained facing forward, looking for all intents and purposes just like a plastic doll. It didn’t even blink or fidget as it was pelted with cold rain droplets.

“Okay, Mr. Android Rights Activist.” Colin smirked. “You seemed fine calling it that at the station. Yelled it, in fact.”

Connor turned up the collar of his windbreaker, not dignifying that statement with a response. He was going to have to change the bandages on his cheek when he got back to the station. It stung like hell and was already soaked through.

“Shut up,” he said, halfhearted, before leaving Colin’s side to approach the prototype. Its eyes shifted toward him, its head following as if on a swivel. Connor had noticed it move that way before, and it was uncanny as hell. Like a bird, or a reptile, focusing on something of interest.

Without waiting for Connor to speak, it said, “The deviant fled by bus and didn’t disembark until the last stop. From what we saw of the Ortiz android, deviants don’t behave rationally and are often driven by emotions such as anger or fear.”

Connor scoffed.

“Okay, great. Emotional machines. How is that helpful?”

The YN800 model cocked its head and its eyes slid to the side, a thoughtful expression if Connor had ever seen one.

“Knowing it would soon be pursued by the police, it would most likely choose to hide. And with a young child in tow during inclement weather, it couldn’t have gone far.”

Connor’s eyebrows rose.

“All right. If you were a deviant, where would you hide?”

There was a flash of something in its eyes. It almost looked… annoyed.

Interesting.

The prototype turned and gaze out across the street, its eyes roving over each building with a critical lens, a small crease appearing between its brows. Had someone designed that little dip on purpose? Make it more human and less creepy?

“There’s a motel nearby, but that option would require cash and a change of clothing. It’s a human-only establishment, but it is a warm, dry place to shelter, so this location is high-risk high-reward. There’s also the foreclosed house on the corner, but it is structurally unsound and unsafe for a child. The AX400 may not care.”

It aimed its chin toward a lot surrounded by a chain link fence, and added, “The overnight parking lot may offer a good alternative as well, uncomfortable but discreet. Units should be placed at all three locations to cover the most ground and assure the deviant doesn’t slip away.”

Connor would have loved nothing more than to find fault in the prototype’s logic, just as an excuse to take it down a peg, but everything it said made an annoying amount of sense.

Without acknowledging the android, Connor went back to where Colin and Ralph were hunched miserably in the rain and gave them the update. The rookie got on the radio immediately and coordinated where the uniforms should be stationed, spread out all along the Ravendale district.

The android’s calculations paid off—an AX400 was spotted just down the street, a struggling child in tow.

Connor was about to turn to the YN800 model to give it the go-ahead when it blew past him, a streak of dark jeans and grey jacket with glowing blue accents.

“Goddammit, wait!” he yelled after it. Goddamn android didn’t even have a proper name for him to curse. For insisting on being Connor’s new partner, it sure didn’t act like one, running off or disappearing the first chance it got.

Connor fled after it, boots slapping against the wet pavement as he weaved around groups of people on the sidewalk, diving into traffic around slow-moving autonomous cars where he could.

The officers stationed along the street directed Connor where to go since he’d quickly lost sight of the prototype. It was eerily fast, and Connor wasn’t exactly diligent about getting regular exercise. By the time he caught up to it at the end of an alley, he was panting and wheezing for breath.

“Shit,” he panted through his teeth, staring wide-eyed through the chain-link fence as the AX400 and child somehow made it to the median strip without both of them dying. That fucking lunatic android was going to get the girl killed.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye; the prototype was halfway up the fence before Connor could grab it by the jacket, yanking it back down onto solid ground.

“What are you doing!”

He considered giving it a good shake when it stubbornly refused to let go of the fence.

The prototype ignored him completely, staring through the links to its target like a predator homing in on its prey.

“What I was designed to do.”

It tried to shrug off his grip, but Connor held on tighter.

“It’s a miracle they even made it that far!” Connor snapped, fingers digging into the slippery fabric. “You chase after them, you’ll get yourself killed!”

The YN800 positively glared at him out of the corner of its eye. It was a look so hostile that the air left Connor’s lungs, and he made the mistake of slightly loosening his grip.

The android jerked out of his hold, leapt onto the fence, and cleared the top before Connor could stop it.

“No!” Connor yelled, useless and too late.

The YN800 landed on the muddy embankment and slid down the slope to the highway railing, disrupting the shimmery text of the warning hologram as it leapt into traffic.

Connor was helpless to do anything but watch as it expertly dodged oncoming vehicles, sliding over and under them, always a hair’s breadth away from certain death. Somehow it made it to the median and gave chase, yelling for the AX400 to stop.

The deviant turned, panic twisting its features, and the two androids faced each other at a standstill, an innocent child caught in the middle.

Next Chapter

[conundrumrespeculis]

Garfield Pet Force

Ive been thinking about this book series a lot recently so I have decided to plague y'all with it and try to convince you to read at least one of the books with possibly the best sales pitch I know.

The "Story So Far" summary of book two (Pie-Rat's revenge) minus the spoilers for the first book, which I have put under a readmore because it does, in fact, take up a solid amount of space, and not everyone wants to read the glorious premise of Pet Force.

1

The story so far... There exist an infinite number of universes parallel to our own. Each one is similar to ours, but each one is also unique in it's own way. In one such parallel universe, a group of superheroes known as Pet Force kept the peace for many years. Each of the five members of Pet Force possessed incredible superpowers that they used to battle evil. Recently, however, an evil veterinarian with magical powers named Vetvix defeated Pet Force, banishing the five heroes to a ghostly dimension from which there is no escape. The kind and benevolent ruler of this alternate universe, Emporer Jon, lived on a peaceful planet known as Polyster. He called upon his sorcerer- Sorcerer Binky- to find new beings to serve as Pet Force. Using his magic cauldron, Sorcerer Binky opened a doorway between Emperor Jon's universe and our universe. He brought Garfield, Odie, Arlene, Nermal, and Pooky into the parallel universe where they took on the powers and appearance of Pet Force.

...

And Ladies and Gentlemen this is just the tip of the HAT for Pet Force. Emperor Jon? The Pet Force version of Jon Arbuckle. And it SHOWS. Not to MENTION they actually give a story and reason that works really well for the world that's been built as to HOW such a dunderhead got on the throne.

And Sorceror Binky? If you haven't guessed it already, He's The Pet Force version of Binky the Clown and it's THE funniest shit. He also is just a great character in general and you can just tell he's amazing just from dialogue.

Vetvix? The Evil Magic Veterinarian? The Pet Force version of Liz. And she is lean, mean, fashionable, sassy, and wants to rule the universe. She won't stop at NOTHING to get what she wants, but she's also a legitmate character. She has likes and dislikes, people she gets along with, and people she hates, she has devious wins and frustrating losses. But she won't give up!

And if you get annoyed at her for some reason? You can read one of the books where she's not the villain! Pie-Rat's Revenge focuses on Pie-Rat (Yes he IS a pirate rat that likes food and he's brilliant he wears an eyepatch and peg leg despite needing neither just because he's commited to the aesthetic) escaping from "jail" and teaming up with Garzooka turned evil to go commit crimes such as stealing food.

Or if you don't like him you could read about the lethal lizards! Some incredibly engaging criminal reptiles that got superpowers and decided to commit crimes! Their names are Dragon, Chameleon, and Snake. So I think you can tell what reptiles they are. And they're absolutely ridiculous I love them.

And I haven't even MENTIONED the fun of garfield and co. in superhero roles. Specifically their names are Garzooka, Odious, Abnermal, Starlena, and Compooky! And they are also ridiculous and at times not very heroic, including the times literally everyone got to be evil. Yes I am counting the mutanator. No I am not spoiling their surprise in this post.

The original Garzooka was a heroic leader-type, but put garfield in the drivers seat and you have a glutonous lazy superhero with a heck ton of power who at one point eats the cords for a spaceship. I'm like 98% certain he's got an iron stomach. If you know garfield, you know how ridiculous he can be.

Odious is literally Odie. Big heart, but oh so no thoughts head empty. Literally can lift up an entire castle and also make infinite drool (this was not tested but definitely implied). He has also knocked people out on accident because he forgot he does that when he licks people. A total idiot but I love him.

Abnermal is Nermal. Incredibly annoying, likes comics, looooves to pester garfield, and really funny ok, he literally annoys people as one of his superpowers. But also he knows when to shut up (sometimes) and is always super excited for being a super hero!

Starlena is absolutely fabulous. I'm just gonna get that out of the way now. She's most certainly the most mature member of the team and kicks ass. Literally the smartest other than Compooky, but honestly nobody beats Compooky in smartness. She takes no shit but also genuinely cares about other people. One time she saves the day by giving a snappy comeback. She is fabulous.

And Compooky, the literal super computer and garfield's best friend. He's the brains of the team, but can't fight very well (he's literally a teddy bear) so usually he stays on the ship. HOWEVER he's fucking badass ok? Literally gets captured by enemy forces and is so smart he escapes all on his own. Absolutely terrifying when given power I love him.

And if absolutely NONE of this convinces you to read at least one of the Pet Force books, that of which are:

Small, easy to read chapter books.

In posession of bomb ass cover artwork.

Readable in any order without losing context due to the story so far bit at the front of each book which gives you the context needed.

Quality.

Then I don't know what to tell you.

Unless it's because you've seen the movie bc if you've seen the movie I will tell you the movie literally becomes better after you've read the books. I would not enjoy that movie half as much as I do if it weren't for how it does a silly take on the books and both plays into them and seperates itself from them. Do not judge the books from the movie, and the movie from the books.

[hecohansen31]

Requested by @walkxthexmoon​​

“ My last one i promise. Could you please write number 44+46 from the smut list with both our men Roman and ivar pretty please?”

(A/N): Bear with me guys,

I didn’t only pubblish the wrong ask, but guess what... TUMBLR DIDN’T SHOW IT UP IN MY TAGS (which is funny because like yesterday it DID SHOW UP IN MY TAGS... what the actual fuck Tumblr) (this is the main reason why I am honestly closing my asks, I can’t... I can’t do this shit anymore).

WARNIGS: Swinger Party, Pubblic Sex,  Mention of Teasing and DDLG Relationships.

When your lovers had suggested the party you hadn’t thought much of it.

Your naïve and innocent self certainly not realizing that what they had truly meant was that it was a ‘swinger party’, till a few days into after their proposal, when lavish pieces of lingerie had started being brought to your doorstep, with the order of wearing them on Saturday night.

And finally your innocent brain finally managed to realize what you had gotten yourself into.

But it excited you, since although you knew how possessive those two could be, you had always been curious about the feeling of somebody else’s eyes on your skin, meanwhile you did the dirty.

And the way the boys had worshipped you thoroughly the whole time with gifts and soft messages had only ignited the flames between your legs and when they came to take you out that night, in their elegant suits you were already wet, a small surprise hidden between your legs for them.

“… are you ready?” asked softly Ivar, as he moved to come and get your coat from your hands, adjusting it open on your shoulders, draping it elegantly, as he knew all too well about the breezy air outside, but certainly he enjoyed the sight of your elegant dress

Roman’s wolf whistled at you as you bowed softly your head, meanwhile he put a protective hand on your waist, eventually getting something out of his back, a little reddish mask, resembling a firebird, since you weren’t supposed to be recognized, although everybody surely knew who was who, under their masks.

But they knew better than to speak out.

“… here is your invite, miss” joked Roman, then proceeding to adjust the mask over your face, attentive at not tightening it too much to ruin your hairstyle, meanwhile Ivar adjusted his, a black wolf-shaped one with silver inserts that brought attention to his elegant face

Roman then did the same with his, slightly resembling a reptile, the accent this time having small details of gold that were probably not simply glittering dust, but pure gold.

“Are we all ready?” you said, as you slipped inside the private car, the driver immediately knowing to roll on the partition.

“Are you, little fox?” spoke softly Roman, as he moved close enough to swing an arm over your shoulder, whispering straight up in your ears.

He lightly followed the cold trail of your pendant earrings, making goosebumps appear on your neck, meanwhile Ivar’s wandering hand palmed you roughly over the fabric of your dress, making you smirk at his eagerness.

“Do you remember the rules?” asked instead Ivar, as he pointed out every passing minute with his hand raising higher over your knee, eventually getting closer to where you wanted him.

“Of course, sir” you addressed him, exposing your glittering diamond necklace, a combined gift of Roman and Ivar and some kind of elegant alternative for a collar, since they both thought they were all quite tacky, even more to show off at galas.

Their pets deserved better than rubber and spikes.

And you never forgot to wear it on special occasions.

And thank them for it.

“Then repeat them, little girl…” muttered Roman, as his cold fingers lightly dipped further down, till they were right on top of your cleavage “… for your daddies”.

“First of all, whenever I am uncomfortable I just have to tell the special world” you muttered, a bit annoyed but knowing all too well that they were doing this to make sure that you knew that you could back out at any given time and behaved yourself in a way that wouldn’t have put you at risk.

“… which is?” teased you Ivar, his hand finally slipping under the fabric of your sheer dress.

“… ‘Emma’ “ your favorite Jane Austen book, since it had been the first thing that had ever come up in your mind, feeling both familiar and both something that couldn’t be mistaken.

“Go on, little one” pushed you forward Roman, as his fingers entered your dress, gently moving down the valley of your chest.

“… and then I don’t have to speak unless my daddies allow me to” Ivar’s hand was quite distracting on your thigh, but you didn’t let it ruin your focus “… don’t let others touch you, unless your daddies allow you to”.

“The final one, now” ordered almost growling Roman, as his lips finally touched your cheeks, such a chaste gesture that utterly contrasted with the sinful way they were bullying your body in a relaxed seduction “… you are doing so amazingly good, baby”.

“Even if daddies allow me to have…” your headstate made you blush lightly at the words that escaped your lips, although you shamelessly moved to thrust into their movements, Ivar’s hand finally reaching the surprise you had prepared for both of them “… sex with others, they are the only ones I’ll go back with tonight”.

And then Ivar’s hands brushed against your completely naked folds, and although you moaned in pure satisfaction, Ivar’s eyes shone at first with delight and then annoyed satisfaction in them and he shot a quick look at Roman stopping from properly taking one of your breasts in his big hands.

“… what has the little minx done, now?” asked Roman tightly, knowing all too well what that look from Ivar truly meant.

“She didn’t wear her panties” commented Ivar, as his hands, caressed gently your folds, before he soundly slapped them, making you feel thoroughly surprised and you squealed loudly, almost in protest, stopped by Roman tightly wrapping his hand around your face to block you “… I wonder if she just forgot, or if she is simply a whore”.

“Definitely the second” commented loudly Roman, lightly loosening the grip on your face, enough for you to protest loudly.

“… I am not a whore, daddy!” it was loud enough that it earned another slap and again Roman’s hands tightly brought you to face his rageful eyes again, as Ivar enjoyed prying his hand away from you, knowing that the worst torture for you would be being held between the height of pleasure and the nothingness of teasing.

“No, you fucking are” retorted Roman, without the need to raise his voice "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into”

"Why don't you show me then?" you retorted, knowing that teasing them, being a brat was part of their favorite play, but soon you were turned to Ivar, Roman letting you go completely, as you already felt pain at the loss of his touch.

“… if you keep up this rude attitude, we’ll turn around and punish you at home” explained loudly Ivar, his severe blue eyes shocking you and you immediately shook your head, not wanting the fun to end up quickly.

“No please, daddies!” you pleaded desperately at first facing Ivar and then Roman as they slouched off on their seats, enjoying your cries and pleads, your silly excuses and the pretty way you looked “… I swear I didn’t… I am a silly girl… I just wanted to play…”.

“We all agree on the fact that you are indeed a silly girl…” commented Ivar.

“… and just because of that, and if you promise not to be a brat, we’ll allow a bit more of playing” finished Roman, leaning down for a soft kiss, to reassure you, hating to see you in tears, although you were always so pretty and adorable.

“… oh, thank you! Thank you, daddy!” you immediately throwed your hands around Roman’s body, making him smirk softly, meanwhile Ivar complained loudly about not receiving an hug, and you rushed to give him one “… to you both”.

The rest of the car ride was silent, spent in a giggly silence, as both your daddies took turns telling you silly thoughts and crazy ideas, and most importantly letting you know how much you’d enjoy everything.

‘Have you brought any other girls, there, before me?’ you asked, a bit jealous, as they both teased you for it, but answered negatively.

‘… do you think that girls even followed after Roman?’ teased him Ivar, as he moved to lower lightly one of the thin straps of your dress, to kiss the soft skin there.

‘Talk for yourself, Boneless’ shot back Roman as they faked a fight, solely for you to break them apart to get you to giggle loudly at them being extra.

But soon you were to the place, a rather antique villa, still anonymous enough that you were surprised the purpose for which it was used, but loved the whole aesthetic, and the insides were even better, completely matching a royal castle with marble colons and golden details.

A few guests were already around in the main room, ‘the one for chatting’, explained your daddies, but on the first floor, surrounded by a circular intern balcony there were private rooms and communal rooms, the keys to two being handed to you as you checked in.

The clerk who took your coats, shot you a quick look, his lips quirked up in a knowing look and you blushed, more than glad to hide your blushy face in Ivar’s chest.

His hands coming around you to shield you and protect you.

Since you were gaining quite the attention, from your entrance.

‘… do they have to look at her like that?’ mumbled annoyedly Ivar, meanwhile Roman chuckled, kissing softly your forehead, to stake his claim ‘… fuck, we know she is a pretty thing, but she is ours’.

The world ‘ours’ echoed in your stomach as you could feel the butterflies literally moving in your stomach.

“Don’t be grumpy, Ivar” reprimanded him Roman, as he gripped one of your hand in his, leading you through the crowd of people, the gazes being the only thing that set on your body, at least till you reached half of length of the room…

… and then the ‘come on’s started.

A couple, a beautiful black woman and a younger white man, tried it first.

The woman immediately went to kiss your cheeks something that made you blush as you checked in with your daddies, their angry gaze being on the girl and not on you.

‘… interested into discovering something else?’ she asked you, meanwhile the beautiful man with her, looked at both Roman and Ivar adoringly, making you huff lightly.

‘Sorry’ had retorted Ivar, keeping his most elegant tone, although you could feel he was straining against the rude opinion he was about to give ‘We are still browsing’.

And the woman backed off, although she commented ‘what a shame’ and you sent her a small smirk, blowing her a kiss, as she laughed loudly, moving forward with her boy to whom you showed your tongue.

Both Ivar and Roman laughed at that.

You had different people coming at you, but eventually you decided to simply settle up for a communal room, since you felt a bit too attached to both of your daddies, not fully wanting to share them yet.

And neither they.

And in the end, you moved to the communal room you had been assigned to, holding Roman’s and Ivar’s usual guests, the one they felt more comfortable with.

And before you went in, they both reminded you that you had to just what you felt comfortable with, alongside just having to say that word in case you wanted to move away.

‘You say the word and no matter what, no matter who…’ explained softly Ivar ‘… we go back home and watch Netflix with a huge amount of ice cream’.

‘… you have been already an amazing girl’ added Roman ‘… even if you aren’t wearing panties, little slut’.

You giggled at his comment, but nodded at their sweet worries, glad to have such professional doms, that loved you and cherished you.

As if you were their most important belonging.

Inside the room the situation hadn’t started boiling up, yet, the center of the circle, the part where all the toys were displayed alongside with a big bed, was already full of people touching each other.

Two couples for instance stood out, two males touching each other eagerly as two girls, who looked like their girls, exchanged a bit of champagne.

A flute of it was soon in your hand, as you looked around, finding another three couples doing the same, and you couldn’t help but look attentively at the women, comparing yourself with them, till a blonde one, that you had been worried from the start, came at you, and before you even knew what to do, she kissed you on your lips.

She giggled as you pushed away lightly from the kiss, nervously matching her laugh, as both Roman and Ivar sent her a reprimanding look, but the girl certainly didn’t back off, and you had to admit that you hadn’t completely hated the kiss.

It had just been a bit too sudden.

And you didn’t even know her name.

Although you were sure she wouldn’t have given you her true one.

Had you been asked, Roman and Ivar had instructed you to answer with ‘Catherina Morland’, as the main character of ‘Northanger Abbey’.

“Mor” reprimanded her teasingly Roman “… she is new, don’t scare her”.

“I can’t believe that you kept this little jewel to yourself all this time” muttered heavily the blonde woman, completely ignoring Ivar’s murderous gaze “… will she join us or is she only here to look?”.

“It depends” muttered Roman, being the more polite one “… she chooses”.

“Then, sweetheart…” and now Mor’s light gaze was set on you, as she took your hands in hers, almost as if you were nothing but a couple of besties “… I do hope you’ll choose to act, because you are too pretty to stand on the sidelines”.

Mor’s flirtatious nature had certainly dissipated the nervousness in your head, although you knew that both your lovers had decided that they’ll act in only if you allowed them, giving you the same power over them that you gave them over him).

“… I’ll think about it” you promised, and Mor left you with a lascivious look, her body swaying to the bed, where the two men were slowly undressing themselves and both the women were topless, touching and teasing each other, through brushing their perky nipples together.

Their moans were so pretty that your arousal could accompany the atmosphere around the room.

And soon you were red-cheeked but not for the warmth or embarrass.

But because you wanted some relief.

And Roman and Ivar were more than happy to comply it.

And soon Roman’s hands were the ones teasing your tight hole, meanwhile Ivar’s hands lightly pushed down the upper part of your dress showing him your naked nipples, as he took one immediately in his mouth, the sudden gestures, making you moan out loud and soon you felt everybody’s eyes on you.

And a strange kind of shyness settled on you.

But it did not make you stop.

"They're gonna hear us” it was your last attempt at resistance.

"Then I guess you better be quiet” they both uttered at the same time making a shiver go down your spine and as Mor’s light gaze moved on you, you didn’t deflect it.

You just held it.

And smiled.

You were definitely enjoying all the attention.

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[aelaer]

Animal au! (Can be shifter etc): Tony is a ferret (or tiger), Stephen would be a saltwater crocodile.

For those MCU fans also familiar with more obscure LOTR lore, this could be considered a birthday gift :P

Anyway, my serious fics haven't been writing themselves for the last three weeks or so, and this is the oldest fic prompt I have in my ask box. And uh, yeah, I don't think I can do a serious take on this. So silly/fun it is. No idea if the original prompter is still around (I think ask is from the summer), but here is my take on it!

(assume alternate first meeting in this fic)

Magical Mishap

Chars: Stephen, Tony (and FRIDAY)

Length: 1500 words

Rating: Gen

I'm going to kill you, Stephen Strange's furious voice blast through his head and wow, that was weird.

Tony opened his mouth automatically to retort, but all that came out was this weird chirp-like sound. He wrinkled his nose (and he could see it now, that was intriguing) and instead thought towards Stephen. I thought you had an oath of some sort, Doc. He'd only met the doctor-turned-wizard a few times, but the killing discussion had come early on (life of a superhero and all).

Funny enough, Stephen growled—as in, he was thinking at him and actually growled, deep and low and it was the most fucking terrifying thing he had ever heard—it's very hard to remember my oath when my mind's being slammed by the instincts of a goddamn alligator smelling the fresh meat of a rodent!

Crocodile, Tony thought back at him as he scurried up the table leg and well out of reach of Stephen's incredibly horrific line of teeth. And ferrets are part of the weasel family.

Stephen growled at him again and Tony's little ferret heart started thumping in instinctive terror. I told you not to touch anything! Anything! came from the sorcerer-turned-crocodile.

I didn't know that included the books! he shot back.

It included the books! The croc snapped his teeth, then he heard Stephen sigh in his head. I don't know when Wong or anyone will happen upon my study again, and frankly put, I'm not sure how long we can wait before animal instincts override proper thought and I decide just to eat you. We need to reverse this now.

Tony looked around from the table for a good shelf to jump to. I could just remain out of reach until someone comes around; that shelf's rather high. Could ferrets make that jump? He had no idea, but it was worth a shot. He was feeling rather jittery and it looked like a fun jump.

Not willing to take that risk, was Stephen's terse answer. Here, we can do this. Can you still read?

He looked around the desk until he found something in English. Seems so. His glasses connected to FRIDAY were on the ground with the rest of his clothes. At least they were still intact; Stephen's normal clothes were completely destroyed, and the Cloak was curled up by a hearth near the foyer and nowhere near this room. Maybe it could have helped.

He wondered what FRIDAY was seeing. Was FRIDAY alerting anyone? The only person Tony had any phone number info for in this weird group was Stephen at this time, and that had been a hard enough nut to crack. Still, after this he would make it a point to get Wong's number.

That shelf looked really interesting. He wanted to jump to it.

Tony Stark! rang loudly through his head and he blinked and peered at the reptile.

No need to shout, he grumbled.

I called you three times, was Stephen's answer. I need you to concentrate and try to remain in the human part of you. What is the page number in the book you just read?

The page numbers weren't in an alphabet he knew. He missed FRIDAY. Uh, it looks like a sideways six and eight.

Seventy-four, Stephen said. Okay. Now I need you to shove the book off the table.

It turned out that pushing a four-pound book when one weighed only three pounds was incredibly difficult. Still, he managed it, and the volume went to the floor with a heavy thump.

Stephen somehow managed to turn the book the right side up with his snout, but that's where his dexterity ended. I can't get to the right page. I need you to come down and turn it to the correct page.

His little ferret heart started pounding in fear again. Are you crazy? Tony snapped. You just said you were fighting against the want to eat me!

And that will only get worse the longer this continues! he retorted. Look, I'll back away as much as I can. Stephen, to his credit, did, but there was only so much room a ten-foot crocodile could back up in his study.

Tony sighed in his head. Yeah, okay. Fine. Don't move, or I'm going to the shelves to wait for Wong or another one of your wizard buddies.

Sorcerers. Another growl went through the room.

Don't do that, either! He scurried off the table and to the book. It turned out that ferret paws were nowhere near as useful for page turning as human hands, but they were a far cry better than what crocs had.

His animal instincts were going absolutely insane with the call of danger as he flipped through the pages as fast as he could. Tony stilled when Stephen shifted, but he didn't move his feet, so Tony remained on the floor flipping and flipping until he saw the sideways six and eight again.

He fled to the shelves and jumped and scrambled up until he was on top of the bookcase. Okay, I'm good! Tony called down.

Stephen sighed. You might regret your position. He walked back to the book.

I'm further from the crocodile and I absolutely don't regret it, Tony retorted. It was nice up here. Ooh, could he jump to the table from here? No, wait, that was against what he accomplished climbing up here in the first place. Stupid weasel brain.

I don't think I can say words aloud like this, Stephen mused to himself. I haven't done silent spellcasting of this sort, but I believe I can manage it.

There was then a heavy silence and in about fifteen seconds Tony began to feel the same weird shift he felt when he was turned into a ferret.

Then he realized just how infuriatingly right Stephen was when his three pound body turned into a 170 pound body and the bookcase was having absolutely none of it. It toppled over, spilling him and all of its books onto the carpet.

"Ow," Tony moaned.

"I did tell you so," said the very annoying wizard. 

Tony frowned in his direction, which only increased as he realized something. "Hey, how come you have clothes on already? I thought they were all ruined, Hulk-style." He started pushing the books aside to see if his clothes managed to avoid the bookcase, at least.

"Magic," was the very annoying answer, but Stephen did magic the bookcase back into its position so Tony didn't have to pull it up, at least. "Oh, found your glasses."

"Gimme," he gestured, and they were floated over. "You there, FRIDAY?" he asked.

"I'm here, boss."

"See the whole thing?"

"Yes, boss. I'm afraid I had no sort of protocol for dealing with this sort of situation. Should I have called one of the Avengers?"

Tony found his clothing after several more books were moved by he and Stephen. "Uh, no, no, you were right to wait to assess the situation for a few minutes." He shimmied on his boxers, then pants as Stephen politely pretended he didn't exist, public locker-room style, as he sent all his books back to the fallen shelves in whatever categorization he had going. "Next time, we're gonna have a phone number of another wizard—"

"Sorcerer."

"—sorcerer to call in case of magical mishap." He shot a look at Stephen. "Seriously, in case you do more work with us beyond this consulting you've agreed to, we'd want a number in case you're hurt, anyway."

Stephen sighed, but acquiesced with, "Fine. I'll see if Wong agrees to it."

Tony nodded and pulled his shirt over his head. "Oh, and FRI, delete all footage of the incident." No one needed to see him like that. Especially that ending.

"Yes boss."

Stephen frowned at him. "You're recording?"

"I record everything with these glasses."

The frown deepened. "Don't expect it to work in here for all future visits."

Tony now frowned. "I can stop it when you ask. There's no need to be an asshole about it."

"And you didn't need to be a douchebag who secretly records things," Stephen retorted lightly, still sorting his books.

"My glasses aren't very secretive. You've heard me talk at FRIDAY before." He sat down and pulled on his socks, then shoes. "I figured you knew."

"People don't normally record their whole life."

"Have you never been on YouTube or something?"

Stephen sighed. "You're really irritating."

"That makes two of us," Tony retorted, but he threw the wizard—sorcerer—a bone. "I'll cut the recording. There, done." He leaned back in the seat. "And I won't look inside any books anymore. Lesson learned."

Another sigh, but Stephen stacked the remaining books that needed sorting in a pile (with magic, of course) and took a seat at his desk, across from where Tony sat. "I'm tempted to never let you in here again, if this is how visits are going to be." But he was summoning some sort of drink, two cups, and actions spoke louder than words in Tony's world.

"I'll be better behaved next time," he replied, tone overly serious. "But moving on: like I told you, I found something that I think is more in your field than mine."

As he gave Stephen the small puzzle box with weird energy vibes, and saw the man's face light up in fascination and intense concentration, Tony figured that despite their differences (and similarities), that he could, in the end, potentially really get along with Stephen Strange.

[gothamdetected-a]

multiverse.

i know what you’re thinking. sim are you absolutely fucking insane, don’t even TRY to tackle this one. you’re right i am insane. and yes i am still going to try and tackle a meta about DC multiverses HOWEVER, to give myself on shred of sanity on this treacherous journey, i will say that this is mainly going to be about the multiverse from a bruce perspective. this ride is a batman focused train i’m afraid. also i want to state that this is by no means a perfect explanation – i’m a) trying to keep it simple and b) still am lost on parts of the timeline myself so. its what i can offer.

ok so, originally NCP, or the national comics publication (who will one day become DC), wrote their golden age heroes on an earth now designated as earth-2. in the 30s, just before the war, comic books absolutely exploded as a media format, and a bunch of companies all jumped the gun on creating superheroes. many of DCs most endearing and recognisable heroes were created all the way back then, however many of them also are not quite who you will recognise as the character today. hal jordan wasn’t green lantern, but was instead a man called alan scott, jay garrick was the flash instead of barry allen etc etc. don’t worry though! batman is still batman, and has been bruce wayne since 1939. earth-2 batman, as he will come to be known, is a bright kind of guy found on technicolour pages with a cute lil robin by his side – there is a reason for this. the war. literally NCP said we cant be sending out dark and gritty comics to people dying in trenches so time to make it colourful and faintly ridiculous, and bruce wayne is a surprisingly optimistic guy for a man who watched his parents be slaughtered in front of him.

of course, by the 60s, NCP (who are also sort of known as NPP and really known by your average joe as superman-dc, based on their most successful comic runs) had realised their timelines were getting a bit squiggly for their golden age heroes, and most of them had been replaced out by their silver age counterparts anyway. so between 1961 and 1963, NCP start creating another “earth”, officially designated earth-1, which would become their main planet for all kinds of superhero shenanigans. the justice society of america becomes the justice league of america, and when you think of batman, you’re probably thinking of earth-1 batman. at least pre crisis. and, once they get taste for building whole new earths, we also get earth-3 (1964), or “opposite world”, where the good guys are bad guys, and batman is owlman and instead of the jla we have the crime syndicate of america.  

so sim, what other earths did dc come up with? well, i literally refuse to list them all because it was a multiverse and they did not slow down, but the ones that are most important to me are earth-5 where the only hero to live on this planet is bruce wayne/batman, and earth-89 where lois marries bruce instead of clark ahAHAHHAA. but i can tell you that pre-crisis there are 91 designated earths, and basically it could have gone on forever. there was an earth-c minus, earth-124.1, an earth where everyone was reptiles, honestly it was a MESS. and therein lies the problem.

now i’ve just used the term “pre-crisis”. what’s that, sim? maybe you’re not very familiar with comics, or with the recent dctv version of said comics, and so i will endeavour to explain one of the most brain numbing storylines that spans DC. also known as a retcon. see all these earths with their own histories and heroes and well everything really was becoming very inconvenient and meant a lot of world jumping and who can interact with who and everything was getting like spaghetti because they couldn’t calm down on the earth-building. so DC (who are officially DC at this point, 1977 babeyy), specifically a guy called marv wolfman (coolest name ever) who was sick of so many earths, comes up with the bright idea that will later form into a comic run called crisis on infinite earths (1985-1986). it was a serious crossover event, really considered by many to be the first of its kind. it sold extremely well, boosting dc’s flagging sales against it’s biggest rival, marvel. and as for the plot, it’s a bit convoluted but essentially some bloke turns up and starts to destroy all these worlds, and it becomes a race between the heroes and villains as to who can save/conquer the remaining earths that are left. although there are crises before and after this specific run, pre-crisis basically always refers to this particular crisis event, as it really shaped DC for the next 30 years.

for a while the retcon does an okay job of keeping the number of earths low. there’s still some earths that are considered non-continuous floating around, but mainly there’s just earth-1, which is now a merger of the most important “earths” that existed pre-crisis, and a way for all of DCs heroes to now be in one place and interact with each other. other earths at this point include;

earth-23 (1986) – a small pocket dimension

earth-17 (1990) – we don’t talk about this. honestly spare yourself and. don’t look. its horrific.

earth-27 (1990) – a historically divergent planet with a hero actually called vegetable man.

earth-85 (1987) – a hodgepodge of post-crisis characters live here, chillin

earth-988 (1990) – superboy is the only hero in this universe

the antimatter universe – all of pre-crisis’ earth-3 villains, including owlman, get shoved here for later use when dc need a couple of villains to come back.

and for a while all is well. then comes DC elseworlds (1989). which. you know. i love. it gave me victorian batman. pirate batman. caveman batman. vampire batman. frankenstein batman. terrorist batman fighting against russian!superman. they even gave me marvel crossovers, with captain america meeting batman. it was a glorious time. technically elseworlds is not considered canon, ran outside of canon as a way for writers to explore those wacky kind of worlds lost to the crisis, which is dumb because some of the plot lines are both hilarious and incredible. but the numbers started to get ridiculous again. most elseworlds are named after the year that the plot takes place in, so we get earth-1889, earth-1938 etc, but even more of them just seem to have random designations. i think by the time they reached earth-5050 they sort of knew that theyd fucked up again. we’ve had zero hour, we’ve got hypertime and kingdom come, and besides, its been a while since they had a good crossover, so by the time 2005 rolls around its time for crisis pt 2 (because dc love to use the word crisis for crossovers) or as it’s officially known infinite crisis. infinite crisis has an even more confusing plot involving a bunch of slightly nuts versions of characters escaping a pocket dimension, earths being created and then merged, and a rogue ai which batman made and then has to destroy because his own creation becomes too powerful etc etc. the only good thing to come out of it was earth-0, or bizarro world, because bizarro & batzarro are my babies. don’t worry though, this new set of earths won’t last long either, as in 2008 DC conclude their trilogy of crises with final crisis that featured one of the most important events in batman’s history – darkseid “killing” him. yes the quotations are important. i’ll leave you to infer what they mean.

so 3 crises later and everything is still just as messy as they’ve ever been and there’s 60 years worth of comic history being tangled about, and marvel had already established a very successful reboot in 2000, and anything marvel do, we can do better, so DC do their first, full and proper reboot. unlike retcons before it, which is where they retroactively try to fix what people already know and simplify timelines & earths, this is like someone shaking the etch-a-sketch and starting fresh. back in infinite crisis an arbitrary number was assigned to how many “earths” there could be – 52. and so in 2011, DC go hey that’s neat and create what becomes known as the new- or nu-52. heroes are given shiny new backstories, everything is streamlined and wonderful, sales rise, DC has a clean slate to build off again.

ha.

yeah that doesn’t happen.

this reboot, also known as flashpoint, due to it being spawned from another big ol’ crossover of the same name, shows barry allen trapped in an alternate universe where everything is not quite right – his mother is alive, superman is nowhere to be found and he doesn’t have his powers. worst of all thomas wayne is batman. yeah, batman’s dad is batman. thanks DC, i hate it. reverse-flash has tried to change history and stop the jla from ever being formed – le gasp. barry goes to fix it, merges three universes together – earth-0, which isn’t a bizarro world but now the “main" earth, also called new earth or prime earth (DC), earth-13 (vertigo) and earth-50 (wildstorm), but also causes 10 years to be “lost” to these characters. there are now 52 brand spanking new earths, each sitting in their own universe as part of the multiverse. no one remembers anything except barry. even for a reboot and convergence of DC’s franchises, it’s messy as fuck. and it goes to shit very very quickly. people don’t really like n-52. DC have cancelled everything, certain characters such as cassandra cain-wayne are fucking ERASED from existence, no one likes the new costume designs, its an absolute shit show and the plots get very confusing very quickly.

so what do DC do?

they reboot again. sigh.

only 5 years after the mess of nu-52, they produce DC rebirth, a new relaunch of all their famous runs. brainiac does some magic and collects a bunch of worlds together and magically we’re all going to forget the last 5 years of comic hell. it is a reboot to retcon flashpoint as though that never happened. yes, DC are actually retconning their own reboots. talk about sweeping it under the carpet. technically “rebirth” only ran for a year as a promotional thing for the reboot, before joining with the larger, now-singular DC universe, however everyone still calls it rebirth because if we don’t give these things names it will get even more fucking confusing than it already is. rebirth also still has 52 universes making up the DC multiverse, just to make things even more simple and easy to understand (DC what is it with 52. why 52.) although lots of the earths in this multiverse have been re-designated – eg. pre-crisis earth-31 was home to an aged batman who fakes his death to go train a bunch of new vigilantes (the dark knight returns), and now 31 is an apocalyptic wasteland or some shite. a lot of these earths were re-designated during the flashpoint/nu-52 era, and even though rebirth was supposed to erase that, DC have decided never mind we’ll keep it. there’s also 7 mysteriously undesignated earths – ooh spooky, they definitely won’t feature in the next major crossover. also for a multiverse with 52 universes, they sure do have more than 52 : there’s the microverse, a bunch of universes collectively called “the sphere of the gods” where apokalips and like, literal heaven & hell exist, an innerverse???, dreamworld, limbo, DC are taking the piss they only said there were 52 earths but that means they can make as many other shitty dimensions and pocket-universes as they please apparently. don’t even get me started on the source wall. for the most part the writers just. don’t acknowledge this and stick to the main prime earth. for the most part. thanks for throwing thomas wayne as batman back into the mix, rebirth.

so that’s the last of it, right sim? eh, almost. it should have been the last of it, really. and then geoff johns couldn't keep his mouth shut and produced possibly the worst comic in recent history, if not ever, doomsday clock. now doomsday clock is a nightmare for an impossibly long list of reasons that i won’t get into here because this isn’t a rant about why i think doomsday clock is the worst thing to ever happen to dc (although that’s a catchy title i should use that some day) - no, the reason i bring up doomsday clock is because. oh my god even saying this makes me sad. doomsday clock proves that the pre-crisis universes still exist and are still out there. somewhere. canonically. sim why is that sad i thought you liked everything pre-52. it’s sad because it means at any point now, DC could bring them back, ruin their own legacy, make everything even more confusing than it already is. i love pre-52 stuff but you gotta leave it alone. currently doomsday clock has only established that these universes exist as a way to honour every era of superman, because DC didn’t want to completly erase some of the incredible work and storylines put into him as a character. fine, fair enough. but it does leave the possibility that they will try and return to them too. comic book writers love doing funky story lines like that. they think they need to write something that’s never been done before and instead of coming up with something actually unique, they just poke around in the multiverse WHICH IS HOW WE ENDED UP WITH THIS AS A PROBLEM IN THE FIRST PLACE.

ahem.

hopefully this helped clarify some stuff for people, especially those folks who aren’t big comic fans/expereience dc through the DCEU or DCTV, when encountering rpers who say they base their characterisation off of, for example pre-n52/flashpoint comics, like myself.

oh, and thank you for coming to my ted sim talk.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

torture buddies AU if you’re in the mood for it! if not, how about Good Omens AU of Vox Machina?

On the one hand, I’m always in the mood to Angst about my boys, but THIS ALTERNATIVE IS TOO GOOD TO TURN DOWN.  This is not really in the correct format but I REALLY fucking like this concept.  Pitch: Scanlan hits on Pike for literally six THOUSAND years and is still totally useless when she kisses him.

“So,” the snake said, smiling at the woman in the Garden.  Well, not smiling exactly, it was difficult to smile as a snake, but he was reliable informed that he was reasonably charismatic even as a reptile. He was a handsome snake, too, as snakes went, ink-black down his spine and red down his belly, with unusual eyes in a striking shade of slit-pupiled purple, and more than that he was convincing. He’d already convinced the woman all the way over to the Tree, where he was draped comfortably over the branches, and now he felt that the Tree could do most of the convincing itself.  He liked the woman, liked most of what he’d seen of humans so far, and he especially liked that they didn’t seem to have much in the way of impulse control when it came to things that looked delicious.  It made his job easy.  “It’s just an apple,” the snake said, with a slow blink of purple eyes.  “What’s the harm?”

The Angel of the Eastern Gate, newly assigned thus, recently removed from her post on Tree duty, was fidgeting.  Angels weren’t really supposed to fidget, and as a rule she was both a good angel and not a fidgeter, but she couldn’t seem to stop, spinning the hilt of her sword in her hand and blinking each time the flames whipped past the face of her corporation.  The humans stepped toward the Gate, the one that she would be expected to stand guard over—to keep them out, of course.  To drive the humans out of the safety of the Garden, into the wide and frightening world, alone and obviously scared, without even the dubious protection of a stick to fight off anything that might be interested in eating them, or a flint to keep them warm, or—or—or anything.

This thought did not advance much further before the angel found herself moving purposefully toward the Gate, so as to intercept Adam before he reached it.  The man flinched back, alarmed, and the angel managed not to titter hysterically—it was funny, really, her corporation was so much smaller than the man’s form, downright tiny in comparison, and here he was acting like she was about to smite him.

“Right,” the angel said briskly, forcing the hilt of the sword into his hand until he had to grab the thing or risk dropping it on his foot, divine fire and all.  “You’d better take this, I think you’ll be needing it more than I will.  There’s water to the west, that’s the way the sun sets.  Um.”  She glanced over at Eve.  “Congratulations,” she added.  “I’m told it’ll be a boy.  Now, get moving.”

Two hours later, there was a storm moving in over the horizon, and the angel was standing on the wall, squinting into the distance and trying to keep her long blonde hair out of her face, when the snake slithered up to join her.  One hand on her hair, the angel watched him change into a man with a suspicious frown, until he cocked his head at her, blinked a set of striking slit-pupiled purple eyes, and said, “You know, you could braid that.”

“Excuse me?”

“You could braid that,” he said, gesturing to her hair.  “To keep it under control.”  Then he blinked.  “You’re Pike, right?  The Guardian of the Gate?  Where’s your sword?”

                                                             ***

That was about six thousand years ago now, and now the snake—Scanlan—is getting drunk on the floor of Pike’s antique shop.  This is fair enough, really, because she’s getting drunk on her couch.

“Cute kid,” Scanlan says mournfully.  “Shame about the Apocalypse.”

“Yeah?” Pike asks.

“Little girl,” Scanlan says. “Lots of red—wha’d’ya call it. Hair.”

“Red is nice,” Pike says solemnly.  Her own hair is starting to come out of its braid, the crown she’s laced it into every day since—a long time ago, really.  She never bothers to use a miracle to keep it in place, letting it grow rumpled and wispy as she goes about her business, sometimes forgetting to take it out and rebraid it for days.  She knows this bothers Scanlan immensely, because Scanlan never goes anywhere without looking immaculately mussed, the kind of affected disorder that takes care and attention to achieve.  She’s careless with her hair for many reasons, mostly because she never got a taste for sleep and therefore often loses track of time, but bothering Scanlan is a bonus. 

Pike sighs and says, “Shame about the Apocalypse.”

“That’s what I said,” Scanlan half-whines.  “Think they’ll get you another sword?”

“Used to have a mace during the War,” Pike says wistfully.  “Liked it better.  Had a nice--” She makes a vague gesture and Scanlan starts snickering on the floor.

“A—a—a nice shaft,” he giggles.  “Or a nice—ha—a nice ball?”

“Yeah, sure,” Pike says with another heavy sigh, and drinks more wine.  Incredibly, a plan comes out of this.

Less incredibly, it is critically flawed.

In everyone’s defense, this as much the fault of Brother Tiberius at the Chattering Order as it is anyone else’s.

                                                             ***

While the wrong red-haired baby goes on with her life unaware of her newly self-appointed godparents, the right red-haired baby (the Antichrist, the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Princess of This World, Mother of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness) is being doted on by her new parents, who are very nice people, if a little odd, and who name her Keyleth.  Kiki, for short.

                                                             ***

Eventually, it’s Keyleth’s eleventh birthday, and the error comes to light rather quickly when the hellhound doesn’t show up at the wrong baby’s party.  Keyleth, however, gets a dog, a clever little dog all black and white, whom she dubs Minxie and who does everything that Keyleth says.  Keyleth’s three best friends are obediently impressed with the fact that Keyleth convinced her father to let her keep the dog, and Vex is especially pleased with the fact that Minxie, in addition to Vex’s enormous wolfhound Trinket and Percy’s family’s greyhound Orthax, brings their pack of hounds to three.  Vax is mostly pleased that Minxie is small enough to be sneaky.

The newly named hellhound looks away from her adoration of her mistress, considers the two entirely mortal, much larger dogs she’s expected to play with, and decides that she seems to have gotten the short end of the stick.  She was expecting something more...apocalyptic.  On the other hand, her new mistress manages to find a tennis ball, so maybe it’s not so bad.

                                                             ***

Down the street, Allura Vysoren, Professional Descendant and Witch, is trying to unravel her ancestor’s prophecies, and would very much like to know who the witchfinder she’s supposed to marry is.  In the city, Kima Vord has no idea that she’s supposed to marry a professional descendant at all, and she’s pretty sure that the man hiring her as a “witchfinder” is a bona fide lunatic.  Viktor certainly acts like one.  But also no one wants to hire a four-foot-ten woman as a bouncer, which is really what she’s good at, and she recently lost her fifth job in eight months, so.  Witchfinding it is.  At least it gets her out of the house.

                                                             ***

The world’s biggest, most cheerful delivery man is being given three packages and a message.  Grog likes his work.  He gets to travel to new places, meet new people, get in bar fights at new bars against those new people in those new places.  So, sure, he’ll deliver a sword and a crown and some scales.  He’s just happy to help, really.

[crickey-itsjake]

Alex’s BDRPWriMo 2k19

Task #13 : Makin’ a ship that’s never gonna happen, but it’s definitely got the craic

Side quest: Make this as fanfic terrible with reptile jokes and flirting as possible (Happy Early Birthday Pet). 

10 applicable Ao3 Tags: 

Drinking, Farm Boy/City Boy, Oral Sex, Motorbike sex, Crack!Ship, Flirting, Smut, alternate universe, one shot, reptile jokes

-----------

The OutBack End's vibrant neon lights shone out across the town miles outside of Adelaide. It was a bit of a dive, but to the locals, it had all the charm of a local bar with none of the judgement of where you came from or who you were with.

Jake Rogers, park ranger and grad student, knew every single person in that bar. Both intimately and not. So to see a 6'3 blonde with the most dazzling smile and kind eyes you could ever find out in these parts? Well, that just made his night didn't it? He walked closer to the stranger, he was a city boy. He could tell immediately, especially with that accent.

The park ranger walked forward, stetson hat perched on his head which he tipped back in greeting as he came to introduce himself to the newcomer. He actually had to tilt his head to look up at someone for once, it was a rare find. "Long ways away from Sydney aren't we, stranger? Can't say I've seen a bloke like you around these parts for quite some time." His eyes flickered across the stranger who looked a bit like he'd just come out of a surfer magazine.

"Yeah? You could tell immediately off my accent then?" He flashed a smile right at Jake, like a spotlight really. He aimed to steal it.

"Well, city boys can be a little bit easier to spot. Kind of a rare breed around here. Know everyone in the pack and a newcomer sniffin' around is just gonna stick right out. Let me get ya a drink and you can tell me your story. Bet you've got somethin' interesting hidden under all that blonde hair."

"Maybe I do. Thanks for the drink…?"

"Jake."

"Name's Stan. Stanley, but yanno, no one other than my grandparents call me Stanley."

"Well, it's really no problem at all, Stan." He grabbed him a beer (he rode his bike here and didn't plan on staying much longer if ya know what he meant) and pulled Stan away from whatever other lingering stares were appraising him, towards some of the back tables.

"Ya look like a regular cowboy in that hat there, Jake." Stan chuckled and took a swig of his beer as he sat down in his seat, looking over his new found drinking partner.

"Park ranger, so you're close, mate, for sure. Just the day job though. I'm studying to be a magizooloist at the University actually. Outback's my home and all those crazy creatures that come with it."

"Wow, really? That's somethin'. I'm a biologist myself, well, in grad school for it anyways. I'm actually on my way out to Kangaroo Island working on a project with the native turtle species out there."

"Kangaroo Island? Well, you know, you're talkin' to the right bloke, Stan. 'Cause I got every shortcut in the book to get ya there with the best routes for wildlife. Just leave it to ole Jake."

"Who says I want to get there faster? Might enjoy taking my time here." His good-natured smile shone right through the dim lighting of the bar.

Jake smirked his hand wandering to Stan's thigh, "I'd enjoy takin' my time with you as well, so I can't blame ya."

Stan let out a chuckle, "Wow, don't think anyone's been so forward with me like you have, Jake."

"Hey, it's not every day you find a Western Myall tree taller than your own to climb." The blonde winked over at the gentle giant who shook his head at him.

"Shameless. But effective, ya know."

"Then come home with me."

Stan hesitated just for a second, brows furrowing in thought before shrugging, "Guess if that's the way the currents are flowin' I might as well drift along too. You seem like a bit of a riptide, Jake."

"Mate, you ain't seen nothin' of this typhoon."

"Bet ya say that to all the boys." Stan grinned, downing the rest of his beer he'd been sipping on and looking around at all the eyes that were following them.

The ranger gave a shrug, scrunching his face up a bit, "Only the ones I wanna get wet. C'mon." He motioned for him to follow him, taking his hand and leading him through the bar that had slowly become more crowded as the night went on. He strode up to his motorbike, pulling out a helmet for Stan before putting it on his head, "How's your head feel?"

"Don't receive any complaints about it." Stan quipped back, ultimately shocking Jake, but in that sort of shockingly turned on kind of way.

"Stanley! Didn't think ya had in in ya. You've been holdin' out on me, ya wanker." He gave him a playful nudge as he put on his own helmet.

The biologist just shrugged his shoulders, securing the helmet to his head eyes peaking out from under the brim of the helmet to look down at the other bloke with his grin tugging at the corners of his lips (and if you could see in the dark of the night, he was blushing quite a bit too).  "Don't know what came over me."

"Yeah, you play innocent all ya like, climb on." He lifted his leg over the motorcycle's seat before patting behind him as the other boy did the same, Stan's arms encircling around his waist as his body pressed to his back as he kicked his bike to ignition and drove them out to his place.

The drive only took about ten minutes but for all of those ten he just felt movement Stan made behind him, hands adjusting on his waist, head pressing to or leaning against and over his shoulder to look at the road ahead of them. The dusty old barely paved roads sprawled ahead as they came up to a small house out in the brush. Pulling into the garage, Jake came to a halt, looking behind him to his passenger, "Now you're just coppin' a cheeky feel."

Stan chuckled, his hands roaming down along the ranger's abdomen, brushing beneath the shirt that had fluttered up in the wind of the bike riding down the trails. "Don't think that’s a complaint I'm hearin' so guess there's no worries on that matter."

"Nah mate, got no worries about you at all." The blonde chuckled, slowly freeing himself from the arms and pulling off his helmet. Stan just swung his leg over and sat sideways on the bike, pulling his helmet off before his hands came out to tug at the belt loops and pull him close between his legs as the outback native just chuckled, "Ya really think since you're taller you can pull me around, huh."

Stan gave a shrug of his broad shoulders, "Why stop what's already flowin'. Just doing whatever my mind takes me to do. You think way too much." And with that he leaned up and closed the distance between them, kissing this stranger full on the mouth.

Jake was pleasantly surprised by how forward this laidback surfer type seemed to be. Who'd've known, right? He reciprocated the kiss, tasting the beer on his lips from earlier. Given that the sun had gone down and they were out in a desert town, the temperature had dropped, so he'd lean into whatever warmth he could get in this garage. His hands fought to turn the tide of control in his direction, it's what he did. A creature would make a move and he'd be right there on the defensive to counter it until he found an opening to reel 'em in. He just had to figure them out first. His fingers moved into short dark blonde hair, body pressed firmly against the one perched on his bike as his tongue swiped at Stan's lower lip.

The taller Aussie kept things slower, hotter, deeper, his hands taking their time travelling along the curvature of Jake's torso which made him all but shudder. Jake's hands were a bit more aggressive, tugging at hair before falling down along a strong neck and shoulders and trailing down to rest in the sitting boy's lap.

There was no mistaking what was hiding under those shorts as he rubbed his hand along the length of the bulge, hearing and feeling the softest of moans into his mouth. Stan had himself quite a cock. Now, Jake was proud of his own, it'd suited him just fine, but Stan? He could do a little more damage if you weren't careful. He broke their kiss with a smirk as he breathed out, "You hide a Tiger Snake in your pants? Good thing I'm an expert in venomous snake wranglin'."

Stan's blush didn't go unnoticed as they pulled back for a moment, Jake's hand moving to unfasten his belt and unzip his pants, "Ya know, a turtle's dick is essentially half the length of 'em. So I guess I'm doin' pretty alright."

"Yeah, well, they also breath out of their ass, don't they." Jake quipped back with a smirk, "You always bring out the turtle sex facts when you're tryna fuck or am I just special?" Before Stan could reply, Jake kissed him again, firmly and briefly, this time sliding his hand into the taller bloke's pants and gripping Stan's length in his hand before running his fingers along the length of him. Stan was a right dag really, but he was a hot dag, so Jake thought it was a bit endearing. Stan shuddered under his touch, hips moving up from the seat ever so slightly, urging for more contact.

"Key to really wrangling a snake…" Jake started stroking down along the base of Stan's cock before sliding down to thumb over the tip, "is to show it doesn't affect ya in the slightest. Look it right in the eye," He tugged up on his length, pulling it free of his shorts and boxers as he knelt down next to his bike, "and show 'em who's boss." He took the tip of Stan's lengthy cock into his mouth, running his tongue over the head. Stan's hands immediately tangled themselves in blonde locks, letting out a groan, "Fuck, mate…"

Jake smirked, gently sucking as his tongue worked over the head. He was feeling more in control now over the towering figure (though compared to Jake it was just a few inches), more powerful with every passing moment that Stan let out little groans and whines. The biologist's hips moved forward again, wanting to bury himself more into the hot, moist warmth of Jake's mouth.

The ranger made sure to press a hand to those wandering hips, keeping him on the bike as he sucked harder and took more into him, bobbing his head slowly along his length. Stan could see his hot breath in the cold night air as he tilted his head back in pleasure, moaning out as Jake's expert mouth took more of his cock. He didn't know how much longer he could remain on this bike so he tugged back on Jake's head, pulling his mouth from where he wanted it most. "Let's get inside before you freeze on your knees."

He slipped off of the bike, tugging his pants back up on his hips as Jake stood up, looking up at him with a quirked brow, "If you insist, mate." He opened the door to his place. It was nice enough, decent couch in the living room, small kitchen, his bedroom was in the back.  They didn't get there though, Stan's arms wrapped around him from behind and he could feel his hard, half-sucked, cock pushing up against him.

"Think you should lose this." Stan reached around and started unbuttoning Jake's shirt, pulling it apart and running his hands along the defined abs and chest of the bloke in front of him, his mouth moving to kiss at the ranger's neck. Jake let out a shudder of approval before his laugh, "Fuckin' cheeky bastard, ain't ya?"

"Don't plan on being it, guess I just am. Or ya pull it out of me." Stan discarded the shirt and went to unbuckling his pants at which Jake turned around to face him and moved his own hands to shove Stan's shorts completely off this time, revealing the full length of his hard cock. The sight of which, only made Jake more aroused. Soon after, his own pants and boxer-briefs were pushed down his legs and Stan's hand was wrapped firmly around his length, pumping his fist around him slowly. Jake leaned up and captured Stan's lips in his to muffle his moans of pleasure and to just do something because fuck, this city boy really knew how to turn the tables on him without even trying.

Jake's legs all but buckled as Stan circled his thumb around the head of his cock, spreading whatever pre-cum that was down there along the surface. The taller boy noticed and immediately, without a second thought, lifted Jake up around his waist without breaking the kiss. A muffled noise of surprise escaped Jake's lips as a bloke literally lifted him from the ground without a flying fuck and walked them into the living room where he was pushed back onto his arm chair, naked as the day he was born with a bloke only in a t-shirt hovering over him. Not how he expected this night to go, to be completely honest.

Stan straightened up a bit to pull his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside in the living room. Jake's eyes looked across the toned expanse of flesh that had been revealed to him. Bloke had to workout or something because he was cut almost as sharp as he was. He looked down at the hard, thick cock between his legs and although the ranger considered himself a top, Stan had proven time and time again that Jake was a bit out matched. Stan was like trying to catch water with a net. No matter how hard Jake tried to keep him in his grasp, he slipped right from it and engulfed him.

The biologist took the Outback Aussie's cock in his hand and Jake let out a low moan pushing his head back into the chair as he stroked along the throbbing, warm skin. Jake's eyes had been closed for only a moment or two when he felt a warm mouth on him, his hips bucking up in response as he gasped, threading his fingers through the dirty blonde hair on the other Aussie's head and gripping the strands.

"Fuck, mate… C'mon now." He chuckled breathily, feeling Stan take him further into his mouth as he sucked on his cock. He could practically feel Stan smiling around him as he watched his head bob between his legs with one eye open. His eyes roamed over strong shoulders and down the toned biceps that pressed his thighs to the chair. It was enough of a sight to make him go right there and then, but he wasn't about to give up this go that easy.

Or maybe he was. 'Cause the minute that 6'4 Australian's finger circled around his asshole, he all but came, tugging the bloke off of himself and crashing their mouths into a hot, wet kiss.

He didn't know how he somehow ended up off the chair again, nor how in one second it seemed like he was flat on his back on his own bed. But he was there, consumed and pressed down entirely by this city boy who'd come into town on a whim on his way out to study turtles. Shit was laughable sometimes.

Stan's hips pressed against his own, their cocks rubbing up against each other in order to find some kind of pleasurable friction but really it just seemed like all the more like a tease. He grunted in frustration and pulled away from the kiss and Stan with one final kiss to his lips before pushing up to reach for the condoms and lube in his bedside table.

Mistake really. Jake should've known not to turn his back on his prey in this hunt. Even if it was a fuckin' giant turtle. Long fingers moved down his back, causing Jake to sigh out, his skin prickling up with goosebumps as Stan rubbed up against his ass.

"Well played, mate." The ranger quirked a brow and looked behind him at the Sydney native straddling his lower half and brushing his large cock against his ass cheeks.

"I'd never play with ya. Very serious business, don't ya know." His hands gripped and pulled at each cheek, making the boy beneath him press his hips up against the bed below him. "I'm a pretty serious bloke once ya get past the reptiles." He couldn't hide the amusement in his voice, Jake could hear it immediately. Bloke couldn't lie to flirt let alone save his life.

"Really only one reptile I'm thinkin' of right now. More squamata than testidune." It was a low dig, but hey, the bloke studied turtles and he studied snakes, ya needed to toss in a snake dick joke in there didn't you? Be a crime not to. Two tall blonde Australian reptile loving blokes somehow found each other? Gotta take advantage of someone who knew the terminology.

And Stan said, in the most matter of fact scientific tone he could muster, grin spreading across his face as he tore the condom package open. "Right, the burrowing asp."

And crickey was his asp about to be right burrowed.

[hazkiwislutt]

{prologue: chasing love series}

{ hi friends, it’s athena and this is the prologue to a series i’m writing. basically, it has a famous female character who is younger than Harry, but it’s set a few years in the future, like... Harry is going to be 29 and the mc is going to be 21 when they first meet (pls don’t shoot me) so that it fits in with some of the plot. i hope you like it, because if i do it right, this story is supposed to pull on all sorts of heartstrings and throw a bunch of curveballs at you! }

She was only twenty-one when they’d first met, old enough so that he didn’t feel bad taking a liking to her, but young enough that people would talk and make him feel bad about taking a liking to her. He’d met her at a party that Niall had thrown, and he hadn’t wanted to go, but he was a people-pleaser, and so that’s where he’d found himself that one Saturday night after he’d gotten off the plane from Japan. He’d arrived, and Niall had instantly whisked him away to the kitchen because he was just “dying fo’ yeh t’meet someone tha’ yeh’d like.” 

Niall had nudged the kitchen door open, and to Harry’s surprise, she was standing over the sink, back facing toward him and Niall, chugging a bottle of Belvedere as if it were ice water at three in the morning on a Wednesday night after a really intense sleep. She finished it cleanly, not stopping even once as she demolished the bottle, and Harry grimaced, wondering how long it would be until the alcohol hit her like a freight train.

She was wearing a pair of CareBear pajama pants that flopped over her bare feat and a faded university sweatshirt that had an insane amount of holes littered across its expansion.  

“I asked you to bring something stronger, not someone. I’ve gotta be absolutely blackout drunk if I’m gonna get through tonight, Niall.” She hadn’t turned around, and the sound of her voice acknowledging their presences startled Harry. 

“Yeh not actually hung up on this bloke, are yeh? Yeh don’ need him!” Niall’s eyes widened and he lunged forward to seize her shoulders, spinning her to face him, to which she reacted with a bored shrug. 

As he gazed at her side profile, Harry realized he knew this girl. She was relatively new on the music scene, but one big hit a year ago skyrocketed her to fame. Harry could admit he’d watched her in multiple interviews (and was also able to admit that she seemed intelligent, funny, and terribly captivating) and listened to a few of her songs (which were all crafted beautifully, and he even kept two of them on his shower playlist). He’d learned she was studying at a university when she’d released her song, and that her favorite juice was cranberry, and that she loved reptiles more than animals with fur, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember her name.  

“I don’t know, Ni. It’s not like I want to be hung up on him, anyway, but the heart does weird shit. Anyways, what’s a girl gotta do to get some stronger liquor from her incredibly dashing Irish friend?” She put up her hands in a duo of finger guns, shaking them at Niall and grinning madly. Her smile was pretty, Harry decided. 

“Hate t’be tha’ guy, but yeh not gettin’ anything from me. Yeh had enough to knock yeh into next week. Enough of tha’ now, this is my mate.” Niall gestured to Harry, raising his eyebrow to prompt him to introduce himself. 

“M’Harry. S’nice to meet yeh.” He stepped out and outstretched his hand to shake hers, and nearly grunted in surprise as she grasped his and shook it tighter than he’d expected. 

“Y/N.” She returned simply, but warmly with a large smile. Harry didn’t miss the way she was staring at his eyes with an intensely measured gaze. He was impressed and a bit put off by her unabashed confidence in doing so, having always been the person that did the speculating when meeting someone new, and it was both interesting and refreshing to meet someone that delivered the same energy. 

“M’gonna go check on the other guests, but yeh better swear t’me tha’ yeh not gonna leave or do anythin’ stupid,” Niall scolded her with a stern eye, “an’ I mean really, Y/N. Seriously. Wanted Harry t’meet yeh ‘cause I remember yeh said yeh like him, an’ maybe it’d do yeh good t’make new friends.” He slipped out of the kitchen once more, leaving Harry alone with this new girl and her CareBear pajamas. 

“I’d say yeh’ve got a nice grip, but s’a hell of a lot more than tha’, innit? Felt like Donald Trump himself was trying t’rip my arm off.” Harry grinned as he heard her erupt in loud giggles as she hopped up onto the counter alongside the bottle that had long been empty, swinging her feet gently against the cabinets beneath her. He decided her laugh was pretty, too, and it was one of the nicest laughs he’d ever heard in his life, and that he’d love to make her laugh all the time if that was his reward.

“That was a good one,” she hummed thoughtfully, “Sorry, though, if I actually hurt your hand. I was thinking really hard, like, should I gently shake your hand or what? ‘Cause you seem like a firm grip with a gentle twist kind of guy, and my brain couldn’t decide, so I just squeezed.” 

“S’just a handshake, not a blood oath, love.” Harry smirked and she released another round of soft giggles before she quieted down completely. Before Harry could panic about an awkward lull in conversation and scramble for a topic of discussion, she reached out for his shoulder and grasped it.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but I’m about to be really fucking buzzed soon. I probably looked insane downing that entire bottle, so I’m apologizing now for the things I’ll inevitably do or say.” She shrugged at him sheepishly before pulling her hand away and returning her focus to her legs that were still swinging. She looked small, swaddled in her ratty sweatshirt and feet dangling so high off the ground from where she sat, and Harry was overcome and overwhelmed by a feeling of endearment as he stared at her. 

“S’alright, ‘ve been there quite a few times. F’yeh want, we could talk about it.” He genuinely meant it. There was never a time where Harry didn’t want to not help, but he especially wanted to help her get her mind off things with conversation, which seemed to be a better alternative than consuming anymore alcohol. She was young, younger than him certainly, but not childish, and he was consumed by an odd wave of protectiveness as he watched her. 

“Maybe later I’ll give you the whole run down.” She stopped, and a beat of silence passed before she continued, “I really like your music, by the way. I’ve been a fan since like... way before all this happened to me, and you helped me through a lot. I swear, I was like the biggest Directioner. I’ve still got your posters up in my room back home. Sorry if that’s weird to say, but I mean, it’s kinda cool to be sitting in front of you after staring at you on paper for so long. That sounds fuckin’ creepy, too. Christ, I’m sorry, I’m really not helping my case, am I?” 

Harry laughed as she talked, listening to her switch inflections at the beginning of nearly every sentence, as if she were talking to someone new every time. He was gratified and extremely moved by the reverential tone she used as she thanked him, never experiencing someone so in awe and grateful in his life for things he hadn’t directly done. 

“S’not creepy. I performed with Stevie Nicks, an’ I nearly pissed m’pants, so I get it. M’also a fan of yeh’re music, ‘ve even got two of yeh songs on m’shower playlist.” Harry watched as she blinked in surprise (very cutely, he might add) and bashfully smiled at her lap. 

“Thank you, really, that means a lot to me. It was all so surreal... You know, I was going to be a journalist before all of this happened. I was double-majoring, but I’d always wanted to do music. In college, I was in such a bad place, and then, I released the song, got snatched up by a producer, and now here I am, talking to Harry Styles.” She scooted higher up onto the counter and dropped her head back against the wall, closing her eyes, as if reliving everything she’d just divulged. 

“I know how tha’ feels, too. S’the craziest thing, waking up, an’ realizing yeh life will never be the same again.” Harry leaned against the side of the counter, finding himself sucked into a whirlwind of memories as he fondly remembered his rise to fame. It was silent, save for the obvious noises of the party floating through the rest of the house, but it was comfortable, as if they’d both understood they needed that moment. 

“Harry,” she’d said suddenly, sitting up quickly and fumbling to grab his shoulder, eyes a bit hazy and unfocused. He’d grasped her hand where it lay on him, and squeezed it reassuringly, giving her a small smile. 

“Want to hear about my troubles before I throw them up in this sink?” He laughed once more at her bluntness, and nodded encouragingly. 

“G’on then, love. Let’s hear it.” 

He’d barely finished his sentence before she was off and running, words slurred together and hand warm on his shoulder, telling the story of a “stupid boy with ratty hair, but damn it it was so nice to yank on”, who she’d had a fling with in her senior year of high school that moved away to “some random ass country, think it was fuckin’ Australia” and did a bunch of god-awful things that pulled her heartstrings all the wrong ways, and suddenly happened to swing back into her life, demanding that they pick up where they’d left off and talk about the semantics of their relationship, just as she’d finally “gotten my balls in order and wanted to move on, the asshole.” Tonight, he gave her the option of meeting him over dinner, or “’saying goodbye to us forever’, like, come on, who even says that?”. She’d declined, and this is where Harry had arrived to watch her resort to chugging Belvedere. 

By the time she’d finished, her voice was quiet and tinged with a bit of frustration. Harry was sure he’d felt these things before, and he dare he admit it, he probably inflicted these feelings before. 

“I’m so tired of being sad. It’s exhausting. I just want to be able to be happy, by myself again, so that maybe I can share that happiness with someone else in the future.” Her voice was low, and her eyes were drooping with the weight of her dilemma, and the burden of the alcohol that was no doubt running through her veins at this point. 

She looked exhausted, not in a bad way, but in a way that showed the internal battle she’d been fighting in her heart. Harry felt bad, even a bit sad, that someone like her should have to endure someone else’s faults. She was a beautiful girl, with wit that was more surprising than shocking, and an air around her that drew him in. 

“S’not worth it, yeh know,” Harry rushed the words out before he could stop them, “an’ he didn’t deserve to have someone like yeh care about him. Niall’s right, an’ I know I jus’ met yeh, but I think yeh’re just lovely, an’ things will work out for yeh eventually. Swear on it.”

She’d looked at him with large eyes that held a mixture of inebriation and sadness, but above all, gratitude as she soaked in his words. Harry opened his arms a bit, as if tentatively asking if she’d like to be enveloped in them, and Y/N didn’t need any other invitation. She scooted to the end of the counter and burrowed into Harry’s chest, legs on either side of his hips and arms wrapped around him tightly. Harry’s throat constricted weirdly as if her touch had awoken something within him (but for now, he'd simply say that he felt pity and understanding). 

“I’m just so tired of chasing love, you know?” Her voice was muffled from where her face was pressed against his chest. 

“Suppose tha’ this has got t’be the cheesiest thing ever, but maybe one day, it’ll be worth all of the chasing, right?” Harry fought the urge to stroke her hair down and caress the sides of her face as he breathed her in. The air suddenly felt thin and his heart began to beat wildly, the close proximity working against him, but if she’d noticed, she didn’t show it. 

“I hope you’re right.” 

[notveryglittery]

ssps prompt #7

summary: “Has anyone seen my hoodie?” “Last I saw it was…” words: 2,200 / ships: none warnings: an injury/burn, panic, arguing  notes: make sure you read prompt #6 to understand what’s happening here ;) @sanderssidespromptsummer / read on ao3

It was Laundry Day.

Virgil hated Laundry Day.

It was no secret that he had his comfort clothes and it was an even bigger not-secret that his number one piece of comfort clothing was his hoodie. He was proud of the patches he’d stitched on, of the mixed purple and black fabrics, of the zippers he could fidget with on the sleeves. It was bigger than it needed to be so he could have sweater paws if necessary. He’d hid in the hood on more than one occasion, drawing the strings tight as if he could retreat even further from the various situations that went on around him. It was important. Everyone knew this.

Patton still insisted that it was like any other piece of clothing, however, and it needed to be washed. Virgil had argued that he could just snap his fingers and make it fresh and clean without even having to take it off! Patton had pouted. Virgil had caved. Sure, Virgil had other hoodies and sweaters and pullovers that he could put on in the mean time. His Christmas sweater, for example, wasn’t a terrible alternative. The sleeves were long enough to bundle his hands up in them. There was no hood, though. There was nothing that could perfectly replace his hoodie (which was fine, he didn’t want anything to replace his hoodie).

“Just an hour, kiddo!” Patton promised as he stepped out of Virgil’s room, carrying a basket full of clothes and blankets. “I’ll make sure your hoodie gets put in the first load!” Laundry Day happened once a week and Patton did it all: clothes, bedding, towels, rugs. Socks got their own small load because, Patton claimed, they stuck together better that way. All the whites were kept separate, of course. Patton just loved doing laundry. They’d come to understand that it was a good stress chore for Patton, something that he could put all his focus on, instead of what ever might be worrying him.

“Patton!” Roman’s voice came from down the hall, slipping into Virgil’s room through his cracked door. Patton hadn’t closed it all the way and Virgil, not intentionally, could hear the conversation as it begun. “Will you put my pajamas in first?!”

“Sorry, Ro,” Virgil heard Patton apologize. “Virgil’s hoodie is going in the first load and we know black doesn’t go well with white!” Virgil felt guilt churn in his stomach.

“But Patton!” Roman whined, and his voice was getting farther away, as the two headed downstairs. “I had the most marvelous idea and it’s important that…”

Virgil sighed and got out of bed. He pushed his door open more and stepped out into the hall. Glancing towards Logan’s room, he wasn’t surprised to find it shut. Logan used Laundry Day as his own day to give his room a bit of Spring Cleaning, no matter the season. It was a mess (“organized” Logan never failed to correct) and consistently needed tidying lest anything get misplaced. Virgil ducked into the shared bathroom (they each had one in their own rooms, but this was sometimes more convenient). He closed and locked the door. In the mirror, Virgil’s reflection looked better than he felt, which was hardly fair. He hadn’t removed his makeup from the night before and his eyeshadow was smeared so badly, he was surprised Patton hadn’t said something. Grabbing the package of wipes, Virgil went about cleaning his face. The shirt he’d thrown on so Patton could wash the rest had seen its days, but he didn’t really plan on leaving his room much, anyway. “Just an hour,” Virgil muttered to himself, around his toothbrush. He washed his mouth out and sighed.

A flash of green temporarily blinded him and Virgil yelped, covering his eyes.

“A lovely morning, isn’t it, Virgil?” A voice purred into his ear.

Virgil startled, backing away from whoever it was. Roman’s cans of hairspray clattered to the floor noisily. Virgil collapsed on top of the closed toilet lid. Blinking the light from his eyes, Virgil’s gaze swung around the small room, looking for the speaker. He was… alone. “Who’s there?” He asked angrily, not happy about being spooked or about anyone seeing him without his hoodie on. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to cover as much of himself up as he could.

“Have you forgotten our deal already?” And, again, it whispered right behind him.

“Stop that!” He shouted, bolting up and away, slamming his back against the wall. His mind caught up seconds later. Deal… Shit. “Is now the best time?” He snapped.

The space in front of him shimmered. The Dragon-Witch didn’t suddenly become visible, but the air sparkled strangely around her form. Virgil wondered if she was allowed in this part of the Mindscape, or if she was confined to the Fantasy Realm, and that’s why she wasn’t fully corporeal. “You’re alone here and I can’t get into that dreadful room of yours.”

“Sound more like Roman, why don’t you,” Virgil sneered, knowing it would anger her.

Sure enough, a wave of heat washed over him. “I am nothing like that arrogant fool!”

There was a knock on the door. “Virgil? I heard a shout. Are you alright?” Logan would have been the closest to the commotion so it was no surprise he’d come to check on it.

“Just fine, Lo!” Virgil lied and, oh great, now he’d have two reptiles breathing down his neck. “Accidentally had the water on too hot. Burned myself a little.”

Silence followed before Virgil heard Logan sigh. “Very well. Be more careful.”

“Speaking of being burnt…” The Dragon-Witch hummed and Virgil’s gaze snapped towards where her voice was coming from. Before he could find it, however, there was a heavy weight pressing itself against his neck. He clamped his mouth shut before he could yell, grinding his teeth together. “This might hurt a bit.” And God, she sounded so happy about it.

Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and his vision blurred. It felt as if all of him were on fire and not just where the Dragon-Witch was digging her claws into. As quickly as it’d begun, it came to an end. He fell to his knees, gasping. A hand went to his neck, as if that would help somehow, Virgil, you idiot, and came back sticky with blood. “What the fuck,” he managed, coughing. Heaving himself up, he staggered to the sink and turned the water on cold. Wetting a washcloth, he held it against the injury and stutteringly counted 4-7-8 in his head.

“A reminder,” she cooed from beside him but this time, he was too exhausted to react. “I’ll be seeing you soon.” And just like that, the temperature in the room cooled, and he was alone.

“Shit,” Virgil swore. Pulling the cloth away and wiping at his eyes with his other hand, Virgil checked to see what had been done to him in his reflection. Now that he’d managed to wipe it clean and the pain had resided enough to focus, Virgil was at least slightly relieved that it wasn’t too obvious. Three puncture wounds, shallow, and the surrounding skin was red; it was a first degree burn, if that. “Shit,” Virgil repeated. Running the cloth under the water again, Virgil kept it pressed against his neck.

Unlocking the door, Virgil nudged it open, and peeked out into the hall. Empty. He moved as quickly as his heavy legs would let him. Once safe in his room, Virgil exhaled shakily. Flicking on all the lights and banishing every shadow from every corner, he continued his 4-7-8 breathing. He threw his closet open and dug through the pile of clothes on the floor of it. “I know I have one,” he said aloud, “it’s going to look so stupid but it’s better than nothing, just until you can get your hoodie back, God, I can’t fucking believe this, it’s not even noon yet!” His rambling continued much the same, voice wobbling by the time he found what he was looking for.

Retrieving the first aid kit from his desk, Virgil used the handheld mirror he kept for when he couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed to apply his makeup, to patch up the wound. He applied burn cream and… What the hell was he supposed to use against Dragon-Witch magic? There was no way these were going to be just regular injuries. Virgil wouldn’t be surprised if whatever this was began to spread along the rest of his skin. “Whatever,” he huffed, before slapping a thin layer of gauze over it. Next, he wound the scarf he’d been searching for around his neck, layering it just right to cover up his bandages.

“You look ridiculous,” he told his reflection. “You can’t just go around wearing a t-shirt and a scarf. You need…” Virgil looked around his room. “I don’t want anything else!” He moaned, tossing the mirror aside. Maybe Patton hadn’t started the laundry yet…

Leaving his room and flying down the stairs without a care for his safety, Virgil dashed by the living room before Roman could see him. The prince seemed to have set up a sing along Disney movie marathon. Patton was in the laundry room, sorting through four baskets of clothes. The washer was filling with water.

“Patton!”

“Ye-ow! Loud noises!” Patton exclaimed, clutching at his heart in surprise.

“Sorry,” Virgil said, sincere if not rushed. “I was wondering, can I have my hoodie back? You can put it in the last load! I just…” His gaze darted over the chaos of fabric. “Need it. Now.”

“Kiddo, we talked about this!” Patton scolded. “It won’t take long, here, I’ll put it in right…” Patton looked around. “Where’d it go?”

“What?” Virgil asked, voice squeaking. “You didn’t lose it, did you?!”

“No! No, of course not!” Patton said frantically, digging desperately now through clothes.

Virgil stomped out of the laundry room. He snapped his fingers and abruptly turned the television off.

Roman looked to him, offended. “Uhm! Rude much?!”

“Where’s my hoodie, Roman?” Virgil demanded, standing on the opposite side of the couch.

“Why would I know that?” Roman defended. “Patton’s the one doing laundry!”

“I heard you earlier! You wanted your pajamas in first! So, obviously, you must have hidden it!” Nerves were starting to gather painfully in his shoulders.

“Wow, eavesdropping? What’s your deal today, Penelope?”

“It was an— What?”

“What, what?”

“Penelope? What kind of nickname is that?”

“The scarf,” Roman answered, gesturing to Virgil’s neck.

“Weak.”

“Am not!”

“I dunno, letting the Dragon-Witch get the best of you is pretty—”

“Virgil!” Patton’s admonishing tone cut him off. “Apologize!”

Roman looked genuinely hurt. The guilt returned full force but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to say sorry. He stormed back upstairs and for Logan’s room. Patton consoling Roman followed him up the steps but he ignored it. He knocked on the door before throwing it open without waiting for an answer. His question died in his throat when he found Logan not alone. Remy was sitting on his bed, talking animatedly about something or another — Or he had been at least, before his exaggerated gestures came to a stop at Virgil’s arrival.

“Virgil?” Logan watched him with raised eyebrows, in the middle of reorganizing a bookshelf.

“Has anyone seen my hoodie?” He asked, deciding he’d figure out later why Logan and Remy, of all people, were hanging out together.

“Last I saw it was with Patton, for Laundry Day.” Logan answered. “Did you check with him?”

“He lost it. Or Roman is hiding it. I don’t know yet.”

“Nice scarf, gurl. Where’d you find it?” Remy asked, hopping off the bed. He approached and grabbed the ends of the scarf, twirling it between his fingers. Virgil stepped away, pulling it out of his grasp.

“It’s mine, it was in my closet. I’m just…” Logan was looking at him funny. Virgil remembered suddenly that they still hadn’t talked about the fact that Logan knew. Shit. “Uncomfortable without my hoodie and so I thought this might help but it isn’t so I wanted to just… get it back before Patton washed it, and he could do it later, but it’s not… there.”

Remy was looking at him funny now, too.

“But you guys obviously don’t have it so never mind. I’m just gonna go… look somewhere else.” Before either could call after him, Virgil left and pulled the door shut behind him. He disappeared back into his room. He locked his door. Pacing back and forth for a bit did nothing to help and, if anything, if was just aggravating his wounds. He tossed the scarf aside and crawled into bed. He had only one blanket to cover up with as Patton intended to wash the rest and only one of his pillows was still in a pillowcase. He wasn’t comfortable, not even a little bit, but that was apparently just how this day was going to go.

“Deal with it tomorrow,” he mumbled, curling up as much as he could. He plugged his headphones in and turned his music up. “It’ll be better tomorrow…”

[allthephils]

Repose

Rated M (angst, sleeping beauty au, mentions of sex, adult themes

Word count: 2626/42677

Read on AO3

Chapter 15

The drive to Windsor castle felt something like the first time Louise drove Phil there. Fear and uncertainty had brought tension then but now it was magnified. Now, Phil knew what was at stake. He also knew he wasn’t wanted there and that he may have a fight ahead of him much more daunting than the fight to get in had been. Phil has never been much of a fighter, always more likely to walk away, turn the other cheek. Now he hoped against hope for a fight because a fight meant Dan was ok, that there’s something to fight for. The alternative was unthinkable. His stomach turned when he thought of how easily he had let Dan get away all those years ago. Everything could have been different if he had simply had the courage to speak up, say the words, hold on tighter. That wasn’t a mistake he was going to make again. He had let himself consider the worst case scenario, he’d fallen apart, gotten it out of his system, and now he was going to stand up and be what Dan needed him to be.

Walking up the path to the castle gate, the scene was so different from the first time. There was a small group of protesters and an even smaller gaggle of women waiting on the lawn. A large steel grate had been pulled closed at the gate that lead to the entrance to Dan’s operating theatre and there was only one guard standing in the center of the walk. It was obvious the excitement had passed, the royal family had succeeded at appeasing the public.

Phil and Louise walked in the grass toward the protesters, hoping the single guard wouldn’t notice Phil. The idea that he could be seen as a threat was ridiculous but Phil couldn’t imagine the stories Walter must be telling. Phil had to be careful. He didn’t want to risk being carted away before he was able to see Dan. Cautiously, Louise approached the gate with Phil a few feet behind. Inside, near the door that would lead to the Prince, stood Dennis.

Louise ran back to Phil, whisper shouting, “It’s that guard, the one you know. Phil, he must be ok. Why would they guard an empty room? He must still be in there.”

“He’s still in there, I feel it. But that doesn’t mean he’s ok.” Phil said, his eyes searching for some comfort in Louise’s hopeful expression. “I’m going to go talk to him. Stay close.”

Phil’s hands gripped the bars of the steel grate that stood between him and what he now realized was his future. Dennis look up and sighed heavily, scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration. He walked to Phil and spoke, low enough so that no one else could hear.

“Phil. Buddy, you know my hands are tied here. There’s nothing I can do. Prince Walter would put me away for treason. He’s been very clear.”

“Did you deliver that box, Dennis?” Phil asked. Dennis said nothing but returned to his post by the door. “Tell Walter I’m here, Dennis. Let me see him. We can work something out.”

Dennis stared forward, unflinching. “You don’t want to see Walter, Phil. Trust me, you don’t.”

“Tell me he’s ok, Dennis. Or at least tell me he’s alive.” Phil was starting to panic.

Dennis said, “he’s alive,” and cast a sideways glance at Phil that sent a chill up his spine.

“Oh my god. I need to see him. Dennis please.”

Dennis’ brow creased, he shifted on his feet and swallowed, struggling to maintain the role he played in spite of the vulnerability Phil brought. Nothing was more frightening than seeing concern on Dennis’ face. Phil turned to Louise and she rushed over.

“Louise, are you logged in to my Instagram?”

“I am.”

“Ok, we’re gonna do this. 15 seconds at a time.” His heart beat out of his chest.

Louise’s eyes grew wide and she held the hand of her best friend in the world. “Philip, are you absolutely one hundred percent sure about this? Have you thought through all the consequences?”

“Yes I am and no I haven’t. There’s no more time, Lou. You ready?” Phil stood, his back to the gate and Louise held up the phone. She pointed to Phil and he began.

“Hey guys. I’ve got some really important news to share and not a lot of time. I’m going to need your help. You guys were right about some things so yeah, good job figuring it out I guess. First of all, I’m gay. Yay.” Phil held his hands up and shimmied them just as Louise held up her hand to stop. He looked back at Dennis who just stood, looking forward, pretending not to notice what was going on right in front of him.

“OK it’s up, that’ll bring em in.” Louise shook her head and held the phone up again. “Keep going.”

“I know I’ve been a little MIA these days and that none of you were fooled by my cryptic tweets. I have been at Windsor Castle. With Dan, Prince Daniel. And yes, I’m in love with him.”

Louise held up a hand again and jumped up and down a little bit as she hit the button to post the story. For the third time, she held the phone up. Phil was sweating, he heaved in a breath.

“He’s been doing much better since I’ve been here but now our future king and the man I love is in real jeopardy because his father, Prince Walter, has decided I am no longer welcome.”

Once more, stop, post, deep breath, go.

“So I’m hoping you guys could help me out. Maybe if we get enough of you here, they’ll at least let me speak to someone. I don’t know if it will work but I have to try. We can’t just do nothing. He needs us. If you’re anywhere near Windsor castle, please.”

Louise put her phone away and walked to Phil, hugging him close. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I don’t know, Lou. I just outed the future king of England. I think I’m fucked.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Phil leaned on the counter, happily munching tiny marshmallows as he watched his mum bake. He missed Dan, more than he’d ever missed anything, but he was happy to be with his family. The last time he was here, he would have called it home. Even with his own London apartment, home was always wherever his family was. That was all different now. Now, home was wherever Dan was. His little apartment felt warm and safe and perfect when Dan was there. Still, he was glad to be chatting with his mum, getting all the latest gossip on the Lesters. A cousin got engaged, an aunt needed to have gall bladder surgery, and uncle Frederic’s exotic pet collection has gotten him in trouble. His wife has promised to leave him if he brings home one more reptile or hissing cockroach.

Phil heard the front door open, the cold air rushing in and chilling the house all the way to the kitchen. Martin and Cornelia shuffled in together, pulling off coats, and hugging Nigel before making their way to the kitchen to get the big affection form Catherine. Phil waited his turn, smiling around cheeks stuffed with sweets. Finally, Martin came over and punched him in the arm before pulling him into a hug.

“Where the hell have you been? I feel like I have to watch your videos just to see my little brother!” Martin admonished lovingly.

“Ug, You sound like Louise. I’ve just been busy.” Phil stood away from the counter and moved toward Cornelia, who opened her arms and hugged Phil just like a big sister would.

“Hello Phil. You look well! How have you been?” She asked as she pulled him in.

“I’m really good, Corn.” Phil said, quietly while still in the embrace. Cornelia had a way of softening Phil, breaking down any barriers he might have. She pulled away, hands on Phil’s shoulders, and looked him in the eye. She grinned and cocked her head a bit.

“Hmm.”

“What?” Phil said, already blushing.

“You look different.” Cornelia said, plainly. “You are positively glowing.”

Phil laughed nervously and looked at the ground. “I’m just rosy from the cold.”

“Bullshit.” Cornelia smiled wide and kissed Phil’s nose, leaving behind a spot of lipstick.

Catherine grabbed a dish towel and wiped at the spot without missing a beat. “You do look happy, love. And healthy. Glowing is a perfect way to describe it.”

Phil felt like he was being ganged up on by the sweetest mob who ever lived.

Martyn had plopped down at the kitchen table and was eating a biscuit from a plate at the center. He looked at Phil intently. “I know what’s up. He’s getting some.” He kept eating through his smirk and Phil groaned, turning away to busy himself making tea for everyone. He wanted to run away but he knew they’d just follow him. The Lesters are a relentless bunch.

“Oh Martyn.” Catherine shook her head. “Be nice.” She slid the pan of cakes into the oven, and wiped her hands on her apron. “Though I was wondering…”

Cornelia’s musical laughter gave Phil a moment to think, to muster up his courage.

“Ok, yeah, I’ve been seeing someone. Someone I really like.” Phil was on the verge of giggling but he fought to suppress that impulse.

Cornelia beamed, “Aw Philly. Look at you! I’m so happy for you!”

Phil’s mum took her cup of tea and sat at the table so now they all sat, staring at Phil, his judge and jury, sipping their tea in a perfect metaphor. They wanted details.

“What’s her name?” Catherine asked, her tone genuinely kind and curious.

Martyn rolled his eyes. “Mum, Come on, Phil hasn’t a girlfriend since before Uni.”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s habit. What’s his name? Tell me about this boy who’s captured my son’s heart.”

Phil smiled, she always knew how to make him feel accepted, even when she screwed up.

“It’s ok, mum. His name is…” Phil hesitated, not sure how to answer that question. He breathed deep, took a sip of tea, and answered, “Dan, his name is Dan.”

“Ooh!” Catherine cried. “Like Prince Daniel. Is he as handsome as the Prince?”

“More so.” Phil said. It was true. His Dan, the Dan he held and kissed and laughed with and loved, was far more beautiful than his public persona. Prince Daniel was just a facade but Dan was real, so very real. “It’s a little scary though.” He sat down with the rest of them, grabbing a biscuit to dunk into his tea.

“That’s my cue.” Martyn stood up fisting a handful of treats and went to talk with Nigel about Football or the weather or something that made him less uncomfortable than what was about to go down in the kitchen.

“Coward.” Cornelia called after him.

“I don’t deny that!” Martyn called back.

Cornelia reached across the table to squeeze Phil’s hand. “Why is it scary, Phil?”

“I just like him so much. We just met in September. And he’s only 18, we’re so young, you know? But I feel like, I don’t know.” Phil was looking down into his tea but he raised his eyes to catch his mother’s, needing to read what she might be thinking. “I love him, mum. I loved him from the moment I kissed him. It was only our second date. Is that stupid? Is that crazy?” Phil chewed on his cuticle, nervous, afraid the answer would be yes, it’s stupid and crazy and immature. Pull yourself together Phil.

“Phil, love is never stupid.” Cornelia said, “And any love worth having is crazy at the beginning.” She sat back and sipped, ready to soak in whatever Catherine was about to say. Catherine did not disappoint.

“Cornelia’s right. God, your father and I were insatiable when we met. From the very start, I couldn’t keep my hands off of him.”

“Woah, mum, gross.”

“Sorry, sorry. My point is, sometimes you just know. And it feels too fast and too much but it’s not up to you. Love just comes and you have to be brave enough to grab on and hold it.”

“I haven’t said it yet. He has, but I’ve sort of avoided it.” Phil sighed, “Do you think I should tell him?”

Catherine put another biscuit in front of Phil. “I think you should tell him when you are sure and it’s bursting out of you. When your heart is beating so loud, you can’t think of any other words, that’s when you should tell him.”

Cornelia asked, “When did Nigel tell you?”

“I think it was our third date.”

“And you said it back?” Cornelia said, in awe.

“Oh lord no! I thought he was off his rocker.” Catherine laughed heartily. “But I did say it eventually, months later.”

“Poor Dad.” Phil paused and took a deep breath. “I’m scared if I let myself love him, he’ll go off to Uni and then, I don’t know.”

“Sweetheart, trust me. Love is painful whether it lasts 2 weeks or 2 decades. That’s why you have to be brave. Ask yourself if the fear you feel is worth not having him in your life. Would you rather just lose him now so you don’t have to lose him later?”

“No. No, mum, I can't lose him now. It hurts to even think that.”

“It sounds like you already know the answer, Phil.” Cornelia said. “I just want to know if he is worthy of my Philly. Are you happy when you’re with him?”

“So happy.”

“Does he treat you with kindness and respect?”

“Yes Corn, of course.”

“And does he make your toes curl?” Cornelia slurped her tea, glancing up at Phil over her cup. Catherine laughed and stood to clear up as Phil crumbled, covering his face with his hands. He peaked through his fingers at Cornelia, knowing his mum was looking the other way, and nodded. She held her tea up in a mock toast and giggled.

“You know what I always say, Phil.” Catherine interjected. “If he keeps you warm, then he’s a keeper.”

“Isn’t that for picking out a coat?”

“It applies here too, dear.” Catherine went back to baking and Phil sat in happy silence with Cornelia. Some of the weight had lifted, he felt understood, supported. The weight that remained was uncertainty in what the future held. Phil’s mum is a wise woman though and he knew that. He promised himself he’d tell Dan he loved him when they got home. In reality, he knew he’d made it clear but he also knew that those words matter.

Slipping into a sugar coma, Phil excused himself to have a quick lay down before dinner. Really, he just wanted to text Dan in private, though he realized he probably wouldn’t get a response.

Phil: Hey. I miss you already. My family says I’m glowing. It’s because of you. I hope you get to spend lots of time with Adrian and eat all the mince pies. Come to think of it, maybe you could smuggle a few out for me.

Dan: Phil! I miss you already too. I’ll start hoarding mince pies immediately.

Phil:  Yay!

Dan: If you text during the day, I might not be able to respond.

Phil: I know, I get it

Dan: But please text anyway. I need to know you are out there. And that you are mine.

Phil: Ok, I will. And I am.

Dan: I have to go join everyone for tea. I love you.

[booprenorphine]

Although you're the vet/clinic worker and probably know more than I do. My point is, if you regularly take your cat for check ups, feed it properly, and generally be a responsible pet owner, wouldn't free roaming be okay? We're almost religious in taking our pets to the vet regularly (we had a pup who caught cat flu from a neighbour's dog and nearly died, scared us witless, as a result the slightest sniffle we're off the vet) we've never had a problem with our cats becoming ill.

I’ve decided to answer your question regarding my post about keeping cats indoors, since yours was the only decent one, the rest of them being anons telling me that I am an animal abuser and to go fuck myself. Charming, huh?Anyway, kudos for being a responsible owner, I wish there were more like you out there.This is my third year as a vet, but I’ve already seen enough to recommend owners to keep their cats from roaming freely.I’ve seen cats with pneumothorax caused by air rifle bullets/pellets, bite wounds that turned into nasty abscesses, lacerations, skull fracture caused by car accidents/ physical attack (hit by shovel/baseball bat/ who knows what else), torn limb after dog fight, eye enucleation, broken jaw, spine fractures, ruptured spleen and haemoabdomen, etc. I’ve seen cats die in front of me because of antifreeze poisoning, I’ve had cats bleeding profusely because of rodenticides, kittens thrown into a bucket of motor oil or tar. I’ve had white coated/pink nosed cats die of squamous cell carcinoma because they were out in the Sun most of the time instead of being kept indoors. These are all issues that cannot be prevented by regular check ups at the vet. These are things that happen to cats who roam freely. And I haven’t even started on the infectious and parasitic diseases. Rabies, FeLV, FIV, rhinotracheitis (feline herpes virus), Chlamydophila felis, Bordetella, Cryptosporidium, Mycoplasma, Microsporum, Aelurostrongylus (lung worm), Dirofilaria (heart worm), Toxoplasma, Toxocara cati (cutaneous larva migrans in humans), Tularemia, murine thyphus, Yersinia pestis ( yes, the Black Plague), Cheyletiella, Bartonella, and so on. There is also a zoonotic risk associated with keeping free-roaming cats.Cats are also responsible for the disruption of the local ecosystem by killing hundreds of thousands of birds, small mammals, reptiles and fish, so they should be kept indoors/confined.Public education and preventive care is critical, but people are not easy to convince. A lot of them claim that it is cruel to keep their cats indoors, and they have the tendency to ignore the veterinarian’s or the technician’s advice. What bothers me is that, although we tell this litany to all who own free-roaming cats, we are the ones who are blamed if something happens to their pet. ‘The vet didn’t tell me.’ There are a few alternatives that can work, such as keeping the cats on an attended leash or in an outdoor enclosure. Also, all cats should receive at least the rabies vaccine and should be neutered in order to prevent the already large feral cat population from increasing.Free-roaming cats suffer premature mortality from accidents, fights, diseases and malevolent people. Please take care of your cats.