#so i'm kind of like....... idk maybe it's something i should have done all along LOL

[thethingything]

for the last couple of days our brain has kind of felt the way it does when we've not had any caffeine and our ADHD gets really bad and we start getting distracted all the time and having racing thoughts and being generally unhinged, except we've been drinking energy drinks so I know it isn't that.

our psychosis definitely started flaring up as well because we've had the usual stress induced hallucinations we get (usually just spiders and little orbs of light. it's whatever) but also really intense paranoia over how people perceive us, but it's combined with the racing thoughts and we keep just rambling and jumping from one thing to another while freaking out about doing exactly that.

so yeah anyway if I talk to anyone and it looks like I'm typing stuff really frantically or it doesn't make sense properly, that's probably why. I just felt like this was worth clarifying in case anyone noticed and wondered what the hell was going on

[milfspiggy]

i think i'm going to start like a pokémon only sideblog..... like idk i feel like 90% of this blog is pokémon and my art blog has a lot of pokémon stuff as well but at the same time i feel like i would have a much better chance of making friends who are super into pokémon if i had a blog dedicated to it yknow

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

── THE INSTRUMENT

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.  

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first. 

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind. 

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first. 

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you. 

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say. 

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways. 

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume. 

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be. 

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say. 

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother said. 

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter. 

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky. 

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding. 

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by. 

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say. 

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says. 

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.” 

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently. 

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up. 

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality. 

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you. 

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized. 

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

[kazumiwrites-fanfiction]

You Can't Swim??

SUMMARY: The Octotrio don't know that you have never learned to swim. And you went to a beach. What could go wrong? WORD COUNT: 1.9k (I need to sleep)

WARNINGS: Floyd almost let you drown, reader kind of gets panic attacks? Idk (I'm the writer I should know, someone hit me), reader thinks about whacking Floyd, Azul is genuinely in love, Azul is also very traumatized I think, Azul overthinks A/N: Gotta love how I have no warnings about Jade I- Gotta love getting a fic idea about me being unable to swim- And I've had this thought swimming (lol) in my thoughts for a couple of days?? Idk if reader is the significant other of these guys or just besties. I think it leans toward s/o though This reads like a crack fic to me but honestly make sure you know how to swim so you don't die (i don't but that's not the point here) Maybe OOC Jade because he hides himself too well for me to get an accurate read on personality lmfao When Jade is genuinely sweet but the others are unhinged so naturally the unhinged ones are longer- I'm sorry I get no decent ideas for Jade </3 Another late late night post (it's 1:50 AM)

© kazumiwrites - All rights reserved; please do not steal, edit, copy, repost (etc) my work without my express permission.

You had never learned to swim. It wasn't that you were afraid, really. It was just that you had passed the age where people normally learned, and now you were too lazy to and/or didn't have enough time. Whatever excuse to stop a nagging person.

Now, this wouldn't have been a problem if you never went anywhere near bodies of water. Which you mostly didn't. However, knowing merfolk was not the best idea if you didn't know how to swim.

Now you have gone to the beach with him, and that probably wasn't the best idea for either of you.

Floyd Leech

You had been sitting on the beach near the water, absently looking over some shells as Floyd splashed around deeper in the ocean. The shells really were interesting - nothing like the ones where you had come from (although they had some similarities) and were colorful. So many shapes and varieties, although most were not intact.

You had been so engrossed in this, in fact, that you hadn't realized Floyd had been sneaking up on you. Before you could say another word, he playfully dragged you into the water. While you were fully clothed.

You weren't expecting to go into the water, but you should've known better with Floyd. He was playful and loved to do stuff like this. Usually if Azul was around, he'd have done something… But he wasn't here.

Before you knew it, you were deeper in the ocean than you ever had been before, courtesy to the teal-haired boy swimming and dragging you along. You flailed around a bit, eyes wide in panic. You were, quite honestly, terrified. And it obviously didn't help when Floyd just immediately let you go.

Was he an idiot or was he an idiot?

"Floyd-" You got out before coughing as water shot up your nose, still flailing miserably. It didn't work. You didn't know what to do. Surely, Floyd would help… If he realized what was going on. No matter what you thought, he was bright, wasn't he?

Not bright enough, it seemed, as he was still laughing and not realizing how actually panicked you were.

"Koebi-chan, you look so ridiculous like that," he laughed, almost in hysterics, and you would've smacked him if you weren't so close to actually dying.

And then you sunk.

Your desperate attempts to go to the surface were pointless as you didn't even know how to float or move around in the water.

After a few seconds, Floyd finally noticed you were gone and quickly dove under the surface. Maybe you were trying to get him back?

But his gaze immediately widened as he saw you literally sinking to the ocean floor. His eel tail moved quickly, almost without thinking as he shot to grab you and take you up, up, up so you could actually breathe.

When you came to, you were on the sandy beach again, Floyd leaning over you. His eyes, normally filled with a joking light, were unusually subdued.

"Koebi-chan, why didn't you tell me you couldn't swim?" A pout grew on Floyd's face. "If I knew, I wouldn't have-"

"Yes you would have. We would still be here, just having a different conversation."

"But-"

"No buts."

"I would've made it more fun-"

"Drowning in the ocean is the opposite of fun, Floyd-"

~Bonus because I don't know how to fit one into the story~ "I can teach you how to swim. You just go whoo and let your body move. Y'know. Like dancing." "No, I don't know, Floyd, and this is not going to help me with anything-"

Jade Leech

Jade had been spending his time on the beach with you, but you were almost certain that he wanted to be swimming in the ocean. It was his natural element, after all.

"Jade, you sure you don't want to go in the water?"

"I'm fine staying here with you, [Y/N]." He gave you a soft smile.

You shook your head. "We've come all the way here, you might as well go swim." You gave him a gentle nudge.

"Well, I'd like you to come with me, if that is possible?" He watched you quietly. "You never go swimming with me."

You paused. Although it was sweet that he wanted you to go with him… "No, I don't think so…" You trailed off. You never liked telling people that you couldn't swim. At this point, it was embarrassing.

The pair of heterochromia eyes staring at you only left you feeling more jittery. "…I, er… I can't swim. So going into the ocean with you sounds kind of like… A bad idea." You froze. "Did you use your Signature Spell on me?"

"Of course not, [Y/N]." Jade stared at you with eyes of hurt, one that looked almost identical to that of his twin's. Only, it was almost obvious that Jade didn't mean the hurt in his eyes. "You just trust me enough to say things to me."

You couldn't deny the truth there. You trusted Jade. "And you wouldn't use your Signature Spell on something so trivial, would you?"

"No, I would not." He shrugged. "On a different note, I can help you learn how to swim."

"I really don't need it-"

"What if someone tries to hurt you one day and they know your weakness?"

"Why would-"

"It's an example, [Y/N]. But if that person decides to do that, you wouldn't be able to do anything. So I should help you in case that scenario occurs."

You sighed softly. "Fine, I guess I can take lessons from you… If it's not too much of a hassle."

"Of course it would not be a hassle or anything of the sort." Jade inclined his head. "All to help you stay safe."

The day went on with Jade helping you learn the basics of swimming - he was a good teacher, which you were happy about. He was patient, and always was there if you ever started to panic.

"We wouldn't want you getting scared of the ocean now, would we?"

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had gotten used to you after a couple months. Sure, he hadn't opened up to many people in a while (only Floyd and Jade, but they also teased him constantly about everything, so), but you were soothing and nice. Sure, you teased him sometimes, but it was different. It didn't feel mean, you stopped as soon as you noticed him looking a little uncomfortable, and… He honestly felt like he could open up about anything.

So when it was decided that you two were going to the beach - together - alone? It kind of made him very messed up.

Would you like being at the beach with him? He wasn't completely against showing his octopus form… Would you want him to swim with you? Was he even ready for that?

Those thoughts led him down a spiral, and the day you two were to go, he had bags under his eyes and looked like he was half-dead.

You gently nudged him, murmuring how he should've tried to get more sleep for this day supposedly filled with fun, but he just shrugged.

Soon, you were at the beach, and as Azul saw your smiling face, his gaze softened a little. He loved seeing your happy face.

"C'mon!" You grabbed Azul's hand as you started to run to the water, ignoring his surprised stumbling as he was dragged along. He had a light flush on his cheeks that he was glad you couldn't see.

Soon, you had reached the edge of the water, splashing around in your sandals. It was really fun, even though you knew that you were going to be getting sand in your toes later on.

Azul just kind of watched on, a relaxed expression on his face. This really was soothing… Although he was still thinking about if the Mostro Lounge would be okay with him gone. Surely Jade would do something if Floyd got into trouble… Hopefully. And hopefully, no more dishes would break.

"What are you looking so glum for?" Your voice brought him back to his senses.

"Nothing, just hoping that Jade and Floyd can take care of things at the Mostro Lounge." He sighed softly.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be fine. Jade's there, right?"

"He can cause as much trouble as Floyd, you know. Although he won't be outright about it." Azul shook his head, a small frown on his face.

"C'mon, turn that frown upside down." You moved closer to him, gently squishing his cheeks. "Today is for having fun, Azul."

"Yes, yes, I know." Azul couldn't help himself; he let out a soft laugh. A genuine one.

You smiled brightly. "You aren't charging me for hearing your little cute laugh?"

"I will charge you if you call it cute."

"Of course you will." You rolled your eyes before abruptly changing the subject. "So are you not going to swim?"

Azul paused. Did you want him to swim? To see his true form? There was an even chance. What should his answer be? "Er… I don't know?"

"Of course you don't have to, Azul, I just thought… I mean, there's no one around." You shrugged a little.

And now more pressure on Azul. Great. He was used to dealing with pressure, yes. Just not this kind from you. "Er… Would you come swim with me?" If you were with him, then maybe…

"No." Your lips parted, maybe to offer an explanation, but it was too late.

Azul was in a downward spiral. Why had you said no? Perhaps octopi merfolk were really too much. Perhaps you would rather be with someone with a pretty tailfin than tentacles. Or maybe a human, one of your own kind. Who said that you even liked him at all? Perhaps you were only with him out of pity, because he was that useless, chubby, good-for-nothing-

"Azul? Azul, are you listening to me?"

He snapped back to attention.

"Seriously, are you okay? Did you seriously get enough sleep last night?" You sighed.

"That's none of your-"

"It is if you're literally zoning out every five seconds." You rolled your eyes. "And anyway, I was just saying that I kind of can't go deeper into the ocean where you probably feel comfortable swimming. Because I can't swim." You shrugged nonchalantly.

But for Azul, it felt like a figurative bomb had been dropped.

You? Couldn't swim? Now that he thought about it, it did make sense… How you always looked so awkward and uncomfortable with water, especially when you came to the Octavinelle dorm. But seriously? How could you not know how to swim?

"Is not knowing how to swim… Normal?"

"Definitely not." You rolled your eyes. "But I'm just too lazy to learn now. And I have no time."

"You do if you have time to scroll on Magicam." Finally, Azul felt a bit better. At least you didn't hate him.

"And this time, I'll teach you how to swim. I'll even do it free of charge." Azul shook his head. "Seeing as I'm so generous."

"You sound like headmage Crowley."

"Do be quiet."

Azul was a pretty good teacher. He ended up not turning into his octopus form until nearly the end of the day, you were practicing your swimming and then just playing around on the sand, building sand castles, anything that you might do at a normal beach outing.

His octopus form was beautiful (as expected), and although you couldn't go to deeper waters, you enjoyed seeing him swim around, always eventually coming back to you.

"Today was truly relaxing, [Y/N]. We should do this again another time."

As always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ♡ Send your thoughts grr

Feel free to send requests! Check out this post for info ^^

[chronicbeans]

Puppeteer Wally Darling x (G/N) Puppet Reader

idk if this will be a series or just a one off so LET'S GOOOOOO (if you want a part two, let me know in the comments of this post.

TW: Obsessive and Possessive Behavior, Kidnapping? (Can you kidnap a puppet? IDK but we're putting that warning just in case), Controlling Behavior

Wally Darling grins widely as he puppeteers the star of the show, (Y/N) (L/N), in a scene within their home. As sad as he is that he cannot voice them, as well, just bringing their personality to life through their motions is enough for him. Voicing his beloved (Y/N) is all up to Sam, their voice actor/actress. Sam, who also happens to be out sick, today. Just like yesterday. And the day before that...

"Aaannddd... CUT! Great job, Wally. You did great! If only Sam were here. Have you heard any word from them?" The director sits back in their chair, staring at the puppeteer on set. Everybody has been asking him about Sam, today. Why are they asking him? Is it because they don't get along?

"No. Sorry. I haven't heard a word. They don't tell me anything." "Alright. Well, you can go take a break, Wally. You've been filming for about... Woah! I must've lost track! You've been filming for NINE hours straight! Isn't your arm tired from being upright for so long?" Wally shakes his head, grinning as wide as a Cheshire. "I can't feel my arm at this point... but I can keep going! I'm always happy to keep going! (Y/N) means so much to me-!"

"Take a break, Wally... And put that puppet back in the storage, will you?" The director looks over to one of the camera people, telling them to turn off the camera, before muttering to themself "He's an amazing puppeteer, but Jesus... He treats that thing like it's alive..."

He quickly runs to his little office, taking (Y/N) with him. Placing the puppet on his desk, he gives his arms a rest as he lies back in his seat. Letting out a long sigh, he looks over to the limp puppet on his desk. Sitting it up and leaning it against a pile of books and folders, he smiles. Surely, the director won't mind if he keeps (Y/N) out of that dingy old box for a little while... As long as they get back in there by the time he leaves, it should be fine.

"I wonder why everybody keeps asking me about Sam, (Y/N)? Do they think I did something to them? Sure, we don't get along, and they clearly don't have as much passion for you as I do! I would never hurt them, though! Do you think I would hurt them?" He looks down to the puppet, smiling. Of course, it doesn't answer. It still feels nice to act like (Y/N) answers and understands. "Thank you for the kind words. It really helps! I love working with you, but the others can be so stressful, sometimes!"

Wally looks away for a moment, checking a few papers on his desk. His schedule seems rather empty for the next week. He had already gotten most of the filming for the episode done today! Only two more scenes require (Y/N). He wishes that there were a few more, to be honest. He prefers working to having nothing to do all day. Maybe he-

"Where... WHERE AM I?!"

Wally's eyes widen, hearing the familiar voice. He looks over to (Y/N), seeing that they have now toppled over onto their side. Their arms flail slightly, as they squeak out "Where am I?! Who? What?! This isn't the neighborhood!"

As much as he wants to squeal with excitement, they are being rather loud. That, alongside the fact that they are voiced, and still sound like, Sam... and people are a bit suspicious of Wally for some reason... He quickly grabs them, placing a hand over their mouth as he quickly says "Be quiet! Someone might hear! I'll explain as much as I can! Just be... Quiet. Here, let me help you back upright."

He picks the puppet up, feeling them squirm a bit in his hands, then sits them back where they were. They raise their arms, which shake as they do so. As they look up to him, he feels his heart swell with joy.

He doesn't know how this has happened... And, frankly... He doesn't care. (Y/N) is talking! (Y/N) is moving! (Y/N) is... (Y/N) is alive! Shaken, yes, but still alive! It's his greatest wish come true! All the work he's put in to bring this character that he loves oh so much to life... Did he have something to do with this? Did his wish for (Y/N) to be able to talk back, move, and live a life in his world make it actually happen?

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that his little puppet is here, in front of him, and able to truly interact with him.

"What's going on...?" Their legs shift slightly, but not much. "Why do my legs feel weird? I can barely move my legs?!" Wally pats their head, saying "Shh... It'll be alright. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what is going on, either. I can tell you where you are, though. First thing's first, though... I'm Wally Darling! I already know who you are, (Y/N). Before you ask, I'll let you know how I know your name."

He goes through everything. The studio, the show, how they are a puppet. To his shock, they already knew they were a puppet, just not exactly what it meant... They didn't know somebody was controlling them in their world. The poor little thing seems so confused! It looks like their head is spinning!

He picks up (Y/N), grinning from ear to ear as he says "Don't worry, (Y/N)! I'll keep you safe! This world is large and dangerous for a puppet like you! I, as your kind puppeteer, will make sure you are safe from harm!" To his shock, (Y/N) only flails, saying "I want to go back to my world! My neighborhood!"

Wally's eyes widen. They want to go back? To leave him? He knows that it is the right thing to do, but he simply cannot have it. As much as he wants to make his lovely little puppet happy... they can just learn to be happy with him! There's no reason why they can't, right?

A simple shake of his head was all it took for them to visibly lose hope. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I care about you too much to let you go back! Think about it... I explained how your world is a show, right? It is like... think of it like a little lie. Would you rather go back to your world, cursed with the knowledge that everything you say and do, see and hear, and all your friends, are just a lie? That it isn't real? Or would you rather stay here, where everything is real?"

(Y/N) shakes their head, again. "I could go back and tell them the truth! I could let them know what is going on! I could-" "Not if I don't let you. I control what you do in that world. If I don't let you tell them, then you can't." "I still want to go home. I want to see my friends, again. I want to go back to Home and take a rest." "You can take a rest at my house!" "I WANT TO GO HOME!" "Be quiet! The others might notice! I might be treating this like it is normal, but if others saw you moving about, they would scream! Stay still-!"

Wally quickly places his hand over their mouth, again, as the director walks in. "What is going on in here?!" Wally chuckles, nervous, as he says "I'm just practicing my (Y/N) impression! You know, since Sam has been out for a while. We don't want to get behind on episodes just because they are gone! Who knows when they will be back?"

The director's eyes trail to the limp puppet in the man's hands. "I thought I told you to put that thing away! Why do you still have it out?" Wally flinches, quickly thinking of an excuse. "Well, I needed to practice not only the voice, but also puppeteering while talking. Since I usually only have to puppeteer, I thought it would help to practice doing both?" The director sighs, nodding.

Then, the best words he has ever heard come out of their mouth happen.

"Just take that puppet home with you, if you want. You clearly have something wrong in the head to be so... ungodly attached to it. You'd probably would keep it in better condition than when we leave them in the storage boxes, anyway."

With that, the director slammed the door to Wally's office shut. The puppet in Wally's arms began to move once more, looking up to Wally with fear. They immediately begin to squirm, trying to get out of his grasp, only for him to hold them still with ease. "Come on, (Y/N)! Let me show you just how much you'll love it here! I'll show you how happy your show makes the children of this world, as well as how much fun this world can be! Anything for you to stay, (Y/N)!"

He grabs a small, cardboard box, then places the struggling puppet inside. Quickly stapling it shut, he then pokes a few little holes into the top. Yes, technically, a puppet cannot breathe, but he still feels bad keeping them in a dark box during transport. Picking up the box, he takes it to his car, saying "Don't worry. The ride will be short. I love relatively close to the studio! Just stay calm, alright?"

"LET ME OUT! WALLY! WALLY! LET ME GO!!!" The box shuffles in the car seat, the puppet inside clearly being in distress as he drives down the road. "WALLY!" (Y/N) peeks out of one of the holes in the box. "I don't know what you are doing, but you are clearly not being a nice neighbor! LET ME GO!" "It's too late. Even if I wanted to, we are already at my house! Come on, let me show you around!" "You could just drive me back-" "LET ME SHOW YOU AROUND!"

He quickly swoops the box into his arms, carrying it into his house as the puppet inside throws itself against the cardboard walls, attempting to escape. He rushes inside, closing the door behind him, before placing the box on his couch. Popping open the lid, (Y/N) pokes their head out, frantically looking around the room.

Their face would've grown pale, if it could've, as they survey the room. Their expression twists, as much as their felt face could allow, into a look of anxiety and fear. Looking around, Wally is slightly confused. What could be wrong with his home? There isn't anything that is obscene or dangerous, as far as he is aware. Then, it hits him.

This place is Wally sized, not (Y/N) sized. The small puppet, who is only around 3 feet tall, give or take, will have a bit of trouble navigating his home. Especially with the fact that they don't seem used to their puppet body. Normally, he would feel bad or sorry, then help accommodate his beloved little puppet. Considering the fact that they clearly want to escape him, however...

This is perfect.

Even more so, because felt hands won't have as much traction and grip on things like doorknobs, windowsills, and the likes. It's going to be harder for them to try to get out without his permission. As much as he hates knowing that he is making (Y/N) unhappy, it truly is for the best!

"Aww... (Y/N), this will only be for a week! Then, I have to go back to work! Maybe... Maybe, when I puppeteer you at work, on set, you'll go back to your world? Just wait. If my theory is true, you'll be back in no time!" The puppet nods, folding their arms. They look away from Wally, clearly upset and full of dismay.

Wally picks up (Y/N), holding them in his arms gently, almost like he is cradling the most precious thing in the world. To him, he is. Nothing could compare to (Y/N)! The effect they have had on the children who watch the show brings him such joy. The way they talk about kindness, acceptance, generosity, and creativity is all that he has wanted to see in life. He has always wanted that kindness, that acceptance, and affection for himself! Now, he can. Now, he can have (Y/N).

His co-workers may call him crazy, saying something is wrong with him... having crushes on fictional characters is childish in their eyes- something an adult shouldn't do. They've been on his back for him talking to the puppet like it could talk back, how he never seems to let it go, and how his little obsession is made stranger, considering that he puppeteers the character. They've always told him that (Y/N) isn't real and to let go. Jokes on them, because now Wally's precious, sweet (Y/N) is real! They're real and they're his.

[propertyofwhitney67]

How would all the love interests react to being serenaded too. Maybe for school love interests it's like during lunch or something. Avery is during karaoke night at the bar like the one you go to for his dismissal scene. You just put something on the radio for Eden. Idk, maybe you would like it to take it in a different direction. I've always wanted to sing to my significant other, even if I make an ass out of myself, especially if it's to make them feel better.

I would also love it if you put down what song they would sing but it's not necessary. I love your work and I'm sorry about your computer and other shit.

Omg thank you so much 🥺

I know virtually zero love songs so these might be obscure or old. I also might reuse a few of the songs.

(Unchained Melody by Righteous Brothers) Low love Whitney on the roof is not happy. You barely get a few words out before he's attacking you and telling you to shut the hell up.

High love Whitney on the roof is embarrassed and not happy. Why did you choose to do this with his friends around? If he's in a good mood he stops his friends and lets you sing. His friends are laughing the whole time and when you finish Whitney laughs too, "You should be using that mouth to suck my cock, not singing love songs." Tells you to move along. Later he finds you and is as romantic as he can be, which isn't a lot. Just tells you that you have a nice voice and a bit softer when he fucks you.

(Be my baby by The Ronettes) Kylar is confused at first but unbelievably happy once he realizes what you're doing. His face is red and he's shaking, practically vibrating from excitement. You're serenading him and doing it in front of the whole school. Now they'll all know that you're his.

(I want to know what love is by foreigner) Robin chokes on their food from your sudden singing. They are embarrassed, but also flattered that you are showing your love in front of so many people.

(my girl by the temptations) C!Sydney is amused at your sudden display of love and stops eating just to watch you. Claps when you're done and makes sure to kiss you, maybe gets carried away and now you're making out.

(Be my baby by The Ronettes) Eden is surprised when you start singing. He's never heard you sing before, let alone a serenade of your love to him. His smile is soft as he dances around the room with you.

(Something Stupid by Frank & Nancy Sinatra) Avery did not want to go to karaoke, but you insisted. He didn't bother to sing, just let you go up there and have fun while he sipped on whiskey. He choked on his drink when the music started up and you began to sing. Is this some kind of declaration of love?

(Me and Mrs. Jones by Billy Paul) Alex is a little perplexed. A love song about cheating? He shakes his head with a smile and watches you sing under the tree with him. He can't help but love it, your display of affection, even if it's a song of a secret love affair.

[mariana-oconnor]

His Last Bow

Hey Tumblr,

I have 0 idea what happens in this story. Kind of hoping it's a bit like Curtain, the last Poirot story, because that's a bop. Well, it's very depressing, but I love the solution. Although I also really hope it isn't, because then Agatha Christie would have copied that and I really don't want that to be the case.

I also really want ACD to have done something insanely over the top and decisive to make it really clear that this time there would be no retconning. Like... idk, the world being invaded by aliens. Sherlock Holmes stealing the crown jewels and being executed for treason. Mycroft turning out to have been a double agent all along and destroying the entire British Empire.

I'm no longer feverish, although my lungs are still trying to propel themselves out of my body in a way that keeps leaving me a little asphyxiated, so that's fun. But no jellyfishifters this time I expect. Or sea turtles... Yeah, Idk either.

It was nine o'clock at night upon the second of August—the most terrible August in the history of the world.

Oh Watson, you sweet summer child. I bet I've seen worse Augusts. Even if Holmes does die in this one.

The sun had long set, but one blood-red gash like an open wound lay low in the distant west.

London... is now... a hellmouth?

Are we not in London? Is that the city from a distance. Where are we? Why is the sky split open? What is going on?

The two famous Germans stood beside the stone parapet of the garden walk...

The only two famous Germans. Ever. You know... those two.

Oh, so we're actually in the 'Sherlock is a spy' period. Weirdly I assumed that that was only going to be referenced. But no, we're actually going there.

So the red line is... the war front?

One of these was his present companion, Baron Von Herling, the chief secretary of the legation, whose huge 100-horse-power Benz car was blocking the country lane as it waited to waft its owner back to London.

Is the Baron compensating for something? Maybe.

But we're not in London and we're not near the war front, so... what is that red slash in the sky. Is it London?

This is probably not the mystery I am meant to be trying to solve. I should pay more attention to the espionage and less to the environs.

“They are not very hard to deceive,” he remarked. “A more docile, simple folk could not be imagined.”

Someone has not been down the pub when the home team is playing. Hoo boy. Docile is not a word I would use...

"One's first impression is that they are entirely soft. Then one comes suddenly upon something very hard, and you know that you have reached the limit and must adapt yourself to the fact."

That is, indeed, what she said.

“Meaning British prejudice in all its queer manifestations."

Oh boy. I don't think you mean what I'd mean by those words, but yet you have still brought upon me a great sense of national shame and wincing.

"I was invited to a week-end gathering at the country house of a cabinet minister. The conversation was amazingly indiscreet.”

Given the general level of OpSec shown by government workers, bankers, and just... everyone within these stories, I cannot say that this surprises me. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. The majority of government people we have met have been entire and total imbeciles in the matter of privacy, data protection and general best practices regarding secrecy.

“No, no, don't call it a pose. A pose is an artificial thing. This is quite natural. I am a born sportsman. I enjoy it.”

Ugh, I hate this guy.

“And all the time this quiet country house of yours is the centre of half the mischief in England, and the sporting squire the most astute secret-service man in Europe. Genius, my dear Von Bork—genius!”

I will say, they're commenting on other people not being discreet, and here they are just laying out everything without even a hint of subtlety. Using people's names. confirming their identities, confirming their true purposes. Unless this, in itself, is a subterfuge... They're not at a party, at least, I suppose.

“You flatter me, Baron. But certainly I may claim my four years in this country have not been unproductive. I've never shown you my little store. Would you mind stepping in for a moment?”

This all feels very Cask of Amontillado, don't you think?

Is Van Bork Sherlock?

He then closed the door behind the bulky form which followed him and carefully adjusted the heavy curtain over the latticed window. Only when all these precautions had been taken and tested did he turn his sunburned aquiline face to his guest.

Oh. My. God. Did someone just use basic security protocols to prevent someone from listening or looking in on them? Be still my beating heart. I might faint.

I am so confused about who is speaking right now. I need more dialogue tags. I have lost track. These two have merged into one very confused spy with multiple personalities. Or maybe just two heads. I don't know.

“Out of date and waste paper. The Admiralty in some way got the alarm and every code has been changed."

If that wasn't Sherlock or Mycroft, then I don't know who it was because every time the Admiralty has been in these stories they have been incompetent to the point of deliberate treason.

Will come without fail to-night and bring new sparking plugs. — —Altamont.

Is Altamont Holmes?

“You see he poses as a motor expert and I keep a full garage. In our code everything likely to come up is named after some spare part. If he talks of a radiator it is a battleship, of an oil pump a cruiser, and so on. Sparking plugs are naval signals.”

I take back that gif from earlier. Don't tell people the code words. Good grief, man! You've just compromised all of those phrases. I get that you're providing exposition for the audience, but still. STILL.

"I assure you that our most pan-Germanic Junker is a sucking dove in his feelings towards England as compared with a real bitter Irish-American.”

Fair.

...at a touch from the Baron's chauffeur the great car shivered and chuckled.

Is the car alive? I don't like this description.

“Those are the lights of Harwich, I suppose,” said the secretary, pulling on his dust coat.

THANK YOU!

It's Harwich... No hellmouth, just Harwich. Mystery solved.

"The heavens, too, may not be quite so peaceful if all that the good Zeppelin promises us comes true."

Oh, you mean the bustle in the hedgerow? No... don't be alarmed about that. It's just a spring clean for the May Queen. Or if you're talking about the piper, he's just leading us to reason. It's really nothing to be worried about.

...beside it, seated at a table, was a dear old ruddy-faced woman in a country cap. She was bending over her knitting and stopping occasionally to stroke a large black cat upon a stool beside her. “That is Martha, the only servant I have left.” The secretary chuckled. “She might almost personify Britannia,” said he, “with her complete self-absorption and general air of comfortable somnolence."

Is Martha Holmes?

Honestly, that makes a lot of sense.

Or Holmes could be the kitty cat.

It was a new experience to him, the silence and darkness of his widespread house, for his family and household had been a large one. It was a relief to him, however, to think that they were all in safety and that, but for that one old woman who had lingered in the kitchen, he had the whole place to himself.

DANCE PARTY TIME

“You can give me the glad hand to-night, mister,” he cried. “I'm bringing home the bacon at last.”“The signals?”“Same as I said in my cable. Every last one of them, semaphore, lamp code, Marconi—a copy, mind you, not the original."

No. No. No.

This is not how you do a treasonous handover of government secrets. I don't care how empty you think the goddamned house is. You don't say the actual thing. YOU USE THE CODEWORDS. THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE CODES. YOU UTTER NUMPTIES!

Fuck you both. You're morons. What even is this? This isn't espionage. This is slapstick.

Good lord.

I... I despair.

I guess if you're this good at it, then it's no wonder that even the bloody Admiralty managed to get a clue.

Mycroft's probably been feeding you information for years, you muppets.

It's the incompetence that gets to me, it really is. If you're going to be moustache twirling evil German spies then at least have the self-respect and decency to be good at it.

This is pathetic.

The Irish-American had entered the study and stretched his long limbs from the armchair. He was a tall, gaunt man of sixty, with clear-cut features and a small goatee beard which gave him a general resemblance to the caricatures of Uncle Sam. A half-smoked, sodden cigar hung from the corner of his mouth, and as he sat down he struck a match and relit it.

Oh yeah, this is Holmes, isn't it?

You couldn't even pretend to be good at being a traitor?

“So it's not quite as simple as you thought. It was four years ago that I had it made, and what do you think I chose for the word and figures?”

O

h

m

y

g

o

d

Tell me you're not about to do what I think you're about to do.

Please.

Tell me you have one braincell in your tiny head. PLEASE. You cannot be this dumb. YOU CANNOT BE!

“Well, I chose August for the word, and 1914 for the figures, and here we are.”

And you're being dumb by trying to show off how smart you are. That's the worst kind.

“How could they have got on to Steiner?” he muttered. “That's the worst blow yet.”

You literally just told a man your safe combination. I don't know what to tell you, my dude. Maybe you're just bad at this.

Then he sat dazing for a moment in silent amazement at a small blue book which lay before him. Across the cover was printed in golden letters Practical Handbook of Bee Culture. Only for one instant did the master spy glare at this strangely irrelevant inscription. The next he was gripped at the back of his neck by a grasp of iron, and a chloroformed sponge was held in front of his writhing face.

“Another glass, Watson!” said Mr. Sherlock Holmes as he extended the bottle of Imperial Tokay. The thickset chauffeur, who had seated himself by the table, pushed forward his glass with some eagerness.

Didn't call the chauffeur being Watson. Discounted him as Holmes for being too thickset. I guess since it's indicated Watson might have written this one I should have thought about Watson as well. Genuinely didn't think he'd be in this one, though.

"There is no one in the house except old Martha, who has played her part to admiration."

So Martha was working for Holmes this whole time. I think she wins the prize for being the best spy in the story.

"I shall no doubt reappear at Claridge's to-morrow as I was before this American stunt—I beg your pardon, Watson, my well of English seems to be permanently defiled—before this American job came my way.”

Oh no! Holmes used the word 'stunt' how scandalously unEnglish of him!

"The fact is, Watson, that this gentleman upon the sofa was a bit too good for our people."

Guess the Admiralty is worse than even I gave them credit for.

The last remark was addressed to Von Bork himself, who after much gasping and blinking had lain quietly listening to Holmes's statement. He broke out now into a furious stream of German invective, his face convulsed with passion.

No... no... Holmes. You're not monologuing in front of the enemy prisoner. Don't do that. I believed in you.

"And yet I live and keep bees upon the South Downs.”

...don't tell him where you live...

I give up.

“And most of that information came through you,” he cried. “What is it worth? What have I done? It is my ruin forever!” “It is certainly a little untrustworthy,” said Holmes. “It will require some checking and you have little time to check it. Your admiral may find the new guns rather larger than he expects, and the cruisers perhaps a trifle faster.”

god fucking dammit

Why are you telling him about the misinformation? The misinformation is meant to misinform. That's why it's called misinformation. You're undoing half of the work you did.

I... guys... guys, I just can't.

“My dear sir, if you did anything so foolish you would probably enlarge the two limited titles of our village inns by giving us ‘The Dangling Prussian’ as a signpost. The Englishman is a patient creature, but at present his temper is a little inflamed, and it would be as well not to try him too far."

Did he just threaten Van Bork with hanging. By referencing a possible pub name? A+ threat, but yikes.

The two friends chatted in intimate converse for a few minutes, recalling once again the days of the past, while their prisoner vainly wriggled to undo the bonds that held him.

They just... they just left him alone.

And went and had a chat.

I don't even know why I thought they'd drive him away immediately. Why would they?

"I have a check for five hundred pounds which should be cashed early, for the drawer is quite capable of stopping it if he can.”

Such a weird line to end this on. OK then Holmes. Go cash your cheque.

And that was the last of the short stories... It didn't quite have the same poignancy as Curtain. But it certainly gave me a lot to talk about.

This has been a really fun year and I've loved writing these up - and spending far too long finding gifs and sometimes making my own memes when I couldn't find the precise thing I needed to say.

If you've read all of these, I have no idea why, but Hi! 2023 was certainly a year, wasn't it? Thanks to all of you. It's been really fun reading comments and learning things when people added to the notes to answer questions I'd asked.

I hear we're doing the novels next year. I have definitely actually read all of those. But I do get them all mixed up, and I will have forgotten a lot of them. I think I also signed up for another substack, but right now I can't even remember which one. That'll be a fun surprise.

Hope you all had a good, or at least not terrible, 2023. And I hope we all have a better 2024.

Happy (almost) New Year!

[misc-obeyme]

idk about anyone else but i always love crack ships and ships in general, i can always appreciate other ships, even if they're not my otp. It just means more content to enjoy!

Luci and Solomon would be fun as a pairing i think. If I had a crack ship, it'd be Solomon and Mammon. I don't know if they've had any moments at all together. Maybe one.

But Solomon has been steadily climbing up my favorites list on the ladder since nightbringer. Though he'll never take Mammon's place for number one lol. But I like to imagine them both with my mc.

I can imagine Mammon accidentally getting his hands on a really rare spell book and instead of selling it, gifting it to the two of them with the excuse that he couldn't get any offers for it (he is lying and it's obvious from his blush)

Or Solomon coming across a rare item he forgot about and gifting it to Mammon because he thinks he'd like it. Or digging through his collection for something he's willing to part with to help Mammon with debt, saying something about needing to get rid of it is all.

and after writing these little blurbs i will be thinking about these dummies a lot more, it is no longer an 'if' i think. new ship and new ot3 ig akskfj

okay I'm done rambling LMAO thank you for your time

- ✨ anon

Okay, yes, I absolutely love crackships. I can also appreciate other ships, I have no problem with any of that at all. I say people should ship whoever they like.

While I always write x reader, I actually have quite a few Obey Me ships that I like. DiaLuci of course which I actually did write a little story for per a request I received. Those two are just so obvious, how can you not ship it, right? I'm also fond of SoloSim because I think those two have an interesting dynamic. And of course there's SimeBarb which is also just really cute. I'm down with BarBeel and Solodeus too though to a lesser extent. And while I never really considered it before, apparently there is also Diavolo/Belphie (sorry I don't know their ship name lol), which is not something I thought of, but I don't dislike it!

My favorite crackship is absolutely SoloLuci. I love their relationship already, it's so funny to me, and I just can't help but enjoy the idea of them actually ending up together because it would be even funnier to me. Like I could write whole stories about them.

My other big crackship is Mammon/Barbatos. (BarbMam??) Again, I just find this to be absolutely hilarious. I could write whole stories about them, too, and I'd be laughing the whole time lol.

Okay one last crackship from me that I think would be fun is Diavolo/Asmodeus. Because listen, Asmo would be so into being queen lololol. And I just think it'd make Lucifer so mad, too. I'm sorry I just think it's so funny I can't help myself.

Of course, any and all of these become a little less crazy if MC is involved, but I generally consider these ships without MC. I did write that little blurb about a Solomon/MC/Lucifer threesome, but I generally like to think of them without MC because that just makes it so much funnier to me.

I love your description of a Solomon/MC/Mammon throuple situation, though. I always felt like Mammon didn't like Solomon lol but yo neither does Lucifer so. But I think with an MC that they both love and care for to kind of initiate the necessity of them being in close proximity and getting along... yeah, I could see all of the things you describe happening.

That'd be super adorable, now I'm just imagining them starting a little trio band and calling it MC and the Mons. (I'm so sorry.)

Anyway, I love your new ot3 I hope they bring you much joy!!

[captain-mj]

Hi.. so, uhm

Here's the deal, I'll give you 100 red gummy bears and 1 red gummy worm; if you write a Graves x Price, but not any kind of story, oh hell nah, those toe curling and wild smut fics.

The type of story that you think "I'm sorry for what I'll do" and when you finish it you say "forgive Father for what I've done"

Idk go wild, maybe some wild monsterfuck or anything you'd like

Than you I love you (respectfully) and yeah, that's all ❤️

My friend Heart gave me the idea for Kraken Price and Sailor Graves! 

Pov: Graves

~~~~ 

Graves steadied his gun, trying to shoot at the damned monster attacking the ship. He felt panicked as a giant tentacle went for him. It splashed him with salty water as it raised. 

Graves moved his gun, trying to aim when a second tentacle suddenly grabbed him around his waist. It had snuck behind him while he had focused on the other one. He was flung several feet in the air and away from the ship, but was caught before he could slam into the water. 

The thing dangled him, being surprisingly kind with the way it held him. Several came to form like a hammock around him. Graves tried to scrambled out but they pushed him back in, restraining him now. He fought back briefly but in vain.

Reluctantly, he gave up, going still in hopes they’d loosen their grip again so he could escape.

The tentacles held him gently, trailing over him. They were very cold and still wet with seawater, soaking his clothes.

He managed to get a glimpse of where his ship should have been but all he saw was it sinking.

Graves realized he was going to die out there. He tensed and went for his gun but the tentacles wrapped around his wrist to prevent it. They dropped him the few feet he was above the water, making him splash against the water. He tried to swim back up but someone wrapped his arms around him, pulling him back down.

A very handsome man was there. Very handsome indeed. Rugged but with pretty, soft blue eyes. He was shirtless but Graves couldn’t see if he was wearing pants. The water grew murky past his bellybutton.

He was... abnormally big. His hands took up the majority of his back and it felt like he was twice his size. 

“Hello.” Nice voice though. Funny accent. 

Graves let out a soft breath. “Oh good, we speak the same language. Were you from my ship? We need to get out of here.”

“Why?”

“We’re being attacked by a tentacled beast?”

The man smiled, clearly amused. “You think me a beast?”

Graves looked down again, this time seeing the water wasn’t murky, but writhing with…. Things. He tried to push away, a little panicked but the man held him tight.

“My name is Price.”

“Graves.” He shivered, the position he was in becoming a little more apparent. He was at this man’s mercy, currently in his arms and there were… tentacles everywhere.

Lovely.

“Listen, I have a family back home.”

“A girl?” Price asked, pressing a little closer. His torso pushed between his thighs.

“N-no. But I…” it was hard to think. “A mom…” He mumbled a little.

“I’m not going to kill you. Don’t worry.” Price’s hands slid down to his ass. “You’re rather pretty.”

Graves blinked slowly, thighs clenching instinctively around him. “Thank you. For men though, its mostly handsome.” He felt the hands on his ass squeeze slightly.

Price hummed. “Your clothes are so wet. Probably need to get you out of those.”

Graves flushed but nodded. He felt something grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it over his head. “What are you planning on doing to me?”

“You just relax. I know humans are delicate.”

Graves scowled and went to snap at him before a tentacle wrapped around his throat carefully. Price smiled at him before unlacing Graves’s pants and sliding them down, moving him around when he didn’t move fast enough. 

Tentacles wrapped around his legs, keeping them slightly apart.

“Do you want this?”

Graves felt flustered, naked and unsure exactly what was being offered. A tentacle slid along his ass, poking at him lightly and he realized.

“Has anyone touched you here before?” 

“N-no.” Graves gasped, looking up at the stars. “I want it. Please use your hands too.” 

“Eager little thing.” Those big hands pushed his legs further open and the tentacles kept them apart. His head was forced further back as one of them gently poked at his mouth. It slithered slowly down his throat, giving him time to adjust. He took a deep breath and swallowed around it, feeling the man shudder. “You’re good at that.”

Graves hummed in response and his eyes fluttered close. He felt himself start to get floaty. 

Another one prodded at his hole, substantially bigger than the one in his mouth. He tensed himself in preparation.

“So small...” Price mumbled. “We might be here a while before you can take my cock... Oh well. I’m patient.” It started to slide into him and Graves thrashed. The stretch burned and he wondered when exactly he planned on stopping. Price just kept sliding deeper and deeper into him. 

Graves realized after a moment the tentacle was tapered as it got bigger and bigger. The stretch of his body and the feeling of him rearranging his insides started to become unbearable. He whimpered softly and Price stopped, slowly sliding it out so Graves could feel every inch that had entered his body. 

“There you go. You’re okay.” Those soft hands rubbed at his sides and the one in his mouth retreated, leaving him drooling. It started to slide back into him and there was nothing to muffle Graves cries now. Price managed to go further this time but eventually Graves shook his head, needing him to stop. 

“What are you.... fuck, what are you doing?” The aching emptiness once Price was out almost made him start crying. His thoughts were muffled by the need for more and the pain of it all. 

“Preparing you. You need to pretty stretched.” Two started to enter him and Graves struggled slightly, eyes rolling back. It felt like he was being torn apart and he started whimpering.

“Please, too much, please.” 

Price stopped, but didn’t pull out. One of them started pushing deeper and Graves panted harshly before it pressed against something. He properly screamed, legs shaking.

“There it is.” Price hummed to himself. The one continued applying a dizzying amount of pressure while the other pushed further into Graves. “Fascinating.” 

Graves couldn’t think. Could barely feel the pain over the waves and waves of pleasure running over him. 

One of Graves’s hands were moved to his stomach, letting him feeling where the bulge through it. He whimpered, clenching hard around everything inside him. Price panted softly.

“Humans are usually pretty, but you...” He cupped Graves’s face. “You’re stunning. I’m going to keep you with me a while, yeah? Promise to keep you nothing but pleased.”

Graves gasped softly and leaned into the gentle touch. He came untouched, the pressure on his prostate becoming too much to bear. 

Price kissed him through it, no longer applying as much pressure but still keeping him filled. 

Graves panted softly. “Do this often?” He tried to grin but Price thrust in and it disappeared in a groan. His body still felt so sensitive from the orgasm. 

“Occasionally. Today is the start of my mating season and I needed someone. You don’t mind, do you?” Was Price mocking him? Graves felt himself shudder, finding that just turned him on more. 

“No.” Price thrust again and Graves head fell back. “It’s so much.”

“You’re handling it very well. I’m going to pull them out, okay? Real slow and then I’ll see if you can fit my cock yet.” Price warned him, giving him a minute to take a deep breath.

“You can move now.” Price took one out first before pressing his hand on his lower stomach, making Graves gasp slightly. 

“Good boy. Doing so well for me.” Price cooed before slowly removing the other tentacle. Graves shuddered as the cold air came in touch with him. “You’re gaping slightly. Should be perfect.”

Several tentacles wrapped around Graves’s arms, giving him something to hold on to. He held them tight as Price moved, raising up and showing just how much bigger he was. Even just the human part was as big as Graves and that did funny things to him. 

He was steadily getting hard again and Price noticed, smiling. He hoisted Graves up and the tentacles supported him, keeping him suspended with his hips up. 

Graves decided to keep his eyes trained on the stars as Price lined him up. The head of his cock pressed against him and Graves wasn’t sure even with the prep he could take it. Tentacles readjusted him, spreading his legs wider and slightly up to give Price more access. 

It pressed into him slowly and Graves slowly fell apart. Price started to moan softly which spurred Graves on. 

“I can take more.” Graves whimpered out when he stopped. 

Price’s eyes darkened just a little and he pressed further in. Graves decided not to think about how deep he was going in him. He wasn’t an expert, but he knew it was a lot more than a few inches. His hand was pressed to his stomach again and he could feel Price moving. The pleasure was starting back up, raking down his spine.

It stopped and Graves whined. “Why...”

“Bottomed out. Good job, sweetheart.” Price praised him and Graves closed his eyes, mewling. He thrust in carefully and Graves felt it almost snap him in half. His legs trembled slightly but every move made him brush against his prostate and it was all so much. 

Graves felt himself melt into a puddle. One of the tentacles gently rubbed at his cock, gently jacking him off. Price started to kiss him again and held him close, starting to moan gently. 

“You’re so goddamn tight. So fucking hot inside.” Price growled against him, voice deepening. Graves panted against his mouth and tugged at the restraints. He was released and he wrapped his arms around him, wanting him closer. 

It got fuzzier and fuzzier as his head start to spin. He came again, body tensing up around him. 

Price came in him and Graves whimpered against him, sinking his teeth into Price’s shoulder. He went limp after a minute, feeling the rush of something cold through his body. 

“Are you going to pull it out?” 

“In a minute. You’re so good.”

“How long does your mating season last?”

“Two months. I’ll put you on the shore wherever you want when its over.” Price promised, kissing him softly. “Until then, you’re mine.”

[bibibbon]

Maybe you have noticed but in regards Izu...the narrative punish him(fuck you Hori) as well the majority of the fandom. Some Shinso fans think Izu should have come clean to Shinso about his quirk regarding the Izu vs Shinso 2.0 (coincidentally Aizawa stopped trained him after Shinso lost) and how in "Izu and Shinso are friends" Izu should pity Shinso as well we, the readers, while Izu's past is not seen as a big deal.

Some do say " yeah bk was meanie" and that if we are lucky.

I dont get why Shinso thought Izu(the kid who calls himself deku, not dekiru) whose quirk break his bones (of course UA does nothing. Has any teacher help anyone with their quirk?) And is mostly like from poor background is a golden child....

Meanwhile Shinso is really silent about BK.

What I'm trying to say here is...how Hori and the fandom ignore the ramifications of Izu's abuse or use to prop others characters.

"Shinso is a good guy bc he punched BK for Izu" cool...but why cant Izu do that? Why we dont get a word of what Izu thinks about that? Why he cant have closure?

(We see this in ships too. Ochako the super cool GF defeats BK...and Izu's pain is not important, not the healing! He has a gf duh🙄😒)

Yeah this is actually one of the biggest problems I have with the bakugo and izuku relationship/ rivalry or whatever it is (it's definitely not romantic or a friendship) izuku never gets to reflect or be the one to stand up for himself and some people say," oh it's IZUKUS character he doesn't realise that what bakugo has done is bad and he just forgives everyone who ever does him dirty" or something along those lines which really annoys me because ITS COMPLETELY FALSE. We can see in the first chapter after the suicide incident that izuku can actually feel negative emotions towards KATSUKI and that he actually knows and realises that what KATSUKI is doing is WRONG. However, because of hori's love for katsuki he can be never make him seem like the bad guy which 1) ruined katsukis development 2) ruined izukus and other characters development.

Concerning the shinso situation I don't think Izuku has to own up TO NOTHING!! No offence but hori made shinso kind of dumb when he chose that out of ALL hero class students you CHOOSE to target izuku who YOU CAN CLEARLY SEE DOESN'T SEEM TO FIT IN OR GO BY YOUR STUPID SILVER SPOON IDEOLOGY. Iam all for shinso and izuku being friends and I have talked about ways how to change the narrative so izuku and shinso's interactions can make sense in the narrative but yeah idk what's going on with hori.

Lastly, when it comes to izuku and his backstory the fandom mainly ignores it because it's not consistently brought up as something that affected izuku even though we can clearly see it did. Hori also stated that he wished he didn't make bakugo as mean and you can clearly see him try and undermine bakugos actions by making him think about izuku and only izuku also the fandom will eat anything that's BKDK which they think is a better version of saskue and Naruto but in reality this is a toxic wish version.

[weirdestcornelius]

TL;DR It's not too late to turn things around. Keep pushing on until something happens, and if not, it's going to be #sparkleover.

With her current behavior, Eve will near-certainly attract unwanted attention. That's probably obvious by this point, of course.

But on top of trolls and haters, there are several online communities entirely dedicated to mockery and harassment. That's where the true problem comes in.

Kittycorn quite literally has every single possible thing they'd want from a target. Immaturity? Check. Hubris? Check. Outbursts? Check. Relevance? Check. If changes aren't made in time, I don't think ANYBODY would like what'd happen. Fortunately, however...

They have yet to find her. Or, if nothing else, they indeed know about her but simply don't care enough to do anything. Yet.

There is still time. Judging by how Kneeby APPARENTLY doesn't have the sparklecriticism blog blocked yet (along with there not actually being that many barriers for us anyways), we can still get words in. I'm unsure if people would wanna hear the truth, but they likely need to by this point. After all, I may currently dislike Eve as a person, but I don't want her or Sparklecare to crash and burn.

So, cue Plan Z.

Step 1 - Tone: TL;DR Be more approachable. This might not seem like a great idea to you guys at first, and I think this step might get flamed the most, but we should lay off the bitterness that comes with every post. There is a reason we're thought of as disguised hate blogs. We might have some right to be angry, but by doing so, our message will come off as hateful yap, impeding our goal. Instead, approachability will be part of our key. Obviously, criticism is still going to be imperative, and we certainly shouldn't forget about that part, but know that aggression will not help.

Step 2 - Action: TL;DR 3, 2, 1, GO! Once we master courtesy, we can progress to Step 2. The deal's simple; just keep posting like y'all usually do with a revised tone. With that, we'd (hopefully) be genuinely listened to, and then we'd (hopefully) see more progress until something becomes of our efforts.

Step 3 - Increment: TL;DR Step 2 but BETTER!!! This basically just takes Step 2 and ups the ante a bit. Post more often, make the posts longer, et cetera. Maybe even hop on over to the main sparklecare tag if y'all particularly need to. Whatever would further improve our reach.

Step 4 - ???: TL;DR idk I'm not sure about what we might do if Step 3 fails, or if being concerned about that is even reasonable. For all we know, we could just give up, or maybe something never before thought of could suffice. I don't know, man.

I'm still kind of brainstorming, and this plan really isn't polished that much in the slightest, so I'd like to be told what y'all think for now along with any possible ideas (step 4, revisions, literally just giving up, etc). I get that composing a whole fucking campaign over fictional gay furries is probably an act of blatant, unfiltered stupidity on my part, but that's what happens when you have a hyperfixation you never asked for.

If all goes according to plan, we'll get a better Kittycorn, and we'll get a better Sparklecare. Hopefully we don't get a full civil war instead or anything. Hell, I really do hope there's some far simpler thing that can be done rather than hosting a full campaign, because I'm very doubtful regarding both myself and this plan.

Signed, Chuck.

Four step plan time

[magicmumu2]

Idk why I’m not following you????

Anyways.

If you don’t write it, I will. Add to my long list of stories to write.

(Okay last minute, on my phone, and using a text to speech reader 10 minutes after I woke up at ass crack of dawn in the morning. All I'm saying is this is not going to be classic literature here. You're more than welcome to do your own thing and expand on this idea or write your own version of this concept, because I'm sure I could read a dozen stories like it. Anyway here be the "fic?" and I hope it makes you feel better.)

Okay, so maybe they went through a period of stagnation or some kind of tragedy in their lives or they just stop being Power Rangers - something along those lines. Their marriage had not really been the same after whatever happened and they seem to be almost roommates for a while. And one day, nothing in particular happened. Kim just looked over at Trini who is probably doing something she's done literally every day for years, and Kim just struck with this italicized 'oh'. there's a little spark, a little fire. Something familiar yet almost forgotten. And suddenly Kim just wants to be where Trini is, or wants Trini to be wherever she is. She can't stop staring at her wife and she can't believe that this woman exists and can be called hers. At first Kim is almost shy about it. She's not sure why she feels this way suddenly, but why shouldn't she feel this way about her own wife, right? She finds herself going from room to room, pretending she isn't following her wife around the house as she does chores like a damn needy house cat. Sure, she got an eyebrow raise or two, but she didn't care because she got to stare at the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. Kim remembers jumping through the quarry, chasing after this girl. Now the chase isn't so difficult, at least not physically, the end goal more rewarding if she could get this woman to really talk to her again.

"What has gotten into you?" Trini asked her days later after Kim sat next to her on the couch and subtly moved closer throughout the course of the show they were watching so that eventually she was nearly in Trini's lap. "If you wanted to cuddle, all you had to do was ask. "Or just... cuddle me."

Could she? Kim had forgotten. Kim had forgotten again that this woman was hers. Her wife, her soulmate. She wasn't sure how long she had forgotten this. Still, there was something that felt wrong about feeling the way she felt now, like she should have felt this way all along or she shouldn't feel this way now after everything, after all this time of being married. She didn't know any happily married couples, and those who were happy together didn't last as long as her marriage was Trini, so she didn't know who she could ask about this. She took to the Internet, but wasn't sure exactly how to ask her question and instead decided to ask Reddit. (She wondered what Trini's reaction would be if she told her she was a simp for her now.) Mean comments, trolls, and posts making fun of her for even asking the question aside, Kim took the heart some of the people who were serious in responding to her. She even got a response from a marriage counselor who told her that relationships do go in and out of difficulty, but if the love is there, things can be worked on. The marriage counselor stated that obviously the love was still there and that the marriage is worth working on and Kim completely agreed. Other comments under that post continued on in that vein, advising Kim to enjoy the ride and take advantage of how she feels now by building on that. She placed her thanks on that post to anybody giving her advice on how she could go about doing that, and then she closed her laptop and went to their bedroom.

"Hey," she said after a moment of watching Trini, who was laying in bed reading a book.

Trini looked up, her eyes somewhat perplexed as they always were the past few days since what Kim calls her 'Awakening'. "Hey," she answered tentatively.

"So... I was thinking, maybe you and I can grab dinner tomorrow after work? I don't know what's playing these days, but maybe we can see a movie or something afterwards? It's kind of been a while."

"Kim, are you asking me on a date?"

"Yes, I am."

Trini's lip quirked at the side in a small smile. She looked shy, the way she did many years ago at the beginning of the relationship. It reminded Kim of the first time she had asked Trini out, shy and nervous despite them knowing each other for a while by then. Like that time, Kim didn't think she would be rejected, knowing how Trini felt the same for her, but she worried she would somehow fuck it up, because Kim seemed to always fuck it up.

"Yeah, okay." Trini closed her book after marking her place. She turned so that she was leaning on her side now and patted bed next to her. Kim obeyed, sitting next to her on the bed. Trini leaned upwards as much as she could on the awkward angle she found herself in, and Kim met her halfway in a kiss. Kim stared into Trini's eyes before she leaned in for a deeper kiss. She may not have understood how she felt, but she was not afraid to tell her wife then in that kiss. The words, simple enough, hopefully also conveyed the same. "I am stupidly in love with you, Trini Hart."

"You're just stupid," Trini teased.

"Rude, but stupid for you. Even if you are mean to me."

Trini smiled and then wrapped her arms around the back of Kimberly's neck. She pulled her down again for another kiss. "I love you too idiot. I'm stupidly in love with you too. Always."

The two women spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, and Kim remembered once again that this was where she belonged.

[blackat-t7t]

I went back and forth a lot on whether to put this in a reblog of that poll about likes and reblogs that's going around. Ultimately I decided not to, because really it's about something that post isn't actually saying, just that other people in the larger conversion about likes and reblogs have said.

I don't really see this IN posts of art and fic, but when posts made solely to encourage people to reblog come around, they often include someone in the chain saying something along the lines of:

"Likes are WORTHLESS!" or "Likes MEAN NOTHING!"

And I think, a real person saw your work and liked it. They told you they liked it, even if they told you through a button built into the site. Is that really worthless?

And I guess seeing that opinion just makes me feel kind of small and pathetic and sad, both as a creator and a viewer.

Please don't misunderstand! I'm not trying to say "creators should be grateful for whatever scraps viewers give them"! And, as a creator, I'm not trying to act "more grateful than thou", or flaunt my own humility in appreciating scraps!

I'm saying "are likes really just scraps?"

I consider myself a creator, but the truth is I don't make many of my own posts, or post a lot of fic, comparatively. I don't get a lot of engagement, not just because of the current state of fandom, but because I just don't have much TO engage with. So when I get a notification "[someone] liked your post", and I see that the truly liked MY post, not just something I reblogged, I get a little thrill.

Hearing that the thing I get so excited over, is something other creators disregard entirely, makes me feel kind of pathetic.

And as a viewer, hearing "likes are worthless, only reblogs matter"-- well, creators (myself included!) often say that we want to connect with people through our works. Hearing that my liking something, my saying I enjoyed it, is worthless and all that matters is whether I help spread it by reblogging- it makes me feel like creators, many of whom I admire, aren't interested in connecting with me.

IDK, maybe I'm just making this about me when it shouldn't be, especially in that last part. If people really believe that someone enjoying their work is worthless if they don't enjoy it enough to reblog- I guess that's their right. It's not my place to tell them how to feel about their work and how it's received.

I don't know. Like I said, the whole thing just makes me feel small. And pathetic. And sad.

Who knows. Maybe I'm misinterpreting everything and people are saying "WITHIN THE STRICT CONTEXT OF HOW TO GET MORE VIEWS, likes mean nothing, because there is no algorithm", and I'm getting worked up over nothing.

I'm just not sure anymore. I feel wrung out, and I just want to post this and be done with it.

Please don't take the things I've said here in bad faith.

[immortaltale]

Hey! What’s your take on Jurgen’s new move (maybe it’s to do with the other Pep lol)? Kinda unexpected but he did say on different occasions that he’s not that interested in taking on another coaching job…Also, since we are talking about someone’s best rival here, do you think Pep will extend his contract?

okayyy hi yes so. i will be honest and say i am not particularly enthused about him working under redbull - i don't have any particular opinions on them wrt football as i am not a Deutscher Fußballfan and it doesn't affect me personally, but i know a lot of germans have already criticized this move which is totally within their rights to do. there's a lot to be said about the current state of football of which i do believe red bull clubs are an issue, and i think a lot of people didn't expect klopp to go for "that kind" of club given the past clubs he's worked for. but a bit more on this later if you're interested lmao

in terms of the job description in general i.e. "global head of soccer", it actually seems like something he would be interested in and that would fit him. since he was saying things along the line of "idk if i will coach anymore but i will still work", and then a while ago there were the odd links to becoming dortmund's DoF for example, it is a bit surprising maybe most of all for the timing but i would say in general it's not that unexpected for me. someone else also pointed out that he will probably have much less media duties which i'm sure is a plus to him

also re: pep. lol there was just whispers yesterday in the city ITK community that there was growing optimism that pep would extend but personally (without being at all involved in that fanbase) i think it's still up in the air. i know everyone talks about the 115 charges and stuff but i think it's quite fair to say that the current trials going on should have an effect on what pep sees of his future at city. fwiw many reliable city journos said that pep's plan a few months ago was to leave in the summer, so i would guess now that it's really a matter of whether or not the city executives can convince him to stay (and whether any repercussions of the trials cause everything to burn to the ground or not)

a little more about people saying the red bull move is "out of character" for klopp:

honestly i get what they're saying, i do. it's quite jarring for someone to have only worked for three quite historic clubs, and most recently going against the perceived juggernaut of "abu dhabi fc" only for him to then turn around and join a MCO that is ideologically quite similar. because klopp seems like a "man of the people" in football so to speak i think people presumed that he would never go to somewhere as controversial in germany as the red bull clubs

firstly let's note that this is not the only "questionable" thing he has done, as he often does sponsorships for that one german MLM company whose name i can never spell, but certainly this is the first one related to football. but i have to say (and maybe it is an unpopular opinion) i don't actually think this is that out of character for him. while he at times did appear aggrieved at city's (and other state owned clubs') finances i think it's more important to note how he like.... never actually said he hated city or how they operate. here's the quote he said just before leaving liverpool which for the first time i am not bringing up for ship purposes:

"Everybody knows about the 115 charges, but I have no clue what that means. I only know the number. No matter what has transpired at ManCity, Pep Guardiola is the best manager in the world - and that is truly significant..."

i honestly think it's clear from this comment, and in general his attitude towards pep/city, that the thing which is most important to him is an action's *outcome* and its effect on football and not necessarily its *origin*. you can call this him being outcome-oriented over process-oriented or what have you. and thus the red bull move would seem to fall in line with this mindset - there's no doubt that the red bull clubs all have a very set model with a clear footballing philosophy/ideology, and that up until now they have been quite successful imprinting it onto the world of football. of course, the way they got there is what people actually have problems with, but for klopp... maybe it's not such an issue.

that being said, there was something that rubbed me the wrong way in his little official speech upon joining. first of all it's so PR that the language used doesn't even sound like his speech which is already off-putting enough. then there are the reasons he outlines in which the red bull model excites him but i particularly take issue with his other line "the role may have changed, but my passion for football and the people who make the game what it is, has not". klopp obviously knows about the important role of fans in football, so it's weird to see him say this about red bull which historically circumvented the german 50+1 rule for fans (part of the reason why german football fans hate red bull clubs). but maybe i'm just reading too much into things. or maybe this is all copium who knows

[nandysparadox]

Yeah, so what Ao3?!??!! Let me spam the dam button like they deserve!!!

The fanficcccccc she graduated and fuck it was BEAUTIFUL!!! Oh the imagery is still on point , the fairy is so effortlessly eerie, the way their golden hair caged him, that line, gave me shivers.

Crying screaming squeezing them

I love them I love them I love them so much, I hope Remus doesn’t eat Jaq, oh

I want them to do the air dance and Roman showing his trinkets just like at the ball but again under a more truthful light, I want Roman to sit and watch with sparkles in his eyes as Patton can finally tell him the proper stories that go along with each little thing, how his father got it for him, how his mother used to wear them and whenever he gets teary eyes Roman is right there with him to apologize for his own kind and their cruelty for ripping him away from his family, holding him close and crying just as much from pure aching empathy.

I want them to have their little consort wedding with Jaq in the littlest of bow ties, they are the most proper of best mice (instead of a best man) and I want Janus to just appear to give him away and Patton is so glad to see him while Roman is vastly confused (idk maybe they have like backstory, Janus might have a ✨reputation✨) but Patton is just so happy, telling him what happened, that the mean lady is gone and he fell in love and thanking his fairy snake father profusely for all he’s done and Janus shushes him and insists it was his pleasure, and then the wedding happens and it’s perfect and I don’t know maaaaayyyybbbeeee Janus ends up standing next to a particular bird man and they get into friendly talking and eventually a fairy chess match, which they bet little shiny trinkets on

Is Remus the thorn prince to Roman’s rose? I think he should be

I want to see more of him and Virgil as well, what happened with that? Oh I want to see Patton meeting the rest of the family, I want to see Roman finally being allowed into the human world and I want him to be there as Patton hopefully gets to see his father for the first time in so long and I want Roman to meet the same poet he met so so many years ago and I want that poet to write a poem just for him, the rose prince, once he hears the kind fairy found love and I want Roman to read it as he falls asleep and I also want bards across the human countries to sing their tales for years to come-

LET ME SEND MORE KUDOS DAMN IT

❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙

This fic was incredible, I loved every little bit of it, I swear you have so much talent it makes me go feral, my absolute favorite part was when Roman and Patton were in the woods and Patton was showing him what all the human trinkets did, I keep picturing Roman trying to touch the fire because he’s just silly like that <3

Thank you, so much 💚✨

oh my goodness! thank you so, so much for this wonderful ask 🥺🥺 i'm SO happy you enjoyed the ending, and the story overall! your comments and asks brightened up my day. I cannot overstated how grateful I am for that. i'll break this down into points so i can answer everything you said because aaaa ❤️🥺

very glad The Faerie's eerie vibe came across right. despite the … everything about her, and that she's despicable, I must admit I enjoyed writing her a lot. I guess evil can be fun (for me. not poor patton 😭) and I like that line too :)

your honour, I love them!! and I can promise that remus will not be eating jaq under patton's watch 😆 that's his little buddy

also, after moving to the palace patton makes a cozy little home for jaq <3

I promise the sweet moments and the hurt/comfort will be coming in the future!! patton will have a lot of things to grapple with, but roman will be there to support him in his journey of healing

ok i’m stealing the best mice idea that’s genius dgfghdsfgd they deserve a little bow tie 100% and I can say that I have plans in regards to the crowning ceremony! and they do include janus!

and without veering too close to spoilers, you got something right – janus does have a reputation in the palace, though roman is not particularly privy to it

logan and janus playing fairy chess, that’s a wonderful idea :)

I haven’t yet figured out what remus’ title was prior to being crowned – however, his nature connection is summer rain showers! it’s why roman at some point mentions that his hair always looks a little wet. his main title currently is duke of shadows, since his consort is virgil

we will see more of virgil yes!! :D unfortunately he couldn’t appear more in the main story, but we will see more of him. and patton will have a Time meeting all of roman’s siblings 😆 it will take a little bit of time until patton feels comfortable returning to the human world, but when they do I promise roman will have the time of his life lol! and about the other thing, I can say I have Plans

thank YOU so much!! you are too sweet I swear 😭 I’m receiving all the extra kudos in my heart <3 and I love that scene too, roman is silly and they are adorable ^.^

[fabuloustrash05]

Small opinion I had while showering: It could have been better if maybe they established Tiger Claw starting to see Shredder as a father figure or the closest person he can to a parental figure. Since Shredder took him in and gave him a place to stay and seems to have some kind of favoritism towards Tiger Claw. So him bringing Shredder back to life would make a bit more sense I guess?? Or even better, bring in Kitsune from the IDW comics. Something I decided to rewrite regarding the Kavaxas arc is that we finally get introduced to Kitsune. In IDW she works for the Shredder so her story is somewhat similar to the one in my version. She is a loyal helper and long time friend of Oroku Saki who also has various abilities and powers she obtained over the years. So she finds out about what happened to him and decides to avenge him and bring him back to life. I'm still working on her character but uhhhhh- seeing the crap she has done to Leo and the others in the comics, she is VERY unhinged in my 2012 version of her, is the lightest way I can put it- and to establish more of how unhinged she is and a terrible person in general and would definetely top some characters in the Pure Evil characters wiki she causes some of the worst psychological, mental, physical and emotional damage to the gang. Idk, just something I wanted to share with someone because I'm pretty passionate about my version of Kitsune in 2012- Wait that sounds like I love her for the damage she causes to the characters and all of the horrible things in general she has done... Yeah I love me some very deranged characters! ^^

I already have my own version of 2012!

I've talked about her a little bit on here, but basically she is Shinigami's mother and old friends with Splinter, Shredder and Tang Shen. As kids and teenagers they are a team, always hanging out together, but Kitsune left the group and did her own thing after getting sick and tired of Yoshi and Saki's rivalry. (note: she left before Shen married Yoshi)

Years later she has a fling which results in her being pregnant. The father of her child abandoned her so she raised her daughter, Shinigami, on her own (with the help of her mother aka Shini’s grandmother). Kitsune is a master of the dark arts and witchcraft, and she taught everything she knows to her little girl. Eventually, when Shini was around 7 years old, Kitsune reunited with Shredder and he offered for her and her daughter to join the Foot Clan. However, Kitsune is smart and a tricky woman. She knows Shredder only sees her and her daughter as pawns in his game, but she's willing to play along. That's what makes the game fun, right? The game gets even more fun when she meets Karai. Kitsune knows the truth that Karai is not Shredder's daughter as he claims. Ever since she first met Karai as a young girl, she knew just from a glance that she is Yoshi's child. Should she tell her? No. It would be more fun for Karai to figure it out on her own.

My favorite thing about my version of Kitsune though is her dynamic with Splinter. I'd say it's playful platonic flirtation. Kitsune constantly teasingly flirts with Splinter, which makes him uncomfortable. She does it out of her entertainment. She's not interested in him romantically, but the reaction Yoshi makes when he thinks she is is HILARIOUS to Kitsune.