#the dog drags robots

[mutalieju]

just transitioning would not fix Kendall Roy but becoming a rich lady in an agatha christie mystery who gets to dramatically faint when the lights come back on and there's a dead body in the dining room 100% would

[mar64ds]

I moreso find the bird segment as helpful for Robot to make it more easier for them to let Dog continue life with Tin, what with Robot encouraging the youngest bird to leave with its family, especially what happened before when they were afraid of Dog replacing them

Bird segment is very important even if it might seem a little out of nowhere at first, it's important that Robot makes a connection with someone else after Dog and before Rascal, and like you said it's a moment where they learn to let go of someone in their own terms, instead of how it suddenly happened with Dog

[muzzlemouths]

NO WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I made a quiz

find out now on short quiz

supportive

yummy

VERY LARGE

brian

[wttcsms]

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ you know i'll take you there

ᝰ.ᐟ shinsuke isn't too happy after your little escape attempt, and he makes it known. (fem!reader)

word count 2.5k content contains mating press, creampie, yakuza au, yandere themes, dubcon, praise kink, pet names (good girl), depictions of violence (not towards reader) author's notes sorry for lack of context; this is meant to take place after this fic concept

Shinsuke Kita doesn’t flinch when he pulls the trigger on a gun. 

The recoil doesn’t even register for him; when you do something for so long, eventually, it just becomes second nature. Like the mechanical movements you do when you brush your teeth, or the way you can tie your sneakers without having to actually look at the laces — shooting someone in the head is a mundane thing for Kita, for his line of work. He does it so often, has practiced it ever since he was a young boy, that what he does after is muscle memory. He removes the handkerchief from his suit and wipes the tiny splatter of blood that ended up getting on his cheek. He folds the sullied handkerchief neatly, tucking it away in the inner pocket of his suit. He makes sure the safety on his gun is in place, and he nods for Aran to drag the dead body away. 

When Aran takes his leave, the still-warm corpse in tow, the only people left in the room are Kita and a very scared young man. 

One of these men will be leaving this room, and the other will be hoping for a death as swift and merciful as the flawless execution Kita just delivered. 

“I told you there would be consequences,” Kita doesn’t taunt his victims. He’s not the type to do so. Cold and calculated — his own gang considers him to be a robot, and for the longest time, Kita agreed with them. But that was then, and this is now. Now, Kita has a reason to drag out his torture. Now, Kita understands what it’s like to find his very reason for existing. His purpose isn’t to lead one of the biggest yakuza families in the underground criminal world of Japan. His purpose is to devote his very being to you, and vice versa. 

So imagine how heartbroken he felt when he caught you trying to escape from the farmhouse he built for the two of you. And this man, a low-level runt in his group, had been foolish enough to give in and help you. 

“Please, sir, I wanted no part in the escape! She begged me, she—”

“She’ll receive her own punishment. I value fairness, after all.” Kita interrupts him, sounding as cold as the blood running through the young man’s veins. He’s frozen in fear as he tries to stammer out more excuses, more explanations, more promises to do better in the future but—

—there really isn’t much of a future for him. Not one that he’ll be happy to live in, at least. Kita is fair; having you slip away would have killed him internally. So now, Kita has to kill this man internally. Crush his spirit. Make him dream of death, dangle death in front of his face like a treat to a dog, but never, ever allow him such a kindness. 

(Kita is a fair leader, but very rarely is he kind. 

Kindness will get you killed. 

The boy dumb enough to help you — he’s kind.)

Kita retrieves a knife from one of the inconspicuous cabinets in this room. The fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling casts a warm glow over the both of them, but the blade of the knife reflects back the light, makes it shine in the poor boy’s face. He flinches. 

“Do you remember?” Kita asks him, turning the knife as if to inspect it from every angle. 

“Wh-what?” He stutters out, sounding breathless. He might be on the verge of a panic attack. That’ll make things messier than they need to be. 

“Do you remember what hand you used when you held hers?” Kita clarifies. He sounds calm, but the sight of another man holding your hand had him seething. Even now, it takes everything in him to not plunge the knife right into this young man’s heart, to twist the blade ‘round his insides, make him hurt like how Kita hurt when he witnessed it. 

“It was your left hand.” Kita answers for him. “Fortunately, you’re right-handed. Surely it won’t be too much of an inconvenience for you after I’m done sawing it off.” 

Kita’s chopped off a few fingers and one hand before, but never has he attempted to do it with a medium sized knife. A knife with a purposely dull blade. 

He smiles faintly. Sometimes, it can be fun to break routine and try new things.

You’re in bed by the time Kita returns home. He’s back later than he expects; it turns out, his little experiment with the dull blade is very, very messy. Maybe with practice, he’ll perfect that, too. That boy still has another hand to spare, after all. 

Feeling satisfied with himself, Kita starts humming gently as he makes his way to your shared bedroom. Before you, Kita never bothered making unnecessary noise. He rarely listened to music, but now—

The sting of your betrayal has lessened considerably. Kita isn’t even upset with you anymore. It’s normal for couples to fight and want to storm out on each other, but what matters most is that at the end of the day, he’s coming home to find you warming his bed. 

In his line of work, simple pleasures aren’t usually so sweet. 

You don’t stir when he joins you in bed, the mattress dipping just the slightest bit due to the sudden shift in weight, but he makes his presence hard to ignore, even in your slumber, when he presses his chest against your back, his lips nipping gently on the soft skin of your ears. 

You whine, your eyesight blurry as your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. You’re instantly aware of Kita’s body covering your own, and when he feels the subtle shivers of your body, the both of you know it’s not because of the chill of the air conditioner.

He makes a tiny grunt of disapproval. Even after all this time, you’re scared of him? Silly girl — he’d never do anything to hurt you. 

Well, nothing that would hurt you too badly. 

“Did ya have a good dream?” He asks you, breath warm against your ear. 

You swallow hard, not brave enough to shift your body. Ever since the truth came out, the fact that sweet Shinsuke is more than just an average overworked businessman but is a yakuza crime boss, things have never been the same between you two. Kita is nothing if not persistent, though. He still cuddles up against you, he still whispers sweet nothings in your ear, he’s still affectionate and downright loving in every action he does towards you. 

He knows not to expect an answer from you, especially when he plays with the bottom hem of your silk nightgown. “Wish ya would tell me what goes on in that pretty little head of yours.” 

You can picture him frowning; as perceptive as he is, you know that he prefers hearing your thoughts directly from you. 

“What happened to Goto?” You dare to ask, and the air seems to shift in your bedroom. 

Kita is gripping the soft flesh of your thighs, his hand large and imposing, rough with calluses and forever red with blood. You never really learn, you suppose, about how there’s a time and place for such questions. 

“Goto received his punishment.” Kita answers calmly, voice steady but cold. “And I nearly forgot about yours.” 

Liar. You want to call him out, but you at least have enough self-preservation to bite your tongue. As if Kita would ever forget. It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since your little escape attempt. 

Kita adores you, loves you, because in a world of greedy, nasty, spiteful little creatures, you are kind and caring and full of the sugary sweet goodness he’s always going to have a taste for. It’s why he’s not surprised when you ask him, 

“Is he… alive?” 

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Is that what you’re really worried about? Goto, over the broken heart of your husband?” 

When you don’t answer, Kita tightens his grip on your thigh, contemplating his next move, before he lets his hand travel to the apex of your thighs, his knuckles brushing against your bare cunt. He’s pleased to find out that you’re still his obedient, sweet girl, following his direct order of going to bed without a bra or panties. Some nights, he’s so tired, any excess fabric is a hindrance. 

“If you have a heart, you’ll tell me what happened to him.” You mumble, trying to ignore the way your body craves for Kita’s touch. Before the truth of his second life came out, you were an addict for him. No one has ever touched him the way he’s touched you, and even now, when you want to ignore him and try to remind yourself of what an awful person he truly is, you can’t.

There’s a traitorous part of your heart and soul that still longs for Kita, no matter the truth.

“It’s because I have a heart that I didn’t kill him.” Kita isn’t lying. The torture was for his pleasure, sure, but he knows how upset and inconsolable you would be if you felt like you were responsible for Goto’s death. The register of his voice lowers as he speaks again, though. His warning leaves you frozen in fear.

“If his filthy hands ever touch you again, I’ll kill him.” 

There are a litany of reasons why you find yourself in the position you’re currently in: wanting, waiting, whining for Kita. Fear, for one thing. You feel compelled to do whatever he wants, considering the sheer difference in strength and power between the two of you. But try as you might, it’s hard to ignore the tiny, nagging voice in your head that lulls you into a state of docile desire. Kita’s always taken care of you, right? You were in love with him, for fuck’s sake. And as you ride his fingers, content to wrap your warm, wet heat around three of his digits as he chuckles at your wanton display, that nagging voice reminds you that you still do — love him, that is. 

Three fingers buried deeply in the warmth of your cunt is enough to make you forget about the events leading up to tonight. He withdraws his fingers, much to your displeasure, and you whine out for him to continue with his ministrations before he shuts you up by forcing you to suck his thumb. You can feel the rough skin of his finger on your tongue, and you hollow your cheeks, treating this situation as if you were about to suck his cock, and your tongue laps at the pad of his thumb before he removes it from your mouth. 

Without any preamble, he’s back to burying his fingers into your pussy, his thumb — wet with your saliva — pressed firmly against your clit. 

“Do you wish it was my cock filin’ you up?” He grunts out, rubbing mercilessly against your clit as you continue to writhe against the bedsheets. Your cheeks feel warm, blood rushing up to your chest and face, and you bite down on your bottom lip, knowing your answer. A shameless, pitiful yes. 

“You’re so beautiful, so sweet, so kind.” In his world, kindness gets you killed. Kita’s no different from any other man in his line of work, and it’s why he’s ravaging you right now. Pumping his fingers in and out of your slick hole, making a mess of his fingers, of your pussy, of the bedsheets, of you. It’s why every time he brings you to your climax, you cum violently. You’re letting out a string of stuttered, fractured fucks mixed in with sharp intakes of breath and Shinsuke’s, and you buck your hips wildly against his fingers, pushing his digits even further in as you cum. 

With your mind hazy from pleasure, your brain scrambled from sleepiness and an intense orgasm, Kita wastes no time pouncing on you. There’s no chance for you to beg for him to wait, and you register that this must be your punishment.

Shinsuke is going to fuck you without any of his normal restraint.

He slides in your sopping wet cunt in one sharp thrust, burying his thick cock deep into your warm, snug hole. He likes having a routine, he likes having set boundaries and rules, he likes being a man of practicality. But right now, he’s fucking you like a wild beast. All you can do is just take it; take his relentless thrusts, his anger, his need to dominate you, to remind you who you belong to. 

“Open up.” He demands, his voice rough and thick with desire. You comply; it’s so easy, considering that you haven’t been able to hold back a single moan as he has his way with you. He spits directly into your mouth, watching the way his saliva sits on the surface of your pink tongue. He doesn’t need to command you to swallow, because you do, savoring the taste of him.

He makes you look him in the eyes as he fucks into you relentlessly. One hand is gripping your hip, practically crushing you as he pounds into your pussy. You’re so fucking wet that the sounds of him moving in and out of your cunt are so lewd, so loud. The inescapable burn of pain and pleasure, the sensitivity of your cunt having to endure his insatiable lust, has you moaning like a bitch in heat. 

“Shin— Shinsuke! G-gonna cum!” You squeak out, and it only motivates Kita to double down. He holds up your legs, your limbs burning from the stretch as he continues to get rougher with his movements. You’re looking at him with a dazed, fucked out expression, and he has the audacity to let out a chuckle. 

“There’s my good girl.” He praises you, spitting into your open mouth once more. 

With your legs trembling and the foggy haze of pleasure clouding your head, you greedily, happily accept his praise. Your legs press tightly against his sides, and with his spit in your mouth and his cock drilling into you with even sharper movements than before, you cum. 

Kita lets out a grunt of approval as he finishes inside of you, a load of hot seed pouring deep inside of you as he keeps your legs folded, his hips pressed against yours, as if he wants to plug you up with his cum. He kisses your forehead that’s glistening with sweat from the heat of his body colliding with yours; it seems the two orgasms he wrung out of you have taken its toll on your body. You’re a pliant, fucked out little mess — his pliant, fucked out little mess. 

“Good girl.” He murmurs sweetly. “I love you so much.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to say it back. He just pulls out his cock a bit before thrusting back into you. This action causes you to let out another long, drawn out moan. He’s absolutely relentless, and as tired as you are, you realize that you don’t want him to stop.

(Pity that you’re not capable of speech at the moment.

Because you would have told him that you love him, too.)

[comicbookddr]

the shot of the fucking robot dog dragging all of their expensive luggage lethargically in the background all while miles bron says "this isn't just a rich-asshole house!" stuck in my mind immediately and will stay there forever.

[laurentidal]

Leave It Open

Tiffany walked out of the hypnosis show, mind still reeling. Her friends were howling at all the things that the hypnotist had managed to make her do. She'd clucked like a chicken. She barked like a dog. She'd even done a pole dance without the damn pole.

Or so they said.

Tiffany herself had no real memory of the event. She remembered her friends goading her into volunteering for the show. She remembered walking up on stage and watching the hypnotist swing his watch in front of her eyes. She remembered that feeling as her mind got slippery and began to slide away from her control. The last thing she remembered was the hypnotist telling her that no matter what she needed to be open; she needed to open her mind to him and leave it open. Then she woke up back in her seat, groggy and confused and the center of attention.

They walked to the bar down the street as her three friends' laughs about the displays died off and the conversation moved to other things. Gina's ex-boyfriend drama and Molly's job. By the time they had sat at the bar, the topic of Tiffany's performance was all but forgotten. She handed her card to the bartender when she ordered her first drink and he asked if she wanted to just order the one drink or leave her tab open?

Something fluttered in the back of Tiffany's mind and for just a second, she wasn't Tiffany anymore. "Leave it open," she said automatically. The sentence was so short and the effect so minimal that no one noticed the change that had come over her, herself included.

One drink became two became three. The girls got a little drunker and a little louder and a little more animated. Tiffany stretched and a button on her top popped open, exposing more of her cleavage. Molly blushed slightly and gestured to Tiffany to rebutton her top. Tiffany looked down and felt that flutter again.

"Leave it open," she muttered softly as she waved off Molly dismissively.

The night dragged on and Molly ordered a ride for them. But something in the back of Tiffany's mind wasn't ready for the night to end. Nothing triggered her enough to bring the words to her lips, but when the car arrived to get them, Tiffany decided to stay at the bar. Her friends gone and the bar emptying out little by little, Tiffany took to chatting with the bartender who'd taken her card. Another of Tiffany's buttons had "accidentally" come undone as the chatting had turned to flirting. He wasn't as pure-of-heart as Molly was. He didn't suggest she cover up.

Finally, the curfew came, and the bartender locked the door, leaving the two of them alone.

"Leave it open," Tiffany said as the lock clicked, and he smiled.

"Can't do that, love." He walked over to her, her legs spread wide on the barstool. He placed his hands on her thighs, stepping between them. "You can leave these open, though."

"Leave them open," she echoed, just a little too robotically. Suddenly, the repeated phrase he'd been hearing all night from her and the conversation he'd heard from a couple other patrons about the hypnotist down the street seemed to click in his mind. He reached up and pulled open her shirt, exposing the lingerie underneath. It wasn't hard with how few buttons were still holding it.

"Do you want to cover up?" he asked, testing his theory.

"Leave it open." He swore he could see the light blink out of her eyes for just that moment.

He pulled on her chin lightly, causing her mouth to drop slack. "Leave it open."

"Leave it open," she said, slurring through her stuck-open lips. Drool began to leak slowly and seemingly unnoticed. Each time she repeated it, less of her seemed to return. Finally, he touched her forehead with his finger.

"Leave it open."

Her eyes finally went completely blank. Her eyelids drooped. Her arms went limp, causing the top that was hanging open to fall completely to the floor.

"My mind is open, Master."

The bartender let his eyes and his hands wander across her body. He'd been hoping he could take her home tonight since the minute she walked in. She'd been planning on letting him. But this made things just so much more interesting.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[apotelesmaa]

From @sakitenmaenjoyer

LITERALLYYY I was thinking abt him in the new event where he’s polite and caring and takes akito very seriously which like. He does take things seriously wrt tsukasa when the situation calls for it. But he turned on the Mature and Responsible personality which he very rarely pulls out with tsukasa.

Also I was struggling with articulating it but so true wrt the tsukasa dropping the big brother thing when he’s with rui. I think it goes understated that rui is like. Tsukasa’s only friend his age. tsukasa has his whole dependable older brother is the cornerstone of my personality/I am a responsible and reliable senior for younger students thing (even when the ppl he’s talking to are not much younger than him. Bc they’re saki’s age. so he’s still gonna feel responsible) so I feel like it’s rlly notable that he drops that (for the most part. Getting rid of it completely is impossible) with rui. It’s not a close friend thing either bc he still does the big brother thing with nene and emu. & I feel like this is also shown in pandemonium. he doesn’t really put on the responsible senior act with classmates/ppl in his grade however notably rui gets under his skin in a way that makes him act immature & get in trouble. again shown in pandemonium @ the pillow fight. which is entirely why I do not buy his “it’s all rui’s fault I’m known as a trouble maker he’s ruined my spotless reputation” spiel btw. like no tsukasa i think you escalate whatever rui is doing at least half of the time. “I’m taking responsibility for him” as if tsukasa is completely blameless here and is simply dragged against his will into rui’s evil machinations. Also as I have said. tsukasa. *you* choose to act like you’re attached to rui at the hip. nobody is making you hang out with him constantly at school tsukasa.

Tsukasa: I don’t know why people call *me* a trouble maker! I’m responsible! *Rui* is the one getting me in trouble with his crazy ideas!

Toya (believes this): I see…

Akito (dragged into talking with tsukasa by toya): stop hanging out with him then

Tsukasa (genuinely confused by this very reasonable suggestion): why would I do that? Also have you guys seen him recently. we’re supposed to eat lunch together.

+ side note I think like at least 80 of his 😑 expressions are aimed at rui although I’m sure emu has gotten that look a few times. The “rui is up to some shit again” expression. Every time rui says some dumb shit while going :3 and it cuts to tsukasa making that face I laugh. it is never not funny.

I feel like they’re very comfortable showing all sides of their personalities in full force with each other… They bring out sides of each other that don’t really come out around anyone else (at least not constantly. Nene/emu still get under tsukasa’s skin and rui will fuck with nene and scheme with emu). It just so happens that these sides/personality traits combine into a storm of stupidity that causes psychic damage on everyone nearby who hasn’t built up a tolerance through repeated exposure. Nene & Mizuki have already commented on how different rui is after meeting tsukasa but I desperately want to see saki & toya’s reactions to peak ruikasa stupidity. (Saki and toya watching the guy who prides himself on being their responsible older brother figure get so irritated with rui that his maturity has completely vanished while rui is just sitting there like :3c): I Know What You Are.

Absolutely wild to me every time I remember Rui is literally only Like That with Tsukasa. Nene who has known Rui forever going I made his candle this scent because he’s mature and Tsukasa going what the fuck are you talking about no he is not. With every other character he’s behaving within the range of nice kind polite boy & somewhat mischievous but wrt tsukasa he’s like I’m going to be as insane as possible. Full throttle on silly goose mode. Something something Tsukasa being the first person to tell rui “not only do I appreciate your crazy ideas and think they’re so cool but I actively encourage them and will not accept you holding back” and also be the first person rui has met who is just as much of an insane show freak as him. Esp after Rui having everyone avoid him because of his ideas/passion for shows. Tsukasa told Rui he was going to stick by him no matter what & will be matching his efforts -> he proves this in the Halloween event by getting hurt by one of rui’s inventions and then being like how dare you hold back on my account -> rui is like oh I can be as weird & insane as I want with this guy. & obv this is just as important to tsukasa who now has someone who is able to help him improve and go further with his passions in a way no one else can. Always thinking abt that scene where tsukasa was like I cannot grasp this android character and asahi was like that’s ok you’re fine as is dont worry and rui was like no actually you can do better. Worlds most intense director meets the world’s most intense actor and together they create a feed back loop of Stupid.

[revelboo]

REVELBOO!! Drop another chapter about Swindle/Tarn/Metroplex and my life shall be yours

Tarn first, but I’ll try to at least type up a Metroplex update if I’m not too busy at my day job today

L.G. Fuad Pt 3

Tarn x Reader

• “Leave it,” he growls, before shifting to step on the Pet’s trailing leash before the sparkeater can get to the little organic. Not at all amused when you dart around, grabbing onto his other ped and staring at the Pet with wide eyes as it lunges, jaws snapping. “I said leave it. Nickel?” Where is she and why do you think he’s your protector? “Go find Nickel,” he adds, sliding his ped to nudge you away and only succeeding in knocking you sprawling. Now those big eyes are offended as you look up at him, like he did it on purpose.

• Ow. Gingerly getting to your feet and rubbing your hip, you move closer to his ped again even at the risk of getting knocked away again. Because that slavering abomination is going crazy trying to get at you. It’s yet to actually hurt you, aside from tearing your skin with its awful teeth, but you’re not interested in getting dragged around like a rag doll, because you’re almost certain it thinks you’re a toy. The one with the lovely voice and mask is waving a hand at you, trying to shoo you and growling when you pointedly climb up on top of his ped and sit down, clinging to his ankle. Because whether he likes it or not, he’s safe. Cause, no way are you getting out of sight of him even if he really doesn’t like you touching him. The rest of them besides the small blue one are scary. Not to mention a couple of them had made a sound suspiciously like laughter the last time that dog thing had gotten ahold of you and hadn’t bothered to help while you’d screamed your head off.

• Venting tiredly, he gives up and start walking, ignoring your startled noise as those tiny hands cling to him to stay on top of his ped. The Pet running around his legs snapping at the organic, hearing you cry out when it manages to catch you with its teeth. Bending, he picks you up and tries to examine the injury with a servo. It doesn’t look too bad, but your little arm is leaking as you swat at his servo, little face scrunched up and eyes also leaking now. “Nickel?” He calls out again, before carrying you to medbay. “Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters as you shove at his servos when he tries to tug your arm away from where you’re clutching it to your body. Just a tiny little gash and it’s not like it was his fault. Spouting your alien gibberish at him, your shoulders slump and you finally let him carefully grip your hand between two servos so he can examine the wound, unsettled by the feel of those tiny bones.

• Freezing and not even breathing, you watch the optics behind the mask narrow and hope he doesn’t accidentally crush your hand. Muttering nonsense at you in the lovely rumbling voice, he releases your hand and you cautiously prod at the ragged, shallow gash in the back of your arm, wondering if you should be more worried about space rabies or tetanus. Shifting on your hip in his palm, you flinch away from those red optics when they slide to you again. Feel a servo touch the top of your head, sliding down your spine in a surprisingly gentle touch. Petting you like a little kitten, because you’re the same as that horror to him. A pet. Not at all surprised to realize he’s taking you to the little blue robot. Or when she starts fussing at him on sight when he bends and just dumps you on the floor in an inelegant heap, escaping both of you at not quite a run. You startle when the blue one gently examines your arm, still fussing from the sound of it.

• Striding back to his quarters, he knows you’ll be back sooner or later. You keep coming back to him no matter how many times he gets rid of you. Hating that part of him enjoys the soft warmth of you in his hands, the almost Cybertronian expressions you make at him when he talks to you, knowing you don’t understand him. And you seem to appreciate music, so you’re not a savage at least. Rubbing his servos together, he remembers the feel of those tiny bones shifting with the slightest pressure and knowing how easily it’d be to break you. And why does that thought bother him just a little bit?

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[colourstreakgryffin]

Can you do fizzaroli and asmodeus comforting their teenage adopted child after she/he/they had a rough day today?

Ooooh! My second Helluva Boss request, that’s so exciting! I can’t wait to work on some Helluva Boss! Let’s give some love to best Achillean couple!

Fizzarolli and Asmodeus- Ruby in the Rough

Fizzarolli is an energetic and somewhat crude man, that energy is also applied to his parenting style. He is caring and affectionate but also energetic and can accidentally be oblivious about his child’s problems with his jokester attitude. Though, he will make up for his mistake and unconditionally spoil his child rotten

Asmodeus, on the other hand, is the most doting and considerate parent of this pair. He’s more calm and a bit playful, though. He loves chatting and bonding with his child as often as he can, cuddling his child and can recognise every problem they may have instantaneously. He is one of the best comforters and huggers in Hell

Fizzarolli and Asmodeus, together as parents, as a married couple, as a father and father tag team, for their adoptive young teenage Hellhound daughter. You. A cute fluffy red fox-patterned and red fox-coloured Hellhound; Fizzarolli absolutely adores you and Asmodeus wants to squeeze your little cheeks

Asmodeus is the first one to notice his and his husband’s daughter’s distress. The way your fluffy tail is drooped and dragging on the floor, your voice is softer, your attention is averted. Fizzarolli, unintentionally, doesn’t notice your problems until his husband points it out

Then. As the usual wholesome doting couple they are, Fizzarolli and Asmodeus let you go to your bedroom and speak to one another in how they’ll approach comforting you. Of course, Fizzarolli offers buying you a gift whilst Asmodeus proclaims they should just raise up your self-esteem

And since they can’t decide inbetween each… they pick both

Fizzarolli barrages into your bedroom and basically throws a new phone case present into your lap whilst jumping up onto your bed to hug you as Asmodeus calmly sits down and hugs you right away after his husband, brushing through your hair gently with his mighty claws

After a bit, both fathers respond to hearing their precious fluffy Hellhound cry at her parents’ loving hugs. Crying in relief that both are immediately coming in to help you. You already feel so much better with both Fizzarolli and Asmodeus silently waiting for you to speak and hugging you

Of course… your problem is that people were mistreating you for being a Hellhound, a species of demons considered as meaningless animals, not as people. Asmodeus and Fizzarolli are already psychically speaking to one another on hiring assassins to kill the demons daring to harass their beloved little gemstone

“T-they… he was just so rude” You mumble out gently, long dog-like snout pressed into Asmodeus’ mighty big feathery chest whilst he holds both you and his husband, Fizzarolli to him whilst Fizzarolli keeps his thin but metallic robotic arms coiled around his hellhound baby girl like rope tied around your waist. His long imp tail wagging, Asmodeus couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath at seeing his imp lover so excited to hold their child, even when she is so upset

Asmodeus then whispers out, his dark blue beak slightly brushing over your soft hair, inbetween your tall fluffy red fox-like ears. Fizzarolli is mainly there for physical support, having the right as your upbeat and cheering up father whilst Asmodeus is the King of Lust and the king of Emotional Support, speaking for the both of the parents

“Darling. Whatever those fools said. They are wrong, you’re not ugly, you’re not a useless gross canine, you’re not a pet. You’re a beautiful, unique young lady that deserves all the love and admiration in the Lust Ring”

Just hearing Asmodeus’ smooth, silky and comforting voice alongside Fizzarolli’s warm big hugs is a one-two punch of extreme love to your heart and make all the dread, heartbreak and image problems wash away… well, mainly all of it. Though, both can sense when you’re not fully happy and both are still hugging you. The Sin holds both his husband and his daughter to his chest whilst the Imp snuggles his daughter in his husband’s hold

“I-I… I’m not a flea-ridden gross mangy mutt?” You ask gently, almost like a little child. Not even like a fourteen year old. It’s precious, both dads’ hearts are melting and Fizzarolli openly expressing how cute he finds their daughter with a soft ‘awww~!’ under his breath, even with his deep raspy voice. Asmodeus then nods and speaks gently again

It doesn’t take a big pep talk for this dads to cheer up their child from any problems she has

“Never, babygirl. You’re gorgeous, you’re talented, you’re filled with loveable joy and you have much ambition. You’ll slap down those fools when you become successful”

As soon as Asmodeus finished, Fizzarolli chimed in. Unable to stop himself from stating what’s on his mind and what he’d considered comfort. Asmodeus doesn’t really mind and your fluffy long tail flicks in curiosity at your Papa for what he wishes to add in to his husband’s truthful statements. As classic Fizzarolli fashion; it’s energetic, playful and a bit silly but passionate

Both promise they will make sure you’re successful, wealthy and beloved when you’re a fully grown adult

“You’re warm as well! People should be pouncing on you for snuggles and affection, rosydoll”

[dirksawesomesprites]

editing / fixing sprites + my headcanons

Part 1: Beta Lowbloods

Aradia Megdio

without bag

with bag

dead

she uses she/they and is demigirl and bisexual. her horns are covered in a layer of dust from scavaging for fossils and living in an underground hive. she wears a messanger bag that she uses to keep all of her fossile hunting materials and other things. she uses the fossils to decorate her hive and shes goth (original i know). her matesprit is sollux and her moirail is feferi.

Tavros Nitram

he uses he/him and is a cis guy (just is slightly feminine) he is mlm/gay. he loves fairycore and his favourite dog breed is a golden retriver (speficially the human version dave showed him, not alternian.) his robot legs will occasionslly malfcution, causing them to either get locked in place, squeak loudly, or get sticky joints. dave constantly has to call dirk over to fix his legs. his matesprit is dave, moirail is gamzee, and he has a black crush on gamzee (not very "black" though, mostly a "i can fix him" mentality but it ends up being "i can fix him but itll make me worse in the prossess) type stuff. its a pale leaning black thing.

Sollux Captor

he uses they/he/she and is bisexual and bigender (original i know but its kinda funny concidering my headmate with a sollux source is bisexual and bigender so im stealing that). hes emo and has a johnnie guilbert shrine in his hive he swears is ironic. he is colour blind (blue colour blindess specifically) so he sees voilet/purple as a ugly brown thats why he calls eridan ugly so much. he plays the synthesizer. hes double jointed and likes to gross his friends out with it. his shoes were orignially both white but he lost the second one but was too lazy to find it so he just wears the same brand shoe but different colours. theyre vans shoes. his matesprit is aradia , his moirail is dave , his kismesis is eridan , and his auspistice is karkat.

Karkat Vantas

he uses they/he, theyre nonbinary / transmasculine (has top scars and is technially transmasc but is also nonbinary i dont know if im saying this right) and is unlabeled for sexuality (they kiss guys but is unlabeled take with that what you will) they are punk even if they dont particualerly dress like it. their sweatpants are too big and their sweater is too small / tight so theyre a small gap of stomach showing. he purrs when happy, sleepy, or comfortable. when he gets scared their voice cracks and squeaks. when theyre alone listening to music in their hive hell jump around bouncing off stuff pretending to play the guitar and screaming / singing at the top of his lungs to the song. his matesprit is gamzee, his moirial is eridan, his kismesis is dave, and they aupistice for eridan and sollux.

Nepeta Lejion

she uses she/meow and is girlflux, catgender (original i know), grey romantic, and asexual. when she paints on her shipping wall she tends to get paint all over her and it has since stained her jacket. she has had her hat since she was very little and its very streched out and worn. same with her tail as its not part of her, it drags on the ground behind her and gets dirt, sticks and leaves caught in it most of the time. she likes to play the xylophone, read warrior cats, and play animal jam with equius. she purrs when she his happy / sleepy / comfy like karkat. her matesprit is feferi and her moirail is equius.

[atla-what-is-this-site]

Voltron Bloopers

*Keith is standing holding half of his bayard in front of a sentry* *off camera*: Keith what happened?

Keith, sadly: it broke

————————

Shiro: y’all

*cut* Shiro: y’all

*cut* Shiro: Yoll?

*cut* Shiro: you’ll

*cut* Shiro: y’all- fuck, PALADINS!!

————————

*scene being filmed between Allura and Coran* Coran: ya know, your father put this handy dandy hologram into the ship so you could talk- *shiro screams off set* Allura: what the fuck was that?

Keith, appearing just on set, using two pieces of armor to trap a spider: where’s the back exit again?

————————

*Allura glaring at Keith* Keith, with his most innocent eyed expression: princess

Allura, looking away: shit i can’t do this

————————

Lance, angrily: I’ll stick you in a-

Keith: *laughing*

Lance, also laughing: stop you’re contagious!

—————————

Shiro, looking at Keith’s conspiracy board: what is

Shiro, elbowing Lance in the face: THIS- shit Lance you ok?

—————————

Pidge: I programmed this robot to- what did I program it to do again?

————————

*During “the journey”* *Shiro is strapped to the table* *Kosmo runs in and leaps up onto Shiro’s chest* Shiro: aww who’s a good boy? *pulls arm out of restraint to pet him*

Handler, rushing to drag the dog away: dammit Kosmo not again

————————

Hunk: so Pidge, what’s your favorite food?

Hunk: *opens cabinet*

Matt, working on his newest coding project in the cabinet: oh hey guys

Pidge, perfect deadpan: I guess you could say he was in the closet.

Director: get out of the closet, Matt

Matt: I’m bi

Director: NOT LIKE THAT

Hunk: Matt get off the set

————————

Coran: you ever heard of a Red tailed fishmonger?

Pidge: oh yea my brother’s one

Coran: a giant sentient mammal?

Pidge: a furry who likes fish

————————

*lance gets into the Blue Lion* *barbie girl starts playing* Lance: 🎶oh I’m a Paladin in a giant lioon🎶

————————

[seat-safety-switch]

Every time it gets even a little bit cold, those turncoat geese slap themselves into a vee formation and start heading for the southern border. This kind of disloyalty is why geese have a bad reputation. Admittedly, it could be the hissing, biting, and swarming, but I value fealty above all other virtues in life.

Without the geese around, the river near my place gets kind of lonely. During the summer, it's chock full of their honking, biting madness, and I like to pretend they are like my little pets. Vicious, unrelenting pets that have no qualms about assaulting dogs, toddlers, and that one robot the police use to harass the unhoused. Once I saw it slip on some fresh green swan shit and roll into the river, but that's an entirely different story.

As with all Canadians, my entire existence between the months of September and June is dedicated to pretending it is not actually winter. I began to suspect last year, sometime around my 36th snow-shovelling of the day in late March, that the geese leaving is what caused the snow to happen. I had to test it, and to do so I violated several of my country's rules about migratory waterfowl (RCMP: please stop reading several sentences ago.)

Here's the thing about geese: they don't like it when you try to trap them in a big net. This is understandable, because I have experience with that kind of thing (failed goalie in under-10 soccer at the behest of my dad's work friend,) and I also did not like it. And if you drag them all the way to the backyard and try to keep them in there with an elaborate anti-flying net on the fence, they just get angrier and angrier. I expected that part, but I did not expect them to summon more geese.

The good news is that I survived. Despite the relatively poor integrity of my home's superstructure, it remained mostly intact. The fence is wrecked, sure, but that's why I didn't use my own backyard. When the neighbour gets back from vacationing in the tropics, he'll be pretty pissed at having to rebuild a fence and patio that were entirely demolished by insanely mad birds. That's what you get for trying to deny the reality of Canadian winter though, buddy. There's always consequences.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Since you open ask box and request, can I get TF141 men (or Ghost and Gaz if you don't feel like to write all of them) reacting to cool, rarely smile, intimidating and stoic reader finally smiling for the first time. Let's say reader has soft spot for certain things (cat, dog, book, flower etc) and they immediately smile when they see them without realize it. Boys just keep falling harder for reader and decide to make it their mission to make reader smiles more often.

I guess that's all for now. Thank you

🦈

hello🦈 anon!! Sorry I wasn't sure you want me to write them separately or together, so I chose the latter lmao. Hope you will like it (or don't hate it), TYSM for the request :) I love this request so much since I'm always a fan of cool reader. tf141*GN!Reader, Reader's kinda tsundere word count: 1.9k

Every member of Task Force 141 saw you as a capable teammate, you went through thick and thin with them, and always have their back. On the field, your shooting accuracy and excellent combat skills saved you and the team many times, quickly clearing any threat so the mission wouldn’t be compromised. You have rarely been scolded by Price, and always dealt with your paperwork impeccably. The only problem was that you’re too stoic, they never saw you smile from the first day you joined the task force. More like a robot than a human, this is how others evaluated you, and you had an aura that made recruits afraid to speak to you.

You even smiled less than Ghost, at least the man still got some dry humor and bad jokes to spit out, but you rarely reacted to greetings except a nod, less to say about Soap and Gaz joking with you, they were lucky if you spared them a crook of your eyebrows to their teasing that day. but this only made your teammates curious —especially Soap — eager to know the person under the facade, even if it was just a little. Soap wrote down what he discovered from you every day in his journal, from how you always have your tea, to trivial habits like you would frown nearly imperceptibly when you see the cafeteria is out of your favorite sandwich. Soap would tell other men about what he finds about you today, and they would keep those details in mind too. Until the day, Laswell brought a big cake which she was gifted by others but she was unable to finish it herself. They saw your eyes brighten instantly, and an expectant smile blooms on your face. Your eyes stuck on the exquisite big cake in front of you, not aware of Gaz gaping at your smile like he saw the sun rise from the west today, how Price immediately stopped his hand while smoking his cigar so he could take a good look, even Ghost’s eyes were wide like full moon behind his mask. It wasn't until Soap’s yelp that dragged you out of your trance, and you turned around just to find all your teammates staring at you like you were an alien. “Any issues, MacTavish?” Confused, you asked Soap who made you stop staring at the cake. “You- You can smile?” “Did I?” “Well, let’s finish this quickly so it won’t left over to tomorrow” Price raised his hand to interrupt the talk before Soap could say other things “The fridge has no place to put this bloody huge cake.” After Price’s command, all of you walked and took a plate and fork. Price sliced a medium size for him, Ghost did the same. Soap took the knife and sliced a slightly bigger one for him and Gaz, but when he was about to cut one for you, you reached out your hand to beckon a “give me” gesture, which Soap obliged and handed over the handle to you. Only for him to see you slice 1/3 of that damn enormous cake and put it on your plate. “Wha- ye sure ye can eat all of ‘em ?!” His jaw dropped at the huge slice of cake that made the center of your paper plate sink, but only received an “huh” face from you. Well, his concern was unneeded, because you devoured the whole thing in 5 minutes, faster than everyone else, and stood up to cut another piece. “you really like cake ain’t you.” Gaz chuckled at the scene where you almost bury your face in the plate. “No.” “Then why are you smiling like a kid who sees their favorite toy?” Frowning, you touched your cheek to check, and oh shit, you truly were. “I-“ your face changed from :D to :| while you tried to find an excuse “It’s just Captain said that don’t leave the cake overnight, so I’m eating this much, not that I love cake.”

Even though your poor excuse, all of them knew their new goal now: bringing you cakes so they could see the pretty smile enthralled them. The first who brought you cake is Ghost, he saw a strawberry shortcake on his way back to the base, he didn’t think twice before he told the staff to wrap the cake for him. and he was sure his decision was right when he showed it to you, and you two sat in the common area. He drank the tea you made for him as appreciation while watching that pretty smile reappear on your face again. “Look who said they don’t love cakes, and eatin’ like a man who haven’t eaten in days now.” He lifted his mask to his nose to drink the tea, so when you shot him a glare, you could see the smirk spreading on his lips. “You bought it and I don’t want to waste it, that’s it.” you stabbed the fork on the cake. Ghost huffed out a laugh at your answer, but when you went back to swallow a full spoon of whipped cream, he took note in his mind to buy you the chocolate mousse he saw at the store next time, so the precious expression.

Gaz bought you an Earl Grey mille crepe cake a few days after, which was the flavor of your favorite tea. “It’s it good?” He gave you a toothly grin that you thought was too dazzling when the “not bad” slipped out your lips whilst you were busy finishing the cake. He sat beside you and ate the slice you cut for him, and he rambled about what happened today to entertain you. You pretended you were not interested, eyes never left the cake, but you memorized everything he said clearly.

Of course, Soap wouldn’t forget to dig into this breakthrough of yours. A big ‘they love CAKES!’ was written in his journal, with 2 circles highlighting the words. He considered you have eaten crepe cake and shortcake from Ghost and Gaz, so he got you a basque cheesecake. “What is this?” You tilted your head when you opened the take-out box. “basque cheesecake. Heard it from the medics.” Soap watched you attentively take a little bite at the cake, and he laughed when your face beamed up in a second. “Not bad?” He knew you just refused to admit you love cakes. You answered with your cheeks stuffed with cheesecake. “NAOW BAA” After he waved goodbye to you, he came back to his barrack, he opened his journal. a big ‘Basque cheesecake ✔️’ had been added under the circles.

The captain hadn’t let the chances to see your face gleam with happiness slip by too. As usual, you came to his office with a flawless report, and for some debrief about the next mission. When it was over and you were about to leave, he called your name to stop you from exiting. “Is there anything I forgot to tell you, Captain?” Your face was serious, without any improper or unprofessional, but it didn’t last long because Price took out a fresh cream Swiss roll. “You’re going to drool all over your shirt, sergeant.” He teased and received a little scowl from you, but the harmless scowl was unable to stop him from fixating on and mesmerized by the satisfied grin that lingered on your face when you made both of you some tea and started consuming the whole roll.

You got pampered by all 4 men of your team for months. Thanks to the high amount of exercise, you didn’t gain belly fat, and getting lots of cakes from them had you started gifting them things too. You got Ghost some nice whiskey when you came back from leave, which he gladly accepted and invited you to drink together. You gave Soap some snacks from your hometown and stationeries for journaling, and almost get squished into a dough by his tight embrace. Gaz got some game cards from you, and when he surprisingly asked you why you knew he wanted those games for a while, you just shrugged and walked away, there was no chance that you were gonna tell him you had been listening to him and Soap chatting about them. Price entered his office one day morning, and saw his box of favorite cigars and tea being placed on his desk. He realized it was you in the blink of an eye, only you would choose to secretly put gifts and refuse to leave a note indicating who you were. He just patted your head and thanked you when he met you in the training room.

Times flew fast when your life was occupied with missions and training (and cakes). Tonight you went out for a while to buy something for your teammates, since they still insisted on feeding you cakes frequently, recompensing them with gifts they loved had become your habit too. but when you searched from the common room to Price’s office, you couldn’t find any of them. Odd, you thought, you hadn’t heard them leaving the base too, you even searched each of their room, which still lacked their figures. Furrowing your brows, you decided to go back to your room, maybe you could give them tomorrow. What you didn’t expect was when you opened the door of your room, you were welcomed by Soap and Gaz’s exciting voice. “Happy birthday!” “Jesus… I was searching for all of you…” Your eyes rounded “Wait… It’s my birthday today?” “Don’t tell me ye didn’ remember!” Soap, who standing closest to you and with a birthday cake, shoved you playfully with his elbow. “I…” You glanced at the calendar hanging on your wall, unable to form words when you realized it really was your birthday today. “Come take a seat, love.” Price’s words help you fill the silence. You slowly closed the door behind you, and your gaze traveled from the elegant cake, the flames dancing on the candle, to your teammates — the people you trusted with your life. “A cake makes you stupid, sergeant?” You heard Ghost chuckle at your reaction, but you didn’t glower at him this time, because you felt tears welled up in your eyes, uncontrollably. “Oh no, lovie’s going ta cry!” Gaz joked at you while he led you to your seat. You blinked away tears before they could escape, and smack at Gaz’s bicep. “Shut up, Garrick.” The laughs and jokes filled your little room with joy, you sat there listening to Gaz and Soap banter with Ghost about how he was so selective about the cake so they could give you the best one, and as Ghost retorted back, a plate was handed to you. The biggest slice among others, full of whipped cream and fruits decorating it. You picked up the fork and started eating, the sweetness spread inside your mouth, with the fruit neutralizing it and taking the taste to a whole other level. “Ye always smile when ye eatin’ cakes, you know? really like cakes don’t ye?” You raised your head from the plate, and finding everyone looking at you, with such softness you questioned yourself if you were able to reciprocate, and you touched your cheeks, you could feel the corner of your lips curling upwards. but this time, you deepened your grin, warm and fascinating, before you picked up your fork again. “Maybe I do.”

[fear-is-truth]

peter maximoff oktoberfest headcanons

a/n : for @delusional-fantasising … did a lil research about “oktoberfest” but pls do not hesitate to lemme know if any mistakes are made ! xo

doesn’t want to wear traditional bavarian attire at first, but the second he sees you in a dirndl, he’s in.

you have to keep fixing his suspenders because he wears them too loose and keeps complaining that they’re slipping.

peter’s favourite event is the wiener dog races. he’s practically vibrating with excitement, dragging you to the front of the crowd to get a good spot.

he names each dog as they line up. “look at that guy—he’s definitely a ‘frankfurter fury.’ oh, and that one? ‘bratwurst bandit.’”

his commentary during the race like, “go, little buddy, run for glory!”

secretly tries to bribe one of the racers with a piece of sausage he swiped from a food stall.

“look at him, babe,” peter exclaimed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he pointed at a tiny dachshund in a hotdog costume. “that little dude’s got the heart of a champion.” you rolled your eyes, tugging on his arm to keep him from leaning too far over the railing. “peter, you can’t get this emotionally invested in a dog you just met.”

“too late,” he crowed, eyes glued to the starting line. “i’ve already picked my winner. frankfurter fury’s taking it all.”the race began, and peter immediately started screaming, “run, buddy! don’t let bratwurst bandit catch up!”

peter doesn’t drink much, but he loves the beer tents—live music, cheering, and general chaos.

challenges you to a beer stein holding competition, dramatically flexing and pretending it’s a life-or-death battle. loses because he gets distracted by someone walking by with a huge-ass pretzel.

he’ll pull you onto the dance floor, spinning you around and making exaggerated dance moves that resembles a mix of running man and robot.

at one point, he grabs your hands and dips you dramatically, nearly falling over in the process.

peter insists on trying every ride. yes including the kiddie rides like bumper cars. he puts his gamer skull to use—ramming into other riders like a total maniac.

the two of you end up on a ferris wheel. he gets uncharacteristically quiet, fidgeting a little before blurting, “you know, this is nice. you’re, uh…you’re really pretty with the lights and stuff behind you.”

peter has a mission to eat one of everything. giant pretzels, bratwurst, roasted almonds—he’s juggling snacks in both hands and still stealing bites of yours.

“sharing is caring,”

buys you a lebkuchen heart that says “ich liebe dich” (“i love you”) on it

“you’re gonna finish that, right?” peter asked casually, eyeing your bratwurst like it was the last one on earth.

“maybe,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “…why?”

“no reason,” he chirped, leaning against the nearest table. but the moment you looked away, the bratwurst disappeared from your hand.

“peter!”

he was already halfway through it, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk as he leaned against a food stand. “mhm what? you weren’t eatin’ it fast enough.”

you crossed your arms, glaring at him. “fine. next time, i’m not sharing.” “babe, c’mon,” speeding back to your side, peter kissed the corner of your mouth, and when he pulled back, he was smirking. “you’ve got something on your lip.”

you reached up to wipe it, but he stopped you, brushing his thumb across your lip instead. then he licked it clean with a satisfied hum. “what would you do without me?” he teased, handing you a new bratwurst he’d probably swiped.

“…probably eat in peace,”

peter is obsessed with all the kitschy oktoberfest souvenirs. you got matching hats with a feather tucked in it. he buys a cuckoo clock as a “totally practical” souvenir.

peter doesn’t just win at carnival games—he fucking destroys them. he plays ring toss, dart games, and shooting galleries. “here, hold this,” he says, dumping a giant stuffed bear into your arms. when you ask if he’s showing off, he just smirks. “nah, i’m just naturally awesome.”

peter isn’t usually one to stay still, but he loves sitting on the curb with you to watch the colourful parades.

when the candy-throwing starts, peter uses his speed to catch as much as possible, stuffing it into his pockets to “keep for later.”

[hughiecampbelle]

Devoir (Will Graham Oneshot)

Character/s: Will

Word Count: 1,672

A/N: Just a fic for fun :) Heavily inspired by the books I'm reading atm where the mundane is so pretty. I just love this type of dynamic. A relationship that's so complicated and yet so simple, it can never be put into words. Maybe it's a little boring, lol, but I'm really happy with how it turned out!!!! I am still only on s1 so this might be awful. I'm currently in bed with vitamin c drink and soup waiting for my body to stop hurting, but I will be getting back to regularly scheduled content asap. Feedback is always appreciated! 💕

The lamp beside the bed is turned on, spilling a warm, yellowed light across the bedroom. His pillows thin, his sheets rumpled, the room undisturbed. To the naked eye, or perhaps a stranger, it’s as if someone used to live here. Someone with little presence decided, on a whim, they were done. It was time to disappear. Leave no trace aside from an unmade bed. A ghost. It could be anyone’s room, anyone’s bed. But you know better. There are traces of him everywhere. A breadcrumb trail you have no choice but to follow. He leaves his glasses on the nightstand, unfolded, easily accessible. In moments of panic, of great pressure or fear, his fingers smudge over the lenses. You can see it, the fingerprints, the haze through the glass, as you have watched him before wiping them on the hem of his shirts nervously. Feverishly. The sheets, an off-white, are worn and drag over the side of the bed. He had pulled himself from another night of unrest. Heavy limbed, moving with great effort and little thought. Robotic. A struggle. A fight to remain upright and punctual. The duvet thrown across the bed in a final effort to clean up, to maintain presentation. Respect. Can’t let you know he doesn’t make it and even loathes it, for it mocks him. Another night he will spend not in it, but in the cold, his skin pale and screaming. A single sock without its twin rests beneath the bed frame, deep enough in the underbelly where you might have even missed it. The other must be lost within the blankets or in the dryer. Somewhere where it cries for its partner. He wears them to bed, but cannot sleep with them on. This you know from the long walks back home: he is always barefoot. His life is gore, but his bedroom is not. Neither is it a mystery. It’s another crime scene of course. This time though, he is neither killer nor victim, but the weapon itself. Serrated edges and sleepy eyes. 

You set down your things softly, afraid any louder and something about the moment will crack wide open. Turn to shards and puncture through your skin. Outside the snow soaks up the sound. It’s eerie, this quiet. Even the dogs, downstairs, sleep soundly. You wait, listen, but there is no creaking of the floorboards, no scratching of nails or padding of paws. They are all resting, huddled around the heater. The dark of the woods remains an invading force. You wonder if that’s where you’ll find him tonight. Or, as of recently, in the open road, the door left wide open. You can hear through the walls, just down the hall, the shower water running. Muffled by the closed door, you imagine it. Him. Stripping from his blood drenched clothes. Letting them fall. Unable to think clearly, think forward, stepping into the scalding water. You washed off what you could in the kitchen sink. The water is red at first, and then pink and gummy. Apologizing for staining the dish rag. Specks of red seep into the decorated fabric. Don’t worry about it, he says. Assuring you he’ll be right back. To get comfortable. Undressed, he means, though it’s not like that. These imaginations are merely clinical. Casual, though not sexual. You and Will, you’re. But not. Of course you care for him. As he does for you. 

You packed light, just enough to get by. An overnight bag. A set of work clothes. You plug in your phone, the charger, leaving it on the left side of the bed. It’s become yours, though there is no official label. He on the right, you the left. Items you pull from the bag, leave folded in piles. Unbuttoning your shirt, pulling off your pants. The badge you wear settled neatly on top. You dress with little briskness. There’s a kind of stillness here, in his home, one that puts your mind at ease. The water is still running. You wonder if he hums to himself or if the silence is welcomed. In a smaller bag your toiletries. He has a toothbrush for you. It sits beside him in the container. More and more you spend here. Not inviting yourself, rather being invited. No expectations: you’ve always got a choice in the matter. But the stillness, the scent of fur and fabric softener, the coffee waiting for you in the kitchen and, of course, the toothbrush. All things that draw you here, to him. The less obvious, too. The secrets hidden from everyone, but you. But him. The sleepwalking. The nightmares. The gasping, heart pounding from dreams you wish to forget. You have your reasons for company and so does he. The water stops. You can hear the shower curtain drawback. Picturing him standing on the mat, towel wrapped around his waist, steam enveloping around him. Wipe the mirror. 

He appears minutes later, dressed, his hair disheveled and still damp. Are you comfortable? Yes. Good. Throw everything into the laundry basket. You excuse yourself, bag in hand. The bathroom is warm, the walls bloated, and it smells of him: the sharpness of his aftershave, the softness of his soap. When you return, your mouth tasting of spearmint, your skin washed and dried, you find him in bed, book wide open. The wind howls in the night, the dark settling over the skyline earlier each day. It whistles through the trees, knocking sweetly with her branches. He looks up momentarily before a small smile appears, turning his attention back to the story, as if remembering you again, remembering yes, you’re here after all and he, momentarily, is no longer left alone with the night ahead. Feeling your presence made the idea of sleep easier to swallow. You climb in beside him. You wonder if this will play out like the others. His arms laced around you, his hands knotted, clinging for reasons he has yet to explain. Your head on his chest, rising and falling with his breath. The deep sleep you will slip into. A temporary blackness before the day plays out on its own: the blood, the skin, the rot. Waking up with a startle. Alone. Not bothering to call out for him. He is long gone. Wandering. Finding your coat and shoes, the dogs at your feet, a tripping hazard, equally as disheveled. They spill out into the night while you search for signs. Clues. Footprints. Something to tell where he’s headed. Wandering in the open road, thankful the rest of the world is not yet awake. 

You’ll walk him home, a blanket thrown around his shoulders, your voice low and steady. The sun will rise around you, the sky in its warm pinks and bright oranges. You’ll coax him into bed where he will lay, but not sleep, until your alarms go off in sync. Insist he should stay a few more minutes, but when you disappear to wash and dress he will head downstairs. Feed the dogs. Pour coffee from the pot into dual mugs. Your fingers will touch as he hands it to you, shyness blooming from the apples of his cheeks. In life, you do not touch. The affections you share are small, minute, sheer enough for no one to notice. It is in the evenings, the dead of night, when the moon is full and bright that you are unashamed of your neediness, the both of you. Holding and needing to be held. You’ll drive separately. Speak little, if at all, of your lives outside of work. Share a bed and a coffee pot, but that is all. You’ve asked before, if he describes these times with you to Hannibal. He never mentions your name, your presence. Call him a liar. Joking only a little. He shrugs his tired shoulders. He can probably smell you on him, and yet he has nothing to say. No leading questions, no assumptions. Your interactions with one another are minimal. Besides, these times together are innocent. Platonic. Someone to be there not to clean up the pieces, but gently sweep them up and leave them in a pile to be placed back together. The affections you feel towards him are more complicated than you’d like to admit, though as time goes on, you sense everyone in his life feels contradictions about him, juxtapositions they can’t quite explain. You love him as he loves you, but this love isn’t the specific kind others kiss into their partners mouths or fuck their way out of. You’re not sure if there are any words that could describe what you feel. You have more important matters to take care of, anyways.

Thank you, Will. You say while the steam warms your skin and the smell, like home, wraps itself around you. Standing in the kitchen, lingering though you know you should be pulling on your coat, placing your badge where everyone can see. It sits lazily on the table between you, beside the milk and sugar. Of course, he always responds. Of course. Of course. Of course. Like he wouldn't dare do otherwise. You wait, quietly, watching one another, perhaps waiting for the other to speak first, though neither of you do. The clock is ticking. The dogs, now fed, are hopeful you’re staying to play, to skip work and spend the day with them. How you want to apologize for the ways in which you’re misleading them. His glasses fog up and you can’t help but smile. His expression cracks, the mold crackling, until the corners of his mouth turn upwards. Finally, you hear your own voice breaking the silence. We should get going. Of course, he says, the two of you cleaning off the table, careful not to get in the way. Thank you for, he starts, referring to the long walk home in the early morning, the awkwardness of finding him in his boxers, the vulnerability of his heartbeat in your ear, but you stop him. Of course, Will.

Of course.

[britishassistant]

Okay, going on with the Ultimate Villain Idea, Yuu eventually gets home pretty drained and each Villain boss separately has the idea to give Yuu a pamper day...only they can’t let their Villainous Reputation be tarnished, so they each “Kidnap” Yuu for a day.

Cue bad acting on from some of the sect members and them saying that this wasn’t planned. They just happen to see Yuu on the street. No the preprepared meals were just extras from dinner. No, Leona just so happened to kidnap Cheka and wasn’t because Cheka saw the news and was crying to see Yuu.

The only one who doesn’t “kidnap” Yuu is Malleus who is just shows up one day asking if they want to go for ice cream with the Diasomnia Sect. The public fears Malleus enough to assume it’s a hostage situation

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Yuu wakes up the next day feeling drained, bruises on their arms and around their middle so deep they’re surprised the skin hasn’t broken overnight.

They’re wincing as they lever themselves up from the couch and as they pull on the softest button up they have, the loosest jeans that are still work appropriate. They cringe as they think about how much it’s going to cost to repair the wall in their bedroom, let alone clean all the rubble from their bed and floor. They hobble to the door gingerly, wishing not for the first time that they had more hours of sick leave to use.

They open it to see rookie minions (and Grim) from nearly all the supervillains across the city standing on their doorstep, clearly mid-whispered argument.

“Yuu.” Deuce says, disappointed puppy-dog eyes big and sad.

“I told you!” Ace insists, stabbing a finger in their direction. “I told you that the big lug wasn’t lyin’! This overcompensating moron—!”

“Yuu.” Epel says, disappointed puppy-dog eyes lethal.

“I don’t know what this is.” Yuu says as they try to close the door only to find Sebek’s foot now wedged in the jamb. They have a fire escape by the hole in their bedroom, it’ll hurt but they can head out that way. “So I’m just gonna go—”

“Yuu.” Jack rumbles, arms folded and one eyebrow raised, unimpressed.

Yuu meets his gaze with their chin held high, fighting the urge to curl in on themselves and just hurt.

“Were you about to go to work?”

“This is entrapment.” Yuu declares. “I don’t have to answer that.”

Sebek throws up his hands with a wordless shout of disgust. Jack pinches the bridge of his nose with a warning rumble. Epel’s puppy-dog stare grows exasperated and incredulous. Grim begins yowling and digs his claws into their jean leg. Deuce’s grows even bigger and sadder than before. Ace begins gesticulating at them so wildly they’re concerned he’s going to smack a hand or elbow on the wall, hollering all the while. Ortho lets out an upset whir and balls his little hands into fists.

“Bedrest is important for your convalescence, Yuu-san!” The robot protests. “The notes the doctor transcribed on your state were very clear on that!!”

“How do you have access to my medical information?!” Yuu demands, eyes narrowing when Ortho tries to hide behind Sebek. “And besides, that jerk left rubble all over my bed and my bedroom. Forgive me for not wanting to do much heavy lifting right now, but…”

“Where’d ya think yer goin’?!” Grim howls from their ankle, still attached to their person and dragged along when they try to retreat strategically. “Y’can’t go t’ the TV station like this, minion! That big boss guy’ll kill ya with overwork!”

“Tsk.”

“This settles it.” Sebek folds his arms across his chest in a way they really dislike. “It is clear Yuuken spoke the truth on these matters. FELMIER! SHROUD! Notify Octo Dealer and Snake Charmer of their roles, AT ONCE!!”

Yuu barely has time to process the betrayal by their partner (damn Yuuken and his concern for their wellbeing!) when Epel and Ortho both snap sharp salutes and cry “ROGER!” before darting off for the stairs.

“Their roles?” They lurch forward, stumbling over Grim’s weight on their ankle. “Wait, hold on—!”

“Oops!” Ace swoops in to hook one of their arms over his shoulders. “Seems I’ve captured a helpless reporter! Nothin’ to do except bring ‘em back to Royal Flush, right, Two of Spades?”

“R-right!” Deuce appears on their other side, taking their other arm and most of their weight to boot. “R-resistance is futile, reporter! Ah, but I’m not hurting you though, am I?”

“You’re doing fine Deuce.” Jack decrees. “Remember, don’t leave ‘em alone for long—the Prefect’s on our side on this, but those RSA bastards might still try to start shit if they do something stupid. Ruggie and I’ll be by later to grab ‘em for King.”

“I’ll show you stupid.” Yuu grumbles mutinously as they’re delicately and carefully frogmarched to the elevator.

Though still, they grant somewhat grudgingly, at least if they’ve been kidnapped they can’t be penalized for taking a day off. And Royal Flush, Tsunotaro, and Posion Queen do have some very comfortable couches and daybeds…

“For the record, I’m very much under duress here.” They announce to the two minions and Grim. “And I’m probably going to be only good for lying down and sleeping. Is that fine with you?”

There’s gentle squeezes on both of their hands and Grim’s purrs ease some of the aching in their leg.