#the ordeal of being known 😔)

[callistoscope]

a healthy venture

Summary: As most know, sexual experimentation is all apart of a healthy relationship! It just so happens to coincide with a very awkward relationship for a couple like Harvey and Clarice, however.

Pairing: Cringefail(Clarice) x Harvey. (if you know you know.)

Word Count: 7.4k. I know, it’s ridiculous.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. AWKWARD smut. Takes a hot minute to get there, but when it’s there, it is THERE. The sexual experimentation in question is PEGGING with not much else, so….

a/n: this is silly and very crackfic-adjacent but also So Serious to me. also, yeah I guess they’re in a relationship, but early stages? probably had sex before this? Idk, whatever makes the most sense. sorry if the writing style comes off kinda cringe sometimes!!! I really tried to connect the writing style to what I imagine cringefail’s thought process would be like. and it might generally come off more amateurish since it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written. have mercy pls I swear I was so much better at writing like a year ago I’m getting back into the swing of things </3. If you have no idea who cringefail is or why’s she being paired with Harvey, she’s from @clarisinne ‘s comic!!! check it out!!!!!!(peer pressuring you). also @cowboyweevil since u asked me to tag u!

——

Clarice will be the first to admit that her life is consistently in tatters, and more often than not, it's her own hand that tears up that life the most. She had never been the type to have a sturdy head atop her unsteady shoulders— more the type to awkwardly headbutt into every problem and success that dared to beseech her. Both intentionally and unintentionally, sometimes simultaneously.

One thing she does know, a tidbit of information carved so deep into the recesses of her mind that even dementia wouldn't rob her of this simple fact— her sister was a fucking menace.

Clarice could have given her sister some semblance of underserved grace, could have said she wasn't so bad, if only that's where her bad qualities stopped. But Mars's abhorrent behavior was made all the more pesky by how relentless she was.

Her sister was as relentless as the damn splinter still wedged into Clarice's foot, a recent injury she had been careful to make sure Harvey wasn't privy to.

Harvey.

This was all his fault, really. For such a highly respected doctor, for whom which his town had only the most upstanding of opinions of him, beholding him as kind and responsible, Clarice feels safe in saying that her health had went down a steep decline since the moment. . . this happened. Since the moment this strikingly warm, gooey feeling coagulated in her heart, not unlike that of a fatal blood clot. Her life is effectively cut in half from the amount of stress she's experience since moving to this town. Her life force is visibly draining away, day by day, she's sure.

And her darling sister has the nerve to kick her while she's already down. Escalating the gradual deterioration of Clarice's health like the terminal illness only Mars can be like.

Even now, her sister giggles behind her hand in midst the autumn wind, brimming with an audacity that makes Clarice seethe. She has to bite back the urge to chuck her full watering can at her.

Casually, her sister leans down to pluck a pumpkin from the ground, holding it proudly in her arms. A smile plays on her face, one Clarice does not like one bit. "You know... I've been thinking—"

"Stop doing that."

"I've been thinking—" she trots along, happy as a clam. Content as a mischievous cat might be more apt. "If Harvey doesn't step up more, you might really have to take the reins. In a way you don't expect."

Stubbornly, Clarice stays off to the side. She crosses her arms, clutching the watering can high up in protest. Her job this morning was to water whatever crops weren't already covered by their sprinklers, and she was feeling like her labor wasn't deserved the more this conversation carried on. Nothing of substance had been said yet, but Clarice's ears pick up on the lilt in her little sister's voice.

Said sister finally shoots her a cursory glance over her shoulder. "Really! I'm just trying to help you out!" The laughter in her voice says otherwise. "Because, honest to God, the more I think about it— the more plausible it becomes."

Clarice's eyes narrow, body tense in anticipation for the nearing punchline. "... What?" However hesitant, the word ebbs out all the same.

Clarice can see her sister's figure trembling already, frame wracked with inexplicable mirth, and she already wants to sink into the dirt. "Because—" she starts, unhelpfully, voice warbling, "I'm sorry, but that is the exact kind of man who'd wanna get pegged."

Mars's voice grows high-pitched, wavering, and the cackle she lets out would rival a witch. Clarice can hardly focus on that sound, her ears ringing so loud it blocks everything else. Pegging. What the fuck?

Her face grows hot, and it takes conscious effort to not pass out right onto the dirt ground. Whether it be from the thought alone or merely from the fact that her younger sister thought this made for acceptable conversation, Clarice can't be sure. Before Clarice can even hope to respond, the other is rattling off like she's finally been given an excuse to.

"And— and listen! I'm not judging! Good for Harvey! Good for you! As long as everything is safe, sane, and consensual, right?" She bites the words out a bit, trying not to laugh too hard, nearly dropping the pumpkin.

"Stop." Clarice chokes, half plea half threat, blood rushing through her ears. Her mind is fraying at the edges, her brain rotting in record time. She's just starting to stomp her way over to her bastard sister.

"All I'm saying is— I know an online shop that'll ship here, yeah? Sells strap-ons, and has good variety. Pretty quick, too! Poor Harvey won't have to wait very long."

Clarice's free hand just reaches up to claw at her scalp in mortified agony, freezing for one sickening moment. She's on the path to getting her bearings and cursing Mars out like she never has before. Her mind is just on the verge of rewiring itself into proper working order. Like most things in her life, however, Clarice's life never stops at one bad thing.

"Um."

Harvey's voice is small, but the effect it has on her body is not. Clarice's body goes stiff as a rod, and the awkwardly loud clearing of his throat finally coaxes her into snapping her head back to look at him. So hard that one of her braids whips against her throat. Harvey stays where he is, loitering around the entrance of the farm with an odd rigidity to his face.

Clarice's body proves untrustworthy, and the hand holding the watering can goes limp. It's the moment after the tepid metal slips from her fingers that the gravity of her mistake hits her.

It really does hit her— the hefty watering swishes loudly as it lands straight on her foot with the accuracy of an Olympic gymnast.

"Fuck!" Clarice all but howls, stumbling back and promptly tipping back onto the dirt with an equally pained shout. It's a hard fall that ends with her gaze blearily aimed up at the blue sky, her ears picking up the sounds of two pairs of shoes scuttling up their respective pathways.

Of course. Of course it was the foot she had the splinter in.

——

Of all the sexual escapades both her waking and unconscious mind liked to torture herself with by envisioning… Clarice will admit that pegging isn't one of them. Not to say that her thoughts are incapable of running along the more adventurous paths she catches herself pointedly trying to ignore, but it simply had never come up.

Until now, at the violation of her coveted free will, at her sister's hands. She wishes all the terrible things for Mars, sometimes.

And she really shouldn't be mulling over her sister's words seriously, but her mind is deliberately caught on the thought.

... How does Clarice even feel about the concept? Even vaguely, if she just distantly ponders over what exactly that would entail? Maybe she feels some sexual curiosity she'll get to sating one of these days, should Harvey give it the okay?

If Clarice lets her mind do more than skim over the topic, however... the honest reality of what such an activity would bring is enough for her to be content to shelf it out of sheer mortification, never to see the light of day. Harvey, as always, is a different case. Adds integers into the equation that forces Clarice to reconsider everything, to reach for a different conclusion she otherwise never would have. She's forced into growth with him, sickeningly enough.

More annoyingly, she's forced into tending to herself in areas where she usually would shrug and walk it off. As soon as the hard, metal, heavy watering can had crashed onto her foot, the strange tension dispersed throughout the farm had vaporized on Harvey's part. Harvey had been painfully normal to her for those few minutes. Fussing over her, taking her carefully by the arm and coaxing her into her own house, insisting he check her foot for any major damage.

Mars had the social grace to stay outside, and Clarice prays she has enough to feel ashamed. She's knocked out of that thought when Harvey cautiously presses down on the top of her foot, and she promptly hisses.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, mouth flitting to a little frown. Harvey looks up at her from where he's taken a knee in front of her to closely inspect her foot, those brown eyes of his more like puppy dog eyes. "Just want to make sure nothing's fractured." Despite his words, he presses down at a different area of her foot, and Clarice's leg twitches with the instinct to kick him.

Her mind continues to fluctuate between nauseating panic and increasing irritation at Harvey's continued poking and prodding. It all culminates when he leans back, seeming satisfied with his work, meeting her eyes another time.

Abruptly, his eyes widen and his gaze scatters back to the floor, and that's all the confirmation Clarice needs to know exactly what place Harvey's mind goes back to. She'd had hope he'd forgotten about it, but that hope is thoroughly dashed and thrown back to drown in the river.

"So. Um..." he trails back into silence just as rapidly as he starts to speak, a palpable tension fracturing any temporary peace that had settled. Harvey shuffles, a stiffness settling over his body that she notices. It's the soft blush that peeks over his ears that does Clarice in, an innocent seashell pink that makes her eyes dart to the opposite direction of the room in deflection. Her hands claw shakily at the leather of the couch.

"Listen... I know it's technically none of my business, and it wasn't exactly meant for my ears—" Harvey lets out a labored breath. From the corner of her eye, Clarice can see his head tilt up, before hesitantly bobbling back down. He seems torn on where he should be looking. "And, uh— I didn't exactly hear everything? So, uh..." he says, voice wavering at the end. Clarice chances a glance, only to see a bright red blooming over the slopes of his cheeks, hands clenching at the pant leg of the knee he's supporting his weight on.

"I'm really sorry if I'm misunderstanding, but... how exactly did that topic come up?" He squirms a little from where he's kneeling, as if even just saying such vague words wired a shot of adrenaline straight through his nervous system. Clarice can relate, even if she knows what he's feeling is infinitesimal compared to the amount of adrenaline coursing through her.

Steam might start coming out through her ears if her mind ponders on any of this any longer. "... My sister brought it up." she mumbles, voice strained. Clarice brings her hands up, rubbing her temples, her cheeks nearly scorching her palms. Apologies, insults directed at her sister, humiliated blubbering, all sit at the tip of her tongue, but she just can't manage it. It's more like there's a stone in her mouth, on the verge of suffocating her, and her lips feel dementedly stitched together. "She thought you'd— I don't know. You know." It feels like flames lick up her cheeks then, and she winces with grief at the bitter loss of normalcy regarding their relationship. Who is she kidding? That ship had long since passed.

"Ah," Harvey actually scratches at the back of his neck, and something about that makes her want to scream in pain. It's such a stereotypical display of anxiety, and it makes those gooey feelings spring up like unwanted weeds along the sidewalk of her heart. It's endearing, damn him. "So, you're not...?"

Harvey eyes trail back up, she can feel them on her body before she can see them. Her eyes meet his in quick succession, and she feels herself jolt as if she's touched a live wire. He himself seems a bit frozen in comparison, but there's a glint in his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, looking uncertain yet decidedly... curious. Flustered and nervous, but not disgusted.

Clarice jolts again, eyes going wide, hands falling from her head. She probably tears a few red hairs out in the process, but doesn't have the presence of mind to care when her mind is racing a mile a minute. "Oh God, you are into it." she blurts, bewildered for a multitude of reasons.

Any bravado Harvey seems to have procured promptly breaks from under him, his head bowing down as he's left to pick up the pieces. "I didn't say that!" he insists shakily, sweeping a hand through his hair.

"It's just— if that was something you were into, I wanted to..." Harvey's voice dies, swiftly fishing his hand out of his hair. "I... didn't want you to feel ashamed about it, is all. Or like you couldn't talk to me about it." he finishes with an exhale, his face brimming with a vibrant red.

Clarice swallows, shifting on the couch with an antsy energy. "... How do you feel about it?" she forces out, more stiffly than she'd like. Her methods of communication were never as smooth or clear-cut as she envisioned. Moments like these only exacerbated that flaw. "You can... talk to me, too." She cringes. She sounds a little robotic.

Yet, Clarice had promised herself to try and be more... open, about any such topics with Harvey. To be considerate and hold his feelings with higher priority than following through on her track record and waving them away. Instead of regressing into the skittish fawn she is at heart and dashing away.

Harvey fidgets before slowly rising to his feet, face still red as a rose. "I haven't thought about it much, until now. But honestly, I don't feel negatively about it." Something shifts in his expression, fills his face with unyielding tension, and his eyes shyly flit to the other side of the room.

"Morbid curiosity is probably the most accurate emotion for what I'm feeling." It's said with a weight, as though he's confessing some grand sin to a noble higher priest. "It was clearly just meant to all be jokes, though, so the last thing I'd do is expect anything out of it! Not to say I even really want anything out of it."

She sucks in a deep, steadying breath.

"It's okay if you do." Clarice's face flames as soon as she dares to utter such words. She gestures awkwardly with her hands, body more akin to lifeless metal than flesh and blood. "Haha! Sex—" she chokes, abruptly restarting the sentence.

"Sexual— Sexual experimentation is just a part of a healthy relationship! And we're healthy!" Smiling tightly, the inflection of her voice comes out more manic, a little frantic. She bumps her elbow against him, harder than she means if the wince that stretches over Harvey's face has anything to say about it.

"And it's normal! We're normal, and we can do this! Right, doctor?" Clarice grits her teeth a little, elbowing him again, desperate.

"Y- Yeah! Hah, definitely!" Harvey laughs nervously, rubbing the side of his stomach. "But, we should probably discuss this more, if you're really being serious—"

"— Harvey," Her face is promptly buried in her hands, unable to even cast a glance in his direction. "I'm at my limit. Please."

Another anxious little laugh bubbles out of him, pulling at a loose thread hanging from his coat. "Of course. Yes, that's, whatever makes you comfortable. We can talk about this later."

——

The simple fact of the matter is that they do. It's a verbal scuttle that seesaws back into Clarice conversationally dragging her feet, as most conversation between them winds up being on her end. How Harvey puts up with it is beyond her— hell, Harvey himself is beyond her.

Kind, wonderful Harvey mystifies her as much as he begrudgingly enchants. He is some strange, glittering galaxy that perplexes her with his intent to be swept into her chaotic gravity. Terrifyingly considerate, practically falling over himself with every other word when he insists that they don't have to do this, he wants her to be comfortable, he only wants what she wants—

And... What does Clarice want? The question echoes in her mind, the answer echoing in kind.

To be sated.

This curiosity, it stifles her in its attempt to persuade her. It sits in her chest, leaves residue when it attempts to glue itself in her head. Clarice had waved it off, tried to ignore it, but the remains fester there. The rot of the idea is only fertilizer, and ultimately, it only grows. She's curious, and she's always been one to explore what springs that emotion in her. For the most part.

And when she finally wrings out that honesty out of herself, Harvey flusters, but moves with the natural pull that such a confession swings a conversation into: what now? What's the plan?

There's a list of questions that are steadily answered, ticked off the mental list she's sure Harvey had conjured up in his head. Where? Definitely your apartment, I'd kill you and myself if my sister heard. Okay. Uh, how would we get the... equipment? Ship it to your apartment. My sister would never let me live it down if she got even a hint of it.

Many similar questions and answers filtered out amongst them. Harvey makes some timid remark about doing his own personal research regarding how he should prepare himself, and the conversation is effectively capped off for a few weeks. It's the persistent elephant in the room, one that grows inexplicably bigger one day in later Autumn. Finally, after some surface level digging that more exposed how deeply it burdened Harvey's mind rather than exposed any real concern from Clarice, he admitted that that the equipment came. 'It,' he'd referred to it so aptly.

It. It came. There wasn't much more to plan than the main event itself. Not much more to do other than biting the bullet and doing it. With the grand exception being thinking about it, a crime which Clarice finds herself exuberantly guilty of. The last few weeks had given her heartburn, her thoughts becoming expertly nomadic in the way they traveled from normal and innocent to salient and crude. Stray thoughts that clustered rapidly in one great moment of imagination before popping and deflating like a balloon. Leaving her flustered in midst her daily chores, normalcy strained for the rest of the day.

What would Harvey say? What would he sound like, how would it feel? How would Clarice feel, really, to be the one giving in such a way?

She didn't have to wonder much longer. Even still, her curiosities still ring so loud in her head as she stands at the door of the clinic, heart running at such a magnitude that a hummingbird's would pale in comparison. She clutches her to go bag in an iron grip, the reason why she had a to go bag making her body all the hotter.

Clarice's mind whirrs when the door opens, and it doesn't stop until they reach Harvey's humble apartment towards the top, and even then, it only dulls. She isn't even sure what sort of pleasantries they exchanged, too strung up in her thoughts to be in anything other than on autopilot.

"We don't have to do this," Harvey drills the notion yet again into her head as he is bending down at the side of his bed, hand grasping blindly at the space under the bed frame. "Really. We could just sit in for a normal night. I wouldn't mind any."

Clarice gathers herself, though her efforts are futile when it's like trying to keep water in her hands. "I would." she bites out, sucking in a breath through her teeth with a whistling sound as she gracelessly lets her bag drop to the floor. "I want to. We're doing this." she says, surprising herself with the shaky, albeit no less sincere, conviction in her voice.

"... As long as, you know, you're still down with it." she falters, twiddling with the sleeve of her jacket absently. Her gaze returns to Harvey when she hears a sliding sound, like something being dragged across the floor.

"I am!" Harvey breathes, voice wavering. He isn't looking at her, instead looking at the box he'd apparently stashed under his bed. "... I just like to be sure about these sorts of things." He stands back up with the box in tow, presenting it to her as he steps closer and closer. His face is already flushing, though it's a soft dainty pink that she finds all too fitting on him.

As her gaze roves over the box, it is not a dainty pink that seizes her face. On the white box is an understandably crude picture of a dildo, a strap-on she thinks belatedly, with words in varying fonts spewed around it. Reviews, the technical name of this model, the brand. Interestingly enough, it seems Harvey bought a set, her eyes pick up. A strap-on and a harness.

It hits her all at once, and she makes a sound that is part laugh and part cry. She's incredulous, unable to conceive everything that is happening, the things that click into place. "God, you hid it? Under your bed?" she mumbles, the humor of the situation washing over her as she lets out a raspy laugh. Harvey, the highly respected doctor of Pelican Town, hiding a strap-on under his bed.

Harvey makes an affronted noise, though his voice trembles a little with laughter when he weakly replies, "Yes. It— I didn't have room for it in my drawer." Bashfully, he gestures to said drawer, the one next to his colossal bookcase.

Clarice snorts, and the tension eases. Where this is all going, where the current is taking them, doesn't seem so scary for a moment. Harvey smiles, still a little timid, and starts to open up one of the flaps of the box. "Is it really that funny?"

"I don't know. Probably not." Clarice admits in a weak voice of her own, swallowing as he moves back the layers of the box. It's one of those types, weirdly shiny and like plastic more than the traditional brown box. That tension fills back in slightly when her eyes catch sight of it. Well, not yet, it's in a protective pouch— but nothing can really hide the distinct shape that the fabric really only enhances.

It only takes a moment for Harvey to grasp it, holding it in a limp grip as he pointedly looks at the other contents of the box, ears tipped in red. "And, ah, hm," Awkwardly, he moves the pouch into the curve of his elbow, the back of his arm holding it against his body. His free arm fishes out the harness more preparedly, touching it less like a dead fish. "Here's... the harness."

It takes a moment to realize that he's holding it out to her, waiting for her to take it. Clarice shuffles with nervous energy, taking it and holding it stiffly away from her body. As if any making any further contact with it will scorch her. She already burns, and it's in the most humiliating way. An uncomfortable heat bread-crumbing its way lower and lower, with plenty of pauses. "Should I... put it on?"

Harvey makes a sound, lips parting as if to say something. They only close again, and she can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. He only nods, abruptly turning around. Only then does he find his voice. "Probably, yes."

Respectively, both parties begin to disrobe, Clarice starting with her shoes and socks and whittling away at the rest. A part of her tries to be neat about it, wants to be, but quickly loses that train of thought as soon as she has it. Anxiety gnaws at her the whole way through, until there's a messy pile of clothes sitting next to her and a weight in her chest. And the harness tightly in her grasp. Clarice rubs the fabric between thumb and forefinger curiously, sighing as she starts to journey of putting it on.

And a journey it is, anxiety quickly becoming secondary to the frustration that shuffles to the forefront of her mind. Trying to figure out what could be adjusted, how to hold certain parts of the harness while she slides it further up her body, it was a bit of a nightmare. Clarice adjusts the position of the O-ring when she's decently certain it's secure enough, pulling the adjustable straps against her body tighter afterwards just for extra security.

Clarice exhales a slow breath as she turns, wiping sweat from her brow. Only to find Harvey watching, naked from the waist down, his dark eyes a little wide and glazed, clutching the hem of his shirt. He jolts, hand fidgeting with the hem, as if unable to decide if he should take it off or not. "I'm so sorry, I just—"

"Were you staring at me?" Clarice asks, mortification budding at every nerve in her body in hot sparks.

"I wanted to make sure you weren't struggling with the harness!" Harvey says defensively, slipping his shirt off in one bold movement. "Because, if you were, I did look into it. I... should have mentioned that." His voice grows calm again, face ripening to more of a raspberry pink. Predictably, he folds his shirt up with practiced ease, almost more of a nervous tic than him actively wanting to.

Her eyes absently wander over his body, only to trail down harshly even at something as simple as the look of his bare chest. Clarice catches blurry snapshots at every other part of his body, but her mind is too scrambled to attempt to study the details.

"Should I..." she hears Harvey swallow this time, him almost making a gurgling noise at the back of his throat. "Should I get onto my back?" he continues, voice edging on squeaky.

"No," she blurts, shaking her head frenetically. She can't. There's many things she can do right now, is willing to, wants to do, but having Harvey on his back under her during this, helpless and pliant... she just can't do that right now. It stirs something in her, sure, something she may want to get to know more intimately in due time. Maybe. But not now. "I'm getting on my back. You're going to have to just— figure it out."

She hugs her body, wobbling over to his bed with the intention to plop down in a show of dominance, only to pause. The pouch lays on his bed, the fabric still doing absolutely nothing to disfigure the phallic shape. That's all it takes to make her sweat again, that anxiety of hers rising from its grave as she picks it up much like he had carried it previously. Underlining it all is that tailspin of anticipation, lying snugly under any negative emotions that threaten to impede the event.

"I mean you can just, you know," she stammers, eyes bulging at her own thoughts. "You know." Her eyes avoid him, digging her fingers into the opening and tugging it open, looking away when she grasps at the flared base. Clarice has no hope of keeping her eyes open as she slides it out of the silk, immediately fluttering closed just upon seeing purple. Prying her eyes back open, she forces a study session of sorts, discerning any texture she can make out by sight. It seems... smooth, not sculpted to be very indicative of an actual dick besides the base shape. More like an artist's under drawing.

Harvey is staring at it just as intently, with bated breath, hands clenching into fists. "That's okay, I can do that. I just, before that, I'll need to... prep myself. I can't just—" His hand lurches up to adjust his glasses shakily, that scarlet Harvey has been valiantly fighting off spilling on his cheeks like paint. "I-I need to use my fingers first."

Clarice's eyes aren't beckoned away from the toy at that, but her brain fizzles. It flickers and flames, a part of her screaming to watch and another pleading to cover her face the whole time. You'll never survive if you watch, it pleads.

"... Okay." she chokes, because what other response is there? "I'm also going to... prepare." Her voice sounds so small, even to her own ears. With a trembling hand, Clarice twists the toy in her grip, carefully holding the flared base awkwardly to her pelvis, trying to figure out how to thread the base into the O-ring. Harvey tries to pipe up helpfully, blabbering nervously about what to do, but shuts up when Clarice begs out, "Please shut up."

Harvey is fumbling with something, and once Clarice ensures the strap-on is slotted in correctly, she turns to see him drawing out a little bottle of what she can only assume is lube. He opens it in a diligent twist, coating his fingers quickly and wincing. She notes how he seems to focus on covering two fingers above all else, and that flame stirs again. More like a spark, hesitant but hungry for a chance to ignite.

She stiffly sits and lays on the bed, in such a way that her legs splay out over the side of the bed, soles of her feet touching the wood. Harvey passes the lube to her, pressing it to her stomach. "You're... You should probably use this, too." he says, face flushing a red that Clarice's own rushes to imitate. Harvey sits, but does not lay, in the same way she does. Except he props a leg up on the bed, spreading himself open, pressing that knee to his stomach as he settles next to her. She decides to be grateful she can't see anything from this angle, only his back, everything else too far in her peripheral to make anything particularly lewd out.

That gratitude is a fleeting present, for she is suddenly made intimately aware of the moment he must edge a finger into himself by the way his breath hitches. Clarice can't not notice, it's such a sharp sound that resonates in her ears— the leg up on the bed twitches. The bed creaks, and the spark ignites like a firework.

She brings a hand up to her mouth as her eyes betray her, her own thighs twitching with want for relief as she scours his back. Sees his shoulder blades flex when he must push in deep, loosen when he pulls out shallow. Harvey's very breath is trembling, his hips attempting to buck, but only succeeding in a meek roll with the way he's scrunched up.

"I'm so sorry if this is weird," he says, voice muffled and breathy. He must be covering his mouth with his free hand, too. Clarice can't say anything, especially not when he sighs as a tremor wracks through his body. His hips give another pitiful roll, his head lolling back for a brief second.

"H-Have you done this before?" she asks, perhaps too banally. It's just too practiced, he falls into each motion with too much ease. Experience. Her ears are reacting that way to sound again, any noise muted, as if underwater.

Harvey whines quietly, though the sound reeks more of humiliation than bliss. Clarice's body reacts the same regardless, shifting on the bed fruitlessly. She can feel herself pulsing, and she thinks she's gonna pass out if she focuses on that facet of this situation any more than she needs to.

"... Not before any of this came up. Just over the past few weeks." he manages shakily, "Just... just to see what I thought. To see if I liked it."

The bed creaks particularly loud with one swipe of his pelvis, and the sound he makes does sound more pleased. "Didn't want to make you go through any of this if I didn't even like it."

"... And you like it?"

Clarice buries her face in her hand then, when the silence stretches out a bit too long. Every part of her burns. Every nerve is roaring fire, and it's suffocating. What could even relieve her, she doesn't know.

"... Yeah. It was— it's nice." Harvey gasps out, a flurry of panicked breaths escaping him. He's trying to catch his breath, body going tense as wood. He tries to exhale, some other noise laden in it. "I think— I think I'm ready."

Harvey's arm looks disfigured as he moves it from this angle, the movement sputtering to a quickness that slows just as soon. His head tilts as he wipes sweat from his forehead with his free hand, seeming to completely pause. it's confirmed when he rests the other hand on his leg.

Her mind is caught in a constant loop of What do I do? and I don't know for a few seconds. For once, Clarice's body is dependable and rational, a hand grabbing for the small plastic bottle on her stomach. It's like all sentience has seeped out of her ears, her mind going blank as she pumps the strap-on absently, making the toy nice and slick. Apparently, she’s already poured it out on her hand.

The blankness in her head abruptly swirls into color, thoughts, visions, when Harvey turns his body. He gets onto his knees, ushering himself closer to her body, but not bridging any actual distance. His warm skin and body sit plainly out of reach.

Harvey hums plaintively, and Clarice can't even begin to explore what that could mean.

"You're really sure you're okay with this?"

A deep sigh reverberates throughout the room. Clarice leans back on the bed, pressing her hand harder against her face. "Yes," she groans out, agonized. "I'll tell you if I'm not feeling it."

Harvey lets out another heavy breath, though it sounds less burdened. "Alright. In that case then, I'll, uh, I need to..."

"Okay." Clarice says, high pitched, pulling her hand quickly away from the strap-on. It's weird, wearing this thing. She can feel the phantom sensations of where it tilts, now that her hand isn't there to direct it straight.

"Okay," Harvey echoes her, similar down straight to the tone, the almost squeaky way he says it. "I'll... try not to put too much of my weight on you."

"Thanks." Clarice merely whines, wilting into the mattress.

Harvey shuffles over, bed creaking with every new placement of his knees jutting into the bed. There's a moment where the anticipation builds, becomes something tangible and unbearably thick. The tension squeezes against itself, then loosens, like a heartbeat. Like it's a real, pulsing thing.

Harvey places a hand on the bed, around her side, gripping his covers tight as he murmurs apologies. Throws a leg over her waist as his other hand braces near the other side of her, releasing a shaky breath. He keeps himself up on his knees, looking down at himself and grasping at the strap-on feverishly by the base, holding it more in a line. Clarice doesn't know what expression he's making, what expression she's making, all too busy covering her face. Risking glances through the spaces of her fingers. It's all happening simultaneously too fast and tortuously slow.

"Alright," Harvey exhales, adjusting his knees one more time, face wrought with anticipation. "... Alright."

With a steady gaze downwards, Harvey slowly lowers his body down. He jolts as if struck with electricity when the tip presses against his rim, lips parting with a slow breath as he inches down further after a pause. There's a start of a whine in the back of his throat every time the strap-on slides in deeper, but he always staves it off. Always sucks in more air, and keeps going dutifully.

Harvey keeps to his promise and carefully holds himself up even as the strap-on fills him, an occasional shake winding from his face to his legs. Those dance aerobics classes seem to be paying off, in any case.

This seems to be one of the rare circumstances where Harvey is considerate of his boundaries and limits, hips undulating up and down with a careful air. It's a process he treats delicately, gives himself plenty of time to relax in between motions, and Clarice can appreciate that solely because he deserves to be treated gently. Even if she's horrible at doing it, he deserves that much. That sort of growth is something she owes him, one of these days.

That day will come, but today is a different one, a different milestone. Harvey doesn't contest these thoughts of hers, moaning softly once the gentle treatment becomes unnecessary. Unwanted, if the gradually increasing speed of his rhythm could have any thoughts on the matter.

Through the slits of trembling fingers, Clarice watches. Everything is magnified, all the emotions breaking some impossibly high dam despite the odds. There's shifts in Harvey's expression every time he effectively bounces, lips twitching with effort to keep himself quiet. Sweat glistens along his forehead and neck— he shines in the low lamplight that sits glowing only about a foot away.

The heat between her legs is unbearable. Clarice can't remember the last time she had gotten so wet and hadn't tended to herself. Hadn't been able to. It's humiliating, but that emotion is so weak and malleable in the current of pure arousal her body is getting lost in. Her head is foggy, yet her vision is vibrant with clarity, with Harvey.

Harvey, who's working himself down harder with every passing second. Instead of that lost, cloudy look catching in his eyes, he only looks all the more searching. Harvey sits back further on his heels, letting out a moan that sounds frustrated. Unthinkingly, Clarice's eyes glance downward at the dick between his legs. Straining and flushed against his abdomen, with him close enough that she can see the pearl of pre-cum beading at the very tip. It moves with every motion he makes. The bead drips over, trailing over every bump and ridge.

"... What's wrong?" Clarice dares to speak, voice containing a rasp that floors her.

"... I can't," Harvey whines, back arching as he sculpts his hips into a particular rocking motion. "I-I can't, I need—" he chokes, leaning far enough that he has to grind his hips forward and back more than up and down for the strap-on to stay inside.

Then he jolts at a particular thrust he implores, gasping sharply. His brown eyes go wide, glasses jumping with every movement that he makes, suddenly speeding up. "Oh! Oh, please, please—"

His thighs tremble with effort, and suddenly he's sliding right down. Harvey's weight presses right into her as he essentially sits on her lap, making her let out a grunt of surprise rather than one of any meaningful discomfort. He's straddling her completely, and the whimper he lets out is downright pitiful.

Harvey blinks with wet eyes, his eyes searching for hers, face twisted with embarrassment. Need laces it, need seems nestled into every frantic little movement Harvey attempts to make. Only for Harvey's body to slump back down, clearly too exhausted to keep doing all the work. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I can't— can you��?"

He suffers through the moment for air, face red as a strawberry, thighs still shaking even as he's seated. ".... Help me," he breathes, air whistling through his teeth a little. "Please."

The blood in her body is torn between two places. Clarice feels light-headed, her chest heaving for air she hadn't realized had dissipated. She's sweating before she's even doing anything, before she warily places her spare hand on his hip for support. Harvey groans with relief before she even properly helps him out. "Thank you, thank you." he chants.

He starts to move up again, more uninhibited thanks to the added momentum of Clarice's hand moving with him. Harvey lets out a hoarse cry when Clarice gathers enough courage to start rolling her hips up, meeting in a messy pace where neither is sure who should follow who.

Clarice shudders at the sudden increase in sounds, and more importantly, the volume. Face flaming, her mind wails to reprimand him in some way, to remind him of his neighbors who know him, but more importantly her. It's here where input and output scramble uselessly in the recesses of her brain. "Harvey! You— You need to quiet down." she hisses from her hand, on the cusp of a grand mistake. Her mind aims for swatting at his arm, but seeing as both hands are busy with equally important tasks, an easy pair of dots are connected.

Clarice raises her hand for a brief moment, smacking his ass lightly. Absently.

Harvey downright squeaks with shock, jerking on her lap. "I'm— I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

She could die right that moment, but thankfully, Harvey seems too out of it to make a comment on it. She cowers further into her hand all the same, body as hot as a furnace, eyes watering.

Clarice is just as quick to look through her fingers again, her other hand gripping his hip tightly, heart stopping in her chest when Harvey bites into his palm, muffling yet another cry. His eyes are lidded behind his glasses, breathing unsteady against his palm.

Harvey shakes his head, babbling around his hand as his body starts to tense up. "Clarice. Clarice. Feels good." His voice catches, bed creaking. An embarrassed pride stings her chest, hand clawing into his hip with her nails.

Despite the strain her voice, she forces what she knows he needs out. "You're doing so good, Harvey."

Harvey trembles, eyes squeezing shut, head tipping back. "... Clarice, 'm gonna..." he's nearly incoherent, too weak to keep riding the strap-on even with Clarice's guidance. Her moving hips seem to be enough to suffice, his teeth visibly digging deeper into his skin.

He blinks, once, then twice, then again, each one more rapid than the last. Harvey's body seizes, Clarice can feel it down to his thighs, his head bolting back forward. To her surprise, his other hand goes to cover the one holding his hip, his hips rolling in sporadic little bursts.

Harvey holds her hand to him tightly, dragging in one more ragged breath as the tension crests and drops with an abruptness entirely expected. He wheezes a little, sounding almost pained as his body quakes through the orgasm, cock twitching with little spurts.

All Clarice can do is watch with wide eyes, hiding them behind her hand again when it gets too much. All of this has been too much, really, but the feeling really implodes in the aftermath.

Soon enough, Harvey manages to haul his body to the spot next to her, sluggish and sated when he lets his body collapse. The bed squeaks in protest. Clarice's eyes burn more and more with unshed tears by the second, face hotter than the sun. She is half convinced that when she pulls her hand away, there will be burns staining her fingers and palm.

"Do you..." Harvey suddenly pipes up, lungs still audibly fighting for oxygen. "... want me to return the favor?" he asks, managing to sound as timid as he was breathless. "I mean, I know you didn't... finish." he coughs as quiet as a mouse.

Clarice makes a strangled sound, rolling on the side that turned her back to him. Tears spill out of her eyes, though she can't say any part of her regrets the experience. She's just... overwhelmed, mortified, and irritatingly horny. "No."

"Are you crying?" The bed dips as Harvey's voice pitches higher up in panic. "Oh, I'm so—"

"Harvey, it was hot," she sputters through tears, not giving him the chance to piss her off through his relentless apologies yet again. "Shut up. I'm just overwhelmed."

A hand tentatively reaches for her shoulder, Clarice's body tensing when she feels him stroke her shoulder assuringly. She hates him a little for it, hates it more when she actually relaxes.

It takes a moment of deliberate silence until the feeling soothes in her chest. Wiping away a few tears, she reluctantly rolls onto her other side, facing Harvey. “… Hi.” she says, voice a little muted.

“Hi.” The sentiment is mimicked easily, breathlessly, though he tacks a hesitant smile onto his flushed face. Clarice bursts into a giddy giggle for a reason she can’t quite pin down, giving him a watery smile. Harvey’s smile brightens, looking relieved. Some sexual exploration is healthy in the long run, she supposes, if it feels this freeing at the end.

[timelessbian]

dating apps scare me and i'm learning i might be too neurotic for a meet cute lmao at this point does someone just want to get arranged married? i feel like I could handle that better

[manhuntps2]

saw the wife again (in Glasgow, again.)

[lucienvanitasabysslll]

hey so what the FUCK do you mean if i ever lose my ssn i'm just no longer a person

[terroristpriest]

that lil hollow feeling you get in your chest when you realize your friends are starting to lose interest… many such cases etc

[cryptidghostgirl]

*Shuffles in* HEWWWOO

I GOT ANOTHER (I'm so sorry) Alastor x Chubby!Reader 😔

(This might seem weird and so so strange but I swear it's not perverted and shouldn't be seen as such)

Magic is in hell, yeah??? SOOO what if Alastor tries to his dark voodoo sprinkle magic but IT BACKFIRES or something while he tries to fix that one wall in the show that keeps getting destroyed or helping charlie with something 🤔 and he turns into A KID BUT A HUMAN KID BACK WHEN HE WAS ALIVE and everyone kinda justs bombards him with questions and comments (not Husk in the background smirking because Alastor is an asshole to him so he's planning all the ways he can get his revenge, Charlie freaking out, Angel cooing at his cuteness, vaggie cursing up a storm, niffty sulking because he's no longer a bad boy) and I would imagine that child Alastor is kinda like '🥹who are all these weird creatures, where am I, where's momma' ...😭 chaos ensues, Alastor just wants his momma so he's crying as loud as he can because 'I'm lost' (HES A MOMMAS BOY AND I FEEL AS A KID HE WAS INNOCENT AND SWEET) the hazbin hotel residents immediately try to calm him down but he only gets louder THEN LIKE AN ACTUAL ANGEL here comes reader back from shopping or waking up and is welcomed to all the commotion, and after making her presence known Alastor just sniffles at her, tears streaming down his face 😢 reader immediately going to tiny Alastor to help and tiny Alastor who thinks reader is a fairy? Angel?? Goddess?? Some warm welcoming figure that he's gonna marry (like playground kids sometimes do??) so he's calming when she goes to help him,' he's been kidnapped' looking back at the hazbin gang, more tears coming, reader immediately going into caretaker mode and cares for him throughout the whole ordeal, while Alastor gushes about his momma or talkinging readers ear off about anything and everything (Charlie figures out it only lasts all day somehow) so Alastor sticks with reader and helps her with her duties at the hotel, never leaving her side, at the end of the day before he goes to bed

Angel teases tiny Alastor about reader being his mommy que reader blushing and sputtering from reader only for Alastor to turn to Angel with disgust and determination on his face to proudly announce to Angel that reader is gonna be HIS WIFE INSTEAD only for husk to scoff in the background and says something about Alastor being a smiley freak or something for Alastor to doubt that reader will marry him, that thats never gonna happen, only for reader to kiss Alastor on the forehead and declare that that doesn't change anything because Alastor has always owned her heart, something sweet???? To reassure kid Alastor then reader takes Alastor to his hotel room to sleep, to later on in the night to sneak into readers bed because 'momma cuddles with me till I fall asleep', sleepy cuddles, soothing humming for child Alastor to ask before he falls asleep if reader really will marry him when he's older and Reader half asleep herself and full of love for the man he'll grow to be says yes, but to take her out first or get her flowers ya know???

When reader wakes the next morning to flowers surrounding her bed and her favorite breakfast presented to her with a bashful adult Alastor saying he's kept his side of the deal now its readers turn, readers faces lights up and smiles big enough to hurt her cheeks and they date and get married ☺️😣

(I'm sorry it's a weird request and soooooo fucking long but .....please..)

A/N I literally love you and your requests. Hi. Also I am making her a rabbit again because I feel like that would be something that a kid would not find scary and would be very excited about as a demon form.

Mishap of Magic (Alastor x Chubby!Rabbit Demon!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Nothing except that Alastor is a little kid for most of this fic.

Word Count: 3,463

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask.

It wasn't the first time it had happened to Alastor but, it had certainly been a while since the last time he'd had to deal with such an issue. Magic was a fickle thing, obstinate at the best of times. He had found a certain agreement of sorts with the metaphysical but, it still backfired on occasion.

Alastor had been trying to fix the wall -- the fucking wall. Somehow, every time there was an issue with the hotel, this same exterior wall was involved. It was inconceivable and deeply irritating, especially now that it had been the trigger. Alastor could feel the world shifting, feel himself shrinking and then, nothing.

"Uh, what the fuck?" Vaggie broke the silence, stress seeping into her voice.

"Oh my gosh! Vaggie!" Charlie exclaimed, grabbing onto her girlfriend's arm and shaking it violently, a bright smile lighting up her face, "He looks like a little kid!"

"Damn," Angel laughed lightly, "who woulda guessed the strawberry pimp was actually a cute at one point in time."

Alastor looked around in confusion. A tangle of limbs, wild creatures and bright colors. Husk smirked, trying to hold a derisive laugh at bay as he placed a bottle on the shelf of the bar.

"Charlie," Vaggie sighed, turning to her overexcited partner who at the moment was cooing over how small Alastor had become, "you do realize we have to change him back."

All the joy fell from Charlie's face in an instant.

"Hey, uh, little guy?" Pentious began, awkwardly advancing towards Alastor, "You wouldn't happen to know how we can fix this? I-"

"Stay away!"

His voice was small and shrill, panicked as Alastor backed away from Pentious' advancement. Sir Pentious stopped in his tracks and Charlie let go of Vaggie, coming up beside him.

"It's okay, Alastor." she said in a tone of voice that was trying very hard to be everything except for panicked, which is what it actually was, "He's not going to attack you.''

It became evident almost immediately that that had in fact been the wrong thing for Charlie to say. Alastor's eyes filled with sudden tears.

"Where... stay away from me!" he exclaimed, "My momma told me not to talk to strangers."

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged a glance and Charlie sighed.

"We're not strangers, we're you're friends. I am Charlie, that is Vaggie, Husk is in the bar, this is Angel, and here is Sir Pentious. Remember?"

"I don't know any of you scary things!" Alastor exclaimed, tears beginning to drip from his wide, wet eyes and roll down his cheeks, "I... I want my mommy. Where is my mommy?"

"Oh! No no no!" Charlie exclaimed, trying to reach a comforting hand out to the child but he backed away again.

"Where is my mama!" he yelled, now absolutely sobbing, "I want... I want..."

He sniffled, trying to catch his breath as he looked frantically around the room. Charlie turned to Vaggie, pulling at her hair.

"What do we do!" she asked her girlfriend who shrugged, as much at a loss of how to handle the situation as her partner was.

"Man, if I 'da known he was this cute and... and frail under that whole persona all along." Angel sighed wistfully, crossing his lower set of arms.

This time Husk really couldn't stop the laugh that left him. Before anyone could ask what was so funny, if he knew anything about what was going on, the doors to the hotel opened and Y/n waltzed in. Her arms were laden with bags and she wore a bright, sunny smile.

"Al!" she called out, closing the door gently behind her, "You'll never guess what I found at the market!"

"Um, Y/n?" Sir Pentious tentatively began, taking a step towards her as she turned to the group.

"Fresh strawberries!"

As her eyes fell on the scene before her, the smile fell from her face, replaced with an expression of alarm. The bags fell from her grasp, spilling groceries across the floor as she rushed to the young Alastor's side. His mouth was slightly open, tears still falling openly from his eyes, as she crouched before him. The white skirt of her dress pooled gently on the floor around her feet as she raised a handkerchief to his face, gently patting his cheeks with its edge.

"What on earth is going on?" she asked softly, her voice laced delicately with concern.

"Well, Alastor was fixing the wall and then he just... poofed? I don't know! We don't know what happened and we don't know how to fix it and he keeps asking for his mom and... and... and..." Charlie trailed off, looking around helplessly at her companions.

Y/n's gentle gaze never once left Alastor's. She smiled softly at him.

"I see, are you lost?"

Alastor nodded weakly, sniffing once.

"And there are all these big scary monsters around!" he told her.

"Ah, I see." Y/n sagely replied, "Am I a big scary monster too?"

She didn't mean it in any way except as an attempt to assess the situation further. Alastor's cheeks flushed slightly pink as he shook his head, looking away bashfully. Y/n smiled softly, turning his face gently back to her.

"Would you like to stay with me until we can figure out what is going on?"

The tears had stopped now and Alastor nodded enthusiastically. Y/n dabbed the last remains of saltwater from his cheeks, slipping the handkerchief into her pocket. In a single, swift and practiced motion, Y/n lifted Alastor up, resting him on her hip. His hands immediately went to one of her floppy ears, running his little hands over it in awe.

"Bunny." he stated and Y/n nodded.

"Yeah, I am just like a bunny, okay?"

Alastor met her eyes.

"You're pretty like a bunny too!" he announced proudly and Y/n felt her cheeks grow slightly warm.

"Ah, what a little charmer." she noted, tapping his nose lightly and Alastor giggled.

"How are you so good with him?" Angel asked and Y/n turned towards him as Alastor continued to fiddle with her ear.

"What do you mean?"

"He just kept crying when we were trying to help."

Y/n shrugged slightly.

"I was the oldest growing up. I always had to take care of my baby cousins and stuff like that. Besides, little kids are the sweetest a this age!"

Angel's eyes flicked between Y/n and her enthusiasm and little Alastor who seemed absolutely awestruck in her arms.

"Yeah." he scoffed, "That is all it is."

"Now, Alastor." Y/n hummed, turning to face the boy who immediately met her gaze, his earnest air only endearing her to him further, "I have some work to get done, I cook here at the hotel. Do you want to come help me?"

"Uh-huh." he nodded vigorously and Y/n smiled.

"Well, that's a relief cause, you know, I could really use your help."

"Really?"

Alastor's eyes lit up at the notion, that she needed him, that it wasn't just an empty offer.

"Yeah I could." Y/n confirmed, "How else am I supposed to know if the fruit is ripe or the meal is good if you don't try it for me first?"

Alastor giggled and Y/n turned, glancing at her bags still splayed out on the floor.

"Pen, can you help me with these?"

Immediately, the snake demon agreed, grabbing the fallen produce and placing it back into the bags before hoisting them onto his shoulders. The trio had made it about halfway across the lobby to the service door that lead to the kitchen when Y/n paused, looking back at Charlie over her shoulder.

"Charls, I'd quiz Husk about this if I were you." she advised gently, "He seems far too pleased at the situation to not know exactly what is going on."

The day sped by in a whirl of something akin to unbound joy. It was a peaceful reminder of the person she had been to take care of Alastor like this. They had always been close, he didn't own her soul or anything but Y/n and Alastor had been friends for years. When he had asked her to come help out at the hotel, she had jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him after so many years.

Despite their closeness, neither knew all too much about the other. There was always an unspoken barrier of sorts in the way. For Y/n, it was a mild attraction to the man. He was a moralist at heart with a strict code completely of his own he always stuck to and Y/n admired him for that. She wasn't sure what the disconnect was on Alastor's side but, in the moment, she didn't care. She had learned more about the man through this strange experience than she had ever hoped to, it was a gift.

It was his capacity for love, she realized as she lead him into the lobby to say his goodnights. Y/n had never realized how deeply Alastor cared about the people in his life or the world around him, he hid it so well as an adult. Child Alastor had no pretenses, he was completely and entirely himself with nothing held back. In a weird way, it almost strengthened the feelings she had for him as an adult, being allowed to experience him like this.

All day, he had trailed after her, doing his absolute best to complete every task she assigned him and talking all the while about how much he loved his home and his mom. It was sweet, it was endearing, it was verging on dangerous. Y/n tried not to think about it as she held his small hand.

The pair came to a stop by the bar where the rest of the hotel's residents were sharing a drink. Charlie had found out earlier from Husk that this change in Alastor should only last a day and Y/n found herself nearly morose at the idea. She loved Alastor as a man, respected him, but he lost that openness he had had as a child, she realized. It was a shame that come sunrise, she wouldn't be able to have such open communication with the man again, a shame that the only open communication she would ever have with him was when he was a child incapable of adult though. Y/n squeezed his hand gently.

"Let's say goodnight, okay?"

Alastor looked doubtfully up at Y/n, still put off by the rest of the gang.

"They're your friends, I promise. Would I lie to you?"

Alastor thought it over before shaking his head slightly. He turned to face the group.

"Good night." he announced, his voice trembling just the slightest bit.

"Good job." Y/n hummed and Alastor smiled in pride.

"Damn, is this how you guys always are?" Angel laughed, taking a sip from his drink, evidently already intoxicated, "I mean, I knew you were friends before you came here, but are you always such a mom to him?"

"No!" Y/n indignantly replied, her cheeks flushing slightly pink, "We're just friends."

"Nah," Angel smirked after a moment, "you're totally his mom."

Y/n opened her mouth to reply when Alastor let go of her hand, stepping in front of her with his hands on his hips.

"Y/n is not my mom." he insisted to Angel who raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, then what is she?" the spider demon asked and Y/n glared at him.

"Y/n is the prettiest ever and when I grow up she's gonna be my wife!" Alastor proudly announced, "She is nice and gives the best hugs."

Angel and Husk both broke out into peals of laughter.

"Like you could land a girl like her." Husk scoffed.

"What do you mean?" Alastor asked, his words slurring slightly together from exhaustion.

"Hate to break it to you kid, but when you grow up, your creepy ass could never."

Alastor frowned deeply at this remark. He looked back at Y/n, his eyes bleeding helplessness. She felt her heart crack and crouched down beside him. Tucking his hair behind his ears, Y/n placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Don't listen to Husk." she smiled gently at him, "You have always had a place in my heart."

Alastor's face lit up at this and he turned back to Husk. Taking Y/n's hand back in his, he stuck his tongue out at the cat demon who rolled his eyes in response.

Once up in Alastor's room, Y/n tucked him in to bed and told him a story. Alastor's sleepy eyes struggled to stay open and when she moved to leave, it took some convincing to make him let go of her arm. With promises she would see him first thing in the morning, Y/n let the door close gently behind her and let out a sigh. She had forgotten how much work kids could be, she was exhausted.

She had barley made it back to her room, barley crawled into bed, when there was a soft knock at her door. With a sigh, she threw the covers from her legs and walked to the door, opening it with an irritated expression which softened the moment she saw who stood on the other side.

"What's going on, honey?" she asked, crouching down to Alastor's level and cupping his cheek gently in her soft hand.

"I can't sleep." he bashfully replied, "Momma cuddles me until I fall asleep."

"I see." Y/n hummed, getting to her feet and stepping to the side so he could enter.

Alastor looked up at Y/n in doubt and she gave him a nod of encouragement. It was all he needed to rush into the room and jump up onto her bed, snuggling down into the pile of covers. Y/n watched him for a moment, smiling softly, before closing the door and joining him.

Immediately, Alastor wrapped himself in her arms, snuggling into her chest. Y/n was frozen for a moment in indecision, but tiredness prevailed and in her sleepy state, all that mattered was that it was Alastor. Her oldest friend, the one who had never failed her. She pulled him close, resting her chin on his head.

"You're so comfy." Alastor mumbled through a yawn and Y/n chuckled.

"Its because I know how to enjoy all that life and the afterlife has to offer." she hummed softly in response, her breath tickling the top of his head, "Most men would prefer someone who looks different than me but, luckily I am not existing for men."

The pair fell silent for a moment. Sleep pulled at the edges of Y/n's ears, dragging her eyelids down. She hummed a gentle tune, a lullaby she had long since forgotten the words to but that she could hear her own mother in.

"Well, those men are stupid." Alastor grumpily replied, maneuvering himself around in Y/n's grasp so he faced her, "You look like a fairy."

Y/n cracked her eyes open, ruffling Alastor's hair slightly.

"Why thank you, I do try." she smiled.

"And I meant it."

"Meant what?"

Her eyes were closed again, her voice dreamy.

"When I grow up, I am going to marry you."

"Oh, are you now."

"Yes." Alastor insisted, and in his insistence, through the shrillness of his childlike tone, Y/n could hear him as an adult, as the man she knew, "When I am grown up, I am going to ask you to marry me. Will... you would say yes, right?"

Who would have guessed, the feared and decisive Radio Demon could doubt. Y/n smiled.

"Well, you can't just ask a girl to marry you right off the bat."

"You can't?"

There was a genuine confusion in his voice, Y/n had expected nothing less from a child. Still, she couldn't help but view him through the lens of his adult self in this moment. Maybe it was the exhaustion, the proximity, the dark, how lovely he was when he had nothing to protect himself from, when he did not yet know of the filter he needed in order to conduct himself in the world and not get fucked over by it.

"Nope." Y/n shook her head slightly.

"Why not?"

"Well, you have to court her first."

"Court her?"

"You know, ask her on dates, buy her flowers: woo her."

"Well then I will do that too."

The last thing Y/n remembered before the world gave way to sleep was Alastor asking what her favorite flower was.

"Hyacinths." she had told him, "The purple ones. But don't you dare buy them for me unless you have something to apologize for because they ask for forgiveness. Instead, buy me peonies, they are for new love."

The heat of Hell's false sun was what woke her. Y/n grumbled, rolling over in bed, the course of the day before re-materializing in her head. She smiled softly at the memory, a certain sadness creeping in at the fact that she would probably never be that vulnerable with the man again.

A faint, almost peppery smell reached her nose and Y/n cracked her eyes open. Around her was a world of soft pinks and whites, cascading petals and the most beautiful display of protracted death. She gasped slightly, sitting up in bed. Looking around her small room, she realized it was filled to the brim with peonies in different stages of life. As her eyes traveled to the foot of the bed, she found Alastor standing there, his cheeks flushed and a tray in his hands. On the tray was a stack of pancakes, all cut into the shape of flowers to match. Y/n laughed lightly, smiling up at him from where she sat in bed.

"What's all this?" she asked and his cheeks grew brighter still.

Alastor looked away, clearing his throat.

"I'm keeping my side of the deal."

Y/n searched her mind, looking for any trace of what he could possibly mean.

"The deal... oh!" it suddenly hit her, the sleep riddled conversation they had had the night before.

Her cheeks flushed pink, mirroring his and picking up the colors of the flowers he had surrounded her with. She smiled brightly at Alastor, pulling herself from the bed. The hem of her nightgown rippled gently against her legs as she approached him. With grace, she plucked a strawberry from the plate and popped it in her mouth.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" she grinned coyly up at him.

Alastor rolled his eyes.

"I'm... doing the things so... just..."

"Alastor."

"What?"

His discomfort was palpable, unfamiliar. She reveled in it.

"Do you actually like me?"

"I thought I told you. You know, when-"

"I thought that was just mindless chatter." she interrupted, "Little kids are always saying stuff like that."

"Well, I wasn't."

Y/n laughed and Alastor placed the tray carefully on the edge of the bed, turning back to her.

"Did I misinterpret what you said?"

"Not at all." Y/n said, taking a step closer to him.

"So you will marry me?"

She laughed again, she couldn't help herself. Y/n could tell that if Alastor was able to do anything but smile, he would be scowling at her reaction to his sincere question.

"Ask me out on a date."

"Bu-"

"Ask me out on a date!" she insisted and Alastor sighed.

"Fine. Would you..." he took a deep breath, nerves running wild, "would you like to go out... with me..."

"Oh wow, so confident." Y/n teased.

"Y/n." Alastor warned and her smile widened even further.

"Yes, Al. Yes, Alastor, I would love to go out on a date with you."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes." Y/n nodded, her hands clasped behind her back as she swayed slightly on her feet, "I will."

Before she could register what was happening, Y/n was in Alastor's arms. He lifted her off her feet, spinning her around.

"Wait!" she shrieked, "Alastor, put me down! Aren't I too heavy?"

"Not at all, my dear." he hummed, holding her close now.

"Still, put me down!" she bashfully requested and at last he conceded, her feet finding the cool of the wood once again, "How long have you been... you know."

"That, my dear, is for me to know."

He tapped her nose gently and one of her ears shifted in response. Y/n crossed her arms.

"Not fair." she whined.

"Eat." Alastor commanded, unable to be moved on this point, "Meet me downstairs after. We're going out."

----

Tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet 

@reader3

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Just Surviving | StepDad!Price & Reader

Summary: Price’s relationship with you, his wife’s daughter from another partner, isn’t the greatest, but he’s willing to try, and after a rough day at school, it seems he’s got a chance.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: mentions of cheating, infidelity, bad best friend, school sucks, anxiety, panic attack, mentions of fist fighting bears?? THIS IS FULLY PLATONIC

A/N: I wish I had a price to be my father figure😔

Requests are open!

Captain John Price had settled down during his mid-40s, finding a pretty missus his age, courting her for a few years, and marrying her.

It was soon into their relationship, that he realized he couldn’t keep a woman and the military in his life at the same time. He had to make a choice, so he finally retired, a stern word from Simon about “appreciating good things that come to him” putting the final nail in the coffin of the entire ordeal.

But after the marriage, came a teenager. A teenage girl, to be exact.

The child of an old boyfriend of hers, his stepdaughter now, he knew. He hadn’t known what to think at first.

He wasn’t a jealous man, he didn’t see you as a symbol of your mother’s past relationships or an accident or mistake, no, he just wasn’t sure how to handle teenagers. They were loud, brash, and not to mention emotional. Always thought they knew the best for themselves, when in reality, they were hardly even bordering on self-aware most of the time.

Being in the military at a relatively high rank in a specialized position meant he didn’t have to deal with many teenagers, all of whom were just recruits who’d just arrived and probably realized how much of a mistake they’d made by enrolling. But it didn’t mean he liked them.

There were the rare few who were respectful, but in general, all the emotions, and for girls, the hormones and drama, he didn’t really know how to handle it. Gaz was better with all the gossip than he was by far.

He’d tried to reach out, to make an effort to include you in his daily activities and habits. He knew your father was a total douche who didn’t care much about you, and he wanted to make up for it, even if it wasn’t his fault, or really his problem, either. He made breakfasts for you, invited you to watch shows with him, and tried to show you how to fix up a flat tire or how to work with wood in the garage, but you always seemed mildly disinterested, just trying to pay attention to not be rude.

You were in almost the same boat as him. You’d never seen a man who looked like the stereotypical dad, a little beer belly, muscles hidden by fat, and a scruffy beard with crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Your real dad was nothing like him, looks wise or personality-wise.

He was the provider type, you could tell. And you weren’t too sure how to handle it, considering you didn’t want to come off as needy.

You called him ‘John’, and tried to pay attention to him, if not just giving little awkward smiles, but at the end of the day, he was just that-guy-your-mom-married. She loved him, she was happy, and if she was happy then you would be happy for her.

It all changed one evening when he was sitting on the couch, sipping on a cuppa tea, with a dash of cream just how he liked it, watching a show about surviving in the wilderness for weeks on end with no outside help when you arrived home from school.

You’d gotten home a few minutes later than usual. He’d noticed.

Your eyes were red around the rims, and a bit puffy as well. You sniffled, hands shaking a little bit around the strap where you held your backpack. A smudge of what he assumed to be mascara was under your eyes, as if you’d wiped away a lot of it. You were visibly upset and unsteady, breaths a bit shaky as you let your backpack drop to the floor with a thud, going to walk to your room, right past him.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

He asked, sitting up, and putting his cup down as his brows pulled together in a worried, confused expression. Sure, you two weren’t the closest, but he wasn’t going to let you go to your room and comfort yourself. You needed a father figure at the very least, and he wouldn’t let you go without one.

You stopped, glancing at him, swallowing almost audibly as you opened your mouth, then closed it, a sniffle coming out as you just began crying.

“Come here,”

He spoke, standing up with an abruptness you didn’t even know he’d had in his sore joints and bones. You sniffled again, little gasps coming from your throat between silent sobs. He walked over, gently letting his arms just hover beside your body for a moment, until letting them close around you in a warm embrace once he was sure you were fine with it.

You stiffened up at first, pausing a moment to just breathe before the sobs began again and you melted into him.

“I—my, my boyfriend, he—“

You hiccuped, and he made a gentle hushing sound like one would do to subdue a baby, letting his hand rub soothing circles against your back. He slowly moved you over to the couch, sitting down first, and patting the spot next to him in invitation.

You hesitated, before sighing and plopping down. He hardly had to do anything until you were leaning against him, arms curling around your own torso.

“What happened?”

He finally asked, voice smoothed over with a practiced calm as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you close until you moved to lean your head against his chest on your own accord.

“My boyfriend cheated on me.”

You almost whispered, sounding scared to say it, as if scared to confirm it as true. And as you said it, a few fresh tears began flowing, which he quickly wiped away with the calloused pad of his thumb.

“‘M sorry, hon. Some people in life just aren’t good, can’t blame yourself for it.”

He’d hardly ever heard of your boyfriend, only the sparing little things your mom would pull out of you. He’d seen him pick you up before in an old beat-up van, and seen him knock on the door before and ask where you were. You had been texting him constantly, calling him too. But Price hadn’t heard much of the lad other than what he managed to overhear and see.

“A-and, my best friend knew, and she didn’t tell me, ‘cause she said she didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

That made him angry more than anything.

Cheating was a betrayal of trust in your partner that you’d shared almost everything with, but your best friend was objectively worse. You’d shared everything with a best friend, the good, the bad, the ugly, and they weren’t as easy to cut off as a partner. He could see how devastated you were and held you closer.

“That’s awful.”

He murmured, trying to soothe you as he saw your breathing pick up again, bordering on panicking. He’d been there before, and seen his men get to that point.

It wasn’t pleasant.

“I’m gonna have to see them every day, and she’s my partner for my science project—and I’m already behind on my science—and I have an entire essay that I haven’t even started on and I still need to research for it—and, and—“

Your sentences trailed off into incoherent mumbles as you couldn’t help but almost cry from the pure anxiety you were experiencing. John remembered how much he’d hated school when he’d been a kid, which was why he’d joined the military as soon as he was eligible. The school system was fucked, and it wasn’t helping that you had a shitload of responsibility placed on you so young.

“Hey, listen here. I’m gonna email your counselor, or whoever I have to, and you’re taking the day off tomorrow. We can work on your essay and projects together and finish ‘em, but for now, let’s just relax and leave all that for later, alright?”

He kept his sentences simple and short, taking proper care to enunciate each word clearly in his British accent, watching as you slowly began breathing deeper, nodding as if to convince yourself that what he was saying was true.

He pulled you just a bit closer into his chest, letting your entire body weight lean on him, one hand sneaking up to lightly run his fingers through your hair, which greatly resembled your mother’s. He grabbed the remote, and hit the play button for his survival show, watching, but more focusing on you.

He saw how you zoned out quickly, that glimmer of worry remaining, so he gave you a little nudge, jerking his chin to the TV.

“You think I could survive all that?”

You refocused, taking a good long look at the man surviving alone in the Alaskan Wilderness, squinting your eyes to see (he made a mental note to ask your mom about getting your eyes checked later), before replying.

“Yeah, probably.”

You said, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, before adding onto it.

“I could last longer, though.”

He raised his brows, a grin forming on his face.

“Yeah? How you planning on doin’ that?”

He didn’t bother mentioning that he was a former SAS Captain and would absolutely last longer than you in the wilderness. He’d rather you at least talk to him and get into a better mood, even if by making fun of him.

“I’d steal all your stuff, then make you fist fight a bear.”

He let out a low chuckle at that. It was an answer incredibly reminiscent of something Soap would say, or Nik, on second thought.

“I think I’d win.”

You raised a brow at him, a look of clear doubt on your face, before you both burst into little fits of giggles. When you finally managed to refocus on the show, he grabbed a blanket from the side of the couch, pulling it over both of you before taking a sip from his cup.

You both slowly got comfortable, eyelids growing heavy as you yawned quietly. Before falling asleep, you managed to murmur one last thing.

“Thanks, John.”

And maybe it wasn’t the ‘Dad’ he’d been hoping for, but that would come with time, or maybe not at all, and he found that he didn’t care as much as he initially thought he would. He’d finally realized that not all men who were fathers were called ‘Dad’, and that was just fine with him, as long as you were safe and comfortable.

[auriidae]

PART 2 ‼️ me & my friends when we are stuck at life (pt 1) (pt 3)

character notes under the cut!!!!!

both in true hs canon and in this au, rage represents chaos. and lifeseries grian is so undoubtedly linked to chaos above all else — he thrives off it, subsists on it even. if it’s not something he can seek out it’s something he’ll initiate. but — make no mistake, the anarchy he initiates is very much limited to within the game. he doesn’t break the game system, he works within it and disrupts whatever system the players are trying to put in place… for the benefit of the game itself. and again, with heirs being played by their aspect, it only makes sense for him to be one. rather than jimi, though, he’s okay with this — being an agent of chaos ties him to it intrinsically, and that makes him feel so, so alive. he’s okay with being controlled, for the most part, because it also means he’s in control. at least at the beginning.

i wanted to make eethos a mind player so bad you don’t understand 😔 but i think he is closer to void in reality. either way he’s a thief — dealing in redistribution of his aspect only to himself, whether consciously or unconsciously. i think void makes sense for eethos because he’s such an unknown to many of the other players (and also to some extent probably himself). a thief of void — taking the mystery from others, knowing them and their secrets and cloaking yourself in them, making yourself an unknown. if void is an aspect more focused inward, also (i like the idea that the central struggle of void players’ character arcs are more personal than some of the other aspects), we could have eethos vs the mortifying ordeal of being known + choosing to stay. which comes back to his class, with thieves having to let others have their aspect as well in order to fully complete their character arc. with that being said eethos “wghats the deal wiht abtrhoom pesnis” mind player will always be real in my heart ok

beedub oh beedub my beloved rogue beedub. rogues typically have the problem, right, where they are capable of redistributing their aspect for the benefit of others but never for themselves. so they try to find others who can help them with it but really just have to learn to stand on their own (and end up finding a source of their aspect that way). this specifically throws beedub n eethos’s friendship into the saddest light because beedub is okay with giving everything to his friends + allies (esp eethos) while quietly hoping they will help him in return, but the thing beedub wants eethos (as a thief) is incapable of giving to him. he can only take, and that’s where their sort of falling out where eethos starts avoiding him and spending more time with others comes from. eethos needs to learn to give to others (not beedub) and beedub needs to learn to stand on his own. ethubs makes me sad. BUT ANYWAYS hope as the aspect of imagination, of being caught up in seeing what could be, of love and trust unconditionally without paying mind to the possible repercussions. that is pretty bdubs-coded i think. he’s a hope player and he’s going to be ok guys he’s going to be fine :)

again feel free to ask me questions abt them !!! lifestuck is in my brain

[spiritshaydra]

Aw hell yeah it’s Spit’s Soundwave Headcanons time, NOW ITS TIME TO GET FUNKY

Currently suffering a very annoying cold on the one week of my college semester where I’m actually off, so I guess it’s time to unleash my Very Bad Goofy Aah And Kinda Angsty Headcanons For The Sweeb; because not only am I physically ill I’m also very ✨mentally ill✨🥰 a double whammy if you will. (Meant to post it earlier so I no longer have a nasty cold nor am I on break still. 😔)

Heres some of my other shitty headcanon posts! Here and here

LETS BEGIN SHALL WE?

Soundwave is the Nemesis’s resident shitty cryptid. He’s like having a black cat live in your house that’s also twenty three feet tall and made of metal. He has the whole shebang down to an art: he will stare at you judgmentally from across the room, has the horrible ability to practically materialize out of the shadows without warning despite being a giant space robot, is completely silent but is fully capable of making the Worst Noises Known To Man if he so desired, will be found where you least expect it, and he may or may not be the type to do a horrible skitter in the unholy hours of the night.

There’s also cases of him being petty in a sort of “nobody would ever believe you” sort of way, such as knocking things off of someone’s (Starscream’s) desk.

Belling him like a cat might solve the whole “sneaking up out of nowhere” problem, however good luck on actually SUCCEEDING in that. Plus, it would get in the way of him being y’know, a spymaster.

Dude likes stray cats. <3

Gonna also say that he’s a fan of Hatsune Miku because ???? Yes

He doesn’t like direct prolonged eye contact and will take it as a threat or challenge. This is even more evident in the extremely rare instances where he’s unmasked, as he will never look someone in the eyes in that circumstance. One thing he does do when unmasked is that he’ll tilt his head to his blindside to be able to see with his functional optic better. (He’s fully blind on the damaged side of his face.)

He never sits normally and will instead crouch or perch on things as a substitute. There’s no logic to it other than it’s what he finds comfortable apparently.

He is a massive shitlord. And a pretty passive aggressive one at that. He may be quiet and not the most social, but he is absolutely not a submissive or shy individual.

I bestow (one of) the highest honor I can give upon him: ✨aro/ace spectrum✨ or bust baby!!1!1! Or at least ace. This dude wouldn’t be able to tell if someone tried romancing HIM specifically unless they straight up said so. He also just,, doesn’t really think about those sorts of things either and has no interest whatsoever. If hit on, he’s just going to squint at the offender in question before going back to work (in most circumstances at least)

✨robot autism✨ (the other highest honor I can give)

Wavewave hostility. Yeeeeaaaah he’s indifferent towards Shockwave at the BEST. It’s Wave on Wave violence at worst. (TO BE FAIR, the scientist doesn’t give him much thought in return) He’s not going to be charitable towards the mech who experimented on his cassettes (when they were alive-) behind his back. Sooo,,, they are very much not “friends”. To say that he wasn’t ecstatic that Shart had survived the Spacebridge explosion would be one way to put it.

Besides really simple repairs and other quick fixes, he absolutely hates being in the medbay; to the point where out of any of the members of the Nemesis crew, he’s the one wearing the badge of “#1 worst patient ever “ (with what could be described as pride.) Anything involving removing the visor for repairs is like pulling teeth, and any major damage repairs goes straight to hell to the point where he’s actually had to be subdued at least once or twice. Usually it’s also a two person team sort of ordeal with Knockout doing the complicated medical procedures while Breakdown’s providing backup. Nobody involved enjoys it in the slightest. Hence the worst patient ever award.

He has the tendency to hide in hard to reach places like up in the rafters. Never to get out of doing his work, as he’s a workaholic, but more so to avoid meetings with those he despises, some medical things, and sometimes just to decompress. Normally this could just be attributed to some of his weird quirks, and it’s completely harmless, until it isn’t. The bad thing about this, is that he will try to hide when gravely injured instead of going to the medbay. Generally you could find him by following the energon splatters and looking for the dim purple glow among the shadows close to the ceiling of a storage room. Sometimes there’s energon dripping from the rafters. Usually if he does get badly hurt while on the field, he is to be escorted directly to the medbay so this doesn’t happen.

He had to be almost completely rebuilt some time during the war on Cybertron. We’re talking the almost complete destruction of his frame. There’s a reason why he doesn’t have the bulky heavier armored frame of his gladiator days, despite it likely being more useful in combat. I mean, who would willingly choose to get rid of their functional wrists? The ability to pronate one’s wrist is pretty useful I’d assume. (Look at his design in the show, the dude doesn’t have wrists :,D just really REALLY long forearms. He’s basically doing a more extreme case of raptor hands.) He was rebuilt with what supplies were on hand at the time, with modifications and adjustments being made until we get to what we see now. (Many modifications were made to up his fear factor, to unease targets in combat)

Before his face was destroyed in the Pits as a gladiator, he actually wore a half visor over his optics. Not out of necessity, but for the intimidation/fear factor it added to his gladiatorial matches. Oh the irony. In present day, it’s entirely out of necessity and out of security as well.

I see him as a stray cat sort of guy. I dunno, characters caring for stray cats in an alleyway gotta be one of my favorite genres.

Definitely would’ve been the kid that hisses at people in the hallway in high school. Definitely got the vibe imo

[domain-of-sentience]

ch 38 ramblings

in which this chapter managed to make me give a shit about every character involved which was completely unprecedented. but also what the fuck just happened

also filled with susannah feelings, damn.... truly a girlfailure who graduated to girlwinner

anyway this chapter started off pretty strong (esp with that sage fight) but i was pretty paranoid that they would make seele pull a kiana for bubble universe(s) #547887648 which was the only thing i didn't really care much for in this chapter. i guess it's bc all they've interacted with is faceless npcs and vita, but vita isn't a native so......

at least there was plenty of gay shit

side note, i was curious about the two new mobs: white sword of damocles and black wine of theramenes. the sword of damocles is a famous symbol but i couldn't figure out the symbolic significance of "wine of theramenes," which doesn't seem to be a thing? and i don't see any parallels between theramenes and the sage other than "figure centered between two sides (worlds)" idfk...

this was one of my fave moments in the chapter bc you very rarely see a "smart" character fuck things up royally and also try amend them, by a former antagonist no less. honestly i did not care much about misteln initially but they managed to humanize her (and prometheus) throughout this whole ordeal so that's cool

y'know she didn't have to defend fuhua here but she did anyway hehe 😳

also i noticed they modeled the shark teeth for niggurath which is kinda funny considering they were lazy enough to reuse hua's model and face, and this shit would be too hard to see on a phone.. but now i wish they would give hos shark teeth too 😔

Yay ❤️

i saw this a long while ago too but i still don't know what to make of it other than some potential space exploration arc

WHICH reminds me i'm glad they delved into the sky people a bit. sorry i cba to read the manga

this whole segment hurted ☺️ but it also reminded me of my friend's super good and famous sentihua fic. let it be known that she tackled this concept first 🫡

THANK You kira i wish i could beat this into the heads of people so they stop applying human rules to her. i forgor the timeline already but just because she came into existence a few years ago doesn't mean she's a literal baby-brained minor 🤓🤓 by that logic i would have to revoke your license to talk about misteln milkies or w/e

okay that was my 532327th rant on that topic moving on

and despite being inhuman she has plenty of empathy for people, chad moment

umm i stopped taking screenshots here but I LOVE SUSANNAH NOW.... like i actually teared up when she was so frustrated with herself but she pulled herself up by da bootstraps and ran that marathon against all odds. she's an S-rank valkyrie in my heart okay 🥺🥺🥺

also rip vita but i know this isn't the last of u. still dunno what's going on with her

i give this chapter a rating of sussy vita/10 not quite a steel chair moment but was quite close

[permafrown]

"essays" in question btw in regards to Irene + Irene/Jonathan 👇 they're very informal bc I just copied and pasted my own messages LMAO

ABOUT IRENE:

SO THIS IS MY SILLY BILLY IRENE CHURCHILL aka "The Undertaker" !!

Their whole thing is that they moved to Gotham, right.. initially being from the Midwest and so they're there as an Embalmer for the GCPD. They end up picking up a side gig as a body disposal service for Gotham's criminal underbelly just like. Completely by accident. They did it once for Penguin but after that it's what they became Known For and like they'd get shady mfs at their door like. 🕴️ we got a job for ya and they're like. 😔 I guess this is what I do now ⚰

They don't kill anybody they just take care of a deed that's already been done, in exchange for money and favors they can cash in. They consider themselves a "Modern-Day Charon" bc of the morbid but neutral role they play.

EVENTUALLY they decide they want to do a little more with themselves and one thing leads to another and . . . they get into experimenting w/ reanimating corpses specifically after modifying a sample of Jonathan's fear toxin into what they call Vie (short for Vie a la Mort bc they're fake french). It bites them in the ass and they die and then are brought back with their own creation and now they're The Cooler Irene

ABOUT IRENE AND JONATHAN:

if I were to like generalize instead of basing it around pre-existing comics .. I'd say Irene and Jonathan probably met at something like a gala/charity event that Gotham University was hosting and members of the GCPD were invited to including Irene bc Jim Gordon was like. We have got to get you out of that morgue and socializing spending all that time around dead bodies isn't good for you. And they're just like. Ok 😗👍

SO THEY MEET JON AT THIS PARTY that they're both like half-heartedly attending for one reason or another. and they're like wowww.. this guy's weird (twirling hair). Theyre talking to eachother getting along well. And well since Irene doesn't know abt Scarecrow and (at this point) Jon doesn't know about Undertaker they're both just kinda thinking to themselves - this guy's definitely hiding something.

SO IT'S THIS STUPID LIKE. ROMCOM ASS DEVELOPMENT of them gradually spending more and more time around eachother falling in-love in the process being in denial about it ETC

and then one Halloween. Irene's first Halloween in Gotham there's a fall festival that Jonathan had invited Irene to and they're like oh hell yeah. They dress as a plague doctor with a small twist that ends up saving their ass (the mask actually functions as a mask) so they go and they're waiting for Jonathan just chillin and then BOOM there's a scarecrow attack and everything's in shambles around 'em there's people screaming and what not. Except for Irene who like in the midst of it all sees Scarecrow and their ass FALLS IN-LOVE thinking he's just a scare actor

They just kinda go home after like wow what a wild night lol. and then they hear police sirens outside at where the festival was and they're like . I'm starting to think that whole ordeal wasn't part of the festivities.

SO they see a news segment talking about a scarecrow attack and they're like scarecrow.... AND they rmbr how they hadn't seen Jonathan that night and it's not like him to no-show esp not when he made the plans so they're connecting the dots like . . . Uh oh 😨 ( <- experiencing heart palpitations but brother it's not fear)

SO THEY JUST. HAVE TO GO ON PRETENDING THEY DONT KNOW SHIT LIKE ahh damn jonathan shame I didnt see you last night. Yeah no I wasn't even there I had to feed my fish.

AND THENNNNN as Undertaker they have scarecrow as a client once and they're normal about it. like maybe he doesn't know. and then it happens again shortly after but this time they're like 🤨 this body you want gone isn't even fresh man the rove beetles are getting to it it's been out for atleast a week and Scarecrow's like. How would you know that if you weren't involved in the forensics or perhaps even mortuary field. Irene. and they're like FUUUUCK 😭

SO THAT'S HOW HE FINDS OUT BC HE SET THEM UP and then they take off eachother's masks/veil and it's all tense and they kiss sloppy style THE END

[rachelordwayart]

For months I thought I'd been getting away with just drawing an unknown, innocuous-seeming cute little pig in the group chat where half the group didn't know DBZ, then today I explain "Oh, he's from Dragon Ball, I'm just Special Interesting" and I-thought-they-didn't-know-DBZ @micaxiii blurts out "He has a Special Interest in panties!" and hits me over the head with the Mortifying Ordeal Of Being Known 😔

[despazito]

The urge to post cleavage vs the terrifying ordeal of being known 😔

[catastrophecrow64]

hey i hope this doesnt make you feel like. mortifying ordeal of being known or whatever. but you liked a text post i made, untagged, almost a year ago today. and i just wanted you to know i am simultaneously so glad that my post has finally found An Audience and also so terribly sorry for you to be suffering, toiling away in the terra nova mines. i still need to watch it like watch it watch it i dont think i even watched it watched it when it was coming out but you. me. terra nova. how did it only get one season? surely supernatural could spare a season for terra nova yk??? or sherlock???? i think we can all agree the last season of sherlock bad !!!

ANOTHER TERRA NOVA FAN OMG HIIIIIIII

We really do struggle 😔 im still holding out hope for a reboot or something 😔 I gave up on hope for a season several years ago, supernatural should have skipped season 11 and given it to us instead!!

[m-practice]

ur so cool. like Fr ur so funny and relatable. just letting you know you're awesome . we're mutuals but I am tormented by the mortifying ordeal of being known so I'm on anon but like I fw ur vibes. also I'm high I hope this isn't parasocial as fuck or something 😔✌️,

DUDE thats actually awesome as hell but also i have 6 total mutuals and i'm watching you

[carnivorousyandeere]

Tagged By: @heartfullofleeches

Last Song: Rider in Red by Savant (Halloween Playlist)

Favorite Color: green + teal, especially darker tones :)

Currently Watching: Halloween Craft Videos

Last Movie: Scream (1996)

Currently Reading: informational articles and personal stories about various kinks 😭

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: probably savory! Trying to slowly increase the spice tolerance in order to try more food from around the world though 🫶

Relationship: single and terrified of the mortifying ordeal of being known like that ✌️😔✌️

Current Obsessions: HALLOWEEN, writing, history and social implications of the horror genre

The Last Thing I Googled: “how long to cook jasmine rice” 💀 despite looking it up, still managed to burn the rice at the bottom of the pot somehow 😭💀💀💀

Currently Working On: kinktober, editing a short YouTube asmr roleplay video, writing more scripts

No pressure tags: @s3thistir3d , @darling--core , @devourable , @yanderu-deredere , and Iike Mr. Devil said, anyone else who’d like to join in 🫶

9 people you'd like to get to know better

Tagged by @steven-grants-world <3

Last song: Fascination / 101 String Orchestra (bc of @runa-falls and her lovely drabble)

Favorite Color: green (especially sage/forest)

Currently Watching: Moon Knight, The Mandalorian, Ugly Betty, Daredevil

Last Movie: oh golly I think it was In Secret (2013), I'm still blushing

Currently Reading: Stardust by Neil Gaiman

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: savory, I love a good soup 👌

Relationship Status: singling and terrified of mingling (the men on my phone can't hurt me if this is the only app I use)

Current Obsession(s): Oscar Isaac, Pedro Pascal, Across the Spiderverse, MOON KNIGHT

Last Thing I Googled: Dead Again (1991)

Currently Working On: a paint-by-number, chapter 3 of Last Night (my jake lockley/reader fic) finally unpacking from moving in July 💀

No pressure tags: @virtie333, @dowbastan @awakeandlonely, @howellatme, @suddenlysteven, @arrozyfrijoles23, @readerthatreadsss, @ssp3ctor, @crescentbelle