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hivemuthur · 18 days ago

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The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 9.

viktorxfemale!reader explict! (we got there)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 7,2K!

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: spoiler: In the timeline of my writing, this is the first sex scene I've ever written on my own. So, what can I say? This is an imperfect story about imperfect people, but I can assure you it has an eventual happy ending.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

The absolute chaos of Christmas looming spread across the campus like an infectious frenzy. The corridors were decked with the most absurd ornaments the students could scavenge—Santa Claus figurines strung up and dangling upside down from the ceiling of the canteen, Christmas trees adorned with laboratory glassware and angel hair, and a mockery of carols blaring on repeat from the school radio. It was a bizarre fusion of science and art, a perfect encapsulation of the university’s peculiar spirit.

Every student seemed to be racing against time, scrambling to finish their projects and papers before the holidays, determined to return prepared for the looming finals. The labs and library remained open around the clock for anyone desperate enough to study or practise at odd hours.

You and Sue spent every spare moment in the lab classroom, tinkering with projects that needed to be submitted by the semester’s end. Meanwhile, Jayce and Viktor made themselves available to assist and guide anyone who might need their expertise, and the group crossed paths periodically, exchanging polite gestures and jokes to keep up the holiday spirit. Viktor had made a few attempts to talk to you after his mortifying text message, but you did your best to ignore him.

Which made your current situation, to say the least, far from ideal. Sue was rushing you to jot down all the points before she had to dash off and tend to a project for another class. The two of you huffed at each other, frustration starting to take its toll, until you sighed and said, “Sue, how about I finish this, and you go do your thing? I really don’t mind.” You offered your friend a reassuring smile.

Sue hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Are you sick of me or something?”

“I’m never sick of you,” you said, placing your hand on Sue’s knee and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “I just think this needs a bit more work, and I can see you’re in a hurry. Honestly, I really don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Okay, I admit my mind is elsewhere. Fine,” Sue sighed in mock defeat. “I’ll do something for you in return, I promise.” She started packing up her things and leaned over to place a hand on your shoulder.

“Just get me a cookie or something,” you replied with a tired smile, gently brushing Sue’s hand away. You figured you’d probably finish the work faster on your own, and you were running out of time anyway. The lab was already emptying, darkness had fallen outside, your eyes burned from staring at the chemicals for so long, and you’d had more than enough for one day.

After Sue left, you resumed your work, determined to finish everything in one evening. The promise of rest and the satisfaction of completion fuelled you. You were so focused on jotting down your thoughts that you didn’t notice when Viktor sat beside you and leaned over your notes.

“Do you... need help?” His voice was unsure, as if he were asking about something else as well.

You hesitated. Help would certainly be welcome, but Viktor’s presence would also make it harder for you to focus. The final equation seemed to balance out the odds. You looked at him—he looked tired yet sharp. He wore the same green jumper he’d had on that night, with a crisp white shirt collar peeking out from underneath it. His scent was fresh and comforting, and his eyes, full of quiet anticipation, were fixed on you as you calculated your decision. You sighed. Yes, you needed help.

“Alright. Shoot me.”

For a split second, Viktor’s face lit up before he leaned in closer. “You’re pretty far along,” he said, his expression thoughtful, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can dictate, and I’ll translate it into Heimerdinger’s language?”

“That would honestly be perfect,” you admitted, letting out a huff of relief as you turned your attention back to the chaotic scrawl of notes Sue had left behind. Terrible handwriting.

The two of you worked together in near silence, the hum of the lab equipment and the faint scratching of Viktor’s pen the only sounds between you. You found yourself occasionally distracted by the way Viktor’s long fingers moved as he pointed to your results, his low voice guiding you through adjustments. You tried to stay focused, but every now and then, you’d catch yourself glancing at him, his concentration a tether pulling your attention away from your notes.

Viktor, for his part, couldn’t help but steal glances at you. The faint scent of your perfume mixed with the sterile air of the lab, and it made something in his chest feel warm, almost achingly so. He bit his lip nervously whenever he realised he’d been staring too long, forcing his attention back to writing.

It took the two of you longer than either of you had expected, but when you finally wrapped up, the lab was completely empty. You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a soft groan of relief.

“That’s it, then,” you said, your voice tired but satisfied. “Thank you, Viktor. Honestly, I’d still be drowning in that mess if you hadn’t—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut you off gently, placing the pen down and leaning back slightly. He watched as you began gathering your things, clearly ready to leave. But before you could stand, he cleared his throat, his voice softer now. “Hey.”

You paused, looking at him.

“Did you…” He hesitated, the words suddenly harder to push out. He fidgeted with the edge of his notebook. “Did you get my text message?”

Of course, you did. You’d seen his stupid, childish message. The ‘I like you,’ had screamed at you from your phone screen for two weeks now, and you’d both loved it and hated it. Who writes ‘I like you’ like a five-year-old? And not only that, who needs to down an entire bottle of whisky to muster the courage to write ‘I like you’?

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You hadn’t expected this. You shifted awkwardly in your chair, avoiding his gaze. “I did,” you said finally, your voice measured, careful.

Viktor’s expression remained unreadable, but his hands tightened around the notebook in front of him. “And?”

You let out a breath, your lips pressing into a thin line. “And… if I’m to rely on you saying or doing something from the heart only when you get yourself blind drunk, that wouldn’t be the best choice for your health, Viktor,” your voice was quiet, your eyes fixed on the workbench in front of you. “And I don’t want to be bad for your health.” You offered him a faint smile and looked down again. “If it was from the heart, in the first place.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded, his gaze dropping to the table. “It was.” It was. And it shamed him deeply that, indeed, he’d needed liquid courage to admit it. Only now did it strike him how awful it must have made you feel. “But I have a… rabbit heart.”

“Am I so terrifying?” you felt mockery twisting itself inside you with anger. Why were you so angry, though? You also had a rabbit heart. You often caught yourself knowing exactly what Viktor was going to say because you used the same words in your history of backing out. Was this the universe having a go at you?

“Yes, you scare the living shit out of me,” he huffed out a shaky laugh, lowering his voice. It was probably the biggest truth he’d told you in all this time.

“Well, this can’t be good for your health either, then, no?” Deflect, deflect, deflect, hide yourself behind that joke. Very well done, you.

“I—” Viktor paused, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Look, I lied. I’m not good with any setup—casual or not. I—” He stopped himself, his eyes flicking briefly to yours before looking away again. He was torn, visibly at war with his own feelings.

You didn’t want to hear him stumble over words again. “Viktor, I get it. It’s fine. We can still be friends?” You tried to search your mind for what you’d want to hear all those times when you told someone politely the relationship wasn’t working for you.

You thought this was it—an offer of friendship. Most people got hurt or annoyed with you, and it made you feel guilty. So, you tried to say something that wouldn’t make him feel guilty. As soon as you said it, you realised that what you actually wanted was for someone not to let you retreat—but it was too late for that.

Viktor took in a shaky breath, his gaze returning to yours, but he still looked uncertain. “I can’t do that,” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “I can’t be just your friend.” His hands clenched into fists on the table. “I... I’ve tried to be fine with it, but I’m not. I can’t pretend.”

“But I don’t know how to be anything else,” he added after a beat, his mind flicking back to all the times he’d snuck out of someone’s bedroom or when he found himself alone in the morning, in his own cold, sweaty bed. After some time, it became a habit, a quiet indulgence that carried no consequences, and it aligned very well with his main goal: to make his life more than it was meant to be. No distractions, only his goal. Some distractions, but not too many. Only friendships, and here as well, only the stimulating ones. To keep his brain fed, so his soul could starve.

“I have worked… so hard,” he brushed his hand through his hair. “To get where I am. I was meant to fail, and I haven’t failed once. I haven’t failed a single time, aside from some tiny, insignificant stumbles that eventually lead me to answers anyway. So many times I haven’t failed that I don’t think I know how to,” his voice was quiet, as if admitting something shameful. He said it as though any slip-up could cost him everything he’s worked for.

“I… understand,” you said slowly, piecing together the crumbs of information. Viktor didn’t come from a place of love, like you did. He didn’t come from a place of opportunity. He probably had to claw his way through pompous academics who didn’t take him seriously. You understood that part. But what was your part in turning it all to dust—that eluded you. So you didn’t understand, not entirely.

“Do you?” he looked at you longingly, expectantly, and it made your heart ache. What was it that you were supposed to give him now? A promise you would never hurt him? That you would never distract him or drag his mind away from what’s important?

“Viktor, this shouldn’t be so hard, I’m not some mythical creature,” you said, trying to inject a touch of humour into your voice, but it came out thin, brittle.

Viktor’s gaze softened, but the intensity in his eyes remained. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and steady. “No, you’re not,” he murmured, as if trying to reconcile something inside himself. “But you’re not like anyone else either.”

Your chest tightened at the words, but you quickly pushed it aside, unwilling to let yourself feel vulnerable. You folded your arms across your chest, as if protecting yourself from something you couldn’t name. “I don’t want to be a puzzle for you to solve, Viktor. I don’t want to be some challenge you feel like you need to conquer. That’s not what I’m here for.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he processed your words. He wanted to argue, to convince you that it wasn’t about conquest, that it was about something deeper, but he could tell it wasn’t the right time. Not yet. “I don’t… I don’t think of you like that,” he said, his voice almost too soft, as if afraid to break the fragile moment between you. “I think of you as someone I want to understand, someone who...” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence, the words feeling too heavy in the air.

You shifted in your seat, your eyes narrowing slightly as you considered his words. There was a vulnerability in his voice, a quiet sincerity that you weren’t used to hearing. You almost wanted to reach out, to ease the tension that hung between you, but you held yourself back.

There was a long, aching pause between you before Viktor cleared his throat and leaned back, trying to break the silence. “So,” he said, the words coming out in a lighter tone, “how many do-overs do you think we can have?”

You rolled your eyes at him, a small, rueful smile tugging at your lips. “I find myself hoping that each one is the last one,” you replied dryly, though your heart wasn’t fully in the jest. “Thank you for all the help.”

Viktor smiled, a faint, almost self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. “Oh, no worries. I’ll see you at the Christmas party?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You nodded, your expression softening just slightly. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” you said, your tone neutral, but not dismissive. “Take care, Viktor.”

With that, you parted ways, the lingering tension still hanging between you, neither fully satisfied with the conversation, but both with the understanding that you were somehow still connected—however uncertain that connection was.

You found an unbearable thought gnawing at you—that in this state, the only ‘do-over’ you could count on was friendship, and Viktor couldn’t afford that. Inevitably, it would end with nothing.

***

It wasn’t exactly a party, but the pub was completely packed with people—students, assistants, and random individuals who wandered around campus, their roles in it a complete mystery. Everything was bathed in the warm glow of Christmas decorations, making the space feel even more cramped.

You sat at a small round table with Sue, some familiar faces scattered around, including Jayce and Viktor, who had joined after their TA duties. Sue was mid-sentence when you leaned back in your chair, your eyes wandering. You weren’t in the mood for all the noise tonight. The words blurred around you as you half-listened, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of your glass—a quiet distraction. Viktor was talking to Jayce, his sharp voice cutting through the noise every now and then. His dry wit was always on full display, the kind that kept people around him in that odd mix of awe and wariness.

“You okay?” Sue’s voice brought you back. You blinked, nodding slowly.

“Yeah, just... tired, I guess,” you said, forcing a polite smile as you took a sip of your drink.

The room was hazy with cigarette smoke, the heat becoming unbearable. The whole scene was so unbearably sweet and cozy that it made you flinch. Your eyes kept glancing over to Viktor, who would immediately look away as soon as your gazes met. You kept thinking about what another do-over could look like and felt yourself growing more and more frustrated with the space between you, even though you were sitting so close to each other. You could feel Sue's eyes on you but couldn’t quite explain why you felt this way.

Sue raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, if you need to bail early, I totally get it.”

You hesitated, then gave a half shrug. “I think I’ll head out. Just... not feeling it, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sue replied, offering a quick nod. “See you later?”

“Yeah.” You stood, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. As you made your way through the maze of tables, you could hear Viktor's voice in the background—just enough to make you pause. You could feel his gaze on you, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the exit.

Viktor watched as you stood and walked away, a wave of frustration rising within him, forming itself into a long sigh. He had tried, hadn’t he? He had said things—things he never said to anyone—but now you were leaving, retreating like always. His jaw tightened, and he felt his fingers curl into fists on the table. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not after everything. He should’ve known better, but still, your departure stung.

He couldn’t place why, but it felt like you were slipping away just as he was beginning to reach out. You were both so fucking terrible at talking, at letting yourselves feel anything real. Why did it have to be so difficult?

The cold air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, and for a moment, it felt like a relief. The street was quiet, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath your boots. You slid your headphones on and started walking toward the dorms, matching your steps to the rhythm of the song.

You awaited rest and home and being far away from here with utter impatience. Just one more evening of this. Just one more evening of thinking and biting at your own lips, glancing at your phone, and then it would only be your parents, and Hale, and the quiet evenings at Sheffield, for a week.

Against reason, Viktor followed you, his footsteps soft but steady as he stepped out of the pub moments later. His eyes caught sight of your retreating figure, and a small, amused smile played at the corner of his lips. He’d almost not been surprised—almost expected it.

He called out your name, his voice lost to the wind and muffled by the sounds of the night. But you didn’t hear him. Quickening his pace, his breath misted in the cold air. He called again, louder this time, but still, you didn’t turn.

A small part of him considered letting you go, letting you stew in your thoughts, just leaving it for after the break. But the rest of him felt pulled, like a dog on a leash in front of a vet’s door.

You were nearing the entrance to the dorms when you finally paused, taking a deep breath, and tugging your headphones off with a slight wince. The moment you heard your name, you froze, your heart skipping in your chest.

“Hey you!” Viktor’s voice was closer now, cutting through the night. When you turned, you saw him standing at the edge of the walkway, just outside the dorm. His breath came in visible puffs, his chest heaving as if he’d run after you.

“You walk... so fucking fast,” he said, still catching his breath. “I never figured you for the type to run off so bluntly. But I suppose that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Yes, just laugh it out. Viktor took a few steps forward, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Are you fucking drunk again?” you blinked, your mind racing. You had to admit to yourself that Viktor drunkenly following you from the bar was a coin toss you wouldn’t have bet on. Especially after your last talk. Funny.

“Are you not?” he countered, his words smoother than you expected.

“No. Go back to your pub, Viktor.” Your voice was flat now, each word carefully measured. You exhaled sharply, your shoulders sinking as if the weight of the evening had finally caught up with you. You were so tired of this.

Viktor tilted his head, his smile barely visible in the shadows as he took a step closer. “Eh, make me,” he said softly, though it wasn’t a challenge—not really.

Another step.

“I am so not in the mood for you now,” you muttered, your hands dropping limply by your sides as you turned away, dragging yourself down the corridor toward the elevators. Your voice lacked its usual bite, tinged instead with exhaustion.

“Alright, alright, I’m not drunk, just had one pint. Oh, come on,” Viktor mock-pleaded, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as he quickened his pace to catch up with you. “You won’t see me the entire holiday break.”

“And I will savour every single day of this glorious relief from your constant nagging, poking, your sweet side and your dick side, and having fun at my expense,” you snapped, jabbing the elevator button with increasing impatience, your words punctuated by each press.

You were expecting another joke, but Viktor’s hands gripped your waist firmly, twisting you around. Your breath caught as he pulled you flush against him, the heat of his body sharp against the cold you’d carried in from outside.

“Shut up,” he breathed, his voice raw and ragged as his lips found yours. The kiss was unsteady, heated, and messy, tasting faintly of sweet beer and a frustration that mirrored your own. He panted into your mouth, his lips parting just enough to nip at yours.

“Just… shut up, for once,” he murmured, crowding you against the elevator door. It slid open behind you with a soft chime, and you stumbled inside, Viktor’s cane clattering to the floor as he steadied you against the wall. He pulled your turtleneck down to lick your neck greedily over the bite mark he had left there. His hands quickly found their way under your sweater, and he gasped, bemused by your lack of underwear. “No bra?” Again. A low chuckle rumbled against your skin. “Is that your idea of a Christmas present?”

“Fuck off,” you scoffed, your voice still sharp with lingering anger. Your hands pressed against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but the lack of real force and your hands still gripping his coat tightly betrayed you.

“Are you sure?” Viktor smirked, his grip firm as he tilted your chin up, pressing a lingering, deceptively sweet kiss to your lips. “This is your floor,” he said, his voice agonizingly calm as he stepped back, gesturing toward the elevator doors sliding open.

“Or…” His tone shifted, almost teasing, as he pressed the button to close the doors and send them up to his floor instead. “You could come with me. For real, this time.”

You pulled him wordlessly toward you, offering no resistance—nothing more, nothing less. Words had failed you, but your actions were clear. It was enough. Viktor wanted to say, That’s what I thought, the words teasing the edge of his tongue, but he held them back. Instead, he captured your lips again, kissing frantically. He explored your mouth, swallowing the small sounds you made, the elevator a blur as it carried you upward.

By the time you reached his room, Viktor managed to open the door without breaking the kiss, his cane hanging hooked over his arm. You stumbled inside together, the heat between you growing unbearable, and he pressed you firmly against the door, his hands bracing your hips as his lips moved over yours with unrelenting zeal. You pulled him closer, your breath catching as you managed to rasp, “Bed?”

Viktor chuckled softly against your lips; his tone laced with teasing. “Impatient, are we?” But there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze, the way his hands tightened on your hips as he broke the kiss just long enough to guide you further into the room.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, your voice raw as your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him with you.

“Yes. Please, fuck me,” Viktor murmured, sweeping you into another fervent kiss as you stumbled toward the bed. “I’m so tired of you not fucking me.”

You scoffed into his mouth. And who is to blame for that? You sunk into the mattress, pulling Viktor with you by his belt, the cane poking your leg.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” he whined, his voice laced with frustration as his clumsy hands fumbled with your coat. His hasty movements betrayed him, and in the rush, his knee accidentally pressed against your arm.

“Ow!” you winced, your sharp tone softening as you glanced at his face. The irritation melted away when you saw the unabashed eagerness in his expression, the way his brow furrowed in determination despite his lack of grace. “Is this going to be painful?” you asked, your lips quirking in a faint, teasing smile, though your voice still held a trace of genuine concern.

Viktor froze, blinking down at you like a scolded child. “Only if you want it to be,” he muttered, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back to regroup. His fingers moved more carefully now, peeling the coat off from underneath you with exaggerated precision. “Better?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Viktor granted you a low chuckle, his lips quirking in that familiar, lopsided smirk. “Ridiculous, perhaps, but effective,” he murmured as he continued with his careful work, peeling away the layers of your clothing like unwrapping a particularly stubborn present.

His own clothes, however, didn’t receive the same treatment. He shed them with reckless abandon, tossing each piece into an ever-growing messy pile near the bed, his leg brace a crown on top of it. His cane clattered softly to the floor as he leaned back for balance, the faintest flush spreading across his cheeks.

Once you were both were bare, he ran his palms gently along your sides and pressed his face to your hip, your belly, your neck, inhaling your skin. “God, you are so infuriating,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your body.

He glued himself to you, his hands roaming wherever they could reach, as if this were the moment he’d been waiting to happen for the longest time. And it was, of course. The decision to toss everything aside and just jump in might have been reckless, but he had no capacity to decide otherwise.

“Infuriating?” you laughed, feigning offense. “Is that the way you treat all of your conquests? Make them follow you around by the nose for months, until your resolve finally breaks after one pint?”

“No, only you,” he replied smoothly, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He added with a sly smirk, “It’s my love language with you.”

“Love?” you repeated, voice laced with teasing incredulity, but the hesitation in your tone betrayed how the word caught you off guard.

“Shut up,” Viktor muttered, his hand gliding up your side as he kissed you, silencing your laughter before you could push further. “Attraction,” he murmured against your neck, his lips pressing a lingering kiss there. “Want,” he added, his teeth grazing your breast, earning a sharp gasp from your mouth. “Admiration,” he said, coming back up to meet your eyes and give you a slow, steady kiss. He took your fingers into his mouth and watched your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting.

His voice dipped lower, teasing, and dangerous. “Anyway, is that not what we have been doing?” His hands explored the meat of your ass with a firm grip, his touch both intoxicating and commanding as he pressed himself flush against your core. He shifted against you with a kind of intimacy that had your breath hitching.

“Have you not been loving me all this time?” His words, soft and taunting, carried a heat that matched the tension thrumming between you. His hand moved down between your thighs to scoop your wetness and lick it off his fingers, as he made sure you were watching. “Ah, it seems,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, “you’ve been loving me back all along.”

You trembled under him, your breath catching as your hands gripped his shoulders. A quiet plea escaped your lips, barely audible but filled with vulnerability. “Don’t be mean, Viktor.”

For a moment, he stilled, his expression softening as he pulled back to look at you. His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, held a flicker of something warmer, deeper. “Mean?” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “No. Not with you.”

The teasing edge in his voice melted away as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, slow and deliberate, as though trying to convey what words couldn’t. He was so bad at talking if you thought he was being mean. His hands cradled your face, and his next words came as a low promise against your skin. “I could never be mean to you.”

You huffed softly, a half-laugh escaping you as memories of all the times he’d actually been mean flitted through your mind. “Liar,” you muttered against his lips, though there was no venom in your tone. Instead, you kissed him back longingly, your fingers threading into his hair as your thighs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer.

Viktor exhaled a shaky breath, his control fraying under your touch. “Perhaps,” he admitted with a faint, self-deprecating smile, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “But you give as good as you get, don’t you?” he said playfully, reaching over to pull a condom out of his bedside drawer and put it on swiftly. Then, he grabbed a spare pillow to prop his leg. His belly was tied into a knot, teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure, as he placed one hand between where your bodies were going to meet to align himself at the entrance.

He studied your face, as if to check if there was any resistance left. But you only looked at him with wide eyes, your hands fisting the bed sheet. He swept through his body in a final calculation of what could go wrong—he wasn’t drunk, that was a good start. His leg, eh, not perfect, but he should be able to pull this off. Did he want to love you or tease you? He had forgotten which one it was. A shuddery breath escaped him when your bodies finally connected—he entered you slowly, holding back to lay on top of you.

The first thrust was so deliberate, so slow, so overwhelming that you both moaned into each other's mouths. Your brows tied themselves together, your palms stiff in hesitation over his shoulders, as the feeling of relief surged through you. A relief of finally not being empty.

The only movement Viktor allowed himself was the roll of his hips as he sunk inside you, beat after beat. His arms caged you in, one of his hands gripping your shoulder, the other cradling the base of your skull, as he kept your faces close so he could study you, watch you. He stared at you obscenely, taking in your expressions, disbelief wrenching breath out of his lungs. You really wanted him. You were holding him in a vacuous trap, making it hard to pull out and push back in.

And this wasn’t new. People wanted him, he knew that. They wanted him for this—for a fun fuck—and when they continued to want him afterward, it felt like a fluke. So he shut it down. And it made him feel powerful. No, it made him feel weak. It made his weakness powerful. It gave him the power to disappear from it, from himself, to not be present.

The fact that he was present now, attentive, was rather new for him. Not entirely—he’d had a glimpse of what it could be that night when you were high together, but he hadn’t dared breach the boundary of clothing then. This, though, was entirely different. He watched you so carefully, studying every reaction to his touch. He pushed where you gasped and retreated where you winced. Your kisses were as hungry as his, and it made him feel so full. The fuck was more than fun. It made him feel powerful in a way that didn’t make him feel weak.

He tightened his grip, his forehead resting on yours as he buried himself deep inside, thrust after thrust. His mouth open against you, breathing in every gasp, every whimper you were willing to give him. His pace was even, unwavering, as he murmured against your lips, “You’ve been giving me so much grief.”

He locked eyes with you, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze as he added, “But it really feels like you’ve been loving me back. Haven’t you?” His voice was soft, as though waiting for you to answer not just with words, but with the quiet truth in your eyes.

You slid your fingers into his hair, pulling him in for another desperate kiss, and Viktor caught a faint, barely audible ‘yes,’ offered to drown deep in his throat, traveling straight to his heart, as if you were offering him a secret you hadn’t meant to give away. The sound stirred something deep within him, and as you arched against him, your breath catching, he deepened the kiss and quickened his pace. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, murmuring quiet praises, each word filled with reverence as you moved together toward completion.

He slid one hand to the nape of your neck, another snaked itself between your bodies, his fingers parting you as he whispered softly, “Oh, my girl.” Your eyes fluttered shut, arms wrapping around his shoulders and you muffled your own moan against his mouth, lips and noses brushing against each other. He rubbed lazy circles on your clit, a smile blooming on his face when he felt your back arching beneath him, hips pressing upward to meet his, your cunt clenching around his cock in a tight, needy hug.

He felt your thighs squeezing his hips, your walls fluttering, pulling him deeper inside you, with you. You dug your nails into his shoulders, lips parted pressed against his, foreheads pressed together mingling droplets of sweat into one.

You felt a sudden urge to say, “Thank you,” distorted by a loud moan as you came on his cock, on his fingers, your body tensing up and bending to the sound of his name falling from her lips. It took a long time, and you thought it would never stop, your climax blinding, contorting your body around him with a force to bend and crush.

Viktor’s mind got invaded by a thought of how great it felt to make a girl such as yourself lose control over her own muscles. How it had made him grow taller and bigger, his heart swollen with your grace, his lips bruised from your teeth. Slowly, he worked you through each spasm, and when you were ready, he retreated his hand to wrap both arms around you and buried his face in your neck. His breathing jagged, teeth sinking into your shoulder to not say too much at the sudden tightness around his cock.

His rhythm began to stutter, movements growing urgent by the minute as he buried himself within you up to the hilt. His breath was uneven, his muscles flexing and twisting. He felt your core hugging his cock so tight, he couldn’t hold back his own panting, as if he were a teenager all over again. He moved his face to brush against yours, whispered your name again, voice trembling, and he came with one thick, everlasting pang, whimpering weakly into your mouth.

His body melted into yours with a long, contented sigh, his arms wrapped tightly around you, stomachs and chests pressed, rising and falling together. You stayed like that in silence for a few moments, not moving, just touching, just breathing, just being.

Finally, Viktor rolled you both to the side, his leg hooked over your hip, fingers threading through your hair, and gave you an almost solemn look.

“What is this face?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek and brushing your thumb across his lip.

He sucked on it slowly, not breaking eye contact. “I never thought you would be so…” His voice trailed off for a moment, and just as you braced yourself for another joke, he finished, “wonderful.”

You managed only to whisper a quiet “Viktor—,” your grip tightening around him as the weight of this little praise crushed you. As his eyes crushed you, his warmth crushed you, as you crushed yourself with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

Viktor pulled back just a few inches, his gaze searching yours. “Are you going away for Christmas tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative. Normal.

You nodded slowly, your fingers still tangled in his hair as you answered, “Yeah.”

“Will you stay?” Please, stay. Please don’t have me wake up alone tomorrow. A weakness crept back in.

You nodded against his neck. A quiet breath escaped Viktor’s lips as he leaned in to kiss your forehead, pulling you back against him. He sighed softly, the sound almost like a weight lifting. He didn’t speak for a few moments, just holding you as if afraid you might disappear if he let go.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter now. “I have no idea how I’m going to explain my absence to Sue though.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a playful smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, his voice teasing. “I’ll just tell her you got really into the holiday spirit and had to spend the night with your favourite TA.”

You chuckled softly, the tension between you easing just a little. “I’m sure she’ll believe that,” you replied, though the words felt lighter now, softer.

Viktor’s expression shifted to one of mock seriousness as he pulled you a little closer. “But tomorrow, when the morning comes,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, “I’ll have to call it in. You caught me drunk, used me for your advantage,” he paused, his eyes glinting with mischief, “and I’ll make sure everyone knows it.”

You let out a small laugh, your face flushing slightly at the absurdity of the situation. “Selling me out already, I see how this will go,” you said, teasing him back. “I’m sure you won’t mind telling them how you practically begged me to stay the night and cuddle you.”

Viktor smiled, but his eyes softened. “I won’t,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple again, holding you in the quiet aftermath. The moment felt almost unreal—so intimate, so fragile—and yet, there you were. He wouldn’t dare break it by asking for more. And even though Viktor’s chest was still swollen with fear, his mind drifted to sleep in your arms.

Your own mind, however, was restless. As the high of your connection faded, you woke up early, your thoughts gnawing at you. Viktor was fast asleep, his expression so peaceful that you couldn’t believe he had a bad bone in his body. Yet, you had been stabbed so many times. It wasn’t real, was it? It couldn’t be over, just like that. What if he was right, and you weren’t meant to share the awkwardness of the morning? What if he tried to shrug it off once he woke up? Would you survive if he did?

No. You wouldn’t.

Cursing yourself, you slid out of bed, put your clothes back on, and gave Viktor, who was sleeping soundly, one last glance that tore through your soul. And left.

***

The morning light crept through the gaps in the blinds, painting pale stripes across the sheets. Viktor stirred, his body heavy and warm, though there was an odd hollowness in the bed. He reached out instinctively, the fog of sleep not yet cleared, his fingers brushing against nothing but the cold fabric of the mattress. His eyes blinked open.

The room was silent.

He sat up slowly, scanning the space, the sense of emptiness clawing at him as the realisation began to take shape. You were gone.

The sheets beside him were rumpled, but the space was cold, long abandoned. For a moment, he stared at the spot you’d occupied, trying to convince himself you might still be here. Perhaps you were in the bathroom, or in his tiny kitchen searching for tea—but no sound of movement met his ears.

A chill crept through his chest, spreading outwards, a tight knot forming in his stomach. You left.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements clumsy, hurried, his leg straining without the brace. There had to be something—a note, a message, anything that might explain. The bedside table was empty. The dresser? Nothing. Viktor opened a drawer, then another, rifling through with increasing desperation, though he knew even as he searched how ridiculous it was. You wouldn’t leave a note in a drawer.

His gaze snapped to his phone. He lunged for it, unlocking the screen with trembling fingers. Nothing. No missed calls. No texts.

He stood there in the middle of the room, staring at the empty screen. His chest tightened, his breaths coming faster, each one shallower than the last. Of course.

What had he been thinking? That after all his fumbling, after all his glaring flaws, you would stay? That someone like you, bright and untamed, would want someone like him—a man who could barely navigate his own feelings without tripping over them?

Right. His fingers clenched around the phone, the pressure digging into his palm. How stupid. How painfully, pathetically stupid. How weak.

He sank back onto the bed, his head in his hands. The weight of the silence pressed down on him. Every echo in the room seemed to mock him. The bed felt too big now, the walls closing in too fast. His mind replayed your smile, your laugh, the warmth in your eyes last night, and it made his chest ache. How could you think you’d earned something like this?

And yet, beneath the sinking despair, anger simmered. At himself. At you. At the cruel absurdity of it all. You’d kissed him, held him, and for a brief moment, he’d thought you were standing on equal ground. But the truth was stark now, laid bare in her absence: you’d left. Or maybe that was an equal ground, after all. Now, you were truly even.

A sharp knock at the door jolted him from his spiralling thoughts. He didn’t answer immediately, hoping whoever it was would go away, but the knock came again, louder this time.

“Viktor?” Jayce’s familiar voice called from the other side. “You ready? We’ve got to leave in half an hour, mate.”

Viktor swallowed hard; his throat dry. His hands slowly dropped from his face as he stared at the door. Jayce’s voice was too cheerful, too ordinary, too far removed from the storm brewing inside him. He wanted to shout at him, to tell him to go away, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I’ll be ready,” he croaked after a pause, his voice hoarse and thin.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment, then the sound of Jayce’s footsteps retreating down the hall. Viktor exhaled shakily, his gaze drifting back to the rumpled sheets beside him. Forcing himself to move, he stood and began to gather his things. Each motion felt mechanical, hollow. The knot in his chest didn’t loosen, but he pushed it down, swallowing it whole. It was almost Christmas. He had to pretend. At least for a little while longer.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #the game of teaching body

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shawnxstyles · 2 years ago

Note

we need a part two when they finish the project please

sweetheart (part 2)

warnings: smut; (f- receiving [fingering, clit stimulation], praise kink, protected sex, slight cock-warming, dirty talk), and tiny fluff

note: i’m soooo sorry i haven’t been as active. once june starts i’ll be able to write more and post more stories, but right now i’m super busy. i have a few fics right now that i’ve started, but haven’t gotten the chance to sit down and finish them. so for now, please accept this blurb 😖 sweetheart part 1

—

you’ve always had a liking for school, in every aspect. unlike most people, you enjoyed doing homework and projects because it helped you understand the material you were learning. specifically, you adored science. you thought that the facts and what-ifs of the universe were fascinating, and you wouldn’t mind spending your whole life experimenting to discover new things. you absolutely loved chemistry and found it fun to analyze different equations to see what substance creates which reaction.

but right now, you’ve never hated science more.

peter is sitting on his computer typing away on the essay portion while you’re trying to focus on writing the poster. in all honesty, he gave you the easier job and you’re grateful, but you can’t seem to focus. not after he had his warm mouth on your pussy only two hours ago. every few moments, you would peek at peter’s fingers typing. you were getting so desperate to the point that each word he typed sent a tingle down your belly. when you two made light conversation, you swear his voice got a little deeper each time, and the rumbly rasp nearly sent you flying onto his lap.

“y/n, did you hear me?” you did not hear him.

“huh?” you blinked a few times, shaking all your dirty thoughts of his fingers from you. but they looked so rough and they moved so quickly, just like they did in you—

“are you okay?” no, you were not okay.

“uh, yeah, i’m fine,” you lied because you just wanted to finish the project, so peter could withhold his promise. that promise was the only thing getting you through this poster. there seemed to be a million facts and a lot of diagrams.

“what’d i say about lying?” peter asked with a head tilt and an octave-lower voice, his fingers halting on the keyboard. your heart skipped an erratic beat and your pencil dropped onto the poster paper.

“d-don’t do it.”

“good, you remembered,” he smirked subtly before typing away again. you take shallow breaths, wondering how he takes away your breath so easily.

the pulsing need of your clit and the burning of your stomach keep you from focusing. after ten minutes of hazily writing and sketching nonsense, you swallow your fear.

“peter, i was wondering if…we could take a break?” you suggested, pencil spinning around your anxious finger.

“sure, that sounds good,” he replies, but not the way you wanted him to. you watch as he saves his progress and closes his computer before walking around the kitchen island. he grabs two cups of water and hands one over to you when you appear at his side.

“oh, i’m not thirsty,” you smile to deny his offer.

“but you will be,” peter says nonchalantly before taking a smooth sip of his water. you feel the all-too familiar blush cascade across your neck as your eyes wander around the floor.

“are you all shy now? you didn’t seem to be when you were checking me out earlier,” peter taunts with a fake-innocent smile and places his glass on the counter. your eyes go wide for a moment, embarrassed that you were caught. “what? you didn’t think i saw you looking at me like you were going to jump on me? i know needy eyes when i see them, baby.”

the overwhelming heat of your skin fogs up your brain, making it impossible to focus on anything but the words leaving his lips. you’re silently begging him to touch you, to mend that ache in your cunt with his rough fingers. and hopefully, his cock. god, you want to see and feel his cock more than anything. you bet it would stretch you out for a whole week.

you swear you’re not normally like this.

“something’s on your mind,” peter observes with squinted eyes and a hand under his chin. “what is it?”

oh, just the idea of you fucking me into oblivion that’s all is what you wanted to say, but of course you didn’t. you mumbled out some gibberish that he couldn’t understand.

“i can’t hear you, sweetheart,” his words were so condescending, and in some twisted way, it turned you on so much.

“your promise,” you finally said, looking at his eyes. with each passing moment they grew from brown to shades darker.

“oh, i see,” peter tsks, “please, remind me what my promise was again? i seem to have forgotten.”

peter just loves games. especially the ones where he can feel your skin radiating fiery heat and watch your body squirm in its place. like he has all night, he’s been able to smell your arousal throughout the two hours you’ve been working. it utterly killed him to sit steady and type some scientific essay that wasn’t nearly as entertaining as your moans or ogasmic face. it was even worse knowing that you were just as desperate, but most likely didn’t want to interrupt your guys’ work time. what an angel you were.

but right now, peter’s never wanted to do more sinful things.

“you said…” how does he say such dirty words with ease? “you said we could continue what we were doing earlier.”

you lean your back against the counter, heart beating erratically in your chest as you try to remain cool. but your entire body was on fire and your clit was throbbing in your soaked underwear, so it was pretty difficult to stay focused.

“and what was that? use your words,” peter softly demands, licking his lips smugly. a never-ending heat cascades through your body, making your heart beat faster than ever. you breathe in, trying to get the courage to be so upfront.

“you said you would…fuck me,” you surprised yourself when you said the words. they sounded even bolder than you would have thought. every little moment he doesn’t say anything makes you think he’s just going to laugh at you. at this point, you think you’ve gone insane because you can no longer feel your heart beating. just the impending silence dangling between you two.

“good girl. now i remember,” peter smiles proudly and inches his way closer to you. his hand snakes up your neck and caresses your jaw. his thumb plays innocently with your bottom lip as your trembling breath huffs out. he could do whatever he wanted to you, and you would let him. “it wouldn’t be very nice if i didn’t keep my promise, would it?”

“no,” you waver out. your legs are stiffened together and your eyes are straining on his every move.

peter solely smirks before leaning down to kiss you. like the movies, his kiss is soft and pleasant. the way your lips molded together caused such an intense chemical reaction, and you would love to experiment on it. multiple times. every day. you would kiss him as many times as you could. you never would forget the magnetic feeling of his lips on yours.

your hands get lost in his brown hair, twisting their way through his ends. you’re so lost within his kiss that you didn’t even comprehend when he said “jump,” but you subconsciously listened and leaped into his hold. peter carried you to his bedroom, which you have been dying to see since you walked through the door. you believed someone’s bedroom said a lot about them.

however, you were too focused on other things to analyze peter’s bedroom. peter delicately lays you onto his black sheets, still kissing you like the world is ending. he slowly makes his way down your warm neck as you hum at the feeling. knowing what’s coming, you don’t wait for peter to ask permission behind discarding your own shirt. you close your eyes and tell yourself to not be self-conscious. he’s already seen you naked, so why be nervous?

seeing this, peter frowns slightly. his rough fingertip taps lightly on your temple. “open. wanna see your pretty eyes.”

your stomach tingles at his words before obeying his request. instead of smirking, peter smiles goofily and then kisses your cheek. a wave of warmth erupts through your skin at his affection. your entire body was covered in flames at this point, and you wondered if you would even be alive to get to the good part.

his tough hands roam your supple skin in hopes of exploring every inch. the rough texture left tingles in its trail.

“jeans?” he asks, looking up at you for approval.

“yes. please, peter,” you rushed and pleaded. your clit was begging for some friction, and you were about to start crying if you didn’t get something.

“gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart,” peter sang, thumbs rubbing the supple skin of your inner thighs teasingly. you wavered out a shaky breath, trying to conjure up the words.

“i need you so bad it hurts,” you whimpered. you were honest with peter, but your words weren’t what he wanted.

“i bet it does, baby. but that’s not what i asked,” peter flicks your clit through your underwear causing you to gasp at this unexpected movement. your thighs twitch and tighten at his teasing. he does it a few more times, just to get your body even more excited, and to get you to finally speak up.

“f-fuck! peter, i need your cock. i-i need you to fuck me,” you shouted, louder than you intended, but that was even better for peter.

“look who’s using her words,” peter says smugly, making your roll your eyes. you both assist in shrugging your panties off, making you completely naked while peter is still fully dressed. you reach for his shirt, but he’s already a step ahead of you and pulls it off himself.

when you see his body, you swear you almost faint. peter had six bulky packs of muscle on his abdomen and lumps of muscle on his arms. his chest was buff and tight, yet looked soft all at the same time. you had to blink a few times to make sure he was real. you even poked a finger at his stomach just to make sure it didn’t go through him like a ghost or a hologram. peter chuckles at your antics before grabbing your hand and kissing it, just like he had done earlier in the evening. and just like earlier, you felt yourself blush profusely and feel tingly all over again.

while you’re smiling like a goof, peter’s hands resume on your body. you instantly stop smiling because you remembered just how much he’s deprived you. but he’s also given you more than anyone else has in the past…

his digits caress your soaking slit between your crossed legs. you gasp because he’s finally touching you bare.

“open,” he demands softly, voice deep and lustful. shakily, you listen and do so. peter doesn’t hesitate to find your lips again with his fingers.

you quietly moan at the delicate pressure, feeling the smallest bit of friction. just as you were about to beg him for more, or to hurry up, his middle finger slips inside of you. it was almost embarrassing how easy it was. the amount of wetness you were leaking could fix the california drought.

“god, you’re so wet. what made you like this?” peter slowly pushed his finger in and out, thumb circling your puffy clit at the same time.

“you, peter! fuck,” you clenched around his digit, needing release already.

“are you thinking about my cock? hmm?” peter questioned, voice gravely as he leans over you. “are you thinking about me inside of you? thinking about how much i’m going to stretch your little pussy out?”

you groan at his foul language, pulsing barbarically. you’re straining to keep your eyes open, trying to obey his earlier request and to intake the moment. peter urges you to come, increasing his thrusts and pace. before you know it, your core is tightening and you’re squeezing peter’s fingers until you do. you thought you cut off his circulation from how hard you were clutching onto him, but when he pulls his fingers away and licks them proudly, you knew he was just fine.

“taste so good, sweetheart,” a smirk dances upon his lips as your taste lingers in his mouth. he’ll never forget that taste, no matter what happens after tonight. he’s hoping there will be more nights like these. more days too.

“can you please fuck me now, peter?–”

he holds up a finger to your lips.

“all of a sudden you know how to use your words and it still sounds so dirty coming from your pretty lips.”

in the blink of an eye, peter is reaching over to his night stand to grab a condom (hopefully). when you see the tinfoil wrapping, he stuffs it between your teeth, making you hold onto it. you then watch as he undresses his pants, clearly taking all the time in the world like he has it.

the smell of your orgasm and your wetness is haunting peter’s senses. the scent of you is never going to rid from his body or his room. he also doesn’t ever want you to leave, so he’s going to drag this out as long as possible.

once his pants are finally off, you get the courage to undo the wrapper while he’s taking his underwear off. holding the condom, you almost drop it once you see his length. he’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had. the tip of cock is bright red and leaking a bit of pre-cum, clearly just as desperate as you.

“fuck,” you mumble when looking at him. all he does is smirk before taking the condom from your hand and putting it over himself. peter leans over you again, face over face.

“ready, sweetheart?” his smirk lingers while you clench around nothing. you can feel the overwhelming sensation of your clit throbbing and you just want him to mend it. “ready to be fucked so hard you can’t leave?”

“yes, peter. fuck me hard.”

with your final words, peter is gently sinking into you. your wet folds encompass his cock snuggly causing you both to groan in delight. after a few moments, he starts to rock his body and you release a string of moans with every thrust. you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, but fail to do so. the sensations are indescribable throughout your body.

peter’s actions get harder, rougher. just like you wanted. he’s flicking his hips into yours with skilled movements while his face is relaxing in the crease of your neck. you feel his warm breath on you as he groans into your ear, lighting your whole body on fire.

“shit, peter, it feels so good. don’t stop,” you whine when he hits a certain part inside of you. your hand creeps down in between you both to rub the ache in your clit, but peter stops you.

“love when you touch yourself,” he grunts, never halting his movements, “but that’s my job right now.”

so, peter begins harshing rubbing your clit to no end. instead, your hands squeeze tightly on his biceps while he pounds into you so hard, you see stars. your never-ending wetness makes it so easy for him to slip in and out.

you feel yourself clutch onto his cock and when he moans, he sounded like the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“i-i love when you moan,” you croaked out, feeling too blissful to speak coherently.

“yeah? what else do you like?” peter huffs out, still smug as ever, even when he’s deep inside of you.

“l-love when you talk dirty, peter.”

“knew you were fucking filthy.”

with his rough words, you’re on the brink of your orgasm. your core tightens like it did earlier and your nails are digging deliciously into his skin. peter hisses in pleasurable pain, loving what you’re doing to him.

as your orgasm flows over you, your heart beats a million miles an hour and your breathing becomes staggered. the moans you elicit were just as filthy and pornographic as…well a porno. as you came, peter was smiling the whole time.

peter twitched inside of you and that’s when you knew he was close. you tangled your hands in his hair one last time and gave a single tug. that simple movement caused him to groan deeply and bring him to his release.

he doesn’t pull out quite yet. he just rests inside of you with his head on your chest. then after a few moments, he goes to get up.

“don’t leave,” you whisper and slide your hand through his locks again.

“it’s my place, baby, i’m not leaving,” he chuckles and slowly pulls out. you whimper at the loss of his cock, and at the feeling of being stretched out to the max.

“peter, i think you ruined me,” your voice cracked because it was hoarse and dry. you definitely needed some water now.

“good. are you thirsty now, sweetheart?”

—

tags: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #peter parker #peter parker smut #blurb #peter parker fan fics #peter parker au #peter parker fics #peter parker blurbs #requests #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fics #tom holland fan fics #tom holland c you #tom holland x reader

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narcoticwriter · 23 days ago

Text

Can These Guys Do Basic Math?

I blame Sin for this.

Brief and buckshot (let me emphasize this again, brief and buckshot) explanations under the cut, I did not THINK and I'm doing this for the funny, watch for some spoilers to the story and characters here or there though:

Dr. Faust: At this point in what I know about the canon, I do not believe he genuinely cares any more.

I-No: As a manifestation of humanity's hatred for the Gears turned into a literal god, I think that she is beyond math.

Happy Chaos: The kind of fucker who'd instigate something about the numerical value of three actually being fifty-five.

Ramlethal Valentine: "I was made with the capability to compute and solve a multitude of problems concerning algebra, trigonometry, statistics-"

Testament: They would scoff at whoever asked, then make an offhanded comment about how stupid that question was or an insult at the one who asked.

Bedman(?): Both Bedman and Delilah would openly call them twenty words that mean some variation of 'absolute imbecile'.

Asuka R♯: Math is a hobby to this guy, he would be more confused than insulted if you knew him even casually.

Slayer: The man has not been alive for this long and amassed this much power by being a chump. Please.

Sol Badguy: If the man of science didn't know how to do basic math, I'd wonder how he did it all in the first place.

May: Well now, someone has to keep track of how much money Johnny blows at the casino.

Millia Rage: A job requirement, if I'm being completely honest.

Zato-1: Debated putting him in the 'math is fake' tier, but decided that he has to use too much of it to be there.

Anji Mito: A man like that has to keep his ducks in a row and his math is an example of this because he's taken how many risks now?

Jack-O Valentine: I believe that she has to know some math and fairly well at that given her situation and by exposure.

Ky Kiske: I choose to divorce his knowledge from his application of it. This man is doing just fine on the fundamentals. So sue me.

Potemkin: With all due respect, I think the fact that he's here is monumental of the work Gabriel put in. The man is quite competent.

Leo Whitefang: How else would he be able to keep count of the dead and his sins accordingly?

Nagoriyuki: I think he gets by, but I don't see him in many situations where he would have to go beyond some basic algebra.

Elphelt Valentine: Can keep count of potential suitors, the tickets sold, and other things of that priority. Also a Valentine.

Queen Dizzy: Testament saw what Sol did to Sin and gave themselves a pat on the back.

Axl Low: Clearing up the streets and making them safe was a bit higher on the list of things to do while he was growing up, you know.

Giovanna: Would rather not, to be honest, but she can.

Goldlewis Dickinson: I DON'T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT IT-

Bridget: Off of sheer vibes alone, I don't think she thinks all that much outside of bounty hunting.

Chipp Zanuff: His intuition has done him many favors, but doing the mental math isn't one of them. I also blame the drugs. He can try.

Baiken: Controversial in the sense that at a certain point, I think she just stopped learning normal things for her age and hit the road. Could pick it up, but mostly for like, money and managing her stuff.

Johnny: Extremely selective, will ensure that his girls are taught right, but what there's no way I gambled away that much!

A.B.A.: If she's calm, sure, but God forbid someone looks at Paracelsus for a bit too long.

Sin Kiske: Sol may have kept him alive, but he failed him in every other way that matters. What do you mean he's still learning his time tables?!?

#narky thinks #going ham #guilty gear #guilty gear strive #guilty gear memes

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justminawrites · 10 months ago

Text

None of you understand Amber Bennett: She's just a girl, your honour. A review of the show writers' least favourite love story from Invincible season 1.

Now let me just preface this by saying I have 2 points to make. Just two, very long, super rambly points that does have mild spoilers for Invincible season 2. Read at your own risk.

Point 1: Amber isn't "understanding" enough is utter bullshit.

There’s no indication that civilians outside of the ones associated with the GDA have any idea how brutal fights are for superheroes. Amber quite literally has no idea what the hell Mark is going through, even after the superhero reveal. The only thing she has a smidgeon of understanding of is his dad beating his ass on live TV. And even that is a heavy maybe because we don’t know how much of the fight the cameras could cover and how much was broadcast to the general public.

Point 2: Amber’s dated Losers before.

This is stated explicitly in canon, she's “been down that road." Furthermore, she’s also the daughter of a single-parent household. She used to hang out a community centre as a kid because her mom did late hours. Daddy Issues anyone? She’s got a lot of her own problems that we never get to unpack or linger on because the writing decided she wasn’t going to end up with Mark.

What if she’d already dated an absolute bastard before Mark? Someone who seemed sweet and genuine at first, but then he started slacking. He’d be late to dates, stop taking an interest in anything she did, and just never show up for her in any way that mattered. Amber would make up excuses with her friends and family, oh he’s busy, he’s studying; he cares, I swear, he just has a strange way of showing it.

Her friends and family don’t believe her completely but they humor her because she really seems to like him. And the ex-boyfriend isn’t a douchebag the whole time.. he brings gifts to make up for being late, he plies and pacifies her with honeyed words and promises to be better.

But each time the lies get more and more difficult to believe. Traffic and science projects, traffic and science projects, even when he shows up smelling like weed and alcohol. Her friends and family give her tight-lipped smiles when her ex-boyfriend gives her sloppy kisses and proclaims over and over “She’s too good for me, this one.”

She tries to be empathetic, she tries to be understanding when they’re alone, he can tell her what it is that’s wrong. But every-time she brings up giving them some space, he takes it as an indication of her not believing him and he guilts her with one sob story or another— she knows him, he was so gentle and respectful before they started dating, does she really think he’d do this to her if he didn’t have a good reason? Just a masterclass in gaslighting. So she gives him a second chance, third chance, fourth even.

But then he begins cheating on her. Whenever she confronts him about it, he plays victim and accuses her of being “crazy” even though the entire school knows otherwise. She catches him one fine day, and dumps him on the spot. For a short while, Amber’s very proud of this but as time passes she starts to feel extremely embarrassed that it took that long for her to catch on.

No one blames her, of course, but they all say something along the lines of “We never liked him anyway” which makes Amber doubt the perception of him she had. She internalises their support as a failing on her part to be vigilant, she didn’t want to end up making the same mistakes as her mom, after all.

Amber becomes guarded. She doesn’t entertain male attention (from Todd, for example) but then she finds out resident wimp Mark Grayson takes a beating for her and she feels bad.

So she gives him a chance. Mark was a nonissue, a nobody with no track record of being amazing or awful, just an in-between, normal guy who was maybe a little soft spoken and needed to stand up for himself more.

But every time they try to hang out, something comes in between them. The excuses are laughably obvious this time and Amber is caught between trying to understand if Mark Grayson is trying to let her down easy because he’s not interested or if he’s just another douchebag taking her for a ride.

He leaves her alone during their study date for an hour to do something shady and/or potentially related to Eve (I know she overheard him yelling at Cecil in his bedroom); Mark tells her he’s been to Mount Everest, but can’t tell her How he got there, and leaves on a non-specific trip for two weeks, right after their first date, and can’t even tell her Where he’s going or what he did when he was there?

So she does what she’d wished she’d done in her first relationship, she sets her boundaries. Firmly. She gives Mark multiple chances to come clean when she tells him she’s not riding that wave again. It’s been brought up a few times that Amber has lingering relationship-trauma.

During their study date Amber tells him she’s been in relationships with violent potentially abusive guys (“Met plenty of guys who were willing to throw a punch for me.”); or when he stands her up for the Dinner with her mom she tells him that he needs to make a choice because she’s “Been down this road before, and once was enough.”

But he still keeps at it and she starts getting tired of defending him to her friends and her mom. He’s just busy, he’s just studying; he cares, I swear, he just has a strange way of showing it. And this time they shake their heads and lightly imply that she’s stuck in a pattern. Amber can feel them comparing Mark to her old boyfriend and it all becomes a bit too much.

Either he’s a no good drug dealing prick or he’s just wasting her time, whatever it is, Amber’s had enough of being left in the dark.

The soup kitchen is the final straw, but then she finds out that he gets run over by a bus. He actually gets hurt, this is the first time Amber’s seen him hurt, and she feels awful because if she hadn’t pushed him to show up for her again and again maybe he would’ve been more careful.

He doesn’t let her visit him in the hospital. A hit and run on the wrong side of town was the story this time— he can’t even tell her this, the specifics of his accident! Eve was his first point of contact after his parents?! At this point Amber is convinced that he’s involved in something violent or something to do with Eve, or both and she’s not sure she wants to keep going with this.

Amber is confused and hurt but she also feels responsible for Mark’s injuries. Maybe she Was too paranoid, maybe she Was projecting all her relationship-trauma on him and he would tell her what happened at his own pace. So she backtracks, gives him another chance.

College is really the best of all worlds, Mark makes her promises that this time will be different, and Amber tentatively agrees to college together. (She’s still stressed out about his injuries and on edge the whole time though and asks if he has a concussion).

This is really important because Amber ends up at Upstate U later. She decided to go to college with him, basically because of Him. This wasn’t any specific plan she had before, this was her making room in her life for this boy and potentially everything their lives could be together.

Then the Reanimen Incident happens. And she loses her shit. Mark Grayson is not the flakey but well-intentioned boyfriend she thought he was.. Mark Grayson is not even a good person! He LEFT her and William at the drop of a hat to save his own slimy skin, that bastard! Her intuition was right, she never should’ve given him a chance.

Amber was no longer going to give Mark Grayson the time of day, much less share a bed with the self-serving jerk; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of spinning another tall tale. Or seeing her cry. She closes the door to the shower rooms behind her, and overhears Rick leaving to get them all some beer. Dorm room walls are thin, after all.

Then she hears something else.

“You’re Invincible!” William’s voice carries over excitedly, “And you never told me?”

Here goes the "problematic" bit.

I think Amber was lying when she told Mark she knew he was Invincible weeks ago. Amber didn’t even know who Invincible was until a few minutes after the Reanimen attack. She isn’t acting for anyone around her, she’s genuinely confused when the superhero jets off because she’s never seen him in her life.

I think she overheard William freaking out about it in the dorm room and she pieced together Mark’s absences with his vague excuses and why couldn’t visit him at the hospital. She takes a shower to cool off but sitting and stewing on all of it just makes her angrier and she decides to go to the frat party just to get away from Mark for a while.

Now why wouldn’t she just tell him she overheard them talking?

Amber is an assertive independent character with a lot of pride. And that’s not a bad thing. Amber has a lot to be proud of. She has a strong sense of justice, she doesn’t take crap from anyone and she has too much self-worth to put up with liars.

You can clearly see this in the way she approaches Mark in the beginning. She asks William if he’s dating Eve, and then instead of calling him herself, she gets Todd to give Mark her number so he can call her if he’s interested, despite the fact that she already is. She has too much pride to chase him. It’s one of her fixed flaws, and it’s consistent to her character.

So finding out that Mark is actually Invincible almost by accident, is kind of embarrassing for Amber. Not only because she yelled at him for disappearing but for all the times he misled her and lied to her only to actually have a good reason for doing it. There’s a lot of mixed emotions there, shame, guilt, concern. Guilt.

Admitting that she overheard he was Invincible would be like admitting she was a stupid, nagging girlfriend who had no right to be a part of his life (the way the fandom perceives her) so she doesn’t. She tries to distract herself with the party, flirts with someone she just met not ten minutes ago, and feels awful because he immediately drops the girlfriend bomb.

Now she’s forced to confront the fact that she has a boyfriend, and her flakey, well-intentioned superhero boyfriend is sitting and moping in the dorm room because she doesn’t have the guts to tell him she knows. Because telling him she knows would remove the choice he’d need to make when deciding whether or not he was serious about their relationship.

Amber was serious, Amber was going to change her life and potentially open her future to college with him, but was Mark really sure about Them if he couldn’t even tell her of his own accord?

Telling him would be like giving him another out. And Amber was done giving him an out.

When he finally confesses he doesn’t see why she’s mad at him, because he doesn’t see her at all. He can’t even begin to imagine what this roller coaster of a weekend has been for her because she’s been serious about him all this time and it took them breaking up completely for Mark to choose her back in the first place and go all in.

Now it’s true that Mark is entitled to his secrets but Amber is also entitled to being upset that he can’t tell her 1 solid thing about his life. Not one thing does he trust her enough to explain, and at that point why should they even be dating each other? Why should she change the course of her future for a guy who can’t tell her where he was last weekend?

Then Omni-man beats him up on live TV, and now that she knows that he’s Invincible, she finally gets a glimpse into the bloody, gruesome world that is Mark’s. His Dad isn’t a superhero, his Dad is a Monster, and Mark is discovering this the same time as the rest of the world.

So she freaks out because she cares, and she’s so relieved to see him not beat to a bloody pulp like on TV that she kisses him. She likely had no intention of getting back together with him before that, but world-ending fiascos often come with heightened emotions, and they’re just kids at the end of the day.

She’s not a manipulative, narcissistic villain, she’s just a proud girl, in love with a boy who can’t decided whether or not he loves her back.

Now do I think Mark is a terrible jerk who doesn’t deserve Amber? No. I watched Invincible the same way it was intended, almost entirely through Mark’s eyes, and it’s hard to assign blame in this case because we see how horrifying and traumatic being a superhero actually is. But that’s the point, we only see one half of the story.

We see Amber through Mark’s eyes and in his opinion she could afford to be more compassionate to his excuses the moment she finds out he’s a hero, the way Eve can, but that’s not true at all because Amber has no idea what being a hero is like. Eve does, and that’s the difference that Mark is wilfully blind to.

But Mark also has no idea what Amber’s life is like and it’s easy to get lost in the sea of all the lives lost and villains fought, that he genuinely hasn’t spent any time with his girlfriend as a person beyond his Girlfriend. Amber isn’t a person to him, like William stopped being eventually; they became sort of tethers to Mark’s humanity, a way to distinguish himself from his Dad. A way to ground him.

Seriously? When was the last time Mark even talked to William, his once Best Friend? They’re not his Mom, they’re concepts to him. They’re civilians, potential victims he could end up losing if he doesn’t police himself and his powers. Mark slowly becomes disillusioned to his own life as a human, the more the leans into the Viltrumite half of his parentage.

It’s a little tragic but it’s the story we’re seeing. In season 2, when Mark and Amber break up and he gives up his dream for college, these two things are almost explicitly correlated. Mark is coming to terms with the fact that he’s going to outlive everyone he knows, even his new baby brother and that is just the most chaotic example of a slow-burn trauma if I’ve ever seen one. He’s giving up being human, but maybe not giving up his humanity.

______________________________________________________________

TLDR: None of you understand Amber Bennett because the writers decided that Mark would outlive her before he ever had the chance to see things from her perspective and I am SALTY about it

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a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual · 1 year ago

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I just studied for 5 hours and then I wrote these Nimona headcanons

Bal has an extreme love-hate relationship with puns and dad jokes

And by love-hate I mean he hates how much he loves them

A good pun will have him rolling on the floor in laughter (especially if it’s a science or math pun)

Whenever a pun or dad joke is told in public Bal tries really hard to hold back his laughter

But this man is the worst actor in existence so it’s painfully obvious what he’s trying to do

Nimona and Ambrosius have made it their mission to get him to admit that he actually likes those kinds of jokes

By telling the best jokes they could find

They actually get him to admit it after three months of them each telling one stupid joke a day

And after that, they make it their mission to tell him a corny joke a day to put a smile on his face

In a similar way to the “origin story” of how they found Nimona Bal and Ambrosius never tell people the true story of how they met

It feels too personal too private only Nimona knows the full story and their close friends know bits and pieces of their friendship before they started dating

But as I’ve said in many of my posts one of their favorite activities is messing with nosy bitches

So every time someone asks how they met and to explain their love story

They really lean into the drama

Before they knew Nimona they would joke that Ambrosius rescued Bal from a vicious monster

Sometimes Bal will jokingly say he broke into Ambrosius' room to steal something and was stopped in his tracks by his beauty

Sometimes Bal fought off a pack of wolves from Ambrosius' unconscious body

Sometimes Ambrosius got lost in the shadier part of the kingdom and discovered Bal before the Queen did

No one knows the true story and this often sparks debates in fandom spaces and statements like “Bal said this” or “Ambrosius said that” are basically deemed unreliable

And comments like “Well Nimona agreed that this story was true” and “but they also said they witnessed this happening” are often ignored

They were both confronted about this during an interview and all Bal said was “We’ve told the truth to someone” and they have just not to unimportant people

I feel like Nimona is the most flexible just by themself

But they will get rid of bones just to prove a damn point

And they’ve absolutely gotten rid of joints or made themself double-jointed to freak Bal and Ambrosius out

Ambrosius is pretty damn flexible too

He’s not human contortionist level but he can put his feet behind his head and do every kind of split

Bal is stiff as a damn brick

That man can’t even touch his toes let alone do the splits

Ambrosius tried to get him to join his and Nimona’s morning stretches but Bal complained the whole time so he gave up

His exact words were “Fine but when you sound like a maraca when you’re 30 don’t come complaining to me”

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #that man makes noise when he walks #his joints lock when he sits in a position for too long #its kind of concerning #but also kind of funny

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drop-dead-dropout · 9 months ago

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Fuck's a pro shipper?

We've got a new one boys try not to scare em off /j

Okay but seriously, I'm more than happy to explain. I assume that if you're asking this question you're not aware of the proshipper vs antishipper, uh, "conflict", I guess. So, here is what both of those terms mean, to the best of my descriptive abilities:

Antishipper (often just "anti"): someone who vaguely believes that consuming problematic fiction (usually specifically problematic sexual fiction like lolicon or incest) is either a true reflection of them as a person or a corrupting force that will cause them to play out these desires in real life, onto real people. Basically, if you read age gap, you touch real kids in real life or secretly want to.

Proshipper (sometimes "profic"): someone who does not believe the above, and believes that fiction is not the same as reality because it doesn't harm anyone and therefore people should be left alone as long as you have no reason to believe that they would ever do something like that irl. Often hand in hand with things like anti censorship, kink positive, etc, though being a proshipper does not necessarily mean you have a problematic ship or kink yourself (example: me).

You're probably asking this question because you saw me day in my bio that I am a proshipper. I've tried to stay neutral in this initial description, but obviously I probably didn't manage to be completely unbiased considering that I believe myself to be right (most people do) so if you want to ask further questions after this that's perfectly fine. That being said:

Why am I a proshipper?

So, to understand this, let's first look over the issues within both communities— every group has issues, after all.

What problems do proshippers have?:

- sometimes 4chan assholes co-opt the label "proshipper" just because they're lolicons, even though there's good evidence to suggest that they would do or even have done criminal sexual acts in real life, or that they possess actual csam (child sexual abuse material, a term being used in favor of "cp" these days as porn implies consent). Proshipping has nothing to do with the harmful idea that you should be allowed to exploit and abuse real children.

- there are still many gray areas which proshippers themselves don't agree on. For example: I've seen a bunch of arguments about if writing fanfiction of live action shows or movies changes the equation. The general consensus of proshippers is that writing fanfiction of a character played by a child actor is definitely a more delicate situation and should not be sexual as it's inextricably tied to the image of a real child, but there are others who believe differently.

- I'm genuinely struggling to come up with more of these. Um, sometimes lolicons are really shitty people, like in point 1. This isn't SUPER relevant though cause in reality the overlap between predominantly queer or female proshippers and Reddit incels who just wanna jerk off to a petite anime girl is pretty small, though I'm sure it exists somewhere .

Now, what problems do antis have? (Fair warning, this is gonna sound even more "biased" but I hope my logic is still sound from the outside :p):

- I don't have any statistics on this (haven't exactly been many research papers on fandom drama), so you're going to have to trust me when I say that antis are absolutely NOTORIOUS for extreme harassment campaigns. The first time I was exposed to the word "antishipper", it was attached to a story of a former animator committing suicide because antis had gotten them fired by "exposing" their porn alt on Twitter and they could no longer afford medication for their disability. So, hell of an intro!

- their opinions are, in pretty basic ways, not backed by science or even practical common sense. The human brain can distinguish between fiction and reality after around age four or five

and people certainly aren't trying to hand nsfw content to children that age so I think it's safe to say that the people who are reading these things won't be "confused" by them or whatever. Also, even just using your brain and talking to these people, you find out most of them project onto the YOUNGER character.

- they claim to support victims but often simply don't. I won't keep dragging threats into the spotlight because I know there are probably antis who aren't as violent, but it's honestly astonishing to me how often they jump straight to wishing death and terrible things on people, and this has included more than once telling a rape victim they hope they get assaulted again just because they're a proshipper. See, a lot of these "taboo" sexual fantasies like age gap and incest actually themselves stem from a traumatic experience, and any therapist will tell you that fiction is a much healthier way to explore intrusive thoughts and urges than more dangerous coping mechanisms like self harm or substance abuse. And when confronted with this, in my experience and many others', antis will simply ignore that fact or say that the therapist is some sort of evil enabler.

-the general cognitive dissonance of believing an incest fanfiction will make you "forget" that incest is bad vs being fine with horror movies and slashers speaks to a deeper and honestly kind of worrying anti-sex mindset. I'm not sure I'm qualified to tackle this particular topic, but I definitely agree that it's a thing; after all, I have no idea how else those two things could coexist.

Anyways, I'd like to close this off by saying not everyone is as crazy opinionated as I am, I'm just autistic and like talking lol. A lot of people who id as proshippers just have a sort of minding their own business, ship-and-let-ship mentality, and a lot of antis are unfortunately just teenagers who were told proshipper = evil pedophile groomer and thus they put "proship dni" in their bios just cause they don't know and don't really care what it means. It is undeniable that many antis are kids themselves, and that does worry me, because fandom drama (especially Twitter fandom drama) is dangerous and vitriolic and also they're putting extremely serious threats on their digital footprints at the tender age of 14! But whatever, I'm not their parents, that's just my worry. Sorry for rambling this long lol, I wouldn't blame you if you dropped out halfway through but this is basically my summary of this whole thing. Do with this knowledge what you will! Or, you know, don't! I'm not a cop!

#proship #proshipper safe #anti anti #proshipper #asks

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twoa-plus · 4 months ago

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ok adding this to my extensive list of ford defense points: finally rewatching atots and like. another big thing i see people get mad at ford for is being so upset with stan over the science fair incident, which like in theory is valid, but we as the audience know a lot more about what happened than ford does and stan is really not doing himself any favors here

like. they have this conversation where ford is talking about going to wct if the people are impressed with his project, stan is like “what if they’re not impressed,” to which ford is like “well ig we’re going sailing then.” ford gets there the next day and his project is broken. he confronts stan about it and stan is like “it was an accident!! anyways, sailing? :)”

yes, it was legitimately an accident. no, stan didn’t deserve to get kicked out of the house for that. but i really can’t blame ford for having a hard time believing the first part, and i don’t think it was his job to handle the second. stan got kicked out immediately after this argument, when ford would have been absolutely pissed with him - and like idc how good of a person you are, anger is blinding and i don’t think it’s as easy as this fandom makes it out to be to just set that aside and fight someone like filbrick pines over the fate of the person you think just sabotaged your entire future, especially as a teenager. like “oh ford should ha-“ ford was a pissed off teenager sulking in his room, where the fuck was their mother?

the part where ford loses me is when he stays mad at stan for years afterwards, i think he should have at least tried to track him down and make sure he was ok, but even then i can kind of get it. again, as far as ford was concerned it wasn’t an accident, which would add a lot to the resentment there, and he probably did think stan was fine considering all the infomercials. still think he should’ve reached out, “teenager living on the street” usually doesn’t end well, but it’s not like he knew stan got involved in organized crime or anything

idk i just. like i said people always point to this as like petty anger over an accident, but as far as ford is concerned it was entirely intentional. i really can’t blame him for believing that, and staying mad over an accident vs an intentional act of sabotage are two very different situations. was the second situation what actually happened? no, but ford doesn’t know that.

the more i dig in to this stuff the more it seems like this fandom’s biggest issues with ford pretty much boil down to

1. he’s not omniscient

and

2. he’s a person with emotions

there are very real reasons to criticize this man, i’m not going to deny that. but this is not one of them imo

because i know (some of) this fandom can’t read: this is not an anti-stan post. we love stan. again, it was a legit accident and he didn’t deserve to get kicked out. but liking one twin doesn’t mean the other has to be the villain in their life story.

#idk i just. ford has an ego the size of texas he has trouble empathizing with others he can hold a grudge like no other man alive etc etc #but he’s also just A Guy. and was also a child once #without the rationality and emotional regulation of an adult #he had a high iq sure but academic intelligence and maturity are two very different things #i’m just rambling at this point but u get the idea. he’s a person let him be a person #twoa.txt #gravity falls #stanford gravity falls #stanford pines #ford pines #ford gravity falls #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls ford

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gaddaboutgriffon · 29 days ago

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Omega Spider

Yep. It is actually about Peter Parker Spider-Man. He was mutated by a a spider bite one thing I noticed about every version of the spider I have seen is that it always depicted with really round abdomen and no pedipalps. In other words a female spider.

So imagine Peter from a world that is not omegaverse and the spider bite mutation turns him into an omega. He has no idea he is an omega until he is sent to another universe where the dynamics are commonplace.

So for the omegaverse instincts and things. I don’t like the ones where they loose all sense of self control in heat and it wouldn’t work for Peter anyway. I think it really shouldn’t be worse then a period with a bit of a low fever. Though with him being part spider he has a slight urge to eat a mate but is able to brush it off as an intrusive thought.

As for his age when thrown into this other universe he is Still a teen. My favorite version of him is from the 2003 cartoon series Spectacular Spider-Man. That series ended while he was still 15. Basically have him young enough to be adoption bait. The portal is a one way trip and just to be more dramatic he will be devastated that he finds out he can't return.

Teen teams don’t get enough attention. So we will have him end up with the team titans. I riled some dice and here is what dynamic each titan got. Robin is an alpha. Starfire is an alien whose species doesn’t have dynamics and will be as confused as Peter. Cyborgs was an alpha but sort of lost his dynamic when most of his body was turned mechanical. Raven is a beta, and I swear the dice were rigged cause somehow Beast Boy is an alpha too. (Funny thing to add in. Beast boy absolutely would know how female and in Peter’s case omega spiders eat their mates. We can have him make a point to never turn into a spider around Peter.) as for dynamic social aspects I think we have it so that omegas are a bit more coddled but not outright oppressed in society. That way we have an internal conflict for Peter to get frustration with cause he would arguably be the heaviest or second heaviest hitter on the team. Something the team takes a few episodes/chapters/parts to work out and move past. Then later they have all gotten used to Spidey being tough and independent but the public criticizes the team for when someone finds out and blabs on TV.

Now then for team relationships. I still am a Robin Starfire shipper, and Raven x Beast boy I don’t get but am ok with. Terra is a dumpster fire that can be addressed way later. Cyborg I think is fine just being the reliable friend but a tumblr friend liked him shipped with Jinx. Though I think he has science nerd out fun with Peter. Though cyborg is more computer and machines nerd and Peter is more chemistry and biology nerd.

What about Peter taking the role of team medic? Since biology and chemistry are his strengths. Every team needs a healer (and I get to use the exasperated medic trope I love.) goodness because of the way he was raised and close to his aunt May Peter may end up being the designated “mom” friend. Since I can see him not letting things get too messy and he would miss the home cooked meals so much he would probably teach himself to cook. And he had the most stable childhood hood and probably the most sensible advice. Also he made his suit so it is cannon he can sew very well.

Would Peter have a ship? Cause there are a couple other teen heroes or villains. …. Wait! You know the theory that Dick was Red X the first time but that suit was stolen and it isn’t said who but a lot of fans think it was Jason…. What if we make Red X more of a recurring character, but in this AU Jason didn’t get adopted by Bruce and is more of a neutral rogue as Red X.

Anyway now that the world building basics are out of the way, Let’s start the story. We shall drop Spidey in right at the start of the titans cartoon when they all kind of meet because of Starfire’s escape pod landing on earth. And I mean literally drop him in. The portal opened up like 300 feet in the air above the city.

#teen titans #spider man #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #dick grayson robin #starfire #cyborg #beast boy #Raven #red x

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physalian · 5 months ago

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I think being an ace writer lets me write sex and romance with less of my own biases/wants/what-I-think-is-sexy getting in the way, to better incorporate these scenes into the story as a method of plot and character development instead of just gratuitous, among other things. In the same way being atheist lets me write real and fantasy religions without my own beliefs interfering, because I can respect religion academically and objectively, as a tool, not a given.

I write my characters in tons of situations that I myself would never enjoy, anything from bathing together or having kinks or even making out. I know why people enjoy these things and I’ve read enough romances to know how to write the proper buildup and the right tone to strike and all that jazz and I do enjoy reading romance.

There’s absolutely other factors at play here and I can’t speak from experience for a lot of the situations I put my characters into (nor do I write smut, I’ve tried, I’m bad at it because I’m ace) but I’ll beta read sex scenes for original authors, especially cis/het authors, and while “writing to satisfy yourself or your readers” is different than straight up just writing a story that includes romance, I seem to keep finding myself stuck with a constant stream of author wish fulfilment, a lot of newbie original authors seem… narrow-minded when it comes to sex.

Like they can only imagine what they find kinky or romantic or sexy, like the subtext is saying “this is sexy because I think it’s sexy and if you don’t think it’s sexy something’s wrong with you”. Which isn’t at all a problem in fanfic for whatever reason (probably because these authors also tend to think sex=romance thus smut=character development).

So I have a character with a medical kink, for example. I haven’t had readers gushing over him or that scene (haven’t had that many readers period, mind you), but I haven’t had any complaints, either. Heck, my protagonist in ENNS is a frustrated virgin in a vampire romance who at one point realizes “hm yeah I definitely don’t hate teeth anymore pls do it again” meanwhile I’m sitting back with my metaphorical coffee going “you have fun now, enjoy”. Maybe because it’s not just an 111k word fantasy smutfest but his self-discovery is part of his arc.

But I think the difference is, either in just skill at my craft or being on the outside looking in, is that I think “what would he think is sexy? And how would I go about writing that?” vs “what do I think is sexy? And how do I go about contorting my characters to fit that?” I spend the time making sure he’s in character, it makes sense for his character, and that he’s acting authentically.

Or at the very least, I think aceness (and possibly aro-ness we are undecided in that department) gives you a baseline of 0, clean slate, not that aces can’t enjoy the idea of sex, the idea is that sexuality is self-contained. But when your whole life is sex-favorable/allonormative I think it puts blinders up.

Or, I just keep reading heterosexual romances that leave something to be desired. Not just beta-reading, the romances in like, Maas books, for example—no kinkier or more wish-fulfilling than a fanfic with the same tags, but there’s something so cheap and artificial about those sex scenes. The first time I read… I think it was book 3 or 4 of the TOG series and I realized just how much sex there was, I legit got bored and scanned ahead until I could get back to the story—and I have sat through fanfics that surpass 100k words with as much smut and I am fine and entertained. Is it because she’s not a great author, or because she’s a cis/het author with blinders up, or some mix between the two? I have enjoyed poorly written but sincerely written smut in fanfic, so it can’t be that, either. If this was a science experiment and I’m controlling for all other variables except the sexuality of the authors and/or characters, I’d have my answer.

That’s not at all to say allonormative authors cannot write beautiful romances and hot sex scenes. There is only one (1) romantic scene in Maas's books that I used to go back specifically to reread, and it was just two characters finally tossing decorum aside to make out. She lost me completely after that.

Just in my experience, inexeperienced allonormative authors vs queer of any kind tend to be worse at making it compelling and sincere and my theory is that they can’t escape their own ideas of what sexiness is, because they've never had to, and can't get in the minds of characters and readers who don’t all think like they do.

—

Interested in a queer vampire fantasy novel? Eternal Night of the Northern Sky is out now!

#writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing resources #character development #allonormativity #acespec #asexual #queer lit #queer fantasy

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hellcheer-heaven · 7 months ago

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Be Kind, Rewind (NSFW)

Summary: Chrissy’s curiosity gets the better of her when she borrows one of Eddie's porno tapes without asking. She finds herself immersed in the crude, but enticing story of “Naughty Girl Next Door.” Thankfully she does plan on returning it before he notices. What could possibly go wrong?

Author's Note: Be annoyed, be very annoyed because this is going to be a bad one. Bonus points for unnecessary meta too.

Another warm summer’s day in Hawkins and thankfully Chrissy gets to spend it all alone with Eddie at his place. He spent days cleaning the trailer from top to bottom, arranging and rearranging everything (much to the surprise and annoyance of his uncle) until everything was spotless and presentable. They did what most young adults did in their sleepy town during summer vacation: Eat, swim at the pool, go to the mall, see a movie, and just have fun. As for today, staying in at Forest Hills was just as pleasant. Wayne was spending time with his buddies on a camping trip, so the two love birds could do whatever they wanted. Which is code for laze around, order take out, sleep, and have a movie marathon. The two of them spent more time watching horror and romcoms, then actually going out to see what was featured at Starcourt.

The place was all prepared, Eddie had the snacks set up and a great selection of rented vhs tapes. However he forgot to buy her favorite candy, red licorice. Chrissy stated that she was fine, but he insisted that he would get her some!

“Fear not, dear lady! I shall return shortly!”

And with that he drove off to Family Video. Well, at least she could take a look around at the place. Ah, it smelled like fresh lemon disinfectant. The garbage was taken out and a new bag was put into place. Dishes were cleaned, dried, and put away. Even his room looked pristine, well at least to the level that Eddie preferred. Chrissy sat upon the mattress, breathing in the scent of clean laundry detergent and dryer linen; still she missed the smell of his odor. As she laid down, some of her makeup accidentally fell out and rolled beneath the bed.

She dared not look under there, unsure if a weird science experiment was slumbering or if she would find something else. Well sure enough her intuition was correct regarding his choice in certain pieces of entertainment. Chrissy spotted a vhs tape snuggled in brightly colored packaging. “Naughty Girl Next Door starring Christine Cunnilingus as the Good Girl Gone Bad!” Should Chrissy be surprised that he has this? No, not at all. The back didn’t offer much, except for the titular star offering a very titillating pose with her previous works on the side. The strawberry blonde woman looked directly at her with an expression of absolute invitation. Her angelic, delicately featured face and sparkling blue eyes were perfectly aligned with makeup. Her hair was beautifully coiffed with god knows how many cans of hairspray, and her stage name just so happened to cover her nipples as well.

“Where on earth did you get this?”

The sound of the front door spooked her, quickly hiding the evidence when he returned with her treat and a big smile across his face. They were ready to watch the romcoms that they picked out earlier that day: Splash, Heathers, and The Princess Bride. They enjoyed the antics of the feature presentations, but her mind was still on the forbidden film neatly tucked away.

Eddie had to run errands, work on his next campaign, practice with the band, and play at the Hideout that evening. Chrissy was going to be free of Eddie for one full day, which gave her plenty of time to view the contents of the tape at home. Thankfully her folks left to visit family for the next three days and her brother was at sleep away camp until early August. Chrissy had the place all to herself. She figured that maybe she could watch it first thing in the morning and it would be over with. No, no that would be silly. After all she needed to eat breakfast and she didn’t want to hurl. Okay, maybe after she finishes her laundry. Nope the pile on her bed was getting too big, everything had to be put away. Perhaps before her Jane Fonda workout videos. Wrong again! She had to rewind and return those tapes before the store closed today. This was going to be a lot harder than she realized.

Okay, no more fooling around. Now was the time to watch it, at 1:13 am; better late than never. Still the last thing she wanted to do was watch something so obscene in the family room, thank god she was able to afford her own television set for her 18th birthday. A red logo dropped in from above, the company name Perky Productions appeared followed by a photo of buxom breasts flashed beneath it. Off to a real great start there, guys. Christine Cunnilingus walked onto the set, wearing a sheer white tank top that was much too small for her and a green skirt that just barely covered her. She lazily sat upon the couch, sadly sighing and bemoaning about her boyfriend missing in action. Her voice was sweet, a valley girl like tone brushed past her glossy lips. The doorbell rang and she happily bounced at the knowledge that he was here (how could she know that it was him?). Either way, she was greeted by a handsome looking man with long dark hair. His eyes were hypnotic, doe-like and soft. He looked like someone out of The Lost Boys mixed with a heavy metal rockstar. He was a bit arrogant at first, but softened up as soon as Christine kissed him. Well his attitude softened up, but certainly not his instrument.

“Edward, I missed you so, so, so much!”

Despite his gruff looking appearance, his tone was gentle, “Yeah, I missed you too Christine.”

Chrissy could not believe what she was hearing, “Christine? Edward?!”

She grabbed the vhs box and scanned at the synopsis: Christine Cunnilingus is feeling lonely. Thankfully her sexy metalhead boyfriend cums over to cure what ails her. Watch these two sweethearts fuck each others brains out. She’ll definitely see why he’s called Edward Munchson.

“Are you kidding me?! What the fuc-”

“Fuck me with your tongue, Edward.”

“You look fucking appetizing, Christine.”

Well whatever brief conversation that the actors had clearly didn’t matter since they went straight to oral. Chrissy’s eyes widened at the sight of Edward tonguing Christine. Moving his tongue round and round, up and down, and all over her labia and clitoris. She should have been disgusted and immediately turned off the video, but she couldn’t look away. The camera lingered on the two of them getting it on like rabbits. Long, graphic, and detailed sex was portrayed on the couch, suddenly the scene faded away to the two of them on a bed to which they continued to go at it; now different positions were included. It was Christine’s turn to play with him, pretty much mirroring what he did. Chrissy felt so gross watching this, yet she couldn’t believe that she was getting turned on as well. She could sense that deliciously dull ache between her thighs, wetness staining her underwear, and her clothes felt so constricting. No one was around and the rest of the world was slumbering, she knew what she had to do.

Time was simply lost on her for the remainder of the very early morning, focusing on the video and her own pleasure. There was a lot more to the film than she initially realized. Turns out Christine was dating the star basketball player of her school, Jameson Cunter, and he was a total asshole. She fast-forwarded through their sex scenes and waited patiently for Edward to return. The prom was coming up and she had her heart set on Edward, knowing that she was with someone else. When the jock found out about them, he went to face off with the metalhead in the forest. Christine had to stop them before it was too late. Edward was about to be killed until Christine saved him by flashing Jameson. After that distraction, he's beaten up, she dumped Jameson for Edward, they went to the prom, and they celebrated with more gratuitous sex. Okay she finished it, now all she had to do was return it to his place. If she hurried, she could drop it off before he got home. A quick stop at Forest Lawns and she would be home free.

There was just one little issue, he was already home.

“Shit, shit, shit. What do I do?”

The spare key, of course! Plus he was a heavy sleeper. If he could sleep through her loud snores (which she adamantly denied ever doing), then she could easily sneak into his place and be done with it. She very carefully turned the lock, her heart hammered loudly in her with every passing second. It’s okay Cunningham, just put it back and leave. Sure enough he was sound asleep, his body splayed out like a starfish sunbathing on a rock. Chrissy never could have imagined herself as a thief, then again this is the same person that never thought she and Eddie could ever be together. Regardless of the matter, she easily slid the tape beneath him without issue and tiptoed out. The deed was done, now it was time to leave, unfortunately Lady Luck was against her tonight.

“No, no, no! Dammit, come on! Start!”

Her car continued to stall. How can that be? The guys at the shop said that everything was all fixed up and they gave it a test drive. Her fist battered the car horn, clearly that was a terrible idea as some of the more hot headed neighbors shouted at her to stop.

Eddie rushed out to the noise, “Chrissy?”

“Um… hi Eddie…”

“Baby, it’s almost 3 a.m. What are you doing?”

She was a terrible liar, but she tried anyway, “Oh you know… just going for a drive… at night. And I saw that you were home, so I wanted to come visit you.”

“Clingy much?”

She stuck out her tongue, he found her irresistible. He shouted an apology at the neighbors and helped her inside. Jesus, she felt so stupid! Out of all the things that happened, somehow this was worse than finding the tape. Clingy? Her? Big talk coming from the man that was the embodiment of a labrador. Still, it was nice to be with him again, she was feeling a bit lonely. And horny? No, please not now. This isn’t a good time!

“Alright, Chrissy, why are you really here?”

Her hands went to her hips, “I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Mmhm, sure you do, Christine.”

Christine? He never calls her that, not unless they're intimate. Surely there’s no way that he found out. From the moment he returned home, there’s no fucking way that his tired ass could have checked under the mattress before falling asleep.

She stomped her sneaker, “I’m serious! I came here to be with you!”

Eddie simply shrugged, “Alright, whatever you say. So what do you wanna do? I mean, nothing’s open. We’ve got another seven hours before the mall opens up, six until Family Video unlocks their doors-”

“Don’t get smart with me!”

He was kinda enjoying this, perhaps a little too much, “Me? Smart? You’re talking to Mr. Super Senior over here. Still, that’s nice of you to think that.”

“Whatever! Just- Just- Shut up, Munchson!”

Oh no!

Oh shit!

Oh fuck!

His smirk made her legs turn to jelly, “Munchson? Edward Munchson. That’s a new one. Has a nice ring to it.” He took one step closer, closing the gap until her back was to the wall, “Yeah, kinda rolls off the tongue doesn’t it?”

Chrissy’s face went pale, say for the rosy blush emitting from her cheeks, “Eddie… I… um…”

“What’s the matter? You look a little nervous.”

Her heartbeat drummed loudly in her ears, body heat skyrocketing, “I am not.”

He placed his hands on the wall, easily dwarfing her height, “So, tell me, where did you come up with that? I’ve never heard you say it before.”

God, those eyes of his could put anyone under a spell, “Oh, nowhere. I um… I made it up.”

“Really? When?”

She gulped, “Y-yesterday. I just- well, you know you give me cute nicknames all the time. And I thought I should call you something too!”

“Aww, how considerate of you. But it’s funny…”

Chrissy made sure to remember how to breathe, “What?”

“You’ve called me all kinds of pet names before: Baby, Babe, Teddie, Teddie Bear…” He looked deeply into her eyes, smile and voice dropping, “Dungeon Master.”

That last one caused her to drop her purse, my god the way that man could drop his voice caused her to melt like butter. That tone and volume did very little to cease the dripping honey between her thighs.

Her whisper was obscene, “Eddie.”

“Tell me the truth, Chrissy. Why are you here?”

She willingly allowed herself to fall deeper into the deliciously hypnotic curse of her beloved. If he was part snake, he could easily keep her safe within his coils and she would absolutely love it. Never wanting to gaze away at the lovely pair of eyes that beamed into her soul. Chrissy did what she was told, not a single ounce of regret in her voice.

“I dropped my make up and I found a porno tape under your bed. I took it home and I watched it.”

He held her soft face and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “That’s a good girl. See, doesn’t it feel good to be honest?”

She smiled, resting her hands on his chest, “Uh huh, very good.”

“So, what did you think of it? I mean, it’s a porno, nobody cares about the plot. Still I wanna know what you think.”

She playfully nibbled her lower lip, “I really, really liked it.”

He feigned shock, “Really? Chrissy Cunningham!”

“No- Yes- I mean… I watched it and I… enjoyed it. I liked the story and I liked that Christine and Edward got together in the end. They were meant to be. He treats her so nicely and he listens to her, he totally loves her. She loves him. It was just so nice to watch!”

Interesting, that wasn’t really something that Eddie really thought about. When it came to his private time, the last thing he considered were the intricacies, themes, and plot points of a pornographic film. Then again, this is the same man who just happens to have a film where the people involved seem to share their lives, albeit in a more altered and exaggerated dimension. That was a matter that Chrissy wanted to bring up, but in all honesty she was loving the attention from him. As sweet as Eddie was, she did love those moments when his supposedly mean and scary side shined through. She found this side of him appealing and she was definitely going to milk him for more, by any means necessary of course.

Chrissy gingerly rubbed his crotch with her knee, purring his name with love in her voice and wanting in her eyes, “Eddie…”

He couldn’t stop himself from groaning, “What are you doing, bad girl?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie’s fingers traced the little sneak peak of her belly hanging out from her shirt, “Someone's in a good mood, tonight.”

She pressed her elbows together, bouncing just a bit as she giggled, “I don’t know what you’re talking abou- Ooh, oh… oh my…”

His tongue latched onto her throat, slowly swiping up her neck, his teeth giving her warm ear a little nibble. That slightly calloused hand of his squished her stomach, trailing up higher and higher until he reached her pretty breast. She was sensitive there and Eddie knew that little fact very well. It didn’t matter which method he used, Chrissy was a goner the moment he teased her breast. All it took were tantalizingly slow circles with his thumb to get her going at first. Followed by careful flicking and gentle pinching, adding in a little pulling as well. He was never harsh to her, unless she asked it and boy did she.

“Harder, please harder Eddie!”

He smirked against her neck, his whisper like fire on her skin, “As you wish.”

Chrissy whined when he pulled her top down, she wanted to feel his palms on her and so she attempted to bare herself to him. He grabbed her wrists and trapped them above her head, shortening their distance again until the gap was no longer.

“No, no, no. You need to be a good girl, Christine. Keep your hands down or I’ll handcuff you. Understand?”

Holy shit, as to how she was still standing up was truly a miracle. Jesus, the way that man was able to switch his voice from usual to Dungeon Master like that was a talent in itself. He praised her obedience with a kiss to her forehead and a pet name. Chrissy watched those busy hands of his taunt her covered nipples with precision. His expertise digits rubbed, pinched, twisted, and pulled. He was mean and she loved every second of it, the pain pleasantly shot throughout her body. Even though he never ordered her to keep still, she tried not to move a muscle, wanting to further increase the burning feeling. Eddie admired her fortitude, offering her more kisses upon her lips and face to give her some relief.

“You’re doing so good, Chrissy.” Kiss. “So brave.” Kiss. “So sweet.” Kiss.

“Eddie! Eddie! Oh, I’m yours!”

“I know baby, you’re all mine.”

He relieved her, much to her incessant, but adorable whining. He would never leave her hanging, no, not at all. Resorting to removing her too made Chrissy’s heart dance. Despite the cruelness in this character, she could see the consideration in his eyes. He offered her stimulated nipples lovely, little pecks and tender, flattened laps. Eddie could be harsh when given the okay by her, still he wanted to be kind to his one and only.

She longed to run her fingers through his locks. To caress his handsome face from his chin to his ear, allowing her to scratch the back of his head. Alas his simple demand was making that task seem almost impossible. Her nails scratched at the wallpaper, he knew how to scratch that little itch of hers and he was just getting started. His tongue followed the shape of her nipples, big hands sweetly massaged her bosoms; giving them a gentle squeeze and shake. Those perfect lips of his ensnared her nub, pulling and suckling on it at a pace that was slow, yet oh so enticing. He went back and forth between the two, never looking away from the most beautiful woman struggling to stand up.

All those well deserved love bites looked so gorgeous on her flesh. Chrissy winced at her newly etched afflictions, her moans soon followed afterwards.

Eddie held her chin, “How you holding up?”

“Good.”

“Do you want to stop or keep going?”

She pecked his palm, “Fuck me with your tongue Edward.”

That went straight to his cock, her organ demanding to be freed; soon enough he thought to himself. Eddie showed off his wolfish grin, pulling her by her jeans and taking great delight in unzipping them. The sight and smell of her glistening center made his mouth water.

He just couldn’t stop staring as he shuffled her out, “You look fucking appetizing, Christine.”

Neither of them could hold back their giggles. This all felt so silly, but they loved it nonetheless. Their laughter subsided as he led her to the couch, easing her onto the cushions; placing a pillow beneath her head. He was truly able to admire the warmth and beauty of her. He could never stop thinking about her, not just her body, everything little thing about Chrissy Cunningham gave his life purpose. He would do anything to ensure her happiness and comfort. To satisfy and protect her. Always and forever.

Eddie kneeled down and tasted her. The scent from her dark and moistened curly locks filled his nostrils. She shined beneath the dull lamp light, her inner workings still so incredible to his eyes and tongue. Sampling her labia majora and minora in slow and precise licks, twisting his muscle to better wedge it in. Letting just the tip of that merciful tongue barely slide along her clitoris. Bubblegum lips mouthing and smooching her so nicely. A long strand of coated saliva toppled out and onto her, mixing it all over her.

Chrissy could no longer hold back her sounds. She didn’t care if someone could hear them, nor did he. Her praises and begging only encouraged him.

“Fuck! Oh- Oh wow! Eddie you’re amazing!”

His humming vibration made her yelp, grabbing on tightly to his wavy curls. Let him cuff her, she was enjoying herself. Rather than following through, Eddie was much too preoccupied with her pussy. Swiping and slithering his tongue, ensuring that he covered as much moistened ground as he could. His long fingers broke through and huddled within her dripping quim. Flexing, rotating, cycling, and beckoning her; all while his lips made out with her clitoris. Chrissy couldn’t stop shaking, body aching and trembling to release. No, not yet, she wanted to hold on just a bit longer. Yet she knew that deep down, her boyfriend was determined to eat her out from here until the next millennium.

“Eddie, I- I- Gonna cum!”

He looked at her briefly, smiling along her second lips before continuing. She was doomed in the best way possible.

Her high pitched scream made the hounds howl, “EDDIE!”

Eddie opened wide and drank her down, keeping her quivering legs steady as she came, making sure that she clearly saw his very wet, smug grin, “Fucking delicious, princess.”

He spared her some time to recover, cradling her in his arms and rocking her slowly. She could see stars, each one shining as brightly as the ones in the sky above them. Chrissy nestled herself closer, draping her legs across his lap, and snuggling her face into his chest. His heartbeat drummed loudly against her pressed up cheek, thumping just for her. She quietly hummed, letting her fingers tiptoe up to the collar of his old band shirt. Tugging down the material until she could see the inked lines of the black widow’s legs and reaching up to kiss it.

“Hold on, sweet girl.” Once she was secured in place, he then proceeded to carry her to the bedroom and eased her down gently, “Oh, my love. My angel. My whole world.”

Chrissy watched as Eddie stripped off his graphic tee and boxers, snickering when he winked at her. He was exceedingly hard, his cock twitching and aching to be handled. She sat on the edge and held onto his hips, inching him closer until the head touched her lips.

Kiss. “Eddie, I want your cock.” Kiss. “I wanna taste it.” Kiss.

“Take it, it’s yours.”

Eddie moved her locks aside when she began, grunting and moaning as she licked him. The texture of his veins made for a fun little game of follow the trail with her tongue. Always beginning from the bottom after finishing up each one. She loved teasing him, she loved watching him react to the simplest of touches. Biting down hard on his lower lip, balling up his fists, and huffing. Her hands lathered him up after emitting a big glob of spit at the very top. Shallowly mouthing for a moment, then taking him in as far as she could. Humming a pretty tune, smiling around him when he yelped. Cradling him between teeth, tongue, and throat felt so right, while her hands massaged his fleshy sack.

“Chrissy, oh fuck! Mmm, yeah! Oh god…”

She popped her lips after setting him free, smooching the underside, sweetly mumbling, “You like that, Eddie?”

“Turn around, Chrissy.”

“What? Why?”

“You’ll see.” Once Eddie was on his back, he positioned Chrissy to lay on top of him, “Open your legs and spread your pussy open. Yeah, yeah that’s right. Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

She squealed as he very carefully penetrated her, easing her with absolute consideration and care. His nails dug into her hips, sliding himself within her wet cunt. Chrissy couldn’t believe how amazing this felt, wriggling herself to be filled even more. In her delirious state of horniness, her mind started to put the pieces together. When the two adult film stars transitioned into the bedroom, they partook in this exact same position (albeit with more energy and vigor, not that Chrissy had a reason to grumble). Eddie honestly didn’t think that he would be able to get this right at all, definitely not on the first try. There were other positions that he wanted to introduce, but the last thing that he wanted to do was pressure her; especially knowing the origins of said ideas. As of this moment, all that mattered to them was each other and the ever growing state of bliss between them.

Eddie rocked and pumped his hips, being sure to keep a good grip on his girlfriend. Balancing her and making her scream with satisfaction, all while having to keep from imploding. How could he not? The love of his life calling out for more, her body bouncing, the fact that she watched one of his tapes! Then there was Chrissy, pampered by her personal rockstar who knew exactly what she wanted, humming that melodic and growling voice in her ears, even trying something new with her! He never stopped filling her, she never stopped squeezing him. She looked down and marveled at his agility and stamina, still she wanted to feel even more stimulated; and so she reached down and rubbed her clitoris just the way she liked it. Two bodies were taut and then squished, drenched in sweat, letting the cup of prurient passion spill over and bathe them. It all felt too fantastical to be real, like their lives were not their own, but somehow still theirs.

Just a bit more, more, more! Their eyes could only focus for so long until they had to shut them. Minds drowning further down into the lake of love. They didn’t stop until the roaring flames consumed their hearts and bodies. Never ceasing until the band had finally snapped.

And so it did.

The positively exquisite and disgusting mess that they created within themselves and all around could rival the other pornos that Eddie consumed; those stains were definitely going to be harder to feign ignorance over. Chrissy looked down at the thick, ropelike strands that decorated her stomach, fingers tracing some around her belly button. Eddie cautiously helped her up, cleaning her off with the t-shirt that he removed earlier. Never could he ever imagine that he would have been able to imitate at least one of his private tapes. Then again, Chrissy could have never dreamed that she’d ever watch something like that and attempt to re-create it as well. Regardless of it all, they were content and very exhausted. At least they could enjoy the warm afterglow of the very early morning together.

She snuggled into his chest, “Eddie, how many pornographic movies do you have?”

His fingers twirled her locks, “Uh, I don’t know, 8… 10 movies maybe.”

“Can we watch one tomorrow night?”

His lips tightened up, “I don’t know, some of them are kinda… weird.”

Her bewildered look said it all, “Eddie, you own a tape where both of the actors have our names, they look like us, and they just so happen to be in a relationship. What could be weirder than that?”

“Oh Chrissy, that's just a coincidence. Besides, it’s not like there’s a bunch of other versions of us out there.”

She laid upon his body, legs dangling in the air, “But what if there are? Maybe you’re a bard and I could be a princess. Or what about me being a metalhead and you play basketball?”

“Chrissy, the day I wake up as a meathead jock is the day monsters invade our town. Or I wake up as emperor of ancient Rome. Now let’s get some sleep.”

Her pout could not sway him, so instead they grabbed the big blanket and snuggled down. Chrissy waited for just a bit, her mind filled with many questions. Maybe it was all a coincidence.

Still, who’s to say that it wasn't?

#hellcheer #munningham #eddissy #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer fan fic #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fic #hellcheer fanfic #stranger things

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tangledinink · 2 years ago

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raph fans come get y'all juice. chapter four of i'm sorry, teenage mutant what now? is up! read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

Okay, fine, he’d admit it. Dad was acting weird.

Like, weird weird, not regular weird. Their dad had always been weird, which Leo had always chalked up to 1.) him being their dad 2.) him spending time in Hollywood. But this? This was off, even for him.

Last night, he spaced out in the middle of one of Mikey’s stories, and Leo still wasn’t sure if he had literally fallen asleep with his eyes open or if he had just accidentally astral projected to the Twilight Zone or something. Of course, they had all then proceeded to say the most absolutely asinine, insane shit that they could think of in an attempt to goad a reaction until Mikey finally managed to snap him out of it by throwing some lentils at him. The day before that, he caught him rifling through that old shelf of weird knick-knacks that none of them were allowed to touch, muttering to himself the entire time like some crazy supervillain. Like, dude, had some ancient ninja ghost replaced their daddy, or what? ‘Cause this was getting freaky. He had kind of just thought Donnie was overreacting, but maybe he was onto something…

He hated it when Donnie was right. It happened annoyingly often and he could never admit it, lest he risk his twin’s ego becoming even larger. There’s only room for one egomaniac in this family.

“Think we can corner Dad on the train ride home and find out what’s happening? That way he won’t be able to run.” He said, casually, inviting himself into his twin brother’s room and tossing himself down on their bed.

Donnie pulled his eyes away from whatever robotics project he was currently tinkering with in order to glare at his brother, spinning around in his desk chair.

��Groan. Do we have to? That sounds unpleasant at best.”

“Hey, you started this in the first place. And you agreed to the plan,” he countered, pointing accusingly at the other. “You don’t get to back out now.”

“I’m not saying that I’m not worried, or that I don’t think someone should talk with him. I’m just saying that I don’t want to do it.” Donnie defended.

“Bummer. You’re participating.” Leo deadpanned. “Between you, me, and Raph, we might have half a chance. And if not… Well. We’ve got the big guns waiting at home.”

Donnie shuddered a bit. The Doctor.

“I don’t know. Based on historical data, there’s about a 76.4% chance that Dad will attempt to bodily throw himself out the window of a moving train if we try to talk to him about his feelings.”

“Do you think we can find a train car without windows?”

“I’ll do some research. I’m sure there are specs available online...” Donnie sighed, turning back around to face his desk and pulling out his phone.

Leo hummed softly, knowing that Donnie would, in fact, actually do that, whether or not it was realistic.

“I’m serious, Donnie. We actually have to talk to him.”

“I mean, yeah, sure. I am too. But what the hell are we gonna say?”

“Ugh. I don’t know! You’re the one with a therapist! And you’ve been seeing her for how long now? Shouldn’t you know how to do all the talky-feely shit by now?”

“I’m autistic.”

“So?”

“You should get a therapist.”

“Off-topic,” Leo muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is, like, weirder than he usually is. Like… Something is for real wrong. It’s kind of spooky.”

“It’s Mikey.”

Leo scoffed. “It’s not Mikey.”

“Yeah, it is. He started being weird right after Mikey lit himself on fire.”

“Mikey didn’t light himself on fire, Dee.”

“Well, he clearly did something . And Dad keeps looking at him like he thinks he’s gonna combust at any moment. There’s a very clear pattern of behavior, Leo.” He insisted. “Also, you don’t know what the hell Mikey did, either, because we both know he wasn’t just playing with matches in his room.”

“He might have been.” Leo huffed. “That kid is way more fucked up than we give him credit for. Remember in the fourth grade when someone destroyed his science fair project?”

Donnie shivered. “You don’t just forget something like that, Leo.”

“Exactly! Playing with lighters is totally within the realm of possibility.”

“There’s a difference between enacting violent but justified revenge and doing simply dangerous stuff just for the fun of it.” Donnie countered, glancing up at the other through half-lidded eyes. “Plus, he’s used to all of us doing dangerous stuff for the fun of it! Dad wouldn’t react this way if he was just worried Mikey was gonna hurt himself. He deals with worrying Mikey is gonna hurt himself all the time. Nor would he let Mikey get away with this with nary a punishment if that were truly the case. In the very least, Dad doesn’t think the event was the result of Mikey just ‘playing with lighters.’”

“Oh, so what? It’s magic? His notebook magically caught on fire?” Leo challenged dryly, giving his twin an unimpressed look.

“Of course not. I’m a man of science.” Donnie scoffed. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation, but, admittedly, I haven’t been able to intuit exactly what the cause was just yet. My investigation is still ongoing.” He sighed. “... But maybe Dad thinks it was?”

Leo paused for a moment, rolling the thought around in his head, frowning a bit.

“You think Dad thinks Mikey magically caught his notebook on fire?” He questioned, raising one brow in doubt.

“It’s possible,” Donnie said, shrugging. “We know that he’s superstitious.”

Leo hummed softly, his hand automatically moving to spin the small silver bracelet on his wrist, running his fingertips across the smooth edges of the blue crystal in its center. One in a set of five. He supposed that that was technically true… ‘Superstitious’ wasn’t really the first word that would come to mind if he was trying to describe his father. It wouldn’t even be in the top ten. But slapping actual good-luck charms onto each of his children did kind of automatically sort him into that category, didn’t it?

He knew his dad had a small altar in his room, and they would occasionally celebrate, or at least acknowledge, Japanese holidays that he had grown up with. But they didn’t have any other charms or amulets in their home, at least not that Leo knew of, just old knick-knacks and trinkets that lived on shelves or in closets. They had never gone to a shrine or temple or church or anything of the like in their lives, and he had never heard his Dad pray before. But the bracelets? He had always been really invested in that. Leo literally couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t all worn them. He had told them since they were small that they ‘kept them safe ,’ and it had been a hard rule their entire lives that they weren’t to be removed.

It was the kind of thing that Leo was pretty sure people would think was weird if he brought it up-- so he usually didn’t. He used to think it was weird, too, honestly, and kind of dumb. I mean, they were just bracelets, right? So what did it matter? But he remembered the one time he had tried to take it off when he was around seven. Even now it was absolutely vivid in his brain every time he thought about it.

He hadn’t been trying to rebel or make trouble or anything, he had just been bored. He forgot exactly where they were, but they were waiting in line for something at some building with lots of desks and people milling about, discussing boring things. And there wasn’t anything to do! He had exhausted all viable options for entertaining himself: Annoying his father. Annoying his brother. Annoying his other brother. Annoying his other other brother. So he had basically run out of ideas.

He hadn’t even taken the bracelet off. I mean, not all the way. He was just messing with it, kind of yanking it up and down his wrist, and seeing if he could wiggle it up his hand over his knuckles--

But god, he remembers the way his father’s voice sounded when he caught him, biting out his name like it was painful. He remembers the look on his face, and even now it makes him feel small.

Not because his dad was angry. But because he was scared.

He had never seen his dad look that way before in his entire life. Like he was about to watch the entire world crumble down around him.

It was scary. His dad was scared, so he got scared, too. He shivers a little bit at the memory, his frown deepening. They had left shortly after, and Dad had assured him at least twenty times that he wasn’t mad, and he was sorry for scaring him, and it was okay, but that he couldn’t take the bracelet off. It was important.

Leo and his brothers had kind of decided after that that it probably was important and that they really shouldn’t take them off. Leo wasn’t entirely sure if he completely believed now that they actually ‘kept them safe’ or whatever, but he had certainly believed it then. And besides that, clearly, their father believed it, and that alone was enough for him. It was too small to really get off now, anyway. They had grown enough that Leo doubted he could wriggle his way out of it even if he wanted to. It was a small miracle that Raph hadn’t busted his with how damn beefy he had grown, but hey, he wasn’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth or anything.

“Okay. Fine.” Leo conceded. “So, Dad thinks Mikey has magic hands, or whatever. What do we do about it?”

---

The train ride over to the swim meet was relatively calm, filled with idle chatter and conversation. Leo, Donnie, and Raph had met their Dad at the station after school, and they spent the trip discussing the new leaf Donnie's Monstera was growing, the most recent viral street magic video Leo had seen, and the latest funny thing Raph's swim kids had done. Raph attempted, unsuccessfully, to prod their Dad into sharing as well, but the most he got was information about the latest reality show episode he had watched. Their Dad wasn't always the biggest sharer, but usually, they could at least get him to discuss the state of his Dojos, any new acting prospects, or celebrity gossip. He loved celebrity gossip! But not today-- the conversation stayed squarely focused on his three sons.

Still, it had been pleasant, even with the slight stirring of anxiety in Raph's stomach. They were all busy more often than they weren't, so it was always nice to get to spend any amount of time together. Their pops didn't always attend all their various sporting events, recitals, or other competitions-- it just wasn't realistic. There was only one of him, after all. But they were getting towards the end of the season at this point, which meant that all the 'important' events were beginning to crop up on their calendars. Their Dad hated to miss those-- even if they did go pretty much every year. He always said he wanted to ‘brag about how talented his children were.’

The sports center was just a short walk from the train station, and Raph glanced down at their father as they made their way into the bustling lobby. "You know where you're goin', pops?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I could give tours of this place." His father joked, his frame shaking with his laughter. "You boys know how to find me if you need me. Now, go and have fun. And also, kick some butt!" He encouraged with a toothy grin.

"You got it, pops!" Raph assured, smiling wide in response, herding his two younger brothers off to the locker room. Usually, they'd come here with the rest of their team. Rather than traveling with their Dad, they'd travel with the other kids and their coach. But this was the city-wide meet. Qualifiers only-- which thinned out the crowd. Raph knew there were other competitors from the Mad Dogs Swim Team around here somewhere, but until they could hunt them down, it was just the three of them. Luckily, this was far from their first rodeo.

"Dibs on Candy Locker!" Leo yelled.

"Leo, no one else wants Candy Locker," Donnie said.

"Do not touch the Candy Locker!" Raph shouted.

They did this every year.

The infamous Candy Locker.

Raph, Leo, and Donnie had been competing in swim since they were eight and seven, respectively. And every year since then, all three of them had qualified for city-wide. And every year, city-wide was held at the Aquatics Pavilion at the Ithaca College campus. And every year that they came here, since they discovered it their very first time, the Candy Locker remained.

It was basically a historical landmark at this point, and Raph was continuously baffled that it still persevered. There were rows and rows of shiny slate gray lockers in the changing rooms, free for whatever visiting athlete to use while they competed, just big enough that you could fit a swim bag in there if you really put some muscle into it, all labeled and neat. Typically, you would open a locker without a padlock, and there would be one of two things there. One: someone else's clothes and bag. Someone already took this locker, but is playing it fast and loose and trusts no one will steal their shit. That's cool. Stealing ain't the Mad Dog way. Two: An empty locker. Sweet, free locker. You can shove your shit in there. But at the Aquatics Pavilion, there was also a third option.

That option was a faded yellow pillowcase filled to the brim with about two pounds of Halloween candy.

The running theory was that someone had stashed it here ages ago, forgotten it, and it had just been there ever since, therefore transforming Locker 336 into ‘Candy Locker.’ Raph wasn't sure if the staff at the school truly just weren't aware of it, if they just didn't feel like dealing with it, or if they too respected it enough that they couldn't bring themselves to destroy it. All he knew was that Candy Locker was forever, and a fixture of the institution.

He also knew that every single year, without fail, Leo tried to sneak chocolate out of Candy Locker.

"You can't use Candy Locker. Leo! It's not open for use! It's Candy Locker, and it needs to be treated with respect!" Raph yelled, giving a low groan of annoyance as Leo just barely glanced back at him, just for a moment, this absolutely feral look of excitement in his eyes, and darted off, breaking away from their small group. Dammit.

All of Raph's little brothers were fast and small and nimble. Raph always felt a tiny bit awed when he watched how they moved-- weaving about obstacles like minnows swimming upstream, dancing and darting about in a way that always looked effortless. Raph was fast, too, and he was far more acrobatic than the average high schooler... Don't get it twisted, he was perfectly capable of back-flips and cartwheels. But small? Small he was not.

It was tough being a big guy sometimes. I mean, he didn't dislike it by any means! He loved being large enough that he could see over crowds and keep an eye on everything. He loved feeling strong and powerful enough that he could plant himself in between his family and any kind of danger, and feel like a wall-- an immovable object. He loved being strong, relished the rush of pinning his opponents to the ground beneath him without any effort and smashing his way through obstacles.

... But with size and strength comes responsibility. Wait, was that the quote? Something like that. The point was, if he ran after Leo, he'd mow half these kids down. And he didn't wanna hurt anyone or anything. He knew better than that.

"Raphael."

Raph's father knelt down next to him, his voice gentle, but nudging, demanding to be heard. It took Raph a few moments, but eventually, he glanced up at him, peeking shyly at his father from behind his hand and uncurling from the small ball he was rolled into just the tiniest bit.

"Raphael, did you hit Leonardo?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then nodded a tiny bit, sniffling loudly.

"And bite him?"

He nodded again, drawing his legs up to his chest and hiding his face in his knees.

His father sighed softly. "Red, we cannot--"

"He pushed me first!" He bit out, and he could feel his face burn even hotter than before, all muddy with shame and anger sloshed together. "H-he was being mean, and, and he wouldn't leave me alone! And I wanted him to stop!"

"I will talk to him, Red. But just because he pushes you does not mean you can push back. Or hit him, or bite him. You are bigger than him, Raphael." This brought a fresh sob tumbling through Raph's chest, despite his best efforts. His father sighed again before slowly sitting down, holding out his arms.

"Come here, my son."

Raphael rolled over onto his hands and knees, crawling into his dad's lap and burrowing his face into his chest. His dad's arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tight and rocking the two of them back and forth. And for a while, they just sat like that, quiet and still, hidden away in the hallway closet.

"Is Leo okay?" Raph eventually mumbled, not picking up his head.

"He will be alright," Dad confirmed. "But you did hurt him quite a bit, Raphael."

"Sorry." He whispered. He wiped at his face with balled-up fists, hiccuping a few times. His mouth tasted salty, now, from the tears, but it still tasted bitter from the blood, too.

"...You did a very good job coming to get me right away."

Raph hummed a tiny bit in response, but he didn't say anything beyond that. He wished he could fold himself up even tighter and hide. He wished he was so small he could fit in between the floorboards. He wished he could disappear.

"You know, your gym teacher is very impressed with you, Red." Dad eventually began to speak again. "He told me all about how wonderfully you do whenever he sees you. You're bigger and stronger than the other kids in your class," He continued, and then laughed. "And I think that is very cool! And it makes me very proud to hear about how well you have done."

Raph finally dared to peek up at his father again, wiping some of the tears off his cheeks.

"But I know it can be hard to be strong sometimes. It is a lot of work, being big and strong! You have to be careful with others around you, even if they're not careful with you back. That is very difficult!" He said, his hand moving in slow circles up and down his child's spine. "But I have seen you many, many times be big and strong to protect your brothers, and keep them safe, and to help them." He said, keeping quiet for a moment before exhaling slowly through his nose. "... Can I share a secret with you, Red?"

A secret? His eyes widened a bit, and he immediately nodded.

"I have been thinking that perhaps you boys might be ready to start learning proper martial arts at the dojo." Raph let out an audible gasp, his entire body perking up with excitement. Actual for real kung-fu and karate and stuff?! Not just blocks and poses!? "But I am a little worried that your brothers might hurt themselves, or fight with each other if I teach them."

Oh. Raph hadn't thought of that before. He frowned a bit, his brows suddenly pinched with worry. He hadn’t ever considered before that learning martial arts could actually be a bad idea. If he learned martial arts with his Dad, what if he just hurt his brothers worse?

"But I know how much you all want to learn. And I can already see how much potential you all have." He continued with a soft smile. "So I was hoping that you could help me. I don't like that you and Leo got into a fight, or that he got hurt... But now I know that you know what it feels like to hurt someone that you love. And that it doesn't feel very good, does it?"

No... It felt horrible. He furrowed his brows, frowning before nodding a bit.

"So I think that means that I can trust you to help me with teaching them how to be careful and strong at the same time, and keep them safe. Do you think you could handle that, Red?"

Raphael swallowed hard, feeling this wet lump form in his throat. All the tears from before welled up in his eyes again-- even though he didn't wanna live in the floorboards anymore. His dad still trusted him that much? Even now, after he messed up really bad? He tried to tell his father 'yes,' but his lips were wobbling too much for his tongue to work right, so he just nodded as hard as he could instead. Yes-- He wanted more than anything to help protect his little brothers, no matter what. ‘Cause even when they made him so, so angry... he still loved them so, so much.

"I thought so." Dad laughed, kissing the top of his son's head before ruffling his hair lightly. "And I know we will not have any more fighting like this. And no more biting , Raphael. We have talked about this. If you want to bite something, I will get you something else that is for biting. But it cannot be people! Understood?"

Hiccuping a bit, Raphael nodded again. Somehow, he wasn't even upset to be scolded this time. And he knew that he had said he wouldn't bite people before, but this time he really meant it.

"Good boy. Now, I am going to go check on your brothers. Do you want to stay here a little bit longer, or do you want to come with me?"

Raph took a long, deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat so that he could find his voice again.

"I wanna see my brothers."

"GET BACK HERE, LEO. DON'T MAKE ME COME AFTER YOU." He shouted, and was completely ignored. "Donnie--"

"Not involved." Donnie immediately replied, not looking up from his phone.

Raph groaned, trying to pick up the pace without taking out any bystanders, muttering repeated, "Pardon me's," and "'Scuse me's," as he went.

Leo really wasn't that far ahead of them-- He wouldn't completely ditch them, but he did get far enough ahead that he was already breaking into Candy Locker by the time Raph rounded the corner, his face set into a deep scowl.

"Leo. Don't you dare."

"Look! Untouched and beautiful as ever!"

"Leo, do not eat the candy ."

"Wow, and they have all our favorites, too..."

"They are at least eight years old! At a minimum , Leo!"

"Oh, pshhh. As if I haven't seen you wolf down two-week-old leftovers before." Leo scoffed.

"Remember that time he ate beef jerky out of the trash?" Not helping, Donnie.

"It was right on top! Practically untouched!" Raph protested. "And that's completely different! Plus, eight years is, like, twelve times longer than two weeks is!"

"That math is not correct..." Donnie mumbled under his breath.

"Chillax! I'm not gonna eat any of the candy." Leo said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

Oh, thank god.

"I just wanna have one. To like... put on a shelf or something. I bet Donnie could make a little pedestal for it."

Dammit.

"One year." Raph said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just one year. I just want us to leave Candy Locker in peace... for one year . It's a sacred space, Leo!"

"Mmmm..." Leo pursed his lips, placing a hand on his hip. "Yeah, I mean. I see what you're saying, but... I'm pretty sure no one is gonna miss, like, one Tootsie Pop."

"Stop messing with him, Leo." Donnie chided, cracking open a locker nearby, tossing his bag down and shucking off his jacket.

"Okay, okay. Fine. Because I'm an amazing brother, I will refrain from interacting any further with Candy Locker until after the meet." Leo declared, slapping the locker shut again with a flick of his wrist and a satisfying metallic clack. "But know this, Raphael. This isn't over."

Raphael scoffed, rolling his eyes, glaring at Leo as he yanked open his own locker. He loved his brothers dearly-- he did. But they were really lucky sometimes that he didn't just snap their necks.

---

At this point, Yoshi had a pretty good handle on these types of events, and he knew well enough how to navigate. He knew exactly which corner bounced cheers and shouts about the least, knew just where all the vents, pumping in warm air to prevent all the swimmers from freezing their butts off, were hidden, so they could be avoided, and knew the best seating arrangement that allowed for minimal soreness the following day. Metal bleachers weren’t exactly easy on your back, after all! Armed with years of experience, (plus his cellphone and earbuds for when events did not feature his sons and he got bored,) he was fully committed to making it through the meet and focusing for the entirety of it. Had he made any progress on the whole Hamato Ninpo thing? Well, no, not exactly. Which was. Ah. Worrisome. But, now was not the time for that!

He was quite excited to watch his three eldest sons kick ass and take names, as per usual.

He said 'hello' to a few of the other parents that he knew and made some polite small talk, settling down to watch the meet. Warm-ups were already done by the time he was all seated, and he could see his boys and the rest of their team from where they sat across the pool; audience members sat on one side, and competitors on the other. He watched them doing much of the same-- making conversation with each other and their teammates, checking their phones, and cheering whenever anyone they knew was in the water.

All in all, everything was fairly normal and expected. Yoshi still struggled a bit to keep himself focused, and not think too deeply about all the worries in his head, but it wasn't as bad as it had been lately... It had been nearly a week now with no further incidents, no questioning from his children, and no spooky prophecies or visions from his ancestors or anything like that. So he was beginning to wonder, or perhaps more accurately, hope that maybe it had just been a fluke. Just a one-off event rather than the beginning of anything trying. Maybe his family was fine, their identity and secrets were safe, and nothing further was going to occur to jeopardize that-- they could just continue to live in peace just as they had been.

He watched the twins get up from the bench for their next event, shedding their hoodies and towels in favor of goggles, only to get waved over by an official. The two wandered over and joined him and what appeared to be another parent. He couldn't hear what they were saying from where he was, but the conversation soon became animated-- Donnie's arms crossed over his chest, Leo talking wildly with his hands, and worry immediately began to blossom in his chest. He had just gotten to his feet, beginning to make his way over to the group when the discussion seemed to dissolve, his two sons walking away visibly upset. Yoshi met them halfway.

"What is going on?" He immediately questioned, his brows knit together, forming wrinkled creases in his skin. He could see Raphael straining to see from his side of the pool, a similar expression on his own face.

"Ugh. It's nothing." Leo huffed, a scowl set on his face, his hands on his hips. "Some Karen or whatever is just mad that we're gonna ruin her kid's record or whatever, so she talked the officials into drug testing us."

"Which is obviously a complete waste of time and resources," Donnie added in, rolling his eyes.

"She's just gonna embarrass herself when it comes back negative. As if we need any steroids to clean up shop." Leo declared, a small, sly grin growing on his face, offering out a hand to high-five his brother like, ‘Sick burn, right, Dee?'

His brother accepted, slapping his palm firmly. "Indeed."

Yoshi had broken out into a cold sweat, feeling as though his entire body had turned into stone, freezing him in place.

"O-oh. A drug test. Yes, how silly..." He mumbled, forcing a grin on his face. "How. Uh. How exactly... Does that work? Is it going to take long? I would hate for the, uh, the meet to be held up...!"

"No, they're just doing a rapid test." Donnie hummed. "Obviously it's going to be a smaller panel than they could achieve with a proper lab test, and not achieve quite as accurate or varied of a data set, but it should only take five minutes or so. I understand they're fetching the technician now, and then it should be as simple as collecting a urine sample to use. It can only reveal a 'negative' or 'positive' result rather than any more detailed variations or anything of the like, but of course, this isn't a concern for us, since we already know neither of us is using any drugs. It's actually a very fascinating process--"

Yoshi wasn't listening anymore, because all he could hear in his ears was his own voice screaming TURTLE PISS TURTLE PISS TURTLE PISS.

Logically, the test did not have the capacity to give such information. Donatello had just said that there were only two possible test results, positive or negative, and his purplest son usually knew what he was talking about regarding such things. So, reasonably, he knew it could not possibly come back ‘Mutant Turtle’. And rationally, he knew that his family had been under further scrutiny in the past and come out on the other side just fine. This did not ease his panic. It never did.

Insurance cards? Check. Paperwork? Check. All four children? Check. He went over his list for the fifth time in his head, glancing down at his kids, two on either side of him, as they approached the office. Right... Yes. He had everything he needed.

So why didn't he feel even the least bit prepared?

He had gone to such lengths to ensure the success of this plan. He had accounted for every document that would need to be forged, had crafted an elaborate story to explain his disappearance, and had paid dearly for the five bracelets that concealed his and his sons' mutant identities. He prepared for every possible threat to their new identities, and did everything he could to allow the success of their new lives.

It wasn't like he didn't account for this. He knew that it would be an obstacle, and he knew that it would be one that they would have to face. That didn't stop it from being terrifying.

The doctor.

Despite all the paperwork he had fabricated, he knew that they wouldn't be able to avoid going to the doctor forever. Even if he falsified records indicating his sons were up to date on absolutely everything and in perfect health, this would only buy them a year or two before they would be due for a visit, or risk being barred from enrollment in public school. And even if he somehow avoided this, too, what if one of his children got sick? Or injured? Was he to simply keep them at home and deny them medical care?

No, no. He wanted his kids to have a normal life. He wanted them to be able to do things like go to school and play in parks and make friends with other children... and have proper medical care when it was needed. He wanted them to be vaccinated, to be screened for problems, to have regular check-ups and be able to go to the hospital when they were hurt. He desperately wanted this.

But jesus christ, this was terrifying.

"Are you ready, boys?" He asked, glancing down at his children once more. He was trying to keep his voice level and his body language calm, but he could tell that his sons could sense his anxiety. His heart broke a little when four pairs of big, horrified eyes looked up at him and they shook their heads.

"Ah, where are my brave boys?" He questioned, nudging them ever so slightly, beginning the walk into the office. He held Mikey and Donnie's hands tightly so that they wouldn't be able to tell he was shaking. "Do not worry. I promise that Dr. Davis is very nice. Nothing bad will happen." He assured.

The boys didn't seem too convinced. He wasn't either, truthfully, but he marched them inside anyway.

It had been over a decade since he had last been inside a doctor's office, and even longer than that since he had been to a pediatrician. Yet somehow, it felt like nothing had really changed. Colorful wires with wooden beads strung on them stuck out from a brightly-painted table in the middle of the room, in sharp contrast to the faded burgundy chairs lined along the walls. Children's books and Highlight magazines covered every available surface, which Donnie immediately took to reading. There were a few other parents with their children as well, but the Hamatos were in no mood to socialize. After speaking to the woman at the front desk, Yoshi got to work filling out a literal stack of papers. He was so nervous, he messed up at least three different forms, and had to sheepishly request new copies.

And then they waited.

The longer they sat, the more the collective anxiety seemed to mount. Yoshi couldn't help the scenarios running through his mind over and over, each one ending with a doctor or nurse shrieking in horror and calling Animal Control--

"Dad."

Yoshi blinked back into reality, looking down at his youngest son, pulling at his sleeve with tears in his eyes.

"Dad, I wanna go home," Mikey whispered, leaning in close to him and sniffling a bit. "I don't wanna see the doctor."

Quite frankly, Yoshi was inclined to agree with his kid, to pick them all up and walk out right this very minute. But he suppressed the urge.

"I know, Mikey. I do not like seeing the doctor either." He admitted, scooping up the preschooler to hold in his lap. "But I promise... Dr. Davis is very nice, and, ah, I will not let them do anything bad to you... I am sure everything will be fine...!"

Before he could continue his, quite frankly, horrible pep talk, a nurse poked her head into the room from the back.

"The Hamatos?"

"Yo. Dad. You good?"

Yoshi paused for a moment before he returned properly back to the present day, glancing over at his sons and giving a nervous laugh, which then dissolved into a cough.

"Ah! Yes, of course! I am perfectly fine! Why wouldn't I be!" He wheezed, and his sons exchanged looks.

"Papa, honestly, it's fine. This will take ten minutes tops, and again, I assure you that neither Leo nor myself are engaging in any kind of recreational substances." Donnie said.

"Yeah! All we gotta do is piss in a cup." Leo added in. "And then we'll be all set. It's just annoying. Here, why don't you sit down, watch some Netflix or something-- I know you like Netflix-- and we'll be back in a bit, okay? Just chill."

"Right. Of course. I am... very chill." Yoshi insisted, even though he could feel his hands trembling a bit. Gah! Stupid traitor hands! Stop it!

"Surrreeee," Donnie said, taking him by the arm and slowly leading him back to the bleachers, sitting him down and patting his shoulder. "We'll be right back, alright? Nothing to worry about."

---

"Alright, you should be all set." Dr. Davis hummed pleasantly, offering a gentle smile to her latest anxious parent. "Everyone looks great! Healthy weights, nothing scary going on... We'll send you home with some literature and referral information for Donatello. I would recommend considering getting in contact with them if you can, especially since he's gonna be starting school soon, but beyond that everything looks fantastic."

"Yes-- thank you," Yoshi said, forcing a smile, shakily accepting the new stack of papers that the doctor handed over.

Nothing had gone wrong.

Well, a few things had gone wrong. Mikey and Raphael had both cried when they got their shots. Donnie had a small meltdown after being repeatedly touched by people he didn't like. And Leo had punched a nurse in the gut for upsetting his brothers.

But their bill of health came back clean. No mentions of turtles, mutations, cold-bloodedness, or reptilian features of any kind.

They made it through. They would be okay.

"... And we'll see you back in about five weeks for their next booster series, okay? Jacklyn up front can get you all scheduled!"

Yoshi pursed his lips slightly, his mouth suddenly feeling rather dry.

"... Ah. Yes. Of course."

---

The concept of buoyancy was built upon that of displacement; the idea that two different forms of matter could not occupy the same space. Archimedes once theorized that water, a liquid, would be pushed aside by a solid mass, but an object of an appropriate weight, density, or shape could ensure that the displaced weight of the water was greater than the total weight of the object, therefore ensuring it to float. This is, of course, connected to the concept of forces. Gravity is a downward force that acts upon all objects; when an object is placed in a fluid, that fluid must supply a force equal in magnitude but opposite in direction to the gravitational force for the object to float. Scientifically speaking, it was all a matter of density and mass, and every action that one took in the water, as well as every action that the water had in response, could be explained through a series of formulas and equations.

... In a non-scientific sense, however, water was safe and soft and inviting. Water would make room for you, no matter who you were or what you were doing. Once you got in, it would change itself to make exactly enough space for your body. Water was fluid and changing, soft and gentle when you moved softly, hard and firm when you moved harshly. In the water, the way you move changes. The way you see and hear changes. Perception itself shifts.

God, Donatello loved swimming.

Even just swimming laps was great, but a race only heightened the experience, engaging every bit of his body and mind and encouraging him to push. From the moment the buzzer went off and he dived from the starting block, ( push off with your legs, you're going for distance, not for height, hands together, smooth entry point, ) to the lap down, ( head down, no breathing except for when you absolutely need to, arms go back and glide over the water-- imagine your fingertips skimming just over the surface, no unnecessary movement, just enough for the maximum propulsion forward with minimal effort, ), the turn at the wall, ( watch the floor, see the blue tile end and the white begin-- you know the math, count it out, at five you duck, chin to your chest, arms together, kick off the wall and get as much air off that sucker as you can, ) and the sprint back, ( kick from your hips, not your knees, no reserving energy, it's just a fifty, this is a ‘dash,’ so dash -- )

Every second of it he was engaged, and every second of it he adored the experience. He didn't even slow down when he approached the wall, ramming into it at full speed and using his outstretched hands to stop himself and trigger the timer that stopped the clock. They didn't have to worry about slowing down. They wouldn't run into anything. Their own hands and the water would catch them.

Sucking in ragged breaths, he looked to his left, and then he looked to his right. Leo was right behind him, but as he glanced up at the display board on the wall to check his time, he grinned widely. He had more than a five-second lead over him. More than enough to qualify for Regionals-- not that he had been worried. Leo was well within the range as well, just as expected. The three of them always went to Regionals. And Donnie was quite pleased to note that the kid from Lane 4, the child, he and Leo had deduced, of the woman who demanded they be tested, was significantly behind the two of them. Sure, his time was good enough to qualify for Regionals, too...

But it wasn't anywhere near as good as theirs. Haha. Suck it.

One by one, all of the racers joined him at the end of the lane, bobbing about in the water and holding onto the pool edge or the lane lines, everyone out of breath and filled with adrenaline. He shook the hands of his two lane neighbors, congratulating both of them on a race well run, and once the referee blew his whistle, he clambered out of the water, hoisting himself up back onto dry land and moving to rejoin his twin.

"Killed it." Leo said, though breathlessly, ("if you're not struggling to breathe by the end of a race, you're not doing it right," their coach often said,) offering a fistbump, which Donnie reciprocated.

"As expected." He said, grinning wide as the two of them made their way back to the bleachers.

"Leo! Donnie! Nice!" Raph called as they approached, tossing them each a towel to wrap around themselves, each beginning to dry themselves off, peeling goggles and swim caps off their heads. "Good time! But, uh, what was with the--?"

"Some lady made us do a drug test," Leo explained, waving a hand as if to dismiss Raph's concerns. "It was dumb, we both passed, it's all good now. Just annoying."

"A drug test?! Seriously?!" Raph said, scoffing loudly. And admittedly, Raphala was no stranger to similar situations. Donnie recalled he had been accused of taking steroids or faking his age more than once in his various sporting exploits, but it typically wasn't taken as far as to actually test him. Donnie thought, vaguely, that he was almost surprised that Raph wasn't subject to the same treatment as he and Leo were today, but he supposed it did make at least a bit of sense. Raph was big-- he was tall and visibly muscular and powerful. People looked at him and expected him to excel in athletics.

He and Leo? Not so much. Leo was only 5'5", and he himself barely passed 5'3" without his boots, much to his annoyance. They were both lean and clearly athletically inclined, sure, but they were both much smaller and slimmer than their older brother was. People looked at them and were often surprised by their respective sporting resumes. Especially him.

"Yes, yes, it was an unfortunate waste of everyone's time." Donnie agreed. "But to no one's surprise, it came back completely spotless, and we were able to proceed without issue and completely destroy absolutely everyone, in your face Karen, thank you very much."

"Is that why Dad's been freaking out?" Raph asked after a moment, raising a brow. Donnie followed his eyes to steal a glance over at their father on the other side of the pool, looking much better than he had before they received their test results, (both he and Leo offering him thumbs up from across the way once they had been cleared, and watching him sag with relief,) but still seemed a bit shaky.

"Yeah," Leo said, wrinkling his nose. "I thought he was gonna pass out for a second there when we told him. He was sweating so much, it was disgusting."

"He doesn't seriously think you guys' would come back positive or anything, does he?" Raph scoffed, frowning a bit, and Leo shook his head.

"Nah, I don't think so. But you know how scared he is of doctors."

---

Dad always got like this whenever they had an appointment.

'This' meaning, of course, 'Visibly and overwhelmingly anxious and frightened, absolutely filled with dread and horror.'

They were all kind of used to it by now.

When they were little, it would sort of freak them out, because every time they had to go to the doctor, he had to come with them, and he'd be in a state of near-panic the whole time. And if Dad was freaking out, then they should probably be freaking out too, right? Looking back, Leo recognized that he was always trying to hide it, but quite frankly, he did a pretty shit job at it. Now that they had gotten a bit older, however, collectively exiting elementary school years to enter junior high, they more-or-less recognized that Dad's doctor-induced panic was really more of a personal thing, and not necessarily something that they needed to worry about themselves. Leo still didn't really like the doctor, and he kind of doubted he ever would, but he wouldn't really categorize himself as 'afraid' any longer.

Their Dad? Not so much.

The four of them had been long aware of the little note on the calendar in the kitchen, the sacred piece of literature that controlled all their lives, dictating that at four o'clock on this date, their dear father would be summoned to the doctor's office. And they knew that, of course, like he did every time, he would totally freak out. And, just as predicted, he had been an anxious mess all day, pacing around the house, mumbling nonsense to himself, (something about them being ‘onto him’ and ‘rat blood’ and other completely meaningless jibber-jabber.)

But this time, they had a plan. They absolutely could not continue to watch him like this. Everyone was in place. Leo looked across the living room, nodding to Raph. Raph glanced at Donnie, who checked his watch, and likewise nodded an affirmative. Mikey put down his sketchbook, getting to his feet, and the four of them, following his cue, fell into step with each other and filed into the kitchen.

Mission: Save Daddy From the Horrors was a go.

"Hey Dad," Mikey began, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leaning into him slightly. Raph, at the same time, got to work preparing a pot of tea-- Donnie fetched the cream, Leo was on sugar duty. "So, we were thinking. Maybe we could come with you this afternoon?"

Their father startled slightly, immediately moving to glare at Mikey with suspicious eyes. "What?! Come with me? Why would you want to come with me to a doctor's appointment?"

"Well, we were just thinking, it might be a nice, uh... family outing!" Raphael offered with a shrug, chuckling nervously and looking to the side. "And maybe we could, I dunno, get frozen yogurt on the way back?"

"And we could watch that game show you like on the way over. With the mystery shrimp?" Donnie suggested.

"Plus, I mean, I've been meaning to get some acting tips from you? Not that I need them, obviously, but..." Leo added, placing a cup into his father's hands as he narrowed his eyes.

"... You boys are... up to something..." Dad mumbled, looking between the four of them with a slight frown.

"Up to something? No! Of course not!" Raph insisted, and Mikey placed a hand on their father's shoulder.

"We just want to spend more quality time with you! As a family! Don't you want to spend time with us, your loving sons?" He questioned, batting his eyes. "Plus, we can get frozen yogurt! We know how much you love frozen yogurt, right?"

"Yeah, what they said," Donnie said.

"Pleaseeeee?" Leo went in for the kill, offering a dramatic pout, poking his lower lip out as far as it could possibly go. Mikey joined in shortly, combining their powers to reach near-dangerous levels of puppy-dog-eyes.

"... I suppose... If you really would like to..."

Score. They were in. Goal: minimize anxiety and get their dad home from the doctor's office in one piece for a change. And if they got some frozen yogurt in the process? What was the harm in that? As far as Leo was concerned, so long as they could manage to get their Dad through this appointment without totally freaking out, that'd be a win. And, if things went well, it would be that much easier to convince him to allow them to accompany him to future appointments, too.

---

The rest of the swim meet went about as expected. Donnie easily got the best times in every event he participated in, and all three of them, plus a couple of their teammates, made it into the upcoming Regionals. Trophies and ribbons were given out in the end, which they had all immediately passed on to their father, ‘cause he was more excited about them than they were and would surely figure out a way to find space for at least some of them at home. Raph physically wrestled an ancient Twix bar out of Leo's hands, and once his little brother finally cried for mercy and swore to leave Candy Locker alone for the remainder of the trip, he unpinned him from the ground and allowed him to get back up. Normal stuff.

It wasn't until the train ride home that things got kind of weird.

About fifteen minutes in Leo started giving him these looks. Looks that said, ' go on, say something.' So Raph started giving Leo ' no, you say something ' looks. After some back and forth, they both tried to give Donnie looks, but Donnie completely ignored them in every sense of the word, pointedly refusing to look up from his phone as he discussed the process of coding artificial intelligence to their dad, who clearly didn't understand anything they were saying, but to his credit, was doing his best to nod along.

After losing a silent game of rock-paper-scissors played at knee-level, just outside of their father's field of vision, Raph cleared his throat, leaning over slightly.

"Sooo, Pops... You been... sleeping okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yes! You know I am always out like a light after my before-bed snack!" Dad replied easily with a chuckle, and Raph frowned, ‘cause he could tell just by looking at him that that was a lie.

"Uh-huh. Right." Leo scoffed, not buying it. "That's crazy. Because, no offense, but you look kind of like garbage. And like you haven't so much as touched a pillow in, like... ever."

This immediately earned him a smack to his forehead.

"Garbage?! I will have you know that I was voted Hollywood's ‘Sexiest Action Film Star’ five years in a row! No respect!"

Leo whined loudly, rubbing his forehead and mumbling "ew," under his breath, but Raph knew it was all for show. Dad's infamous ‘Karate Chops’ never actually hurt. Though it could be that Leo was more hurting from the psychological damage of hearing their father refer to himself as ‘sexy’ than anything else...

"I concur-- ew. And as fascinating as this factoid that you've cursed us with is, father, it doesn't really address the fact that you've clearly not been sleeping." Donnie remarked, still not looking up from his phone screen. Raph knew he was listening, though. He wasn't typing, no video was playing. He was fully engaged with the conversation. Just needed his barrier.

"Yeah, if anyone is qualified to identify an insomniac, it's me!" Leo added in.

"What we're trying to say is," Raph jumped in, hands held out and a nervous smile on his face, "Is just, uh. That we're a little worried about you, Pops. I mean. You've seemed kind of, uh, out of it... since..."

"Since that thing with Mikey." Leo helpfully supplied, crossing his arms over his chest.

Raph noted the slight twitch in his Dad's left eye.

"What thing with Mikey?" Dad feigned.

"Uh, the thing where he started a fire in his room? That thing? Ringing any bells?" Leo pressed, with a tone and a look that said 'yeah, nice try.'

"Oh, yes. That." Their dad said, waving a hand dismissively. "We have already discussed this, boys. The important thing is that Mikey was not hurt, and Purple, I know you are upset because you are not allowed to start fires anymore--"

"It's not about Mikey, Dad," Raph interjected. "It's about you! You've just... you've been acting... weird! And it's been nearly a week now! And-- and if something's goin' on, we wanna know!"

"Nothing is going on." Their father immediately denied. "I already told you all. That was simply a freak accident, and it is not anything worth worrying about. I am fine! It is nothing you need to concern yourselves with."

"Dad, come on. There's obviously something bothering you!" Raph pushed a little harder, despite the anxiety bubbling up in his stomach, feeling like a soda can in a washing machine. "We just wanna help. Come on, don't you trust us--"

"Enough." This time it was Dad who interrupted, his voice harder now, firm and definite. Raph flinched slightly. "I already said it is none of your concern. I am fine. I am perfectly capable of handling this, and I do not want any of you involved!"

Raph opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but was surprised to find that there were no words. So he closed it again. He glanced over at Leo and Donnie, but they had about the same expressions on their faces as him.

"Please, Red." He heard the sigh in his father's voice, and he sounded softer now, tired even, and placed a hand on Raph’s shoulder. Raph glanced downwards, his eyes following all the knobs in his father’s fingers, the wrinkles in his knuckles. He didn't want to look at his face, because he knew that if he did, he would see him as an elderly man rather than Dad. He hated it when that happened, when he fell into that headspace... Just seeing people as people, just looking at them for exactly what they were, with all the familiarity and memories stripped away from them. "Just let me take care of this. I have everything under control."

Raph frowned a bit, not entirely sure if he believed him.

"We have a good life, Raphael. I need you to let me keep it that way." He said. "And to trust me enough not to get involved. Please."

He didn't look at Leo or Donnie this time. Something in his gut was screaming at him that this wasn't the move. The words Dad was picking here felt... off. But the way his voice sounded... He swallowed thickly, and then slowly nodded.

"Yeah. Okay, Dad. We trust you."

Far beneath the city, below the concrete, below the subways, below even the sewers, the world eventually became city again-- Hidden below the oblivious humans above. At the edge of this city, a small vine grew from the soil, slow and silent, just at the seam of a brick wall. Ever-so-carefully, the vine grew and expanded, pushing itself upward, dark and veiled in violet veins.

The vine pressed itself up against the stone wall, curling unnaturally upward, and a bit of stone cracked in response, falling away to the soil below.

The vine pushed further.

[ next ]

#sorrywhatnowau #sorrywhatnowaufic #fanfic #rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt human au #tmnt human au #rise raph #rottmnt raph #turtle tots #fidgetwing

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internallyinarticulate · 1 year ago

Text

Sally Face lore from the Sally Face: Strange Nightmares Kickstarter

I haven’t seen anyone do this yet (as far as I can tell!) and I’ve always admired the sally face community. With how lovely the community continues to be and with the revitalization it’s been given due to the sally face kickstarter; I’ve decided to come out of my shell and give back to the community I admire! I’ve gone through every single scrap of info through the entirety of the kickstarter (streams, lore given to backers, and some questions he answered on twitter!) to put all the lore revealed by Steve Gabry himself into one place for everyone to use however they wish! If anyone would like to watch the streams then please go to:

Beneeta_K (Twitch Streamer)’s 2 streams they did with Steve Gabry:

https://www.twitch.tv/videos/1739974869 (Where they play the board game from the kickstarter)

https://www.twitch.tv/videos/1752120791 (The kick off Q&A they did at the start of the kickstarter)

And the 4 streams on Steve Gabry (Portable Moose)’s youtube channel will be located under the ‘Live’ tab. Here’s a link to his channel: https://www.youtube.com/@PortableMoose/streams

This is made with love from a sally face fan who’s been around since chapter one came out all those years ago, thanks for making such a wonderful game Steve! I hope you all enjoy! <3 (Sorry it's so late!)

Pink is Steve Gabry answering questions and Black is the Questions!

-THE STREAM LORE- (in no particular order)

:Q: “Are any of the gang in a band?”

A: “They tried to start a band together at some point, but they didn't do much with that.”

Q: “What instrument does each character play?”

A: “Sal plays the guitar, Todd plays the keyboard,Larry plays the drums, Ash sings and plays bass.” Steve at the end says, ‘By the way, I didn’t say they play well. They loved it though.’

Q: “What kind of music did the band make and what were they named?”

A: “They would have played grunge rock with a 90’s vibe with the keyboard.”

(Steve says in the stream that they did not pick a band name, he would imagine that they would have a long piece of paper with a lot of band names on them, some crossed out some not, but they wouldn’t have been able to pick one lol.)

Q: “What song would Sal absolutely love?”

A: “Before he met Larry, he was mostly into rock, grunge, and punk, And then when he met Larry he started really getting into metal.”

Q: “What is Sal's favorite baked good?”

A: “You know what, let’s make it cinnamon rolls.”

Q: “Is Gizmo okay?”

A: “Gizmo is fine, he’s doing good.”

Q: “What is the story about the homeless man on floor 5?”

A: “Well he’s a man, he is homeless, he is on floor 5, sometimes he’s not on floor 5; how ‘bout that?”

Q: “Who was the intended person for Travis’s note?”

A: “I’ve answered this question many times, but people don’t like the answer, so they keep asking. So the answer is, I have someone in mind, but I purposely left it open for you guys to think about who you want it to be.”

Q: “What is Sal’s ideal date night?”

A: “Having a date.”

A: “I think he would enjoy doing something in nature, he would also enjoy just going to see a horror movie, playing video games, going to a concert, something like that.”

Q: “What is Larry’s ideal date?”

A: “Definitely listening to metal, in some form, going to a metal concert, getting some pizza.”

Q: “What is Travis’s ideal date?”

A: “I feel like getting far away from Nockfell and doing something outside the city, getting away from his parents and school. Just a place where he doesn’t have to be around people he knows.”

Q: “What is Ashley’s ideal date?”

A: “She probably would like to go to an art museum or some sort of art exhibit or maybe going to see a play.”

Q: “Todd’s ideal date?”

A: “Definitely going to some sort of science center, going to see some kind of new technology, some educational thing you would enjoy doing or going to a paranormal convention.”

Q: “Did the four horsemen have sleepovers?”

A: “Oh yeah, 100%, all the time.”

Q:“What is the story between Janice and Ray?”

A: “They’re Todd’s parents, they are a little bit ‘burned out’, you know? They’re very loving, open-minded, and kind hearted. They’re a little bit ‘burned out’, they’re spacy, Janice is a little more ‘burned out’ than Ray you may have noticed. She gets ‘burned out’ and forgets what she’s talking about a lot.”

Q: “Is Ash emo?”

A: “No, I mean you have to remember when they're in high school it’s like the 90’s it wasn’t really, you know… there’s Daria hahaha.”

Q: “If Travis survived from the hole,what do you think he’d be up too?”

A: “What do you think he’d be up to?”

Q: “What are the kiddo’s favorite colors?”

A: “Sal’s is blue or pink, Larry is red or black, Ash is purple, Todd is green, Travis likes black.”

Q: “Why did Jim’s puzzlebox turn into a rubix cube?”

A: “Why did that happen?”

Q: “Where did Gizmo get all those stickers from?”

A: “Where does anyone get stickers from?”

Q: “Is Gizmo a salmon guy or chicken guy?”

A: “He loves both, Gizmo just likes to eat.”

Q: “What is Larry’s love language?”

A: “Larry’s is physical touch.”

Q: “What is Sal’s love language?”

A: “Sal’s love language is definitely quality time.”

Q: “Does Sal have a game cube?”

A: “Yeah, he has a game cube.”

Q: “What flavor is Addison Tea?”

A: “It’s Addison flavor.”

Q: “What is the vending machine’s love language?”

A: “Physical touch.”

Q: “What is the homeless guy on floor 5’ love language?”

A: “Here’s the thing with the homeless guy, before it would have been giving gifts, before the way he is now.”

Q: “How often does Travis cry?”

A: “I think he probably cries frequently but secretly and intensely.”

Q: “Is Todd autistic?”

A: “You know he might be on the spectrum, he’s very socially allowed and very blunt. He doesn’t have a lot of social cases.”

Q: “What was Todd and Neil’s first date?”

A: “They met in the library, their first date, probably would have just been going for a walk somewhere and talking.”

~Backer Bonus Lore Given~

-Waiting for Chocolate: In episode two, chug is downstairs waiting for the vending machine guy to come and refill it with delicious snacks. He usually comes every other Saturday and Chug is always there to greet him. However, this time, the vendor does not show up. I originally had a side story planned about the vending machine guy going missing and Chug being very concerned about that. Even though that story didn't make it into the game, the detail is still there. The vending machine guy is gone and his machine remains empty for the rest of the game.

-The Open Road: Ash's dad, Adam Campbell, was a mechanic and always had some project going on in the garage. One of his prized possessions was eventually passed down to Ashley, once she was old enough. It was something she had her eye on for a long time: his motorcycle. Adam even taught Ash to to ride at a young age. So she was already comfortable riding it by the time she was legally allowed to. It became second nature to her. Sometimes she goes out riding, just to clear her head. Ash loves the freedom of the open road.

-Nutmeg: Grieving Mrs.Gibson recives an unwanted gift from a relative. It's a little brown rabbit. Somehow this animal is meant to fill the hole left by her late husband. The rabbit was seen as a burden to Mrs.Gibson, just another thing to take care of. She was too old for this. She didn't even bother to name it at first. Then, slowly, she found herself growing attached to the little critter. When the rabbit was one year old, Gibson made a special meal for her and finally gave her a name. She decided to call her Nutmeg. A nickname that Gibson's husband used to call her.

-Twitter Spontaneous AMA-

Q: Did Travis know about the Devourers of God and Kenneth's involvement in it, or was he kept in the dark about it until he joined?

A: He didn't know when he was younger.

Q: Did the characters come first or were they designed after you came up with the concept for the game?

A: Sal came first, then Larry with the basic idea, then the story and other characters came at the same time.

Q: Two very important questions: Would you consider making it possible to pet gizmo in sally face two (if he's still alive) and do you have this wedding photograph in higher quality?

A: Maybe! And it was drawn at that small scale, so this is the in-game asset is as high res as it gets-

Q: When is the next video game coming?

A: I'm HOPING to release a small project with Wither Studios (nothing SF related) MAYBE towards the end of this year. These things are very hard to predict in advance. Which is why games are always being delayed. So I try not to make promises until I know for sure.

Q: Will we get the $250k stretch goal on the Kickstarter even if we don't reach it?

A: I think we'll definitely pass that goal (The goal at the end was $306,947!)

Q: Is Sal legally allowed to drive since he is missing an eye?

A: Yes!

Q: Did you write and sing all of the Sanity's Fall songs?

A: Yeah, I did all the music including everything for the SF songs.

Q: What program did you use to make the sally face art?

A: I used Photoshop and a Wacom drawing tablet.

Q: Why were Chug and Soda dull when cleansing the apartment?

A: You can actually find this answer in the game! If you play close attention during that part.

Q: 1) Why does Sal grab his pigtails in Packerton's apartment when he thinks they're about to get caught? Is that something he does for comfort? 2) When did Sal first start expressing himself with his hair, and what did Henry initially think?

A: 1) It's a nervous response. Just like someone may cover their face or mouth when scared. 2) Once his mom die, he let his hair grow out. Soon after it got long enough, he started with the pigtails. Henry thought it was a little odd at first but was fine with it.

Q: Did it ever cross your mind to add voice acting to the game? Recently watched Featherfall studio's fan-dub and the game looks even more interesting with voices.

A: It's something that I've thought about but I would be SO picky about getting the right voices. So idk. Plus it'd be a big pain to add retroactively. Maybe more likely in the second game, if I decide to add voices.

Q: We know Travis and Todd are gay, but what about the other characters? Do you have any idea?

A: I will say that Sal is purposely left ambiguous so that players can project their own feelings onto him. Though I have my own ideas about him too.

Q: What was your favorite part about developing Sally Face (Or making the board game)?

A: I love creating the world and seeing it come to life. It's also something truly special to see people connect with my work on an emotional level.

Q: One of my favorite Youtubers just finished the game, ad i was wondering when the second Sally Face is going to come out because it did say it'll be continued.

A: It's very early in development, so I don't have any timelines right now. If you're interested, I made a retrospective of the development history and some more insight here; https://youtu.be/JZPOx2jMLxE?si=r-N4mcDZC40MrtJr

Q: Is there a reason why Sal has long hair instead of short hair?

A: Because he likes it long.

Q: If I were to make a video playing the game Sally Face would you take down the video for copyright?

A: I'm always happy to see people playing Sally Face. I wouldn't copyright strike any content creators for playing or streaming the game.

Q: Why were there so many empty letters addressed to Sal?

A: They may not be so empty after all.

Q: What's in Addison's Tea?

A: You don't wanna know.

Q: Is Lisa Johnson a Latina?

A: Her family is mostly from Spain and Italy.

Q: Do you think some people would actually believe Sal on trail since it was close to the satanic panic era, or the satanic panic era was already dead then?

A: There might be some people out there who believe him.

Q: Are you planning on adding more official language translations into the game, and what ethnicity is Travis intended to be, if he has any?

A: I don't have any concrete plans right now, it just takes a lot of time and effort. But I'd like to add some more language support in the future, if possible. And Travis is multiracial.

Q: What are the SF character's favorite IRL songs?

A: Larry's favorite song is a Sanity's Fall on you haven't heard yet.

Q: How and when did Todd and Neil meet?

A: They met in the library.

Q: What was the idea behind different art styles in the game?

A: I've been obsessed with the idea of alternate realities since I was in high school (before all the cool kids were doing it lol) and for a long time I've wanted to make a game with multiple art styles, revolving around this idea of different realities.

Q: Since Lisa's family is from Spain, does Larry speak or know any Spanish?

A: He knows some but isn't fluent.

Q: Will the second part of the game be released in episodes like the first.

A: Still debating on this. I'm curious to see what fans think, I'll make poll! (He did create a poll, staggered episodes was what won the poll on twitter.)

Thank you very much for reading this post! Have a Great Day or Night!

#sally face #sally face lore #sal fisher #larry johnson #ashley campbell #todd morrison #sally face neil #travis phelps #portable moose #steve gabry #sally face community

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