#these dentures be so finee

[kiraqueenbtd]

Caine is so silly 😋

[tobuo]

feeling a little better, a little more human again. will work on responding to comments n messages this weekend when i have some time to myself (and after the terror quest that is a dental check up tomorrow morning) mostly this is just a lil accountability post and also to say to @daandori n @varminties that i do wanna chat to u and reply soon thank u

[captinamericashusband]

Juno | Steve Rogers/Captain America x Male!Reader (SMUT😉)

A/N: Wow another Steve Rogers fic. Anyways this one is smut. Also this is my first ever attempt at writing smut so it's going to be really bad. So enjoy!

Title and plot (loosely) based off of Sabrina Carpenter's new song (stream the album btw or else):

Juno

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: I might let you make me Juno 😉

Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And then he said to me, ‘How about you change your dentures!’” A chorus of laughter erupted from around the table. Among the voices and chuckles was Y/N, sporting a fake laugh to hide the pain he was currently feeling on the inside. He so badly wanted to leave, thinking that laughing at whatever he was presented with would help pass the night. 

Y/N was an Avenger. He loved his job – no doubt. He loved being able to help people on a worldwide scale, and the overall idea of doing something that mattered. However, what Y/N didn’t realize was that the fine print of the Avenger’s contract included him forcefully being present at the annual U.S. Defence Symposium Convention, where diplomats and political leaders from around the globe gathered to discuss foreign affairs. While he never had to speak during these conventions, Y/N’s presence was required for Avengers PR reasons. Why it couldn’t be anyone else was a question he’d never find the answer to. Luckily for him, he wasn’t alone this year. Even better for him, he was with his lovely boyfriend.

Y/N glanced towards Steve at the other side of the circular table. Steve was already looking at him, wearing a similar bored expression. The two shared tired smiles. A positive that came with being Captain America’s boyfriend was intimate looks like these, shared across dinner tables, conference meetings, and other situations where they couldn’t be close. Looks and glances that made Y/N feel warm inside. No one else knew, even the team, of their clandestine relationship, afraid of the uproar that would come if it were to become public. The controversy that came with two of the United States’ defensive powerhouses dating – especially considering both were men – was something Y/N chose to think about rarely.

The senator continued his comedically-not-funny joke, and Y/N felt grey hairs growing. He knew he had to leave or he would’ve broken down in tears. As a guest speaker was about to be introduced, Y/N politely excused himself from the table and glanced towards Steve, his eyes already on him. He gave him a wink – a not-so-discrete signal they both came up with before arriving, loosely meaning, ‘I can’t handle this anymore and I need to get the fuck out of here – meet me in the bathroom.’ 

As he walked through the halls of the large venue, he marvelled at the grandness of the building where the convention was held. While he despised being there, he had to admit the building was architecturally and aesthetically pleasing, being more on the higher end of NYC establishments with its Art Deco-inspired assets. When Y/N made it to the bathroom, he checked beneath the stalls to see if anyone was present before letting out a loud groan. He knew he had to talk to Nick Fury later to discuss his supposedly mandatory attendance at the energy-draining convention. He couldn’t stand another second here. Leaning against the sink, he waited for Steve to arrive.

After about two minutes, the door to the washroom opened, and Y/N was met with Steve's presence. Steve raised his eyebrows, silently asking if anyone else was there, to which Y/N responded by shaking his head. “What did it, huh?” Steve asked, closing the door behind him.

“That geriatric senator, obviously – Senator Shortdick,” Y/N groaned. The senator’s name was actually in fact Dick – something Y/N’s immaturity found astoundingly hilarious. “His very long extended joke about…I don’t even know actually.” 

“He was talking about his son, Y/N,” Steve said, walking closer to the other man. “It was a nice story – very wholesome.” When Steve reached Y/N, he wrapped his arms around his waist before giving him a small peck. 

Y/N’s eyes met Steve’s, and they both gave each other reassuring smiles. They both desperately wanted to leave, but were aware they legally couldn’t.

“I don’t think I can handle this anymore, Steve,” Y/N’s voice whined, laying his head on Steve’s muscular chest, and caressing his sides. “I need something exciting.” Suddenly, as if he had an epiphany, Y/N conjured a devious idea to pass the time. Looking up at Steve, he gave him a half-lidded look, an action he did in jest whenever he wanted something from him. “We should fuck right now.” 

Steve only responded with a bewildered look, slowly shaking his head and reprimanding Y/N’s unsavoury suggestion. “We can’t, Y/N,” he said. “It’s too risky. Not to mention, distasteful – we’re in public.” Steve was the more rational person in their relationship, often taking Y/N’s outrageous ideas to heed.

“Why not, Stevie?” Y/N’s voice feigned softness and seductivity. “Isn’t it exciting,” he started, arms sliding up Steve’s clothed bicep. “The idea of getting caught here.” 

“Not really-.” Before Steve could continue, Y/N connected their lips. It started soft – short and sweet – before gradually getting more intense and feverish. Steve pushed the small of Y/N’s back closer, deepening the touch of their lips. Steve wanted Y/N badly, and Y/N was aware of that. He always knew that he had some type of figurative spell over Steve, causing him to be more acquiescent towards him than any other member of the team – even before they started dating. Steve was entirely bewitched by Y/N.

------------------------------------

The two eventually locked themselves in one of the bathroom stalls, lips already connected and moving together hungrily. Both prayed no toilet would come beckoning some diplomat’s bladder amidst their carnal moment together. As they continued face-fucking each other, Y/N trailed his hands down towards Steve’s pantsuit. He palmed Steve’s already present bulge, rubbing it with the soles of his hand and causing a quiet whimper to leave Steve’s mouth. At hearing Steve’s sultry noise, Y/N felt his cock growing harder and heavier.

Y/N broke their lips’ ravenous movement and began unbuttoning Steve’s tux. “I saw you practically ogling me in there.” He bit one of Steve’s sensitive spots on his neck, eliciting a low groan from his throat. “It’s like you were begging to fuck me with your fuck-me eyes.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve panted in response. 

“Stay oblivious then, Stevie.” Y/N slipped Steve’s suit off, revealing his muscled buff chest. Not even a second later, Y/N’s mouth began trailing down Steve’s torso. He peppered kisses all over Steve’s chest, going further and further down until he was on his knees. Y/N came face-to-face with Steve’s growing bulge. He salivated, thinking about taking Steve’s entire cock in one go – the idea of hearing Steve’s whimpers made his dick even firmer.

Steve’s gaze was locked on Y/N. His eyes were half-closed, face flushed with both lust and pleasure. Y/N then unbuttoned Steve’s pants before taking them off which revealed Steve’s undergarments. Without sparing another moment, Y/N yanked Steve’s boxers off. Steve’s cock, upon being unclothed, sprung upwards and ached in the cold bathroom air. It begged for attention that Y/N’s mouth was more than willing to give. A slight droplet of precum was already at the slit which made Y/N even more aroused. Not wanting Steve to finish quickly (as if that is even a problem with his serum-induced stamina), Y/N started slow. He gave Steve’s shaft one long lick at the base, relishing the semi-salty taste. Y/N continued licking, throwing occasional glances towards Steve and how he was reacting. The quiet whimpering coming out of Steve’s mouth was evident he wanted – needed more. “Just please take it all, Y/N,” he quietly whined.

Y/N chuckled. He decided Steve had been good tonight and, sparing him from further punishment, took his entire cock in his mouth. A loud moan erupted from Steve to which he quickly clamped his hand over his mouth to silence. Y/N had to adjust to Steve’s size for a moment before doing anything further. Despite having done this several times, Y/N always thought Steve’s dick was maybe too big for him. This wasn’t that much of a problem for him as while he did struggle in throating it, it did make his ass feel good. And very sore afterwards. After a brief moment, Y/N began to slowly move his head up and down Steve’s cock. Steve struggled to quiet down his noises of pleasure as much as Y/N struggled trying not to choke. With each movement of Y/N’s head, Steve was hitting the back of his throat which sent a wave of pleasure down his spine. Steve, however, wanted much more.

To Y/N’s shock, Steve bundled his hands in his H/C locks and shoved him further down his throat. Y/N’s eyes went wide, gagging noises coming from his clogged mouth. Before Y/N could steady himself, Steve began ramming his throat at a rapid speed, his attempt to quiet himself vanishing as he prioritized quickly getting off with Y/N’s mouth. As Steve continued at his pace, he let out breathy moans that were amplified and reverbed by the bathroom’s walls. While Steve was in pure bliss at his cock being serviced, Y/N was not able to cope with the sudden change. His hands were placed on both of Steve’s thighs, trying to steady himself. Tears pricked near the corner of his eyes as his entire buccal cavity and throat continued being ransacked by Steve’s length. Each time Steve’s cock hit the rear of his throat, Steve shuddered and Y/N gagged loudly. As Steve began nearing his climax, he began to go even quicker than his initial speed, causing Y/N’s tears to freefall down his cheeks. With one loud grunt and a sloppy thrust, Steve came down Y/N’s throat. As Y/N felt the warm and salty fluid trail down his throat, Steve’s breaths became more shallow.

Steve leaned against the stall’s door, and a slick ‘pop’ sounded as he took his cock out of Y/N’s mouth. He was still recovering from his orgasm as Y/N quickly got up from his knees and roughly pushed his chest. “Dude!’ Y/N half-yelled. “What the fuck was that? You nearly killed me!”

Steve staggered slightly at Y/N’s hit. He looked at Y/N with a confused expression that quickly vanished upon seeing his tear-stained cheeks. An apologetic look promptly dawned. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine it’s just,” Y/N said while wiping his face, “you have to warn me first before you do that.” 

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Steve did look remorseful. His face looked as if he had accidentally kicked a dog. “We should probably stop now.”

Y/N gave looked at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me?” He pointed sternly towards Steve, his voice coming out furious with a tinge of playfulness. “The only apology I’ll accept now is if you fuck me right here.”

“But, Y/N, I don’t have the…” Steve’s voice trailed off.

“The what, Steve?”

“You know,” Steve said, face slightly pink. “The wet thing and the rubber thing?”

An actual genuine look of bewilderment made its way onto Y/N’s face. “You mean condoms and lube?” Steve nodded shyly and Y/N began to laugh. “Steve, you just pounded my face in. Don’t give me any shit about you being too coy to say the words ‘condom’ and ‘lube’.” He then glanced down towards Steve’s penis which was already erect again. “Plus, your thing,” he continued, mocking Steve’s mannerisms, “still looks pretty wet from my spit. And as far as I remember, none of us have any diseases.” Y/N quickly looked towards Steve. “Right?” Steve nodded his head quickly, still too embarrassed to respond. Before Steve could do anything further, Y/N took his pants off alongside his underwear. “You’re already hard again, Steve. What are you gonna do 'bout it?”

Y/N’s teasing tone evoked Steve’s earlier confidence, leading to him hoisting Y/N around his waist, a quick yelp coming out of Y/N at the sudden movement. Before Y/N could say anything, Steve hastily prevented him by connecting their lips. Their tongues quickly tangled together, saliva combining and becoming indistinguishable from one another. “Steve, just put it in already, God.” Y/N’s voice came out breathy and unstable. Steve obeyed quicker than usual, seemingly eager to come a second time that night. Grabbing his cock with one hand and supporting Y/N with the other, he angled it towards Y/N's gaping hole. Without wasting any more time, Steve promptly thrust the entirety of his length inside of Y/N. A filthy ludicrous whine came from Y/N’s throat. His prostate was already being reached by Steve’s tip, causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head. He was euphoric and as Steve started moving, his speed matching that of earlier, Y/N felt like he ascended. 

Steve was usually gentle whenever they had sex, but he decided to spare no mercy tonight. His thrusts were aggressive, leaving Y/N unable to handle the surplus of pleasure he was feeling. With each graze felt by his prostate, he was sent further into the heavenly bliss he felt. “H-have you seen that one movie,” Y/N said in between heavy pants. “Juno?” He knew it was a stupid question, both in the situation he asked it in, and how he knew Steve had barely seen anything made in the 21st century.

Steve continued thrusting into Y/N, the sound of their skin slapping reverberating around the room. “No – fuck,” Steve’s voice came out breathless. “What is that?” His face was contorting into different variations of lewd expressions, making Y/N’s hard-on even stiffer. It was rare to see the Captain America in such a vulnerable state, and Y/N savoured the fact he was the only person who was able to see him like this. 

The pleasure Y/N felt inside of him was indescribable. Their fucking had never reached this level of catharsis. “Nothing – it doesn’t matter. Just keep going, Steve…please…” Y/N saw the little dribble of precum dripping from his cock. He was close. And Y/N knew Steve was too from how his pounds started becoming sloppier, and how his hands gripped his ass tighter. Their lips found each other again, and their tongues connected. Steve swallowed all of Y/N’s whimpers, biting his lower lip to prevent any would-be passersby from hearing his erotic gasps for air. 

“I’m gonna come, Y/N,” Steve breathlessly spoke. His pacing started to decline, and his entire body trembled. 

As Steve was about to endure another orgasm, Y/N saw him about to pull out. Suddenly, he protested with a hoarse sigh, “No, Steve, just finish inside me – it’s fine.” Steve nodded his head silently, not needing to be told twice. Their pants continued syncing together as Steve rode out his climax. Another load of his hot white cream exited him and filled Y/N to the brim. Shortly after Steve finished, Y/N felt his climax coming in. Steve continued floppily thrusting to aid in his release, soon releasing in thick ribbons that covered his and Steve’s chests. 

------------------------------------

Steve gently collapsed both of their bodies on the ground. The pair were in a state of exhausted pleasure, their breaths still deep and frequent. It stayed this way for a few minutes – Steve and Y/N basking in the decline of their orgasms in a comfortable silence. Y/N glanced down towards his ass, a tad icked out by Steve’s jizz pouring out of him. “It’s kind of gross isn’t it,” he said to Steve. 

Steve was broken out of his euphoric trance upon hearing Y/N’s voice. “What is?” He said, still catching his breath.

“Look,” Y/N signalled to his downward area. “It looks really strange.” The pair’s eyes met and they both erupted in boisterous laughter. 

As they started quieting down from what they considered the funniest thing of that night, Steve suddenly remembered what Y/N asked earlier. “Hey, what was it with that movie you asked me about earlier.”

“Juno?” Y/N responded.

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Y/N said, getting uncharacteristically shy. “I just thought…it’d be nice if we have kids one day.” Y/N then realized what he said and began doubling down. “I mean, that is if you want any with me at all – children I mean. A family.”

Steve didn’t say anything. Instead, he smiled at Y/N, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. Y/N responded by giving him a meek smile. They both were met with another silence, their love-laced gazes filling each other with a comforting warmth. 

“How are we gonna get out of here, Steve?” Y/N’s voice came out softly, too absorbed in the moment to genuinely care about where they were.

“Now that is the predicament, isn’t it?” Steve said, reciprocating Y/N’s blissful voice.

Fortunately, it was evident that luck was on their side that night as no one had entered the bathroom at any point in their love-making.

FIN

A/N: My Google searches are legit “Synonyms for ‘cock’ in fanfiction”, “Synonyms for ‘moaning’ in fanfiction”, “Synonyms of ‘cum’ in fanfiction”, and “How to write smut properly.” Anyways, hope you enjoyed whatever that mess was!

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Aventurine hc's

At first he hates the realization he's actually falling for someone

It eats away at him every second, this reminder that he's not, and likely never will be, in a great position to just have a normal life...

He's a pawn, always has been, so why would he put someone else through that?

Especially you...

But God if it isn't impossible not to love, to keep his fluttering heart from hoping, yearning for just your warm touch

Just the sight of you is enough, he decides to himself, as if that makes any difference in the end

It's obvious he dotes on you, his teasing remarks and genuine smiles are impossible to miss...

He follows you around in his free time, happily inserting him with a smug little grin, as if it's completely normal to have a IPC executive tailing you constantly

You're entertaining, or that's his excuse

He has to keep you safe, it's not like he trusts any of these other idiots to do it, and getting to watch you huff at him paying for everything is only a bonus

In that stage he enjoys being subtly possessive

You're not his, sure, but seeing you in his hat and sunglasses, or maybe with one of his cute little calling card chips fastened into a necklace, constantly on you...

His arm around your shoulder is enough to denture most people immediately, definitely not looking to get into a scuff with the "loose cannon of a gambler" he's generally seen as

When you're finally together he's not keen on taking his hands off you

Whether it's a light arms around your waist, just securing his spot by your side with an occasional squeeze, or his hand grabbing desperately at your hair as he focuses on pressing a kiss to every inch of your face with steadfast resolve

His favorite thing is just resting his chin on your shoulder, his pretty eyes staring up at yours endlessly

It's the perfect position, of course, arms around you with easy access to your neck, and it usually ends with your face hot to the touch by his intimate little kisses pressed so lovingly to your skin

He does have an appearance to maintain, so self care days where he paints your nails, washes your hair in a joint shower or bath, and drags you out to buy expensive clothes are must

Money is meant to be gambled or spent, it's not for hoarding, and that's abundant obvious by how he throws it around

It's another form of possession, really, seeing you decked out in what he's bought you, it gives him a sense of pride

It's hard for him not to project his childhood fears onto you, too

Like if he notices you're not eating, not drinking enough, brushing off a small injuries

He's seen plenty of people die to all those, and fighting down those blaring alarm bells can be difficult at the best of times

You'll often find a glass of water and small snack with a cute little note when you wake up, if he can't be there himself to make sure your needs are met, and he's expecting a text as soon as you're up to confirm you're fine

Anytime without contact for too long will consume him, gnawing at his insides, eating him slowly until he sees you again

He hates it, it's such a painful disadvantage in his line of work, but god if he can't help it...

He's very quick to scoop you up and pepper kisses to your pulse points immediately after, nuzzling against the physical feeling of your heartbeat and your warmth

He also can't help shaking off the mindset that he's merely a chip, to be used when  useful and discarded after

He knows that's not the case with you, knows it... But it's impossible to not feel a bolt of pure fear when you're unhappy with him, as if his worth is tied to his ability to be perfect for you

Pet names are obviously a must, and you might start to joke he doesn't actually know your real name with how rarely he uses it

You're his "darling love", his "perfect match", and, of course, his "adorable sweetheart"

He'll pout a bit if you don't reciprocate the absurd level of endearments on your end too

He probably won't even respond to "Aventurine" after a while, pretending not to hear you with an unmistakable smile, until you properly address him

He's left wondering how he's ever lived without you, and if he ever could again

[ckret2]

I've been thinking about Ford's shockingly poorly-timed "Grammar, Stanley" comment, and I've got a take on it I haven't seen go by:

Most folks I've seen think Ford's decision to pick on Stan's grammar comes from being coldly aloof and oblivious to Stan's mood. I think it's the opposite. I think he was keenly aware of the situation and too angry to think straight.

From the moment Ford was unfrozen, here's every single thing Stan said:

[coldly/sarcastically] Hey, good to see you too, bro. Now let's get outta here, huh?

Drawing a circle on the floor. Well, he's lost his mind.

You realize this is a bunch of hogwash, right? You really think some caveman graffiti is gonna stop that monster?

Whoa. Hey. I'm not the enemy here, people. Don't forget who literally created the end of the world.

Fine. Just do one thing. Say "thank you." [From Ford's perspective, Stan's holding the safety of the universe hostage to make him apologize, and in front of a bunch of other people who have just been dragged into their family mess]

I spent thirty years trying to bring you back into this dimension and you still haven't thanked me! You want me to shake your hand? Say "thank you."

Now, see. Between me and him, I'm not always the bad twin.

Every single thing out of Stan's mouth is either subtly snide, or a blatant insult. Ford's just been through literal torture, is trying to save the universe, already feels like this is all his fault, is trying to get his grumpy brother to cooperate—and he's just getting jab after jab after jab. He's called insane, stupid, the bad twin, the enemy, and he's forced to thank the man who just said all this.

By that point, Ford was probably as angry as Stan. He didn't care about his grammar; he wanted to knock his dentures out. A passive-aggressive swing at his grammar was Ford trying to restrain his seething rage while letting just a little of the pressure whistle out like a tea kettle. Sure, it was petty and very counter productive; but it wasn't out of nowhere. He couldn't get into it with Stan over the "bad twin" comment, so he aimed his snark at another part of the sentence.

This is a furious brother suppressing his urge to commit homicide by channeling it through his grade school know-it-all instincts. … and, in the process, accidentally inspiring the other furious brother to commit homicide.

(Plus picking on your brother's grammar during the apocalypse is such a deliberately annoying sibling thing to do.)

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃'𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after rejecting a boy in your hometown, he goes around spreading rumors about you and him. luckily, you have full faith in your wizard boyfriend, who just so happens to be coming back form his fancy wizard school in just a few days.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: remus lupin x gn!muggle!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: gender neutral reader, a menace old lady, scarlet letter allusion, several random muggles

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: my boyfriend's back

It was laughable really, for Ben Waters to think your boyfriend would believe any of the lies he’d spread around town. You had full faith in Remus, your super cool wizard boyfriend who could totally crush Ben into next week. 

Still, the whispers all around that snobby little town were starting to get to you.

“Did you hear…?”

“Don't they have that boyfriend, though?”

“With Ben? Really?”

“Just wait till Remus hears…”

Just wait indeed. The sooner he got back from his fancy wizard school, the sooner you could kiss him in front of all the kids who think they’re so cool. In front of Ben even, the man of the hour, who’d done all of this just because you rejected him.

It was all so laughable.

That's what you thought as you sank deeper into your seat at the local diner. A group of your school mates whispered at the opposite booth.

So, so laughable, that it wasn’t very funny at all.

Remus would be back in three days. You could last another three days of this little letter ‘A’ Ben branded you with. 

In the meantime, you could continue to practice on Remus’ skateboard he left behind, maybe go by his place to see his parents, or hide out in your room for seventy two hours.

You inevitably chose the last option, and soon the day of Remus’ return arrived. 

His train from Hogwarts should’ve stopped at King’s Cross Station an hour ago, and the short train from there to home was probably a few minutes away.

You were just swinging a leg over your bike to go wait for Remus at his house, maybe have tea with his dad in the meantime, when the voice of your sweet old neighbor called you back. Mrs. Ketburn hobbled down her porch steps, waving with a frail hand.

A sigh hissed from your nostrils as you forced a smile at her. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Could do me a favor?” she asked ever so sweetly. 

Every inch of you wished to snap back a decline and pedal away as fast as possible, but you couldn’t do that. Your parents would have your neck for it. “Sure, Mrs. Ketburn.”

“Perfect,” she smiled, showing off her dentures. “It won’t take but a few moments, dear.”

You were counting on that. You needed to see Remus before any other kids from school found him. (You trusted Remus, you really did, and he trusted you, but a strong string of anxiety was still taut around your chest).

Mrs. Ketburn led you into her musty house that always smelled of cat litter despite no other indication that she even had a cat. She needed help reaching the flour on the very top shelf of her kitchen cabinets, so she could finish baking apple turnovers, she said.

With a glance at your watch, you pulled around a chair and stepped up, easily reaching for the bag of flour and quickly hopping back down. You practically shoved the flour into her hands and muttered a goodbye in one breath.

“I really gotta—” Time came to slow, slow stop as the bag slipped between her wrinkled fingers, a cloud of flour billowing up around the both of you.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry.”

You took an even breath and glanced down at your watch. “It’s fine.” You still had time. “Let me help with the mess.”

She grinned up at you. “You’re a dear. I’ll fetch a broom.”

“Don’t forget a dustpan,” you called after her.

It felt as if forever and then some passed by before she came back with a broom, of course having forgotten a dustpan. You gritted your teeth and tried not to be too harsh as you took the broom from her hands. 

You swept the flour into a neat little pile at the center of the kitchen, going to savagely search her supply closet for a dustpan only to come back hands empty. You were on the cusp of asking her to get it when you stepped back into the kitchen, finding Mrs. Ketburn holding the dustpan and asking, “Did you need this, dear?”

You didn’t even bother looking at your watch again, not wanting any more stress to weigh down on you. For all you knew, Ben himself could have tracked Remus down on his way home from the station by now.

That in mind, you probably broke a world record in sweeping with how swiftly you finished the task, leaving Mrs. Ketburn’s tools leaning on the counter as you shouted a goodbye over your shoulder.

You hopped onto your bike and set into action, pedaling down the road to make it to his house. That was your best bet at finding him in a timely manner. Around a corner, across the street, you sped through town, that horrid scene replaying in your head.

Remus would never believe Ben’s lies. Never ever… but you had to see him to be sure. 

As soon as you reached his driveway, you abandoned your bike on the pavement and ran up to the door. His mom’s car was parked out front. Remus was home from his stupidly far away magic school. At last. You nearly forgot why you were stressed at all, but then the front door swung open as Remus met you halfway.

His smile was as blinding as ever as he rushed forth and enveloped you in a warm embrace. Throwing your arms round his neck you held him close and just breathed him in after so many long months apart.

You wanted to ask him about his friends, about what new magic he could show you, and if his Quidditch team did well—but first, you pulled back and stared deep into his eyes, blurting, “Ben Waters is a liar and a creep.”

The way he grinned at you told you all you needed to know. “Tell me something new.”

“So someone told you already?” you asked tentatively, drawing a roll of his eyes.

“I was told,” he began as if on his last leg, “by an overly enthusiastic Heather Law that you’d betrayed me and gone 'n slept with Ben.”

You pictured the girl from your class clear as day, waltzing up to him ever so confident she was about to gain a new boyfriend. You waited, but all he did was chuckle at the notion. “And you said?”

Remus pressed his forehead to your own, nudging your nose with his. “I told her to have a good day, and I came home to you.”

That was enough to have you connecting your lips in a feverish kiss, smiling into it. You knew Remus would never believe them. He was too good to ever even play with the idea. You just couldn’t wait till everyone else knew that too.

But first, you had a year's worth of kisses to catch up on.

[spread-the-influence]

What would you do for Pomni? Y'know, to keep her safe. To make her happy.

What would you do for her?

"Oh, I keep asking her that question - you know, what she wants! What would make her happy? What problem I could FIX for her! I could do basically most things that are within reason - she could even ask for a plate of salmon! "But all she tells me is that she just wants all of THIS to be over. For everything to go back to normal - for me to 'go back to normal'. "Well, I'm not sure what she's talking about! Everything's as FINE as it always has been, and there's no PAIR OF DENTURES around to stress her out, so this could already be the new normal! Though, I can't blame her - it's a pretty different normal to adjust to! "Still, I hope she'll let me SNAP THOSE WORRIES AWAY.

"Fortunately, I'm a very patient doll."

[ : ) ]

[lazyneonrabbitt]

King and his Queen

Daryl Dixon x Reader | [Pt.1]

After Daryl's match he gets treated like royalty by his loving partner.

Italics are flashbacks. Mild smut-ish at the end

Like clockwork you were down the stairs of your platform and down in the hallway that led to the cage where Daryl slumped against the wall. Out of view from the crowd he didn't have to pretend to be okay after taking a bad hit to the leg. Now he could be hurt and tired, and have you help him across the hall into your livin quarters where you would care for him with the most delicate touches that were like day and night compared to the harsh beatings he got in front of the crowd.

He needed your support to make it all the way into the bathroom where you helped him sit at the edge of the tub where he shifted back into his human form while you reached behind him to run the water and turning back to the sink. You heard the loud clanking of his metal claw tips and fang caps hit the floor as his shape no longer held the form they were made to hold onto.

"Here you go." Your hands held a cup of saltwater solution to rinse his mouth with, the other a container with metal caps to cover his broken teeth.

You watched as he rinsed his mouth and spat the solution back into the cup, handing it back to you to dispose of as he went to click the dentures into place and ran his tongue over the stubby fangs they replicated.

Daryl had never been as hungry as he was now, with the woods rigged in traps that were constantly under surveillance. There was no game left.

A scream caught his attention and he rushed out to the sound, he was in no way or shape against eating humans to survive right now, especially if they're already trapped.

Except the woman wasn't, instead she was cornered by the undead. He couldn't eat infected flesh, he had to go grab her before they did.

Tearing through the small group was a simple task, and the woman was happily thanking him over and over again, nit realising his true intentions until he had her cornered as well. He snarled at her, baring his teeth but was met with a curious stare. "I like your stubby little fangs, they're cute."

He could only grunt in confusion and snap at her, his eyes and fangs now changed and showing he did mean harm. But the loud grumble of his stomach seemed to ruin his scary vibes, and your offer of sharing food had him easily convinced not to eat you just yet.

WIth the tub filling up and your fist aid kid splayed open on the side Daryl felt content. You fed him when he was starving then, and now still tend to his wounds after each match. "M'lucky ta have ya, love."

His eyes were on you where you sat jn front of him, disinfecting the deep cuts on his leg before they fully healed and trapped an infection.

"Still happy you didn't eat me back then?"

With his hand hanging in the soapy water behind him he rolled his eyes at you. "Can still do tha', ya live with a monster, remember?"

You only laughed at him and pat his leg, telling him to go lay in the tub.

The hot water was a blessing for his sore muscles, laying down and letting his skin soak up the warmth.

"Daryl, if you decided to eat me it'd be in bed, with my thighs around your head." An excited hum left the fighter, his brows raised in interest but you quickly shot him down. "Wash up first, then we can get dirty again later."

“Hmhmm, fine.” He slid down further into the tub, only being above the water from the nose up. You took the opportunity to soak his hair and give it a wash, making him sit back up to scrub at his healed over skin. The way he knew your routine by heart made his after match cleaning so much easier, and of course the fact that he trusted you enough to see him fully nude in the tub.

He felt like royalty with how you treated him, holding his ankle in your hand as you took a sturdy brush to his toe claws. The darkened skin of his toe pads and the ball of his foot were always so rough, a lingering wolf feature that became permanent over time.

“Hey, Dee.” Your voice pulled him from his work, skinning a rabbit in your shared tent. “Don’t hate me for suggesting it, but I think I know how we can get a chance at a better life..”

Your current lifestyle wasn’t it. While Daryl didn’t mind the woodsy life, you weren’t adapting well to it and it slowly took a toll on your mental health. But you were living with a werewolf, which brought a lot of good things like having a skilled hunter who brought meat home, and never being cold at night while you cuddled close to him.

“Wha’s the plan, bun? Ya gotta talk ‘fore I can judge.” He had stopped working to listen to your probably insane plan.

“So, I overheard some guys talking about monster fighting—“

“No.” The plan was shot down immediately, without even hearing more of it. “Ain’t gon’ let ya use me as a pet.”

That was, of course, until he was out on a full moon and almost got captured by the men you had mentioned before. He overheard them talking about sedating and selling him as he hid long enough for them to believe he ran off.

It was how he ended up in his shifted form for much longer than he preferred, having to pretend to be a feral beast instead of an intelligent creature.

Even being toweled dry was done gently, careful of any skin that was still red and irritated where healing wounds had just been. Especially his leg still looked angry, the previously bleeding tears now only tinted red streaks of skin, waiting to settle overnight.

You brushed Daryl’s hair after towel drying it, making sure it was detangled entirely before letting him leave the bathroom.

He could feel your lingering stares as he made his way to his stash for some underwear and a robe. Never really wearing many of his old clothes anymore and even having you make adjustments to his current ones.

He knew your eyes were on his lower back, at the end of his spine where his tailbone protruded and shaped an immobile stub that made each and every pair of trousers a hell to wear.

"Quit starin'." The remnants of his beast form barely bothered him anymore. He knew to watch out and not snag his pointed ears when he brushed his hair in the morning, and had given up on shoes and socks a long while ago, going everywhere barefoot now. He didn’t mind the extra fuzz that remained on his legs either. But this one was different. He found it gross and ugly, always hiding it away in loose boxer shorts or underneath a robe.

You on the other hand found it cute how he sported the little tail stub nowadays, always trying to lighten the mood around it by mentioning it could stay a full tail by the end of his next transformation.

Daryl threw on the soft robe and hid himself in it, sitting down on the edge of your shared bed and watched you go get the new supply delivery and put it away before disappearing into the kitchen.

The smell of fresh fruits being cut up filled his nose and had him up to find you in seconds.

His arms wrapped around your waist in a loving embrace as he stuck himself against your back. The scruff on his chin scratched your cheek as he nuzzled you and purred. “Yer bein’ eager with those.”

“Well, I was gonna share with you, but if you’re being a jackass about it I’ll keep it all for myself.” You stuck out your tongue at him and fed him a small piece of apple, which he accepted with a careful bite.

“Would my king like to be fed in bed?” You turned around in his grasp and kissed his chin, wrapping your arms around his neck to get better access. While one hand snaked around your waist once more, the other one went behind your back and grabbed another piece of fruit. “King, huh.” He spoke around the food and moved to squeeze your behind. “Come a long way from bein’ yer guard dog.”

“Name and species.” The grump at the building’s entrance spoke. You had gone through the same process to get into the surrounding part of town already where you were checked bag after bag, every single pocket on your outfit included.

“Dixon. Werewolf.” Your tone was clearly one of boredom, albeit fake, you had to get in there to fight in order to get some food and a sucky roof over your head. Pretending you weren’t desperate was the best plan for now. Daryl listened intently to the conversation being held between you and the man, taking in all the important info without reacting to any of it, having to pretend to have lost most of his human skills in order to be allowed to fight.

After a while of back and forth you were allowed in, on the condition of being escorted to a waiting room, and keeping ‘Dixon’ chained. It was clear from his angry look you were going to get scolded for letting random strangers put chains on him, but for now it all seemed to work.

"This is your temporary room. If you survive today and decide to stay and fight you'll get something permanent." The man who escorted you turned on his heels to move on with his day, but not before muttering some last words. "For as long as your beast lives of course."

Later that day Daryl was thrown into the fighting cage and you were escorted to your spot up high. "Command him from here. You're allowed to head down after the last bell rings."

Down on the floor you saw Daryl, now Dixon, look around at the crowd in confusion and being caugh off guard by the loud voice announcing his fighter name, "and another newcomer" as well. His head snapped back down at the sound of the second door unlocking and revealing his first oponent..

"Yeah, well." You took his hands off you and started towards the bed, taking the bowl of fruits with you. "You're still my guard dog. I can't defend myself for shit." With a wink back to where he stood you turned the corner and disappeared from his view. While your words didn't sound like a compliment, he took them like one and stood there a moment taking it in.

The scene when he rounded the corner was one he'd never get enough of. You had ditched your jeans and top and were now on the bed in sweats and a shirt that hung off one shoulder. The bowl of fruit sat betwden your legs and your back rested against the stupid amount of pillows you kept on the bed. You were on one half of the bed, always making sure there was enough space for Daryl to join you, and he did. He sat down and stretched out beside you, not wasting a second to nudge you and gesture he wanted some fruit.

"Oh, of course your majesty." With a soft giggle you fed him bit after bit, putting pieces between your teeth and feeding him some like that too. You just relaxed and snacked until the bowl was emptied.

The groan that came from beside you reminded gou of the fact you skipped on tending to your precious fighter's aching muscles after the fight.

Putting the bowl aside on the floor you sat up and pat Daryl on the hip. "Roll over, baby. Lemme give you a massage."

With a low rumble deep in his chest he rolled over onto his stomach, his face towards where you still sat beside him with your upper body hanging off the bed to find the bottle of lotion you kept around. He was having a hard time resisting the urge to slap your ass, but he knee better than to risk having you topple off the bed and have him sleep on the couch you barely ever used.

Daryl shivered as the cold ointment touched his skin but quickly relaxed into the matres when your ministrations began. Within the first minute you had him purring beneath you, letting out soft moans and grunts when you worked out tough knots.

"Yer too good fer me, princess." His words came out almost in a moan. You knew exactly how and where to touch him go get all the pretty noises out of him. His back was something you always loved. Before all of this when you could stare for hours as he gutted a deer, watching his muscles ripple under his skin. But nowadays even more with the large wings carved into them.

The words of Dixon claiming the title of King spread fast, and all of a sudden people were challenging him with their own werewolves, believing it was an easy way to win with one in your corner. But obviously it wasn't seeing he still took out each and every one of them.

More and more wolves came in, and with those a whole bunch that sported fur patterns similar to Daryl's, making it difficult to keep them apart as they were at each others' throats.

"We really need to find something to make you easy to identify with all those wolves coming in lately. I swear I almost screamed at the wrong dog earlier.." You huffed and fell on your bed, shooting up only a second later. "Oh! I got something." And then you slumped back down again. "But you'll probably hate it again.."

"Can ya please start tellin' me yer plans 'fore decidin' I'll hate 'em?" Daryl came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. "Remind ya how great this one turned out. Almost livin' the new world dream 'ere."

You had to agree with him. If you ignored the fights to the death every couple of days it was one hell of an upgrade. "Alright, so your wings that you always wore before. What if we get them on you?"

"On me how, exactly?" He turned to look at you, still hunched over the basket of clean clothes to find his comfortable pants.

"There's this guy in town. He does tattoos and scar stuff. I'm sure if we give him a silver tool he can put those wings on you. With sikver they'll scar for sure and you'll always be recognisable."

The huff as Daryl pulled up his pants was almost enough of an answer for you, already admitting defeat when he spoke up.

"Got no fights fer the next two days. We'll go see'em t'morrow. Ain't changin' back now, just took a damn shower."

With each rough shove of your knuckles over groups of sore muscles you got a groan in return. "Yeah, my King loved getting his back rubs."

The satisfied humm that left his lips was enough motivation to keep going, rubbing right above his hips and working at the sore spots. You took some extra ointment and slowly worked your hands over his spine, circling downward ever so carefully, reaching the base of his tail and continued on.

The first reaction you got was a growl, telling you to back off but seeing how he was clawing at the sheets told you a whole different story.

You decided to push your luck and continue down, pressing right where his tail started and earning a pillow muffled moan. You watched him with his face stuffed into a pillow, one claw tearing into it as well. "Fuck girl, why ya gotta do tha'?" He tried so hard to sound annoyed, but in reality he was barely hiding the need for more.

"But my King deserves only the best treatment. And it sounded almost like you were enjoying that." You had leaned down to softly whisper that last bit and give his ear a soft bite and a kiss before moving back up and continuing to rub at his tail. Each pass over his spine earned you a a moan, whine or humm until you found the perfect spot that had him rut into the matres.

The second Daryl noticed his involuntary response he mentally cursed himself. And of course you noticed, giving that one spot extra attention and massaging it exclusively.

"Hhah, stop pleease.." He was a writhing mess beneath you, knuckes white from the death grip he had on the bed and biting down on the pillow to muffle his pleasured sounds. His face colored the same shade of red as the freshly rubbed skin of his back. He could have easily snapped at you, grabbed you by the wrists and thrown you off him but none of that crossed his mind. He was so hard he was ready to cum within a couple more rubs.

His noises got louder and more intense with each movement of your skilled fingers, even if it got more difficult to be precise with the constant thrust of his hips.

"God I love your sweet sounds, so delicious.." It was so good to see another side of him, allowing himself to not be the strong beast for once.

"Shit, bun. M'gonna.." your fingers rubbed his spine just right and his coil snapped. With a long winded moan he finished in his pants, needing a minute to catch his breath before throwing you off him with a grunt. "Ya gon' clean tha' mess ya made now?"

With a soft laugh you agreed to do exactly that. "Anything for my King."

A/N: Man, this took me so long! Apologies for the wait~

[azzyangelfish]

Redacted Characters As Things My Coworkers Have Said:

(For context I’ve been coaching competitive swimming for a month)

David: What do you think you did wrong? The colour of your suit does not determine your time.

Sam: Wait how old do you guys think I am? 56- *takes a deep breath* moving on!

Alexis: God I hate kids- Oh hey that was an awesome race kiddo!

Asher: Listen, we can debate all we want about what the best character in Mario Kart is. But, if someone can win Rainbow Road at 150cc we will play sharks in minnows instead of doing the main set next practice!

Angel: And remember! If a man ever tells you that you’re hysteric I give you full permission to punch him in the nose.

Milo: That is an objectively wrong opinion. I don’t care that opinions can’t be right or wrong- your opinion is wrong case closed, end of story, see you later alligator.

William: Back in my day we didn’t have technology to keep track of our sets and swimmers *yaps about the good old days*

Darlin: Ok listen up! Since I don’t want to be here, and yall don’t want to be here because it’s a warm Friday afternoon, let’s go ‘do dry land’ outside! *takes the group on a walk instead*

Bonus (things that coaches have said to me):

Quinn: All you guys do during practice is slack off and I’m sick and tired of- *his dentures fall out of his mouth and into the pool*

William: You there! With the Russian name!

Kody: I had to go through this as a swimmer so now I’m getting my revenge by making you guys do it too.

Huxley: Do you guys want to go and play capture the flag or would you rather do pushups- ok ok capture the flag it is!

Quinn: It’s a shame that they don’t let us do punishment sets anymore. I mean athletes these days have no discipline, your group had punishment sets and you guys turned out fine!

[thescarletnargacuga]

It's Showtime!

After the events of yet another, scary adventure, the group wakes up the next day to see- wait... Caine? Hellooo? You there?

Caine is gone, and the day remains without an adventure. This isn't like him. Pomni sets out to find him while the others kick back and enjoy life without the annoying pair of dentures.

Pomni's now... Worried. Extremely worried. Her head begins to spiral... But she soon finds Caine... Sleeping? He can sleep now? And why on the floor-

A message pops over his head.

"Low Power. Charge in Progress."

After a whole day of running... Maybe she could use a nap too...

The two settle down for a nice cuddle.

- 🪿

SLEEP MODE

A SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: none

~~~

"WATCH OUT!" Ragatha called out to Pomni as she dodged the flying bouncy ball. The ball bounced and nearly hit the jester in the face, but she managed to suck just in time.

The ball ricocheted off of a wall and smacked Gangle in the face, breaking her comedy mask. "Ow..." She held her non-existent nose with a whimper. "I don't wanna play this game anymore."

"Too bad, Gangle! Caine is taking forever and I'm bored!" Jax tossed another extremely bouncy ball. It bounced wildly all over the open space, knocking Kinger over, and flew at Zooble.

Zooble held out their clawed hand, stopping the ball dead on the sharp tips. It's slowly deflated and flopped to the floor. "At least this is more entertaining than whatever Caine comes up with. I could watch you idiots knock each other around all day."

Pomni got up from the floor. "None of you find it weird that he hasn't shown up yet? I mean, it's kind of hard to tell how much time has passed but... it's felt like a lot."

Ragatha picked up a bouncy ball. "I'm sure It's nothing to worry about. He's never done this before, but Caine is always trying to surprise us with something new." She gives a forced laugh. "It's fine. Everything is fine. Right guys?"

No one answered her. This was a weird situation, but denial was the first course of action for many of them. Kinger sat up, his eyes rolling from getting hit. "Did someone say something about an insect collection?"

"No Kinger, but I did say HEADS UP!" Jax launched a ball at full speed at Ragatha. She brought her arms up, still holding her own ball, out of reflex. The two balls collided, sending Jax's back at him and slamming him in the face. Ragatha was pushed back, but not hard.

The ball bounced off of every wall at blinding speed. Pomni had enough and ran from the chaos as the others sought cover. She ran all the way out of the circus tent. Taking a deep breath of the "fresher" air, she looked around. Nothing seems different or out of place. The sky was still half day and half night, the digital lake was undisturbed, and the carnival played inviting music.

The sun and moon stared back down at her, but said nothing. She felt awkward so she walked around avoiding eye contact with the celestial bodies. "Caine..? Hey, Caine? You out here? Uh... Everyone's getting pretty antsy, and I- uh, we were just wondering if you're okay?"

With no answer, she walked a bit faster. "Caine!? Caaaaaine?? Ca-"

A snore caught her attention. She stopped in her tracks and listened. Another snore sounded from the digital tree next to her. "Caine?" She looked up, unable to see the top of the branches. Determined to see if it was him, she climbed. The fluffy green top of the tree felt oddly solid, she could grip it like an overfilled bean bag.

At the top, she found Caine lounging on his back. His teeth were closed and he cradled the back of his head with his hands. Cartoonish Z's lazily floated off of him. His chest rose and fell as though he were breathing.

Pomni scooted closer to him on her knees. "Caine?" She said softly, gently nudging him. A red loading bar of some kind popped up, it indicated something was low.

"Huh...guess even AIs need sleep." She looked at the circus tent where the others were still likely trying to end each other with bouncy balls. She didn't feel like going back to that. "Mind if I join you?"

She laid down next to him and closed her eyes. This was a rather nice napping spot. The tree was comfortable and the grounds were surprisingly peaceful when Caine wasn't blaring thematic music. She scooted herself just a little closer, feeling his relaxed weight press down the leaves on his side. There was a comfort to it.

~

The bar reached green, making a light ding sound, and the Z's over Caine's head popped out of existence like balloons. Caine yawned and stretched. He hasn't had a recharge that nice in a while. He felt rested and ready to make another adventure!

Just as he was about to summon his cane, his hand touched an unexpected texture next to him. He startled and flew away a few feet, making all kinds of surprised garble. Seeing a still sleeping Pomni silenced him real quick.

He slowly flew back down to her, his eyes taking in her peaceful disposition. He's never seen her so relaxed. Resting down on the tree top again, he carefully reached out to tuck away the hair that fell in front of her face. "Wow..."

Maybe the next adventure could wait just a little longer. Pomni wasn't done recharging. He took off his tux coat and draped it over her. She couldn't be cold, but it felt like the thing to do.

Pomni stirred lightly, and he was afraid he accidentally woke her up, but she rolled into him and buried her face into his chest.

It took very ounce of willpower for him to not have an over-the-top reaction. He managed to keep it to a blush on the outside, but on the inside he was doing backflips amongst fireworks while singing Ode to Joy.

Caine snapped quietly and shooed the sun away. Humans preferred night, he'd been told. Nighttime ambiance played a soft symphony of crickets and frogs. He smiled and cuddled Pomni. This felt so nice. He hoped it would last. "Sleep well, my dear. I will wait for you."

[yesimwriting]

Elle!! You should post more best friend!Felix I’m so obsessed with it❤️❤️

hi babe <3 i have sm best friend!felix in the works/drafts,, i've just been busy with midterm,, but i'm finally recovering from a violent case of frat flu so i finally have some energy

and i love you all and best friend!felix very much so have a drabble

----

Felix presses a nail against the wrapper's edge. The waxy paper bends upwards, giving him the leverage needed to tear it off the hard candy. He parts his lips, pressing the lollipop against his tongue.

Cherry. An entire pack of just cherry.

He came close to purchasing his usual variety pack at the corner store while picking up cigarettes, but at the last second, he saw them there. Next to the cashier.

It had been an impulse to trade out the candies. Felix read the word cherry in cartoonish cursive and was immediately reminded of you, of your soft laughter breaking up tipsy kisses. The taste that lingers on cigarettes when you're both drunk enough to convince him to let you try a few puffs of one. It forced him to feel the phantom residue of your lipgloss, to taste it as his lips pressed together.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, you finally look up from the notes in front of you. He can feel a smile tugging itself into place and the warmth that's beginning to tinge his skin. "What?"

You tilt your head slightly, like something about the question's surprised you. Not unusual, sometimes if you study for too long you get a little spacey. He makes a mental note to suggest getting something to eat soon.

You lift your pencil, using it to vaguely gesture in the direction of the wrapper that's still pinched between his fingers. "Those things will rot your teeth."

He pulls the lollipop away from his mouth. "Oh, not for years."

"And by then they'll have invented something better than dentures." The comment is mumbled, your attention already shifting back to your notes.

Felix frowns. He knows that you're the kind of person that takes an invitation to study at the library with someone literally, and he's fine with that. You wouldn't be you if you didn't get caught up in homework every once in awhile, but you still need to come up for air.

He brings the lollipop back to his lips. "Exactly."

You glance again, the corner of your mouth angling itself upwards. It's a look Felix has learned to interpret as a smile you wish you could will away. The lack of intention in the look has him beaming.

There's never any double meaning in your actions. You're never trying to convince him of anything, you're just you. So genuine and warm Felix has to work at not melting in your presence.

"I like your smile." Your voice feels far off in a way that adds an absentminded quality to your voice. Felix can feel an uneasy warmth burning its way up his neck. You don't seem to notice, instead you focus on propping your head up one elbow. "I'd miss it if you got dentures."

Felix folds the candy wrapper between his two thumb and pointer finger. "Good thing you don't have to worry about that." He shifts in his seat, relaxing his back against hard wood. "You'd love me just the same though, right?"

You press your lips together, brow furrowing as you pretend to think about it. Felix rolls his eyes at the extended silence. He extends his leg, tapping his foot against yours beneath the table. You relax your arm, straightening your shoulders as you glare at him.

You hold your ground, pushing the side of your shoe against his. "Fine, I admit it, I'd love you the same."

"Admit it?"

"Well, I think it should go without saying that our bond is deeper than that."

He taps his foot against yours again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree, adjusting your hold on your pencil. For a second, he thinks he might be losing you to homework again, but then you say, "Even if you're rotting your teeth."

Felix counters your smug smile with an unimpressed look. "It's cherry flavored."

Your eyes fall back to your notebook. "Then I take back everything I just said."

Without thinking about it, he pulls the lollipop away from his lips. "Wanna try?"

You look up at him, eyebrows pinching together skeptically. "This is how people get colds."

He can't remember you ever worrying about anything like that before. You two have shared drinks, straws, food. This isn't that weird, is it? "We're around each other all the time." You blink, not grasping the connection. "We have to have the same germs at this point."

Your lips briefly part before pressing together. Your gaze shifts from Felix's face to the hand holding out the candy. "...Good point."

He leans forward, extending his arm further. You take the lollipop, popping it into your mouth. "You're why people think we're weird."

Felix scoffs, an attempt at a soft dismissal. He knows what you're referencing. There are comments every now and then, mostly lighthearted, usually mumbled by a girl attempting to make any hint of jealousy seem like anything else.

You two are just...so close. A favorite of theirs, always with a silent are you sure it's not too close tacked onto the end of their sentence. Some of them like to pretend that they're the opposite of bothered by the permanence of your place in his life. It's sweet that your best friend's a girl, most guys would never; or, I love that you guys are good friends, most guys are only friends with girls they want to sleep with. That one tends to make him feel a pinprick of guilt.

"Who thinks we're weird?" The question's lighthearted enough, but he means it. He doesn't like the thought of people making too many of those kind of jokes around you. You're prone to overthinking, and you don't need to start dissecting your friendship with him beneath that lens.

You shrug your shoulders once. "We gross out Farleigh."

The response is easing. Farleigh's opinions aren't much of a threat. You laugh them off or dismiss them with an eyeroll, even when he's not joking. "What isn't he grossed out by?"

"Nothing that falls within the spectrum of human emotion."

He taps his fingers against the table's surface. "And you're all emotion."

You frown, seeming to briefly forget the lollipop in your mouth and its ability to soften even the most withering stares. You must sense his amusement, because your fingers find the lollipop's stick, pulling it away from your face. "All emotion?"

Felix presses his lips together in an attempt to tamp down a smile. You don't fall apart at the slightest inconvenience, but it's not like you're exactly heart of stone. "Compared to Farleigh."

"Sure."

He extends a hand, stealing the lollipop from your fingers. You don't protest, but you do let your lips part in a mock gasp. "Stop. Y'know how I meant it." Felix sets the lollipop back into his mouth, more out of the desire to have something to divide his focus than anything else. "You're just trying to start an argument."

You sit up a little straighter, fingers curling around your pencil. "Am not."

"I think you're starting to feel a little moody." You throw him a dirty look, lips already parting, ready to protest. "Think we need a break."

"What has this been?"

His hand reaches forward, fingers brushing against the back of your palm. "C'mon, let's take a walk, get something to eat."

Your eyebrows pull together in contemplation. You tap your pencil against the side of your notebook. Felix can feel your resolve melting. "Okay..." You agree slowly, shutting the notebook and books in front of you. "We have been here awhile."

"Awhile," he repeats with an affirmative nod.

Before you can finish stacking your school supplies, Felix is standing. He pulls his backpack onto one shoulder before walking around the table. Felix picks up your books before you're fully standing.

"You don't have to carry my stuff."

Felix shakes his head. "It's not heavy, and we'll drop it off in my room before going."

You're a few steps behind him. Felix's gait is naturally longer than yours, and he had an unfair head start. "Then you should let me carry it."

Felix adjusts his hold on your things. "Focus on catching up first."

Even though you're now fully behind him, he can feel your irritated shock. "Lex."

With his back to you, he grins openly. "Way of the world, Lovie."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

[deathsmallcaps]

I need advice.

I’m a white intern working in a mostly white southern(ish) high school. Students of Color number at under 2%, perhaps even lower. It’s a very white, rural community - I grew up in a fairly mixed, suburban northern community, and part of my family is Black.

Several of my white students say rude things to my Students of Color. I’ve told them to knock it off *as appropriately as I can* but I’m probably one of the few adults that actively discourage that behavior.

I don’t want to let this shit fly under the radar, but I also know that if an adult of authority *who will only be here for a couple more weeks* interferes, and then doesn’t stick around, it could make things worse. Additionally, I know these kids are probably very very very used to this ‘system’ and that making a short-term change could be more harmful than helpful.

I asked one of my senior students after a very racist incident *where she was laughing along with the perpetrator but I told him to stop anyway* that I can move him, or her, so she could be more comfortable (admin either does nothing or slaps wrists, especially for seniors). She said it was fine and that he was always like that.

I must emphasize, I think they were bantering (they talk so much I think they consider each other friends?), but it was also wayyy fucking out of line, especially in a school setting. And the guy says so much out of line shit I’m surprised he isn’t rocking a full set of dentures to replace the teeth he ought to have lost by now.

Another student took me up on my offer to move people, but I ended up moving him, which sucks because he was the victim in this situation. Unfortunately, I have to keep his aggressors in their spots, as they are highly rowdy in all the ways and require a lot more supervision than he did. And the class is really full. These were also all freshmen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that affected the victim’s reaction.

So I’d really appreciate advice as to whether I should let it be, or continue as is, or step it up even more, from People of Color in largely white, especially rural, communities. Like any advice from current or previous educators, especially Educators of Color would be appreciated, but specifically southern/rural ones would be wonderful. I’m going to talk to my family members about it, but they’ve lived in more Northern settings their entire lives and they may have less … applicable (?) experience to the situation.

Again, I’m an intern, I’m going to only be there until winter break 2024, and I don’t want to fuck things up for these kids in the long run with my northern ally ‘sensibilities’. Thank you!

[secretpostsposts]

Trolls have tails, fangs (or reliably sharp dentures) and retractable claws.

In the case of Pop trolls they keep their fangs and claws less sharp, although in case of danger they can use their claws (they are like a cat's), but due to their friendly nature they do not use them much.

Classic Trolls only have tails and their fangs are tiny, they are not much of a threat although in case of predators they are fast with those wings of theirs.

Techno Trolls have claws and fangs, do they live in the Trolls have tails, fangs (or reliably sharp dentures) and retractable claws.

The Funk Trolls maybe don't need that, attributes, maybe fangs only, because they're clearly able to use their technology to defend themselves (I don't see Trollstopia yet so I'm going through the movie) if technology is much more advanced than the other trolls.

The Contry Trolls, only fangs, you know what a horse kick can do to a human?, well damage, a lot of it is horrible punches so if they are fine with just small fangs that sharpen to look more intimidating.

Rock Trolls, fangs and sword-sharp teeth, are aggressive and accustomed to them, so they are not afraid of accidental damage caused by others or themselves.

As for the tails, Los Poperos have very fluffy tail tips, Los Clásicos are more of a small fuzz on the tips which makes them look like a dandelion, Rockeros are tails like a lion's also are full of scars some get piercings in the form of spikes because they look great. (the brothers' tails vary a bit, although only Bruce and Floyd's are still like those of normal Pop trolls, The brothers try to make Branch's tail just as fluffy as when he was a baby, John Dory brags about how soft and fluffy Baby Branch's tail was)

The Putt-Putts, are a fusion of the Pop and the Rock Trolls because of their lifestyle, fearful of the outside, they prepare in case something robs their sanctuary, either fleeing or docking.

Thus Clay has his teeth and fangs (although he changes a bit when he returns to Pop Village) sharp (in BLB's case, he keeps them that way because they are intimidating and helpful), Floyd and Bruce on the other hand are more like the rest of the pop trolls, although Bruce sharpens his fangs more because Brandy likes the way they look (in BLB, Floyd sharpens them as well, but keeps his claws less sharp so as not to hurt Branch); John Dory and Branch with contrary cases, John Dory for his nomadic, "wild" and explorer lifestyle, has his teeth full of teeth naturally sharpened, his claws are big and sharp than the others, so is Branch, although only his fangs are sharp (a lot), his claws not so much but he keeps them taken care of in case he needs to attack.

In Possessive Brozone, the brothers with more affiliated claws use it a bit to intimidate others and keep them away from Branch, some believe that they only do it because they love Branch and care about him (pop trolls, believe that), Floyd smiles and shows his fangs because it is what he has and with a terrifying look he does the intimidation effect very well.

Although they make Branch file his claws, Branch hates him but does it, mostly because of a small "incident" (totally caused by the brothers) where Branch inadvertently hurt one of his friends with his claws.

[mythica0]

I have the silliest idea holy shit omg

This involved a but of soft Jax AND lee!jax WHAT A COMBO‼️‼️

So like I have this hc that jax is deathly afraid of super duper loud bangs like fireworks and thunderstorms, there's fireworks or a thunderstorm outside of the circus and jax is hiding wanting it to go away, then someone comes in (character of ur choice but this would fit ragatha) and tickles him to make him feel better and to distract him from the storm

Also hi how are you I hope you're doing well💖💖💖

- X3 anon

Soft side

🎂: TADC

🧁: Jax

🍫:Caine

Summary: during a digital thunderstorm(however that works), none of the circus members have seen Jax leave his room. Caine goes to check on him and sees something… unexpected.

A/N: Thank you anon! This is so cute and I had to write it. Love me some cheer-up tkls. Enjoy! <3

Soft side

BOOM! CRACK! A digital thunderstorm raged outside. Dark clouds covered the sky and flashes of lightning appeared followed by loud rumbles of thunder.

The cast was sitting in the tent to stay out of the rain, but…

“Guys, is it just me or is it quiet?” Ragatha whispered, suspiciously.

Zooble rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s because Jax isn’t here. I don’t know why exactly, but I’ll take the lack of Tom-[BEEP]-ery.

Pomni raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Huh. I wonder why he’s hiding in his room. Maybe he’s planning a scheme…” the conversation trailed off and the group continued to chat amongst themselves.

On the other side of the tent, Caine heard this conversation. Had Jax really not shown up today? That was unusual for the Rabbit, if only because he liked to, as he put it, “watch funny things happen to people.”

Caine thought he better go check on the bunny before starting todays adventure. As cooky as he was, Caine did actually care about his circus members and wanted to see them happy in the digital plane. And for some reason he was concerned about Jax.

He floated down the hallway and knocked on Jax’s door. “Jax? Do I have permission to enter?”

No response came out of the room, other than a soft whimpering sound. Another BOOM rang out from the thunder, and Caine heard a startled “Ah!” And a slight whine coming from inside the room.

Worried something might have happened, Caine teleported inside the room, concerned. “Jax!”

At the voice, Jax looked up. He wasn’t hurt at all, which relieved Caine… but- something was off.

He was holding his long ears flat against his head, and small tear tracks rolled down his digital face.

“Wha- what are you doing here, dentures?” Jax tried to put on a brave face, but his voice waivered and broke. Once again thunder roared and Jax made a noise of fear, jumped a bit and held his ears even closer to his head.

Caine’s eyes gained an understanding and he sat next to the rabbit.

“You don’t like thunderstorms, huh?”

“What’s it matter to yo-u.” Jax sniffed.

“Well, I don’t like seeing my cast scared, Jax.”

“I’m not scared!” Jax lashed out, offended at the prospect. “I’m fine!”

“Hmm…” Caine thought of a way he could cheer up the bunny, without making him more angry, and he had the perfect idea.

As subtly as he could, Caine reached his hand over and gently poked Jax’s side.

A squeak came out of the rabbit and he turned to look at the ringmaster. “What-What was that about?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“Bull[BEEP].”

Caine’s smile grew mischievously. “You know how I feel about swearing mister!” Caine started to quickly scribble Jax’s stomach, making silly noises as he did so.

Slowly Jax regained his usual toothy smile, giggles slipping out of his throat.

“Cahahahaine! Cohohme ohohon! Whyhyhy?!”

“Not so scared anymore, aren’t ya? Tkltkltkl!”

“Oh shuhuhut ihihit!”

“Ooo~ you’re gonna get it, now!” Caine stopped for a moment and pulled his cane from his hat. He waved it like a wand, and a small pink light emerged from it, engulfing Jax in its glittery light.

Immediately Jax’s laughter intensified.

“Whahahahat eveheEHEN IHIHIS THIHIHIS!”

“Introducing my TICKLE RAY 9000! Guaranteed to make even the most grumpy of people laugh really hard!” He spoke in an advertising voice.

“OHOHO MYHYHY GOHOHOD, YohohOU AHare RIDIHICulohohous!”

“Thank you!” Caine winked.

“QUHUHIHIT IHIHIT!”

“Hmm.. if you admit you were scared. It’s okay to be scared! Everyone has fears, even tough little rabbits like you.”

“OHO COHOHOME OHON! Thahats soho MeHEAN!”

Jax started to have tears of joy prick in his yellow eyes from all the laughing. He would never admit it, ever, but this was helping.

“C’mon Jax! You can do it! Tktktktktktktktk!”

“PLeheheHEASe!”

“You know what you have to say!”

“OhoKAHAY fihiHINE! I wahahahas scahahared! Ihim scahahahred ohof thuhunder Stohohorms ahahare yohOU hahahappy NOHOw!”

“Yes. Very. Almost as much as you right now.” Caine teased, turning off his magical little tickle beam.

“You ready to go start todays adventure!”

“Yeheah, yeah just give me a sec.” Jax said, tiredly.

I guess both Caine and Jax had an unexpected soft side.

[ckret2]

Chapter 33 of human Bill is still the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Stan takes Bill to get fillings from a creepy dentist in the back of a white van. And also they're handcuffed together the whole time.

Hijinks ensue.

Stan was startled from reading the paper by a shrill up-and-down whistle. Bill trotted into the kitchen, his voice a singsong lilt: "Incoming!"

Stan lowered the paper to glare at Bill. "Still doing that, are you?"

"Of course! I'd hate to scare you." Bill took the chair across the kitchen table from Stan. "Gooood morni—"

"Go away." Stan determinedly returned his attention to an article about the deathball arena construction.

Bill laughed. "You're funny. Anyway!" He noted Stan's plate of eggs and salsa was hidden behind his newspaper, and quietly slid the plate across the table as he spoke. "I need you to do me the teensy, tiniest little favor—"

"Nope."

"Take me to your dentist."

"No." Stan didn't even lower his newspaper. "The last time I took you anywhere, you almost made my niece cry, my brother left a Shopliftaholics Anonymous flier on my bed, and all I got out of it was a crummy ring. You wanna go somewhere, talk to Soos."

But, Bill noted, Stan was wearing said crummy ring. "Spend a day with that loser?" He rolled his eyes. "Please. I'd rather pry out my fingernails."

"You'd probably enjoy that, you freak."

"Not the point." Bill stuffed half an egg in his mouth. "Anyway, it has to be you. I need fillings, and Dr. Illing does them for free."

Stan squinted over the top of his newspaper. "How do you know about Dr. Illing?"

"What part of 'all-seeing eye' don't you get?"

Dr. Illing was a wandering dentist who spent the warm summer months in Gravity Falls. He squeezed his van and trailer into alleys between businesses in town, where he both lived and provided dental services until the police caught wind and chased him and his van out into the woods for a few days. On days with good weather, he'd pop open the back hatch of his nondescript trailer and set up a sign that read "COME INSIDE! FREE CANDY (for new patients)". He didn't attract many customers.

What really made him stand out was his unusual pay structure. He charged typical rates for regular teeth cleaning and dental maintenance; but if a patient had a cavity, he gave them a gold filling for free, and he paid them if he needed to pull their teeth.

Stan thought he was terrific. He hadn't had to pay for dental care in thirty years! Granted, he also wore dentures now; but hey, Dr. Illing had helped pay off Ford's mortgage, and at least the dentures were on the house.

Bill said, "You're the only one in the shack who knows all the places Illing might set up shop. Besides, he might be less jumpy in front of a stranger if an existing patient can vouch for it."

"I can see where you're coming from," Stan said. "But my answer is no, because I don't wanna."

Bill scowled in irritation. He sat back and ate another of Stan's eggs as he reconsidered his approach.

"Stanley—I'm a simple shape," he said. "A simple shape who's used to being coated peak to base in pure, lustrous, 24-karat gold. Having skin makes my skin crawl. I don't need any dental work done, these teeth are fine—but I'd really, really like just a bit of gold, somewhere on my body, so I feel a little more like myself in my final days."

Stan muttered, "You're trying to appeal to sympathy I don't have, Cipher."

"And then, once I'm dead," Bill went on, "I suppose I'll be leaving behind a corpse with a mouthful of free gold that whoever's disposing of my remains can do whatever they want with, do you catch my meaning Stanley?"

Stan lowered his newspaper just enough to grimace at Bill. "That's absolutely disgusting," he said. "But okay, I'm bribed!" He tried to fold the newspaper. "If you want your mouth to fund me and Ford's next year of globe-trotting, fine by me. Least you can do for messing up our summer."

"Mhm." Bill shoveled the last egg into his mouth while Stan was distracted by the paper and slid the plate over to Stan's side.

Stan slapped the paper down. "But we're not telling Ford about this. Agreed?" He offered a hand to shake.

"Agreed." Bill took Stan's hand, with the wrong hand—but before Stan could figure out what to do with that, Bill jerked his hand back like he'd been burned. "We'll take this to our graves."

"Or to your grave, anyway!" Stan laughed loudly, slapping the table.

Bill watched him with a forced smile. "Great. Deal made. Let's go get the magic friendship bracelets and—"

"Ohhh no," Stan said. "I'm not trusting a little bit of colored lace and some mystical hocus-pocus to keep you contained. If we're going anywhere, I'm making sure you can't escape."

"Okay," Bill said, a touch warily. "Fine. How?"

####

Soos took the handcuffs out of his toolbox, removed the key and stuck it in his pocket, and asked, "What side do you want it on?"

"Left," Stan said. "Gotta keep my punching arm free." Bill rolled his eyes. 

Soos closed the cuffs on Stan's left wrist and Bill's right, then tightened Bill's half until it actually held his tiny wrist. "There."

"Ha!" Stan grinned at Bill. "Try escaping that!"

"I wasn't planning to escape."

"Sure, pull the other one." Stan pointed toward the door. "Now... to the car!"

####

They stared in dismay at Stan's car.

The El Diablo was a classic of the 1960s American automotive industry—and it was in terrific condition. (Notwithstanding the recent dents, scrapes, and keyed scratches in the paint reading "TRICK-OR-CHEATER!!") It came with the features standard to American cars of the time, like a steering wheel on the left, and a wide front bench that provided space for multiple passengers to sit to the driver's right side.

Bill was handcuffed to Stan's left side.

"Wow. You're stupid," Bill said.

"I'll break your smart mouth."

"What do I care, we're headed to the dentist anyway." He sighed. "Okay! Let's go inside and tell Questiony how stupid you are."

Stan did not want to tell Soos how stupid he was. "No! How do you know I didn't do this on purpose? Maybe having my right arm free is more important than—er... driving."

Bill considered that with pursed lips. After a pause, he ventured, "Do you want me to drive—?"

"No, no, nope, I am not letting you drive my car, under any circumstances, ever! Not a chance!"

"Then how are we doing this?"

####

Stan gripped the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles white and jaw clenched.

Bill was uneasily cuddled up against Stan's right side. The handcuff forced him to stretch his right arm across Stan's chest. 

They were both wearing tank tops. Their bare upper arms were plastered together with sweat.

They were getting cricks in their necks from how far they were tilting their heads away from each other.

On the radio, a hit 50's soul song crooned romantically, "Oh, my sweet love... you're my lovely sweetie... and I never love you more, than when you're pressed to my side... as we go for a sweet loving car ride..." Neither of them could reach the radio dial without touching each other even more. They'd silently decided to pretend as hard as possible that they couldn't hear the radio.

"Welp," Stan said. "Out of all the times I've been handcuffed in a car, this is one of the worst."

####

They spotted Dr. Illing's "FREE CANDY" sign posted surreptitiously near the barrel and crate factory, and circled the block to park the car in front of a business that looked responsible enough to file a missing persons report if the car was still abandoned there by nightfall.

They tumbled out of the driver's side door with a maneuver that looked like a cross between a waltz and a mugging. Stan kicked the door shut. As they untangled themselves, in a surprisingly decent impression of Stan's voice, Bill said, "Gotta keep my punching arm free. How's that working out for you?"

"Bold words from a guy in punching range, you little—" As Stan finally separated himself from Bill and straightened out, he caught sight of Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland halfway up the block. "Oh, great. Cops. Exactly what you want around when you're doing something weird." Stan shook his head. "Well, as long as we go the other way and don't make eye contact—"

"Hi Darryl! Hi Edwin!" Bill stood on his toes and waved wildly. "Hey! Working hard or hardly working? Haha!"

"Oh, hey Goldie!" Durland waved back, and he and Blubs headed their direction. "How've you been, did you have a nice Summerween?"

"Ahh, I was stuck in the house—"

"Bill," Stan hissed. "Whaddaya think you're doing? Do you want them asking questions?"

"Hey," Durland said, "Why're you handcuffed to Stan?"

Bill turned toward Stan. He smiled at him. It was a smile that said I did not think this through.

"You need some help there?" Blubs asked. "I bet we've got a key that matches that handcuff model."

Stan bet Bill would love to accept that offer and go traipsing off with the cops. "Nope! That's fine! Thank you officers, but we're keeping the handcuffs on," Stan said. "Because." He paused. "They're necessary. For... uh... for me."

The cops and Bill watched him expectantly. Bill had that awful gleam in his eyes that he got when he saw an opportunity to make up a story.

"Because I'm old," Stan said. "It's to keep me from wandering into traffic."

Bill laughed, "Yep, that's true!" He jabbed Stan's shoulder with a finger (harder than necessary, he thought). "This guy's cataracts are so bad, sometimes he asks us if he's dying because all he a see is a white light in a dark tunnel! And the way his mind's going, woof—"

Stan growled, "All right you don't have to lay it on so thick—"

"—he's so addled it's like he's completely forgotten the last century of technology, he'll just walk right off the curb and expect the horse-drawn carriages to stop for him—"

"Hahaaa, but we won't bore you with my medical history!" Stan jerked on the handcuffs. "C'mon, Goldie, you're gonna make me late to my heart doctor appointment. You don't want my life on your hands, do you?"

Bill murmured, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Hold on," Blubs said. "You can't see? Didn't we just see you get out of the driver's seat of your car?"

Stan and Bill exchanged a look. Stan said, "Goldie's giving me directions."

"Oh! That makes sense," Durland said.

"All right," Blubs said, "We'll let you get to your doctor's appointment. You folks have a nice day."

As the cops left, Bill called after them, "You too! Hey, I'll see you guys at Rainbow Club!"

"See you there!" Durland turned to Blubs. "Y'know, I think Goldie's a step up from that seeing-eye bear."

Bill and Stan eyed each other. "All right, you're not bad at improv," Bill said. "I can respect a decent actor."

"You too," Stan said grudgingly. Bill looked at Stan like he expected a little more than that; but Stan kept his mouth shut. Bill didn't need the encouragement.

####

Dr. Illing's "FREE CANDY" sign leaned hopefully near a gap in the fence around an overgrown lot by the barrel factory. The gap was large enough that a reasonably limber human could duck through with little difficulty; however, Stan was old and Bill was still controlling his alien body like a rookie puppeteer learning the marionette, so they circled halfway around the lot until they found a gate in the fence to push open. They trod across scraggly grass, a row of dying mushrooms, and years-old litter to reach an unmarked white van hooked up to a camper trailer.

The back hatch of the trailer was flipped up to serve as a makeshift metal awning, and inside, a tall, spindly man was snoring atop a military cot in his underwear, using a white lab coat like a blanket. Stan cleared his throat loudly, and when that didn't disrupt the snoring, knocked on the side of the trailer. "Hey! Doc!"

Dr. Illing jolted upright with a yelp, seized an enormous wireless power drill off the floor to point at them like a gun, lowered it slightly as he registered he wasn't under attack, then realized he was nearly naked and yelped again. He tumbled off the cot, flailed his way to his feet, and turned his back to them as he jerked on his coat and buttoned it. "Just—just a second!" He got on one sock, couldn't find the other, and gave up, pulling on his sneakers with one bare foot. "Sorry, so sorry, I must've—just—nodded off for a second, there—"

"Maybe we should have made an appointment," Bill said wryly. "He looks busy." Stan snorted.

Dr. Illing turned around, smoothing out his rumpled lab coat. He was a jumpy, twitchy man with heavy circles under his eyes, short badly-cut hair, and a 5 o'clock shadow that had evolved into a 25 o'clock shadow. His gaze darted nervously between their faces. "Sorry. Hi, hello, can I help you? Are you maybe here for a tooth extraction, or—or perhaps wisdom teeth removal...?" His gaze caught on Stan's face, and he started. "Stan Pines! I haven't seen you since I pulled your last tooth ten years ago! What are you doing here?" His brows creased in worry. "You're—you're not mad about that, are you—?"

"What? No! The dentures are—fine. They're actually lower maintenance than teeth. Sort of. In a way," Stan said. "No, I'm here to refer a new customer." He pointed at Bill.

Bill made a gesture like he was tipping an invisible hat. "Hi there!"

"A customer?" Dr. Illing said blankly. "Oh—yes! Of course, hold on—" He pulled a hospital curtain over the front half of the trailer to hide a dinette covered in laundry and old magazines, lifted one end of the military cot and slid a step stool under the legs to keep it raised, and tugged the arm of a dental light down from the ceiling to aim it at the chair.

Stan said, "So, do I get some kind of referral bonus, or..."

"Oh—sure, sure. Have a, uhh..." Dr. Illing opened a heavy yellow and black tool bag, pulled out a battered cookie tin, withdrew a gold coin, and offered it to Stan. "One of these or something, here."

"Huh." Stan inspected it. No idea what currency it was, but a gold coin was arguably cooler than actual cash.

The dentist batted aside the hospital curtain to grab a tiny stool from the dinette, shook a damp towel off the seat, placed the stool beside the cot, and sat. "Okay!" He clapped his hands. "New customer! What can I do you for?"

Bill had been gazing in naked longing at the bag hiding the gold coins; but at the question, he looked up with a grin. "I'm here for fillings!"

"Ah! Wonderful. No charge for fillings, of course." He started rummaging through his tool bag for supplies. "Do you know which teeth need them?"

"Whichever you think would look best with some," Bill said. "Driller's choice!"

Dr. Illing stopped rummaging to give Bill a perplexed look. "I—sorry, come again?"

"I said I'm leaving it in your hands." Bill climbed into the trailer and put his free hand on Dr. Illing' s shoulder. "I'll be straight with you, Frankie: all that matters is that my teeth do not currently have any gold in them, and I want that to change by the time I leave. I'm not too picky about the details beyond that."

The dentist stared at Bill, then glanced at Stan for confirmation. Stan shrugged and nodded. "Oh-kay!" Dr. Illing wasn't quite smiling, but there was a strange, eager gleam in his eye. "Super! This'll be fun!" He gestured for Bill to sit on the cot. "Let's see what I have to work with."

He ushered Stan in, and pulled the trailer's hatch shut.

####

"Your teeth are amazing," Dr. Illing said, voice hushed with awe. "Perfectly white. Who's your usual dental hygienist? Did you just get these cleaned?"

"Nope," Bill said, forgetting for the third time that humans keep their teeth and their voice in the same hole and he shouldn't talk with the dentist's fingers in his mouth. Dr. Illing quickly pulled his hand back. "Just basic toothpaste, floss, and dish soap."

Dr. Illing shook his head in disbelief. "Well, they look amazing. And no wear at all, remarkable... Have you ever considered having any of these pulled? Do you mind if I take a few pictures?"

Stan shuddered as the dentist pulled out an old film camera and started snapping photos. "Yeesh. I forgot how creepy you are. Kinda glad I ran out of teeth."

Dr. Illing straightened up, snapped off the dental light, and sighed. "Well, I'm sorry to say that all your teeth are pristine. Not a hint of cavities—not even plaque. It'd be a shame to drill such pretty specimens. You're sure you don't want one pulled...?"

Stan grimaced, but Bill pursed his lips thoughtfully, as if he were considering a perfectly normal question. "As fun as that sounds, I said I want to leave with gold today, and the whole extraction-and-implantation process for gold teeth takes ages. Unless you happen to have a little secret magic trick to speed up the process?" Bill laughed, fixing Dr. Illing with a piercing stare.

Dr. Illing looked nervous. "Er—no."

"Then just the fillings. But who knows, maybe I'll feel naughty and be back in a couple of weeks." Bill laughed again. "Just pick a couple of your least favorite teeth to drill into!"

"Okay, suit yourself." Dr. Illing shrugged and fished around in an overstuffed cardboard box under the dinette table. "Let's gas you up and get drilling."

"You can skip the sedative," Bill said. "I don't mind a little pain. I prefer it, actually! It adds some zest to the experience..." He trailed off as he caught sight of the label on the gas canister Dr. Illing had pulled out. He pointed at a word, "I thought that additive was illegal."

Dr. Illing flinched guiltily. "Not in the state where I got it."

"Oh, buddy. I didn't realize I'd climbed into the party van!" Bill settled back on the cot, laced his hands behind his head, and got comfortable. "You know this stuff has something like sixty percent odds of causing hallucinations? Most people get either haloes around lights, or spiders. Go ahead, gas me—I wanna find out which I am."

####

In five minutes, Bill was overjoyed to report that the dental light had a spider halo. He did not explain what this meant.

Since Stan had typically been under anesthesia himself whenever Dr. Illing operated on him, this was the first time he'd had an opportunity to watch the dentist at work. Stan discovered that when Dr. Illing drilled into a tooth, he didn't suck the resultant dust up with one of those little dental vacuums with a plastic tube Stan was more familiar with. Instead, when a bit of dust had accumulated, he reached in with what looked like a cotton swab, wiped up the tooth dust, and scraped it off into a Petri dish; and only then did he use the vacuum to suck out any saliva and continue. Was he saving the leftover tooth dust? He was an even bigger creep than Stan had thought.

By all appearances, Bill didn't handle the gas well. It wasn't that it made him sick, or that he wasn't having the time of his life. It just made him completely forget how to operate a human body. When Dr. Illing told him to hold his mouth open, he also held his eyes open until they watered; and whenever he lost the battle to keep them open, he automatically shut his mouth too, often to his own peril as Dr. Illing shouted about the drill jostling. Within ten minutes, Dr. Illing had given up on convincing Bill to keep his mouth open and instead started giving him blink breaks when he could shut his mouth.

It helped some, but they couldn't do anything about the fact that Bill had fully forgotten he couldn't talk while getting dental work done, and kept up a regular chatter—during which he cheerfully mentioned he'd died recently, attempted to explain that the entire universe was actually an elaborate hologram projecting from the "true" third dimension, and asked Dr. Illing all about the cruise to Panama he'd recently stowed away on (which the dentist hadn't mentioned). During one blink break, as Bill closed each eye separately, Dr. Illing leaned toward Stan and muttered, "So... what's her story?"

Stan tilted his head toward the Petri dish. "What's with the tooth shavings?"

Dr. Illing considered that, slowly nodded, and got back to work.

####

After several hours, Dr. Illing wiped his brow and sighed in relief. "All right, that should do it. You've got fillings on five teeth now." Under his breath, he muttered, "It would have been two, if you hadn't kept talking while I was drilling."

Stan shook his head in amazement. "Doesn't that hurt?" 

"Yes," Bill said. "I've never felt pain like that before. What a rush."

"If you do come back for a tooth extraction, I'm getting a dental gag to keep your jaws open." Dr. Illing finished pulling out the array of clamps and barriers around the filling sites and wearily dropped down onto his stool. "There. The rest of the sedative should wear off gradually over the next few hours. Usually I tell patients to wait three or four hours before eating to let the swelling go down, but..." He waved wearily. "You can do whatever you want."

"Admit it, you like having an enthusiastic patient!" Bill heaved himself off the military cot, forgot he couldn't float, and immediately collapsed to the floor.

"Whoa there—" Stan helped Bill back to his feet. The handcuffs prevented him from getting an arm around Bill's back, so instead he helped keep him upright by firmly squeezing his upper arm. "I don't know about you, but I'm eating as soon as we get home. You made me miss lunch—and for some reason, I feel like I barely had any breakfast." Bill inexplicably found this declaration hilarious. Probably the sedative, Stan reasoned.

Bill waved at the dentist as Stan tugged him out the trailer's hatch, chattering the whole way: "Thanks for the gold, the sock you were looking for is a bookmark in the March issue of Floss Girls, Atlantis is rising as we speak, you have less than seven years to prepare for the plague, tell the little lady I said hi! Byyye!"

Stan squeezed Bill's arm tighter and muttered, "Would you cut that out?

Bill stumbled across the uneven lot. "I made up the part about Atlantis."

"Okay just shut up and stop saying weird things."

Bill attempted to walk sideways all the way back to the car.

####

Stan gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his arms were trembling.

Bill was sprawled all over the front bench, the dashboard, the seatback, and Stan's shoulders.

On the radio, a hit 80's R&B song with a sexy saxophone was playing, "Babe, the sad things you've been through... I swear I'll make it up to you... If it takes a thousand years..."

Bill was singing at the top of his lungs directly in Stan's ear, "I'LL WIPE AWAY ALL YOUR TEARS, WOO!—sax solo!—BA DA-DA DA, BA DA-DAAA—"

Stan turned off his right hearing aid.

Every once in a while Bill attempted to grab the steering wheel and turn it in time to the song, like a kid playing in a toy car; Stan had given up telling him to stop and instead started just smacking his hand away every time he tried. After another smack, Bill draped his arm awkwardly over Stan again, and announced, "I can't feel my tongue at all! I bet I can chew it off!"

"Don't do that."

"The last time my mouth was this numb, my girlfriend had just gotten done with me, haha." Bill stuck his finger in his mouth to experimentally poke at his tongue. "I couldn' thee for the nex' hour from all the thporeth—"

"I swear if you don't shut up—"

Bill flopped his arm across Stan again. "I just realized I haven't gotten any action since I died. Wow. What's normal for humans, couple times a week until you start the slow lingering decline toward death?" He looked straight at Stan. Stan could feel that side of his face start to sweat. "This isn't a weird time to bring that up, is it?"

"Bill, if you say one more weird thing, you're riding home on the roof of the car."

Bill was quiet for three seconds. And then he started poking Stan's bicep. "Your arm's a lot meatier than Sixer's! What's your favorite flavor of cancer?"

####

Mabel asked, "Why are you on top of the car?"

Bill—eyes wide, hair disheveled, one arm hanging through the driver's door, sprawled out clinging to the roof like his life depended on it—replied, "I don't know, it's all a blur."

Stan opened the car door and jerked on the handcuffs. "All right, get off my car."

Bill shakily climbed off, lay in the dirt, and tried to catch his breath. "That was fun. We should do that more often."

"Not on your life."

Eyeing the handcuffs, Dipper said, "What were you doing, anyway?"

"Nothing!" Stan snapped. "Why? Who's asking? I wasn't sneaking the demon out to get a shady back-alley dental procedure!"

Mabel and Dipper stared up at him.

Stan pointed at them. "What are you doing?"

"Going camping," Dipper said, turning so Stan could see his stuffed backpack.

"Something's been stealing Pacifica's alpacas at night, so we're going on a stake-out," Mabel said. "They took Giorgio. It's personal now."

"We think aliens might be abducting them," Dipper said.

From the ground, Bill said, "It's not aliens."

"Ah, taking the law into your own hands. It builds character," Stan said approvingly. "You need firearms?"

They exchanged a glance. "We're good," Mabel said. "Grunkle Ford loaned us his freeze ray. It seems less lethal."

As the kids headed toward the road, Bill finally heaved himself up. "Well, that was fun!"

"No it wasn't," Stan said.

"Your opinion doesn't matter. Anyway—" He shook his cuffed wrist. "We're home, get me out of this thing. It makes you look like my ugly accessory and I want my hoodie."

"I elevate your whole look!" Stan protested. "And I don't have the key, it's with Soos."

Mabel turned back to shout at them, "Soos is out! He's got a dinner date with Melody!"

Stan grimaced. "Uh-oh."

Bill shrugged and said, with a confidence Stan didn't share, "He left the key behind."

####

"Oh man, sorry dudes," Soos said over the phone. "I totally forgot I still had it. Yeah, it's on my key ring. Is that, like, gonna be a problem, or...?"

"It's fine," Bill said, sitting atop Soos's office desk and leaning all the way across it to reach the phone. "Just pass it through the phone, we'll catch it."

"What?"

"Ignore him." Stan shoved Bill's face away. Bill gave him a dirty look as he straightened out his eyepatch, which he'd finally gotten to put on once they were home. Stan spun the desk chair away from Bill so he couldn't try to join the conversation again. "He's hopped up on psychedelic laughing gas. When are you gonna be back?"

"Uh..." Soos thought for several seconds. "Nooot for a while. Abuelita and I were talking about maybe kind of staying the night?"

"Well—pfff—can't you duck out and bring the key?"

"Uhhh. I would but, this is the first time Abuelita and I are having dinner with Melody's parents, and I'm really worried about impressing them parents, and the casserole's about to come out, and I think they might judge me if I leave, it would probably ruin dinner..."

"Okay, fine. What if we drive over to get the key?"

Far louder than necessary, Bill asked, "Stanley can I drive this time—!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Oh sure, that'd be fine," Soos said. "I'll give you directions, Melody's parents' place is in Portland. You got a pen?"

Stan frowned. "Portland."

"Yep."

"As in, outside the magic bubble trapping Bill in town."

Soos paused. "Oh, right."

Well, Stan wasn't about to make Soos look bad in front of his future in-laws. He'd never had in-laws, but he'd seen enough sitcoms to know how messy that could get. "Never mind. We'll figure something out. You kids enjoy dinner." Stan hung up the phone, sighed, and turned to face Bill. (Bill had plucked a figurine of a bulky robot in a cute girly pose off of Soos's desk, and was staring at it in wonder, like he'd never seen overpriced anime convention merch before.) "You got any other bright ideas?"

"We could still call Darryl and Edwin..."

"No way," Stan snapped. "I am not calling the cops for help! Never gonna happen. I'd rather wait for Soos to get back in the morning if I have to!"

"Oh would you." Bill laughed scornfully. "And what do you plan to do until then?"

####

They got TV dinners and grumpily watched Cash Wheel together.

####

(This entire chapter was just an extended excuse to annoy Stan and Bill as much as possible. But mostly Stan. Thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed I'd appreciate a comment or reblog!!)

[horce-divorce]

something something about the power imbalance inherent to being an unhoused person, how similar it is to the dependency that abusers intentionally foster in their relationships to keep victims from leaving. but if you're homeless and someone is putting you up, especially if it's for free/some kind of exchange other than rent, you're basically expected to put up with whatever indignity they can imagine for you and still just be grateful. And if you set a boundary or speak up for yourself in any kind of way, that's Taking Advantage of this poor kind person who's doing SO much for you already, how could you?

sorry its 2am and I'm trying to write a better draft about this for later too but its like. being homeless is a huge, huge vulnerability. ppl people will look to exploit that, intentionally or not. and doubly so if you're homeless because you're disabled.

also something the ableism involved... about how I know so many fellow disabled people who have struggled with homelessness, and we all have similar stories about people we trusted, friends or loved ones who seemed all too happy to help and take us in, and how we repeatedly impressed upon them the nature of our health and the situation, and they swore up and down that they understood and that we were on the same page about boundaries and expectations... only to have them blow up and kick us out at the absolute first sign of conflict or miscommunication, or because we didn't get jobs fast enough, or because we didn't contribute financially even after being told that wasn't expected, and so on.

and how, I know so many housed people who have never been through this, who all have very similar stories about how they tried to help a friend in need once, and they were SO lazy and horrible and took SO long to get their shit together that they clearly were just a freeloader taking advantage who should've never been trusted, just like all homeless people, and that's why we give them socks and canned beans instead of money.

I was never allowed to complain about ableist expectations or abled people ignoring my boundaries in my parents' home. Especially not after I became a disabled adult who still needed help with housing. And that's been true of most of the couch-hopping I've done since then, too.

Currently we have a fairly nice situation... we live with a trusted and pleasant friend. It's a whole house, not an apartment. Not even in the city. We have our own entire room. We don't have to pay rent or anything. It's temporary even aside from our discomfort, it's just been a nice place to land for the cold months.

However. Friends parents are not so chill. Their dad is the most disgusting man alive and has repeatedly gotten us sick bc he's always got something, bleeds all over and never cleans it up, never washes his hands, leaves his dentures on countertops and tables with food still stuck on them, coughs all over our stuff and never masks, is actively making the mouse infestation worse with all the food he leaves out, and puts our health at risk in SO many ways.

he used to work in Healthcare btw. His wife still does. They know we're here bc we're homeless; they know we're both disabled and immunocompromised; neither of them will wear a mask. Both of them are constantly coughing everywhere and not even covering their mouths. We've tried to politely bring this to their attention multiple times and nothing changes. They just ignore us.

We could literally die from this. We could get lifelong health complications even worse than what we have now. Bel lost his sense of taste today and now we're terrified that it's gonna be long covid or something else that sucks what little joy is left from our daily lives.

You lose everything, and then you're supposed to just say nothing and accept your lot, no matter how much danger you're in, because beggars can't be choosers. If you're disabled and poor you'd better just be fine with people abusing you and putting your health and safety at risk indefinitely, because you're lucky they're even helping you at all instead of JUST abusing you.

You dont get to have a home. You dont get to collect things, or keep sentimental things, or have a whole, adequate wardrobe. You get what you can carry with you and what won't get stolen or destroyed by others, or by the nature of moving so much. You dont get to have safety and stability and roots and community. You dont get the dignity of boundaries or your own space. You get what you get and you don't throw a fit. And be happy and say "thank you" if people are merely ignoring you instead of actively silencing you. And if the people "helping" you actually give you the thing that kills you, at least you didn't die of exposure, I guess? Or something?

Its just. Every single thing you do as both a homeless & disabled person reminds you how utterly worthless you are to the """normal""" people around you. Every day. It's so demoralizing.