#they set it up enough that it'll be functional

[vampacidic]

what the fuck was that

[caterpillarinacave]

well this sucks

[macabrevampire]

chat i might be mentally ill ( ↖ guy that's suffered tremendously his entire life and is only getting worse)

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 

You swallow. 

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 

"No." 

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up the tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues. 

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been on their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?" 

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback, and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 

You grimace a little at the mental image. 

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

[imaredshirt]

I'm kinda really into the idea of Fiddleford meeting Stanley before meeting Stanford.

Pretty early on after being chased out of New Jersey, Stanley ends up being chased out of Kentucky and drives the night through Tennessee until his car breaks down somewhere west of Murfreesboro. He gets the car towed to a nearby garage, where a young mechanic takes one look under the hood and says he'll have it ready in a jiffy. All Stan will have to do is pay a few bucks inside, and he can be back on the road in no time.

Sounds great to Stan, except - well, he's broke. He can't pay the guy. He knows this, but the guy doesn't know this, so Stan spends the next few minutes trying to talk up one of the old-ish Stan-vac Vacuums he's got stashed away in his trunk, hoping to give it to the guy in lieu of cash.

Turns out the mechanic is a chatty guy himself, and Stan learns a few things about him: his name's Fiddleford (Stan calls him Fidds right off the bat, and for some funny reason the guy's over the moon about it) he likes building little gadgets and the like in his off time, and he's working at his uncle's garage for a few months to earn some spending money before he heads off to some back-up college in California.

Next thing you know, Stan's got the trunk popped open and Fidds is examining the vacuum, humming and hawing and narrowing his eyes at the shoddy design. The car's fixed up and ready to go at this point, but Fidds is taking the vacuum over to a workbench where he's got a set of tools nearby, and Stan's following him, trying to explain that the vacuum isn't bad exactly, it's just --

"So, the thing doesn't actually suck stuff up," Stan says as Fidds deftly pulls the machinery apart. "I mean, it'll pick up some dust bunnies for a few minutes before giving up, but then it kinda - uh, spits them back out."

"Well," Fidds says, squinting one eye to look into the dust bag. "Aside from the clogged exhaust port on this one, I reckon you just needa fix that shoddy wiring to the motor and adjust the coolin fan. That'll take care of both problems."

"Shoddy wiring?" Stan groans. It wasn't like he was the one who had made the thing. He was only slapping his name over the handle and selling it. "What am I supposed to do about that?"

"It's an easy enough fix ," Fidds says. He rubs his chin and plucks the motor up, looking at it thoughtfully as he twists it to and fro and then adds, "If you want it to perform its most basic functions, that is. But I bet if I tinkered with it enough, I could make it even better."

Suddenly, he's got this almost manic gleam in his eyes, and Stan would be worried if the guy hadn't already piqued his interest. "Yeah? Better how?"

Fidds glances around the corner at his uncle, who's snoring away in a plastic lawn chair, then looks back to Stan. "Better as in it could pick up a dust bunny hiding under a bed on the third floor from the kitchen." 

Stan's feeling a little manic himself. “Pal, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve just made this thing marketable to every single sucker from here all the way back to Jersey.”

Fidds doesn’t have the right tools there in the garage, so he says he’ll have the thing ready in two days. Which is fine with Stan, he doesn’t have anywhere to be anyway, so he asks if there are any secluded places where he can park his car for the night - which prompts Fidds to cheerfully offer up a spare bedroom back at his family’s farm. It catches Stan off guard, until Fidds explains the terms - he just needs to do some chores around the farm from sunrise to sunset, and that’ll take care of the room and the car repair, no problem.

So that’s how Stan finds himself in this little room somewhere out in the hills, sitting in a cushiony bed, suitcase at his side and car parked out under some sycamore and hickory trees. Fidds is at the door telling him what time dinner’s at and what time everyone gets up the next day to start with all the chores, and Stan is nodding, suddenly feeling like he could fall asleep where he’s sitting, even with the mechanic’s rapid-fire twang going on and on, which he doesn’t mind - the guy’s voice is nice. The bed is comfortable. The room is warm and dry and it’s about a thousand times better than sleeping in his car for two nights.

He kicks off his boots and he’s still nodding when he falls back, drowsy and relaxed, and falls asleep to Fidds’s voice explaining how the room’s available for a few weeks, as long as Stan’s up to working on a farm.

Stan wakes a few hours later to a plate of dinner sitting on the bedside table and some banjo tunes being plucked out somewhere outside. He looks out the window and sees Fidds sitting under a tree, sticking his tongue out as he adjusts the strings on his banjo before looking up and waving cheerfully at Stan. Stan waves back.

He wouldn’t mind staying here for longer than a couple nights, he guesses. Working on a farm wouldn’t be too bad.

(Throughout the weeks, they learn things about each other - like how Fidds’s family wants him to marry a nice girl, have a few kids, inherit the farm, forget about computers and physics and college - and how Stan’s dad kicked him out for ruining his brother’s future, and how his brother hasn’t talked to him in months and probably won’t for years)

(and once the vacuum is done, they try selling it together, and it goes well - until the vacuums are so strong that one dummy gets their arm sucked up into it right up to their shoulder, and someone says they lose a hamster to one - not that the dummy or the hamster suffer anything worse than minor injuries, but an angry mob chases Stan and Fidds right out of Tennessee and through Arkansas and all the way to Texas, where they find themselves feeling kind of despondent in some seedy little motel, and then Stan turns to Fidds and asks “Hey, you know anything about making the adhesive on the backs of bandages better? Or maybe just less painful?” and Fidds’s eyebrows shoot up and the manic gleam is back, and needless to say, they spend the rest of autumn being chased from one city to the next.)

[minus-plus-zer0]

OKAY! i have another one!! so hear me out. i’ve been really into alice in wonderland and.. what about like. a cheshire cat! reader? like they have their own subliminal space to enter and can do so with some of their body or their whole body and has cat like fangs, ears, tail. whose mischievous and stuff!! sorry thats a rant!!

or like a white rabbit! whose sweet and caring! and has rabbit ears and a rabbit tail and their quirk is to warp time??

Oh dear, I knew never watching Alice in Wonderland was going to bite me in the butt someday.

I'll still try and fulfill your request though! I can only do the white rabbit one though since I have a pretty good idea for how to write them. It'll be a bit long though to make up for not being able to write the cheshire cat reader. This took a while to publish since I had like 2-3 ideas for what to write but I hope the end result is good enough.

As always thank you for requesting!

Alice in Wonderland White Rabbit Reader x Bakugou

♡ Genre: Fluff, little suggestive, little crack ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x White Rabbit!Reader ♡ Tags: Alice in Wonderland inspiration

Your Quirk allowed you to summon telekinetic shields, all of which had the appearance of a watch and functioned like real time clocks. You could defend yourself with the shields or telekinetically spin the shields to go back in time by a few minutes. Because you were born with such a useful power, you knew you had to be a Pro Hero to use time travel for the sake of the greater good.

You often helped out your classmates on the field, including Bakugou Katsuki. You two were total opposites. Due to the nature of your Quirk, you were incredibly patient and cautious, always paying attention to the slight differences in the timeline each time you changed things. Bakugou was neither of those things, and always got into trouble. You often had to warn him of problems oncoming in the near future.

Despite your differences (or maybe because of them), you two quickly grew closer than any other duo in your class. You relied on each other heavily not just due to your Quirks, but also your complementary personalities. Just this afternoon, you had to save Bakugou from his impending demise.

"Bakugou!" you cried, hurrying to him as he sat on the dorm's living room couch. "Kaminari's gonna burst in through the entrance doors with a homemade confetti gun and he's gonna blast you in the face. We need to run!"

Bakugou set down the magazine he was reading on the coffee table. "I'm gonna kill him."

"No, please don't! We need to run!"

"I'll kill him and then neither of us will have to run! I'm saving us a jog!"

"No, you don't understand, he'll--"

"Bakugouuuu!" Kaminari yelled, bursting onto the scene. "Where are yoouuuuu?"

"You're dead, Dunce Face!"

"What the--who snitched on me to Bakugou? Agh!" Kaminari narrowly dodged an explosion by Bakugou. "Hasta la vista, Bakugou!"

You ducked behind the couch. Bakugou received a full confetti blast to the face. You sighed and summoned your time shields. You rewound time back to when Bakugou sat on the couch.

"Bakugou!" you cried, popping up behind the couch.

"AH! Fuck, shit, why the hell are you back there?"

You hurried around the couch. "Maybe because you didn't listen to me when I warned you the first time!"

He looked confused. "Is this something future me did?"

"Yes. Kaminari's about to come through the entrance with a confetti gun and we really, really need to run."

Bakugou set down the magazine he was reading on the coffee table. "I'm gonna kill him."

Bakugou stood up but you placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back. "Please, I've already seen you get blasted with confetti more than I've ever hoped to see in one lifetime. Just run."

"But I--"

"Bakugouuuu!" Kaminari yelled, bursting onto the scene. "Where are yoouuuuu?"

You grabbed Bakugou's wrist and summoned your time shields, spinning them and sending you both back into time. Kaminari walked backwards out of the entranceway as you returned to the past.

"I probably should've done that in the first place..." you said.

"I could've taken him!" Bakugou yelled.

You groaned and dragged Bakugou away from his impending doom. He kept protesting but didn't leave your grasp. He knew if he left your grasp, you'd just rewind time and stop him all over again.

You hurried over to the nearest small closet and shoved Bakugou inside the cramped space, shutting the door behind you two. The closet was only filled with a few random items people left behind, such as an unused deck of playing cards, a large dresser somebody left there long ago, and other unrelated things. You barricaded the door with the dresser. You knew your classmates wouldn't destroy school property just for a joke, so there was no way they'd be physically busting that door down if they couldn't open it normally.

"Why the fuck can't we just hide in one of our rooms?" Bakugou asked, leaning against a wall. The closet was small enough that he was still within arm's distance of you.

"Because that was one of the first places they looked in a previous timeline," you said matter-of-factly. "And Kaminari's not the only one searching for you with a homemade confetti gun."

"Our classmates are such nutjobs."

"Yes, but they're still our friends!" You lightly tapped Bakugou on the nose.

"You mean your friends." He tapped you back on the nose, somewhat more vengefully. "If I had it my way, our problems would've been buried six feet under ages ago."

"Well they're not, and now we're stuck in a closet." You rapped your knuckles on the closet walls. "There's not a lot of safe hiding spots, so let's just wait here until they pick another target and/or run out of confetti. I'm pretty sure they're gonna start blasting each other. I overheard them suggesting that in a different timeline and they were getting a teensy bit antsy until they found you."

Bakugou scoffed. "See? This is why I don't wanna call these nutjobs 'friends'!"

"But we eat lunch with them almost everyday..."

"I'm only there because you're there."

"Lies."

"Not lies. I never lie."

You both stood there, staring each other down suspiciously. You simultaneously both broke into grins.

Bakugou laid his head against the closet wall. "I'm being honest, you know that?"

You rubbed you arms, a little shy due to his earnestness. "You don't have to follow me around everywhere, you big dork..." You lightly punched him in the shoulder.

"You're the one that yanked me into a closet."

"I just want to protect you!" you said. "You know I don't like seeing people get hurt."

"I know I've told you this a million times, but stop worrying about me, okay?" He stopped leaning against the closet wall and got a little closer, which was easy since the space was so cramped. "You're always running yourself ragged for me."

"Only because I know you'd do the same." You beamed at him.

"Yeah... why do you think that is?"

"Huh?"

"...Nevermind. Shit, if we're gonna be in here for a while we need something to pass the damn time. My phone's almost dead."

"Mine too," you whined. "Let's sit down, I'm tired."

You both slid into a sitting position, your legs in-between Bakugou's.

"Since we got all the time in the world, quite literally with my time powers, I kiiiinda wanna style your hair!"

"What the fuck? No!"

"Pleeeease?" Your hands ran through the fluffy spiky locks before you. His eyes peered up at you, surprisingly innocent and curious as to what you would do to him. "I think you'd look really cute with a braid. I've been reading some fashion blogs and it'd look super trendy!"

"It'd look bad. Don't wanna. I'd rather do your hair." His hand curled behind your head, pulling you forward to him. "Yours is softer." He looked at you, cocky and teasing.

Sometimes Bakugou did things like this that really made you question the true nature of your friendship. You were the only person to seemingly see Bakugou's... flirty side? Was this flirting? You couldn't tell with him. You didn't know if he was being serious or not, given that he's never dated before you had no point of reference on how he would react in a situation like that. So this couldn't be flirting. Yeah, that's it.

But the way Bakugou was looking at you, all smug yet simultaneously a little flushed and nervous, made you doubt that thought. Just a little.

"Well?" Bakugou asked, his voice low. His hand was still in your hair, his head was still so close to yours. "What do you wanna do?"

You knew what you wanted to do. You've wanted to kiss your best friend for the longest time. But one thing you would never do was kiss and rewind. You couldn't live comfortably knowing that you got intimate with someone, but they just forgot. It felt wrong to mess with their memory like that. So you had never kissed Bakugou before.

You couldn't tell him that, you couldn't risk your friendship. Shyly, your hands exited his hair as you brought them back close to your chest. "Um... I don't know... I'm fine with anything you want, I guess?"

"But I was asking you, dummy!" He exhaled through his nose, his hand leaving your hair. "Again, I'm serious here. You're always thinking about what I want to do, what's best for me. But what do you want to do with your life? I won't judge you for your answer, if that's what you're thinking."

"Um..." You bit your lip, wanting to look anywhere but at Bakugou but there was really nothing to look at in this small closet space. "Well, if you really insist... I kinda wanted to kiss you."

"W-w hat?!" His face heated up.

"Like, everywhere. It's 'cause you've never had your first kiss before, so I wanted to see your reaction to a million different kisses with my time powers. But I know that's not cool, so I've never done it. I didn't want to bother you or ruin our friendship..."

"Try me."

"What?!"

"You heard me!" Bakugou started sweating a little but nonetheless, he wasn't backing down. "Do you damn thing. It's not like I'm gonna remember it."

"Bakugou, that's not exactly moral."

"It's moral if I'm telling you I'll allow it. I trust you and I wanna see what timeline we end up with."

If he was giving you the go-ahead, then you assumed this was okay...

"I'll be gentle at first, alright? I would never wanna hurt you..."

He looked a little frustrated, as if you weren't understanding something.

"...You won't."

You cupped his face and his eyes widened slightly. You wanted to give him his first kiss (it's been your dream for a while), but you'd rather dip your toes into the water than dive deep head first. So you leaned up and kissed him on the nose.

Bakugou perked his head up. "What?! I thought you--don't chicken out!"

"I'm not chickening out, I'm just testing the waters..."

"On the nose isn't the same! You gotta--"

You rewound time to before he started complaining. You returned to your new present time, giggling a little.

"...The hell?" he asked, still sitting in front of you awaiting his first kiss. "...Were you gentle?"

"No," you said, evilly. "You almost died of a heart attack from how good a kisser I was and I had to rewind to a point where you didn't die."

Bakugou cocked his head, looking at you deadpan. "Now why don't I believe you?"

You snapped forward and kissed his cute vulnerable forehead. He gasped.

"You'll believe me eventually!" you said, acting coy.

"You little--"

You rewound time to a point where he didn't want to retaliate against your sudden sweet kiss.

"Wha--you look too damn happy!" Bakugou said, pointing at you accusingly. "What the fuck did you do?"

"Bakugou, you told me it was your first time kissing..." you said, hands on your face looking shy as you turned away from him. "You didn't have to go that far..."

"What the fuck are you on about? I don't even remember what you're referencing! Just... what... what did we do?"

He looked genuinely anxious and you wanted to burst out into laughter because you literally did almost nothing besides a few kisses, but he didn't know that.

"Something like this," you said.

You cupped his face again and pulled his head forward, kissing him on the lips. You started soft, wanting your kiss to be something he could safely fall into. But he quickly bit your lip and pushed himself in, not settling for anything safe. The sensation was much better than whatever you'd daydreamed about, especially knowing that he wanted this, that this was real, and that his lips kept asking yours for more.

Bakugou moved much more eagerly and desperately than you. What he lacked in experience, he made up for by going all-in, all the time. He just wanted everything, all of you, all at once. But you were more focused on taking everything slow to make sure he enjoyed every second of your lips as much as possible. Your fingers dug through his hair, while one of his hands snaked around your waist to pull you further into his lap and your mind couldn't help but agree with all of it.

You broke the kiss and you both breathed heavily in each other's faces. Bakugou looked so incredibly vulnerable and exposed in the dim closet lighting, his mouth slightly open in surprise.

"Do you wanna settle on that timeline?" you asked.

"No." His mouth quickly morphed into smirk. "Keep going. I wanna see how far this rabbit hole goes. How many times you'll kiss me and still come back for more."

With his permission, you rewound time again to the same spot as usual, right after the point where Bakugou gave you the approval you needed for this idea. Once you emerged, Bakugou gave an undignified yelp.

His back instinctively hit the closet wall. "Shit! The fuck are you doing in my lap?" He eyed you up and down.

You curled up into a ball, still between his legs. "You pulled me here! It's your fault!"

"I did?" He looked so genuinely confused, it was so cute. But then he soon returned to his arrogant self. "Oh, I see. Of course you must've let me drag you in. You really are--"

You shut him up with your lips. He gasped in your mouth, frozen in place from the shock. But as your hands crawled up his neck, he sunk further into your embrace as he realized what you were doing. Then he pushed back, turning this kiss competitive. You just wanted him to stop mouthing off all the time, but he wanted to show he wasn't easily gonna surrender this moment, not when you were finally giving him the attention he so desperately craved. Bakugou kissed you with much more force than you ever gave him, his hands greedy with you knowing he was able to hold you after waiting so, so long. You broke through his waves of passion by biting his lip lightly to catch him off guard and slowing him down.

Your hands slowly danced around the collar of his shirt, feeling his rapid heart beat before you tugged him towards you. Now your sweeter lips could find better purchase upon his rougher ones. His lips mixed somewhat clumsily with yours, his technique suffering from the intensity of his nervousness and passion. His body felt like a jumbled bundle of nerves against your own. But his kisses oozed his personality, all the good and the bad, that you just couldn't help but want more of him, no matter what he gave you.

This kiss was longer, allowing you both to get your fill before you separated, both gasping for air.

"I think that was the best one so far," you said.

"Knowing you, you're only saying that 'cause you haven't tried anything else."

He got you there. The day had barely begun.

"I see that look on your face," he said, tapping your forehead which was so close to his. "I'm betting I'm right. You wouldn't look so shy in my arms right now if you've kissed me a lot more. But you're clearly not as shy as before..."

"Stop reading my mind, Bakugou, that's not supposed to be your Quirk!" You pouted at him, crossing your arms.

"Then rewind so you don't gotta hear me speak!"

"Well... I don't really want to. Maybe I want you to remember this. Maybe I don't want to be the only one who knows what these kisses were like... It's not what I thought it would be. Rewinding to catch your first kiss isn't as fun as making sure you share all the memories I have." Your hand ran through his spikes. His expression was so tender when you touched him. "So I really want you to remember this next part, okay?"

He stared at you. He nodded.

You slowly drew upon him, backing him against the wall as you leaned forward to kiss him. You felt his body automatically stiffen before you met each other half-way. His hands remained on your hips, copying your careful pace as you drank his lips in, savoring his sensations and showing him how much you wanted every memory you made with him.

Instead of fighting you or teasing you, he followed your lead, letting your mouth move upon his however you wanted it to. He let you take control of him. Bakugou bit your lip, just as you did to him earlier, giving the kiss a little more spice. As your hands dipped around his neck, his hands mirrored yours around your waist. He didn't rush through the kiss this time, didn't rush to see everything you had to offer as soon as possible like he was so starved for your affection. Now he wanted to do whatever you were doing, and to be with you wherever you were going.

His strong arms tightly pulled you against him as you continued your slow-motion makeout session. You wanted to relive this moment seconds after it started, but you didn't dare use your time powers so he wouldn't forget.

You finally let him breathe again, your foreheads still touching even though you parted. He gazed down upon you, lovingly.

"You gotta be my girlfriend after this," he said, voice quiet. "...Please? You can't tell me that meant nothing."

"Yes..." you said, and he served you the cutest smile you'd ever seen. "I wanna be with you, always. Just like we are now."

"Of fucking course." He laughed a little out of relief as he pecked your jaw a few times. You knew he'd never kissed anyone anywhere before, but damn was he a fast learner when he was copying you. He also couldn't help but give you one last hug, squeezing you like a stuffed animal.

He finally released you from the hug, his hands still clung to your body. "I'll always be with ya. Never wanted anything more. Jeez, I've been waiting for you to say that since forever."

You pecked him on the nose. "Guess I was just a little late. But you've probably been waiting as long as I have for you." He grinned warmly at you for that comment.

"Can we spend the afternoon hiding in here?" you asked. "I kind of don't want to leave... Not while they're still out there."

"I still think I could take 'em," Bakugou said.

"No offense, but from what I've seen I know you definitely can't take them. I'm saving you by keeping you in here." You poked his chest.

He looked exasperated with the suggestion. "Saving me, huh?" He pecked you on the forehead. "Well fine! I didn't wanna leave this spot anyways." He gave your hips a few appreciative pats. "I'll stay wherever you are. You're the only one I'd let boss me around like this, got it? I still trust ya so much."

"Gotcha! Here, hold onto me. I wanna rewind so we'll have more time together..."

You squeezed Bakugou's hand as you summoned your time shields again, rewinding further back.

However, you didn't notice that you had rewound time too far, moving the dresser back to its original position.

It wasn't until several minutes later that you realized your mistake. You and Bakugou made just a bit too much noise, leading to Kaminari opening the closet door.

"Hasta la vista, Bakugou!"

And you both were shot with confetti, full blast.

(Fun fact: The reader's Quirk was partially based off of a certain characters' time powers from Puella Magi Madoka Magica as well as the White Rabbit's watch, so it might seem familiar to some)

[copperbadge]

[ID: A screengrab of an app, with the heading "2024"; beneath the heading is an image of a grid decorated to look like a grassy field, covered with little digital plants such as trees, cacti, and toadstools. In the corner is a count of the plants, 117, and also the number one to indicate one real tree has been planted.]

Duolingo, for all its faults, has been really helpful for learning Italian, because it gamifies it exactly at the level I want. But it's also stalled in terms of what it can teach me; I've completed all the modules and it has started to become simply repetitive drilling. I decided I'd go off the paid subscription when the year is up, because I can do flashcards and translation on my own, and I wanted to find new ways to gamify that so that I would keep at it.

Enter Forest! When you want to focus on something, you open the app, set the amount of time you want to focus, and "plant" the timer. It basically locks your phone to a handful of apps (you can select which ones) so that you either have to focus outside of your phone, or focus on the apps you've allowed. If you successfully spend the entire time without "cancelling" the plant, it gets added to the grid. It also awards you coins which you can use to buy new kinds of plants, but slowly enough that you have to work a little for them. There's also a "friends" function where you can friend and compete with others, although I haven't explored that yet.

For me it's useful because it locks me out of stuff I shouldn't deal with while I'm studying, preventing me from, for example, feeling guilty that I haven't responded to a text immediately. It also gives me a little dopamine hit when my plant grows successfully, and unlike some other apps I looked at, once your plant has grown, you don't have to do anything further -- there's no maintenance, per se, which keeps it from getting overwhelming. It's primarily useful to me as a way of rewarding myself for doing something daily, which I will need once I'm not getting night owl chests and streak rewards from Duolingo. I've been on Forest long enough now that I know it'll work for me so I thought I'd recommend it.

Forest has a free version, but a lot of the features I wanted (custom tags, the ability to create a library of favorite settings, etc) were only in the paid version. That was a bummer until I looked at the cost of the paid version which was literally a one-time payment of $3. So I paid the $3 and honestly, more than worth it.

I use it for everything from locking me down while I'm doing my ADHD video game to timing how long I spend on writing and crafts to rewarding myself for doing my Italian lessons and breathing meditation.

[biteofcherry]

Talk to me about alpha!Ransom* 👀

*Don’t make him too mean please 🤣

Ohh, I'd put him in GOT verse, just to have him go through the horror of meeting his true mate 😆

Alpha Ransom is one of those socialite, trust fund, but also runs actual business grand money, who is cynical to the bone and doesn't give an actual crap about bonding and true mates. BUT he also knows how to play the public, so he spins those desired, romantic stereotypes when it's needed.

Hell, he's the one who convinced Harlan to let Blood&Wine lead a department focused on Alpha/Omega romance books. Which Ransom reads, too, though he will claim it's only to make sure they're not publishing utter crap.

He has a long list of Omegas he's fucked and ditched, as well Betas, especially those on more submissive side. Because while he claims he doesn't care about mating, he gets lizard brain when his hook-up presents for him, or chirps when he displays dominance in casual setting.

But really, he doesn't believe in true mates. He's convinced it's bullshit taught to naive Omegas to make them easier to wrap around Alpha's finger.

Until you come to the meeting you begged for for months. An aspiring, romantic writer who hopes to convince the scary legend, Mr Drysdale himself, to publish your book.

Few steps into his office is enough to almost knock you down. His scent has you almost letting out a needy whine, coming from that deep longing.

Then his head snaps up and his icy blue eyes meet yours. And he curses. Out loud.

Ransom is cynical enough to deny the intensity of that sudden pull he feels. It's incomperable to anything he ever experienced, no simple lust can come even close. And yeah, a big part of him wants to squash it all down. Deny it forever.

But there's also that primal hindbrain activating, growling: Mine.

It may be surprising, but he won't fight it. We'll, not entirely. He fools himself thinking he can own a sweet, loyal Omega, but not care about her beyond locking you on his knot and having you shine at his side at important functions. And with your soft romantic heart it'll be so easy to hold this power over you.

Or so he thinks...

[orange-demons-deactivated2024]

First kiss hcs of Ed, Bosch, Jamie and Luke??? 👀 Pretty plz with a cherry on top?

👀hehehe of course

Ed

He was on an adrenaline high after you and him stomped out some Shadaloo trash, who'd been tailing you two for days.

Thinking they had the upper hand, they tried to corner you two in an alleyway.

Obviously, they're not the type to listen to reason, so he'll let his fist do all the talking.

But one of those thugs was quick enough to hook him in the mouth, splattering blood over the left side of his face.

That was cute, Ed had to admit, but that didn't stop him from knocking them out cold with a brutal right cross.

After the dust settled down, you noticed his split lip, so you tried to wipe the blood away with your thumb.

But Ed grabbed your hand just before you could touch his face.

The adrenaline mixed with his possessiveness led to an unexpected situation between you two.

And without a second thought, Ed pulled you into a needy kiss.

You can taste the iron on your tongue as he wraps his arms around you, feeling the desperation on his lips.

Although you were the one who broke the kiss, Ed was the one who leaned in for more.

Bosch

Your first kiss happened when you forgot to bring your lunch to the gym, so you did the only reasonable thing and sulked face down on the mats.

Noticing your…predicament, Bosch asked why you looked so distraught.

You told him how you packed a 5-star culinary meal, only for you to leave it at home.

He rolled his eyes, holding out a container. "Here, and don't expect this to be an everyday thing."

You pushed yourself up, sitting cross-legged as you took the container from him. "What is it?" you asked.

Bosch said he knew you would forget to bring your lunch again, so he prepared one for you in advance, which made you stare at him.

"What?" he said.

"You're more domestic than I imagined."

"Just take your food." He shot back, feeling the warmth creeping up his neck. Great, now he's starting to feel embarrassed.

Unable to resist his cute face, you leaned in and gave him a short, sweet kiss as a thank you.

Bosch stiffened under your gesture, but eventually relaxed once you pulled away.

He lightly ran his fingers across his lips, trying to feel the sensation again.

But as you were about to join the others, you felt a slight tug on the back of your shirt.

"Hey," he muttered, eyes meeting yours. "Don't forget to thank me properly later."

Jamie

Your first kiss with Jamie happened when he was drunk.

He can be quite affectionate after a couple of rounds and tends to cling to you when you try to leave.

So it wasn't surprising that he wrapped you in his arms during a night out on the rooftops of Chinatown.

He smothered you to the point where you had to physically remove him despite his whines.

And when you thought that was the end of it, Jamie had you pinned to the floor faster than you could blink.

"Where do you think you're going?" he said in a drunken stupor.

He laughed, watching as you struggled against him.

Aw, don't look at him like that, it'll make him feel bad.

But Jamie knew just the thing to cheer you up.

His loose hair tickled your face as he leaned closer to you.

And although he was drunk, he was a functioning drunk. So he wasn't too sloppy in his movements as he gave you a kiss.

Jamie nipped at your lips impatiently, wanting to taste more of you.

And when he pulled back, he got a good look at your flustered face.

His grip loosened around you, which gave you enough time to try and wiggle out.

"You wanna leave so soon?... We barely even started."

Luke

Luke isn't the type of guy to shy away from affection.

In fact, he encourages you to give him more.

He likes to give you a lot of cheek pecks even before your first official kiss.

It happened when you had a movie night at his house.

You both ate sugary treats and buttery popcorn until your stomach hurt from the amount of food you two were eating.

He always invited you to his home to do random activities: like playing video games or setting up his new computer equipment.

After a while, you rest your head on his chest and snuggled closer to him under the covers.

You like feeling how warm he was and hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Luke grinned, seeing how cute your tired face was, and pulled the blanket over your shoulders.

He asked if you wanted to clock out for the rest of the night but you groaned, saying how you wanted to finish the movie.

He gave you a peck on your lips, "It's okay. The movie will still be here when you wake up."

The kiss was light and gentle.

And his lips were softer than you expected.

"Your lips are soft..." you said, before dozing off.

Luke laughed at your remark and engulfed your body in a tight hug.

[gummilutt]

Updated Inge Table Counter Controller

I am a big fan of Inge from simlogical's table and counter controller, it is a wonderful tool that helps us guide our Sims to make smarter choices about where to eat or place food. I love that I can have a breakfast nook that is actually used for breakfast, and a dining room that is used the rest of the day. But this specific home above proved beyond the tools ability, as it treats island counters the same as ordinary counters, and my Sim kept blocking his own breakfast spot by using that counter to place the group meal. Off to fix it I went!

I have added four additional functions to the controller:

Island counter surface use setting is now separated from ordinary counters, for scenarios like the one above where you want to stop your Sims from blocking an eating spot by using it for storage

Enable all/disable all option added, for those cases where you want to quickly turn off all options, for example on outdoor tables during winter.

Added alternative object model shapes, for greater variation and to better suit outdoor use.

UPDATE: Whoward from @picknmixsims has modified this object to make the cut offs for meal times more user-edit friendly. It is now defined by a BCON on the controller object, and can easily be edited by you to determine what the cut off should be for the parts of the day.

I have added a "Times" menu with the hours for each category listed, to help you remember what the cut offs are, for those of you like me that aren't good with remembering numbers. UPDATE: Now made dynamic by Whoward, so that it'll pick up and display whatever you set the hours to be.

I have only edited two out of the three necessary files, but all three are included in the download for the sake of convenience. If you had the controller previously please make sure to delete your old versions of "ijTableCounterController" and "ijCounterControllerPatch". Previously placed controllers will retain their settings, as long as you do not load the game with no controller in downloads. If this object is completely new to you, I recommend you check out Inge's original upload to learn more about how it works :)

Download from simfileshare (Has Inge's original meal time cut offs, as shown in the picture above. Note, there is a typo in afternoon, it should be 11-16) Download Ver 2 from simfileshare (Makes use of Picknmix edit to alter meal times to better reflect what is common where I live. Set to Breakfast 5-10, Lunch 10-16, Dinner 16-22, Night 22-05. I encourage you to edit and set what you want, but I know some people are not comfortable so I decided to add a version with hopefully more realistic cut-offs)

Original object was BG compatible I believe, but various models I chose are from later EPs/SPs so I recommend having all games to use this.

Credits: Inge, whoward at picknmix for the updated version and kindness in letting that version be shared here to make it easier for downloaders, and all his help that have enabled me to learn enough to understand Inge's original code and figure out how to adapt it. Thanks to all the great CC makers of things visible in pictures. If you wonder where something is from I am happy to see if I can find it.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hey lil bro, hope you had a joyful birthday 🎂 and as always, thank you for what you do.

I'm not sure which format would be best, but it's for those M6 who knew MC before. How would they react or behave if MC comes back with cognitive loss compared to how they were before? Like it wouldn't be really noticeable if you hadn't known them before, but it's not insignificant for those who did?

Totally understandable if this isn't something you want to tackle. (This prompt is unfortunately personal for me so pls feel free to seek clarification if you do decide to go with it)

The Arcana HCs: When MC suffers from cognitive loss

~ for headcanon purposes, MC is dealing with short-term cognitive loss post upright ending due to a head injury/new meds/unforeseen but remedial issue. this manifests as poor short term memory, slowed thinking processes, difficulty putting together words, etc ~

Julian

He hates that you just can't seem to catch a break but he's so, so, so very happy that this is a situation that lets him use his strengths for you. Few things make him happier than knowing he's helping

You do quickly realize that much of the reason he's able to cope with your sudden change in functioning is years of "doctor mode"

That said, he'll turn any situation into a bonding moment

Can't remember the word you're looking for? He'll turn into a walking thesaurus and rattle off any and all related vocabulary he can remember (which is quite a bit, with all that reading)

Difficulty processing information? No worries, he can share his own thought process out loud so you have something to follow. You'll get there in your own time

There are moments when he worries that the care he gives you won't be enough to fix it, but he also knows that nothing about your situation changes who you are, or how much he loves you

Overjoyed when he sees you start to recover and makes a point of commemorating every milestone. He knew you could do it!

Asra

It's a mess and they know it's a mess and the main thing they feel is grief that you have to experience loss like this all over again

Being someone who doesn't process grief or sadness easily, he's going to work towards making life beautiful for you again instead. He is nothing if not resilient, adaptable, and hopeful

Even if you stay this way for the rest of your life, they'll still love you unconditionally and savor every day they get to spend with you

And it's that mindset riddled with hope and triggers that puts him on eggshells. He's not pressuring you, he's not afraid of you, but he's terrified of making things worse or making you feel lesser

So very gentle and accommodating about any new needs. You can't piece your sentence together? Take a deep breath, join your hands with theirs, and they'll work it out through your bond

Struggling to remember what you were going to do today? He'll remind you if he knows, and if he doesn't, it'll work itself out

Watching you work your way back to your usual state tells them all over again that holding out hope for your healing is always good

Nadia

Deeply upset about what you're losing and even more angry with herself for why she's bothered about it - your thoughts and words were what drew her in and made her fall for you

But now, both of those things have been compromised, and under the concern that you're missing something core to who you are is the fear that her love won't be strong enough to weather it

And she hates that about herself

Which is why she's not going to burden you with this set of insecurities. Rather, she's determined to see you get better, and she's going to put all her faith in who she knows you to be

In the process she ends up realizing that slower thoughts and cumbered speaking don't change anything about who you are. You're still you, and she loves you unfalteringly

She also gets terrifyingly good at saying what you're thinking before you even realize you're thinking it in conversations

So, so proud of you every step of your recovery. She's still permanently losing her habit of springing trick questions on you

Muriel

Is it still you? Yes. Are you alive? Yes. So what if you need to take extra time to collect your thoughts? His personal record for deciding what to have for dinner spans days

(A/N: this is called procrastination, and going without eating for that long was not good for him and something he needed to stop)

So what if you don't have words for what you're thinking? He doesn't have words either most of the time. It's all good

He's still bothered by it, though, because you're bothered by it. He can tell how frustrated you are with yourself and he hates seeing the way it affects your self-esteem. He'll help however he can

Don't worry about finishing your thought, life in the woods moves at glacial paces. Take as much time as you need to keep going

It's okay if you can't say the words you want to. Gestures work just as well - in fact, it's never too late to learn a little sign

If anything, it's refreshing to see you slow down to his pace

So happy for you as you recover. It makes no difference to his love for you, but you're happier for it and that's what matters

Portia

Oh, she's upset to the point of coming across as angry

Not at you - of course not at you, she knows this is in no way your fault, but between her empathic heart absorbing all of your frustration and grief and her own concern for you, it's ... a lot

The extent to which she's projecting her own feelings of being held back by her situation onto you doesn't help either

Which is why she's not giving up on you. If you reach a point where you'd rather find a way to make life good as is, then she'll make her peace with it. Until then, it's full steam ahead to your recovery

It's still a struggle with her own impatience, though. She finishes half the sentences you start with uncanny accuracy, and then beats herself up for not keeping your space to work through it

She misses being able to toss ideas back and forth and hearing your feedback right away, but she's learning to value it more

Bakes celebratory cakes and sweets every single time you hit a milestone or seem to have clearly improved, and never stops reminding you what a loved and delightful person you are

Lucio

His only personally negative feeling about this is that your communications lag-time gets frustrating when he's got the attention span of a squirrel in autumn. He's trying, okay?

Other than that, you're not that much different to him. You still love him. You're still here, despite the "oopsies". You're still very kissable

What truly bothers him is the dip in your own self-worth. He'd have to be blind to miss the way you deflate or panic a little every time you struggle or fail to do what used to be so easy for you

To him, you're the best. You're his best. That's how you deserve to feel about yourself. And if you aren't, he wants to help you out of it

His encouragement doesn't come from telling you you'll recover or from putting together a meticulous care plan. It comes in the form of jokes and hugs and "don't worry about it, you're still awesome"s

Which, granted, isn't necessarily the best emotional support for when you want to vent or process, but he's not going anywhere

You saved him, so you're stuck with him for life. He's dedicated to you whatever the outcome, and immeasurably proud of you always

[inaconstantstateofchange]

bg3 modern!au idea where halsin is a conservationist, who mentions kind of despairingly to a younger colleague at a conference the way he's having such a hard time with outreach to get folks in his community aware of the wildlife around them and how important it is. the colleague makes an offhand reference to how tiktok is the way people seem to get connected to that sort of thing most nowadays, although hell if they have the patience to figure out the app, and wanders off to catch up with someone else. they will not realize until later (far, far later) the ramifications of this statement.

halsin is rather quiet for the rest of the event, makes his goodbyes, and then returns home to painstakingly research just how "tiktok" works, with the grim determination of a fighter entering the ring. if this is what it takes to raise awareness, then this is what he'll do. the cause is more than worth it.

the first roadblock he runs into makes him worry the venture will be over before its even started. the first few webpages he finds tell him patronizingly that his phone is too old to work for 'content creation'. and okay, so it's scuffed, and dented, and has maybe taken one or two tumbles into a mud puddle, but it ought to be more than serviceable! he goes outside and finds a patch of wildflowers, pulling up the camera function and shooting a shaky video. he returns to his kitchen table, squinting down at the results. he can see all of the distinguishing features of the plant that would allow him to recognize it in the wild, which means it's good enough to do its job. with a new resolve - that his family would have wryly labeled as stubbornness - he focuses his research efforts until he finally finds a webpage that will tell him how to make the app work with his phone.

when at last it starts up in a blare of sound and over-saturated colors, he grimaces, but presses on. it asks him to set up a username, and he types in his first name. the little circle spins for a moment, then tells him it's taken. he frowns, then adds a random number. 2. it spins again, same response. he frowns harder, then adds another. 6. it spins, spins, spins, then — welcome, new user @.halsin26! upload your first video to start using tiktok!

he decides not to overthink it. it'll either work out or it won't. he looks out the window, and judges there's still just enough light out. he returns to the little patch of wildflowers, and gives it a thumbs up. he starts a recording directly in the app, making note of the 60-second time limit with a grimace. to make the most of the time he has, he doesn't bother with an introduction, just kneels down next to the cluster of plants, careful not to compress the ground too close to their root system, and moves his hand just behind the flowering portion to visually distinguish it, and act as a scale reference. he keeps his voice low, since he doesn't want to overshadow the content itself, and quickly lays out where folks could run into this plant, its importance to its local ecosystem, and ways they could help its conservation. the most important things the average person can do, he states passionately as the timer begins its final warning, is to document the locations where they find said plants, so that the areas can be marked for oversight and protection.

he doesn't bother to look back over the video before he posts it. he knows what he said, after all. he stretches his arms up above his head, then massages the back of his neck where the muscles are growing stiff. as he heads back inside to start dinner for himself, he tosses the phone into a basket on the counter and forgets about it.

the video languishes in the algorithm for the evening, until a random user gets distracted from scrolling away from the potato-quality wildflower video someone's grandma uploaded and chokes on their spit as forearms that very clearly do not belong to anyone's grandmother enter the frame, gently cupping the air around the flower.

god i wish that were me, they type before they can stop themself. debating whether to bother hitting send, they choke again as an absolutely unfair voice begins to narrate the ecological importance of this particular plant. the voice is smooth and deep, just above a murmur with a pleasant backing rumble. they have never given a moment's thought to plants in their entire life, but all of a sudden they are invested. they don't even notice when their thumb hits 'send' on their comment, too busy swiping over to the profile to see if there are any other videos. it's empty of literally everything, default user icon, only-barely-not-randomly-generated username, only one video posted earlier that day. they go back to the video and copy the link to send to their friends, needing someone - anyone - else to understand the experience they just had.

a few more interactions like that, and the algorithm takes notice. it bumps the video to a few more users outside of the current sphere, and those ones like it too. more importantly, they are very likely to share the video with others, increasing the engagement far beyond anything it had right to expect.

by two days later, when halsin remembers to actually check the thing, it is sitting at a comfortable 2500 likes, and there is a whole fleet of comments waiting for him to review. some of them - many of them, actually - don't seem that relevant at all, and he frowns, but then he sees a few that actually seem interested in more information on the plant he'd described, asking questions about how wide its range is, if it could be found in this or that coloration, etc. these he responds to swiftly, then grimaces as he runs up against a 'character limit'? who ever heard of such a foolish thing. after a moment of glaring down at his phone, he sees that it will allow him to answer by video, and does so, stepping onto his porch and zooming in on the plants. (this blurs them into barely discernible blobs of pixels, but he does not notice.)

still others are curious about what other plants and wildlife he might be able to share about, and he leaves short comments under each letting them know that he will plan to upload some more videos soon, if there is an interest. one user has left a comment that he almost files into his mental "ignore" category, but goes back to reread at the last moment.

not convinced this isn't one of those 'booktok bait' things again but i stg there's a big ass patch of those fuckers behind a parking lot somewhere around here?

halsin responds to this one with a video too. now that he's getting the hang of it, it's actually a bit more convenient than having to type everything out. he thanks the commenter for sharing, then asks if they might be willing to do him a favor sometime – only if it wasn't any trouble, of course! – and grab a video or two of the area they referenced, and share it with him — or their local wildlife foundation, at least.

a few days later, he opens the app to check in to find that he's been tagged in a video by some user. bemused, he clicks on the popup, and it takes him to a slightly shaky but pristine quality video of an empty lot filled with tall grass. the person filming moves a bit closer, then zooms in, and halsin spots multiple cluster of that recognizable wildflowers, before the video ends and restarts. there's no narration to this one, only a barely audible music wheel spinning in the corner. the caption on the video says, @.halsin26 just in case you're not actually some weird account for a fetish i haven't heard of before, here's some of those plants you mentioned looking for.

[plasticfangtastic]

Cozy Corner Domaystic--Prompt: 3. Grocery Shopping, 18. Snow Day, 21. Road trip (sort of)

Charred Steak

A Butchlander fic

Sypnopsis: Butcher is in charge of taking care of Homelander.

Tags: Fluff?, non-canon anything, partially-depowered Homelander, depressive, one-shot, not proof read i die like this.

word count: 1.5k words

This is the forth time he’s heard this song on the radio, one can only tolerate the same country cover before been driven insane but is better than nothing, their car only had an old stereo and he rather not drive in silence with this company, they’ve arrived to their cabin and found it more than just barren, ordered to stay out of sight and hidden until further notice so it was just functional not comfortable but at least it'll do, the snow was piling up and the sun had begun to set-- all Butcher wanted was anything in his stomach and a drink to warm him up, then worry about tomorrow and the road.

Leaving the cargo behind he headed to the nearest town over an hour away, in normal circumstance he wouldn’t dare leave this guy alone but now he can’t go anywhere, he’s bound to the ground like any other sad sod in the world should-- or at least for the most part, but he’s not complaining he himself doesn’t want to do anything, he’s rotting away on his passenger seat or the floor, the most he’s spoken this whole drive to the middle of nowhere America had been to complain about the amount of ads on the radio then over this song.

But Butcher pays him no mind.

This drive is short compared to the last few days, the song just an annoying reminder.

The supermarket is a little small, but he can at least take a breather in aisle dillydalling as he reads the ingredients and cooking instructions, he was no gourmand much less Gordon Ramsey so he would eat anything.

Homelander much the same--he had no taste for food not eating much either, losing weight to a worrisome degree even his bosses had ordered him to feed him, so he stuffed the trolley with a decent variety of things in hopes he liked something, he ignored the ringing on his phones, too exhausted to deal with the rest of the boys after such a long drive, just wanting to get back and eat.

He picks two packs of steaks seeing which was the best deal, he should buy the cheapest chuck knowing Homelander doesn’t deserve anything but dollar store steak but he puts the T-Bone on the trolley nevertheless, he can’t really brush away the image of Homelander’s distraught, how dead he was, after all these days bound together Homelander feel more like a husk dressed and bleached than his archnemesis.

Reading his shopping list he got he milk, the hot cocoa, enough water for a month, he got the bread, butter, canned chili and beans, too many cans that at some point he’s unsure if they will eat it all, toilet paper, frozen vegs and lots of steak, he shouldn’t be buying candies... Homelander seemed to despise anything with fructose unless its coke.

But he still throws a few in there.

Butcher almost wishes the snow buries his car and leaves him stranded if that meant he can stay away from the blond.

But he makes it to the cabin, he looks up and sees no smoke.

He ran as if his life depended on it, his mind only remembers the Homelander of the past, he’s gone and he’s fucked.

The door slams open and he’s taunting the air with his gun but all there is a mess hovering a dwindling flame, wrapped in a blanket and shivering, his foot sticking out and blue.

“You’ll get hypothermia that way… don’t you know how to keep a fire going?”

Homelander doesn’t reply, his eyes yearn to light up but he’s just there immobile on the ground and if his head hadn’t move just a second prior he would had thought it was a corpse. 

Homelander doesn’t move when Butcher fixes the fireplace again, but he will pretend to not have noticed that the man squinted and smiled as the warmth enveloped him, he catchest that odd look in his eyes as he touches him to put that poor foot back inside the quilt.

Butcher does his things, putting things away wishing he would help or talk but all Homelander wants to do is sit by the fire like a cat.

“They said on the radio that the snow storm is only going to get worse… we will be stranded so if you want anything I didn’t get at the shops you better speak up now.”

Homelander says nothing.

“You… whatevah…”

Homelander doesn’t do anything, Butcher can fix their temporary residency for a couple days without protest.

He looks at his watch and realizes that Homelander hasn’t eaten or drank anything for hours, he looks at the man grunting as he forces himself to care for him, picking him up from the ground and finally earning a response from the man, he looks at Butcher wincing at him trying to push him away but while there is strength that doesn’t match those thin arms, he’s still weak.

Dragging him up, the man looks away from him-- he looks more angry than ashamed

“I’m gonna make dinner. Be useful and set the table.”

Homelander stood there as Butcher looks back at him and for some disturbing amount of time Homelander stood frozen, but without making a sound he floats and helps him out, he moves smoothly and quicker than most but not in a manner that seemed natural for him.

“Is that… good enough?” His voice is so dry, it hurts to listen, he nods for putting a table wasn’t rocket science– what are you making?”

Butcher grins surprised to hear the bastard wanting to chit-chat.

“Steak and veggies.” He says bluntly.

“Better than slim jims and whisky…” 

He sounds normal for a second which gets Butcher to turn around, he much rather listen to this version of him instead of the corpse tied to him.

“You got milk but no whisky… Did you forget?”

Butcher eyes light up in horror, the snow so thick outside he knows it probably not a good idea to travel anymore not at this hour.

“You did get slim jims…”

“Is better if I stay sober if am s’ppose to be stuck ‘ere with you until I get my next orders.”

Homelander smile is more somber than Butcher wants to witness-- he can tell he's bullshiting him so his hearing isn't all gone, this situation is dire but he still looks at the disheveled blonde with a bit of anxiety, his suit long gone replaced by dark coloured sweats, missing a sock and a beard that's gone from scratchy to scruffy, Homelander has been docile for the most part, Butcher becoming his nurse bathing him, washing his hair, shaving that god awful beard... he’s been comatose for weeks, waking up and being no different than a vegetable, moved from coast to coast away from Vought and their minions, Butcher has gotten uncomfortably familiar with Homelander, so when he acts alive its great but it annoys him.

It was weird for Homelander to talk or move this much these days-- Butcher almost gotten accustomed to the potato sack, he can't tell if Homelander will act out but Butcher has learned some tricks to keep him tame.

He lowers the flame letting the steak sizzle and crisp and the veggies boil without supervision for a moment, as he maneuvers around Homelander to take a pack of Werther’s candy from the pantry, Homelander watchest him closely as he rips the candy open.

“You've been a good boy. Haven't tried to run in a whole week… thought you deserved a treat”

“Twisted ankles hurt so much more than I expected it… simpler to break them… what’s the point of running if it’ll hurt afterwards... don't get me started on sore knees."

“You won’t run anymore, right?” Butcher teases Homelander, pressing the cream coloured candy in-between his fingers lifting it towards Homelander’s mouth– you’ll be a good sweet boy for daddy and stay right where I tell ya to stay, right?”

“Is not like I can leave you.” He looks out the window– is also snowing quite a bit… we both can’t leave each other either way."

“So you’ll be a good boy and behave?"

“yes, daddy” He says mockingly.

Butcher presses the creamy candy on the blond’s lip his tongue stretching and catching those calloused fingers, Butcher knows he shouldn’t get to know him more, he hates the bastard, but as the man suckles on his fingers, remembering bittersweet memories-- Homelander is so sensitive to the pain, so sensitive to everything else too... he'll do anything not to feel pain but something else.

It was wrong, it was sick but Butcher found it cathartic, more cathartic than the bruise on Homelander’s neck... now a sweet shade of olive, his mouth watered at the thought of being trapped together.

Homelander smiled crushing the candy as Butcher’s fingers escape those sharp toothers, still sharp enough to rip bone clean, he knows well... he got the stiches to remind him.

“I don’t like well-done steak.”

“Youse get what you get.”

“You don’t like well-done either.”

“Fuck.”

The snow piles up, Butcher and Homelander eat in silence, the snow piles up outside, and the two stare at their plates in awkward silence.

Butcher smiles just a tad as the man can only muster a sizzle on the meat.

“See you do like it well-done, luv.”

“Gives it some flavor… you forgot to season it.”

“Butter and salt is enough.”

“Your people colonized the whole world for spices—

“Shut up and eat your steak!”

Homelander smiles, chewing loudly as Butcher wishes he’ll go back to being silent.

[frankiensteinsmonster]

🎀Common Enough Mental Health Tips That Help Me Personally🎀

🍧- Freshening up with baby wipes if you can't bathe or wash over the sink

🍧- if you can't wash up at all, changing into clean clothes. Especially your underclothing.

🍧- Freshening up your clothes with alcohol if you can't wash them to get rid of some of the bacteria. It won't work forever, but it'll help a little.

🍧- Airing out your clothes helps too!

🍧- Keeping snacks and drinks you enjoy near your bed/wherever you spend the most time. "Junk" food is better than no food.

🍧- Prechopped/Frozen foods are a huge help! Don't feel pressured to avoid them for any reason. Social pressure? Is SOCIETY eating your meal?? Environmental concerns? Understandable, but WE Specifically need these things to function. Non-disabled people can pick up the slack for us. We can ask for better packaging options for the future as well! It's not your fault these things come in plastics.

🍧- Keeping your mobility aid and accessories together and near your bed if possible helps with organization, so you aren't as tempted to go without them and potentially hurt yourself. You are worth the effort.

🍧- Reaching out to your friends or otherwise loved ones. :') you can say hi. You can say "I don't have anything specific to say, but I just wanted to say hi" if you would like more of a script. They love you! They should be happy to hear from you! It's good to talk to people you care about and like.

🍧- Asking for help. Chores? 'Self' care? Eating? Accountability? Even if you are currently or ever unable to help them help you, loved ones are generally understanding and like helping! They should get that you are unable to do these things yourself, and they should set boundaries with you if they ever need to! Don't be afraid, we're all in this together. (Plus! That's extra hang out time :) socialization is good.)

🍧- Literally ANY form of dental hygiene is better than nothing. Gargle mouthwash, salt water, or even plain water. Brush without toothpaste. Chew sugar free gum. (Keep sugar free gum and any wrappers or containers away from pets!!! It is deadly and Will kill them!!) Anything. Please please please.

🍧- Make a point/an active effort to feel Good and Comfy! Layer up, make a blanket nest, watch comfort shows and eat yummy foods! Dress up or wear something comfy or comforting! Do something fun or new! Anything that makes you enjoy life just a little more!! You deserve to feel good, and sometimes that requires a conscious effort!

🍧- Accepting that as a person who experiences mental and/or physical unwellness, we will exhibit Symptoms and that's okay. Rest is good even if we need a lot of it in all forms and our less than desirable symptoms are morally neutral. We deserve love and support from everyone, including ourselves.

🩶- feel free to add on!

[yandere-wishes]

Okay so not an ask more of a Headcanon based on observation and the character he is based on, but I see Honest Fellow as someone who would both idolize/emulate and resent the rich. By his design his clothes, while they pay homage to Honest John with the patchwork pantleg and the misding pinky tip on his one glove seem very well-kempt, on top of that his hat and cane are practically emaculate that cane alone couldn't have been cheap though I wouldn't put it passed the sly fox man to have either swindled someone out of it or stole it from them outright. Point is I'm getting wants to be a rich man but hates the rich people vibes.

All of that is set-up for my headcanon that if he ever had a S/O you can bet he would get them jewelry and expensive clothes. Basically just adorn them in finery he had acquired through whatever means (cough, likely stolen or purchased with dirty money, cough) and proudly have them stand by his side. The thought to use them as a pretty little lure to catch even bigger fish might cross his mind, but I doubt he'd ever use them like that. Personally, I feel like he'd be to possessive to do that even if his darling wanted to help like that, after all what if he let's them go off alone and someone tries to take advantage of his poor darling? He doesn't think they're weak or foolish per say but who could protect them better than him? I think he'd have a difficult time even leaving them alone with Gidelle (only 90 percent sure I got that right), of course he trusts Gidelle, well as much as he can truly trust anyone anyway, but he's the brains of the outfit and unless he's personally by his darlings side he won't ever be truly assured something won't go wrong.

Let's say that darling isn't quite so understanding or compliant, his possessive side would certainly get worse. He can't leave them alone for one second qhat if they try and sneak off. Perhaps to save his pride he'd be a bit delusional, they're just a sweet little naive skittish thing that doesn't know any better, possibly they've never known a love as deep and unshakable as his, it's only natural there would be a learning curve for them and who better than he to teach them? I highly doubt he'd ever use physical punishments on his darling, probably doesnt like punishing them as he thinks they are just still learning, but that doesn't mean he won't find other ways to punish them if necessary. I do think if they actively tried to run he wouldn't waste a minute getting something along the lines of a necklace with a chain, something fashionable but functional as a reminder while they're learning, if that reminder isn't enough though he might go for a bejeweled pet collar and leash. If all else fails isolation in a secure location with him as their only source of human, or well beastman, contact would certainly allow them to see how much they needed each other. Whatever he has to do to make them understand it'll all be worth it later once they're settled and he can spoil them like they deserve.

TLDR: Honest Fellow would love to lavish his S/O in (possibly ill-gotten) finery and would actively and proudly show them off on his arm. Everyone can look and admire, but only he is allowed to touch.

This has got to be the most effort anyone has ever put into something they sent in my ask box!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

Okay so right off the bat let me say that YES!! This is canon I don't care what anyone says.

I can see him as "wanting what they have" but "not wanting to be them". Essentially he wants the ability to give his darling the best of everything. Yet still ultimately preserving his own "personality". Like you said Fellow hates the rich. They're insufferable, self-absorbed and loathsome, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't crave the glitz and glammer.

Now I can kinda see Fellow only really interacting with his darling at first to use her as bait. Winning her over with expensive gifts and pretty cloths (all from dirty money ofc) and sure darling does start to fall for his tricks. But here's the thing, the moment his darling begins to show the tinest interest in him Fellow FALLS HARDER!! All of a sudden he doesn't want ANYONE near his darling! Just him only him. Sooner or later his darling will start to feel suffocated, she'll be desperate to get away from him. Forsaking the pretty presents and charming "boyfriend" for just a moment of freedom. But Fellow's a sly fox, always one step ahead. He knows how to ensnare his darling before she's even run away.

Overall Fellow will lavish you, treat you like a queen, getting you anything you desire (through underhanded means) but you'll never be allowed to leave him. Forever trapped by his side on the island of pleasure…

Quick question is Fellow meant to be the same age as the third years or is he older??

[i-cant-sing]

Okay but imagine platonic yandere surgeon dabi who’s your dad and you try to pretend to be sick to get out of doing something or so that you don’t have to go to school and lawyer hawks is like oh no my poor baby is sick but surgeon dabi sees right through your act 😭

YESSSSS OMG FINALLY A GOOD ASK FOR THEM💖💖💖💖

Okay so let's set the scene:

Keigo and Dabi have plans for dinner and wanna take you out with them, and you don't want to go because you wanna sneak out and go to a party or something, but since that's not going to fly with them, you decide to fake being sick.

"Y/n? Sweetie are you ready- oh hun! What's wrong?" Keigo asked when he walked into your room, immediately concerned when he found you under the covers.

Alright, time for an Oscar worthy performance.

You slowly peaked your head out from the sheets, groaning at "sharp" lights. Barely opening your eyes, you sniffled.

"I'm sick."

Keigo's eyes widened and in a second, the first had become a coddling mother who just needed to shield you, her sick little Victorian child on the verge of death, from the bad air.

He climbed onto the bed next to you, pulling you against him and felt your warm forehead (classic "hair dryer" trick), cooing when you whined at his "too cold" hand.

"Aww my poor baby! Don't worry, I'm right here!" Keigo cooed, wiping the "sweat" of your forehead (which was just some water spray). "I'm gonna have your dad come in. DABI!"

Dabi walked in his suit, hair combed back and nothing to cover the bags under his eyes. "What?"

"What do you mean "what"? OUR BABY- oh sorry princess, too loud, hm? Dabi, our baby is sick!"

Dabi raised a brow at you, and you instinctively coughed, making him narrow his eyes at you.

"Why don't you check her while I bring her something to eat and find some painkillers?" Keigo said before running out of the room.

"So... what's wrong with you?" Dabi asked as he walked upto you. You glared at him before coughing. "Isn't that your job to figure out?"

"Clearly not sick enough for sarcasm. Come on, let's go."

"No, no-" you coughed again. "-I don't feel well. I'm feverish and my head hurts."

Dabi hummed as he placed a hand on your forehead. "Its not too warm. I can get a thermometer. Really, you just need a painkiller and you'll be fine-"

"No! No- I mean, it'll only get worse! I just need to stay in bed and sleep. And why do you need a thermometer? Aren't you experienced enough to know it by touch now? Can't you see how red my cheeks are? Are you even a real doctor-?" You stopped when Dabi swiped a finger across your red cheek.

"Makeup? Really?" He asked, eyes unamused as he looked at the reddish pigment on his finger. "And its got glitter in it too. You're an idiot."

"Am not! That's sweat!" You pouted but immediately whined when Dabi pinched your nose.

"Stop lying. Now get up and get ready. I'm not getting late because of you." He began getting up but then you held onto his arm and gave him your best puppy eyes.

"Okay, you got me! But please, I don't want to go to another dinner party! They're so boring! Why can't you guys just go to one without me, and I can just chill at home!"

Dabi narrowed his eyes at you. "Its a dinner hosted by your school! I don't want to go either but Keigo said it'll be bad for you if we don't attend these functions."

"I know, I know! But please, I already had to go to his work party and then your cancer research thingy and I just don't have anymore social battery left!" You cried out, like a spoiled little toddler, or at least that's how Dabi saw it.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he thought for a moment before sighing. "Fine. You don't have to go. I'll talk to Keigo." You beamed and leaned up to hug him. Dabi patted your head before pushing you away and leaving the room to inform Keigo.

As you were rejoicing at your small victory, Keigo suddenly ran in, hugging you. "Aww poor baby! Your dad tells me you're too sick to leave the house. Bed rest, strictly he says!" He kissed the top of your head. "Well that's alright! We'll cancel our plans too and stay at home with you!"

What?

"Eh? No, no! You guys go! I mean, don't spoil your night because of me-!" But he cut you off by pulling your face to his chest and shook his head.

"Nonsense! How can we leave you here all alone? Your dad's calling them to inform them we can't come. But don't you worry! Me and your dad will spend the night here in your room!"

You shook your head. "That's nice, but I don't want you to get sick too-"

"Oh don't worry about that! Dabi says whatever you have is not contagious at all! In fact, he was the one who suggested that we have a movie night and make a cuddle pile! You'll be healed by my hugs and kisses, princess!" Keigo said cheerfully before going on about what movies and snacks he was gonna get.

Meanwhile, you saw Dabi standing at the doorway with a huge smirk on his face, confirming he did this on purpose. Did he know you were going to sneak out?

Social battery, my ass. Did she really think I was born yesterday?