#this one is probably going on a poster!!! if not a t-shirt

[shatterboxin]

hello hi i'm back at it with ANOTHER cute mutants edit, this time brought to you by me realizing the cool new background i made had some VERY familiar colors

and god does this edit make me want to make that cute mutants zine finally

[solarmorrigan]

Steve Harrington is absolutely the sort of person to become emotionally dependent on a pet. He grew up lonely and he loves taking care of things, and here's this creature that loves him unconditionally and is dependent on him for care? He's a goner

He finds a kitten in his backyard, wet and cold and alone, but in pretty good shape, all things considered. It hisses and swipes at him, but it's also mewing pathetically, and Steve can't just leave it, so he manages to get the thing inside with minimal blood loss (all his) and cleans it up and feeds it. It's a lot more amenable to the idea of Steve once it's warm and dry and full, and by the end of the day, it's curled up and purring in the crook of his neck, and Steve is already prepared to die for this thing

He does recognize that the right thing to do is to ask around and see if anyone is missing a kitten, which he does do, but no one on his street or the next one over lays claim to it, and there aren’t any kind of wanted posters going up for it, so Steve decides he is now the proud owner of a cat

He names her Baby and dotes on her accordingly. (In his defense, the name is Robin's idea; she tells him that he treats the cat enough like a baby, so the name might as well fit. Steve's always been shit at coming up with names, so he just goes with it)

Baby is the world's most spoiled cat, which Steve readily admits. But isn't that what cats are for? She's a wonderful cat and she clearly deserves nice things and Steve is going to get them for her. Toys, treats, a plush cat bed, the best food, whatever he thinks she could possibly need or want. If "I work hard so my cat can live a better life" t-shirts had existed in the 80s, Robin probably would have gotten one for him and he probably would have worn it

Of course, it helps that Baby actually does adore Steve. With everyone else, she ranges from frosty to outright hostile (she's taken a particular dislike to Eddie, of all people, which is unfortunate, because Steve really, really likes Eddie); she'll consent to be admired, and she'll accept treats, and she might even let more familiar people pet her, but in the end she is very much Steve's baby. If he's home, she's stuck to his side like a burr, curled up wherever he is and purring away, content just to be with him. She still snuggles up in the crook of his shoulder at night, just like when she was a kitten, even though she's bigger now and is a bit less easily accommodated

It goes without saying that Baby is strictly an indoor cat. Steve lives right up against the woods and there are predators out there, and people in town drive like assholes, and Steve won't take the chance of her being eaten or run over or meeting some other horrible fate. He really doesn't think his heart could take it

But of course, because all cats are terrible bastards at heart (affectionate), Baby darts out the back door one day as Steve is coming in off the patio, chasing after some other small animal that Steve can't even see, and she's out of the backyard and up towards the trees before Steve can do much more than make a grab for her

And Steve, who has survived interrogations and monster attacks and many situations objectively much more stressful than this, does not panic. He does spend half the night wandering around in the trees with a flashlight, shaking a bag of cat food and calling for Baby, but that's not panicking, that's problem solving

He eventually gets too cold and too tired to keep going and has to pack it in for the night. He holds onto some shred of hope that she'll be waiting by the back door when he wakes up, wondering why the hell it's taken so long for him to come let her in, but apparently that's not the way life works, because the patio and all areas around the house are still distinctly catless come daybreak

Eddie shows up sometime mid-morning, just as Steve is preparing to head back out and look for her. He has genuinely never seen Steve so upset; he looks like he might actually cry if he doesn't find that damn cat, which just isn't something that Steve does. But he's actually fucking distraught, and Eddie simply can't have that, even if Baby is his nemesis, so he goes to the phone and makes some calls

He cashes in on favors, he makes promises, he actually agrees to pay Mike ten bucks to show up, but he gets the kids, all the older teens (the only reason Robin hadn't been there already is because Steve hadn't paused long enough to tell her what was going on), and even the Corroded Coffin boys up to Steve's house to comb the woods for Steve's damn cat

It's Eddie who finds her in the end, a shock of pale, mewling fur actually stuck in a fucking tree. The cliche nearly kills him – either that or trying to climb down a tree one-handed while holding a cat. He's surprised she actually lets him pick her up, but then again, she's been out here all night, she's cold, and at least she recognizes Eddie. Maybe this is the beginning of a truce

Or, she might go back to hissing and swiping at Eddie any time she the mood takes her, but Eddie doesn't even care, because Steve is elated to have Baby back, so fucking happy that he doesn't even seem to notice that she's digging her claws into his arm as she clings to him for dear life all the way back to the house. Eddie will deal with anything that Steve loves that much

Steve pays for pizza to thank everyone for putting their Saturday on hold to search-and-rescue a cat, and everyone warms up and eats their fill before slowly filtering back out of the house. And later, after Baby's been cleaned up and fed and properly doted on and is purring away curled up over a heating vent in the living room, Steve takes Eddie upstairs to show his thanks in a much more thorough manner

After all – Baby is very important to him, and he's more relieved than he can say to have her back, but she isn't the only thing that Steve adores

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Diana helps mediate. Stinky Dad and the Alien Guy observe.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny’s space-watching time is very important to him. He’s pretty sure it’s on his schedule, even.

Every few days—and even more days in a week, now that people are relatively certain that he’s not going to start hitting the medical staff—Danny gets wheeled over to the big window to stare out at the moon.

The moon hasn’t changed all that much since his first few visits, since. You know. It’s in space. Still, the stars shift in their positions, and sometimes they face Earth, and sometimes they do not, and a couple times Danny sees people flying out there, which is super neat.

Sometimes Danny sees maintenance workers out doing repairs on their buildings, too. They wave back at him when they’re not busy or carrying something, which makes Danny’s core bubble and spark with joy.

So, Danny is watching the stars twinkle in the sky with all the meditative calm his Obsession requires when something plops onto his head. It doesn’t hurt, but it does put pressure onto his neck. Ow.

Danny hisses automatically, but he already knows who it is—the quick-fast-kid-who-hasn’t-introduced-himself practically vibrates against Danny’s skin, all excited by omg/omg/misch/iefomg.

Typical. Danny wants to feign a bite, but his neck kind of hurts. He settles for grumbling. “What?”

“Dude,” the teenager says, or, uh, Danny approximates he says something kind of like dude, anyway— “Want to come see a feoht?”

Uh. “A what?” Danny asks, ignoring how the guy’s chin keeps digging into his scalp. It might be the most non-medical physical contact Danny’s had since he broke down with Diana. Maybe.

The teen backs up, and models some very quick punches into the air, making his own sound effects to match. It’s all very impressive, or whatever. Danny’s not going to applaud, though; his arms are tired.

“…Sure.” It’s not like Danny has anything better to do.

“Berstan!” the kid chirps, and—

Danny clamps down on his wheelchair wheels because holycraptheyaremoVINGFAST. His wheels aren’t on the ground—the teen is carrying him, chair and all—!

He’s going to be in so much trouble for running. Danny’s wheels touch the ground, and he drops straight to the floor. His hands shake all the way up to his elbows as he grips his wheels. He is going to be in so much trouble when the nurses look for him and he’s not there.

Oh no. Oh no.

“Here we are!” the quickfast teenager announces, grinning. They’re in a room with a big, rubberized floor. It’s basketball orange. The rest of the room is virtually indistinguishable from the cloth folding walls Casper High uses to divide the gym into smaller gyms—giant cloth panels line every surface that isn’t the floor. Walls. Ceiling.

Well. It’s certainly…sound dampening. There’s vents, though. So. At least they can breathe.

The other teenagers Danny recognizes yell out to them, cheerful as ever. One waves—the kid behind him waves back, and then they’re all clustered together, pleased and breathing heavy and slightly sweaty.

“Feel alright?” one teen asks—Danny recognizes him after a second; he usually has a leather jacket on over his brightly colored shirt. He isn’t sure what the huge S is for, but hey, it’s a cool emblem or whatever. Danny used to have his initial on his…

…Danny doesn’t want to think about that, actually. He doesn’t want to think about anything about home at all.

Oh. Someone asked him a question, and now they’re all looking at him for answers. Danny nods jerkily—something sloshes inside his skull, though, which. Ew. He scrunches his face up when everyone else starts to look worried about his expression, though; it’s no big deal! It’s just! Gross!

The boy who is very fast pats his hand before sliding to the other side of the room. There are buttons there, which he presses; the room shifts, just a little, to make a piece of the floor turn away in favor of a rack of weapons. The teenager who’s always masked, but is now in an exercise shirt, whistles approvingly, and two of the teens—whoah—start flying off to grab at the equipment available.

…There’s some cool stuff there. Danny. Danny might…

He doesn’t want to fight, per se, but. Um. Weaponry is intrinsically cool. There’s no doubt about it. Half the reason he liked to play Doomed was collecting the newest and coolest weapon to blast at all his enemies with! And Tuc—

—and—

—Tucker—

Something clicks right up in front of Danny’s face.

He flinches.

“You good?” the teenager asks, big blue eyes on him as Danny struggles to breathe. “Do you want hweorfan?”

Danny gasps around three uneasy breaths before his ears catch up. Or. Well, his ears work, but his brain doesn’t know what the teen is saying?? Danny shakes his head anyway—he doesn’t want more to happen. He wants less.

The teenager frowns. Danny immediately worries that he did something wrong. “Okay, but tell me if you change your mod.”

As soon as Danny figures out what that is? Sure. He’ll tell him.

In the meantime, the kids split up into groups; one set of two goes to one side of the gym and the other goes in the air, floating on the other si— wait, they can float??

…Danny stares, and two ostensibly human-looking teenagers take to the air, loudly teasing the two left on the ground, and, yeah. They’re flying. Danny watches as the one on the ground starts counting, ready to start their match, only to interrupt his own countdown for a sneak-attack at the start and a PIFF of a smoke bomb going off. Danny can’t see the buzzing kid disappear from sight as the air begins to thicken, but there’s a distinct taste of JOY/games/VICIOUS that flutters through him that tells Danny that, wherever he is in that smoke cloud, he’s living his best life.

 And. Well.

The fighting is—there isn’t a better word for it, it’s just so damn cool. There’s kicking and punching and throwing and tossing and—sure, Danny can take a few hits and deal out some surprise punches when he has to, but these kids know what they’re doing, which is so cool, because once Danny lost the benefit of gravity mid-fight basically everything Mom had trained in him had been thrown out the window. The physics were just never right.

(And— Mom—)

Like, all the punches are happening at speeds that Danny can only kind of follow. His neck starts hurting from trying to follow them—but he can’t stop watching, and the kids are really having a blast. They’re laughing. They’re teasing. They show off, even, stopping to pose and flex and be admired by their sole observer, which Danny obliges with some gentle claps. The others are quick to jump on any distraction, though, and are more than willing to have Danny be the center of attention while they sneak up on showstoppers, stick or lasso in hand.

On one hand, Danny should probably be more alarmed by the sight of kids acting as literal child soldiers training to be combat ready. He…he’s pretty sure he’s meant to be one of them as soon as he’s recovered enough to get trained.

And…it is scary. It is kind of a scary thought that Danny might have to go back to…go back to fighting and getting hit and hitting and everything that fighting means.

On the other hand, there’s no one here. All the kids here are Danny’s age, and they’re not fighting because someone is making them; they’re having fun, and their job is to help people.

…Danny puts his legs higher up on his wheelchair, until he can wrap his arms around his knees. They’re supposed to beat up threats, but they don’t think that Danny’s a threat. They’re letting him sleep in a bed and get medical care and making sure he gets medication and everything. They let him hang out with their children and he has toys and fidgets to pass the time, and maybe he’ll have to pay them back later, but… isn’t helping out because he got helped only fair?

And they let non-humans live on Earth! That one teen’s stinky dad said that they could help Danny stay on Earth, he thinks. Or, uh, it’s what he thinks the green guy translated that as? So as long as he doesn’t leave, they could even protect him from the— all the bad stuff on Earth! So really, all Danny has to do is work on getting better. He’s safe here. Diana is here, the stinky dad is here, and there’s a whole team of super-people with super powers ready to help people.

Danny’s safe. He’s calm. He’s fine. He’s…worried that Diana doesn’t know where he is, but she’s smart and there’s probably cameras.

He watches the teens play around with various weaponry like they’re his model rocket. There’re thrown projectiles and giant hammers and dodgeballs and sticks, staves, and lassos; someone pulls out a shield, of all things, glittering gold and gleaming with something that itches at the back of Danny’s eyeball, and there’s a gun that sh—

Danny only breaks out of the memory of RUNNINGRUNNINGRUNNING when he realizes that someone is holding him. He’s choking. He doesn’t know who’s holding him, but they’re not hurting him right now and he can see a crowd of other colorful figures around him, which means he’s not with the Guys in White.

He’s hyperventilating. He can’t help it. He can’t stop it! His lungs hurt and there’s no end to the stress pressing out of his chest. Someone is holding him; where’s his chair? Did he lose it?? That’s really expensive medical equipment—they’re going to be so mad at him—!

Someone lifts him out of the stranger’s arms. It’s one of the older quick-buzzing humans. Not the teenager, and not the oldest one, he thinks. Danny can’t tell. He can’t breathe, and it’s hard to focus.

He’s shushing Danny like he’s a kid. Danny would be insulted, except he can’t breathe, and he really wants someone to help him, and his eyes are all weird and he can’t see and he doesn’t know where he is and his core hurts and his chair is gone—

Oh. The guy puts Danny’s hand on his chest and models breathing in with one big, visible breath.

Danny breathes in.

The guy models breathing out. It’s a long, slow breath.

…Danny struggles through the follow-through, but he manages. Well. He chokes hard enough to cough, twice, but…close enough.

The colorful forms milling about slowly disperse, until it’s largely just Danny, and the fast guy radiating very measured levels of calm, and his friend in black and blue, who is eating a sandwich. They breathe in, and they breathe out. That one guy eats his sandwich.

Danny looks around. He’s…the room he’s in is really big. Tables. Benches. Little stands of foo… Oh. He’s in a cafeteria. Cool.

…He squints through the new haze of green in his eyes. He’s probably strained something, but there are more important things at stake here: can he get some real food here?

“Where is here?” Danny asks. Rasps. He’s mostly horizontal, so manipulating his head around to glance at his surroundings is kind of a strain on his neck. Is that a hot dog cart?

“Wistheall,” the two say simultaneously—the guy in black and blue and a bird on his chest swallows his sandwich. “…Want a snakka?”

You know what? Danny’s going to assume that this means a snack. Sure! Why not. Nodding his head so quickly hurts, but he’s also not walking anywhere, so it’s not like it’s a full-body pain. The buzzing-quick guy sort of just…carries him around and asks Danny what he wants, and the bird guy gets it for him.

The little vibrations the guy is giving off are tinged a little with wor/ryworry/worry, but the guy’s mostly…at peace? Forcibly shoved it all down? Danny and the guy are practically chest to chest at this point, so it’s probably just that Danny’s close enough to feel even really quiet things.

His suit is super smooth, by the way. It’s not, like, skintight—there’s a little armor underneath, Danny can feel—but the fabric itself is like super slick. It’s cool. Texturally.

Also, he gives Danny a tube of something that are clearly off-brand Prongles, so Danny’s mostly just enjoying that instead of wondering what’s up with this guy and his friend.

“Are you okay?” the guy finally asks, his chatter mostly winding down into a question Danny can recognize. Danny swallows his bite of chips with a swig from his water bottle, and nods. He’s…unsettled, but he’s fine. He doesn’t know where he is, but he didn’t know where the teenagers had left him either, so this is about what he expected.

Even under his red hood-and-mask, the guy’s eyes are kind. Kinda worried. Not mean. “Something bad happened?”

…Danny looks back at his chips. Something bad happened, but it didn’t happen recently. “No,” Danny muttered around the crumbs in his mouth. He swallowed dryly. “Not…not now.”

The vibrations slow, and dim, melancholy lacing through the air. The sensation makes Danny itch. “Before?”

Danny nods. He thinks about his body melting from the outside in, his face dripping off in chunks of wet matter, his throat torn open still screaming.

“It was a—“ Danny tries, but he doesn’t actually know their word for gun or blaster. He just forces his fingers to make a familiar symbol, holding his own middle and end fingers back, leaving a shaking, uncomfortable thumb and pointer.

The quiet pew pew sound effects probably aren’t necessary, but the more detail, the better, or something like that.

Danny remembers how hot it got. Just…all the heat and light, and he could smell smoke right up until he couldn’t. And his face…everything hurt—everything still hurts, even—but the scary point had been when suddenly his face hadn’t hurt, and there was nothing left to feel.

…The guy holding him pulls Danny’s fingers away from his face. Oh. Danny was pulling at his still-green, still-healing wound. He. Uh. He doesn’t remember starting to do that anymore.

“Sorry,” Danny whispers. He swallows something wet from his sinuses to his stomach, and has to fight back the memory of a blood-and-ecto-and-flesh slurry taking its place in his esophagus as he tried to crawl away to die. Again.

The man sends out pulses of sorrysorrysorry through his skin. “Me too,” he murmurs back.

Then Danny gets hitched up—Danny squawks—and gets thrown into a better position over one shoulder, so Danny has better height to see from and a better perch in the guy’s arms. Danny drops half his prongles on the floor in the process. “Want to go find your chair?” the guy asks, body vibrating just a touch outside of Danny’s conscious awareness. Still, even without seeing the guy’s face, his whole body radiates sympathy/curiOSITy/Hungry.

…Didn’t they just eat?

Either way, Danny’s not torn between staring sadly at the ground where his prongles lay cold and bared to the cruelty of the world or getting up to go find his chair. “Yes,” he agrees, and uses the flat of his forearms to haul himself up higher onto the guy’s shoulders. Kindly, the guy in red doesn’t even budge. “Thank you.”

“Na geswincan,” the guy reports back easily, which Danny is pretty sure is a less-formal you’re welcome. Too bad there’s a whole language’s worth of context Danny’s missing out on here. His friend even snags Danny an extra can of prongles, and is kind enough to rips open the seal for him.

Nothing beats recovering from a crying jag like chips. Danny takes them earnestly.

The quick-fast guy hooks his arm onto his friend’s, and the world starts to stretch and blend into the in-between planes of reality, slices of world layered atop each other. The guy smashes through each one and pulls them both along for the ride.

It’s not quite like dunking his head in the portal, but it’s not not like sticking his head in a homemade portal either. Danny shakily pulls out a chip and starts chewing. He’ll just take the ride as it comes.

*

“Superboy.”

Kon winces.

“Robin.” Wonder Woman’s eyes turn to the more remorseful end of the bunch. “Wonder Girl. Impulse.”

“Wedidn’tmeanto!” Bart wails into a pillow, which. Fair. Cassie is sweating from possibly every pore she’s ever had (and maybe even a few she doesn’t??), and Tim is doing that stoic-faced thing that means he’s flipping the hell out too much to even tell his face to make expressions about it.

Kon just looks…miserable. Just absolutely miserable.

“…Triggered by firearms, maybe…?” Tim mutters under his breath, which means that he’s theorizing about their guest’s symptoms rather than coming up with solutions-oriented paths out of this confrontation and Cassie wants to shake him because this is NOT the time, Timothy Jackson Drake, except he’s kind of made of mortal human flesh and if she actually shakes him too hard he might die.

“I hope you understand how deeply irresponsible it was to take our patient out of his rooms without any form of supervision from either myself, his medical team, or an adult up to speed with our patient’s medical and psychological needs.” Wonder Woman’s voice is sharp—and her eyes are on Timmy Wonder Boy, who’s barely paying attention, making it clear that the majority of her ire is currently on him. “All four of you are being taken off of mission rosters for the next month in favor of remedial training. I hope that you are all satisfied with the decisions you made.”

“Fiiiine,” Cassie groans. Kon slumps in place. Tim nods without really looking.

Bart, still wailing at lightning speed into his pillow, continues doing…that.

[seattlesellie]

hi angel i saw u say you wanted more fluffy ellie requests and i thought about maybe something along the lines of the cute pics she has of you two in her phone idk it’s just something i thought of u don’t have to write it if u don’t want to i just love ur blog and everything u write 💗💗💗💗🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

not about love ♡

pre-dating slightly loser college!ellie 🦕 incoming !! basically u go through ellies phone and find… something. part 1 of… maybe?

warnings: slightly mean ellie for a second, sexual tension, mentions of weed and alcohol.

part 2

Tic-Toc, the gentle sounds of the ancient clock in Ellie’s room filled the thick air. a gift from Joel. It was a warm, lazy afternoon. You almost fell asleep, almost. Her bed smelled like her, so did the ruffled, Nirvana t-shirt you were laying on. Everything in this room practically screamed Ellie. The scent, the sketches on the wall — of Dina, and Jesse, and you. Why did she have more sketches of you than anyone else? A dinosaur lego, a miniature solar system, obscure band posters, Oh! here’s the pin you gifted her once!, two pairs of mismatched socks, a random rock (“It’s from like, the moon” she said. It was from the local science museum.)

“El” you whined, receiving a gentle hum in response.

“I’m bored” you exclaimed with a heavy sigh. It's not as if she owed you any attention, she told you she had to study. For some reason, some odd reason nor you or her could put your finger on, you had to be there with her. “Well” you excused. “It’s not like I have anything better to do, right?” A lie. What about your project due Monday? Nevermind.

“Catch this” she exclaimed, tossing a serene light blue stress ball directly at your face.

“Ow!” you whined, yet again. If only you knew what those whines did to her.

“Sorry bro, gotta finish this fucking question. She said, flexing her sore hand. “Fuck this fucking Prof, seriously” She mumbled, clearly annoyed, clearly frustrated. Ellie had this thing, well, if you could even call something that she only had specifically with you a “Thing” — where she had to call you by those stupid names. “Dude” “Bro” “Jeez man!” just to see you squirm. Youd flinch ever so slightly, a fleeting reaction that betrayed a hint of offense flickering in your eyes. Every time you couldn’t help but pout, couldn’t help but look a little bit hurt, it did something to her. It wasn’t because she liked hurting you, God knows she didn’t. It would give her a glimmer of hope, of light. Shed journal about it, too;

“I called her Bro again. She looked really sad. Why does she get sad? I’m so fucking stupid. It’s probably because no one else calls her fucking bro, I’m literally delusional. Also had expired fucking Pizza. Worst day ever. Shit. Not that bad because she smiled at batted her eyelashes. God Ellie you need therapy.” YOURE A DUMBASS!!!!”

Half an hour had elapsed, brimming with Ellie muttering to herself under her breath. lighting a blunt, burning the blunt, passing it to you, begging you to give it back after 3 seconds.

You were pretty sure you had gone through every single app on your phone five times already. Stalking rando’s on Instagram, watching ASMR tiktoks, talking shit with Dina in the groupchat. How much more of this boredom could you take? My god, you were humming a stupid melody to yourself.

“Griiiind boy you know I grind when I pull-“

“Shh”

Did Ellie just shush you?!

“Excuse me?” You said.

“I’m trying to concentrate. Also what the fuck is a Fartulum?” Ellie retorted, withdrawing slightly and punctuating her frustration with stomps on the floor. God, she was too fucking cute.

“Can I play on your phone?” You questioned innocently. One more opening and closing the same App and you’d have lost your damn mind. You could practically see the Candy Crush candies popping inside of your brain every time you closed your eyes.

“No” she answered bluntly.

“Why? you scared I’ll find your nudes? Not gonna look- Swear on my li-“

You could hear her eye rolling, somehow.

“I dont have fucking nudes” she affirmed with a touch of exasperation.

“Someone else’s?” you said quietly. Your tone almost exposed you. Almost.

“Psh… no” Ellie said in return, just as quiet. Her tone almost exposed her, too.

Wish I had yours. Shut it, Ellie.

“Then let me go on your phone” You whined, got off the bed and almost slipped on one of her belts that laid on the floor. So messy, so, so Ellie.

She cast a sidelong glance at you, her eyes darting from the corner of her vision. Her grip on the pen was incredibly tight. It happened every time you got near, got too close to her. Whether it was clutching the strings of her hoodie, her knuckles turning white with tension, or her toes curling in a clenched stance. Shed never ever admit it to herself, cool, calm & collected, but fuck did you make her nervous.

You settled yourself on the chair beside her, causing her to divert every ounce of her attention back to her assignment, shifting it solely onto you. You. You. You.

She gazed directly into your eyes, and a peculiar warmth flooded your face. Its funny how even after being friends for all this time, making eye contact with her managed to stir something within you. She asked you about it once, mid fight. “You never even look at me when we talk!” she huffed. “Yes I do!” no you dont. “No you don’t!” and when your lips quivered, turning you in, she left it at that.

Ellie scratched the back of her neck, her arms flexing subtly with the motion. You gave her that look, the look that made her cheeks go bright pink, her hands clam up. She bit her lip. “Fine”. You won, flashing her a toothy smile she couldn’t help but grin at.

And there you were, with Ellie’s iPhone 5C (Yeah, she never got that buying a new iPhone every 2 years phenomenon) laying on Ellie’s bed, in Ellie’s room.

“Ew - Ellie what the fuck? why is your screen greasy?!” You squirmed, fingertips grazing over her slightly sticky screen. Is that fucking chicken nuggets residue?

“Shut up, dude. You asked me for my phone so deal with the consequences”

Dude.

You rolled your eyes, proceeded to wipe the screen of her phone with the corner of her cozy flannel bedsheet. Her phone was really warm. One more month and it would probably set on fire.

“Password?” You questioned, and shifted to lay on your stomach, your cheek caressing the pillow. It had a little auburn colored hair laying on top of it.

Ellie huffed and waited a second before she responded, contemplating again. It’s harmless, fuck it.

“2222”

“Okay, seriously - you could get hacked with that dumbass password”

“Pffft” Ellie huffed. “I’d fucking beat them up if they tried robbing me” she said, ever the brave.

“I’m not… talking about robbers, Ellie. Like, hackers?”

“Same thing”

“You cant beat up hackers they’re- Nevermind” you sighed.

2222.

If the room was classic Ellie, god, so was her phone. Default Apple background, because she truly couldn’t be bothered. iMessage, Instagram with four pictures on her feed; One of her arm slightly flexing her tat (who the fuck was the bitch who commented “damn” under there?), one of a stray cat wearing her grey beanie, a meme that says “Fuck sex. Let’s do something romantic like play Fireboy and Watergirl on CoolMathGames.Com” (God, she thought she was so funny for that one. 6 Likes, one from you, one from Jesse, the fake Instagram account you and Dina created for Joel, her ex Cat, and one from Dina and a spam bot). Next to the Instagram laid the NASA app (of course), Call Of Duty for iPhone (Made her sleep for only fifteen minutes one night), calculator, 9GAG (People still use that?!), and… her gallery.

You pursed your lips, contemplating the situation. Should you?after all, Ellie said; No nudes. So what could possibly be on there?

Of course.

You couldn't contain a soft giggle that escaped your lips, earning an inquisitive whine from Ellie. "What's so funny?" she grumbled, unable to resist her curiosity.

“Said you were studying, so study” You said, while scrolling through her gallery.

As you readjusted your position on the bed, you unintentionally swiped to the left, revealing her albums. Just harmless browsing, right?

“Screenshots”

“Funny memes”

“Pics to send Jesse when he’s being stupid”

“Dhhdjsjsou”

“Stink ❤️”

A picture of you, laying on the grass, a bright, toothy smile spread across your face. It was from your Instagram, the one you deleted because you thought you looked dumb. The one Ellie commented a for once unsarcastic “Woah�� on.

The album was locked.

You felt your throat go dry, heartbeat speeding up. Your leg started shaking, and God, you hoped she would come and snatch the phone off of your hand.

But she didn’t. She just shifted in her sit, cleared her throat and resumed her studies.

You shouldn’t have. But you did.

2222

Unlocked. Success!

You felt like screaming at the top of your lungs. Was it even hotter in here now? Extra humid today? you bit your lip, it almost hurt.

A picture of you and Dina. A selfie you sent to the groupchat two weeks ago. Ellie doodled a green heart on it. You were sweating. A picture of you on Christmas last year. That same day you had your stupid fight on. You were wearing a Santa hat, mug of hot Coco and tiny white marshmallows in your hand.

Your stomach felt as if it were infested by a swarm of Ellie looking butterfly’s.

A picture of you sound asleep, in Ellie’s bed. She was mid-moving a hair strand away from your face. It was blurry. You recognized that top.

You were wasted that day. Blabbering uncontrollably about how you had to crash on her bed, because you were scared your new roommate would think you’re stupid, and dumb, and an idiot, for getting drunk at a frat party.

You couldn’t understand why Ellie didn’t want to help you. You almost kicked her when she said she couldn’t, that you’d be better off in your bed. “I snore. And I kick in my sleep - Seriously” You almost cried. You called her a bad friend, a fake one, because — isn’t that what friends are for? Shouldn’t they have your back when you’re a babbling mess? Hold your hair for you, put you to sleep, take care of you?

Ellie couldn’t sleep that night.

When you laid there, right on her bed, her face went so red and hot you could fry something on it. She almost hit herself in the face when her chest grazed your back. When your leg caressed her’s, and ended up on top of her thigh, she almost screamed. When you shifted to face her, an angelic, sound asleep expression on your face, she swore she almost died. The string of your top came off, revealing more of your shoulder, and the strap of your bra, Ellie turned around so fast she almost woke you up.

She slept for 20 minutes.

When she woke up, she had to make herself remember it. Remember you, laying with her.

So she took a picture. An innocent one.

You almost jumped when the pen fell slipped from her hand and she turned around to face you.

“What are you doing?”

Whats in her notes app?

♡

part two

[dandelions-143]

Just One Night

Jisung Masterlist

Member Masterlist

Pairing: Bad Boy Jisung x Older fem!reader

Word count: 3,243k

Warning: - MDNI, 18 + ONLY, Alcohol consumption, Sexual content, Mature themes, Explicit language

Summary: What happens when Jisung meets a very beautiful, slightly older woman at the bar he frequents? Will their age difference be a deal breaker or is something else going to stop them before they even get started?

You arrived at a small, seedy bar with chipped paint on its wooden exterior, flickering neon signs, and a cracked, weathered door. Having moved to town a couple of months ago, you were now settled into your new apartment and job, and were looking for local spots to unwind. You just wanted some fun, a place where you could enjoy a drink and relax.

You got out of your car and crossed the gravel parking lot to the bar. The door creaked as you stepped inside, revealing a dimly lit interior with a smoky haze in the air. The bar was small and cramped, with worn wooden floors that creaked underfoot. The walls were decorated with old, faded posters of rock bands and neon beer signs that cast a faint, colorful glow.

A long, scuffed bar counter stretched along one side of the room, lined with mismatched barstools. Behind the counter, rows of dusty liquor bottles were stacked on shelves, and a tired-looking bartender wiped glasses with a rag. The faint hum of a jukebox in the corner played a classic rock tune, while a few patrons huddled in small groups around rickety tables, engaging in quiet conversation or staring blankly at their drinks. The overall atmosphere was one of worn-out charm, a place that had seen better days but still held onto a sense of gritty authenticity.

Your tense shoulders immediately relaxed; the atmosphere was right up your alley. You walked over to the bar, took a seat, and shrugged off your leather jacket. The bartender stepped over to you, "What can I get you?" He eyed you for a moment, then spoke again, "We don’t serve those sweet fruity drinks. It’s beer, rum, or whiskey."

You only smiled at the older man, his salt-and-pepper hair falling into his eyes. "I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks, please." The man nodded and started preparing your drink. Your eyes scanned the room, noticing a few pool tables in the far corner.

Amidst the smoky haze, you saw a group of guys gathered around one of the tables. One of them, in particular, caught your eye. , his sandy brown hair falling across his forehead and a white t-shirt stretching across his broad chest, stood out effortlessly. His handsome features and piercing eyes gave him an air of confidence and rebellious charm. He held a pool cue with ease, lining up his shot with precision.

Next to him were a few of his friends, all engrossed in their game. One of them, a tall guy with black shaggy hair and tattoos snaking up his arms, laughed loudly as he took his shot. Another, an older-looking guy with short dark curly hair and a band tee, leaned against the wall, sipping on a beer and watching the game unfold.

As you watched, the guy holding your attention looked up, his eyes meeting yours across the room. For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. He paused, a small smirk playing on his lips as he held your gaze. You felt a thrill run through you at the intensity of his stare. After a moment, he gave you a subtle nod, acknowledging your presence before returning his focus to the game.

Your drink arrived, but your mind was still on Jisung and that electrifying moment of connection. You took a sip of the whiskey, feeling its warmth spread through you as you continued to watch the game, intrigued by the mysterious bad boy who had just noticed you.

As you watched, you noticed the man smiled a lot, his smile big and toothy, and it was beautiful. His loud laugh made him seem young—probably too young for you. That thought snapped you out of it, and you went back to sipping your drink.

After a few minutes, you felt a presence next to you. “Hey Ricky, I’ll have what she’s having,” a smooth male voice filled your ears. You glanced over, and the man you had your eyes on was sitting next to you. Up close, he was even more handsome. His skin was smooth, but you could see a little stubble on his chin. He had a playful energy, curious big brown eyes, and a natural smirk that made you bite your bottom lip just a bit.

“Hi, I’m Jisung.” He smiled at you and leaned in a little closer. “I saw you staring,” he said in a softer tone, his eyes dancing with genuine playfulness. You raised a brow at him, “Who said I was staring at you?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "You’re cute. What’s your name?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eye. You couldn't help but smile at his confidence, feeling a spark of excitement. “I’m y/n,” you said simply and picked up your glass, taking a sip just as his glass was set down in front of him.

Jisung took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. "Y/N, huh? That's a beautiful name," he said, his voice low and smooth. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "So, what brings a gorgeous person like you to a place like this?"

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks but kept your composure. "Just looking for a little fun," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of playful challenge. "And maybe a bit of company."

Jisung's smile widened, his eyes twinkling. "Well, you've found some. And trust me, I'm a lot of fun," he said, his tone filled with a mixture of teasing and promise. He let his fingers brush against yours on the bar counter, the touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You leaned in, closing the distance between you. "Is that so? What makes you so confident?" you asked, your eyes locking onto his.

He chuckled softly, his gaze dropping momentarily to your lips before meeting your eyes again. "Let's just say I have a way of making nights unforgettable," he whispered, his voice dripping with seduction.

You felt your heart race, the intensity of the moment making the room feel hotter. "Prove it," you challenged, your voice barely above a whisper. Jisung's smirk deepened, and he leaned in even closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. "Oh, I intend to," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. "But first, how about a game of pool? Winner gets to make the night unforgettable for the other."

You couldn't help but smile at the proposition. "You're on," you replied, feeling a thrill of anticipation as you both stood up and headed to the pool tables. The night teetered on the edge of something electrifying.

Jisung motioned for you to follow him to the pool tables where his friends were still caught in a game. “Fellas, this is Y/n. Y/n, that’s Hyunjin and Chan,” Jisung introduced you. You nodded slightly. Chan nodded back, while Hyunjin greeted you with a mischievous grin. “Hello.” It was as if he knew something you didn’t.

The two men went back to their game, and Jisung handed you a pool cue. “You know how to play, right?”

"Of course," you replied confidently, taking the cue from his hands. "But don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're charming."

Jisung laughed, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, positioning himself to break. "Let's see what you've got."

Jisung positioned himself at the pool table, his eyes locked onto yours with a mix of challenge and playfulness. You took your place opposite him, feeling the weight of the pool cue in your hands. The room seemed to grow quieter, the smoky haze and dim lights creating an intimate atmosphere around the two of you.

He broke the rack with a powerful shot, the balls scattering across the table. "Your turn," he said, stepping back and giving you a clear view of the table. His eyes never left you, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze as you lined up your shot.

You bent over the table, aware of his eyes on you, and took the shot. The ball rolled smoothly into the pocket, and you straightened up with a satisfied smile. "Not bad, right?"

Jisung smirked, leaning against his cue with an easy grace. "Impressive," he admitted, his voice low and smooth. "But let's see if you can keep it up."

The game continued, each turn filled with tension and flirtation. Jisung made a particularly difficult shot, the ball sinking into the pocket with precision. He walked around the table, his body brushing lightly against yours as he passed. "Your move, Y/N," he said, his breath warm against your ear.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the close proximity, but you kept your composure. You circled the table, lining up your shot with careful concentration. As you bent over, you could feel Jisung's intense and unwavering gaze on you.

You made the shot, the ball clicking into the pocket, and stood up with a triumphant smile. "Looks like I'm giving you a run for your money," you teased, your voice carrying a hint of challenge.

Jisung's eyes sparkled with amusement and something more. He moved closer, his body almost touching yours. "I like a challenge," he murmured, his voice dripping with flirtation. "It makes things more interesting."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you found yourself leaning in, your faces inches apart. "Careful what you wish for," you whispered, your eyes locking onto his.

Jisung's smirk deepened before he leaned over the table and took his shot, the ball sinking into the pocket with ease. "Your turn," he said, his voice low and filled with promise.

You moved around the table, feeling the heat of his gaze on you with every step. The game continued, each shot a mix of skill and flirtation, the tension between you growing with every turn. Between each shot, you both sipped on glasses of whiskey that the bartender magically refilled with a snap of Jisung's fingers. At first, you thought that was odd, but once the alcohol was in your system, you stopped questioning it.

At one point, Jisung leaned in close, his hand brushing against yours as he adjusted your grip on the cue. "Here, let me show you," he said, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. The touch of his hand sent a spark through you, and you felt your heart race at the closeness.

You took the shot, the ball rolling smoothly into the pocket. Jisung's eyes met yours, his gaze filled with a mixture of admiration and desire. "Well done," he said, his voice husky. The game continued, and by the time the last ball was pocketed, the air between you was charged with electricity and deep yearning. It felt like you both craved more than heated looks and flirtatious conversation. Jisung stepped closer, his eyes dark with desire. "Looks like I win," he whispered, his lips just a breath away from yours.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest, the intensity of the moment making the room feel hotter. "And what does the winner get?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Jisung's smirk deepened as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come back to my place with me and I’ll show you," he murmured, his voice dripping with seduction.

You felt a thrill of anticipation, your body tingling with excitement. You simply nodded, your lips pressed together, trying not to grin from ear to ear. You wanted some fun tonight, but this was not what you were expecting at all. You were not the type to go home with random strangers, but you needed this... almost desperately. The fact that you would potentially be spending the night with a hot younger man... well, you were NOT complaining.

Jisung gently took your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours, and led you out of the noisy, dimly-lit bar into the cool, refreshing night air. The walk to his car was filled with a charged silence, each step echoing the unspoken emotions between you. The anticipation was almost palpable, a tangible tension hanging in the air. As he walked slightly ahead, you sensed the quiet confidence in his stride. When you reached his car, he paused for a moment, looking at you with a soft, reassuring smile before opening the car door. The mix of excitement and nervousness bubbled up inside you, making your heart race as you slid into the seat.

The short ride to Jisung's home was filled with a charged silence, punctuated only by the hum of the car engine and occasional glances exchanged between you. The city lights blurred past, casting fleeting glows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. You couldn't help but steal glances at him, your mind racing with a mix of curiosity and excitement.

Jisung drove with a quiet confidence, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting casually on the center console, his fingers occasionally brushing against yours. The subtle contact sent shivers down your spine, heightening the anticipation of what lay ahead. The streets grew quieter as you left the bustling part of town, the surroundings becoming more serene and upscale.

As the car turned into a secluded, tree-lined avenue, you noticed the houses grow larger and more opulent. Your curiosity piqued, wondering just how successful Jisung was to afford such a lavish neighborhood. Finally, he pulled into the wide driveway of a grand, modern mansion. The sleek, architectural design of the house was breathtaking, with large glass windows reflecting the moonlight and a meticulously maintained garden framing the entrance.

Your eyes widened in awe as you took in the sight of the expansive home. "This... is your place?" you asked, unable to hide the surprise and admiration in your voice as the car came to a stop. Jisung smiled, a mixture of pride and amusement in his eyes. "Yeah, not what you expected, huh?" he replied, stepping out of the car and coming around to open your door. His gentlemanly gesture made your heart flutter.

You stepped out, feeling the cool night air on your skin, and looked around in wonder. "It's incredible," you admitted, your voice filled with genuine amazement. The house was unlike anything you had ever seen, a perfect blend of luxury and modernity.

Jisung's hand found yours again, and he led you up the stone steps to the front door. "Wait until you see the inside," he said with a teasing smile, unlocking the door and pushing it open. The interior of the house was just as impressive as the exterior. High ceilings, elegant furnishings, and tasteful decor created an atmosphere of sophistication and comfort. The open-plan living area was spacious, with plush sofas, a grand piano in one corner, and a fireplace that added a cozy touch.

“Wow..." was all you could manage to utter. When you turned around to face Jisung, he was right there, so close. His hands slid slowly around your waist, tugging you closer to him. “Come on, beautiful,” he said as he began to lead you towards a large staircase and up to his room.

He kept his hands on you at all times. Jisung's room was dark, only the light from the moon casting a blue hue through two large windows above his bed. You took a moment to admire the room before turning your attention back to Jisung. With a playful smirk, you gently pushed him onto the bed, taking control of the situation.

"You've been teasing me all night," you whispered, your voice confident and sultry. "Now it's my turn." Jisung's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and excitement as he watched you climb onto the bed, straddling his hips. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

Your hands moved with deliberate slowness, tracing the contours of his body through his clothes. You could feel his muscles tensing under your touch, his breath hitching in anticipation. You took your time, savoring every moment, every reaction.

Leaning back, you started to undress him, your fingers working expertly to remove his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest. You ran your hands over his skin, feeling the warmth and the rapid beat of his heart. Jisung's hands instinctively reached for you, but you gently pinned them above his head, your eyes locking onto his. "Uh-uh," you teased. "Tonight, I’m in charge, pretty boy."

You leaned down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along his neck and collarbone, making your way down to his chest. Each kiss elicited a soft moan from Jisung, his eyes dark with desire and admiration. “That’s it, let me hear you.” Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was Jisung himself, but you were way more confident in being yourself with this stranger than you expected to be.

With every touch, every kiss, you felt the power shift in the room, the anticipation building between you. Your hands and lips explored every inch of him. Your teeth nipping at his hot skin, your tongue tracing his tattoos, your lips kissing over his nipples, drawing out his pleasure, making him writhe beneath you.

“My god, Y/n.. please.. I’m so hard.” Jisung was begging you. Begging you for more, craving your touch, whining to be deep inside you. And you loved every pathetic word that fell from his mouth. “Don’t move.” You commanded and he stayed right there on that bed. His arms above his head, his legs spread wide with his hard cock hard and erect, laying on his lower stomach. You made sure he watched as you got up from the bed and undressed for him. Slowly taking off every piece of clothing agonizingly slow.

“Condom?” You simply asked. He didn’t hesitate to reach over to his night stand and grab a condom from the drawer. He hurriedly rolled it on, completely ready for you.

“Y/n, I can’t take it.. touch me.. please.” Jisung began to sit up and you moved towards him, pressing your hands down on his chest until he was flush against the dark red sheets of his bed. You straddled him once again. Finally, you positioned yourself over him, your bodies aligning perfectly. Sliding yourself down onto his cock, you let out a soft moan. Loving the smooth feel of him sliding inside of you, stretching your walls around him.

“Fuck..” Jisung spread the word out in a lazy tone, his half lidded eyes looking up at you. Taking in your beautiful naked body on top of him. You took control, setting the pace, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring every sensation. Your hips moving in slow circles at first, riding him in an almost delicate manner. Jisung's hands gripped the sheets, his eyes never leaving yours as you both moved together, the room filled with the sounds of your shared passion.

You leaned down, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. Your hand found its way to his throat as you began to ride him harder. His little whimpers growing into loud desperate moans until you began to squeeze the sides of his throat. The intensity of the moment, the connection between you, made everything else fade away. It was just you and Jisung, lost in each other, the world outside disappearing in the dark, moonlit room.

Jisung moved his hands from the sheets to your body. His hands finding their way to your round ass, squeezing hard, guiding your hips to move even faster. Soon the room was filled with heavy breathing and his loud whiny moans along with your softer more quiet little moans. It didn’t take long for you both to cum, Jisungs eyes staying on your face, his bottom lip between his teeth as your head fell back and your body tensing when your orgasm rolled through you.

Collapsing onto his chest, you both lay there for a moment, catching your breath. Jisung's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "That was... incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. "Yeah, it really was," you agreed, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. After you both had caught your breath you rolled off of him so he could get up and discard the condom in his bathroom. While he was gone you wrapped yourself up in his sheets and sat up to look around his room.

It was very eclectic actually, with posters of rock bands, poets, and some people you had no clue who they were. He had a computer a top a small desk. A bookshelf in the corner filled with what looked like random books and notebooks. There was also a couple of guitars leaned up against the wall beside the bed.

When Jisung walked back into the room you asked, “Do you play?” Your eyes moved to him who was now in grey boxers but still shirtless. "Yeah, I do," he replied with a casual shrug. "Music's always been a big part of my life." He walked over to one of the guitars and picked it up, strumming a few chords. "Would you like to hear something?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours with a playful glint.

You nodded, intrigued. Jisung sat on the edge of the bed, the guitar resting comfortably on his lap. He began to play a soft melody, his fingers moving gracefully over the strings. The music was soothing, filling the room with a gentle, harmonious sound that made you feel even more connected to him. Then he began to sing… which startled you but, in the best way.

His voice was smooth and captivating, each note resonating deep within you. The song he played was a beautiful ballad, filled with emotion and sincerity. As he sang, you felt a sense of intimacy that went beyond the physical connection you had shared earlier. It was as if he was baring his soul to you, and you couldn't help but be mesmerized by the depth of his talent and the vulnerability he was showing you.

You clapped for him when he was done, Jisung shook his head bashful then moved back on the bed. “Come here.” He moved the guitar so you could sit between his legs then he put the guitar on your lap. Jisung showed you a few cords, helping you play a bit of the song he had just played for you.

You giggled when you strummed the wrong cord or messed up in some way. You liked the way his chest rumbled against your back and his entire body laughed with him when he laughed. After a while you two ended up tangled in the sheets once again, talking about anything and everything.

With all the surface questions you two were asking one another you hadn’t asked how old he was yet and you couldn’t help but wonder exactly how old he really was. “So.. can I ask how old you are?” It was very random but, you wanted to know. Jisung brushed your hair off your neck, “How old do you think I am?” He countered, a smile playing on his lips.

You rolled your lips into your mouth in thought, “Mmm… maybe.. 27?” At least that’s what you were hoping. You were pushing 30 and had never been with anyone younger than you, even for just a night of casual sex. Jisungs smile grew wider, “I’m 24, actually. How old are you? Let me guess.. the same age? No wait.. 22. You look 22.”

“24!” You sat up causing Jisungs eyes to widen and follow your movements. “I’m.. 30!” You expected him to freak out more than you, actually. To instantly start trying to get you out but, the handsome man just began to chuckle softly. “Y/n, who cares? I certainly don’t.” You looked over at him in surprise, “You don’t?

He shook his head and pulled you back down, this time with him sliding easily on top of you to rest his narrow hips between your legs. “No, I don’t.” Then he kissed you deeply, his lips moving against yours with a passion that made your head spin. The kiss was slow and intense, filled with unspoken promises and a connection that felt deeper than you could have imagined. When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, a tender smile playing on his lips. "Let's not worry about anything else tonight," he whispered, his voice soft and reassuring.

Jisung woke slowly, your naked body pressed to his and all he wanted to do was pull you closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you snuggling into the curve of you. He wasn’t expecting to want more of you but, he did. Sexually and emotionally.. it was odd to him. He never got attached like this. Especially not with a one night stand. As he lay there he made up his mind he wanted to keep seeing you… he just hoped you felt the same.

Just when he was slowly drifting back to sleep his bedroom door swung open. “Jisung! Get your ass up! You’re late..” the loud demanding voice died down when his eyes landed on Jisung and you tangled in bed. You screamed and shot up pulling the covers off Jisung and wrapped them around your body. Jisung slowly sat up, unfazed that an older man was standing in his doorway and he was fully exposed.

“Ms, L/n?!” The older man exclaimed in utter shock. Your eyes lifted to his face when he said your name. “Mr. Han!” Your stomach dropped and you suddenly felt sick. Jisung was more alert now. His eyes shifted between you two with concern and confusion, “You know my father?” He asked.

“Father! Hes my new boss?!” You practically screamed, embarrassment etched all over your face.

I’m not so sure about this one! Y’all let me know what you think! I appreciate all the love 💕

Tags: @supernovanetwork @cashtonsbetch @katsukis1wife @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @chuuyaobsessed @doohnut @babigriin @iovecb97 @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @cookiesandcreammy @rockstarkkami @kayleefriedchicken @moonchild9350

[aajxs]

always and forever , SATORU GOJO !

the one where you're gone and satoru is reminiscing.

pairings - satoru gojo x fem!reader

contents - angstttt!!! , hurt/little comfort , mentions of death , mentions of blood , satoru gojo is bad at feelings , maybe ooc gojo (??) , arguing , idk what else to add so lmk if I missed anything

w/c - ???

a/n - the highly requested part two to 'meant to be'. I didn't really know how to end this but I hope it turned out okay 😭

masterlist , part one .

SATORU WAS ASKED the same question a lot. 'Is there anything you don't have?' He'd laugh this question off, give the person a cocky smirk and continue with his day. If he could, he'd give an entire list of things he doesn't have. Your name would be at the top of the list every time.

Satoru couldn't stand the atmosphere around jujutsu high now that you were gone. He used to sleep well knowing you were only a few rooms down peacefully sleeping, bundled in blankets and hugging whatever stuffed animal you had chosen out of your large collection that night.

Satoru always teased you about it, but that never stopped you from buying new ones. You had given him one of your favorite stuffed animals awhile back, and even though Satoru let out a laugh when you handed him the bear, he treated it with the utmost care simply because it was yours.

Before your room was emptied, Yaga allowed Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko to go through your belongings and take something to remember you by. Even if it was probably against the rules, he knew the four of you were close. The distant look in Satorus eyes said everything, and Satoru Gojo was never distant.

"Try to make it quick," Yaga said, patting Satoru on the shoulder as he walked out of the room. Your walls were littered with posters and polaroids, your nightstand had a book on it, your bed wasn't made, and everything felt so natural. Satoru knew that Suguru and Shoko would probably want some of your polaroids, so he only took the ones that had the two of you in them.

Your closet was still full of clothes. Extra uniforms because you always somehow ruined yours on missions, comfy clothes for when you weren't in your uniform, and the occasional t-shirt or pair of sweatpants that you had stolen from Satoru (He let you have them, but he always swore you took it simply because he liked being petty).

A part of him didn't want to take any of his stuff back, but he knew that if he didn't it'd probably be thrown away. Satoru went through your closet and grabbed anything that belonged to him, throwing it over his shoulder. When he was done, he turned around and strode towards your nightstand.

Satoru squatted down and opened the drawer to your nightstand and rummaged through it for a moment. There were notebooks that were mostly empty, and then sketchbooks filled to the brim with drawings. Satoru always saw you doodling whenever you got ahold of paper, and couldn't help but get curious. He would peer over your shoulder when you weren't paying attention and look at your little drawings.

He always thought it was cute how you'd keep a small notepad and a pen on you at all times just so you could draw. Whenever you and him would walk together to meet up with the others, you would occasionally stop to sketch the scenery.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Satoru questioned as he loomed next you, peeking curiously at what you were drawing. "Doing what?" You ask, glancing up at him for a moment before returning to your sketch. "You keep stopping to draw or whatever, why?" He asks again, this time a bit closer to you. "Well," You started, "It's easier than waiting until later when I don't remember all the details." You quickly explain, not caring to go into depth.

Satoru hummed and continued to watch you sketch. "I try to sketch out the base when I first see it, then make a better drawing later." You add as you glimpse at Satoru again. "Well hurry it up, we're gonna be late again." Satoru commented with a small smile, making you grin at him.

Satoru put down the notebook he was once skimming through, and grabbed one of your sketchbooks. He skimmed through it, most were of scenery, but there were a select few that caught his eye. There were a few drawings of Shoko and Suguru, and enough drawings of him that he couldn't count it on two hands.

Satoru blinked and a few tears he didn't know were welling up in his eyes fell onto the page. It was a drawing of him, it wasn't clear what he was doing in the drawing, but his face wasn't fully visible but from what he could see he looked focused. It was as if somebody snapped a photo of him and slapped it onto the page.

He cursed under his breath before picking up the notebook that he had put down earlier and placed it back inside your nightstand. After wiping his eyes, he closed the sketchbook in his hand and stared at it for a moment.

It wouldn't hurt to keep it.

Satoru took a deep breath as he stood up, taking in your scent one last time before exiting the room. Yaga was leaned against the wall, patiently waiting for Satoru to finish up. "What's with the clothes?" The teacher asked without thinking, slightly raising a brow in the process. "What do you think is with the clothes?" Satoru snapped, giving Yaga a look before trudging off to his quarters.

"Are you alright Satoru? You've been avoiding me and Shoko all day," Suguru voiced as he sauntered over to Satoru, who was sat under a large tree that was somewhat close to the school. "I'm fine, jus' been thinking, that's all." Satoru chirped back, sliding something into his pocket.

Satorus jacket was laying next to him, leaving him in his white button up. Suguru soundlessly made his way over to Satoru and sat down next to him, "Seriously, Satoru, what's up with you?" He asked gently, giving his friend a concerned look.

"I'm fine, Suguru–" Satoru began before getting cut off by a scoff from his best friend. "No you're not, tell me what's been going on." Suguru said, his voice stern. "Don't push it!" Satoru snapped his head towards the man next to him, an evident scowl on his face. Suguru visibly flinched away from Satoru.

"Ever since Y/N, you've been an asshole to everyone." Suguru said as he stood up, "She wouldn't want this." Before Satoru knew it, he was on his feet and Sugurus collar was bunched in his hands.

"Don't you dare try to tell me what she would want! You don't know her like I do!" Satoru yelled, his grip on Sugurus collar tightening by the second. "You're right, I didn't know her like you did," Suguru says, somehow keeping his composure, "And maybe I don't know you like she knew you, but I do know that this isn't you." He says while gesturing to Satoru with his hands, making his grip loosen slightly.

"I know it must hurt, but you need to understand that the rest of us are grieving too. Don't be selfish." Suguru says, and Satoru hesitantly removes his grip on his collar. "Me? Selfish? It's like I'm the only one here who actually cares!" Satoru curses, throwing his arms into the air in frustration.

"Y/N died in my arms! I came back here covered in her blood! It's almost like I'm the only one who actually gives a shit around here! Ever since the news broke, you assholes have acted like everything's normal! Like everythings not fucking ruined now that she's gone!" Satoru yells, shoving Suguru away from him, "Don't you dare try to call me selfish, you weren't there, Suguru." Satoru breathes shakily before snatching his jacket off the ground and walking off, leaving his best friend stunned.

That was the first time since your death that Satoru openly admitted that you were gone. Out of touch, in a place where not even Satoru Gojo can reach you.

After the incident with Suguru, Satoru tries hard to make it seem like he's okay. Like he's slowly getting over you. Over your death. In truth? It felt like it was getting worse. Satoru didn't eat or sleep, and he didn't have the energy or stimulation that his cursed technique required to be at its full power.

To a stranger, you and Satoru were simply best friends. Two people that understood each other through and through, even if there were a lot of ups and downs. To people close to the two of you, you were the only people who didn't realize the feelings the other had, and it caused a lot of problems in your friendship.

To Satoru, you were like his emotional support person. Better yet, his person. You were there for him when Suguru or Shoko couldn't be, you witnessed (one too many) of his breakdowns, you knew Satoru like the back of your hand. You were his and he was yours, even if neither of you realized it. Losing you meant he had one less person to lean on when things went bad.

Maybe Satoru was a little selfish after all.

The more Satoru thought about it, the more he realized your death could have been prevented. They should've given you a partner, they should've sent him or Suguru with you. If he got there a little earlier, maybe he would have been able to save you.

Satoru knew he would have to learn death sometime in his life, but if he knew you would be the first lesson, he would've let himself die a long time ago if it meant he wouldn't have to suffer the loss of you.

Satoru stared blankly up at his ceiling, recalling moments that reminded him of you.

Him and Suguru were walking in town earlier that day, and he caught a whiff of the perfume you used to wear. He froze in place and turned to look at the woman who was wearing the familiar scent, images of you flashing quickly through his mind. After that small moment, it felt as if Satorus mood had deflated like a balloon for the rest of the day.

Then, Satoru had taken off his glasses for a few minutes while in a large crowd, and a splitting migraine quickly formed. He recalled that there were many times when you two would be on the subway together, and maybe he had forgotten his glasses that day. You would drape an arm over his shoulder and cover his eyes with your hand.

You knew that his six eyes became overwhelming at times, and when he forgot his glasses it was hard for him to not look like he was in pain. You would always remind him that he needed to keep them on him at all times, and even convinced him to buy an extra pair to keep inside the pockets of his uniform just in case.

"Satoru, you can't keep forgetting them," You'd say as you held your hand over his eyes. At first he'd flinch away, and you would apologize before taking your hand away from his face. Then it'd be Satoru apologizing and grabbing your hand to place it over his eyes again, his lips curving upwards slightly at your sweet gesture.

It would always be you, that was something Satoru embedded into his mind. Even when he's older and has students of his own. Even when he's the strongest jujustu sorcerer in the world and has many people after him. Even when he's beginning to forget your face and what it felt like to hold you.

It would always be you, whether he wanted it to be or not.

© AAJXS

[gatorbites-imagines]

yoo whats up i have a request for you, poly ghostface x male reader who has quite the similar personality to stu, but the reader is a metalhead, especially into death metal. he has like hella long hair and a massive cd stash (maybe even a pot stash too..) i dont really mind if it takes place before or during the kills, but billy & stu are like highly intrigued by all of the gorey album covers + shirts and how he's a bit gore obsessed. thanks my dude

Billy Loomis x Stu Macher x male reader

Headcanons

I haven’t written for these two in a while, sorry it took a while for me to answer this request lmao.

-          Now in the beginning the three of you probably weren’t friends, maybe you were Stus friend since you have such similar personalities, and that you are kinda an outsider being a metalhead in a town like Woodsboro.

-          There is definingly a lot who looks down on you for how you dress, how long your hair is, or your interest in the darker things like horror movies, dark cd covers, etc.

-          But as you get closet to Stu by extension you get closer to Billy, and in the beginning, Billy would just put up with being around you, since he and Stu are most likely already dating, and Stu seems to really like you.

-          Then they visit your place and see just how cool your room is, with your huge collection of CDs, band t-shirts, posters and alike. Billy would immediately be interested in your CDs with darker covers, if I remember correctly there’s even covers out there with real bodies on them, so if you had those Billy would find them very cool.

 -          So, you end up close to both of them, and as time passes it develops into more. It would probably be Stu who fell for you first, and at some point, Billy reluctantly admits he’s fallen for you too.

-          You would not pick up on any of their attempts at flirting since your kinda daft at times, but that’s okay, they like that about you. They would start out more subtle with their flirting, at least Billy would, I don’t think Stu has a subtle bone in his body when it comes to people he likes.

-          When you just think they’re extra friendly no matter how much they try to give you hints, cuz it’s the 90s so just telling a guy you like em probably isn’t that easy, even though Billy and Stu are already together, they both wanna bang their heads against the wall.

-          I could imagine it finally clicking one night when the three of you are smoking together, using the stuff you have, so your all kinda high, and I get the feeling Stu is the giddy giggly kind, whilst Billy is more the calm and thinking kinda high.

-          You would be laying with your lap in Stu’s lap as he plays with your hair, the guy talking about how pretty it is and asking what kinda soap you use to get it this soft.

-          Then at some point Stu would just look at you and state that he really wants to kiss you, and since you are also high and have had feelings for the two you jokingly tell him to go for it.

 -          Stu being well, Stu, leans down and kisses you. You kiss him back just as enthusiastically, arms thrown around his neck and pulling him down till Stu is also bent in half cuz your still in his lap.

-          Billy just sits and watches as you go from kissing to full on making out, and before the three of you know it, you’re sitting in Stu’s lap and his hands are up your shirt. At some point Billy scoots his way over, pushes your hair to the side and kisses your neck.

-          Pulling back from the kiss, Stu confesses in a very Stu kinda way, aka he just says, “I love you man, I wanna be your boyfriend” and you just say you love him too, and Billy. Billy just chuckles a little and says he loves you guys too, and the rest is history.

-          The three of you wouldn’t be out to the public about being together, seeing as Billy and Stu weren’t out before, but you get “friendlier” aka you start hanging out with them more between classes, you wrap an arm around each other or lean against one another, those kinda things,

 -          When the killings happen, you are one of the top suspects, because you are an outsider and weirdo to the townspeople. You end up having a good alibi though, having been at work in the record and CD shop in town.

-          It doesn’t stop the rumors though and people look down on you even more than usual, but Billy and Stu stay.

-          I have a feeling you would discover they were the killers, and right when they worry about having to kill you or you freaking out, you just give them a lazy grin and ask to join.

-          They fall in love with you even more and now there are three ghostfaces, I could see you listening to music when killing too, which Billy tells you not to do, but Stu will sit beside you and listen to it too between killings.

-          A night of massacres always ends up with the three back at one of your guys places, cuddling and maybe smoking and maybe more If you are all in the mood.

-          You end up converting them to like your kind of music, so Billy and Stu can regularly be caught borrowing CDs from your collection, or adding more of their own when they find some you don’t already have.

-          You’re a group of murder boyfriends who are all stupidly sweet on each other, and Billy has the braincell for the most part, but he loves you guys anyways.

[seat-safety-switch]

Words have their own power. When you go over to someone else's house and they have an oil painting of a queen getting beheaded, that's cool decor. If, on the other hand, they have a poster telling you not to bother the cook because it's Mama Bear's den, you're going to want to live, laugh, love yourself right out of that place before you get turned into a Pinterest post about how to make people soup.

When a phrase sticks itself into your head and burrows directly into the deepest parts of your basal ganglia, it has become part of you. Images, too, but nobody has ever constantly repeated a kitten they saw under their breath to themselves during a late night at the office.

The automotive industry is full of these little thinkin'-bombs: "installation is the reverse of removal," "driver returns on foot," "drops right in." Most of them are lies, bitterly repeated by yourself at 3 in the morning when the lofty promise of those words has come crashing down to earth. If we're being real with one another, though, basically everything anyone has ever said to you was a lie of some sort. Still, the kind of lies that your parents told you usually do not end in angrily banging a wrench against the bottom of an air-conditioning compressor bracket whose mounting hole should be two millimetres off on the other side. Just put a self-tapper in it, it'll probably hold tension.

What do I want you to do with this newfound fear of language? Certainly not burn down a library. Most of their books are stored up in the cloud now (glory be heaped upon the cloud,) where an infinite supply of words can be summoned against the unwary on demand. No, I want you to weaponize the words yourself. Go come up with some awful catchphrases they'll be putting on t-shirts in a hundred years from now. It's the only real chance any of us have at immortality, unless that people soup is real good.

[dilfhos]

TRAINRIDE

#!WHO; DABI x fem!READER

A! i hope u ignore this cus its stupid but I think dabi/touya being a total scum to huge endeavor fan reader should be a thing

+ (i added my twist to it; at the time this was sent, i was on my dc shit heavy and id already started it)

#!CW: deadoves!n0nc0n, dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, implied exhibitionism, gaslighting, touya arc if you squint real close! dabi has dick piercings bc i said so

tagging: @mostlyheinous @scariusaquarius @dabislittlemouse @nyx--knacks @the-grimm-writer @ectologia

Dabi hated taking public transportation, especially now.

It subjected him to having to conceal his identity for one, blending into the fleeting crowds with dark, long clothing. It didn’t bother him as much had it been any other time, one where he wasn’t on constant guard or easily irritated by familiar phrases and his face.

Dabi only gave a quick glance to the glass behind him, eyeing the way his big hood hung low on his head, hand deep into his trench pocket as the other supported his balance. He drew his hood lower at the glance from a man on his left.

The train eased to a stop and the doors slid open as the crowd swarmed to bring in and send out more people. When the doors closed and the train began to move again, he found himself being thrown forward. A small yelp came from the woman in front of him, turned partially.

He was about to mumble something before his eyes made contact with what she was wearing.

Seeing that you were brazenly adorned in merchandise of the number one hero, he scrunched his nose up at the sight of your complimentary accessories before finally settling on your face. Preoccupied with your phone to notice his oggling, you shifted, body moving with the force of the train as it started moving.

Dabi didnt mean to look, but the subtle quake of your chest piqued his vision and he wished he wasn’t met with those same fucking eyes. How cringe you looked with the familiar navy phone-case you had on the back of your phone to match.

In fact, if Dabi wanted to, he’d stand there and count every one of Endeavor’s paraphernalia and the number could be well over three. You really walk around like that? Parading your favorite hero on your body like a fangirl poster.

He chuckled darkly before rolling his eyes. Yeah, you probably had one or two of them in your room that you fuck yourself to at night to boot.

The train was only a little crowded but not enough to fully obscure your body from his view. You were dressed in jeans, the denim pairing with a snug t-shirt that sculpted your chest perfectly under his gaze. On the back he could see the familiar bright flames. They were disgustingly familiar, completing the stoic features of the hero on the front.

“Endeavor, huh?” You finally glanced up, a bit surprised to find barely anyone on board at this point. A few men sat adjacent, some sleep, others occupied on their own devices and papers or simply dead in gaze as they awaited their respective stops.

Then him, of course.

Turning fully around you face the source of the comment and your heart began to hammer.

Under a subtle glance or two, he didn’t look too out of the ordinary. Dark pants, shoes and a coat on his back, he could’ve as easily passed for some unremarkable human being cold and exhausted from days events. However, under the certain proximity, you had a clear view of his face, unmistakably his metal-littered, scarred face and the dangerously piercing gaze to match.

You parted your lips but he held up a finger, silencing you before you could squeak a sound. He glanced around toward the few other occupants in the car, noting them to be of no significance until his eyes returned back to yours, the silent threat of impending danger weighing heavily in the air around you.

“Are you-are you going to kill me?” You finally said, voice sickeningly timid. Wide eyes peered up at him, height clearing yours as he slowly backed you towards the side of the car.

“He your favorite hero?” Dabi ignored your question, eyes flickering to your chest before his hand followed. You squeaked in surprise as he boldly placed his hand against your breast.

Jerking away, you prepare to to defend yourself when he gripped your wrist.

“To answer the question, I’m not gonna kill you. ‘M just gonna hurt you real bad though,” You’re spun before another word is uttered, the rattling of metal against wheels loud enough to drown your protests.

“Please don’t do this,” His hands were exploring your body, running up your thighs and cruelly pinching at the skin on your sides before settling on the hem of your jeans.

“Please don’t,” You whimpered shakily, meeting the villain’s eyes in the glass.

“I just feel like ya personally insulting me y’know?” He grunted over the sound of his belt clinking. His hand was back on your side now, nails digging into the meat of the exposed skin until drawing a wince.

Dabi shuffled forward until your hands were pressed against the wall of the train, steadying yourself. His other made quick work of yanking down your jeans until they rested around your thighs, panties on display before his hungry gaze.

“D-don’t. I’ll scream.” By now, you’d been reduced to a whimpering, teary-eyed mess, your frantic gaze shifting through the other riders for a witness to what was going on.

But they were all too preoccupied to care.

“Yeah, for who?” The passengers that did notice were the wrong ones.

You met the greedy eyes of the man closest to you and the way his own dropped down to your connected bodies. Dabi was quick to notice that and chuckled before leaning down toward your ear.

“Still your idol, doll? This is his society, you know? The one on your ridiculously, ugly top,” He snickered, his fingers hooking into the side of your panties.

Before you could cry out, his scarred hand clamped over your mouth at the same time as his cock breached your cunt. You tensed, nothing escaping you but a muffled gasp as he shoved himself past your tight ring of resistance. Your eyes were wide, peering back at you in the glass, reflecting off of the pain and horror present.

“Mm, so tight.” He licked the shell of your ear and you release a shuddering sob. He began a snappy, brutal pace, the thick cock dragging heavily through your dry walls. Every time he pulled away, you felt every vein, every metallic orb scraping against gummy insides.

He slammed back into you at the same time the train screeched over rusted tracks, grunting with every stroke, his thin hip bones snapping against your ass.

His grip was bruising as he held onto your waist, his wrist only flicking to push and pull you back onto his dick. His other hand remained pressed against your mouth to muffle your cries and moans. You reached behind to at least try and push him away, alleviate the grating pain he was causing but your attempts were laughable as he only slapped away your efforts.

Dabi sped up, stumbling forward until your front was pressed against the metal interior, body squished between hot and cool. The hand over your mouth dropped to hang loosely around your neck, tilting your head back to meet his. The hood over his head only served to make him all the more menacing with the shadow that casted over his grotesque features.

“What do you think Mr. Endeavor would say if he saw his biggest fan being defiled like this? Probably be disgusted huh? I mean, allowing a complete stranger to fuck you on public transportation.” Your eyes closed as you imagined the twisted look of repulsion on your favorite hero and the image brought you to more tears.

You hiccupped as he trailed fingers down in between your legs to brush against your clit, missing the way his grin widened at the way you suddenly tense up. You released a pained moan at the way your pussy clamped down on him.

“So sensitive,” He chuckled at the way you try and bite down your orgasm. He could feel you start to relax, your cunt pulsating around him as your juices started to slick him up.

Overhead, the sound of the loudspeaker crackling at the next stop had Dabi’s eyes glancing up, as if now aware of the time. Releasing you, his hand fell to your other hip where his blunt nails dug as his pace quickened.

“Stop’s coming up,” He mumbled. You didn’t really hear him though. You were busy trying not to give in to the way his cock was filling you up, the pain parting into pleasure, your juices beginning to fall and squish around his dick.

Your head hung low; you couldn’t even look at your reflection in the glass anymore, at the way your brows furrowed over glossy, blown eyes. The way your wet lips part to release silent moans. You were despicable. You couldn’t call yourself a fan of the great Endeavor anymore, not after this.

Not after him.

Dabi’s feet planted firmly, his hips suddenly stuttering to a halt. He was quick to conceal your squeal with his hand again as his dick twitched in your cunt. Your teary eyes widened as you felt warmth flooding you, too horrified to even move save for your trembles.

He was still going, slowly rutting his nut back into you with shallow strokes. It was only until you heard a chime overhead that he pulled away with a content sigh.

Dabi eyed the way his cum was beginning to seep down your thighs, dripping into your bunched up jeans and an idea formed in his head, one that had him grinning sadistically.

A moment later your trembling legs finally gave way allowing you to sink onto the floor.

He began to fix himself, adjusting the hood on his head. He threw a cocky salute to the man eyeballing him earlier and a final disgusted look down at those eyes on your shirt. He then shook his head with a forming smile, walking away and leaving you on the floor of the cold train. The whooshing of the doors were deafening in your ears as you looked up to greedy eyes.

Back at the hero agency, Endeavor’s phone lit up and a notification from an unknown number had his brows furrowed in confusion at the link. His scowl only deepened after further investigation.

DILFOS. do not plagiarize my content—current or archival.

[bogleech]

People are still downplaying how many art jobs AI is going to replace, arguing that AI art looks bad or that it can’t always make exactly what you want or can’t always make an elaborate final product and this really bothers me because the vast, vast majority of art jobs in this world are just like.....a company wants a generic looking robot character for an advertising poster or a knockoff anime girl for a book cover or a soothing landscape for the background of a billboard and they don’t want to use stock art because they want it to be an image they own, even if it’s a generic or flawed one. You are surrounded every single day with artwork you probably take for granted, things on food labels and fliers and stickers and t-shirts that you might even filter out because you find them to be bland or mediocre but they still might represent money an artist was actually given. Even the ones that were purchased as part of some massive stock art pack might have been bought from an artist at one time to even be added to that stock art pack.

[toxycodone]

whats some dungeons meshi headcanons u got? owo? i totally believe Laois would be furry and into legos Cx

also i really enjoyed ur Ao3 fanfic about Laios x reader :D!!! I really agree with the way you write him :3

THANK UUU omg. I am gonna start with Laios because I have such a clear version of how he is in my head. I have nsfw hcs too but I’ll include them in a separate post if you want! These will just be sfw and more modern au geared

Laios is 100% a furry I…can’t even deny. he definitely sees himself as some like super cool timber wolf with icy blue eyes and platinum fur (or wolf/hunting dog mix) but everyone thinks he should be a Samoyed or something

he has multiple fursonas tho. one of “that” monster. maybe a dragon sona. he’s made up his own species to. may adopt sonas/species from artists he likes. yeah he’s a furry community veteran.

i never considered legos n Laios but. You’re so right. I think he’s more interested in the more complex nature setups or fandom ones. There’s definitely a half finished setup in his room at any given time (he gets super hyper focused on finishing them for like. a few days then kinda forgets until the next random fixation.)

he definitely has a dog that’s like. his best friend. he spends a ridiculous amount of time at the pet store or dog park or hiking w it

is a local game store REGULAR. he enjoys a lot of tabletop gaming like mtg, dnd, pokemon, and even digimon but in my mind he SLAYS at wingspan in particular. He has all of the extras and stuff. he has a group he loosely calls his buddies there that play with him time to time

not a huge video game fan though? I think he likes stuff like monster hunter and LoZ but like? I’m really unsure what else he’d be into. like yeah he likes monsters but like. he needs a specific genre….strategy based games are probably more his style. he may get into competitive pokemon tbh

no sense of style. Not in like a bad fashion way but like he just dresses extremely plain. Like he wears the most basic ass white boy clothes it’s ridiculous. He has a collection of silly t-shirts but that’s about as exciting as it gets. he believes socks and sandals go together. but somehow his hiking gear and jacket game is top notch. literally looks like ducks unlimited poster boy.

he grew up middle class but in a rural area. so he has manners and such but he’s kinda sheltered?? a little naive too but…he just has a big heart. He’s someone who believes in doing good even if like. There’s a chance you’re getting scammed.

ok that’s all the ideas I have now for gen hcs but tysm for the ask

[calypsocolada]

MIDNIGHT RAIN | y. itadori

(this is part one! click here for part two)

synopsis: you and itadori part ways in shibuya. authors note: HI! i'm back! back with a fic with probably the best boy to ever exist. hope you enjoy! cw: sfw, angst, fluff, kissing, blood, gore, use of y/n, slight spoilers for s2 wc: 2.9k

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

This was your second mission and honestly you weren’t sure if things could get any worse. Any darker. Any more bleak. The hope that glimmered at the end of this day had long been snuffed out the moment you parted from Itadori. He'd grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and asked you to stay out of trouble. You promised. 

You didn’t make friends very easily, that and not many people ever took the time to try with you. To try and know you. No one. Until Itadori. You were quiet, he was loud. You were cold and he was kind. He was sunshine, you were midnight rain. Like day and night. But you liked him. You liked him a lot. He tried with you. Tried hard to know you, to know things you liked. What you ate at lunch, what you listened to in your room, what shows moved you. He paid attention. In return you did the same. He’d go with you to bookstores, carry your things and make jokes about the dirty books you picked. You’d go with him to the movies, to see a movie about a worm. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. 

You two had plans for halloween. Like many others you were going to dress as Barbie and Ken. Itadori’s idea. 

Instead you were in Shibuya.

“I told you you’d like it!” Itadori beams as he holds the door open, sunshine momentarily blinding you as you walk onto the sidewalk. 

“I grew to care for that worm.” You said and heard Itadori laugh warmly. Itadori had dragged you to his earthworm movie. He jogs up to you and walks on the side closest to the street.

“I’ll have to show you the other movies sometime.” He says with a smile. You snort out a laugh.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You say.

The mall was deathly silent. You walked through, your cursed tool clutched tightly in your hands. 

When you were young you’d come here. Your Mom would drag you to her nail appointments but after she’d give you fifteen dollars to spend at any store. It was worth it in the end.

You’d never seen this place so deserted. It was frightening. You blew out a breath and scanned the dead atmosphere. You were tracking down people that were stuck here, bringing them somewhere safe. Panda and the smoking guy, you didn’t have time to learn his name, were close by, doing the same as you. Walking past a store a t-shirt catches your eye.

Rain poured, soaking you through. Itadori had picked up speed, he reached for your hand and pulled you gently towards the dorms. You two had been sitting in the courtyard and had fallen asleep by accident only to be awakened by the freezing cold rain that had seemingly come out of nowhere. You two slipped inside as he pulled the door shut behind you both. You started laughing, wringing out your drenched hair. Itadori shakes his head like a dog eliciting another laugh out of you. 

“Come on, we’ll warm up in my room.” He says, placing a hand on the small of your back to usher you forwards. Friends. Sometimes you have to remind yourself. As much as you hated it you were a hopeless romantic and your mind played up everything, not everything is like the movies. You blushed nevertheless. When you got to his room he unlocked it and let you inside first. You’d never been in his room before this moment. It was clean, a poster of a girl in a bikini hung on the wall. It made you laugh slightly. He followed your eyeline and rushed forwards, ripping it off the wall. 

“Sorry.” He says softly, embarrassed as you shake your head.

“It’s fine, Yuji. I have posters on my wall too.”

“Of half naked men?” He jests as you snort, rolling your eyes.

“No. I was trying to make you feel better.” You say as he stuffs the poster in a drawer. 

“Let me get you something dry.” He says over his shoulder. The gravity of the moment does not elude you suddenly. He hands you a t-shirt and sweatpants. 

“I’ll let you change in peace.” He says politely.

“You- you can just turn around. I’ll be quick.” You say, reaching for the hem of your wet shirt. He whips around and in the mirror you can see how red his face was. You giggle silently and change quickly, hanging your wet clothes over the back of a chair. You look down and smile. It was a spiderman t-shirt, Itadori’s favorite hero. One that reminds you of him. It smelled like him, this whole room did. “Okay, done.” You say as he turns around, you swear you can see his cheeks turn even more red.

“My clothes suit you.” He says, then realizes what he said and buried his head in his hands. 

“Thank you.” You say softly. 

“You should keep the shirt, it’s one of my favorites.” He says as you bite your lip to keep from smiling too much.

“I wouldn’t want to take your favorite shirt, Yuji.”

“I want you too.” He says and you can tell he means it. You blush, nodding your head. “Here,” Itadori starts, pulling the covers back on his bed. “Hop in, I’ll change and then we can watch a movie or something.” You slide under the covers and face away as Itadori changes. He jumps beside you a moment later, flicking on the tv. 

“We could watch spiderman? I’ve never seen it.” You say as Itadori gasps, turning to look at you. 

“You’ve never seen spiderman? Like any of them?” He asks as you nod your head.

“None of them.” You say and he doesn’t answer you back, just turns back to the screen and flicks on the first spiderman movie. You both settle in the bed and you pull the covers closer to your body, still pretty cold. Itadori notices, he always notices small things. 

“Still cold?” He whispers. You nod your head and Itadori moves closer to you, sliding an arm around you, pulling you against him. He’s like a personal heater, his body warm. You gasp, you had never cuddled with a boy. “Sorry, is this okay?” He asks and you have to nod your head because you're afraid your voice will betray you. He pulls you just slightly closer and lays his chin on the top of your head. You should be nervous. You had a crush on this boy and right now you were in his arms. But you were utterly comfortable, you’d never felt more safe and secure in your entire life. 

It was a similar spiderman t-shirt in the window. You blinked a few times and wondered why you were almost in tears. Tonight felt different. You couldn’t stop worrying for everyone. Especially Itadori. You wished you were partnered with him. You were dying to know if everything was going okay with him. If everyone was alright. You just had this sick feeling. 

“Miss?” A voice  to your right startles you but your reaction is quick, if it were a curse you would’ve obliterated them. It was a young girl and her mother. You blew out a breath. You didn’t sense any cursed energy near them so you strapped your tool to your belt. 

“Are you two okay?” You asked as the little girl looked at you with doe eyes, her mother holding her. 

“Are you here to help us?” The mother asks.  You nod your head. “He said you’d be here soon.” She says as she walks forwards.

“Who?”

“A boy, he had pinkish hair. He was heading towards the lower section.” Itadori. Your face lit up.

“He was here not long ago?” You ask and she nods her head. You blow out a breath. Getting the smallest bit of information about Itadori’s well being eased your mind. You escorted the mom and her daughter out of the mall and towards the safe zone where a lot of other survivors were. You remembered your first mission as you headed back into the mall, running the way Itadori had gone. 

The curse was too strong for your first mission. You’d almost died. There’s a lot of things that goes through a person's mind in these moments but all you could think about was Itadori. You didn’t grow up with a loving family, you had no friends to go back to, no one that would miss you if you died. Or so you thought. You’d packed your bag, made your way out to the car that would escort you to your first mission. You tossed your bag into the trunk and heard your name being called. You turned to see Itadori running faster than you’d ever seen. He was almost just a blur. 

“Yu- oof,” His body slams into yours as he sweeps you off your feet in a bone crushing hug. He spins you around as you giggle. 

“I’m sorry!” He says as he sets you down. “I almost overslept.”

“Overslept?” You echo as he nods his head.

“I didn’t want to miss your sendoff to your first official mission,” He says, ruffling your hair. You blush.

“It’s not all that exciting.”

“Yes it is.” He insists. “You’re gonna kill it. Literally.” He says.

“Thanks,” You grin. 

Itadori couldn’t have been more wrong about that statement. It only took four minutes and thirty-six seconds for things to go from exciting to detrimental. The curse had overpowered you, sliced you up in many places, you were losing blood but you were still fighting. You’d rounded a corner and pressed against the wall. You couldn’t stand any longer, your legs giving out as you slid to the floor. First mission failed. Your tool was loose in your hands and you heard it clatter out of your hand onto the floor beside you. You pressed your hand to your stomach and felt something sticky and wet, pain striking through you like lightning. You hissed in pain. If you were going to die it wouldn’t be on the floor. You’d die fighting. You pushed to your feet, heavily relying on the wall. You scooped up your cursed tool and staggered out into the hallway where you saw the curse you’d been fighting standing still before falling to its knees, revealing Itadori just behind it. A fucking superhero. You tool clattered onto the floor startling Itadori. His eyes met with yours, his eyes went wide, taking the sight of you in. 

“Fucking thank god,” You breathed out. You probably looked like a corpse walking.

“Oh- y/n,” His voice shakes as he runs forwards catching you before you could slam into the ground. He gently sweeps you into his arms, rushing towards the exit. 

“I didn’t kill it,” You coughed out, hoping a joke would lighten the moment but when you looked up you could see tears in Itadori’s eyes. You felt shitty for joking. 

You woke up days later in Shoko’s office. Itadori was snoring softly beside the bed, your favorite book in his hands. You slowly sat up. Your midriff was bandaged as well as your arms. You pushed to your feet and padded across the room to the bathroom, flicking on the light. There was a bandage on your cheek and a few bruises and small cuts on your face. You walked back into the room just as Itadori stretched, startling at the sight of you walking around.

“Y/n! You should stay in bed!” He insists, springing to his feet, sliding an arm around your waist. 

“I feel fine.” You say but he’s pulling you back towards the bed and sitting in it with you. “How long was I out?”

“A couple days,” Itadori says, worried expression on his face. You smile. 

“I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

“I should’ve gone with you.”

“It was supposed to be my mission, you weren’t supposed to go.”

“No more missions alone. We’re a pair.” He says, reaching across the space between you both to tuck your hair out of your face.

“You should probably partner with someone who doesn’t get their ass kicked.” You say as he shakes his head.

“I want you. No one else.” He says, sliding his hand against your cheek. “I mean it.” You can’t help but smile. 

“If you're sure.”

“Deadly sure.” He insists. The conviction in his eyes was serious. You must’ve scared him. You remembered walking out into the hallway, you were covered in blood, you probably looked half dead. That would be a scary sight for anyone.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” You say, looking away from him for a moment. This moment felt vulnerable. 

“I was scared. That curse was strong and then you walked out…” He trailed off, his hand falling from your cheek to gently twirl around a lock of your hair. 

“I feel like a burden,” You say. “You didn’t struggle with that curse at all yet it almost killed me.” Itadori’s eyes go serious.

“You are not a burden. Any person on their first mission would’ve struggled with that curse. It was stronger than predicted.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing. You’re incredible, you’ll see that.” He says, giving you a smile, the first one since you woke up. You nod your head.

“Thank you.” You say. 

It’s quiet for a moment. Before Itadori speaks again.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” He says, a haunted look in his eyes. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “All that blood.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, biting your lip. He jumps forwards and yanks you into a hug, a softer one this time, he still holds you tightly though, as though you’ll slip through his hands like sand and be carried away by the wind. You rest your chin on his shoulder and hug him back. “I’m fine now. I feel much better.” You whisper. “Thanks to you.”

“I’g go insane if I lost you.” He says. You close your eyes. 

“I think I would too.” He pulls back suddenly, you both are so close. His eyes flick to your lips before looking back in your eyes. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” You say, ignoring the flips and flutters in your stomach. 

“Do I have a chance with you?” He asks. It's quiet as you try and understand what he’d just asked you.

“What?”

“You're so smart and cool. I just- I think some moments you might like me back but you’re out of my league and,” Itadori rambles as you hold up your hand.

“Yuji, hold on.” You say, taking a moment to let things simmer in your mind. “You like like me?”

“Love. I love you.” He corrects. Your lips fall open, your brows hiking up. 

“Love…?” You say as he nods his head. “Yuji-,”

“It’s alright if you don’t love me back,” He says. “I don’t expect you-” You lean and cut off his words, words you didn’t want to hear. You press your lips to his. A soft kiss, that sends butterflies to your stomach, sparkling confetti behind your eyes. Itadori hums contently, his hands sliding up on your jaw, pulling you closer to him.  

You still feel those same butterflies just remembering months later. You rounded a corner and skidded to a stop. The area was a disaster, as though some fight had just happened. Debris was still toppling over, there were large slash marks in the walls. You walked slowly through the disaster, sliding your cursed tool into your palm. Just to the right there was leaking water flooding out of a bathroom and what caught your eye was the striking image of blood mixed with the water. You swallowed and proceeded forwards. Lights flashed inside as you stepped into the puddles, peeking around the corner. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight. You understood immediately how Itadori felt when he saw you covered in blood, staggering along through that hallway. You saw his shoes first, the blood pooling around him. He was propped up against the wall, half his shoulder missing, blood covering his face.

“Yuji,” Your own voice sounded foreign as you charged into the bathroom, tears springing to your eyes in an instant as the sprinklers doused you in cold water. He looked dead. Your hands shook. Everything seemed to slow. You two should’ve been dressed in stupid costumes at a stupid halloween party. Should’ve been playing beer pong, you two would win, Itadori was great at that game. He would’ve spun you around so fast after your win, you’d be holding onto the hat on your head laughing. You’d be damned if the boy you loved died. You felt again for a pulse and felt the faintest of ones. Itadori was a fighter. You couldn’t carry him out of here but you could get up to the top and find Shoko. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and ran as fast as you could. You made it back in record time with Shoko in tow but when you skidded into the bathroom, water splashing against your jeans, Itadori was gone. You should've asked him to promise to stay out of trouble. 

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐭

cw: masturbation

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲

you’re defeated. wrapped up and consumed by your solitude and despair at how dire this situation has unfolded to be. you’ve lost all that you have of yourself and this may be the lowest moment in your life. shaking it off, you stand back up, making your way back to your bathroom yet again, to wash your face of these tears. are you really killing yourself to get into a good school?

the cold water sends a shock through your system as it makes contact with your skin as you wash and wash your shame away, failing to scrub the permanent stain etched into your vessel. sighing you raise your head, the droplets plunging down your neck and soaking your shirt. you slowly drop your head, watching the water spread so quickly, drenching your blue t-shirt. it’s almost as if a well has been dug in your heart, carving out all your sentiments and feelings. turning off the water you turn to dry your face before leaving to retreat in your room again.

your room is a lifeless little hole, with no shade or depth of life to it. a simple white-walled room, built to fulfil its purpose. you have no posters, colourful rugs or dangling displays. your mother would say it looks like a zoo either way. pale sunlight strains its way into the room as you sit down on your swivel chair, solemnly placing your glasses on your face today. the really bitter fact about this situation is that you have no form of solace. no girls to lean back on, no one to empathise with your sorrows and situations, no one to fight for you. just yourself. a fundamental truth you have grown to learn. no matter how loved you are, or may think you are, once the seasons change and the time comes, you’ll be alone like you always were. no one will be there when you need them the most, and they shouldn’t have to be. this life is your own, you get what you work for, and it’s not any other way.

sure that belief could've stemmed from the blubbering jealousy you’d feel when seeing a group of girls in the hallway snickering and giggling behind lockers, or groups of friends walking home together talking the entire way. certainly not. because you knew you were right.

the door opens silently, but not quiet enough. it’s like you can feel your mother’s presence hovering from outside your door. her negative aura could easily be recognised by you. “ good afternoon mother.” you greet, momentarily tearing your eyes away from your laptop to look at her. the look on her face is rigid and undecisive on how to treat you today.

“look at your shirt. didn’t know i had a toddler alone in this house. how on earth could you make such a mess of yourselves and be so unbothered? you ruin my reputation, child, you really do.” the wicked words don’t plunge as deep as they used to. they don’t twist the chords of your heart anymore, they simply deflect off of you. she leaves your room, her chilling presence following behind her shortly.

you don’t know why your mother is this way, nor do you care. you have money, you have food, a bed, and yourself. and you’re doing fine, just as how you’ve been doing all your life.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹

days roll into the night and your mother is asleep, preparing for her next early shift and the maids are asleep leaving you to be the only person up, again. the issue with tonight is that there are 3 more course assignments due that you want to finish before going to sleep if there’ll even be sleep. but you’re not sure if your mind can carry on with you anymore, you’ve been stuck reading the past few paragraphs over and over and over again, making no progress.

there is only one thing to do. destress.

you click off all of your study websites and open a new incognito tab. you know it probably doesn’t do much, but it’s the feeling of security it provides that makes you use it. your practised fingers type the name of the specific website you’re looking for. after a couple of seconds of slow website loading the erotic home page has taken over your screen. videos of butts and cocks and vaginas are all over the place.

as you scroll you don’t notice anything new, just regular videos with absolutely vile titles of “dumb blond gets fucked by stepfather.” or “petite redhead taught a lesson.” unimpressed you keep scrolling, fearing this is one of the days where the is nothing to watch. until you see it.

a thumbnail of what appears to be a very muscular tan-looking man with dark wavy hair. the still image is focused on his rippling back, the light in the video hitting all the right angles and some woman beneath him. looks promising.

you stand up, checking your door is properly locked before returning to your seat and placing your earbuds in. once you make it past the ads, the video begins. at first, it’s nothing more than sensual kissing and groping on a white sheet bed, nothing unusual. but when the shot angle changes and focuses on the woman sopping cunt getting fiddled with by his large fingers, you start to feel the usual tingle of excitement break from within. his finger movements were so precise, and you could only imagine what that would feel like for you.

eyes glued to the screen, you slip your hand down your pyjama shorts, lifting a leg unto the chair for extra space. you’re biting your lips as you mimic his movement, his strokes, his flicks his pauses. “there’s a good girl.” he purrs on camera, his face still out of the shot. such a shame. your fingers rub faster and you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. you bite your lip to suppress a moan, reminding yourself that it’s late at night. “you like that huh?” he says again, something about his voice, fueling your arousal. you hear your own cunt, drenched in the silence of your room.

He coos again, “You’re so wet f’me baby, want me to slip it in?yh? there’s a good girl.” you watch as he rubs his leaking tip around her entrance, moving slowly as he traces in, before nuzzling the tip inside. you don’t even have to think when your hands do the same thing, slipping into your snug cunt a groan of ecstasy slipping past your lips. your free hand seems to have been groping your breath in the meanwhile, fingers squeezing around your clothed nipple, giving you pleasure.

his ridiculously thick cock pushes in an out of her, struggling to fit itself back in. a thin white layer coating its length as he pumps faster. your free hand now slips under your shirt, holding and squeezing your breast, fiddling with your nipple in your fingers again. the back arches of your chair and you close your eyes sinking into it all, listening to his voice groan in your ear, praising you and calling you sweet things like “ good girl.”

you’re close. you feel it when your walls start clamping down on your fingers and your hips can’t seem to stay still as they rock back and forth. you allow your soft moans to escape your lips as you fall into the building pleasure more. peeking your eyes open to notice he’s got his hand on the other’s head, pushing her down unto their bed as he thrusts into her mercilessly. your gingers brush up against your g spot and your moth goes agape. “you’re close aren’t you, why don’t you come around my dick huh? i want it all over.” his ridiculously attractive voice is distracting you from the fact that this would be over faster than usual times, but you don’t mind. you feel yourself tightening and wondering how much longer you can go on, your fingers slipping in and out at an incredibly fast pace.

“give me the best you’ve got come on.” you’re coming undone, pulling your fingers as your cum flows out of your fluttering hole, rolling down your thighs and drenching your panties and pyjama shorts. “good girl.”

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲

(please send a dm or comment on my the pinned blog to join the taglist.)

taglist: @slutkoo

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... J'onn broke the news that Danny thinks he's going to be forced into combat in exchange for his medical care. Everyone disliked that™.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

COME GET YOUR NEW ART HERE 💥🍳!!💥 IT'S FIBERCRAFT!!Shoutout to @rainbowbeansprout for crocheting a fic accurate injured ghost Danny!! That's outstanding!!

💚👻👽👻💚

So, Wally broke all of the bones in his legs yesterday.

Which is…not ideal. Still. He’s pretty used to it at this point, though, and he’s already mostly healed.

It’s just that. Well.

…The rest of healing is kind of…time-consuming.

So Wally’s in basketball shorts and a mask and a t-shirt he’d started using as pajamas when he was in college and he’s on the med floor of the Watchtower, and yet another physical therapist is helping him bend his leg back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, because he’d tripped in the middle of the Speedforce and busted everything hip-down.

So. (Back, and forth. Back, and forth. Back…) This sucks.

“Do we have to do this every time?” Wally asks, as if there isn’t a team of medical professionals kept on hand to deal with Superpower-wrought Super Medical Problems.

“Do you have to shatter your legs every time?” the PT asks back wryly, which, hey! The pressure pressing up against his bare foot is an additional stressor to the sass. “Bend this more for me, Flash. You can do it.”

Wally grumbles, and pretends the angle his leg is bending at doesn’t make him wince. Wow is he going to have to build his flexibility back up again.

The physical therapy room looks just like any other gym, basically; a lot of squishy mats in playful colors, a lot of grippy tape; a LOT of wipeable vinyl surfaces that can be sanitized at a moment’s notice. It smells kind of weird and plasticky and kind of like alcohol cleaner.

It’s not his favorite room in the Watchtower, but, eh. It could be way worse. What’s unusual is the whirrr of the door opening and closing in one of the private care rooms for another patient, since, you know...HIPAA and all that. Wally assumes. Or is it costume confidentiality once you leave Earth's atmosphere...?

Usually everyone knows who’s stopping in for PE through the sheer power of the Justice League gossip groupchats. (There’s at least nine. Wally’s in four of them. He aspires to be in two more by April.) There hasn’t been a big fight that requires long-term medical care in a while, and there’s no one Wally can think of who’d need this kind of recovery.

Something’s buzzing at the outside of his awareness, though. It sounds kind of…

Wally perks up. “Hey, the alien kid’s here!”

The PT holding Wally up at the waist hums. Her name is Cindy, and judging from their previous conversations, she thinks that Wally is the dumbest man alive. “There’s a million of those, Flash. Which one?”

“The one who bit Superman,” Wally adds.

Judging by the face Cindy makes, this clarifies nothing.

“Most recently,” Wally stresses, carefully not wincing as his leg gets stretched out again, only to be pulled back into position as tightly as before. “OW. Cindy, you’re killing me.”

Cindy makes a strangled noise. She asks: “What, again?” which is how Wally remembers that he got torn back out of the time stream not all that long ago, and it may be a big gauche to joke about your own death with the people who care about it.

Whoops. Wally winces. “…Nevermind?”

The other PTs make various fussy and annoyed noises, but the alien kid is wheeled onto the other side of the medical floor’s only gym. (The actual training floors are on another level. Wally wishes he was there. Alone.)

(Without four PTs clinging to his legs at all times.)

Wally waves. It’s a nice enough gesture, and now that the alien-phantasm-turned-flesh-and-blood-boy is more physically embodied than he used to be, the boy even deigns to carefully wave back.

The kid’s PTs—Wally thinks at least one of them is from the team that supervises Bart and his super-powered-leg-problems—end up encouraging the alien kid’s chair round to the soft mats where the kid can lay down. He ends up in the exact same position Wally is—horizontal on the floor, legs forcibly pinwheeled by enthusiastic but firm PTs.

Wally can physically feel the kid’s astonishment and discontentment buzzing in the air as he figures out what’s being done to him. Wally can’t help but laugh.

The kid angles his head towards the speedster. His face still looks—well, it looks…bad. It looks bad, unhealed and still threatening to weep neon green body fluids; there’s a wet, living crack running up and down his face that makes eye contact kind of hard. His hands are all spidery—this kid can probably hold and grip things, but the previous breakage have left his hands a little too easy to splay, a little too oddly-angled. He’s too thin to keep himself fully upright for long. When he looks at you, his eyes shake like a poorly lined-up television signal.

Martian Manhunter had said that he’d once looked like a healthy, happy human child. His current form is a reflection of the injuries he’d experienced since.

...What a thing for a kid to go through. Wally wouldn’t wish this sort of injury on anyone.

“­Alright, up you go,” the PT above him—Rhys, Wally remembers at the very last second—orders, and Wally is prompted to let the man help him back upright. “Over to the bars for you. You think your legs are up to bearing that kind of weight as you try out walking?”

“…Sure,” Wally lies to Rhys. It’ll be fine. Probably. By the time he gets over there, his legs might have already speed-healed by then. “Hand me the—?”

“Yeah, yeah, here’s the crutches. Don’t destroy yourself trying to make this happen, okay?”

So Wally gets set up at the glorified playground equipment in his least restrictive gym clothes, one long iron bar under one arm, and one long iron bar under the other. Two full-size physical therapists spot him as the speedster completes the most strenuous task available to him at the moment: walking across a very short distance without putting his full weight on his legs.

Wally puts one shaking leg in front of the other. The steps are slow. The urge to zoom to the end of the little bowling lane he’s stuck in—and therefore shatter his legs under the speedforce, again—is irresistibly temping.

Healing sucks. And Wally’s even got the longer end of the stick.

In the end, Wally sticks the landing. He is unreasonably sweaty. He is miserable. But he makes it to the end. Every one of the witnessing PTs applauds as if this is a great success. It’s literally not. It’s the inevitable result of pushing himself too far for the third time this year.

A question buzzes through the air, fluffing through Wally’s hair and the little fine hairs up and down his body. It’s nothing but inquisitive—whatareyoudoing whatareyoudoing?

Wally lets the PT maneuver a chair underneath him. It gives him enough breathing room to turn his upper torso, and he ends up catching the eye of the little alien kid in the corner. He’s sat on a yoga ball, two members of his medical team and one of the kids’ PTs trying to get his attention back to his exercises.

“Hey,” Wally realizes suddenly. “Your casts are gone!”

The kids’ legs are actually bare, which Wally’s never seen before. They’re twiggy, sure, stretched taut over a bone frame, and discolored and pale, but they’re legs. Wally hadn’t even known the alien had possessed legs until he’d formed a physical body months and months ago.

“Dude, that’s great!”

Happy/smug/proud vibrates through the room, making Wally’s teeth buzz. The kid smiles through a half-split lip, and bounces on the yoga ball ever so slightly.

“Good,” the kid says, surprising Wally, his PTs, and the kid’s usual medical team. He was talking already?! He thought J’onn had said—

“Hurt?” the boy asks, concern/concern flooding through the air. Oh. Right. He’s probably here for his busted legs; it would make sense that by virtue of the setting, Wally would be injured too.

And, sure, Wally busted his legs, but he at least heals with all the swiftness of the speedforce. “Meh.” Wally waves off the question. “I’m fine. It’ll be quick for me; some rehab and some lunch and a few days off, and I’ll be in shipshape.”

Wait. Wally’s eyes scrunches up. Is using wordplay appropriate with this kid…?

“Pain?” the kid asks, and turned his attention to the closest member of his medical team. “He pain?”

The medical professional sighs, which finally clues Wally in that the man is no longer masked. Hey, the kid is out of medical isolation! “The Flash has his own medication, thankfully. His doctors know what to do.”

The kid frowns. He doesn’t get it. He looks at Wally, and he looks at the staffer, who shrugs. “It’s the usual indicator word he uses for pain medication. He’s wondering if you’re hurt enough to need some.”

Wally hums. On one hand, it’s sweet that the alien kid is worried about him. It’s a huge step upwards from the alien who spent all his time hiding in abandoned meeting rooms and occasionally biting Superheroes.

On the other hand, the kid doesn’t just look worried that Wally might not be getting care; he looks scared.

Something happened to this kid. Something he can't shake off.

Wally breathes in, and breathes out.

—And breathes in sharply when Cindy starts wiggling his feet. She doesn’t respond at all to his glare, because she is a professional, and he is not a big baby of a superhero.

Mean.

“I’m fine,” Wally finally responds, trying to alleviate the kid’s concerns through sheer vibes-telepathy alone. Who knows if it’s working, but it makes Wally feel better about trying at the very least. “I’ve got my own team to fix me up, and they do a good job of taking care of me. Even if they’re bullying me at my most vulnerable.”

“Anything for you, boss,” Cindy volleys back cheerfully. “Gimme your other leg.”

The tension in the air slowly dissipates. The kid doesn’t stop shooting occasional looks at the unadorned, half-out-of-uniform Flash, but he does let Bart’s little PT team get to working on stretching out his previously-bound now-physical legs and getting him upright—if only for a few seconds at a time, balanced precariously by humans who actually touch his back and arms and hips and legs.

Wally’s session wraps up before the kid’s does. He’s not in any rush. He gets onto the walking crutches Rhys leaves out for his temporary use and lopes over to watch, occasionally hooting and applauding when the kid pulls off something no one’d been sure he could do.

The double handed high-five Wally offers him at the end is punctuated with shaky eye contact, two working hands, and a green-threaded beaming grin.

*

Diana cheerfully digs into her kebab lunch, plastic cutlery pushed to their maximum limit before threatening to break under her prodigious strength. “You know, Batman,” she starts, beaming, “My charge gave me his name the other day.”

Bruce sets down his muenster-ham-and-whole-wheat sandwich mid-bite. “I’ll need to hear everything,” he says immediately, to which Diana tuts.

“Oh, Batman, I could never break his trust like that,” she says, sweet as anything. She finesses a bite of lamb from the skewer and takes a neat bite.

“…Wonder Woman,” Batman says.

“Hm?”

“Diana.”

“Is there something you needed, Bruce?” Diana asks, pleased with herself. There genuinely is very little that could be done with a vague description of a now-altered human form and a first name alone; besides, she genuinely does feel that hearing the boy’s name come from others’ lips would be upsetting for him. Danny offered his name to Diana alone, and so it shall remain until hers alone he offers it to others.

Still, she is not above bragging.

“I need information.” Bruce’s face underneath his mask is stone.

Diana dips a second chunk of lamb into a little container of tzatziki sauce. “Well, then,” she points out, “Shouldn’t you spend some time building rapport with my charge, then?”

The feared Batman of Gotham, father of a half-dozen highly trained heroes, bristles like a wet cat. The demeanor is almost comical. He knows what he looks like to non-Gothamite children. He knows his suit will make this fight for common familiarity an uphill battle.

Diana smugly works through her lunch and ignores Bruce’s silent brooding as he does the same.

[dotster001]

Howdy!

So I recently came across your twisted earth au and im loving it so far! Now my request is, what if we, the reader, (y/n whatever you wanna name it) gets transported from our game into their world? I can just imagine y/n finding out about idia or ace’s body pillow of us and y/n not knowing to be either shocked, confused or both. I’d love to see your interpretations of this with the rest of the cast!

Have a nice day/night!

Twisted Earth Literary Universe

3k Masterlist

A/N: I tried to be realistic. Also, imagine that each of these scenarios is a separate universe, for realism sake 😂 let me know if you want a version of this where we find some of their fanfiction supply I've talked about Floyd shirt before. It's this with your face on it.

Ace and Deuce

"This is the ADeuce duo! They'll probably be in some of your classes, and both of them are super fans of you!"

Cater Diamond, who had the voice of a friend of yours (you were very confused by this place, and starting to get very scared) had found you when you woke up in a strange coffin. Now he was showing you around.

You noticed, on the wall, a poster with yourself and many of your friends on it.

"Oh! That's so cute!" You said, pointing. You missed them already.

"That's Deucey's," the red headed one of the duo said, wrapping his arms around the bluenette, whose face was turning a bright red.

"He also has-"

"-Ace don't!"

"A plushie that looks like you!"

Ace pulled a tiny plush off the desk, and showed it to you with a proud smirk.

"Oh. It's kinda cute," you felt your cheeks growing warm. Who knew you could look so adorable?

"Ace has a body pillow!" Deuce blurted, causing you to drop the plush in shock. Deuce winced at that.

"What the hell dude?" Ace hissed. "That's simply not true!"

Deuce dodged around Ace, diving under a bed and pulling out a life size body pillow of yourself.

Your jaw dropped. "Oh my God…"

"What! His was cute, but mine's not?" Ace pouted.

"His was cute. Your intentions are questionable," you muttered.

"You think his intentions are questionable now, you should see the back," Deuce smirked, but was quickly tackled by Ace.

Octotrio

Two very tall twins were showing you around your new living space. When you had indicated that you didn't even know where you were, and wanted to go home, a scary aura had filled the space, so you decided to keep your mouth shut, for now.

The sillier one, opened a door, singing out, "Azuuuuul~" as he walked into the room.

Oh my God.

What the hell?

The room was full of what looked like video game merchandise….except on closer inspection it was of yourself and your friends.

"Oh my God-" you whispered, mildly scared that you might have just been kidnapped by stalkers.

"Azul! We found something!"

"I'm at the printing press," a voice called back from the back of the room.

The calmer one took your arm, and escorted you to the back where a silver haired man was printing T-shirts….with your likeness on it.

You felt faint. You gripped your escort just a little harder.

The man looked up, his face turning a bright red.

"How-"

"Dunno! We just found them asleep in the mirror chamber! First come first serve, am I right?" The silly one said with a smile. "Ooh! I gotta get my shirt!"

"Floyd-" his twin warned, but it was too late, he'd already run off.

The silver haired man was still staring at you.

"I know what this looks like, but-"

"Ta da!" You turned, and looked at his shirt, and finally gave into your building terror and passed out.

Idia

You'd woken up to a robot boy smiling at you sweetly. He was saying something about how he brought you here, but you couldn't understand a word of it. And now he was showing you around your "new home". You figured, just smile and nod, then you could get out of here when the advanced robot boy wasn't looking.

He knocked on the door, and you heard a voice from within.

"Why are you knocking, Ortho?"

"Cause I brought a friend!"

You heard a crashing sound, a muttered, "no no no" and what sounded like hasty scampering.

"I'm coming in~!" Robot boy pushed open the door, and you were met with pitch black. Except for the glowing blue fire in the back corner.

"Big brother! This is not good for your eyes!" He flicked on the light, and the blue fire hissed in the corner. You could now see the blue fire was a guy, who was curled in on himself, peeking at you from over the top of his knees. His golden eyes filled with terror that only got worse as Ortho showed you around the room.

Then it caught your eye. The body pillow on the bed. The animated character on it kind of looked like you. Your eyes clicked from the pillow, to the guy, and back again, not failing to notice the widening of his eyes as he knew you knew. He pulled up his hood and buried himself in it.

"It's not what it looks like," he muttered. "I'm not a creep, I just wanted to cuddle."

Oh God….

You're pretty sure you were kidnapped.

Crewel

The man before you was a bit intimidating. But you definitely trusted him more than the guy with the crow mask, so you couldn't complain too much.

He was eyeing you, and making some sketches in a notebook. Not much of a conversationalist, unless you would try to stand up and stretch, then he would say, "sit, pup," in a booming voice that would startle you back to your seat.

After a while, he stood up and moved to the giant wardrobe behind him, flipping through outfits, before pulling one out.

"Is this something you would wear?"

You nodded. It really was! It looked more expensive than something you would wear, but if you had the funds, definitely!

He smiled softly, almost proudly, before handing it to you.

"Try this on please. Bathroom is over there." He pointed with his red stick, and you rushed over there. 

Hopefully in the time all this was taking, the crow man would have found a way home. And maybe you could keep the outfit!

It was as you were undressing that you noticed the tag.

Twisted Earth

Y/N L/N Line

You froze. What? Why was you name on the tag? You knew from your short time here that there was magic, so that could be why a tag with your name was there. But how did he know where you were from?

"Hurry up, pup!" He called from the other room, and you quickly pushed the thoughts away, opting to try on the outfit as fast as possible.

Sam

You didn't know where you were. But there was a line outside this shack, so hopefully somebody could help you. You'd mostly just gotten a lot of stares so far.

When you got inside the building, you saw someone at the counter, and felt relief. A professional! Surely they would at least have a phone for you to call home with!

You stepped up to the counter, opened your mouth, and were cut off by,

"Hello, my little imp, how can I-" and then he froze, staring at you with wide eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me they were here?" He hissed over his shoulder.

"Who's they?" You asked, unsure why this man was mad at you already.

"No, no, not you, somebody else," he muttered, before taking what looked to be a calming breath. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know, that's why I came over here. Can I borrow your phone?"

He stared. Then slightly tilted his head. Then glared at someone. Then slowly nodded.

"Sure! Let me just run to the back and see if one of my workers has a cell phone available. Please help yourself to anything in the store while I'm gone."

He was gone in a flash, and you started to wander. It seemed like a convenience store, just with a couple weird things you'd never heard of, like dragon's years. Maybe it was a type of alcohol?

Then you found it. It was a small section of the store, but it has enough in it to recognize plushies, posters, and shirts with yourself and your friends on them.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump.

"You must be very confused, Y/N," the man from the counter whispered in your ear. He took a step back and extended a hand to you.

"Take my hand and I can explain everything."

[alithographica]

Re: Redbubble & Alternatives

Redbubble is doing some nonsense and I've deleted my account. I barely bothered with it anyway, was mostly there for people who've asked for specific images as posters.

Anyway in doing that I sacrificed the $4.35 that was still sitting in my earnings. They only let you cash out at $20, so rather than drum up sales and therefore make Redbubble more money, I'm gonna do what I feel is $4.35 in anti-publicity for them. 🥳

tl;dr there are new fees that hurt artist income at all sales levels. Redbubble is either looking to cut costs and raise profits for funsies, or is in serious financial trouble.

About the new fees:

Redbubble offers their services to artists by allowing artists to control their profit margin above a certain baseline manufacturing fee. This was pretty cool! There's now an additional fee that will be charged starting May 1, 2023. It is not an upfront fee that requires you to pay out of pocket, but it does directly cut your profit margin. How badly? Well...

By Redbubble's own example, if in one month you sell $300 in products that you had set at a 25% margin, you'd previously earn $75. Under the new structure, that earnings level means you pay a $28 fee, so you will now be paid $47. That $28 represents a 37% cut off what you were supposed to earn.

There's a full fee table in that link, but other highlights include a $1 fee if you earned $2 (aka 50%!) and big sellers who'd expect to take home $400 will now receive $320 (an $80 fee, 20%).

It also puts you in a weird spot that earning $1 more in a month may bump you to the next tier, causing you to actually take home less money. Make $1 more, end up losing $11. Make it make sense. 🤨

About the new tiers:

Each shop is evaluated and labeled Standard, Premium, or Pro. Premium and Pro shops are not subject to the new fees, but there's no clarity on how to move from one tier to another. Redbubble says it's under your control but it's clearly not. Many artists are reporting that they have accounts with next to no sales that have been labeled Pro, and accounts with thousands of annual sales that are labeled Standard.

Action items:

Look, I'm not gonna tell other artists that they have to close their shops, or tell buyers not to buy from Redbubble if your favorite artists have chosen to stay. What you do with the above info is up to you.

What I will say is that many artists are leaving because the new pay structure sucks. I encourage people who buy from Redbubble to expand their support to other sites.

Attrition is arguably their goal here—they know people will leave over this, and that'll probably lower their costs and lower competition for the remaining accounts. But goodwill is lost easily and they're playing a dangerous game on betting how many stay vs. leave. I'm out.

Feel free to leave your feedback on Redbubble's feedback form here, but it feels slightly like yelling into the void.

Alternatives:

tbh I don't have a good read on things. If you do know of any recommended (or unrecommended) print-on-demand sites, speak up!

I will say that as of now (April 2023), based on my research:

🟢 INPRNT sounds like a winner if your game is art prints and stickers. Does not have any wearable products like t-shirts.

🟡 Etsy + Printify/Printful might be viable? Etsy always had higher profit margins than POD marketplaces, but it's a bit more work and they also do weird things occasionally. Also has a listing fee so if you're the type to upload a ton of designs, pricey.

🔴 Teepublic is owned by Redbubble. Doesn't have the tier/new fee structure as of now but might be imminent. Have also heard their customer service sucks.

🔴 Society6 is going to charge artists shipping costs, and there's going to be a (mandatory?) subscription service launched in the fall, so that's not a winner anymore either.