#this was supposed to only be a doodle what the hell happened????

[justanotheruser]

Its them again

[aratedfreyjablog]

Squishmallow HC Kings ver.

When they find you hugging a gigantic squishmallow in your sleep. Reader/MC gender neutral!

Satan 

Violence is going to be only thing in his mind when he sees you sleeping while holding a squishmallow

He’s going to be glaring  and grinding his teeth at the squishmallow, regarding it as an angel incarnated from the heavens itself and imagining all the ways he can torture it in the worst and most terrible ways (most of them involving shredding and stuffing flying every where)

When not thinking about tormenting the squismallow, he would be trying to figure out what exactly it’s supposed to be. Like, he can tell it resembles some sort of animal on Earth but its head and body aren’t even separated! Hell, he would’ve felt a tiny bit better if its head and body were separated so he could rip it into two cleanly like he does with other stuffed animals! But what is that supposed to be!?

The only that’s stopping him from doing exactly everything he’s wanting to do was the fact knowing it was one of your precious keepsakes back on Earth and has been giving you comfort during your stay in Hell

That and he finds the image cute of you hugging some sort of stuffed animal in your sleep

Don’t get him wrong though, the minute he finds an opportunity, it’s gone. Dead. Done.

He’s going to remember what it had done to him and have it pay the price once he gets a chance. 

In the meantime, he opts to leaving you to sleep and climb into your bed

He hugs you from the back, pulling you closer to himself and snuggling his face into your head as if rubbing his scent on you will assert his dominance over the thing and show you were his

He’s petty enough to give you a hard time over the whole thing the next morning by making you incapable of walking out of bed for breakfast

Beezelbub 

Sort of shows a similar reaction as Satan where it starts off with him either dragging his cigarette longer and harder compared to normal if having one or being devoid of expression with arms crossed as he simply stares at the scene of you hugging the squishmallow in your sleep

He does feel puzzled by it and tilts his head side to side to try to figure out what it is while taking a quick picture because, even he admits, the scene is 100% cute and blackmail material

But this whole thing doesn’t last long, probably 2 minutes at best

Remember, once he puts his mind into something, he’s going to be sticking to it. And that thing stole the spot that’s reserved for him and only him. As if he’s going to leave it alone and let it stay in his spot

There isn’t any hesitation when he walks closer to you and casually yet quietly rips the squishmallow out of your arms before he quickly slides into your arms without waking you up

It does satisfy him a bit when the squishmallow hits the wall across from your bed before falling face-down on the floor

He holds you tightly and calms himself down by smelling your scent from the top of your head

He may even choose to secretly mark you in a couple of places along your upper body since if he went any lower, it'll definitely wake you up

Now there’s two options he can choose from: 

If he chooses to stay the whole night, he’s going give you a hard time in the morning by “reminding” you who exactly is yours

If not, he’s going to take the squishmallow with him as he leaves to give it a special disposable treatment or draw bunch of doodles all over its face and body to make it ugly and no longer charming in your eyes without guilt

Leviathan

Oh boy, you better prepare yourself because if you thought Beel and Satan were bad, this demon takes the whole cake

He will know whether or not someone or something other himself was in your arms and he will not react well to it

And that’s exactly what is happening when he catches you hugging some sort of abomination in your sleep

There’s none of the whole contemplation or staring - The second he sees it and at where it is, he yanks the squishmallow out of your arms without caring whether it tears or not and hangs it by its nonexistent neck tightly to the point it looks it’ll burst

He doesn’t even care if he wakes you up when he does it as his jealousy consumes him from the mere sight of something other than himself in your embrace

Because of this, this, too, has two options this can go:

If you don’t end up waking up from it, he’s going to contemplate whether or not to wake you only to choose to hold some restraint and let you sleep by yourself. But he does plan on giving you one of the worst mornings involving pain from mostly your spine all the way to your legs, that’s for sure

But if you wake up from the feeling of missing something while he’s still in your room,  he’s not planning to let you go back to sleep and leave you alone until he calms down and feel that he’s marked you or you marked him enough so that you won’t ever look or touch anyone or anything other than himself 

No matter which option you choose, say goodbye to the squishmallow because he does take it with him and utterly destroys it no matter if it’s precious to you or not. 

Mammon

He’s the only one amongst the four that decides peace was an option and doesn’t show a visceral reaction over the squishmallow

Because he was the one that gave the idea to humans to create  the stuffed toy, despite not knowing what it is, he thinks he’s the one that gave it permission to be graced for the night while sleeping in your arms. Though, he does think he could’ve given you something better…

But if it gives you comfort during your stay in Hell, that’s fine. That's a free service that he’s willing to offer as a means to persuade you into becoming a permanent resident. 

Despite finding the image of you hugging such a massive squishmallow endearing as it reminds him of how you hug him in your sleep, he does feel disgruntled over the fact he got replaced

No matter though, he’s bigger than the squishmallow in every single way. That works to his advantage along him being a living being that pleases you in all aspects including pleasure. So, there’s no competition whatsoever

It doesn’t mean he won’t join you in bed. He climbs in and pulls you into his chest from the front, squishing the squishmallow to the point one might pitifully think it’s suffocating

In fact, when you wake up the next morning, you’re the one feeling jealous seeing that you missed out to being the one that gets squished 

Of course this leads to morning playtime once he senses this as you throw the squishmallow out of the bed and dive straight to something that’s much softer and squishier

[zabiume]

say yes

orihime doesn't actually believe him at first when he asks her out | (ao3)

Orihime doesn’t actually believe him at first when he asks her out.

The weeks leading up to the wedding pass by in such a rush that she’s mostly just focused on planning her leaves at work and getting the veil done in time. Even though it was handy to have the Kurosaki Clinic as a meet-up location for everyone, she hadn’t actually planned to spend so much time there. There was so much to do off-late, and the last thing she wanted to do was distract Ichigo from his studies (contrary to his lackadaisical attitude, she knew he wanted to do well with his courses). But an evening had become many evenings, and Ichigo’s sisters were so sweetly persuasive that Orihime often found it hard to say no. The Kurosakis were a rowdy family, but they were warm and kind and welcoming in a way that was addictive to just lean into. Ichigo had to have gotten it from somewhere, after all.

And then the wedding happens, and Rukia actually wears the veil, and she’s so busy crying that she hardly has the time to process what it all means. Marriage had always been a distant concept to Orihime. Sora had never married, and she had never actually given much thought to it until she saw Rukia walk down the aisle with her own brother—somber and serious and beautiful. A bride.

It was only when her eyes met Renji’s that Rukia’s expression broke into a small, knowing smile. A Rukia smile, undoubtedly, with all its usual restraint, but there was a familiarity to it that gave Orihime pause. It felt like a secret shared. It felt intimate, a wisdom beyond Orihime’s years. For the briefest of seconds, she wondered what that must feel like. That closeness. That vulnerability.

Then she felt afraid—and promptly beat her curiosity back into submission.

So when Ichigo admits that he’s been thinking about her for a while, that he’s been harboring feelings for her, it doesn’t really—register. His eyes are uncertain, searching, and she instinctively wants to reach out to him, but she doesn't know how. She suspects she must have stuttered something back, but she is, ultimately, in utter shock. Four years of doodling his face on notebooks and following him to hell and back, and she never once thought about what would happen if he honestly, seriously, actually liked her back. It doesn’t make any sense.

In the end, she realizes she must have misunderstood him, which sounds a lot more like her the more she thinks about it. Her daydreams about Ichigo have always been vivid with detail, turning his mild affection into rapturous sentiment, so she files it away as her usual whimsy and moves on.

But then Ichigo asks her if she wants to go on a walk one day, and Orihime isn’t sure. They’ve done things like that before, but those instances were spontaneous—him walking her back home after she dropped her notes off at his house, or him lingering by her doorway, long after a hang-out with their friends. He’s never asked like this before and it feels—different.

And when she actually shows up to the end of her street where they were supposed to meet, he looks nervous. Worse, he can tell something is off.

“Is something wrong?” he asks with a small frown.

“No! No, of course not,” she blurts, then quickly smiles as if to pacify him.

They walk up to the river together and find themselves strolling along the bank for a while, but it’s quiet. Orihime keeps trying to recall what he said at the cafe the other day, about what he could have possibly meant when he said, I’m trying to be honest about my feelings and it’s okay if you want to stay friends.

Her nails dig into her palms.

“It’s kinda cloudy, huh,” Ichigo remarks, a little sheepish when he looks over his shoulder at her. Orihime’s stomach drops at the way he looks, windswept and casual with both hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. His eyes are so warm, so kind, and she wonders if he knows that she loves him. Something lurches within her, and she almost feels sick as she stops in her footsteps.

"I'm sorry." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, this is just. This is a lot."

"What is?"

"This," she whispers. She dares not call it what it isn’t, already wanting to flee. Ichigo’s eyes widen, and she can tell he’s realized, kind of, what she’s talking about. She pushes on, her voice small and guilty. "This doesn't feel very real to me."

A casual conversation with Ichigo is all well and good, even if it makes her stomach goopy sometimes and she’s got to scream herself hoarse into her pillow to beat down the rush. But she just can’t picture Ichigo doing that about her. Even her wildest imagination draws short.

“Are you talking about what I said the other day at the cafe?” he asks quietly.

Orihime nods, not really looking at him but out towards the Karakura horizon.

“Do you—do you not feel the same?”

The shock of that question instantly draws Orihime’s attention back to his face. She realizes he’s trying to brace himself, and the corners of his eyes are creased like it would…

(Like it would hurt if she says no)

“It’s not like that,” she mutters, mustering courage. But it falters when their eyes meet, and she flushes. Even saying that much is too much. Still, she finds her voice for long enough to say, “But, um. You said you liked me.”

It’s Ichigo’s turn to flush. “Y-yeah.”

Oh.

“As—as friends?” She wants to kick herself for asking the question, and then promptly wants the ground to swallow her up when Ichigo looks like he’s in pain.

“Ye-No—I mean.” He covers his mouth with a fist to clear his throat. “I just, uh. You know. I like being friends with you, obviously. But it’s—it’s not. Fully, like.”

Orihime nods quickly but completely devoid of comprehension.

“I think it’s been a little different for a while now,” he admits, almost guiltily. “Maybe for a long time, I don’t know.”

Orihime tries to breathe, to think of the implications. But in the end, she’s just swept away by the golden sunlight on his face, by the courage it must have taken for him to admit such a thing. She still has a hard time wrapping her head around it, but she recognizes, intuitively, that he’s trying to give her something. Something important. And she can’t not handle it with care. Not when it’s from him. Even if it feels like she’s cupping her hands around something tenuous.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” he adds, and she can tell from his tone that he’s serious. “I think I was trying to figure it out for myself.”

Orihime laughs feebly, embarrassed. “You don’t have to be sorry for something like that.”

Ichigo smiles a small smile back at her, both hands in his pockets. He still looks tense, uncertain, and Orihime wants to make him feel better, but between them is a wall that hasn’t come down before, and she doesn’t know what it’s going to feel like when it does, but she bets it's intense. It has to be. She hates to admit that she’s a little afraid of it.

“It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to,” Ichigo says quietly. “We can forget this happened.”

Orihime watches him, the way the light hits his face as he waits for her answer. She shakes her head. “No, I just.” She braves herself to look up at him, to try and say what she has in her heart. “Can we take it a little slow, Kurosaki-kun?”

_____________________

Tatsuki calls her crazy for not jumping him the second he confessed, which is really typical of her, but Chad just frowns when she tells him what happened.

“You like him,” Chad points out.

Orihime nods. That’s not something she’ll ever deny.

“He likes you.”

She gnaws her lip, fighting down the anxious surge in her stomach.

“He does,” Chad insists. “I know him.”

For a minute, Orihime stews on his words, the two of them quiet as they walk along the side street together.

“Give him a chance,” Chad says, glancing down at her with a small smile. “Let him show you. Ichigo won’t let you down.”

_____________________

Orihime pays a little more attention.

There’s a little bookstore in midtown Karakura that she likes, and she builds the courage to ask him if he wants to go with her.

(“That sounds like a great idea, Inoue,” he’d breathed, and Orihime wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or if he looked a little relieved by her initiative).

Either way, Orihime watches the slouch of his back, the thin, long lines of his fingers as he gently pulls books out of the shelves and frowns at the little blurbs on the back. His movements are so familiar to her by now, but she ends up watching him more than the books, fascinated by his every gesture, the firmness of his shoulders, his arms.

“Here,” he says, and she starts a little. He’s holding a book out to her with a little smile. “I think you’ll like this one.”

She takes it from him gingerly. It’s a heist adventure set in outer space—exactly the kind of thing she likes to get lost in during breaks at work, and it touches her deeply, the fact that he knows what she likes to read—that over years of borrowing and lending from each other, he’s learned. She smiles and holds the book to her chest, determined to find something for him too.

But fundamentally, the truth is that Ichigo is no different from who he used to be. Even as they talk about their friends, or when she brings him yakisoba and they sit by his bedroom window to eat it, he’s still the same he’s always been. He talks flippantly about his teachers but passionately about his classes. He scoffs at the ridiculous things she says and teases her about her wild imagination. He looks lost when she meanders her way through a story but listens patiently anyway. These are all things that the Ichigo of last year used to do. The Ichigo she knew and had grown comfortable with, to a point where she didn’t feel conscious about being in his room, or talking to him like this, with no one else around. It’s easy to forget that he likes her in those moments, which makes her think maybe he doesn’t like her that way at all—maybe he was just trying to tell her how much he values her as a friend, and she was reading into it too much, or projecting or—or—

(Or he’s always felt like this, her brain provides. She takes a gigantic hammer and smashes this thought, then steps on it with her foot for good measure.)

Orihime knows that Ichigo has always loved her—just like he’s loved Chad or Rukia or a person he just met that needed saving. Ichigo is a kind, giving person. She knows better than to mistake that for pining.

But there are times where his thigh brushes hers, or she laughs at something he says, and he gives her a look, a look that he’s never given her before, tentative, searching. She wonders what would happen if he would lean down and kiss her then, just his mouth on hers, nothing more. It’s nothing she hasn’t imagined before, but like all her other fantasies, it’s not something she’s ever thought would actually happen. She’s imagined burger kingdoms (because if there’s a Burger King, he has to have a home, right?) and clouds that taste like cotton candy, and this is just one of those things—perfect, but too good to be true.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she pictures telling him. “I like you,” she pictures telling him. She even knows the exact face he would make, a little stunned, because she’s always coming at him from a little left of center. A little tender, because he’s always been so kind to her. Ichigo would never hurt her, but she’s a coward all the same, satisfied with having him only in her burger-kingdom-candy-cloud fantasies. She’d never know what to do if he gave her his hand.

She throws her head into her pillow and screams. At least this hasn’t changed—and it provides her a little comfort.

_____________________

He’s walking her back home from his house one day when he says, “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Orihime whips her head up so fast she nearly gets dizzy. “What?”

He doesn’t look at her. “I’m terrible at this. Being a boyfriend.”

Orihime wants to reassure him of his merits, but she’s still stuck on boyfriend. Kurosaki-kun, her boyfriend. The shape of those words makes no sense, not in that order, not even rearranged. A hysterical part of her wants to laugh, and then lie down sideways and roll all the way home.

Ichigo lifts his gaze from the ground and frowns at her. “You don’t believe it.”

“Kurosaki-kun?”

He kicks at a pebble in his path and watches it totter out of the way. “You don’t believe that I like you.”

It’s only slightly accusing. He mostly just sounds sad, like there’s something wrong and he has no idea how to fix it.

“That’s not—” she begins. True, she wants to say, but she can’t bring herself to admit that it would be a little bit of a lie to say she had wholly embraced this idea that Ichigo was apparently in love with her. “Kurosaki-kun.” It comes out a little helpless, and she can’t help but stare up at him, hoping he’ll understand.

“I do, you know,” he says quietly. Stubbornly, almost. There’s a determination in his eyes that’s so familiar to her by now, a brimming thunder in him that speaks of hidden depths—things he feels that he can’t quite find the words for. Ichigo has always spoken so much with so little that when he says, “I do,” again, she knows. He’s been saying it to her in one form or another for a while now. Had he always been, even when he hadn’t quite known that that was what he was saying?

“I’m the terrible one.” she says finally, shaking her head. “Kurosaki-kun—Kurosaki-kun is so brave, so warm.” She looks up at him, and she tells herself she isn’t going to cry, even if she feels it at the base of her throat. “I wouldn’t even know what to do if you gave me your hand.”

Surprise breaks out on Ichigo’s face, followed by understanding.

“You could hold it,” he said quietly. And then color fills his cheeks, his own admission embarrassing him as he looks away from her face. “I-If you wanted to.”

Orihime lets out a breath, the thrill of possibility and permission making itself clear in the air between them. She stares at his hand, so large, so there, and lowers her own to lock their fingers together. Warm. His hand is warm. Her cheeks are on fire. Ichigo still doesn’t look at her, but his cheeks are pink too.

“I’ll hold it,” she decides, carefully cradling it with both her hands like it’s the most important thing in the world. Ichigo nods and squeezes his grip. She squeezes back.

They walk home that way. Neither of them says a word.

_____________________

Later that night, much, much later, Orihime rolls over in bed and stares out her window. It’s dark outside, quiet, and all she can think about is Ichigo. She’s spent a few nights like this before, her love for him so full that it had a presence of its own in the room. Ichigo, with his hand on his chin, talking about anything, everything. Ichigo at war, his back to her because he trusts her with it. Ichigo’s hand in hers, not limp, not asleep, but awake and alive and hers to hold.

I like you, she tries with her mouth. I like you.

She picks up the phone and dials his number without thinking about it, really.

There are one, two, three, four rings between them, and then his voice arrives on the other end, thick with sleep, concerned. “Hello?” A pause, like he’s pulled the phone away from his ear to see who’s calling. “Inoue?!”

“Kurosaki-kun,” she returns.

“What’s wrong? Are you in trouble?”

She smiles. “No. I just…I wanted to tell you…”

“Tell me what?”

“I like you, Kurosaki-kun,” she confesses, true and soft and clear. It’s only when she’s said it that she realizes it’s the first time she’s said it to him out loud, with him awake to hear it. “I like you,” she says again, stronger this time, more insistent—no room for error, or misunderstanding or doubt.

There’s a long silence on the other end, and it draws for so long that Orihime almost falls asleep to it, but for once she’s not afraid. She’s ready for the wall to come down, however long it takes, or however fast.

Finally, Ichigo laughs, just a heavy exhale from his nose. “Sheesh. Is that it? I thought you were seriously in trouble or something.” He doesn't sound disgruntled, though. He sounds pleased. Thrilled, really. It's like the warmth is emanating off of him, and Orihime can feel it all the way here, three blocks away. And then he says, “Me too,” and it’s like he’s here, burrowed in her ribs alongside that beating thing she calls a heart.

She falls asleep that way, her phone cradled to her chest, static waves connecting her to him. It’s the best sleep she’s gotten in years.

_____________________

Some time later, after a few days have passed, she takes him to the park for a date, his hand in hers as they walk between the trees. He’s in a light jacket that looks good on him; she’s in his coat, two sizes too big on her.

“I want to race you to the end of the park,” she declares, tilting her gaze towards him to see his reaction.

He blanches. “It’s the middle of winter.”

“That makes it sound like you don’t think you can win in these conditions,” she observes, tapping her chin with one finger. “Could it be that the mighty Kurosaki-kun is…slacking…?”

Ichigo frowns. “Oi.”

“It’s just a few hundred meters,” she assures him.

He sighs, letting go of her hand and heading over to the other side of the walkway so he can get into position. “Ready when you are,” he says.

Orihime grins. They ready, set, go it, and then she’s darting, dashing through the park like her feet can’t carry her fast enough. Ichigo is hot on her heels, but it’s clear she’s going to be the winner, wind whipping at her hair and her clothes. Something fuels her from within, gives her a boost that makes her reach the park’s edge a second faster than he does, shoes roughly scraping against the pavement upon her landing. She could have run forever with how buoyant this feeling is in her chest, but she settles for grinning, holding her hands out to him as he catches up to her. He’s sulking.

“I’ll buy you hot chocolate,” she promises soothingly, then laughs at the hope that strikes his face. It’s cute enough to deserve a kiss, so she stands up on tiptoes and plants one on him, her lips soft against his cheek.

“O-Okay,” he breathes, a little flush rising to his cheeks.

“Let’s go!” She pumps one fist in the air.

Ichigo takes her other hand, tugging her back before she can walk into oncoming traffic. She settles back with a sheepish grin. He shakes his head. They look both ways this time.

Then they cross the street.

[r3dmooon]

Behind Your Screen — Wally Darling x gn! human! reader

summery: Strange things keep popping up on your computer. Soon you find out it's all because of a strange entity!

tw: some creepy things are alluded to, but it's all vague.

a/n: I had so much fun writing this. Wally is kicking his feet while drawing for you. He is not yandere!!!!

wc: 0.8k

Master List

❥Wally was bored, watching people come and go. They’d check out the website, sometimes look at his little doodles, then leave. It honestly made him sad. Did no one want to be his friend? The messages in the guestbook said otherwise but they didn’t come back. 

❥Then you came around. At first, you seemed like the rest. After looking around the website you closed the tab. But then you came back. He didn’t get his hopes up, as others have come back for a second glance too. But this time he couldn’t help but admire you. You were so focused, scrolling and looking through the details of the website.

❥You came back more often, he wasn’t sure why. Who was he to ask questions? He finally got the friend he’s been longing for. It was so lonely where he was after all…

❥He found out that he could leave you little drawings, and it became his favorite pastime! He couldn’t feel more delighted drawing you with him and his friends all hanging out. Oh if only those dreams could be a reality…he didn’t want to think about what happened to his friends. No, not when you’re there to make everything better!

❥When you got the first drawing, you were confused. You didn’t really use ms paint…and you didn’t remember drawing this anyways. Yes, you’ve become enraptured in this rediscovered puppet show called Welcome Home. And yes…you did check out the website, just to see if anything changed…and you may have created fan content for the show…

❥All in all, you decided to pass it off as something you made without remembering. It was a cute drawing. It was you with the cast members on a picnic. You couldn’t help but keep it in a special folder on your desktop. 

❥But then another one popped up the next day. The picture was of you and Wally smiling, text over it read ‘You're the absolute most friend’. 

❥Your heart dropped. That catchphrase was quite familiar. In fact…that was on one of the valentine’s day artworks for Wally. You quickly booted up the website, just to double check. As you found it, you took a deep breath. Maybe you tiredly drew this one too? I mean…what else could it be? But something in your gut told you that it was someone else. A hacker? Stalker? 

❥No, no you're just overthinking this. Little did you know, Wally was watching your reaction with the happiest grin he’s had in such a long time. He hopes his little drawings make you as happy as you make him. 

❥This kept happening, but you refused to bring up your concerns since nothing else had happened. Only those strange…I suppose endearing drawings. If anything, it made you even more interested in the wacky children's show. You read more thoroughly through the characters descriptions, and found the concerning hidden messages in parts of the website. 

❥All the drawing had one common theme. Wally was always by your side. Didn’t matter what scenario, or who else you were ‘hanging out’ with, he was always there. If the drawings alone didn’t creep you out, the fact that Wally in all the drawings was staring at you, and not drawing you felt unsettling. 

❥It all changed when one day your notes app was opened along with another drawing. The picture was of you and Wally hugging, the notes app saying: ‘Do you like hugs, friend?’ 

❥You slammed your computer shut, fear running through your veins. What the hell was that? 

❥Wally’s little felt heart hurt as your face left his view suddenly. Did he come off too strong? He was just excited to get to interact with you in another medium. He got so happy that he couldn’t help but write the first thought that came to mind.

❥Your presence has become a comfort to him. With everything that has happened and is happening…it was nice to look forward to his meetings with you. You seemed like such a nice person. He wished he could be with you…but the thumping that surrounded him reminded him that that would always just be a fantasy. 

❥The next time you opened your computer, you felt a little guilty. The notes app was still open, this time it said ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you friend.’ You still felt anxious, but the guilt overpowered that. It wouldn’t hurt to interact…would it? Maybe it’s some weird AI chatbot that…you didn’t know. Just hoped it wasn’t a hacker messing with you.

❥Not sure how you were supposed to interact, you decided to reply back in the notes app. ‘Who are you?’

❥That’s when you learned that Wally was somehow in your computer? Able to access your computer? You weren’t completely sure, he was vague when answering where he was. You felt like you were going a bit crazy…I mean c’mon, the logic made no sense. But a feeling deep in your gut told you this was all real. You weren’t being fooled, you weren’t being hacked, the main character of an old 70’s children show was talking to you.

❥Over time, you two became closer. In fact, you started to find Wally quite charming and cute. He would continue drawing you cute pictures and you would keep him company. 

❥If only you two could live in a fairytale, happily ever after…

[silverzoomies]

Imagine quickie rails u so good u squirt but you’re low key embarrassed bc that’s never happened before but he talks you through it so sweetly and so hornily bc he obviously finds it the hottest thing in the world and he’s kinda obsessed with the fact that you just did that bc of him

…..yeah I need to know what he’s like talking you through it …….

anon, i'm so sorry. i dunno if this is what you were expecting. but i went a little off the rails. i haven't actually sat down and written anything in fifty gajillion years. apologies in advance if i'm super duper rusty. you're a doll, by the way. thanks for the inspiration !! this ask had me red in the face all over again !! 🤍 here's a short drabble for ya 🤍🤍🤍

In the boring emptiness of some secret, government research facility, soft squeals call out with ecstasy.

Hold that thought.

Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?

🤍

Since the OG X-Men were busy with more important endeavors (another fancy gala. Huge snore fest), Xavier took it upon himself to recruit some newbie trainees. He sent three of them to a top secret facility. Super below radar. The building sat far away from the bustle of society, hidden at an off-the-record base.

It’s around one AM when Quicksilver himself finally crashes your boring, patrol party. He zips through the entire building, scouting the area; before checking in on the trainees. After sending the other two off on their twenty minute breaks, he soon finds you.

A newbie he’s far more acquainted with. In more ways than one.

But not as many as he’d like.

You look bored as hell sitting there by yourself, swirling in a swivel chair. A series of CCTV screens flicker before you. But you barely pay them any attention. Keeping your head down, clipboard on your lap; you doodle all over a security protocol sheet. Your legs kick in a childlike way.

Your first, official mission is the most lame of X-Men operations. But even despite that, you appear to be in high spirits. Peter’s almost jealous. The first time he joined up with the team, all he got out of it was a lousy, broken leg.

Anyway, you’re cute and all. But…don’t you have a job to do, you slacker?

Peter leans against the doorway, his hands nestled in the pockets of his silver, bomber jacket. Beady eyes watch you through the lenses of his goggles. His earphones hang around his neck. A quiet jam resonates from them. But you're so mesmerized by your doodling, you don't even notice.

In a flash, Peter makes his presence known. Big hands grab your shoulders hard. He leans in to whisper sternly in your ear. His voice vibrates, robust and quaking in an attempt to spook you.

“GOTCHA! Annnnnnnd, yer dead, kid! Mwahahaha!”

You swivel around in an instant. Hopping from your seat, you raise your hands in defense. Jeez! Peter's caught off guard by how quickly you react. Blinding beams of golden light burst from your palms. The same glow floods your eyes. You hurl scorching hot rays in Peter's direction.

Well…shit.

Thanks to Xavier's mad training skills, Peter's a little faster than light nowadays. And he's ultra lucky for it. Had you raised your hands and gone pew pew pew so many years ago - he probably would've charred to a crisp right then and there. 

“Damn! You got some killer aim! That was a close call.” He whistles. Peter gawks at the holes seared into the wall, straight through some ruined blueprints. A smirk plays on his lips. He gestures at the damage with a thumb, “Eh, they probably got backups ‘a those lyin’ around, right?”

Your only response is an affectionate eye roll. But Peter notes the curl at the corner of your mouth as you try not to smile. 

Screw it. You're pretty fun. Why doesn't he hang with you for a bit? He's probably got some time to kill. At least before Chuck realizes the speedster isn't dressed to the nines, bored out of his mind at the gala.

The two of you goof off for a few minutes. As you doodle, Peter looms over your seat. Watching the CCTV screens with a ready eye, he teases you about your lack of focus on the job. You're just such a supreme newbie, he can't help it.

To which you respond with a counterpoint - isn't he the reigning champion of getting sidetracked?

Touché, little newbie. Touché.

Boredom quickly makes him antsy. And being antsy has Peter's brain reaching for any stimulation he can find. Pacing the room, Peter casts subtle glances at your figure in tactical clothing. Hot damn. Black really does highlight your most bodacious assets.

Amidst casual conversation, Peter shamelessly flirts with you. And when you flirt back, he isn’t all that fazed. The two of you are always making saucy passes at one another. Horny topics of discussion happen more often than they should. You once poured your heart out for twenty minutes, complaining that you couldn’t squirt when you got off. Part of him took this confession as a challenge.

Peter never forgot how sexually charged the energy of that night was.

Or…maybe it wasn’t? Maybe you just wanted to vent to someone who would listen. Yeah. He’s probably uber delusional. That ‘energy’ might’ve come from the sunbeams radiating in your genes.

Sure. Nothing sexual.

But if that’s the case, why else are you giving him bedroom eyes - if not ‘cuz you really wanna bone?

Expelling a bland sigh, Peter leans back against the console where the CCTV screens are. He bounces a random ball he swiped from a researcher’s desk. Flirtatious teasing continues back and forth, remaining casual.

Until Peter makes a needlessly suggestive comment.

“I’m just sayin’. Picture this, ‘kay? You ‘n me, goin’ at it like there’s no tomorrow. Pretty sure I’d get you off in under, say, three minutes er less. That’s not a promise, it’s a fact.”

Throwing you a sly look, Peter smirks payfully. He bounces the ball again.

“Pshh. Not fast enough.” You mumble.

Peter’s dark gaze leers at you from under his brows.

Oh. Oh no, you didn't just...

His eyes fire across each CCTV screen, double checking for any unwanted visitors. All clear, it’s go time. Moving swiftly, he props you up on a nearby desk. At record speed - before you can begin to comprehend his impossibly fast actions - he crams six inches of girthy, speedster cock inside you. All without any warning.

In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have been so impulsive. But in the microsecond it took him to move your body and pull your pants off, at the very least; he had the courtesy to prep you with his fingers. And now, you’re coming undone as he jackhammers your cunt. Peter rolls into you in a blur of silver motion. Your walls clench perfectly over his cock.

You protest through shallow moans, “W-Wait! Oh my g-...too fast, Peter! Too fast!”

The tips of his fingers circle your clit, the vibrations shattering your moans. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you bring him closer. Peter shivers as your pussy squeezes him so tight. It’s an outrageously awesome sensation that drives him to drill his dick deeper. Tilting forward, he groans, his lips grazing yours.

“Y’think I can make you squirt like this?” He chuckles, his throat bobbing as he swallows down a moan.

You shake your head wildly, whimpering the softest, “Noooooo! I told you already, I cannnnn’t!”

“Huh? What’s that, cutie? Aw. Too bad. ‘Cuz I’m not gunna slow down ‘til you do.” Peter teases, looking over his shoulder at the CCTV screens. He smirks crookedly, “Better be quick. Yer teammates’re gunna be back soon.”

You tip your head back as you whine again. Peter ruts into you so inexplicably fast, his pace renders your lungs useless. His fingers keep torturing your clit, guiding your pearl in a whirring dance of speedy buzzes. You shudder, clawing into his arms as your hips move on instinct. 

Speeding the rhythm of his thrusts, Peter furrows his brows. His cock pulses when he watches your tits bounce in your shirt. He bites his lip to stifle a whimper. Below him, you try to call his name. But his powerful movements rupture your pretty voice. “Hell yeah, gorgeous. That’s it. Don’t hold back, ‘kay? Just let it happen. Gunna cum, pretty girl? C’mon, ya gotta cum for me. You can do it. C’mon.” He begs, his tone a little closer to a whine.

Not even two minutes into sexing you up, he has you gushing a spritz of luscious heat. Score. He'll be thinking about this sexy success for weeks. The corners of your eyes leak hot tears, as a rapturous orgasm overtakes you. The entire, lower half of your body tightens, muscles clenching. Your pussy pops with a juicy burst. Leaking down your thighs and ass, your slick coats his twitchy cock.

He kisses you, his breath burning hot, “Doin’ so good, princess. So good for me. Was that fast enough for you? Hmm? Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-”

Pulling his soaked length free, he showers your tummy in virile, white jets. Leaning over you, Peter laughs again, exhaling a long sigh of elation. His lips capture yours, drinking in your kisses for a few beats. He feels his heart twist with satisfaction. All at the awesome notion that he drove you to such an intimate, breaking point.

“How’s that for a quickie?” He teases with a cheeky grin, winking down at you.

Your blinky eyes gaze over his shoulder, looking somewhat dazed. Beneath him, you stir in place. You’re trying to say something. But you’re so braindead from the totally slammin’ orgasm he gave you, the words won’t happen.

But then, Peter notices the way your glazed hues narrow. That vibrant, golden glow from earlier returns. Sitting up on an elbow, you raise a hand to point at the CCTV screens behind him. Oh, you probably saw someone on cam. Peter’s dark gaze widens. A sudden beam of light pulsates at the tip of your finger.

“NO, NO, NO, NO-” He starts.

Too late. The golden flash fires like a speeding bullet from your fingertip, colliding into the screens. A powerful burst shatters the entire CCTV setup on impact. Electric static buzzes amongst broken glass and fried wires. Peter sighs, looking over his shoulder, then back down at your cute face.

“Babe, seriously? Now’s not the time to be tryin’ interior decorating!” He rolls his eyes, playing ignorant to your shared romp in the research lab, “Hold that thought...aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?”

[insensiblelimerence]

Traveler ➹

Pairing: Ellie Williams x f!reader

Synopsis: You were supposed to know better, but here you were, maybe two hours max from turning. What about the life you were going to have? The life you could’ve had with Ellie?

Warnings: character death, angst, swearing, mentions of blood, descriptions of murder, weapons, apocalyptic events

I wrote this like two years ago and decided fuck it why not get this out of my horde of drafts?

UNEDITED. 18+ MINORS DNI.

That all seemed fucking stupid as you stare at the bite mark on your forearm, pupils glued onto it as you dropped the gun in your right hand.

How did you not notice..?

Ellie came in, trying to look over slowly as she noticed your gun on the floor.

“you look like hell. are you okay..?”

You quickly turn to her, a panic-stricken look to your face. you chuckle as you roll down your sleeve.

“it’s nothing,” you say.

“nothing at all.”

she frowns at your now bleeding blue jacket, looking from your sleeve and back at you.

“no way did you try and stitch yourself up again.” she jokes.

you give an awkward smile. “yup.. y’know me, always stitching myself up!”

she walks over to you quickly, grabbing your arm. she sighs, starting to pull up your sleeve. “let me see how you did, if you did it all jagged i swe-“

“stop!” you pull your arm away, adjusting your sleeve “i.. i think i saw someone out there, we.. we should go.”

“we’re in ass nowhere, there’s nobody nearby.”

you shake your head. “no, no i swear I saw one!”

she gives you a knowing look, before its your turn to sigh as you slowly take off your backpack. guess you two were staying here for the night.

—

half an our has passed. you can feel her eyes boring into your back as you doodle on the worn wood with a rock. you know you should tell her… but…. it’ll be hard.

ellie has already lost so much, and you want to protect her for as long as you can.

the sun has set by now, and you lean against the staircase.

you glance at ellie repeatedly, who hasn’t moved from her criss cross position on the floor. she makes eye contact with you, before rushing at you.

“holy shit!” you shout. she grabs your arm, pulling up the sleeve as you fight back. “ellie stop! you’re hurting me! what if you pull the stitch!”

it seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. the dried up mark pulsed on your arm, veins haywire. she stares at the bite mark with a blank face, her eyebrows furrowing. “are you fucking serious.”

you try to speak, but nothing comes out. your hand reaches hers, as you attempt to slowly pry her fingers off. when you touch hands, she suddenly explodes.

“why didn’t you tell me?!” she yells. “when did you get this?? do you not trust me?!”

the questions flood your head, and you feel dizzy. you stumble against the floor, tears pooling at your eyes.

“i’m sorry.”

“when did you get it?!” she repeats, shaking your arm.

just before you two got in the safe house, when you killed those clickers.

“i… i don’t know. i only saw it when we got in the house.”

her gaze softens, the grip on you loosening. she’s silent now. uncomfortably silent.

she lets go of you, but doesn’t move.

“when… when did you plan on telling me?”

“soon, i swear. i-“

“were you gonna just run away and kill yourself or what?! why couldnt you have fucking told me! i could have helped you! i could’ve- I-“ she chokes on her words, falling to her knees.

she hugs you tightly, cradling you slowly as if you were fragile. “i can’t lose you. not you too…”

you shiver against her breath as warm tears fall onto your shoulder. “we could.. we could amputate it. my arm, i mean.”

she lets go, gently taking off your jacket and inspecting your arm. “no use.” she says coldly, dropping both your arm and hers. you look at her, only for her not to look back.

“look, ellie i-“

“if you want me to do it i wont.”

“what?”

“i cant shoot you. even if you killed everybody i know i could never shoot you. i… i fucking said it. fucking embarrassing am i right..? i could never do it.” she rambles as she looks to the side.

ellie looked so god damn pretty right now. the moon glimmering in the window framed her face perfectly, as if she was sculpted by the gods herself.

you grab her face with your bite-free arm. even if she couldn’t get infected, you would never.

you look at her lips, and then her eyes. then her lips again. she stared at you gently, tears glossing her eyes. you kiss her softly, the feeling of her chapped lips against yours filling your heart with joy. you had waited so long to feel her lips, to feel them against yours. you had just wished it was under different circumstances. you let go, and she leans into you for more, but you stand your ground.

“i know you just said you cant,” you say quietly. “but neither can i. so someone needs to, y’know?” you chuckle.

ellie looks at you in shock. “what?” she feels the cold metal against her palm, and looks at the gun you slid into her hands. she glances back up. “no, no.. i…” she shakes her head. “i can’t, you know i can’t.”

you smile slowly. “i’m too much of a pussy to do it. we both know this. and if i have to go this way, i’d only want you to do it.”

you scoot back a little, so you rest against the stairs once more. she’s standing up now, towering over you as the gun lay limp in her hand.

“do it for me, ellie.” you murmur softly, refusing to make eye contact.

your gun shakes in her hand, and she swears she can feel the leftover warmth of you touching it. its now aimed at your head as you continue to smile at her.

“i can’t.”

you frown. “please.”

she’d never seen you beg, and realized it would be the last. you want it to be her. you want her to do this one last favor. and she’d be damned if she never did anythung for you in your last moments.

“i love you.” you whisper.

she looks away, biting her lips.

“i love you too.”

—

she picks up the blue stained jacket, gently wrapping your gun in it before packing it into her bag.

she grabs your limp body, huffing as she leaves the house with you in her arms. she reaches the door, glancing at the blood splatter against the wall of the staircase. she should have known. she thought to herself. you would have gushed about how beautiful the house must have been before the outbreak. she turns, leaving as she silently swears to never set foot in that house again. not while your blood soiled the floral wallpaper.

you two were going to go to this farm that dina had promised was amazing. jj and dina were waiting for you two. waiting for you to excitedly run to jj the second you got in the house, getting to meet the new baby. watching you gush about how cute he is and refuse to take your eyes off him. to finally be at peace.

she walked for a bit, before finding a patch of tall grass and moss, next to a fallen tree. the moon’s light gave it an ethereal feel to it. you would have loved to see this.

her grip tightened on you. she didn’t want to let go. as much as she wishes she could just easily lay you down and walk away she just couldn’t. she always couldn’t do something. she couldn’t ride a bike. she couldn’t swim. she couldn’t save you.

she couldn’t shoot you.

but she did.

so,

ellie gently laid you on the forest ground, taking off her coat and placing it over your face. she couldn’t look at you anymore. not without falling apart.

she backs up, staring at you one final time.

“see ya later i guess..” she chuckles. she feels her nails digging into her skin, tears crawling down her face. her clothes didnt feel right anymore. they felt itchy, uncomfortable, wet. only wet because of your blood of course. the redness on the hem of her shirt was suffocating, the coppery smell sending her into an internal fit.

it doesn’t matter what she can’t do. its now what she will do. and what she will do is kill abby. abby’s to blame. she’s the cause of this. if she never killed joel, they’d never even go to seattle. jesse wouldn’t be dead. all of this was because of abby. she couldnt kill abby she couldn’t save jesse.

she couldn’t save you.

in the end she still couldn’t.

she just couldn’t live without you.

[makerofmadness]

ok so what the hell is the legal drinking age in earthbread man like. So I was thinking I would finally have to take the L on the "how fudging old is Alchemist Cookie" thing because Witch's Castle has that side story where she botches an experiment and it basically causes her to act like her brother. Including the alcoholism. (Tbh it is like my favorite special story in the game like part of that is 'cus of favorite character bias but also it ends really sweetly like WC is just really good for grape siblings fans in general they get a lot of content-). So I was like "okay then she has to be at least 19 if we assume the drinking age would line up with the real world/country the game is from. I can take an L I thought she was younger than that but I was wrong" BUT THEN FOR GINGERBRAVE'S BIRTHDAY WE GET THIS:

WIZARD IS A CONFIRMED CHILD THO????

Basically this is like really ancient shxt but like there was something called I think the Junior Cookie Challenge once where basically 9 kid characters gave you missions and WIZARD WAS ONE OF THEM

This is the picture I could find but like. Yeah Wizard's definitely a kid then. (I think this event happened before certain characters were even a thing including Alchemist when I checked the dates so like I have no idea if the characters were like limited for a reason or if this was all the kid characters in the game at the time but regardless I'm. Fubkign. Top 10 questions science can't answer Number 1: how fubkign old is Alchemist Cookie- like I'm guessing she just wasn't designed with a particular age in mind let's be real here-)

but like.

If Wizard can drink then like what is the legal drinking age on Earthbread man like-??????????

EDIT: I looked at the dates wrong/was thinking of when Alchemist existed in Ovenbreak I think and not in LINE (Alchemist was released like years before this event I think)... but then I ran into SOMETHING ELSE that throws a wrench in the works and by that I mean:

so DEVIL COOKIE ALSO existed before this event and yet was excluded but they're like. Really obviously a kid ESPECIALLY as of Witch's Castle (fudging. Three words: Crayon Doodle Set [literally their room decor includes a set of fudging crayola or some shxt like. I think it's obvious what impression we're supposed to get of them like obviously I don't think crayons should be locked off to only kids but like traditionally they're kinda thought of like a kids thing and Devil isn't like. Artistic-themed so to inexplicably have them... you can tell what's being communicated y'know?-) (and like I think Devil being the same age as Angel kinda. Is obvious-).

So the Junior challenge thing pretty much confirms nothing as to which characters AREN'T kids. Just which characters ARE kids. Frickin' almost had it and then lost it again-

Edit again: I also discovered that. Cream Puff existed during the time the Junior Cookie Challenge ran. And yet she wasn't in that. But now they're running kinda a sequel to that in Kakao Cookie Run and she's in THAT. So basically yeah it was never exhaustive 100% frickin' I'm going insane I'm having like two people debating with me (peacefully thankfully) over if Wizard's not actually drinking something alcoholic but like what is he drinking we don't know it could be anything but like he has a wine glass they could've given him a normal glass but they gave the kid a wine glass and we all have to suffer the consequences they didn't even put like a bowl of fruit punch on the table or anything just to say "haha he's just drinking this don't worry he's just a silly little guy :3" no they left the door wide open for us to at least ASSUME if it's not CONFIRMED by this that he's fudging destroying his nonexistent liver at the ripe old age of Child idk it's 2:22am as of me writing this

Too many edits: I need like a dedicated guide on what juice is and isn't meant to be alcohol in this universe because apparently the wizard art is like a reused asset from something about Hollyberry so like. But I know at least half the juice there is treated like alcoholic shxt too looking at some of the dialogue or like I'm mainly thinking of like wildberry's dialogue I think so. frickin'

another thing I realize is that. Alchemist drinking was because her personality got altered she wasn't like In Public. And... look I love Vampire but he isn't like the most responsible guy let's be real and like. Frickin' even can I just get like whether or not she has a diploma or anything please just anything like... ok I know that old as hell personality quiz calls her a "picky model student" so she's probably still in school but like where in school is she is she in high school of college or like. I would've placed her around cream puff's age before all of this but I don't know anymore y'know can someone help me?????- (she probably just wasn't designed with one in mind I'm doing all of this for nothing this is the definition of insanity frickin'-)

FINAL EDIT HOPEFULLY: ok I finally have an answer just like after talking to my bigger cr nerd friend uh. Basically the I Want You Every Day music video gives us definite footage of children drinking:

Screenshots courtesy of @void-the-bear (said friend)

Gingerbrave and Cream Puff are drinking the exact same drinks as the adults and these drinks literally look the same as what Sparkling holds in his goddamn sprites

Like you can see the bubbles in some shots it's the same drink it's frickin' champagne-but-we-can't-call-it-that-because-it's-a-kid's-game

But like there is an official short of Sparkling like. Not being able to serve Custard III I think because he's too young???? So uh.

basically the drinking age in Earthbread is "younger than Gingerbrave but older than Custard III" thank you for coming to my TED Talk (fudging. Finally have an answer though at least I think please tell me they didn't try to call this lemonade or something somewhere not the lemonade anything but the lemonade don't make me have a headache again PLEASE-)

[l0stfoster]

I have never felt more loved in my life thank you for loving me and the autistic tendencies this au has brought out of me 🫶🫶🫶 - paul anon

While we’re at it can we hear more abt the ritual/when paul got the markings? And when darry saw them for the first time how did that play out ??

Also, i saw what he was mfing reading in that one doodle you cant hide from me. Is there ever a time where Paul tries to get rid of his powers and what happens ?? Does he succeed (which I hope he does NAWT)?? Does he fail?? Does he get caught ?? Like i need details its all im thinking about

I need you to know how quickly the grin on my face appeared when I read this. It was instantaneous, immediately a little smirk. Ohhhh how I've been waiting for this one.

There's a LOT of typing because Paul's lore stuff was one of my favorites to create, so everything is below the cut as usual. Though, just to be safe as well. Your question isn't being answered in order, cutting it up a bit differently. The first two questions have little drabble kinda answers with their bullet points, 'cause I had felt silly.

// mentions of child abuse, ritualistic self-harm, and implied passive suicidal ideation

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

When Darry saw Paul's markings for the first time, how did that play out ??

Paul's scars weren't exactly something Darry had been unaware of. More specifically, it had always been the pair of scars horizontally along Paul's forearms that he'd gotten adjusted to seeing. He made his own assumptions. He never asked about them, either, since Paul made his contempt for them clear each and every time he made it a point to keep them covered. He was always in their old football letterman jacket or any other thing that would keep them out of people's view. Darry could argue that he'd never even seen the male without a shirt on, as well, even if they didn't cover the scars themselves. So, when he'd idly kept his eyes on Paul as the male changed; he'd been completely startled (and admittedly, a little panicked) at the large, complicated marking practically branded into his boyfriend's back. The thing that bothered him the most, though, was that it looked too neat for Paul to have done it himself. "..How'd you get that scar on your back?" Darry didn’t know what response he’d expected. Maybe for Paul to wave him off, dismiss it as he always did whenever a sensitive question came up. Maybe this was something all witches had, something that proved their connection to it which needed to be hidden because he'd grown up on the side of the tracks that would've had him killed for it. What he wasn’t expecting was the hesitation, let alone the quiet answer he'd been given. “-I.. don’t know.”

- Darry, unfortunately, didn't get any answers the first time. Paul avoids the conversation real hard every time Darry asks, but this is the one thing Darry doesn't want to drop, just because it seems to freak Paul out so bad. - He only finds out what it is because he snoops a liiiiittle bit (Paul is VERY private with his witchcraft) and connects the dots himself. - The reason Paul's just as confused is because he avoids looking at the mirror or himself at all costs. When he looks for too long, he sees his parents staring back at him; and he hates it. Avoiding it flat-out means he doesn't have to ask himself why he hates it. - Darry recognizes it's magical. Hell, being a fae, he could probably sense any kind of magical connection to it if he tried hard enough.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Can we hear more abt the ritual/When Paul got the markings?

Paul doesn't remember when he got the ritual carving on his back, at least, he doesn't at first. It seems that's part of the point when he goes digging through his books, looking for anything familiar to the markings on his skin. The answers he does get just leave him more confused; they're not supposed to pair together. All those runes, the apotropaic symbol- it's all stuff that directly aims to hinder his power, to hide it; and it certainly worked, because the last thing he can even recall about his curse before it surfaced once more was his mom's face, twisted in disgust and oh. Oh. It dawns on him fast; the memory floods his mind way too quickly while pieces connect. He'd always wondered why they owned a book about blood magic when witches didn't specialize in that; his mom didn't even seem to use it, she never used her powers much as it was. As he stares at the pages listing the meaning of all the symbols that adorn his back, he realizes two things. The first thing is that this wasn't in the books, this was made for one reason; originally made with malicious intent. The second thing is that he thinks he knows why the ritual knife he knows always looked so familiar. "This is for your own good." How cruel is it to find out your own mother willingly mutilated you in an attempt to restrain your power?

- Yeah, Paul's mom carved the marking into his back and used her own magic to put his own into remission. She had to make it herself, as no witch would want to take away their own power; hence it not being in the book. - The worst part for him is that he can't bring himself to hate her for it. If anything, it makes him hate his power worse. If his mom hated it enough to do this, then it has to be horrible. - This is how he realizes blood magic might be able to get rid of his power btw </3 - Remission is the only way to hide them without full removal, but the fact that he's always with the cursed now means it wouldn't work. Hence why the rumble awakened it again, because he was surrounded by them. - The ritual carving is part of why he can’t channel his power to its fullest potential, due to actively having the scar of something that was meant to restrain him. - It still holds its effects sometimes, there’s days when Paul’s absolutely incapable of using his powers bc the carving’s ritual was to prevent him from doing it in the first place, and so despite his magic showing back up, it’s still trying to clamp down on it. - As far as he knows, there's no way to reverse it. It's carved into skin, he'd have to be able to get rid of that scar. It'd weaken once his mom dies, though, but that's far in the future. - He likely takes the ritual knife to his own back to "ruin" the carving reading, but even that's not a guarantee to work.

Is there ever a time when Paul tries to get rid of his powers and what happens?? Does he succeed?? Does he fail?? Does he get caught??

- Paul, so far for what we've got written, has tried to get rid of his powers twice via blood rituals. - The first time was while he still lived at home, but the intent for it was a bit different. He wasn't trying to get rid of them permanently at the time, instead he was more focused on trying to mute them to a point where he could control them easier; as his magic is directly tied to his emotions during the early days and his parents grew increasingly pissed the more they showed themselves. - He was also very new to blood magic and the rituals involving it; if he'd started smaller it might've gone better, as a ton of witch rituals, spells, and even potion work require a blood sacrifice-- but this was the first thing he attempted. He went in completely blind, and it. Didn't work out, which is probably for the best. - He needed a LOT of blood for the ritual, hence why the scars on each arm are large and long; he was going to make sure it worked, even if he was being really stupidly careless with the approach-- and then his dad walked in before he finished the ritual. - A reoccurring theme you'll notice is that Paul's (blood heavy) rituals get interrupted before he finishes; they're very focus heavy and the slightest interruption can ruin it. He thinks he's just fucking up the ritual by doing something wrong or not offering enough of his blood. - Anyways, Mr. Holden, being an asshole, was more pissed off by the mess Paul was making; his mother mirrored that emotion, but her anger was because he failed the ritual. She doesn't care that he's actively bleeding out, she's upset that he couldn't successfully contain himself. - As seen in the doodles in here beneath the cut, Paul had to patch himself up; a trip to the hospital would require an explanation or Paul would be framed as suicidal, and god forbid their reputation be effected. He could've probably healed himself to make it easier to at least manage, but his father insisted he had to live with the consequences- and the scars. - Paul's fully forced to hide 'em as well, they're "disgusting" and "something he should be ashamed of"

- The second time, was after he moved into the Curtis home. - I've already made it very loud and clear that Paul carry's a lot of guilt, including generational due to the fact that his great-great-whatever-the-fuck-grandmother was the one who caused the curse. He's fine with his curse for a good bit after easing into the greasers, but watching how their treated makes that guilt grow worse. Sure, HE didn't make the curse, but he's related to the person who did. - A part of him thinks that, if the bloodline ends with him, it'll free the next generation as well. This is why he's so careless with blood rituals even when they're not in the attempt to get rid of his power. Either he successfully gets rid of the curse, or dies trying. In the long run, both options eliminate the bloodline. - (It's good to note this wouldn't work, by the way. The curse is set over Tulsa, and nothing would happen if the witch's bloodline ended. The guilt’s just convinced him that he’s directly apart of why it still exists; and his mom pushed that narrative as well.) - So, after finding out what his mom did to him and learning the fact that he can create his own blood magic spells; he looks into that for a more.. permanent solution to ridding himself of his magic. - Paul does not know the curse is tied to his life force. - He's long since had his own area for all his witchy shit at the Curtis house, since his witchcraft does usually require a bit of privacy (focus related, and he just feels weird being watched doing it) so it was merely a matter of shutting himself in. They're lucky he doesn't know a locking spell - The same thing repeats as it did the first time. - Darry's the one who walks in on him, because Johnny got death flashes about it. - In contrast to Mr. and Mrs. Holden, though, Darry nearly has a fucking aneurysm. He knows absolutely nothing about this blood magic stuff, meaning he's walking in on his boyfriend with his arms cut open, the air heavy with magic, and goddamn how the fuck is Paul not dead because that is so much fucking blood. He thinks it's some kind of self-harm thing (and it technically is, because there's much smarter ways for Paul to get his blood without almost killing himself.) - Paul tries to go "I can explain" but Darry's picking his ass up and dragging him inside - Darry's absolutely horrified, he's so fucking shaken and so is Paul; not because of what he's done, but because he hates that he's freaking out Darry like this. - It's a rough night for both of them.

- Timewing proposed the idea that Paul considers trying again, but he ends up looking at Darry and being soft after thinking abt what could happen just like "..I couldn't do that to him. I've hurt him enough." - Which is very silly we enjoyed it. - If Paul did succeed he would NOT have died immediately. He'd just progressively get weaker and weaker until, inevitably, he doesn't wake up.

Long ass paragraphs I apologize.

[mail-posting]

Wanted to flesh out and add more headcanons to this ↑, so that'll be under the cut!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

This post by my friend(?) Is basically what I mean by he's chaotic academia lol

⫘⫘ Messy as hell handwriting that only he can read, although sometimes he can't read it either and struggles with remembering what he wrote

i feel like he'd have a typewriter in his room for important notes because of this (no idea if those actually existed when idv takes place but we have cypher machines which seem pretty similar so-)

He's always, always doing something with his hands.

if he's not writing on his notes, he's doodling abstract shapes or concept inventions on them.

And if he's not doing that, then he either has something to fidget with or tinker on, or he's playing with his hands.

⫘⫘ speaking of hands, to me he only wears one glove because they irritate his scarred hand.

He should take regular breaks so his hands don't cramp and hurt, but he's usually so engrossed in his tasks that he forgets it's even a problem.

⫘⫘ He talks a lot! But sometimes it's not just the chatty type of talking but a cacophony of thoughts and ideas that his brain works him up into and needs to be dragged out of him by the only way he can.

If you're not his friend already and you end up on the listening end of one of these, as long as you don't actively recoil from it you've probably gained a ton of trust with him.

⫘⫘ Part of talking so much with everyone is that he has a lot of friends! But he doesn't really have many friends, you know? There's only a select few he trusts properly.

⫘⫘ His memory tends to go blank on things like the date or time.

He's worried quite a few people by not realising it was a holiday, and commenting on it with confusion.

More minor holidays like Easter and Valentine's Day are the easiest to forget, because people don't really decorate for them.

He has Several alarm clocks for timing, but he usually asks people to immediately come and get him if he's needed for something and isn't there.

Due to this, he's been part of things he wasn't supposed to be, because he generally trusts that he's just forgotten he was meant to be there.

Of course he has distorted dreams of the incident, but he actually has quite a lot that revolve around his prison time.

⫘⫘ He has a lot of night terrors. There's been so many nights where he's jolted up, heart racing, and couldn't tell what was real or fake or where he was for a while.

He was treated... extremely badly there. Any excuse to take frustrations out on a rich person was taken liberally by the other people. Prisoners, guards, all of them.

Lots of both physical and mental trauma helped to cement his broken mental state and lack of memory, as well. Being hurt like that is not going for your head.

After all, one of his canon dislikes are "implements of torture"

⫘⫘ He's pretty good at decoding when he decides to do a match! He avoids hunters pretty well too. Unfortunately, they don't like him very much...

He always HATES the rocket chairs. Not necessarily what happens after he's eliminated, although that's startling too. It's actually being strapped down to it that makes him panic.

He doesn't like being stuck to anything, and he especially doesn't like it when the hunters are usually nearby ready to hurt him.

⫘⫘ It's alright though, because he has his chain! He's augmented it in order to create the static charges you see in the matches.

There is just one teensy little problem. After coming to the makeshift hospital ward after blacking out while using his abilities a couple of times, he was asked what he did to keep his electricity generator from shocking him. He didn't have an answer.

As it turns out, he's rather numb in certain parts of his body. Including his neck. And as he was only focused on this invention being effective, he never quite realised that it might be a danger to have it near his already messed up brain.

He's trying to refine it so it doesn't do that, but he's advised to stay out of matches for now.

⫘⫘ he's not the best with self care. At all.

his hair is VERY messy, so it's tied in place with a lot of unconventional things.

Ribbons, wires, gears to wrap it around, clasps, and more. He even kept it tied with a pair of pliers one time. He just needs it up. It's a sensory thing.

But on a less light hearted note, he usually forgets to eat, and "forgets" to sleep while he's working.

If he does eat, he usually brings things like pastries from the main hall to his room.

And if he sleeps... The night terrors about killing his mentor are much more vivid when he jolts up to a desk that looks exactly as it always did back then.

⫘⫘ he doesn't work on his invention. He desperately wants to, but he can't.

Even for someone with good memory, trying to continue a project you last worked on YEARS ago, completely from scratch, is hard.

But he barely remembers what it was meant to do. His life's devotion, shattered to pieces in his mind because of a stupid impulsive accident he feels that he caused. It breaks him.

So he works on other things. Everything and everything will be tinkered with, because maybe he can remember what he wanted. Someday. Through desperate notes and ramblings and trying to weld the puzzle pieces together in his mind.

Grasping for it even as it slips away the more he tries to think of what it was...

⫘⫘ He has friends now. And he'll do whatever they want to do. Anything to distract himself from his plight.

They're the main reason he takes self care at all, besides keeping up appearances. He doesn't feel as alone when everyone is struggling with him.

His room is full of little gifts for them. Might as well put his knowledge to things that make them happy, right?

[localsharkcryptid]

It's late as hell but doodled this on a whim - idk I've managed to get myself back into monster hunter and I've just been thinking about Chaotic Gore Magala and myself and the weird similarities I've realized between my life and this guy's existence. Big explanation under the cut - it's kinda heavy so read at your own discretion.

I don't talk about it here for obvious reasons but this is a one off cause idk, I wanna talk about it under this context. But basically I've been through some shit, I've been battered by life and have been dealing with grief since I was 12 - and I'm now going through it again. I'm damaged cause of it, I'm not where I should be as a person, I don't function like I should both thanks to neurodivergency and the trauma that's kept my brain from properly developing and learning skills for adult life for some 8 years or so. And only recently have I been going to therapy again and working on healing after the most recent incident in my life - so I'm recognizing things and slowly slowly healing but I can't help being frustrated especially lately.

And now I can't help but now look at this monster from a video game about hunting them and see myself in a way. For those who don't know, Gore Magala normally is a monster which goes through a metamorphosis of sorts - they shed their black and purple scales and grow into a brilliant golden beast, the shining eclipse, Shagaru Magala. But sometimes something goes wrong, whether it be trauma or something else and the Gore Magala can't shed properly. They become malformed, into the chimeric creature that is Chaotic Gore Magala - a monster in eternal agony as it is an abomination and thus an outcast by its own kind.

I merely assume this but for me, I'd like to think its endless rage is also fueled by the fact that it has to be confused, lost and alone. It doesn't know what's going on, why it's like this, why the world scorns it for something it can't control. It endures the pain of its existence, the scars from its malformation and maybe it screams at the world cause it wants to know why it lived. Why is it here? Why does it hurt? What is it supposed to do? It lashes out at anything it finds, maybe out of rage, maybe out of fear - who knows.

Its broken, but survives regardless. It persists despite it all and I do just see myself in a way. We both don't know what's going on, damaged permanently by things we couldn't control but we continue on.

And I'm healing, slowly, very slowly but I am and I can't help but wonder- what if a Chaotic Gore can heal too? What happens if it does? Does it still shed it's black scales and turn fully gold or does it remain an oddity with dark shelled scales that are cracked with gold and a single glinting horn? I'd like to think the latter would be true. That it learns to adapt and live with its odd form, that one day the pain eases so it can truly come into the world as the apex it was meant to be - even if it wasn't how it was supposed to do so. And if it can find a place in the world after beating the odds of surviving the pain, then maybe I can find my place too.

Idk it's all a little silly, and not exactly fitting 100% - I'm far less angry at the world most of the time but still... I think I might have a new favorite monster, even if it's for some odd reasons, I do relate in a weird way to this guy- I may make something of this we'll see I guess.

[fluff-a-nutter]

Tickletober Day 12- Mischief

This was requested awhile ago by @blahhhhhhhohmigosh. Hope you enjoy!

You snickered to yourself as you doodled a goofy mustache on Eugene’s face with black ink. It was the finishing touch to your masterpiece of a prank. You had already stolen Varian’s goggles, rearranged Eugene’s countless hair and skin products, and turned Ruddiger green.

You were quite pleased with yourself and your mischief making.

You gasped as Eugene snorted awake, his eyes flying open.

You fumbled your drop the pen, but you only made things worse for yourself so you did the reasonable thing and bolted from the scene.

Eugene walked to his mirror to freshen up and screamed in horror.

“Y\N! You’re dead, kid!”

You laughed and continued running, not noticing Varian coming down the hall until you smacked into him.

“Aha! I knew it was you! Give me my goggles!”

Panicking, you blurted out in a very calm, not suspicious way,

“What goggles?”

Varian squinted at you, unamused by your attempt to play dumb.

“The ones on your head.”

“Oh those goggles! Nah, I think I’ll keep ‘em.”

You went to skip away, but Varian grabbed your arm and pulled you back.

“Give them back and give Ruddiger a bath, Y/N. Or else.”

You stuck out your tongue.

“Or else what, nerd.”

Varian was about to respond when Eugene stormed around the corner, his doodled face contorted in frustration.

“Oh, good! You got them Hairstripe.”

“Yeah. Let me guess. They did that to you?”

Eugene glared at you and you pulled a face at him.

“Yes, they did. As well as completely disorganizing my vanity! How am I supposed to wash this off if I don’t know where little Picasso here put the right cleanser!”

Varian snorted and disguised it as a cough.

“So what are we going to do with the little twerp?”

You gulped and tried to make a run for it, but Eugene grabbed you and held you up by the armpits.

“I know just the thing to teach our little friend here a lesson.”

The ex conman said, grinning at Varian before saying,

“They happen to be very ticklish.”

Varian’s eyes lit up and he grinned, atlash of his old villain days returning for a split second as he watched you thrash in Eugene’s grasp.

“Perfect.”

All hell broke loose as both sides of your stomach were ruthlessly tickled.

You screamed and thrashed, laughing hysterically and begging for mercy.

“So, you gonna apologize?”

Eugene’s asked from behind you.

“N-Never!”

Varian’s eyebrows shot up in amusement and surprise at your gall.

“No? Are you sure?”

Fingers dug in everywhere and anywhere they could find, leaving you hysterical and gasping for breath by the time you blurted,

“Nohohohoho! I’m sohohohorry! I’m sorry! I’ll do anything just stahahahahap!”

As soon as they started, the tickles stopped and you were set back on your feet.

“That’s good. No you are going to reorganize my vanity.”

Eugene said.

“And give me my goggles,”

You huffed and handed Varian his goggles.

“And give Ruddiger a bath.”

You were about to object, but Varian poked your side and threatened,

“Or we can just tickle you some more.”

“Okay, okay I’ll give the stupid trash panda a bath and help organize Eugene’s vanity!”

Both boys seemed pleased with the answer, but a few hours later when all was said and done Eugene screamed again when he realized you had swapped his shampoo with hair dye.

Hey, you were an agent of chaos. You had to.

[asterias-corner]

Whumptober day 3: 

Trust issues

⤷ ‘ ‘ Forgotten ‘ ‘

Phantom aches for the familiarity of a pack, why doesn’t anyone let him in?

TW: eating disorder

A/N: this is Lowkey really messily written, so apologies :(

────✦────

When he was first summoned, he felt like he’d finally have the chance to experience a healthy pack dynamic, and he did, or he thought he did. Truth is, he didn’t know what was healthy, and what wasn’t- no one taught him that, so he was going off what made him happy, and what made him sad or upset. 

First, aurora was the only one who acknowledged him, and brought him dinner for awhile, because they’d forgotten to tell him it was even happening, and he didn’t know the schedule besides practice times.  She’d stopped after a bit, seemingly forgot to do so one night, then the next, and it was an ongoing pattern. Practice was normal, but he ached, his head, body, all of it, his heart heavy. He’d sit back, let the others take the lead, while his tail and ears drooped. No one told him ‘good job!’ Or ‘nice work!’ It was just criticism. Not even constructive, but it was played off as a joke. 

“Cmon phantom, can’t you do anything right?”

Rain had innocently smiled and laughed, treating the comment like an inside joke. Was he the joke? He didn’t like how it felt being the joke. 

-

Tour. They were going on tour, and he had to be in a confined place, with all of them. He’d grown to hate them in private, but when he was with them, he followed like a lost dog anyway. They’d unclipped his leash long before, yet he felt like he had to stay, like he was being pulled along by an invisible leash. Sitting on the bus was hell, he’d end up sitting on a bench alone, so he’d taken to just doodling, finding comfort in the hobby. 

-

He’d gotten better, way better, he’d spend all his time practicing his instrument. Phantom tried anything to get them to notice him, give him the same treatment they gave aurora.. sweet praise, just nice attention, not mean. 

-

He performed beautifully, no mishaps, yet still, nothing. He was forgotten, an afterthought, burdening them, and he was overbearing, desperate to get any kind of contact or socialization from the pack- the pack he wasn’t part of. He kept practicing, and even once he could get through a full setlist without even having to double check with someone what the next song was or what the strumming pattern was, he wasn’t acknowledged, his efforts treated like a chore he should’ve had done and figured out ages ago. Once he’d figured it wasn’t his playing that made him left out, he’d gone to the conclusion it was his looks, maybe it was the splotches on his skin, maybe it was the way his left eye didn’t glow in the darkness like it was supposed to, or maybe, just maybe- it was the fact he wasn’t small enough, was his body the problem? Did they think he wasn’t built to be part of the pack? to interact because he took up too much space. He’d figured that just had to be it, right? And down the rabbit hole he went. 

-

Skipped meals, excuses, excuses, excuses.. no one noticed, none of them noticed when they had to resize his uniform because it didn’t fit right anymore, the sister of sin who was assigned to resize, asked if he was okay, with which he replied yes, no one needed to know anything. 

-

Weeks passed, he’d get angry and snapped at the others often, he’d chalked it up to finally standing up for himself, but deep down, he was just irritable from not getting the sustenance he needed. Liquids only did so much, if anything at all. Bad foods and good foods were an overbearing part of meal time, what he could spend his calories on, and if he wasted it or not. He pulled away, and it affected his playing, that’s all they cared about, not about how he could feel his bones just by grazing his hand over his side, but the fact his playing was “sluggish” and “falling behind”. His head ached, the pain was a lot- nothing helped. 

-

During a practice session, he’d woken up feeling sick, but he wasn’t hungry, or he felt like he wasn’t hungry.. he’d been watching his body closely, paying no mind to his weight, only if he was small enough so maybe he could squeeze himself into cuddling, or just into their social interactions. So as he played, he was sluggish, breathing hard, hunched over because his stomach was hurting, he was light headed, and there had to he a migraine nuzzling itself right behind his eyes. He’d felt his vision starting to black out, the music fell on deaf ears, he didn’t notice when everything had stopped, and copia- bless his heart- was there to catch him when he fell. 

[a-xyz-s]

One hell of a meetup

Characters: human!tubbo and giant!ranboo

Word count: 1350 words

Cw: vore, safe/soft vore, angst, unintentional fearplay, mentions of death (doesn't happen), very light profanity, instincts

Just a short oneshot from almost a year ago I finally got to finishing. Idea, motivation to finish and proofreading provided by the lovely @brick-a-doodle-do am a vore hoe indeed Brick :D

******

"Ranboo?" Tubbo breathed out in a shaken whisper, a wave of cold sweat washing over his neck when his own voice echoed back through the pitch black cavern.

No response.

For a bit he could swear he was dead and in hell, the heat certainly fit the description. What wasn't quite fitting was the sheer humidity, the gentle winds of cool forest air passing by just out of reach, the deep thunderous rumbling of what could've been recognized as a hum and the ever slightly motioning and twitching wet ground right under his stiff sprawl out body. It wasn't long before the realization hit with full force and Prime had Tubbo wished he was dead right then and there.

The bloodchilling memory of what happened only moments ago fought its way to the front of his mind encasing his already blind eyes with panic filled darkness. Then, as if on cue, was the teen scrambling back to his feet, squirming around as his sporadic movements lead to his limbs slipping and sending him tumbling back down, each soft fall followed by a frightened whine.

Desperate determination left his body momentarily, lying limp on the muscle he now recognized as his 'friend's' tongue, heaving heavily, not getting enough oxygen through his system to think rationally. When it began to shift under his weight, he felt his body slipping off of it, slipping closer to… something, gravitation sending him downwards.

Now that? That forced a horrified scream out of his tightened throat, all the determination and adrenaline from moments ago returned in double the force and successfully pushed him up on his hands and knees.

His eyes have adjusted to the dark by now, but without a sliver of light he simply couldn't see, not even his own trembling hands moving him forward were more than pitch black splotches blending with the surroundings.

It's not like he needed to see, he knew his- 'friends' end goal far too well, he knew he just tried to slowly finish him off, most likely savoring the moment.

It wrecked a choked sob out of him, he never thought meeting up with an online friend, someone he trusted with his life, would cost him his life.

Guiltily he thought back to his parents, all those well-meant warnings and stranger danger talks he's had through the years, Prime, he hated them so much, but what would he give now if he had just listened.

Tubbo growled, he felt rage boiling his insides substituting the previously consuming panic, this wasn't fair. None of this was fair!

All he wanted was his friend, not just the comically deep voice coming through his phone's speaker, nor the half pixelated face smiling back at him. He wanted to hold him in a long tight hug, which he'd make sure was only the first of hundreds more. But he supposes that was too much to ask of life.

Ranboo may have tricked him, but there was no way he was going to give up, going to make it easy for the motherfucker. Oh fuck no!

He's going to reach the front, reach the teeth and then kick with all the force he can muster, if it takes a lost tooth for the bastard to open his jaws, if that's the price for Tubbo's life, then it's one he will be paying.

'Surely just a bit closer', Tubbo reached his arm out trying to feel for the teeth, he felt nothing but void in front and before he could piece together the puzzle his other hand slipped.

This time there was no slimy plush to catch his fall, he felt the upper half of his body slip for considerably longer before stopping at an elongated wall of flesh which wasted no time in doing it's duty. It squeezed around his torso tightly and began pulling down, paying no mind to the protests of Tubbo's hands which tried and failed repeatedly to push him back up.

"RANBOO!!!" the boy screamed in terror. He knew it was stupid, calling out the name of his soon-to-be-murderer, but in the chaos all his mind wanted was his friend.

All at once the tugging stopped and the boy found himself back on unstable ground, he stifled a sob. 'Back on Ranboos tongue', he reminded himself bitterly, but it was a ground no less.

A loud booming vibration came from all around him, startling his tiny-in-comparison form, similar enough to the previous hum, but different in tone to be recognized as something softer. Maybe less of a hum and more of a hush? In any other circumstance it may have even been comforting, weren't it for the burning feeling of betrayal and impending doom.

"Let me go, please," Tubbo broke. "I just- I just wanted to be friends, just to meet you, to have you here with me, to hold you, and- no nO NO NONONO!!!" The boy shrieked, kicking with his boots into darkness which mercilessly drew him in like a magnet. His nails found nothing to dig into, hands nothing to hold onto and feet nothing to push against and so helplessly his body slid back to the very same demise he was spared of moments ago.

This time, as a final nail in the coffin, as the fading light that sealed his fate, the same muscle he found his footing on pushed against his torso. Briefly his back got harshly pressed against the bony roof of the mouth, squeezing all air out of his lungs. Afterwards came a strange sensation, as though he was falling but oh so slowly, like every inch of his fall was slowed by some strange kind of safety measure sliding up his sides, leaving them drenched in increasing layers of slime. His limbs rested there, pinned against his body and rendered useless.

It only lasted ten seconds or so, the longest ten seconds in Tubbos life.

He landed, the soft walls underneath giving in downwards and further softening his ungraceful arrival.

This really was happening, wasn't it?

Ever since he's made eye contact with the giant who had yet to utter more than a hum of uncertain tone and emotion this is where he was bound to end up.

He should've run when he had the chance, should've fought harder and somehow, anyhow, fought off the monster's gluttonous gullet. And he should've begged when he had the slightest sliver of hope his words may be heard. To be frank, he felt an overpowering certainty that nothing he did mattered anymore.

Tubbo let his body fall back, slowly pressing against and sliding down the wall of flesh behind him. His hand, shaking, unable to stay still, traced a soft half circle by his head. More followed suit. Minutes later he finds himself gently rubbing at the stomach walls.

Tears fell silently down his cheeks, everything around, every inch of the plush surrounding him, was Ranboo. His entire world was nothing but his wished-for best friend. And yet, Tubbo felt so alone.

None of this was fair.

******

Ranboo let out another hum, content with the light weight finally resting securely in his storage. The tangled mess of thoughts his mind had become, blinded by primal instincts which screamed nothing but 'protect him', began clearing up now. If he had to guess, Tubbos first reaction to his sheer size may have been the trigger, he didn't hold it against his friend, meeting a giant, in a literal sense, wasn't quite the everyday occurrence.

It was quite fear inducing, but sadly someone forgot to notify his instincts and deliver the message that his friend wasn't in any real danger.

And in the process Ranboo forgot to notify Tubbo, who now sat there, sobbing and trembling terribly, awaiting what he believed to be approaching death.

When he fully awakes from his instinct flooded trance, Ranboo will have a lot of explaining to do, but for now, he was overflowed with joy to finally hold his best friend close.

******

Thank you for reading! Lemme know if you liked this shortie :D

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober Day 23: Stalking

Day 23! Another one that was giving me some trouble until I finally settled into a rhythm! This one is a bit clunky at some points, but I think it's fine. If anything it just adds to the charm!

Taglist: @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @ghostwalloper @toastingpencils37 @lightning-chicken

Words: 2.1k

There was something following him.

But Jay couldn’t figure out what it was.

After having a hellish last night and needing some sort of distraction, he had only been sent on a simple grocery store run, just for a few items for Zane to make for dinner, and it wasn’t supposed to take more than an hour at most. Staying on the phone with Nya the whole time definitely added to his time, but it was necessary unless the team wanted Jay to come back with the most random shit in the store instead of the actual groceries. Crossing things off of the paper list that Zane printed out for him, Jay also made sure to tell Nya when he got an item, where she would then cross it off on her own list to mitigate his habit of doodling on the paper.

Sue him, he got bored and needed something to do with his hands.

Now, two hours later, Jay finally started to walk home with all of the required items (and a can of cream cheese frosting that he and Nya were going to share), and this was supposed to be the easiest leg of the journey after the ADHD hell known as grocery shopping on a budget.

Jay didn’t comment on the footsteps that seemed to follow him for the past two blocks, instead only keeping one ear open for them and listening to Nya with the other. The grocery trip had done wonders for keeping his anxiety down at the moment. Stepping in the puddles littering the sidewalk made him antsy, but at least it made listening out for the footsteps a little easier. Nya was complaining about Kai, saying something about how much room his hair gel was taking up in the bathroom and how he was being a shower-hog. If Jay wasn’t preoccupied then he most likely would’ve been joining in.

“--can you believe that?! You take up three whole shelves of the bathroom cabinet for your stupid hair products but it’s my problem because I have too much skin care stuff?! Ugh!”

“That’s awful,” Jay agreed. He learned a long time ago how to do the verbal smile and nod trick with Nya, and he hoped that she would never pick up on it.

“Right? I can’t even deal with him. I ought to throw his hair gel straight off the side of the Bounty.”

“But we both know that you won’t,” the footsteps behind him changed, and Jay’s lungs tightened when he realized that the stranger had stepped off the street and into an alley. That wasn’t good.

He needed to switch up his route a bit. It would take longer, but that was fine; at least the stranger shouldn’t be able to follow him across the street without him noticing.

Crossing was easy, and Jay made sure to go over as many puddles as possible so that the person would have no choice but to make noise. Noise was good, because noise was going to keep him safe, and Jay was great at making noise. As long as he kept Nya talking, then he should be okay.

That didn’t mean it was good for his anxiety though. Walking around Ninjago City at night never scared him when he was in uniform, but when he was walking in his civvies? Not a great feeling. Someone really had to talk to the mayor about getting the bulbs in the streetlamps replaced, because every other one was out and Jay found himself almost sprinting to make it to each one. And to make it even worse, he didn’t bring any of his weapons with him.

Nya didn’t pick up on his inner distress when the footsteps picked back up, right back behind him like nothing happened. “Yeah, I guess I won’t. But he’s on thin fucking ice.”

“And being the master of fire doesn’t help,” Jay always made stupid puns when he was nervous.

“Jay,” Nya sighed, and despite everything that was going on it still made Jay feel a bit better.

The footsteps grew closer, and Jay was tempted to just throw the groceries on the ground and sprint away. Surely the others would understand once they heard his reasoning, right? But Jay knew that he couldn’t do that, both because Zane might actually say something unkind to him and Cole might kick his ass for ruining dinner, and Jay didn’t want to ruin dinner.

Step. Step. Step. Step.

Stomp. Stomp.

Stomp?

People needed to come with built-in rearview mirrors, and Jay was kicking himself for staying on the phone with Nya; if he had his phone free, he could’ve used his camera to check behind him and see who the hell was following him. Who the two people were, actually.

“Okay, Walker,” Jay mumbled, low enough that Nya wouldn’t hear it over her rambling, “you can do this. Just gotta get a little creative.”

If he took this next side street, made a left, crossed again up there and then ducked behind that one weird building that no one ever liked to walk past…

Yeah, he could make this work.

He was fairly sure that the only reason he wasn’t being jumped yet was because he was on the phone, and he needed to keep it that way. “Nya?”

“What’s up?” Nya asked, finally stopping whatever she was saying about Kai and giving him her full attention. Jay’s anxiety must’ve bled into his voice.

Turning left, Jay tucked himself closer to the buildings on his side, hoping that they might help him to hide away and blend into the background. Maybe he could try that cool thing people do in the movies where they shed their jacket and it’s like they’re a whole new person. Would that actually work? “I think I’m being followed. I need you to keep track of my location and pick me up at the corner of Avenue and Lint.”

Avenue was such a stupid street name, and whichever dryer company sponsored the creation of Lint Street needed to be banished to the Cursed Realm. Jay was quick to tell Nya this information, mostly because he didn’t want his pursuers to know that he was calling for help. Also because his anxiety was making him blurt the first thing that popped into his mind.

The grocery bags were getting harder to hold onto as his palms started to slick with sweat, and Jay tightened his grip and picked up the pace. Plastic digging into his fingers, Jay vaguely thought about whether or not the grocery bags could cut into his fingers, and maybe he could make a joke out of it.

“Hey,” he said, “do you think that if the bags were heavier, I would eventually start bleeding?”

“You know that’s not funny,” and yet Jay could hear the smile playing on Yang’s lips, because it was the kind of ridiculous question that only he would ask. “Alright, we’re on our way. Think you can make it there in ten?”

“Ten? What do you take me for? I’ll make it five.”

“If you make it five then you’re going to be early.”

“Shit, seriously?” Jay snickered despite the situation. “Well, you know me. Punctual is my middle name. Tell Cole that he better have twenty bucks ready for me.”

Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye as he passed one of the alleys: a third person. Man, tall, long coat and a hat covering his face, watching for when Jay crossed the mouth of the alley, and Jay saw him move after him. Now there were three of them on his tail, and the shadows between the streetlamps were stretching longer and longer out. These people knew what they were doing.

This was only more apparent to Jay when a fourth figure stepped out in front of him to block his way.

Gotta change course again. “Change of plans, might be there in ten minutes after all,” Jay ground out, taking a deep breath and turning abruptly to walk across the street. He really hoped that a car wasn’t going to come barreling down this road.

“How many are after you?” Nya asked, alarmed. Jay felt the same way.

“Four, I think. They’re trying to box me in.”

He heard the sound of keys clacking; Nya must’ve relocated to the main control room. “Hold on, I’m pulling up the security cameras so I can track you.”

“Can’t you just see my location through your phone?” Jay asked, his heart hammering away in his chest. The anxiety from before was starting to wash over him again, threatening to pull him under and not let him back up. Nya must’ve picked up on some of it, as she was quick to start reassuring him as she sifted through Kai’s too many tabs to find the security feeds.

“I can, but I need to be able to see how many are following you,” she explained. “Aha! I see you. You were right, there’s four, and—”

She stopped talking, and Jay’s stomach dropped. “Nya? What is it?”

“Jay, please tell me you have a weapon or your suit.”

“I don’t have either, why?” Jay walked faster, and he knew that he was making himself look more and more suspicious. “Nya?”

“They have guns,” Nya said breathlessly, fingers flying over the keyboard. She sounded worried. “You may have to fight them.”

“Not when I have the groceries,” and he turned the corner much faster than he needed to. If the people following him didn’t realize that Jay was aware before, they definitely knew now.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about the groceries, I need you to get home,” Nya said tightly. “Whatever you do, do not hang up this phone. Stay on the line with me.”

“If I don’t bring the groceries back then Zane and Cole will actually kill me—”

“And I’ll kill them if they do that,” Nya growled. “Stay on the phone, be ready to drop everything and run if I tell you to.”

His anxiety was raging around in his chest like a caged animal. Jay felt his lightning start to flicker under his clothes, but he did his best to keep it contained. The mayor had asked very nicely that the Ninja not use their elements in the city when there wasn’t an emergency, and Jay didn’t think that this qualified as an emergency. Putting as much force into his steps as possible did little to alleviate the anxiety; Jay felt like he was caught in a free-fall with a broken parachute.

Just keep moving. He had to keep moving. As long as he stayed on the move, they couldn’t catch him.

“Why didn’t I bring the suit?” he muttered angrily. Rage boiled in his blood, both at himself and at these people who thought that they could take on one of the most skilled fighters in all of Ninjago.

More clicking and clacking. “Because you didn’t think that this was going to happen, and it was just supposed to be something to ease your mind. Don’t be upset with yourself,” Nya assured, but it did little to make Jay feel better.

The distance between the lights was getting farther and farther apart, and Jay was glad that he knew how to navigate his way through the shadows. It was a new light every hundred feet, and then two hundred, then three, and suddenly…

Suddenly there was no more light.

Whoever was doing this had sabotaged the rest of the streetlamps.

Every instinct in Jay’s body was screaming. He knew how to fight in the shadows, but he did not have the ability to fight right now. Hands seemed to form out of the darkness, reaching for him, and Jay veered away from them as best as he could while staying on the sidewalk.

It had been seven minutes. Three minutes left.

“What are you doing?” Nya asked. Jay forgot that she was still watching him.

He couldn’t catch his breath. “There’s no more lights. T-There’s stuff trying to grab me.”

“No one’s trying to grab you, honey. I would be able to see them if they were trying to. But I do need you to pick up the pace a little bit; they’re catching up behind you.”

“Nya, I can’t see. There is no light.”

“You see the light blinking on the camera?” Nya asked, and Jay looked to the sky. Sure enough, there was a small red dot a ways away across the street. “Follow it. I’ve got your back, Jay.”

And the breath rushed back into his lungs for the final push. He could do this. He knew that he could do this. Tightening his grip on the bags once again, he pushed the sounds of the footsteps out of his mind and focused fully on the red dot. “I’m with you, Nya. Show me where to go.”

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! I couldn't add these interactions in without writing an absurd amount to fit it in properly, but I still really wanted to add them, so here, have these little scenes instead. The first one takes place just after Birdie tells everyone when her birthday is and her and Joe have a little side conversation. The second is a little moment between her and George at the birthday game night he throws for her.

let me know what you think x

As always, based on the hbo show/actors portrayal, no disrespect intended.

TW: nothing

Tags: @malarkgirlypop , @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty and a half

Bernadette, Toye and Guarnere were some of the only people left in the mess hall. The woman had finished her food a while ago but was waiting for her friends to catch up. Bill was the last one, he got rid of his tray and came back to the table. Birdie saw him approaching and stood but was quickly stopped, “Sit down, missy.” Toye spoke up. He had a few questions for the young lady. 

“Yeah, you got some explaining to do.” Bill added, sitting back down across from her. 

“Am I in trouble?” She looked at the faces of her friends that were currently studying her. It made her feel like a child who had been pulled into the principal's office. 

“What the hell happened between you and Liebgott?” Toye spat out. He was a tad upset she hadn’t told him, after all, weren’t they best friends?

“Oh.. uh… nothing?” Birdie tried to play it off but she knew she couldn't avoid this forever. The issue was trying to explain something she herself didn't quite understand.

“Forgive me for not believing that.” Joe rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“No really… It was-” Birdie began, but she was cut off.

“What was? What happened?” Bill inquired, he was getting sick of the pretending game, he just wanted straight answers.

“He apologized. That’s all.” 

“Bullshit.” Both men hissed out in tandem. 

“Excuse me?” Birdie was taken aback, why were they so angry? She was allowed to make friends with whomever she wanted. Did they know something she didn't? Had Liebgott spoken to them about her? Suddenly she was flustered and bashful, looking down to avoid the men staring at her. 

“If all he did was apologise, why are you blushing?” 

“I’m not!” Her hand flew up to her cheeks to check their warmth, eyes wide and mouth parted.

“Yes, you are.” Guarnere responded, “Do you like him or something?” His eyebrows were raised, he genuinely didn’t know the answer. Toye on the other hand scoffed, of course she did, he thought that much was obvious.

“What?! No,I-... t-that's crazy!” Birdie was great at bluffing in games, not so much real life. Games had rules that were easy to understand. Life was more complicated. 

“Oh my god, you do!” Bill whisper-yelled accusingly.

“Jesus, Birdie.” Toye already knew this information but he was still mildly disappointed, “Seriously? Of all they guys… Him? Really?” His tone was so judgmental and Birdie was starting to get offended. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Her voice went up an octave. 

“You could do so much better.” Bill and Joe spoke at the same time, giving her the same answer.

—-------------------

“Here. It ain’t much cause you totally sprung this on me.” George handed over a bit of folded over card, “But happy birthday, Little Bird.” The front had a doodle of a pigeon type bird wearing a birthday hat and the inside was covered in scribbles from nearly every man in Easy, all wishing her a happy day among other sentimental comments. She read a few but tears formed in her eyes pretty quickly and made them blurry so she was forced to stop.

“Next year we’ll take you drinking.” Luz joked, playfully pushing at her shoulder before noticing the trail of watery tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“Hey, please don't cry on your birthday.” The radioman stepped closer to Bernadette, taking her in his arms and pulling her close. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, soothing the birthday girl. 

“I’m sorry…. I just- I miss my folks a-and…I….” Birdie sobbed, trying her hardest to breathe at a normal tempo, “Luz you're like family to me. I love you.” 

“Well now you're gonna make me cry, you sap.” He chuckled at the emotional girl curled up in his arms, “I love you too.”

A/N: I just couldn’t stop picturing George taking the card and pen round to every guy in Easy and forcing them to write something for Birdie!

Also the next real chapter might take longer than usual, love y'all x

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter twenty one

[shiroi---kumo]

Guys Bust style commissions are open for now. I have very limited slots so I have time to work on them and I don't overwhelm myself before I accept more.

I only take commissions through artistree and

you can find the link to do so here

I am not offering anything other than bust commission right now and I am only offering 1 character because I am thinking about speed. Please be patient with me I'm doing what I can to replace some of the money I'm losing from being off work. I'm still off and they're making me stay off for a whole 'nother week because of the mess that happened today.

My workman's comp claim got denied and they didn't tell me until monday (HR did, workman's comp hasn't contacted me since) and the doctor I was supposed to see tomorrow was my workman's comp doctor who took me off work in the first place. (Due to this concussion business)

So since workman's comp got denied

(because I didnt sign papers to release medical records but i havent gotten any papers from them in the mail? And apparently it was denied the same day workman's comp called and said they were mailing things for me to sign)

that means tomorrow's appt got canceled and my referrals for PT for my neck got lost and never acted on. So I have to see my personal doctor now but the one i used to see at my office is gone now so a new one and i cant see him until next Weds but work refuses to let me come in unless a doctor releases me.

SO that's where commissions come in.

I have money in savings, so i'm not dying but I also have bills to pay and car insurance coming out and I want to make sure that things dont go to hell BEFORE I get back to work. This also means I'm paying for all my medical appointments because of this concussion and possibly PT now because workman's comp fucked me over. So I need to make some money and work won't let me work. So here we are.

(FMLA is in progress; we'll see how that goes)

So for now I am offering bust commissions to you and I will doodle for you. I just ask if you have OCs please give me visual reference to work from. Thank you.