#too fucking many possible smash tags

[krazykatt111]

Made this when I found out Banjo and Kazooie got in Smash!

I'd wanted them to get in for a very long time, I'm a big Banjo and Kazooie fan. They're two of my absolute favorite characters, right at the top alongside Master Chief and Arbiter (and Cortana... And Johnson... And Rtas...)

Unfortunately didn't vibe with how they play so I didn't main them, but I did still play them sometimes out of my sheer love for them.

(*Past tense cause I almost never play Smash anymore)

[submalevolentgrace]

Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.

I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?

I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!

okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:

if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.

that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...

context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.

the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).

but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.

a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.

this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.

okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.

but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.

bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!

but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.

and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.

he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.

so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:

"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving. but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do. the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee. i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't! but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."

and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.

i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."

you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.

and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.

in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way

and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!

also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.

by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.

but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.

we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."

but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.

i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.

i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.

and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.

so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:

why does she have a prosthesis?

from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?

and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???

i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.

and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 18

(Chapter 17; Chapter 19)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

A Curse

You wake up to the soft crackling of the flames in front of you. Sukuna must’ve lit it back on soon after you fell asleep, because otherwise you probably would have frozen to death. It’s not dark anymore. A grey blue colour and fog looms through the woods. It must be early in the morning. You look to your left, where Sukuna sat last night. He’s not there. You get up and take look around. Locking your eyes with a trail of his footsteps in the snow, your eyes wander along, until you see him. You almost didn’t because he put on the upper part of his white kimono, making him almost vanish between the snow and trees.

Sukuna walks slowly in circles, almost looking thoughtful. A lot has happened yesterday. Both of you went through a ton of emotions. At least, you think he did, too. You watch him for a while. The way he moves through the snow and trees seems so graceful. Your heart drops, as you see him being beautiful like that. He hurt you and many others and yet, you don’t stop to be fascinated by him, heart being engulfed by him. The way he let you embrace him last night, it makes you think, if he ever let others do this before. You didn’t even ask him for permission and he let it happen. Did he feel the same as you in that moment? Was the clench of his jaw not a sign of annoyance but of something you don’t know yet? You can’t help but to think that this moment between the both of you was exceptional. Special.

You don’t try to get your hopes up, because you remember, that the kitchen maid once told you, that girls ran away before. However, she didn’t mention him going after them. And yet, he’s still here with you.

Why?

You sigh, before your tummy rumbles audibly. Hunger spreads in your guts.

Remembering the mochi that you put in your cleavage, you pull the fabric back, to see if they’re still intact or smashed into into mush.

Mush.

Must’ve happened when he pinned you down, when he caught you.

Asshole.

You sigh a second time, before you sit down in front of the fire. Gently you start to scratch the remains of the mochi from your skin and nibble the bits and pieces off your finger. While you’re busy with your breakfast, you hear Sukuna’s footsteps approaching.

Stopping right next to you, you try your best to ignore him. Despite your hopeful thoughts earlier, you don’t want to give in to him too soon. He does make it easy for you, though. The way his stare bores into you and possibly your cleavage starts to annoy you. As your eyes meet, he musters you, eyes you up and down with a frown on his face.

“What?“ you ask annoyed, chewing a bit of mochi between your teeth.

“Nothing.” he grumbles, turning around to sit back on the log.

You turn back to your fingers. Licking, nibbling and biting the sticky texture off your skin. You still feel his stare.

Nothing, you mimic him mockingly him in your head, while you can’t suppress the mocking in your face. He keeps staring, not saying anything and it starts to piss you off.

“What?” you raise your voice, looking back to him.

“You look like a homeless kitten, gnawing that stuff off your fingers.” he mumbles, his head resting on one of his hands, leaning on his thigh.

That fucking nickname.

“Well, I am homeless.” you roll your eyes at him, suppressing your anger. He chuckles, not answering, as you keep eating.

“You hungry?” you ask him, without looking at him.

“I am.” he responds. You lick your thumb.

“Well, I guess you had your chance last night.” you say arrogantly, being busy with your fingers.

“Oh yeah? What happened?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. You pause. The last piece of mochi goes down your throat. You put your cleavage back into position, pat it smooth and turn to him.

“Nothing.” you say emotionless. He smirks right back at you.

This fucking smirk.

He knows, that he still has a grip on you and it annoys you, making you regret showing him so much affection last night. However, your cramps didn’t come back. Your plan worked. So you convince yourself that you only used him to get you off for this purpose. And you know that’s a lie.

You still feel blood coming out of your cunt, but not as much as before. It’s probably going to stop soon. However, the need for some personal hygiene grows and grows.

You get up and walk past Sukuna, your feet entering the snow. Pulling back your kimono at the slit, you crouch down, taking a handful of fresh snow and rub it between your hands to get your hands somewhat clean of your saliva. Then you take another handful and rub it against your inner thighs. It stings. Melting against the heat of your skin, painting it red, it washes off the blood that’s been sticking there.

“That’s my clever little kitten.” you hear him purring behind your back.

Hearing it almost makes you furious. You know, he wants to provoke you and it works. His arrogant way of calling you that only reminds you of the time he thought he could do anything to anyone. Not caring about anything or anyone. Break your heart and mind, acting however he pleased. It pisses you off. You shoot back up and walk up to him. Leaning into his personal space, you give him your best angry look.

“I’m not your little kitten anymore.” you glare at him. He smirks at your anger.

“I am pleased to hear that you once was.” he coos.

“You’re so full of yourself, that you probably can’t even remember my name, considering how many cunts you had in your chambers.” you spit back. He clenches his jaw while listening to you.

“Most names are not worth remembering.” he squints his eyes at you.

“Asshole!” your insult only makes his smirk grow.

“Asshole?” he raises his eyebrow at you, before he leans in. “Mhhm I remember yours so well. Sucking in my thumbs and cock. So needy. So willing. Like a bitch in heat.” he purrs. The sudden change of topic sends a blush to your face that makes your blood boiling. “Same goes for your lil’ cunt. Didn’t have such a tight, lecherous woman in a long time.”

Woman.

Your breath hitches as you hear him calling you that. His little speech makes you angry and horny and you hate it.

“Remembering holes, not names. Interesting words, fitting the mouth of the most lecherous man I know.” you spit back. He chuckles.

“Oh yeah?” he bites his bottom lip “Yet you were the one begging.” You huff in response, as you watch him muster your face, before you lean to his ear.

“Let me make you mine, you said” you repeat his words in a whisper. “Sounding so needy yourself.”, you coo arrogantly, before leaning back, to glare into his eyes. His lip twitches, a rumble moves through his chest, before he chuckles deeply.

“You should watch that mouth. That’s not how you talk to your King.” he whispers, his eyes fixated to your lips once again.

“You’re not my King.” you whisper back. He pauses, eyes shooting back up to look into yours.

“Let’s fuck.” he breathes.

His responds mutes you, his arrogant boldness makes you wet immediately. Heart is pounding in your chest and cunt, but you can’t let him win.

“So needy.” you breathe back, as you squint your eyes at him. He cocks his eyebrow at you, as you straighten your back, leaning away from him, as a grin spreads on his lips. With an aching cunt, you turn around, leaving him there sitting on the log. The pool of wetness between your folds smears on your inner thighs, as you walk around a bit to calm your nerves. Knowing he can smell you, makes you ask yourself if you really did win, but in a way, you did. Walking next to the footsteps he printed into the snow earlier, you smile to yourself. Thinking how thick and throbbing his balls must be since last night and how you denied him any satisfaction right now, it makes you so proud.

A crack in the woods interrupts your thoughts. You look up. Something moves between the trees. You can’t hear anything except the movements. Seeing only a shadow that’s moving within he fog.

Is it another one of those beasts?

“Silence” he whispers, before you can voice your question. Sukuna appeared right next to you, bowed down to your level, eyes fixated between the trees.

So fast and silent.

You look at him in confusion, notice that he undressed the upper part of his kimono. Sukuna keeps staring between the trees, when suddenly a hand crawls up on the back of your neck, holding you in position. He nudges his chin forward, motioning you to look into the same direction. Your eyes follow his gaze

“Do you see it?” he whispers, while you feel him leaning into you, stopping only an inch apart from your face. You squint your eyes to see better and in the blink of an eye, you see it.

A stag. Moving gracefully between the trees.

“Yes” you breathe. After a moment you turn your head back to Sukuna, only to catch him staring at you. He chuckles at the look on your face, before he straightens his back, turning his gaze to the stag. Angling his upper body into your direction, he lifts his left arm right in front of him, curls his ring and pinkie finger while he stretches out his thumb, index and middle finger, the inside of his hand facing to his left. The hand on your neck retreats and folds itself in front of his shoulder.

You remember.

The light of a flame lights up your face, as a fire arrow appears at his hands. You muster him, standing so tall next to you, his biceps flexing, his chest slowly falling and rising, his abs tensing. A soft breeze flows through his hair, as his gaze grows more concentrated. So intimidating, yet so majestic.

Shoot.

The flames leave Sukunas hands and with a low swish through the air, it pierces right into the neck of the stag with a dull impact. Your breath hitches at the sight.

Dead.

Without a word, Sukuna walks into the direction of the animal. You stay where you are, watching the predator get its prey. Another cold breeze flows through the air, as you watch the muscles on his back move with every step he takes, walking through the snow. Sukuna crouches down to heave the dead body up on his shoulders. So effortlessly. As soon as he turns around, you do as well, slowly walking back to your spot in front of the fire. Sitting down cross legged, you stare into the flames.

With a loud thump Sukuna drops the dead stag against the log. The sound sends a shiver up your spine. It’s not like you don’t eat meat. It’s the way he killed it without hesitation, that stresses you. He said he’s hungry, yet you didn’t expect him killing the first thing that comes into his sight. Especially since all he eats is human flesh. Women. You still thought his next meal might be you.

“Hand me the dagger, kitten.” you hear him say. It sits right beside you, still buried in the dirt. You don’t comply.

Enough.

An annoyed smack of lips reaches your ears, as you hear him stand up.

“Bitch.” he curses under his breath. You didn’t expect that. Hearing him call you that makes you sad. Thinking he doesn’t remember your name makes you sad. This whole banter with him tires you. You’re not a person that seeks conflict, you rather run from it. But he didn’t let you.

A sting reaches your ears as he pulls the dagger out of the dirt.

You feel caged. Caged in the wilderness of this forest.

Seeing him move the dirty blade through the snow, cleaning it up, you remember that you didn’t drink anything since yesterday.

You feel tired. Dehydrated. Hungry.

The hormones of your period surely put the cherry on top.

Sukuna starts to cut through the fur of the animal, cutting, ripping, tearing. The sounds remind you of the ones six years ago. A metallic, tangy smell crawls up your nose.

The day goes on. You keep sitting in front of the fire, listening to Sukuna’s butchering. Sometimes you even doze off and wake up again, only to hear him still being at it. Crows shout and fly through the trees sometimes, making you remember, that in this wilderness, there is still more living, than just you and him. With the only exception, that they are free and you’re not. Soon it grows dark. That’s how December days are. Short and cold.

In the light of the fire, you peek to Sukuna. The slabs of meat he cut off the stag lay in the snow next to the log, the remains almost being only bones now. He cut it so clean, like someone who does it on a daily basis. Sukuna himself is sitting on the fur of the stag, that he placed upon the log, staring into the flames. Slowly he munches on a tiny piece of meat, holding it on his upper left hand. He doesn’t notice your glance. Or ignores it. His bloody hands resting on his thighs, holding his dagger in his bottom left hand, his bottom right hand fiddling with its blade. In his upper right hand, he holds another piece of meat.

You stare at him until he shortly peeks into your direction, too.

“What?” he mumbles, while he continues munching.

“Nothing.” you say in a raspy voice, not having spoken in hours.

A pause.

“I thought you only eat women.” you add.

“This doesn’t taste as good as you.” he mumbles, not moving his gaze from the flames. A soft huff escapes your nose, finding his answer funny and oppressive at the same time. Feeling empty, you turn your gaze back to the flames, too.

“Maybe you should eat me then.” you whisper. The crackle of the fire between the both of you. A few minutes pass. He doesn’t answer and you take it as a “no”. Your heart grows desperate. You can’t run but can’t stay either. It hurts so much.

“I mean it. Why are you still here with me?” your voice so tired.

“I told you.” he grumbles.

“No, you didn’t. You won’t let me run, but don’t take me back to the shrine either. I feel safe with you, but not at all at the same time. I feel like I’m trapped in a void. Is that your idea of reminding me of my place?” your voice calm.

“It’s your punishment for leaving it.” he turns his gaze to you.

“You made me leave.” you look back up to him. “You fuck and eat however and whoever you please, calling yourself King. So why do you care? It’s not like you’re lonely. It’s not like you have a void in your heart to fill. You have everything you want.” your voice resigns.

His jaw clenches at what you say, eyes fleeing from yours and seek the flames in front of him. Sukuna responds with a huff, but remains silent otherwise.

It‘s no use.

A few minutes pass before he throws a piece of meat into your direction. It lands right next to you. It’s no secret that you must be hungry. Starving in fact. However, you won’t accept his offer. Not yet at least. After a while, he stands up, takes the carcass by the horns and drags it into the darkness.

You grab the chance and take the slap of meat into your hands, eat it raw and hastily. No time to cook it in the fire. The bloody taste hits your tongue, as your teeth cut right through the meat. A familiar feeling, after Sukuna made you eat half of that heart. Some energy and self confidence crawls back into your mind, as you notice your mouth and hands being smeared with blood. However, the thirst knocks on your throat. You need water.

Sukuna didn’t come back yet. It’s been a few minutes. You get up and look around if you see him somewhere, but it’s only darkness. Taking a burning piece of wood out of the fireplace, you start to look for his footsteps in the snow. You see the trail the carcass left in it and you slowly follow it, leaving the fireplace behind you. For a few minutes you walk next to the trail, until you suddenly hear a noise to your left. The sound of water flowing.

A stream maybe?

You hesitate, unsure if you should follow the sound. The trail keeps going straight ahead. He’s gonna be pissed, if he knows you wandered off by yourself.

No. I need water.

You take the turn to your left and carefully walk into the direction of the sound. The ground beneath you grows more rocky, you fight hard not to slip. After a while the light of the moon hits your eyes again, the crowns of the trees open up. In the moonlight, you can see a waterfall rushing down a hill. It lands into a hot spring, like in the shrine, just bigger.

It’s such a beautiful sight for you, calms you. Doesn’t remind you that you’re in a dark forest at all.

You step right onto the edge of water, dipping your fingers in. It’s warm. Laying down the burning wood, you turn around to check if you’re still alone. Cold fingers fiddling with the cords and fabric of your kimono, you undress yourself. Suddenly a crack. You stop, trying to calm your breathing, looking around in the darkness.

Nothing.

Already being naked and nowhere to go anyway, you decide to walk into the warm water. It feels so good. Finally being embraced in warmth, you also feel clean again, washing off the blood, saliva and everything else that’s stuck to your skin. Quietly hopping through the water, until you reach the waterfall. Standing right in front of it, you open your mouth. Droplets of water fall into it, them being colder, than the water you’re standing in. It tickles your tongue and lips and you start to giggle, before you scratch your teeth along them to ease the sensation. You raise your folded hands, to catch some water in them. The rushing waterfall is so loud, you can’t hear anything else. You’re just with yourself and right now, it makes you happy. Drinking the water you caught in your hands, you feel so much better. Makes you feel alive again. Taking a step further, you let the waterfall rush down onto your head and shoulders. It feels heavy and you start to feel more relaxed but it starts to grow cold on you. Hopping out of the waterfall area, you dive into the warmth below you.

Your face tingles from the heat that embraces you and soon you dive up again. Combing your fingers through your hair, you ask yourself, if Sukuna already noticed your absence. Your eyes wander to the burning wood you left at the rim of the spring. It still lights up the place where you left it. Nothing is to be seen elsewhere. You breathe deeply, start to relax more. Being submerged up to your chin, you close your eyes even. Leaning back a bit, resting the back of your head into the water, a melody crawls into your mind. You don’t remember the time you heard it, but the melody itself becomes more clear and clear. Feeling as free as ever, you start to quietly hum it. It’s a beautiful melody, makes your heart feel safe and sound. You hum and hum, feeling your vocal cords vibrate, until after a while, you remember.

Sukuna.

Your eyes rip open, as you remember Sukuna humming the exact same melody when you first followed him into the hot springs. Yanking your head back forward again, your breath hitches, as you stare into the eyes of the person your mind can’t forget. He’s here, right in front of your face. His hair wet, as if he just dived back up, being submerged up to his chin as well.

Your eyes widen, as you realise, that you didn’t hear or notice him at all. His eyes look so soft, not angry, a sight you didn’t see on him in a long time. You recognise the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. Seeing them reminds you of how much you missed them, how much you missed them being meant for you. A sight, that turns your heart soft, as it remembers you of better times. When you felt like being truly his. You stare back into his eyes, the water below your nose gently rippling from your breath hitting its surface. He looks so pretty in the moonlight, his red orbs softly glowing at yours. Small pearls of water dripping off strands of his hair.

“You’re the first one who remembers it correctly.” he whispers.

“It’s beautiful.” you breathe back.

“Beautiful…” he repeats quietly, as if it’s a long forgotten word for him. “Yes.” he concludes, mustering your face. His stare makes you nervous, making your eyes flee from his.

“How long have you known it?” you say as you watch the moonlights reflection in the water.

“A lifetime.” his voice as smooth as silk.

You frown, confused eyes find their way back into his.

“You don’t look like a grandpa to me.” you say as innocent as a child. Sukuna frowns at your answer, before his lips start to curl and a laughter bursts out of his lungs. His loud voice even overpowers the waterfall and you’re startled, crawling closer to him, shushing his lips with your fingers.

“Shhhh” you say panicked, looking around making sure no beasts are coming near you. He chuckles once again, still not over the grandpa thing. After a minute, he calms down.

“Those beasts will come for us.” you whisper.

“Those curses won’t come for us.” he mouths against your fingers. Your breath hitches as you feel his lips move against the sensitive skin. Something clicks in you.

King of Curses.

You remember hearing this title the first time you heard his name. It all makes sense now.

“A curse…” you repeat quietly, as if it’s a long forgotton word for you. “Yes.” you muster his face, as you finally realise that he is one of them. A curse on the outside and inside, a curse in his actions and his mind.

And a curse that took your heart.

King of Curses. The most powerful one.

“You cursed me.” you add quietly. His lips gently push against your fingers, before they grow into a smirk. “That’s why you can’t let me go.” you whisper.

[skreebs]

Happy “Tetchou got 2-3 seconds of screen time” day!!

Anyway Jouno has ADHD and heres a longass rant on why I think that

(Obviously this is a headcanon but hear me out!!!!!)

Almost every time we see Jouno he is always doing something with his hands wether this be gesturing, holding something, or fidgeting with an object (example: when he was peeling a pear in Kunikida’s cell thing) and in the same scene we also see Jouno apparently unable to sit still in his seat in the manga due to him repeatedly crossing and uncrossing his legs in his chair

Another reason I think this is because of possible time blindness. When we first see Jouno show up to the Hunting Dogs group thing where they smash into the ground, Fukuchi comments on Jouno arriving before him. This is because he had to go arrest Dazai so obviously he’s “here” in Yokohama early, but also this kind of makes me think he was just standing there waiting for a while. I’m likely reading too deep into it, but Fukuchi probably wouldn’t say that Jouno had gotten here before him when he knew that’d clearly be the case. In my mind it reads as Jouno arrived at the meeting spot early. How Fukuchi would know this? No clue! But also he’s Fukuchi so he probably knows everything.

(I hate tumblr formatting)

Another reason I have would be RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria)

This one is definitely reaching a little bit but bare with me.

I think Jouno experiences RSD, not in the way of “oh I hate myself I messed up on something” but instead in the way of “shut the fuck up you dont know what youre talking about dont criticize me.” Which is honestly how I experience it sometimes as well LMAO but he does seem very focused on the fact of personally being the best Hunting Dog and appears to take quite a bit of offense whenever Tetchou reprimands him for his behaviour.

Last reason I can squeeze out before my brain turns into goo is overstimulation. Jouno is known very heavily for his heightened senses and people with ADHD are very prone to overstimulation. It would make a lot of sense for something like this to happen to Jouno. Obviously he wouldn’t be able to openly show this at work or have a breakdown at work (if he did he would likely go to a secluded area to calm down) but its very likely that he’s experienced many overstimulated breakdowns or shut downs during his life once his senses became so insane.

I could go on about this for hours but now I have to tag all of this and pass the hell out. Unsurprisingly my own time blindness has gotten the better of me (I started this at 2 am and it is currently 5 am)

DO I EVEN NEED THIS MANY TAGS IDK HOW THIS WORKS

[krokaxe]

• OC SMASH OR PASS •

Tagged by: @paintpaw

RULES: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

• TARIN "NOBARK" LENNOX •

• QUICK FACTS •

Name: Tarin Star Lennox; Starry, Nobark

Gender: Queer

Pronouns: She/Her

Height: 5'8"

Sexuality: Bisexual • Demiromantic

• PROS •

Easy going, generally chill and down-to-earth; barefoot in the dirt sort of person. Will try anything once, then twice just to make sure.

Family and community orientated. The eldest sibling, the older sister; problem solver.

Confident without being arrogant.

Well-natured, kind hearted. She can see the good in everybody and the opportunity in any situation.

A lean, wiry strong and baked with desert heat; always running warm.

Ten shades better than any guard dog.

Mechanic by trade; well versed with vehicles as much as she is a firearm.

Will learn you from top to bottom without a problem.

Extremely connected, both via family trade and her musical community branches.

Versatile on a sexual basis. Prefers dynamics with an even push and pull, requires equal intensity for fulfilment.

Prefers independent, confident people. Well versed in queer circles; she wants you to be the best, happiest possible you that you can be.

Low stakes; doesn't expect any grade of interaction beyond intent. Easy come, easy go. You're beholden to nothing but your own word.

Singer-songwriter and guitarist; music is a language and she'll let you learn it, if you're willing.

• CONS •

Frontman to Starry and the Coyotes, so time can be sparse and you won't be a priority unless you enter romantic territory. Clinging/emotional dependency is an immediate turn-off.

Fucks for pleasure. If you're expecting a dating opportunity, try harder.

Active substance user with no intention to cut down or stop. Will not bend this or taper use; if you're uncomfortable, it's your job to leave.

Danger is her second nature, but fear isn't.

Brought up with a family operating on anti-law, anti-establishment metrics; she does not gel with society's expectation.

Unpredictable. Can be violent and cut-throat with absolutely no warning, hence 'Nobark'.

Upset one Lennox, you upset them all.

She has so many dogs. An unreasonable amount, even. Her horse is her first child, her car is her second. The dogs are her kin. They will sleep on the bed, you do not get to remove them.

Rodeo metrics; if you can't take the ride, leave the ring. If she thinks you're boring, you will find out very quickly. She won't care for crying about it either.

Holds a long, patient grudge. You will not get away and she will not forget any transgression you make.

Her bandmates are her family too; if you don't pass the Coyotes test, you're not going to get a shade closer.

Tagging: @koilarist • @shiny-good-rock • @plasma-packin-mama • @kharonion • @the-lord-of-the-things • @robogenko • @thespiral • I'm drawing blanks for any more so if you see this and you'd like to be tagged, consider yourself tagged by me.

[void-botanist]

OC Pokemon teams tag: AOM

I'm taking an open tag from @kk7-rbs for this one! I chose these for the main AOM players based on vibes and also story potential.

Also an open tag!

Sid

He doesn't really favor any type, and that shows in his team. He evolved the Sirfetch'd from a Farfetch'd that fought him for an onion, the Goodra from a Goomy he found in the garden (his parents did NOT want him to take it inside), and the Alcremie from a Milcery he caught with the smell of his baking (it's probably a different variant than the one shown but he let it pick out its candy). The Mimikyu showed up when he was cleaning out the attic, and he feels like they have a lot in common actually. Donovan gave him a Galarian Yamask and fully believed it could never be evolved, but Sid figured out how to evolve it anyway. Emma gave him the Froslass when she got a shiny Froslass, and he had to retrain it to be less slappy and bitey.

Donovan

He loves ground and rock types more than anything but those alone are kind of a weak team, so he's diversified. He's a big fan of Pokemon that are Shaped, hence the Shelgon and Gastrodon. Unfortunately he has never met someone who was fooled by the Sudowoodo. The Mudsdale is his hard hitter, the Trevenant is his favorite, and the Sableye he picked up from a cave because it reminded him of Sid (then a small child). Through no fault of its own it got most of Donovan's care and affection (RIP Sid) and is kind of a spoiled brat.

Emma

Her team organizing principle is cuntiness. She picked Sobble as a starter years ago so she could end up with Inteleon. Pheromosa, Tsareena, and Froslass were all pretty easy choices too. She thinks the Machamp is cute and it has a great attitude (smash all opponents). It actually has not given her the most injuries - the Rapidash has, between its pointy horn and its tendency to get into her head with its psychic abilities. She doesn't super discourage this kind of behavior because any Pokemon that can knock her down can doubly do it to her challengers.

Avis

She favors ghost types (she used to have a Trevenant in her main team but she switched it out when she found out Donovan had one). She loves Rillaboom the most, though, because she's had it the longest - she raised it from a Grookey. Her default strategy is to use its size (it's 6' 11") to intimidate most challengers (including Sorian), and then switch to Dhelmise when it gets a little low on health. Anyone who knows their types will assume she has a grass-based team, at which point she can pull out Kommo-o or Grappleoct to surprise them. Gengar and Dragapult also unnerve people, which is fine by her. She hates it when people point it out but she's very kind to her Pokemon and is far more worried about how good of a trainer she is to them than how powerful they are as fighters (pretty powerful).

Sorian

He loves fairy and psychic types and they love him. Obviously the Ninjask is an exception, but he keeps it in his team just in case and because Horatio gave it to him (he still doesn't understand why Horatio thinks it's like him, but okay. It's cute). He often lets the Comfey stay out of its Pokeball and wears it as a flower crown, which Avis finds infuriating (how dare he have a cute Pokemon like that. fucking asshole). People think Avis will be irrationally pissed off by the Hatterene, since it looks kind of like a human woman, but it just looks like that - why would she be mad? Sorian's favorite Pokemon is actually the Togekiss, which likes to snuggle with him when he's alone but retreats as soon as Avis shows up. His most powerful Pokemon in battle are definitely the Claydol and Musharna.

Horatio

Horatio didn't start out trying to bridge as many types as possible, nor to have only dual-type Pokemon, but once he realized it was happening anyway he leaned into it. He started with the Galvantula, which used to ride in his pocket when it was a Joltik, and ended up with Vileplume when his Oddish would not stop accompanying him out of his florist shop. Edith gave him the Swinub he evolved into Piloswine, and Sorian gave him the Deino he evolved into Hydregion because it looked like him (it did). The Aegislash came from a Honedge that tried and failed to blend in with his gardening tools, and the Gallade - which he suspects used to belong to someone else - he found wandering in the woods when he was studying river plants. It has very little self control around people who are rude to him, and it sometimes gets switched out of his team temporarily when it's being moody.

[vwritesaus]

      Grief is a funny thing, and it works in many ways.       For some, it harrows the soul for years and years, and ultimately makes one bitter, like Tatiana Blackthorn. It’s sometimes a dull, pounding ache deep in one’s chest, choking them despite them still breathing. Other times it’s a shroud, a veil, a piece of cloth covering a person like one does a birdcage, shutting the world out in favour of darkness and despair. And sometimes all it does is stay stagnant for a long, long time, growing and growing like a snowball rolling down a hill, until it reaches a tree and smashes into a million pieces.       For Thomas, especially in the past few weeks, grief has been a driving force to keep busy. It’s gnawed at his heart, his soul, but he’s shoved it aside in favour of making himself useful. To do anything, anything, humanly possible to spare anyone else being torn into jagged rags by these sharp shards edged with ice. He’s like his father, in that way. Perhaps he’s unconsciously picked up some habits from him for Gideon, in his worry and grief over his son’s sickly status as a child, never sat still.       And Thomas hadn’t had ample time to grieve for his sister. Barbara’s death came too suddenly, too soon. Belial’s antics to rule their world and Tatiana’s plot of revenge and malice made sure of that, eating into any sliver of a moment where he could’ve sat down and thought about his older sister; where he could have gone to Idris with his family, held his mother’s and Eugenia’s hands, and sat in silence with his father, head on his shoulder and eyes staring out the window at the demon towers of Alicante.       Now, however… now he has all the time in the world to grieve. For Barbara… for Christopher.       And for the first time in his life, Thomas doesn’t know what to do, or what to feel.

remember when i was crying over writing a fic about christopher's death in thomas's pov in hope of finding some closure? this is that fic

it hurts—fuck, it hurts—but it needs doing. thomas & co.'s grief in cot was only touched upon in regards to kit's death (and others'), and i wanna expand on it as much as i can. so heads up, this is gonna be a big puddle of feelings and very thomas-centric, but not just with his own mourning. bc thomas is thomas, he'll always go for healing other people first: alastair, gabrily, anna, sophideon... just to name a few :') this b o y istg

anyway, i mentioned this is a mutlichap, so here's a small preview from chapter 1. i'll mostly likely post the full thing tomorrow, and if not then, the day after - in which case, i'll just post another snippet haha xD i've just got the one scene left to finish hhhh

also this isn't beta-read so excuse any glaring errors/my waffley style prose lol

~

tagging people who might be interested (and those who i know have read cot lol): @drunkonimagination @astriefer @ferrari-go-vroom-vroom @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone @claritywithclary let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

[sunflowersand-bees]

tws in the tags

we all know about will running away from lonnie (fuck him) to mike's house or hiding out at his house to avoid his father, but have we considered the possibility that joyce dropped will off at the wheelers' to save him from lonnie?

imagine lonnie calls from the bar, or a friend does, he's too drunk to drive home, so joyce needs to go pick him up. she knows that bad things happen when drunk lonnie is home, so on her way she stops by the wheelers', apologizing to karen about the short notice.

maybe sometimes she drops off jonathan too. he didn't have many friends, so he didn't exactly have regular sleepovers, but the wheelers' had a girl his age. she hoped that they would get along well. they didn't really, but that was okay. as long as her boys were safe.

sometimes though, she didn't get as much of a heads up for when lonnie would come home, reeking of alcohol. she sent the boys to their rooms, hoping to minimalize any interactions that they had to have with their drunken father, who, in his inebriated state, was hardly the same person the was sober.

(this was a lie. this lonnie was always there. lurking in the corners. joyce had seen it before. lonnie had gotten in a couple fights in high school, always off campus. it was brutal. alcohol really brought the worst out in him.)

sometimes lonnie didn't care when the boys left the room. other times, he'd call them back, saying that he wanted to say hello to his kids. jonathan would be the first one to walk over, will behind him, like always. joyce would be hovering right beside them anxiously. she didn't want to directly defy him, since he would twist that back on her if she did.

he would study the boys. if he found anything wrong--"you've got marker on your hand" "stop looking like you're going to cry, boy"--he would lash out. sometimes it was a backhand, sometimes a slap. occasionally a fist.

the first few times, joyce had been caught by surprise. later, she learned his tricks. she was ready. she would step forward, intercepting any blows. better that man's wrath fall upon her. she would rather die than allow anything to hurt her boys.

it wasn't ever anything serious. he always backed off after she stopped him, unflinching.

he grew more and more irresponsible and drunken. one time he was so drunk, he couldn't remember who he was.

that was the breaking point for joyce. "get out."

hours, several smashed bottles, and a suitcase and some car keys thrown into the dirt later, they were free.

[shinakazami1]

• previous ask anon here! I saw the positive response on my last ask so might as well say some more (imagine getting happy from being praised on your own praise, can't be me/j)

• you may feel like Dear Stanley doesn't get many reads but I assure you, if the fic was a youtube video I would put it on loop (they are so silly and the metaphors and the way he cared so much about those little details?? same fr)

• Tomato getting more content. oh no. my heart. you better prepare to pay for the damages that will be inflicted on my soul.

• I decided to tour your ao3 works and read Bad Luck! …I checked all the tags, no worries. (Love, Falling and All Things did came up first but it's in a series so I put it for later)

• 27k. That one hour of reading was quite something. It's so wrong but it's so good?? keyboard smashes I won't dive into details here, but the words hold so much feelings. They are so,,,a (Fanfic writers my beloved good job you two) Question: how are their lives after that. are they happy like really truly happy. it's an au but i need to know if my blorbos are ok.

• I'm probably going to read the soulmate bodyswap series next, and I'm really excited since 1. omg tooth-rotting fluffy gay men, I need this and 2. planetariums, aquariums and animal facts are my absolute favourites stop hitting my soft spots (once again thank goodness for fanfic writers amen)

• sorry if this is too long and possibly confusing! I'm not the best at writing anything out...maybe retreating to ao3 comment sections now that I know anonymous/no account commenting exists (because of you, I finally found out about it after all these years, thanks). Have a nice 365 days!

Anon please my gosh I just opened tumblr and I saw I had a message and just to hear my reaction for your comment meant a lot means a lot to me ofahioasi we are rn in a very silly loop and just please know I told my close buds about you writing these asks and just it means so much to me, and to see you wrote such a long comment (I checked, wow, 307 words, dude I appreciate you sm if you would ever want to reveal yourself be my guest IOHFSOIFSAO I just, I truly appreciate you)

Now lemme just respond to each point under the cut but PLEASE THIS IS NOT CONFUSING NOR TOO LONG THIS IS JUST SO PRECIOUS

Dude I am so glad you liked the metaphors!! I really wanted to make him project onto different things and just, Narrator feels like a man who would care so much about details that others wouldn't

If I ever get back to writing haha, but the prequel is gonna be a cute slowburn of how they got together (no angst tho haha noooo sir don't look how I mostly write angst hahahaah h a ) ; while sequel is their trip to the mountains which would have similar tone to the original!! But gosh thank you you really make me want to write it hehe

Bad Luck is one of my collabs with a user who left TSP community so now I am left as the only creator listen but they were the ones who came up with the idea for that and Good Luck Charm, which is the fic this one kinda comes from !! We were a bit scared if people would think we agree with Stanley's actions (esp since I was the one who wrote them fihfsoiafsih) but I am glad you like it! And well - we actually discussed it and haha no they are not good they are far from good in that au, what we intended to do was (SPOILER: DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW IF I EVER WRITE IT) that Stanley would confess to Narrator that he drugged him and Narrator would be very mad but since he got bitten and it was found out that he was omega, he would lose his job since the world is omegaphobic and Stanley would only later learn just of how much he fucked up. But since the damage is done and Leo would not want him to have easy way out, they kinda stay together and Stanley develops and anxiety disorder. They kinda make it all work and let themselves explore the feelings but Leo never forgives and good for him, good for that man

Gosh to hear you want to keep on reading my work???? That just means so much to me??? I wrote this one with Surf and the amount of silliness that series has just still makes me giddy with how I pulled some of my fav moments in my TSP fanfics so I hope you will not only have a nice read but if you do write, you will share your opinion if you will want to!!

You reminded me I have to check ao3 iohfashiosafois I haven't really been logging in so I prob been slacking off with responses but please, wherever you choose to write, it will always mean so much to me. You already spending time writing the first thing meant for me a ton, esp since this semester has been hard and I've been in art block overall but please anon, know that your words truly make me feel not only good but just grateful to you. Know that your words mean more than you can imagine and they can affect people in a good way. Thank you <3 Have lovely 365 days! (or 365/2 days, if you are a Kingdom Hearts fan)

[insanescriptist]

(So things in this section might be triggering. I am not tagging now because I don't have a coherent plan for this. Just wording. Why am I drafting on tumblr? I don't make the rules. Brain just goes Tumblr is the write space mwahaha)

Another reason to hate this whole world: people with powers were still people with powers.

Which meant things like crime wasn't ever going to be fully eliminated, no matter how many heroes you had out and about. Crime was a symptom of a free thinking society, not just a human thing. Aliens had crime or else the Lantern corps wouldn't exist.

Usually crime committed by humans was following a few lines of thought. Do I need it? Do I want it? And then doing it.

Crimes of need. I need the money. The drugs. This outfit. Theft usually. I need to feel safe, so I need this guy to die. I need this bitch to shut up, because her blabbermouth is threatening me.

Crimes of want. I want to show off my resources. I want to be validated. I want this dress, these drugs. The money to afford it. I want this guy gone, 'cause he's a fuck-up. I want this cunt to become incommunicado, dealer's choice, but an example is to be made.

Need based crimes were usually messier. Didn't know you'd need to commit it until it came up. Well, most people didn't. Since they had moral hang-ups and fear of consequence. But well, again, crime didn't happen in a vacuum. There's always circumstances. Little life emergencies draining your savings. The pharmacy won't get the prescription filled for another week and the pain is too much. This dress makes me look respectable enough to hire. This blabbermouth is spilling my secrets and putting me in danger; I'm not able to be out of the closet.

Crimes of want usually were more organized. Since you know, the wants were higher on the hierarchy of needs and so they could afford it. And with organization and means, it of course meant they were usually more heinous.

Again, nothing happened in a vacuum. And crime would always happen in a free thinking society. Crimes of want would be vastly more organized.

Especially since All Might "destroyed" organized crime.

What a fucking lie.

Batman "broke" Gotham's mob and all that happened was the start of the Long Halloween.

How long until the "villains" here said Trick or Treat?

Anyway, you couldn't really get rid of crime. Inherent condition of a thinking society. Please note the society; societies were bound by social contract and thus laws. Laws which said which acts and behaviors were criminal, what the punishments were and how to punish people.

Wants and needs would always spark crime. But not the worst crimes, not really.

The worst crimes were always the why the fuck not? That's where you had the tipping point of, "this criminal is better off dead." For the victims. For the community. For society. For Justice. For Mercy. To end the insanity.

So anyway. Big organized crime in this future Japan was basically nonexistent or very well behaved. Which meant you had a bunch of little groups in competition with each other when it came to organizations. Oh, and the foreigners. Who were trying to blend in very nicely. They didn't want the local knock-off Superman to smash their operations either.

It some ways, it was nice. Rare to have a group above twenty or so members. Of course it also meant more skirmishing that has to be well off main street or else a Hero would show up. Name a champion, let 'em fight and that's who won. Very polite.

In some ways, it was worse. It taught them subtlety. To keep business inside when possible. To prize secrecy and loyalty over strength. Sure, they still wanted strength, especially if it could be defined as a useful Quirk on their side but it really wasn't going to be discussed in bars and rented back rooms or dilapidated warehouses. Not in abandoned apartment buildings and so on either. Urban Blight in Japan was the occasionally condemned building from Quirk damage. Not buildings that had been left to rot for decades.

Office building fronts were popular for these small groups and cells. No one looked twice at Japanese salary men going to or from a building, carrying binders and so on.

For those small gangs on friendlier terms? Karoke bars were pretty damn soundproof and Jason's new least favorite place to tail anyone to.

Of course with the lack of manpower -and therefore resources- and the emphasis on subtlety, metahuman -sorry, Quirk trafficking- was usually done in small batches as well. Partly because with most people having powers and knowing how to use them, even without training were a higher level of threat than plain old regular humans. Mostly anyway.

Sadly due to Quirks being inherently biologically tied to a person, most of the Quirk trafficking also meant sexual trafficking. Sexual fetishes for say, monster girls meant some mutant quirks were highly valuable. Others? Oh, their Quirk as well, but for power or ability. Breeding a better future or so on. Which was as dehumanizing as it sounded. He was used to human trafficking at least calling them product. Not livestock and not breeding stock.

The luckier ones -if you wanted to debate who was really lucky- got snatched for illegal Quirk science experiments. Medicine testing, drug testing, to use their Quirk to further or enhance production, or in place of certain chemicals. See how addictive some things were or the effects on different Quirks; does it work as well on mutants as it does emitters? Tests to find lethal dosage and so on. So now you've got addicts or dead bodies, but the addicts were addicts. They could be useful. Functional addicts were dangerous. Non-functional addicts were liabilities. But at least the non-functional addicts would die quickly from said addiction.

And this was just the most blatant acts. Jason had no doubt that there were legal marriages that were also Quirk Marriages. That were absolutely Human, sorry, Quirk trafficking in all ways but name.

After all, this body was born to one.

Jason had eventually tracked down the family this body was born to. Hacking the Quirk registry was needed to figure out who he plausibly could fake to be. Looking them up in civil databases. He attached himself to his mother's family registry. Knew their finances. B always said to trust your evidence over witnesses. Eyewitness testimony was known to be unreliable. Human memory was also unreliable.

A whole fucking year in this world and yeah, he was still learning more about this world and getting more disgusted by it.

That's what made the stress relief so worth it, even if he knew he'd be suffering tomorrow because of it.

Five smucks down and out, well away from the main action of the night. Assembling them to meet up while not "at work," was practically child's play.

Seven goons on the ground, quick and easy. Didn't even really get a fight in, which was entirely purposeful. Recovering from a three year coma took time; muscular atrophy was no joke and a year still wasn't enough time to properly get back to what Jason considered to be an adequate level of conditioning.

Three people rescued. A backpack of evidence to be held by said victims as heroes would soon come to the building.

Yeah, the trafficking fuckers deserved worse than a beat-down but Japan's gun laws were no joke. Getting one wasn't impossible but it would get "mysterious vigilante" so much more, heh, heat from law enforcement.

Besides, because of the stupid Quirk laws of this Japan? Vigilantism was only a crime if you used a Quirk.

Cremation is just another fun(erl) service

So blaming random 4am thoughts that have been plaguing me all day for this

----

Jason woke to a bright room, thin sheets and the smell of a hospital embedded in his body.

First as always, assess. Hospital. No affiliation printed on the walls or anywhere. Private room, but small. That door looked like it led to a private bathroom. Generic flower picture, a mounted screen turned off. Really fucking bright sunlight from the windows.

There was no fucking way he was in Gotham then. Everything was too nice. Normal by standards outside of Gotham. There were blinds, not metal shutters. The walls were cleaner than Gotham allowed outside of Downtown and he could see greenery through the window.

Okay. So what had he been doing? Jason remembered and then wished he had his Jerichos to shoot himself with. Mystic Shit™. Okay. Okay. That was not one of his better ideas, but if he's recovering in a hospital, it worked. World saved.

So recovery. How fucked was he?

His skin looked so fucked. Which meant he had been worse. He's had time to recover and lose muscle tone in, going by how twiggy his arms were. His hands looked good. Clearly someone knew he cared about those if they went through the effort of restoring those.

Hmm, that was odd. No matter how much Jason hated the Lazarus Pits and all its by-products, it would have been a faster and more simple way to recover from near-death than the long incarceration in a hospital for a John Doe.

Jason wasn't sure if he'd been abandoned yet again by those who called themselves his family because he could, "take care of himself," or if he had been written off dead. Again.

Hospital beat the coffin by a long shot.

And it was with that cheery thought, a nurse -obvious meta human nurse- came in and burst into excited Japanese, because that was of course, his luck.

It's after the nurse and doctors leave that Jason loses his shit.

It looks like he's sulking in bed, but mentally everything in his head is exploding. Imploding.

Three. Fucking. Years. Coma.

Burn victim so bad they not only expected him to die in the first couple of days, but still expect it because of the infection risk his fucked up skin represents.

Still the conversation with the medical staff -of varying degrees of bizarre- was enlightening.

No, he has no idea who he is. Did he ever get anyone visit? How did he get here?

Of course some amnesia is to be expected. No, some of the nurses visited. No one knows how he got here.

Does he know what his quirk is? Uh?

Trauma blocked amnesia, the doctor mutters.

What's the last date he remembered?

Saturday. Maybe? The last year? No, I'm pretty sure my memory is shit and I'm trying hard not to freak out over not knowing anything. So could I get the year number?

And then there's the fucking year number. Once he got it translated into more normal terms.

Mystic Shit™ said fuck you to the future.

Except Jason knows this is not his future. Again, if it was, this would have been treated as a fucking inconvenience. Effective skin restoration goop -the proper name escaped him- was easily available to those with the right connections. A normal baseline human with 2nd and 3rd degree burns would be fine in less than two weeks with it, with nary a trace to show for it.

Thanks to the three year coma, his muscles were all atrophied as fuck, despite their best attempts at physical therapy. Because of all the burns and later burn scars and infections making it basically impossible to actually do fuck all about maintaining muscle tone until he was basically burnt skin and bones anyway.

He was so fucking weak now. It wouldn't last forever. He'd escape this hospital before he was discharged, before whatever "benefactor" showed up for whatever "purpose," he was suppose to serve now, as they had the medical debt over his head or was threatening his loved ones or whatever. If one didn't show up in the next week, he was losing his genre-savviness, because shitheads always wanted to claim shit, if it looked useful.

And Jason was used to looking useful, until he was no longer useful and they just didn't care. The amnesia made him less shiny, but Jason couldn't pull off the brain dead zombie imitation without actually being a brain dead zombie crawling up out of his grave.

So under the thin hospital sheets, Jason twitched his muscles.

Two weeks of emotional freak outs, watching the news, physical therapy and drugs Jason had had enough.

And he broke out.

----

Yeah, he regretted it almost immediately. Hard not to in the stupid paper gown, barefoot and bare ass.

Thankfully people were people, even with the plethora of meta humans he had seen, so it actually wasn't hard to find clothes. Someone left a hoodie in their car and Jason broke into said car. Put on the hoodie. Hotwired the car and drove off.

Somehow for being in the fucking future by two centuries and change, cars really hadn't changed. More evidence of Mystic Shit™ slamming him sideways.

He drove to the next town over, picked another direction, drove some more. Parked the car near what looked like a chop shop, negotiated the car for some money. He probably got ripped off, but better than nothing.

He walked to a corner store, bought some flip-flops after bullshitting an excuse that his had broken. First aid stuff. You know, for his feet. Hair dye in three different colors, because Rose Wilson could pick out a bad dye job at a hundred meters and so Jason learned how to dye his own hair properly so as to avoid her mockery, only to get mockery (affectionate) anyway.

It was a mix of instinct and lifelong observation that let him find an empty apartment quickly. He stole some sweatpants and passed out on the bed.

----

The thing is, Jason doesn't regret his crimes like Bruce thinks he ought to do, with a massive pity party and flaming self-hatred and punching criminals instead of shooting them. He hates the necessity of doing crimes, even if that crime is a net gain to society, but that's why all his serious crimes are premeditated. He's homicidal, not a psychopath.

Not Pit-mad either, no matter what the rest of them might have thought.

Again, he's homicidal, not a psychopath. And when he doesn't have to be some sort of costume soldier to be discarded by family for the disgrace of disfiguring the memory of a dead boy? He's actually chill and boring.

That is to say, he crashed at that apartment for three days, felt progressively more like himself, especially after the dye job -white hair all over, now a solid and boring black- but it still didn't change all the other issues the Mystic Shit™ inflicted on him.

This body isn't actually his. Too young, scars not right where the burns didn't fuck him over. Thankfully his existing coping mechanisms for dysphoria work and it's shoved to the side.

It's also a shit body. Not even a month out of a three year coma with inadequate -by his standards- of medical care. It's weak and building muscle to do everyday civilian shit, is going to take months to do. Pushing as hard as he did during the escape wrecked him the next three days. Jason may not know what's going to happen, but with his luck, it's going to suck and training is preparing to make it suck less. The only certainty he's got is that his skin or lack thereof is going to kill him from infection if he doesn't fix it.

He's got no legal identity here. Which basically puts him back onto familiar ground of legally dead.

Beyond the lack of paperwork, he's got a lack of funds. He also has no easy target to steal funds and equipment from, even just for fun.

For more disadvantages, he's in a different country, with different laws and a whole different culture. He would be climbing on board a fucking plane to Gotham, if it existed in this world, for some familiar ground.

He really is the unluckiest Robin. It also means he is also the most prepared Robin.

---

The first six months after waking up in this mockery world of heroics were the absolute worst.

He started at one foot in the grave and crawled out of it before the casket could really eat him alive. Jason had experience in casket busting. He didn't wanna repeat it.

He still didn't know who he was -in who was he inhabiting- but it wasn't like Jason had a lot to go on. 'His' quirk was thermo-manipulation, most obviously in the blue fire he could call to his hands but he could do some ice too; it was thanks to Duke's light and shadow manipulation that he had even tried for the duality. He had white hair. Presumably Japanese heritage but quirks had really erased or blurred a lot of racial lines. Also presumed dead and young.

Access to the Quirk Registry took some doing, but again, not everyone followed basic computer security, much less what it took to keep someone bat-trained out of their systems. Again, for nearly two centuries in the future, a lot of the technological development had stagnated. Searching through the Quirk Registry hadn't yielded any result but none of his other methods had struck anything either. And he had looked at the recently dead and/or presumed dead. Sure, he had some leads that looked viable, but he wasn't going to follow those up yet.

He had fixed a few of his most pressing issues the past six months. His ignorance of the local area, the local and national politics and so on. This world supported and had an entire industry catering to making child soldiers and sell their image and reputation to make money and more child soldiers that called themselves Heroes.

His weak ass body no long cried doing daily tasks and only hated him after working out. Yes, Jason was pushing it but he was well aware of how months of preparation could mean shit in the face of seconds.

His infection risk was severely reduced after quick research bender let him make the most generic knock-off brand of the skin restoration goop in a shitty homemade lab. Did it fix his skin being patchwork fucked in places? Some. He wasn't going to get feeling back properly, but at least he looked more normal. Maybe with enough moisturizing he might look a little less Frankenstien's monster.

He also had a cash inflow. It wasn't great, but it supported his apartment. And the second set of papers. And the 2nd apartment.

Which meant in grand old tradition for Jason, time for him to bounce to the next apartment and come up with a new name.

[ariiluvsyou]

scenario where shinsou and reader (fem) were having "fun" then they got caught by aizawa 🤭 [u dont have to write this lol!!] - v

Authors Note: Hello V!! Omg, thank you for using a sign off your the first person to do that I really hope I see you regularly! Oh! And please feel free to use emoji sign off if you’d like too, ＼(≧▽≦)／

OFC I’D WRITE THIS FOR YOU! I made it into more of a short fic bc like you said its like a scenario but hope you like it my friend! Also thank you for requesting Shinso, I LOVE Bakugo but I felt kinda bad for him being the only one in my MHA/BNHA masterlist

|♡| Red Handed |♡|

Shinso Hitoshi x F!Reader

Description: After a very tiresome meeting with Aizawa, your pro hero boyfriend decided you were the perfect candidate to let off some steam. Not only was he enjoying himself, but he was also getting some much needed revenge by fucking over his mentor’s desk. Too bad Aizawa decided to enter his office at the wrong time. 

Rating: Smut

Disclaimer: Spanking, Light Choking, Exhibitionism,  Degration + Praise, Dirty Talk, Vaginal Sex, Getting Caught Doin The Nasty, Angry Sex

Word Count: 1222

 Links:  Masterlist,  Ask Me Anything, Tag List

“Fucking slut,” Shinso growled out, his thrusts slapping hard against your ass with every syllable. He was pissed, since becoming a pro hero Aizawa had managed to be up his ass about every mistake for the past month, and it seemed today was the last straw for your boyfriend. 

This is what caused your current position, bent over his boss's desk, clothes haphazardly pulled down just enough so he had access to your aching cunt.  You whimpered, pushing your ass to meet his leaking cockhead halfway, scratching at the dark oak desk from the ecstasy Shinso provoked. 

"Toshi!" You cried when he hit a sensitive spot on your spongey walls, your pussy fluttering around him in a way that made his hips stutter before quickly working back into his rough pace. 

Shinso's hands moved from his place on your back to trail up your sides, making sure to give your breasts a sharp squeeze,  before placing two of his fingers on your pouty red lips. "Open," he commanded, a slight pant in his voice.

You whined once more but decided to obey since he already wasn't in the best of moods. You parted your lips, making sure to swipe your tongue along his fingers as two of his pale appendages into your mouth. 

"Suck 'em, you know what I like," your boyfriend used his other hand to slap your ass, creating another red mark on top of the many finger-print-sized bruises you adorned. Quickly you got to work, swirling your tongue and moaning around his digits. 

"Damn, had to shut you up with my fingers so we don't get caught," he laughed mockingly, although he himself was in no better shape than you. His usually flared-out purple hair was now starting to droop, sweat beading at his forehead as he stared at you with half-lidded eyes and the most adorable scrunch to his eyebrows as he focused on pushing himself as deep as possible in you. Fuck, why did he have to be so pretty?

You couldn't take it anymore, the way his dick stretched you out so deliciously, the way he moaned and grunted, the way he had a tight grip on your ass and tongue. "Toshi, Hitowshi bwaby, so gwood," you moaned, voice muffled by his fingers which were now stroking your tongue, thumb rubbing your cheek from the outside. 

Shinso pulls out of your warm heat till only the tip was left, laughing at the way you cried out. You attempted to rub yourself on him, searching for any type of friction but Shinso was quick to push on your back, your breasts smashing against some very important documents Aizawa had. 

"Look at you wiggle," he teased, watching at your cute little hole squeezed around nothing. "So fucking dirty, crying for my cock on my boss's desk," he paused to moan when you squeezed your cunt around his sensitive cockhead. His hand reached down to spread your lips, watching as he slammed his full length into you. 

"Hitoshi!" You screamed, voice not coming clear since his hand abandoned your drooling mouth and moved to grip on your neck. He squeezed gently, providing a delicious pressure on your throat as he fucked you silly, thrusts so hard they caused ripples on your ass. 

"Mmph, baby fuck! So fucking cute, do whatever I ask huh?" Shinso asked, spanking you once more. Your eyes closed as you let your tongue hand out of your mouth, completely drunk off the feeling your boyfriend provided you. 

"Yeah, that's it, think you deserve a little reward," his hand reached down to rub your clit, messaging small circles in a way that had your toes curling. "Go ahead and cum baby, cum all over his desk. 

There was just something so overwhelmingly hot about fucking on Aizawa's desk, the risk of being caught, the anger behind your boyfriend's movements, how Shinso mixed his degrading with sweet praises, so filthy to the point you couldn't keep quiet anymore despite your weak attempts. Shinso just felt too good, his long fingers lingering on your neck, your ass burning from his heavy hands, him toying with your clit, and of course, his large cock rubbing your sensitive walls in a way only he could.  Within seconds the combination of these aspects had you creaming around Shinso's dick. 

"C-Cumming! 'm cumming, Hitoshi please!" You begged, legs shaking from the intense feeling, surely you would have fallen if it wasn't for the desk beneath you. Your hands reached out to claw at whatever you could, knocking down some items in the process. "Toshi, please cum, wanna feel you so bad." Drool dribbles down your cheek you lean your head down onto the cool surface beneath you, withering in this intense feeling. 

"Fuck, fuck! Why do you have to be so fucking tight—fuck hahh!" Shinso had let go of his grip on your neck and clit, leaving red marks from where his hands had previously been, and used both his hands to grab your waist, pulling you to meet his heavy thrusts.

By now your pussy was sopping wet, a thick creamy ring forming around the base of hm and dripping to his balls. Your pussy fluttered around him, squeezing him tightly almost making it hard to pull out. You always milked him so fucking good. 

"Shit, why do you have to be like this? My perfect slut."

Shinso panted when he finally pumped one final time, reveling in the wet slapping sound that came from it before emptying his balls in your cavern. Even while he was cumming his thrusts never stopped, although now softer and more sparatic. In the end, you two were a mess, Shinso leaving over your body basking in the afterglow. 

It felt so nice, feeling his cum slosh around inside you, his hands petting your head and allowing you to catch your breath. While Shinso could be rough he never failed to treat you like a princess after, you knew when you got home you would be showered in praises, kisses, and massages. 

"You okay honey?" He rasped, humping you against the desk. Your cunt couldn't help but flutter around him despite being exhausted. You turned your head to meet his tired eyes, watching as his once angry face from earlier melted into a pretty smile. 

"'m okay, but what about you baby? You feel better from earlier?" He chuckled at your response, always so attentive was his girlfriend. With a grin plastered on his lips, he placed gentle kisses on your back, his thurst finally halting as he pulled his head back to watch his cum leak out of you and back onto his cock. 

"I'm fucking fantastic."

The intimate moment was halted by loud commotion coming from outside the office, angry stomps trailing down the hallway to the front of the door. 

"They fucking did it again! I swear to god these kids will kill me, they destroyed so much fucking property! In fucking ruins!" The voice of Aizawa growled out, most likely screaming at his assistant before slamming his office door open. 

Shinso was fast to react, quickly pulling out of your warm heat with a hiss before scrambling to pull his pants up and using his body to hide your naked body from the very angry pro hero. 

"Oh my fucking god!" If Shinso thought Aizawa was annoying before, he was in for a real treat. 

Authors Note: OKAY OKAY YOU CAN IMAGINE THE REST! I think Shinso would attempt to use his quirk to make Aizawa forget this whole fiasco but idk if he’s quick enough (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄) Also sorry this is shorter than usual! But I hope you enjoyed anyways <33 Please leave a comment, lemme know what you think! Don’t forget to check out my other works, and requests are currently open!! BYE BYE (ノ*°▽°*)

Links: Masterlist,  Ask Me Anything, Tag List 

Tag List: @katscki​, @libidinous-weeb

[liberty-barnes]

okay okay but i just need to mention one little thing:

fan site dynamics work like this: twitter reacts first, usually dramatically, thinks later. tumblr thinks first, analyses to see exactly what we're working with here, puts it in perspective with their YEARS of experience in this fandom, then reacts.

therefore if you're coming here from twitter, you should have that in mind, as well as keep in mind a few guidelines that worked great for me as someone who lurked around fandom since 2013 and only got REALLY involved in quarantine:

1) RESEARCH PEOPLE RESEARCH. i don't care if you've been part of fandom on twitter for five years, tumblr has so much more information. on absolutely everything. and it all comes back pretty frequently in some way or another. so, to avoid making the Knowledgeable Veteran Larries want to smash their heads into a wall at every "wait what happened in xxx?" message they get even though they've discussed it 1000 times already, just do your research. @larrytimelines has, as you guessed it, timelines for shit that happened over the years so that may be a good start. otherwise, @daisiesonafield-blog has a very well organised blog (how, i don't know, lowkey suspect she's a witch) so just look through her many useful tags for larry resources and you should be good to go for a nice long while.

2) don't come here thinking you know better than the people that have been around for 10 years. that's the main one. it's as simple as that. these people have lived through the worst stunts, they've seen it all, they know what they're talking about. they know better.

3) if you're gonna be ageist you can fuck off. i've lost count of how many people on twitter have said that after 25, you shouldn't be a part of fandom anymore. you do not lose your interests as you get older. if i see you being ageist anywhere in my or others' blogs consider yourself blocked because i do not have the mental stability to handle idiotic children (and i promise you that it's possible to not be asshole to people older than you. at 19 i'm a baby larrie here and i get along with the veterans just fine so you can do it too, it's really not that hard to be respectful)

4) don't be a dick. don't judge people for liking or doing things that you wouldn't like or do. most recent example is the hs3 leak. don't wanna listen? don't. blacklist the HS3 LEAK and HS3 SPOILER tags and just get on with your life. do not be a dick to people who choose to listen to it.

5) before sending an ask to a blog asking about something, scroll for a bit to check if they haven't answered that question already. or check their blog for key words related to that subject. AND DON'T USE PEOPLE'S ASK BOXES AS GOOGLE SERIOUSLY IT'S ANNOYING WE'RE NOT GONNA FEED YOU EASY-ACCESS INFORMATION ON A SILVER PLATTER YOU CAN GET UP AND GO GET IT YOURSELF (that one is particularly annoying to watch so i can only imagine how it feels to get them) (I just make one tiny distinction: if you've genuinely tried looking for the information on Google, on other blogs, etc. then it's okay to ask for help, or to ask if they have any tips on how to better find the information you're looking for, I just get really pissed when people ask things without even trying to find the information themselves.)

6) go look at just general tumblr do's and don'ts. take the time to do it. tumblr is not twitter we do not work the same way and i don't want my beloved hellsite to get like twitter, as fun as it is at times.

and that's about all i have for you at 8.30am, feel free to add some more if you have anything else in mind, dm me or send me an ask if you want more information on why twitter and tumblr are different as someone who's in both

-Love, Miah🤍

[bnha-dumpster]

The thought of a submissive incubus just came to mind and now I can’t stop imagining the reader (incubus) trying to take control of the situation but gets fucked and tamed instead.

this? this is a good idea. i feel like doing some priest au iida lmao

Pairing: Priest Iida x Incubus Reader Content tags/warnings: dub-con, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, mind break/mild dumbification, aphrodisiac spit Word count: 1.6k

You’re a poor excuse of an incubus, you know this. Naturally submissive, shy and introverted, inexperienced with sex- all things that an incubus shouldn’t be. You’ve been feeding off of other incubi and some succubi for energy. You knew that it wouldn’t last forever, that you’d eventually have to feed off humans. But it’s dangerous with your submissive nature. That’s why you’ve been trying to stay with your kind for as long as possible. 

Now you’ve been tossed out, left on your own without any sort of advice. There’s an intense hunger inside you that’s clawing at you, one that’s clouding your reasoning. You stumble through the streets as if you’re drunk. Humans ignore you thinking you’re just an annoying drunk and you know you’re not going to get energy in time. 

Then you run into a priest. 

“No, I’m fine-” Your speech is slightly slurred as you protest his help. A priest is the last person you need to run into right now. He’ll exorcise you or contain you until you tell him about other incubi in town. Both things scare you and you try to tug yourself out of his hold. Unfortunately for you, the priest you’ve run into is not only stubborn but strong. If you weren’t so weak, you might’ve been able to break away. There are so many things that would’ve been solved if you weren’t so weak.

He helps you walk, leading you to his church. The second you reach the steps, you tug on his cassock and shake your head. 

“I can’t go in there. I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t.” 

Your hopes of him listening to you are crushed instantly as he shushes you and opens the large doors. The moment you step in, your already fading human disguise vanishes. Large, spiraling horns protrude from the sides of your head, a thin tail at the base of your spine, your hands and feet turned to claws and the small tattoo below your navel; if he can’t tell you’re an incubus from this, you don’t know what will.

The priest stops and stares at you, letting go of you. You fall to your knees on the floor, no longer strong enough to keep yourself standing. It’s humiliating to be found out in such a way. Though it’s your fault for allowing yourself to be grabbed by the priest in the first place. 

“An incubus?” He seems a bit curious as he kneels before you, lifting your chin to look at your face. “You’re not doing so well. What happened to you?” 

What little pride you have left keeps you from answering. 

“You must be hungry. While my fellow clergy may look down at me for this, I’ll help you.”

Confusion is clear on your face. You look at him like he’s insane. Maybe he is, but the thought of being able to feed matters a bit more than figuring out where the hell his common sense went. 

“I thought incubi were good at pleasing their partners.” He’s mocking you. The priest, who introduced himself as Iida Tenya, looks down at you as you do your best to take him into your mouth. He’s thick and your jaw aches slightly, but that ache naturally turns into pleasure that goes straight to your core. “You’re inexperienced, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” 

Hands grab your horns and force your face further, making you take his cock down your throat. While you don’t gag, you’re clearly uncomfortable. You claw at his wrists to make him stop but it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

“See, you take all of your partner’s cock into your mouth.” Iida groans. “Suck and move your tongue around it. You can do it, I’m sure you can.” 

Surely he’s making fun of you. You may not be like the others, but you can still do what you were born to do. So you begin to bob your head up and down, letting things come to you naturally. His cock is heavy on your tongue as you lick the underside of it, teasing the vein that runs along it. You make use of your lack of gag reflex and make sure that you take him fully each time. 

It seems like it’s working, like you’re gaining some semblance of control. Just from this, energy is already beginning to flow your body. If you can make him cum, then maybe-

“Tsk, I thought you’d be better than this.” Seems like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. “Do you really think you can overtake a priest when you’re in such a state? Don’t be foolish.” 

You’re tugged off his cock. Iida is about to grab you by your hair and bring you up onto the bed until you press a hand on his lower stomach. You have enough strength to leave a branding: a piece of incubus magic that forces a human to be overcome with lust. It typically leaves them a mess, unable to do anything but beg for pleasure. But going along with your lack of luck, it backfires. 

The feeling of intense lust fills the room and instead of the priest curling in himself, he drags you onto the bed by your horns. You’re laying on the bed with your ass up, Iida already lining himself up with your hole. 

“Natural lubricant, hm?” There’s a bit of slick coating your ass and inner thighs. It’s something incubi are able to make when they’re anticipating being the bottom. 

He pushes in slowly. Your hole greedily swallows his cock, clenching around it to milk him. Iida grabs hold of your tail and wraps it around his hand like a leash, using it to bring your ass against his hips. You can feel the heat of the brand and the lust radiating from him. The fact that he’s managing to stay even the slightest bit composed is amazing. 

“You’re begging for me to give in, aren’t you? You just want me to let go and let you have your way with me, yes?” 

“C-clearly!” 

Once the words leave your lips, a harsh spank is left on your ass. The pain instantly changes to pleasure and you tighten around him. He begins to spank you more, enjoying the way your walls clench and shudder with each impact. You’re doing your best to hold in any moans and pleasured noises to spite Iida. It’s all you can seem to manage to do. Even with strength filling you, he’s still got a good hold on you.

Your cock twitches from neglect. It’s not that you need it to be touched, you just prefer it. Yes, you can cum without touching it, but you want to touch it. So you reach between your legs to pump your cock, letting out a small groan. But your hand is swatted away. 

“Who said you could touch yourself?

He lets go of your tail and and pulls out, watching you flip yourself over. His cock twitches in anticipation when you pull him towards you for a kiss. 

Your tongue is long and clearly inhuman. It invades his throat and nearly makes him gag. The properties of your saliva are forgotten, letting his mind become a haze. Between the brand fueling his lust and the sudden warmth caused by your saliva, he loses what little cleric dignity he had. 

Iida pulls your face away from his by your hair, pushing you back onto the bed so he can thrust into you again. Your legs go over his shoulders and you’re able to recognize that the priest has you in a mating press before he begins to pound into you. He smashes his lips against yours, mouth open- he’s asking you to kiss him more. You happily do so, thinking that the haze he’s being enveloped in will give you a chance to take control. Lips mash against each other as you shove your spit down his throat with your tongue. 

The aphrodisiacs in his system must be too much and he cums, filling you. A strange daze washes over you and you lose your focus on the brand. Is this what human energy is like? It’s absolutely addicting. That addicting feeling pushes you over the edge, your own cock covering your stomach in cum. Your eyes roll back into your skull and you lose yourself for a few seconds.

He hasn’t stopped and you don’t think he will anytime soon. His cock is still hard, stretching you and pushing his cum even deeper inside you. 

“Maybe I’ll keep you, hm?” When did he regain his mind? “Keep you like a little pet. You’ll have to rely on me to survive anyways.”

Your mind is still in a haze and he takes advantage of it. He continues to pound into you with no pause, his own stamina still high. While your cock is limp against your stomach, he watches as more cum dribbles out of it. 

“Be a good incubus and cum more and more. If you do what I ask, I’ll give you more than you could ever need.” 

If you could think properly, you would curse how obedient your body is. Your cock twitches to life for a few moments before you cum again, an almost never ending stream of cum landing on your stomach. He groans as your walls clench around him. It’s like your body is begging for more of him, which it is. 

“There you go. I’ll keep you here so you can’t hurt anyone else.” That’s not the real reason he’s keeping you, but that doesn’t matter. You’re already lost to his words, the feeling of a human’s energy destroying your mind.

[princess-of-purple-prose]

[ID: Image one is a page from a Hawkeye comic which features Clint's stressed internal narration over knotted wires. A clock ticks, and Tony watches, sweating. Clint says he'll cut the green wire, to which Tony is incredulous, but Clint does so. Then it's revealed that the wires were just connected to an outlet extension for a Christmas tree. Tony says, "That was stupid, Clint, it's just knotted up." Clint replies, "You untangle 'em then, Tony Stark genius Superman."

The following images are all screenshots of tags on this post, here transcribed without hashtags for readability. They read:

megamindsupremacy: you know what? youre so right actually. Tim finds himself as accidental mentor to Joung Justice v4 at age thirtywhatever. robin number 10 tracks him down like 'I know the perfect guy to show us how to be a team! he helped found young justice OG!' smash cut to the team breaking into Tim's murderboat where hes passed out on the couch surrounded by takeout containers

the entire team is like. unimpressed as hell but it turns out tim was awake the whole time and takes out the entire team while their guard is down. hes like. what are you small hero children doing in my house. gets talked into mentoring these kids and hes mad about it the whole time but in a 'no im gonna do it fuck you' kinda way. every so often he'll stop in the middle of a lesson and go 'brb' and run off. hes fighting off the ninja hordes because like five seperate organizations have sworn blood oaths to kill him at all costs. eventually its revealed the reason he cut himself off from the hero community is because he had one (1) too many close calls with the whole 'almost becomes a supervillain in the very near future and we CANNOT have another gun batman'

then his team of miscellaneous children convince him he wont actually become a supervillain if he forgets to eat breakfast or whatever and its very sweet. but yeah the entire time their opinion of him is swinging wildly between 'how is this man able to function well enough to stand right now'. and 'oh! hes like really good at this. hes. really good at this. hes worryingly good at this. he. slow down mr tim. h. hey please stop. provoking ninja cults this is your second one this week. mr. tim please.'

roseandgold137: exactly. tim that's a disaster is good. tim that's a disaster and responsible for all these tiny people is GREAT. he can't make food for himself but one kid says they're a little hungry and suddenly he's a michelin star chef. tim drake. he takes to parenting like he takes to everything else. the aim is to achieve a Good Grade in parenting. which is both normal to want and possible to achieve

empty-blog-for-lurking: I love this. Not only because it feels like a natural progression for Tim who's whole thing is he sought out his mentor and teams And that he is always seeking to learn (about people about cases about fighting skills etc)

But also it would be so fucking funny given how much shit he has given to Bruce and almost every adult in his life. Just being forced to be a mentor. The kids will just not leave him alone. they also will eat all his food. Somewhere red tornado is feeling the soothing salve of karma in his not feeling heart. speaking of mentors Bruce is definately the guy who was a c+ parent but an actually loving grandparent

Bruce: Tim you dont think you are being rigid with your training? They are all only 16. That's practically baby :(. Tim having flashbacks to the time he was gaslit into a mental breakdown by Bruce at his 16th bday: you dont say. Also Tim's advices really gonna swing between 'practical' philosophical' and 'highly specific and deeply unhinged'. Like 'with your body shape it would be more practical to use kicks based fighting style over fists.' Or 'we cant save every1 not even those we love. Definately not on our own. What we can do is learn and let go and trust those still around'. or 'it is always morally ok to fake having a relative to get out of adoption'

Also Tim retiring from hero thing cuz of gun batman only to getting dragged back into hero job by a bunch of plucky kids is so funny. Tim avoids being batman (dictator with a gun) by becoming batman (single divorced father-mentor of several kids). Tim: Bruce you need a robin. You need to become the hero you once were. If i have to force you to take me as your pupil for this i will. Years later yjv4: Tim you need to become the hero you once were. If we have to force u to take us as your pupils for that to happen we will. how the turn tables

Sorry for this bullshit op i might be mildly obsessed. tim drake. dc. empty reblogs. Tim internally: oh no i have become the very thing i had refused to be. I tried not to become gun batman (evil) only to become Bruce (Pathetic friendless disaester). (He does have friends it is just that his vibes are so disaestrous that he doesnt seem like he has friends)

proxyma: i want the rest of the young justice to have cameos in that series. like half the time they are bullying tim along the with the kids the other half they are being bullied along him. like you cant look me in the eye and say kon wont try to impress these young super hero children only for it end up in him being bullied. like kon looks cool but as soon as he opens his mouth its all downhill. bart maybe has chances of not bring bulled. cissis wont be bullied at all like she is an Olympic athlete and model no doubt the children are probably fans of her. these are the only ones im sure in

alternis: isolationist Tim is fun but can i suggest adult Tim just has the vibes of the friendless uncle with no permanent job. despite being gainfully employed and invited to barbecues nearly every weekend by his giant friend roster despite being retired. he gets in a particularly difficult situation with yjv4 and is forced to call in backup and 28 heroes show up within the next 30 seconds. the entire team is shocked to discover he had friends willing to help the whole time and didn't call them because he knew they'd. a) judge his fashion and life choices b) fix everything too fast for the kids to learn important hero lessons. and most importantly c) make fun of him in front of the team and then realise he's their mentor and make fun of him even harder. tim tag. gothamites. End ID]

Honestly it sucks that dc wont let Tim age cause in my opinion Tim would have made an excellent aimless-disaester-adult-hero-who-is-suprisingly-a-good-mentor. Like i am talking about Tim being incharge of a bunch of kid heroes being actually good at guiding them, and then he goes back home (his dingy murder boat) opens his fridge and finds a single egg. He doesnt know what he will do with his life, but he does mentor rather well so i guess that is going on well¯\_(ツ)_/¯

At first I was thinking the Peter Parker route but you know that panel in Hawkeye where it looks like he’s diffusing a bomb but he’s actually just untangling wires from his game console, and then just cuts them anyway? That’s what I’m envisioning

[mrskurono]

All your Atsushi posts? Top tier content and I love you for it ( 〃．．) writing? 100/10 ✨

Okay But just imagine Atsushi in heat and breeding you on every surface for hours 👀🥴 Whiney boi each time, begging and overstimulated by everything about you,,, probably hugs and apologizes afterwards for the amount of times y’all went at it 😏🤔

a/n: I just....I love Atsushi so much what is wrong with me (//∀//) and asdfghjkl please I'm but a vessel for Atsushi loving my writing sucks but he's just so ♡♡♡ type: headcanons tags: fem!Reader, mentions of; breeding kink, abo themes, oral (receiving), knotting, unprotected sex, scent kink, just...raunchiness and softness ♡

There is but one thing that sends Atsushi into a heat

And that is when you are ovulating

The smell hits him like a semi truck and there is nothing between heaven, earth and hell that can keep this beast off of you when he knows its time that your body wants a baby

Atsushi doesn't realize he has a scent kink before it's too late

By the time he is throbbing in his slacks with your panties smashed to his nose and cock twitching with each deep inhale of your musk, it's already too late to back out of what's going to happen

Yowling, whining, sobbing and pleading kitty cat while he can't stay off of you

Groping your tits, grinding into your side, running his tongue over every inch of your neck with nips here and there on your tender skin

Atsushi can't help himself and all his body tells him to do is pump you full of cum and make you cum as many times as humanly possible on him

He only goes into a heat when you're at your peak subconsciously knowing neither of you are going to reject nature

While your body is craving him, Atsushi's is all but ready to give you everything he has

Even while he throbs and leaks precum down his cock, nothing stops Atsushi from burying his face between your legs to lap at your cunt

Swollen clit abused by his persistent tongue until your juices and his spit are smeared on his cheeks and your thighs

Leaving your walls fluttering around nothing and begging for more

Atsushi's stamina is inhuman

If he can stuff his cock in you in a position, he will

But this is still Atsushi we're talking about, primal or not, he can't stand the idea of not looking at you while you clamp down on his overly sensitive cock

Mashing his lips into yours with pitiful moans leaving him amidst the cervix fucking thrusts he drives into you

Just needs to see you so he knows you're feeling good on his cock :(

A slur of "I love you's" and pleas to let him fuck you full of his babies leave his mouth constantly

You both know you'll let him too, or else he wouldn't be fucking you like his life depends on it at the peak of your cycle

Each pass of his cock inside you only makes you grab at him more until your legs are wrapped around him and Atsushi is driving his knot as deep into you as possible

Even if your cervix cramps and he's too swollen, it won't stop Atsushi from pushing his knot in you just to succeed in seeding every last inch of you until you're overflowing with cum

But that's not all

Once isn't enough

Atsushi wants you pregnant, needs you pregnant

When the first intimate knotting is over then it's on to his primal needs

Old cum getting pushed out with each new load, cunt slick with globs of thick fertile cum that cream over his cock and soil your insides

You don't need to see a bulge to know Atsushi is doing his job just right

Fucking you and knotting you repeatedly until he physically can't move

Until his body gives out on him and all he can do is lay on top of you, twitching inside you with a knot too big to pull out

Cum too much for the both of you to handle as it seeps out around his cock and Atsushi buries his face in your neck

Just know if this month doesn't work, there's always next month for the weretiger to try all over again ♡

[lunamadhatter99]

The Lady and the Lord

Part 7

And we're in the Upside Down, huns!

Thank you thank you thank you for liking my story ❤️❤️❤️

As always let me know what you think and if you're new and want to be tagged.🥰

Chapter summary: our young adults are stuck in the Upside Down and they do need to get back. But this experience might not be all bad.

Chapter warnings: ⚠️ spoiler season 4 ⚠️ blood, injuries.

Tag list:

@deafeningempathfishcowboy

@imangy

@dragqueen-eddie

@eddie-the-banished

@hurricane-abigail

@spaceandstars

@once-upon-an-imagine

@ruxjules

@ssagube

If someone told me this morning I'd find myself fighting demonic creatures in the UpsideDown... again... I would've scoffed... loudly.

But yet... that's exactly what I'm doing now: fighting demonic bats in the Upside Down with... oars.

We got rid of some bats that were biting on Steve's sides, but they keep coming and coming.

"Nancy!" I scream as she's attacked by a bat on her back "Stay still"

I strike with all the force I got, the bat whimpers and flies away.

Eddie and Robin got here too, luckily I might add because there are way too many bats for only three people, one of them being held down too.

As they fight off some of those creature I turn to check on Steve who managed to free himself from the bat's hold around his neck and grabs its tail.

"Come here"

"Shit shit shit"

We're all busy using everything possible to hit and kill these things. As I'm about to hit another bat away, another one attached itself to my left arm, biting down.

"Fuck!" I instinctively yell, shaking my arm to get rid of it, but no use.

"I got it, I got it" Eddie runs towards me hitting the bat to the ground and I immediately impale the thing.

"Thanks" I breathlessly say and he nods.

We turn around hearing Steve grunting, seeing him smashing the same bat, that held him down, on the ground and at the end ripping the creature in two.

Quite the hot scene.. if you ask me.. but anyway, the most important thing is that he's.. alive, not sure if he's okay, but he's alive.

I run to him, along with Nancy.

"Steve.."

"Jesus H. Christ!" I hear Eddie yell out of frustration. 

"Oh shit... how you feel?" I say looking at Steve's wounds.

"Well, they took about a pound of flesh" he tells us "but other than that, yeah, never better"

"Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?" Robin asks suddenly, as she looks at one of the dead bat on the ground.

"What?" Steve asks, very confused.

"It's just that rabies are, like, my number one greatest fear. And I think we should probably get you to a doctor, like, really soon, because once symptoms set in, it's too late. You're already, like, dead." She rambles.

"Robin, I'm sure-" I start, wanting to reassure her, but I get cut off by the sound of creature chittering.

We look towards the noise and see those bats again, flying towards us, but not quite... they gather around the gate.

"All right. There's not that many" Steve tries "we can take 'em. Right?"

More chittering... and more bats coming.

"You were saying?" Robin says.

"Shit"

"The woods. Come on" Nancy starts to run towards the woods and we all follow her carefully not stepping on the vines.

We ran until we arrive to the Upside Down version of Skull Rock and hide under the stone waiting for the bats to fly beyond that place. All ears to see when the right time to come out arrives.

"Oh.. okay. That was close" Robin comments as we get up.

"Yeah, too close" Eddie replies in a small voice. 

"Oh sh.. shit" Steve whispers as he lean on the rock for support.

"Steve.. jesus" Nancy's immediately by his side.

"I'm fine. I'm fine" he replies.

"You're clearly not, Stevie. You're losing too much blood" I tell him getting closer too.

"Yeah exactly" Nancy agrees as together we look closely at those bites.

"C'mon, c'mon sit" she tells him.

Steve with a painful grunt sits.

"Oh" Robin comes closer too.

"That's... a big bite" I comment "does anyone have something to use as.. a bandage or something?" I ask.

Nancy immediately rips her shirt.

"Okay" Robin kneels down with us "so the good news is I'm pretry sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies. But if you start having hallucinations or muscles spasms, or you start feeling aggressive, like you wanna punch me, let me know."

"Robin" Steve stops her.

"Yeah?"

"I kinda wanna punch you" he says, making me giggle with some relief.

"Sense of humor's still intact. That's a good sign" she laughs nervously and turn to look at me, I nod to help her calm down.

Nancy is ready with the "bandage".

"Here" I help Steve standing straight off the rock, just enough to let Nancy cover his wounds.

While Nancy finishes knotting the ripped shirt on Steve I get up and walk close to Robin as Eddie climb up a big stone to get a better look at the surrounding, I think.

"So, uh, this place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?" He asks turning to us.

"Basically, yeah" I answer.

He just nods and goes to climb back down, but Nancy warns him.

"Watch out for the vines. It's all a hive mind."

"It's all a what?" Eddie says confused.

"All the creepy crawling around here, dude. They're, like, one or something" Steve tell him "step on a vine, you're stepping on a bat, you're stepping on Vecna"

"But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people, obviously?" Robin asks.

"As far as I understand it, yeah" Nancy replies.

"So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate" Robin suggests, in her ramble.

"I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin. But guns, yeah, sure" Steve tell her.

"We don't have to go all the way downtown for guns" Nancy starts "I have guns in my bedroom."

"You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?" Eddie asks, completely surprised.

"Full of surprises, isn't she?" Robin chimes in.

"A Russian Makarov and a Revolver" she specifies.

"Yeah, you almost shot me with that one" Steve remembers.

"You almost deserved that" Nancy replies with a smirk.

Nancy and Steve shares a long stare, luckily, interrupted by Eddie throwing his denim vest.

"For your modesty, dude" he tells him.

"Wait... Nancy" I say, turning to look at her "does that mean you still have my shotgun?"

"I think.. the one Hopper gave you at Starcourt?" She asks and I nod "yeah.. I think I still got it"

"And you have a shotgun.. I shouldn't be surprised anymore.. but shit" Eddie comments.

Before I could answer him another earthquake interrupts us, and makes us fall to the ground.

Nancy against Steve, who holds her as best as he can, me against Eddie next to Robin.

I instinctively grab his hand, more to hold onto something than anything else at this moment, and I feel his other hand holding me close.

Once the earthquake stops Eddie speaks up.

"So guns seem like a pretty good idea to me"

"Definitely" I agree and I get up, helping Robin too.

"So, what are we waiting for?" Steve says, walking in the direction of Nancy's house, torch in hand. "Let's go"

"Yes, mommy" I mutter.

"I heard you" he says back.

I flip him off and, with the others, I follow him.

I walk along side Eddie noticing his nervous demeanour.

"Hey" I softly calls.

"H-hi" he replies.

"All good here?" I ask.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" he quickly says.

"You know" I start, wanting to make him feel a little bit better "the first time we faced these kind of things, uh, I was scared shitless.. I didn't know what those things were, I didn't know where they were coming from, I didn't know why they were here."

"Must've been terrifying" he comments.

"Yeah, a lot, but now, if I think about our first experience... well, that looks like an easy D&D campaign. The easiest you could think of" I say with a small chuckle, noticing his small smile I continue "You're dealing with the worst of them all and you're behaving so so much better than me back then"

"Now you're just saying that" he says, sending me a sceptical look.

"You don't believe me, my lord?" I ask faking offence, putting my hand on my heart.

"I think, m'lady, that you're being simply too kind" he replies.

"I'm just being honest" I tell him "if it wasn't for those kids I would be dead by now. Not because of those creature, but because of fear" I let out a small laugh.

"You're saying we shouldn't worry then?" He asks.

"I'm afraid we should be worried... this thing is.. far worse than anything we've faced before. I'm not one to sugar-coat something. But.. the thing is that each time seems worse than the previous one, yet we managed to survive each time, so... I'm hopeful" I turn to smile at him.

"Shit.. we do need you at Hellfire. Smart, pretty, great sense of humor and... very cool rings too... perfect" he smiles, and I could simply melt in this exact moment. I look away quickly, trying to hiding my embarrassment.

"Not as cool as yours" I say looking everywhere but him.

"Oh these?" He ask, waving his hands in my face playfully and I laugh, trying not to stare at his hands too much... his hands are just.. too distracting.

We stay silent for a while before I remember something. 

"Oh, uh.. I made you something" I tell him, checking my pockets, hoping I didn't lose it somewhere.

"You.. you made me something?" He seems surprised. 

"Yeah" I still checking until I find it. "Here... helps with the fidgeting"

I hand him a small black beads ring.

"Wow" he simply says.

"Hope it doesn't ruin your metalhead look" I joke.

"You kidding? This would only make it better" he says. "Thank you. That's very sweet of you, m'lady"

He winks.

"Shut up" I smile again, feeling my cheeks warming more and more as he just looks at me with that sweet smile.

"Why do you know how to use a shotgun?" He suddenly asks.

"Hopper taught me" I answer with a sad smile.

"Oh... cool of him." He comments.

"Yeah. He had so much patience" I chuckle at the memory, looking down with a sad smile.

"Hey.. I'm sorry" Eddie sweetly whispers.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything." I smile at him.

I see him reaching out to my hand but Steve's voice stops him.

"Hey" Steve slows down to catch up with us, and I see Eddie rolling his eyes.

"How's your arm, honey?" Steve asks me.

"What? Oh" I look down to my left arm "Oh, uh.. not that bad, I think"

"I think it needs a bandage or something" Steve says, ready to run up to Nancy and Robin and ask them.

"I got it" Eddie chimes in, he seems almost annoyed though.

Eddie grabs his bandana from his back pocket and goes to wrap my arm in it.

"I'm gonna ruin it" I protest moving away.

"As if I care more about a bandana than you" he instantly says. Surprising not only me and Steve, but also himself I think, considering he widened his eyes slightly.

"Stop complaining, honey" Steve says.

Eddie glare at him just for a second before wrapping the bandana around my injured arm and I hiss at the pain.

"Sorry" he softly says.

"Nah, it's fine" I groan.

He finishes rather quickly. "Here, m'lady"

"Thank you" I say rubbing my arm, just slightly.

"Hey hey don't rub it" Steve stops my movement.

I scoff. "I'm gonna see if Robin and Nancy too will treat me like a child"

I walk faster towards Nancy and Robin.

"Hey, oh! Oh shit, uh, your arm! Are you okay? Do you feel any-"

"I'm fine, Robin. Don't worry. I actually didn't even notice until Steve pointed it out" I chuckle.

"Good.. Good..  but, uh, tell me if you don't feel good okay?" She asks and I nod.

"Promise?" Nancy asks.

"Promise" I say.

I walk a little slower to stay a bit with my thoughts.

I can hear Steve and Eddie talking, but I don't pay too much attention to them at the moment. Focusing instead on the shotgun and when Hopper taught me how to use it.

"Why do I have to learn how to use this?" I asked Hopper, annoyed, as he hand me a shotgun.

"Because, since you refuse to accept any sort of help from me, I'm gonna at least teach how to defend yourself" he answered, exasperated.

"I just refused to live with you" I clarified.

"Exactly" he said "you live alone, it's dangerous. Now again."

I aimed at the empty bottles in front of me.

I shot.

Missed.

"Fuck" I muttered.

"Language." He warned "you're getting closer though. Practice makes perfect. That's how I became... me" he adds proudly.

" Oh. So you're saying you're perfect now?" I challenged with a scoff.

"How come you're so quiet with everyone, but with me you're this noisy?" He spat.

"I..." I stuttered. It was true, he was one of the few people I was comfortable enough to be... a bit louder.

I looked down, ashamed, and heard him sighing.

"Come here" he said patting a spot beside him on the fence.

"I'm sorry" I quietly said with a sigh.

"Nah.. don't apologise. Actually.. it's good you're noisy with me" he assured me.

"Why?" I asked, not understanding what he meant.

"Because it means you trust me enough to speak your mind" he explained. "I see you with those kids, that Wheeler girl, and Joyce's son and that... one with the cool hair"

"Steve" I reminded him.

"Yeah yeah that guy. I see the difference between you talking with them and you talking with anyone else."

"Really?" I asked, once again.

"Yeah! You see, when you talk to your friends you're visibly calm, open and you actually talk, joke and get angry too. But when it's someone you don't know talking to you, you wrap your arms around you, shielding yourself, you talk very little or not at all, you play with your rings to have some sort of excuse not to look at the people you're with." He explained.

I never thought he actually cared this much about me.

"And you noticed all that?" I asked, more to not show that I was happy about it.

"Of course." He nodded "That's why, even though you're getting on my nerves with your comebacks.. I'm also very proud."

I laughed and he did too.

I miss him. Fuck... I really do.

When I hear Nancy's name I snap out of my mind.

"... what happened between you two" I hear Eddie saying. "But if I were you, I would get her back. 'Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen."

Obviously, Steve still has a thing for Nancy.

I hope they sort this out... I don't want him to suffer again.

"What about you, uh?" Steve asks back.

"What about me, Harrington?" Eddie teases.

"Oh I think you know" Steve laughs.

"What? Want me to admit my feelings for Y/n? Saying that she's the only thing I've been thinking about since they paired us up for that stupid project? Or that she's so beautiful that all I want to do is just look at her.. maybe that's why I've been failing O'Donnels' class this whole time."He lets out a small laugh "everytime Henderson or Wheeler mentions her, for whatever reason, I can't help but feel jealous they get to spend so much time with her while I was too much of a coward to talk to her...Fuck.. I'm screwed, man" Eddie rambles, I'm speechless, I never thought he feel this way about... me.

I need all my strength not to turn around and ask him to tell me more.

"Why would you be screwed?" Steve's confused.

"Because... she deserves so much more. I can't do that to her" Eddie replies defeated.

"Let her decide that, uh?" Steve pats him on the shoulder.

Good answer, Steve.

I hear silence for a moment before Eddie's answer.. or more, question.

"There's nothing between you and Y/n, right?" He sounds insecure, almost.

"Man, you just made a whole speech about why I should get Nancy back, not even a few minutes ago, and now you ask if there's something between me and Y/n?" Steve asks in disbelief.

"Uh.. yeah" Eddie simply answers. "You call her 'honey' a lot"

"No, man, there's nothing. She's my best friend since..." He puffs, thinking "ever."

"And, uh, there has never been anything? Like at all?" Eddie checks.

"Well... I did have a crush on her.. for a while, but then we grew apart and... yeah it changed. Then Nancy happened..." Steve explains and I hear Eddie letting out a sigh of relief, but then Steve adds casually "We were each other's first though"

"Uh? What-"

Another earthquake interrupts him.

"Oh shit"

"Okay, second on my list of lists favourite things, earthquakes. Seriously, I'm unsteady enough as it is" Robin says.

I'm holding onto a tree and I see Nancy running and Robin calling for her.

I turn around to check on the boys and nid my head towards the direction Nancy went to and we quickly follow her.

When we spot her, thankfully, the earthquake ceases.

"C'mon" she tells us, walking towards her house.. or this alternate version of it.

"Thank god we were close" Robin breathes out.

"Yeah" I say out of breath.

The house... matches with the rest of the Upside Down, obviously.

Here the cute, clean rooms are dirty and there is this dark dust all over, and the vines are crawling over the walls and the furniture.

"Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler" Robin says, trying to enlighten the mood I think.

"C'mon. I don't want to stay here longer than we have to." Nancy walks upstairs.

"Agree. Definitely don't wanna add  'creepy dimension' to the weird places I had a panic attack in" I blurt out following her.

The others close behind us.

Once we get to her room, Nancy immediately goes to her wardrobe and takes a shoes box.

When she opens it, though, there are no guns... only a pair of shoes.

"Those aren't guns" Eddie sarcastically points out.

"These heels are pointy, but I was hoping for something on the line of a deadly projectile" Robin adds.

"I don't understand" Nancy comments, looking at me.

"You sure you left them here?" I ask.

"Yeah, maybe you left them somewhere else" Eddie tries, getting agitated.

"There's a six-year-old in the house. I know where I keep my guns" Nancy almost snaps at him "and also, I threw these away years ago"

I look down on her desk, thinking, but I notice some notes. Chemistry notes, I helped her writing them so we could practice at home... three years ago.

"Nance.." I say, handing her the notes.

"I get that grades are important to you two, but perhaps studying can wait till we get out of here?" Robin suggests.

"These are from sophomore chemistry." I explain, Nancy looks at me, catching up on what might be happening here.

"Yeah.. and this... this wallpaper, this is old wallpaper" Nancy informes moving around her room to look at the rest "and this mirror, this went to a yard sale. And you" she grabs a stuffed animal "You're not supposed to be here. No, I gave you to cousin Joanna two years ago"

Nancy then moves to grab a diary.

"What is it?" Eddie asks.

"Nancy? You're freaking me out" Robin urges her.

"This doesn't look good" I comment shaking my head waiting for Nancy to confirm my suspicions.

"I think the reason that my guns aren't here is because they don't exist yet" she answers.

"They don't... exist?" Eddie repeats, tensing up more and more each second.

"This diary should be filled of entries. It's not. The last entry is November 6, 1983. The day-"

"Will went missing" I cut her off, earning a nod from her. "The day the gate opened and everything started... we're in the past.. how?"

"I don't know" Nancy shakes her head, defeated.

Suddenly we hear Steve's voice yelling "Dustin! Dustin!" And we immediately hurry downstairs.

Steve's moving awkwardly in the dining room, looking at the ceiling calling Dustin's name.

"Maybe he really does have rabies" Robin suggests.

"Steve!" I call "What the hell are you doing?"

Steve points his torch to us, blinding us for a second.

"He's here. Henderson. That little shit, he's here. He's like...he's in the walls or something. Just listen" he explains breathlessly, pointing his finger up to make us pay attention to... whatever he heard.

As we listen closely, Steve keeps calling for Dustin, but we do manage to hear...his voice!

Oh shit.

"That brings us to the question you first raised" he seems to be saying. 

"Oh shit! That's him" I exclaim.

Everyone starts to call for him, yelling his name, hoping he'll hear us.

"Guys! I don't think he can hear us." I grab their attention.

"Yeah, either he can't or he's being a total douchebag." Steve replies.

"Will found a way" I say.

"What?" Steve's turns to me.

"Will. He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights" Nancy goes to turn some lights on, with no use, nothing turns on.

Steve points his torch to the chandelier. "Guys? You seeing this?"

It's like there is some almost tangible energy surrounding the chandelier and we all gather beneath it.

I reach out to touch it.

"Shit.." I breath.

It's a weird feeling, warm and ticklish.

As we touch the energy around it, it enlightens.

"It.. tickles" Steve comments.

"It's weird, but... pleasant" I agree.

"Yeah" Eddie turns to look at me with a breathed chuckle.

"Does anyone know Morse code?" Nancy suddenly asks.

We all shake our head no.

"Wait, does SOS count?" Eddie asks, earning a light scoff from Robin "is that.. is that good?"

"Yeah, definitely" I tell him.

Immediately Eddie starts to touch the energy in Morse code.

"Yeah, that's working"

We managed to hear Dustin telling us to go to Nancy's room, where they're bringing Nancy's sister's toy. It's supposed to help us communicate more.. effectively.

Hopefully.

We wait kneeling at Nancy's bed, the tension devouring us.

"C'mon, c'mon" Steve keeps mumbling.

I keep fidgeting with my hands and rings, my breath getting heavier and heavier, but suddenly I feel a hand holding mine. I look up seeing Eddie, sending me a reassuring look even if he was just as tense, but it helps my breathing getting even again. He doesn't let go of my hand, though, not that I complain about it.

Dustin's faintly voice snaps us out of our moment.

"You.. seeing this?"

A small mass of energy appears in front of us, just like the one around the chandelier.

When we hear Dustin's laugh we know it's working.

I look at Steve who's already looking towards me, with his "We're okay" look. The one he always gives me when he sees me nervous.

"We're not moving it, but we're gonna unplug it. Stand by" Dustin says.

The energy seems to disappear, but Dustin urges to try again.

"Try it now"

Nancy, unsure, start to "draw" something on the line of "Hi" in the air, basically.

Eddie holds my hand a bit tighter.

They all answer.

"Hi"

"Hey! Hi. That worked!" Dustin exclaims.

"Yes!"

We all let out a sigh of relief and cheer. Robin lets out some relieved giggles.

"Okay. Um.." Nancy starts to draw again.

S T U C K.

"St... stuck!"

"That's what we are" Robin mutters.

"Mhm Mhm" Eddie vigorously nods.

"You can't get back through Watergate?" He asks.

"What the hell's water gate?" Steve asks.

" 'Cause it's in the water and it's a gate" Robin simply explains.

"Oh"

"That's cute" Eddie comments.

"Yeah" I agree.

"Righ, uh... no it's..."

G U A R D E D.

"Guarded. Uh the watergate is guarded" Dustin catches on.

Oh smart boy.

"Perfect, yes yes yes" Steve exclaims.

"We think we have a theory that can help with that" Dustin tells us.

"Genius child." Robin comments, feeling more relaxed now.

"We think watergate isn't the only gate. That there's a gate at every murder site."

"Does anybody understand what he's talking about?" Nancy asks us.

"Nope."

"No"

"No idea"

So she draw a question mark.

"Seriously? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?" Dustin's voice sound pretty worked up.

"Jesus christ. This kid's gotta get his ego in check" Steve comments, slightly exasperated.

"It's his tone, right?" Eddie chimes in.

"I know" Steve agrees.

"Hey, it's your kid" I tease them.

"Okay so.. how far is your trailer?" Nancy asks Eddie.

"Seven miles?" He replies.

"Nancy?" Robin speaks "uh, I know your house here is, like, weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit, but haven't you always had bikes?"

"She's right"

"Yeah.. yeah we have" Nancy answers.

We then tell the others to go meet us at Eddie's trailer and we go find the bikes, quickly riding them to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

Hopefully, Dustin's theory is correct once again. Being permanently stuck in the Upside Down is not in my plan, definitely.

Eddie leads the way and we all follow him on our bikes. We don't take much to get there, luckily.

"That's gotta be a Guinness World Record. Most miles travled interdimensionally." Robin jokes as we get off the bikes and head to the trailer.

"And the prize is getting out of here in one piece" I reply.

"Just inhaled a bunch of that crap. It's stuck in my throat." Steve complains couching.

Entering the trailer our attention is immediately on the ceiling. The gate.

"This is where Chrissy died" Eddie explains. "Like, right where she died"

"I think there something in there" Robin warns.

Something from the other side, probably, is trying to pierce through the thin veil of the gate.

"What the hell is that?" Eddie asks as we slowly get closer to inspect it better.

Suddenly the veil is broken and we step back, watching as some mysterious slimy material fall from the crack.

Steve get closer, carefully and we follow close behind.

As soon as we can see on the other side of the gate we all let out a sigh of relief.

There they stand, upside down, Dustin, Max, Lucas and Erica.

"No way" Steve half exclaims.

Dustin laughs as soon as he sees us.

God.. never thought I'd miss that laugh.

"Hi!" He greets.

We a say hi back, shocked... shockingly relieved though.

"Holy shit, this is trippy" Robin comments.

"Yeah.. that's the word" I say with a chuckle.

"Bada-bada boom!" Dustin exclaims ecstatic.

"Okay what's the plan?" Steve asks "how do we.. get back there?"

We all look at each other, uncertain on what to do.

"We got an idea" Dustin tells us.

"We're gonna use, uh, a rope or something and, like, drag you back here" Max explains.

"Yeah, we gonna need something you can fall onto" Dustin says "can we use your mattress?" He asks Eddie.

"Uh, sure, man. Sure" he replies, still out of breath.

"Oh, and the sheets for the rope" he adds.

"Whatever you need."

"Hurry please" Robin asks.

The kids get to work, Dustin and Erica making the rope and Max and Lucas bringing in the mattress. They put it right under the gate, or.. from our perspective, over the gate.

"Those stains are, uh..." Eddie starts explaining, noticing the particularly visible stains on his mattress. "I dunno what those stains are." He finally say, visibly embarrassed.

I try to hold back an amused smile, never thought he'd be the type to get embarrassed over something like this.

The rope is ready and Dustin is about to throw it to us.

"Not quite sure how these physic's gonna work. But, uh...here goes nothing" he finally launch the rope that extends itself like normal gravity permits.

"There we go, and if my theory is correct" Dustin is holding the other end and then lets it go.

The rope stays put... unbelievable.

"That's crazy" I let out a surprised chuckle.

"All right, pull on it! See of it holds" he instructs.

Robin immediately goes to pull on it. It does hold.

"Holy shit"

"Guess I'm the guinea pig" Robin says ready to climb up.

She climbs the rope, grunting and as soon as she get to the top, through the gate, she falls.. she actually falls on the mattress.

"Oh thank god" she exhales "that was fun"

I smile, relieved.

I look at the others seeing if anyone wants to go after her.

"My turn, I guess" I say, not seeing anyone else stepping up.

I pull, experimentally, at the rope and jump holding me up.

I slowly climb up, shit.. never been the athletic type.

Once on the edge of the gate, I feel like being sucked and instantly fall on the mattress, back in our world.

"Shit!" I say as I land, with a grunt. "Fun, yes, but to never do again" I say with a laugh.

Dustin helps me get up so the others can come back too. Max immediately come to hug me and I do too.

"You're okay?" I ask her.

"Yeah, you? What happened to your arm?" Dustin asks worried.

"Nothing unusual" I joke and they smiles.

I see Eddie climbing and then falling.

"That was fun. Shit" He then grabs Dustin hand and get up, getting beside to me and nudging my shoulder playfully.

"All good here?" He whisper to me.

"Yeah" I smile at him.

Now It's supposed to be Nancy's or Steve's turn, but something's wrong.

Steve's screaming Nancy's name, she just stands still.

"Wake up! Wake up! Nancy!" He keeps screaming.

"Oh no no no" I mutter.

"Vecna" Max speaks.

Shit.