#well at least it came back to bite him on the ass when white made that mini microphone and mini speaker

[wolfgang1097]

In case anybody isn't aware, there's a brief backstory about a certain Spy vs. Spy short

Good evening, folks. The Spy vs. Spy short that had to do with ventriloquism from MADtv is basically another fan favorite besides Defection. Not to mention that it's also the only short where anybody has spoken a single word at all.

I will admit, I do find the raspy voices, and the incomprehensible babble, the spies were given (especially White Spy) pretty interesting and, just like the suppressed snickering they had throughout most of the shorts, it suits them very well to some degree.

I've heard rumors that the spies were probably voiced by Bryan Callen right up until he left the show right after season two. Is this true? I dunno, but it may be possible.

Anyhow, in case anybody isn't aware, this whole incident was actually provoked when Black taunted White by shouting profanities at the latter whilst he was minding his own business, as seen at the very beginning of the original paperback strip.

See?

Geesh, as much I like Black Spy and all, he can be such a huge wise-ass (I kinda did want to slug Black in the gut for straight up taunting White like that, I will admit). Well, it all came back to bite him on the ass when White retaliated by inventing a mini speaker and a mini microphone so that..well I'd see the events unfold in the video if I were you (and/or check out the original paperback strip, too; if y'all happen to have that paperback book with this strip), and the rest is history.

Hope y'all enjoyed finding out about this. Peace.

I do not claim ownership of any content. Spy vs. Spy belongs to the defunct MAD magazine and Antonio Prohias.

[macfrog]

wish you were here | one shot

thank you lovely anon for this gorgeous request which felt like a huge mug of hot chocolate and a pair of socks fresh from the dryer to write. i hope you enjoy.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)

warnings: fluff lmao, thirty-year age gap and u can stay mad, set around the holidays but no mention of christmas etc, nothing but love and two hints of sex. that's all. oh and no guitars were harmed in the making of this - joel canonically goes and gets the guitar after the fic ends. dw.

word count: 1.9k 

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤎

Jackson is alive with a thrumming heartbeat. Pulsing through the air, bumping gently against the quick-lying snow and filling the otherwise silent night. A steady, rhythmic heartbeat.  

A heartbeat which sounds a lot like Blue Monday, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

The holiday party is in full swing down in the Tipsy Bison. Seven o’clock ‘til late! on flyers plastered all over the commune for the last month. Tommy had tried relentlessly to convince Joel this morning on patrol – It’ll be a good night; You oughta come along, show face at least. At the same time, Maria was on your back about it in the stables.

Y’all hardly come to anything fun, she’d argued.

We come to stuff.

When’s the last time you came to anythin’?

We were – we were at Mike’s birthday dinner.

What – five months ago?

We like alone time.

Alone time? You’re never apart from one another.

Alone time – together.

Neither attempt had been successful. Tommy and Maria had exchanged a disheartened glance as the two brothers passed their horses to you on their return. Joel clipped your cheek, took his gloves off and fixed them onto your frozen hands before making off for home, a proud grin on his face. You’d held your own as well as he had: you two had a clear evening ahead.

He had lit and nurtured a fire, had made himself a coffee and heaped half a damn bag of tiny marshmallows into a hot chocolate for you, but when he’d come through to take his place on the couch, you were already stood out front.

It’s bitter out – a soft breeze, but a thick chill on its wings. The sky a washed gray, heavy clouds overhead. He slips outside, setting the mugs down on the table, and slings a blanket over your shoulders. Kisses the curve of your neck, scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

‘s freezing, pretty bird.

Then keep me warm, you whisper, turning into his arms. He steps back, settling into his chair, flicking his fingers for you to fall down into his wide lap.

You curl up against his torso, your head hooked beneath his jaw. Wonder how drunk Tommy is by now. What is it – nine?

His wrist lifts, moonlight gleaming in the reflection of his broken watch face. Just gone ten. I bet he’s on his ass already.

You giggle into his shirt, breathing in the scent of the pine trees, the smoke from stoking the fire inside, the bite of hot coffee. The echo of voices swelling in merry song turns your attention down the street – two figures hooked onto one another, stumbling through the powdered snow. Some slurred rendition of September melting into All Night Long before the smaller of the two tugs their partner off into a darkened house.

Joel laughs to himself, the bristle of his beard catching on your hair as he shakes his head.

You ask him softly, Will you play me something?

His breath soars, a cloud hot and pale white, past your temple and up into the pastel sky. Gets swallowed somewhere overhead by the wash of warmth from the porch light. He turns his mug until the owl faces the street, the bottom gnawing against the wooden armrest of his chair.

I’m serious.

What do you wanna hear?

That one you’re always practicin’. The plucking one.

Another rumble between your shoulder blades. His chest jolts with a solid laugh. The pluckin’ one.

You know the one.

I know the one.

Will you play it, if I go get the guitar?

Baby, his lungs nudge on your back as they fill, it’s late. We’ll wake the neighbors.

Everyone’s at the dance. C’mon.

And he can’t argue with that. The entire street lies dark, vacant. Yours is the only house with soft-glowing eyes, the muted orange of the fire flickering behind closed blinds. Two figures, tangled in a chair on the dim front porch; a hunting jacket around his shoulders, and his body around yours.

You tug on the blanket, wrapping it around your elbows as you stand. Just once. Play me it once.

Joel’s looking up at you, setting his mug down on the table. Play you it as many times as you want, pretty bird. Just – quietly.

There’s a spring in your step that drags another chuckle from Joel’s lips: the kind that drips like honey down your throat and warms the pit of your stomach – a sweet, comforting thing, a sound you swear was made purposefully for you. Divine and deliberate.

Like – all of him. Like the shape of your name in his mouth, the curl of his tongue as the sound surfs over it. Like the curve of his hand and the way yours so neatly molds into it.

The way it did the day he found you, crouched in the gray backroom of some butchers deep in the city, and took you all the way back to Jackson. Let you cling to him on the back of his horse; your weak arms around his waist, anchored by the heavy jacket he’d thrown over your back. Your ear between his shoulder blades. And that was that.

Fifty-six. One brown-turned-silver hair away from thirty years your senior. He still remembers before. Talks about movies, talks about computers. Talks about Sarah, when the sun hits the wall at a certain angle and he reckons he could see her standing right there, the soft shadow of her hair dark against the golden wall. When you make a joke and he laughs a ghostly sort of laugh, like he’s hearing the echo of her voice make the same quip three decades ago. He always says she would’ve loved you; you like to think he’s right.

He found you: a lonely little broken heart, and he pulled you to your feet with a rough palm against your own. Hands calloused only from years spent carving wood and pressing the hard strings of his guitar into the fretboard, and nothing else. No violence and no bloodshed; no survival or threat. Music, and patience, and kindness.

And maybe you found him, too, in the same sort of way: roughened up, awkward and messy stitches holding him together. Maybe the two of you nursed one another back to life; each brush of your hands in the dining hall and each meaningful glance while out on patrol sewing those wounds up a little tighter, a little safer.

He sits forward when you hold the instrument out, sweeping a broad palm down the slope of the body. Pinches the pegs one by one, twisting them while his thumb taps on each string.

Come here, he says, beckoning you forward with a flick of his chin. He taps on the seam of his jeans, widens his legs for you to curl up between them at his feet – the way you always do.

Your elbows hook over his thigh, ear pressed against the inside of his knee. Staring up, blinking slowly, eyes glazed with the cold and with the light and with love.

He plucks gently, slow at first. Letting the strings snap with a twang, vibrating enough that you feel the small rattle in your jaw. Your eyes fall closed, head rocking with the light tap of his heel on the porch. When you peer at him through your lashes, he’s watching the skilled movements of his fingers intently; as if he’s as much a spectator as you are – his body doing all of the thinking and working for him.

 So, he sings, and your stomach melts to a puddle, so you think you can tell –

Your eyes close again, the low rumble of his voice crisp in your ears. Like thunder, like the promise of something great and mighty. Something moving, something rolling and changing the landscape of your body, your mind and your soul. The lines between living and dying begin to blur, the seam tearing between this plain and the next.

Did they get you to trade – your lips parting to whisper the words with him – your heroes for ghosts?

His thumbnail dragging down the strings, his strong fingers flitting between chords. Like he was made to sit here, in the dead of night, and carve a space in the world for himself and his voice and for you – lain in the safe scope of his body, protected by his breadth and brawn and lulled by his sweet song.

His breadth and brawn – the parts of him which have kept him standing here. His skeleton, his muscle. But the thing that keeps you warm at night, buried side by side under a threadbare woolen sheet together, the thing that you link your arms around as he leads you home from the nights you dare to visit the Tipsy Bison: are his heart, his flesh, the gray-singed hair which falls in a featherlight wave over his forehead. The hair you sweep from his eyes when he’s on top of you, his hips cradled in yours, that all-encompassing feeling of every part of him filling every part of you.

It all feels that way. The warmth of him, the feeling of being wrapped around him. Hooked around his body, bones intertwined. Absorbing one another, his words breathing life into yours, slowly growing louder and braver with each pluck and strum of music.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

Your makeups entangling, ribcages locking together, flesh meeting flesh and hair twisting until one day, Tommy will come looking for his brother and find the two of you here on your porch, your arms still draped over Joel’s thigh and his fingers still mid-song. Stuck, alone, together.

What have we found? Joel looks down to you as though asking the question – his eyebrows raised – and you reply, a dumb smile across your lips, The same old fears, and then, together –

Wish you were here.

He plays until his fingers must start to hurt, the way he clenches and loosens his fist. Setting the guitar against your chair, hands hooking under your arms to pull you back up to him.

That one your favorite? he asks, the cold tip of his nose circling yours.

You nod. Only when you sing it.

I like the way we sound together.

You smile, shrinking into his chest again, your fingers surfing back and forth on the worn shirt. I like the way we do a lot of things together.

His hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, massaging your waist. He dots a trail of light, damp kisses along your forehead, dipping to your temple, the angle of your cheek until your jaw lifts and his lips are against yours, his tongue parting to lick purposefully at yours.

I love you, pretty bird, he whispers, the words falling sweet and fair on your tongue.

You take a moment to let them seep into your skin. ‘s the first time you’ve ever said that, you tell him.

Joel smiles. He knows. But you knew it already, he counters.

You know, too. Mhm.

Alright, he groans, slipping his hands under your thighs and hoisting you up to his height, bedtime.

It’s only ten, you complain, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he carries you inside. It’s too early to sleep – Joel.

Didn’t say we were goin’ to sleep, he mumbles, kicking the door shut.

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

God made girls lethal, when he made monsters of men.

Jonathan Crane x psycho!reader PART TWO

PART ONE

warnings - blood, gore, attempted sexual assault, death.

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

*************************

You’re sessions with Jonathan began to dwindle. No matter how much you screamed, bit, scratched and attacked the other shrinks, demanding to see Jonathan, no one would let you. Always claiming that he had other patients he deemed more severe.

“BULLSHIT!” You screamed. If he wanted dangerous, boy, was he gonna get dangerous.

That was how Jonathan Crane sauntered down the hall and into your cell where he saw you, straight jacket on, strapped down to a wooden chair, held by three guards. Your smile dribbled blood out of your red mouth.

“There are easier ways to get my attention than biting off a guy’s ear.” He sounded almost bored and this made you whimper.

“Well they clearly weren’t working as I asked for you a million times and you NEVER CAME!” Your voice rose into a shrill scream for the last words. But he didn’t even flinch. Instead he kneeled down in front of your shaking form and stroked your soft cheek.

“Now, now darling. There, there. I haven’t been a very good psychiatrist have I?”

“No.” You softly whimpered out.

“No. I’ve been neglecting you haven’t I?" He cooed. Your body softened at his caring words. You meekly nodded.

The guards around you were confused but one sharp glare from Jonathan shut them up and they daren’t look at your intimate moment any longer.

From then on, Jonathan allowed the two of you to have weekly meetings. But they weren’t designed to analyse you, but rather to court you.

He would come and sit down with you and you would talk for hours. About movies, books, games etc.

Some days he would bring you little treats. Secret chocolates, a teddy bear. One day he even brought a hairbrush and he sat behind you and the whole session consisted of him lightly brushing out the tangled locks of your unkept mane. No words were said. But it was ecstacy.

Your favourite gift was when he presented you with a white rose.

“What are those red splotches?” You enquired looking at the streaks which littered the pure base.

“You see I cut myself on the thorn and some dropped on the rose. I was going to get you a new one but I couldn’t help but be so intrigued by it. It really adds something, don’t you think?”

In lieu of a reply you merely reached forward and grabbed his hand where you could see the healing scar. Without breaking his gaze you leant forward and took the whole finger into your mouth. Jonathan struggled to hold back a moan as you salivated at the still iron taste.

In his time with you, Jonathan had noted the keen interest some of the male guards had in you. He sometimes laughed it off believing their stupidity knew no bounds if they were willing to take you on. But he couldn’t help but worry for you.

“God I wouldn’t mind taking a bit of that ass.”

“Are you serious dude? That bitch is crazy. Proper stone cold psychopath.”

“Don’t worry, she’s being sedated well enough, or at least she will be soon. She won’t give us any problems.”

Jonathan overheard the guards from the outside of the break room door.

Since meeting you he had become enraptured. Enchanted by your very being. He viewed you as the most sacred relic he could ever dare to possess. He knew your strength was unimaginable. But you were his. And no one messed with his Queen.

One day you were being transported from your session with Jonathan, who had now deemed it fit to have the sessions in his office rather than your cell. The two guards, who flanked your sides, spoke over you in silent code. Once they had deemed the corridor completely empty. They grabbed your sides, still held in the straight jacket, and began to drag you towards an abandoned closet. Taking your pants and underwear off on the way. Their intentions clearly immoral.

It took you by such surprise that you barely had time to react. You were not used to being manhandled but the shock of the moment meant you couldn’t clear your head enough to launch a good enough attack.

Before the three of you were over the doors precipice, a loud voice announced their exit from their office.

Jonathan called out to ask the two men a question, to which they responded after manoeuvring you out of a compromising position. He shot you a single glance before explaining how he would prefer to walk you back to your cell as well, as, in his words,

“I don’t want her to give you any problems.” with a knowing glint in his eye.

That night the two same guards were summoned to your cell.

They stood to the side of where you sat slumped in your chair. The previous encounter had scarred you and weakened your own sense of self. They were just men, you had killed them before. Why was it so hard now. What was this weak feeling and why did it make you want to scream.

However, your self-sabotaging thoughts were halted the minute Jonathan’s lean frame entered. His soft smile landed on your frame which appeared to have shrunk in the presence of the two guards. This lit a fire deep within his heart.

He brought his briefcase up to the table and popped it open. He pulled out a macabre clown mask, decorated with black and red. He walked forward, whistling as he went, and placed it on your face. You were unable to resist, but deep down you didn’t want to. You trusted Jonathan.

He returned to his briefcase, sat down, took off his glasses, and looked deep into your eyes.

“Would you like to see my mask.” He condescendingly teased.

He pulled out a ratty burlap sack which you noted had stitching which resembled a face. He placed it on his head and immediately pressed a hidden button which released a sulphuric green gas into the air. It was then you noted the breathing device attached to your own mask.

Jonathan bared his knuckles on the table and used it to raise himself into a godlike stance.

You were startled by the bloodcurdling screams which erupted from the two men behind you. You whipped around to see them collapse to the floor, writhing about in pain. Both looking and pointing up at Jonathan in pure god-fearing terror.

Suddenly, they both seized. Their last moments of fear etched onto their faces like stone. Their hearts had gone.

You tilted your head to look down, interestedly, at the two corpses. You turned back around when you felt a presence at your back.

Jonathan stood over you, masked and all. His hand outreached.

“Scarecrow will never hurt you, my love.”

You carefully lifted up your own mask to reveal a teeth-chattering grin plastered over your sadistic expression.

*************************

PART THREE

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[zepskies]

Okay, I loved the reader smacking Ben's ass, so can we do an uno reverse of the situation, but lmao it would probably not end well because knowing Ben it probably would've been done during a terribly inappropriate time like a meeting or something, also I know that you didn't explicitly say it was BMD ben and reader but I did read it as such, lmao - salvadoreña anon (lmao it feels a little weird to call myself that because Im also desi lol)

Hello my Latina Lovely! 😘 (Wow! Love that you're also Desi. ❤️)

Aw, hell, you done uno-reversed me…

See this imagine for context: Repaying Soldier Boy for a job well done.

(And yes, I had Break Me Down-verse SB x Reader in my head writing that one as well lol. They're ingrained in me. 😂)

Word Count: 350

Imagine: Ben gets a little payback.  

Your heels clacked on the tile floor brusquely as you made your way back to your office, over in Surveillance. You carried a stack of paperwork that had to be sorted through—and on Grace Mallory’s desk by end of day today.

Your hair was falling out of its loosening bun, and you tried in vain to blow a piece of it out of your face. The elevator on the opposite end of the hall dinged. The doors opened, and out came your boyfriend, strutting into the hall in his supe suit.

You smiled. “Wow, that was quick. You caught Metallo?”

“Being booked with bendy straws for arms as we speak,” Ben replied with a cocky smile. He headed toward you down the hall. “Gonna grab a bite to eat. Care to join?”

You raised a brow at bendy straws for arms. He really needed to work on how badly he roughed up these supes when bringing them into custody.

“Can’t right now,” you said, gesturing with your eyes to your workload. “But I’ll let you know when I’m ready to head home, if you want to wait for me.”

While you spoke, Ben was busy taking in your white blouse, the dark red lipstick, the pencil skirt, the sexy little heels. It was straight out of one of his fantasies…

Maybe you’d be down for a round of sexcretary after work. His lips curved at the thought.

But then, he remembered how you’d got him to accidentally shatter a nice crystal wine glass the other night, and it got him contemplating some retribution.

“All right. See you then, baby doll,” he said mildly.

When he finally reached you, he gave you a nice smack on the ass as he passed by.

You jolted with a wide-eyed yelp. Ben smirked at the sound.

He’d gotten you with a little more force than he thought though, as it made you lose your grip on your files. They flew from your hands and scattered onto the floor.

You twisted back to meet him with a glare. Ben’s hand clenched and curled back…

Then he gave you a sly grin.

“Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?”  

AN: So I don't typically post two new fics within the same day (sorry for the spam), but this one was short and essentially a sequel to the other imagine lol. (And my weird brain doesn't like a packed drafts folder. 😉)

I have at least one more SB imagine coming this week. I got a ton of requests this weekend, so thank you all! I really am so flattered. 🥰🥰

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[fvrtvne]

PART II : REUNION (for @magecrashout)

years had faded kirkwall from surface memory, and alcohol did just the trick of keeping the nightmares at bay. seas of corpses still riled and stoked the occasional dream—blood pooling like waves over cobblestones—but through the strumming, panicked heartbeat of isabela's, she knew she was truly alive. barely, but alive all the same.

when varric had petitioned for her aid in a holy conquest, she'd almost laughed it off, thinking it some half-drunk whimsy of his. but he was an old friend, one of the few constants from those years who hadn't turned his back. she owed him enough to at least consider it, even if the idea of trekking to skyhold felt like some maker-blighted joke. still, curiosity—if not loyalty—had its claws in her. and so, she went.

the approach was harrowing, the cold biting straight through her leathers despite the fur-lined boots and heavy coat she’d donned for the journey. isabela loathed the mountains. they were dry and bone-deep miserable, the opposite of her beloved seas. to her, cold air didn’t belong anywhere near a sailor—she wanted salt, not frost, in her hair. and yet, as she approached the gates, another chill sank in: an old, familiar pang of longing. for a fleeting moment, she tossed a glance over her shoulder, half-expecting someone to appear at her side, trading biting remarks or, at the very least, a smirk.

but there was no one. only the snow, crunching beneath her boots.

inside the walls of skyhold, the warmth of a fire barely made up for the parade of holy fervor. maker's breath, was she really surrounded by people who called themselves the 'inquisition'? she bit back a laugh and instead sought out varric, who greeted her as if she’d just stepped off the docks in kirkwall. his tone was as roguish as ever, and his arms opened wide in that way of his that instantly reminded her of better days.

" rivaini! " he bellowed, stocky and swaggering, a knight of some sort trailing behind him like a lost mabari pup.

she managed a smirk. " varric! didn't expect your…religious awakening to involve full plate armor and a babysitter. you’ve really outdone yourself. "

it was easy enough to fall back into their old rhythm. between them, many drinks were shared, and laughter came easier than she’d thought it might, though only when the subject strayed far from kirkwall. varric had a knack for smoothing over jagged memories with well-placed humor, steering the conversation into shallow, safe waters. still, she caught the occasional flicker in his gaze—a sideways glance that lingered too long, a measured silence before his next joke. he was weighing her, she realized, measuring whether the past had softened her or rendered her edges sharper.

she let him avoid hawke's name for a while, but the unspoken weight in the room gnawed at her. as much as she wanted to leave that chapter buried, its ghost haunted every corner of her thoughts. it wasn’t anger or guilt—not exactly. more like a bruise you couldn’t help but press, just to feel where it still hurt.

the nights in skyhold only made it worse. whatever dreams the fade stirred weren’t worth the few hours of sleep she managed. corpses filled her dreams, drowning her in a tide of blood and chaos that dragged her down no matter how hard she fought. waking was little better—each sunrise felt like another battle she was losing.

she must've looked rough, because it didn’t take much for varric to suggest an unusual solution. " anti-magic runes, " he’d said, all too casually, like he wasn’t up to something. " there's a vault nearby. cold as a nug’s ass, but quiet as death. might help you get some proper sleep. "

" maker, you’re convincing, " she muttered, arms crossed over her chest as she followed him through the halls. the frost nipped at her ears, her breath puffing white in the air as they approached the heavy door.

varric kept up his usual patter, regaling her with stories of aveline and kirkwall's newest disasters, but the ease in his voice felt a little too practiced. she noticed, but let it slide. maybe she wanted to let it slide.

when they stopped in front of the vault, varric slapped the door with a grin that was just a shade too wide. " don't worry about it, rivaini. i'll come check on you in about eight hours.

get yourself some beauty sleep—you’re starting to look like twice-baked nug-shit. can’t have that, can we? "

" about eight hours? " she snorted, already reaching for the door handle. " there better be— "

" blankets and plenty of rum. trust me. " he pushed lightly at the small of her back, ushering her inside before she could protest.

the door slammed shut with a resounding thud before she even realized he wasn’t following. " maker’s balls, varric! " she hissed, turning to face the sealed vault.

the room was sparse, save for a large mattress piled with mismatched blankets and a bottle of something dark sitting on a crate nearby. isabela dragged herself toward the makeshift bed, muttering under her breath. " andraste’s tits, you bloody dwarf. i swear if this is your idea of a joke… "

she flopped onto the mattress, shivering as she burrowed under the blankets. the air was still, the faint hum of magic-dampening runes thrumming in the walls. it was unnervingly quiet—almost peaceful if not for the rising suspicion that varric had set her up for something.

uncorking the bottle of rum, she took a long pull before setting it aside, her back pressing against the steady hum of the wall. the quiet felt strange, heavy in a way she couldn’t place, but it tugged at her all the same. as her eyes fluttered and the room blurred into shadow, she let out a soft sigh. maybe, just this once, she could let herself sleep.

[tobysbliss]

helping the pain

lee!revivedbur, ler!tommy

summary: wilbur has always experienced back pain, but ever since his revival it’s gotten worse. tommy decides to try and help with that.. but of course, it derailed— not exactly in a bad way.

word count: 1,278

this was supposed to be a tickletober fic, i’d never finisbed it until now. and of course, we have to end the year off with some crimeboys tickles. :]

this is officially my LAST fic of 2023! enjoy🤍

During L’manberg times, Wilbur was known for overworking himself.

He did it very often, too often. It was concerning, and many people worried for him. But he didn’t care; it was important work that NEEDED done! He couldn’t just take breaks.

Well, now, all of that came back to bite him in the ass.. Or, more like in the back. Because he always kept such terrible posture with how much he was in the chair, and all he had in limbo was concrete floor and walls?

He came back to life with a shit load of back / shoulder pain and problems.

And there was one person who fell victim to his complaining over it.

Tommyinnit.

Wilbur had a tendency to complain about his back or shoulders hurting when he was around Tommy. He’d attempt to stretch—never ended very well. It just hurt. He did often crack his back, while it did help for about five seconds, the pain would come back not long after.

He was currently with Tommy, which his shoulders were absolutely killing him, by the way. He made an attempt to stretch his arms out to help, before Tommy spoke up.

“You do realize that won’t help, right? Same with cracking your back, you do it too much. You’ll just worsen it.” Tommy spoke flatly as he looked up at Wilbur, setting down a flower he previously held to push his white streak of hair out of his face. Seeing Tommy do this made Wilbur do the same with his own.

“I haven’t got any other options, do I?” Wilbur rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault.”

“Well.. It is, though. We did tell you, you should have stopped overworking yourself. Or to at least fix your posture; God, that was awful. And it still is! You do not learn, do you?” Tommy was lecturing Wilbur now, which only made the brunette place a finger to Tommy’s lips.

“Shut up, child. I don’t need a lecture from you.” Wilbur glared at Tommy, who just shoved his hand away.

“Okay, well, constantly cracking your back or doing.. whatever that was, isn’t gonna help it. Do you want me to help, or something?” Tommy placed a hand on Wilbur’s back, as if he were comforting him.

“Nothing will help it, I’m sure this has to be permanent by now.” Wilbur’s tone remained monotone, he sounded annoyed in a way. Stressed?

“Uhh..” Tommy thought for a moment. “Would a massage help..? It would at least relax you a little bit.” He offered, but even he sounded unsure.

The suggestion made Wilbur pause; he hadn’t been given a massage in… Well, he didn’t even know how long.

“Maybe? I don’t know..” Wilbur ran his hands down his face, a deep sigh escaping past his lips. This seemed to be bothering him more than Tommy thought.

“Alright- uhm.. Let me just..” Tommy moved from his current position, and sat on his knees behind Wilbur. He gently placed his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders; Wilbur tensed up almost immediately.

“Fuckin’ hell, man,” Tommy muttered under his breath, it was really all he had to say.

“Don’t judge me.” Wilbur rolled his eyes, tensing again as Tommy began massaging the area around his shoulders. Isn’t this supposed to make him do the opposite?

“I’m judging you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, I’m trying to help you, don’t be a dick!” Tommy poked Wilbur in the dead center of his spine, grinning as the man arched forward with a soft squeak. He went back to massaging Wilbur’s shoulders, being as gentle but firm as he could.

After a few minutes, Wilbur finally relaxed a little. This made Tommy smile. He moved his hands a little closer to Wilbur’s neck, his thumbs firmly rubbing the spot in small circles.

Wilbur immediately tensed again, reaching his hands back to grab onto Tommy’s and stop him. Tommy smirked knowingly.

“Really? You can’t even handle a little massage?” He teased, freeing his hands from Wilbur’s hold with ease.

“Shut up, you fucking bitch!” Wilbur smacked Tommy’s hand.

Tommy placed his hands back near the crook of his neck, smirking when Wilbur flinched.

“Tommy, don’t even think abOUT IT!” Wilbur’s voice cracked when Tommy very, very lightly dragged a single finger down the back of his neck. A shiver went down his spine, he was quick to grab onto Tommy’s hand again. This didn’t stop the teen, absolutely not.

“I’m thinking about it. Wanna be a dick again?” Tommy placed his hands back on Wilbur’s shoulders.

“No! No.. Just- Continue, please?” Wilbur sighed, relaxing his shoulders.

“Hmm. Apologize first.” This sentence made Wilbur immediately turn himself around to face Tommy.

“Apologize!?” Wilbur sputtered. “No, I didn’t even do anything! What have I got to apologize for?”

“You told me to shut up, you called me a bitch, and you hit me! Apologize!” Tommy complained as he crossed his arms. Wilbur rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you deserved that. I’m not apologizing.” The look on Wilbur’s face became smug, as Tommy’s fell into a blank stare.

“Hm. Alright then.” Tommy hummed, and didn’t say a word as he latched his hands onto the sides of Wilbur’s ribs, digging his fingers on the spaces between the bones.

He couldn’t help but smile as Wilbur went from being smug and cocky, to panicked and shrieking of laughter.

“You going to apologize?” Tommy moved his hands up, vibrating his fingers under Wilbur’s arms as the man fell to the ground helplessly.

“NOHOHO!” Wilbur pressed his arms against his sides in an attempt to evade Tommy’s stupid, horrible, evil tickling.

“No? Okay.” Tommy easily turned Wilbur over and pinned him down, making him stuck laying on his stomach. Tommy’s hands found their way to the backs of Wilbur’s ribs, and he dug his fingers onto the spot. Wilbur screamed, immediately reaching behind himself to stop Tommy, but finding it to be quite difficult.

Tommy really couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Wilbur like this, a helpless mess of giggles and shrieks. It was adorable.

“How about now? You gonna give up?” The teen kept his teasing tone. It pissed Wilbur off how easily flustered his little brother could make him.

“NOHOHO!” Wilbur was now screaming in laughter, barely being able to muster up any words aside from “FUHUHUCK!” and “NOHOHO!”

“Apologize!” Tommy nagged, clawing his hands up and down Wilbur’s ribs. He even shot one hand up to vibrate on the man’s underarm..

That’s what did it for Wilbur.

“OkaHAHAHAY! I’M SORRY! PLEHEHEASE!” Wilbur pleaded, and Tommy immediately stopped and moved back a little. Wilbur melted against the ground, greedily taking in big gulps of air as he tried to compose himself.

Tommy placed a comforting hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, frowning a little at the way the man tensed.

“I’m done, Wil. I promise,” Tommy’s tone flipped around entirely, switching from teasy and a little pestering, to sweet and reassuring. This relaxed Wilbur.. He hadn’t felt relaxed in a long time.

And Tommy is the one who helped him.

Tommy.

Wilbur took a deep breath and looked up at Tommy. He was quiet as he spoke, “thank you.”

Tommy blinked, then smiled fondly. “You’re welcome.” He looked down at Wilbur.

“..Do you want to get off the grOUND-“ Tommy yelped through his words as he was suddenly pulled down to the ground by Wilbur. Tommy rolled his eyes as Wilbur wrapped his arms around the blonde’s torso, cuddling him close. This wasn’t like Wilbur, at all. But Tommy wasn’t gonna complain about it.

“..You know we can’t just lie here on the ground, right?” “Yes we can.”

“…Alright then.”

A/N: Honestly I cannot believe 2023 is about to be over. Time flies.. a little too much. I just wanted to say that I am incredibly grateful for all of the support I have received this year, and for the friends I’ve made and the friends who have stayed with me throughout everything. I love y’all, thanks so much. Happy New Year 🫶❤️

[inanimatetffantasies]

Roommates make good socks

Based on a old rp i did with @justcockyideas

Jason sighed contently as he pulled up his new sock, the clean new white cotton being snug and fit onto his large size 15 foot. He had just gotten through with telling one of his flatmates that he was going to have to kick him out, and he thinks that conversation went veeery nicely. He let out a chuckle as he flexed his foot, watching the cotton conform to the will of his toes, before suddenly hearing the front door open.

“Hey Corey! Can you come in here man” He said, remembering he had to talk to his other flatmate about moving out too. Corey put his bag down, glad to be home at last. He wondered where his roommate Chris was, he was usually gaming on the sofa at this time. When he heard his other roommate call him in, he shrugged it off and went to see what Jason needed.

“Yoooo Corey" Jason said with a grin as he beckoned Corey closer into the room. “Come on in here man, I gotta talk to you, don’t be nervous I ain't gonna bite” The bearded roomie said with a chuckle, his legs spread out across the floor.

As Corey walked in, he raised a eyebrow, noticing Jason was only wearing one almost pristine sock, like it was only just being worn for the first time. Quickly, though, his focus shifted to his roommates spread legs. Corey always did have a crush on his roommate, even with Jason's annoying frat bro attitude. He tried to divert his attention to talking to his roommate and sat down on the chair beside Jason's bed. "Hey Man, What did you want to talk about?"

“Come on, man, come a little closer” Jason said as he wrapped his arm around his roommates neck, pulling him closer to his chest, his armpits musk somewhat noticeable now, as well his feet. It made Corey weak. Jason knew this, his musk was like a spider web and Corey was his fly. “Dude…ya know you’re my best friend right! Even though you’re gay n all that shit like…you know you’re like a brother to me right? Well, Bro, Its just well…a dude like needs his space you know? And I think its time this apartment like…opens up”

"What do you mean? I don't understand…Open up? I know the place is small but we all have enough space I thought" Now Corey's tone was beginning to sound a bit worried, "You want me to move out? Bro, what the hell?"

Jason, amused at the situation, give a deep chuckle a bit before sighing. “Yep…you sound just like Chris. Ya see he said the exact same thing. Dude got all like…pushy when I told him I wanted him to leave. You know how he is, always with a foot up his ass” He said as he began laughing at his own joke, wiggling his toes in his sock as he did so. “…..but the dude came around…I just had to relocate him, now he's gonna stay in my room! Just tucked in my sock drawer is all” Jason continued, as a shit eating grin spread across his bearded lips.

Corey shuffled away quickly, a concerned and confused look on his face "Wait what? relocate? sock? what are you talking about man?" He stared at his roommates smile and then looked to his feet, with only one wearing that fresh sock, and started to slowly inch away more.

"If this is some fucked up joke, I really don't get it man…"

As Jason saw Corey back away, he let give out a low exasperated sigh. “Why cant you guys have just said yes and just moved out” He say before snapping his fingers. Corey's body suddenly feeling strange as he quickly became very very light. “Jeez…it could have been so much easier, still , at least I don't have to worry about finding a matching sock for Chris now" his voice slightly perking up.

Corey suddenly felt lighter then air, that and a sense of dread "Jason, man, please, I don't understand….what's…happen…" Corey's mouth felt dry, and soft... before it felt like it was being stitched shut, albeit painlessly, Jason made sure of that. Corey started to shrink and in a poof, where he once was, a white, clean sock appeared before falling to the dirty floor.

“Oh be quiet man, I know you're gonna like it” Jason say with a chuckle before reaching over to the sock, picking it up and inspecting it. “Damn…just like Chris, nice and soft” He say with a grin, Corey's body now just a sock in Jason's hand. A sadistic chuckle came from Jason when he flipped his new sock and saw "Corey, Jason's Property, Size 15. Machine Wash Only" embroidered within the fabric. It made his cock bulge and tent in his shorts.

“Man…it really sucks how much of a clean freak you guys both are. You were such nice bros too” I say with a stern face before a grin spreads around his beard “...which makes this even more fuckin hot” before he pulled the new sock over his large foot, his warm smelly feet completely filling Corey up.

“You know…you should be happy dude!” Jason said as he flexed his big, meaty, toes inside the soft, warm sock “You and Chris can finally be my bros for life! Or well…socks for life” he say with a deep hearty chuckle before letting out a satisfied sigh “plus…I know you’ve been obsessed with me since Jr High…now you’ve got a reason to be with the big man for life”

Jason ended up keeping his roommates as his new socks. The two boys absorbed every drop of sweat and musk that came off those two big bad boys. Jason always thought it was insane how clean his roommates were were as people, but after a few days of partying, Jason sat down on his bedroom floor, and flexed both of his favourite socks, noticing how much darker and filthy the socks had became. “Fuck..my sweat really did fuck you guys up huh?” He said, knowing the socks minds were just soggied up, sweat filled, musk reeking, cotton mush at this point, completely corrupted and in love with his mighty feet.

Jason found it so fucking hot, how much of an effect he had on the two, that he began rubbing his meat, leaking precum into his shorts “god…you two are the bestest friends a bro like me could ever have…" Jason took off his shorts, exposing his excited cock, and lay on his bed. He peeled Corey off his foot, and slid him onto the eagerly waiting cockmeat. "lets see how absorbent you are tonight Corey…got a fat load waiting” He starting to rub the browned sock against his shaft as he peeled off Chris from his other foot and starting to sniff him. The socks shuddered, as Jason got ready to truly break in his sock boys.

The Corey sock was rubbed against the massive cock by Jason's sweaty hand, getting cock grime adhered to it's browned fabric, until its owner let out a primal growl, and shot a fat load right into the sock. Jason caught his breath as he watched his sock dampen and darken on his throbbing cock. Jason rubbed the sock across his cock to catch any loose cum, and left Corey on his softening cock, putting Chris back on his sweaty, unwashed foot. He pulled the cover over his body, yawning before falling asleep. Corey and Chris left in darkness under the bedsheet. Corey forced to absorb his masters cooling cum, and Chris being rubbed against Jason's other foot...

images sources are dallasfeet (i think, cant find the image source but that's what i think that watermark says) or otherwise unknown.

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Doom Prompt 23: Cookies!

A Prompt from my Doom Discord. Based on the Garnets Story, slayer is such a brat, and ass, even to those he loves but not bad to them if that makes sense?

.

23: “Lily is teaching Loral how to make [her] chocolate chip cookies, but John and Heather keep trying to eat the batter”

“Don't you dare!” Lily grabbed one of the baking cups and chucked it at the massive form starting to lean over the bowls set up on the tall counters. The little green cup did nothing but splat a bit of flower on John's shoulder as he caught the cup after it bounced off him.

Looking up, John was highly amused about the defensiveness over what was being made. Lily was glaring at him and had one of the mixing spoons ready to sacrifice if needed to throw at him as well. “Hmm?”

“You don't have an innocent face, big guy,” Lily pointed to his right hand, “And I see that frozen swordfish steak you're chewing on. Don't you dare cross contaminate the batter!”

The not quite man looked down at the frozen piece of meat he had gotten out of the bin in the walk-in freezer that was marked for him. John looked back at Lily, tilting his head and debating on still doing something. Only for the shorter Loral to come up behind the Demigod and with the confidence of an older grandmother and former matriarch of her family. As well as who had learn she can safely get away with things. Loral reached up behind John as she walked by to smack him with the handle of her spatula.

The bigger Demigod grunted, even though it did not hurt he still reached up to rub his neck and turned with a hurt look. Only to scramble away as the spatula was held up again, the older woman shamelessly chased John away from their work area.

“Shoo! No cookies for you if you contaminate everything with raw meat!” Grandma Loral demanded, shaking the spatula like it was the only thing that could defend their cooking project. There were a lot more people on the Doom Fortress itself, and the fortress city was hidden in the broken moon now. 

Frozen? John signed, showing the chunk of fish meat, safely standing behind a corner and looking over. He was chased off, so now John was interested in what they were doing. The Slayer did not seem to take offense, if anything just let the smaller, weaker human ‘bully’ him around the kitchen. It was a lot more life he could see in Loral and Lily then before, and he liked seeing it.

“It's doesn't matter,” the woman crossed her arms, staring up at the taller man as a mixer was turned on behind her. “It's still cross contaminating. If that ice gets in the batter? Taste is ruined. No cookies for anyone.”

John pouted, hunching his shoulders and took a bite out of the frozen steak. Chewing through it as he leaned on the safe counter, watching as Loral walked back to pick up the bowl she set down with the eggs. Chicken eggs, that's what they were called. When Lily looked back, John tried to make a low sound at her. 

He wanted to see what they were doing!

“No.” Lily said firmly, pointing at the Demigod with the mixing spoon. “Finish your snack and wash your hands before you can see.”

John snorted, but stayed in place for a bit, not hurrying with his current favorite snack. It was cold, crunchy and was just a tasty protein! He shifted, got eyed by Grandma Loral and hesitated. It did not matter he was well over 2000 years older than her, she was grandma and John did not seem to mind letting some humans bully him. So when the Demigod did move, he gave the work area a wide berth of space.

At least until he found a new spot on the other side of the big island counter from the two humans. Head tilting back and forth as he eyed all the ingredients, trying to guess what would come out of it.

John recognized the chocolate chips now! There was also an orange-tan bowl that smelled different, and another of white chips? Chocolate chips came in different colors? 

…did they taste the same?

John tilted his head, finishing the fish steak at last and looked around. He stepped away to find a sink to wash his hands as he had been taught to do when around food. The Demigod rumbled in a pleased way out of sight as he found something. When he returned, John had not a something in his grip, but a someone. Heather was settled in his arms and getting nuzzled. The little girl was more than happy to get attention from her new guardian. Grasping the loose shirt John had on, Heather tried to humm back and mimic what she was feeling. 

Heather liked being held by John the most, some of the protective… Sentinels had good hugs too! Grandpa Valen had really good hugs, just not the same as getting a cuddle and hug from John. Her guardian was warm and just felt the safest. Heather looked up and put her hand on John’s cheek, getting his attention back on her, and then a cheek pressed against her head. 

The girl turned to see what was going on. Tilting her head before looking up at her guardian, signing a question. What are they baking?

John carefully set Heather down so she was sitting on the edge of the counter in front of him. Slowly starting to use the human sign, having only just learned it not long ago. Cookie.

Heather gasped at that, turning around and saw Grandma Loral eyeing them. Cookie?

You wait. The older woman signed back as she shook her head. They need to cook first.

Heather pouted, looking up at John. The big man was blinking slowly, thoughtfully before rumbling as he leaned forward. Arms around Heather he snorted against her shoulder and grinned at the little squeal of laughter that resulted. Seemingly distracting the girl from the cookies. 

John did not have to stare at the other side of the counter as he leaned forward to track Lily and Loral’s movements. He reached forward in a moment of distraction, grabbing some of the chocolate chips and shared them with the giggling Heather. The girl was trying to hide her delight so much that Grandma Loral looked over to see her shoving something in her mouth. John doing much the same where he was hunched over.

Far too experienced as a parent, and grandparent, Loral sighed, “Goodness. Watch out Lily, we have some cookie thieves.”

“What?” Lily turned from focusing on fishing that one little egg shell fragment out of the bowl. Blinked and then stood up, “Oy! No stealing ingredients!”

John blinked and tilted his head around Heather, still hunched over the girl to let her finish eating her share of the loot with some cover. “Hmm?”

“Go to the stores to get some,” Lily tossed an egg shell at the demigod. Who reflexively caught it, blinked slowly staring at the shell. Before he looked back, John then ate the shell, looking surprised at the crunchy.

“Oh my gods,” Lily sighed as she turned away to get the little fragment. There was a small sound and a giggle, Lily spun around, and saw John mid-motion of taking the whole bowl of butterscotch chips. “Hey!”

The Demigod grabbed Heather and the bowl, trying to get away, only moving slow enough to not disturbed the little girl was his downfall. As Loral took aim and chucked a heavier ‘glass’ measuring cup. Her aim was true and the old pyrix thing clunked against John’s head, then shoulder, hit a counter on the way down and bounced off the floor. Twice. All the while not breaking

That was actually impressive!

John stared down, after making sure that Heather on his right arm was safe, then grunted in surprise as Lily popped up in front of him. The bigger not quiet man held tighter to the bowl, but his adoptive daughter was a half step ahead and just scooped most of the chips from his new bowl, all into another bowl that she had. Then Lily ran away, John trying to step after, only to get a good smack from  behind.

The Great Slayer King, the only predator of hell, the Beast… he whined at the second smack from a spatula.

“You fiend!” Grandma Loral yelled. “Food thief!”

“Aarh?” John tried to say something, shifting to hide Heather as she was laughing. He flashed a grin but tried to get away with what few little bits of chips left in his bowl.

“Don’t you sass me! Heather! Smack him!” Loral said and signed.

Not sure what was going on, but delighted at the idea of adding to the fun chaos. Heather bapped at John’s neck and shoulder, not hard, but it had him giving a mock bite back with a low fake growling sound. It took a good ten, maybe fifteen minutes before the two calmed down to nibble on the few butterscotch chips left in the bowl. John sat up to look around a corner, debating on if there was anything to steal. 

Eyeing the closer bowl, he rolled onto hands and knees, then rocked up, trying to be stealthy for once and creep closer. It did not help that there was a giggling girl following, but he could work with that. Trying to circle the two cooking and looking for something to steal. His second attempt resulted with John couched behind a counter with a big bowl of… butter? Whipped butter? It tasted good, okay, but was not that sweet.

How did this turn into cookies?

“...JOHN!” Lily yelled, noticing the lack of giggling and now a missing bowl. 

The Demigod grabbed Heather, and the bowl just because, and fed into the dinning room. Grinning the whole time, debating if he can hold the butter hostage for something sweet for him- and Heather!

[geddy-leesbian]

start of my FE Serrennedy AU :3

Goddess, he was so stupid. What was he thinking, chasing a bandit down through a hole in a wall and then down a mysterious tunnel all by himself?

In his defense, what he did had made sense in the moment. If he'd stopped to call for the knights, the bandit would have slipped away. And it was just one thief! Leon would have easily struck him down in a one-on-one. No, the problem was that as soon as the tunnel opened up into a large open cavern, there was a demonic beast. Leon was not ready for that. Why would he have been? He's right under the church! Surely there should be some kind of magical protection keeping these nightmarish monsters away from the monastery.��

Or not. Definitely not, because he definitely did get his ass handed to him by a gigantic worm. He did put up a pretty valiant fight, giving the creature at least one gash in exchange for each bruise and bite wound it dealt to him. It didn't even kill him, it just left of its own accord after one well-timed thrash of its tail left Leon lying on his back with the wind knocked out of him. It could have been one hell of a story– the underdog Leon fighting a demonic beast all by himself and escaping with his life! And it would have been, if he wasn't down in some fucking cavern where no one would ever look for him. 

But he is. And a bite wound is bleeding heavily. He feels dizzy when he tries to get up. He'd survive this if he was anywhere else, with a light magic user able to heal him, or even just someone more run of the mill with a cloth to slow the bleeding and keep him stable until an actual doctor could get to him. 

All alone, goddess knows where, he just lies there and tries not to think about how much everything hurts and how cold he is until he finally slips out of consciousness. 

-

Somehow he wakes up. He's alive? There's still some pain, but he feels it fading, the hurt being replaced by the pleasant warmth of healing white magic. Someone else must have seen him enter the tunnel and got help before it was too late.

“Thanks…” Leon manages to open his eyes, and is shocked to see a tan stranger kneeling above him, mending his wounds with white magic. A stranger. Not a knight, not one of his magically gifted classmates. He panics and his right hand gropes at the… ground? Floor? trying to find his sword. “Who the hell are you?”

“I could say the same to you. Barging into someone else's home, swinging your sword around like you own the place… Bit rude, no? Tell me your name first, intruder, then maybe I'll tell you mine,” The stranger's face twists into a mischievous smile. “One of mine, at least.”

“If I'm a rude intruder, why are you healing me?” Leon gives up on trying to get his sword, it's not like this is a fight he could ever win. He doesn't even know where he is. Just that he's underground and can hear running water. “Could've left me to rot or finished the job yourself if you were impatient.”

“Because you don't seem like an intruder who came here with the intention of causing trouble for the inhabitants of Abyss. You seem like a garden variety idiot, not the type I kill if I can help it. And! Your uniform, you're a student at the Officers Academy. I might get myself a pretty penny for bringing back one of their precious students in one piece.”

“Fine. I'm Leon. Who are you and where am I?”

“Oh. Oh! I know you! Of you, at least. I'm Luis. You're Lord Marvin's adopted kid, right?”

“Yeah,” Leon stares at Luis's handsome face for a minute, until something clicks into place. “I think I saw you once. You're Spencer's adopted son, right? What are you doing down some horrible hole, Spencer must be worried sick about you! We should go back to the surface and get you home, with two of us we'll be fine even if we run into monsters.”

“Home? Spencer? I'd rather die than go back to him. This is my home. It's not a hole, and it's not horrible. This is Abyss. A hidden little city beneath the monastery, a refuge for those who can't live on the surface. Surely you've heard rumors? Maybe heard about the savage mockingbird, the handsome leader and protector of Abyss?”

“Uh, that does ring a bell. Isn't he like, a hardened criminal? Gang leader that's murdered a whole lot of people?”

“I suppose that isn't incorrect, I have done that.”

“You?! How did you go from a noble house, a student at the academy with a great future, to this?” Leon looks at Luis, completely appalled. “A criminal hanging out in a den of other criminals, even leading them.”

“It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you someday. But for now, you feel like you can walk?” Despite Luis being prolific enough as a cruel murderer to have earned a reputation and a nickname, he helps Leon to his feet with all the gentleness and care of the monastery's kindest priests. When he looks down at himself, he sees the lighter wounds that weren't worth healing magically were still expertly bandaged. “We should get you back up to the surface before anyone notices you've been gone, I'm sure you'd be in a lot of trouble for sneaking off to explore–”

“I wasn't exploring!” Leon interjects. “I was chasing a thief. He got away when the monster attacked.”

“Ah, one of my lackeys. Still, even with your noble intentions I get the feeling your activities would earn you one hell of a lecture for doing something so reckless. I suggest you sneak back into your bed, hide your injuries, in the morning say you're tired because you didn't sleep well, so no one has to know what you were up to.”

“Doesn't that defeat the purpose of you saving me? If you want your reward, you'll have to tell someone about it.”

“Forget the reward. This is just… Some charity work.”

[theoceantot]

Chapter 5

(TW! Sanemi being mean, autistic breakdowns, use of r slur)

The day finally came when Y/n had to meet the other hashira and decide if she was a threat or not. Shinobu, Mitsuri, and Giyu knew she wouldn't harm anyone but it didn't stop them from worrying about your safety. You've been getting closer to Mitsuri and Giyu. She would often style your hair and give you yummy snacks and then Giyu would let you play with his hair and let your wear his harori. The biting didn't stop though.

At all

Everyone in the estate has been bit at least once. They didn't hurt the majority of the time but every once in awhile it would draw a bit of blood. Which would make you have a meltdown. Shinobu once lightly scolded you for biting her too hard and not understanding if she was really mad at you caused a crying fit for 20 minutes.

Mitsuri wanted you to look really cute in front of everyone so she picked your outfit and did your hair just like hers.

"Eeeeekkkkk! You're the cutest"

Y/n giggled and reached her arms out to be picked up. Mitsuri held you in the air and spun you around making you laugh loudly. Shinobu watches from the crack in the door smiling to herself. This is the first time she's ever seen you be this happy. Mitsuri carried you out of the room not noticing Shinobu becasue she's too focused on how cute you're being (And that you're trying to put your braids in your mouth)

By the time they got there all the pillars were there with the master. Giyu was getting yelled at by Obanai and Sanemi for 'not killing you when they had the chance'

He just kinda took it not wanting to fight with them and knowing that you weren't dangerous in the slightest. None of the hashira knew anything personal about you or what you looked like. They were expecting this savage demon with razor sharp teeth and claws that looked like they were bound to attack any minute. So imagine the suprise when they see you. 4'7 with an adorable dress on holding the cat plushie Mitsuri got for you closely to your chest.

"What in the fuck" Sanemi grumbled in disbelief.

Shinobu softly chuckled and tried bringing you closer to all of them for a proper introduction but you firmly stood your ground starting to direct eye contact to everywhere but what was in front of you.

Too many people

And they did NOT like you

Well, you weren't for sure about all of them but the white haired man and the guy with the snake looked at you with such hatred that it genuinely terrified you.

"N-no"

No? That was something you rarely ever said. You almost ALWAYS listened to your mama and her friends. And if you didn't it's because you couldn't fully grasp what she was telling you. Shinobu didn't get mad tho like you expected her too for not listening

"Shes not good with new people especially ones that look like they wanna hurt her" Shinobu softly glared at Obanai and Sanemi.

Mitsuri looked at Obanai with disappointment which caused him to look away. Sanemi was a different story though.

"You really expect me to be all goody goody with a demon?! After all they've done to us why would you willingly take one in knowing that it's gonna end up killing you and others in your estate! Shes just trying to manipulate you with this innocent act so she can try to take us out! Let me kill that freak and save us all time!"

Freak?

That was something whe heard all too much of growing up. Going to school nobody including her parents understood why she never made eye contact, didn't like most the food, or threw tantrums when the routine was changed. They called her a "weirdo" "r*tard" 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤.

That word hurt the most out of any insult or punch she'd get. All you did was stare at the ground with wide eyes trying not to cry. All the memories started flooding back in her mind. It took everything in Giyu not to kick his ass right there. Shinobu was shaking in anger hardly able to form a smile and Mitsuri quickly ran to you trying to embrace you but you screamed and pushed her away with force. Enough to where she almost fell.

No touching. Not now.

Everything was too much.

Your eyes turned purple a terrified look in your eyes as you ran towards the forest behind everyone. It was dawn and close to being dark. There's no way you can fight off demons on your own.

"Y/N WAIT! PLEASE COME BACK!" Mitsuri yelled after you.

Giyu wasted no time after running after you. Mitsuri dragged Obanai along, and Shinobu kicked Sanemi in the shin making him fall in pain.

"You know it's not a good idea to piss off the woman who takes care of all your injuries. Maybe one day I'll slip up and make a big mistake" Shinobu threatened and cut him lightly on his back.

He hated to admit it but she did have a point.

If he was gonna stay on good terms with Shinobu then he would at least TRY to get along with you. Sanemi let out a "tsk" and followed Shinobu to look with you along with Tengen and Rengoku. Muichiro already forgot what was happening.

Now back to you in the woods. Due to the flashbacks and trauma that was shed to light again you regressed very young where you can't talk or even walk. You've never been regressed this young before and it frightened you a lot. The world felt so big and it seemed like everything and everyone was out to get you. Huddling against a tree and flapping your hands aggressively you crying louder.

This wasn't good as it was not night time and demons were out hunting. Thankfully some of the Hashira with good hearing (aka Tengen) was able to hear and easily locate you. When he got there he didn't know what to do in the situation. You were hitting your head against a tree drawing some blood and crying to the point you were choking.

Obviously you didn't wanna be touched so that was out. What about singing or humming a melody? He's heard some autistic people comfort themselves with music. Worth a try. Tengen started humming a simple tune. Not too loud but loud enough for you to be able to hear it slowly taking your attention away from hurting your head that was still bleeding.

After a few minutes your cries turned into sniffles as you looked up at Tengen with such fascination. Slowly your eyes started to close just wanting to sleep and replenish your energy. Tengen asked if he could pick you up and you just quietly babbled back letting him carry you in his strong arms.

Before you fell asleep he gasped in suprise almost dropping you. Out of love you bit him. Tengen didn't know if he had to be ready to attack becasue well you're a demon but you fell asleep slowly after that.

He sent his crow out to tell everyone she was found and safe with some minor injuries. Tengen waited at the butterfly estate with you being cradled in his arms. Every now and then you'd start whining and moving around but all he had to do was start humming again and you'd calm down.

Mitsuri, Obanai, Shinobu, and Giyu got back in the estate shortly after and ran around looking for Tengen until they found him sitting in your rocking chair. The girls had to hold back laughs as you started biting his arm as you slept.

Shinobu grabbed a purple paci from a draw and put it in your mouth. Much to Tengens relief. He put you in your crib and carefully tucked you under the covers.

They all exited the room and sighed in relief just relieved you were safe.

"I don't know how to thank you Tengen" Shinobu thanked

"I'll definitely think of something" He said and looked to the side like there was more on his mind.

"What is it?" Obanai questioned.

"Its just that she shouldn't have been able to walk out at dawn without getting at least a bit burnt. And the way I found her. She was banging her head against a tree and sobbing like she was dying. I know she's a demon but I can't help feeling a bit of remorse for her"

"I included her being to walk in the sun in the letter. So how did you not know?" Shinobu questioned

"The master said the letter was you saying that you had a demon in your care and the rest was colored over with purple crayon so we didn't know what it said" Obanai explained.

Now she remembered

She left the letter on her desk when you were coloring in her office.

What a little trouble maker

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Title: I Know I'm Pretty

Pairing: Drexyl Spivey/Reader

Rating: NC17 (smut, language, marijuana use)

Summary: You and your roommate get a new weed dealer. As it turns out, he's hot.

Notes: This idea was super random and just sort of sprung up on me. I obviously don't condone anything that Drexyl Spivey stands for if he were a real person.

Warning: marijuana use, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, spanking

Your first impression of Drexyl Spivey came secondhand, when your roommate told you about this new pot dealer in town — some white guy with locs and gold teeth. The image that the short description conjured in your mind was more cartoonish than man, so when she asked if you would accompany her to get some pot from him, you agreed. Your regular dealer had just moved to Colorado, and you figured, best case scenario you would have found a new dealer with quality pot. Worst case scenario, you would at least get some amusement from the cartoonish weed guy.

The last thing you expected when you walked into his decent sized house on Woodward was to be attracted to him.

‘Attracted to him’ seemed way too light, actually.

The man was hot. Lean, with long dark locs that reached past his shoulders, a goatee, a blue right eye, one cloudy left one and a deep scar that circled the cloudy eye. He wore a leopard print silk robe that was left carelessly open to expose his bare chest, loose flannel pants and comfy-looking house slippers.

“Well, well, well…” His gravelly voice crackled on your skin while he slowly looked you over, undressing you with his one good eye as he sucked his front teeth. “What we got here, Marty?”

“These two lookin’ for some Mary Jane,” said the man who had let you both in, standing behind you and your roommate.

Normally you would’ve kept one eye on the doorman, but your attention was completely fixed on Drexyl, who was sitting on the couch, his knees spread comfortably with one side of his lips curled up.

“I’m Alex,” your roommate blurted out, waving awkwardly.

“Well, come on over here then, Alex.” He said her name playfully, his eyes only glancing at her for a moment before they were back on you. “What about you, Sugar? What’s your name?”

You couldn’t help the way you smirked right back at him. “Not Sugar.”

His smile slowly widened, a chuckle trickling up from his chest as he tilted his head to one side as if trying to check out your ass. While your roommate happily took up space on the far side of the couch, you purposely sat in the armchair that was next to it, which he clearly wasn’t thrilled about.

“So what can Drexyl do for you ladies?”

“We were hoping to get a quarter,” you said.

“How do I know you ain’t cops?”

“Oh, we’re not,” Alex said with a smile, holding up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

His grin resembled that of a wolf, eyes still planted on you as his tongue grazed over his front teeth. It made a shiver pull from between your thighs, and you pressed your knees together in an effort to calm yourself.

“Prove it,” he said, crooking his finger and beckoning you to him.

You barely managed to keep from rolling your eyes as you stood and stepped toward him, frowning when he patted one of his thighs.

“You think I’m gonna fuck you for some pot?” You arched a brow at him. “I’m not.”

“Girl, relax, I’m not asking you to,” he answered, shifting to the edge of the couch to lift the lid off a box on the coffee table and pull out a joint. “I just wanna see how good you can take a shotgun.” He winked so quickly that you almost wondered if you’d imagined it. “Come here, Not Sugar, I won’t bite. Unless you like that.”

He didn’t light the joint until you started to move again, reclining back against the couch as you sat on his lap, facing Alex, your feet settling between his. He had more, smaller scars on the same side of his face and you fought the urge to trace them with your finger. The hand behind you landed on the small of your back while the other held the joint after he’d taken two healthy drags and beckoned you toward him.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you bent down and pressed your lips against his, opening your mouth to suck as much of the smoke out of his as you could. All the while you ignored the tingle between your thighs and how the seat of her panties grew wet. You gasped when his tongue swept against yours and groaned at the taste of tobacco, sugar and what tasted like pork fried rice. You moved your own to return the favor, licking along two of his gold teeth before retreating back into your mouth. When you couldn’t inhale anymore, you pulled away, holding back a cough before blowing the smoke out steadily, and coughing one more time.

Apparently, he was satisfied with your performance, smiling up at you as he said, “You said a quarter?”

That was three weeks ago, and ever since you hadn’t been able to get the taste of tobacco, sugar and pork fried rice out of your mouth. What was worse was that his weed was the best you'd ever had — smooth, slightly sweet and earthy, much like him, and with an even keeled, full body high.

“He was totally into you,” Alex said, taking a drag from the joint she’d just rolled. “It was crazy, even that Marty guy was like —” She widened her eyes and shifted them from side to side.

“Whatever, he was okay,” you replied in a chuckle.

“Yeah, right, I was surprised when you said you weren’t gonna fuck him. Like, did you suddenly get over your thing with scars?”

You blinked. “What thing with scars?”

“You know, how you’re totally into guys who have scars? Like, remember when we watched Scarface and you were, like, obsessed with Tony Montana for months? Drexyl could be like your Scarface.”

Your mouth opened and closed in guppy-like motions as you tried to think of something to say. But nothing came. And if you were being completely honest with yourself, Drexyl was hot. But he was also cocky, which made you want to fight the fact that you absolutely would’ve let him fuck you, and you didn’t even need anything in return.

“Whatever,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“We’re almost out,” she said with a smirk. “You should totally call him and be like, ‘Oh hey, Drexyl, can we get some more weed?’ And I bet he’d be all, ‘Yeah, Baby, why don’t you bring your fine ass over here and get it?’ And you’d be all…” She giggled theatrically.

“You’re such an asshole,” you muttered, trying to hold back a smile. “He’s exactly the type of guy I should be staying away from. He’s probably dangerous.”

“Yeah, but I bet he’s a great lay,” Alex mumbled, taking an inhale from the joint, holding in the smoke as she added, “Seriously, we should call him and see if we can come get more. I wanna bake cookies.”

“You’re supposed to use skunk for baking,” you reminded her.

“I don't care, I’m doing that gourmet shit. Let’s go, call him.”

“Why do I have to call him?!”

“You’re so annoying, I’ll call him. Jesus,” Alex groaned, picking up her phone from the coffee table. “You wouldn’t even tell him your name, so rude,” she mumbled, hitting a few buttons before she brought the phone up to her ear.

You took the joint from her and took a drag, biting down on your bottom lip as you tried to listen for his voice.

“Hey Drexyl, it’s Alex — Awesome, we were hoping we could stop by again today.” She held her free hand in front of her, inspecting her nails absently. “Oh okay — yeah, that’s fine. I’ll page you. — okay, cool. Bye.” Hanging up, she reached over and plucked the joint from between your fingers.

“So what time are we heading over?”

“Oh he’s running errands so he’s gonna come here,” she replied.

“What?! You invited a drug dealer to our apartment?!”

“Oh my God, relax, it’s not like he’s selling us heroin. Besides, now you can just take him to your room for a quick fuck instead of hoping he’ll invite you into his!” she replied with a happy grin.

“I hate you,” you said half-heartedly, standing up to go change into something cute.

“Put on shorts, bitch! Show off your legs, they’re amazing,” Alex called after you, taking the last few tokes from the joint before putting it out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

It was four hours later that there was a knock on your door, and your stomach did a somersault as you went to it and looked through the peephole.

Drexyl stood in a button down shirt that had most of the buttons undone, with only two fastened in the middle. The top of the shirt was spread, showing off his chest and his black pants slung low on his hips. Behind him was Marty, the stout bodyguard you had met the first time you went to see Drexyl, holding a duffle bag. Running a hand over your hair, you pulled the door open.

“Oh hey,” you said, trying to sound aloof, but Drexyl just smirked.

“Oh. Hey,” he replied, imitating you playfully as he leaned against the doorframe. “You gonna let me in or what, Not Sugar?”

The corner of your mouth began to curl, but you pursed your lips to stop it, stepping aside and letting both of them in. Closing the door, you followed them down the narrow entryway and into the living room, where Alex was flipping through channels.

“Hi Drexyl,” Alex said, sitting up on the couch and grinning up at Marty. “Hey Marty. Come sit!”

Marty looked at Drexyl, who nodded before he looked over his shoulder at you.

“Y/N.”

“What’s that?”

“My name,” you said, walking past him and sitting on the arm of the couch. “Y/N”

“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing the syllables on his tongue. The growl in his voice sent a shiver over your body, your nipples tightening beneath the sleeveless cotton shirt you were wearing. Brushing past you, he sat on the couch as well, so close that you may as well have been sitting on his lap again. He glanced down at your bare legs, licking his lips before turning to Alex. “So you want the same as last time?”

“I wanna make cookies, so can we maybe do a half?” Alex asked.

“Cookies?” Drexyl replied. “You know you’re supposed to use skunk for that, don’t you?”

“Told you,” you said, earning Drexyl’s attention again.

“Listen to your homegirl,” he said, gesturing to you with his head.

“Oh my God, I literally don’t care, I wanna bake gourmet cookies, damn it. Marty, tell them they’re being super annoying,” Alex groaned, bringing her legs up to tuck under her as she returned her attention to the TV.

Marty, however, just looked at her as though she had spoken in a different language.

“Don’t mind her, she smoked the last spliff before you guys got here,” you said.

Drexyl looked up at you again. “What about you, Y/N? You smoke the spliff too?”

“No,” you answered, this time not caring to keep the smile from forming on your lips. “I know how to control myself.”

“Stop being judgy, Y/N, I’m on vacation,” Alex muttered, reaching for the bowl of pretzels on the coffee table and eating one before she offered some to Marty. “Pretzel?”

“Thanks,” Marty said, speaking for the first time as he reached into the bowl.

“So a half then?” Drexyl asked, his eyes still on you.

You nodded, but Alex was the one who answered. “Yeah, half. You want a pretzel?”

“Nah,” he purred, and his eyes still hadn’t left you. “You got anything sweeter?”

Your lips parted as you considered suggesting he come find something sweeter in the other room with you, when Alex beat you to it.

“Y/N is totally into scars, by the way.”

Your eyes widened as you looked up at her. “Alex, shut up! Jesus fucking Christ!”

Drexyl was chuckling in amusement. He reached into the bag that Marty had come in with and pulled out a freezer bag filled with weed. “Marty, weigh out a half for them.” He looked up at you and pulled out a joint from his front shirt and held it up, gesturing to the hall with his head. “Let’s me and you enjoy this since she’s already smoked.”

You glanced apprehensively at Marty, only for Drexyl to command your attention again.

“Don’t worry, Baby, Marty will be a gentleman, won’t you Marty?” He looked in Marty’s direction.

“Yeah, man, I’ll be a gentleman.”

“Whatever, Marty, I see how it is,” Alex mumbled, belching loudly as she settled on a rerun of Ren and Stimpy. “You better like Ren and Stimpy or I’ll die.”

Drexyl was grinning, standing up and waiting for you to lead the way. You swallowed and stood, reaching to pinch the front of his shirt between two fingers and gently tug him along behind you. You pulled him into your bedroom, closing the door behind him just as he lit the spliff.

“I really am sorry about Alex, she gets kinda weird when she’s stoned,” you said, hoping that he was taking your roommates comments in stride.

“Yeah, I remember, she started singing the Spice Girls the last time,” he replied.

You put your hand over your face and laughed. “Fuck, that’s right, I forgot about that.” You went to the mattress on the floor in the corner of the room below the window, and sat down.

“So, you like my scars?” he purred, blowing out the smoke as he handed the joint to you and got to his knees on the edge of the mattress.

Your lips parted again as you took the joint between your fingers. “Maybe.” You took a drag.

“I got hit with a bottle,” he said, as though leaning into the idea that you were fascinated by it.

“Ouch,” you said under your breath, taking a drag. Your eyes ran over the large, C-shaped scar. “What about these little ones?” you asked, gently stroking the smaller scars between his brows and on the bridge of his nose. “Same incident?”

He nodded. “Mhm.”

Taking another drag, you shifted back and patted the mattress next to you, inviting him to sit as you handed the joint back.

“You got any more?” you couldn’t help but ask as he moved to sit with you.

He smirked and held the joint between his lips, unbuttoning the two buttons of his shirt before he pulled it open to reveal a circular scar on his ribs, just beneath his pec on the right side. Your fingers came to graze over it, a breath leaving you at the feel of the raised skin beneath the pads of your fingertips. He pulled the shirt off and gestured with one hand to his back while the other hand took the spliff out of his mouth.

Moving behind him, you looked over the vast array of scars on the expanse of his back, running your fingers over each of them. Some were straight lines, others more jagged, both deep and somewhat faded. He let you explore them for a moment before he put out the joint on the ashtray you kept by the mattress. You hardly noticed, still entranced by the scar just behind his shoulder when he turned to face you.

“We’ll finish that later,” he mumbled as one hand smoothed over your knee, his eyes taking you in. “God damn, girl, you are so fuckin’ fine.”

You gasped as he leaned forward on his hands and knees, closing the space between you to take your lips in a heated kiss. Groaning against your lips, his tongue flicked against them, demanding rather than requesting entrance. Another moan buzzed against your lips as you opened up for him, pulling him on top of you as you lay back on the mattress, You yanked the various throw pillows from beneath you and threw them out of the way, rocking your hips up against his as he grabbed your breast and pinched your nipple. Biting down on his bottom lip, you dug your nails into his back, holding him in place while your legs curled around him as well.

His lips lowered to leave wanton kisses on your neck, his facial hair lightly scratching against your skin, while one hand worked to unbutton your shorts. A tingle bloomed between your legs, muscles clenching and unclenching as he reached up to pull your shirt off, groaning at the sight of your bare breasts. He wasted no time in taking one nipple into his mouth with his fingers twisted and tweaked the other. You bucked up against him, shivering when you felt his hard cock pressed against the seat of your shorts.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, sliding one hand down the front of your shorts. “I’m gonna fuck this pussy so deep you’re gonna feel me for days.”

Your muscles clenched at his words as his fingers slipped through your folds, smearing your essence on your clit in quick, tight circles. Arching your back you cried out, rocking your hips in time with his movements, a light sheen of sweat forming on your neck. When he sucked your other nipple into his mouth and slid two fingers inside you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, more juices wetting his digits as they curled toward your belly.

“Fuck! Drex!” you moaned, hips bucking wildly against him as one hand held tight to his locs.

“So wet for me,” he purred against your collar bone, thrusting his fingers harder in and out so that the sounds of them moving inside you grew louder. “Cum on my fingers, Baby Girl, come on.” He wiggled his digits against your G spot, earning an elated cry as your back arched again as he egged you on, “Such a good girl. That’s it, Baby, come for me.”

With a final arch of your back, your muscles gripped his fingers again and again, waves of pleasure shooting from the apex of your thighs. Your throat was raw as you screamed his name, begged for more, lifting your head to look at where his hand was shoved down the front of your unzipped and unbuttoned shorts. Your legs twitched, opening wider for him as he moved to sit back on his haunches, his fingers still buried deep inside you. Pulling his hand away, he smirked at your whimper at the loss of his digits and pulled your shorts and panties down and off.

“Fuck, you got a pretty pussy,” he purred, eyes locked on it as he unbuckled his belt.

You immediately sat up and helped, all but ripping his jeans open and shoving them down his hips. You licked your lips at the sight of his thick, long cock whipping from beneath his boxers, slapping his lower belly. Unable to help yourself, you reached for him and stroked his length a few times while he kicked off his jeans and boxers.

“Fuck me, Drex,” you moaned.

He groaned around a smirk and grabbed your hips, flipping you onto your hands and knees.

You yelped when his hand came down on your ass once. Twice. And a third time before he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed inside in one long stroke. His hands gripped your hips, holding you hard against him as he groaned in relief, letting you get used to his girth. After a moment, he slowly pulled out and snapped back in, beginning a steady tap of skin on skin. He filled you so well that your breath caught in your throat, and every time he buried himself to the hilt he was reaching a place inside you that not even your dildo had ever reached. Your legs trembled, the tickles in your pussy reaching a crescendo as he reached for a handful of your hair and carefully pulled your head up, using it as leverage.

“Fuck yourself back on my cock,” he growled, spanking you again with his free hand. “Like I know you wanted to the first day you met me.”

You almost want to give him a snarky response when he snapped his hips forward one, twice, three times as if to get your undivided attention. Then he stopped moving and let you take over, growling low in his chest as you rocked yourself hard back into him. Closing your eyes, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of him filling you over and over,

“Such a tight little pussy,” he whispered, the hand in your hair loosening as it and the other hand grab hold of your hips again, pulling you back against him. Moving with you, he spanked you again, snapping his hips forward until you were sure there would be bruises left behind.

He bent forward to bite the juncture where neck meets shoulder as one arm snaked around you to circle his fingers on your clit again. You whined as the pleasure and pain pushed you over the edge and your pussy hugged him again and again, your body trembling. His fingers didn’t let up, nor did his hips, stroking you through your own orgasm before he slammed into you one last time and you felt the heat of his release spurt deep inside you. He grunted next to your ear, keeping himself buried a moment longer while he reached for the abandoned joint before slowly pulling out and laying next to you.

“Grab that lighter out of my pocket?” he said, rearranging the pillows behind you.

It took you a moment to get your bearings enough to move. You fished the zippo out of his jeans and handed it to him as you laid down. Watching him light the joint, you bit down on your bottom lip as your eyes followed the scar around his eye again. You were still throbbing between your legs, your muscles spasming every few moments as though expecting to still find him inside you, and you realize after a moment that he wasn’t exaggerating when he said that you would feel him for days.

As he passed you the joint, he asked, “You gonna stop pretending you’re not interested now?” with that damned smirk on his face.

Trying and failing to suppress a smile, you rolled your eyes. “I guess.”

He grinned. “Good,” he said, rolling onto his side and drawing indistinct patterns on your stomach with his fingertips. “Cause you weren’t fooling anybody.” He winked. “I know I’m pretty.”

[hypershocked]

i think i got a few. im p sure these are mostly agreed on but i dont have any thats really that unpopular.

love free shipping, kraken, duck, (proceeds to name everybot that changed their design to fit the meta) but if the robots arent gonna improve or atleast be entertaining enough after they changed their design, its time for them to go. bots that aren't doing the best after many seasons like tombstone and the such are atleast entertaining to watch (might be biased here but shhh) but these bots mentions and others like them will only be entertaining now if theyre getting beaten up so its time for them to be replaced by those who might have potential and who might be atleast a bit more entertaining.

another one, bite force doesn't need to come back he'd get destroyed in the current meta anyway im sorry folks someone had to say it.

for the most part, robots that do well in lower weight classes won't translate when their 250 pound robots. the smaller robots are meant for other smaller robots so making a much much bigger version of that robot won't be perfect (except for RIPperoni our favorite drag race winner fr)

"riptide was screwed by the edit" this "riptide did nothing wrong" that there was so much evidence to believe there was so much more nasty stuff they did that didnt make the cut. Ethan was saying in the post fight interview that he would've won if he was there discrediting the shit Felix had to do last minute in the finale. like atleast (to my knowledge) Felix seems tolerable and actually pretty good at driving the robot. also idk if this one is true but acc to someone reddit they called the hypershock team some "pink haired freaks" IF THIS IS TRUE THEY CAN FUCK ALL THE OFF and i will be showing up at their door 🤩. (also st*n kurtz literally sells stuff claiming to be the cure for autism ik this is unrelated to robot combat but THEY ARENT GOOD PEOPLE)

yeah thats all. YIPPPppiee!!!!

- Yeahh i'd have to agree with Kraken, Free Shipping, and Duck. I think destructathon is a perfect place for bots like them. Although tbh i'd love to see some room in the field for new fan-favorite, not amazing bots. Terrortops might fit into that niche, but they might be able to pull off some nice wins as well! - I honestly don't have much of an opinion on bite force since I didn't really get into BB until WCVI, but it'd be really interesting to see it come back and just get its ass kicked. Would also be fun if it returned and was even better, but I don't see it ever happening. I'm just as happy to have my bbg Endgame in the mix. - it's very hit or miss with smaller weight class bots being scaled up. it's honestly fun to see them try, and it's probably a good way to test some new bot designs, but they're definitely not all gonna be winners. I wonder if we'll see starchild back or if they're done. At least it worked with HUGE and Lynx o7 - There's not a total black or white side to the whole Riptide thing but it's basically "yeah they're assholes, which the edit made even worse somehow" imo. I feel so bad for Felix tbh. Maybe I shouldn't be sympathetic to anyone on their team but just from what I saw he seems like a cool dude and they were totally dismissive of him? He did an amazing job as a first time Riptide driver and they should've been more supportive :[ - ALSO YEAH. i heard about that comment but oml I didn't realize it came from that team. I was trying to be sympathetic to them but fuck em fuck em fuck em if anyone's coming for team hypershock i WILL throw hands

[kyogre-blue]

My best guess about the Agartha thing is that it has some combination of boring explanations that are just... not intuitive enough and not satisfying enough to be easy to keep track of.

Agartha's fall is thousands of years ago, and the entire continent seems to have been rendered nearly uninhabitable in the process. So it's not surprising Rhea and Seteth don't think anyone from that period survived and just assume some other evil cult came to power in the interim to manipulate things from the shadows. There can, logically, be more than one evil conspiracy other millennia. And the old time Agarthans were just humans with technology. They must have modified themselves to be bone white and also shapeshifters in the millennia since then, so of course Rhea and Seteth wouldn't have known about this unless they'd caught one doing it in the time between. Etc, etc.

This isn't even like... surprising, but because the Agarthans are the biggest villains of the setting AND get so much focus in school phase, it feels weird to keep track of how little almost everyone involved knows about them until basically the second to last map of the game. And then we can't even talk about it because the story is over now, I guess.

I actually really wonder about the Enbarr timeline, because Edelgard says at one point that the entire concept of nobility was established 1200 years ago, which seems to suggest that it was made by... Seiros? So like, are we supposed to take this as humans of the pre-Nemesis was period just lived in small tribes with little civilization or government and then Nemesis did a genocide, so Seiros elevated her allies into a proper city and nation and class structure and oops this bites her in the ass a thousand years later...??

In CF, Aymr - Edel's weapon - reveals its secrets, you cannot repair it using Umbral Steel, like other relics, but you have to use Agarthium to repair it. It's a made in Agartha relic copy.

Oh, interesting. Well, logically, it should be the same as zombie Nemesis's creator sword copy, since he uh... has one. Somehow.

I know I joke a lot about Edel's beef against Rhea'n'Sothis, tbh, after playing CF the "their ears are pointy they're not like us" argument felt like the strongest, but I'd be curious to hear what you think about it when you'll tackle CF.

I don't even know what to think, tbh.

On the one hand, the writing is SO blatant about it that I find it hard to believe the writers didn't realize that Edelgard was attributing Agarthan sins to the Church, whether she did this intentionally or out of pure ignorance. They had to know, right? It's meant to be irony, right??

But on the other hand, I always remember how, when Claude finally talks about Church Bad to people other than Byleth, they immediately agree with him and it's not even slightly meant to read as him manipulating them. So it's not that he has a bad take, it's that the writers think he's right.

So I feel like they might actually want to sell Edelgard as being right about Church Bad too...? But Edelgard is SO blatantly evil... I don't even know. I hate it.

Ah yes, that cutscene. She lets her feelings for her teacher take over her cold and emperor persona one last time or... tries to sway Byleth to her side until the end ? Or the devs really wanted to hammer the "feel sad for her" to sell more goodies/alts in fe heroes?

Since Edelgard basically makes no effort to sway you to her side before declaring war or during or in the five year reunion, and it's fairly clear she never believed you'd side with her, I don't think she's attempting to get you on her side, at least. (Especially since lol you get this scene even in VW where you have no support ranks on her.)

Seems to be just a "don't you feel bad for her" play, yeah.

I don't see Hubert as going behind her back, but Hubert wanting to spite Thales even in death, to the point of telling us where to find him to kill him.

I have a really sus view of Hubert, so I 100% believe he'd go behind Edelgard's back if he thought there was reason to do so. Not to her detriment, his obsessive devotion to her is real, but I get the impression that he doesn't necessarily think all that much of her judgement in the micro.

It's just... something, that he will spite-help Byleth+Claude (whatever) and also Byleth+Seteth and Church (Edelgard's most hated creatures) but NOT Byleth+Dimitri....? Hubert hates Dimitri more than anyone else, I guess. Or are we supposed to read it as Hubert thinking that, without Thales, the Agarthans aren't a threat anymore?

The route stuff is badly handled, is what I'm saying.

Quickly dumping out the Enbarr notes, since I'm sure the Shambhala section will have a ton of infodumping to note.

I think the only difference from VW is that we run some weird plan where a lot of our troops sneak into Enbarr ahead of the rest of the army moving in. Because uuuuh I guess we're weaker than the united army with Leicester? Everything else is pretty much exactly the same, including Dedue's part and the Edelgard death cinematic.

tbh I think it actually ends up feeling even weaker here? I thought it would fit better, since this is the "you like Edelgard but can't agree with her" route, but since she appears so little and her writing is so bizarre and confused... It actually feels kinda worse, since her dialogue feels incredibly inconsistent.

I thought I'd have some more appreciation for Edelgard after this route, but uh. I don't. Hm.

Anyway, onto more interesting points, I am starting to get the impression that Rhea and Seteth don't actually know much about the Agarthans. I think they might not actually know that the mysterious "those who slither in the dark" are from Agartha (and that's why they have beef), and it's basically explicit that they don't know who helped Nemesis make the Sword.

Which isn't an issue, but it's hard to remember that they know so little in practice.

Liveblogging:

A priestess mentions that they lost contact with all church personnel in Enbarr when the war started.

A soldier mentions that some of our troops have already departed for Enbarr dressed as merchants and traveling performers. We have an entire plan to have small squads sneak toward the capital and link up with the main army. The Empire apparently thinks we have abandoned our plans to invade (after Merceus).

Sylvain didn't think he's live this long (in the war)... bby. He wants to strike down the empire for Dimtri...

Apparently, we think Rhea is in Enbarr because of a soldier from Merceus. I guess Judith only told us that the Empire captured her. I already forgor.

The pre-battle blurb also mentions the troops moving in secret and our surprise attack on Enbarr. I don't recall this from VW. We were already outnumbered there, so I guess here with just the Church and Judith's troops, we're even worse off.

Based on the map close up during the pre-battle exposition, it looks like Enbarr was built on the delta where a river forks into two, with both ranches leading into the sea on the west.

Oh, Dedue is here! AC lied to me :( (/jk)

The music for his entrance is uh... imo it's a bit too heroic, given that he's here because Dimitri ended up like that.

He came after Gronder field, so... two months ago, since there was Merceus in between but not anything else. He gives us info on the inside of the castle (layout, presumably) and tells us that Rhea is at the palace.

Edelgard's axe, Aymr, is described as "a Crest Stone weapon designed to Edelgard's specifications, allowing her to use Raging Storm."

Edelgard's class, Emperor, is "With unparalleled defense, Edelgard appears as an unstoppable force in the legendary armor of the Adrestian Emperor." Note that her armor is a boobplate. So like... did they modify it for her, or....

Edelgard is so confusing. Even to the last, she goes on about how determined she is to "free this world" from the "vile grasp" of the "false goddess and her minion." But like... Edelgard has NO basis for beef with Sothis or Rhea. It's so puzzling and empty.

Dialogue with Seteth: He tells Edelgard to return Rhea and release her grip on Fodlan. Edelgard says that if we strike her down, "they" will return. So she can't permit what we desire (????? what? like, you'd assume she means the Agarthans, but everything else points to her talking about the Nabateans). She also knows that Seteth is a child of the goddess and thinks he can't be permitted power over the people. This is SO wild.

Anyway, to get this dialogue, I let Seteth get the last hit. The Edelgard death cutscene makes equally little sense on this route, btw. Edelgard was going "fuck you guys, I didn't think you'd make it this far, but I don't care and I'm never giving up" in the battle, but now she's all "you must strike me down to move forward, I wanted to walk with you..." GIRL WHAT

Hubert going behind Edelgard's back to write us a letter where he's basically entrusting the future and Fodlan to us is like....... l m a o This was whatever on VW, but on a route where we are the Church and those lizards Edelgard hates so much... god.

Anyway, Seteth apparently didn't really believe the Agarthans were behind all this, or else even around at all. He's very shocked and unhappy about Hubert's letter.

OK, unlike VW, where Claude is there for the info dumps and Rhea holds at least some stuff back, here she has no reason to hide anything. And she says she does not know where or how Nemesis got the Sword of the Creator. They only guessed that someone must have given him this power and tried to investigate it, but they never found the answer. They only NOW surmise that it was the Agarthans. ...hang on, do they even know that "those who slither in the dark" are from Agartha....

Felix and Sylvain are together at the monastery, cute. Felix even calls Dimitri by name when talking about defeating the Empire and the Agarthans to let him rest in peace.

Catherine backstory: She was born in House Charon in Faerghus > was called Thunderstrike Cassandra > attempted Officers Academy, was saved by Rhea as a student > was implicated in "a plot to kill the king" (seems to be Duscur) > fled to the monastery since she felt it was safe > Rhea hired her > and had her execute Christophe when he tried to assassinate Rhea, though the charges given publicly were regarding Duscur.

Is that right?

Anyway, next time: Shambhala

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

A Million Lives

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing

Did he feel apprehension? 

Well, no.

Honestly he was beginning to wonder if he had some sort of identifiable medical condition that repressed his ability to feel fear. Then again, that wasn’t exactly true, he had felt fear before at least twice that he could think of. Once when he had almost died in an ice storm on an alien planet, and another time when he had almost lost his throne and his life to an adrenaline addiction, a fact that he was still deeply embarrassed about to this day. Other than those instances, however, he couldn't think of any other examples.

Still the looks of pity being passed to him by his escort did not go unnoticed.

A billion years?

Would this really be so bad? Had he truly gotten himself into something he couldn’t handle. 

He hoped not.

Maybe one of these days his bravado would come back to bite him in the ass. Maybe today was that day. The guards walked him briskly forward stepping sharply onto an elevator that had no buttons or dials. Symbols appeared in the air at the center of the elevator car along with a cool female voice.

“Seventh Ring.”

“You know, Ted Budy, Hitler, Mornix, and Geeanan are all on the seventh level too.”

“Mornix, huh.” Celex said as they began to move downward, “My great great great great great grandmother.”

“So psychopathy runs in the family I see.”

Celex shrugged, “I’m not a psychopath.”

The guards exchanged a look, “Really?”

He shook his head, “No, I care about those people back on the Empyrean, they’re my friends. I worry about them and I want them to succeed in battle.”

One of the guards snorted, “Or you see them as your property. Are you even capable of remorse, fear, sadness?” The question was accusatory, and the guard had clearly already made up his mind, so Celex don't stoop to answering the question. Didn’t stop him from thinking back to the incredible hurt he had felt when his primary wife betrayed him and set up her coup, the well of anger and sadness that had driven him, in a moment of rage, to destroy a planet just to get back at her.

No one should have that kind of paper, he was sure of that now.

And when that memory was gone he thought of the addiction and the fear that came with it.

Almost losing his life.

And finally, after his death, when he and Kelly had moldered together in darkness. He remembered the friendship they had established there held in each other’s arms to stave off the horror of the blackness. 

Had he shed a tear when they escaped?

Maybe 

Only he and Kelly would ever know the answer to that question.

The door dinged open, and they stepped out into the hallway, cool and grey and lined with prison doors. Didn’t look too intimidating, but it was really what was behind those doors that mattered.

The walk down the hall was a short one, turning towards the second or third door which opened with a soft hiss. The room inside was bright  white, forcing him to raise his hands and squint. When they finally adjusted he found himself looking in on a small, sparse room, white padded walls, a small cot in one corner, a sink, but no mirror, and at the center of the room, a chair.

Looked sort of like those chairs you'd find in a human dentists office,, or an electric chair you would find in a prison.

And with that chair, stood a beautiful woman.

She was tall,

Muscular 

Elegant.

And had a mane of technicolor hair, whose pattern he would have recognized anywhere, “Avix.” He snarled.

Ex Emperor Celex’s ex wife sneered in return, “You have no idea how much I am going to enjoy this.” Celex tried to dig in his heels, but the guards shoved him forward, unfortunately within Avix’s reach. She did not waste time, reaching out with one hand and grabbing him by the jaw, nails digging into either of his cheeks as she pulled him closer.

She squeezed hard, but he refused to make a sud glaring up at her with contempt.

“Don’t try to fight.” She said softly as the two guards retreated from the room, “WHile you are here, you are entirely within my power.” She made that fact clear a moment later with a little demonstration. A wave of ice washed through him, and before he truly understood what was happening, his body began to shrink arms receding, body morphing, until he dangled from her hand by his fur, feet dangling down and kicking helplessly as she held him.

She laughed as she watched him struggle, “I get now why the humans think we are so cute, tiny…. Helpless.”

He swung a foot at her, but that didn’t really do any good.

She let him struggle for a while, a lazy smile playing across her face, “As much as I am enjoying this moment the chair fits you better the other way. The cold ice receded from his body, and before he knew it he was back to his chosen form. She still held him by the hair, her fingers tangled through his roots, pulling at his scalp forcing him to bend over and twist.

She was enjoying this 

Having him in her power.

“Now I ghetto make you pay, for what you did to me.”

Celex snarled, “What I did to you I don’t regret, traitor.” her hand gripped harder but he didn’t stomp, “How was the ninth ring? Cozy I hope.”

She twisted even harder, bringing him to one knee, “You will not speak to me like that, not here.”

“Don’t go playing the victim card. You and I both know you were a power hungry bitch.” He tried tilting his head up to look at her, “But we both know I like that in a woman.” She gritted her teeth at him, “Should have known you were going to stab me in the back, after everything we had been through together.”

She laughed, “Please you had other wives to amuse yourself with, I was nothing important to you.”

He snorted, “The infidelity card only works when your species is monogamous, and you and I both know you had your own “amusement as it were”. As for being important to me, you were. I thought we had something, a similar goal.”

“And that is where you were stupid. I didn’t want to be your companion, I wanted to be emperor.”

“Should have been better then.”

She snarled, shivering him forward and into the chair.

He tried to turn but before he knew it she was already strapping one of his hands into place, 

“I am told, when the Makers designed the Celzex construct, it had the unique issue of causing something they referred to as rage bleed. In layman's terms it means that the celex construct was bad at containing the side of a soul that controlled rage. Construct biologists believe that’s why we were such a callous and warlike race, more so than the Drev or the humans.”

“There a point to this/” Celex grumbled.

“Yes,” She strapped his foot into place, before leaning forward over him. Her hands searched for the buckles over his chest, “It means, I am disappointed to see the true you, weak, unambitious.”

That stung, but he didn’t show her that.

“You’re just jealous I have people that actually like me.”

She laughed, “Your need for validation is amusing to me.”

She stepped behind him, slotting a small half circlet onto his head to rest against his temples, “This device is designed to channel memories and emotions into your brain.” She laughed, “I had to get the newest model in order to calibrate it to your request. The amount of information I will be forced to funnel into your mind is…. Well it definitely leans on the side of cruel and unusual, but you insisted, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.” She tapped the side of the device, “With this you will be able to feel and experience the lives of others as if they were your own simultaneously. At such a high rate of flow, this will probably tear your soul into little quivering pieces.” She grinned, “I look forward to watching the show.”

And then she pressed the button.

Celex could not have described in words what happened next, because no words could ever convey the sheer amount of pain and terror that followed. The fear of one, manageable, easy, but the fear of a couple billion stacked on top of each other all at once.

Incredible.

Unfathomable.

Terrible.

Over and over again, he felt the ground shake, the sky turn red. Violent death after violent death plagued him as the planet was ripped apart, billions trillions dying in a matter of seconds, but living just long enough to understand the apocalypse he had brought upon them. His very soul screamed, churned and attempted to escape as it was racked with a billion lives second after agonizing second. Celex had rarely experienced fear, but in that moment, he understood fear more deeply than any creature had ever truly understood because he felt it through the experiences of others.

And finally he realized.

He had never known fear, not in his life, not truly.

And when he thought it would be over, still it came in a torrent, racing through his mind and ripping him apart piece by piece. He couldn’t have screamed even if he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t find his mouth, and the screams of the dying weren’t enough to express the agony of fear and pain that followed.

The children’s fear was the worst, because it came with confusion, and the inability to understand what was happening. All he knew was that the end was coming.

How can one describe the feeling?

He was a glass, and the ocean had been poured into him all at once.

He was the singularity of a black hole, the center of a collapsing universe, an impossibly small point of mass with matter collapsing in around it.

He could not hold the memories, the cumulative experiences that in themselves added up to hundreds of thousands of years of experience, over and over and over again, his soul rubbed raw on sandpaper until there was nothing but a bloody smear left, infinite pain and suffering that seemed it would never end, go on to eternity until the very universe decayed away.

He could have been there for an eternity and he wouldn’t have known the difference.

He didn’t expect it to end.

But was surprised when it finally did.

All at once the pain was gone, and its sheer absence was a relief so incredible, it too could not have been described in words. Light filled his eyes, and for once he was not alone. The room above him was white, the walls around him white. He barely recognized the place, as a distant memory behind a wall of suffering and pain which was so poignant it was hard to see past.

Had he known this place.

He turned his head, looking up into the face of a woman who was barely familiar.

Her eyes were wide.

It was, hard to remember who she was, or where he was, but as the pain trickled slowly away he began to recognize things. She looked….scared, awed maybe, he couldn’t tell, but the pain was gone, evaporated, and behind it left a gaping chasm in his mind where he was unable to process what had occurred.

But still it was gone

Hot tears rolled down his face.

But with them came something else, a certain sense of urgency. He had to…. Help…. Someone?

He pulled at his bonds, “Let me go.:

The words felt foreign on his tongue, but the woman obliged, and it was to his surprise that he recognized her…. He had felt her. And then it came back to him, Avix, and with that realization followed other memoires, ones that were recent to his body if not his mind.

He was here to be punished

That was once his wife.

And there were others waiting for his help to save the universe.

He stumbled to his feet.

She stepped back.

He leaned heavily against the wall, feeling as if his very mind was bleeding, hemorrhaging like a civ, but then he began to laugh. She seemed quite unsettled, and as his laughter continued, two guards burst into the room, freezing in place and backing up as he straightened to his feet, familiarizing himself with the memories of the past few years, before the chasm in his head.

The tears did not stop, not even a little, but still the people who looked on him seemed unsettled 

Terrified.

He knew now

He shouldn’t have come out of that being able to think, remembering who he was at all, But…. he did.

And he knew who he was, and he knew what he had done..

But now…. He had paid for it.

And that made him very dangerous.

He stumbled past the guards and out into the hall, leading himself away, past everyone  who stepped back in shock and confusion, not daring to go near him. The more steps he took, the steadier he became slowly knitting the chasm in his head back together.

Remembering

Until he could almost pretend a thousand years had not gone through his head.

He stepped out into the docking bay watching the faces frozen in shock around him.

He was not supposed to have survived in tact.

Yet here he was, on his feet.

And ready to Kick apollyon’s ass. 

[escapenightmare]

WHEN SOMEONE ASKS THEM IF YOU’RE SINGLE.

― izuku, katsuki, denki, tamaki, shoto x gn!reader

cw. grammar issues probably notes. inspired by this post!

IZUKU knew the guy in the same aisle of the grocery store as you both were kept sneaking glances at you, and it did not sit well with him. when you went to another aisle to get cereal, izuku shuffled around putting the stuff you needed into the cart. the guy who was staring at you earlier walks up to him and asks, "hey, the person you were with, are they single?" the hold he had on the cart tightens and izuku bites his lip, "nope." "ah," the guy nods his head in understanding, "they are so cute i should've expected that." izuku watches him walk away and he sighs in relief, grinning when you come back and he kisses you making sure the guy saw, "what else do we have to get, baby?"

KATSUKI was sitting on a bench in the park, you had gone to throw away some napkins you'd used and your boyfriend, as observant as ever had noticed this random ass guy who was seated on the bench across from you two. while you were gone, the guy walks up to bakugou and sits next to him, asking him, "you know the person who was sitting here, right?" bakugou grunts, "yeah, what's it to you?" and he rolls his eyes when the guy asks, "are they single?" "no. they're my s/o, so fuck off before i make you." at bakugou's warning tone, the guy raises his hands up in defense before he stands up and leaves. bakugou tuts and when you get back, he takes your hand and doesn't let go until you go back home.

DENKI is genuinely confused when this random guy walks up to him, not a minute after you go to the café restroom and takes a seat on the chair you were sitting earlier. before he could tell the guy that the seat was already taken, the guy says, "the person who was sitting here, are they single?" furrowing his eyebrows, denki replies, "uh no? they're in a relationship with me," he says the last part with a certain amount of pride. even once the guy leaves, denki can't help feel awkward because, well, he's a naturally affectionate guy and he did keep holding your hand and looking at you with a pure smile that it was weird the guy didn't get that you were in a relationship. when you come back, he exclaims, "babe you won't believe what happened!"

TAMAKI is overwhelmed to say the least, when this total stranger walks up to him. what made tamaki even more nervous was the fact that he caught this stranger, a guy, sneak glances at you every few seconds a couple of times. the guy, smiles politely, "hey is the person you came here with single? cause they're really cute and i want to ask them out." tamaki literally shudders at the thought of you leaving him for this guy ― someone who was more outgoing and outspoken just as much as he was shy, from what he could tell. "u-um." tamaki couldn't speak and it's not until he hears you say, "i'm back my love!" that he actually starts breathing properly again. the guy just nods when he realizes you were in a relationship before he leaves, and tamaki is left to answer your question about who the guy was.

SHOTO saw the guy look at you a few times with a small smile and shoto was confused as to why this stranger did it. when you leave for a few minutes, the guy walks up to shoto as if they were friends and the red and white haired boy is even more confused when he asks, "the person who was just here. are they single?" shaking his head with furrowed brows, shoto says, "no. they're my s/o, did we not seem like we were together?" the guy backs up, "sorry, my mistake," before he leaves. and shoto is still sitting there, confused and as still as a statue when you get back.

[creaturefeaturecommando]

Wait In The Fire

It all started when Richie came in fussing about a new restaurant that had opened up a few blocks away, how their lines were almost down the damn street and how it'd fuck them over. All day, he wouldn't shut up about it, how the days were getting slower and slower because of the piece of shit who decided to open up near them, even threatening to go down there and kick the owner's ass.

"He's probably some gentrifyin' hipster shithead who's gonna bring more hipster shitheads here to force us out !" Richie yelled, before going out back to have a smoke after Carmy yelled at him to take a walk and calm down.

Soon, Carmy's curiosity got the better of him and he decided to check out the new place. He had found out that it actually was not a piece of shit hipster den serving oatmilk lattes and avocado on toast like Richie thought, but a soul food joint.

The place was called simply called "Grace" and Carmy had stopped by during dinner. When he was seated, he was immediately serviced by a young woman, who took his order. Having never cooked soul food before and never really getting the chance to taste it, he pondered over the menu for a while before finally deciding.

He ordered the mac and cheese, collard greens, ox tails, banana cream pie and sweet tea. He didn't know what to expect and kept his expectations low, but when he took a bite out of those greens, he felt like he had be slapped in the face with flavor.

They were salty but not too salty but had a nice bit of spice to them, he thought he tasted chilli pepper but wasn't sure. The mac and cheese was creamy and tasted like it had at least three or four different cheeses in it, as he swore he tasted gouda mixed with cheddar and something else he couldn't put his finger on. The ox tails were rich, silky, earthy and tender and the sauce they were cooked in was just divine, they tasted nothing like the gourmet and extra expensive ox tails he's had at fancier restaurants. The banana cream pie was rich, creamy and sweet. The sweet tea was refreshing and the blend was unique.

He didn't even finish his meal after the first few bites. For a moment, he just sat there with his head in his hands, analyzing the flavors, the textures, the overall tastes, how the food made him feel.

Maybe that was the reason it was called Soul Food. It touched your soul when you ate it.

Carny had lost track of time and didn't realize how long he had been there, but when he had finally looked up, the restaurant was cleared out and the staff was cleaning up.

He suddenly jumped when someone put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see a tall, well built man with dark skin and even darker eyes looking down at him. He had his hair in braids and was wearing a black apron over a white shirt and gray sweatpants. He looked at Carmy with such a gentle look in his eyes that it made his breath hitch.

"You okay, man ?" The man asked in a deep yet soft voice. "If the food wasn't to your liking, I could send it back and personally make you another or something else."

"N-No-" Carmy started off, clearing his throat, pulling himself together. "No, you don't gotta do it the meal was- the meal was perfect it's just-"

"First time having Soul Food ?" The man asked with a smile. Carmy noticed that he had a slight gap between his two front teeth. Carmy instinctively gave a small smile.

"That obvious huh ?" Carmy asked, running a hand through his hair. The man pulled another chair to his table and sat across from him.

"I can always tell." The man said, scooting the chair closer to the table. "The name is Beau, Beau Agustin, owner and head chef of this place." He reached a hand over the table to shake Carmy's hand. Carmy clasped hands with him, noting how Beau had a firm hand shake and made eye contact.

"Carmen, Carmen Berzatto but people call me Carmy or Carm, it's up to you really." Carmy said, before pulling his hand away from Beau's firm grip. Beau rested his hand on the table and gave Carmy an astonished look.

"You're Carmen Berzatto ?" Beau asked, leaning in a bit. "I thought you'd still be up in New York ?"

"You've heard of me." Carmy stated, clasping his hands together and leaning in a bit too.

"Anyone who's anyone in this business has heard of you, just never expected you to stumble into my joint, ever." Beau said, shaking his head.

"Well, your place is actually only a few blocks away from mine, so I decided to check it out." Carmy stated. "And it blew my expectations out of the water."

"Did you come here having low expectations ?" Beau asked, tilting his head a little, looking a bit offended.

"It's not that it's just-" Carmy was interrupted when Beau laughed.

"I'm just busting your balls, I'm not really mad if you did." Beau said. "Most people don't know what to expect when they try soul food for the first time, most people expect it to be absolutely disgusting because of the ingredients we use but leave pleasantly surprised and satisfied."

"I admit, my expectations were low but I'm just like that in general." Carmy said, looking away from Beau. He sighed. "The food was perfect."

"Well thank you, Carmy." Beau said, unknowingly making Carmy shudder when he said 'Carmy'. "I'll have someone bring you a to-go plate and hey, an extra slice of banana cream pie on the house." Beau then stood up. "I hope we get to talk again."

"Yeah..." was all Carmy said, watching Beau walk away.

-

The next time Carmy saw Beau, was when Beau came to The Beef. No one had a clue who he was, he just looked like a regular customer, and the only reason Carmy caught a glimpse of him, was to come up front to grab a sharpie.

That and because Beau was the only one there.

"Hey." Carmy said, glancing over at Beau. "You here to scope my place like I scooped yours ?"

"Maybe." Beau said, crossing his arms. "Maybe I just came for a sandwich because I was hungry."

"Yeah, well, sorry my place ain't as shiny and new as yours." Carmy said, with a bit of edge in his voice.

"I don't care what the place looks like, I've been in the shittiest holes that served the tastiest meals, and half of those places didn't even have a sign and they were out of half of the menu and I waited two hours for the food but, best meals I ever had." Beau laughed. "I don't give a fuck if you guys gave stained walls and a semi dirty floor."

"Alright then." Carmy said, nodding. "What'd you order ?"

"The classic Italian Beef, I wasn't feeling too daring today." Beau said with a shrug. "But I have faith it'll be delicious." Beau shot a wink at him.

Carmy felt as if his heart skipped a beat when he saw Beau smile at him and felt the need to bring Beau his food personally and watch him take a bite.

He quickly intercepted Richie bringing the food over to the counter, ignoring the "What the fuck, cousin ?!?" He was given and quickly dropped Beau's food off with an "enjoy" before disappearing back into the kitchen, although he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering and glancing at Beau, watching him take a bite, then another.

Eventually, he got caught up with another order coming through and couldn't focus on Beau or analyze his reaction to the food and didn't even get to see Beau leave. He didn't know when he'd see that man or why he looked forward to seeing him again.

-

The third time Carmy met Beau was by pure coincidence, a few weeks after Beau had visited The Beef. The man had stumbled into the same corner store where Carmy bought his cigarettes.

"Hey, Carm." Beau greeted, standing beside Carmy in line.

"Oh, hey." Carmy said, looking up from his phone, that he was using as a distraction to ignore his surroundings. "Funny seein' you here."

"Yeah, I had to pick up a lighter and some wrapping papers." Beau said, dapping Carmy up. "You ?"

"Cigarettes." Carmy answered plainly. "I was just heading home from The Beef and had to make a stop."

"Same with me and my place." Beau said, nodding. "Hey, I hope this ain't too weird but I've been experimenting with some new desserts to add on the menu at my place, would you like to come over and perhaps, I dunno, give me some input ?"

Carmy was speechless for a moment, pondering on what to do but decided to say fuck it. He had nothing better to do and he didn't really want to go home at the moment.

-

Carmy had no idea how he ended up here. One moment he was taste testing cheesecakes and cobblers, the next, he was being hoisted up against a counter, swapping saliva with a man he barely knew.

He guessed it made sense. He never had girlfriends and he never actively pursued women or had any interest in them and he never had girlfriends. But then again, it didn't make sense, because he never actively pursued men or had any boyfriends, Beau was the only man or person he'd ever shown interest in.

He gasped as Beau pulled away from their kiss to nip at his neck, Carmy panting loudly as he tried to stifle his moans, but was utterly failing, gripping onto Beau's shirt with one hand, and Beau's braids with the other, as he cried out in ecstasy, wanting more.

What would Richie think if he saw him like this ? What would Sugar think ? What would his mother think ? What would Mikey think ?

Even though it was 2022, being a man and fucking another man was still considered absolutely taboo in their community. Would he be considered 'not right' ? 'An absolute disgrace ?' Probably.

He'd figure it out later.