#blob thing my old friend

[deepdwellingsteamboat]

THE BROTHERS GRIMM 2005・dir. Terry Gilliam

[vxnuslogy]

━━━━━━ truth, dare, spin bottle.  ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

☆    |     or in which you fall in love with the stereotypical school athlete, council secretary, and your class president on campus⠀    …

꒰ including ꒱ ⠀! ⠀phainon, anaxagoras & mydei.          ୨୧          ꒰ warnings ꒱ ⠀! ⠀modern!au, school!au, ooc, just very stereotypical school tropes, highschool awkwardness.

“      tags     ⟡     .    @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @powchakko @somjuie @gl4di0lus ; if you'd like to be tagged please don't be afraid to send in ask or fill out the forms on my pinned!

✶ : PHAINON 

 jersey no. 7 of amphoreus' football and basketball team—you'd be living under a rock if you don't know his name and the reputation that follows him. his matches are a sight for sore eyes. when he’s on the field, amphoreus is automatically getting that gold medal regardless of the opponent. you manage to watch one of his basketball matches during prep season for the school festival. it’s a friendly rematch against an old rival school and to no one’s surprise, phainon emerged as the mvp. in that match alone, you see why everyone is endeared by him—he reeks of sportsmanship that no student athlete in this school could ever dream of. he approaches every opponent with determination but never underestimates them, he always wants to play a fair game and even voluntarily forfeits if the game shows signs of rigging.

you don’t deny your fellow classmates who ask you if you think he’s cute because he is. he reminds you of an excited puppy during games and a loyal guard dog when it comes to his studies. he’s rather tall for his age–just a year below you but he’s far surpassed your height–and he has a good build, befitting for someone as sports orientated as him. phainon also has this magnetic pull to him that makes everyone want to befriend him, and you don’t mean it in a bad way. 

after classes, you usually go home without a fail, but this time around, you make a beeline towards the gym to watch another one of phainon’s matches. when your friends catch sight of you, they all give you playful looks that scream “you’re here for phainon right?” and you can only roll your eyes at them. but before you can take a seat at the spot they reserved for you, something collided with your head and your world is suddenly spinning.

“oh god, are you alright?!” 

someone shouts as you groan in pain. your vision spotting as you try to make out the messy blob of white and blue in front of you. someone takes your hand and you’re forcefully yanked up to your feet, making your headache worse with how quickly you stood up.

“i’m so, so, so, sorry. this is my fault i wasn’t paying attention. does your head hurt badly? do you want to go to the infirmary? someone get me ice packs—”

“will you calm down? you’re making my headache worse!” you don’t mean for your voice to sound so cold but it was nothing but the truth. you appreciate this mystery person’s concern, but god does he talk too much.

“right… right! sorry.”

you sigh and massage your temple. when your vision starts to clear up again, your mouth is left hanging as you realize who’s in front of you. that signature white hair and blue eyes combo is practically thrown at your face as phainon tilts his head in mild curiosity at your expression.

“i… need to go. sorry.” you quickly say, gathering your things from the floor and speed walking to the exit. you faintly hear the athlete heartthrob call out to you but you don’t pay him any mind. you were not getting into a cat fight with his fans with that cliche encounter.

that following night, your friends betray you by leaking your phone number to phainon. after a few heated and teasing messages in the group chat, you steady your breathing as you open his messages. you didn’t necessarily know what to expect on how phainon messages his friends or acquaintances, but you certainly find some childish endearment.

he sent a lot of messages—broken up into multiple sections explaining his worry and regret of hitting you instead of one single text box. phainon also used excessive amounts of exclamation marks, a lot of misspelled words, uppercases, and surprisingly enough, kaomojis. you let out an exasperated smile as you finally come to understand how cute this kid was.

you only planned to reply with a single message explaining your condition but that quickly spiralled into him chatting up a storm—a never ending stream of topics. you indulge him, using this as an excuse to find out even more on why so many people are so gravitated towards him. you surmise it’s because of his easy-going nature; he never leaves you hanging with his replies and speaking of replies, he sends messages at an ungodly quick speed. one thing turned to another before he ended the conversation with a message that read: “would you like to get a cup of coffee as an apology? it’ll be my treat ofc!!!!”

✶ : ANAXA (GORAS)

you see, if there was one person that made your blood boil like lava, it would be the student council secretary, anaxa. always so curt, blunt, and rude, he makes all of your accomplishments seem small when put side by side with his. it infuriates you to no end when the test scores for each year is posted on the bulletin and you spot him dead center of the crowd. you already feel a scowl forming on your face as you pass the bodies of other students and mentally prepare yourself for his berating voice.

you frown in dismay when you see his name on the number one spot with you a few spaces below him. your lip sews themselves shut when you hear him cough into his fist, quiet enough to not disturb the other students' excitement but loud enough for you to hear. as if wanting to rub more salt onto a fresh wound, anaxa peers into your line of vision with a smug smirk on his lips. with your pride hurt, you quickly turn away from him and begin walking away to save face. you didn’t need him to rub it in your face that he was leagues better than you.

anaxa won’t admit the swirling in his gut when he sees your figure get smaller and smaller. the oddest thing of it all, you don’t show your face to him at all since the test scores has been posted. he’d rather die than admit he missed your presence to anyone—your banters, nudging each other in quiet retaliation, and the time spent on the rooftop trying to study. anaxa would rather swallow a thousand needles than openly admit he felt jealous of his junior–the school athlete–and how you always seem to get coffee with him every morning. wasn’t that your thing with him?

 

“pray tell,” you flinch at the voice–failing to pack up your things quick enough to avoid anaxa who frequented the small cafe near campus. “why is it that you find the time to pick up coffee with our junior, but not me?”

if you were any other student, you’d think he sounds jealous—but that was a ridiculous thing to think. anaxa, jealous? you’re very sure the only emotion he’s ever felt in his life were spite and pride. as if to insinuate that you’ve actually replaced him with your usual routine, you ignore him. fight the twitch of your lips when anaxa visibly frowns at your silence. though a part of you—a tiny, tiny part—does feel a bit guilty. you weren’t one for the silent treatment, but anaxa deserved it. (you try to convince yourself at least).

“look if this is about the test scores, i’m…”

you walk past him but before you can fully exit the establishment, anaxa is running after you and catching your wrist with a firm grip. you turn to glare but the initial pettiness that fueled your heart quickly evaporates into thin air when you see his expression. lips pursed into a thin line, eye darting here and there–avoiding yours at all cost–and posture rigid but not in his usual secretary way; he looked almost vulnerable.

“i… apologize, for always belittling you whenever exam seasons are over. believe me, my intentions weren’t to bring you down. i just…” he trails off. a heavy frustrated sigh leaving his lips as his other hand comes to cover half of his face in shame. “wanted you to continue competing with me.”

by the following day, it was anaxa avoiding you like a plague. you still get coffee with phainon every morning, but today, you bought an extra cup—medium, iced, with only two teaspoons of sugar. the snowy-haired boy questioned you but you only replied with a cryptic “it’s a sorry gift.” he dropped the topic with a hum. you have a faint idea that phainon already knew who you were talking about.

the two of you separate on the second floor of campus—phainon heads straight to his classroom while you make a beeline to the council office. you rise up to the stairs in quiet contemplation on how to give anaxa his usual cup of coffee. with you being so lost in thought, you don’t realize that you’re now standing face to face with the classroom door. if you take a quick peek at the crack, you’d see anaxa with his head leaning back the chair he sat on with a book covering his face. you chuckle in amusement and as quietly as you could, tip-toe your way around the desk and place the coffee cup right by his notes. you graciously pull off a piece of sticky note and wrote down a short message before sticking it on the book on his face before leaving.

when the door finally closes shut, anaxa carefully removes the book obscuring his vision and takes the note you had written. ‘sorry for avoiding you! no matter what, you’re still my rival. remember to always take care of yourself, okay?’ anaxa snorts in amusement as he takes the cup of coffee in his hand, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. you still remember how he likes his coffee.

✶ : MYDEIMOS

if phainon was the cute junior that reminded you of a puppy and anaxa was the annoying bird that’s always perched on your shoulder, then mydei is that intimidating class president who quietly cares for his class. admittedly, you, among many others, had the wrong impression of him on your first meeting. initially, you assumed mydei was the type of student who always picked fights with other students and got into trouble with the student body. he does do those things—you see him butt heads with phainon during pe class and see aglaea scolding him during meetings every now and then. but nothing can prepare you when you first ask him for notes.

to say it’s a nerve wrecking situation would be an understatement—you were shaking in your shoes as your classmates cheered you on. with one final sigh, you find his contacts on your phone and repeatedly draft a message, delete it, then start over again and again until you grow frustrated and give up for the time being. you throw a defeated expression at your classmates and promise them to ask mydei for the notes later today. the school festival has been taking up so much of everyone’s time that you can’t find enough time to actually pay attention and write down notes in class. everyone was either sleeping or dozing off with exhaustion and you were no exception. you were sleeping during the first two periods of class and they each had their respective quiz some time this week.

you massage your temple in stress as you mumble about how you can ask mydei about his notes.

“what about my notes?”

you freeze on your spot. the hand massaging your temple rigidly drops back to your side as you awkwardly smile at the only person who can help your entire class pass manifests into thin air. 

“uh… well, you see…” you fumble with the words on your tongue and curse yourself inside your mind for appearing nervous. you just want to ask if he had taken notes during the first and second period, simple right? wrong!

you shift in your spot uncomfortably, eyes falling to the floor and to your shoes to avoid his burning gaze while your hand rubs at your arm—a nervous tick you developed over the years. you open your mouth to finally reply but the feeling of something soft hitting you in the head has you looking up and meeting his gaze by accident. you don’t miss the quiet amusement that courses through him as you stumble to grab the stack of papers he graciously put on your head.

“if you wanted to borrow notes, you could have just said so. it’s not like i’m going to bite your head off.” his voice is stern but if you listen closely, you’ll realize there’s an undercut of playfulness in them as you beam at him.

“thank you so much, mydei!” you express your gratitude as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“go share them with the class, i still need to catch up with the council on something.”

mydei turns to leave but you call out to him. he slightly turns his head to look at your almost flustered smile, “what is it?”

you hold his notes close to your chest as you grin at him, “thank you, really! you don’t understand how much everyone needs these right now.”

he huffs in response and waves you goodbye and you turn to run back to your classroom to spread the good news that no one will be failing this year.

when mydei enters the council meeting with the other class representatives, castorice greets with a curious tilt of his head—she questions the smile on his face as he sits down at his usual spot but he only shrugs it off. mydei plays it off as finding something funny on the internet, which was strange. mydei rarely finds anything funny, let alone if they came from the internet.

he takes tentative sips from the coffee agalaea had generously provided for everyone, and he doesn’t miss the way a pair of eyes follow his every movement. he catches phainon from one corner staring at him with furrowed brows as he twirls the pen in his fingers while the council secretary at the front scowls at him. you may not remember, but back in middle school, when no one wanted to share a table with the delinquent, you sat next to him without question and offered him a spare pen when you realized he didn’t have one. to this day, mydei still use that pen even if the ink had long run out—he just wants to show off the item with your name on it.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[nightingale-prompts]

Health Code Violation- DC x DP prompt

"Hold on there. You're not permitted beyond this point." The floating teenage boy said as he tucked his clipboard under his arm.

After a battle with another world-ending villain Superman was killed in action and after a short debate the decision to revive him using the Lazarus Pit was made. However, the league members who were carrying his body to the pit didn't expect it to be blocked off with caution tape. A teenage boy with stark white hair and wearing a hard hat and orange construction vest.

"What are you doing out here kid? And what is with the tape?" Barry asked shifting Clark's heavy ass body from crushing him.

"I'm here to take a look at the leak." He said pointing a thumb in the direction of the green pit.

"The leak?" Diana echoed in confusion.

"Yeah, your planet has a leak. A few actually. Our realm hasn't been managed well and now that the old king is gone we need to fix some things. Right now the leaks need to be sealed." He said. "Also what's with the dead guy?"

"We were bringing him to the Lazarus Pit to revive him." Barry said blankly.

The teen shook his head in astonishment almost dropping his clipboard.

"You are what?! With the what?!"

"The Lazarus pit...?" Hal laughed nervously his face in a half-quirked smile.

"You call it a Lazarus Pit? Guys this is a pool of contaminated ectoplasm. Basically sewage. This thing is full of dead people juice. All those leftover emotions and obsessions are stewing in there. You toss that body in these pool and you'll make a revenant full of anger. It doesn't even have an ecosystem to cleanse it. It's like stagnant water." The teen said waving his pen around before pausing "Wait a minute....you people have been using it? No wonder it's so polluted! What is wrong with you?! Are you trying to contaminate your planet? Do you want zombies?"

It was kind of weird to be scolded by a kid, for everyone but Bruce. He thought of a more pragmatic approach. He didn't like the pit but he acknowledged it's usefulness.

"I understand. But we do want to save our friend and the only way is to use the pit."

"That's a big ask. The pit is one thing but bringing back the dead willy nilly? ...But I guess that's my domain now.. "

The teen mumbled to himself before sighing.

"Look, I want to help. I really do. But the pit is unstable and there are many more on this planet with the same issue. We can't risk an apocalypse and the chance they get into the wrong hands. This is for the safety of your planet." The teen said as mannerly as possible as he dismissed the heros.

"Come on, please. Our friend is dead. You don't want our friend to die." Barry said pleadingly.

"Very mature of you. A bit of shame might help you...alright fine but don't badger me again." The silver-haired being said taking out a small syringe and taking a sample of his own blood.

"It's diluted compared to the pure stuff but 10x stronger than the stuff in the pool. It's safer and once he's kicking again it'll drain out of his system." He tossed the needle to Barry and returned to taking samples of the pit. "This biohazard requires an ecologist. I'll have to import some blob feeders to clean up the toxins. Then either seal this up or link it to the network. But these dumb mortals are just going to keep dumping bodies into it."

The teen mumbled to himself as he tried to find a solution.

A week later all the Lazarus pits had disappeared. The Al Ghuls were scrambling as the source of their powers dried up.

Clark was alive and feeling better than ever. No pit rage at all.

Eventually the boy returned.

"I had a talk with the ancients and they agreed to let you have one ecto pool. Only one thought and it has to be managed by me. As long as you don't try abusing it by going into it while alive or not asking permission I'll allow you to use it. Also, be mindful of my cleaning wisps, they work very hard to keep the natural flow of the ecto cycle going." The teen said holding up a green little ghost blob and petting it.

[sketchingstars03]

My Interpretation of Fell!Ink!

Inspired by a conversation about fell variants with friends of mine. We really weren’t happy with the most popular depiction of Fell!Ink this fandom produced, so I took it upon myself to make my own version!

Some facts about this design and my interpretation’s personality:

The first colours this version experienced were yellow and red instead of yellow and green

The grey undershirt is inspired by the meaning of Ink’s white undershirt in his original design. Where that symbolized the emptiness and lack of soul he tries to hide but always shows through, this shirt symbolizes how fell!ink is even MORE morally grey than his canon counterpart (somehow).

The red splotches on their pants are just paint, but Ink likes that it looks like blood.. in a “15 year old on deviantart making their tragic wolf demon OC” way

Is quite fond of more “angsty” AUs

His scarf producing ink blobs at the top was inspired by how canon fell sans’s jacket sort of “flames up” when using his magic

The darker black colour (I refuse to use pure black) is, on top of being just an Underfell Colour™️, because of how ink itself is primarily black

The “scary face” fangs are permanently visible (it’s an intimidation tactic)

I liked the idea of his scarf going from a lighter to a darker colour instead of a darker to a lighter colour this time. In fact I’ve inverted quiet a few visual elements of the design in that way, most notably the direction of the v-shape on his over shirt thing

This Ink is a lot more open and upfront about seeing everything and everyone as nothing more than fictional characters, and as a result doesn’t really care about anyone else. Only looking out for themselves in such a “kill or be killed” multiverse. Even canon Ink cares more than this guy does.

Still a mischievous prankster, though his pranks are much more mean spirited. He’s an intentional jerk instead of canon Ink’s more unintentional jerkiness.

Much more quick to jump to physical fights when encountering a threat, but still doesn’t go out of his way to be unnecessarily violent. His scarf is torn because of those more frequent fights.

Though not pictured, his tongue is black instead of rainbow. But he still has the rainbow blush and happy freckles! (will not let anyone see them though)

Is still Not Evil

The Delta Rune on the tip of Fountain Pen Broomie (Fountie?) is just a result of that being how I draw Broomie normally 😅. You can change that part of the design if you’d like

So uh, yeah! Hope you like it! (Sorry not sorry for yapping)

OG Ink sans by @comyet

Underfell AU by @underfell

[callsign-mayhem]

heaven is a place on earth (b.b)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 4.6k CW: Smut and swearing. MINORS DNI.

A roller rink with the Daggers, a bet with Bradley Bradshaw, and a photo booth that’s about to get way too hot. Lose the game, make the move—neither one of you is backing down, especially when the stakes are so high.

Rollerskating was—of course—Mickey’s idea. Who else, at the ripe age of 32, would suggest it when faced with the question of what to do on a Friday night?

It had come about earlier in the week when Javy complained that he was bored of spending every Friday at The Hard Deck. At first, you were shocked to hear it, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that you felt the same. The Hard Deck was great and would always be the Dagger Squad’s designated hangout spot, but you could do with a change.

Everybody agreed, but by Thursday night, there was still no plan for the following evening. Jake had suggested a country bar in the city, which you and Reuben had liked the sound of. Turns out, you were the only ones.

Natasha had suggested sushi, but you weren’t a fan and Mickey didn’t think it was exciting enough for your first Friday adventure away from The Hard Deck.

You were getting ready for bed when the text came through to the Dagger Squad group chat.

And that’s how you found yourself lacing up the old pair of skates you’d dug out from the back of your closet.

‘Since when do you own rollerskates?’ Jake retorted.

‘Since college.’ You replied. ‘I got a lot of use out of them. I had a friend who loved skating, and she forced me to buy a pair.’

Jake raised a brow. ‘Doesn’t match up with the version of you I have in my head.’

‘You’re just annoyed ‘cause I’m gonna show you up. Bet you’re shit at skating.’ You smirked.

Bradley, who was lacing up his own skates next to you, huffed a laugh. Jake’s shit-eating grin faltered. He was getting that look he always got when he challenged someone.

‘How hard can it be?’ He asked, full of fake bravado.

‘It’s harder than it looks.’ You told him.

‘Ten bucks says you fall on your ass before I do.’

You looked up at him and smirked, reaching your hand out so you could shake on it. ‘Oh, you’re so on.’

‘Material Girl’ by Madonna blasted through the overhead speakers, and disco lights spattered the rink with colour. The neon-coloured seats outside the rink were shaped like giant blobs of paint, and the Daggers were spread across three of them, getting ready to make total fools of themselves.

Bob shifted uneasily as he eyed his feet, trying to figure out how to stand up without sprawling flat out on the ground. You stood up easily and glided over to him, earning you a whistle from Reuben.

‘You okay, Bobby?’ You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

He offered you a weak smile. ‘I’ve never skated before.’

‘That’s okay, I’ll help.’

You held out both hands and he took them tentatively. His palms were slick with nervous sweat, and you had to swallow a laugh. It would only make him more nervous if he thought you were making fun of him.

‘Alright, on the count of three. One…two…’

And then you pulled him up. He couldn’t straighten his legs at first, and he wobbled a bit, but after a couple of seconds he was standing up straight and steady.

‘There you go.’ You praised. ‘Easy peasy.’

Nat, who was leaning against the edge of the rink waiting for everyone, clapped.

‘Now you’ve actually gotta move, Floyd.’ She called out.

Bob glanced at her nervously.

‘Ignore her. You fly in multi-million dollar jets every day, Bob. You can get yourself from here to the rink.’

Thankfully, this turned out to be precisely the right thing to say. You held on to one of his hands, and the two of you gently edged over to Nat. It took longer than it should have, but he was still upright by the time he got there, so you counted that as a win.

‘Well done.’ You beamed.

You were about to step out onto the rink when Mickey called out your name.

‘Can I get a ride, too? I’m stuck!’ He yelled.

You rolled your eyes. ‘This was your idea!’

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I know how to skate!’

You whizzed over to where Mickey was standing. He smiled sheepishly as you took his hand and repeated the same steps you’d taken with Bob. Mickey almost fell over, but he was right by the rink by that point, so he grabbed the edge to stop it from happening.

Effortlessly, you spun around. ‘Okay, anybody else?’

Bradley rolled over almost as effortlessly as you had. He was wearing one of his more ‘out there’ Hawaiian shirts, and the pink flowers seemed to glow in the dark. Honestly, you were a bit gutted that he didn’t need your help—it would’ve been a good excuse to hold his hand.

He leaned down so you would be able to hear him. ‘Hangman needs help, but he’s too proud to admit it.’ Bradley murmured, his breath warm against the side of your neck.

You hoped he didn’t notice the goosebumps that broke out across your skin.

‘I wouldn’t help him even if he asked.’ You retorted.

Javy and Reuben managed to get over to the rink's edge without much trouble, but Jake was checking his phone one last time and ensuring it was secure in the pocket of his jeans.

‘What’re you waitin’ for, Hangman?’ You shouted.

He rolled his eyes, and you and Bradley both laughed.

Jake on roller skates reminded you of a baby deer that hadn’t learned to walk properly yet. You suspected you would be ten bucks richer in the next five minutes.

Madonna gave way to ‘Take On Me’ by Aha, and Bradley nudged your arm with his elbow.

‘I love this song, let’s get out there. Hangman will catch up.’

His smile and joyous energy were infectious, so you followed him onto the rink without a word, and without looking back at poor Jake who was stuck behind a group of kids who were skating better than he was.

‘It’s the carpet.’ You heard him say. ‘I’ll be fine once I get off the carpet.’

Reuben, Coyote, and Nat were right behind Bradley and you. You mistakenly thought it would be a while before any of them could catch up on you, but then Nat glided past you, her dark hair billowing out behind her.

‘Whoa, Phoenix! I thought you couldn’t skate!’ Bradley exclaimed.

She spun around, so she was rolling backwards. ‘I never said that. There are plenty of things you don’t know about me!’

She sped off. Reuben and Javy tried to catch up, but their glides weren’t long enough, and they wobbled a lot.

‘You’re shuffling, not skating.’ You instructed. ‘You need to push the tips of your toes into the floor and then push forward.’

They wore matching confused frowns, and you huffed in annoyance. ‘It’s hard to explain. Just watch my feet!’

When the song's chorus kicked in, you pushed off and started taking long strides across the rink. When you got close to the edge, you leaned to your left to get around the corner, and then picked up your speed. It felt like being 21 again, carefree and full of boundless energy.

By the time Mickey, Bob and Jake finally joined the rest of the squad on the rink, you'd done three loops.

Reuben and Javy watched you closely; before long, they were building their confidence. Bradley was skating next to them, watching you with an impressed smirk.

It was easily the most fun you’d had in months.

Especially when Jake got too cocky, sped up and went straight into the barrier around the rink. You felt it in your body when he smashed into the floor.

You got to him quickly and helped him back onto his feet.

‘Are you hurt?’ You asked.

‘Just my pride.’

You grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘In that case, you owe me ten dollars.’ You said, and then you were on your way again.

Nat was teaching Bob and Mickey the same technique you’d taught Javy and Reuben, who were now racing each other around the rink. You’d slowed down next to Bradley to watch the commotion that was sure to end in tears.

Not five seconds later, the same group of kids that had gotten in Jake’s way were right in their path. The pair of them were going way too fast to stop, and before you could shout, the whole lot of them were in a pile on the floor. Both you and Bradley doubled over in hysterics, unable to breathe properly.

You were laughing so hard that you almost fell over. Bradley grabbed your waist with his big, strong hands, steadying you immediately. The warmth of his touch through the skin-tight fabric of your tank top was something you doubted you’d be able to forget anytime soon.

‘Easy, sweetheart.’ He said gruffly.

Your heart pitter-pattered, loud and fast enough that you were sure he could hear it over ‘Heaven Is A Place On Earth.’ Your mind wandered to the other places you wouldn’t mind those hands being, and you were nearing dangerous territory. Like, not-being-able-to-look-Bradley-in-the-eye-without-kissing-him territory.

But then Mickey rolled up beside you, the rest of the Daggers in tow, demanding your hand. Apparently, there was a first time for everything, because suddenly, you’d all made one long link. A friendship link, as Mickey had so gleefully yelled. You were skating around the rink in one long chain, laughing and singing along to Belinda Carlisle. It was a neon-coloured, cotton-candy scented dream.

Nearly two hours passed. The time flew by so quickly that when someone announced over the intercom that the seven o'clock group had only 5 minutes left, you were genuinely gobsmacked.

‘There’s no way we’ve been here that long already!’ Mickey exclaimed.

‘I know right,’ you said, pretty bummed out. ‘We’re gonna have to come back, I really enjoyed tonight.’

Nat looped her arm through yours. ‘I think even Hangman enjoyed himself towards the end.’

Jake was in front of you, trying to learn how to skate backwards with Bradley, who kept catching your eye on purpose.

There had always been chemistry between you, but nothing had ever come of it. In actual fact, tonight was the most obvious the two of you had been about it.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to dwell on this too much, because you had to get off the rink. The group chatted happily as they removed their skates and put their shoes back on. Everybody else had rented skates, so you went outside to wait while they returned them.

After two hours of skating, the fresh air was a relief. Your skates were tied together, slung over your shoulder, and you closed your eyes and lifted your face to the sky, breathing deeply. A night with your squad always left you feeling whole in ways that alone time didn’t.

‘Y/N!’ Bradley called.

You turned around to find him standing in the doorway holding what appeared to be two beers.

‘There’s an arcade upstairs, and bowling. You comin’ back in?’

This wasn’t part of the plan, but you were happy that the night wasn’t over yet.

‘What, so I can kick your ass at every game?’ You teased.

Bradley cocked a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching as he suppressed a smirk. God, you wanted to kiss that stupid mouth.

‘How about we make a bet of our own?’ He said, watching as you strolled over to him.

You didn’t stop until you were right in front of him, close enough that if you stood on your tiptoes just slightly, your lips would be touching.

‘What do you have in mind?’

He stared at you intently, eyes dark with lust. His brief glance at your glossed lips was a dead giveaway. ‘First one to lose a game has to make the first move.’ He rasped.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, and he released a short, exasperated breath.

‘Deal.’

Reuben, Javy, Bob and Mickey were locked into a serious game of bowling. You weren’t sure, but you thought they were playing for money. Nat and Jake were playing air hockey—rather viciously. After dumping your skates, you and Bradley set about choosing a game to play.

Mickey had really lucked-out by finding this place. The arcade was chock-full of different games and amusements—so many that you were overwhelmed by choices.

Bradley suggested Mortal Kombat, to which you politely declined. You counter-offered the race car sim, but Bradley wasn’t feeling it.

After playfully debating pros and cons for most of the games, the pair of you found yourself in front of Dance Dance Revolution.

There were so many pros for this one. For one, you kicked ass at DDR. For two, you would be in close proximity the entire time. You could accidentally trip him up or something.

Bradley shook his head slowly. ‘Uh-uh. Nope.’ He made a point of popping the ‘p’.

‘Why?’ You whined. ‘Please, it’ll be fun. Besides, I suck at this game so I’ll probably lose anyway.’ You lied.

Bradley eyed you suspiciously. Then, he got distracted and he trailed over your entire body. You might as well have been standing naked in front of him, for the way it made you feel.

He licked his bottom lip and you shivered. ‘Fine. Dance battle it is.’

You stepped onto the DDR platform, rolling your shoulders as the neon lights flickered over the screen. Bradley took the spot next to you, cracking his knuckles like he was about to go into battle.

He glanced over, that cocky smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Think you can keep up with me, sweetheart?’ He teased, nudging your shoulder.

The machine beeped, the song selection flashing across the screen, and you scrolled through the options with deliberate slowness, dragging out the moment just to watch him fidget. His hands settled on his hips, chest rising and falling as he exhaled through his nose. Oh, he wants to win. Badly.

But when you finally picked a song and stepped back, Bradley leaned in—just enough for his breath to ghost over your cheek—and murmured, ‘Hope you don’t get too distracted.’

The countdown ticked down, and the first notes of the song exploded from the speakers. The arrows rolled up the screen, and you both moved in sync, feet tapping out the rhythm like it was second nature. You were laser-focused—at first. But then you glanced over, and Bradley was watching you, not the screen.

He was still nailing every step, his body moving effortlessly, but his eyes? They flickered over to yours, his smirk widening when he caught you looking. Oh, he was playing dirty.

‘You’re slowing down, sweetheart.’ He taunted over the pounding bass, his voice smug and dripping with amusement.

You gritted your teeth and snapped your gaze back to the screen, doubling down—faster steps. Perfect timing. Your score started climbing, matching his. But then—distraction struck back.

Bradley suddenly rolled his hips with the beat, his arms lifting slightly like he was actually dancing instead of just playing, and your brain stuttered.

‘Oh, come on.’ You huffed, missing an arrow.

His laughter was rich and victorious, but you didn’t have time to glare at him. The song kicked into high gear, the steps coming rapid-fire, and you forced yourself to focus, willing your feet to move faster, faster, until—

The screen flashed.

PLAYER TWO: GAME OVER.

Your heart sank as you realised what just happened. One tiny misstep, one moment of distraction, and—

Bradley whooped, punching the air. ‘And that, sweetheart, is game.’ He crowed, stepping off the platform with the swagger of a man who knew exactly what was coming next.

Your stomach flipped as he turned back to face you, grinning like the cat who got the cream. ‘You remember the bet, don’t you?’

Oh, you remembered.

And from the way he was looking at you—his lips slightly parted, his hands twitching at his sides like he was holding himself back—so did he.

You’d felt pretty confident up until about five seconds ago, and now the rug had been ripped out from under you. The DDR machine was in a poorly lit corner at the back of the arcade. Panicking slightly, you scanned your surroundings, trying to devise a plan. What if someone saw you? Were you supposed to kiss him?

Then your attention was snagged by the photo booth against the opposite wall. It was nestled between the back wall and a claw machine full of Jellycats. If this next part went well, you made a mental note to bring Bradley back here and make him win one for you.

Now you had a plan, your confidence was slowly trickling back in. After one more glance around the space to make sure none of the Daggers were watching, you grabbed Bradley’s hand and pulled him towards the photo booth.

‘Romantic.’ He quipped, a shit-eating grin to rival Jake’s plastered on his face.

If you thought DDR was close quarters, this was something else entirely. The bench was just big enough for the two of you.

You pushed the button to start it up, and prepared to pose for the first picture.

You knew the first one would be cute, because you and Bradley were both grinning like lovesick fools. As the countdown began for the second picture, your confidence finally hit max capacity…

Without giving yourself time to back out, you put your hand on the top of Bradley’s thigh and just before the camera snapped, you (not so) gently grabbed his dick. Now you were the one sporting the shit-eating grin, and Bradley’s head snapped towards you. That move had made him practically rabid.

You stared each other down, the countdown totally forgotten about. It didn’t matter, anyway. You were perfectly on time without even trying.

One minute, you were staring, and the next, Bradley was on you. Your hands were in his hair as he pulled you onto his lap and let both of his hands rest on your ass. The kiss was sloppy and frantic; you didn’t dare stop even though you were breathless. You’d been waiting a long time for this. You silently thanked your past self for choosing this little white tennis skirt. You could feel Bradley’s hard-on through your underwear.

His hands, which were on top of your skirt, now reached under so he was touching bare skin (another thank you to your past self for the pretty white thong). This only seemed to intensify the moment, because his lips moved to your neck. It was your turn to make noise when he began sucking on the sweet spot just below your earlobe. Honestly, you hadn’t meant for the moan to escape you, but it had, and he’d definitely heard it.

Bradley stopped only to tease you. ‘Oh, you like that do you?’

‘B-bradley.’ You breathed.

‘Okay, okay.’ He whispered. ‘I’ll carry on.’

And he did. You became a squirming, writhing mess on top of him, and he was eating it up. You’d lost the bet and you wanted to take some control back. While he was busy kissing your neck, you undid the button and zipper on his jeans, and reached in. You were sly and quick about it, and he barely had enough time to register what you were doing before you were palming his dick over his boxers.

Bradley’s breath caught in his throat as he tilted his head back up to look at you. His eyes were all pupil, and his cheeks were as red as the photo booth curtain. How was it possible for a man to be so fucking sexy and so adorable at the same time?

You had him right where you wanted him. Or so you’d thought. Stupidly, you found yourself getting distracted by the size of him, and that’s when he took two fingers and slipped them underneath the wet fabric separating you from him. All he had to do was make one stroke, and you were mewing in his lap.

‘Unless you want me to fuck you in this photobooth,’ you snapped. ‘You better cut that shit out.’

A deep, husky chuckle rolled through him, vibrating against your chest. You were half-joking, but he took your threat seriously. Adjusting slightly, he pulled his jeans down so they were at his knees, and then let you resume your former position. If you shimmied forward slightly, you’d be sitting directly on his dick, just his boxers and your flimsy underwear between you. Luckily for you, you didn’t have to decide whether to do that or not, because Bradley gripped your thighs and pulled you forward.

Dizzy with lust, you reached around and pulled his length from his boxers. Following your lead, he pulled your thong to the side, and slowly pushed two fingers deep into the heat of you. You bit back a moan that would have been far too loud, and his smirk was so frustrating that you had to cover his mouth with yours to hide it. He licked your bottom lip, and you let him taste you. It was a good distraction from the noises you were thinking about making.

‘I don’t have a condom.’ He whispered against your lips.

You were in such a state of ecstasy that you could barely get two words out. You just about managed to say one, which was simply ‘pill.’

He chuckled darkly again, and you tightened around his fingers. ‘Can you give me a full sentence, pretty girl? I need to make sure we’re both on the same page.’

He was being genuine, but he also couldn’t help himself. He added another finger and watched your eyes roll into the back of your head.

‘Sweet girl?’ He prompted.

You had a death grip on his bicep. ‘I’m. On. The. Pill.’ You said through gritted teeth.

‘See,’ he whispered, positioning himself beneath you. ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

‘I’m gonna get you back for that someday, Bradshaw.’

‘I look forward to it.’

His tip pressed against your entrance. Briefly, you wondered what would happen if one of the Daggers, or some random stranger, came down to this end of the arcade. But then you were sinking onto Bradley’s cock, and the worries just melted away. As he gripped your hips and to help you get a rhythm, the phrase ‘rearrange my guts’ took on a totally new meaning. You groaned, and Bradley captured your lips in a brief kiss.

‘Quiet, sweetheart.’

Something about his commanding tone made it harder to keep quiet. You bit down on your lip to keep from shouting his name at the top of your lungs.

You were having sex. With Bradley Bradshaw. In a photo booth.

If Bradley hadn’t suddenly grabbed your hips, lifted you slightly, and started thrusting up into you, you would’ve laughed.

‘Fuck,’ he stuttered. ‘You feel so good.’

You were close. You tightened around him and he groaned again—it was your new favourite sound.

‘I’m-’

‘Me too.’

And then both of you were coming. Hard. His head rolled back as he tipped over the edge and spilled into you. It felt like someone had used your nerve endings to light a match.

You rode out your highs together, and when you were spent, you let out a long, shaky breath.

‘Holy fuck.’ You said.

Bradley ran a hand through his hair. ‘Well, I hope you like souvenirs, baby, ‘cause we’re keeping those pictures.’

You laughed. ‘We should probably get out of here. We’ve been missing a while.’

He kissed you again, for good measure. ‘I need to ask you something.'

You cocked your head. ‘What?’

‘Was that a one time thing?’

‘I really, really hope not.’

Back at the bowling lanes, Jake and Nat had joined in the fun. When you and Bradley appeared, everybody turned. Jake grinned wickedly. You locked eyes with Bob and he diverted his gaze very quickly. Nat was glaring at Bradley like a disappointed mother. Mickey and Reuben both handed Javy twenty bucks. All of this happened over the course of five, extremely drawn-out seconds.

‘You two were gone a while.’ Nat pointed out, folding her arms.

You and Bradley glanced at each other, unsure how to approach this situation.

‘We were playing Dance Dance Revolution.’ You told her. ‘I lost a bet.’

‘Really.’ She droned, sounding almost bored.

Oh, she knew alright.

You scrambled for something to say, tried to ignore the heat of everyone’s eyes burning into you. It was like they could see your sinful act written all over you.

And the ground might as well have opened up and swallowed you whole when Nat said: ‘Take any nice pictures?’

A/N: Just a little one shot while I try to motivate myself to finish my WIPs. This is my first time writing smut, so if it sucks, go easy on me.

[luminatricky]

Vampire? In Gotham! (part 2)

Summary: Danny arrives, sees something Concerning, meets Batman, tries not to fight Batman. Nope not going to rogue it up here, no thank you.

Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Danny Fenton, John Constantine & Danny Fenton

for context, phenes are letters in Ghostwriting, and you can do necromantic magic with them if you know how

As soon as he's within a five mile vicinity of Gotham, Danny has to stop and deeply consider his afterlife decisions.

PhantomMenace: what the FUCK is wrong with this place.

PhantomMenace: John.

PhantomMenace: I know you know how many generational curses are set in the very foundations. And not the abusive cycle kind.

PhantomMenace: who had the goddamn PATIENCE for this

PhantomMenace: who carves THIS MANY phenes into THAT MUCH wet concrete??

PhantomMenace: we'd have to blow up the whole city to unfuck this!!

PhantomMenace: when I find whoever did this I don't know if I'm going to kill them a second time, or make out with them immediately

PhantomMenace: they've clearly ascended to levels of spite I can only dream of, I've to at least respect that

God's Favorite Whore: For my sake I hope you kill them. Gross.

PhantomMenace: 💚

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

Night time in Gotham is beautiful, even without the view of the stars.

Danny finds himself exploring from the rooftops. Old Gothic architecture spins for miles; spidering out from the tallest buildings are gargoyles reminiscent of what he knows of cathedrals. Below him, the city comes alive in a flurry of motion.

The cars slow to a trickle, but foot traffic picks up. Well-dressed people in their 20s hit the bars, swaying and laughing with their friends. Danny takes note with a smile that they're all armed, and at least one person in each group seems to be as sober as a stone. Keeping safe and having fun.

The night workers hit the streets, and little skinny kids of all ages weave in between bodies like leaves in flowing water. Handing off things Danny can't see to the people on the street corners, laughing and joking and pushing each other, never straying too far to allies or the side of the road. Not ever being without at least one other. It's sad to see they have to protect each other like that, but that's life, and it seems they're living it.

Blob ghosts make unseen mischief. There's a second layer of traffic - blobs spinning a foot in the air above everyone else, catching stray emotions and fat and happy off the ambient ectoplasm. Danny's never seen any blob in a color other than radioactive green, but the ones in Gotham are all different shades of red. He wonders if the curses here might be a factor. And if his condenser will be stained red from now on.

Danny spots something strange the longer he looks. He slips off the edge of the building, walking down its side to the alley below. He slips into partial invisibility to not startle anyone not already looking for him, and peaks out the mouth of the alley.

Shades walk down the streets side by side with the human Gothamites. They give the human-looking ghosts a wide berth, but otherwise no one acknowledges them. He tracks the figures with his eyes, hating the blank look in each of them. He's sure that they're not even properly looking at anything. They go through anyone and everything in their paths intangibly. He sees several people shiver and look around confused, before walking off, visibly more tired looking than before.

Danny unclips his condenser from his belt to check if his dinner's ready. He startles a bit at the unfamiliar red, but shrugs. He's hungry. The blobs are having a blast despite how evil the air is. He should be fiiiine.

Taking a deep gulp, Danny returns his attention to the Shades, wary of what this new behavior means. He quickly does a rough count of humans, and then the strange Neverborns in the street. And oh boy. He does not like how the math is mathing.

In a normal, healthy population, there should only be one Shade per fifty humans. In Gotham? It's nearly one to one. He's never seen or heard of this. Danny wonders exactly how many people get mysteriously sick, or die of "natural causes" here.

Once he gets settled in, he'll have to go looking for the cause. Even in a crime ridden big city this isn't normal.

Danny takes another sip as he tears himself away from the mouth of the alley. He becomes fully visible as he steps into the shadows. He means to float up to the rooftops again, but a dull thump behind him has him zipping around on instinct.

Between him and the exit, a broad shouldered man rises from his feet. At first Danny thinks he's covered in shadows, but as his eyes quickly readjust to the level of light, he realizes that the man is just wearing a long dark cloak with a cowl. It covers his head and half his face, with two white beams of light staring impassively at him. It hurts to look at to be honest.

Danny tenses like a springtrap. John never gave him descriptions of any of the rogues, OR the bats. He doesn't know what he's dealing with right now, and he'd really rather not get into a brawl tonight. Humans don't do that to be friendly.

"Where did you get the blood?" The man demands. His voice is obviously modified to be deeper, but Danny thinks it might be naturally growly and inflectionless, as the man's body language or expression doesn't change.

He doesn't really think before he responds. The question throws him, okay? "Uh? Synthesizer?" Danny shakes his condenser some. It's only half full, so it only sloshes thickly against the sides instead of spilling. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about it, Danny caps it and reclips it to his belt.

He extends a hand to shake. "Name's Dante Nightingale. But people call me Danny."

The incredibly rude man doesn't shake his hand, OR introduce himself. All he gets in response is a minute head tilt that in other circumstances he would find adorable.

He rolls his eyes. "This is the part where you introduce yourself. Like a human."

The man grunts in acknowledgement. After an awkward moment, the man extends a (clawed!) hand from under his cape and grips Danny's own. "Batman."

Danny relaxes a smidge. "Nice. Cool. Heard about you and your Fraid. I'm told you're good people. thank you for not being a sentient shadow here to rob me." He lets go of the man's warm glove.

"Fraid?" Batman parrots, vaguely suspicious. Or curious. He's not sure.

"Um. It's like. Well, found family is the default in my culture, so we got a whole word for it. I didn't want to assume blood relations." Danny explains. "You've got a strong grip. Are the claws part of your suit or?" Danny flashes his own claws playfully.

"The suit." Batman says simply. "Why were you watching people from the alley?"

Danny leans back on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth. "Just flew in to town, I don't really know my way around yet. So I've been exploring on the rooftops so no one has the bright idea to mug the newbie." Danny stops swaying and folds his arms over his chest with a frown. "Then I noticed something wasn't right. Well. Other than how cursed you guys are. Actually? Might be related."

Batman's headlights narrow in a very convincing glare, so Danny tries to elaborate. "Shades really shouldn't be literally crawling through the streets. The non-physical, non-sentient psychic vampires? Yeah. I don't know if you can see this, but they're walking around in groups besides and through people. Which. They don't group up, and they don't typically go for crowded places. Shades thrive in privacy. They mimic whatever person accidentally made them, and lure loved ones alone. This whole thing is weird and probably not good."

Batman grunts again, head tilting slightly the opposite way. The little bit of silence lets Danny briefly contemplate if Batman is neurodivergent and not actually trying to be a brooding asshole. The older man's tone and facial expressions are flat, he doesn't seem to pick up on social cues, and he favors nonverbal communication. Danny makes a mental note to figure that out later if they ever meet again.

"What can we do?" Batman asks. Danny shrugs. Technically, it's not his problem unless they can't handle it themselves. "Justice League Dark this, I guess. Find me if they can't help. I'll give it the old college try if you ask."

Batman taps the side of his mask where the ear would be underneath. A quiet sound of static fills the alleyway. Batman full-body flinches at the sudden loud sound in his ear. The older man whirls to glare at Danny. The Halfa nearly chokes under the creepy, suddenly hostile gaze of the pinpricks of light.

"What did you do to my coms?" The man full on growls. The cloak is brushed aside as Batman takes out two throwing blades from his (bright yellow?) belt.

Danny's heartbeat races at the prospect of a brawl. Green light fills his vision and starts to cast a strange glow across the alley. His biology reacts, but his mind is screaming at him to put on the brakes. Do not fight the vigilantes! He's not being friendly! Do not the rogue!!

So he puts his hands up in surrender. "Woah woah woah! I can't control this, electronics just fritz around me! Hold on, just, I'll leave and they should be fine? I need to get back to my hotel anyways. Nice meeting you!"

Without waiting for a response Danny turns ghost tail. Which is to say, he turns invisible and flies through the building in the vague direction of said hotel. He flings himself into the soft, soft pillows, and tries to calm his ass down. No. No fighting. He does not need to be put in Arkham on his first day, or whatever.

Elsewhere, the coms crackle back to life.

"-atman?!"

"Oracle." He confirms.

"What happened? The boys are on their way, what's the sitch?"

"There's a vampire in Gotham."

[jasminedragonart]

Another little fanfic nitpick. For those of you who need it, I will be putting a reference below for those who are writing about children. This is just from my experience as someone who has a nibling as well as someone who has educated children for a good few years now teaching a wide variety of ages.

So, here is your child chart:

Ages 0-1: Blob. They can barely function without help. They need carried to do the most basic of things. Some of them can walk but not all, and their walking is not without a LOT of hand holding. They can make noises that sound like words, and maybe even say one or two, but they have no idea what those words mean. There is nothing behind their eyes. Will primarily be fed on milk for the first 6 months and then move onto solids once their teeth come in.

Ages 1-2: They can say a few more words. They can recognise those who look after them and say simple things. My nibling knows tractor and cat. They can walk. They will have a fascination with something weird, like their feet and putting and taking off not only their own shoes but other people's. There's a little bit behind their eyes but for the most part they don't know where they are or what is happening around them. They may still be on milk for the first half of their first year but they'll move onto primarily solids and water for most of their diet.

Ages 2-3: They're a little more switched on. They know what behaviours will give them attention and be it good or bad they'll do it. They might be toilet trained but it's all dependent on the parent. They babble. A lot. It's mainly a string of words they'll know but they'll all have different meanings. Shoe could mean, where are my shoes. It could also mean, hello, how are you, I haven't seen you in a while. It's all part of the communication process. They might move onto actual sentences midway through their second year but they will be short and the words extremely simple. They like to run around but their attention spans are still small so they'll lose interest after a while. They will climb out of their cribs and across the baby gates as they've figured it out. My nibling is currently costing my sibling hundreds of pounds because they now have to buy a new toddler bed despite my nibling not necessarily needing one yet. This is because they've figured out how to climb out and the crib is now a safety hazard.

Ages 3-4: They're at a really interesting phase here. They're a lot more independent than they were at 2, which for some is pretty independent, but they also regress a lot. They might not sleep very well, they'll fall down a lot more. This is because they know a lot more and understand a lot more around them. They're actually turning into a little person at 3. On the tail end they'll be a sort of mentor to those younger than them, babies and toddlers fascinating them as they try and understand what's happening around them.

Ages 4-5: Whatever progress they've been making is gone. They now have nothing once more behind their eyes. They are just chaos, turning in circles and licking the floor. As someone who had to teach 4 and 5 year olds, their attention spans are horrific and they will wander off back to their parents to sit on their parent's knee while they glare at you for not understanding that they don't know what left and right are. There will be the odd one or two who find sentience again but this is rare. Sentience is usually not found until age 6. that being said they can communicate a lot better, speaking in bigger sentences. They can also start to learn to write and retain some knowledge imparted on them.

Ages 6: They're back and meaner than ever. They can and will tell you the truth. They will tell on their parents, teachers, friends just because you've told them lying is bad. They are brutally honest and will share their opinion. They will talk for hours on end and call your name seventy times if they think you haven't heard them properly.

Ages 7: They're a fountain of knowledge at this age. They usually have specific hyperfixations and interests that will influence their lives from this point onwards. They'll love getting messy, playing outside and watching cartoons. Their reading level should be fairly decent if they go to a good school and have a good support group around them. This is the best age to get them interested in a sport as they actually have the attention span to enjoy it, maybe even compete in it if they want to join a football club or something. But they are still really young so they will take everything as truth if you tell it to them.

Ages 8: This is one of the last truly childhood years. They're still ignorant of the wider world, and not much truly changes between seven and eight save a lot of friendship building and deeper interest and understanding in their interests.

Ages 9: This is where they start to understand a bit more grown up things. They might be taught about puberty at this age, by that I mean, in my school we had someone come in and warn us about periods. It might seem young, but some girls can get their periods earlier than others and develop earlier than others. They'll understand that girlfriends and boyfriends are a thing and while they'll still thing it's disgusting there will be a deeper understanding that it's something that might happen to them rather than the bliss of years before when pretend weddings were something fun they emulated because they saw it on TV or in their family and wanted a big party like that too.

I might do a separate post for ages 10 and up but this is the basic stages of childhood. So next time you think your five year old in your fic can run away successfully from home just remember, they can't. They are five. There is nothing going on up there except big feelings and big emotions. They will likely cling to their parents and if they do run away, it's literally just around the corner and they will come back inside when it gets cold enough or they want more attention. Your five year old doesn't know left and right never mind can wield a sword. At least make them eight. Dick Grayson was 8 when he became Robin, I feel like that should be the benchmark for every child who is put into a situation. Make them 8 otherwise they don't know what's going on.

If there's more to add, please feel free to. This is, again, just what I've observed from years of working with little kids.

[madamechrissy]

Dirty Little Secret

ꕥ Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

ꕥ Warnings- MDNI-explicit sexual content, dirty talk, Toji calls reader 'doll, ma, slut (Toji and Doll just work lol) Age gap- reader is 21, Toji is 39. - Soft Toji!! This chapter-mostly just fluffy cuteness, some oral and pregnant sex

ꕥ Word Count- this chap- 5k

ꕥ Summary- Toji Fushiguro is your dad Shiu's best friend for years. You've known him most your life. You come home for spring break to relax, and who pops up at the fucking doorstep? Toji. He's nasty, annoying, perverted and... Sexy. Hot. Built. And makes you think, maybe your first time shouldn't be with some college boy? But with this buff dude who can tie a cherry stem with his tongue and a scar on his damn lip.

Chapter 12 - Masterlist - Playlist

Chapter 13

Three months later

About six months along

You stare at yourself in the mirror, grimacing as you touch your tummy, tracing three long silvery stretch marks, turning this way and that, you’re getting big already, just your tummy and nothing else really, aside from a fullness to your breasts. Breasts your annoying fiance constantly wants to grab, touch and suck on, you are dressed in a tank top and Toji’s sweats, your new favorite things.

“Doll, you’re taking forever, you good? Sick or anything?” Toji asks from outside the bathroom door, and you sigh, stepping out and frowning. His eyes immediately go to your tummy, his big hands on it, as he leans down and kisses you. “Fuck you look so sexy.”

“Toji I look like a fucking watermelon! A blob! And look.” You point then, feeling tears in your eyes at your stretch marks, and Toji scoffs, leaning down on his knees now, looking up at you and kissing your tummy. “No, it’s-”

“Beautiful, doll. Look at you.” He’s kissing up your stretch marks, as you brush back his hair, all sweaty from his workout, sticking to his tanned forehead.

“No, you’re an Insta Baddie and I’m a whale.” He snorts then, you watched Toji post another picture and get another 10k likes, fuck he’s bad at pictures too, imagine if these women saw him forreal?

You both had been on several dates and women were thirsty for him, but Toji only has eyes for you, and you don’t get it, because your fingers are swelling and your tummy is so big. He’s more on you than ever, if that’s possible, constantly trying to touch you, suck on your nipples, trying to get you to ride him, but you’re so insecure as you get further along.

“You’re sexy as fuck. Keep talking shit about yourself and I’ll not let you cum tonight.” You tremble a bit, because fuck you’re always horny.

“Mmm, we have Megs, Yuji and Nobara coming for dinner, you know. You need to help me find something pretty.”

He chuckles as he stands, big hands still on your tummy. “Doll, I sure ain’t picking outfits, got me soft enough like a lil bitch.”

“Oh please!” You pout, and he scowls, dark green eyes narrowing.

“Nah, ya got enough clothes, brat. Go pick em or greet em in this.” He grins, yanking on your sweatpants (his sweats!?) 

“Ugh, no! Fine, mean old man. Ow!” Toji pinches your nipples then, sensitive as fuck, making you gasp. “Dick! Let go!”

“Don’t like your attitude.”

“Don’t like yours!”

“Baby got you so angry, swear to god.”

“You wanted one!”

“Yes I do!” He’s cupping your face then, slamming his lips down, and you feel yourself get so wet, moaning as he grabs you so tight, until he feels the baby kick his torso, and he looks down, laughing so soft, a beautiful grin on his stern face. “Oh my god… well hello baby.”

You giggle then, unable to keep an attitude when your baby kicks once more, now on Toji’s big palm. “She’s angry with you, Toji.”

“She’s gonna be a brat like you.” You just grin, as she does a somersault inside you, and kicks your rib, making you wince. “See?”

“Fuck you, Toji.”

“Fuck me huh?” He scowls again, done with your attitude quite clearly, and turns you, bending you over the kitchen table, sliding down your sweats and smacking your backside.

“Ow!” You bite your lip, thighs shifting as the movement makes you so wet, and Toji smirks at you as you look back. “Gonna smack your pregnant wife!?”

“Fuck yeah I am. Look how big that ass is getting-”

“Hey fuck you! Ah!”

“I like it, lemme enjoy. Mm, these handprints.” Toji smacks you gently, it stings a bit but nothing like he’d do before you started showing more. He acts ‘rough’ but he really takes it too easy, too worried to hurt the baby. “So slutty, you like it huh Ma?”

“Mmm, shut up. Ngh!” Toji smacks your pussy, making you spread your thighs for more, praying your baby will stop kicking, and she finally does, so you can focus on how good it feels as he runs a rough finger through your folds.

“Be a good girl and I’ll fuck you. Be bad and you can just get licked everywhere but that clit.”

“Mmm, I’ll be good!” You whine, Toji has been loving to lick your pussy all over, avoiding your clit to torture you when you’re bad, until he has you a damn mess. “Toji, can’t stand like this long…”

“Oh shit, c’mon.” He slides up your sweats now, picking you up with ease still, and you’re kissing his hot, firm lips, so hungry for him. He’s got you on the bed now, sitting on the edge, kneeling between your legs. “How ya wanna do it, doll? I never know what’s good, you’re so bitchy so much.”

“Mmm… I’m sorry.” You blink back tears and he frowns.

“Don’t say sorry and shit. I knew you’d be the bitchiest pregnant girl, and I still fuckin did it.” You giggle now, and he sighs. “Fuck these mood swings.”

“Ugh I know! Don’t know if I’m sad, horny, hungry or happy.” He kisses your thighs over your sweats, hands rubbing your tummy.

“I know what ya are, doll.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” You whisper, caressing his strong jawline. He kisses your palm then kisses your belly button.

“Gorgeous as fuck. That’s what. Prettiest brat there is.” Your lips are trembling now, as you sniffle, then you yank him up by his broad shoulders.

“I fucking love you, Toji” He’s kissing you as he’s standing, bent at the waist, as you lean back and he’s caressing your breasts with his big hands.

“I love you, mean little brat. Gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Take baby aspirin, old man. Fuck!” He pinches your nipple with a scowl, and you grin up at him then. “You’re the most handsome man there is, Toji, I swear to god. I’ll never, ever want anyone but you.”

He blinks at your sincerity, moaning and slipping his hand down your sweats, rubbing your clit, soaked already, as he studies you, pulling your hair gently at the base of your neck. “I’ll never want anyone, how could I? Look at you, fuck you’re so wet f’me too ain’t ya baby?”

“Always, always.” You whisper, then you’re grinding on his hand as two fingers slide in.

“You’re so wet doll, oh my god.” He moans, playing with you, and you hear it, the sounds of that lewd squishing in the room.

“Want you, please Toji.” You plead now, and he’s letting you undress him, as you eagerly take him in your mouth, lapping up the salty precum at his tip, letting it coat your mouth now. He’s huffing, his abs flexing as his hips thrust, not fully, Toji is so careful even though his hands are shaking.

Your eyes look up at him, and he looks down with his lidded gaze, his teeth bared just so, and you suck him harder, lashes low over your dazed eyes. “You’re such a good girl f’me, for once huh?”

“Just once.” You tease, flicking your tongue and stroking him, before he’s slipping down your top, moaning at your breasts, so full and bouncy, and you pull his cock closer, nodding, letting him stroke his cock between them.

“Holy… oh my… look at ‘em. Look at em s’pretty.” He’s a mess now, as you hold your jiggly tits together for him, as he’s fucking his thick, veiny cock between them, hands sliding down the sides of them, making you shiver. “Lemme eat you, please.”

“I can’t see you though!” You pout, and he laughs, breathless.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t see your pretty pussy. Don’t deny a man his meal, damn brat.”

“Oh fine but I miss looking at you!” He pulls you by your now bare thighs, diving down as you lay back on the bed, legs dangling over the edge and on his strong shoulders, feeling his muscles tense as he lavishes you with his tongue, and fuck it feels so good, you’re screaming out. “T-Toji!”

He’s smiling against you, you can’t see his damn eyes, all you see is your huge tits and tummy, your eyes closing as you try to reach down, but he takes a hand and holds your wrist, squeezing and giving you just enough roughness. You’re whimpering as he’s drinking you up, fuck you hear him sucking your wetness, exhaling and moaning on you.

“It tastes even better.” He whispers, sliding a thick digit in your soppy little cunt, which sucks it in, as he watches it disappear so pretty between those puffy lips. He’s sucking your clit into his mouth now, lavishing the tiny pearl with his tongue as he vibrates it by groaning.

“Toji!” You scream out, thighs threatening to close, but he sucks right through it, as you cum so messy all over his face and his hand, gushing liquid, you feel it hot and wet down your ass now. “Oh my god.”

“Would think your water broke, cum so much, lil slut.” You gasp, but he’s leaned up and now you see that handsome, rugged face you love, and it’s half covered in your slick.

“Get in there, please, jerk!” He is rubbing the tip of his cock between your folds now, leaning just a bit over you, as you swipe back his inky black locks, and he pushes in  so easy. You’re whining at the stretch, and you can’t stop it, you cum again when he’s hitting that cervix, and he grins.

“So easy, brat- oh fuck, stop tightening up!” He’s tense over you, and you grin as you get him back, and you feel him so good, you moan, cumming still, getting him so wet he’s slippery, even as tight as you are. “Oh my… you better not….”

“Gonna bust fast old man?” He gently smacks your face as you giggle.

“I will beat this ass when you’re ready again. Fuck you so hard.” He says, putting just enough pressure now in your pussy, as he’s so careful to keep any weight off your tummy, and you cling to him, around his neck, biting your lip and cheeks flushing. He sighs then, pausing.

“Wh-what? I’ll loosen up. Don’t stop.” You whine, rolling your hips up, and he shakes his head, brushing your hair back gently, then his thumb brushes a rounding cheek.

“Nah, just beautiful is all.” You feel those tears back, slamming his lips to yours as he fucks into you, steady and slow and so good, until you’re both falling apart, and he’s pulsing inside of you, as you’re throbbing from your aftershocks. “Gonna fill you up s’good, doll.”

“Fill me up, please Daddy.” At that Toji cums, and he cums hard, those ribbons of that white cum soaking into your walls, coating them, as he slows, kissing your face, your breasts, hands rubbing your tummy.

“You’re so sexy, fuck, doll. Like this?” He’s eased out now, kissing your tummy, and you exhale, trembling and trying to come to, nothing about sex with Toji was anything but mind blowing.

“I love you so much.” You say softly, as he melts your insecurities away, this gruff man with his nasty ass jokes and lewd looks, he makes you feel so beautiful even when you’re so down. There is no being down when you’re with Toji Fushiguro, he will never let you be.

“I love you, lil Mama.” You smile against his lips as he eases you up, and then he’s gone for a moment, back with a washcloth, cleaning you up.

“Does it bother you, the… um hair? It annoys me.” You grumble, and he smirks, shaking his head.

“Kinda like it, doll. Do you not?”

“No I don’t. But I can’t see it or reach it!”

“Need me to shave ya?”

“Please.” He sighs.

“I think it’s cute.” He’s rubbing the hair you can't see on your mound. “But whatever ya want, brat.”

“Yay!”

******

You are sitting at dinner now, that you and Toji had cooked together, and Megumi pulls out a seat next to him for you, patting it. You sit down gratefully, leaning your head on his shoulder for a moment, and catch Toji’s soft smile as Megumi touches your tummy, and gasps when he feels it, the bump of your baby girl saying hello, his usually serious features softened.

“Oh my god… It's doing that now!?” You giggle, nodding as you take his hand, pressing it a little higher on your bump.

“You haven’t seen me in like two months, it was hard to tell then. Now she’s vicious, I swear.” Megumi smiles just a bit, dark lashes lowering as he looks at your tummy in your pretty white sundress.

You remember when he found out.

3 months ago

“You’re what!? Dad I swear to god, the fuck!” Megumi was furious as you both had told him, inviting him to Toji’s home right after leaving Shiu.

“Kid…”

“Don’t kid me. She’s my age. I wouldn’t want a brat, tch.” He pouts and looks at you seriously. “You can’t want a kid yet.”

“Megs, I do… I am really happy. I know it’s weird, but I want this.” You look at him now, and he frowns, looking at his dad again, then you, rolling his eyes.

“God, don’t do that puppy dog eye thing.”

Toji chuckles. “She gets everything that way.”

“Bet she does.” Megumi rolls those dark green eyes, and you keep pouting, eyes wide, until he sighs, touching your still flat tummy. “Do you really want a baby?”

“I do, and I promise I’ll be the best mom.” You touch his hand over yours, and he smiles just a bit finally as he looks down. “You’ll have a little sister or brother!”

“That sounds annoying. A stupid kid, ugh.”

“Hey!” You poke at him now, and he smirks. “You’re such a little shit, Megs!”

“He gets that from me.” Toji ruffles Megumi’s perfect spikes, and he smacks his hand away, grimacing in disgust, but he’s still touching your tummy, his black brows drawing together.

“Hmm. If you’re happy?”

“I am Megs.”

“The fuck, about me kid?” Toji says, standing and crossing his thick, banded biceps, and Megumi snorts.

“Again, if you’re happy.” He says to you, making you grin as Toji fumes.

“How does my kid like you better than me?” He grumbles, and you stick your tongue out, as Megumi’s long fingers slip off your tummy.

“Everyone likes me better, Old man.” Megumi grins at that, and Toji loses his shit, but Megumi is looking at you contemplatively. “What is it, Megs?”

“You look so happy. Glowing.” You blush now.

“I am happy, I really am.”

“Then… fuck it. I guess I’m gonna be a big brother.”

“Yay!” You smack a kiss on his cheek, and Toji smiles at the two of you, devious fucking smile, that makes you both look at him, wide eyed.

“And you’re gonna have a stepmom.”

“Yuck!”

Present- Toji’s POV

Things absolutely changed that day, now Megumi is so sweet, as Yuji and Nobara take turns feeling your tummy, and Toji is making everyone plates, stealing glances at his pretty fiance. One he can’t wait to make his wife, but you’re waiting until after the baby for that, you do have a pretty little diamond ring on your finger that glints in those lights now.

He watches his son laugh next to you, as you carry his daughter, and fuck if you don’t make him a sappy ‘old man’ damn brat that you are. As you’re all flushed and beautiful, glowing so bright, your eyes sparkling as you talk to your best friends. Fuck he’s a lucky man, you’re a goddess to him, you always were, but now you’ve got that tummy, those curves, in that pretty white dress?

You look like Venus herself.

He would probably just call you a sexy lil doll, but he does think you’re his goddess, damn you make him corny. If someone told Toji Fushiguro he’d be such a sap he would never believe it. Megumi feels the baby kick again, and Toji’s heart finally feels full, this void he’d had for so long since he had Megumi was filled, he was so lucky the kid wants to have him in his life.

He’s so lucky he has you three, you, Megs and the baby, even your friends who drive him insane, he just wants you happy. And as you peek at him, sipping on some sparkling water, and you look at him with such love in your pretty eyes, that brilliant smile, it’s like you’re clenching his heart with your tiny little hand.

How was Toji ever lucky enough to have you, and to have a family like this? After fucking up so much, after being just a bum for so long, how has Toji finally got his shit together, finally got a fiance. A beautiful one, a sweet one (lets be real, you’re kind of mean as fuck and bitchy, but Toji loves that) sweet when you want dick, but how’d he even get lucky enough for that?

He peeks and sees Shiu has texted him, and smiles a bit at the phone as he’s grabbing more drinks for everyone. Shiu still hates Toji, and Toji doesn't blame him, but he’s a good damn dad, better than Toji was with Megs. He hopes he can be that good of a dad to your baby, he damn well will try.

He’s picturing a pretty little daughter now, and he can’t stop the stupid smile on his face.

*****

3 months later- Labor day

“Toji Fushiguro, I hate you and your big ass head! Ow fuck!” You scream, holding his hand so tight he’s wincing, scowling right back at you.

“You got the big ass head, blame your damn dad!”

“Excuse me!?” Shiu shouts, looking up from where he has his face covered, terrified as your contractions get quicker. “You got a big ass head Toji!”

“Fuck yes he does. Ugh! You suck so bad I can’t do this!” You’re sobbing at the pain, and Megumi stands then, shaking his head.

“Can’t do it. Dad, be supportive, fuck. Shiu, c’mon… coffee?” Megumi suggests, and Shiu jumps up immediately.

“Cocaine maybe, fuck.”

“Dad!” You scowl and he grimaces.

“You’re scary kiddo. You deserve her to break your hand, Toji.” Shiu says then, and they run out, leaving you with your mean, big headed fiance.

“Brat too tiny can’t have a kid right?”

“Fuck you I can!”

“Mmm, sure you can.”

“Toji I’ll never have one again, I swear ugh!” You squeeze his hand again, screaming out, as the doctors rush in, and they take your vitals.

“She’s not dilating, we can’t keep going much longer, it's been ten hours.” The doctor says, and Toji frowns then, holding your hand tightly.

“Shit.”

“Shit, shit what!?”

“C section, Megs was one too.”

“Because your big ass head, oh fuck you!” He scowls.

“You’re a damn brat!”

“You’re a dick, old man!”

“Ahem. We can give it a little longer, but we really need to get you prepped in case. We can up the pitocin and try that if you want? What’s best for you mom?” They ask you then, and you are glaring right at him, as he is you, then his face changes, as he holds your tummy, and kisses you, right in front of blushing nurses and that doctor, sighing against your lips.

“Scared, Toji.” You admit, and he nods then, head resting on yours, as you feel your heart race.

“It’ll be fine, doll. I got you. Right here with you, yeah?”

You kiss him back, hands entangling in his hair, so messy from how much he’d been messing with it. “Right here with me.”

******

“Oh my god! I’m a grandpa!” Shiu is holding your beautiful little girl later on, as you’re a sweaty, exhausted mess, having this baby was not easy, thanks to Toji’s big ass head, you’d had a lot of trouble, but she was here, no c section thank goodness, and perfect. And you were safe and sound. Your heart aches as you see your dad smiling so big.

“She’s beautiful.” You whisper, as Toji sits next to you in the bed, holding up water for you to sip, smiling softly.

“You did so good, doll. She’s beautiful just like you.” He whispers, kissing your sweaty forehead, and you smile tremulously, as you sip the icy water, sighing.

“She has your eyes, Toji.” You say then, as now Megumi holds his little sister, and you watch the usually serious Megumi melt as he looks at her.

“She’s so beautiful. Hey little sis.” Megumi cooes softly, and you melt even more, as Toji is stroking your hair back, sighing.

“I’m so fuckin happy.” He murmurs in your ear, and you touch his face gently, smiling up at him, eyes glimmering with tears. “Ya made me so happy, doll, I don’t know how to even describe it. Heart… fucking hurts.”

“Aw, you’re such a sap, old man.” You tease, and he narrows his eyes, but you peck a weak kiss on his stubbled chin. “I’m kidding. Toji I couldn’t be happier.”

Megumi hands Toji your baby girl again, and he grins so big, as she grabs one of his big fingers with her tiny little fist. The sight of your beautiful little girl in Toji’s big arms makes you wanna have another damn baby, even after all this, even after being uncomfortable this last month and having a hard time. You’d give this man anything, when you watch him light up.

He gently hands you her, your sweet little baby Mio. She opens those dark green eyes, just like Megs and Toji, but she has your hair color, and your nose, you’re tapping her nose gently, watching her little mouth form into an O, and you smile softly as your heart swells. You have never felt this, this love, you love Toji so much but this is so different, it fills you with so much emotion you feel them spilling over through your eyes, tears falling down your cheeks.

“I love you, little Mio. So, much. I’m your mommy!” You whisper, sitting up with Toji’s help further, as she blinks those beautiful eyes, and you put her forehead to your lips, inhaling her. “She smells so good!?”

“The baby smell.” Toji and Shiu say, and you smile at them both, as your dad comes and kisses the top of your head, then bends down and kisses Mio’s downy little head.

“Do you all still remember that? In like the fifties?” Megumi says, earning your giggle and their scowl.

“Brats.” Toji grumbles.

“Brats.” Shiu agrees, then taps Mio’s nose, and yours. “Look, that’s your nose alright, isn’t it? She’s so pretty like you.”

“Aw thank you dad, she’s even more beautiful.” You all coo over her, and soon Megumi and Shiu eventually leave, after saying their goodbyes. It’s you with Toji in the quiet room, holding your baby. You’re so tired, but so happy, your heart so full as you feel this contentment and excitement, as Toji is holding you to his side.

“Hi, sweetie, it’s your dad. Welcome to the world, little one.” You’re crying again, at how sweet he is. “Kept us waiting, had to make an entrance, huh?”

“Dramatic like me.” You giggle, and he grins, and you start to feel exhaustion hit, sighing as you lean into his side.

“You’re gonna be the best dad any little baby could have, you know.” Toji blinks a bit then, looking away, you watch that Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

“I’m gonna do everything to try.”

“I know you will, I’m so happy you’re her dad.”

“You’re her mommy. And you’ll be the best. I love you, doll, fuck you’ve made me so happy.” He whispers, and you kiss him, as your baby begins to let out a cute little cry, then it gets loud, and you laugh a bit. “She’s gonna be so bratty, I’m screwed.”

“So screwed.” You agree, grinning, as Toji helps you pull your breast out, and he exhales, as you hiss a bit when you see the milk drops. “Ugh, feel like a cow!”

“It’s beautiful, doll. Don’t.” He says gruffly, and then he helps put your baby's little mouth on your nipple. She struggles to latch, her little fists punching you practically, with sharp nails. Toji chuckles. “She’s vicious, isn’t she?”

“Jesus, guess that’s what happens with us as parents. Ow! Mio!” You’re huffing, wriggling with discomfort as her gums bite down, then finally she latches, and sucks, her puffy cheeks moving as she drinks. Finally you ease, exhaling. “She’s got it!”

“She’s a pro, too. Ya alright doll?” He asks, brow furrowing, and you nod then, letting him kiss your temple as your little girl eats.

“It feels so weird, but I’m good. It will take practice, the nurse said.”

“You’ll do great, already know it. Gonna be the best at this parenting shit, both of us, won’t we?” He nudges you with a grin, and you feel yourself getting so sleepy, feeling such warmth. You nod.

“We will do such a good job. I know it. She’s everything now.” You caress her cheek again, love bursting from every part of you.

“You’re both everything to me.” He corrects, and then sighs. “And Megs, of course, he was so happy wasn’t he?”

“He was oh my god! I knew it.”

“We’ll have him watch the kid so we can go fuck-”

“Toji!” You gasp, and he just grins shameless and lewd. “Knew you were being too nice, old perv.”

“Old, knocked you the fuck up. Should do it again.”

“Fuck no!” You stick your tongue out, as your baby now is asleep, no longer sucking, and you smile at her little face, a pretty gummy smile “Oh my god!”

“She’s milk drunk. Megs got like this.” You giggle then, looking up at him, seeing his dark green eyes, the same color as your daughter’s eyes, so lit up.

“Was Megumi a serious kid?”

“I didn’t know him well enough.” He frowns, and you sigh.

“I’m sorry-”

“Nah, doll, it’s okay. I’ll know everything about her, little Mio, I swear. I’ll never leave your side.” His words break your heart into pieces, you hear the pain in his voice as he takes his daughter in his arms.

“Toji you will do great. I know it.” You say softly, and he nods, as you wipe a tear, making him scowl.

“Ain’t crying.”

“Oh no, saw nothing.” He snorts, and you smile, as emotions run through you. “I love you, Toji.”

“I love you too, doll. So much.” He kisses your forehead, and then your baby’s head, and you lean into his side, watching him, feeling so content, as he whispers sweet nothings into her ear, and you’re so tired now you can’t keep awake.

“I’m gonna nap, okay?” You mumble, and he nods, easing off the bed.

“Yeah, sleep, I got her, doll. She’s okay.” And you doze off, feeling safe, feeling loved, feeling complete.

*****

When you wake up, you’re surprised to find it’s night, and the room is dimly lit, just the moon coming through the window, and the hospital lights are all off aside from a little one around your bed, casting a soft glow over everything. Toji’s still there, sitting in a chair beside the bed, holding your sleeping baby, looking down at her with a soft, loving smile on his face.

You sit up and he looks over at you, eyes tired but so, so happy.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. Did I miss anything?” You ask nervously, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Nothin’. She’s just been sleeping like a rock. Like you, lazy little thing.” He smirks, and you grin at his words, watching as he adjusts her in his arms.

“Am not lazy, just had your baby!”

“Mmm, you were snoring though.”

“Was not!” He grins, and places your baby down in the little bassinet now, all swaddled up. “Come here.” You whisper, and he stands, stretching his long limbs and then he’s leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, as you kiss back, feeling that warmth spread through your body.

Toji sits in the bed, laying on his side, pulling you to him, eyes drinking you in. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, doll. You’re a mommy now.” He whispers, stroking your messy hair, and you snuggle to him, his hard, warm body, where you feel so safe, as he strokes your back up and down in the little hospital bed.

“Thank you, for everything. For being here with me, for being with me. Toji I can never imagine being without you.” You say then, and he exhales, gulping, his eyes lidded and tired like yours.

“Where else would I be, doll, but right here?” He kisses you again, and you hold onto him, feeling the love in his arms, so strong and safe, as you feel this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. Toji slips a hand to your breast then, and you squeak, earning his chuckle. “What, they’re hot.”

“You perv, I just had a baby!” You whisper, and he grins then, kissing down the side of your neck. “I feel gross!”

“Nah, you’re always sexy, even now. Enjoy that break you get for what, a couple weeks?” He nips your throat, and you gasp at it. How can he be such a hornball, damn old man.

“Like a month, fuck don’t do that.” He is kissing your neck again where he’d just bit, pulling back and smirking down at you, tiling your chin up and cupping your cheeks now.

“Enjoy that break, gonna knock ya up again.” You smack at him and he’s just grinning, white teeth stark against dark stubble.

“Will not, gonna tie those tubes.”

“Better not, brat.”

“Mmhmm! Now shut up, and lemme sleep. Snuggle me?” He smiles softer now, nodding and holding you tight against him, as your arms wrap his torso, and you feel sleep tugging at you again.

“Love you, lil doll.” He whispers against your hair.

“Love you, Toji.”

Final Chap Here

Kofi Link if you wanna buy me a coffee <3

ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57496135/chapters/153013882

[ckret2]

I'm now hopelessly enamored with your Aku hcs... do you have any more? Are you interested in Jack/Aku - is that something that could even work out?

Oh boy do I ever. This is 1/2 headcanons and 1/2 extreme elaboration/extrapolation from canon info.

I'm gonna put this under a read more with a ✨table of contents✨ both so I remember what's under here and so anyone who's only intrigued by one or two of these can skip the rest.

Aku's literally a tree, like not as a meme joke, he's a tree

You make an Aku with a tree+darkness+poison+fire+arrow+curse

That's the reason the future, although devastated, isn't deforested

"Samurai Jack & Powerpuff Girls are the same universe and Aku is Chemical X" is the oldest headcanon in the fandom but I have it too. That tree is Mojo's dad. He'll also accept credit for Buttercup.

Lulu, sweet thing

Aku sorta remembers being a space blob but his life/identity didn't "start" until the poison flaming arrow

Aku likes techno music. He has solo dance parties.

Aku doesn't have any friends

here's a list of Aku's friends

Aku could have friends

Here's what Aku's attracted to (idk what Aku's attracted to)

Aku's a total homebody, he doesn't wanna go places and do stuff, he wants to sit at home in his castle and rule his one planet.

Before Jack, Aku was genuinely super happy. Like this: ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻ ☻

Aku would have the same emotional reaction to doing good things as good people have to being forced to do evil

Aku's actually very polite. This isn't even a headcanon, it's just an intrigued observation of canon.

I'll answer the Jack/Aku question in another post because my god this one is long enough already.

1. I know we make plenty of "lol aku's a tree" jokes but like, I headcanon he's literally a tree. As in the forest of suspiciously tree-shaped spikes he came from was ACTUALLY, in some biological sense, a hideous mutation of trees. Some tree got The Ooze™ on it and that was the basis of Aku long before magic poisons got involved. If you say "don't think just answer what are you made out of and you can't say 'evil' or 'darkness'" Aku would say "wood." He still considers himself a tree. When he's in his default form his "skin" feels like bark. Evil bark.

2. beyond just a tree, in a magical sense Aku is "made of" Pure All-Consuming Darkness, trees, poison, fire, an arrow, & a curse. These are his component parts. This is what you need to create him. The official Aku Recipe. He wouldn't exist if any of these parts had been missing in his creation. Is it any wonder that Mr. Darkness/Poison/Fire/Arrows/Curses (Also Trees) named himself Evil. Those are some pretty evil things. Except for the trees.

3. because he's Tree—you know how many lush jungles and beautiful old growth forests and such Jack travels through? Seems kind of weird for a planet that's been ruthlessly exploited with zero environmental protections for thousands of years, yeah? Why hasn't Earth been deforested to hell and back? When we're told that Aku's wrung Earth so dry of resources that he started inviting in aliens just to get more resources to exploit... it's weird that there's still so much of Earth that looks decidedly un-exploited and un-devastated.

And I headcanon that Aku, just. he fuckin likes trees, man. Not in a "good" way—he doesn't leave forests alone for the good of the environment, he doesn't do it to live in peace and harmony with nature, he doesn't do it because the beautiful savage wilds are more pure and morally uplifting than the polluted overdeveloped modern urban cities or any creepy bunk like that. He's still evil. In the most morally neutral way possible, Aku likes trees.

So if he doesn't see any particular benefit to exploiting a forest—like, if he doesn't KNOW there's magical rubies or whatever beneath the forest—he goes "ah, this place is worthless. Leave it alone and let's move on." If a town or mine or whatever has already had every drop of usefulness squeezed out of it, rather than like, maintaining this blighted land as a barren wasteland, he's like "right, this place is a waste of resources now, I don't want it anymore, abandon this place and leave it to be reclaimed by the wild. No, of course the nearby village can't take over the abandoned warehouse and use it to house their devastated community. In fact, burn down the village for asking."

Aku uses up swathes of Earth until they have nothing left to give and moves on. But Jack's (and the audience's) idea of a used-up wasteland is like that burned forest with a single tree Jack shows Ashi. But that burned forest is the exception: it's Aku making an example of this place. Aku's idea of a used-up wasteland is a forest. A forest that's grown over a land that's given all it has to give, a forest that's tangled and unbalanced and poor in useful/edible plants because it's been uncultivated by human hands, a forest with no people because they've been stolen away and shipped somewhere they can be put to work.

Aku likes forests. Aku doesn't care for forests.

He doesn't set up natural parks or nature preserves or anything. He does sometimes set up fences & guards if he thinks a forest might have temptingly useful resources to a nearby human settlement and he thinks it'd be fun to deprive the humans of those benefits.

He doesn't advertise that he likes trees, because an asshole like him has a lot of enemies; and when Aku wants to hurt an enemy, he finds out what the enemy likes and wants and needs and then goes about depriving his enemy of that in any way possible just to make them miserable so he can laugh at them. Would not his enemies do the same to him? Would they not burn the wilderness of a whole continent to the ground just to break his heartwood?

(Propose this to Jack and he'd look at you like you're nuts. He doesn't think like Aku.)

4. I'm not the first person to headcanon this, I won't be the last person to headcanon this, there are people out there who think that this headcanon is actually canon, and there are probably even more people out there who are tired of this headcanon. However. I think Aku is the source of Chemical X in Powerpuff Girls. Powerpuff Girls takes place in the post-Samurai Jack world where Aku was killed a mere 17 years after his reign began and the rest of the world was never conquered. Aku's dead, but the pit of hate—the goo pool he came from—remains.

So here's what you gotta do. You take some evil goo. Then you mix up a specific formula that happens to be very poisonous, you set it on fire, you propel it at high speed into the goo, and you shake it up a bit. And bam—you've got Chemical X. Just don't pour the Chemical X on something, like a tree, or it might turn evil; and for the love of god don't place a curse on the evil tree or it might come alive.

There's a single tar pit in Japan that sources the goo needed to create Chemical X. Professor Utonium's ancestors come from that area of Japan. (Probably someone in the lineage leading to him was a maternal ancestor, he doesn't have a very Japanese last name.) His family has been fuckin around with that goo for centuries—keeping people away from it, experimenting with it, cleaning up the mess when it breaks containment and does something terrible like get on a tree that someone placed a curse on yeah you can figure out where this is going, "Utonium and Jack are related" also isn't a new or original headcanon.

Get Chemical X on anything and it gets Akutized a la Jack with the Aku Infection. Symptoms of Chemical X poisoning include: turning void-black with green features and possible reddish accents; aggression and violent tendencies; power-hunger; an ambition to oppress, dominate, or conquer the area and/or world; a fascination/attraction toward darkness, evilness, or villainy; a craving to collect vast material wealth and riches; and if you get a really big dose sometimes a vaguely Japanese accent and an urge to adopt a more menacing/badass name.

In other words, you get Mojo Jojo. He's basically the direct heir to Aku's legacy. He has no idea who Aku is.

At lower doses, other symptoms include abilities that some people might consider superpowers, such as super strength, time travel, and laser eyes.

The "everything nice" in the Powerpuff Girls' recipe balances out the evil in the ingredient at the base of Chemical X, hence why they don't have most of the symptoms of Chemical X poisoning. But the girls didn't get an equal amount of "everything nice."

The girl who got the least is the one who has black hair and green eyes; glories in opportunities to commit violence for violence's sake; received a single dollar and immediately got so unhinged with greed that she declared she now understood Mojo, attempted to knock out her sister's teeth so she could trade them to the tooth fairy for more money, and finally went around assaulting villains for their teeth; briefly had a baby-crush on the leader of the lowkey-villainous Gangreen Gang; at one point decided to become a "cooler" superhero by making an actual goddamn demonic bargain to gain the ability to turn into a pitch-black living shadow with glowing green eyes and adopting (a kindergartener's idea of) a menacing/badass name ("Mange"); and, let's be frank, whose hairdo would fit right in amongst the Daughters of Aku.

Buttercup is essentially as "related" to Aku as the Daughters are, and maybe a little more since they didn't really inherit his personality/tastes.

"Hey, why have you put so much thought into this headcanon?" I think it would be fun if after Jack comes back from the future and thrashes Aku around some more, Aku panics, creates a second time portal and jumps through it himself, lands in the future, and gets told these three adorable little crimefighting girls are his daughters and this monkey is his son. Imagine it. Imagine Mojo looking up at Aku with awe in his eyes and asking if he could please hear another story about taking over the world... father. 🥺 Imagine someone plopping Bubbles in his hands and going "and this is another one of yours!" Imagine the look on his face as he stares at this sweet-hearted giggly little pigtailed thing and tries to make sense of that. His face would look like 8C

5. I don't think Lulu made it. I'm sorry.

6. I think Aku vaguely remembers being a big evil space blob, but like, not very well. Kind of as a distant dream. I think he considers "himself" as starting the moment Jack's dad arrowed him; he has memories of the stuff that was around before then, but none of that was Aku, it was just the raw materials of what would become Aku. That was some other guy that got blasted by the gods. I think he's vaguely aware that he's the scion of the space blob, but he doesn't regard it as a parent or an elder or a superior, if the space blob survived and Aku met it I doubt he would have an emotional attachment to it. But he's sort of aware that the space blob's enemies are his enemies—anyone who wanted it dead wants him dead—and so he sorta tries (unsuccessfully) to stay off their radar.

7. it's not clear what Aku's relationship is to the rave music used to mind-control the teens. It's called Aku's music but like, did he literally compose it? Did he commission it to be composed to mind-control kids? Did he just go "yeah this is groovy" and slap his stamp of approval on it? Was the CD handed out to kids in town like an Aku's Favorite Club Hits compilation album?

Anyway my headcanon is that Aku just,, really likes rave music. His scientists approached him like "Aku we have discovered a way to mind-control people using music—" "YES! WE WILL BRAINWASH THE YOUTH WITH TECHNO!" "Lord Aku, it could be any genre of music—" "WITH TECHNO!!!"

the logical next question is does Aku go to raves. And no. I don't think he's social enough for that. He just hangs out alone in the Pit of Hate blasting psytrance and grooving by himself.

8. I don't think Aku, like, has friends. This probably isn't a groundbreaking opinion. He's not very friendly. But sometimes evil supervillains have pals anyway y'know? I don't think he does. He doesn't go out to socialize with anyone (unless he's up to something in the IDW comics I don't know about), he doesn't invite people over, everyone who comes to his castle—refugees, employees, contractors, would-be assassin—is there purely on business.

I don't think he's lonely—or if he is, he has no idea and no urge to change it. I think he does have a need to socialize, but talking to ten strangers for two minutes each would be just as satisfying as talking to one well-known well-trusted long-time underling/ally for twenty minutes.

Every once in a while a well-known well-trusted long-time underling/ally will decide they're friends with Aku and Aku will go "well, that's fine" and accept that it's happening until the friend dies and/or screws up enough for Aku to kill/imprison/exile them. Their professional relationship/utility to Aku always outranks the friendship, but like, if it's an entertaining friendship he might be 5% more lenient with screwups. If he ever gets a hint that they're just sucking up in the hopes that being nice to him will get them some professional/political advantage, it's the Pit of Hate for their impertinence.

9. out of the characters we see in the show:

Scaramouche has decided he's Aku's friend. Aku's fine with this because Scaramouche understands that it's more important to be a good assassin than a good friend—and he's a very good assassin.

It's not a lot of mere assassins that get Aku's private number—and are permitted to call it enough times to memorize the melody of the buttons being pressed.

Sometimes Scaramouche texts Aku memes. on average about one out of twenty will get a "HAHA" in reply.

Demongo assumed—or, perhaps, hoped—he was Aku's friend in some small subservient way. Demongo was wrong. He didn't figure out the trick is that you've gotta be the one to decide it and then Aku will go along with it. It probably wouldn't have saved him. (It didn't save Scaramouche.)

Some of Aku's top scientists have been friendly with him—thinking of the little troll who gave X-49 emotions, doubt he could get away with little experiments like that if he wasn't firmly on Aku's good side—but generally they aren't friends with him.

I don't think we've ever seen anyone else in the show who qualified as a friend, near-friend, or potential-friend. Maybe the DJ might've been? That seems like the type of position that could've started with Aku having hired this guy for several gigs and the DJ seems like the kind of person to get casual with his boss. The three-eyed alien who spies for him, I feel like she keeps it professional with the boss. They're on friendly-but-not-friend terms. Like, they'd nod to each other on the street but they wouldn't say hi. That might be the whole list out of characters we've seen.

10. I headcanon he is capable of feeling friendship though, even if he isn't actually exercising that capacity in any way. Primarily because my ace/aro ass is sick and tired of "they can't feel desire like a NORMAL person, they're LOVELESS unlike a GOOD person" being used to indicate how evil an evil-in-their-soul villain is, and i'm gradually extending that to aplatonic characters too.

Therefore if you're calling a character inherently evil i'm gonna say well then he does have the capacity for friendship and attraction even if he isn't using it; because if the lack of friendship & love isn't inherently evil, then the presence of it isn't inherently good, and i'm gonna get up on my soapbox about this.

And aside from me just preferring it that way, I like experimenting with "so what CAN an inherently evil character do (i.e. what are the limits of what's ACTUALLY evil vs what's morally neutral but a lot of people like it and thus decide it's good)?"

11. God only knows WHAT Aku would consider attractive though. what's sexy to a tree? Flowers?? Is he into flowers??? Flowers with a wide stigma and a dozen stamens???? Who knows.

i think he runs into someone that meets his criteria like, once every five hundred years at MOST. Tells no one. Immediately cuts them out of his life. Moves on.

I feel like Aku being attracted to someone/something isn't dependent upon "here's a list of traits he automatically considers appealing/attractive" but some complex network of relationship building and prior interactions and psychological reactions. "so you're just saying he needs to get to know someone before he can be attracted to them?" No. It's Not That Simple. You Don't Understand. "Then explain." no.

12. I think he's perfectly content with, like, JUST ruling earth. No ambitions to go conquer the rest of the galaxy or anything. He's got his cozy little planet he can exploit, torment, and terrorize as much as he pleases, if he wants MORE evildoers around he can just fling open his doors and invite them over and they'll come pouring in...

And on top of that the dude's a complete homebody. He can leave earth in seconds any time he wants but he doesn't, except once, to hire a band of hunters and then immediately go home. Which is WILD since like, it would be so goddamn easy to avoid Jack forever by just ruling earth from the moon and banning spaceships. he could be teleporting to all kinds of helpless planets without the technology to fight back and then just pillaging and plundering them. But no, all he wants to do is keep on squeezing Earth.

There's no sign he has any political ties or alliances (or rivalries or brewing wars) with the dictators of other planets; there isn't even any evidence that he goes to normal non-dictator-ruled worlds like "I heard you have too many criminals and you want to get rid of them! I have a suggestion: are you familiar with the concept of Australia?" Instead he just sends out an invite and hopes criminals find it.

And when he's on Earth we never see him, like... GO places. The only times he ever seems to leave his castle are when it's necessary to deal with some business, usually dealing with Jack: to attack him, to recruit someone to attack him, to raise some zombies to attack him, to pretend to be a hot babe and/or a hermit and/or another hot babe to mislead him before attacking him... like he never goes down to the slave mines to laugh at his slaves, he never goes to gladiatorial rings to watch the fights, he never just wanders around his cities kicking puppies and stealing candy from babies and handing murderers gift cards to Weapons R Us, never goes on cruises...

He really is a tree: rooted in one spot, and it's a pain in the ass and a huge chore to uproot him and drag him somewhere else.

If you were to stick him in a modern human AU he'd be that guy with a work-from-home job who spends all of his spare time customizing his home's interior decor—buying new furniture online, painting the walls himself, gets all his groceries via delivery, hasn't seen the sun in three months and hasn't noticed. And he's perfectly content with it.

13. And that's another thing about him: he's content. I truly believe that, before Jack shows up, he's happy and living his best life and absolutely thriving. He's got bingo on his Maslow's hierarchy of needs. He's living out his wildest dreams. He's reached all his life's ambitions and they were just as good as he expected and now he's making fresh new ambitions. He's doing SO great. He's the happiest person on Earth, and not just because he's making everyone else miserable.

A lot of times in stories (and in life) you expect evildoers doing evil to be secretly miserable and depressed and broken and hiding from their psychological demons and that's the reason they're so cruel in the first place. But like, that applies to humans, who are generally psychologically wired to find fulfillment in doing & receiving the things that most of us agree are "good," and so if a human's doing wicked things most of the time it means it's because something's gone terribly wrong in their lives to make this course of action seem necessary or correct.

But Aku's born evil, wired evil, spiritually evil. What breaks a human's soul nourishes Aku's soul.

14. You know how sometimes after a villain with a tragic backstory does something evil and everyone's like WHY, they break down, and in tortured anguish—likely with bitter angry tears—they explain what horrible tragedy befell them to make them this wrong, this twisted, this broken, and how this experience they went through and the terrible things they're doing now are poisoning them from the inside and hollowing them out into a bitter crumbling husk of the person they should be?

That's the kind of reaction you'd get if Aku helped a little old lady carry her groceries home.

he donates money to a charity to end homelessness and is sick with guilt & disgust & self-loathing. He helps a child do their homework and feels like he's dead inside, he goes home and stares in the mirror and wonders if the real him is even alive anymore. What terrible tragedy would have to befall him to turn him into such a broken shadow of his former self.

a lot of times inherently evil characters are written as like "well they're not really INHERENTLY evil, they've just been convinced evil is good but they can be changed and that'd be good for them" or as like "they're evil so they treat goodness like it's got cooties and it's played for laughs." I think we can push the envelope, take it more seriously, try to REALLY imagine the world from the character's perspective. Wouldn't an evil character doing evil feel the same way as a good character doing good? Wouldn't an evil character doing good feel the same way as a good character doing evil—and wouldn't it take the same sort of extreme circumstances to push them to act against their morals like that?

15. Aku's got pretty good manners? We see this several times: the two that most prominently come to mind to me are the moment he's born, when his very first words are "You! Thank you!"; and the time he ordered an (EXTRA THICC) mercenary and was a very polite and patient customer on the phone, like if you're working in a call center a customer like Aku is a dream. Apparently good etiquette is morally neutral. Add to this some other unexpected traits he has that are usually considered "good": tidy, hates messes (in his home, anyway). Sees children mockng him and decides to read them bedtime stories rather than murder them? Leaves an away message to let visitors know he's unavailable when he's occupied being a depressed lump.

In a lot of ways, Aku would make, like... an ideal neighbor, housemate, roommate, customer, etc. Except for all the evil, and the way he eye lasers anyone the moment they annoy him. But if you put aside the evil he's a well put-together guy with generally quite pleasant habits. He'd probably put the toilet seat back down after using it. But he probably lifted the toilet seat in the first place because he was flushing your still-living pet hamster down the toilet.

And that's enough of that I think.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Not sure if you've closed or open requests but

How do you feel about writing a Yan! Slime? Could be platonic or romantic up to you! Idk slimes are cute :3

(also I'm permanently gonna low key stalk ur blog since again yummy yan fics hope you don't mind me staying- /hj)

CW: Wholesome, romantic, stalker monster love ahead ❤️ proceed with caution❤️

Accidently pushed post whoops done now lol

The five year old boy burst through the bushes, tumbling awkwardly and unskillfully before slowly popping up onto his feet and swinging his stick sword forward. His sibling, (Reader), high stepped carefully over the branches of the bush their brother had just crashed through. (Reader) nervously held their own sword, following their older brother into the woods.

"Jay, can we please go back?" (Reader) whined, trying not to cry nervously as they "explored" deeper into the forest.

"Don't be a baby!" Jay chastised, raising his arms high above his head. "How are you gonna be a monster hunter if you're too chicken?!"

(Reader) grumbled, dragging their shoes in the dirt. "I don't wanna be a monster hunter.. I wanna go home! I'm hungry!"

Jay opened his mouth, and raised his fists, ready to say something when something moved nearby, plopping loudly into a pile of dry leaves. His big, childish eyes went wide with fear, immediately losing all confidence and hiding behind (Reader), holding his thin stick in front of his face defensively. He was too scared to speak, trembling into (Reader's) back.

The younger of the two felt a surge of strength, needing to protect their beloved big brother, so they gripped their weapon with both hands, scrunching up their chubby little face to appear tough. They stomped over to the bush the sound came from, holding their breath, unlike Jay who was hyperventilating. (Reader) removed one pudgy hand from their stick, and swiftly pushed back the little branches, exposing a tiny green blob.

Jay released a high pitched scream and took off running back home, dropping his stick.

The glob was vibrating, and (Reader) was instantly filled with sympathy, assuming the little ball of goo was shaking with fear. "Hey, don't be scared." The four year old cooed, dropping their 'sword' and sitting on their knees to be closer. "I'm sorry, I thought you were a monster." (Reader's) cheesy grin showed off their missing front teeth.

Whatever the green thing was slowly went still, and (Reader) could feel it looking up at them.

"My name is (Reader), and I'm," they looked at their fingers, focusing on holding up the right number, before practically shoving their fingers in the glob's personal space, "four years old!"

The goo reached forward, forming a little nub of a hand, touching (Reader's) fingers. It was surprisingly warm. (Reader) opened their hand so it could roll onto their palm.

"Burrrrble!" The thing happily gurgled, looking quite pleased despite it's lack of a face.

"Burble? Is that your name?"

"Prrrr?" It patted their hand, not understanding the question. (Reader) laughed, feeling ticklish.

"I'm gonna be your best friend!" They decided, cupping the slime with both hands, still giggling over the sticky tingling the little guy caused. "I'll visit you every day, and we can play together everyday after school!"

And (Reader) kept their promise, visiting every single day, for years. The two friends grew up together, Burble learning to speak (Reader's) language over time as (Reader) brought their homework into the woods to have more time with Burble while they studied. Jay kept Burble's existence a secret, but never got over his fear of the creature, so he kept his distance from the two while they played.

Burble had a difficult time not praising (Reader) for their heroics, because if they did it would reveal that Burble had been watching them at school. Living alone in the woods was isolating, especially as a monster, their presence frightening off animals of all species. At first it was just because of how lonely they were, wanting to leave the forest to be with (Reader). They turned Burble down, reminding them how dangerous it would be, now no longer the naive child who didn't understand that slimes were monsters. But, no one would know if Burble attached just a little piece of themselves inside (Reader's) backpack, just to hear their voice while they were away.

Fourteen years later, Burble had been practicing in secret, forming their naturally round body into a humanoid form, trying to perfect their appearance before they revealed themselves to (Reader). It happened so naturally, Burble falling in love with their one and only friend. They wondered if (Reader) could ever feel the same. (Reader) was just so perfect; they were kind and strong, preferring pacifism, but quick to throw themselves in danger's way to protect the ones they love, just like when they first met. Even at school, (Reader) would stand up for those being bullied on a regular basis, gaining a reputation for standing up for those too scared to protect themselves. And they never bragged about it!

The green slime learned so much about (Reader) through the way they interacted with others at school, and fell deeper in love everytime they opened their mouth. (Reader) was an angel on Earth.

(Reader) trudged into the forest behind their home, exhausted after field hockey but refusing to take even a day off from visiting their best friend. It was surprising, learning that Burble was less of a pet and actually a sentient being with thoughts and feelings, but that was even more exciting, being able to communicate with a species not known for their intelligence. Burble rolled onto view, now a very large blob the size of (Reader) if they tucked in their arms and legs.

"(Reader)!" They happily gurgled, jiggling up to the high school senior. "How was your day?"

"Same old, same old." (Reader) lied, still wearing their gym shirt because their original clothes got soaked with milk after they stood up to Cody, the biggest dick they ever met.

Burble knew this, however, and was fine with (Reader) lying, knowing they were just being humble. It made their non-existent heart swell. (Reader) pulled out a bunch of classwork, and a brochure slipped out from a folder. "What's that?"

"Oh, that's a pamphlet for a university. Admissions are coming up, so I've been looking around."

The green color lightened almost to a sick looking yellow. Burble hadn't heard anything about this! What did they mean?!

"Burble, you okay?"

"Does that mean you're leaving?" Burble's voice shook, wobbling their jelly body.

"Yeah, if I make it in, but that's still half a year away, so we have time-"

Burble cut them off. "Don't go."

(Reader) sighed, placing a hand on top of their friend's smooth body. "I can't stay with my parents forever. I want to go explore, meet new people, hopefully get a career a have a passion for."

"Then take me with you!" Burble shouted, heating up under (Reader's) hand, the yellow intensifying.

The now yellow blob lunged at (Reader), morphing into a humanesque shape, creating a beautiful face that looked to be on the verge of tears. Burble held (Reader) to the ground, trapping (Reader's) body with their arms and knees.

"Burble, what the hell?" (Reader) wasn't angry, or nervous, just confused, not understanding what had gotten into their childhood friend.

"You can't leave me alone, (Reader), please!" Burble was incapable of forming tears, but their body ached like they were sobbing, rumbling instead of heaving as they didn't need to breathe. They slammed their face onto (Reader's), knowing what kissing was from a picture book (Reader) had shown them as a child, but not quite understanding how to actually do it. Their newly formed lips moved against (Reader's) timidly, easily holding down the struggling human. Burble broke the kiss so (Reader) could gasp for air. "I love you, (Reader), please don't leave me!"

A hurricane of emotions ripped (Reader's) mind apart, struggling with accepting what was happening. Their first kiss was taken by their best friend, who was still holding them tightly against the dirt ground.

"Let's.. let's talk about this later.. I need to go home." (Reader) stuttered, overwhelmed by the emotions they never felt before rampaging in their skull. Burble sunk lower, melting over (Reader's) body to better prevent their leaving.

"No.. not until you promise not to leave me." Their voice was barely a whisper, begging for (Reader) to love them back.

"I-I won't leave you. We'll figure something out.. You've just gotten too big to hide and-" Burble's weight was heavy on (Reader's) ribcage. "we'll figure something out."

Satisfied, Burble sat up and rolled off of (Reader), slowly changing back to their natural green hue. "You promise?"

"I promise." (Reader) face a sad smile, still incapable of fearing their dear friend.

Burble smiled, barely maintaining their shape as they allowed (Reader) to leave. They trusted (Reader), even if (Reader) didn't accept their confession at that moment, there was no way they would break their promise. And, if for some reason they did, if someone like their nervous brother fear mongered (Reader) into abandoning Burble, they would always be able to find them. The green slime collapsed back into a ball, happily listening to (Reader) through the tiny piece of themselves still hiding in (Reader's) backpack.

"Please come back soon.."

[sativariddle]

EVERYTHING YOU WANTED. ꒰ m.r ꒱

ㅤ────── ❝ if you don't, someone else will. ❞

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ navigation.

SUMMARY: engaged to the man of your dreams, life seems perfect: until a letter informs you of an old friend’s passing. you’re pulled back into a world you thought you’d left behind. old relationships and emotions resurface, reminding you that some pasts are impossible to lock away.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with. like, do you wanna get slutty or nottt?!

WARNINGS: mentions of death and grief, kissing, very angsty, read at your own risk or whatever.

YOU CRACK ONE EYE open from bed, groaning as a cupboard slams shut. there’s a heavy pause. then the unmistakable sound of something metal hitting the floor. “jesus christ,” you mumble into your pillow.

“i’m fine!” lewis calls from the kitchen, voice way too perky for this ungodly hour.

you drag yourself out of bed, hair a complete disaster, and shuffle towards the crime scene. when you round the corner, there he is — your husband, standing in front of the stove in plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows in a way that’s far too attractive for someone who is currently holding a spatula like it’s a medieval sword.

“what,” you say, voice still raspy, “are you doing?”

lewis turns around dramatically, like he’s in a cooking show. “i’m making breakfast. for you. because i am simply the best husband in the world.” you glance at the counter, where there’s already a mess of cracked eggshells, flour, and what appears to be… half an avocado just idling there for absolutely no reason.

“you’re making…?”

“pancakes,” he announces proudly. then, like an afterthought: “with eggs. and… maybe toast.”

your eyes narrow. “do you even know how to make pancakes?”

he waves the spatula like a wand. “babe, it’s just flour and other stuff. i’ve got this.”

you watch him for a long moment as he carefully pours batter into the pan — except he pours way too much, and now there’s this sad blob that’s sizzling aggressively. the whole kitchen smells faintly like something burning.

“you want me to help?” you offer, trying not to smile.

lewis’s eyes flick up, full of betrayal. “absolutely not. this is my romantic gesture. sit down. look pretty. maybe stir some coffee if you must.”

you snort but obey, sitting at the kitchen table in his hoodie like a little gremlin, watching him absolutely manhandle breakfast. he’s got that determined little furrow between his brows, tongue poking out slightly as he flips the world’s ugliest pancake.

every five minutes, he glances back at you like a labrador waiting for approval.

“that’s… a pancake shaped object,” you comment.

“it’s rustic,” he deadpans.

you were halfway through a reply: tongue already poised to add something witty to the joke - when your eyes snagged on a flicker of movement outside the window.

an owl.

not just any owl — that owl.

its dark feathers rippled under the soft morning light, talons gripping the ledge like it had never left. your heart stumbled in your chest, breath caught somewhere between your lungs and throat. for a moment, you convinced yourself you were seeing things — that the ghost of five years ago had clawed its way into your morning, taunting you for daring to forget.

you blinked. once. twice. the owl remained, unbothered and unnervingly familiar.

the last time you’d seen that creature was during your final year at hogwarts — when the group still existed, before you’d walked away from everything that tied you to them. before you buried yourself in a different life, one where ghosts didn’t follow.

“babe?”

lewis’s voice tugged at your ears, distant and warm as he plated pancakes, oblivious to the storm brewing behind your ribs.

you ignored him, feet carrying you to the window as if something was pulling you there. the owl cocked its head, sharp amber eyes pinning you in place. its beak was clamped tightly around a letter, the wax seal pressed firmly at the edge — that same familiar stamp, unbroken, untouched by time.

you reached out slowly, fingertips brushing against the parchment as if it might disappear at any moment.

“long time, no see,” you muttered under your breath, the words half sarcastic, half breathless. the owl let out a low, hollow hoot, almost as if it was answering.

the letter was heavier than you remembered - or maybe that was just the weight pressing down on your chest. nostalgia curled through your lungs, thick and unwelcome, making it harder to breathe.

you glanced down at the seal — dark wax, pressed with the same seal that once felt familiar to you.

your stomach twisted. the ache hit sharp, right beneath your ribs, the kind of ache you thought you’d buried years ago. but here it was; clawing its way back up, reminding you that time doesn’t heal all wounds. it just hides them beneath layers of distance and denial.

“what’s that?” lewis asked again, voice softer now, sensing the shift in the air. you didn’t answer. your nails dug into the edge of the parchment, stomach knotting tighter as the memories stirred — laughter under corridors, cigarette smoke curling through dark corners, whispered secrets at the edge of forbidden forests.

you’d spent five years pretending that version of yourself was long gone. but now… she was right there — just beneath your skin, waiting.

with one final breath, you broke the seal.

─────────────

TO YOU,

i would normally start this with something pleasant, but we both know neither of us has ever been the sentimental type - or at least, not outwardly. five years have passed and i won’t waste breath pretending we haven’t noticed your absence. maybe you thought leaving would save you from the ghosts of everything you were. or maybe you thought we wouldn’t care.

but enzo is dead.

they’re holding a funeral - his funeral - this friday at the old estate. i’ve already sent owls to theo, draco, blaise… and mattheo. none of us are exactly fond of each other these days, but that doesn’t matter now, does it? we were his family - messy, destructive, and half fucking mad - but still his family.

and you were one of us, whether you like it or not. it’s only fair that you come. you owe him that much. you owe us that much.

we’ll be there, standing in black, pretending not to look at each other across the room like strangers. but we both know the second you walk through those doors, the past will cling to you like smoke. you can try to ignore it - i expect you to, honestly.

i don’t know what you’re so afraid of.

maybe it’s him. maybe it’s all of us. maybe it’s the version of yourself you left behind.

come anyway.

PANSY.

P.S. don’t wear something ridiculous. you always had the worst taste.

─────────────

the parchment unfolded beneath your shaking fingers, the familiar handwriting crawling across the page like it had been plucked straight from a different lifetime. your eyes scanned the words - once, twice - but they blurred at the edges, as if your mind refused to fully process them. every word felt heavier than the last, dragging you down into a place you swore you’d never go back to.

lorenzo is dead.

your best friend.

all jokes and loud laughter, all crooked grins with teeth showing — gone. the words rattled in your head, looping over and over until they didn’t feel like words anymore: just static. just noise.

it didn’t feel real. none of this did. the feeling coursing through your chest, tightening around your lungs; it was unfamiliar, sharp and suffocating all at once. you kept waiting for the punchline, for someone to jump out from behind the curtain and tell you it was all one elaborate, sick joke.

because enzo couldn’t be gone.

he was the loudest of all of you - the heartbeat in every room, the glue that held together a group built on sharp edges and bad habits. the one who made the worst days bearable, just by flashing that stupid, toothy grin and saying something so wildly inappropriate it made you laugh even when you didn’t want to.

you squeezed your eyes shut, but all you could see was him — head thrown back in laughter, muttering some smart remark under his breath. always alive. always… there.

and now he wasn’t.

your chest ached like something inside you was folding in on itself, like if you let yourself feel it fully - if you let the grief crack through the surface - you’d never be able to piece yourself back together again. it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. you were supposed to have more time - even if you’d wasted the last five years pretending you didn’t need any of them.

the letter crumpled slightly in your grip, but you couldn’t let it go — couldn’t face the truth scrawled in pansy’s sharp handwriting.

it was real.

enzo is gone.

and you’d never even said goodbye.

the world tilted slightly, the edges of the kitchen softening into a haze. for a second, all you could hear was the soft hum of the stove behind you - the smell of burnt pancakes clinging stubbornly to the air - but none of it felt real.

it was as if the letter had split the morning clean in two. there was the life you had been living before - warm, quiet, full of safe little routines. and then there was this - the echo of a life you’d buried clawing its way back through every line scrawled on the page.

you hadn’t even realized you were gripping the letter too tightly until lewis’s voice broke through the fog.

“hey… love?”

his hand brushed lightly over your lower back, fingers barely there — like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you. that small gesture made something snap deep inside your chest. you let out a sharp, uneven breath and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold it all in - but it was too much. the grief, the guilt, the years of distance you’d carved between yourself and the people who once were everything to you.

“lorenzo’s gone,” you whispered, voice breaking at the edges. saying it out loud made it real - far too fucking real.

lewis froze behind you. you didn’t have to explain who lorenzo berkshire was — not fully. you’d told him little pieces over the years, careful not to paint the full picture. he knew there had been a group — friends who felt more like found family. he knew there had been fights and secrets, nights spent tangled in something dark and electric. he knew there had been him.

what he didn’t know - what you’d never told him - was how much you’d left behind. how much of yourself you’d buried along with those memories “shit…” he breathed, his hand pressing a little firmer against your back.

you nodded, chest rising in shallow, uneven breaths as your eyes stayed locked on the letter. the words blurred again — pansy’s sharp, familiar handwriting pressing into your skull. lorenzo. dead. the funeral. the names.

mattheo.

it felt like the whole world was shifting beneath your feet — pulling you back into a place you thought you’d outrun.

“hey,” lewis murmured, stepping closer until his chest was flush against your back. his arms slowly circled around your waist, grounding you before you spiraled any further. he rested his chin lightly on your shoulder, voice steady in your ear. “i’m right here… i’m not going anywhere.”

your throat clenched painfully.

“i can’t -“ the words splintered before they could fully form. you didn’t even know what you were trying to say. you couldn’t face them. you couldn’t face him. you couldn’t walk into that funeral and let all those memories unravel everything you’d built here - this quiet, safe little life.

lewis squeezed you tighter, his thumbs rubbing small, steady circles over your hips.

“you can.” his voice was quiet but certain, like he was trying to press the truth into your bones. “and if you can’t… i’ll be there. every step, alright?”

you wanted to argue — wanted to tell him he didn’t understand, that there were pieces of yourself buried in that world he’d never seen. but the words wouldn’t come. instead, you just leaned back into his chest, letting his warmth steady the shaking in your body. for a long moment, neither of you spoke — the only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant rustle of the owl still perched on the windowsill.

you swallowed hard, eyes still locked on the letter in your hand.

you hated knowing.

you hated pansy for writing it.

you hated her even more for being right.

you owed enzo this. you owed all of them this - even if it ripped you apart. finally, with a deep, trembling breath, you whispered:

“... i’m going,” you sniffled. “to his funeral.” his funeral. the taste of those words on your lips felt wrong, bitter, something you never wanted to say. you had always imagined saying something else - his wedding day, his firstborn daughter. but now, all that remained were these haunting words, the ones you never wanted to speak.

lewis’s arms tightened around you, like he’d known all along you’d say that. “and i’ll be right there,” he murmured into your hair. “every step.”

you let lewis’s whisper against your ear, his breath warm and familiar. you melted into him, surrendering to the weight of time. the memories of five years ago slipped through the cracks of your mind, wrapping around you like something both tender and cruel. you let yourself drown in them, in the distant echoes of a life where you once felt so vividly alive.

one of your most cherished memories was the summer sleepovers your group of friends held every year. it was the summer before your final year at hogwarts - a time when your grades were thriving, and you and mattheo were the happiest you’d ever been. life, for once, felt effortlessly good: as if the world had finally aligned in your favor.

you were in berkshire manor — tucked into the heart of the living room where the air always smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor. the fire crackled low in the hearth, casting flickering orange light across half empty bottles and carelessly discarded shoes. someone’s old vinyl crackled from the record player in the corner — something slow and lazy, the kind of music enzo always insisted “set the mood” even though no one ever paid attention.

enzo was sprawled out on the rug, one arm folded behind his head, grinning like he’d just thought of something particularly brilliant. he was always at the center of it all; the sun everyone else orbited around.

“i’m telling you lot,” he announced to the ceiling, waving an empty glass in the air. “if i had half a mind - which i do, thank you very much, theo — i’d run away. disappear. start a pub on some island where they don’t give a shit about bloodlines or dark families or any of the bollocks our parents go on about.”

theo, half curled in one of the armchairs, snorted lazily. “you? run a pub? you can barely run a bath without setting something on fire.”

lorenzo shot up dramatically, clutching his chest. “that’s incredibly funny coming from the bloke who accidentally set snape’s robes alight twice.”

a laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to stifle the sound. theo muttered something half heartedly through the blunt hanging between his fingers, smoke curling lazily from his mouth.

the air was foggy — hazy clouds clinging to the room, casting everything in a slow, golden blur. from the corner, blaise smirked, legs kicked up on the coffee table, though the weight of sleep was dragging him under too much to join in properly.

pansy chuckled low and lazy, wrapped head to toe in a blanket like a cocoon, her dark hair spilling over malfoy’s shoulder. he sat beside her, low red eyes flickering toward theo, two fingers lifting in a silent gesture to pass the blunt, the ember glowing faintly through the heavy fog.

you were tucked under one of the thicker blankets with mattheo — hidden in the corner, backs pressed against the wall. his arm was lazily draped around your waist, fingers tracing soft, aimless patterns over the strip of skin between your jumper and your waistband.

he always did that. like he couldn’t touch you without leaving something behind, something invisible and constant.

“you’d hate island life,” you whispered, voice low so only he could hear.

mattheo’s breath was warm against your ear, lips curving into a smirk. “would not.”

“you’d get bored within a week. start brooding. pissing off the locals.”

he hummed low, mouth brushing just beneath your jaw. “maybe you’d keep me busy.”

you felt your cheeks flush, biting back a smile as you shoved your elbow lightly into his ribs. he only chuckled - that deep, low sound that always made your stomach flip and thighs clench.

he lifted the blanket over your heads as he leaned in closer, fingers curling around your waist like he was anchoring you to him. just like that; everything else blurred - enzo’s monologue, theo’s grumbling, the crackle of the fire - until it was just him. just the rhythm of his breath against your neck, the heat of his body pressed against yours.

he kissed you slow - lazy, like he had all the time in the world. his lips moved softly against yours, fingers tightening ever so slightly on your waist. you melted into him without thinking, fingers curling into the front of his hoodie.

it felt safe, like the rest of the world couldn’t reach either of you here. the complicated, messy thing between you only ever made sense in moments like this - wrapped in quiet, hazy stillness. his lips moved against yours in a slow, lazy rhythm, the kind of kiss that tasted like warmth and smoke, leaving you dizzy. his tongue traced against yours, unhurried, pulling soft sighs from the back of your throat.

fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp as his hands dragged down your waist, thumbs pressing into the fabric of your shirt. the faint crackle of music played low in the background, melting into the thick air around you.

“you two are disgusting, by the way,” lorenzo called out, not even bothering to open his eyes. you froze against mattheo’s mouth, heat prickling up your neck.

mattheo just smirked against your lips, completely unbothered. “don’t be jealous, berkshire.”

“jealous? please.” enzo cracked one eye open, grinning wider. “i’m just wondering if you lot even remember there are other people in this room — or if you’ve finally decided to crawl under that blanket and shag like rabbits.”

“christ, shut up,” theo muttered, flicking ash toward the fireplace without looking.

lorenzo grinned wider. “i think it’s sweet. young love and all that shit.”

“you don’t even know what love is, enzo,” you shot back, trying to smother the smile tugging at your mouth. “oh, i know exactly what love is.” he folded both arms dramatically behind his head again, voice drawling. “it’s when two people hate each other slightly less than they hate everyone else. and if they’re lucky, they occasionally get a snog out of it.”

blaise snorted from his spot in the corner, barely lifting his head. theo rolled his eyes, flicking ash into a tray with a bored huff. draco only shrugged - a silent, lazy agreement. and pansy… well, she looked completely asleep, wrapped in her blanket like she hadn’t heard a word.

mattheo’s fingers tightened just slightly on your waist, his breath brushing warm against your ear.

“sounds about right.”

you turned your head just enough to meet his gaze - dark brown eyes half lidded and lazy, like he could stay right there forever. your chest ached - but in the soft, tender way that made you want to bottle the moment and keep it somewhere safe.

you didn’t know then how short it all was - how these nights would burn out faster than any of you could hold onto them.

lorenzo was still grinning - alive and brilliant and whole. theo was still grumpy and half listening, and blaise was still half asleep. draco and pansy were both completely high and drunk, lost in their own hazy minds. mattheo was still pressed against you under the blankets, warm and steady, like he’d never be anything else.

and you were still just you.

untouched by years of distance and regret.

unburdened by everything you would eventually leave behind.

it hurt.

it hurt more than anything had in years.

you blinked hard, eyes fixed on the ceiling as your chest rose and fell in quiet rhythm. the ghost of mattheo’s fingers still burned on your waist — enzo’s laughter faintly echoing at the edges of your mind. pansy’s sharp jokes, draco’s familiar scowls, theodore’s teasing banter, and blaise’s endless stories of his mother’s many husbands lingered like fragments of a dream you weren’t ready to let go of.

you hadn’t thought about them in so long.

you hadn’t let yourself.

but now they were crawling back through the cracks - warm, golden memories that tasted like smoke and stolen kisses, wrapped in the ache of everything you’d run from.

lorenzo was gone.

mattheo was still out there somewhere.

pansy had begged you to come.

draco was likely the man his father always wanted him to become.

theodore was probably drowning his grief at the bottom of a glass.

blaise had likely already told his mother everything.

and whether you were ready or not - they were all waiting for you to come back.

THE FUNERAL WAS bitterly cold, the kind of chill that seeped into your bones and made every breath feel heavier. misery hung in the air - thick, suffocating - a kind of grief you hadn’t realized could exist until now. lewis stood close beside you, his palm resting gently against the small of your back; silent reassurance. but the poundage in your chest pressed harder with each passing second, forcing the words from your throat.

“i just… need a little space to breathe.”

his hand lingered for a moment before falling away, his soft nod barely visible through the blur clouding your vision.

the funeral felt heavier than death itself - like the despair had wrapped around every single person present, suffocating in the damp air. the sky hung low, pressed tightly against the earth, thick clouds blotting out any warmth the sun might have offered. the sharp scent of rain lingered in the grass, clinging to your shoes with each step along the muddy path.

you stood at the edge of the crowd, fingers buried deep into the lining of your coat pockets, the fabric damp against your skin. the letter from pansy still burned somewhere in the depths of your bag — its familiar wax seal crumpled from the countless times you’d opened it and folded it back up again, trying to convince yourself not to come.

the years stretched between you and the rest of them — five long, years since you’d last seen any of their faces. time had chipped away at the sharp edges of those memories.

but now, standing here with the cold biting at your skin and the sound of muffled sobs filling the heavy air, it all came rushing back - every laugh, every cigarette shared beneath the moonlight, every promise whispered under blankets.

enzo should have been here.

you couldn’t even picture him like this - stiff and lifeless in a coffin buried beneath the earth. he had always been so alive, the kind of person who filled every room he walked into without even trying. the idea of him being reduced to something cold and still made your stomach turn painfully.

pansy spotted you first - her dark hair tucked into a neat bun, black lace gloves covering her trembling fingers. her arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you into her chest without a word, like she was trying to glue you back into the group by sheer force alone.

“you came,” she whispered, voice breaking on the words.

“i didn’t know if i should,” you admitted, throat thick. pansy’s grip only tightened. “you were always one of us.”

one of them.

family.

you didn’t realize how much you’d missed that feeling until it settled back into your chest - the aching, tangled mess of loyalty and resentment and love that had bound all of you together once.

theo stood off to the side, hidden in the shadows, leaning against a weathered tombstone. a cigarette dangled loosely between his fingers, wisps of smoke curling through the cold air. the same scowl carved into his face, blue eyes flicking toward you every few seconds - like he was waiting, though for what, you couldn’t quite tell.

beside him, draco stood stiff and silent, his grey eyes fixed on the fresh patch of earth where lorenzo had been buried. his gaze was distant, unfocused - as if if he stared hard enough, he could convince himself none of this was real.

blaise nodded to you from a distance — small, unreadable smirk playing at his lips like he knew exactly how much this was hurting you and was silently daring you to show it.

none of them had really changed.

except… they had.

the significance of time clung to all of them in subtle ways - a little more grey in theo’s hair, heavier shadows beneath pansy’s eyes, the way blaise’s smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. draco didn’t flaunter his wealth.

you could feel it too — like you’d walked back into some forgotten version of yourself, stitched together from old regrets and lingering heartache.

but it wasn’t until you saw him - until your eyes finally found him - that the ground seemed to tilt beneath your feet entirely. your stomach gave that all too familiar flip; the same one that always stirred whenever your eyes landed on him.

mattheo stood beneath the gnarled branches of an old oak tree, hidden in the shadows. his joint was pinched loosely between two fingers, smoke curling lazily into the cold air. he looked… older - face carved a little sharper, too many sleepless nights carved into the dark circles beneath his eyes. his hair was longer, the curls brushing against the collar of his black coat — the same coat he’d always worn during winters at hogwarts, patched at the elbows from years of wear.

he hadn’t noticed you yet - or maybe he had and was simply giving you the space to breathe before he shattered whatever fragile resolve you’d built up on the way here.

you almost didn’t go to him.

almost.

you had known it then, just as painfully as you knew it now — the undeniable pull buried deep within you, interlaced into your very being. your body recognized him before your mind could catch up, heart stuttering in its old, familiar rhythm. it was instinctive, this ache — the way your fingertips twitched, yearning to close the distance. no matter how much time had passed, some part of you was still reaching for him, as if it had never truly learned how to stop.

your feet carried you across the damp grass before you could stop them, until you were standing close enough to catch the faint scent of smoke and something distinctly mattheo - that mix of cheap cologne and joints that never quite faded from your memory.

the moment his eyes met yours, everything seemed to freeze. he paused, mouth parting slightly, the faintest breath escaping him. one hand tucked into his pocket, the other still holding the joint, forgotten for a second as the weight of the years between you crashed into him. he hadn’t seen you in over five years - not since that last day at hogwarts, when he’d shattered everything by telling you he wasn’t good enough, that you deserved better, and you’d run away, heartbroken.

now, in the steady fall of rain, your soft skin glistened with droplets, blending with the tears that welled up in your eyes. it was as though time rewound for him, bringing him back to that exact moment when he let you go. and in his gaze, you saw the same regret, the same heartache - as if, in that instant, he felt the pain he caused you all over again.

he flicked the joint away at the last second, crushing it beneath his boot with the same lazy carelessness that had always driven you mad.

“i wasn’t sure you’d come.”

his voice was rougher than you remembered - lower, like it had been scraped against too many bad habits and sleepless nights.

you swallowed hard, hugging your arms tighter around yourself.

“neither was i.”

his eyes flicked down - catching the glint of the ring on your finger almost immediately. you catched the way his jaw clenched, how quickly he masked whatever flicker of pain flashed through his eyes.

“engaged, huh?”

you huffed out a quiet, breathless laugh, the sound catching painfully in your chest.

“yeah…”

mattheo’s mouth quirked into something that barely passed as a smile. “bet he’s a real fucking gentleman.”

“he is.” you defend.

a small silence stretched between you - the kind of silence that made your throat ache. mattheo’s eyes stayed fixed on the distance, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his coat.

“i’m glad,” he said quietly. “you deserve that.”

the words cracked something open inside of you - something you’d buried so deep you hadn’t even realized it was still there. you stared at him, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes.

the memory remained somewhere deep - one of those soft, half forgotten moments you never realized would matter until years later. the night air had been warm, you and mattheo had snuck out to the edge of the black lake, away from the others, the moonlight casting long shadows against the rippling water.

you were lying on your backs in the grass, shoulder to shoulder. the world felt heavy with quiet — the kind of quiet that only existed when everything was about to change. his curls were messy, sticking to his forehead from the leftover heat of the day, and his brown eyes flicked toward you every few moments, like he was waiting for you to break the silence.

“i just want something… simple,” you’d murmured eventually, your voice barely louder than the rustling leaves. “a small place somewhere. warm, with those big windows that let the light in. books everywhere. and… someone who makes it feel like home.”

mattheo had chuckled under his breath, the sound low and rough. “simple, huh? doesn’t really fit you.”

you’d nudged him with your elbow, half smiling. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he smirked, flicking rocks into the grass. “you’re not made for small, quiet things.” but then his voice softened, more serious. “but i get it. i’d want that too… with you.” the way he’d said it had made your heart ache - like it was the easiest thing in the world to promise, even if you both knew deep down life would never be that kind to either of you.

you remembered the way his fingers had brushed against yours in the dark - so unbelievably light you almost thought you’d imagined it. the way he’d looked at you like he wanted to believe in that future, even if neither of you had the courage to say it out loud.

you smiled so wide, your teeth glinting in the soft light, and the sight of it made his own smile break free - warm and unguarded, like a hidden treasure finally found. the air between you seemed to hum with electricity as you slowly lifted yourself off the grass, your body leaning toward him, drawn by the magnetic pull of his presence. your hair cascaded over your left shoulder, falling in soft curls that framed your face.

as you tilted your head, your mouth found his, and the world around you blurred. the kiss was slow at first, hesitant, like both of you were savoring this moment, letting it stretch out, but it quickly deepened, a soft sigh escaping you as your body leaned closer.

his hands found their way to the grass beside him, and with a quiet grunt, mattheo shifted, his elbows propping him up, trying to land himself as he melted into the kiss. his lips moved against yours with an affection that made your heart race.

you pulled away, breathless, the soft sound of your lips disconnecting. before you could even catch your breath, mattheo leaned back in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, then another, and a third, each one light and playful. you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound bubbling up as you playfully pushed his head away, a smile tugging at your lips.

no matter how many times you and mattheo touched, it always made your heart race and left you breathless, like you were falling for him all over again. it was as if you were a kid again, giddy with excitement, every little touch making your tummy flutter with little butterflies.

you’d fallen asleep against his shoulder that night, wrapped in the illusion that maybe, somehow, the universe would give you both something soft — something good.

thought, years later, you’d find yourself in that exact place you talked about - warm sunlight spilling through wide windows, books lining every corner, with lewis’s arms wrapped around you like home. the future you’d whispered about under the stars had found its way to you - just with someone else.

“you don’t have to say that.”

his eyes flicked toward you then — burning in that way they always had when he was trying to hide everything he couldn’t quite bring himself to say out loud.

“yeah… i do.”

you didn’t realize how badly you’d needed to hear those words - how they’d been sitting heavy in your chest for years, waiting to be spoken. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “for what happened back then… for how i ended things.”

your breath caught painfully in your throat. he dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“i got so caught up in everything - in what people said about us. how i wasn’t good enough for you. how you’d be better off without me.” his jaw clenched hard, eyes flicking away again.

“i let them get to me.”

you swallowed hard, heart hammering painfully beneath your ribs. “you were always enough for me.”

for a second, neither of you moved - the world narrowing down to the space between your bodies, to the ache humming beneath your skin. then mattheo’s mouth curved into the faintest, broken smile.

“in another universe, maybe.”

a lump rose in your throat. in some other universe, you hoped lorenzo was still alive, standing there as the best man. you could picture him now, grinning as he delivered one of his classic speeches - recounting all those times he had to play “couples therapy” between you and mattheo. he’d laugh, talking about how he could never pick a side because he loved you both equally, each of you like family to him.

“maybe.”

his eyes dropped to your ring again. “he’s good to you, yeah?” he murmured, voice thick.

you nodded, throat too tight to speak.

mattheo’s smile barely held.

“good.”

he shifted back slightly, clearing his throat.

“but if he ever fucks up - i’m only a letter away.” despite everything - the heartbreak, the years stretched between you - the corner of your mouth twitched. “unless the husband would get angry.” he added. mattheo’s laugh broke out of him - soft and breathless and completely unguarded.

“you always did love getting me into trouble.” you swallowed against the lump rising in your throat, forcing out a shaky smile.

“you always made it too easy.” his smile faded slowly - something softer flickering in his dark eyes.

“goodbye, mattheo.”

his voice caught on the reply.

“goodbye, sweetheart.” you turned before he could see the tears slipping down your cheeks - before your heart could break all over again for the boy who had always been almost yours.

by the time you reached lewis, mattheo was already lighting another cigarette beneath the branches — smoke curling lazily into the cold, grey sky.

just a feet away.

just a letter away.

[aeromore]

META META META META META META META META. Old art dump from earlier this year, more under the keep reading thing.

RIDER IS THERE. That's just really a secondary name for Stanley to keep track of the guys (there's three of them, that's also why they're numbered). I meant to finish this drawing and have Aleph (another narrator... Specifically number 2) respond to Meta and have PK (Stanley-2) stand next to him, but I didn't have a design for that guy at this current point in time and just left it unfinished. Also, I love Rider. Rider is lovely and very kind, I hope he suffers very much Soon.

Ditto. Ditto's just happy to be here, Meta less so. Hates being proven wrong, too. It is SO hard to choose whether he'd be a Ditto or a Meltan as a pokémon, considering you CAN spell Meta with the letters in Meltan. I eventually went with the latter and had Ditto be on his team, like a constant mockery of him. <- That's how HE sees it. Ditto couldn't care less and just wants to have fun. (Also, he shapeshifted those eyes into existence by the way, he does not usually have eyes under his glasses. LET THE GUY EXPRESS HIMSELF.)

Vitan. (Character belonging to @mct421 / @a-game-of-beginnings) Sorry, I had and still have a crush on this idiot but also he's a very lovely character, please check 'em out on the second @. Meta is reasonably upset/peeved/mad about me turning him into a vertical pancake and also making fun of him for ... a large variety of things. I'll just say he doesn't get treated the best out of my narrators (it's a cuteness aggression thing, and also i hate him (affectionately)). SO, I let it slide that he's making fun of me by shapeshifting into my F/O or crush or whatever he is. Whatever it is, I've proposed to him (VITAN) three times at this point because I either keep forgetting I did or I just want to recreate the scenario since it's funny.

SOMETHING ACTUALLY INTERESTING OF NOTE: When Meta shapeshifts, the eyes always have this green color (not the green in the drawing, that was a lazy doodle, the CORRECT color is #70A083) and the hair is silvery at the roots.

Dumb idiot flawed shapeshifter, couldn't be me. <- Could be me. Is me.

Dressed him up in silly outfits, some of which he hates and some that he is fine with.

Was bought Webfishing by a friend of mine back in October, so I pretty quickly whipped a little complementary drawing of Meta as a fish (nice callback) and @nonsensechemicals's settings person as a lil fish too ":o" (it's a callback to one of their drawings but I don't really have it on hand right now). The guy in the middle was my sona at the time, now they look different. YOU try being a shapeshifter and see how long you can last being on one look.

Silly shitposts and whatnot. I love Meta, my idiot blob son, slime-like thing. Thank you, Rider, for showing him that sick skateboard trick in the parking lot (press conference/elevator ending reference for Those Who Don't Know).

The second image is a screenshot taken from that one art instillation with the jiggling things whatever they are. <- Quickly looked it up, "Graceful Degradation", a kinetic installation by Harrison Pearce at the GNYP Gallery. Wouldn't wanna leave you guys at the edge of your seat wanting to learn what that was.

The third image is me and MrPizzaDraws on twitter drawing our Favorite Blob ever. Check Pizza out, he's cool, especially if you're someone from the Object Show Community or like art in general.

Fourth image.... Not much to say here. Meta as those sticky hand things. I call it handslops. And the fifth image is him being slop in a red plastic cup. Wonderful.

And at the very bottom is an actually proper and simple drawing of the guy, of course. IF... IF ANYONE HAS QUESTIONS ABOUT ANYTHING, feel free to click on that funny questionnaero button. I'd love to bestow knowledge. This is ALL a heavy work in process, so be patient if my answers aren't that great, haha.

And if you're wondering (because I sure am), the three parable thing is really an AU in all honesty, since that's not how the actual Stanley Parable is built up, to our knowledge, but I like having fun and still try keeping it close to game lore and whatnot. I just find it easier to understand the game if I break it apart into smaller pieces/people, hope that's relatable.

[idksomething356]

My Littlest Pet Shop [au] tf x reader Absolute Territory pt.1

! DO NOT take this too deep&seriously, these headcanons are just for fun and for freaky freaks like me. This is my AU, so I am smashing everything I know together !

To fully understand what's happening here SFW + short story

You are a pet. Simply put — a pet. Time has passed since you first arrived on the Lost Light. Drift was the one who rescued you from the evil servos of Decepticons, who were ready to squeeze you like a stress ball and toss away your limp, soulless body. But for once, lady luck had finally smiled upon you.

Drift had actually planned to present you as a gift to his conjux, Ratchet — thinking that the always-busy medic could use a stress-relief pet to hold and lazily petting on the back or their little helm during breaks from work. He had no evil intentions, really! It was just that you were so small, miserable and terrified that you were facing a terrible death that he just couldn't pass by and leave you alone! Drift wanted to protect a creature so fragile and give it to his care. Of course, Ratchet immediately scolded his beloved and intended to return you to your shop owner.

But then — you clung to his digit for dear life, eyes full of tears, looking like a kicked puppy. You mastered all of your acting skills as soon as you realized these big bots ain't gonna keep you. And… his spark ached at this scene. Congrats! This old bot's feelings have been melted by your poor condition and tears.

So, you took full advantage of your current situation.

By the grace of Primus, Rodimus and half the crew had been to Earth before, so they understood your language. It was much easier to convince others to let you stay — especially once they realized you weren’t just some mindless animal, but a sentient, thinking being. Not without effort, but you've gotten everything you need for yourself from Rodimus; new clothes, hygiene items and your own separate, organized corner room with private bathroom. Once the red-and-yellow blob Rodimus Prime even chimed in on how expensive it is to keep a human pet. And quickly apologised for it under Ultra Magnus' stern gaze.

Things got a little awkward after that… yet still pretty chill. Because, at the end of the day, you were helpful!

Well, at least for being adorable, cute, little human, welcoming exhausted mechs back to the ship after long missions. All pretty to look at.

SWERVE

Your first ever close friend was Swerve! Oh, this guy not only loves humans but is also obsessed with your shows, music, and everything else. And he’s the funniest bot around! One of the Autobots who didn't see humans as little pets and really got into your kind as their equals. So, obviously, it was easy for you two to become close and hang out together at his bar. When you don't have much to do, you always find his company and you talk about something. And you're so open to him, not just his mask of perpetually cheerful bot, not just as a good bartender, but as a real person. Well, who better than you to know what it's like to be degraded to the level of an animal with no personality or intelligence? Right.

You often helped him with drinks as much as you could. At one point, you almost convinced him to buy you roller skates, a cute short skirt, and a blazer so you could skate around, clean the floors, or deliver energon to the minibots at their tables... Though, you both understood that being exposed to energon was extremely dangerous for you. So, in the end, all you really did was stay by the bar with him, entertaining mechs with your human stories!

However, he did end up buying you a mini skirt, a blazer, and even a few extra pairs of clothes…

RUNG

Oh, this sweet, sweet bot. So Gentle and patient with you! Maybe, that is a thing that you get along with minibots due to them being not so large and tall. Yes, Rung was much bigger than you, but at least you felt relatively safe, without the fear of being crushed suddenly and recklessly. You could say that for all minibots, if you think about it. What didn't escape your keen gaze tho, was the way that despite the smile so tenderly bestowed upon you by the Autobot, you sensed something deeper, even sadder, behind it. What's more, you've quietly become the second therapist for the Lost Light crew without expecting it. In fact, you were still happy to listen to mechs, to help them sort through their feelings or just simply be here for them when needed. Rung is not an exception to it, and honestly? He appreciate it. Very much. He shares his thoughts with you, often asks you about your past, and even showed you his model ships collection! Under very close watch. You even held one ship in your hands. Not for long, but still! For extra help, you would sometimes sit with Rung in his office and listen to him talk to his patient. Their chatter, which you couldn't understand at all, made you want to go to sleep often. What were you doing there anyway? Well, you played the role of an emotional support animal human. And he sometimes needs that kind of help too, at times even more private. RODIMUS Erm, this one is... defo something. The 'fuckboy' vibes you get from him are miles away! And that's not even your problem, Rodimus immediately started playing along and flirting with you as soon as you were aboard their ship. It was nice, as odd as it sounded, but you could easily tell it was just one of his personality traits and he didn't mean anything serious by those words. He loves attention — that's what you learned short after. Since you have plenty of time, you put aside your Cybertron history lessons (thanks, Ultra Magnus, again) and go pay a visit to see Rodimus. You'd think that since he's the captain of the ship, he'd be busy all the time. But in reality? Uh, 7 out of 10? You always wondered 'does he actually do his job?' Kinda...We're not here to discuss work, are we. He'll gladly welcome you into his quarters where you can talk or even help him with some business, more often than not related to real, necessary work, or watch some cool Earth media (cool stands for action movies). However, you quickly remember Ultra Magnus' very menacing faceplate and rush Rodimus to finish the important paperwork. And he's whining, making such a pathetic optic expression that you believe he's about to cry. No, he doesn't cry, just ex-vents and gets to it. At least it's not so boring doing it with you around. But if you really annoy him with reciprocal flirting enough, he'll first start to panic, and then…. you'll have to accept the consequences of your brazen flirting with your hands on him (he really liked the way your soft touch slid over his armour).

(I know Rodi is more than that, chill)

NSFW SOON

@kitschaosden

[41protons]

Helloo i would absolutely love to hear more about Ignat Lotti and especially it's backstory :] Also i wanted to mention that i really love your art of it i want to eat the art style

Omg thanks!! You’re welcome to the all-you-can-eat that is my blog. Feast! And now — fuck yeah, it’s rambling time >:3

This post is part 1 of many, prepare yourself! >:3

To start off, let me introduce you to a few more characters vital to this AU.

Mordechai Lotti

Mordechai Lotti (he/him), is Ignat’s father. No he doesn’t have any connection to the Lucases, I just rlly like the name Mordechai. Leave me be. He is an avatar of the Spiral; he deals in façades and confusion. He’s a showman in the same way that a dagger is a kitchen knife: perfectly capable of doing the job, but preferring to put his efforts in other directions. He’s a dreamer; a jolly, gay (both in the sense of sexuality, and the way he goes about life) little man; a cold and distant father figure; a stuck-up rich guy stuck in his office; and many, many more things — each one a façade, and a part of him in equal measure. I realize that that’s a quality more often attributed to the Stranger, but the Spiral and the Stranger are not that different — both are about loss of identity and confusion — and the Entities are an inseparable, amorphous blob of fear, anyway.

Mordechai is schizophrenic — or, at least, he was, back when he was still human. I’m not entirely sure how it works if the hallucinations he has now literally become real — they’re hardly delusions if they’re true. He was born into an ordinary, human middle-class family (with perhaps slightly over imaginative and not careful parents who decided against all odds to name him Mordechai in this day and age). He had been susceptible to quite a bit of bullying from his peers because of the manifestations of his schizophrenia — and at some point, a cruel prank had been played, as a result of which 10-year-old Mordechai would have died, if not for the Spiral. He managed to Become, instead, feeding his assailants to the Distortion, and starting on his journey through the world of fears.

At the age of 23, he met Edna Flottery, a soon-to-be Web avatar (fully described later in the post), with whom he had become great friends from the moment of their meeting, and remained so for the rest of their lives. It is looked down upon, in the world of Fears, to use avatar’s powers to steal money — it’s considered a lowly use of the Entities’ ‘gifts’, hardly serving any sort of higher purpose — but that was exactly what Mordechai and Edna did. Soon enough, they were rolling in dough, ready for the next step in reaching their dream.

And their dream was, as such: to build a world in which the Fears were not locked in a perpetual struggle, but rather, growing stronger and thriving with each other’s help. They had figured out that the Fears could not be separate (the realization started with them going out for lunch together — the lunch in question being people’s fear — and discovering how much fuller it felt to feed together with another monster, of another Entity) — that the presence of different Entities could strengthen each other — and were determined to put that knowledge to use and change the world of Fears.

They had built a home, in which avatars of most Entities were welcome. I say “most” because the Corruption and the Hunt could not be negotiated with, so they tried to avoid the two at all costs. Hey, I never said their plan was perfect. They had struck alliances with separate avatars, organizations like the People’s Church, and even families like the Fairchilds (yes I know they are a family only in the name and the power they serve, but it’s a sort of found family, which is like, my favorite trope, so I’m calling it that. Bite me.), believing in safety and strength in numbers — so that if one (one avatar, one organization, one Entity) had decided to turn on them, they would be backed by the rest. Soon enough, they had built an empire.

The song I associate most with Mordechai: A Million Dreams. I imagine Edna would be the second voice at the end :3

Edna Flottery

And here’s our beloved Spider! Edna (she/her) is an avatar of the Web, a sweetheart and a lesbian. Mordechai’s best friend; Ignat’s proper parental figure (have I already mentioned that Mordechai is a distant father? Yeah, he’s not the best child-person); a manipulative bitch; a true lady — you name it, she’s been it. She used to be the kind of girl who had blackmail for everyone in high school. She used to be the kind of child who hid their mischievous endeavors behind an angelic-looking face. She is, through and through, a true Spider.

At age 19, Edna met Mordechai in college. They weren’t taking any classes together — the age difference meant they were doing completely different courses — but their schedules matched in terms of most study periods. They got chatting, found each other quite interesting, made plans to meet outside of studying… eventually, they would become very Alastor-and-Rosie (from Hazbin Hotel) coded. Eventually, they would become great friends. Mordechai didn’t tell her of his true nature at first; of course not. He may have been delusional, but not a fool. Eventually, he accidentally made it so one of his hallucinations came to life in a flurry of illusion, and Edna demanded an explanation. Thankfully, she was more curious than she was intimidated; Mordechai could hardly ask for more.

A few months later, Edna had to have a serious surgery done. I… really haven’t given much thought as to what kind of surgery it would be, but it doesn’t matter. That was when she had her first encounter with a real Fear Entity: the Flesh. Her surgeon (or what had pretended to be one — I guess we’ll never know whether the thing was actually qualified to perform surgery) had, for reasons known only to the Flesh and its avatars, given her a few more limbs than necessary… specifically, four limbs more than she already had. Perhaps it sensed how tightly the Web had wrapped itself around the girl, and was trying to appeal to what she had so much potential to become; perhaps it was its sick idea of fun. We will never know whether the thing that was trying to pass for a human surgeon actually performed the operation it was meant to, because Edna had woken up quite a while before the end of the surgery, and, overcome with terror of what had been done to her body (grasping at what little control she had left in the situation, wishing, so desperately, for more) Became a part of the Web. She puppeteered the Flesh avatar and made it kill itself on the spot; not very creative of her, I admit, but then again: she had only just begun her journey. She would be getting way more creative with her future victims, that’s for sure.

Being so heavily marked by the Flesh, Edna gained minor shapeshifting abilities: namely, the ability to change her limbs into other kinds of limbs, in any way and any order, as long as there were always exactly 8 of them. This means she could have 3 pairs of arms and 2 legs; 3 pairs of legs & 2 arms; with quite a bit of practice, 8 spider legs, or 6 spider legs and two arms — like a sort of spider-centaur; and an endless number more different variations.

She is of caring nature; quite prim, and rather classy; and yet still possesses a snarky and sharp character. I’d say she is the Mary Poppins of the monster world ;}

Ignat Lotti

Ignat (it/its) is an avatar of the Vast, an alloaro lesbian, and, in its own words, a “creature”. It is goth, but in a slightly more classy way than, say, Gerry. It is Mordechai’s daughter and heir to the House of Lotti — although it doesn’t expect to inherit much, what with its father being a possibly-immortal avatar and all.

Circumstances of Ignat’s birth: Mordechai had a transgender male lover, who had born Ignat. At some point, the two would have to have gotten a rather messy break-up, given that said lover is completely absent from either Ignat’s or Mordechai’s life — maybe they’re dead, I wouldn’t know. The fact remains, that Ignat does not have a second parent. I think it would be rather interesting if they weren’t dead and Ignat was to meet them by accident, when they’re already an adult or at least an older teen; it would be a curious scene.

Ignat became an avatar at the meager age of 8, and was very excited to do so. This is because of the way it was raised; or, more precisely, the general culture of the ever-growing House of Lotti. Basically, Mordechai and Edna had this wonderful idea: to make sure that avatars would be formed from a younger age, and to train them with all the entities that would like to support the newly-formed servants of fear. To do so, they had made sure that every child or adolescent that made it into their humble abode — family of an avatar, a plaything of an avatar who would just become food if they hadn’t bargained for the human’s relative freedom, a random village kid spending a lot of time with the kitchen staff — was strongly encouraged to become an avatar. They provided the young humans with not-so-traumatic opportunities to familiarize themselves with the Entities, taught them to take pride in serving one, and celebrated every newly formed avatar. When a child — Ignat — was born into the family, it was, naturally, treated quite the same — if not more so.

Now, Ignat was the first child to actually be born into the family (and yes, I’m calling Mordechai and Edna family, because after so many years, and building a home together, even if they had never been in any way romantically involved, that’s kind of what they have become. Fight me about my found family tropes, go on). The others, however welcome — and despite Mordechai not being much of a children person, he had made sure they were welcome — would come and go, but Ignat was the first one to actually live there, permanently (until it would move out, that is). Which could mean… possibly, quite a lot of trouble.

Anywho, Ignat knew that it was destined for the Vast from the very first time Simon Fairchild agreed to take it for a joyride. It had worked consistently towards their Becoming, and finally Became one overcast, windy day, when it leapt off a cliff into potentially freezing waters for the first time in its life. With a scream of “you can have me, I am yours!”, 8-year-old Ignat didn’t quite vanish into thin air as much as it was eaten by it.

Its pronoun and gender revelation would come to it only a few days later, over a (human) breakfast shared with its father (despite technically not needing to eat, Mordechai enjoys it quite a lot, and at the time, Ignat was still in the happbit of doing so regularly). It had asked Mordechai, “Father, I’ve been thinking. Am I human?” To which Mordechai answered with an explanation of how humanity is just a label and that Ignat could choose to be as human as it wanted to be. Ignat thought about it for a while, and then told him that it thinks it’s actually a creature, and would like to go by it/its pronouns, if that’s alright by him. In response, Mordechai barely raised an eyebrow, shrugged and said, “Alright. I think we can do that.”

Ignat’s Becoming was celebrated and boasted about — it being the youngest avatar in recorded history, and everything. Ignat itself was overjoyed to find it could access a whole new, and quite endless, realm; it was slightly less overjoyed by the revelation that it absolutely had to chuck people into it (less out of moral concern, and more out of that territoriality children tend to feel about absolutely everything), but after a description of what would happen if it didn’t, did so without question.

It then had proceeded to test the limits of its newfound abilities not unlike how one would test the charge of an electric socket with a metal fork; that said, Edna only had to rescue Ignat from falling into an active volcano once. Given that it had easy access to representatives of all kinds of entities, Mordechai and Edna had arranged it so Ignat would study and train with (and against) different Powers. Ignat’s main ability (not including the usual Vast stuff — like chucking people into the endless sky) is controlling the distance around them. My headcanon is that every avatar has a bit of a different kind of flavor to their power — so if Mike Crew makes people feel a strong sense of vertigo, Ignat doesn’t normally do that. Instead, it unconsciously makes objects and people move farther away from it wherever it finds itself (and it requires conscious control to stop it from doing so) and, if it actually focuses, it can do so on purpose, utilizing this ability in a variety of different ways. For example, Ignat can take a point on an object — say, a book — another point on the table the book lies on, and increase the distance between the two points, causing the book to levitate above the table.

A little elaboration on how its powers work: if the table was standing on a trampoline, then not only would the book levitate, but the table would also be pushed downwards. Ignat has to make quite a few calculations to make sure it manipulates the objects’ distance from each other in exactly the way it wants to. All of this means it has to practice a lot to fully utilize its abilities :]

The Cook

A usually nameless figure (except that her name is Marinette, or Mari) the Cook (she/they) becomes a regularly occurring background character in Ignat’s life… Just as little Ignat becomes a regularly occurring annoyance in Mari’s.

The Cook is a retired Russian spy, settled down into a job that allows her to escape her past and go properly into hiding. But wait! She’s not actually a Russian spy! Indeed, that’s just a mask. She’s a French spy playing the long game by pretending to be a Russian spy… so caught up in the web of lies that in the end it was for the best to exit the game altogether. Except that no, that’s not true either! She’s an identity thief, pretending to be a Russian spy pretending to be a French spy, and her only motivation for it is “rascality, pure rascality”. At the moment she’s on the run from both governments, but she expects that in a few years she will be able to re-enter the game.

The Cook is not French. And her name is not Marinette.

She is the oldest member of staff in the House. Strangely resilient to The Horrors, nonplussed, and determined more than anything to keep her humanity and do her job, she is a fearsome woman. With a seemingly endless coming and going of easily traumatized assistants, she is the Gertrude Robinson of the kitchen. Her cooking is delicious, snd the manner in which she goes about life is vicious. It’s a miracle, honestly, that she hasn’t yet been claimed by one Entity or another.

That said, there’s a strict rule, applying to both the habitants and the visitors of the House, against purposefully feeding on the staff (that doesn’t help a few accidents, and the more religious or superstitious people get terrified by the smallest things — sometimes to a downright disrespectful level: Nicola Orsinov is an esteemed guest, and her face, or lack thereof, is hardly something to scream and run away to hide in an empty room, shaking with terror, about!). There are a few other rules, such as: do not set fires in the library; clean up, or call the cleaning personnel, if something you do leaves a lot of grime behind (including dirt, gore, and unidentifiable materials which don’t seem to abide by the rules of Euclidean geometry — that one is directed at the Spiral); don’t you dare lay a finger on Ignat outside of scheduled training; wipe your feet before entering from the street.

There is, also, the mater of the Sigil. The Sigil is a stark, easily identifiable mark created by Mordechai with the help of an avatar of the Beholding (and, obviously, his own Spiral abilities) used to signify to any avatar or monster that if they lay a finger, prehensile leg, weapon, or telepathic strike on a ‘Sigilled’ person, they will suffer the consequences of Mordechai, Edna, or their various allies’ rage. Ignat is sigilled until it turns 18, allowing it to wreck all kinds of mischief with little consequence until then.

Now, it’s rather obvious that with all of their identity shenanigans, the Cook should definitely belong to the Stranger. Nicola Orsinov had once laid her eyes on them, and immediately had become obsessed with claiming them for her own — except that Mari is incredibly resilient and all Nicola’s efforts prove to be futile. It becomes a sort of one-sided obsession bordering on attraction from Nicola’s side; but for the Cook, the scary, sexy mannequin lady who sometimes visits — rarely sporting any skin — is just another Fear-related nuisance. I kinda ship them >:3

In general, Mari is very resilient to the Fears. After a few months working there, Mordechai had called her into his office and filled them in on the Powers and all that, even offering to help them join some entity or another, but she refused. She is utterly disinterested in the “cult nonsense” everybody around her seems to be knee-deep in, but won’t resign because, well… this job pays incredibly well, asks no questions, and allows her to pursue her culinary passion. Once, a few men in black suits, whose faces she could swear she’s seen before somewhere back in Russia, turned up at the doorstep; at the time, an avatar of the Beholding (from the Usher Foundation, maybe? I don’t have a name for him yet, but he’s a recurring character) was visiting, and it took him only a glance to discern that the men had come for Mari. He had winked at her as he passed her in the corridor leading to the tower (where the Vast avatars likes to reside) and dropped the knowledge that they didn’t have to run — and yes, she already had her duffel bag in hand — right into her head. As she stood there, stunned, he’s called for someone, and soon enough, the men in black suits were gone, never to be seen again.

Needless to say, there are very few persons of the household staff who manage to stay for longer than a few months, so the Cook is highly appreciated and respected among all. Eventually — after something especially unsavory Nicola had pulled — she agrees to be sigilled (and yes, her life becomes much easier, and no, she will not be joining one of your cults, Mr Lotti).

Right! I couldn’t wait any longer to post this, so this just about wraps up part 1! I’m open to questions and to chat about my au. Feel free to tell me about your tma OCs too, we can compare and share and do collabs! :3

[evilminji]

Pondering Doors Again >.>

Thinking about a concept I saw in a Manhwa. "Dungeons feed of the death that occurs within them" and how the Protagonist went "alright, Bet. A stable and prosperous society for outcasts has a LOT of Death! What with the need to eat food and people growing old and thus, inevitably, at least SOMEONE dying every day".

Because FARMING is and always has been a slower but more profitable way to accumulate food then Hunting. More reliable too.

And? What better way too feed your hunger(HungryHungryHUNGRYItHurtSIMSO-) then by BECOMING a Trap Door? Not every ghost looks human. Not every ghost WANTS too.

Maybe you want to Live. Yes, you are fighting, fighting, fighting. Not even Death can take you. But given half a chance? Given the infinite freedom of the Zone and all of Time stretched out before you? Do you? WANT to think anymore? WANT to keep fighting FOREVER for every scrap of food to fill your endless NEED for food? Your obsession with being full?

You can stop.

Like meditation.

Instead of MAKING a Lair... become one. You could always change your mind, if you felt like it. Souls rarely if ever DO, but you COULD. Then? You wait.

There are house ghosts. Dwellings that die. You blend right in. Are you angry? Vengeful? Do you blame the world? Perhaps you'll call them in. Like Hansel and Gretel. Look upon my house made of candy, children. Isn't it tempting? Isn't it sweet? Come closer. Listen to my siren song.

Chomp.

But, maybe you are tired. Hungry. Old bones and cold, barren soil. Barely the strength to paint gaudy veneers over straining, decaying wood. Like long abandoned circuses. You try for the appearance of cheer, but your tattered visage. betrays you. Yet, just like them, while you may not be able to entice those you truely wish to come? Vermin find safety and comfort in your walls.

And is that not how nature heals? First the weeds? The insects and vermin? Little things that build to great forests over time? Blobs hide within in you. Safely out from underfoot. What do they care, if you can not provide them scenery? You are safe. And they? They feed you in turn.

Like little worker bees. Drifting out, gorging on ectoplasm, and returning. Nesting safely inside you, they radiate that Ectoplasm and leech it into the Lair around them. You feed. And Feed. And FEED.

You make more places to hide for them. Bushes. Trees. You only half remember them now, so the colors are off and the forms shakey at best. The blobs do not care. More flock to you in response. You grow stronger. Make more trees.

You finally, FINALLY attract a curious and skittish ghost. They linger by the entrance. Watching. Uncertain. They know traps and hunters hide out here. Who would leave a perfectly good Lair up for grabs? This is a trick. A nasty little trap. Right? It has to be! Their luck can not be this good.

But it is. Because bottom feeders find each other all the time. Lairs that have little to offer and Ghosts who couldn't possibly defend anything worth keeping. All the Zone is stronger then them, why not be weakling together?

And they always take the chance. Because hope is eternal.

Inching forward in a cautious float, ready to dash away, they eventually realize the Lair really IS up for grabs. It really CAN be theirs. Which of course... means they have to fix it up of course! They are THRILLED. Look at all this ROOM! Why, these trees are LOVELY. A good start! They just gotta tweak THIS and then THAT aaand... there we go! Oooh, now over THERE would be a great place for a- *excited muttering*

And a proper ghost? MUCH better at bringing in Ectoplasm then a blob. Then dive in and out, fetching plants to transplant, decorations, building supplies. They invite their friend to crash with them. Become roommates. Their roommate gets a partner. They meet someone. Eventually somebody has a kid. And so on and so on.

All the while, they are feeding their Lair. Do they know it's not a NORMAL Lair? Yeah. They aren't dumb. Blobs disappear sometimes, if no one leaves for too long. House ghosts don't do that (or so they're told). But? They aren't powerful ghosts. They are weak ones. They CAN'T defend one of the nice spots from jerks who want to take it.

But a Lair that can defend ITSELF? And doesn't seem to want to eat them? Meh. Whatever works, man.

And you know what happens? Eventually, you reach a sustainable mass tipping point. Enough ghosts, set up in houses and cabins and castles and caves. All within a single Trap Lair. That they radiate enough ectoplasm to sustain the Lair itself. Enough that it can FINALLY pull the infamous and legendary "never leave" trick.

What is that trick?

Simple! You are a ghost. You'd kinda like an apple. You get up to leave you Lair to go get one. Oh, hey, an apple tree! That's new. Oh, these are really good! You sit back down. You never leave. Why would you leave? You are happy and have everything here. Your friends and family are here. Have another cake. Sit back down.

That is the trick.

The Trap of the sort of Trap Door.

They are known as Honey Traps. Heaven's Gates. Dream Doors. And they build slow to become quite dangerous. Entire cities exsist inside them. Ghosts go in and never come out. The take the energy you produce, small kernel that it is, and feed it back to you. And Ghosts? Efficient generators that they are, produce far more then they are given. Little into more. Little into greater. Building and building.

Until it has the strength to weave dreams.

Trap and entice. Blind and numb you. Bread and circuses for the masses, pay no attention to the bars that keep you here. You LOVE the comfort of your cage! You can leave whenever you want! You just never want too.

The Lair makes certain of that.

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

[keeper-of-sparkly-things]

swr wof crossover au

Exactly five people have shown interest so i have taken that as permission to talk about this a little

(All of the art is not mine, its commissioned from my sister who does not have a tumblr, heres her youtube instagram and deviantart if you want to look at more of her stuff)

Anyway this idea spawned in discord when me and my friends were talking about how there are too few mythical creature aus of starwars and especially rebels and so i jokingly mentioned that someone could do a wings if fire au. It has since consumed my brain. Have some thoughts

Spectre 1, Kanan Jarrus

This guy is a leafwing. Thought process was “He’s green. Connected to the living force. And it would be cool” He is an animus, like all jedi will be in this au. He is one of very few pantalan dragons that have ever been an animus. His backstory isn’t that much different in canon, he ends up in the scorpion den with Hera. He also happens to have fairly strong leafspeak, though it doesn't see much combative action in the desert. At the time rebels starts he is about 11 dragon years old, at the time the empire rose he was 6 dragon years old.

Spectre 2 Hera Syndulla

Hera is a silkwing/sandwing hybrid. Since silkwings were almost entirely slaves or something similar in arc 3, and since twi’leks are the most slaves in starwars, i decided to make her a silkwing, and also because shes pretty. However, a friend said she had strong queen Thorn vibes and so now shes a hybrid sandwing who happens to work with the rebellion in the scorpion den. She has regular silk and also a tail barb, though it is smaller than other sandwings, but its still just as dangerous. Around the time rebels starts she is a little less than ten dragon years old, when the empire rose she was almost 5.

Spectre 3 Chopper

He is actually a little animus enchanted wooden octopus. Basically a while ago an animus decided animus’s were too powerful and purposefully nerfed the entire system, including things like you can enchant living things including the spellcaster, as such, animated carvings and such became fairly common, as they were technically nit alive but could still move as if they were. Think Blob from darkstalker except chopper has the side effect of being much more violent since he was separated from his creator. Hera found him in some ruins during the clone wars. No one knows how old he is.

Spectre 4 Garazeb Orrelios

This guy is just a normal icewing because theres a sad lack of purple icewings in wof canon. And also icewings and nightwings have had a rivalry since forever (i know that was supposed to be fixed in arc two but i needed a reason for a nightwing king to be willing to wipe of a large chunk of a tribe and palpatine in nothing without his ability to hold grudges over things he wasn’t even alive for that dont matter anymore) in this au he is still a captain of a guard, but it isn’t The royal guard (since theres only ten dragon tribes but hundreds of starwars species so we cant just entirely eliminate one dragon tribe with it being a much bigger problem than just the lasat) It is the biggest city besides the one where the royal family lives, and a lot of lesser nobility and a fair chunk of the icewing army, including where they train the new recruits is there. After it gets destroyed (there were Rumors that the nobility of the city were in league with rebellion, so if course the empire decided to go to the extreme and kill literally everyone who lived there) Zeb then goes into hiding in the Scorpion Den, thinking the desert would be the last place they would look for a reputable icewing, and there he meets kanan and hera. They recruit him by fighting imperials together and saving him from death by dehydration. He would have been 20 when the empire rose and 25 by the start of rebels. (@kanerallels has actually made this fic of him meeting kanan and hera go check it out if you haven’t please)

Spectre 5 Sabine Wren

Shes a rainwing. In Darkstalker and in the guide to a dragon world, they are mentioned to be widely feared assassins. Queen Glory wanted the rainwings to not be useless in a fight so she taught some of them to fight. The group that learned to fight took it too far and became the mandalorians, and sabine having been a bounty hunter at some point in canon, and also liking to express herself through her outward appearance, this is what i landed on. All her armor is enchanted by kanan to blend in with her scales when shes trying to be stealthy. This is what eventually persuaded her to join them. She was 1 when the empire rose and is 6 when rebels starts.

Spectre 6 Ezra Bridger

He is a silkwing hivewing hybrid. In the books these tribes seem to be more purposefully agricultural than the other tribes, being the only ones (i think) that have gardens for food instead of decoration, and they also have greenhouses, and lothal is a farming planet. Pantala is also a good out of the way grassland that doesn’t immediately have the attention of the empire, which is very convenient for him since he’s basically the most illegal person to ever exist. Unregistered child (illegal under the empire) who is also a hybrid (also illegal) descendent of a flamesilk (illegal when unregulated) and an animus (illegal period under the empire) and happens to have both abilities(because hes my favorite and i can do whatever i want), as well as a tail barb meant for paralyzing others, though both his flamesilk and his tail barb are significantly weaker than the average because of hybrid genetics. (His tail can barely paralyze tiny dragonets and prey and doesn’t work on bigger things without enhancement, and unless he purposely uses his hottest silk its not hot enough to actually burn most dragons) his parents did work with the rebellion on pantala, but because an emergency they traveled to pyrrhia and brought ezra with them because he was to dangerous to leave alone but were attacked and imprisoned halfway across the ocean, leaving ezra alone, and being like 2 years old at the time, lost his sense of direction and wandered to pyrrhia instead of pantala (bridges were built at some point connecting the continents by the islands) it should be known that he has no idea hes an animus at this point and thinks hes just really good at disguises and everyone else is just very dumb, when in reality hes like enchanting a poncho to make him look like a non hybrid and other accessories to make him look different by accident. He eventually wanders over to the scorpion den and causes a LOT of chaos which led to the ghost crew finding and adopting him. He was born on the first empire day and was about 4.5 years old when rebels starts. (If you want some angst he grows his wings right after malachor and kanan completely misses it)