#snippet marathon

[marvelstoriesepic]

⋆✴︎2k celebration✴︎⋆

YOU GUYS!!! I AM HAVING OVER 2000 MINIONS!! I'm so overwhelmed with gratitude AHHHH!! 💜🧁

Thank you so much for embracing my fics and my ramblings and for being interested in me as a person!! You've encouraged me to keep writing and to keep sharing my stories. Thank you for connecting with my characters, for sharing your own interpretations, and for making this space so cozy and engaging. Every single one of you has helped me so much to be myself, to explore my creativity, and to connect with others who share my passions.

Thank you from the deepest part of my heart for being here with me!! 💜💜

To truly celebrate 2k followers, I wanted to do something special for you all. And I think the best way to do that is to let you decide. So I’ve come up with a few ideas, and I'd love to hear what you prefer.

My Masterlist

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A: WIP poll! I am currently working on a few different projects, and if you choose this I will let you decide which one I should focus on and potentially post first.

B: Snippet Marathon! Get ready for a sneak peek into all my wips. I will be sharing snippets from as many fics as I can.

C: Q&A Session! I will host a text based Q&A where you can ask me anything about my writing process, characters, myself, behind-the-scenes, AUs, etc.

D: Writing Challenge! I will host my first writing challenge with prompts of my own. (This will take me some time, though)

E: 2k Drabble Challenge! I will take short prompts of my lovely followers and write mini-stories based on them.

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[little-mouse-adventures]

Currently thinking about Artemis's will in the code at the bottom of TLG and how it really kinda shows how strained his relationship with his dad still is. Everyone else gets something they're interested in or that Arty thinks they'd like (sound system for Juliet, frozen chicken for Mulch, ethical investments for his mother, etc) and yet for his father he leaves only bearer bonds, despite Artemis I trying to move away from a money-focused enterprise and lifestyle as of TEC. Not to mention it's Butler who would know how to disengage all the booby traps protecting said bearer bonds, further highlighting the difference in trust & familiarity Artemis has with everyone but his father.

[specialshinytrinkets]

I knew you couldn't trust this bitch

[musicismymoirail]

As I continue to be consumed by The Project With No Name, I thought it would be good to share the some of the details? o: Because I realized I hadn't and I do love these little weirdos. So, have some plot vagueness, some character beats and a few meme/vibes for some of them too. c: <3

(Also, to note, I find it easier to plot things thinking about stories as IFs. It's not to say this would be one, but the openness does help me with early-stage brainstorming. So, yeah. Also, nothing is set in stone yet either.)

PLOT VAGUENESS //

Everyone remembers when the Death Walked to town. It had been a beautiful day with blue skies and endless clouds, and yet, no one heard Him. The only warning came from the birds, and the few who looked up in time to run.

In His path, buildings were flattened to the ground, trees uprooted, cows skinned alive, and His winding footsteps dug themselves deep into the earth, into the roads, into the rolling hills that nestled your sweet town.

No one survived where He walked, no one that is but you. A small infant no more than eight months in age, He found you flung far from your leveled homestead, and you cried as babes often do. Your soon-to-be mother found you laying between sheet metal and wire, your worst injury just a simple cut along your lip. Raising you high above the other searchers, she called you Beloved by Death Himself and declared you Chosen.

It's been over twenty years since that day, and you're on your way back home for the first time in almost as many years. The skies still look bright and blue, but you know better than to trust them. It's just as your Mother often sings; we are waiting, we are waiting, we're patiently waiting for the Day Death Walks Again.

SETTING NOTES //

Original Tornado, 1889. Current Year, 1913. Small town in Western Nebraska/Colorado, apart of the Rail and has a station in town. Population is like 600~900?? I think it's gonna be called Daisy Creek, or something similar. Daisies aren't native flowers though, so might change that after more research. o:

MAIN CAST //

» The Beloved ;; 24. The so-called sole survivor of the devastating tornado that decimated your old hometown twenty something years back. You have no memories of such, being just an infant at the time, and the only reminder you have is a single scar along your lip. You've been raised in a religious cult, one waiting for the Day Death Walks Again. It's delightful, as cults often are. You are not quite as naive and sheltered so much as you are isolated and extremely dependent on the Cult and your adopted mother. And you don't like being back in your old hometown. It feels like something is waiting for you here, something you'd rather forget.

» The Preacher ;; {…} Rochester, 46. Your adopted mother. A religious zealot and/or con artist, depending on who’s talking. Your mother called you Beloved by Death Himself and decided to build a rather fervid cult around The Day Death Walked, and more importantly, The Day Death Walks Again. You’re an important piece, the proof of the promise she claims for her flock, and she likes to keep you close.

» Him ;; ???. Death Walking. More than just a tornado to the Cult, He's a manifestation of Death Himself. Your survival has given them hope of His return, where He will raze the land and leave the only good behind unharmed. You don’t think it’s entirely related to the shadowy figure who speaks sweet to you in your dreams, but who’s really to say?

» SENECA ST. CLARE ;; 27. Local. Took over the local cemetery about seven years prior, mainly because he feels it's a honor to look after someone's final resting place. Lost a lot (if not all?) of his family on the Day Death Walked, so he's a bit …not obsessed, but deeply curious about the event. An amateur meteorologist, he has a collection of collection of photographs and news articles about storms in general and the Day Death Walked. The Beloved can learn more about what caused the storm, and how Daisy Creek was one of many towns flattened. Seneca also does not like the Cult, or anything faith/fate-based really. He lost all respect for the life after after the Day Death Walked, and turned to nature and science instead. He’s happy to accept that you're just along for its ride. He really enjoys talking about meteorology and the like with interested folks (and the old Caretaker he took over for).

» GLEE GRINNELL ;; 23. A memory from your past. Spiritualist and actual con-artist (a bit redundant given the whole spiritualist thing, but you know). Glee is a non-local, having come here after they ran into some trouble because it "seemed nice, like a place you could get lost in (derogatory)." They feel both a bit more prim and outlandish than such a town should have. Most people think Glee is on their way to California ('That's not such a bad idea~'), but they really haven't thought about it. The stories they're heard sound too good to be true. They're currently staying in the local Hotel, and are running low on funds fast. Oddly enough, it's hard to grift when you're worried about angry locals coming after you. (Also? Is very much genderqueer and probably intersex.)

» FERGUS INMAN ;; ~32. The clergy, non-local but has been living in Daisy Creek for about a decade now, working in tandem or against Seneca depending on the day (the cemetery isn't apart of the church, because cemetery). Man is like very devout, but no one is really sure what he's praying to (though far too polite to ask). Fergus is generally more welcoming and open-minded than your Mother, but he doesn't seem like he likes you personally. Maybe you can win him over, or maybe his mind already made up to how you threaten the town. Who know? He's very much a try-hard that tries to do good for the community at large, but idk. If Shrike is off-puttingly charming, Fergus is charmingly off-putting. He a strange lad at times.

» SHRIKE MARATHON ;; 28. Local misfit, horse girl/horse thief, harmless nuisance or absolute menace to the whole town depending on who's talking. Avid reader too. About a year prior, Shrike stumbled over a fossil beyond the outskirts of town, and has been leading the incoming academics out into the prairie to uncover more. She excitedly thinks that they're gonna name of the new dinosaur after her, ('Shrikeasaurus just has such a lovely ring to it doncha think?'), but she isn't aware that she didn't find a dinosaur fossil but one of some Miocene mammal. She still likes to note how much business her academics have brought to Daisy Creek, not the Town Mayor cares. The publicity will be nice, but he'd rather not have his unruly daughter be involved. (Also? Butch vibes, and definitely into women, shamelessly so. She'll rock your world and then some. uwu <333)

» WILLOW REDRUTH ;; ~33. Your mother's younger cousin and her main connection to the town. Willow has been writing to her cousin ever since she left, and is so excited to see the Beloved again. She still remembers playing with you as a child, and will lament the loss of your painfully chubby cheek. She promises to make you your favorite meal again, though her cooking isn't quite up to the same par as her mother's. Willow works at the Hotel in town, and has her hands full with the influx of new guests that have been running into town as of late, between fossil hunters, travelers on their way to California and Utah, and now her cousin's little Cult. Willow …doesn't really care one way or another for what her cousin has been getting up to. Honestly, she thought your mother had been down-playing how influential she was, but Willow is excited to have her only remaining family back in town. She's def going to try to rope the Cult into helping at the Hotel. What else is family for, after all? :)!!

» The Cult Details. It started as just your adopted mother and you. She preached in Daisy Creek for about six~seven years before she left, taking you with her. Since then, you two have been traveling across the Midwest, slowly collecting followers who believe in the Day Death Walks Again. You're not sure why exactly your mother deemed it time to return to Daisy Creek after so many years, but she's certainly a different force of a woman then when she left.

===

But, yeah! The silly little fools who have overtaken my mind for the past week, making me research tornado outbreaks and early 20th century paleontology & meteorology and old maps and consensus data, ha! I do quite like them though~~~.

Also. I really just want to put them all in jar, and just shake it. >:3!!!!

[timeofjuly]

Chapter 10 of Resisting the Current is up!

Black’s face falls like a broken elevator when Quinn leads you back into the kitchen.

“What now? Do you have more delusional accusations to levy at me? Your boots are disgustingly scuffed; is it my fault that you’re too inept to polish them?” he says. He’s acquired an apron in the time that it took to handle the tire situation – a gift from her that’s embroidered with the words ‘IT’S NOT BURNT, IT’S FLAVOUR’ - and the kitchen is full of the rich aroma of onions and garlic meeting heated olive oil.

“Nope, that’s all me,” you reply, looking down at said boots. “Too much time crawling around underneath houses, they get beat to shit. If you ever piss me off again, actually, I’m a size -.”

“One more for dinner tonight!” Quinn interjects.

[starry-bi-sky]

Danyal Al Ghul: Incorrect Quotes and Miscellaneous Thoughts

Incorrect quotes-style snippets specifically for my danyal al ghul au here (which i really need to come up with a unique au name for atp). Because I thought it'd be funny. And also some miscellaneous headcanons thrown into the mix. Some context for the au: - Danyal is 5 years older than Damian (so 10 and 15) - Danny faked his death when he was 10. Talia knows and helped him with it. - Jazz, Sam, and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin.

-------- Snippet 1

Danny, dryly tapping his temple: I have, as the Americans say, irreparable psychological damage, right here.

Jazz, an older sibling first and foremost: well, it's good that you're self-aware.

-------- Snippet 2

Danny, aged 10, in the American foster planning to just age out of the system: *emanating Bad Vibes. Pure, Little Orphan Tom Riddle Energy*

Jazz, aged 12, coming in to adopt a new sibling with her parents: Him. This is my brother now :)

Danny: ...what

--------

Lilo and Stitch is Danny's favorite Disney movie. He watched it when he was 11 with Jazz when she was attempting to connect with him, and by this point Danny was becoming receptive to her efforts. They had a movie marathon in the living room one night.

Safe to say? It resonated with his little 11 year old heart strongly, and he related very strongly with both Nani and Stitch. He got unexpectedly emotional and hid in his room for the rest of the night. Jazz felt really bad, but it had the intended (but kinda unexpected) effect of him trying to be nicer to her afterwards.

-------- Snippet 3

Dash, aged 12, causing trouble again and getting intercepted by Danny: *scaling up a desk* AHHHHH! GET YOUR LITTLE FREAK, FOLEY!

Tucker: Hey! Danny is not a freak!

Dash: GET HIM TO BACK OFF

Tucker, was the kid Dash was messing with: ....whats in it for me

-------- Snippet 4

Danny, saying some questionably immoral shit: What. Why are you looking at me like that.

Tucker: Bro. I mean this as kindly as possible; what the fuck?

Sam: yeah, I'm with Tuck on this one.

-------- Snippet 5

Danny, ranting about Vlad: if it weren't for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered him

Sam, painting his nails black: I'm pretty sure you'd slaughter him regardless of the laws of the land -- and quit moving, you're gonna mess me up.

Tucker: we've literally seen you debate yourself about this, Dan

Danny: ...you are correct, but it is the principle of things.

-------- Snippet 6

Vlad: I have experience my child, and the money and power attained through using those powers for personal gain, you say. I could train you, teach you everything I know! And all you have to do is renounce that idiot adoptive father of yours.

Danny, was already contemplating committing a Violence: ....

Danny, internally: I'm going to stab him *turns into Phantom*

--------

Funny contrast I realized between Danyal and Vlad that iirc I haven't pointed out yet is that imo, Danyal doesn't rely on his powers nearly half as much as canon Danny does. He falls back instinctually on his League training, and thus sometimes forgets to use his powers in battle. This was prevalent especially early on when he was still getting used to the whole 'halfa' thing.

He incorporates them more often after a year, but still for the most part relies on his own physical hand-to-hand combat. He trusts those skills much more than he does his powers. I'm not sure where he is on a technical level compared to canon, but just to stay safe I'll say he's similar in power skill as canon Danny. Perhaps a little more finessed than him because his League training would probably have him trying to figure out his powers as soon as possible.

But in summary? Danny is strong in hand-to-hand combat, weak in powerset.

Meanwhile Vlad is the opposite. I can't recall if he even knows hand-to-hand in canon, but it makes total sense to me that Vlad Masters wouldn't because he's so confident in his monetary influence and ghost abilities that he sees no need for it.

And he's kinda got some merit behind it. He's very powerful and has 20 years of experience to experiment and fine tune his powers. He's got bite to follow up his bark. He's perfected long-range combat and his ability to phase through walls makes it impossible to corner him, but if you can manage it, then one good hit could probably knock him on his ass.

So in summary, Vlad is strong in powerset, weak in hand-to-hand combat.

And it casts a good contrast between the two of them in that regard. Danny, as a fellow halfa, can follow Vlad when he phases through walls and is fast enough to land a hit on him. His league training as an assassin, albeit rusty, is still deep ingrained enough in him that he can hold up as a rather veritable threat against Vlad without needing his powers.

But Vlad can force Danny to use his powers more often through use of his own. The duplication is the first thing to come to mind: Danny's fast enough to dispel them on his own without powers, and smart enough that he could figure out who the real one is if given a few minute. But that's not always efficient enough.

Good foils for each other that way. Also Vlad's Plasmius design mimics Ra's juuust enough that he looks like Ra's knockoff loser second cousin no one talks about, which only fuels Danny's hatred.

-------- Snippet 7

Danny, ranting about Vlad for the first time: --and it's only made worse by the fact that the little ingrate resembles a cheap knock-off of my grandfather!--

Sam, choking on her water: he what--

Tucker, doing a spittake: HE DOES?

[stellarmeira]

Planets in Ashwini Nakshatra

Ashwini is within (0° to 13°20′ Aries) in the sidereal zodiac. The Ashvini Kumaras, twin horse‑healers, guard its gate while Ketu supplies intuition and Mars lends raw impulse. Anything that lands here wants to bolt, mend, and begin again. Tumblr astrologers keep circling three keywords for Ashwini: speed, fresh starts, quick recovery. Each planet colours that momentum in its own way. Below you will find nine snapshots woven from earlier notes plus new Tumblr insights, rewritten so nothing sounds copied.

1 Sun in Ashwini People with this Sun look like sunrise in human form. They stride into a room and the vibe lifts; one blogger called them “dawn on two legs”. When the Sun nears 10° Aries (its exaltation point) the confidence peaks and these natives often rise quickly to positions of power - business tycoons, community leaders or even politicians. They chase fresh starts like daylight chases night, yet impatience can kick in if recognition drags. Their style stays bright but simple: warm tones in soft, flowing fits that echo dawn’s glow.

Each year - this April 14 2025, for example - when the transiting Sun moves through Ashwini it hands everyone a burst of courage and new-idea energy. It is perfect for bold haircuts, brand launches or finally saying what you mean, as long as we remember that even solar fire needs pacing.

2 Moon in Ashwini Feelings gallop, rest, then gallop again. Tumblr writers describe their eyes as nostalgic yet mischievous. A midnight playlist, a barefoot walk, or quick journaling resets the mood in minutes. When the Moon passes Ashwini each month, collective energy turns fidgety. Many of us tidy, text old friends, or plan impulsive picnics, only to laugh at our own restlessness by morning.

3 Mercury in Ashwini The mind races ahead of notifications. One post says these natives "finish the joke before the group chat loads". They absorb languages, memes, and code snippets with equal hunger, though details scatter unless timers or sticky notes step in. A Mercury transit through Ashwini shakes cobwebs off stalled projects. Proofreading is wise because typos sprint just as quickly.

4 Venus in Ashwini Love here is playful and first in line. Expect spontaneous coffee dates, thrift‑store treasures, and photos of sunsets through bus windows. Clothes need movement; breezy fabrics beat tight tailoring. During the yearly Venus visit, wallets loosen, wardrobes shuffle, and relationships pick up a flirtatious wind. Setting a budget alert keeps the thrill free of buyer’s remorse.

5 Mars in Ashwini Bottled lightning. These people look athletic even without gym hours. They act, apologise, then act again. Tumblr notes a link to tension headaches, so stretching and hydration matter. When Mars transits Ashwini we see sudden DIY fixes, blunt honesty, and new workout streaks. Warm‑ups prevent muscle strains; cooling breaths tame flashes of temper.

6 Jupiter in Ashwini Called the "spiritual loophole" placement because insight leaps over years of study. Students become teachers before their notebooks fill. Travel tales pile up, each one holding a lesson. When Jupiter returns every twelve years, scholarships, visas, or book deals appear almost out of thin air. Dream large but plot small checkpoints to keep the harvest real.

7 Saturn in Ashwini Imagine hauling a slow cart onto a racetrack. Early life feels stuck while others sprint by. Tumblr posts mention job hopping right before raises arrive. With time the same native becomes a marathon worker who outlasts sprinters. The next Saturn transit in 2027 will test every fresh idea for cracks. Plans that survive will stand for decades.

8 Rahu in Ashwini Trend magnet. One blogger tagged it "wild fame fuel". Rahu wants instant results and Ashwini hands over relentless speed, so viral peaks and rapid pivots are common. Consistency apps, bedtime rituals, and honest friends act as anchors. The 2023 transit felt like social media on fast‑forward and reminded everyone to fact‑check before diving into hype.

9 Ketu in Ashwini Ketu rules this star, so its presence feels natural and deep. Natives drift toward Reiki, herbalism, or silent retreats without grand announcements. They disappear at dawn to watch the sky then return with quiet solutions. When Ketu crosses Ashwini, closets empty, stale connections fade, and dreams speak louder than alarms. Keeping a notebook on the nightstand helps catch those messages.

Key takeaways Ashwini energy never waits. It starts, heals, starts again. Harness the surge to launch projects, refresh routines, and invite new experiences, but pair that spark with steady habits - hydration, budgeting, stretching, or simple checklists - so momentum shapes something that lasts.

[four-alligators-in-a-trenchcoat]

What do I do without a smartphone?

When I got a dumbphone/flipphone, I immediately started living a super cool super fulfilling life! I travelled a ton, ran a marathon, immediately got good at art, read 4 books in a day, and now have 22 close friends! Thats exactly how it works, i'm not lying AT ALL, trust me ;)

...ahhh okay you got me, thats not actually what happened.

Yes my life did change, and all for the better! I do have a cooler and more fulfilling life now, but not like that, I just started living a regular life? This little post is about what that looks like these days (for me)

First, a little bit of math. My screen time with a smartphone was 5.5 hours on a good day and almost 9 on a bad: about an average of 7.25 hours a day. Ive been smartphone-less for a little over about 5 months; just about 170 days.

Average 7.25/hrs a day x 170 days = 1232.5 hours total/24hrs

51 full 24-hour days I got back.

ALMOST TWO MONTHS OUT OF THE FIVE

- Alright, i've never done that math before, holy shiitake mushrooms thats insane. Back on topic, oh my god I would have spent 2 months out of the past 5 entirely on my phone

What do I do instead? What consumes the hours? Or the in-passing minutes?

I live normally, just without a phone honestly, it didn't make me suddenly want to run a marathon or just turn into Picasso day one. It just gave me back the opportunity to live.

I turned to my hobbies, like ceramics, reading, journalling to bring the simple joys back into my everyday!

I stopped being able to distract myself from how icky I felt when I didn't move my body, so I slowly started swimming again!

I started to blog a little! Thanks for reading :D

I got bored at home, so I started seeking out social spaces and hanging out in person with friends and prioritizing making them!

Those are huge things, really big, hour by hour things that take up my life now. I am still a student, in a demanding major, who tries to study 5 hours a day, and I work part-time. Is that the most prominent change? Absolutely, but in the minutes passing between tasks, before I leave somewhere, waiting for something there is also a little mojo added back into my day. I would have been spending those little snippets of time pacifying myself on a quick scroll, 20-30 reels on IG that I would never remember. Instead those morsels are spent...

Doing nothing! Sitting around is a forgotten joy, don't be afraid to be alone with yourself, its the only way you will get to know you.

Sudoku! If i've got 5-10 mins waiting somewhere and feel up for the task, a quick sudoku from the little book I carry around is great.

Tidying up/cleaning! I mentioned this in a past blog post, but it's easier to keep the space around you tidy when you reclaim those little minuets while your breakfast is cooking or your waiting for the water to boil. Bagel still in the toaster? Why not give the kitchen a quick sweep! Coffee is steeping? Wouldn't you know it, thats how long it takes for me to unload the dishwasher! (still a student living at home, that dishwasher is a FULL 4-person dishwasher man)

People watching, takin' a quick ol' gander at your surroundings. Make sure you haven't forgotten what life looks like, or what the general population is up to.

I still spend some time on Tumblr, Reddit, and Pinterest, its not like I went cold turkey or that I'll never see social media again. Its easier to live your life when you have the time, and its easier to have the time when you don't have a monster algorithm in your pocket built to addict you. You can do it! Do it at the pace that is good for you, but get those two months back!

☆ a photo of my cat for good luck ☆

[voxofthevoid]

As the oneshot marathon continues, here's Attticwife Sukuna Wednesday #1—this is also unlikely to have another WIP Wed entry, though I haven't finished it. It's 12k and counting, but it shouldn't be much higher than 15k.

I've talked a bit about this fic here, but the basic premise is a no-powers twin!sukuita setting where Sukuna tries out serial killing for a hobby, Yuuji locks him up in their basement in response, and nine years later, Gojou (dating Yuuji) stumbles upon the aftermath.

This snippet—and most of the fic—is Gojou PoV of sukuita. I've snuck in a whole lot of fuckery in the existing 12k, and the following bit should be a decent sample of the same ✨

“I’m dying to know something else though. Care to guess?”

Yuuji blinks, eyes darting back to Satoru’s face. “What is it?”

“How, exactly, does your brother have an opinion on your…dick game?”

Yuuji freezes like a deer in the headlights. “Um.”

Muffled laughter makes it past his hands.

Each reaction is telling in its own way. But Satoru knew the answer before he asked the question.

“Pound of flesh, huh,” he murmurs. “Have you been fucking him this whole time?”

Yuuji looks down. “I haven’t done…that since we got together. Actually together, not—not what we were doing before.”

“Fair enough,” Satoru allows. “Not like I was only fucking you back then either.”

Yuuji nods, as unperturbed by that as all the times Satoru stripped naked for him with other people’s marks littering his body. What always gave him away was the touch. By the time he was done, every single of those marks would be buried under a fresh layer of bruises, all hot and stinging. It was never subtle, but there was something quiet and resigned about that claim, like he’d never ask for more than what Satoru offered no matter how badly he wanted it.

In the end, Satoru was the one who couldn’t stand to share.

“Shit,” Yuuji hisses, snatching his hand back. “Asshole!”

Sukuna grins up at him, his teeth stained red. “Your own damn fault for getting distracted.”

Yuuji just shakes his head, frowning at the blood seeping out of the side of his palm. It doesn’t look like a bad wound, but it says a lot that Sukuna managed to break skin at all.

“Most people hit a mental wall when they try to bite through human flesh,” Satoru says, drawing both brothers’ eyes. “Then again, you made a rather inglorious career out of it. Shouldn’t you be out of practice by now?”

Sukuna leers. “How would I be, when my dearest little brother is so accommodating.”

“Sukuna,” Yuuji starts, a warning in his voice—

“You don’t actually believe him, do you?” he asks Satoru. “You can’t be that much of a fucking cuck—”

Yuuji’s bleeding hand slaps back down over Sukuna’s mouth, the other joining it a second later, and this time, his fingers dig into his brother’s cheeks until the skin there blanches white.

“Shut up,” Yuuji growls.

The sound sinks predictably into Satoru’s blood. He clears his throat.

Guilty eyes dart over to him. “Satoru, I—”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Yuuji?”

“No! I wouldn’t. I—” He’s cut off by more muffled laughter, Sukuna’s whole body shaking with it. “Sukuna, I swear to god—”

One of Yuuji’s hands slips down, slotting against the underside of Sukuna’s jaw and pressing up. The laughter turns into a choking noise, and Sukuna’s eyes bulge above Yuuji’s restraining hands.

Satoru takes in that easy, remorseless violence with a strange feeling in the pit of his belly.

“Yuuji,” he calls softly.

Yuuji’s hands gentle. He doesn’t look at Satoru.

“I didn’t lie,” he says. “I haven’t fucked him. I just…gave him a hand sometimes. He doesn’t—he doesn’t have anyone else.”

“Because of you,” Satoru points out, trying to process this new revelation—kinder than Yuuji lying, straying, except for all the ways it’s not kind at all.

“Because of me,” Yuuji admits quietly.

“Taking responsibility, huh.” Satoru rocks back on his heels, taking in Yuuji’s kneeling form and Sukuna’s splayed one as if mere sight will bare the secrets of their bodies. “Is that how you justify it?”

For a long moment, Yuuji says nothing, does nothing, just stares down at his brother’s angry face with eyes so blank that he can’t be seeing anything at all.

“I haven’t tried to justify anything in a long time, Satoru,” Yuuji says finally, his tone almost alien. “You’re the first person who’s made me want to.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh past the sudden tightness in his chest. “You can’t sweettalk your way out of this, you know.”

“Yeah,” Yuuji breathes. “I know.”

Satoru has a thing for monsters. It’s not a conscious choice, but it’s undeniable all the same.

Like calls to like.

He loved Suguru; a part of him will always love Suguru, maybe because he’ll never fail anyone as thoroughly as he failed Suguru. No one has loved Tōji except Megumi’s mother, and that didn’t work out too well for anyone involved, but for a while there, he was the realest thing in Satoru’s life.

They’re two of the worst souls he’s ever met on this bitch of an earth.

And Yuuji—

Yuuji’s probably the tamest monster Satoru has loved—and also the most terrifying.

“Show me,” he says.

Yuuji raises his head, blinking at Satoru with suspiciously red eyes. “Satoru?”

“Show me,” Satoru repeats, “how you take care of your rabid animal of a brother.”

There’s a slight fuss from Sukuna, easily, almost absently smothered.

“You…want to watch me fuck him?” Yuuji asks, his adorable look of confusion utterly at odds with everything else about this situation.

Not quite what Satoru meant but— “Sure. Why not? Give me the full experience.”

“You’d hate that,” Yuuji says, still so cutely baffled. “Satoru, you know you’d hate that.”

“Undoubtedly, but that hasn’t stopped you till now.”

Yuuji flinches. “I—”

“If you apologize, I might just draw this knife.”

Yuuji’s mouth clacks shut, his lips pressing into a thin line. “…That’s fair.”

“You won’t stop, will you?”

“What?”

“Don’t play the fool now,” Satoru warns. He nods at Sukuna, not bothering to check whatever those eyes are showing now. “It’s your twin. You’ve kept him like this for almost a decade. You’re not going to stop fucking him no matter how sweet you find my ass.”

“It’s not about—”

“Exactly,” Satoru cuts in. “It’s not about sex. It’s not about the body. No need to look so horrified, Yuuji—I know a thing or two about vices like that.”

“What are you saying?” Yuuji asks, the horror giving way to something that’s equal parts hopeful and cautious. “What do you want, Satoru?”

“You,” Satoru says simply. “I want you—and everything that entails. Show me what kind of a monster you are, Itadori Yuuji. I promise not to scream.”

Yuuji’s lips part on a trembling exhale. He leans forward, an arm rising to stretch out toward Satoru—

“Amazing,” an unwelcome voice pipes up. “You’re as fucked in the head as he is.”

“Says the serial killer,” Satoru counters. “You should be glad you’re in such good company.”

“I’d rather be in hell.”

“Aren’t you already? Hell is other people, after all.”

Sukuna’s red-stained mouth twists into something nasty—

“Alright,” says Yuuji. Satoru’s entire attention snaps to him, and even without looking, he knows that Sukuna has done the same. “I’ll show you.”

“Oi, brat—”

It’s not a harsh hand over the mouth that silences Sukuna this time but a much gentler touch on his cheek, cradling it for an electric instant before Yuuji lowers his head, his intent unmistakable.

Satoru grits his teeth so hard that his whole jaw throbs, the ache bolting up to his temples.

Yuuji kisses his brother.

And gets bitten for his trouble, rearing back with blood on his mouth.

“Careful,” Satoru hears himself say. “I’d hate to lose your tongue to…that.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Lose my tongue?” Yuuji murmurs, his tone some strange new thing. He licks his lips—and the blood there vanishes, leaving behind glistening spit. “I think you’re a little confused, Satoru.”

It’s a struggle to drag his eyes away from Yuuji, the faint smile on his mouth and heavy-lidded slant of his eyes a siren call, but Satoru makes himself look at Sukuna instead. He finds a redder, bloodier smear—but this time, the blood is coming from the torn flesh of Sukuna’s own lip.

“Ah.” It comes out low and raspy, scraping his throat. “Carry on then.”

“Alright,” Yuuji says, so gently that you could almost be forgiven for thinking him docile.

Satoru swallows, trying and failing to wet his dry mouth, as Yuuji shifts sinuously onto all fours, and for a wild, burning moment, he thinks Yuuji will crawl to him, but it’s the black strap wound around Sukuna’s middle that gets Yuuji’s attention. There seems to be some sort of buckling mechanism built into the side of the bed, wedged between the mattress and the frame, and it only takes a couple of quick, sure motions to loosen the strap.

Yuuji tosses the freed end to the other side of the bed, where it hits the floor with a dull thud but stays connected to the sister mechanism on that side.

It’s not new knowledge, but it still sinks in a little deeper, the awareness of the sheer amount of thought and effort that has gone into this gilded cage.

Yuuji’s had a lot of time to make his brother’s prison both convenient and comfortable.

He wonders if Sukuna’s ever managed to forget that it’s also meant to be his tomb. He doesn’t seem to be the type to favor ignorance, but nine years is a very long time to live a life like this.

“You’re freeing him,” Satoru says, half statement and half question, when Yuuji reaches for a cuffed ankle.

“Oh, no.” Gentle eyes drift up to Satoru, and the mouth underneath curves sweetly up. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow. “If your brother gets free, I��m not the one you should be worried about.”

“I think I’ll eat your eyes first,” Sukuna comments very casually.

Yuuji flicks his big toe. “You’re not eating anyone. Don’t mind him, Satoru. It’s just talk.”

One look at Sukuna and Satoru is very sure that he does, in fact, want to eat him piece by piece and not in the fun, sexy way. But intent isn’t the same as opportunity. Satoru flashes him a toothy smile, getting a bloody snarl in return.

“If you say so,” he tells Yuuji. “You are the animal expert here.”

“Don’t provoke him either,” Yuuji chides absently, clearly more focused on loosening the cuff.

[gofu-kurself]

modern harringroveson track and field stars! au

OK HEAR ME OUT i knowww eddie is like the epitome of anti sports BUT i feel like modern him would run cross country… maybe a hot take BUT like. can’t you imagine him just putting in headphones to some dnd podcast and running for like 3 hours straight through the woods lost in his own head before realizing he just ran a marathon 😵‍💫 his messy sweaty ponytail and lanky ass limbs just give long distance runner to meeee idk

and okay yes obviously billy and steve are more traditional jocks. like billy probably does something strength reliant like shot put or javelin and maybe steve does pole vaulting or shorter speed distances like the 100m or 400m

anyways i can just see them all hanging before practice and stuff and just generally being sporty and nerdy doofuses who shoot the shit with one another but also are hot for one another but also care so deeply about one other 😭

also: eddie can literally eat both of them under the table (not like that u pervert). but like literally, he burns so many calories a day running distance and has the metabolism of a fuckin hummingbird. so even tho he’s a twig (albeit a toned as fuck twig) compared to steve and billy, he eats like 3 more servings then both of them at any given meal. steve and billy are always shook even tho it happens every time.

anyways here’s a lil snippet that devolved into them being horny because my brain is harringroveson mush and they’re just like thatttt:

“dude where do you even put all that?!” steve asks as he pulls jokingly at eddie’s hair, staring at him with a fearful yet awed (aroused??) expression.

“meh fat ass” eddie mumbles, swatting steve’s hand away and continuing to devour his second burger loaded with fries.

“bitch, you couldn’t do leg day with us if you tried” billy pokes fun as he throws a fry into munson’s face from where he’s sitting across the diner booth.

“well, you couldn’t survive the zombie apocalypse if you tried,” eddie snarks, grabbing the fry from where it landed in his mane of hair and eating it, because ya know, he’s a fucking human garbage disposal, apparently.

“what the actual fuck does that have to do with anything?” billy grumbles, unsure what his nerdy boyfriend is on about this time.

“you can’t outrun the zombies, baby. obviouslyy, duh? even with their zombie slo-mo walk, you’re toooo slow,” eddie grins and shoulder checks steve, trying to get a rise out of his other boyfriend at his pathetic jab.

steve throws his hands up immediately in distress, “oh fuck no, i’m not getting involved in your weird ‘long distance versus field event’ dick measuring superiority contest again. i’m fucking switzerland this time, pleading the fifth. i’m not tryna sleep on the couch tonight.”

“munson won’t be sleeping in the goddam apartment tonight if he keeps running his mouth,” billy says with a bitchy snarl they all know is for show.

eddie pretends to faint, his hand over his head like a flailing maiden, flopping unceremoniously onto steve, who lets out a huff, “i want you i need you oh baby oh baby.” eddie quotes sarcastically while licking burger grease off his fingers, “keep threatening me, i like it,” he winks at billy, popping his thumb into his mouth for a final suck before reaching for steve’s napkin in front of them.

billy scoffs and shakes his head, “you don’t seem to mind our leg day muscles when our dicks are—“

“woahhh, bills let’s save it for not public? yeah baby?” interjects steve, ever the voice of reason and public decency. he pushes eddie off his chest gently to address him, seeking out his eyes, “ed’s, you full? can we grab the check and head out before our mister there gets us kicked out?”

“mmm,” eddie says as he gives billy an obvious once over, “stevie, it’s funny, i’m still hungry, but i think i know of two particular things at this very table that would just fill me rightttt up,” he says sleezily, dripping with saccharine, licking his lips stupidly while winking once again at billy.

billy snaps. he slams too much cash onto the tabletop, stands rigidly, shoulders tense, “we’re leaving.”

“but baby, im still hungry,” eddie starts, trying to act coy.

steve gives in, “munson, up. we have foreplay at home, where ya know, it’s legal.”

eddie can’t help but relish poking and prodding until both his boys are riled up, “thought you wernt getting involved, stevie?”

“and i thought you wernt all talk, munson, but guess your moth is only good for yapping. shame.”

both eddie and billy tense in excitement, they love when steve gets bitchy on them. the sex is going to be so fucking good tonight.

the three of them rush the exit, beelining across the parking lot. steve slides into the drivers seat of his car. billy easily wrestles eddie into the backseat and claims shotgun for himself.

the hierarchy of seats doesn’t matter though, since eddie practically sprawls his torso across the center consul to fake-whisper into billy’s ear while steve begins to drive them home, “you think he’ll let me prove to you both that i can use my mouth for something other than yapping tonight?”

billy smiles darkly as they watch how steve’s grip on the wheel tightens, “dunno ed’s, think you’ll have to be realll diligent to convince us.”

“ooo sounds like fun.”

steve is in such a rush to get them home he parks so poorly that he gets a parking ticket the next day lmaoooo. but he makes billy and eddie help cover it because it’s THEIR fault for making him so horny he literally couldn’t even park straight in their apartment complex’s nearly empty parking garage.

[tenderlywicked]

River Cartrwright and screenshots of despair # 3 because I just can't stop: they all fit him 😉

+ a snippet from a fic I'm writing in addition to the sequel of Show Me It Hurts :)

Anger is good fuel, but it can only last you the first few miles. Not thirty. It’s not like Catherine has covered the entire distance on foot of course—she’s not that much of a martyr, but still, it’s been a long journey, and when she’s finally nearing her house, she feels exhausted. Unlike some people might think, reasonably high, retro-style heels she favours are quite suitable for long walks, but not for such marathons. She certainly doesn’t regret saying, “Fuck you, Jackson Lamb.” Yet she’s long started to regret not saying it a bit later, after a lift home, instead of bolting off in the middle of nowhere, with not even a bus stop in sight. It’s always the problem with dramatic exits: there’s never time to think through the logistics.

She’s looking forward to nothing but the comfort of her flat, safe and familiar, but there’s a surprise waiting for her—River Cartwright’s car parked in the street at her block and its owner hunched over the steering wheel, seemingly asleep, which appears to be rather uncomfortable.

She taps at the car window. No reaction. She knocks louder—and only then he stirs, looks around frantically, disoriented and startled, and visibly sags in relief at the sight of her. When he opens the door and staggers out, Catherine sees what she hasn’t noticed in the darkness of the car: he’s clearly beaten up, badly so. It’s not just a black eye and a few more contusions and abrasions here and there; it’s the way he’s holding himself, like he has to make a considerable effort to stay on his feet.

“Catherine,” he says and makes an awkward little movement as if to hug her, but quickly aborts it, leaving her unsure she hasn’t imagined it.

[three-realms-archive]

Was Never Your First, After All

Genre: Angst, Oneshot Fic

Characters: Mammon, MC, other Obey Me! Brothers mentioned briefly.

If there was something Mammon prided himself on being, and constantly strove to be, it was your first man. Only he could be your first in anything and everything.

It was all he had; especially with Satan and Lucifer’s knowledge on everything, Asmo and Levi’s interest in human world media and trends, and Beel and Belphie’s little-brother cuteness. It was a dog-eat-dog world when it came to your attention; but there was one thing Mammon would always have over his brothers, and he treasured it dearly.

The Avatar of Greed was your first man. Your first pact. Your first friendly demon, who had been your knight in 24-karat gold armour from the start. And, true to that that title (and to his general greatness), Mammon had strove to be your first in all other aspects, too. He was there at your first movie night in the Devildom - the TSL marathon with Beel. He had gone with you to a café near RAD for your very first Devildom coffee. Granted, you had hated it so much and had scrunched your face up so tight he had almost tried to bring you to the emergency room in fear that you had stopped breathing… But! Still your first coffee.

He had been your first friend in the Devildom, too. You had told him such in a birthday card, even referring to him as your ‘first man’. And, though it was probably a joking reference to what he always said… it hadn’t stopped Hell’s second-born Lord from cutting out the snippets of that handwritten birthday card which had made his face go red, gluing them onto a smaller piece of card, and keeping it in his wallet. Secretly. So it was always with him; from the moment he woke up, to the moment he checked the wallet with a goofy grin before bed.

So, armed with solid, MC-approved evidence, Mammon went about his days secure in the fact that he would always be your first in everything.

… Until now.

Stupid human. Not you, of course, but a different human who had broken into Serenity Manor, stolen all your coffee, and was now holding you hostage.

That was: your childhood friend, who you had invited over for a movie night at Serenity Manor, currently drinking coffee you had offered him.

School break meant trips to the human world; naturally, with the Avatars of Sin right beside you. However, whilst out on errands, you had spotted a childhood friend of yours whilst shopping at the grocery store. Within just a few minutes, you were chatting with him as if no time had passed at all; and you had taken the opportunity to invite him over to rewatch an old movie, since he had expressed that he was only in the area for a few days more.

Mammon had really, really tried to listen to Lucifer and Beelzebub when they had attempted to calm down their family in the kitchen - just one room over from the living room, where you and your friend were engrossed in the movie. Asmo and Levi had pouted and whined sorrowfully, whilst Satan and Belphie had jealous, irritated scowls. Unusually, Mammon hadn’t said much. It made sense in his head. He and his brothers were used to being the closest to you in your life. It’s definitely what you were to them. You were meant to be their closest friend. You were meant to be their family.

You were meant to be… his first special person.

But it made sense, Mammon thought, that you had a life before them, with other humans - that was just common sense, and he had plenty of that.

So here Mammon was now, in the opposite corner of the living room to you and your friend, trying to will himself to listen to his mind instead of his heart. He had wanted to be better than his brothers, who were stropping and sulking around the house. He had thought maybe he’d look more big-brotherly. That he’d get to look cooler, in front of you.

… That was an hour ago. Since then, you hadn’t even noticed that he had entered the room.

“More coffee?” Your friend piped up, grabbing the jug of iced coffee set on a small table beside you. Jealousy gripped Mammon’s heart like a vice at the sight before him: you and your friend huddled too close under a blanket, the TV screen illuminating your smiling, happy faces. Mammon scoffed internally at your friend’s suggestion, though. You never had coffee in the Devildom. You hated coffee.

Although, this time, you nodded eagerly instead; raising your glass to your friend and letting him fill it to the brim before chugging half of it down in one, satisfying gulp.

“Thanks, man. I absolutely love this coffee.” You said, grinning. Mammon’s eyes widened in shock. “Do you remember when you made me my first coffee at your ma’s? It was so, so good…”

Mammon felt his heart drop, confusion and self-berating flooding his mind and screaming in his thoughts. One word repeated itself, over and over:

First.

First.

First.

Your friend.

Your first.

Mammon barely registered your friend - your stupid, dumb, charming friend - chuckle amicably your reminiscing. “Yeah, those were the days, huh? I think we probably watched this movie for the first time the day after, right? Or was it the week after…?”

You laugh, touching your friend’s shoulder in a way which made Mammon’s irritation flare up wildly. Greed pumped through his veins, surging - accompanied by a primal, raw feeling of competitiveness. “I don’t know! We did a lot of stupid stuff for the first time - we were just kids.”

Amused, your friend raised an eyebrow. “You make us sound like troublemakers, man. We weren’t that dumb - and we turned out pretty okay, right?”

“Sure.” You joke. “It’s alright to admit that we were a bit wild, though. I guess you can’t help being reckless when you make your first friend.”

Your friend watches you laugh, with a fond smile that grips Mammon’s heart like a vice and twists it violently.

He thinks he sees the colour red flush across your friend’s cheek.

Mammon decides to leave, heading to his room; his chest constricting and his stomach feeling like it was churning.

He all but sprints up the stairs, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it. Nervousness and nauseousness flooded his body. Something wet was pooling in the corners of his eyes but he clamped his eyelids shut, rubbing at them furiously. Yet, even in the darkness of nothingness, Mammon couldn’t escape the images of you and your friend; drinking coffee at cafés together; cuddling under blankets, watching movies together; holding hands together; getting closer; faces closer; lips touching -

A few minutes passed. The rise and fall of his chest began to slow as he waited. And, though it took some time, eyes eventually became dry again.

If there was something Mammon prided himself on, and constantly strove to be, it was your first man. But, as it turns out, he couldn’t even be that.

If Mammon wasn’t your first in anything… then what was he to you?

Your first friend in the Devildom? What did that matter? You were probably freaked out of your mind seeing non-humans for the first time, probably missing the humans that looked like your childhood friend. Probably missing your childhood friend.

Your first pact? Mammon had to be tricked into his pact, and you needed the pact for both Belphie and your own safety. Being your first friend meant both your childhood friend and you had met and mutually agreed to grow closer to each other; to learn more about one another; to be there for each other. It might as well have been a proper pact.

And what was left?

Your first man?

How could Mammon be your first man, when someone else had already taken all your firsts?

Mammon sighed, forcing himself to puff out his chest and stride over to his closet. Suddenly, he felt like going out shopping. Somewhere expensive, with trendy clothes to cover up his emerging insecurities, and coffee shops to drown all the bitter thoughts stirring in his mind. Absentmindedly, his hand reached into his pocket to fetch his wallet, so he could check how much cash he had for his impromptu retail therapy session. It would all be fine. He’d go out, glow up, remind himself of how great he was, and forget why you would would ever even compare that lowly human to a literal Lord of Hell, like himself. A demon with money, charm and devilishly-handsome looks. That would be enough, he willed himself to think. It had to be enough.

Opening his wallet was a mistake.

The card - the one with snippets of his birthday card from you - fluttered out of his wallet, landing gently on the floor. His eyes briefly caught the first sentence.

You had said he was your first friend…

… in the Devildom.

He didn’t read the second part of that sentence, however. He knew what came next, and it wasn’t like it was important. First friend, that’s what was important. The rest hadn’t affected him at all.

It hadn’t affected him, which is definitely why he slammed his wallet shut and left it behind on his desk, taking out his credit card and ID. They were the only things he’d need, after all. He would open the door, leave his room and get out of the house for a deserved shopping spree. Unaffected.

Mammon didn’t need to be your first.

… And that’s exactly what he told himself over and over, as he broke down into tears; not having been able to bring himself to even turn the handle of his bedroom door.

Instead he sunk to the floor, curled up into a ball, and sobbed uncontrollably into the screaming silence of his bedroom.

(mammon next on my angst list, which is still the most requested genre after a week of polling! My second ever post had him breaking a vase in a hotel and now we have this lol)

(the first man thing is something mammon uses as a bit of a crutch in both canon and fanfiction. it’s a romantic line, its an excuse, its an identity, its all of that. i think its a nice, telling part of mammon’s character, and i tried expanding on it with other firsts. however, what if you took that away from him? and u get the idea for this fic. hope y’all enjoyed!)

(I’m also going to start putting genre and character stuff at the start, so people can easily know what they’re getting into. let me know if i should add anything to it)

[skiiyoomin]

HELLO! Can you write a denki x goth!reader? Reader has a shadow quirk that makes her unable to fully walk into the sun without a umbrella and looks a bit eerie but is a sweetheart, totally sun and moon couple vibes 🌒. I'm sorry If this is too especific, you can ignore If you want to!!!

ღDenki with a goth s/o

ʚCont: gn! reader, goth reader, mention of golden retriever and black cat trope, swearing, mentions of goth culture (im very uncultured in it so i apologize if i made a mistake)

⤑Back to navigation

Opposites attract is the definition of your relationship. He´s the sun, you´re the moon. The perfect duo, is what people say. And it´s true. You complement each other so well, it creates a perfect balance in your relationship. The dynamic is a lot like Beast boy and Raven. He´s always bounding with energy whereas you´re reserved and on the chill side of things.

When Denki first laid eyes on you, he was a little intimidated if he was being honest. He couldn´t help it! You looked so scary and eerie he thought you were gonna gauge his eyes out or something. That all changed when you saved him during the U.S.J incident. It all happened so quick, a flash of moments that became a blur. But the moment that was engraved in his memories was your worried face asking if he was okay. Did he fall in love instantly? Maybe.

His perception of you definitely did a 180 since then. And honestly, he felt a little guilty for assuming you were mean in the first place. Nevertheless, he opened up later on to the idea of getting to know you. It started off when he attempted to bake a thank you cake for saving him. Turns out, you don´t like sweet things. But don´t fret! Denki does not lose his determination. So instead, he arranged a bouquet of flowers. You were allergic to one of them. Now he was starting to grow frustrated. Attempt after attempt slowly beated down his hopes of doing something nice for you (you appreciated everything even if Denki deemed it unsuitable, he needed perfection). At last, luck took pity on him and presented the perfect opportunity. He caught onto a snippet of a conversation you were having with Jirou. You were rambling about a book you had been saving up for. That´s it! He´ll get you the book.

"Denki? Are you okay?"

You ask a frenzied looking Denki who knocked on your door at 11PM.

"I have it" He pants with his hands on his knees. You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Have what?"

A shaky hand holds up a brand new copy of the book you had been eyeing for a while. "The book you wanted" He wheezes. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Just to what lengths did Denki go to buy the book and appear at your door looking like he ran a marathon?Your silence must have been long because he stood back him, a nervous smile on his lips as he pushes the book into your hand.

"I-wow, thank you" You managed to sputter at last. But before you could manage another word, he was already rushing down the hallway, a furious blush on his cheeks.

Ever since then he´s attached to your hip. He saw you the next day reading the book (that he gifted which was no small matter in his eyes), and the soft smile you sent his way when you made eye contact was enough to send him to heaven and above.

He stuck to your side like glue, constantly asking questions about the things you like and whatnot. And trust me when I say he became whipped real quick. The heart eyes were obvious, he was not fooling anyone. Going back to the whole Beast Boy and Raven dynamic, Denki is a very flirty guy. And the fact that he likes you boosts that to a million. He´s always using some cheesy pick up line or trying to do boyfriend things. He makes his crush on you obvious and he has no shame in it. And even though you act like you hate it, you both know you don´t. After all, if you hated it, you would´ve pushed him away long ago.

At this point, everyone was counting down the days until you finally got together. When it finally happened everyone was ecsatic because yay! no more annoying crushing Denki. But they soon regretted it because Denki with a partner is a million times more annoying.

He´s always showing you off with a proud giddy smile. Because you´re his. His partner and no one elses. Loves loves loves kissing you and hugging you. He´s a very physically affectionate person. Basically a golden retriever and you´re the black cat. He always has that lovesick puppy eyed look, like a puppy sitting by their owners feet, waiting to be acknowledged. That´s how he is with you, and when you do give him attention, he´s over the moon. He´s very vocal about his love for you and could spend hours listing off all the things he likes about you. The squad can not take it any longer.

He worships the ground you walk on you´re goddess, he´s your biggest supporter. So trust when I say he does not take any slander directed towards you. He zaps people who look at you the wrong way.

Also! Last but not least, having a goth partner means his eyes open up to the whole goth culture. Ever since he became friends with you he took an interest in your clothing style, the music you listen to, the make up style. Basically anything, and he definitely binge read anything having to do with goth culture just so he´d look cool and all knowimg when you talk to him. You ended up having to teach him yourself but you appreciated the effort either way.

All in all, Denki is the best boyfriend. End of speech.

[untilwefind]

Sneak peek at Chapter 9 of Brother, Best Friend, Boyfriend, Bane of My Existence

This chapter is a monster and I'm so excited for it so I had to share a little snippet🩵

Chapter Summary: Six days of Christmas chaos, movie marathons, and sneaky touches under fleece blankets. Mack is trying to keep it together, Will is determined to ruin him with affection, and the World Juniors are just around the corner—Team USA vs Team Canada, with Mack stuck loving both.

Catch up here if you haven't read Chapter 8: Draft Day yet!

Mack is lying diagonally across his bed, wrapped in two blankets, aggressively scrolling TikTok at light speed, ignoring the way his stomach has been in knots since Will walked in looking like that.

Dark jeans that fit him too well. That stupid forrest green button-down that hugs his shoulders. His hair still damp from a shower, curling perfectly at the edges of his neck. And, of course, he smells incredible. Like cedar and clean laundry and whatever pheromone-drenched cologne he insists he doesn’t wear. Mack wants to punch a wall and then crawl into Will’s lap about it.

Instead, he’s doom-scrolling TikTok and pretending the green bubbling in his gut isn’t jealousy. Or longing. Or both. He can’t even follow the videos, just flips through them in a blur of music and motion, stewing in the knowledge that Will’s about to go out looking like that and leave him behind like a tragic, underage housewife.

“Mackie,” Will tries, voice sweet.

“Go away,” Mack mumbles, not even looking up. “You have plans with your real boyfriend tonight. Don't let me stop you.”

Will edges inside like Mack’s a wounded woodland creature. “You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re fuming.”

“I said I’m not mad. I’m just—whatever. You and Aiden go have your little hockey bro bar crawl and I’ll be here. In my bed. In my blankets. Not pouting. Not jealous. Not imagining you with some giggling blonde whose name is probably Maddi with an i.”

Will snorts. “There’s definitely a Maddi at every bar.”

“Exactly. Go marry her. See if I care.”

Will shuts the door behind him with a soft click and launches himself onto the bed like it’s a trampoline. The bounce jostles Mack violently, but he doesn’t react. Just pulls the blanket higher.

“Mackie,” Will whines, crawling over him. “Don’t be like this.”

“I’m fine.”

Will nosedives into his cheek. “You’re not fine.”

“I am,” Mack replies, still not looking at him, thumb now aggressively stabbing at the screen. “Why would I be mad? You’re going out with Aiden. You're gonna get drinks, hit up the bar, be all charming and tall and legal. Have a great time.”

Will sighs. “You’re pouting.”

Mack grunts, unmoved.

Will kisses the tip of his nose sweetly. “You’re know you're my favourite person on this planet.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m tragic and underage.”

Will kisses both cheeks, then the corner of his mouth. “You’re tragic and gorgeous and cuddly and mine.”

“You’re leaving me,” Mack accuses, still tragically unmoved.

“I’m going out for a few hours.”

“I could die.”

Will drops all the way onto Mack, chest to chest, arms tucked under his back. “Then I’ll never forgive myself. But I have to go or Aiden will key my car.”

“Good.”

“You know I’d rather stay in with you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Will kisses him full on the mouth now. Slow, indulgent, with a sigh that makes Mack melt against him despite himself. Will keeps going, mouth trailing down to his jaw, behind his ear, whispering, “You’re so hot when you’re irrational.”

Mack’s fingers curl in the back of Will’s shirt. “You smell really good.”

“I know. You can sniff me when I get home.”

“Not the same.”

Another kiss. Another. Will’s halfway to pinning him.

The door slams open with a startling bang.

Aiden.

"Fucksake, Smitty," Aiden groans, stepping into the room in his puffer, clearly ready to go. “We said nine. It's nine-fifteen."

Will doesn’t lift his head. “I’m working on something over here, Celly.”

Aiden takes in the scene. Mack entirely blanketed except for his flushed face, Will draped on top of him like a weighted blanket. Aiden makes a face. “Are you seriously being held hostage by your ball and chain again?”

“Excuse me?” Mack scowls.

Will throws an arm around Mack’s shoulder and grins at Aiden. “I’m trying to calm down my very reasonable boyfriend who’s feeling a little left out.”

“I’m not left out,” Mack mutters. “I’m legally barred.”

“I can see that. We're gonna miss two for one shots because you're letting him cling like a koala.”

Mack immediately wraps all limbs around Will like challenge accepted.

Will laughs, shoulders shaking. “Okay, that’s fair.”

Aiden glares. “Let's. Fucking. Go.”

Will attempts to slide off the edge but Mack goes limp like a toddler, hanging off him with legs hooked around his hips.

“Oh my god,” Aiden says. “You’re actually wearing him.”

"Mackie," Will says with mock seriousness. "Release."

Mack falls back onto the bed, letting go of Will with a huff. Will reaches up and cups his face in one hand, thumb pressing into one side and his other fingers squishing in the other, mushing Mack’s face until his lips pucker out like a grumpy little fish.

“Oh my god,” Will whispers, gleeful. “You’re so cute when you sulk.”

“Stowwwpp,” Mack slurs through squished lips, batting at Will’s arm, cheeks heating as Will leans in and presses tiny, exaggerated kisses to his fishy pout. One. Then two. Then three, each one making Mack squirm a little harder beneath him.

Will’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. “This is what you get for being a brat.”

“You’re annoying,” Mack mumbles, though it’s hard to sound convincing when your boyfriend is kissing the life out of your puffed-up cheeks and you’re lowkey melting into the mattress beneath him.

Aiden groans. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” Will says, finally detangling himself, but not before squishing Mack’s cheeks again and planting one last kiss to his now thoroughly kiss flushed lips. “Love you.”

Mack just sighs and hides in his neck for a second, breath hot. “Have fun,” he mutters, soft and grudging. “Come back to me quick.”

“Don’t wait up,” Will says gently.

“You know I will anyway,” Mack murmurs.

[rimatsu]

you know what is missing in the bucktommy mpreg craze? how it adds such a new layer to the sexiness for the pregnant person, specifically when the main focus is not the baby. yes, we all know the doctor visits and sonograms and belly rubs and baby clothes shopping and horny sex marathons. but what about buying clothes that are supposed to accomodate the bigger belly but the real goal is to look sexy af for a fancy date night and maybe to get a few appreciative looks from strangers? what about going to the gym as usual but showing off the belly with a crop top and the booty with some short pants because hubby enjoys the view? what about going out to dance and to drink mocktails with friends while hubby stays at home, but still putting on something more revealing to tease hubby? pregnancy is not just about the horniness but also the sexiness of whoever is pregnant! love to see characters feeling 10 times more confident and sexy in their own bodies actually and enjoying flaunting that while also feeling so so so secure in their relationship with their partner and their love for the baby and their changing body ❤️ i love when the emotional security feeds the positive body image!!

this is like poetry to me.. yes to all of this we're in dire need of that particular flavor of mpreg bucktommy. to you anon, i gift this peripherally topical snippet languishing in my drafts. next time i'll stick to the theme more faithfully i promise

Tommy is brushing his teeth when Evan turns off the water stream, stepping out of the shower on careful legs — balance unsteady, the extra weight he’s hauling around shifting his center of gravity and arching his lower spine. Tommy stands by the sink and stares at his husband, enamored with the sight of him.

Six months in, Evan’s belly used to be perfectly round: curved like a ball, orbed like the moon. Clothed, he looked like a model for a pregnancy fashion brand in anything he wore, tall and broad-shouldered and carrying his growing bump like an accessory. But now that Evan is so far along the process he experiences Braxton-Hicks most nights, his abdomen isn’t quite the perfect sphere anymore. The bump sits heavy and large on the cradle of his pelvis, dropping lower with each day that drips into the next. Naked, he looks like he’s two seconds away from bursting at the seams. He's swollen all over from his pecs to his ankles, skin pulled so tight over his belly silvery-pink stretchmarks cover his sides, streaky indentations Tommy loves to trace with his fingertips. 

Like this, Evan is a vision: Tommy could probably wax poetics about the hyperpigmentation line running down his middle, his cute popped-out navel, and even the enlarged veins criss-crossing down his legs from the oversupply of blood pumping in his system. Evan has always been spellbindingly attractive, but there's novelty in watching the chiseled lines of his muscles soften, the familiar shapes of his body morphing into something new and achingly temporary — the extra padding of his thighs and arms and his meatier hips acting as tangible indications that their lives is about to change. But as much as Tommy looks forward to meeting their daughter, to finally hold her in his arms and not just see her in grainy sonograms, and as objectively selfish as the thought is, he wouldn’t mind Evan staying like this forever: heavy with his child, fecund and dewy and full of literal life. 

"What's with the staring?" Evan asks when their eyes meet. Mirth seeps into his voice as he shakes his hips and adds, "You want some of this?"

[saltydumplings]

Snippet #26

"I think I'm going to work the extra shift tonight," the hero said.

The villain's attention was caught in seconds.

They didn't let that show though - kept their gaze focused downwards carefully, set on cleaning off their knife whilst they let the other continue on.

"Maybe tomorrow night as well. I know two days in a row is bad but it's nothing that I haven't done before."

"Didn't you already take the extra shift last night?" the villain asked.

The hero shrugged dismissively. "Yeah but...I mean, it got cut short so it - it doesn't really count."

"Doesn't count?"

"Yeah, it - well, I mean..." They paused. Bit their lip. "P-Plus the extra money could really--"

"Green light," the villain said.

The hero's brow scrunched up cutely. "What?"

"Amber light."

"Villain, what are you--?"

"Red light."

Suddenly, the hero stopped.

Somewhere in their mind something seemed to flicker and switch off. They froze, unspeaking, movement confined to the occasional blink and the steady rise and fall of their shoulders.

The villain returned their knife to its rightful place on their belt.

Slowly, they lifted their gaze up - sharp eyes meeting with the hero's vacant ones:

"You won't take the extra shift tonight," they instructed. "You'll take it tomorrow after some rest and not again for the rest of the week. And you'll make sure that you eat breakfast tomorrow, because I know that you skipped it today."

The hero said nothing.

Content, the villain turned away once more, pulling a different blade from their coat and polishing it anew.

"Green light," they said.

"--even talk...What was I saying?" the hero asked.

The villain glanced at them. "You were talking about your shifts."

"Oh, right." For a moment, the hero looked confused but their expression soon softened out, focus slipping back to whatever it was they'd been doing before. "Actually, I don't think I will do the shift tonight. I'll just do it tomorrow instead."

The villain nodded.

And then the hero continued to ramble on as usual, oblivious, ignorant, and happy as they talked for the span of a marathon.

And the villain listened to them in silence, guilty, praying that the other never found out their secret...