#they'd flip and have to be restrained

[chipper-smol]

... Siffrin would really hate the voidfish from The Adventure Zone

[sinister-sincerely]

Let’s Get Physical

UPDATED 5/19/25

AO3 link update for RATED E FOR EXPLICIT Content continuation of the below| AO3 Story 5 chapters and completed

LINK HERE

Ya know the drill! Inspired by @wyervan and their Slasher DCA AU | This story is about a little black book that should have stayed where it belonged and one curious Reader who gets in a bit too over their head with eyein' Sun and a quiet Moon...

Inspired by the drop dead gorgeous artwork of Sun in his workout clothes HERE Seriously. LOOK AT HIM! I am a shameless simp.

Rated 16+ | This is Extremely Suggestive CW: Voyeurism, Stalking / Obsessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Non-Consensual Touch (restraining, cornering)

Word count: 3.2K words

You had been getting closer to your bosses over the last few months.

Workin' alongside them day in and day out, it was bound to happen. Managing the arcade and the occasional get-together outside of work made it feel like you were becoming... friends.

Sometimes, maybe more than that.

You couldn't forget that night at their place when you all were drinking together, Sun pulling you against him, his laughter grazing your neck. Moon had leaned down against you, eyes locked on yours, his usual cautious attitude dropping.

Nothing really happened that night, but after that, your opinions of them changed. You'd seen a side that felt real... vulnerable, almost warm.

But reconciling that with your growing doubt was gettin' harder.

The longer you worked with them, the more you noticed patterns...and the more it seemed like they noticed you noticing.

Moon's dark jokes used to feel like teasing, but lately, they felt more like test-watching how much you'd brush off.

Sun, however, would mumble anxiously whenever something seemed strange, fluttering his hands like he was trying to sort his thoughts.

Both seemed to watch your reactions closely as if waiting for something.

Then there were the disappearances, always someone with a dark reputation, someone connected to the arcade.

A bruised child's asshole parent, a partner roughing up their spouse one too many times, or just someone unsettling who lingered too long near the kids.

Eventually, they'd just be gone.

Later, the town would hear about the remains found in woods or abandoned lots. The details were never public knowledge, but it always hit the community hard.

People whispered theories, accidents, and wild animals, but the idea of foul play was quickly dismissed. "Nothing like that happens here."

But Sun and Moon's reactions never matched the mood.

Sun would flash a careful, almost relieved smile, while Moon would mutter about karma, his eyes glinting with something sharper.

It wasn't like they celebrated, but it felt like they were in on a private joke.

You kept telling yourself it was just paranoia, but curiosity got the better of you while cleaning one Monday:

The high school had an unexpected half-day, and the arcade was overrun with teenagers. Sun and Moon were forced to the front, leaving the office unlocked.

You knew you shouldn't, but you slipped inside to 'tidy' up.

Everything looked normal, papers scattered, the computer humming loudly, except for a tiny black notebook. Its plain cover blended into the mess, but you couldn't look away once you saw it.

You hesitated, but your fingers moved on their own, flipping it open.

The handwriting was obsessively neat: names, addresses, schedules, some marked 'Best' in red. Your heart pounded as you recognized some names, people who were now gone.

Worse were the dozens of other names you didn't know...

Whatever this was, it wasn't meant for you to see.

A shout from the front of the building snapped you out of it. You barely had time to run to the breakroom and stash the notebook in a locker before Sun appeared.

The rest of the day, you were an anxious wreck, trying to act like your nerves were from the kids... not the damn notebook searing itself in your thoughts.

By the time you left that Monday afternoon, you hadn't managed to return it...

Now, it was Tuesday morning, and you couldn't take it anymore.

After a restless night, you were on your feet the second the morning light broke, heading into the city to set your thoughts straight.

You decided to return to the arcade, find a way in, put back the notebook, and figure out your next move.

You couldn't risk being caught with it if your worst suspicions were right.

Outside the building, you gripped the splintering wood of the bathroom window ledge that conveniently looked out into the one alleyway that gave you enough cover.

The edge dug into your palms, tender flesh pinched down, the old wood groaning to support your weight, threatening to give at any moment.

You hissed out a curse that fogged in the chill air.

This was the only window you knew for a fact had a broken lock, the one place you could sneak into the arcade that didn't have you smashing a window or forcing a door open.

Getting inside any other way just wasn't an option—well, not without drawing unwanted attention from one of the other shops nearby.

Your sneakers kept slipping against the old brick siding, scraping against the uneven surface and sending pieces of flaking concrete to the ground. The muscles in your arms burnt, every nerve on edge to the real fear of being caught, stuck halfway up the side of the building like some stray cat.

Eventually, your foot caught on a solid ridge, just enough to give you leverage. You managed to push yourself up with clumsy coordination, meaning that your torso pushed painfully against the window's glass.

The window was stubborn, jammed tight from years of weather damage and Sun being too cheap to replace it. With gritted teeth, you forced your fingers between the frame and the dirty glass, trying to wiggle it open.

At first, it didn't so much as budge. Panic swelled in your chest, but you dug your fingers in harder, pulling til your wrists ached. Finally, with a shuddered groan from the warped frame, the window opened, sliding up just enough to give you a narrow gap.

With no time to lose, you immediately twisted your body awkwardly. Ducking your head in first, your hands braced against the sill, nails digging into unknown grime as you dragged yourself inside.

As you pulled, you felt your hoodie get caught by what had to be a loose nail. The momentum had you yanked back briefly, but you forced forward. Then, with one final push, you tumbled painfully onto the floor below, landing ungracefully on your hands and knees with a muffled thud.

You remained on the floor for a second, sucking in shallow breaths, all your muscles tight from a horrible mix of anxiety and ache from the fall.

The building around you was quieter than you had ever heard it before. In your head, you kept telling yourself that your bosses were at home, not here, but that did little to ease the prickling sensation crawling up and down your arms.

Even though you were safe inside the building, the sense of urgency did not let up. You forced yourself to move, pushing off the ground to get onto your feet. Your legs felt shaky as you left the bathroom, entering from the side of the main arcade floor.

It was strange to be there with no one else around- no shouting kids, no echo of Sun loudly reprehending someone for throwing a ski ball into the ball pit while Moon played Contra in the background.

Now it was just the low hum of the claw machines and the endless looped jingles of the game cabinets, playing to an empty room...

A nervous tickle was crawling up the back of your throat, which you forced down with a dry swallow as you made your way through the maze of games toward the hallway before the breakroom.

You eased the door open with your heel as a sudden harsh glare from the ceiling lights hit you head-on, forcing you to squint. It was a jarring shift from the dim arcade to the almost sterile-white light making your eyes sting.

Moon must have forgotten to walk through yesterday to shut everything off.

Your footsteps echoed against the ground as you crossed over to the wall of lockers, dropping to your knees in front of one of the bottom units that never saw any use.

The hinges of its door gave a soft, grating screech as you opened it, the sound cutting through the silence. You winced, but your panic eased the moment your eyes landed on the notebook tucked neatly inside, right where you had left it.

Once it was back in your hands, you flipped to a random page, and there it was again... The same careful handwriting, neat columns, specific notes... Someone had taken great lengths to document other people's entire life.

Even if it was a hobby, it was still stalking, at the very least.

A thread of doubt encircled your thoughts, quiet and insistent.

All you could think of was Moon giving you a smile. It was one of the rare ones not edged with sarcasm or teasing. Sun and that extremely fleeting soft look he sometimes gave when he thought you weren't paying attention.

Neither performative. Just...

They wouldn't do things like that if they were real monsters, right?

Maybe this was all still some twisted but harmless misunderstanding.

You closed the notebook, letting its weight settle in your palms. Dissociated, you stared into the open locker before you as if it might swallow everything.

If you were to put the notebook back, pretend you never saw it... could things go back to how they were—

A sound.

Soft but deafening against the stillness.

Your heart jumped as instincts took over. You shut the locker as quietly as possible before scrambling away, half getting to your feet, half running toward the adjacent hallway.

With seconds to spare, you pressed your body as close to the wall as possible, holding your breath from just behind a corner.

"—Let’s get physical! Physical! Da da da dah dahhh!"

Off-key singing rang out, the sound piercing straight through you.

At the recognition of the voice, your entire body seemed to freeze. A cold, sickly sweat rose on your skin, sliding down your back as you shoved the notebook into the front pocket of your hoodie.

Trembling, you stole a look.

It was Sun.

He came bouncing into the breakroom with that familiar, exaggerated energy in his step, practically prancing on those absurdly long legs, singing like no one was listening (and to his credit, he probably did believe he was alone).

Loud. Offbeat. Completely unbothered.

It wasn't the singing that struck you; it was the fact that Sun was wearing shorts.

Not just shorts—obscenely short shorts, in a garish highlighter yellow fabric that stretched and clung far too tightly against his narrow hips.

Up top was his usual sunflower-print button-down, half open at the chest. An orange gym bag slung carelessly over one of his shoulders as he swayed to the imaginary beat, heading toward his locker in full dance/walk.

You pressed yourself further into the wall, wishing for it to absorb you as you silently panicked, hating yourself for being more terrified to be caught spying vs having just broken in.

The sound of the locker door creaking open pulled your eyes and attention back to Sun.

He was closer now—close enough that you could make out the ginger strands of chest hair peeking from the open collar of his shirt...

Air caught in your throat, a heat blooming across your face as you tried in vain to stop your eyes as they drifted down—down the curve of his neck,

tracing the scattered freckles that led your line of sight to the inward curve of his collar bones.

It felt involuntary like your eyes were betraying you...

Unaware of your struggle, Sun had stopped singing to humming softly as he hoisted the gym bag into the locker. You heard the subtle rasp of a zipper, then saw him pull out a single piece of candy, amber-colored and wrapped in a very familiar crinkly plastic.

Werther's Original, if you had to guess.

The candy looked absurdly tiny in between his fingers. Sun unwrapped it with a surprising delicacy, slow and precise. He leaned forward, lips parted, the tip of his tongue slipping out to guide the caramel past his teeth.

A low, pleased noise purred from deep in his chest as he let it settle in his mouth, blue eyes half-lidded in brief, blissful focus.

You had looked at Sun before, sure... But this felt different.

Alongside the usual curiosity... was fascination...

Not just at seeing him outside the structured chaotic rhythm of work, this was seeing him relaxed, unaware, caught in a private moment.

Layered beneath the intrigue was something heavier—a creeping shame that sat hot in your chest as you released just how closely you were staring.

You shouldn't be feeling these things, you told yourself, fingertips digging hard into the wall beside you as if the pressure could force the thoughts out.

Sun could be dangerous. Might have taken lives—hell, you had a whole notebook of reasons to believe exactly that.

And yet here you were in the dark, admiring the way he sucked on a piece of candy...

"Hmm... not in here either," Sun murmured, the candy clicking softly against his teeth as he leaned deeper into the locker before pulling back out with a soft grunt.

You felt yourself freeze as his fingers began to move to the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them one by one with slow, rhythmic ease. His eyes stayed low, focused on his task, unaware of how his lips pouted in concentration.

The fabric parted down his chest, freckles catching the overhead light, the soft movement almost hypnotic in how casual it was.

You told yourself to look away. Move, blink, do ANYTHING, but continue to watch.

But you didn't. Couldn't.

Drawn further, you leaned in as Sun slid the shirt off his shoulders. It hung loose briefly, clinging to his thick forearms before he carefully slipped one arm out, then the other unhurried.

Your body betrayed you completely, heart skipping a beat at the sight of him bare-chested.

His skin was pale, almost luminous under the harsh breakroom lights, flushed here and there in soft shades of red and pink. Freckles dotted his shoulders in the same scattered constellation you had seen on his neck, confirming what you already suspected: they were everywhere...

Sun folded the dress shirt between his palms, and you watched helplessly as lean muscle shifted beneath his skin. Every movement was smooth, second-natured like his body remembered how to perform even without a stage.

Then he turned, reaching back into the locker, and your gaze followed automatically. His stomach drew in with the movement, the sharp lines of his hips forming a deep V that dipped beneath the waistband of those obnoxious shorts.

A trail of red hair traced around his navel that disappeared with it—too low, too inviting...

Too distracted. Too caught up.

You never heard the quiet steps creeping up behind you until it was already far too late.

A sturdy hand clamped down over your mouth, unyielding and slightly cold. Your brain struggled to realize what was going on as an arm locked tightly across your chest, yanking you off the ground like you weighed nothing.

The pressure constricting your lungs, ribs straining against the sudden force.

There wasn't even enough time to gasp.

"—Naughty..."

The word rumbled low against your ear, more growl than a whisper. The voice was unmistakable, and your stomach immediately turned to lead.

Moon.

Panic flared, sharp and wild in your chest. You did not thrash, didn't try and scream; you knew better.

Memories of him when he was really annoyed popped up in your mind. The way he could shift from seemingly calm to snapping in a second. His patience waned before the way his hands moved without restraint.

"...Are you a rulebreaker, Star?"

Moon's voice was almost too close, curling itself in the limited space between the two of you. The grip on your chest tightened just enough to make it hurt. Your lungs stuttered, fighting for a breath of air around the seal of his palm.

It was no use, though; you could not move or answer.

How long had he been there just watching you?

Moon leaned forward in a slow, graceful pivot, his chin barely brushing the top of your head as he peered around the corner. You could feel his chest vibrate with a low chuckle, a laugh meant only for you, as he pulled you back against him.

"See something you like?" he asked, voice lilting with that taunting sweetness that never meant anything good coming from him.  

Moon loosened his hold slightly, just enough for you to suck in a thin, trembling breath.

"Be quiet." he warned, "Or Sunny might find out just how naughty you are..."

Your blood ran cold as Moon lowered you back onto the ground. His hand kept firm across your mouth, not removing it yet; he seemed to be waiting for something, measuring your body language.

Like a cat playing with its food...

You should have known better.

The thought rang loud through your head, scolding painfully obvious as you stood there frozen: Sun NEVER went anywhere alone. Moon was always close behind.

How long had both of them been here at the arcade then?

Unaware or uncaring of your spiraling state, Moon let go of you suddenly, the absence of his grip so abrupt it knocked you off center. You stumbled a step, body turning instinctively toward him...

It was a mistake.

He was on you again in an instant. Moving with the smooth, practiced ease of a silent showman. You barely had time to register the shift before your back hit the wall hard. The force was just shy of violent—controlled, precise. His weight pressed into you, locking you in place.

Too close to move. Too close to fight back, even if you wanted to.

Whatever your expression, panic, shock, or guilt seemed to delight him. Moon's eyes dropped, narrowing with a strange kind of satisfaction.

You could see it the moment he noticed, though. Something strange between the layers of your hoodie and the way your body was flush against his.

The notebook still carefully hidden in your front pocket.

Moon tilted his head, studying you closely like you were a puzzle he was halfway through solving. His gaze was razor-sharp, calculating, his lips curled slightly, not in amusement, but in recognition of your fear...

A raspy giggle broke his silence as he rolled his hips forward, slow but hard.

You felt the notebook flatten against your abdomen, caught between your body and his.

It was only a matter of time now, wasn't it?

Heat was radiating off your face from humiliation, terror, and... something you weren't brave enough to name.

The air in your lungs turning thick and useless.

"...What are you hiding, Starlight?"

Moon sang, low and rough, barely above a whisper, but his tone was unlike anything you had ever heard from him before.

He caged you in fully, strong arms braced on either side of your head, shoulders pulled in tight as he leaned down.

Moon didn't blink.

His eyes didn't wander.

They stayed locked on yours, sharp and unrelenting... probing.

Stripping you bare like he could peel the truth out from under your skin with nothing but a stare alone.

When you didn't answer... when you couldn't,

...he let one arm drop.

His hand moved slowly, tracing a path down the side of your neck. Fingers cold and heavy, their weight sending shivers down your body as they ghosted over your sensitive skin.

He gave your throat a faint squeeze, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he could.

Then his fingers slid lower, lower still... and you stopped breathing altogether as he neared the notebook.

You wanted to scream,

to run...

to disappear...

But you couldn't.

Not when he was looking at you like that.

So you did the only thing you could.

With all your desperation, panic twisting hot beneath your skin, breath caught somewhere between a scream and a sob—you reached up and grabbed hold of him.

Your fingers tangled in Moon's hair, thick and soft between your shaking hands, and you pulled.

Drawing him toward you with everything you had left. Not gently. Not sweet.

Raw survival that was driven by instinct and the pounding need to do something at that moment...

And then—you kissed him.

Author's note: I have more but it goes into explicit territory. Still on the fence about posting it to AO3 where I can tag appropriately! If I do I will update to say so. -Sin

Thank you for reading, friends!

[littlemourningstarr]

Not the Worst Night

Tim gets stuck with some sort of toxin derived from Ivy's old work, but at least Jason is there to whisk him away.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Tim Drake x Jason Todd

Tags: Frottage, established relationship, genderfluid Tim, drugging, the JayTim is consensual

Tim felt his blood broiling, inside his body, his very veins, as he pulled the needle from his arm, chucking it down onto the ground. The tip was stained with his blood, the vial still containg a trace of a liquid in a dark rose color- pinker than blood, a romantic's ideal color. He shuddered, wanted to crush it under his boot heel, but knew he couldn't. He'd need to take it back to the cave, have it analyzed, with his blood.

His stomach flipped, and for a moment nausea overtook him. He swallowed as spit pooled in his mouth, inhaling slowly through his nose. He needed to call this in- needed to get the traffickers he'd stopped and left restrained into GCPD custody- not that it would probably do much good. But he had to try.

And he needed Bruce to know they'd gotten their hands on something that most definitely once belonged to Ivy. She'd be royally pissed, that was for sure. Hells, maybe he should just call her-

"You responsible for the mess of bodies back there?" Tim spun quickly, body tense- but it was just Jason, his voice mechanical from his helmet. He was still straddling his bike- how the fuck hadn't Tim heard it?

He realized he could barely hear anything except his pulse straining in his head, pounding in his ears. His nausea had shifted to a tightness in his muscles, his belly cramping almost painfully, and he could feel heat and blood rushing down to his groin. Oh, no.

He must have looked pale- or flushed, Tim really didn't know- because Jason climbed off his bike, pulled his helmet off his head. His curls were tussled, wild, gorgeous, begging for Tim to tangle his fingers in them, to pull and yank until Jason was gasping, writhing-

Oh bloody fucking hells.

"You alright?"

Tim scrubbed his hands up over his face, trying to suck in a breath. He swore he was about to begin trembling, the desire inside him blooming like spring, heady like a fucking animal rut. "No," he admitted, and the moment he let his hands fall from his face Jason was there, reaching up to cup his face, tilting it, trying to examine it in the streetlamp light.

"Babygirl, talk to me," he whispered, and Tim melted, did tremble. This was still… new, with Jason. He hadn't quite gotten used to hearing the endearment, from him- the adoration, in his voice. He had never expected this. He hadn't expected there to be room in Jason's heart or life for the childhood crush Tim had been harboring for far too many years.

Tim swallowed thickly. "Traffickers had a case of drugs," he admitted, "tracker on the one that got away with it. His location should ping to the system- but they stuck me with something." He glanced down, and Jason reluctantly let go of him, crouched down and picked up the needle, examining it. "It feels like Ivy's work used to."

"Ivy- oh." Jason glanced up, and Tim turned his head away, clenched his hands into fists. He could keep himself together. It was what he did. Anyone else could fall apart, but not Tim Drake.

Jason straightened up, took the time to carefully tuck the needle away in a compartment on his belt, before he was holding out a hand.

"Give me your comm."

Tim reached for his ear, pulling the small bud out. Jason popped it into his own ear, pressed it. "Hello, hello who's up listening tonight?"

"What- Jason?" Tim could just hear Barbara's voice, she was speaking so loudly- shocked. "This is Tim's line!"

"Yup. I'm kidnapping him for a bit- very, very important work. Could you have someone follow up a tracker he set live on the system?" Tim couldn't hear Barbara respond now- she must have contained herself. He swayed a little- considered maybe he'd just pass out instead of falling into the fucking needful pile of a human he knew the drug wanted him to. At least he'd get an hour of sleep, then.

The team should just consider that a win.

"Yeah, and send someone to clean up a trafficking mess." Jason rattled off an address, before he was simply popping the comm out of his ear, offering it back to Tim. "Keep it off." Tim took it and simply stuffed the earpiece into a pocket of his belt, as Jason headed back for his bike. He grabbed his helmet, hopped on, and pulled it securely over his head, before revving the bike to life. "Now, c'mere," he said, voice mechanical again, oddly… alluring…

Tim hurried over to the bike, hopped on behind Jason and locked his arms around his solid waist. The bike took off into the streets, dancing between late night travelers on the road.

Tim pressed his cheek to Jason's back, between his shoulder blades, inhaled the sharp scent of gunpowder and leather. His cock was straining in his suit uncomfortably, as his hands splayed on Jason's belly. One slipped to his belt, gripped it tightly- and over the sound of the bike, Tim heard Jason yell, "Just a couple minutes babygirl, then I'll take care of you."

Tim believed him.

He managed to keep himself in check, when Jason stopped the bike and climbed off, offering an arm to steady Tim. The younger took it, dug his gloved fingernails into his jacket, as sweat pooled at the base of his spine uncomfortably. His heart was racing, his cheeks flushed, hot, as his cock was leaking now, begging for attention. Gods if Jason just looked at him right, he might come.

Maybe that would just fix this whole mess.

Jason got him up to his safe house- a well lived in one- but the moment the window was shut, he was ripping his helmet off, dropping it to the floor with a clatter so loud Tim nearly jumped out of his skin. Jason reached for him, pulled him close, ripping the mask from Tim's face and tossing it to the ground as well.

"Tell me what you need," he whispered, voice heavy, pulling from his chest. Tim bared his teeth, felt feral, could barely focus on anything except the heat radiating off Jason's body. He surged up, pressed his mouth in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss to Jason's as he grasped at the man's leather jacket. Jason grunted, as Tim's teeth nearly knocked his in the younger's excitement.

Tim was more coordinated than this. He was more controlled than this. But he couldn't bring himself to remind himself of that. All he wanted was to crawl inside Jason's skin and meat and bones.

Jason leaned back against the closed window, hands going for Tim's hips and jerking him close. He slipped a thigh between Tim's, and Tim rutted against it, whining into the kiss as his cock pressed inside his suit, getting the faintest ghost of friction. "Fuck," he breathed, as Jason's hands pushed his hips back, only to yank them forward, guiding him to grind against him.

"Yeah?" Jason asked, color blooming on his own tanned cheeks. "We can do that if you want."

Tim could have laughed. Instead he kissed Jason again, got his lower lip between his teeth and pinched. Jason mewled, the most un-Jason-like sound- so surprising that the first time he'd made it, one night with Tim, Tim had stopped dead in what he was doing.

Now it only drove him forward as he continued to ride Jason's thigh. His lover's hands left his hips, reached up for his hair and tangled the inky, lengthy locks around his fingers. "Harder," Jason mumbled into the kiss, and Tim pressed harder to the meat of his thigh, dug his teeth into his lip until he tasted blood.

Jason didn't seem to mind. He pulled at Tim's hair, jerked him from his mouth and forced his head back. He leaned in, nuzzled his neck, kissed at his jawline- couldn't get to much else with his damn suit in place. Tim cursed it as he shuddered, his balls tight and aching, his body wanting release.

A full body shudder wracked him, as Jason breathed out "yes, c'mon babygirl," and Tim came so suddenly it knocked the wind from him. He tugged at Jason's jacket, sagged against his thigh, let his predecessor support his weight as he panted, his cock pulsing cum into his underwear, his suit forcing it tight to his skin.

Jason released his hair a moment later, and before Tim could even catch his breath he was hoisting him up, tossing him over his shoulder, a hand cupping Tim's supple ass. Tim gave a surprised squeak, held onto the back of Jason's jacket and grimaced as his cum was already cooling, against his skin.

"Let's get you stripped and comfortable before you dive back into delirium." Jason was heading directly for his bedroom, and Tim couldn't argue. He'd very much like to be stripped of this fucking suit and his now sticky underwear- to be laid out and worshiped on Jason's bed.

The man was very good at worshiping, Tim had learned.

And even if this had twisted a thorn deep into the gut of his night, Tim figured there were plenty of worse outcomes. A night with Jason, he would readily admit, was always welcome.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Kinktober day 21, Biting - Toby, GN

You might be wondering, Aubrie, didn't you say you'd only post these written out on AO3 so they'd all be together? And, yes, I did say that, but I am making today an exception because I feel this fic is very viscerally my canon yandere Toby and I want it on the blog.

You can still click right here to find it on AO3 and leave any comments or kudos as that would be much appreciated <3

But I also just. I wanted this to be in my yandere tag, as I finally wrote yandere Toby and biting with actual smut.

CWs for this one; dub-con into possible consent, biting, blood, depictions of gore, cannibalism as a very direct metaphor for love, I guess cannibalism as love???, Toby being insane, Reader losing themselves to his insanity, Stockholm syndrome. It really just is Toby basically biting and kind of eating the reader while reader can't decide if they consent or not. (There's also some secret lyrics from a song hidden in there I was listening to while writing <3)

I had a very visceral reaction in one of the ending scenes of this and had to tone it down because it made me so uncomfortable, but I do really REALLY love this as one of my yandere Toby fics. Please enjoy <3

"It wo-wouldn't be so bad if y-you stopped resisting." His tone did little to calm your anxious squirming, his hips holding your own down, hands restraining yours above your head. The blood that coated his lips wasn't his own, and the soreness in your shoulder pressed the tears blooming in your eyes to trail free. You knew from past experience that regardless of how hard you struggled or resisted, even if you'd fully submit to him, the pain would still sting with the same intensity, and he'd provoke you however he could to get a reaction out of you. You opened your mouth to respond, and his eyes narrowed in warning for you not to speak.

"Just let me h-have some f-fun." A twisted smile blooming on his cheeks had you trembling once more as he pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, flipped it open, and pressed it jarringly softly into your abdomen, slicing cleanly through your clothing but leaving your skin free of blood. No, Toby wouldn't cut you with it, he'd much rather draw the blood out of your skin himself. He licked his lips, your blood smearing across them, as he watched your clothes peel off your skin, and he switched both of your wrists into one of his larger hands so he could remove your clothes, leaving you bare beneath him as his eyes devoured you.

It was one of the few times he still looked soft and loving, when his hooded eyes roamed your figure, his hand softly tracing and caressing with a gentleness you were rarely given. It was moments like this where you could almost believe he still loved you, that he was still your sweet, caring Toby that you'd fallen in love with, but the blood shining on his teeth as he smiled at you was quick to squash that thought. Hand trailing back up your body to rest at your throat, squeezing firmly as he looked over your face, your eyes widening in fear, tears staining your cheeks, the giggle leaving his throat far too happy.

"S-so cute!" He cooed at you, leaning down to press kisses to your cheeks, his tongue slipping out to lick up the remaining drops of tears on your skin, leaving a watery red trail as it went. His licks turned to kisses once more as he pressed them fervently to your lips, giving you a taste of the iron of your blood, before pausing with an irritated sigh as he backed up from you. "Don't m-move them." He glared at you as he painfully squeezed your wrists, and you nodded quickly, wanting the pain to cease. He finally released you, but you obeyed, out of fear more than anything else, and with his extra hand he was quick to begin working his pants off, his mouth once more on yours, impatient moans leaving him as his body twitched above you. You had little time to react as his hands touched you once more, hoisting your legs up and revealing the vulnerable area between your thighs, his grip intentionally squeezing into the areas he'd bruised violently earlier that evening. He separated from your lips once more to appraise the area, a smile far too wide appearing on his face as he began to pump his cock, lining himself up at your entrance without any preparation.

"Toby, wait, please, you haven't-" Your words were halted by a cry tearing from your throat as he pushed inside of you anyway, a deep groan leaving his throat as the warmth of your body enveloped him. He narrowed his eyes at you once more, his hand grabbing yours, bringing it to his lips as he pressed delicate kisses to your wrists. Your heart was thudding in your chest, a whine already leaving your throat as you could feel what was coming. "W-what makes y-you think you d-deserve preparation?" It was chilling, how cold and cruel his voice could be, but before you could respond tears were leaking from your eyes once more as he teasingly nipped at your wrist, before plunging his teeth into the soft skin of it.

Your head tipped back with a scream and it caused him to moan in response, his cock throbbing inside of you as he began to move in and out of you in slow thrusts, his teeth pressing firmer and firmer into your wrist until he could taste your blood on his tongue once more. It was the same process, every single time he wanted to fuck you, every time he wanted to pleasure himself without a care in the world for if you wanted this or not. His tongue lapped eagerly at your bleeding wrist as he fucked into you, moans slipping out of him as easily as tears and cries were slipping out of you. You wanted to hurt him, to make him experience the same pain he'd make you experience every day, but the fear of what would happen if you tried, keeping your right arm held above your head as he continued to hold your left, the throbbing in your broken ankles a reminder not to cross him.

You tried your best to focus on the pleasure, to focus on his cock moving in and out of you instead of on his teeth trailing further up your arm, a trail of red smearing across your skin in a way he always described as divinely bewitching. Your cries alternating between moans from the sensation of his cock dragging along your walls to sobs from a particularly painful bite had Toby losing himself above you, his hips stuttering as he'd lose focus of his thrusting and slip above you. By the time he'd made it back to your throat your arm was beginning to go numb from the pain lacing through it, his mouth once again smeared with blood as he hovered above you, panting heavily as he rutted into you as if his life depended on it. His eyes roamed over your body, looking for purchase, looking for the next place he wanted to destroy with his teeth, and as they always did, his eyes landed on his favorite area of your body. He descended to press passionate kisses to your jaw, trailing them down your neck and licking and sucking, lavishing you with attention as your moans increased in volume. Despite his rough treatment, you could feel yourself drawing closer and closer to your end as he hammered into the spot that would always make your vision go white. You finally broke the rule of not moving your hands to wrap them around his back, gripping onto him for stability in a way that made him think you were enjoying this far more than you were.

"T-that's i-it! Keep enjoying y-yourself!" The excitement in his voice had chills running down your spine, but you couldn't argue back, preferring to surrender yourself to the pleasure fogging up your mind and making you forget who you were and where you were, making you forget who the monster doing this to you was. Your mind buzzed, your vision blurring from the mix of euphoria and blood loss, spacing out and dissociating as you surrendered your body to the man who lived solely to defile it. It was so beautiful, your spacey expression, the blood mixing across your skin, his head was reeling, doing his best to show you just how much he loved you. Causing all of this blood to spill out of you, licking it up and drowning in it, it made him feel so high, so positively intoxicated, presenting his love to you in the deep red color coating your skin. He was so giddy, so filled with absolute joy at the thought that maybe you were finally starting to love him again, that you'd no longer found him so unusual, that you were accepting that this was your life now, embracing it and treasuring it just as he did. Oh, it made him so happy! He felt as if he could explode from euphoria as his pace increased, animalistic grunts and groans roaring out of him as he did his best to try and make you feel as good as he did.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt this happy, maybe not since the first time he'd done this to you. That fateful day all those years ago when he'd lured you here on the false promise of it being an adventurous date, only to lock you up in here forever, right where you belonged. To pin you down and bloody your body, to force himself on you in a way he'd been longing to for far too long, it had been the most exciting day of his life, defiling your body and showing you how much he loved you, the way he loved you. You were the only person whose blood he'd tasted, and it goes to show how much he loved you, that tasing your blood was in fact how he loved you. Drawing blood, your life force, out of you and indulging in it as if it were the finest meal in the entire world, what better way was there to express his unending devotion to you? He recentered himself from memory lane by licking your blood off of his teeth, his eyes rolling back into his head as he trembled above you. There was no better feeling than doing this, and knowing you were finally enjoying it as much as he did was driving him unquestionably insane.

You didn't know how much time had passed since you zoned out, floating above your body in the space between pleasure and unconsciousness, but you'd soon find yourself pulled back down to earth. As your orgasm slammed into you, you'd felt yourself screaming at the top of your lungs, not from pleasure, but from Toby sinking his teeth all the way into the side of your neck, squishing your flesh and causing blood to soak the bed beneath you as his impulses took over him, giddy laughter and moans vibrating from deep inside of him as he gorged himself on your blood and skin. You clawed and screamed and begged, but he wouldn't let go of you, not when he met his own climax right alongside you, not when he coughed and choked on the blood filling up his mouth, not when he slipped his tongue inside of your neck, slid it through the gaping holes his top and bottom teeth had left inside of you and had you crying out from pain and discomfort. It was revolting, it was disgusting, it was violating, it was quite possibly the worst thing he's ever made you feel, and yet it had been the very thing to trigger your orgasm and have you falling apart underneath him. Your cries shifted from pain to revulsion at your body for enjoying such a thing, and an incredibly dark thought focused in your mind, the realization that over the last few years, he'd been conditioning you, conditioning your body to accept this, to associate it with pleasure. His cock throbbed inside of you, throbbed like your arm, throbbed like your neck, and it felt good. You felt euphoric in a way you'd never felt before, and as he curled up beside you, as he pressed his lips to yours, as your blood coated the inside of your mouth as his tongue caressed yours, a horribly intrusive and repulsive thought you'd been promising yourself you'd never have filled your mind as you lost yourself to the darkness of blood loss. Were you falling in love with him again, in love with this monster, this horribly sick man? And, even worse…

Were you finally starting to enjoy it?

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

you said you’re comfortable writing smut, right? maybe movie!goldenheart experimenting with some light BDSM??

Hi!! Sorry this took eleven years to complete. I forgot what a drabble was and was having trouble keeping it short. I was not trying to write another 5k BDSM fic but that's what kept happening :,) might post a longer one on my AO3 at some point, but better late than never.

Obviously 🌶️ Spicy 🌶️ below the cut

Ambrosius pulled away from their kiss and pecked his neck, pulling softly with his teeth. “Are you ready?” They'd been working so hard to build trust back up after everything that had happened, and Ambrosius had suggested experimenting with a bit of kink

Ballister nodded. “Mhm.”

Ambrosius smiled and grabbed the silk scarf from the bed, gently tying it around Ballister's wrist to their headboard. It was loose enough that Ballister could pretty easily flip to his stomach, but still restrained. Ballister had decided to leave his prosthetic off for this, he sometimes had sex with it on and sometimes off, but he figured if his hands would be bound anyway he might as well leave it off.

“Is that comfortable? Not too tight?” Ambrosius asked, worry in his beautiful almond eyes. Ballister chuckled and nodded again, “Yes, it's fine, darling.”

“Just making sure.” Ambrosius smiled and slowly pulled Ballister’s shorts off– he was already shirtless– leaving him fully exposed. Ambrosius undressed himself as well.

Damn! Ballister wanted to run his hands over that body so bad.

“I'm putting the blindfold on. You ready?”

“Yes.” Ballister breathed.

“And remember–” Ambrosius had an edge to his voice. “If you want me to stop or take it off or free your hand or put your arm on or slow down or anything, just let me know.”

The last thing he saw was his lover's reassuring smile as the blindfold– which was really just Ambrosius's sleep mask– slipped over his eyes.

He felt kisses and gentle bites along his neck, trail along his left shoulder and onto his bicep, before going the other way to show affection to his residual limb, before trailing downwards. Ballister whined and squirmed his hips when he felt suction against the tender flesh between his lower abdomen and thigh. Ambrosius could drive him crazy with ease.

He jumped at the feeling of a wet ice cube sliding up his inner thigh. He knew they had ice cubes and candles, so he knew to anticipate the sensations, but not exactly when.

He heard a crunch and then felt Ambrosius's mouth envelop him, crushed ice mixed with his hot mouth and made Ballister cry out at the sensation. He could feel Ambrosius give a deep chuckle while he dragged his nails along his inner thighs.

It was so hard to get to this point. Ballister couldn't imagine being in this position even just a few months prior, so much trust had been broken– but not lost. Finally, finally he felt safe enough to surrender himself to the man he loved, and fuck, it felt wonderful. He bit his lip. He was sure much more was to come.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Beauty and the Freak part 18

Warnings: extremely toxic parents, mind conditioning/forced obedience, fight scene, living weapon being unleashed

He jerked his chin meaningfully at the guards around him, then at Silas. "Restrain him," he ordered calmly.

Annabelle shivered. Her parents refused to see reason, and part of her suspected they were looking for any small crime whatsoever to kill Silas -- they obviously didn't feel comfortable around him, and were even less comfortable with him being around their sole daughter. This was just coincidentally the perfect opportunity for her parents to finally dispose of the potential threat.

"NO! I won't let you!" Annabelle cried, and put herself between her parents' guards and Silas as they approached to restrain him, blocking the way.

"Annie, step aside," Sofia said impatiently. "You're too old to be throwing temper tantrums anymore. This is getting out of hand."

Annabelle felt a pang of hurt. They were treating her like a toddler again, and she hated that there was nothing she could ever do about it! If she didn't listen, they'd just have their guards force her into obedience, and claim it was 'for her own good'. They'd started doing that ever since Caterina's death, becoming way too overprotective of their one remaining daughter.

She couldn't do anything about it before... but... she'd also never had Silas.

An idea sparked in her mind. She could flip the tables on them.

With a hand signal from her mother, two guards came and each grabbed one of Annabelle's arms to force her to step aside and let Silas be taken away by the three others present in the dining room, where he would later be euthanized like a lowly animal.

"No! Let GO!" She shouted, kicking at them. Her eyes flicked over to Silas, finding him staring directly at the nearest of the two guards holding her, tense and alert with alarm etched into his face. Like a coiled snake ready to strike.

Then his gaze darted over to meet Annabelle's... expectantly.

And Annabelle knew in that moment she couldn't let herself be pushed around any longer. She wouldn't let them kill Silas. Her only real friend, after her cruel parents had chased away all the others.

She knew exactly what Silas was waiting for.

"...Silas, help me," she croaked. A direct command. Just like he was anticipating.

Silas was instantly in motion, lunging forward and crashing his broad shoulder into one of Annabelle's guards hard enough to send them flying. For such a large man, he could move fast.

The second guard was too shocked to move as Silas targeted him next, grabbing the front of his uniform and wrenching him away from Annie, before lifting him bodily into the air with a single hand like he weighed nothing -- a terrifying display of power and brute strength.

The guard scrabbled uselessly at Silas's arm, eyes wide with panic.

"Don't kill him!" Annabelle barked as her friend wound a giant fist back.

Silas froze obediently, flexing his fingers a few times like he was just itching to strangle the man in his hold, then settled for tossing him like a ragdoll onto the floor instead so that he skidded across the expensive tile.

The other three guards descended upon him like wolves, electric batons out and buzzing with high-voltage electricity, swarming forth to neutralize the threat.

None of them managed to land a single hit.

Two seconds and the first guard was downed, left with a broken nose.

Three more and the second was knocked unconscious with a set of cracked ribs.

By the sixth second Silas had the last man in a fierce chokehold, his face flat and impassive as the guard thrashed and struggled in his grip, clawing at the thick arm around his neck cutting off his air.

Silas waited until the man went limp before carelessly dropping him on the floor alongside the other guards groaning and in various states of consciousness.

He hadn't even broken a sweat. It was terrifying how easily he'd taken out five trained guards with nothing but his bare hands. The sheer power he possessed was remarkable. No wonder everyone was so scared of him.

Except Annabelle, who watched it all happen with barely a wince. The only one who controlled the dangerous monster. The only one who had befriended him and won his complete faith and trust.

Annie's parents looked horrified, glancing between their daughter and her new weapon with jaws agape. Apparently their guards weren't able to protect them as well as they'd thought.

Annabelle averted her gaze shamefully, guilt tugging at her conscience even though she'd acted in self-defense.

"Annie," Sofia choked out, the hurt clear in her voice.

Annabelle turned away from her, not listening to whatever her mother said next as she started walking briskly away to retreat to her room, fighting back tears.

"Silas, please come," she said without stopping, voice wobbling.

She didn't look back to see if he obeyed, but she could hear his footsteps as he fell in line behind her. But then--

"Silas, stop."

The order was clear and authoritative -- but the voice wasn't Annabelle's.

Annabelle whipped around to see her mother cautiously walking towards them with hands raised placatingly.

"Silas, do not let my daughter leave this room. You will obey me and only me from now on.”

Annabelle's blood went ice-cold.

Her mother had figured out how to work with Silas's obedience conditioning. Figured out that he only responded directly to outright commands.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @what-if-i-just-did @written-in-the-stars135

@neverthelass

[tenderjock]

"They're giving them souls, Giles."

She's not sure how the Initiative has figured out how to do it, with military machines and experimental scientific equipment in place of a dusty Romani curse. She thinks they're not entirely sure how they've done it either, that it's a lot of trial and error - Dr. Walsh basically admitted to that, when she told Buffy about their vampiric "re-consciencing" program.

"Dr. Walsh says it only worked for vampires," Buffy tells her Watcher. "She says other demons, they got zilch. Just nothing happens at all."

He finishes polishing his glasses, turns them over and starts polishing them again. "That makes some amount of sense, I suppose," Giles says. "Most demons have souls or - something that functions closely enough as a soul as to be called one, anyway. Vampires are the only demonic entity that are known for lacking a soul - or rather, that their evil comes from their lack of a soul rather than simply innate bloodlust or longstanding cultural practices or something of the sort."

"Whatever." Buffy resumes her pacing. "I'm supposed to do this tour of the Initiative tonight, so maybe I'll learn more about their re-consciencing department. It's giving me the wiggins, Giles."

"I know."

In preparation for going into potential enemy territory, Buffy puts on her cutest, most favorite halter top that doesn't come untied even when she does cartwheels and back flips, and a pair of sensible square-heeled boots. She puts her hair in a pair of neat French braids. She stows away two stakes, a small knife, and a scarf that could double as a garrote or a sling. Finally, she laces a cord choker around her neck, with a big cross pendant hanging on her collarbone, and surveys herself in the mirror. As ready as she's gonna get.

Buffy had been kind of worried that she'd have to hint and lead towards the whole soul-giving deal, but Dr. Walsh is more than happy to show off the program. She's bragging about it as soon as they're in the facility, which is giving off major evil-mad-scientist vibes.

"It took several trial runs to get the process stable for successful result," Walsh is saying. Buffy peers around, marking the exits in her mind, trying not to notice the way she's being deliberately flanked by Riley and Graham. "And then, after we succeeded in stabilizing the procedure, we had two subjects terminate."

Buffy looks at her, blinking. "Terminate?" she asks.

"Killed themselves," Riley says. "The subject we're studying currently, we've had to restrain so it doesn't do the same."

"You have one vampire right now?" Buffy asks. She'd thought that this soul-giving process was, like, a larger scale than one vamp. She'd assumed they'd be shoving souls up in dozens of the undead, as distasteful as she finds the idea. "How many - uh - 'subjects' have you done this with?"

Dr. Walsh gestures the three of them over to a cordoned-off lab set up, where Buffy sees a bunch of stuff, clothing and boots and stuff, laid out. It gives her an uncomfortable feeling - like that vamp girl that killed freshmen and stole their shit. How is this any different?

There's a familiar coat, a big black leather coat. Buffy stares at it for a second. She misses the first part of what Dr. Walsh says.

"- successfully managed to keep it restrained. Hostile 17 has proven very useful to our studies since it was re-conscienced."

"Hostile 17?" Buffy says, mouth dry.

Walsh pushes aside the sliding screen to show the rest of the room. There, naked, gagged, and tied to the operating table, is Spike.

He looks like shit. He's thin and kind of gray, the way a lot of vampires get when they're underfed, and he's got about a quarter inch of mousey brown roots. There are red marks around his wrists and ankles where it looks like he's pulled at the restraints until he's broken the skin, and he's got fresh, clinical-looking bruises on his left forearm and the left side of his abdomen.

Spike's looking at her. He's looking directly at her, and his eyes are wide and wild and agonized.

Buffy breathes in slow. Then she looks at Dr. Walsh.

"Do you keep the re-consciencing machinery here?" she asks. She knows damn well they don't. "Or is that in a different room?"

Dr. Walsh smiles, pleased by Buffy's interest. "We'll show you. It's fascinating, how it all works. This process could really change how we fight demons."

"Yes," Buffy agrees. She fumbles with her purse as they're leaving, spills makeup and tampons across the floor. Riley bends down to help her pick her stuff up. "Shit! Oh, no, I got it."

Spike's watching her still. He looks less upset, now. There's a little wrinkle in his brow.

Dr. Walsh and Graham have gone ahead; Riley is waiting for Buffy, but he's waiting at the open door, turned half away from her, giving her space to organize her feminine products.

She glances up at Spike, meeting his gaze. Swallows. And murmurs, under her breath so Riley can't hear, "I'm gonna get you out of here. Okay? Hold on. I'm gonna get you out."

Riley's still not looking, so she creeps a bit closer. Spike's leaning against his restraints like he's trying to get closer to her.

Quickly, Buffy touches Spike's bare shoulder. He goes tense and still, and closes his eyes. He's freezing, like he hasn't eaten warm blood in days. She nods, mostly to herself.

Then Buffy turns and leaves, without looking back.

[blackmosscupcakes]

I'm fascinated by how this arc of The Wizard the Witch and the Wild One has really flipped the narrative on who's in the right and wrong compared to the first arc, because the key thing is NONE OF THEM are acting differently than they did then--they're all acting incredibly true to character traits that were established from the get go--the only thing that's changed is the surroundings and the context of the backdrop around them.

Out in the world, among ordinary people, Suvi often came across as imperial-minded, deeply indoctrinated, and carrying a feeling of being superior to those who weren't of the citadel. Her feelings and actions were understandable, but the reaction of the audience was often to read her as being overly hostile to the other two and determined to cleave to the Citadel and the beliefs of her upbringing to a degree that was detrimental to their task.

Ame and Eursulon showed a willingness to go off half-cocked and act impulsively based on their feelings in the first arc just as they did in this latest episode, but in the context of the wider world this often came across as deep empathy with ordinary people and spirits and a sense of responsibility to deeper matters beyond the politics of humans. Sure, their actions were a bit reckless and had some negative consequences, but they were acting with their hearts and for the right reasons and everyone was down for Quest Fever!

And then last night we see exactly the same dynamic play out once again--Suvi trying to balance the needs of her adoptive mother and her home and the entire institution in which she grew up against the needs of her friends, while her friends run off and literally blow up the Citadel's shit in absolute defiance of everything Suvi was raised to believe. Now, standing there alone and reeling from a curse as her friends tear off leaving destruction in their wake, she seems understandably hurt, as well as obedient, measured, restrained, sensible, if perhaps a little too blindly trusting in Citadel processes*. And likewise, amidst the context of seeing how the Citadel runs and how generally well it's treated Ame and Eursulon, the two of them seemed reckless, ungrateful, disrespectful, and short-sighted with an unwillingness to play along with the realpolitik of going through the proper channels. Instead they (quite literally) burned important bridges and damaged Suvi's life in the process (though it's also understandable that in light of the revelations about Eursulon's sister they rightly felt unsafe even if Steel was understanding).

It's fascinating how incredibly similar the climactic sequences from these two arcs have been. The characters have followed their natures and it's led them down exactly the same path twice in a row. But the context surrounding their actions is VERY different this time, and each mirrors and recontextualizes the OTHER occurrence. People were largely on Ame and Eursulon's side last time, and they're largely seeing Suvi's side this time. It's been a really complex ethical and practical tangle to navigate both times (and good on Brennan for setting it up that way), but I feel like seeing the two together helps us understand and respond to ALL of the characters in a better way than just having one of these situations would have. It's been really cool to watch, and I've been absolutely loving reading all the thoughts and opinions from people on every side of it. It's already been some of the best fandom discussion I've seen about a TTRPG show.

*I read an interesting perspective from someone who believed they would have had to escape even if they'd trusted Steel, as she already went from "meet me at this time" to "give me more time to talk to the diviners" and they thought she would have continued to delay and delay in order to check all of the Citadel's bureaucratic boxes--I'm not sure whether that's what would have happened but it's an interesting possibility, and one that prevents Steel being used as basically a deus ex machina powerful ally any time they're in trouble.

[aurumacadicus]

"Did it hurt?" Tony asked softly.

Carol paused in sorting his meal, Jell-O still in hand. Finally, though, she set it back on his tray, deliberate, focused. "Did what hurt?"

Tony blinked at her slowly, then turned his gaze out the window, silent. Apparently, that was all he had the strength to ask. All the guts to, maybe.

Carol looked back at his tray, straightening his spoon next to the bowl of broth that served as his main entree. Soft foods. Easy on the stomach. It was easier to look at his food than it was to look at his scarred face, his blind eye, the bandages where his arm should have been but wasn't anymore. Things he'd lost while doing her job, protecting the earth, and doing it better. She hadn't been able to kill Thanos. Tony had.

"It hurt a lot," Carol finally said, because it had--all that energy forcing itself into her body, burning, bright and hot. It had hollowed her out, left her feeling cold. She didn't remember much from immediately after she woke up, except that it had still hurt, excruciatingly, and it had been a mercy when Yon-Rogg and the Supreme Intelligence had muffled the power coursing through her. Perhaps that was why it had been so easy, to believe that she needed to have her power restrained until she could fight without it.

Perhaps that's why it had been easy to fight the Supreme Intelligence, when her heartache at all she'd lost and regained overpowered the pain her body felt.

"Does it stop?" Tony asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Carol didn't know. Sure, her pain had eventually stopped, but her power wasn't the same as even one of the Infinity Stones. Tony had held all of them. Had succeeded where others failed. She supposed the only ones who would know even a fraction of what he felt were the so-called Guardians and Bruce Banner, and even then, Peter Quill was half-Celestial, and they'd shared the power over their entire crew, and Banner, well... He had the Hulk.

She didn't know anyone else who had held the power of the universe in their hand.

"They didn't have any cherry Jell-O, the nurse said," Carol said instead.

"I fucking hate lime and if I turn and see that green freak on my tray I'm going to flip the entire thing," Tony replied, apparently allowing her the out.

Carol grabbed the Jell-O cup and chucked it over her shoulder. She heard an outraged spluttering instead of it bouncing over the floor and turned to see Jim, outraged to be covered in green goo.

"This isn't my fault," Carol said, and Jim shouted, "WHO ELSE THREW THE JELL-O, CAROL," and Tony quietly started eating his soup, as if nothing had even happened.

[moonliched]

How do you think things might have gone if Sun was the one trapped in the net?

hmm, i know we haven't seen it in the fic yet but i actually picture Sun being more vicious than Moon when frightened or angry. however, he's also quicker to trust and calm down...

so, i think the combination of hunger, the dark, and the cold would have driven Sun to lash out immediately upon meeting Y/N. he'd hiss, thrash, throw rocks, and tear at the water the instant they made any moves, and they would keep their distance as they did with Moon. Sun would quickly realise that Y/N is helping them and that their wariness towards him is slowing them down, so he'd dial back the the aggression. he'd pantomime harmlessness, tucking his hands behind his back, making himself small, chirping at them. it wouldn't really work as the first impression would be hard to shake off, but it would make Y/N's job easier. and they would interpret the extent of Sun's intelligence faster than they did with Moon.

Sun wouldn't like the raw fish Y/N brought them, but as he rarely ventures outside his home and its readily-available supplies, he'd be more susceptible to hunger. he'd grimace and try to be grateful, gingerly nibbling it and trying not to spit. then he'd offer some to Y/N as a peace offering.

Sun routinely speaks in a mix of merspeak and ancient English, unlike Moon who favoured merspeak until he met Y/N. Sun would definitely speak to Y/N at some point, who would immediately flip their lid in excitement but be unable to respond underwater. nevertheless, Sun would grasp that they understood him and be equally as thrilled. he'd ask them a bazillion things and ultimately settle for just rambling at them or sticking to yes/no questions. after the initial excitement, Y/N would wryly decide that this friendly mermaid is a huge drain on their social battery lol

Sun would get super emotional. this alien thing with two tails didn't retaliate when he lashed out at them even though he's trapped and at their mercy! not only that, they're bringing him food (raw, but still), working to free him, and engaging while he talks to them. they even attempt to comfort him when he sadly mentions how frightened he was, how Moon must be going frantic looking for him, how the net hurts. they make muffled noises of sympathy and gently pat him with the longest tool they have.

for all their reckless actions, Y/N is pretty cautious at heart. they'd follow through on their plan to keep Sun's wrist restrained until the last second, handing him the knife and preparing to flee. Sun would realise their plan and gaze at them pleadingly, the knife sagging in his hand. he'd ask them not to run, please, he wants to be friends. it's been so long since he's met someone new, and he must repay them for rescuing him. Moon would love to meet them too!

Sun wouldn't pull the same lure-and-grab trick as Moon, but he would be intensely curious... and desperate for comforting contact. he would try to grasp Y/N's braids, examine their work tools, beckon them closer. he'd say he won't hurt them, he only wants to get a better look, please please please! originally Y/N intended to work their way towards getting closer to Moon so they could snip the worst of the netting, but him pinning them to the floor and ripping apart their bladed pole skewed that strategy. i think Y/N would drop their guard faster with Sun, even though he's clearly very grabby and a little rough. he might cut them accidentally with his claws, but ultimately he'd learn his lesson and take more care.

Sun isn't familiar with the dark waters, so i think he'd fail to grab Y/N when the rumble came. they'd be battered by rocks and injured, but not much more than they were with Moon. they would feel touched by Sun's fluttering panic over their injuries.

Y/N would hesitate, point at the knife and the net, and then beckon him to follow before swimming away.

when a newly-freed Sun surfaces, Y/N would call him from the platform at a safe distance. they'd be able to talk and introduce themselves properly, and Y/N would explain that he doesn't owe them anything because the net belongs to their team, so it's their fault he was trapped in the first place. they would apologise, and Sun would feel somewhat admiring with a healthy dose of 'wtf no that doesn't make it their fault?? are they always like this?' (yes)

i don't remember if i've mentioned this before, but Moon was trapped in the first place because a rumble came along, blasted him down some tunnels while he was exploring near the facility territory, and the lost net was also caught by the current and tangled around him. it snagged on the rocks in the cave where Y/N found him, securing him in place. so the day Y/N freed Moon and left him outside the building, he then had to find his way back home alone🥺

i don't think Sun would be so independent after a stint of being trapped and slowly starving. he'd cling to Y/N and ask them for help to find his way home, and live in the facility territory in the meantime. when they did eventually locate and escort Sun home, they would have formed a bond, with an intense crush on Sun's end. he'd be very eager to offer them hospitality and introduce them to his Moon, oh he's going to love them! a lot :)

they would then be met by a very frantic and disheveled Moon, who is only holding off on grieving Sun because he can't bear to think that he's gone. i think he would be quick to blame Y/N for Sun's absence, and would direct a lot of territorial aggression their way even while he's checking Sun over and clutching him close. but dw, that would be short-lived as Sun explains how Y/N saved him and provided food and shelter until they could escort him home. Moon would still be suspicious for sure, but Y/N's fidgeting excitement to explore the warm environment and open guilt over Sun being trapped would quickly overpower that. and soon he'd get to know them better and grow closer just like Sun is doing now🥰

tadaa! no one dies in this scenario😅

[fanatichistory]

Civilian gulped as they looked around the room of their boss's office, taking in the two henchman on either side of them with Villain behind the desk.

"What do we have here?" Villain mused with a tilt of their head as one of the henchmen shut the office door behind Civilian, startling them.

"I-I was just coming to get Boss's portfolio…for-for the meeting tomorrow morning?" Civilian cleared their throat in hopes of steadying their voice. "What…um what are you doing here?"

Villain's face lit up as a wide smile spread across their face and Civilian gulped once again wondering if maybe that question put them in danger.

"Well, that's not important right now. What is important is that you've seen me and my henchmen here and I can't have that." The two henchmen raised their guns at Civilian but stood down when Villain raised a hand.

"If you're going to kill me… just do it already?" They hated the way their voice made it sound like a question instead of something a bit more braver. It wasn't the first time they had a gun on them or anything but it was still scary each time nonetheless.

"I know you…" Villain stated instead, shaking a pointed finger at Civilian as they stepped around the desk toward them. "Yes! You're Civilian! Hero's 'supposed to be secret' little helper hmm?"

They gripped Civilian's chin and forced them to look into their eyes. "You are that Civilian aren't you?"

"If I say yes…does that mean you're going to hurt me instead of jus-just killing me outright?" Civilian asked them with a shaky breath, side-eyeing the patiently waiting henchmen who still brandished their weapons as they waited for orders from Villain.

"No, it just means I'm going to-ah, let's just say…convince- you to join me…What do you think about that?" Villain released their chin and took a step back with a smirk.

"Why on earth would I work with you?"

The henchmen snickered in response as if they knew something that Civilian didn't while Villain's smirk broadened back into a smile they flashed enigmatically at them.

"Because I know that if Hero finds out about your past with Supervillain…" Villain took a step back closer, leaning in to whisper into Civilian's ear. "they wouldn't hesitate to hurt you to get to Supervillain."

Their heart sank. No one was supposed to know about that. Blinking rapidly, they tried to regain their composure but Villain kept on talking.

"Now that I think about it, what would Supervillain think of his darling Civilian helping Hero of all people when they swore to be out of the life? One might think you're back in the game…" Villain's eyes hardened to steel despite the smile still plastered on their face.

"I'm not, I swear I'm not! H-Hero found me, at home, and they said that I had to or they'd leak me location-"

Villain tutted and shook their head in mock disappointment. "What Hero should have done…is take you prisoner and have you on call, what with all your computer skills and capabilities… bit of a waste to let you roam free when there's much to do."

"And…what are you going to do?"

Again the henchmen snickered, one of them reaching out with a pair of zip ties after being given the signal from Villain.

"W-wait a minute…Supervillain-"

"Supervillain still thinks you're out of the game, remember? They're not coming to save you. And Hero? You were nothing more than a tool to them so it's safe to say they won't mind if I monopolize you."

With that the henchmen leapt forward, restraining Civilian and zip tying their hands behind their back and securing a clothed gag into place.

Villain motioned to leave and the henchmen began to drag Civilian away and out the office door only to be stopped by a figure in the hallway. Sighing, Villain flipped the hallway light switch on illuminating the space before turning to address the figure.

"Always so dramatic with your entrances, aren't you? Hero."

"That is my resource Villain. Not yours."

Civilian blinked slowly as they looked between the two, they realized they were nothing more than a tool for either one of them and they were sure a fight was about to go down over it.

With Supervillain it had been different. There was mutual understanding between the two, a partnership. Never once did Supervillain refer to them the way Hero was now, or look at them the Villain did in the office as they were sized up for their hacking and computer potential.

Civilian was used to being nothing more than a brain but it still hurt to be called a resource or seen as nothing more than a means to an end.

"No, Civilian is mine and if you two value you're miscreant little lives you will leave them with me and skidaddle."

They all turned to Supervillain phasing through the hallway wall to join in with a scowl on their face as if Hero and Villain were just misbehaving children fighting over a toy.

"Smph-vmph!" Supervillain is what Civilian had tried to say through the gag but they couldn't have been more happier to see their former employer.

They also didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried that Supervillain was here after all because that also meant that they had never really let them go in the first place and had probably watched them the entire time…including Civilian breaking their promise to stay out of the game.

"Before you two think any further... I can take the five of you out with a flick of my wrist. And yes, Villain, I included your little henchmen because if they don't release my Civilian right now they will get the beating of their lives." Supervillain stated matter-of-factly as they waited for Villain to comply.

"Of course, they're uh…all yours." Villain mumbled dejectedly, motioning the henchmen to cut the zip ties and remove the gag.

With a rough push at their back Civilian stumbled forward in the direction of Supervillain when they caught them up in their arms and pushed Civilian behind them.

"As you were." Supervillain gave a triumphant smirk as they phased back out through the wall with their Civilian, leaving Hero to stare down Villain and their two henchmen.

[shelbyshoe]

Doubt

(Unedited Aeon Drabble)

Run, get there. Run, Leon god damn it.

His legs ached and his body felt heavy, now soaked from the rain. There was no question where he needed to be. As soon as their enemy laughed and barked out that Leon was too late.

Ada was taken to the warehouse. They'd press her for information. Then, they'd kill her. The thought made his heart race. His feet stumbled over an exposed root in the brush.

Leon fell hard into the drenched soil. He felt the mud cake over his skin, felt the rain roll down his face. With a grunt, he stood and pushed through toward the warehouse.

Be alive. Be alive. Be alive.

The rain came down harder, a crack of lightening lit the sky then doused the world in darkness. The roiling clouds told him this wouldn't end soon.

The warehouse came into view. He ran to the nearest window, sure they wouldn't hear him over the rain.

He nearly sagged against the window, out of breath. The previous combat had taken a toll on his body. But he had to be here, and he glanced through the window coated in grime. She was alive.

"I don't want to damage that pretty face of yours." The man held up her knife as if the very thought of slicing her up would scare her. But Ada Wong didn't scare easily. Her face was deadpan and gave off boredom over fear.

"Where is your government lap dog?" The guy behind him asked. He stood off to the side by the door. Leon knew the two of them could take these men. He moved around the building until he found one of the warehouse doors cracked open.

Leon rolled beneath the door and slid behind a stack of massive crates. He peeked out from around the shadows.

While he had a decent view into the dim space, he couldn't see everything. He'd wait to see if there were others lurking in the dark.

The only light was an exposed bulb that hung in the center of the room. They'd tied Ada to a chair with her legs cuffed and hands tied behind her back. The man by the other door stood behind her with a good eye on her wrists. No funny business.

"Talk, bitch!" The man in front of her slashed at her and sliced off one strap of her dress, leaving a thin cut over her skin. Blood slowly began to slide down her clavicle.

Ada merely smiled. "You're wasting your time."

"Very funny."

"Am I laughing?" She said.

Leon had doubts when he'd met her again. Decided she was working for the ring leader. Decided she was his enemy. There was no way she was his ally.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ada said. And all his doubts drifted away. She could have sold him out. Could have let him deal with this alone. Hell, she'd finished her job but decided to stay anyway.

The man slashed again. This time, it left a light cut along her cheek. He spit profanities at her unflinching face.

Just tell them. Just tell them and get the hell out.

But Leon knew she wouldn't. He glanced up and found the catwalk above their heads. In the dim light, Leon made out a ladder.

The man continued his attempt at intimidation to no avail, as Leon made his way over the catwalk. The rain too loud for them to hear him.

When Leon stood just above them, the man took a hold of Ada's hair and pulled her head back roughly. The angle made her glance up, and their eyes meet. Recognition that he was there without showing her inevitable shock.

I got you this time, Ada.

She kicked out at the man. Leon launched himself down with a knife drawn to take out one of the men already running to restrain her.

Ada flipped from the chair with her bound limbs to give herself distance. Leon was quick enough to grab the man with her knife in his hand from behind and take him out. His eyes already the deep red of control, of infection.

Leon moved to quickly cut her loose. She called his name in alarm. A swarm of men circled them. They stood back-to-back beneath the swinging bulb.

"Perfect, it's a party now," he said and handed her a weapon. Their movements were fluid, practiced, comfortable with the way the other moved. How many years had they done this? Taken down an organization, stopped someone's master plan, fought together.

When they stood alone, out of breath, standing in the middle of carnage, Leon swayed on his battered legs. Ada's hands pressed against his chest to keep him upright.

"Ever the hero, Mr. Kennedy," she said. He clutched her arms. She was alive and talking. Relief swallowed him whole. "Are you alright?" she asked.

It could have been the wounds he'd sustained in his last encounter. Could have been the sudden relief. Whatever it was drove Leon to pull her close. He cursed softly with his cheek pressed against her hair.

Her small form softened slowly and she held him back. They stood there in silence, death lying at their feet, and the doubt he'd clung to for so long drifted far away.

It was Ada. It would always be Ada, and he hoped she knew it.

[ohbo-ohno]

Simon kisses all of reader’s new marks after sex. Bruises, scratches, you name it, he’s pressing the sweetest kisses to every single one of them, no matter how much you struggle to get him to just stop touching you. Johnny is all fucked out and sprawled on the other side of the bed, so you at least don’t have to fight off both of them.

Idk I think Simon is just really good at aftercare for his pets and step 1 for him is to kiss it all better 🤭

simon "king of aftercare" ghost riley. that man is rough as fucking hell in bed, he's got to make sure his partners are ok after so he can do it all over again.

there are phases to your own recovery after sex. you enjoy it, god do you enjoy it, but the guilt for enjoying anything from your captors eats you up. so when you first finish, you float through that peaceful and pleasure-drunk headspace for a while, but eventually you get upset - sad and a little angry - before they calm you down and get you to sleep again. johnny is quick to pass out after sex, so aftercare is almost always left to simon.

he fucking loves it. loves getting to stroke your hair when you're in the hazy part of after, loves holding you softly while you try to get away. you're weak as a kitten, he doesn't even need to rally hold you captive. wraps his arms around you, gets you pinned to his chest, and you're not going anywhere. doesn't even have to add any pressure to your back to get you wiggling closer to him sometimes. tucks his head close to your ear and praises how good you were for them, for him.

when they're rough with you, he's real tender after. it fucks with your head - this man who's brutal and dominant and sometimes a little terrifying when you're having sex, now turning and kissing your bruises, licking over your hickeys, rubbing the tension in joints pushed too far for too long. he'd lay you on your stomach, hover above you and just lick and kiss his way across your entire body. every bruise gets a kiss, every hickey a lick and a kiss. shows you all the places they hurt you and why he loves the reminder of it, shows you that even if those places hurt it's a good hurt, one he's proud of and you should be too. if your legs are shaking he'll rub them with a smirk, hushing you when you get a little squirmy and working the muscles with rough hands. maybe teases you about the mess between your legs, even if you're not all-there enough to register it. flips you onto your stomach sometimes, rubs the tension and aches out of your shoulders if they'd kept you restrained.

[squarebracketsmileyface]

Hi hi!!! Long time no ask!! I am always on my bullshit and scoured your blog for Lark content and Tim being a parent content.

So now I must ask, in the the everyone lives au, how did Lark react to Tim being pregnant? Perhaps was that what knocked her out of the stupidity and allowed them to escape? Or did they get out after the canon events of killing Alex and such?

I want to know everything!!!!

~💜

Purple heart person you don't know what you just unleashed. I fucking LOVE talking about/thinking about Tim and Lark/Jay. (I will probably keep flip flopping between what I call them cos it helps me make sense/keep track of their understanding of their gender at each point in the story)

SO

Finding out about the pregnancy.

In the 'canon' storyline of Sorry, It's Locked Tim doesn't find out he's pregnant until about early January of 2014, after Jay dies, when he's pretty far along, maybe five months ish, six at a push? With all the craziness going on around him he just doesn't think about it, and since they've been using condoms and he's on T (which has stopped his periods) he doesn't really have anything to go on to tell him he's pregnant, and the things that are there are easily brushed off as operator stuff.

Like, weird cravings? Operator probably.

Morning sickness? Operator.

Crazy emotional swings? Operator!!!

It can all be brushed off, so it is. There's so much going on already and he doesn't really have the time or energy to even think about the possibility of being pregnant. And again, if he does think about it, he can easily reassure himself that's not what's causing the things he's experiencing, and he doesn't bother bringing it up to Jay because he's "clearly not pregnant, it's just intrusive thoughts and I'm not going to dignify them with wasting my money on a pregnancy test."

So with that out of the way, the 'everyone lives' AU. I don't think they'd find out much sooner because Tim still wouldn't tell Jay about the signs, and the ones that Jay does notice he just brushes off like Tim, because they've been being careful. They'd figure it out at about 5 months, just like in 'canon' S,IL, probably. I am planning to change the date of Alex's death to being only a couple days after Jay's in 'canon' S,IL (so somewhere around December 7-9th of 2013) but in the 'everyone lives' AU he wouldn't die. He and Tim would still have that fight, but with Jay there as well, they'd manage to restrain Alex and call the police or something. Don't ask me how Jay and Tim don't also go to prison for some of the shit they've done in MH I don't know lmao, maybe even with everyone still alive no one who wasn't a part of MH believes it's real, so they just assume Alex lost it during the filming of a 'fictional' show.

Anyway, that fight happens before Tim and Jay know Tim's pregnant, but not long before, and i think after that fight the Operator would piss off just like in MH, go off and haunt Jessica because it's lost easy access to Alex/can't easily make Alex do anything to carry out its will because he's in hospital/prison/a psych unit. With the Operator out of the way, though, I don't think it would take long for Tim and Jay to figure out that Tim's pregnant, that these symptoms aren't caused by the Operator, because they're still here even though the Operator isn't anymore.

So maybe around mid-late December they realise.

And that causes a whole lot of worry, because "Oh my god Tim you're on T, that's not good for foetuses" as well as panic over what could have happened, given that that last fight with Alex was a pretty intense one. So they have a lot of feelings about it. They manage to get themselves sorted out though, calm themselves down from the panic, talk about whether they want to keep the baby or if they were going to have to figure out getting an abortion (would they need to go out of state? Etc etc etc), go to a doctor about prenatal care when they decide that they do want to keep the kid.

It's a lot of craziness for them, basically, lots of "oh god are we really ready to be parents? we've only been together for like half a year and we only just got out of a literal life or death situation a month ago" kinda stuff. They manage to figure it out though.

Birdie (their kid) is born in May of 2014, in the 'canon' S,IL storyline Tim raises her alone until she's about ten, when he finds out that Brian is in fact still alive when he just kinda shows up as a new p.e. teacher at Birdies school. He's paralysed from about the ribs down because of the fall, so he's in a wheelchair (though he is very slowly learning to walk again and can currently stand for short periods of time as long as he has something to steady him/to lean on) and has a service dog. He runs an after school club teaching disabled students to climb, and Birdie adores him (not knowing that he used to be friends with her dad) because she feels pretty similar to him in a lot of ways, because she's also physically disabled.

So one day, at parents evening or just after school when Tim comes to pick her up, i havent decided which yet lol, Tim finally gets to meet this Mr. Thomas Birdie has been talking about so much. He kinda just freezes when he sees him, because "holy shit that's Brian" and has to fight to keep it together, gets through the parents evening or whatever without breaking the fuck down in front of all the other parents, and he and Brian swap numbers and have a proper "first meeting" again where they can both cry it all out and hug and do all the things you do when you find out your best friend/one of your soulmates who you thought was dead is actually still alive.

Then they just slowly get closer again and start dating, and eventually Birdie has two dads (Tim = papa and Brian = bubah once she remembers she doesn't have to call him Mr. Thomas unless she's at school) But yeah! Anyway, sorry, back to the 'everyone lives' AU.

Birdie is born in May of 2014 to Tim and Jay who feel incredibly unprepared but are determined to look after her and make sure she has a good childhood. Tim is terrified of messing her up like his own parents messed him up, and Jay just does not feel ready to be raising a kid, but together they work it out and manage pretty well.

Birdie is about 6 or 7 when Jay's gender exploration comes to a head and 'he' becomes she, 'Jay' becomes Lark, and 'dad' becomes mum. Birdie, shocker, doesn't really care. She's a kid, she's suddenly got a mum who used to be her dad? Amazing! Her mum looks so much happier now and Birdie suddenly has a whole load of girly grown-up clothes she can try on and parade around the house in! Tim is obviously supportive, he's the one who's been helping Lark through this whole gender thing in the first place, and just over all, its a really lovely thing. Lark was happy to keep being 'dad' if the switch was too difficult for Birdie, and for a while she got called both mum and dad, but after a year or so Birdie only ever called her mum.

Getting called mum by Birdie is such a gender euphoria moment for Lark, like, it's so special to her.

It's around this time when Lark and Tim get married (so that'd be in around 2020-2021 ish) and because of covid it'd be a pretty quiet thing, just the three of them and a small part of Lark's family that she's reconnected with and who aren't queerphobic. It'd still be one of the best things that has ever happened to Lark and Tim though. Yet again, a gender euphoria moment (for both of them really) especially for Lark, getting to wear a beautiful wedding dress and all that. And of course Birdie would want to be the ring bearer and the flower girl, because who else could possibly do those two incredibly important jobs? No one. Birdie is the perfect candidate and she will not let anyone else steal her thunder!

ALSO Brian would still secretly be alive in the 'everyone lives' AU, and would probably be found out the same way as in canon, with him becoming a teacher/running an after school club at Birdie's school when Birdie is about 10 (which would be in 2024, this year, lmao) and Tim meeting him at a parents evening/when he's picking Birdie up from the climbing club. However this time, after exchanging numbers with Brian, Tim gets to go home and tell Lark about it. Instead of having to cry silently about it in his room so that he doesn't worry Birdie, he gets to cry about it to Lark. They still try and hide it from Birdie to begin with, so they don't worry her and so that they can come up with a plan for how to talk to Birdie about how they know Brian and stuff like that.

It takes a good few months of meeting up with Brian to talk about everything that's happened, getting properly reacquainted (as well as talking about their feelings for each other, because there's no way I'm getting rid of Brim in the 'everyone lives' AU, it's polyamory or nothing) and all that, before they have a solid plan for how to go about the whole "yeah so Brian is Papa's friend from all the way back in university who we all thought was dead" conversation.

Though given that I'm pretty dead set on Tim (and Lark in the 'everyone lives' AU) doing everything in their power to keep MH a secret from Birdie (they delete the youtube channel and try and scrub everything about MH from the internet. They can't delete the TTA channel because neither of them know how to get into it so that has to stay up, but everything they can get rid of they do after saving it to a hard drive, because it is a massive part of their lives that they don't want to just completely get rid of). Given that I'm dead set on that, it probably wouldn't actually be "this is papa's supposedly dead uni friend" lol, because Birdie is a very curious kid and she would ask so many questions.

She'd ask too many questions if they just told her Tim and Brian lost contact at some point too, lol. She's autistic and only 10, so can't fathom how you could possibly lose contact with your best friend in the world.

Oh yeah Birdie is autistic as well as being physically disabled. Probably EDS, because same and I like giving characters the same issues I have. Maybe even FND too, actually. And tourettes. I'll leave it there or I'll feel too mean /j

Anyway. Yeah :]

the 'everyone lives' AU :D

WAIT ALSO, sorry, more thoughts, Alex.

Because everyone lives. So does Alex. Duh. But that does leave Tim and Jay/Lark with a decision to make: do they tell Birdie about him, and if so, when? I think they would both go and visit Alex as soon as they were allowed too, though they don't go super often at first because they're told that it tends to send Alex into some really bad spirals. After a few years though, they go to visit him pretty regularly. I think that's when they'd start talking to Birdie about him. Very carefully, obviously, because they're still trying to hide MH from her as much as possible (they can't completely hide it because both of them still have nightmares about it, just like in 'canon' S,IL Tim has nightmares about it) but they do talk to her about Alex.

They tell her that he's been in hospital and can't leave because he's been very ill, but that he's been getting a lot better recently, so Tim and Jay have started going to visit him (Birdie would be maybe 5-6 at this time, so they're just at the stage where Jay is starting to realise he's Lark). Anyway, they talk about Alex very carefully and not super often, only when Birdie asks about him or asks what they did that day on days where they went to see him etc, but they do talk about him.

It's only after Brian comes back into their lives that Birdie actually meets Alex. It takes a lot of talking with Alex's doctors and all that, especially when they're worried that seeing Brian alive might send Alex spiralling again, but eventually stuff gets sorted out and Brian and Birdie meet Alex. (I like to think that at this point Alex is like, kinda living in a sort of assisted living situation? But also under police supervision? IDK if that's a real thing, but it is in this universe because I want him to not just, be in a prison/inpatient psych unit for the rest of his life, yknow?)

It's a lot for all of them, that day, Birdie is maybe 11-12 and Alex is completely different to how Brian remembers him. Alex is happy though. He's happy that what's happened didn't seem to ruin Tim, Lark and Brian's lives. They all look happy and healthy and even though things are different (i.e. Brian being in a wheelchair) all of them look really happy.

It's probably around this time that Brian, Tim and Lark all officially become a polycule, too, i think. Around when Birdie is 12-13 ish, y'know. Tim and Lark are still married and all that, but they don't really look at it as a heirarchy thing, it's just a thing, y'know. It doesn't really take long for Tim to call Brian his husband as well as Lark his wife, and it only takes a little longer for Lark to just say she has two husbands, y'know?

Also, do they still live in Alabama in this AU? God knows lol. Maybe they moved away and it's an even bigger miracle that Brian turned up as a teacher in Birdie's school. I don't know, but either way I love it.

[cheegu3]

In TBZ who’d be the most aggressive as yandere?? And most manipulative?

tw / trigger warning; yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, manhandling, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex and cheating

(posting some drafts this week)

oohhh okay, warning that I get wayyy too into it and write almost a whole fic of this lol, I think;

MOST

Changmin / Q

Sunwoo

Sangyeon

Hyunjae / Jaehyun

Haknyeon

Eric

Juyeon

Kevin

Younghoon

Chanhee / New

Jacob

LEAST

(explanations + MTL manipulative under the cut)

Changmin - Eric

These first three very often get aggressive, as their patience can run out super quickly and they go from 0 - 100, fast asf !! Not afraid to manhandle you or restrain you if you try to run away during an argument or try to hit them for example,

Juyeon - Jacob

Prefer not to, but again will if they feel like they absolutely have to; like in instances where you threaten the relationship, talking about running away or calling the police on them. They like to think they're quite level-headed, which is even more frustrating and terrifying because if you scream at them they'll just try to look at you as blankly as they can (while screaming on the inside)

For manipulation it would look closer to this;

MOST

Hyunjae / Jaehyun

Jacob

Haknyeon

Chanhee / New

Changmin / Q

Sangyeon

Sunwoo

Younghoon

Eric

Juyeon

Kevin

LEAST

Jaehyun, Jacob & Haknyeon

Skilled at manipulation. Know exactly how to pull your strings and in the end come out on top; looking quite innocent, or even sometimes heroic while doing it too. The more you keep resisting them, the crazier you'll start to feel as the lines between reality and imagination become a lot blurrier.

They might drug you, hire people to follow you or send you letters that make you paranoid. But cruelly when you point them out once they finally show up when your boyfriend's near, he claims that he can't see the person you're pointing out.

Chanhee - Sunwoo

If you have insecurities, they'll play at these. I feel like Sunwoo for example, might threaten to sleep with other people if you get on his nerves. If you do something that really pisses him off, he'll go through with it and make you watch or go home telling you all the details.

Chanhee subtly breaks down your confidence very slowly, to the point it's almost not noticeable. One day you wake up and hate the way you look, not remembering all the times he made small comments or complimented other women in front of you.

Changmin and Sangyeon are quite good at playing the victim and flipping the roles, making you feel bad instead when needed. They know your deepest darkest secrets and use them all against you. Like the idea of convincing you that your friends hate you too.

Younghoon - Kevin

Not only, not the '' best '' but they also don't like it very much. For them, being transparent; honest and open about their feelings, is very important. It can also be pretty hard for them to manipulate overall since they are super passionate, and at times intense when it comes to their love for you - if they then had to ex, get into your head that they didn't like you, making you feel rejected and start to come to them for affection - they'd 100% fail almost the first day, like it's crawling under their skin when they would try something like that.

[lensman-arms-race]

Polycephaly's spa day (~6k word fic)

Everyone's favourite mardy TILF is in need of some tender loving maintenance. Luckily, there's someone up to the task.

This story is for @luciledrakkhen because she has been so encouraging to me and her own works give me so much compost for my brain-worms! I was inspired by one of AO3 user HotCoffee1984's stories (I don't think they're on Tumblr) in which Polycephaly gets Very Soggy - it made me think of how satisfying it would be to clear all the silt and gunk out of them!

(The human in this story is called Rochester simply because I liked how it sounded. It's not a reference to anyone or anything in particular. And yes, Rochester is a little tribute to LucileDrakkhen's human Vex.)

AO3 version

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Polycephaly was thoroughly soaked and thoroughly pissed off about it. They could feel the awful sensation of sloppy grit and silt falling down inside them, and the feel of wet clothing clinging to their plating wasn't particularly pleasant either. A change of clothes would be nice, but there was little point if they were simply going to ooze wetness and grime and soak the next ones too. Polycephaly most wanted to just lie down and recharge for a bit, but they'd need to get their charging port dried out first. (And they didn't fancy the prospect of inevitably having to clean all the grime and slime off their bed.) Repairs were needed.

"What the shit?" said one of the techs as Polycephaly wriggled into one of the repair bays. "You're a fucking mess."

Polycephaly felt like flipping the middle finger, but restrained themself - no point antagonising anyone who was about to open your plating.

The tech displayed an ellipsis on their screen, indicating they were thinking hard. "A moment. I need to make some calls." The tech went away through a door that Polycephaly couldn't fit through. Dammit.

Polycephaly backed out into the corridor. No idea how long they'd have to wait - might as well wait in the space where they could stand. A little puddle was building up around their shoes. A message arrived on Polycephaly's communicator: "One of your repair techs contacted me. Port to my co-ords for check-up. R." Who was this R?

Polycephaly docked their communicator to their tablet and put the latter into GPS mode to find the site. (It wasn't actually GPS, of course. That system had been run by one of the human militaries and was either downed or under Skibidi control by now. But the name had stuck amongst the Alliance.) Polycephaly expected it to be one of the TV faction's outposts, but to their surprise this was clearly a Soundkind base.

Well, that made sense, once Polycephaly thought about it. They were their faction's only large unit, and most of TV Base's facilities weren't suitable for them. Polycephaly usually had to go to the Titan's hangar for repairs and servicing, but the cleaning equipment for the Titan would actually be too big for Polycephaly. The Soundkind faction, on the other hand, was packed with large units. It stood to reason that their bases would have cleaning bays that could accommodate Polycephaly.

Polycephaly turned widdershins and stepped sideways from reality into the void. It was near-impossible for most TVs to port somewhere they'd never been, but Polycephaly wasn't most TVs. They wetly unfurled their stems, dripping silty and salty water, and cast their screens in multiple directions, scanning for the snarl of void-pathways that would take them to their destination. Polycephaly elegantly 'fell' through a few layers of the void, landing on the pathway they needed.

Polycephaly sped along the pathways, snapping along right-angled branches, until they neared the Soundkind outpost. They dived one layer deeper so they could navigate with more precision, like a Soundkind switching from long-range to short-range echolocation, and slid elegantly to a halt. There was a crude barrier-web set up here to deter skibs with stolen teleport-tech from exiting the void here and storming the outpost, but it was no obstacle for Polycephaly. They emerged from the void and beheld the outpost in a little mountainous valley. A poor location for defence, maybe, but great for acoustics. Polycephaly entered. They appreciated not having to duck to fit through the front entrance.

Luckily, Polycephaly didn't have to wait long - someone had evidently been posted to await their arrival. A Soundkind unit waved to them. "Here for maintenance?" the unit said. "I've been told to accompany you to the repair centre. Come on - sooner we get there, sooner you can get back to the field."

Polycephaly followed the Soundkind. They appreciated that the Soundkind sensibly hadn't wasted their time with empty pleasantries, as non-TVs were wont to do. And they appreciated the Soundkind not being awestruck in the presence of an elite unit. It was somewhat flattering when people did that, but was its own kind of tiresome. Polycephaly appreciated less the reminder that their services as an elite agent were always in demand and everything was go, go, go.

The pair walked to the repair centre. Polycephaly could tell that the Soundkind was furtively trying to 'echo' them - chirping at them to build up an echolocation image to better supplement their poor image processing. Polycephaly let them.

"Here we are," said the small Soundkind. "Rochester will get you sorted, I'm sure." Ah - so that was what 'R' stood for. The Soundkind departed, and Polycephaly entered.

"Bloody hell. I won't ask what happened to you," said an odd-sounding voice. Was this Rochester? "Clothes off, if you would. I can see you're going to need a thorough detailing inside and out. Drop 'em over there; I'll have someone wash them."

Polycephaly began to undo their garments, and cast their mind around for the yes-I-live signal of the voice's owner. There wasn't one - was this someone speaking through a tannoy? Or had this unit installed a signal dampener for stealth?

To Polycephaly's surprise, the voice had come from a human. There were a few of them working for the Alliance, but they were a rare encounter. Seeing one always brought mixed feelings for Polycephaly. It was nice to see that some humans were still unskibbed, but the sight was a reminder that their species was functionally extinct... and that humanity's annihilation was the reason for Polycephaly's existence. If not for the skibidi plague, there would have been no reason to create large combat units.

"Oh, you are proper muddy," said the human. They had a shock of dyed-green hair, with matching green eye-shadow upon one eye. Upon the other, a black eyepatch emblazoned with a green 'X'. "I quite like dealing with mud. Sluices right off when it's wet, and brushes off when it's dry. Have a lie down on the cleaning bench, I'll get you sorted."

The human had-?! No, they appeared to have four arms... Polycephaly realised what they were looking at: the human had the normal number of arms for a human, plus a couple of artificial ones sprouting at their back from a mechanical exoskeleton. The exoskeleton wrapped the human's torso and their legs - perhaps boosting the human's lifting power, Polycephaly speculated.

The human also wore a thick black furry collar - glamorous, but impractical for repair work, especially as it was oddly warm with infra-red... Until it moved, and Polycephaly realised a long-haired black cat was draped over the human's shoulders. The cat re-positioned itself as the human moved, as though the cat was well used to doing this.

Polycephaly protracted their stems with a horrible sloppy-yet-gritty sound, like someone with terrible table manners dunking their grissini in a cheap pot of hummus. They set down their sub-screens on the floor before detaching them, then lay down on the cleaning bench - sized for a large Soundkind and perforated with drainage holes along its length.

The cat sniffed the air, then jumped off Rochester and trotted over to the cleaning bench, before jumping up and sniffing at Polycephaly.

"Hello, little creature," said Polycephaly. "Oh, two of you." Another fluffy black cat emerged from under the bench and jumped up to join the first.

"Braaaaa," said one of the cats. "Neuuuuughhuuaaa. Ao. Prang? Yack."

"They're interested in you because you smell fishy," said the human. "They're hoping you have a pilchard in your pocket for them."

"What do you call them?" asked Polycephaly.

"Their names are Wurdalak and Walpurgisnacht," said the human. "But I call them Bitey and Shouty."

"Prang? Prt?" said the talkative cat. Polycephaly guessed that one was Shouty.

"...I didn't ask who you were." Polycephaly realised. "I take it you're the 'R' who messaged me?"

"The very same," said the human. "Name's Rochester. I already know you're Polycephaly - you're pretty hard to mistake." Rochester pulled out a selection of plastic scrapers and rubber brushes from one of the many pockets of their overalls and held the tools in a fan like a pigeon's tail while they perused them. "I'm going to give your plating a cursory scrape before I open you up. No point opening you up right now and dumping more filth inside you. I'll get your plating properly clean later, don't you worry. Now, you let me know if I'm poking too hard or being too rough, okay?"

It was rather adorable that the human - Rochester, Polycephaly reminded themself - thought they might hurt the large TV, but Polycephaly appreciated the concern. They realised they hadn't answered Rochester. "...I'll let you know." 'Might as well be useful' thought Polycephaly, and gestured for Rochester to pass one of the tools so Polycephaly could remove some of the mud and silt themself.

"No, you lie back and let me work," said Rochester. "I'm the one who's paid to do this. You can just go ahead and relax."

"They'll be expecting me back," pointed out Polycephaly. "Might as well speed it up."

"No they aren't," said Rochester. "I've booked you in for the full eight hours."

"Shit," said Polycephaly. "Do I really need that much work? ...I feel filthy and knackered but not in need of major repairs."

"No, it won't actually take that long," said Rochester as they continued to slough mud and silt off Polycephaly's plating with their brushes and spatulas. "But... no-one at TV Base needs to know that."

"Wow. Crown," commented Shouty the cat.

Polycephaly thought about what Rochester had said... and left unsaid. It would be expected of Polycephaly, as an elite agent whose skills were always in demand, to make themself available for missions again as soon as possible. Rochester was urging them to take a break for the sake of it. Polycephaly surely needed it, but they felt guilty about it.

"Truth be told," said Rochester, "I'm a fan. Of you, I mean. I've seen your work on many of the broadcasts. Your team put out the call to the Soundkind for use of our cleaning bays, and I couldn't believe my luck! I cleared out my calendar and made sure to get that ticket assigned to myself." Rochester scraped some gunk off Polycephaly's side, and moved to begin cleaning one of their stems.

"Mind my stems," Polycephaly said. "They get a little sensitive."

"Of course," said Rochester. "I'll be gentle as I can. Let me know if it gets too much." The human selected a brush with rubber bristles and used it to dig under a clump of something nasty and lever it off. Polycephaly admired how the human used their exoskeleton arms to hold tools in place and pass them to their normal arms. The action reminded Polycephaly a little of their own stems.

"I was expecting you to just blast me with the hose," Polycephaly admitted.

"As if," said Rochester. "I'm giving you my full treatment, hot wax, the works. When I'm done, you'll look fresh off the factory floor."

It occurred to Polycephaly that Rochester was probably taking a break themself. They'd mentioned 'clearing out their calendar'. It was expected of Polycephaly that they'd make themself available for missions as soon as possible - was it also expected of Rochester that they'd clean Polycephaly as soon as possible and make themself available for more appointments? Maybe Rochester was getting overworked too, and recognised that they both needed this. ...Well, Polycephaly would take it.

"You work for the Soundkind?" asked Polycephaly.

"Sometimes," said Rochester, raising their voice to be heard better. They were currently clearing muck off Polycephaly's legs. "I travel wherever I'm needed. Though... I think the Soundkind and their bases are more fun than the Cams. Don't tell them I said that though. I haven't been to any TV-controlled locations though. You lot are secretive." (Probably another reason that Rochester wanted to meet Polycephaly, the TV mused.) "Sit tight for a sec," Rochester continued, walking back towards Polycephaly's head. "You're a big bugger. I'm going to need a booster."

The human moved away and came back pulling something on wheels. It was a platform on wheeled legs that could span the width of the cleaning bench. Rochester would be able to sit or stand on it and reach Polycephaly's midline from above. The human wheeled the bridge over the bench, and there was a clunk as the bench slid into rills on the floor that would stop it sliding from side to side. Rochester adjusted the bridge's height using its hydraulic controls, then climbed one of the ladders at each end and resumed their work. "Try not to sit up," said Rochester.

Rochester finished de-gunking the area of plating they could reach, then moved to dismount from the bridge.

"Shall I move it for you?" asked Polycephaly. They guessed Rochester was getting off the bridge so they could slide it along the length of the bench and work on the next bit of plating.

"Oh, would you?" asked Rochester. "Towards your head end, if you would."

Polycephaly pulled the bridge further towards them with their hands and two of their stems, and Rochester resumed cleaning.

In this way, both worked in tandem, Rochester directing Polycephaly where to slide the bridge next, until Polycephaly's front was clear of filth.

"Time to turn you over," said Rochester. "No doubt that bit on your back has all mud stuck in it."

Rochester dismounted the bridge and moved it along so Polycephaly could roll over unimpeded. Through the holes in the cleaning bench, Polycephaly noticed that a conical pile of muddy sand had built up on the floor under where their aperture had been. Evidently gravity alone had done some of the work for them. Polycephaly revolved their head so it was still facing upwards - its 'scoop' made it impractical to lie face-down.

As Rochester got to work poking brushes in Polycephaly's back-aperture, Polycephaly tried not to squeak. It did feel good, having that area cleared out. It was hard for Polycephaly to reach inside by themself - they normally had to get a normal-sized unit to help them out with pulling out anything stuck in it, which always stung Polycephaly's pride a bit. It shouldn't do, Polycephaly reminded themself. The TV faction was supposed to be pragmatic, always taking the most sensible course of action. It just made sense to get a smaller unit, who could actually reach inside, to do the task. But it always felt odd, being an elite agent who was expected to excel at difficult mission without complaint, having to ask for help with a mundane task.

"Right, that's the worst of it off," said Rochester. "I'm not going to make your plating pristine just yet because I'm sure there's more where that came from."

As Polycephaly rolled into a supine position again, Bitey the cat took a swipe at the brush Rochester was holding. The human took a clean brush out of their overalls and threw it to the floor for Bitey to menace.

"Myaaa," commented Shouty.

"Next stage is to get your plating opened," said Rochester. "Are you happy for me to continue?"

"It's what I'm here for, isn't it?" replied Polycephaly.

"I wasn't sure if it was a scary prospect," said Rochester. "There isn't really a human analogue for this process, so I don't know how it must feel. I didn't want to go ahead and open you if you weren't ready for it."

"You've done this before?" Polycephaly asked.

"I have, on large Soundkind," said Rochester. "You're my first TV client. ...I actually don't have the specific tool for opening your plating. It might take me a couple of minutes; reckon I'll need to use the large Soundkind tool with a couple of shims."

"That's something I can help with." Polycephaly lifted one of their stems and pushed the geminus connector - the 'grabber' at the end that normally fitted into a sub-screen - into their own charging port. They performed the twisting motion that would normally be done by a mechanic with an unlocking tool, and the locks in their plating detached.

"Well, there's a thing," said Rochester admiringly. They moved to put their hands on Polycephaly's plating, and raised their head to meet Polycephaly's gaze, clearly about to say something.

"Go right ahead," said Polycephaly, correctly guessing what the human was about to ask. "I'll help you with it; I'm a hefty fucker." The way Polycephaly's plating was hinged meant that regular techfolk mechanics were supposed to be able to open it manually for maintenance, but Polycephaly guessed it might be slightly harder going for a human.

Rochester and Polycephaly worked in tandem to open the front plates on the big TV's torso. They elegantly folded into themselves and outwards from Polycephaly's body at the same time, like the wings of an otherworldly metal insect. The human and the TV did the same for the layer of frame-rig under the exo-plating; Rochester undoing the clasps from the endo-struts and Polycephaly pulling the rig plates right out and setting them on the floor with their stems.

"I'm going to pick out any big chunks of mud and detritus I can find and brush off any dry dust," said Rochester. "Then I'm going to disconnect the power in your body so I can safely sluice you out with a wet clean, and put your head on external power. The external power source in here has a UPS and a back-up generator. Are you okay for me to start?"

"You're the professional at this," said Polycephaly. "Why are you asking me?"

"Seems kinda rude to start rootling around in someone's innards without asking first," said Rochester.

"...I appreciate it. Thank you." Mechanics would normally just start their maintenance on Polycephaly without asking. They appreciated Rochester re-assuring them about the uninterruptible power supply too. Polycephaly hadn't been worried about it, but the human's concern was touching.

Rochester put on a pair of safety goggles and a dust mask - Polycephaly guessed it was in anticipation of possibly splashing mud and silt. "Oof," said Rochester as they inspected Polycephaly's innards. "Looks as though a family of poos moved in and died of exploding. ...But nothin' ol' Rochester can't handle."

The human got to work, slinging some tools onto their belt for ease of access. They used some tongs to pick out any solid pieces of matter they could see, flinging them over their shoulder to the floor. It was quite a hypnotic sight as Rochester worked with both their meat-arms and their exo-arms in tandem. "Gotta pull out as much as I can so I don't wash it into any hard-to-reach places inside you," Rochester explained.

Was Rochester narrating because they thought it would re-assure Polycephaly, or were they one of those people who found it helpful to narrate their tasks to themselves to help them concentrate? Polycephaly realised they didn't mind either way.

Polycephaly realised they were relaxing a little. Rochester's touch was reassuringly competent... and it felt rather nice to be told to just lie back and relax and let someone else do all the work for a change. It was a little uncomfortable for Polycephaly having their innards exposed to the air, but it did feel good to have the grit and sludge removed. Rochester was now using a rubber brush to poke out some detritus from a gap, and occasionally using a little air-jet nozzle attached to a compressor to blast out dried silty dust from crevices. Polycephaly could hear Rochester pushing the compressor around with their foot and stepping on its foot-pedal to turn it on and off.

"Do they keep you busy here?" asked Polycephaly the next time Rochester turned the air compressor off.

"I'll say," said Rochester. "It's all worth it, though. Gotta do what we can. That's all anyone can ask of us." The human pushed a long rubber brush like a pipe cleaner into a gap to disturb some seaweed. (Polycephaly wheezed a burst of static and squirmed, then immediately tried to pretend they hadn't.) "What about you? I assume you're busy as arseholes."

"...You're not wrong," said Polycephaly. "I suppose... it's not so much that I don't have enough downtime. I have at least as much as any other agent. But it never fucking feels like enough. You know?"

"Is it..." Rochester paused to think of words. "Is it that you've got lots of time but it's all chopped up into bits? Like pieces of string too short to do anything useful with?"

"...That's exactly it."

"It's why I made sure to block off the next few hours for you," said Rochester.

"Thank you," said Polycephaly. "It's thoughtful of you."

A couple of Soundkind workers entered with a bin on wheels, and began loading Polycephaly's salt-encrusted clothes into it. Two more dropped off what looked like a bale of fabric.

"Borrow these," said one of the Soundkind. "Should tide you over until we wash yours."

"Nice one, thanks." Polycephaly guessed the Soundkind were lending them some clothes meant for one of their large units. It would no doubt be an odd fit, but better than being naked. Techfolk had nothing to hide, of course (except those who chose to install certain mods on themselves), but they felt exposed with nothing covering their plating.

Rochester gave the Soundkind a thumbs-up as they departed. "Right then," said the human. "Next move is to put just your head on external power so I can switch your body off. You won't be able to access anything stored on your hard drives while I do that."

"I'm sure I'll manage."

"It's up to you," said Rochester. "I can temporarily clone the drives so you can still read the contents while I work?"

"No need; it's fine." It was sweet how the human was so concerned about Polycephaly being comfortable.

Rochester put a circuit-blocker - the techfolk equivalent of local anaesthetic - into one of Polycephaly's components and clicked a sequence of switches to activate it. With Polycephaly's pain response disabled, Rochester got to work undoing the mechanical connectors guarding Polycephaly's cabling that routed power between their head and body. By design, there was enough redundancy in the connections that Rochester could disconnect one and re-connect it to external power without Polycephaly perceiving any interruption.

"Scary part next," said Rochester. "I've got to take out your capacitors. If they discharge, that'll be bad times for both of us."

"Just fuck me up," said Polycephaly. "...Oh, that feels bizarre." It didn't hurt as Rochester removed their capacitors, thanks to the circuit-blocker, but it was a sensation that they hadn't expected to feel.

Rochester brought out a jar of paste and a little rubber spatula for applying it. "No, not for you," they said to Bitey and Shouty, who had noticed the jar and hoped that it contained kitty treats. "Now I'm going to put some of this quick-drying paste on some of your more delicate connectors so I don't trap moisture in them and short them out. Same with your coolant caps - don't want to get water in your coolant pipes."

"Weck," Shouty apparently criticised Rochester's application technique. Bitey jumped up and draped themself over Rochester's shoulders.

"Don't get too comfy," Rochester said to the cat. "Gotta take a deep dive in a sec." Rochester addressed Polycephaly: "Thanks to your stems, this next part's going to go easier than normal. I'm going to remove part of the aperture from the inside, so you'll temporarily have a hole in your back. Then I'll hose your innards down and let all the waste-water fall out of your back."

"Do whatever you need to. You know what you're doing. And I'm used to mechanics telling me what's going to happen. Do you need a lift down?"

"If you would?" replied Rochester as they stepped onto the cleaning bench.

Polycephaly brought their stems in and positioned them to form a makeshift little 'ladder' for Rochester to step down and enter the big TV's body cavity. The human did so, stepping in and sliding their way between the tyvek-like membranes that contained Polycephaly's moving parts and prevented any cables getting snagged. It was a surprising sensation for Polycephaly - how much lighter a human was than a techfolk! And soft, but not insubstantially so.

Rochester found their feet on the inside of Polycephaly's back plating, and crouched down, squirming past piping and membranes as they did so. Polycephaly chirped with surprised static (and was very glad there was no-one else here besides Rochester) at the sensation of Rochester taking out part of their aperture - and again upon realising one of the cats had jumped inside their body cavity.

"Rule zero of techfolk maintenance," said Rochester as their head surfaced from between some membranes. "Make sure you can see both kitties before you close anyone's plating. Can you give me a boost out?"

Polycephaly brought in their stems once more for Rochester to help lever themself out.

"Thank you," said Rochester. "Right, hosepipe!"

That was clearly a word known to the cats - the one inside Polycephaly's frame scrambled out, and went to join the other cat (that was currently licking its hoop).

"Get your sippy," Rochester said as they held out the sprinkler-head on the hose for the cats to 'mlem' at the falling droplets. After the cats had quenched their thirst, Rochester brought the hose over to Polycephaly.

Polycephaly braced themself for the inevitable blast of cold and wet all over their innards (the circuit-blocker blocked only pain, after all)... and was startled by the warm shower that came instead. "Oh... that's not fucking bad," said Polycephaly. "I was expecting you to turn it on cold blast."

"Oh, I always wash with warm water," said Rochester. "It decreases the chances of metal parts contracting and pulling out of shape."

Oh, it felt so nice... Polycephaly properly relaxed, their servos un-tensing, and they felt their innards run clean as the silt and grit sluiced downward and fell away to the floor. They emitted a soft static sigh and lost themself in the soothing sensations for a little while... Polycephaly sighed again, then remembered their surroundings and flinched slightly at their own display of vulnerability.

"Don't hold back," said Rochester. "I see a lot of techfolk like this and it's my favourite part of a cleaning job. That part where you properly relax into it and stop feeling self-conscious, and allow yourself to just be. That's when you see a person as they really are."

Polycephaly considered Rochester's words as they allowed themself to relax a little more into the cleaning bench.

"You're used to having to put on a brave front all the time, aren't you?" Rochester said quietly (briefly pausing the flow of water so their voice wouldn't be drowned out.)

"...That's right." Polycephaly conceded. "I appreciate what you're doing for me." The big TV allowed themself to really relax and let Rochester work. The warmth was pleasant, and the constant flow of water made them feel clean and was surprisingly refreshing.

Eventually, Rochester had rinsed off all the marine muck. "Time to get you soaped up and de-greased, and then dried," said Rochester.

"Anything you want," said Polycephaly, a little drowsy from the warm wash.

Rochester applied de-greaser to a microfibre cloth and began rubbing it into Polycephaly's innards, using their fingers to poke the cloth into all the gaps. "Look how revolting," Rochester said, showing Polycephaly how stained the cloth had become. "You really needed this. Let me know if you feel water pooling anywhere; I'll get it all out."

Polycephaly lay back and dozed. It did feel good to have all this attention on them, and they could feel Rochester's work doing them good, as the airflow around their parts cleared and they felt lighter from all the detritus coming off them. Polycephaly realised that the cats had joined them, one curling into each space between Polycephaly's arm and body. Their warm weight and fuzziness was so cute!

"Aww, they can sense you're relaxed," commented Rochester.

Polycephaly realised they'd drifted into semi power-save mode, and Rochester had almost finished cleaning out their main innards. They really had needed this... Polycephaly enjoyed the feeling of Rochester cleaning the insides of their plating, wiping down each of the tyvek membranes, and unzipping each one to clean inside them too.

"Thank you," said Polycephaly once Rochester withdrew from them and began putting away the de-greaser and throwing the microfibre cloths into a laundry bin. Polycephaly made to push the bridge away and sit up.

"Ohh, you think we're done?" asked Rochester.

"I'm clean now," pointed out Polycephaly. They lay back down anyway.

"Sort of," said Rochester. "But I'm a professional, and I don't settle for less than the best. Now comes the detailing."

"Why? No-one's going to see it," replied Polycephaly.

"I'm going to see it," said Rochester. "And as for why... you deserve it, don't you?"

"You know what? I absolutely fucking do."

"You do so much for the Alliance," said Rochester. "As I said, I've seen many broadcasts with you in them. And that's just what someone happened to record! I'm sure there's more. Now, let's make those aluminium parts shiny again." Rochester began scrubbing with a wire brush on the aluminium surfaces to buff out the stains.

"Are you getting tired?" asked Polycephaly. "You've been at this for a couple of hours at least."

"I would be if not for the exoskeleton," said Rochester. "Helps these bones. Plus I did have a quick snack break when you were asleep. Ohh, that silver colour's so nice-looking against the black."

"What's that?" asked Polycephaly as Rochester brought out a tube of something.

"Toothpaste," said Rochester. "Actually a very good cleaning aid. Made to remove organic matter, and gently abrasive. Same for toothbrushes. When I've worn out a toothbrush, I demote it to household cleaning. Don't worry, though - I only use new toothbrushes for cleaning techfolk. I wouldn't use one that's been in my mouth."

Polycephaly let out a static buzz that was almost a purr, as they felt Rochester clean out parts of them they didn't know they had. Eventually, Polycephaly felt they couldn't possibly get any cleaner. They probably hadn't been this clean inside when they were first activated. "Am I finally done?" they asked.

"Nope," said Rochester.

"What could possibly be left?"

"Re-touching these labels." Rochester indicated the bevelled lettering on some of Polycephaly's components. The human got out some paint markers and began re-applying the pigment.

"Now you're just showing off," said Polycephaly.

"Oh, no doubt," Rochester said amiably. They moved on to peeling off the putty they'd applied earlier to prevent water seeping into some delicate components. "In I go," they said as they climbed into Polycephaly again to re-do their back aperture.

"Thank you, Rochester," said Polycephaly as they gave the human a hand out. "Are you finally finished?"

"With your insides, yes," said Rochester. "Help me close you back up, then I can give you the hot wax I promised earlier."

Oh, that was an exciting prospect. Polycephaly hadn't experienced that before. They'd thought the human was just exaggerating for comic effect before. But now, after experiencing Rochester's gentle thoroughness, they were thoroughly looking forward to what was coming next. "Oh!" exclaimed Polycephaly. Then more quietly, "Ohh..."

Rochester spread the wax in circular motions, the pressure just right... Polycephaly leaned and flexed slightly into the touch, enjoying the spreading warmth, and the further pressure as Rochester buffed it off.

The human used their exoskeleton arms in tandem with their own ones, working into a rhythm of applying and working the wax and cleaning it off. "Oh, your trim is looking so good," said Rochester. Their work with the hot wax was bringing out the colour of Polycephaly's plating - its deep black and its purple trim and gold circuitry. "It's brightening the purple and deepening the black. ...That's as far as I can reach from here. " Rochester got back onto the bridge so they could reach Polycephaly's midline again, polishing around their charging port and their inert core chamber (built as a prototype for the Titan's own.)

Rochester got down from the bridge and rolled it so it was no longer spanning Polycephaly. "Roll over so I can do your back too," said Rochester. "Mind the cats."

Polycephaly obeyed, being careful not to disturb Bitey and Shouty - but the two cats left anyway.

"It's nothing you did," said Rochester. "It's just how cats are." The human pushed the bridge back into place and began waxing around Polycephaly's back-aperture.

Polycephaly hadn't felt this relaxed in weeks. Back-rubs were probably their biggest weakness, and it was hard for Polycephaly to reach inside their own aperture and clean it. Had Rochester guessed that? ...Polycephaly was too dazed to care either way. Their speakers practically purred, and they realised they didn't care if Rochester heard.

Rochester finally finished the hot wax treatment, and Polycephaly heard them dismount from the bridge and roll it away. "I'll do your head now," said Rochester as they gathered the cleaning tools they'd need.

Polycephaly remained lying on their front - it was comfy and they were in no hurry to move - but rotated their head on its bracket so it was facing directly forwards instead of upwards, the better for Rochester to clean the screen.

"That's a neat trick," Rochester commented when they returned and saw Polycephaly's bizarre head positioning. They squirted some cleaner onto a soft cloth and began cleaning Polycephaly's screen. The human worked hard as ever but seemed to be flagging a little...

It didn't go un-noticed by Polycephaly. "You doing alright?" they asked, keeping their voice quiet so as not to overwhelm Rochester at close range.

"I am getting a little tired," admitted Rochester. "We're almost done, though."

"I've got you," said Polycephaly. They reached out with their hands and their stems to form a 'cradle' for Rochester to lean back into. They did it without offering first, out of fear that the human might be too proud to accept if asked. '...Oh, am I projecting?' thought Polycephaly.

"Oh, you are sweet," said Rochester happily, working their cleaning cloth into the border where glass met casing.

"...That's such a good touch," said Polycephaly with a purr in their voice. "There's something about the way you absorb my static that really hits the spot."

Last of all, Rochester polished the chrome of Polycephaly's head-bracket. "That's you done, finally," said Rochester. "Let me out, would you? I need to take my exoskeleton off. It does help me, but working with it this long makes me a bit ache-y."

"There you go," said Polycephaly softly, releasing the human from their 'nest'. They admired the two cats, snoozing nearby, while Rochester removed their exoskeleton and peeled off their overalls. The human looked older and tireder without them.

"Thank you, Rochester. You've done me a lot of good," said Polycephaly. "...I didn't realise how much I needed that. ...It was smart of you to book me in for the full eight hours. I think I need a nap."

"Got you covered," said Rochester, correctly guessing what Polycephaly would need and bringing over the end of a charging cable. Luckily, Polycephaly used the same type of connector as large Cam and Soundkind units. Many things about Polycephaly were unique, but the TV engineers had had the foresight to realise the need for universal charging compatibility.

Polycephaly rolled over onto their back again, re-setting their head as they did so, and plugged the cable into the charging port on the sternum of their plating. It would have been nicer to charge in their own quarters, but doubtless if they went back to TV Base someone would find another task for them. As long as they stayed here, Rochester could fob off any enquiries by saying 'Nope, repairs still needed.'

On a whim, Polycephaly offered Rochester a hand. The human hesitated, unsure if Polycephaly was really offering what Rochester thought they were... They accepted, mostly to see what Polycephaly would do.

Polycephaly lifted Rochester onto their front, letting them lie down. "I'm not going anywhere for a bit. And neither are you, because everyone knows you're working on me. Join me in having a rest?"

"Way ahead of you," Rochester said dreamily, spreading out and enjoying the warmth of Polycephaly's plating. The two cats noticed it was evidently Cuddle Times, and jumped up to nestle around their human.

It would be nice to do nothing for a couple of hours.