#(disclaimer: this dude is on mobile and

[khaosrealms]

Im literally vibrating in my chair please a part two of that Syzoth fic please I need them interacting more ♥️♥️

LACERTA’S GEM. (PART TWO!) / SYZOTH X PRINCESS! READER.

a/n: it brings me nothing but joy to know you enjoyed the first part! i am happy to please— so of course, here is your part two! 💚

- After your second encounter with Syzoth, it wasn’t long until you made acquaintance with one another soon after. Returning to the stage, chin held high and hands tucked behind you with excitement, only to see your dear sister Kitana on the floor and Tanya engaged in kombat with the very man you’d just let go. Thinking nothing of the possibility that this might be the reason for his flighty disposition. Your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach as you ran to your older sister’s side, inspecting for newfound bruises or cuts. But nothing— dull hits, nothing but enough to deter her from continuing a fight. Whatever it was Syzoth was doing, it wasn’t in the name of hurting your family.

- From that point onwards, it was all about picking the pieces of whatever the hell was going on. Betrayal from General Shao and Shang Tsung, allyship with mortals from Earthrealm, and— the small increments of time you’d begun to find with Syzoth. Assisting where the battle might require you; during the silent period before the execution of a plan, that’s where he spoke most with you. Hesitantly, at first, for you were positive he believed you held some ire for him that day at the festival stage. Ashamed, from the way he spoke to the way he’d bent his head.

“Princess, if I may?” You never enjoyed it, that fervent necessity those who knew of your place in Outworld had to being near your presence. If I may, with all due respect, if you’ll excuse me, even here, far from your mother’s court, overseeing what would soon be a battlefield, that courtesy did not leave. So you do not answer, rather, you wait— and slowly, you can see the hesitation drip in and drip out from Syzoth’s disposition. Carrying him to a seat a slight ways beside you. Hands folded between his thighs, holding words between his lips that remain knotted there before finally releasing; an undertone of hesitation throughout. “Am I disrupting your peace?” You almost want to chuckle, if it didn’t seem it’d rattle the Zaterran beyond your desire.

“You are not.” Short, to tug him towards continuing, and enough to make his shoulders loosen. “I’m simply thinking, Syzoth. Why do you ask?” You’d spend a majority of the time from the days since avoiding his gaze, not of wrath, but almost— out of hesitation. Hesitation to accept his role in all this, hesitation, knowing the man who your mother, the Empress, took council from was the very man who enslaved him. “I’m afraid I may have soiled what.. little fate you had of me when we had met, that day of the festival.” Ah yes, that day. How could you have possibly forgotten? The day a shapeshifting Zaterran nearly conquered Outworld itself. He can’t help but shift when you chuckle at his words, nervous, perhaps— but less so when you turn to look at him, finally, and a small smile sits there on your lips.

“You had your reasons, Syzoth, I know of that now. And my dear sister forgives you, so why too shouldn’t I?” You wouldn’t admit that there’s a part of you that stirs when Syzoth finally allows himself to smile. A swirling of something warm in your chest as he breathes a sigh of relief, the dark circles beneath his eyes creasing with his grin. “That brings me more solace than you could imagine, Princess.” And to you, as well, simply seeing how much the assurance placed him at ease. “Perhaps then, we could.. speak to one another? Pass the time?”

- You’d discover more and more of Syzoth as the time continued to pass. His life as a Zaterran, his isolation due to his abilities, his family, now lost, the simple pleasures he enjoy in life, and him, of you. Your life as the youngest daughter of Empress Sindel, the isolation due to your royal status, your family, forever by your side. Opposite reflections of one another, a kind of magnetism in knowing just how different you were from one another. And even though your sister Mileena had teased you, asking if you’d planned to make a Zeterran a part of the royal lineage, you continued to make his company. Waiting, during the moments of silence, for Syzoth to appear. At times, in his true form, where you’d request time to admire, and at times, in his shifted form, where you’d find yourself chuckling at the true parts of him that’d peek through to his human body.

- When the titan Shang Tsung is defeated, there’s a peace that finally falls over Outerworld. Like a taut rubber band being reeled back. The first person you celebrate with, barring your own blood, is Syzoth. Looking for him, perhaps without even realizing, amongst the crowd of those who had remained; and there he was, looking back at you, relief painted in his eyes like two emeralds. You hadn’t planned on hugging him when you raced to him, but fueled purely with adrenaline, you embrace him, ignoring the gazes of those watching with quiet shock. His hands stuck to his side before they find themselves wrapped around your waist, clutching, as if it had been years since another soul dared hold him. Better you ignore the sound of Johnny cooing tediously.

“Are you alright, Syzoth?” “I am unhurt, Princess. And you?” “A few bruises, but nothing I cannot withstand.” He smelled of blood and sweat, and his face, caked in dirt, flushed a dark, leafy green. You’d never met a man who’d blushed with such a hue. You never would meet anyone again like Syzoth, and the thought made your heart thump anxiously in your chest. Even as you parted, clearing your throat as you returned your hands to yourself. “What will you do now, now that you are free again?” The thought seems to paralyze him. A fugitive of Outworld, a freak to his people, perhaps he hadn’t thought of anything but simply making it through the battle alive. “I do not know, Princess. Truthfully.” He muttered, hands clasped in front of him. Tensing, flexing, as if somehow the answer would squeeze out from between his fingers.

Instead, you offer. Your hand gently resting atop his, colder than you’d expected, but stiff no longer. “I’m sure my sister Mileena would be delighted to have you amongst her confidants as the new Empress.” There again, that glimmer of hope in his eyes, and there once more, that warmth, bubbling in your chest. You cannot help but smile at the sight of it. “I can be very convincing when it comes to the things I want.” Of him being apart of her court, of course, but it doesn’t stop the true intentions behind your words from slipping past. A rush of red splayed over your cheeks that Syzoth notices with ease. Greeted by his own visage, hints of green coming to his ears. “An enticing offer, Princess.” Sly Zaterran. “Enticing enough to say yes?” You’d be crushed if the answer was anything but. Yet, with simply one look, Syzoth’s smile is enough to tell you his answer. “The first Zaterran among the Empress’ court. It certainly would be something, wouldn’t it?”

[prettyboylikeyou]

summer’s in the air and baby, heaven’s in your eyes

Harringrove Week Day 6! 

Prompt: Hawkins Community Pool Shuts Down for the Day

3k (read on ao3)

•

It’s summer, which means Billy spends the night at Steve’s more often than not. Like clockwork, Neil will pass out at 11pm and Billy is promptly climbing out of his bedroom window and hopping into the Camaro. He parks three houses down from the Harrington’s, and quietly makes his way to their front door, waiting for Steve to come retrieve him. 

Most days, his parents are home and he has to tip toe down, softly unlocking the door for them to sneak back up to his room together. They spend those nights quietly tangled together with hushed whispers and gentle kisses. They love how intimate it is, though neither of them were willing to admit it for quite some time.

Sometimes they manage to exchange hasty hand jobs, or even the occasional muffled blow job. It's secretive and riveting and even scary at times; they never know when they might be too loud and end up almost getting caught. Steve knows Billy secretly loves the thrill of the risk.

Other nights, however, Steve has the house all to himself, his parents long gone on some holier-than-thou business trip. Those are the nights that they can get lost in their own little world for a while. 

Billy’ll bring his stash and they’ll smoke for a bit, until they’re both feeling hazy and loose. They’ll kiss sloppily, they’ll fuck wherever they want, they’ll go skinny dipping in the pool at 2am. Sometimes they’ll dance in the kitchen to whatever record Billy deems the least painful to listen to of Steve’s collection. Sometimes they’ll pour glasses of Mr. Harrington’s bourbon and simply sip it like they’re fucking 40 years old, and not some irresponsible teens who will chug anything within a ten mile radius.

Those are the best nights. Last night was one of those nights. 

Billy had shown up with the joint already rolled and they shared long drags of it, shotgunning the last hit between their lips. He picked out INXS’ “The Swing”, and Michael Hutchence’s voice was spilling through the speakers of the record player, pouring out into the living room. They played an enthralling game of strip darts until they were both down to their underwear. 

Nobody won. Billy derailed it by sprinting out into the night and diving head first into the swimming pool, Steve following not far behind. They kissed languidly for ages, Steve pressed up against the rough concrete edge. 

They finished the night off with shower blowjobs and once they were raveled together in Steve’s sheets, Billy fucked into him slowly, still coming down off the relaxed high.    

 And now, here Steve is, waking up to see the sun pooling into his room, through the cracks of his curtains. Rays enveloping Billy’s naked torso, uncovered by Steve’s duvet. 

Steve loves it when he wakes up before Billy. He loves to sit up and just take him all in, drink in the peaceful sight of him. His tousled curls, his pillowy pink lips, the curves of his body underneath the sheets. Watches the way his golden tanned chest moves up and down, with every soft breath he takes. He never thought it was possible to even get so tan in Indiana. 

“I can feel you looking at me, weirdo,” Billy mumbles, voice still full with sleep. 

Steve laughs and slips back into the covers, pulling them up all the way up to their necks.

“I’m not a weirdo, you’re just– you’re just pretty,” he shrugs, the duvet crinkling up with the movement of his shoulders. 

“You flatter me, Stevie.” 

Steve plants a kiss on his nose and Billy nuzzles his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in tighter. 

Steve rests his head atop Billy’s, closing his eyes again for a few minutes, relishing in the sweet moment of their quaint morning. 

Billy pulls his head back and looks up at Steve through his dark lashes. He stretches his neck up to reach Steve’s lips with his own, connecting them together like perfect puzzle pieces. 

Steve leans down into it and reaches his hand up to the cup the back of Billy’s head, deepening the kiss. He gathers a handful of Billy’s hair and tugs lightly, emitting a startled but satisfied noise from the back of his throat. 

Billy pulls back with a chuckle. 

“God, we’re fucking gross,” he says, “Swapping spit before we even brush our teeth.” 

“Is it bad that I don’t care? Would do it all day if I could,” Steve sighs, contentedly.

“Who says we can’t?”

“Uh, your job maybe? Don’t you have to be off yelling at kids and saving drowning 80 year olds in like,” Steve glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table, “an hour?”

“Nope,” Billy pops the “p”, “Told them I couldn’t come in today. Knew that without your parents here we’d have one hell of a night, and I wouldn’t be able to leave your side even if I wanted to,” Billy spoke lowly and smirked. 

“Fuck, you’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it. Gonna spend all day here, can’t get rid of me if you tried.”

“Would never dream of it,” Steve shifts down the bed a little, so he’s face to face with Billy and plants another sweet kiss on him.

It’s Billy who deepens the kiss this time, enthusiastically pulling him in for another one and automatically slipping his tongue between Steve’s lips. He throws an arm around Steve’s neck, pulling him in even tighter. Steve’s hand finds it’s way back into Billy’s hair, and it stays there, mussing it up even more. Their pace quickens as they try to create any kind of friction, doing their best to grind into each other in their awkward position on Steve’s bed. 

Billy slots his leg in between Steve’s then, groaning at the welcome feel of his hard on and stroking his own stiffness into Steve’s hip, hissing at the contact. 

“Fuck, Billy,” 

“Yeah, baby?” he moves the hand that was around his neck to slide it up Steve’s side, stopping just short of his pecs, ghosting a thumb over Steve’s nipple, “What is it, what do you want?”

“Just— god, just— you, want you.”

“I’m all yours, babe.” 

Billy flips them around so he’s on his back and brings Steve with him, his legs perfectly enclosing Billy’s waist. His ass is resting perfectly over Billy’s dick and he’s being a tease, grinding down, swiveling his hips ever so delicately. Soft whines are escaping his mouth every so often, every time the cleft of his ass rolls perfectly over Billy’s length. 

“Wanna ride me, pretty boy?” Billy licks his lips, eyes dark with want.

“Fuck— yes, please,” Steve moans breathily, already so hard and so turned on from just the mere minutes of foreplay. He didn’t care though, he could feel Billy from underneath him and could tell he was just as worked up over this.

“C’mere, baby,” Billy hauls him down, bringing their lips together again, forming a breathy kiss. It’s hot and intense and Steve flushes, thinking about what’s still yet to come.. 

He grinds down even harder, sliding their dicks together through the fabric, now that he’s horizontal with Billy. 

A low groan pours out of Billy and he clasps his hands around Steve’s waist, lowering them until he gets two handfuls of his asscheeks. Steve exhales a matching groan to that of Billy’s, sliding their tongues together wetly and snaking a hand down Billy’s torso, slipping his fingers just below the waistband of his briefs. 

A sudden pounding on Steve’s front door startles him and he breaks away, practically jumping out of his own skin.

“Jesus, who the fuck is that?” 

Billy just pulls him back down and keeps grinding up, desperately searching for that friction they lost. 

“Who cares, fuck, probably just some crazy religious people going door to door,” he presses a trail of quick hot kisses up Steve’s neck. 

The banging continues, but this time it’s accompanied by muffled shouting. 

“Steve, I know you’re home! Open up, it’s me!”

Steve separates from Billy once again, sitting back so he’s resting on his heels and sighs, the mood officially ruined. 

“Fucking Dustin,” he groans. 

“I know how to pick locks, Steve! If you’re not down here in thirty seconds, I’ll just resort to that!” 

Steve’s eyes widen as he starts to scramble off of Billy. Billy doesn’t move, just rolls his eyes and whines at the sudden loss of contact.

“C’mon, he’s bluffing,” he tries convincing Steve. 

“It’s Dustin. He’s unfortunately, very much so, not bluffing.” 

“Fifteen seconds!” they hear. 

Billy becomes just as frantic as Steve then.

“Shit.”

They both start clambering, hopping up off the bed, knocking limbs and tripping over each other on the way. 

“What do I do? Hide? Climb out your window?” Billy whispers in a panic. 

Steve, still rushing to throw on some shorts and a t-shirt pauses and puts his hands on Billy’s shoulders. 

“No no, it’s okay, it’s all good. You just stay here, I’m sure it’s nothing and he’ll be gone in like, less than five minutes. He just has a flair for the dramatic.”

Another call comes from downstairs.

“Alright! Getting my trusty bobby pin out!” 

Billy’s eyes go wide as he searches for anything to throw on, just in case, and a moment of realization hits him.

“Shit, Steve, hurry! All of our clothes are still down there, just strewn all over the living room!”

Steve curses under his breath and dashes out his bedroom door. 

“Alright, alright, Dustin, I’m coming! Put the bobby pin away!” he yells as he runs down the stairs, rushing to the living room and trying to find all the haphazardly discarded clothes. 

“Nope, too late! You probably got like, ten seconds before I get this thing unlocked!”

Steve can hear the sound of the bobby pin in the lock, quietly clinking away. He hurriedly picks up the last of what he can find and shoves the pile of clothes behind the laundry room door. If anything, there may just be a random sock here or there. 

He smooths his hair out in an effort to look less panicked and frankly, less debauched, hoping Dustin’s still too innocent to catch onto what may have been happening less than one minute ago. 

He’s just about to twist the lock when the door comes flying open, Dustin’s efforts clearly paying off. 

And as soon as it swings open, he’s trudging through to the kitchen, leading the rest of the party with him, much to Steve’s surprise. He’s still clearly worked up about something, god knows what; none of the other kids seem nearly as agitated as him.

“Hottest day in Hawkins– 95 degrees! And of course, of course, some goddamn ankle-biter goes and takes a dump in the pool,” he heaves. 

“First of all, language,” Steve looks at him pointedly, “Second, ankle-biter? Harsh, dude. And third, what exactly are you talking about and why are you here?” . 

“The pool is closed for the day,” Dustin flails his arms out, “Maybe tomorrow too. Maybe even longer! Who knows! Who knows how long it takes to clean and disinfect a pool after having human feces in it! Human feces, Steve!” 

Steve grimaces. 

“Eugh, gross.”

“He’s just all worked up because it means he can’t ogle at all the high school girls,” Lucas chimes in, bumping his shoulder, “Like, I tried telling him that it actually worked out in our favor, because now we can have a private pool party all to ourselves. It’s way cooler than the community pool.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you guys haven’t even officially asked if it’s okay to use my pool. You just barge in here and expect free reign of it? How do you even know I’ll say yes?” Steve crosses his arms. 

“First of all, I feel like it’s a little unfair to call it “barging in”. I gave you a fair enough warning and you said it yourself, you were on the way to answer the door! I just happened to reach the destination before you!” Dustin starts. 

“Yeah, I was going to answer it after you threatened to just pick the lock anyway! And then successfully did!” Steve retorts. 

“Whatever, and anyway, you’re you. In what world do you say no to us? Also, Lucas, for your information, I only have eyes for Suzie, duh. I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to get back in that water after knowing there’s been shit in it!” he shudders, “That stuff is nightmare fuel.” 

Billy abruptly comes bounding down the stairs then, clad in one of Steve’s t-shirts and an old pair of his sweatpants, seemingly not at all bothered by the fact that everyone now knows he’s just been chilling in the Harrington residence. 

He’s already flashing his signature smirk as Steve whips his head around and meets his eyes, hoping that the look he’s shooting him conveys, “Dude, are you crazy?! How are we supposed to explain our way out of this one?”

But he’s just met with that damn smirk as he carelessly continues on into the kitchen, planting himself right next to Steve. 

“Trust me kid, that’s not the first time some kid’s shit in the pool, and it won’t be the last.” 

“Billy? What the hell are you doing here?” Max pipes up, confusion written all over her face.

“Did you forget that Steve and I are pals now? Buddies? Amigos?” Billy asks, pointing between the two, “Can’t a guy hang with his amigo?” 

“Well yeah, it’s just, I don’t know. Just, still a little weird seeing you two not wanna rip each other’s faces off, I guess,” she replies. 

“Yeah, like, knowing you guys are civil with each other versus actually witnessing you hang out and be all buddy buddy together are two very different pills to swallow,” Lucas adds. 

“Right? Like I honestly never thought I’d see the day—” 

Dustin let’s out a dramatic sigh, “You guys, honestly, I know that of all people, I should be the most shocked and willing to analyze this newfound friendship between Steve and Billy, I get that. But please, can we just get in the pool already!” he groans, “I was supposed to be chlorine soaked and well on my way to a sun burn half an hour ago!”

“Alright, alright, I guess I will officially give you permission to have your little pool party,” Steve surrenders, “You guys go ahead, Billy and I will be way nicer than you all deserve and prepare some snacks and drinks. We’ll meet you out there in a bit.” 

A sea of “thank you’s” are thrown Steve’s way as they all run for the back door. Steve even manages to shout out a hasty, “Make sure nobody drowns! And don’t forget to wear sunscreen!”

Will is the last of them to run out and nods at him.

“Got it, Steve!” he yells and swiftly slides the door shut behind him. 

Steve turns to Billy with a soft smile and sighs. 

“So,” he looks at him hopefully, “ready to play lifeguard on your day off then?” 

Billy laughs lightly and crowds Steve to the corner of the counter. Steve hops up onto it and opens his legs for Billy to stand in between them. He places his hands on Steve’s waist as Steve crosses his arms over his shoulders and leans in to kiss him slow and sweet. When Billy pulls away he’s mirroring the same soft smile as Steve. 

“Oh, Harrington,” he sighs, “You and your soft spot for those kids,” he tsks playfully. 

Steve laughs and retracts his arms to put his face in his hands. 

“I know, I know! Dustin was right, I really can never say no to them,” he musters up the best exaggerated pout he can. 

“That’s okay,” Billy smacks a chaste kiss to Steve’s cheek, “That’s what I like about ya, you’re sweet. And besides,” he lowers his voice presses another slower, more fervent kiss to Steve’s lips, “I didn’t bring any trunks with me, which means I’ll have to borrow a pair of yours, right?” 

His waggles his eyebrows and his tongue teases the edge of his lips as he adjusts himself in the sweats hanging low on his hips. 

“Shit, Stevie, just the thought of that will leave me wired for days. You don’t even know how much it turns me on,” his breath is hot on Steve’s neck.  

Steve gives him a slow once over and his eyes linger on his groin. 

“Billy, baby, I think it’s pretty obvious how much it turns you on.” 

“Yeah?” Billy crowds Steve’s space again a nudges his face into his neck, licking a hot stripe up to his ear, “Whatcha gonna do about it, pretty boy?”

“Jesus, Billy, the kids are right outside!” Steve replies in a rushed whisper.  

“Yeah, and? Your bedrooms right upstairs,” he raises his brows, “Think we can manage to jerk each other off quick enough to not raise any suspicions?”

“You’re going to be the death of me,”

“Is that a yes?” 

Steve sighs, exasperated. 

“If they ask what took so long, I’ll just say you started a food fight.” 

“Always pinning me under the bus Harrington, damn.” 

“Oh my god, just shut up and get upstairs before I change my mind.” 

Billy scoffs. 

“Please, like you ever would.” 

Nonetheless, he hastily turns around and basically skips up the stairs, taking them two at a time, practically giggling the entire way to Steve’s bedroom. 

And later, when they’re back in the kitchen cutting up a watermelon, Steve is only half surprised when Billy actually does end up starting a food fight.

[2smolbeans]

Part 1 Part 2.5 character info

He let out a soft series of chuckles. Staring at you with a pitiful look, showing an expression of fake sympathy.

"I don't love you, and I never will. Not even if you beg and try. "

Love Me, Love Me Not (2)

Yandere Best Friend x Obstacle Reader

*unedited

Tags: small description of Nsfw- they don't fuck, self loathing, hostage keeping, one sided attraction, betrayal, mentions of previous friendships the yandere broke, slight angst, yandere is attracted to someone else, escape planning, mentions of a previous murder victim, reader is complicit to the murders, guilt, past memories.

Disclaimer: This is just a scenario I thought of with an Oc! So nothing is really 'official' or canon-

_____________________________

You look at the door, contemplating your next move. It's right there, just staring at you. The latch was loose, Marco didn't consficate the butter knife like he did usually whenever the two of you ate, and he was no where to be seen. It was so fucking conveinent, so perfect. Too perfect...Maybe you were just paranoid. The latch. The door. Just do it. Run. Sprint. Why were you panicking? This was all on you now. Your legs were shaking as you wobbled your way towards the door, grabbing the butterknife that you were previously cutting the lamb chops with. Trembling, you tried to bust open the secuirty latch. But ultimately you ended up throwing the butterknife into the sink.

Falling onto the couch, grabbing a soft pillow as a soother, you let out a frustrated scream. It's better to be safe than sorry. If anything, Marco could be hiding behind the door waiting for you. For all you know, Marco could be waiting outside the apartment complex exits, standing by while he prepares to tackle you when you finally rush outside. He could be testing you. Why wouldn’t he? It was just predictable. You knew better than to assume that Marco would freely let you loose.

So you waited, and waited. The more time passed, the more you started second guessing your choice. Wow, maybe he was just clumsy. For what seemed like forever, Marco finally rushed into the room, slamming the door open before closing it shut.

"Did I scare ya?"

He smugly spoke, swaying his way towards you while he dragged two suitcases. Stiff from the frozen fear that had shot you in the chest, you only stared at Marco wide eyed.

"I'll take that as a yes..? Anyways stay put, I just need to do this real quick.."

Peeking into the contents of the suitcases, you heard Marco examine and fix the locks. Noticing that one of the latches were left loose, Marco turned back to look at you- surpirsed yet expecting this from you. You stayed, you're still here.

Huh...

While Marco was preoccupied with himself, you reached out into one of the luggages. It was your stuff! Holding out an old shirt of yours, you let out an accidental gasp.

"Oh yeah, I figured that you might want a few things of yours. I mean I can't have my roomie empty handed~"

Underwear, socks, shirts- everything! He even brought a few extra things like your plushies and accessories! Smiling, you thanked him while you zipped up the zipper of the suitcase.

"No problem dude! Anyways you can go do whatever, fool around in your room or something. I dunno?"

Can you leave?

"Hahaha! HA! You're hilarious!"

Scoffing, you nudged Marco's shoulder, making your way to your 'bedroom'. Closing the door behind you, you took out all of your belongings from the two suitcases. Searching through the pile of stuff you had, you managed to find your phone! Immediately powering it on, you tried calling the authorities. Even trying to turn on your mobile data so that you could contact somebody through your socials. Though expectantly, your phone had blocked all of those options. No service, no nothing. Scrolling through the photo gallery, you looked at the photos you took, all the stupid screenshots you saved. You and him, it's always been the two of you. Of course, sometimes it would be you, him, and.. Matheias and Angela.. You just stare at their faces, feeling nothing as you observe their smiles. You were all so happy back then..

"

Matheias screamed as he lunged himself towards Marco, crying as his sobs echoed the room. Quickly, you grabbed Matheias by the arm, struggling to keep him still as he dragged you along with him. You shouted at Matheias, scolding him while also begging him to calm down as he continued to howl at Marco. Trying your best to keep Matheias away from Marco, you were forced onto the floor as Matheias shoved you away from him. Showing concern, Marco rushed towards you, trying to help you back on your feet.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER- HOW COULD YOU?!"

He screeched, throwing chairs, his face red with anger. Helping you up, Marco cautiously approached Matheias- holding his two palms up as he slowly approached. Calmly, Marco tried to speak to Matheias.

"Come on..Please let's not do this. Not now - just not now, okay? Please, let's just talk this out-"

Panicked, Matheias threw something at Marco, trying to keep more distance.

"LIAR! You fucking CUNT!"

Persistent, Marco was beginning to lose his composure. His voice was now on the verge of shaky tears as he lowered himself to Matheias's height level.

"P-Please..We just- it's her- fucking hell.. Come on Matheias! Really man?"

The more Marco spoke with sincerity, the more Matheias reacted. The more Marco tried to reach out to Matheias, his grieving work buddy.. His best friend..The more terrified you saw Matheias get.

"Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. You're sick- Stop that. Those aren't real.."

Trying to descalate the situation, you spoke firmly towards Matheias. Enough is enough. You've had it with the accusations about Marco, the delusions and rumors Matheias had accumulated about him. It was tiring seeing Matheias grow bitter against the only person trying to hold everyone together. You were annoyed with how he was reacting. Everyone was mourning, nobody was themselves. You understand that, you can sympthazie with him. You're also hurting. You miss her too. It was just the three of you now. So why, out of all people, he could've chosen to take his anger out, did it have to be Marco? Hysterically, Matheias let out a series of laughs. Rolling his eyes as he pointed a finger at you.

"Oh yeah! Of course you believe him! I think I know why. Trying to get some brownie points aren't you?"

He marched towards you, keeping his finger pointed at you. His voice so loud and angry, it began to ring your ears.

"It's always been like that! Don't you find it fucking unfair how he's always the innocent little sheep in every sitaution?!"

He let out an exasperated breath, his hands aggressively flying everywhere.

"But NOOOOOO! EVERYONE LOVESSS MARCO! The fucking psychopath. Fucking murderer. And I'm the only one that fucking knows!"

Stop it, you beg. You're being delusional, you cried. You held back your tongue, knowing that Matheias wasn't being himself. He always had an issue with his temper, so you knew you had to be patient with him. But you've done that so many times throughout the friendship. It's beginning to run thin. Espically now.

"Why don't you just say it huh? Why don't you just admit it? Tell him. Just fucking-"

Out of instinct, you rushed towards Matheias. Raising your hand as the palm of it harshly came into contact with his face. Tears streaming down your cheeks, you slap him again..And again..And again..Stopping when Marco had to pull you away from him. Holding you in a hug as the hiccups and sniffles begin to escape you.

It was quiet for a while. Your sniffles and his loud, hyperventilating breathes were the only thing left in the room. You remember the look in his eyes, the grief he felt when he saw Marco shake his head dissapointingly. As tension filled the room, suffocating the three of you in an uncomfortable moment- unsure of what was to happen next. Matheias finally spoke up, defeated as he slammed his hand against the table. Memorial cards, photographs, and sympathy letters falling onto the ground.

"..You know what? Fine. Suit yourself. But she's gone, and I know who fucking did it. Sooner or later, you'll know I'm right. And when you do, you'll be wishing that you listened to me."

Without a word, Matheias grabbed a memorial card. Shoving chairs out of his way while he walked out the door. With a final glance, he looked at Marco, and then at you. Scowling, he shut the door violently, leaving you and Marco alone.

"

Your eyes burned as you stared at the ground. Your body feeling limp as you pressed your back against the bedframe for support. Matheias was always the smart fucker of the group..You wonder how he'd react if he knew what was going on. Probably with a snarky remark of how "I told you so!". Funny how the end of their close bond was the start of yours. You want to cry, to get rid of this awful feel that brewed inside of you. But you can't. Maybe it was your body's way of punishing you for being such an awful human being.

Yeah sit with your guilt. Let it simmer with no outlet to release it.

Looking at the screen, you decided to check out your notes. Scrolling through them, you recalled how you always used it as a personal diary rather than a proper agenda tool. Just a pile of insecurities about your crush on a friend who clearly had the hots for someone else. A bunch of useless shit that you bitched about. A series of notes that revealed what type of selfish person you truly were.

Last opened a week ago...?

What?

Your heart sank as you looked at the bottom of each note.

Each note, every single one of them, he read them all. All the words you said to yourself, all the thoughts that you had- he knew about it. You went rigid the more you thought about it. Before..Was he playing with your feelings? He knowingly roped you into this shitfest because he knew he had you wrapped around his little finger. You were the perfect loyal pawn that helped him clean the messes.

Hahaha. Haha. Ha.

That's hilarious, isn't it? You stand up, furious of how stupidly feeble you felt. You pick up the clothes and your belongings and organize them in their rightful place. The couch, when he touched you like that..It was just to keep you on your toes, to keep you obedient. Your 'reward' for being so good.. Pissed, you started to pace around your room. That's it, you want out. You should've left the room when you had the chance. You lay there on the floor, mind numb as you stare into nothingness. That poor girlfriend, whoever they are, hoped they were okay. Why did Marco like them again? How did they even meet? Do you even remember what she looks like? You should know, he's talked about her so many times you've lost count. Charlie? Ashlyn? Abby? No.. none of those sounded right. Does it matter in the end? You should be worrying about yourself.

What if you tied your clothes and made a makeshift rope? Looking down through the window, you grimaced as you thought about it. It's too high. You're on the highest floor of the building. You laughed at another desperate thought that came up. What if you fought Marco yourself? Sure, yeah, if you wanted to get suplexed to death. Right, fight the 6'2 "maniac who goes to the gym every week and could easily pick you up like a ragdoll. There has to be someway.. Who knows how long he really plans on keeping you. It was so easy for him to drop Matheias, someone he knew longer than you - and swiftly wiped Angela off the face of the earth. You're next. Time was ticking. You sat there for a while. Thinking to yourself. Did Marco really care about anything other than himself? Is he capable of emotion? He has some capability, or maybe he plays the illusion that he does fairly well.

Without another thought, you got up, walking towards his room. Knocking the door, you called his name. No answer. You knock again. No answer. You try opening the door to check if he's inside. It's locked. Going to the front door, you began to play with the locks. Loudly banging them against the doorframe, the metalic sounds echoing the entire room. Still no response. Using this opportunity, you scan the entire apartment, looking for anything you could use or take note of. But you couldn’t think of anything. Deciding to go back to your room, you try to get some shut eye. Changing into some nightwear to get comfortable.

Eventually, you were able to find yourself melting into the matress. Dreaming about what could've been, you were sound asleep. You wished you could've stayed like that forever. Blissful and full of rest. However, it was short-lived as you felt yourself being lifted up. Groggily, you were brought up onto your knees. Slowly, you were propped up at a certain position while a warm breath fanned against the back of your neck. Your back was pressed against his chest, legs spread apart, and hands on both sides of your thighs. Fully awake and aware, you froze as you felt his hands play with your chest - barely grazing at your nipples. Alert, you tried to turn your body away from his wandering hands. Out of protest against your reaction, Marco hushed you as he pushed you back to the position.

"Ah ah ah. Nono. Stay put for me okay? Trust me"

It felt so foreign with the way he spoke to you with such geniune softness. You couldn't help but lean further against his body as he began to travel his hands further down your lower half.

"You've been so good, such a good friend to me..I've never really thanked you properly, so I'll do it now..Yeah?"

His hands now grabbing onto the waistband of your pajama pants, you went paralyzed. Why was he doing this?

"You deserve it. That's why.. Do you not like this?"

What about her? Doesn't he hate you for standing in the way?

"Just answer my question. Do you like this or not?"

You were starting to get on his nerves. So quietly, you meekly squeaked for him to continue. Even though you knew you should've denied his offer and advances, you still couldn't help but fall into him. So, lifting your hips up, you allowed him to pull your pants down.

"I just want to make it up to you, that's all..You'd enjoy something like this afterall.."

Rubbing all the right places, going at that perfect rhythmic pace, focusing on your body movements. He made sure to treat you carefully, leaving gentle kisses along your neck as he watched your chest rise up and down. Back and fourth, he left your mind in a daze as he whispered those sweet praises into your ears.

"Finally got what you wanted, huh? How long have you been thinking of this for? Hah.. And don't lie to me, I know everything.."

You didn't answer him as you focused on chasing your release. Your hands pathetically gripping onto his arms while you whined as his hands continued to play and stroke at your sex.

"It's only fair. I realised if you hadn't helped me, I would've been so lost..So good job. You did so well for me. You earned this"

Twisting and brewing, you felt the heat inside you threaten to spill as he changed his pace. His hands now trying to chass the pleasure out of you while you quivered underneath him. You were close, so close to tipping over the edge.

"I love you"

With those words that you so desperately fantasized about for years, you felt the heat in your body spread. Milking out your orgasm, Marco continued at the same rhythm, pulling his hand away after he felt you try to shove him off. Getting off the bed as he left you there to calm down, he wiped his hands dry. Smirking at you as if he had just pulled the world's most amazing prank.

"I did good didn't I?"

....What the fuck was that? Why in the hell did you say yes? Why the fuck did he- Looking at him in confusion, you pulled up your pants. Giving him a look that demanded an answer.

"Okayy fine. I just felt like it. Plus it's fun seeing you melt like puddy!"

Huh? You felt dumbfounded as he kept walking around the dark room. The moonlight providing the only source of light to the bedroom.

"It's funny..You like me. I've known that for a while..Even before the notes. You were never really a good liar."

He let out a soft series of chuckles. Staring at you with a pitiful look, showing an expression of fake sympathy.

"I don't love you, and I never will. Not even if you beg and try. "

He leaned close to your face, his hands caressing your cheek.

"I only said it to get your rocks off. And clearly..It worked~"

Well fucking ouch..A pang went through your chest as Marco moved away from you. Disregarding your feelings he kept going, the softness and genuie warmth you felt earlier, disintegrated into nothingness. Like a flip switched inside him, he was back to his comedic cold personality.

"Ohh hun..Please don't be dissapointed. I wasn't lying when I said you deserved every second of that moment.."

Circling the room, he continued to monolog casually.

"Afterall for being such an obedient dog staying put in the room..You deserved a little treat!"

Patting your head to further squeeze out the feelings in your heart, Marco left the room.

"I'll see you tommorow okay? Dream about me~"

Alone by yourself again as you laid your body on the bed. You curled yourself into a ball, grabbing all the blankets, hugging them for some comfort. His words replayed in your head, trying to process what just happened. He was fucking with you. But why? Why like that? Staring up at the ceiling with your back on the bed, you muttered a few words while you felt the shame creep up on you.

What an asshole.

_____________________________

.

.

.

Part 3 coming soon!

You looked at her in horror as she sat there on the chair, tied up and gagged. Her face was stained with fresh tears as she struggled against her restraints. Oh god, did things not go well with her and Marco? Why was she here? You tried calming her down as she thrashed around, threatening to tip over the chair.

.

.

.

.

_____________________________

[spontaneousglitterbees]

It's been mentioned that Kokichi has some phantom pains and he has clear mobility issues (love that btw as someone who uses a cane), so I was curious how the rest of the class is doing in that regard. Does Kaito ever struggle to breathe or have coughing fits? Do Rantaro and Angie get migraines?

[Talent Acquisition Pilot Program AU Masterpost]

This one. This one got away from me.

tl;dr: Absolutely, Anon, we are on very similar pages! This ask really got me thinking about how the whole TAPP!cast is doing fresh out of the Killing Game. Every student in Class 79 is going through something, about now, be it physical or mental; in fact, it’s usually both.

Also: for sure, I want to try and be relatively true-to-life with their struggles, especially Kokichi’s. I write from personal experience living with chronic pain, but haven’t used a cane before. Apologies if I miss the mark at any point.

Obligatory disclaimer: I am not a healthcare professional of any kind and the AU’s premise is largely sci-fi, so there may be inaccuracies. That said, I am fascinated with biomechanics and always looking to learn, so I’m trying to keep things at least semi-plausible.

Full spoilers for Danganronpa V3 (and some for the end of SDR2) ahead!

Very Long Loredump (~6.2k words) under the cut:

HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?

Everyone is traumatized. That much is obvious, sure, but the Talent Acquisition Pilot Program (TAPP) is a virtual reality simulator based on the bones of the Neo World Program (NWP). In much the way SDR2’s NWP is purported to replicate death in the simulation in the players’ real bodies, the TAPP simulation is built to alter the brain chemistry of its participants. TAPP builds muscle memory and ‘burns’ new neural pathways to a participant’s Default Mode Network (DMN), a collective term for parts of the brain responsible for letting us “autopilot” common tasks like riding a bike or typing on a keyboard. The V3 cast’s experiences in the simulation impact their real bodies in a very literal sense to ‘speedrun’ them through orientation at Hope’s Peak and mainstream them in the curriculum as quickly as possible so its researchers can start collecting useful data on the merits of HPA for investors.

The problem is, nobody programming TAPP anticipated they would start killing each other.

Class 79 were the first human test subjects for the program with zero peer review or board approval, of course, because HPA is morally dubious and can pass off “dude, trust me” as genuine credentials to several world governments. Even if this massive oversight was not noticed until after the fact, V1 of TAPP did at least include one quasi-safety feature: if any player became “significantly injured”, that player would be ejected from the simulation. Everyone else would be locked in the simulation (in case one of them was involved and tried to evade consequences) until an administrator could come and manually assess the situation. In theory, the physically-unharmed student could rejoin the simulation once the conflict was resolved.

But TAPP was built to write data to the brain. It was not built to identify what data it’s actually writing, and cannot differentiate between playing the piano and getting smashed in a hydraulic press. Data is data.

It does not help that Team Danganronpa (the group of Reserve Course kids, including Tsumugi) are foolish teenagers entirely unaware of this, assuming that “none of it is real, so none of it will actually matter! we’re just scaring them!” While skimming through the code and thoroughly Knowing Not What They Do, they manage to remove any defined cap for what constitutes ‘significant injury’ before player ejection. The only flag that can set it off is a lack of any other player flags. Virtual death.

This is where Rantaro earns the title of “Ultimate Survivor”. The shotput ball put him down too quickly for the damage to be fully reflected in his physical body, so he managed to get ejected with post-concussive symptoms, short-term memory issues, and persistent migraines instead of fully dying. Were his method of death much slower, he’d likely have been screwed (and wouldn’t have Komaeda’s luck cycle to save him).

Time scales differently in TAPP than in the physical world; while Rantaro’s been at the virtual Academy for several days, the students have been strapped in their pods for a few hours at most. Between the Responsible Older Sibling Energy seared over the person he may have been before and an extant knack for escape room puzzles, Amami is The Man with the skills and motivation to call in backup.

It’s a good thing he did, too! Their “observer”, having tired of watching a bunch of students play the piano and run around outside, only figures out something has gone horribly wrong the moment Rantaro practically busts down the door. The next tense hour-plus is spent doing damage control and imposing limits on the code of the simulation to prevent TAPP from letting the students actually die. Unfortunately, the TDR kids and their takeover took a sizeable chunk out of the spaghetti code holding the whole thing together in their haste. TDR, with proposed talents like Ultimate Cosplayer on their side, are primarily concerned with artistry and are only competent-enough programmers. As a result, there is no obvious way to manually override the lock completely and just let the students out without significant defragging, even as TDR members are still actively messing with the code, and who knows how long that will take. (About 6-ish chapters)

Instead, for now, they’ll have to settle for putting as many programming-adjacent talents as possible on the case and exploit a loophole that panicking overseer managed to write: if the remaining students are systematically ejected, the program will bypass the lock and let them out. During the rescue operation, the main objective is first to minimize the physical damage TAPP can inflict by lowering the tolerance required to eject the students (which is easier said than done) and by dampening its neural-carving functions, then to get everyone left out of there.

It is a very good thing they sprung into action as quickly as they did, as it doesn’t take long for Kaede to arrive.

KAEDE

The first thing Kaede notices coming out of the simulation is that she can’t hum the notes to get back on-pitch after the worst rendition of Der Flohwalzer she has ever heard. The second thing she notices, because it is far easier to be angry about something trivial than face the slow-dawning realization you are having, is that she can only barely speak. It hurts.

I think Kaede learns to sign early on, but still finds herself trying to speak aloud anyway since she’s so used to having her hands busy already playing piano. Shuichi often reminds her to take it easy, treat it like a vocal rest, and steadily she begins to improve. She is as exuberant as ever, with determination fitting of our protagonist. Kaede is the Class 79 representative, though with his renewed confidence Shuichi often accompanies her. Not only are they best friends (though it is strange, at first, to see her alive after spending so long grieving. Kaede last saw him, like, yesterday.) and Kaede will inevitably tell Shuichi all about the meeting anyway so why not cut out the middle man,  but Shuichi initially came specifically to speak at meetings so Kaede wouldn’t strain her voice. She is immensely proud.

RANTARO (PT. 2)

Rantaro doesn’t hold the shotput ball against her; desperate times, and all. It made sense her proactive attitude would make her first to act for the ‘greater good’. She aimed to end the whole thing, not just comply. Even if she swung and missed, he (an older brother with faint recollections of failing to protect the people depending on him and guilt knowing he doesn’t have the stomach to take a victim and thus will be failing people in need of protection again) can’t fault her for swinging. She is confused when he asks her how she launched the ball that hard, though. Odd.

TENKO

Tenko has neck pain issues like Kaede, but hers are more acute. The seesaw effect was heinous but relatively precise; as the magnum opus of TDR’s homebrewed serial killer, they un/fortunately made him pretty good at it when he has a plan. Tenko has some of the least devastating lingering physical injuries of the class. Given the severity of her classmates’ injuries, though, that still leaves her with minor vocal strain, susceptibility to sore throats, and severe neck pain, among other things.

A lot of Tenko’s lingering trauma is mental: she isn’t quite as willing to immediately throw herself into the fray to help her friends, and certainly doesn’t want to leave her back exposed (a tendency she shares with Kokichi, of all people). While it did numbers on her perception of men again for a while, hearing about the trial left her with a lot to reconcile. In a ‘cool-motive-still-murder’ way, she does not forgive Kiyo (nor is she obligated to) but doesn’t hate him as much as she expected, either. Processing the idea that a girl could be horribly abusive, especially to a guy, and catalyze a cycle of violence… gets to her. She’s more wrapped up in the tragedy of the entire situation than the righteous indignation that’d fueled her for so long. Everybody lost that day.

She’s pleasantly surprised to see Himiko trying to lift her spirits now. Those two have a lot to talk about and boundaries to set, yes, but Tenko is still touched Himiko took her words to heart and seems to be benefiting from it.

ANGIE

Angie had bit more complicated situation than Tenko, getting KO’d before the fatal blow. Her migraines come on more often than Rantaro’s with high light, which is a special kind of awful for the SHSL Artist, but they’re generally closer to a dull ache. Once she gets going on a project she sets out to grin and bear it; Tenko and Himiko often check up on her. She does her best to stay just as upbeat as in the simulation, and if anything it seems more genuine now. She can actually relax, rather than mind-game her way to relative (unsteady) peace under duress.

(Angie is really interesting to me for many adjacent reasons to Kokichi, since they’re both willing to get morally gray and manipulative if it’ll keep everyone from killing each other. Angie-Kokichi compare contrast essay when?)

She hasn’t “forgiven” Kiyo either, but isn’t hostile while she evaluates whether or not his conviction in getting help and being better is genuine. She was pretty heavily affected by TDR’s “character rewrites” as well, after all, and empathizes with the feeling you’ve been used as a glorified dress-up doll. To some unknowable extent, she is a different person now, and it is frightening.

She’s trying to step back and re-analyze her sense of spirituality, particularly how it relates to her art. It’s existentially harrowing, having been made to toe the line between faith and fronting to either get people to either listen to her or not see her as a threat. She’s not even positive “Kami-sama” (not going with the localization here, my understanding is the Japanese version was deliberately more generic and at least a bit less disrespectful towards real people and their beliefs) is the same deity she’d believed in before TAPP, but it’s difficult to try and reconnect with your roots when none of you have any information on your previous lives.

They do, at least, have a resident anthropologist that might have a clue how to even start looking.

Hah. They sure do, huh.

I think Angie is the type to nominally forgive and never, ever forget. She holds the kind of grudge that lives beyond logic as all the compartmentalized emotions you don’t want to admit you have. A grudge that co-exists with an active desire to move on and seeps into her art.

KOREKIYO

Kiyo got burned.

Alive.

Also dead, somehow, an extension of the Ultimate Placebo Effect we have going on in the simulation; Kiyo was so certain ghosts were real and he’d be one that, through earnest conviction, the simulation made it so. I think this is how Komaeda’s luck works in SDR2 as well; the original Neo World Program was developed for therapy, and in doing so assesses whether or not it would be completely devastating (do more harm than good) to actively disprove something about the patient’s worldview at that time and adapts the environment accordingly. Hence you get a reality-warping luck cycle and ghosts are Definitely Real. Is either true in the outside world? No idea! Komaru talks to a ghost in UDG, once, but considering it’s unclear if Kiyo’s sister was ever a living person to begin with there are bigger fish to fry.

Or not. He’s pretty damn-well aware much that hurts. Or at least being boiled and seasoned does. Going by that kind of simulator-logic, I think in a technical sense it was the salt that killed him, not the torture. There’s probably something to unpack there I haven’t fully explored yet.

Rumors start going around campus that Kiyo is a vampire. It makes enough sense for watercooler gossip, the mask covering up fangs and an aversion to lingering out in the sun; Class 79 knows it’s actually because sunburn, for him, is a new brand of Unfun. He prefers to hole up in the library or his lab anyway, so it could be worse. He’s honestly kind of into becoming a school cryptid. It helps transition him from “avoiding my classmates and other people because they hate me, i also hate me, and we are all correct to do so. i am an extension of her so it does not matter what i want” towards “i am not my past, i cannot make up for what ive done but i can move forward and be better, i am forging a new self and it is mine this time and it always should have been”.

(Kokichi is particularly proud of having kickstarted the cryptid thing. Of course Shinguji would love to watch the evolution of new local lore in real time! Now he doesn’t mope in the corner half as much. He’s still in the corner, granted, but its probably reading while Rantaro sits next to him on his phone instead of moping!)

Kiyo’s also in therapy now. They all have therapy scheduled into their school weeks, but Kiyo has a session besides. Fabrication or not, everyone’s backstories are functionally now ‘real’ and need to be dealt with. Kiyo, Maki, and Kokichi got hit particularly hard on that front. Those scars run deep, but are starting to heal.

Of the students with whole-body injuries, Kiyo probably has the most manageable physical symptoms at this stage. He has to have long sleeves and generally keep as covered as he can so that he can subdue the part of his mind that expects the skin is still raw and flaking (it isn’t, but phantom sensations suck). Overheating pushes him toward a panic state like the end of his trial, which doesn’t exactly gel with the first point, but he’s working on it. Rantaro and Kokichi, occasionally Shuichi, tend to notice and start to defuse the situation. Part of me wonders if he’d have a black lace parasol on sunny days to lean in to the ‘mystery’ around him, plus for the sheer Aesthetic of it.

KIRUMI

Speaking of full-body injuries: Kirumi. She has similar ‘got-to-keep-covered’ issues to Kiyo, particularly wearing heavier work gloves now just to minimize any potential for cuts (and, in the back of her mind, ropeburn). Breaking several bones on impact was rough, though fast enough that she’s had remarkable improvement in a relatively short period of time. She started out on crutches, which made it difficult for her to keep up with her workaholic inclinations, but unlike some of the other students she has at least an idea of “when to quit” as not to make things worse. She’s still genuinely lost some bone density resulting from her treatment and coping methods, finding that she really does need to lean on her friends on occasion, but she is still resolute she is a care-giver, damn it. On both physical and mental fronts she’s dealing with reclaiming her agency and independence.

Kirumi is one of the few, with Maki, whose talent courses actively discourage the kinds of behavior they need for personal growth and mental health maintenance. Kirumi is still reconciling her “rewrite”, the encoded passivity in her and clash of her “selfless devotion” against her own will to live and thrive, a nightmarish reminder that You Are Not Your Own. The “Ultimate” maid needs to be agreeable, to follow orders, and hasn’t the tampering just improved her proficiency at her craft? Why be so upset? Never mind having to reconstruct her proper ability to tell people “no”, having to re-learn it’s okay to do things for yourself; according to her programmed instinct, her classes, those very things are antithetical to her talent. And everything relies on that talent, doesn’t it?

Kirumi and Kokichi are the two in Class 79 who were discharged with mobility devices that got students in the other classes… more than mildly concerned about what the hell happened to all of these freshmen (well, first year at HPA anyway), but luckily for HPA administration they’re also probably the two people least likely to offer details.

THE RIBS

There are enough students who have chest pain and associated issues that they made a club about it. It started out as Miu, Ryoma, and Kaito all independently concluding there was no way in hell they were making it through a mile run and sitting on the bleachers. Once they’d had an opportunity to gather themselves again, they do as teens are wont to do and started talking to each other. Hypoxia is an oddly effective experience to bond over. They call themselves the RIBs, standing for “Respiratory-Issue Beleaguered” (students), mostly because it made Miu laugh and for as irritating as the sound could be they’d missed it.

Kaede, Tenko, Gonta, and Kokichi also stop by from time-to-time, meaning precisely half of the 14 active Class 79 students revolving-door through this unofficial student group. HPA took notice. Class 79 has its own gym class, now, taking into account the state of everyone. One could argue that should have been the case from the onset. They would be correct.

RYOMA

Ryoma is fairly elusive. He generally keeps to himself and remains a Fairly Chill Guy with a cool temperament everyone wants to emulate (he doesn’t see what they see in him) and some Complicated Feelings now knowing he hasn’t killed anyone in the certified Real World and, by logic, should not have to have the memories of a hardened prisoner. He still does.  The persistent rasp in his voice now surprises nobody, but it took a few days for everyone in the class to stop flinching a little hearing it. He frequently hangs out in the animal shed with Gonta, Gundham, and Peko to take care of the cats.

MIU

We’ve seen quite a bit of Miu in the AU so far, but to recap a lot of her deal:

She loathes having to “take it easy” but will do so reluctantly

She tries to talk less to stretch out her working time as much as she can (even if she can’t resist just a little banter when Kokichi swings by)

She’s trying to approach her death with a sense of humor. A choker with a huge heart-shaped buckle replaces her usual necklaces with full awareness of the irony. Ha-ha, a choker. It’s a dare for anybody to bring it up, ‘I’ve said it before anyone else could’. The first thing she did waking up was try and make an autoerotic asphyxiation joke. It did not make her feel better like she thought it would.

Miu spends most of her time in her lab, now. Granted, she did that already, but she’s particularly fixated on re-creating a certain Ultimate Robot, ground-up if she has to. Fortunately, she has a team assembled (re: two upperclassmen and the Ultimate Supreme Shit-for-brains). We’ll see how this pans out soon enough.

When not re-building Kiibo outright, she ““takes a break”” innovating in other areas (re: prototyping potential features for kIIbo, usually testing them on a bored Kokichi. He usually complies because Miu is one of the few who doesn’t look at him with a patronizing amount of pity she’s Not boring. Mm-hmm. All there is to it.)

Miu does not resent Gonta (or Kokichi, for that matter) for killing her. There's a small extent to which she's a little relieved she was stopped from going through with her plan to kill Kokichi, and a much bigger disconnect between her idea of reality and her memory of Chapter 4. Miu died in a VR game within another VR game. Having messed around with the programming and guts of the nested simulation personally, it still seems fake. She didn't really die, no matter how real it felt; they were in a simulation. Logically, she's well aware of how it works and the consequences, but it doesn't feel like it was more than a glorified fever dream on an emotional level. Both Gonta and Kokichi are more outwardly traumatized by her death than Miu as a byproduct of how she's processing it. She's not "better off" or "less impacted" so much as "disassociated from the whole thing and very much wanting to put it behind them before it catches up with her", thus burying herself in work and trying as hard as she can to bring back the one person she wants to comfort her.

Kiibo's absence is not great for her abandonment issues. It is hard to blame him when he never had a physical body to begin with, though. 

GONTA

Gonta is also with the RIBs, and reeling from it the most visibly of everyone on account of just how. Much, his death was. An allergic reaction blocking off the air, puncturing at least one lung for certain, and living long enough to feel the shrapnel of the laptop lodge into the wound alongside the scythe, the fire quickly eating away any oxygen, any hope of gasping another breath… yeah no he acts as much the gentleman as ever but he is not okay. As Resident Buff Nature Boy Gonta tanked it better than anyone else in the class could have, but the sheer excess of the thing gets to him. Fond memories of setting a campfire in the woods with his adoptive family are overwritten, vespidae in general… hitting differently. But Gonta is kind, to a fault. More resolute than ever to make himself into a kind of person not perceived as ‘too intimidating’ to be friends with, acknowledging the capacity he has for violence is difficult. Somewhere deep down he knows that everybody does, especially in their circumstances, but still acts as though his case is exceptionally bad (nobody else does. This does not deter him, becoming a little less gullible when its least helpful).

He is also not as disconcerted by the occasional spontaneous sensation that your insides are going to lose structural integrity, even with no stitches to pop, that with only the damaged wake and no piercing sharp pain to focus on and blame for the mess could potentially be perceived as a bizarre, abstracted kind of crawling feeling from the inside-out. Things in motion, displaced from where they are meant to be. He knows it isn’t bugs, isn’t glass and metal and plastic, that it isn’t anything but himself. A teeny-tiny part of him wishes it were. At least being shelter for a hive of some sort would be helpful. Aren’t gentlemen helpful, they improve life for people, make things better and how could anyone even look at you again knowing what you’re capable of, who in their right mind would talk to you, you’re going to end up alone again talking to stray cats in the alley since not even the wolves would stay—

Gonta also has extra therapy. He already had to work out self-worth issues, but the game pushed them to interfere too much in daily life not to actively work on.

KAITO

Kaito has made several background and supporting appearances without much central attention just yet. It's not that I don't like him or anything (I do!) but I guess because it seems like well-worn territory in V3 fic to me? Kaito is endlessly proud of Maki and Shuichi (Himiko too, less personally) for "winning" in the face of the killing game, and the training trio of them meet back up again regularly. Only.

It's different, now. 

He's no longer sick and dying, but his lungs 'top out' at a certain level of activity and refuse to take in more air, this burning sensation that leaves him only able to huff and wheeze and brings his training regiment to a dead stop. He treasures those last moments in his failed execution where he got to see the stars, because a lingering anxiety in the back of his mind won't let him forget that he never will again. Not the way he'd dreamed of, the way he'd planned to, the way he'd centered his identity around. There is no way, as things are, that he will pass all the physical exams to become a proper astronaut. 

The drawn-out deterioration of his health during the simulation chipped away at his physical lungs at a rate too gradual for the countermeasures the rescue team implemented; TAPP did more overt physical damage to Kaito than anyone else. It could certainly be worse and he is gradually improving, but some degree of it is permanent. It haunts him. He's trying not to think about it.

It does, though, drive a wedge between him and his sidekicks; the survivors are planning their futures, and Kaito is not too far from a slight tailspin without any idea what his might look like for the first time he can recall. Space has been the dream since he was a kid (as has getting there in this specific role) and it almost feels like a rejection. Like he got too cocky, and the cosmos decided it didn't want him. 

It starts to make a little more sense, then, that he starts willingly hanging out with Kokichi. They went through the hangar together, of course, but even besides the traumabond (and a need to, after he woke from his coma, make sure the little brat is still alive, damn it, you can't run away anymore it counts now) but. If anyone else gets having such drastically shifted circumstances that life as you'd imagined it no longer makes logistical sense, it's probably the leader without an organization. There's no need to explain the feelings of inadequacy, or the aimlessness, going through the motions of classes and formal education because what the hell else am I going to do, right now? It's familiar. 

Kokichi needs someone willing to chase him, no matter how circuitous the route becomes. Kaito needs someone willing to shake him by the shoulders and snap him out of his own head, so sure it's all-or-nothing and that if he can't be the Luminary as he'd dreamed of it whatever happens next is immaterial in comparison. Kaito needs to adapt and roll with the punches, Kokichi needs to double back from his logical leaps from point A to point Q and articulate his thoughts clearly to other people (at least some of the time.) The two of them concoct little daily and weekly rituals, like Kokichi stealing Kaito's notebook and drawing in it, just because the consistency of company reminds them both that they aren't the only one going through this. 

None of the other students quite get it, but have come to accept it.

KOKICHI

Then there’s Kokichi.

Ah, Kokichi, whose whole deal in this scenario inspired me to write about this AU at all (and who manages to weasel his way into every comic and a other entries in these notes) . I’m biased, I know, but there are also a few reasons he’s singled out in-universe as well:

A) So a hydraulic press does not slam down quickly. The pause-and-play of the video deliberately makes it look much faster than it was; watching enough of the hydraulic press channel makes it abundantly clear that it was not instant. Kokichi was impaled with two crossbow bolts (the one in the back being bad enough already), poisoned by those bolts, and then pressed. He had to have felt non-zero of the Pressing, which, considering it already had to be agony before bones started breaking… the rest of the class might not have been fond of him, sure, but he’s right there with Gonta on “sheer level of excess.” Not even Maki is at a point of wishing that on him. Not after finding out how drawn out and excruciating it was. Veering into headcanon, I’m going to add “sleep deprivation” on the pile as exacerbating the whole thing, given his conspiracy whiteboard and everything after the concussion, honestly.

Combined with the World’s Worst Placebo Effect, King Horse takes the crown for top “my entire body hurts most of the time” severity. It’s not a desirable one, but when your previous life is all but erased there is exactly one choice available between Big and Home. Let it be said Kokichi Ouma has never half-assed anything he’s set his mind to, ever.

B) Ouma is paranoid and distrusting, which adds the psychological angle of “you literally shot me in the back” to a poison-laced crossbow bolt in his mind. TAPP will very literally never let him forget the bolt burying itself in the muscle of his back, barely kept from severing his spinal cord; he won’t forget the shivering and shaking from the poison, or the bile rising in the back of his throat handing Kaito the antidote. (He still wanted to live. He forfeit the right, he thought, after getting Gonta and Miu killed, but he still wanted to. That was all the more reason to quadruple-down on the press idea and making their three deaths mean something, damn it. Three, because Kaito could live. If the killing game ends there is no execution. It’ll be over. Can’t take back the past, but at least one of the pair of you has to walk out of this forsaken place!)

(… Can you really believe that? Or is it just another lie.

A lie you want, with all the heart they’re so sure you do not have, to blithely believe. There has to be a cure for whatever the hell has gotten into Kaito once the game ends and they can look for it, it might even stop cold the moment the game ends. That dumbass space cadet can go back to his sidekicks and he better appreciate it, the comradery you’ll never have, because he is the designated Hero and Heroes get happy endings. You want-want-want-want to trust in that lie, to trust him with the collected thoughts and notes and pieces of you spilled across reams of paper that have been so pointlessly important for you to keep secret this whole time. For once in your life, you want to believe you will not be betrayed. You want to believe in the closest thing you have left to a friend.

It will, in fact, be the last thing you do.)

C) Ouma is paranoid and distrusting. Again. Only this flavor has more to do with his persistent denial anything is wrong, in turn making things a lot worse for himself. Mental trauma and impressions of physical sensations can have physical effects. Clinging to his persona and trying to keep bouncing around like nothing ever happened turned a very difficult but potentially manageable condition into small amounts of permanent nerve damage within the first day of waking up. It screws with his coordination; just what he needed at a school that prizes talent above all else, when he is a leader with no organization and proficiencies in sleight of hand, forgery, lockpicking, and generally evading anything that might threaten him because he can’t take very many hits.

Whoops.

D) Kokichi was last of the class to wake up from the simulation, even after the survivors. They thought he was actually dead for a bit. Just when they were thinking of  giving up on him Kokichi Ouma, SHSL Stubborn Son of a Bitch, refuses to stay down for the count.

HPA already knew Class 79 would need accommodations on account of their negligence, but it became much harder to sweep things under the rug when they thought they’d actually killed a student. Even worse, thirteen witnesses have been actively fraternizing and scaled the flashback-gaslighting required to cover it up to easily exceed what their current technology is capable of.

Half the class was positive Ouma was playing dead specifically to fuck with them and light the fire under them to act. He and Kaito are the only ones to know without a shred of doubt that he was not. He still gladly takes the credit, though.

E) Class 79 as a whole already adapted to Ouma Being Ouma, so when the definition of ‘Being Ouma’ expanded he’s still pretty distinct. He hangs out around the people closest to him often, particularly Miu, Kaito, and Rantaro, but the entire class knows now that he’s pretty much beyond the point of perfidy. Even if he were to lie about being in more pain than he is at a given moment, there’s constantly enough underlying truth in how vulnerable he is that it’s not strategically worth trying to use as a manipulative tactic. It’s too real. Plus, he knows better than to boy-that-cried-wolf his way out of help from his classmates after getting lost on campus once and fainting before he found his way back.

K1-B0

K1-B0, as far as has been established, is being re/built. Miu is spearheading the project. Presumably, he is currently hanging out on at least one computer in the school, somewhere. Per the AU, though, Chapter 6 did go a bit differently than canon, so we’ll catch up with him soon.

TSUMUGI

Nobody is exactly certain what happened to Shirogane. Or, at the very least, nobody in the class knows. Admin is certainly not about to tell them. Wouldn’t it be just like the Ultimate Cosplayer to Theseus her way back into their lives following a single loose thread…

THE SURVIVORS

Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko each emerged from the simulation minimally physically harmed in a lasting sense beyond initial fatigue from being hooked up for so long. Each is still moving forward on their established character arc: Himiko is finding her motivation, Maki is learning to open up, and Shuichi is becoming more sure of himself and his detective abilities.

I think Himiko begins embracing the 'stage' side of her magic, considering that TAPP was blocking my mana, and you know what? I survived a killing game, and I didn't even need it. What else can I do without my mana? As time goes on, she'll likely value her own practical skills more rather than relying on her want of more fantastical powers. Not to say she'd disown them, but more that she could admit to herself it's more for fun than a need to affix something exceptional to her identity. She is enough as she is.

Maki enters HPA and immediately requests transfer out of 'Ultimate Assassin' classes. She hates fighting, per canon, and after going through the simulation she is no longer afraid of any authority figure that may deny her because she has certifiably seen worse. She initially tries to pivot and become the Ultimate Child Caregiver, for Real This Time; she is genuinely pretty good with kids. After a little incident nearly choking Kokichi, though? It confirms what she'd been afraid of all along: her patience is too thin, her instinct to defend too heavy on the trigger. She talks to Peko about it, among other people, Mukuro and Sakura chief among the other classes. She'd made their acquaintances during combat training in the first few days at HPA. She especially confides in Kaede, who carries a more-domestic-less-battlescorn perspective on it she can't help but appreciate. Kaede takes her to not-Claire's, playing with accessories and make-up and generally reclaiming some of the girlhood Maki has effectively never been allowed to have. In the whole process, Maki realizes she wants more than anything to protect the ability to have that kind of frivolity, that freedom: she changes tracks again, to become a SHSL Bodyguard.

Shuichi is a difficult one to place for me, exactly. He's in a state of becoming significantly more confident in the wake of the simulation, but the deviation from canon has turned the main conflict away from ending a destructive cycle and towards fighting the idea of predetermination by an external force. Shirogane was predetermined to stay in the Reserve Course despite her skills and aspirations, and railed against it; Kiibo was predetermined to be an AI helper and not a person, but embraced the role so hard he developed a soul of his own; Maki denies her talent and changes her destiny, Himiko embraces hers.

I suppose Saihara must fall somewhere in the middle, then. An observer steadfastly declaring that yes, there were aspects of life shaped for them beyond their control (entry into the simulation if they wanted a taste of success, the killing game, the "character rewrites" overriding the people they were before...) and yes they cannot control everything. What happened has happened. There are always going to be things you can't control (like how severely you burn in the sun, or whether you get headaches with the lights up too high, or even if your dream life rockets away too fast for you to catch unless you want to lose what you still have) but you can adapt to it. It's tempting to give in, to consider it all a lost cause, to submit to the forces you feel are puppeting you, but see. You keep living anyway, because you have to. The only way forward is through. Even if you were a puppet, you're still an independent you, and that means something. Maybe you can't snap your strings, but you can sure as hell stretch them out and bend them in a way you like better than this one.

Not having total control doesn't mean the control you do have doesn't matter.

So Shuichi is taking up cases as a detective, now. Seeing how he likes it. If not? Well. Skills are transferable. 

He'll be okay.

They all will.

----

(The first screenshot I took of this ask to begin drafting vs. the last one:

I'm sorry I am bad at timely responses but I hope they are Good.)

[vixenicks]

@ozymoron HIIII YES I'D LOVE TO disclaimer this will be very all over the place also my mind is totally blanking rn bear with me (->🧸)

i don't usually write like cohesive headcanon lists also sorry that this took me like 3 weeks to get back to im sick in the head, also this will probably mostly just be a more comprehensive compilation of stuff i've already posted. also some miah too

biggest fucking hypermobile valeska truther

do i think he has a medical dx for whatever connective tissue disorder he has going on? absolutely not

his joints dislocate and pop whenever he strains anything too far, if anything i think he's a fan

never in his life would he use a mobility aid of any kind

you can't give him compression wear he'll lose his sparkle. (the sparkle in question being him popping his fingers in and out of their joints to freak people out)

plus just in the show he's always bending and moving constantly

he sits in chairs with his knees bunched up his legs folded over he spins in circles extends his arms

you can't convince me he doesn't sit at tables with his leg propped over his own shoulder

rip Jerome Valeska you would've loved bending over backwards across a table

and subsequently pulling something in your lower back that will continue to pop out of place and ache for the next like four years

again, probably not a huge issue i think he's a fan

i think that Miah is also hypermobile but like she's taking way better care of her body lets be real

compressive braces for her knees and elbows she's like fine

also the opposite end of the spectrum. the chronic aching is killing her. you however could not pay Jerome to take a tylenol

sleeping happens to him. rarely

honest to god i think the most hours of sleep he gets in gotham are when he's dead

when he does get any sleep he wakes up on the floor and with his feet like curled over his head

everything is where it definitely should not be

vague sounds of furniture moving around in arkham its just jerome moving in his sleep

a loud thunk followed by a sound similar to when birds ruffle up their feathers (he has a blanket wrapped around his body and folded over his face. he's stuck)

personally headcanon Jerome to have aspd, npd and bpd aswell :3c

i could go more into depth with that but its 9am. it's like basically canon though i think. like it has to be

his teeth are majorly fucked up (projecting)

his canines protrude up at the top of his gums he has a chipped front tooth and sharp molars (projecting) (i have a reference image. btw)

god knows his mother never took him to the dentist and you could not honestly try and convince me that he brushes his teeth

or does any form of self care for that matter

there's a reason his skin is so red during s4 his ass did not use any type of moisturizer after his face got cut off

alternatively i think he probably had alot of upkeep when he was under Galavan

free reign in a nice penthouse and he already stole the pajamas and weapons and food

he didn't get alot of nice things growing up, who wouldn't raid a rich dude's house and use all 57 of the soaps in the bathroom

he's making potions. and drinking them don't ask why his puke smells like winter candy apple

anyways. i think that's another contributor to him never really investing time in personal hygiene post getting murdered

reminders of Galavan make him nauseated why would he

he still has a scar on his neck, he probably doesn't remember all of it, he probably prefers it that way

Jerome was so crazy devoted to Galavan it makes me sick and i think we should talk about it more

nobody ever found out that he was behind the Maniax. nobody ever found out him killing Jerome was an act of betrayal. Jerome actively told his father that Galavn actually saw something in him, that Galavan believed he'd be a star

and he believed that !!!!! he would've gone to the ends of the earth for that man and he got killed by him the same fucking day

you can see the genuine admiration during s2, the constant need for approval and validation from him, the constant feeding into that need for approval and validation

the confusion when Galavan stabs him in the neck, his last words literally being him questioning everything he'd been promised before

idk. probably a pretty big contributor to Jerome becoming significantly more detached and unhinged post his resurrection, to him consistently needing to be the one in control of everything and everyone, even if it's under the guise of chaos

eye dee kay. like there's no way he didn't internalize Something after the Galavan thing

there's alot more sloppiness in his actions, alot of blind faith and drive to do things purely for attention and amusement pre getting murdered that just isn't there once he's revived

he still got a more impactful legacy out of it though so get fucked Theodore

uhhh i think he picks his skin alot. there's like a word for that i forgot what it is leave me alone

lip picker nail biter eyelash puller

if you don't let him use your pistol as a stim toy he's going to tear the top layer of his lips off

also canon but a box of crayons could've saved him

he's a drawer he's a colorer

did you see the inside of that fuckass claires diary let that boy make bad art for fun

would love the smell of gasoline i mean this in a negative way

for sure huffed enough markers to kill off the left side of his brain as a kid

turns his eyelids inside out bends his hand backwards

i think he just loves freaking people out via microdosing on body horror

ok that's all I'll definitely add to this though stay posted thanks for the ask

[everything-is-as-it-was]

A thought about Derek Morgan

I made a recent post about Morgan wearing a suit and then I got to thinking about Why. Like, obviously we see later he's more comfortable in more casual clothes, and they offer him more mobility since he's usually the one to give chase if an unsub runs, plus he has to take care of all of the Kicking In Doors business.

So... why the suit, dude?

And it made me think of what a friend of mine said when I asked him why he wouldn't go to the grocery store in sweatpants. Because he said if a black man goes out in more causal clothes, all people might see is a thug. They judge him based on his skin color and clothes and don't bother to take another look. He said he needed to wear "proper" clothes just to be treated normally.

And thinking back to Morgan, let's be honest, he was the Token Black Guy in the beginning. When he got into the FBI, he likely had to prove himself a lot more than any of his colleagues. In general, he probably would have been judged for his clothing a lot more if he wore something causal, than, say, Garcia. And of course it's not fair, but he probably thought he HAD to wear a suit to be treated with the proper amount of respect in the FBI. (I'm not saying that's the case for the members within the BAU, but in general.)

But as the seasons go on, we see him become SO much more comfortable with his (now) family at the BAU, opening up to them about his past trauma, banter with Garcia, etc. And he loses the suit.

I guess my hypothesis here is that in the beginning he wore a suit to make sure he got the respect he deserved. Because he'd had experiences before where people stopped looking when they saw his clothes and the color of his skin. But as he began to get to know the people in the BAU more, they became like family to him and he knew they really saw him, he began to wear what he wanted and not that terrible suit.

Disclaimer: I am white and I'm not trying to make assumptions about the Black Experience in America. I'm going off of what a Black friend of mine told me and thought it probably applied to CM.

[bloombubs]

Firstly, yes, you did tag it correctly! And second, please feel free to give me all of your thesis statements on Adrian Chase, if you wanna write a 10,000 word essay about that man best believe I will read it.

I also really love the idea of him having someone to come home to, to take care of and be taken care of by (and by God I love imagining I’m that person). I just want him to feel loved.

thank you for the ao3 help!!

adrian needs to be taken care of like the precious lil person he is and someone who accepts his....quirks for him.

As for thesis, of Adrian showing how he loves.......here we go:

Okay, small disclaimer before we delve into this: this is solely based on the perception I have in my head of Adrian Chase. This also isn’t listed in any particular order (just the order I copied and pasted it from lol). The more i wrote the more carried away I got oops. this isn't edited or revised but just pure nonsense spewing from the depths of my mind

Words of affirmation

In my mind, Adrian will constantly tell you that he loves you and that he misses you–especially when appropriate after the relationship develops. Without a doubt, he would compliment you on your looks, your new haircut, if he likes an outfit, if you smell good. He’s a chatty guy, he will say whatever comes straight to his mind. As for other things, I think you would tell him if you like hearing if he’s proud of you or deeper words of affirmations like “I value you”--he would say it, but he definitely says it in his own way. He definitely shows his appreciation better than words because in my head, I don’t see him being the best at articulating his feelings into words. But like, “you’re awesome!” or “dude (affectionately), you have no idea how cool you are for doing that.” Again, not as deep or romantic, but you know the intention of it. 

In bed? Different story. He loves praising you and….he loves being praised too. He will tell you how good you feel, how good you make him feel, complimenting anything his eyes land on, your skills, how in love he is with you. 

Quality time

Adrian is a sucker for quality time. Adrian in my mind is a bit clingy, but not in a negative way. I’m sure he gave you the proper space when you ask, but as mentioned in my other writings–Adrian wants to do everything with you from the most mundane activities to the most exciting. Doctor’s appointment? He’d be there holding your hand. Sitting on the couch with you and doing separate hobbies (Idk, I can see him cleaning his weapons and you’re doing a normal hobby, with the tv on in the background)? His favorite. Cooking dinner? He’s right beside you, or sitting down nearby to talk and ramble. Dancing in the living room together? He’s throwing it back. Singing horribly in his Vigilante mobile? You know it. 

Oh, don’t even get me started on his rambles. I’m not sure where this one falls in since it’s between physical touch and quality time, but I can vividly imagine this: two of you sitting on the couch, eating dinner, the tv playing in the background, your back is pressed against the arm of the couch and his is on the other, legs intertwined. Adrian is just talking, telling you random facts, stupid details about his day, going on about his missions that he promised he wouldn’t disclose with you (but does anyway), he talks about movies, the news—honestly, all everything and anything. 

Just seeing you in his line of sight is comforting enough for him. 

Coming back from patrols and missions truly makes his night when he comes home to see you, or knowing he’s hours closer to having you in his arms again.

He doesn’t want to miss a moment with you. 

Physical touch

This one definitely develops in the span of a relationship, all for different reasons. Emotionally, I think it takes a bit for him to understand what feels nice to be comforted and how you want to be comforted because each person is different. But also for him? He gives me touch deprived energy before you came into his life. 

He loves having you in his arms, making sure you feel safe and comfortable.

Basic things I’ve mentioned: massages, dancing, lotions on the leg, coming home and embracing you and lifting you off the ground with a twirl, peppering your face and neck with kisses, caressing your skin, needing to be touching you somehow, anyway. 

Brushing your hair, taking baths and showers with you, love bites, holding your hand while driving, back rubs to help you fall asleep, laying his head in your lap, his hand on your thigh when sitting together, totally fine with being either the small or big spoon. 

Obviously he can’t keep his hands off of you and you wouldn’t want them off of you. 

This man will make sure you’re satisfied before the night ends. He’ll keep going until you both can’t anymore.

Acts of service

Adrian shows his love with acts of service. I feel like this one tied with quality time, just in the sense that in the beginning of the relationship, these were the top two dominant ones. The basic act of service would be doing anything to protect you, right? It’s a given. Domestic wise? He would spoil you with simple things. I mentioned this before, but he definitely would love helping you apply lotion to your body, massages (physical touch, I know, but your body aches and he just wants you to be feeling your best self), if you cook, he cleans the dishes–or sometimes he cooks too. Holding doors open for you, developing photos you take together, killing the scary bugs, definitely pampering you wholesomely and in a risque manner—this man ALWAYS asks what he can do to make your day better. 

I can see him running a nice bath for you, pouring you a cheap glass of wine, heating up a towel for you when you get out, wrapping you up in one of his shirts or hoodies before pulling you into bed.

 Receiving gifts

This may not be the typical gift, but I can’t see him having a whole lot of money, but he sure is thoughtful. He’ll surprise you with your favorite snacks (this could be acts of service too imo), if you have a favorite show/band/book he will try to buy you something that reminds you of it, or even merch. He’ll fill your gas tank up without telling you because he wants to surprise you. He’ll definitely come home with dinner from Fennel Fields too. Oh!!! If they go on a mission a bit far, Adrian will pick up something random, but something that reminds him of you.

Do dick pics from days being apart count?

[a-mess-of-a-crow]

This petition is for all fans of the movie Megamind, who are increasingly frustrated about the new Trailer.

I personally think its horrendous and has nothing to do with the original.

Please watch the Trailer yourself, without loosing braincells of course.

If you want to keep the image of the first Megamind then please sign the petition, it's just a minute :)

Thank you for your time!

Also OF COURSE I'LL SAY MY SHIT ABOUT THAT SHIT TRAILER!

FIRST OF

don't make a sequel without OG voice actors, unless they are dead or don't want to, I'm pretty sure Will Ferrell would've said yes. Since 30% of the movie was improvised. And to conclude that they had fun, would be an understatement.

Sure yeah, they care about money, it's obvious, but if you want to make a real seller, don't cut cost in the wrong corners.

The animation looks ((as the YouTube comments under the OG trailer say)) like a Mobile game Ad. Seriously. It looks goofy, but not the good type.

The weird side kick girl looks ripped from Miraculous. As well as the 'Super villains' which just pop up out of nowhere.

It's very clear that the writers haven't rewatched the first movie to get something from there.

They just plopped in some bad guys, who all have ridiculous looking outfits and also look like Miraculous coming around the corner with a lawsuit, especially the generic mime dude.

And weather lady. ((srsly thats one of the first villain in Miraculous, if i recount my memory right))

Over all, the animation in of itself looks terrible. From teleporting men in the background, to non-existing firing animation, clothes clipping, etc.

Shoutout to The Meme Lord for sacrificing himself and collecting those

Just a reminder that in the original Megamind, there was an Easteregg planted in the Megamind speech to the public, were Metroman appears for one frame behind Megamind.

Also shout out to Pinholes!

So yeah, Megamind was a pretty great animated Movie.

Don't let Peacock- ((i swear i wanna make an inappropriate joke about it))

((wait i already disclaimed that this blog may have 18+ content))

DON'T LET THOSE PEE-COCK MOTHERFUCKERS RUIN MEGAMIND!

Also it would be nice if you share the link of the Petition with people :) it helps

[crack-your-chrome]

About the writer

Hi there! My name is Cola, I use he/him and she/her interchangeably. I mainly rp a canon divergent Ironwood and this blog will reflective of that once I nut up and get this thing together. I work 45+ hours every week and am currently searching for a second job, so while I do tend to be a bit busy please don’t let my busyness(hate this word) discourage you from reaching out! I make time for things that are important to me, and right now I am so fixated on RWBY as a concept that this is one of those things. I love chatting and writing so if you ever have an idea but don't know how to flesh it out? I'm a details person at my core, I'm more than happy to give my input and suggestions <3

I will also add as a disclaimer, I am mainly a mobile user, so if I ever like something and you're like "omfg this dude..." literally just msg me, it was 100% just a mistake.

I never know what to put for these sorts of things, so please accept this bare-bones offering as I continue to theme and set up this account.

[sunflower-butch]

Пчелка, if i can forgive you for a little late response then you'll have to forgive me for completely forgetting this blog exist. (I feel like me joking about being a dumb of ass has never been truer)

Here's where you're wrong though because chocolate that is just a little bit bitter is the best. (opinions on pickles?)

it is pretty old! I got it from my favourite little book store. I have a bit of a thing for buying old books and they have such a good selection (second hand book stores wooo!) I have to keep myself from coming home with the whole store!

aye me too! same with Legally Blonde and Scream being on the list. I think i'm gonna watch scream soon with it being spooky season, I might even use it for my Ronancetober prompt (which means i'd be watching it in like 1-2 days so i'll probably stick to my original plan)

do you have a favourite horror movie? or just movie in genera?

You're always welcome to send me more songs for me to put the random ass colour/place association my brain gives me into words. I do gotta share one song i've been obsessed with for the last couple days or else i'll explode. Two Weeks by Grizzly Bear which sounds like a very clean but not empty (which probably makes no sense but bare with me i'll give picture reference) anyway it's a mix between a clean but not empty black, white, and gray. and even though it's not a Christmas song it reminds me of one, thus the immediate memories of me, all my siblings driving around at night looking at the crazy Christmas light decorations, it was always so peaceful and very pretty I wish I could just like... take the memory out of my head show you Giver style. Disclaimer: the only photo I took out of all of the one's i'm about to show you is the sunbeam one.

MAY I PRESENT TO YOU! CLEAN BUT FULL COLOURS

is that last one the floor is Costco? Possibly.

goat milk ice cream sounds so good? Even though i'm lactose intolerant i'd risk it all for ice cream.

I laughed a little when you said you only get a little snow because winter last from November until March which I don't really mind until March since I was Not Built For The Sun, it only get annoying in March then i'm over all the snow that's still sitting around.

wait dude congradulations (or however you spell it) on doing something about your crush very cool of you! like a week ago I seen a cute girl, tripped in front of her then hid in the bathroom for 15 mins. nothing weird or awkward friendly flirting only *thumbs up emoji except i've already mentioned my computer is old as fuck and doesn't work properly so no emoji's for me unless i'm using mobile* I love talking to you too! you can be my weird american internet friend. Not to sure about the dm thing maybe eventually (not that I don't comfortable i'm just hella shy and scared of rejection (though I don't even know how'd since you're the one always replying lol)

i'm feeling a lot better even enough to actually bake cookies!

cookie pictures as a thank you for being so nice when I was sick <333

your weird Canadian friend who's totally not freaking out about Alvvay's new album being released tomorrow

-el

HELLO

Let me start off with I AM SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR NEVER ANSWERING

I had every intention of doing so and then October put me through the RINGER and my brain decided my inbox was a cursed place and ignored it so bad. I did NOT mean to just never reply, I swear <33

I’ll give you that! A little bitter is good! I like mine more sweet, but there is such a thing as too sweet! Also, I feel like this is the wrong answer, but I really do not like pickles 💔

That’s such a cool hobby!!! The only used bookstore we have local is… Well it’s a religious bookstore and I’ve not felt like checking it out 😅 But I love old books! My dad has given me a few of his own. I love my yellowed, falling apart, old book smell LOTR trilogy so much. I should sit and read them sometime

I still need to watch Scream!!! I did, however, finally watch Legally Blonde, and that was an EXCELLENT decision, 11/10, highly recommend. We love intelligent, badass women in this household.

Admittedly, I’m kind of a big baby when it comes to horror, less so in a blood and gore way and more in an I have anxiety and jump scares might send me into cardiac arrest ajdkdkdkksks. That said! The best horror adjacent thing I’ve watched is probably Ginger Snaps!! I have a feeling Scream might top it, just a vibe, but I have to watch it first lol. How about you?? Do you have a favorite horror movie? 👀

OH OH OH I LOVE THAT SONG!!! You are so so so right, I can see it!! If you’re interested, here’s a trio for you: “Sports Car” by Valley (became a recent favorite!), “Infinitely Ordinary” by The Wrecks, and “The View Between Villages” by Noah Kahan (I love this man!!!). Also!! That sunbeam photo is so lovely!!! That belongs as the photo on someone’s playlist for sure

It is! I am also lactose intolerant, so goddamn worth it dude 😋

That’s wild!! I honestly wish we got snow more often, I just wish it didn’t come with ice ajskdkkdkd. We have… Winter? It’s like Christmas through mid February. We get ice storms and sleet and MAYBE like three snow days 😭

Thank you so much! It’s very exciting. I have discovered I am in fact hopeless when not behind a screen. It’s easy to flirt when you’re not stuttering and red in the face. I am SO MUCH MORE CONFIDENT here, it’s wild. But I guess I’m doing something right ahdkdkkddk.

Weird American friend is fun! You can be my cool as fuck Canadian friend!! I know nobody there, though oddly enough my grandparents lived in Alberta for several years! No worries/no pressure as far as DMing, this is fun too! <333 Also!!! I’m still 100% down to watch LOTR with you, and I promise not to be obnoxious and spout off facts that everyone already knows (did you know the riders of Rohan were all women in beards—[GUNSHOT])

Those cookies look delicious!!! Perfectly chewy, by the looks of it! I’m guessing you enjoy baking?? <33

THE ALBUM I NEED TO GO BINGE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW SHIT I GOT TOO WRAPPED UP IN NOAH KAHAN

- your very, very sorry, weird American friend Max/Lo

[creepyjirachi]

sexy homemade one hour chicken noodle soup recipe

it’s soup time.........

i love soup. this makes almost a gallon! it comes out really delicious. keeps in the fridge for about a week, or you can freeze it for up to six months! plus it makes your house smell amazing all day. let me know if you like it!

ingredients:

8 cups low sodium chicken broth or stock (stock is more savory, while broth has a milder flavor. personally i use half broth, half stock.)

2 cups water

8 oz egg noodles

1 rotisserie chicken (either whole or in parts, as long as it’s cooked and has skin and bones! i usually use wings, drumsticks, and either one breast or two thighs)

2-3 stalks celery

2-3 large carrots

1 medium onion

4 cloves garlic

1 tbs fresh oregano, or 1 tsp dried

1 tsp fresh thyme, or 1/3 tsp dried

2 bay leaves, fresh or dried

2 sprigs fresh rosemary, or 1/2 tbs dried

2 tbs fresh parsley. this one’s gotta be fresh

1 tbs butter

1 tsp olive oil

1/4 of a lemon

salt and pepper to taste

step 1: prep ingredients

chop your veggies and set them aside. personally i leave the onions and celery in large strips so i can remove them at the end, but if you want them to be in the final soup, go ahead and dice them! mince or press the garlic and set it aside.

for the chicken, you’re going to want meat for the soup and skin/bones for the broth. remove the wings and set them aside. shred about 2 cups of meat and put it in the fridge for later. set the skin and bones aside. resist the urge to eat cold chicken skin like a goblin.

step 2: saute veggies

place 1 tbs butter in a large stock pot. saute the onions, carrots, and celery over medium-high heat for about 5 minutes, or until the onions start to turn translucent. add the garlic and cook for another 2 minutes. 

step 3: soup time

add your herbs, broth/stock, 2 cups water, wings, chicken skin, and bones to the pot. bring to a gentle boil and let it simmer on medium low heat for about 30 minutes with the lid on. the longer you let it cook, the better it will taste! give it a stir and taste it every 10 minutes. once it’s to your liking, turn the heat down to low. the broth should be a little cloudier and brighter yellow than when you started. your house is probably smelling very chickeny by this point

step 3.5: noodle time

meanwhile............. in another pot, bring 8-10 cups of water, 1 tsp salt, and a drizzle of olive oil to a boil. add your egg noodles and cook them until they’re just under done, about 5 minutes. strain the noodles and set them aside. we’re in the home stretch now.....

step 4: assemble

remove the skin, bones, rosemary stems, bay leaves, and celery/onions (if you’re picky like me). add the noodles and the shredded chicken you set aside in the beginning, and let them cook for another 2-3 minutes. squeeze in the juice from your lemon wedge and add additional salt and pepper, if needed. TA DAA!

congratulations, you are a chef now. grab a hawaiian roll or your favorite crusty bread and enjoy that Bad Boy. this is what we in the business call, a hearty soup. 

[peejsocks]

I have a request from the prompt list! And your ask button/ inbox shows up on mobile 🙂

If it’s ok I pulled two prompts from two lists.

The first is from Saying I Love You Without Saying I Love You: “I don’t ever want to stop touching you” “good because I never want you to stop touching me”, and the second is from Prompts That Hit In All The Right Places: “use me”

I just thing they’d go so well together for Jackass the movie era curly haired Bam

Sorry, I’m the anon who just sent in a prompt request for bam, if smut is possible that’s be good. It’s just one of those days!

bam margera x f!reader

a/n: thank you for requesting, especially for bammy, he’s always a pleasure to write about :)

disclaimers/tags: smut. very nsfw. violence mentioned, blood. no Y/N. please practice safe sex.

prompts: “I don’t ever want to stop touching you” “good because I never want you to stop touching me” + “use me”

A familiar night with the Jackass crew, nothing groundbreaking. Except for the fact that this party was in a plain white home in the middle of nowhere, very Last House on the Left, or Beetlejuice. The night had yet to tell which.

The people throwing the party, who definitely didn't live there and thought it was funny to invite a bunch of drunk youths to this godforsaken land, were pretty cool. Mostly industry folks. Unfortunately for Bam, those invitations extended a little too far.

Laughing with Wee Man on a floral-themed turquoise couch, the sounds of a fight interrupt your peaceful moment. Following the commotion, Jason and you step out into the back of the property to see a familiar head of long dark hair being pushed around by at least three other dudes. Pontius and Steve-O are trying to get in the way of anything serious happening, but Knoxville seems to be almost succedding in convincing them to let Bam get a little roughed up, and to find someone with a camera.

You're not not a fan of violence, and everyone knew the youngest of the group was not your favorite. He nagged, you rolled your eyes, he noticed and tried hurting your feelings, you hurt his worse and he loses it. Cycle of life. Being a medical practitioner and nurse on set meant you had your fair share of interactions with him whenever something needed stiching or cleaning up, but even in pain he'd refuse to let you check him out if he wasn't spraying blood everywhere. He was proud, or didn't like you, or both.

Drawing you back into reality, a bottle of Jack Daniels shatters on the ground but not before hitting Bam right on the temple. You think, it’s hard to see over a crowd. Something was yelled too, and whatever it was certainly ticked your frenemy because there's more noise of glass breaking and he's swinging. Finally, your friends step in and some girl who probably organized the party came to kick the guys out. It doesn't go well, and when Bam moves to duck away from a sucker punch, his legs slip under him and he falls ass flat on the many shards on the ground. Idiot does not comput and rolls in pain, on top of more glass.

Drawing you back into reality, a bottle of Jack Daniels shatters on the ground but not before hitting Bam right on the temple. You think, it’s hard to see over a crowd. Something was yelled too, and whatever it was certainly ticked your frenemy because there's more noise of glass breaking and he's swinging. Finally, your friends step in and some girl who probably organized the party came to kick the guys out. It doesn't go well, and when Bam moves to duck away from a sucker punch, his legs slip under him and he falls ass flat on the many shards on the ground. Idiot does not comput and rolls in pain, on top of more glass.

At that, instinct kicks in and you’re by his side, also doing damage control with the woman.

“Hey, look, we didn’t start this,” You had no idea whether or nor that was true. “And our friend is bleeding. I’m a nurse, let me at least help him and then we’ll go”.

Eyes highlighted with pink eyeshadow look down at the boy still wincing on the ground, then back at you. "Upstairs, second door to your right, bottom drawer."

You don't even acknowledge the other guys before crouching down to Bam and putting his arm on your shoulder, using all your strengh to lift. Many eyes follow you inside.

In the bathroom, you laugh out loud over how useless this first aid kit is. What did you expect, really. Bam, who was placed on the edge of the soft lilac bathtub, asks what's so funny and when you show him the nearly empty box, he sighs and hits his head on the wall behind him.

"Easy, Rocky, don't wanna aggravate a concussion." That reminds you to check if there had been a direct hit to the temple and a hospital visit was needed. Coming closer, you see tears forming at the waterline of fiered up blue eyes.

You cringe a little and press your thumb to the right side of his forehead. He doesn't flinch and there's no blood around it, so you assume the worst did not happen. Relieved, your fingers snake to the nape of his neck and feel around his scalp to check for liquid leaking or bumps. Nothing either.

Bam's eyes are shut and he's just breathing, struggling but a little more relaxed under your touch. So you linger, fingertips still on his soft thick hair - wet with sweat and alcohol that was splashed in its direction - thumbs applying light pressure where his jaw and neck connect. Looking down at him, unwelcome thoughts about how pretty he looks dissipate shamefully when light irises catch you staring. Faking a cough and cutting off any physical contact, you spit "All good, no seemingly serious injuries." As you turn to grab some peroxide from the kit, Bam gets up to leave.

"No, no, no. There's blood spraying all over the floor from your hands and arms, sit down." You exaggerate and he stops but doesn't sit. "Spraying, Bam."

Back fully leaning on the wall, he sits back where he was without a word. How innovative for Bam Margera.

"Aha, tweezers." All set up, you sit on top of the closed toilet lid in front of the silent boy and start collecting tiny shards in a hand towel, eventually shaking it on the sink and moving on to clean the blood along his tattooed skin.

"I like some of these, they suit you." Wherever the hell that came from. A simple thank you. "Oh, so you have not lost the ability to speak. Good. Medically speaking, personally that's terrible news."

More comfortable, he confesses. "I feel like shit."

"You look like it too." It's half true, he is oily and covered in whiskey and dirt from the ground outside, but that signature long black coat is nice. Silver rings contrasting the dried red liquid on his hands. "What happened?" You look back at his scratches and cuts to allow room for him to consider if he wants to tell you.

"They're...old friends from high school." Friends is in quotes, so not friends. His lips part to say something but nothing comes out at first. "I'm so embarrassed, dude.”

That surprises you, so your fingers halt their activities and you look at him, brows furrowed. One of your hands still holds his wrist.

Clearly waiting for an explanation, your intense gaze makes him shift uncomfortably. Mouth moves to speak but again nothing comes out and his jaw clenches.

Big hands had balled into fists without Bam realizing, causing blood to drip again as unnoticed shards prick him. His eyes are tearing up once more and you feel bad, he's obviously in pain. Gently, you wrap both hands on top of one of his, not breaking eye contact, and force him to unclench it, red liquid dripping faster. Now aware, he blushes furiously as the other hand repeats the movement, undoubtedly more ashamed over his reaction.

"Look, I know we're not friends, but you can talk to me. I won't make fun of you or secretly record it or whatever." Leaning closer, you hope he can see the sincerity in your eyes while you clean the last of the fresh blood.

"It doesn’t even matter. I’m so fucking angry, I can't even fucking express it." Words barely come out, fighting against gritted teeth.

"So use me." You turn to throw away the used material.

"What?" He looks confused when you move back in, and you understand. Weird words.

Adding context, you start, "Use me as your way to express it. However you want. Yell at me, curse me out, pretend I'm those three douchebags. I don't care, whatever helps you channel those bad feelings and let them out so you can get rid of it all. How do you usually de-stress? What would make you feel better right now?"

You could not have predicted this. Bam closes the remaining distance between the two of you with a brutal clash of your lips. Your eyes are still open, and it is awkward, very awkward.

When he moves away, palm delicately placed on the side of your face, the look in his eyes is pleading. For touch, for affection. When they snap down to your lips again, dead feelings you had gotten over a long time ago resurface and you soften, breath hitching in your throat. "Would that make you feel better?"

He meets your gaze, silent, and you have your answer. That same second a decision is made and you lean in, Bam meeting you halfway.

This time it's calm, each tensed up bundle of nerves masked as people taking sweet time to find out what the other tastes like. Licorice liqueur, mostly.

This isn't enough, so you take initiative to deepen the kiss, already in trouble either way. Tongue sucking on his, he moans in your mouth and it makes you shiver, a shockwave traveling all the way to your core. It really isn't enough, so you put your hand on his dick, over his pants, feeling a sizeable bulge.

Instantly, Bam pulls your hair and tightens the hold on your waist. He breaks your kiss, finally, to wrap your legs around his middle and hook his arms under your thighs. Standing up, he doesn't make it far, pushing your back to the wall of the bathroom. "No, not here." You say, motioning to the other room.

He obeys, carrying you back into the suite but not the bed or the couch. As soon as Bam steps out, he positions you against the wall right next to the bathroom's doorframe and the bedside table. Bastard, he was mocking your demands.

Fine, you'll play his game.

Eyes open, noses touching and lips grazing, you don't kiss him. Instead, you grind on his hard dick, covering as little surface as possible, just enough to make him weak in the knees. He hisses and you do it again, rocking forth so well this time he drops you.

Bam does not give you any apologies or openings, pulling you in by the back of the head and pressing you impossibly further, tongue not hesitating to assault your throat for a single second. In retaliation, you palm his bulge again, actually making some movements now and he thrusts in your hand. His own lowers to wrap around your throat, squeezing hard. Like a delicious game of chess.

You could go back and forth all night with him. Except this isn't about you, it's about easing Bam's distress. And this is how he chose for you to help him. Feeling tremendously charitable, your fingers start undoing the button and fly of his black pants, not teasing him so much after remembering you were there for good deeds. Your hand dives in his boxers right after you spit on it.

God, the way he has to stop everything he's doing at once just because your hand is wrapped around his cock is extremely gratifying. Maybe you could get something out of this experience too.

"Don't move your hand anywhere else." You whisper into his lips, reffering to the barely-there touch of his fingers constraining your airway.

As you start stroking slowly, the pressure returns twice as strong. The sound of a sharp inhale makes blue eyes search for yours, asking if it's too much, you just stroke him again and circle the tip of his head with your thumb to let him know it's good. Everything's good. The veins running along his shaft pulse and twitch, he curses you, specifically.

When you take your movement all the way down to the base of his cock, repeating it a couple times, Bam's hand that wasn't choking you pushes on your bra, bringing attention to the fact that you're both too clothed.

"How do you want me?" His lips are parted, nose smushing yours, breathing uneven. "My clothes. How do you want me?" You're playing your role very well, modesty aside.

"Take it all off, except your underwear." Removing your hand from his pants, Bam puts the longest distance between you two since 10 minutes ago. Right now, not having the warmth of his body invading your space was excruciating.

He steps back, taking a minute to watch you undress. Only his white boxers and metal chains stay on his body. His curls flop perfectly, unkempt from your messing, around his face. Next, your eyes dance around his abs and he notices, snapping his fingers and telling you to hurry up.

“Are you still okay with all this?” His hand is on his covered bulge, almost like he's trying to hide something offensive before you can tell him yes or no.

There’s no verbal answer. You simply lean back on the wall, lower part of your body sticking out a little, as if to say, “Just come man handle me already.”

Not a fan of caprice, he does.

“And don’t you dare rip fine lingerie, I’ll kill you.” Words strangle out of you with difficulty as Bam goes straight to your breasts, sucking on the abundant skin so fully it’ll definitely leave marks maybe just from the tip of his nose buried in the reddened flesh.

“I could just eat you up.” Calculated gentle hands open your bra clasp and it falls to the floor, relieving for you in more than one way. “I don’t ever want to stop touching you.”

Bam’s tongue is tracing every freckle on your chest. “Good, because I never want you to stop touching me.”

“Such a nice daddy's girl.” There is a ‘pop’ noise as his mouth finally leaves your nipple. You want to say something back to that outrageous claim but fingers have already made their way under your panties and words escape you completely. “C’mon, my pretty little slut, be good and lemme hear you.”

At that, you feel the cold metal of his rings graze your skin, middle and index finger teasing tentatively on top of your slit, up and down. Bam takes the fingers off of you and into his mouth, sucking them clean with a ‘pop’ of its own. Stare unwavering, “What kind of sadistic whore gets this wet over someone they don't even like?”

Again, you’re willing to play this game, it’s distracting him from his own bad thoughts. That’s totally the only reason your reaction is to open your mouth. He laughs at your eagerness.

Forcefully grabbing your chin, he slides his thumb in and you coat it nicely in your own spit, eyes locked in as well.

That’s when you notice his willingness is showing too. Bending on one knee, Bam takes his time kissing down your body before finally pulling your panties down your legs, mouth stopping to allow his tongue to lick up juices daring to spill. He does it like he's famished for you, not because it’s part of foreplay but because he desesperately wants to savor the taste, he wasn't kidding. Sighing inside of you, tip of his nose poking your lower stomach, he grabs at your thighs to separate them slightly and get a better hold of your weight. If you didn't know any better, you might think he wants you to sit on his face. It’s passing, just two languid lapping kisses on your cunt, enough to make you cry out his name.

Bam takes his lips off of you torturously. Standing again, one hand on your stomach as the other pushes his boxers off, he keeps you in place as you watch him. His cock springs out, reddened, swollen and leaking. Your mouth waters.

There’s no precision and calculated moves anymore. After hoisting you up, his hand align his tip with your entrance.

Full body weight leaning in and counting on that brown-ish wall to take it, he slides inside of you slowly, right down to the base of his dick. He grunts but you almost sing in pleasure.

Taking it back out nearly completely, his chipped black finger nails dig into the skin of your waist, setting you in place for what’s to come. When he slides it up again, obscene wet noises are all you can focus on hearing.

“Bam, you feel so good, but for the love of everything, faster.”

He angles you a little better on his cock, and starts moving in and out, slowly increasing in tempo to guarantee you’d adjust well to his length. At some point, Bam starts rolling his hips in a way you’re not there enough to understand exactly but it is unspeakable of, hitting you exactly where you need him to.

“Fuck, baby.” His forehead is creased, in deep concentration and pleasure. He looks so beautiful. You feel yourself tighten around him and he cries out your name this time.

“Who’s your daddy now?” You laugh.

It’s unacceptable that you find humor in this, so he picks up the pace, straight fucking you into the wall, both bobbing up and down like in some very vulgar movie. You’ll probably have bruises all over to prove this night happened.

Soon, his hips start slowing down and you know what’s happening.

“I want you to come inside me.” His movements almost halt entirely.

“Oh, fuck, dude, don’t say that without a warning.” He looks apologetic.

“Look at me.” He does, in a second this turns from a raunchy unplanned fuck to a soft and vulnerable experience of giving. “It’s okay, just tonight. Use me.”

Blue eyes look up to you with appreciation, and remembering how hurt they looked earlier, you genuinely smile and nod. If this is all you had to do to see his precious face light up again, you’d do it without thinking about it even at all.

He spills inside you with just a few more strokes, you come right after, both suddenly out of words after nearly an hour of filthy commentary and teasing. Shy.

Bam hides his face on your neck, stabilizing his breathing, arms wrapped around your waist lazily. Your feet are already grounded again, fingers scratching his moist back up and down. When your breathing syncs up, he retracts to grab a clean towel from the bathroom cabinets.

Cleaning you up in silence, and helping you put your clothes back on, Bam is distant. His touch is soft but when it leaves you, there’s a burning there, a longing. Oh, no.

He speaks first. “Fuck, I’m sorry I did this.”

“You’re sorry you fucked me?”

“No! Jesus, no.” Sitting on the bed, elbows on top of his spread legs and head on his hands, he sighs, not looking your way. “I’m sorry I did it this way.”

Frowning, you ask him to explain. Honestly, if he tells you he regrets everything now you might declare eternal contempt and become his sworn enemy.

Dedicatedly tattooed arms beckon you forward and you follow, which was quickly turning into a dangerous reocurrence with the two of you tonight.

Trapped by his legs on each side of you after doing as he commanded, one of your hands is brought up to feel the temperature on his forehead. "I think I'm sick, I feel dizzy too."

Oh, that's rich, trying to get away from a conversation by playing sickly patient. Him. Ready to leave, you turn your body but don't get far as Bam grabs your wrist and pulls you back in place.

"Fine, sorry, I'm sorry." That familiar slurred quiet speech tugging at your heartstrings, he’s defeated. "I just want you to stay. Please. Stay?"

Dammit, this kid is taking you on a fucking roller coaster tonight and you might be too weak to ride. "I don't mind helping, but is this gonna be a thing? Where you feel sad, can't process your own emotions, call me to fuck me then tell me you regret it and then retract that and ask me to stay?" It's unfair to throw something you willingly did back on his face, but you don't wanna get into something unhealthy and make promises you can't keep. It's a one and done.

"I don't regret it, stop." His hands are still gripping yours, holding you there, terrified you might run. Probably should. "I want you to be it. For me. Like, for good, right now."

"It's really hard to make sense of what you're saying. I know you're shit at this but remember? You can talk to me."

"I like you, I want you, please don't hate me anymore." God, he sounds like a confused but well-meaning child and it pisses you off how much it fills you up inside.

"I mean, there had to be a reason the sex was so good. People don't fuck like that without feelings." Blue big eyes look up at you as if what you said did not correlate to the conversation at all, so you unveil the enigma for him. "There's feelings on the other side too, Margera, keep up."

"Since when?"

"Always. Just fought against it, I guess. Didn't sound like a good idea. Plus, thought you hated me, so." You are both shy again, it's so ridiculous.

Knowing you both suck at verbal communication, Bam cuts the confessionals short and pulls you down to his lap. "Just stay, not only tonight, but every night, please?"

Straddling him, you kiss his cheek and ask, "Would that make you feel better?"

—————————————————————————

if you survived that ily. i’m really not a fan of this one, don’t think i did my best, but i hope it’s enough to give u guys some nice daydreams

[blueskywater-happiness]

An Idea, what if there are some changes in Bruce's kids' personalities if they exist in the Batman 2022 verse and what subcultures are they into?

disclaimer: These are just purely for fun and just some ideas bouncing.

Okay so we have Emo Goth Loner Bruce Wayne of 2022 who looks like he needs a shower and unlike the Bruce (Breeses? Broose?) we had in the past who are charismatic, charming, a ladies' man and the richie rich stereotype as his civilian persona, this Bruce wayne is waaaay opposite.

So it got me thinking, if those are the personality changes Bruce has, what of his children?

First son: Richard John Grayson.

An orphan acrobat that batdad (awkwardly) adopted with only 14-16 years age gap. Dick is more into the tiktok scene, an influencer who shows his best moves and routine. He is a sunshine boy throughout instead of bouts of angst phase (ehem when Jason was first adopted after he was fired as Robin). He is into mobile games, something his two younger brothers agree to tell him that he is no "real gamer". He also does youtube and Instagram on the side.

As he is an acrobat, he is more or less the "jock" of the family as he is active in his favorite activity as Richard Grayson. Wins his school's acrobatic contests. He isn't a jerk jock by anyways of course. (He is raised by an emo after all)

subculture: Influencer and Jock culture.

Second son: Jason Peter Todd

Streetkid turn rich son, you'd think he be a delinquent who skips school? Ma'am, ma'am please, this boy loves to read classic literature from Pride and Prejudice to Little Women. Although the more he was under his adopted father's care, the more he delve deep into gothic literature and arts. He would lit candles as he read the books, huddle in the Wayne family library as his blazers kept him warm during late night reading while Batdad looks over the stairs.

There may or may not be post revival, and maybe he just grew up but while he kept his Dark Academia aesthetic and lifestyle close, he is also mixing it up with the punk culture. leather jackets replace cardigan as he drives around in his motorcycle. While he does look like a stereotypical bad boy, you can still see him read a fiction or two at a nearby alley after a smoke.

Subculture: Dark Academia and Punk

Third son: Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne

Ah yes, the child from another father and mother of our emo Bruce. Years of not being a priority of his parents made a loner out of Tim, who slowly finds comfort in the shadows. While more extroverted than Bruce, Tim still huddles under his blanket, forgoing eating or sleeping as Alfred could only sigh. He wears shirts too big for him and broods when his best friend Kon isn't there to bring a smile on his face. Tim would brood deeply if not checked so please give the damn dude some coffee.

He is of course a nerd, tech, gaming, references, and (canon) Dnd's are his hobbies. He tends to read anime or manga from time to time but he mainly focused on his beloved technology. He plays on his pc, as he is a pc master race believer. He does have his consoles and would boast quietly how he finished the entire pokemon series until-- damn did Nintendo releases another...?! Well damn, dad I need to buy a new console.

Perhaps this is the only universe where he and Damian actually got along so well they team up in games to gently persuade Dick that MOBILE GAMES AREN'T REAL DI--

Subculture: Emo and Nerd

Fourth Son: Damian Wayne

A child, somehow the misunderstood ratman of a bat somehow beget a child. Unlike the later characterizations of Talia, she gave her son up a little earlier, perhaps when he was 5, for him to live a normal life. The first thing Tim and Dick did to give Damian a taste of a normal life...is to turn on the tv and Naruto was on... the rest is history. Damian is well known as the Wayne "Anime fanboy" with all his love for manga, anime and even cosplays. He does fanart and listens to vocaloid, declaring it as the peak of human culture. He adores Miyazaki films due to the color palette and stories the film tells. Can often be seen with headphones and his more rude traits are just him ignoring you as he listens to Anime openings or as he watches Fate Stay Night, you call his name out and then he snaps at you.

He is into gaming as well, something that made him and Tim get along like house on fire. He would play the entire Story of Seasons games and Fire Emblem series. He and Tim can often be spotted screaming while Tim plays a Dark soul like game.

subculture: Otaku and gamer

-----

I might add Duke and Cassie later on (and is Stephanie even counted...?)

[petrichor-reminiscence]

coming out headcanons with c!Technoblade

Warnings: cursing

Pairing: c!Technoblade x ftm!Reader

request from @pxytn-png! lovely idea btw, and also thank you for being the reason i fixed my anon issue lmao thanks for bringing that to my attention mate :) ty for the ask!

quick disclaimer before we start here: i am not trans ftm, so i cannot speak for the community and i hope i am not poorly representing all of you bois! y’all are literally so fucking valid tho like the MOST valid i sWEAR dudes, deadass. if there’s something i need to educate myself on, my inbox and dms are ALWAYS open, so please feel free to interact!

- when you came up to him one day in a cold sweat with uneven breaths, Techno immediately knew something was up. he immediately asked you what was wrong, ready to go murder whoever he had to for you, and the voices were going CRAZY with their theories and stress and worry for you

- you told him you had something to tell him, and he internally freaked out because the dumbass thought you were going to leave him or something or say you didn’t love him anymore

- blame the voices tho! they stress him out and make him overthink everything more than he already would! 

- once you came out in your way of choice, he was so relieved that you didn’t come to tell him you hated him

- and he was also so flattered and felt so loved that you felt secure enough to be more of your true self around him! the voices were flattered and happy too!

- “so, you’re a man, huh?” “yeah...” he looked at you for a moment before grinning widely, pulling you into the PHATTEST fuckin hug. “trust me, he/him just suits you better, it’s more you.” 

- the voices most certainly agree! after all, it was the true you, it was what made you feel more comfortable in your own skin.

- as he started working on your pronoun change, the voices helped out quite a lot. if he even so much as got close to even thinking the slip-up of the wrong pronouns, the voices were fuckin ON IT man. he learned pretty quickly, wanted to make you the most comfortable he could!

- every time he said ‘he’ or ‘him’ in reference to you, he couldn’t help but smile. it just reminded him that you felt secure enough to be your true self around him and that you trusted him enough to come out to him

- although he had to admit, it did lead to a little bit of confusion

- “so, that makes me... gay? or wait... well either way, i know i’m attracted to dudes obviously...”

- “do i tell Philza that i’m gay now or do i wait until Y/n decides to open up to him about himself?”

- lowkey steals clothing from other guys around the smp so you can dress more masculine if you want to. he’d offer up some of his own clothes, but he is like a seven-foot-tall fuckin piglin hybrid, massive boi, so he wasn’t sure how well his clothes would fit you

- unless you yourself are a massive boi as well, in that case he’s fine with sharing some clothes! i mean, he’d be fine with sharing either way, but like he was a firm believer in wearing clothes that fit properly so one wouldn’t have even the slightest limitation in mobility for battle 

- but if he got the opportunity to see one of his large shirts draped on his boyfriend, he might just have a heart attack

- would also have a heart attack seeing his boyfriend fitting into his shirt well and just like b r o 

- deadass would die on the spot either way, he loves you so much bro like oasijgadsoigj 

- blood god is soft for his boyfriend! so soft!

- would never admit it out loud, but the voices know and never let him forget how much of a sap he is for you 

- would help you try various things to cope with any dysphoria you might be having, like deadass mans would go to hell and back to get you anything that would make you more comfortable in your own skin. anything safe for you, that is, he wanted to make sure you weren’t hurting yourself

- s i m p, he’s a simp your honour, s to the i to the m to the p 

- overall, having you come out to him and having a boyfriend now took a little bit of getting used to but it was an amazing change (the word ‘change’ used lightly, because it wasn’t even much of a change at all. just a pronoun change bro, you’ve always been a man, the only change was that you felt secure enough with techno to tell him ^^)

- not only were you more yourself, but he got to know you that much more, and when you’re your true self around him is when he just falls in love with you more and more each day <3

[peppdream]

PARAMNESIA the game

Intro: Every single time, Dream will end up at this stupid party. Every single loop, George will walk in and their eyes would lock. Every single repetition, Dream will fall a little more in love.

But no matter how many times Dream comes back here, he can never seem to save George.

(Or, Florida man messes with time for some british dude he fell head-over-heels for.)

About: Based off my “Paramnesia” series, this is a text-based game I adapted where you get to play as Dream and make choices for him as he tries to save George from an untimely death. (You do not need to have read the series in order to understand the game.)

How to play: Go to this link (or this link for mobile). Press the green "Run" button and wait about 10 seconds for the game to load. Once you see the words "PARAMNESIA the game", you can press Enter to begin!

The game will be split into three parts. Pt.1 is an intro (choices don't matter that much), Pt.2 is the main storyline (choices matter), Pt.3 consists of extra scenes you've unlocked after completing the game.

Disclaimer that sometimes errors/glitches might happen, this project isn't perfect and I still work on it from time to time. If anything buggy happens, feel free to let me know what happened! (It would help to have a save code and screenshot of the issue as well. You can report them in detail in the discord.)

I hope you enjoy the game, and I wish you the best of luck! Lmk what you guys think and what endings you got :)

[charlotte-headcanons]

Favorite and least favorite siblings of the Charlottes: Part 1 (Pudding, Perospero, Lola, Praline, Flampe, Angel, Fuyumeg, Newsan, High Fat, Basskarte)

Headcanon-heavy! We selected the siblings for the first part using a random number generator, but if you'd like to see any specific siblings in Part 2, feel free to request. Askbox always open for requests and chatting!

Favorite siblings of Pudding:

Lola, for her inspiring bravery in leaving to find her own fate and love.

Chiffon, for her supportive attitude and being way more understanding of her mood switches than the rest of the family.

Smoothie, for being a strong woman who despite being loyal to the family doesn't let others define her, and has a scarier side to her as well.

Least favorite siblings of Pudding:

Cracker, for being harsh towards the younger siblings, often mean to her, and never believing in her innocent girl masks for a single second.

Favorite siblings of Perospero:

Brulee, for being a soft spot of his as someone who provided more maternal care even to the older siblings than their actual mother.

Cracker, for being fun to hang out with and funny to annoy.

Mondee for being THE person to go to to talk about makeup.

Least favorite siblings of Perospero:

Broye. Perospero likes all of his siblings more or less, but with Broye they're kind of frenemies, claiming to be besties to each other's faces but relentlessly gossiping about the other behind their backs.

Favorite siblings of Lola:

Chiffon, for being her most beloved twin who understands her even without words.

Oven, for being cool, strong, and a good husband to his wife, which Lola appreciates in a man. Sadly, since her 'betrayal' this sympathy is not mutual, but Lola doesn't know.

Least favorite siblings of Lola:

Cinnamon, for being kind of scary, sometimes mean, and strongly anti-men.

Favorite siblings of Praline:

Daifuku, for being fun, hanging out with her lots, and appreciating her.

Lola, for being adventurous and, like for Pudding, inspiring her to look for her own happiness not just within the Charlotte family.

Least favorite siblings of Praline:

Mont D'or, for being far too demanding and having interests that bore her to death.

Favorite siblings of Flampe:

Before the WCI events, Katakuri, for obvious reasons.

Afterwards, Oven and Perospero, aka the two next most popular older brothers. Oven might be slightly more popular, but Perospero likes her back more.

Least favorite siblings of Flampe:

Chiboust, for being about as unpopular and 'uncool' as one can be

Opera, for looking sticky and disgusting. Yes, she is shallow like that.

Favorite siblings of Angel:

Poire, for being about as chaotic and wild as herself, despite not seeming so.

Custard, for being someone she's always been close to and with whom she's been through stuff, even though their personalities and interests differ greatly.

Tablet, for being someone who's always up to participate in her shenanigans.

Least favorite siblings of Angel:

High Fat, for being too grounded, too boring, and kind of... too mature.

Favorite siblings of Fuyumeg:

Broye, for being quite similar personality-wise to herself.

Flampe, for being super fun to invite to girls' sleepovers.

Least favorite siblings of Fuyumeg:

Mobile, for being particularly annoying with his nonsensically old-timey way of being.

Disclaimer: the boy decuplets' looks seem to be confused in the anime, so we just went with the One Piece wiki version!

Favorite siblings of Newsan:

Compo, for being a chill dude he can vibe with.

Oven, for being the older brother he looks up to a lot, even though he wishes he remembered their names and didn't confuse the decuplets.

Least favorite siblings of Newsan:

Akimeg, for being scarier than she seems.

Favorite siblings of High Fat:

Gala, for having a similar outlook on life to him, and being just as of a responsible father to multiple children as he is. They have lots to talk about when they meet, plain and simple.

Chiffon, for her grounded and heartwarming presence.

Least favorite siblings of High Fat:

Perospero, for being just too loud, fancy, and not behaving his age at all.

Favorite siblings of Basskarte:

Katakuri, for being someone who he wants to be like, and the one who he lowkey copies by covering the lower part of his face.

Snack, for being a brother that even as a Sweet Commander in the past always remained close to him, finding time to hang out.

Least favorite siblings of Basskarte:

Nusstorte and Dosmarche. Even though they're his twins, there is a strong rivalry between the three and Basskarte is especially resentful over the fact they both got to hold minister positions, while he wasn't granted any.