#..Big... Pretty... Robot Lady...

[woeismywaffle]

Airlena thoughts

10/10 would search up on ao3 and be sad that there's no fics about it again 👌👌

I've been thinking of writing a fic for them myself where it's just Elena rambling about the origin of sirens and how they weren't really potrayed as fish people in the beginning because I saw a video on the same topic(And because both sirens and Airazor are bird women from ancient times skqks) and Airazor would just sit there and listen to her, partly because she's fascinated by all these strange human stories and partly because it feels nice and soothing to listen to her not-gf's voice. There's a strange sort of beauty to the sounds that human beings produce, especially Elena's voice, so unlike her own kind yet not so different at the same time.

I'm abysmally lazy though and bad at writing in general so I have no idea if I'll ever go through with it sjwkssjsqsj

[phantom-0-writer]

prompt 02: tim’s birthday present

Tim sat in his empty house at the empty dining table. The table was actually quite large; it had enough seats to sit at least 15 people. But there was just Tim there. 

His parents had promised and sworn up and down that they would come back in time for his birthday. He had everything planned out. He picked out the birthday cake, put on the candles, decorated, ordered his parents' favorite foods, his parents' favorite movie for movie night, popcorn the likes. But that morning, just when Tim was double checking to make sure everything was ready for the most perfect birthday ever, his parents had called to tell him that something really important had come up, and they wouldn’t be able to make it. Tim figured it was better than last year, at least they called this time. 

Tim stared down at the cake, the candles lit. He had heard online that people would make wishes on their birthday cake and blow it out. Tim thought that was a weird thing to do, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

What should he wish for? It would have to be something special that he doesn’t already have. Tim thought for a long moment, the candles bleeding into the frosting of the cake. 

A brother. 

Tim closed his eyes and put his hands together like he’s seen the other children to do in the cartoons. And Tim wished for a big brother. When he finally wished hard enough (whatever that meant) he opened his eyes and blew out what was left of the candles. 

Tim waited. What exactly was he supposed to do now? In the cartoons, everyone would celebrate and cheer and the birthday boy would open his presents. There wasn’t anyone to cheer for Tim, or any presents for him to open. 

Suddenly the house shook, and the loud sound of a crash sound came from the backyard. Quickly, Tim did the sensible thing and go check out what the noise was. That's what the characters always did in horror movies. 

In Tim’s backyard, there was what looked like a weird space ship that had crashed into his backyard. There wasn’t any fire or anything, but the spaceship looked pretty wrecked. Getting closer, Tim could vaguely make out that someone was inside the spaceship. Looking around, he saw what looked like maybe the handle. Tim couldn’t really tell. 

When Tim put his hand on it and tried to open it, something poked out mechanically and pricked his finger. He flinched back instinctively, caressing his finger tip.

“Recognized: Danny Fenton. System Override.” A robotic lady spoke. Who is Danny Fenton? As if to answer him, the space ship opened its hatch, and inside was an unconscious black haired teenager. “System Malfunctioning. Please Assis-” The robotic voice spoke again, before getting cut off as if the power had died. 

Suddenly, Tim remembered his wish. A big brother. 

This was Danny Fenton, and he was supposed to be Tim’s big brother

----

When Danny woke up, he found himself in a very soft plush something. Something that definitely wasn’t the Spector Speeder. Alarmed, he sat up quickly to find that he didn’t recognize where he was at all. He also didn’t recognize the weird kid that was staging at him from two feet away. 

“Hi, I’m Tim. Timothy Drake.” The boy introduced himself almost business like. 

“Uh, hi Tim.” Danny responded awkwardly. “You got any idea where I am?” Danny sat up properly, moving the blanket (?) off of him and turned to face the weird and kinda creepy kid. 

“You’re in Drake Manor. Which is where I live.” He answered again. 

“Ok…ay” Danny nodded thoughtfully. “Any idea how I got here?” Truthfully, Danny hadn’t really been expecting an answer, but he still got one. 

“Because I made a birthday wish to have a big brother.” He answered in the same way he had answered the other question, very matter-of-factly. 

“Ok- Wait. What?” Danny asked, doing a double take at Tim. 

“You’re supposed to be my big brother, right?” Tim was starting to look a little hesitant, and as weirded out as Danny felt he couldn’t help but feel bad about the whole situation. 

“Where are your parents, Tim?” 

“There not home, because they had really important things to do for work.” 

Danny nodded. “Do you know when they’ll be back?” 

Tim shook his head. “They were supposed to come back today, because it’s my birthday. But they said they couldn’t make it.” 

Well, shit. Didn’t that sound awfully like Danny’s birthdays before he had given up on his parents showing up. At least he had Jazz. This kid looked like he was alone. 

Not liking the silence, Tim started fidgeting again. “So, are you gonna be my brother, then?” 

And what was Danny supposed to say, No? Besides, if he was really causing problems being in this random universe, then Clockwork would figure it out. 

Bonus: 

Danny sat at Tim’s dinner table, the kid looking at him radiating in excitement, each with a plate of stupid expensive pasta in front of them. “You said your name was Tim, right?” Danny started thoughtfully. Tim nodded, drinking up everything Danny said. “Well, first course of action as you, big brother. I need to give you a nickname.” 

Tim’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. “Like what?”

Danny tapped his chin exaggeratedly, “Hm… Tim, Tim.” Turing the name around while he absentmindedly twirled his fork between his fingers, Danny wondered what he should come up with. Suddenly, in a misplaced strength, Danny’s fork flew out of his hand. 

Before Danny could even say anything, “I’ll get you a new one!” Tim offered quickly. Getting up from his chair, his foot got tangled behind the leg of the chair and Tim fell quietly on the floor with an oof. 

Danny laughed at him. “You okay, Timbers?” He asked, getting up to check on the boy. 

“Yeah, I like Timbers.” Tim said, a bright smile on his face despite the blossoming bruise on his arm.

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

table of contents

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

DP X DC AU Danny & The Little Dead Girl

(title pending lol, Danny and Curare adventures pt 2!) Pt 1 here My AU art

__________________________________________

Monday comes, as it is won't to do, and Danny has to go to school which means the baby halfa has to come to school too.

" ok, so, one rule for today, big rule, you gotta be quiet in class. Uh-"

Danny pulls his phone out of his pocket as their bus hits a pot hole. Sitting right at the front means they catch the momentum first and he has to hold Curaré against his side lest she go flying into the aisle.

A couple voices grumble behind them at the jostling as Danny gets his text to speech open.

" Necessitas ser quieto en clase. ¿Entiendes?" The Google robot lady voice translates for him.

Curaré blinks at him from behind her little paper face mask and looks from the phone to him curiously.

This is the game they've been playing since last night, Danny says something in English robo lady repeats it in Spanish.

Danny doesn't know if Curaré understands how the phone speaks or even that it does but she's giving him her favorite little blank expression so he assumes she gets it. At least, she hasn't really disagreed or disobeyed anything he's asked of her yet so...not gonna look that gift horse in the mouth Danny boy!

..

School goes well, mostly.

They get through the metal detectors and bag checks at the front entrance just fine. The security guards barely glance at Curaré once they confirm she isn't hiding a Glock or something under her shirt. Which it's kinda sad to know gun control is a cross-dimensional American problem but it's on brand if nothing else Danny thinks.

They get to first period without stopping at Danny's locker and settle down in two desks by the back door. This is Danny's usual spot, well usual as of a month ago, it's mostly empty back here now but Danny used to have a seat partner.

(A seat partner who had a kind of shady tweaker vibe that Danny would have been worried about but that kid went home early one day and never came back so....it's Curaré's seat now.)

The little dead girl looks even littler sat in the desk-chair combo, she can barely see over the top. Danny stacks three dictionaries under her for a boost then he gets her set up with some pencils and paper and the single highlighter he found on the floor his first day here.

Curaré seems vaguely interested in his offerings ,after Danny shows her how to use them to mark the page, and starts creating cautious marks of her own.

She keeps glancing back up at Danny as if to confirm that this is still fine? And he nods his head every time trying to be encouraging as it becomes obvious that nobody taught this kid to write inside Fosters Home for Real life Assassins. Which Danny thinks is poor planning on there part because really? If your Assassin can't write how the fuck were they supposed to leave ominous threatening warnings? Or fake suicide notes? Or any number of written props to flesh out a cover story.

Whatever, obviously the assassins raising Curaré sucked ass all around so he can't say he's surprised but he is majorly disappointed.

As the bell rings for first period a whole slew of teens rush in ahead of the teacher Mr. Berk. Simple guy, grey beard, coke bottle glasses, smells like Vics vapor rub, the works.

He's like the most chilled out version of Mr. Lancer ever so he's alright in Danny's books. Plus he only has one "rule", as long as your butt is in your seat by the time he calls your name for attendance he won't mark you late. In Gotham, where everyone and their brother has enough late marks from shitty public transportion to get detention, it's a pretty sweet rule.

So Mr. Berk takes attendance like usual and only pauses on Danny and Curaré in the back for a brief moment.

Curaré stops drawing and stares down Mr. Berk like he's the T rex from Jurassic park. Frozen in place and without breaking eye contact. He stares back at her completely unphased.

" A small visitor then?" He says.

Danny nods. " My sister"

" Mhm" Mr. Berk says already moving on to the next student on his roster.

Danny breathes out huge sigh of relief, that was so much easier then he expected.

They more or less repeat this exchange the whole day. Mondays suck ass because it's one of the only days Danny actually has all 6 periods, but they make it through 1st, 2nd, and nutrition unscathed.

By lunch time Danny thinks they might actually be home free, if no one is gonna bring up the whole freaking child tagging along with him then he can probably just bring her with him everyday.

Maybe he can find her some work books and she can learn the alphabet? And addition? That's like on track for 4 year olds right? Danny can't remember being 4 but that feels right to him. He will educate the child in his care like the responsible almost adult he is. She will go to college!

At lunch Danny sits them at the back of the school right next to the teachers lounge because it's mostly deserted.

In Danny's exprience the best place to hide is in plain sight. He's been sitting here everyday since he enrolled himself and the teachers have never noticed him. Their way too busy trying to get any kind of break from teaching high schoolers to be concerned.Which Danny is greatful for because he has broken the rule about using his cell phone at lunch 50 times at this point.

Listen he has to do universe research when he has access to wifi! Which he only does at school. The administration should be glad he's using his lunch period to educate himself really.

So they eat by the lounge. Danny has Curaré face away from the door so she can take off her face mask and eat unencumbered.The cut on her face is still gnarly, it looks an almost enflamed purple as it tries it's best to heal.

Danny had given Curaré a little immuno-boost with his own ecto the night before to try to speed up her healing factor. But like any Halfa, basically just Danny's personal experience, you have to nourish the ghost half and the human half in equal parts to heal all the way.

It's not until home room, period 6/7, that the metaphorical straw breaks the metaphorical camels back. or the real straw to the metaphorical camel? Did camels even carry straw? where would it go? Between there humps? Not important Fenton!

Home room was a grade A disaster.

Mr. Perez, Danny's kind of ancient home room teacher, who was for almost all intents and purposes blind, had a freaking nose for trouble. It's like he could sniff out vapes and cell phones as soon as they hit the stale class air. Danny thought this would be the easiest class by far, Mr. Perez wouldn't even see Curaré let alone smell her.

And at first it seems like he doesnt, Mr. Perez takes attendance and skips right over Danny and Curaré with no fanfare.

Danny thinks that's the end of it and starts to breathe easy until 15 minutes before the final bell when Mr. Perez' TA asks him to step into the hallway with her for a second.

Danny generally liked Mr. Perez's TA, her name was Sabrina Kahn and she was the kind of girl Jazz would have hung out with.Straight laced, wore argyle cardigans, read books, the smart sort. She looked Jazz's age too, maybe 21ish and she always rolled her eyes when people gave dumb answers in class.

She looks a little embarrassed to be speaking to Danny which immediately sets him on edge.

" It's okay that you brought your little sister today but, I'm sorry, you won't be able to do that again. A bunch of your teachers made complaints with the front office and Mr. Perez got a call about it ..."

Sabrina had always been nice to him and now she was about to ruin his whole week.

" But Ms. Kahn-" Danny started.

She gave him a sympathetic look " Lemme guess, your parents can't take her to work so this was the next best option?"

Danny closed his mouth and nodded, that was actually a much better lie then he was gonna tell, thank you Ms. Kahn. ( But also Boooooo curse you Ms. Kahn!)

" Here, I know it can be hard to find childcare for metas, especially ones as ah-vibrant as your sister. My brother had the same trouble with my nephew."

Sabrina hands Danny a flyer, it's still warm from the printer, it looks like it's just a screenshot of an email.

"Thanks?"

The TA rolls her eyes, wow a lot like Jazz then.

" It's the address to that daycare and a referral. They only take kids by word of mouth, they're kind of... off the books. But their good people! I hope they can help you Danny."

The paper is on off yellow, as Ms.Kahn heads back into homeroom Danny feels all his hope go with her. Shit, what was he gonna do now? He looks through the little glass window in the door to the back where Curaré sits, she's already watching him. He tries to smile at her, be reassuring, he's not sure it works.

......

When the bell finally rings Danny picks Curaré up and puts her on his hip to avoid her being crushed by the rush of high schoolers who stampede out the door in front of them.

The flyer from Ms. Kahn feels like it's burning a hole through his pocket as they ride the bus towards the Narrows.

Danny cased the house from the flyer with maps street view as well as he could. It showed a skinny sublet house across from a small strip mall and laundrymat.

Inconspicuous sure, maybe even innocent looking but well...you could never tell in Gotham, all the buildings looked sort of evil by default. It was probably because of the gargoyles and the general low level stink fog that seemed to always be out.

The big city™ really made Danny miss the suburbs of Amity Park more then just the regular gut wrenching home sickness. Oh what'd he'd give to take a deep breath of air and not inhale the smell of piss when he walked down the street.

They get off the bus at the corner a block from the daycare.

Danny holds Curaré's hand which makes for slow going but seems like the right thing to do. She's never wandered off but Danny didn't want to give her the opportunity to either.

As he helped her climb the three short stairs up to the house Danny was suddenly hit with a wave of panic.

What the fuck am I doing? Am I really gonna take care of this freaking Halfa ghost baby for the next 18 years? Im not even an adult! I work weekends at BatBurger for minimum wage WTF?

Danny's hands began to sweat and his stomach cramped. Oh fuck, here was the existential crisis he'd been waiting for since he first decided to take Curaré from the leagues super secret baby basement.

Oh shit he couldn't breathe, what was he gonna do! OH fuck think!

What would jazz do? Call child services and offer psychological support. Not Uber helpful in this case Danny didn't know the first thing about psychology and Gotham CPS was actual prison.

What would Sam do? Assassin babies are hella counter culture but maybe find a cool rich eccentric family to adopt them? Nope, not gonna work Danny only knew one eccentric rich girl and she was a whole dimension away. FUCK THINK FENTON!

What would Tucker do? In this situation ask Google, homeschooling is big these days so maybe if you leave her in the apartment while your gone with an iPad-

" Hey you alright there dude, can I help you?"

Danny choked on the end of his anxiety panic badbadbad spiral and looked up.

The front door to the house was open and just inside the threshold stood a younger teen, maybe 16? With the kind of fade haircut Tucker always whined he couldn't pull off and a bright yellow hoodie.

Danny held his breathe for a moment making sure he felt it burn up his lungs and throat before letting out a big sigh.

" Yeah, yeah sorry kinda zoned out there I'm just uh kinda nervous I was told to come here for Daycare help for my little sister?"

Curaré looked at the stranger in the doorway with the same wide eyed blankness she stared at everything with. Funnily enough she was still holding Danny's hand, had held on through Danny's entire mental meltdown too despite the ecto sweat. Danny felt oddly touched by the gesture, even if it was more likely that the little girl wasn't bothered by his crisis then her being sympathetic.

The teen in the Yellow Hoodie raised an eyebrow at Danny as he fumbled the paper from Ms. Kahn out of his pocket to hand over.

Yellow Hoodie took it and looked between it, him, and Curaré.

" You're not a cop right? You have to tell us if you're a cop"

Danny made a face, " no, I'm not a cop! I would never be a cop, cops suck."

" Right." Yellow Hoodie said still suspicious " So you wouldn't mind if I called your referral up?"

" Be my guest dude."

The teen pulled out his phone and made sure to keep steady eye contact with Danny. Who could do nothing except not look away during this, the world's most impromptu staring contest, until Yellow Hoodie put his phone away.

" Just wanted to see if you were bluffing. Sabrina called earlier said she'd sent someone our way but you can never be too careful. Come on in. "

Danny felt the wind go out of his sails for the second time that day, what was with people and making him anticipate the worst.

.....

The inside of the house was old, homey, but old. It had very obviously been well lived in by a few generations of children, easy to see from the scuffed floors, chipped crown molding, and the sheer number of framed photos that hung on the walls.

There were signs of new life about too, some toys scattered on the floor, walls that were covered in butcher paper and crayon as high as little hands could reach, and oddly enough some scorch marks. Although, Danny's supposed that an unlicensed daycare for meta kids worth it's salt ought to have a least a few burn marks. For posterity if nothing else.

" I'm Duke, I volunteer here when I can but the place is run by the Mariscos, Mrs. Marisco specifically. She's been in the game for a long time" Duke nee yellow hoodie said as he stopped them in front of a closed door.

The hand made sign on the door said Office in nice scribbly lettering and it was hung on with a peg and twine. Real kitschy.

Danny could just make out the sounds of kids playing in another part of the house and was a little impressed that Duke had managed to keep Danny from seeing even one tiny tot during the impromptu house tour.

" I gotta go help Izzy with the kids, this is Mrs.Mariscos' office just knock before you go in, she might be on the phone."

Duke nodded to Danny, smiled down at Curaré and disappeared down the hallway.

Leaving Danny and Curaré alone in front of a closed door once again.

Danny looked down at Curaré and she looked up at him, she was characteristically silent.

" This feels like a job interview, did you bring your resume? "

Curaré blinked.

" Yeah, me neither. But I think if we both give her puppy eyes maybe our combined under aged-ness will activate her maternal instincts and she'll be forced to accept us?"

The nerves were back, they had never really left but now they had settled like a rock at the pit of Danny's stomach.

He couldn't bring himself to knock on that office door just yet so he fussed over Curaré instead. Kneeling down he straightened the collar of Curaré's hooded jacket and moveed her little backpack strap back up her shoulder where it had slipped.

" We got this. It's you and me now remember, even if this blows and you have to come to school with me for the rest of year it's you and me." Danny rested his hands on little shoulders and hung his head. " Jeez, I sound like my mom"

"No need to be so nervous Mijo! My Chiqis never met a kid she could turn away."

Danny's neck had never snapped up so fast in his life.

Curaré hadn't been looking up at him at all. No, Curaré was staring up towards the elderly woman floating near the ceiling.

Which was not great, because Danny for all the time had spent in Gotham had never seen another ghost. Not a single one.

Which was unsettling on its own but not bad per se, he'd thought maybe this dimension was just different, not enough spectral energy to manifest a ghostly body.

But no, again nope, this was so much worse.

No ghosts was easy enough to reationalize but one ghost? One ghost meant there was enough spectral energy, one ghost meant something was really really wrong with Gotham.

Because if there was only one ghost in a crime ridden pissed off city like this where the shit were all the others?

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

Yo! Just wanted to say thank u for all the support on part 1, did not expect people to like or care about it lol. Anyway back on bullshit, I've had this written for a while but didn't have the insp to post it until now.

Might write more, might not, you get one bat cameo for reading this time ur welcome.

Forgot to add this to the first post, it's in the reblogs, but TLDR Curaré is an assassin from batman beyond.

Note: if you wanna see cool art for this AU check the Danny and the little dead girl tag on my blog!

[rheiple]

Sun wants to be your favorite.

Have you noticed? From the way he greets you with a really tight hug and a little twirl, unlike how he only gives his other friends a quick pat on their shoulder and a handshake at best. The way he like to help you with work whether it’d be passing out the tools you needed, reaching stuff you can’t reach at, or even giving you the emotional support you needed when you feel like you can’t complete a task at hand. Please, he’s practically giving you the puppy eyes waiting for your praises, whenever he gives you a gift he hand made, cause he believes that putting effort like hand made crafts is much more romantic than buying it. Not that he mind buying stuff for you that is! Whatever you need, he’ll give you all, because you’re his favorite human!

And when you do give him compliments and praises? Ohh you flatter him so much! Internally squealing like a school girl who gushes about their crush, it’s so bad that he’s been nagged at by Moon. He doesn’t care though, he’s just jealous that he’s our favorite!

He doesn’t really believe it, but when you gently cup his face to admire his blue eyes, his golden rays and his pearly white smile. You told him that he’s such a pretty boy? He practically melts because of how hot his circuits are! Oh don’t look at him, you’re making him blush!

But you know what he really really likes? Whenever it’s his turn to praise and compliment you, he gets to see you overheat! Your flushed cheeks, awkward smile not being used to such statements about you, and the way your pretty eyes dart around to look anywhere but him. Oohhh he can’t wait to just eat you up! Acting all shy like that, and you’ll get a hyper Sun not letting you out of his love bombing.

He really likes you, and you seem to like him too! So is he your favorite boy? He really really hopes so !

.

.

.

Moon is your favorite.

Oh, he’s not going to sit and hope that he’s your favorite. He knows he is your favorite. I mean, you wouldn’t go out of your way to be nice and be buddy buddy with him right? He found it cute that one time you were too shy to start up a conversation with him, thinking he’s not much of a talker. He really isn’t, he prefers to listen to your voice. But if you asked him, he’d talk and talk. Wanna hear about facts of the solar system? Or hear about that one time a kid took a dookie on Sun? Oh, he’s just joking Sunny boy, he’s not that mean to embarrass you to his favorite human. Do you want to hear a story? About the spooky rabbit lady who likes to kidnap bad children? Or a love story about a human… and a robot..

Hah, he doesn’t know what your talking about Starlight. It sounds familiar? Well, yes because it’s based on a book he read. What book? Uh, he’s actually gate keeping it. Sorry Star, the book was too good for him to share it. Him? Projecting his feelings on the story?

His gonna put you in naptime for that.

Ohh but don’t think he didn’t noticed the way your eyes shined with stars whenever he lifted something heavy to help you with your duties. Like what you see? You’re practically ogling at his physique. Not that he minds, he loves your undevided attention. You get excited and hype him up whenever he does the lifting. His face plate spins in glee thinking about being your big and strong man.

He likes really teasing you, he sees your flushed cheeks and hears your heart rate speeding up little by little. He gets the sudden urge to just pinch and pull your cheeks really hard.

Oh, but you always like to take revenge. Stroking his cheeks and looking at him like he’s the million dollars you’ve won at the lottery. Telling him how he’s such a handsome man. He might’ve grumbled, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t loved it. He’s just very flustered at your compliments. No Star, I’m hiding in my hat- hey don’t take it off of me!

He knows you never get mad at him whenever he steals shiny trinkets and presents it to you. You just really love how he really really loves you. You know you’re his favorite human, his actions have shown it… So it’d make sense that he’s also your favorite, when you reciprocate his love for you right?

I got the sudden energy to write this when I listened to the song called "Pretty boy" by Naethan Apollo. The song is such a banger I would recommend it to y'all.

[es-3]

i love how no one can remember anything from trc except for vibes and so here’s a list i compiled of everything i remember from the entire series

blue made out with a ghost

the ghost was the funniest character and then everyone realized he was a ghost and then everyone forgot about him

persephone lived in the attic

there was a tree that showed them their worst fears when they went inside it and for whatever reason they took turns going inside it like why did they do that and also i think ronan dreamt it????

im pretty sure the trees spoke latin

was that a thing

now that i’m thinking about it i have no idea

boat shoes

the set up for manmouth manufacturing was set up in a way only teenage boys with no supervision could set up

they pulled a little defense against the dark arts teachers but with latin class instead and but i don’t remember how many latin teachers there were

blue and gansey talked on the phone

and then they took little drives but i don’t remember how often that happened

adam straight up killed a dude

blue is NOT a prostitute but she IS half tree

ronans objects of worship were confined to one downtown block

uhhhh i think there was a part with a lake in a cave and i’m pretty sure there were like deer or something and i think blues dad might have been but i do remember they got split up at some point in that cave

latin teacher killed noah

noah had a red car

i’ve heard there was a toga party but i don’t remember anything from it

ronan did not like lamps

adam is the eyes and ears for a sentient forest

the pig

bees

robot ones too

declan dated a bunch of girls named ashley

there was like a hole??? in the ground?? at school i think??? and henry forced gansey to go in it and then trama dumped and then gave him the most traumatizing exposure therapy of his life

gansey has seen ronans dick at least once

adam and ronan ran around pushing each other in shopping carts

“she makes me quiet”

ronan did imaginary drugs and it ended with his organless brother getting kidnapped because his drug buddy had a big fat crush on him and i’m pretty sure there were fireworks involved in the rescue

did gansey go around knocking on doors and talking to people in different accents or was that lockwood and co? or was it both?

adam and ronan went around moving rocks because the trees that talked to adam told him to

blues aunt had lovely cubby hands also i think she might have been a bad guy but i don’t actually remember

oh there was like a crazy lady they found in a tomb idk why i forgot about her

gansey didn’t want to find glendower that one day because the aesthetic was off

maura and calla and persephone met on the side of a road

ganseys sister can fly helicopters

adam and ronan blackmailed their latin teacher for a fake crime with fake evidence that they dreamt up by making dream latin teacher do those things

the gray man was very slay

also he killed ronans dad

and he worked for the latin teacher

oh and there were sleeping mice

and a sleeping mom

and a toaster that didn’t work anymore

there was a grocery store scene i think and im pretty sure there was fighting in that scene

henry was kidnapped when he wasn’t wearing any pants

that’s all gang, tune in next time to see if i can remember anything from the plot

[jesncin]

Mind if I ask what your take on other Batman Rogues would be like, like Bane, Croc, or Riddler? Or Superman's like Braniac, Toyman, or Zod?

There's no reason behind the specific names. They're just the ones that popped first in my head.

Thank you for the both of your's time.

Out of these rogues, I've got some concept ideas for Brainiac. He's a mix of GLaDOS, Brau-1589 (from Pluto), Ghost in the Shell's Puppetmaster, and concepts from the game SOMA.

Braniac is an advanced Kryptonian AI program that gained uncomfortable sentience. A robot capable of murder, Brainiac seeks to destroy civilizations, believing his data of their recorded history would become more valuable in the process. He can possess and download himself into any robot body, so he takes many forms. Internally, he's at odds with his growing humanity.

You didn't mention her, but I have big brain ideas for Livewire!

A controversial grifter podcast influencer lady, Leslie Willis finds a prime opportunity to use Superman as a scapegoat for inflammatory content when he accidentally gives her the ability to be living energy. She's already primed her audience to victimize her if anyone chose to take a stance against her, targeting Superman just became a lot easier! She aims to rival news outlets like the Daily Planet, including Jimmy's popular video show. Though becoming more influential than her old colleague Lois Lane doesn't hurt either.

Those are my rogue ideas! I generally only pick villains to reimagine if I have a story to tell or a compelling take on them (I don't have an idea on everyone, at least not yet lol). Popular villains like the bat rogues are so saturated with content that it's pretty intimidating to attempt a take on them, haha. People have such strong feelings over the most obscure of the bat rogues, so I'd only make a take if I feel very strongly for an idea there. Lately I feel Superman rogues are very underrated! And I'm always looking for ways to revitalize Martian rogues too.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hello!! I love your Carmy fics and (if you are still taking requests) I would love to see anything fluffy with him! Maybe like a late night up with him or literally anything!

This is completely different. It's giving more like first time meeting slash cute cuteness but I hope it's still something...

Chicago rain

Carmen wasn't a lady man. The anxiety that crippled him made any interaction awkward and robot-like at times. Hence why he practically always avoided any outing. Too many stimulations. Too little capacity in his brain to deal with it all.

But then you had walked into the Bear one day. The weather in Chicago was brutal. The wet spell was without doubt trying to drown the city at this point. Carmy was busy in the kitchen. It was past the breakfast rush but still a good chunk of time till the madness of lunchtime hit. So everything seemed slow. The pre-prep that was done last night allowed everyone to take a needed breather. Carmen heard voices from the front. Surprisingly Richie's voice didn't sound bitchy. A laughter echoed and the door to the kitchen quickly opened.

"I need one of our best sellers and someone to start a big cup of tea", Carmy frowned slightly, no one ordered tea here. "Cousin, do we have towels without holes in them?", Richie raked through the drawers, making a mess of a somewhat organized place. "Man put that back as it was, I'll grab one for the back", Carmen huffed as he walked towards his office. "Bring it out front", Richie called from behind him.

If only he had known. If only he had known that his heart was going to leap out of his chest the moment he brought that stupid tower out, he would have done a double take. Here you were, drenched to the last fiber of your skin. Shivering so hard Carmen could practically feel his own teeth aching from the friction. "Shit", he muttered under his breath, your big eyes darted up to meet him. You two stilled a bit yet your composure came back way quicker. "Sorry, I'll clean the floor, I know I left quite a...", but your rant was cut with Carmen stepping forward as he wrapped the towel around your shoulders. "Forget about it", he said, "It's nothing, Richie will take care of it".

Your cold fingers brushed over Carmen's warm hands and he practically let out a hiss at how cold you felt. His brain was working so fast that he didn't even realize it as he said, "Come over to the back. I have spare clothes you can change into". You looked back at him, shaking your head, "It's all okay, I'll grab a cup and will head out", you pointed to the absolute miserable weather outside. You both looked at it for a while before you huffed, "Yeah, I probably won't go out...", your voice died down. "Then, after you", Carmen gestured towards the kitchen and this time you didn't fight it.

You were pretty much drowning in Carmen's hoodie but the warmth of it was much appreciated. Carmen as you had learned along the way had prepared a full three-course meal. Pouring second of the soup. "My brother used to say that it warmed both the body and the soul", you smiled at that, especially when Carmen had sat to eat beside you. You watched him work after that. The rush of the kitchen. The shouting. The clacking of the pans. The smells. It all felt like a dance of some sort. A rhythm that was so easy to get lost in. You watched it till your eyes grew heavy and sleep pulled you in.

Carmen had felt your eyes on him all night. But oddly enough they didn't make him feel uneasy. Quite the opposite. He wanted to carry himself higher. Show off the place. The things he did best. By the time he pulled enough courage to look back at you, he had found you sleeping with your head resting on his office desk. Even in the midst of the chaos he had stepped out. Quickly whipping his damp hands before he took a proper look at you.

Never had Carmen seen a girl so pretty in his life. Rarely did any girl awaken any reaction in him. But there was something about you. Something that called out to him. Carmen gently ran his hand up and down your arm, making you flinch as you quickly sat up. Nearly falling over with the chair.

"God, sorry, fuck", you steadied yourself, Carmen's hand falling over your shoulders. He met your tired eyes, smiling softly, "Why don't you lay down", he nodded towards the little couch. It wasn't anything fancy, but it did the job. "No, I've caused too much trouble already", you muttered but Carmen shook his head. "Nap for a bit, we should close in a couple of hours. I'll drive you home then", he offered, getting drawn in by your eyes once more. You quickly tucked your hair behind your ear, "I will never repay you for all of this", you mumbled. Carmen shrugged his shoulders, suddenly feeling bold, "Have dinner with me sometime. If you want, of course... you can say no. I would understand and it's...", he ranted on. You reached to touch his hand and his movements stalled, "I'd like that", you muttered, feeling your cheeks growing crimson. Carmy only nodded before once again motioning you towards the sofa.

You followed his lead, tucking your legs towards your chest for more warmth. Carmen quickly looked around, reaching for his big blazer as he carefully draped it over your frame. You smiled up at him and he was quick to follow your lead especially when a yawn slipped past your lips. He watched you for a moment. Tucking the image of you deep into his brain before he slowly turned around, carefully closing the door behind him as the chaos of the kitchen sucked him right back into action. Yet the feeling of something good looming right behind these closed doors didn't leave him all evening long.

[carolmunson]

peanut butter vibe. (steve harrington x thick!reader)

fulfilling my own request for mean!hot!thick!reader and hot!rich!wealthy!corporate!steve harrington who is not so secretly in love with you. takes place in 1996 - reader and steve are 29 turning 30

word count: 10.2K

warnings: 18+ minors dni, f!reader, smut smut smut smut, there is smut everywere in this. from flashback smut to actual smut, they've BEEN fucking. mild daddy kink, face sitting, face riding, unprotected p in v sex, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), references to shower sex. body type mention, very little body insecurity mention, reference to an ex boyfriend saying reader was 'too big' for something but it's not like -- something that they take into consideration. dirty talk, pet names (honey, baby, 'good girl' etc.), mild choking, steve is so bitchy but also so soft in this i hate him.

"Hi Stevie, it's me. I'm uh, I'm back a little early, Carly's having her baby soon -- I know it was a little weird last time with Andy being with me. We um, we broke up so he's not here this time. It wasn't like a big blow out or anything but -- why am I talking about this on your answering machine? Sorry. I'll be at Porter's tonight around 6 if you wanted to meet me there? It'd be cool to see you, I guess. -sigh- It's hard to bully you when you aren't responding. Anyway, bye -- I know you'll be there at 5:57 because you can't wait to see me."

Steve let out a sigh while the answering machine closed out with a beep, the robotic voice announcing 'End of Messages'. He took his glasses off and ran a hand over his face, tossing a look at the clock on the wall across from him. It was almost quitting time, and Porter's was only a twenty minute drive away from the office. Part of him selfishly didn't want to show up, or maybe show up a little late to make you sweat since you'd forced him to meet your boyfriend last time. Well, ex boyfriend now.

You and Steve weren't friends in high school. He was busy being King Steve, basketball playing jock covered in ladies and popular people. You were busy in drama club and creative writing in the library, protecting your friends from people like Steve. Sure you knew each other, you graduated in the same year, had a couple of classes together -- but neither of you were very interested in offering each other the time of day. Two incredibly different ships passing in the night.

You weren't Steve's type in high school, either. Steve was always caught with what you'd describe as 'pretty little things'. Girls with waists he could wrap his hands around, thin and toned thighs, girls with a little jiggle where it mattered the most and none where it didn't. The girl's wearing bikini's to his house parties when the pool was open. Maybe if you had looked like that, you would've known Steve in high school -- but then again, he wasn't really the kind of guy you were trying to hail down in Hawkins.

When you weren't getting finger blasted backstage by Eddie 'The Freak' Munson when he got to the theater too early for Hellfire Club, you were making eyes at college freshman at the coffee shop you worked at. Something about slightly older men, y'know? A little mature, a little more sure of themselves. Pouring over books and scribbling in their notebooks behind their frames, staying until close to finish a paper or study for an exam. You had one or two wrapped around your finger your senior year before you left to go to school in Chicago. After Chicago it was New York -- working in marketing for a cosmetics line.

You'd come back to Hawkins every year for the holidays, but one year when your grandfather passed away you ended up at Porter's after the funeral. You were 24 and heartbroken, nursing a glass of red wine, looking out of place in your Manhattan clothes in the cozy small town bar.

You were alone at the stools until Steve Harrington came through the door, suit jacket slung over his shoulder and tie loosened over his button down. He nodded at the bar tender who instinctively poured him a whiskey before he even made it to the barstool two over from you.

"Rough day, Harrington?" he asked, sliding the drink down to him.

"You wouldn't believe, Paul," he shook his head, carding his fingers through his hair. He rested his chin on one hand, propped up on his elbow, catching your movement in the corner of his eye. He turned his head and looked over at you, a endearing smile lighting up his tired face -- that Harrington charm.

"What about you? Rough day?" he asked. At first you didn't realize he was talking to you, looking down into your wine and listening to the drone of whatever sports game was on the TV. You were brought back to earth when a soft 'hey' came from his direction.

"Me? Oh, yeah. My grandpa's funeral," you said with a scrunched face, shrugging, "Sort of a huge downer."

"Oh, wow," Steve said, turning his full body towards you on the stool, "Sorry for your loss -- that's -- yeah that beats my day. Sorry about that."

You murmur a thank you and go back to your wine, hearing him shift in his seat.

"You look really familiar," he says gently, scanning your face.

"We went to high school together," you say with a smile after a sip of your Malbec, "Class of '85."

"Hawkins High? You sure?," his voice gets a little syrupy, "I think I'd remember you."

"I was in drama -- wasn't really your type," you say with a smart head tilt. It didn't bother you that you hadn't been. The same way it didn't bother you that you might've been his type now.

You spent three hours together talking at the bar, exchanging stories about high school and your years out of it. He told you how he just started on the sales team for some big insurance company and felt so out of his depth but at least he got to wear a suit. You told him about your dingy apartment in the Lower East Side and how you missed driving all the time.

You spent another hour fucking in his BMW, riding him in the back seat tucked in a dark corner of the Porter's empty parking lot. Your skirt pushed up over your hips.

"Fuck," Steve grunted through gritted teeth, splayed out in the center of the back seat, his legs as far out as that could go, "Y'feel so fucking good. So fucking good on top of me."

You whimpered in response, the curve of his cock hitting your spongey, sensitive g-spot with every bounce. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as his hands moved smoothly over your thighs, finger tips digging into your fleshy hips when he got your reflection in the rear view mirror. Rear view, indeed. He let his eyes rest on the reverberation of your ass coming down on his hips and big legs with each shove down on his cock. The wet smack! of is crotch hitting against your soaked pussy making him want to fuck you even harder. He kneaded your body in his hands, grabbing handfuls of you as he got to your backside, humming while he felt it shake just out of his grasp.

You yelped when his warm palm cracked down on it, an angry sting running through your lower body. You couldn't help but tighten around him, slick dripping over him between your legs.

"Hm, you like that? You like when I smack that fucking ass?" he asked, holding your hips down so he could buck into you with a faster speed. Groaning while he pumped with vigor, you hear another hard crack on your ass resounding in the backseat before you feel the burn of it. Your whines made his cock twitch, slowing down to feel your hips grinding desperately against him for more friction. You slapped your palms gently against his clothed chest, pouting as you shimmied for more of his assault against your aching cunt.

“You love this cock, huh? Look at you, so fuckin' needy for it,” he gloated while your eyes narrowed in on him. Oh no, you weren't about to give Steve Harrington the satisfaction of telling him how fucking amazing his dick felt plowing into you. You weren't about to admit that all the things girls would say about him in high school were true. You reached for his jaw, holding it tight in your hand to look down at him while his hips slowed to a stop. He looked up at you, his eyes a little glassy, his grip loosening on your hips.

“Shut - your mouth,” you hissed down at him. He flushes, a smirk slips onto his lips as he leans back, putting his hands behind his head, his elbows splayed out next to him.

"Yes ma'am," he says with a soft raise to his eyebrows.

"If you'd like," he starts, taking his glasses off and tucking them into his breast pocket. He looks unbothered by your act of dominance while he runs a hand through his hair and leans forward to close the gap between you. His hands digging firmly into your ass to keep you balanced on his thighs.

His lips ghost yours while he speaks low and huskily, "I can take you back to mine and show you all the other ways I know how to use it."

He ate your pussy with the lights on and gave you his number before driving you back to your place.

'I like talking to you,' he shrugged, 'Call me whenever.'

And so began a so far, five year friendship -- you'd have long phone calls every few weeks or months when your busy schedules allowed. Staying updated on each other: how work was going, what bad dates you both had been on, what hijinks you'd been getting into with friends. Promotions, birthdays, hardships. It was nice to have a friend from home, someone who sort of knew the people you knew before you left. Nice to gossip a little, nice to laugh with each other.

Every time you came back to Hawkins, you'd meet up at Porter's for a drink. Have a real talk like you did the first night you got to know each other and then somehow, for some reason, you'd end up back at his place.

"What'd I say? Right on time, Harrington," you call out when he comes through the door. Steve groans, looking at his watch -- 5:57 on the dot. He'd had a long day, he was tired, and for a moment the sound of your voice made him grit his teeth.

You watch him check his watch and his smile tightens. He looks good -- suit much more refined from when you first really met him five years ago. Tailored, in a color that compliments his skin, his tie perfectly kept to his chest with what you assume was a pricey tie clip, shoes shined. He'd fit in great on Wall Street if he'd just get a fucking hair cut.

The way he walks towards you holds a different confidence than it had in the last year and a half when you were with Andy. Though it was clear he didn't particularly like Andy, he was perfectly pleasant -- able to slip right into a cadence of faux friendship you only wished Andy could've done. You once him over a second time as he sits in the stool next to you, his cologne was new, but expected. It felt like every man you knew was wearing Aqua di Gio.

"I know you're always so desperate to impress me but I gotta say, you look a little overdressed for Porter's. Were you nervous or something?" you ask sweetly, sipping on your red wine. You slide a whiskey double infront of him and he looks down at it, a frustrated smile breaks against his face. He bites the tip of his tongue between his teeth, shaking his head -- his hair moves with him.

"Looks like you didn't bother getting dressed up for me at all," he bites back, "C'mon, Manhattan -- a Hawkins High sweatshirt?"

Manhattan -- his favorite nick name when you got too big for your britches. A little too snobby for his liking, which was funny coming from a man with more designer clothing than you could dream to afford.

You looked down at yourself, you'd stolen the sweatshirt from your little sister -- your original one too battered and stained to see the light of day again. Sure, maybe your light wash bootcut jeans weren't screaming high fashion but your black square toed boots were cute! You swore you looked good before you left, but suddenly you weren't sure. You'd fallen off dressing 'nice' when you were home, it just wasn't worth it.

"Okay, mean," you spit, not giving off offense -- but not hiding it either.

"I like the boots, though," he shrugs, lifting the tumbler to his lips. The golden brown of the whiskey matched his eyes, they seemed to soften as the liquid met his mouth.

"Top shelf?" Steve's teeth are bright and straight in his smile while he sets the glass down.

"Do I ever disappoint?" you ask, crossing your legs. He burns pink at the question.

"Never," he's earnest in his response, finally making full eye contact with you, "You staying through the holidays?"

"Just for a few days, then heading back to wrap up Q4, I'll be back on the 23rd like always," you say. He nods and stands up, scooting his bar stool closer to yours -- just enough that your knees brushed. He leans forward, acting like it's too loud to hear you but the bar is only half full. You lean forward too, resting your chin on your hand, elbow drilling into your crossed thighs.

"And how's Carly?" he asks, you can see the delicate five o'clock shadow peeking through on his chin and neck. His lips full and wet with whiskey, he slides his tongue over them slowly to collect the flavor.

"So over being pregnant," you roll your eyes over your older sister's dramatics, "But you know -- she's excited. I'm excited, too! I get to live out my dreams of being the mysterious, hot, rich aunt."

"So, what -- Andy didn't want to be the rich uncle?" he asks, you note that he drops 'mysterious' and 'hot'. The mention of Andy stings a little and your eyes droop down to your wine.

"Sorry," he says, his comforting hand falling on your knee, "I'm sorry."

He squeezes your knee when you don't look up at his apology, a beat passes while you contemplate saying something mean -- but it's a little nice to see him feel apologetic.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, his thumb soothingly running back and forth over your thigh as his hand moves further up. Steve frowns at your disappointed face, he hated crossing the line by accident.

You shake your head no, tilting your head back up, "Let's wait on that. I wanna hear about that big promotion you got -- we haven't really gotten to talk about it."

Steve got promoted to Director of Sales six months ago and it was kicking his ass way less than his previous management position. What was most exhausting was how incompetent everyone was.

"Well, you were kind of too busy --" he started, but quickly shook his head out of the bit, "It's fine, it's a lot of work -- god, no one ever knows what they're doing. A lot of directing going into this director of sales thing."

"Aww, my little scumbag -- running the insurance show," you coo, "You should do car sales next, so sleazy, you'll fit right in."

"You're somethin' else, tonight," he laughs, taking his hand off your leg, "And are you any better? Working for a company that tells women they're ugly so they'll buy all your shit? How's it going at L'Oreal anyway?"

You sigh and roll yours eyes, "More like L'Ore-hell. I just transferred into the marketing team from customer insights and it's somehow -- boring? I already know the answers to all of the problems they come up with. It's like they don't know who their customer base is."

Steve's eyes sparkle while you continue to rant about ROIs and think tanks, he loves when you talk about how much you hate your job. You get so passionate, you talk so fast he can barely keep up.

"I wish I could check your blood pressue right now," he jokes, it's the kind of joke adults make. Sometimes it feels like you're both playing the parts of adults at these bar hang outs -- two kids in their parent's clothes on barstools, just giggling.

"When I went to the doctor they had to check it twice because I was talking about work when they checked it the first time -- that's how stressed out it makes me," you huff.

"Sorry, I just made that all about me, can you please let me more about your director job -- are you at least happy about the promotion?" you ask.

You miss his hand on your leg but it's probably just the wine talking. Paul comes over to replenish the glass without asking, you and Steve were both two drinks and go kind of people (sometimes you'd sneak a third if he wasn't paying attention).

"I mean, sure -- I'm a step away from getting into a chair position. I'm making more money than I know what to do with. My dad is thrilled for the first time ever," he explains, always so expressive but you catch him nervously swipe through his hair, "But -- fuck...y'know?"

"I don't know," you laugh into your glass, "What do you mean, 'fuck'?"

"I'm gonna be thirty next year and like, what do I have to show for it other than --"

"Other than being a wealthy hometown high school basketball super star, swimming in pussy, who got a cushy office job two years after graduating because your daddy was tired of seeing you work at Family Video, and now is the director of sales at a big wig insurance company after only what -- seven years in the company? And wears designer suits and is still swimming in pussy?" you say in one breath. He sighs at you and leans his head into his hand, elbow resting on the bar.

"Sure -- I guess," he smiles, but it's a sad smile.

"What more do you want, Steve?" you ask with a shrug, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here."

"I don't know," he shrugs, "I mean look at you -- every time you come back you have a new story to tell me, something exciting that happened to you. I have -- pfft -- 'They hired a new secretary! Here's the gossip about other people in Hawkins I learned from my mom! I'm still sort of a loser!"

"I mean sure, yeah, you're a loser," you agree, "But not, y'know, not like -- in the bad way."

He tosses you a look but you smile back at it, making him smile back at you. This time it's genuine, you figure the whiskey is helping. Steve sits back up to full height and leans back in his bar stool, knees splaying out. If he took his suit jacket off you'd swear he'd look like one of those 1950's husbands whose a little annoyed that dinner isn't ready yet -- your thighs press tight together.

"I think you sound bored," you suggest, "Like you need something different."

He drums his fingers on the bar, staring at them while he speaks, "I have some options I've been thinking about, but I don't know. Don't wanna make a fool of myself if it doesn't work out."

"Don't wait too long," you say with a shrug, "Another ten years will fly by like that." You snap your fingers for emphasis.

"What happened with Andy?" he presses, sipping his whiskey to down the rest and putting the empty glass on the table.

You 'ugh' under your breath and take a big sip of wine before you feel him tug at the end of the stem, "Sloooow down. Don't wanna to have to carry you out of here."

"You couldn't carry me, Harrington," you say flatly.

"We both know that I can carry you, but okay," he says with a quirked brow, unimpressed with your attitude. The memory of him hoisting you up against the shower tile in his bathroom with your fleshy thighs wrapped tight around him flashes through your mind. Hot breath and hot water running all over you while he grunted into your ear with each desperate thrust. Steve notices your cheeks heat up -- he knows what you're thinking about, because he is too. A satisfied smile settles onto his lips.

"Alright, settle down," you say, pushing your glass a little away from you towards Steve while his next whiskey arrives. You aren't sure if you're talking to him or to yourself.

"I just..." you breathe out of your nose, "It wasn't working out. I was tired of taking care of him."

"Oh, you broke up with him?" Steve confirms.

"Yeah," you sit back a bit, furrowing your brow, "Did you think he broke up with me?"

"I don't know, you seemed really sad about it!" Steve says, his hands outstretched, "I thought he left you."

"He didn't," you say, "I left, but it's still a bummer. Thought maybe he could've been it, y'know? But, thinking back it would've been -- I don't know -- it wasn't going to happen."

"He didn't want to get married?" he asked, a little surprised.

"I don't think that was in his five year plan, he barely took me out to dinner," you complained, "I was paying for everything 'cause I had a better job."

Steve crossed his arms while you talked, frowning while you continued to ramble about Andy and the break up.

"I just felt like I was putting a lot of effort into him, and I wasn't getting anything in return," you shrug, "And like, that's okay. I'm so used to doing that but...I don't know, I think I just would like for someone to take care of me for a change."

You pause, considering what you said and shake your head, "That sounds so selfish, oh my god."

"I don't think it sounds selfish at all," Steve shakes his head, "I think you're sort of asking for the bare minimum -- I mean fuck, he didn't take you out to dinner? I've taken you out to dinner and you've never even been my..."

You're both quiet for a beat while he trails off, neither of you looking at each other. You reach for your wine and he moves the glass away just as your fingers graze the stem. You lift your butt of the stool and pluck it out of his hand, taking another - smaller - sip. He looks at you like a disappointed father.

"Maybe I wanted to try it? Ugh, you're right Manhattan, you're so selfish," Steve teased.

"You don't like Malbec, Stevie," you swirl the booze in your glass, "That's why I order it."

Steve knows that's why you order Malbec, that's why he kept ordering whiskey -- you don't like it, but he'll know you're getting a little drunk if you ask for a sip of his drink. That's when he knows it's time to take you home, he'd sleep with you another night. He doesn't want you to get too drunk tonight, something about your flushed cheeks. The way you look in those boot cut jeans -- especially when you excused yourself to the bathroom and he could watch you walk away. Whew.

Steve waits for the door to close behind you to hail down Paul to get the check.

"She's gonna get pissy that you're covering it," Paul said while passing him the bill for your drinks, "She told me not to let you pay when she got here."

"Paul -- What's she gonna do? Kill me?" he gestures his hand out while using the other to reach for his wallet. He pulls out a few bills, including a generous tip, and passes them to Paul indiscreetly.

"Steve -- come on!" He winces at your voice, "I told you last time I had it next!"

"My hand slipped -- suddenly the money just appeared in Paul's register, there was nothing I could do," Steve held his hands up.

"Paul!" you call down the bar, but the yell turns into a laugh, "You promised you wouldn't let him pay!"

"He threatened me within an inch of my life. Had to let the man do what he wants," Paul said, putting the cash in the register. You settle back into your stool and cross your legs again, smoothing your damp hands on your jeans.

"I'm gonna kill you, Harrington," you mutter to your knees.

"I feel like 'thank you' would've been a much nicer thing to say," he's always so cool when he talks. You envy how easy it is for him to be charming, to turn it on quickly. Sometimes he makes you feel nervous and seventeen again, even though you've done this so many times before. He looks at you over the whiskey glass while he sips it, eyes glittering behind his glasses. Neither of you have to say anything to know what happens after his finishes his drink.

When you left, he reached for your hand when the door to Porter's closed behind you. You didn't need the support, the parking lot wasn't icy or snow covered, you weren't drunk -- but you let his fingers lace with yours. He guides you deliberately to his car -- of course it's new -- a dark green Porsche 911. What a tool.

"You like my new toy?" he asked. It was easily the most expensive car you'd seen in Indiana.

"Steven," you're a little exasperated -- sometimes he was such a poor little rich boy, "Why?"

He shrugs, "Felt like it."

You let go of his hand to walk to the passengers side door, waiting for him to unlock it while you shiver. He notices you didn't have a coat on, shaming himself silently for not offering his trench for the short walk.

You both get in when he unlocks to doors and you eye the interior, the plush leather of the seats. You squint a little when you cast your eyes over to him, "I feel like you're compensating for something."

"Oh yeah?" he asks casually, starting the car and cranking the heat, "What am I compensating for? Wanna remind me?"

You cross your arms and don't answer because he doesn't have anything to compensate for. Steve Harrington was born blessed, if you were more religious you'd swear he was God's favorite.

"That's what I thought," he says with a grin while pulling out of the parking lot. His hand meets your head rest while he stretches his neck back to check for cars. The same hand falls to your thigh when you make it on the road, sliding his palm over the swell of it -- his fingers resting inside. He let his eyes glance at how your hips filled up the small passengers seat at a red light, your jeans tight over your thighs.

Steve gave you a soft squeeze when the light turned green, you put your hand over his hand at the gesture -- relacing your fingers. You don't notice the gentle smile blooming onto his face, too busy looking at Christmas lights on the houses outside.

--

You don't waste time when you both get into his house, slipping off your shoes at the entry way -- bolstering passed the darkened livingroom to the stairs in his mini-mansion. He follows quickly behind you, getting ahead of you to get into his room to turn on the bedside lamps.

"Are those new?" you whisper -- it's not like anyone is home, it's Steve's house, but the darkness makes you feel like you have to be quiet. He comes back over to you, quick on his socked feet and pulls you in for a feverish kiss.

"Yeah," he says between kisses, all harsh breaths and wet clicks, "I had a new -- mmm -- uh fuck -- new decorator come in."

His hands are wound in your hair while he keeps control of your head, his kisses go from fast and hungry to slow and controlled.

"I'll show you later," he mumbles against your lips. You nod in agreement, you did genuinely want to see. What fancy hotel was it based off of this time?

"This is okay, right?" he asks, pulling away, "I'm sorry I didn't ask I just -- old habits, I guess."

"It's okay, Stevie," you assure, his hands slipping out of your hair and onto your full cheeks. He squishes them together a little and smiles into a little chuckle. Sometimes you're so cute to him he can't stand it, he wants to eat you whole -- wants to keep you in his bed forever.

"Good," he mumbles again before settling back in for a deep kiss that leaves you moaning softly into his mouth, "Missed feeling you like this."

"You're so needy," you tease, his hands dropping from your face to your hips, feeling his own press against yours.

"Oh, you feel that?" he smirks, dick hard in his slacks -- straining despterately to get your attention.

"Needier than I thought," you scoff, "You gonna make it, Steve? You don't even have your jacket off yet."

"Watch your mouth," it's not mean when he says it, he likes when you tease him because you have nothing to back it up. You've never left unsatisfied -- even when you were on top calling him your 'sweet boy', you'd get in the shower after with your legs shaking. Shivering against him when he'd get on his knees and lick at your sensitive clit just to watch you leave hand print on the glass.

"You just sound so pretty, miss. I can't help myself," he'd say from below you, water droplets resting on his eyelashes while you gushed over his mouth.

Steve breaks away to take off his jacket and looks at it for a split second -- hesitating.

"You wanna hang it up, huh?" you know how he gets.

"Will you be mad? I just don't want it to crease," he pleads.

"You're gonna get the suit dry cleaned anyway," you say back, laughing.

"I know, I know, but I have to -- I just have to hang it up, I'm so sorry," he presses a chaste peck to your lips before disappearing into his walk in closet. You take your time getting undressed because you know he'll be at least seven to nine minutes while he puts everything back in the 'to be dry cleaned' part of the closet.

You keep your bra and panties on, white satin, a little lace. He's always a sucker for something angelic that's a little grown up -- but you guess you are grown ups now. It's weird to consider.

He emerges from the closet in his boxer breifs with a frown, "Why'd you take your clothes off without me?"

"You took your clothes off without me," you counter point, "Did you want me to just sit here and wait for you?"

"Kinda," he says with a half shrug, "Would've been nice."

You get a little giddy while he approaches you, his smile building when yours does. His hands skate over the flesh on top of your flared ribs, over to your back. His fingers gliding over the back strap of your bra before snapping it off of you, dropping it to the floor. He traces the indents on your skin from the clothing, red and raw. Big hands grope at your breasts before following the slope of your waist back down to your ass, filling his hands greedily.

"Missed her the most," another chaste kiss to your lips, "But I think you knew that." Steve had always thought he was a tits guy until he met you, maybe you were the exception. Maybe he liked all your parts.

"I knew that," you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Can you stop stalling, Harrington? This wine's gonna wear off soon."

With your hold on his neck, laying you back on the mattress was an easy feat. He spread you out wide, pushing your hands above your head while he settled his hips against yours. He couldn't help himself from starting to rut against you -- you were so warm, your pussy practically begging him to fuck you.

"Ooh," you moaned out against your better wishes, his covered cock giving you just enough friction in your panties to set you ablaze. You could feel yourself dripping into them, begging, waiting for him.

"You really want me tonight, huh?" he asked hungrily, knowing the answer.

"Y-yes, Stevie," you whined, letting go of his hands to let your nails graze down his back, feeling the length of him trapped in his boxers press against you.

"Oh-ho-ho, whose needy now, hm?" he teases in your ear, grinding mercilessly against you, his chest pressed up against yours while he keeps you pinned the the mattress.

"So quick with that tongue earlier, what happened?" he smirks, getting right in your face, brushing his nose against yours. You roll your hips against his, your thighs sliding against his hips as another mewl escapes you at the friction.

"Oh, I see. You wanna be good for daddy now, don't you?"

"Steven," your eyes pop open, your mouth gapes with a smile, "You can't just say stuff like that."

He laughs into a kiss on your neck, "C'mon, I think you liked it."

"I don't really think you're the 'daddy', type," you say, your voice taunting.

"No?" he asks his voice is calm, but his eyes are challenging you.

"No, you're too nice," you smirk while he comes up to kiss your mouth, "You've never won a fight in your life. And you're what, almost 30? Who're you bossin' around?"

He watches you raise a brow when you say it, your lower lip tucking slowly between your teeth in a grin -- god he loves when you do that.

"Lot of secretaries to go through in the office, mmm," he hums when your lips graze his neck, your tongue striping up to his jaw, "Learned a couple things."

"You think I can't boss you around?" he asks, pressing up off of you and leaning onto one of his forearms.

"I know you can't boss me around," you say, your brows quirking while you push at his chest to get on top of him like you always do. Already soaking at the thought of him whining for you to fuck him, to cum all over him, grabbing at your thighs, hips, and ass desperately. His heaving breaths after finishing, resting his head on your stomach while you stroked his hair, feeling his lips press against your soft, pudgy, belly to let you know he's ready for the next round.

He caught your wrist as you pushed and pressed it back down into the mattress.

"Oh c'mon Stevie, I love hearing you beg for me," you tease before he presses his mouth against yours, noses squishing together. Over the years, Steve craved closeness from you -- pulling you flush against his chest when you were on top, wrapping his arms around your back. Clutching you, fingertips sinking into your cloud-soft flesh while you moaned into his ear.

"Think you can beg for me for a change," he mutters, pulling away as you reach to kiss him again. A little whine pulls from your throat and he purrs at the sound. Right where he wants you.

He gets on his knees between your legs and looks down at you, eyes roaming the expanse of your body -- your broad shoulders, soft skin, delicate curves and indents. His personal Aphrodite -- flesh turned fine art. All the Rennaissance paintings in the world couldn't do you justice. He stuttered the first time he saw you naked, overwhelmed by you and how not shy you were for him to see you. Steve let's a finger trail along the lining of your silk panties at your thigh, you shiver at his soft touch.

"Take these off," he says, but it comes out as a demand.

"So mean," you tease, tugging at the elastic and lifting your hips up to push them over your butt and thighs. He shrugs off your jest, grabbing your underwear when they get too far down for you to reach and throwing them on the floor. He's rough when he flips you over to your stomach, the flesh of your ass bouncing with the movement and he salivates immediately.

"I'll show you mean," he says, it's more playful than menacing. He brings a hand down hard on your soft body, ass reverberating with the action and you gasp -- tensing all around.

"Ow -- Steve!" you cry out, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, shit,” he smooths over the pink handprint blooming on your skin, “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay, it's fine, just -- I don't know, warn a girl," you laugh. His hand drags over the curve of your ass to your thigh.

"Did you like that?" he asked, his voice dropped to his lower register and you inadvertently press your thighs together. Your face drops into your arms on the mattress, blushing.

"Is that a yes?" he asks, fingers snaking to your inner thigh and your hips roll slowly at the feeling. He hums when he sees you nod into your forearms.

"On your knees, baby," he suggests, tapping your thigh. You adjust onto your knees, forearms still on the mattress in a perfect deep arch. He sits back at first, taking a moment to marvel at your ass in the air -- committing it to memory. He keeps his hand on your inner thigh, massaging gently while you settle into position.

"Open up a little more for me," he's gentle, pushing at your flesh so you open up wider. You adjust and he grins, sliding his boxers off -- you whimper when he does.

"You okay?" his voice laces with acute concern, it wasn't a sexy whine or cry like you usually do. He stands up so he can soothe you from the side of the bed, his hand smoothing over your back.

"I thought you were gonna -- I didn't know we were immediately gonna fuck," you say, leaning your face to the side to look at him.

"Oh no - I wasn't just gonna - when have I ever just gone in and fucked you?" he laughs, "I just wanna jerk off while you sit on my face, is that okay?"

"So much for me begging for you," you smirk, "Sitting on your face, just like old times."

He huffs a breath through his nose looking down at you, his face unimpressed. He leans forward, face inches away from yours, "Who was just whining over the idea that I might not eat her pussy tonight?"

You burn at his words and he notices, "Was it you?"

You nod with an embarrassed smile, "If you're a good girl, I'll let you be the boss next time. I'll teach you a few things, yeah?"

"Steeeeve," you whine while your skin is in flames, "You can't say that."

He gets on the bed behind you, one hand on the bend of your hip, the other with his fingers sliding against your open folds -- finding slicknes without surprise.

"Can't say what?" he asks with a smile, "Can't call you my good girl?"

Your hips push back on his fingers when he says it and you scold yourself at your body's betrayal. You hear him tutt behind you and you clench around nothing at the sound, "Sure feels like I can."

He slides under you like a well versed mechanic, arms and hands immediately wrapping around your thighs, stifiling their nervous jiggle. He guides you down to his mouth, your posture changing while you sit further up and back so you can see his eyes and he can see all of you. Your hips wiggle as you feel his breath on your opening.

"Are you excited?" he asks, you nod and he can't hold out anymore at the sight of your smile. You feel his tongue drag, poking between your folds once you relaxed -- his fingers reaching to keep you spread open to start.

Your smile transforms to a pornographic gasp, head immediately thrown back as his tongue stripes you again. Your hips rock against his mouth, Steve smirks to himself into the next lick, flicking over your clit and a peal of mewls escape your lips.

He feels at home here, your full, thick thighs keeping his ears warm in the December weather. This big cold house suddenly feeling full with your voice moaning his name. He didn't need the whiskey if you were offering to quench his thirst like this.

You feel his tongue lap at your opening, the thick, wet, muscle pushing in past your walls trying to desperate to out maneuver him. His face was coated in your juices, dripping freely own onto his chin and cheeks while he fucked you with his tongue. He watched as your hand reached down to tease your clit, he caught it in his, pushing it up to your breasts.

"Play with your tits f'me baby, let me watch," he says, scooting up a bit.

"But Steve I --" you huff, desperate for some extra stimulation.

"I'm getting there, if you'd just be patient for like, twenty seconds," his voice sounds like he's back at the bar, admonishing you like you're rushing him to get out of the bathroom.

"You're ruining the mood," you cross your arms over your chest, pouting.

"Aww, I'm ruining the mood?" he mocks, a fake frown matching yours. He slides a finger slowly past your tight walls and you falter a little but hold to your convictions. He holds eye contact with you through his glasses, pushing a second finger in to meet the first.

Your mouth gapes, eyes pricking with tears as your walls close down hard on him, "Am I still ruining the mood, baby?"

A silent cry rattles your chest, falling quietly out of your open mouth. Your eyes close tight while he snickers, pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm, "It's all better now, isn't it?"

His voice makes you dizzy, he used to talk to you like this when you first started fucking. Cocky and confident -- certain he was making you feel good, and fuck he was. What did he ask you to do before? Your brain was racking for the command, but too overwhelmed with pleasure when he hooked his fingers to find your g-spot.

"Stevie -- oh fuck, fuck, please more," you whine out, you sound pathetic but you can't even find your self to care. It feels like a roller coaster reaching it's peak with every curve of his fingers teasing your spongey center. 'Play with your tits f'me baby, let me watch.' There it is, that you could do. You palm your breasts, pulling and pinching at your hard nipples looking down at him over your belly pooch. He winks when his tongue finally makes contact with your clit and you shudder instantly. You gush over his fingers, taken by surprised by your own orgasm -- already feeling the second one building.

"That's my good girl," he purrs beneath you, "Stay just like that, okay? I'm not done."

You gulp, feeling his soft kitten licks back on your clit start to ramp up to fast flutters -- Steve didn't want to start you back up slowly. Your breath had barely steadied before it picked back up again, flexing your core to keep yourself hovering above him. Your hand reached down to his hair, tugging while your thighs tensed.

"Ride my face, baby, come on," he encourged, "You've never been nervous to do it before."

"I --," you hesitated, "I didn't with Andy -- it's been a while."

"What?" he asked, surprised, pushing up so his full head peeked out from between your legs, "Are you fucking with me?"

"He...ugh, Steve," you leaned your head back and then turned it back down, mumbling, "He said I was too heavy."

Steve's eyes furrow, mouth open, unsure at first how to respond -- aghast, "This guy sounds like a fucking loser. You're not too heavy -- god -- who says 'no' to that? What's wrong this this guy?"

Steve shakes his head and pushes back down, "Sit on my face, baby. Fuckin' suffocate me."

You don't have a choice, he pulls you down onto him, your knees sliding further apart and you can't help but start grinding your hips against his tongue. The whole act sounds as lewd as it looks, wet and sticky as he captures your slit in his mouth to suck on it. Spreading your ass in his hands to spread you further apart, moaning low into your pussy so you can feel the vibration through your core.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ooh daddy just like that," the words just pour out of you while you start reaching your second peak, hips writhing onto him with your back arched. Steve grips your ass cheek hard before smacking down on it with a loud 'thwap!', satisfaction burning in his stomach -- daddy, daddy, daddy. The same hand reaches for his neglected cock, covered in pre, leaving a patch of cold liquid on his hard, muscled stomach.

Steve feels your hips hump his mouth in quick succession, his nose bumping your clit rapidly. Your moans get shorter and higher with each flick of his tongue against you until they're just huffed breaths.

"Mmm, come on," he nods up at you, "You can do it, angel."

You nod back, face contorted while tears stain your cheeks, the next roll of your hips his mouth makes contact with your clit again. You see stars, you cum so hard you swear you're pissing. You can hear Steve's grunts under you, collecting your slick to add friction to the fist he's fucking behind you.

"Get on your back," he demands, "Need t'fuck you, holy shit."

You get on your back, looking up at him now on his knees, both of your eyes lust blown in the low light. You weren't a stranger to his cock, but every time you saw it you couldn't help but feel spit build in your mouth. It was angry tonight, tip red and leaking, veins pulsing while he stroked himself looking down at you.

"I don't know, Stevie -- it might be -- it's too much," you say, thighs pressing together to protect your sensitive cunt.

"Two is nothing, honey," he shakes his head opening your legs up, crawling over you to line his tip up with your entrance, "You've given me four in less time."

You whine like a child, but you don't stop him when he slides the tip against your entrance, building up the slickness to slide over his cock. When his tip pops in you hiss, back arching to feel another inch push into you.

"Oh, that shut you up, huh?" that voice was back again, Steve was starting to feel so confident, you might as well start calling him Manhattan. He pushes deep into you, all the way to the hilt -- your legs springing up against your chest automatically -- heels hitting his back.

"You feel so good, Stevie," you moan into his mouth while he leans in to kiss you.

"Pussy's fucking made for me," he rasps while his thrusts pick up, forceful and deliberate. Steve loves fucking you because he knows how well you can take it. You were built sturdy, plush, soft -- he loved how it felt to slam into you. He'd heard it on the radio, some cheesy line 'more cushion for the pushin', but fuck if it wasn't true.

Steve knew he wouldn't last long inside you, your pussy tight and wet -- hugging him in place, resisting his exit. He filled you completely, your eyes rolling back the second you felt the hair at the base of his cock tickle your skin over and over again.

"Steve, oh god Steve," you moan through gritted teeth, tears back to rolling down your cheeks as your nails dig into his back, "Just like that daddy, fuck me like that."

His mouth falls open at your words, the girls on his desk never talk like that. He can't fuck them how he wants to, never throws them around. They don't look at him the way you look at him, soft and pretty. They don't wanna wash his hair for him in the shower after, and kiss the freckles on his back. He doesn't wanna make them dinner after, or give them a ride home. He doesn't blush the way he does when it's you that calls him daddy. When you call out his name. When you look up at him with those eyes. When you hold his hand in the car. When you tease him for coming to Porter's early. When you call every time you come home just to see him when you could see anyone else.

Steve's hand finds your jaw but you guide it to your throat while you bounce against his thrusts, he chuckles wickedly, "When'd you turn into such a whore?"

His fingers press down expertly on your neck while you attempt to moan out an answer that he doesn't wanna hear. He just wants to keep watching your fucked out face and body while he drills into you deeper. His voice lilts into a mocking coo, your cunt drools.

"Just for me, isn't it?" he asks down at you through his glasses, and you nod quickly in his hold, "They're not fuckin' you like this in the city, huh?"

"Had to come all the way back to Indiana to get this dick, didn't you? All the way back home so daddy could fuck you just how you like it," he huffs, feeling himself get close.

"Yes, yes -- had t-to come back for you - oh fuck, fuck," you whine out, raspy and nasal from lack of blood flow.

"Who fucks you like I do, hm? Who else is makin' you come like I can?" he eases up on your throat, moving back to your jaw -- leaning in to give you a sloppy tongue kiss into your gasping mouth. You tighten again over him, gushing whatever creamy spend you had left in you, gripping his shoulder tightly while your eyes pinched closed.

When you're nose to nose again you look up at him, "Nobody, Stevie. Just you, it's just you."

He growls at the confirmation, his hips stuttering -- 'Nobody fucks her like I do,' ringing in his head while he feels his vision start to go white.

"Baby, baby," he starts, his voice softening, "God, fuck -- can I come in your mouth?"

You nod and he groans, panting while your wet walls keep his cock warm and tight inside you. Steve slows his thrusts which just makes the feeling more intoxicating, your sticky thighs meshing with his soaked hilt. You whimper and cry with every push into your overstimulated cunt, your legs almost giving out from being pressed against your chest.

"Jesus Christ. Gonna come in your mouth," he whispers into your neck, "Feels -- oh shit -- fuck, it feels so good in your pussy, though."

Steve knows he can't hold back, quickly pulling out of you while you shoot up onto your elbows. He pulls your head forward with one fell swoop of his big hand, your mouth and thrat sucking in his cock in a vice grip. You can feel the warm liquid start shooting into your mouth immediately, but it doesn't stop you from obediently sucking on it. He's peak caveman brain while he watches you, your eyes shining up at him while he holds his weight up on your head -- grunts and snarls coming out of his mouth while he finishes thrusting into your face.

You take your mouth off as he softens and swallow, gingerly sitting up slowly. Your thighs ache, you're exhausted. He sits down onto his calves, both of you panting on the center of the bed.

"Let me -- let me get you some water," he huffs out, sliding off the mattress into the attatched master bathroom. He's only gone for ten seconds, passing a clear glass into your shaking hand. You sip slowly to start before gulping it down.

"You okay?" he asks, leaning over to kiss your forehead, "You're quiet."

You nod, taking a deep breath and letting it out, "That was...insane."

He laughs, it makes you laugh, and he lays down onto the mattress to stare up at you. You look down at him, offering Steve a weak smile before looking back at your empty water cup. You slide off the bed like he did before, putting the glass back on the bathroom counter, peeing, washing your hands, and walking back out.

You let out a tired sigh, reaching for your clothes strewn about by his dresser -- sliding on your panties.

"What're you doin', Manhattan?" he asks, sitting up, "Got somewhere to be?"

"I'm getting dressed, Steve," you explain, putting your bra back on. Steve's chest hollowed, normally you'd have some pillow talk after -- talk it out. He still had to show you the new house decor.

"Hey, stop," his voice is soft as he waves his hand at you, "You don't have to do that."

"I gotta get home, Steve," you assure, "It's getting late."

"You..." he trails off before taking a deep breath, replenishing his confidence, "You could stay. I can drive you back in the morning."

"Steve..." you start, shimmying a little to get your jeans over your hips and thighs, "I never stay. That's not us, that's not what we do."

"It could be..." he suggests, his voice cracking a little, "Please?"

You stand there, in your bra and unbuttoned jeans, your tummy poking out where the zipper is undone. Your bra suddenly feels tight and uncomfortable, your underwear constricting you under the jeans that feel a size too small.

He looks you over, watching you contemplate it and gets up out of bed to meet you by his dresser. His hands reach to each side of your face, warm and big. His fingertips graze the hair at the edge of your scalp, pinkies and ring fingers on the back of your neck. He tilts your head up slightly to look at him and your heart hammers, more than it did the first time he started kissing you in his car. Steve's heart matches your cadence, remembering how nervous he was the first time he talked to you -- desperately wanting you to be impressed by him.

"I --" you start blushing, he's never looked at you quite like this, "I don't have anything to wear to bed."

"I don't want you to wear anything to bed," he says, leaning forward to capture your lips in his while you both step awkwardly as a unit back over to the bed, "It'd just get in the way in the morning."

"Please stay," he pleads again, pressing a gentle peck on your lips, "Please -peck-, please -peck-, please -peck-. "

"Okay, okay," you laugh, "Are you sure?"

"I'm begging you," he smiles, leaning his forehead against yours. The tops of his frames hitting your brow bone. He lets go of your face to make work of the top of your jeans, shoving them back down until they pool at your ankles. He unhooks your bra, a little too expertly, and snaps the band of your satin panties before rolling those down too. He moves down with them so he can skate his hands over your thighs and leave a warm kiss on the flesh over your hip bone -- apologizing to the bruise he left there earlier.

"Can't believe you kept your glasses on," you tease, "Dweeb."

He comes back up, sliding his glasses off smoothly, like he did in the back seat of his BMW five years ago, "I like being able to really see you."

"Am I blurry without them?" you asked, trying to take them out of his hand. He snatches them out of your grasp, hiding them behind his back.

"Not really," he says, walking over to the bedside table and placing them next to the lamp, "You told me they made me look handsome back in - think it was -- '94 maybe? -- So I just wanted to keep them on for insurance."

You look down at the floor, "I always think you look handsome, Harrington."

You feel his hand at the back base of your neck and turn to see him behind you, "Come back to bed." 

He gets under the sheets and both duvets and turns down the covers next to him, slapping the pillow you're going to sleep on to beckon you forward. You want to roll your eyes but you can't force down the giddiness building in your chest -- sleep over!

You maneuver over to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers while he turns them back over you to tuck you in. Fuck are the sheets nice, they had to be some luxury brand you can only order through a catalog.

Steve clicks off his bedside lamp, leaning over you to click off yours and you catch the remnants of his cologne on his skin. It's not long before you feel his hand skate over you under the covers, sliding over your belly, up over every curve and bump on your body before resting a warm hand on the side of your breast. He hums sleepily and pulls you close to him, pressing his chest against your shoulder. His hot breath fans against your neck where he's settled his head.

"Isn't this nice?" he asks. You nod, turning onto your side to face him while his hand splays across your back to pull you closer. You slide a hand under the pillow, and savor the coolness on your hot skin. Steve looks at you with soft eyes, studying you.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks, "Or, well, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course," you say, looking at him, trying to read his expression.

"Remember -- ah fuck, okay I'm doing this," he says, trying to psyche himself up, "Remember when I said I had some options? To make changes?"

"Yeah, I remember. You can't wait when those opportunities come, Harrington," you lecture, "I've fucked myself so many times with that."

"There's a position in the New York office," he blurts out, "In the head quarters that they're eyeing me for."

Your heart races, "Okay."

"And I'd be...I don't know, sort of demoted but I'd get a huge -- like, huge fucking pay raise," he explains, "And I -- I wanna take it."

A beat passes while he tries to figure out what to say.

"And maybe, I don't know -- maybe we could try this out? Like for real? Instead of just fucking around every Christmas."

You consider it, heat blooming in your cheeks -- the good kind. Your heart starts to swell -- not Steve Harrington asking you out when you're twenty-nine. Sixteen year old you would be screaming.

"What do you think?" he asks, he swipes his hand through his hair and even in the dark you know his cheeks are pink.

"I don't think it's a bad idea," you say, "I think it's the excitement you're looking for -- New York I mean, not me."

"I think you're really exciting," he leans in to kiss you with a grin.

"And I think," he presses his lips against yours again, "I'd do a pretty good job at taking care of you, if you let me."

You laugh through your nose, blushing hard while he kisses your cheek, "That sounds nice, doesn't it?"

"It does sound nice, Steve," you agree, but you don't want him to feel too good about it. You had a reputation to uphold, still. He leans back to look at you, thumb caressing your cheek as your lids fall half down your eyes, "I think I'd really like that."

"You wanna shower? You too tired?" his voice his so gentle you start to melt, but exhaustion weighs heavy on you.

"Too tired," you say, nuzzling forward into his neck -- your head now partially on his pillow.

"We can talk about it more in the morning, yeah?" he asks, a hand reaching up to smooth over your hair.

"Yeah," you said, your breath steadying, "I'll see you in the morning."

He knows you don't like eggs for breakfast but it's all he has in the fridge. It's fine. He'll just order in.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug's interpretations on various 'Bad Batch' characters: Side Character Edition!

I'm chuffed that everyone thinks my neighbor Doug is funny: he really is a gem. I had no idea we'd bond over Star Wars and crappy weather, but here we are.

Naturally, I had to bother him about other characters that showed up on The Bad Batch, so, here we go!

Phee Genoa: Ah-ha, that there’s Church Lady. You know her, she’s got a big square in her pocketbook and you don’t know if it’s pound cake or a brick, because the Lord saves but He can’t help you in the alley when you’re in Treme and the streetlights just turned on. She has two ex-husbands who are both preachers and they turned to Jesus because they are so scared of Church Lady in court. 

(So I guess he’s saying Phee has raw WHO DAT energy, for my Saints fans out there)

Cid: Looking at this fat lizard bitch makes me hungry. I call that one Houma-BBQ because I’m guessing we could feed a whole parish fire station based on the size of her tail. I wish she’d shut up, she reminds me of my mother-in-law. 

Cad Bane: Homeboy looks like a Sesame Street character who teaches Big Bird about concealed carry laws. I call him Gun Safety Muppet. I don’t like him because he shot my Wife and I’s Boyfriend on the other show and his robot needs to be tossed into a wood chipper. 

(“I’m not gay, but Jenny and I…well, we would make an exception to that man. You ever see ‘Deadwood’? Man is fine. I’m not GAY.”)

Fennec Shand: That’s The Chick that’s in Everything. She was on ER and Boba Fett and I think a Marvel show too? I like her. Hope she kills Gun Safety Muppet and hurls his blue ass into a dumpster. 

Howzer: That’s my niece’s boyfriend, Jorge. We all love Jorge, nice guy, owns an auto repair shop and always remembers plates and napkins for the cookouts after church.

Gregor: Jorge’s cousin, Manny. Met him once at Christmas in Miami, nice guy, only drinks brown liquor and insists everyone arm wrestle him. But he’s got a good job as a PE teacher, we respect education, come on now. 

The Martez Sisters: Aw, man, it’s Jorge’s Unemployed Sisters. I hate it when they show up for Christmas and get into fights with my momma. 

(“Doug, you know they’re not related to the clones at all, right?” “Says who?” “The PLOT?” “Eh, they’ll change it, just watch.”)

Mayday: Aw, I liked this guy so much! That’s Sassy Park Ranger, he’s the type that gives you your camping permits, warns you about the bears, and then is all disappointed when you don’t properly stow your food and the bears destroy the campsite. I need to go back to Little River Canyon, that place was pretty. 

Lt. Nolan: THAT STUPID BLOND JACKASS. (Doug was so enraged by the guy he had nothing else to add. Damn.)

Senator Chuchi: Why does this lady make me want a blue slushie? I’ll call her the Sonic Special. They need more Sonics here in the north, they really do. 

Cody: That’s Obi-Wan’s Boyfriend, he’s sad all the time. We know why. (Confirmed that Doug is a Codywan shipper and I don’t know what to do about that)

Royce Hemlock: Is that Jimmy Neutron after he grew up and became one of those guys that’s on the internet all the time writing creepy things? It’s Jimmy-the-Scientist. He looks like the type of person dogs get weird around.

Rex: That's Rex. He's a king. Respect him.

[thydungeongal]

I run two weekly games online and one of them has a bit of an attendance problem rn 'cuz people are busy with school and such. Recently, instead of cancelling/rescheduling the session entirely when we don't have enough players for the main campaign, I've started running really simple one-shots with however many players show up. I was wondering if you had any recommendations for one-page TTRPGs or otherwise simple systems I could use.

I have a few that come to mind:

2400 by Jason Tocci. Not a single game but a collection of simple sci-fi games built around the same engine that each fit on two pages. Genres range from cyberpunk to teenage mutant ninja animals to big fighting robots to straight-up fantasy (that might just be sci-fi where people think technology is magic). Costs 6 bucks and you get a bunch of games.

Lady Blackbird by John Harper. I know it's traditional to recommend John Harper's Lasers & Feelings for asks like this and Lady Blackbird isn't a one-page game but it's free and simple. It's a fascinating game basically built for one-shots, and it not only contains all the rules you need to play but a situation and characters so you can get started immediately. I have not had the chance to play it myself, but it looks absolutely fantastic.

Pretty much all the one-pagers by Grant Howitt. Honey Heist is known around the actual play circuit, it's about bears trying to steal honey, but there's also Crash Pandas (raccoons taking part in illegal street-racing), Sexy Battle Wizards, and many, many more.

[greeneldritchfurby]

yknow what... Here's a list of Hatchetfield Rarepairs that I think are neat!

Some l've thought up, some may already exist.. Either way I think about them constantly, and I need to share my brainrot.

23oz Chai - Paul 23 / Ted Spankoffski

- workplace crush but, plot twist, one of them is a clone

- Ted confesses, and Paul 23, even though he's unsure if the real Paul would go along with it, accepts anyway.

- everyone in the office reacts to it in shock, and they are convinced it is an elaborate prank. (Its not)

Cat Sweater - Charlotte / Melissa (Charlissa)

- Melissa supports Charlotte through her rocky marriage. Sapphic feelings ensue!

- They bond over their love of cats!

- Crazy cat lady and her sopping wet cat gf!

Dirty Boy - Mark Chasity / Boy Jerry

- Two repressed religious men grappling with internalized homophobia!

- A lot of gay denial and religious guilt in this one!

- Also, Jerry's nature rubs off on Mark a little. Maybe they go a little off the walls together!

Donnapiro - Donna Daggit/ Detective Shapiro

- They start out disliking each other, Shapiro not liking how Hatchetfield News reports crime and Donna despising Shapiro for getting in the way of their journalism

- Slowly, their competition becomes incredibly homoerotic.

- Enemies to lovers, reporter x detective yuri. Solving crimes and being sapphic!

Fast But Pricey - Barry Swift / Frank Pricely (Priceswift)

- I have little justification for this one but.. ldk, I think they would be fun together.

- Frank is just really lonely, let him have a gay lover.

- Their relationships moves fast. (Barry is in a hurry! And Frank is so alone he doesn't mind.)

Latte Bottay - Zoey Chambers / Emmdroid (Zoemdroid)

- They bond over a dislike of the real Emma!

- Zoey is surprisingly chill with the robot thing.

- This also works pretty well with 23ozChai. Paul 23 gets his work crush, Emmdroid gets her work crush, its a win win! bonus wlw mlm solidarity!

Nibblinda - Nibbly / Linda

- Linda treats Nibbly to fine meats and sweets. In return, Nibbly eats her dad and protects her. Overall, a pretty sweet deal!

- Perhaps, they get a little blood on their hands.

- Linda chews people out (figuratively), and Nibbly bites them (literally)

Plastic Cars - Gerald Monroe / Tom Houston

- Hear me out.. Divorced dads realize they are gay... for each other.

- Tim gets a new dad, instead of a new mom.

- Again, I must stress.. middle aged men in love!

Sheiloway - Sheila Young / Miss Holloway

- This is ooc as fuck but the enemies to lovers calls to me.

- They both get someone to confide to about the struggles of lord shenanigans and near immortality

- wlw witches!

Showstoppers - Henry Hidgens / Pokey

- Theater nerds who will murder at the drop of a hat.

- I mean, Pokey did include Show Stopping Number in Inevitable, so that's a little gay.

- They are both just.. really gay tbh.

Spoiled Cat - Linda Monroe / Charlotte Sweetly (Charlinda)

- I think pairing a mean rich lady with a sweet, but this close to losing it, lady is very fun.

- Tbh, I just think the day Charlotte dates a woman is the day her entire world changes.

- Also, I think Charlotte should be allowed to be a little mean for once. Linda would help her be more assertive.

Tentacle Bastard - Wiggly / Ted Spankoffski

- Wiggly steals his brother's toy, and gets more than he bargained for!

- Wiggly tries to scare Ted with his big scary octopus form. It does not have the intended effect!

- Wiggly keeps trying to terrify Ted, but jokes on him Ted is into that, and that flusters him. However, Ted's unabashed bastard confidence has an unexpected side effect: Wiggly catches feelings

Webworship - Webby / Karen Chasity

- Karen finds a new god(dess) to "worship"!

- Unsatisfied wife summons a goddess for some company, and the goddess doesn't mind!

- A little bit of religious guilt in this one, as Karen goes against her beliefs by beginning to "worship" a new god, but its still mostly wholesome!

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Loser Baby~ (Marxolor)

When I first heard this I thought to myself... "this is their song."

In the KBASW AU, they're very similar in nature, and they're brought together through circumstances... both are losers. And that is what makes their relationship so beautiful ~

And yes I changed some of the lyrics to fit Marx better~

Keep reading for extra lore/ spoiler-ish content

I've decided to hit two birds with one stone...knock out a few questions I had...

Yeah, the Marxolor/Magolor asks have been stewing in there... Sorry for taking so long but I FINALLY learned how to draw Magolor.

He plays a big role in the story... he is pretty much very close to his game counterpart, but his reasons and motivations for the Master Crown are very different.

The Master Crown was created and owned by his great-grandmother... Minerva Mim also known as... MAD MADAM MIM. (And for those who aren't familiar with Disney's The Sword in the Stone.) Who was the ruler of Halcandra during her time...

Magolor's full name is Magolor Mim

But she's also a mix with Harry Potter's Minerva McGonagall.

(And yes) she's connected with Lady Celestine (who is this KBASW Merlin), and they were best friends. She's the reason why the Ancients & Halcandrans did business. Halcandran techolong & the Ancients magic. A deal Sir Icarus tried to secure but could not negotiate at all...

However, Celestine managed to get it with ease... (*cough* bribed her way*. ) Over time they did become genuine friends... I'll expand on her later... In short, she was basically the only one whom Celestine told of her alter-ego, Merlyn (Sir Arthur figured it out).

She was snarky, eccentric, and a bit vain at times, but at her core was a good person.

Celestine brought out the best in her and Minerva brought out the adventurous side of her and encouraged her to be bolder. (BTW she was the number one Celarthur shipper).

However, after Celestine's "execution" (secretly they crystalized her): Minvera refused to do business with the GSA & the Ancients due to her friend's unfair trial... despite the threats they made to remove her from power if she continued to remain loyal to Celestine... but no matter how much they threatened her she still couldn't do it...

As a result, the Ancients removed her from her seat as ruler... and the GSA tried to arrest her for siding with a "traitor." However, she didn't go down without fighting. "If I can not have my crown... NO ONE CAN!" Cursing the crown that there will be no more another ruler of Halcandra... and using it to erupt the volcano that resided on the planet... creating its now, current state... becoming MAD MADAM MIM. (But in truth, she was just grieving... loss of her best friend. )

After that, the Ancients ordered to get rid of any descendant of Madam Mim's lineage. And thus the GSA hunted down and exterminated every living relative of Mim's household. However one survived the carnage.

Magolor is the lone survivor of his entire family's... orphaned and on the street... struggling to survive. He did everything to keep himself afloat... even if he had to BEG, STEAL, OR BORROW. HE'D DO IT!(There are a few more things... Magolor had a connection to the Sqeak Squads and Daroach, but that's a story for another day.)

Eventually, he finds out about his heritage and the fact that his whole household was wiped out due to... HER LOYALTY TO ONE PERSON. BAH, DANG IT GRAN WHAT WERE YOU THINKING I COULDA BEEN A KING AND YOU THREW IT AWAY FOR FRIENDSHIP?! From that, you can probably see why Magolor isn't so keen on the value of it since the very thing pretty much wiped out his entire family... And thus began Magolor's search for the crown...

Magolor's betrayal, & redemption does happen like in the game:... does his little shop, makes his amusement park. However, he does a few extra things that connect to the Kirby anime... Magolor manages to revive Chill and rebuild Kirby's robot dog for him (episode 12). (After that, the gang was won over by Magolor...)

Kirby's robo-pet is actually a big thing in the KBASW, he's basically the equivalent of Kirby's iPad/computer.

With this Magolor is fully redeemed, but his arc's not quite done just yet... he still can't help but feel something is missing in his life. Yes, he's learned the value of friendship and junk... he has friends now but... How could he still feel alone when he was people around him.. a feel that he could only describe as underlining emptiness.

Enter Marx. And as I said in the Marx post... Marx saves Kirby ( I won't say from whom yet but) he gets injured the gang wants to help him but... He didn't want a pity party and tried to get away.

Marx: I DON'T NEED YOUR HEL-! *FACE PLANTS ow...

Everyone: You need our help~

Marx wasn't comfortable staying in Dreamland to recover (he knows people *cough* Bun wouldn't take too kindly of him returning), so to compromise, they cashed in a favor from Magolor... Resulting in Marx being delivered by the gang... via kitten in a basket.

Kirby: Hi Mags, this is Marx... Do you think you can watch him for a bit he's we just need you to watch him so he can recover.

Magolor: Okay, sure... but why is he in a basket?

Marx: HISS *shuts the cover*

Meta Knight: He wanted something with a lid on it.

Mags: Oh~kay *picks up basket* I guess you guys can pick him up when he gets better?

Magolor hoped whatever feral creature they had him watching wouldn't be that much trouble or, at the very least, not bite... but Magolor was pleasantly surprised that Marx seemed... to match him quite perfectly...

Shared his love of ancient relics & magic, sarcastic humor, and a wick wittiness similar to his own. And not just interest but personality-wise as well. Marx had an unapologetic straightforwardness that he appreciated, along with a few oddities that he found strangely endearing...This unexpected guest seemed to fit seamlessly into his life... it actually felt nice to have a companion like this.

Marx at first didn't know what to expect when he was dropped off at Halcandranss doorstep. He assumed that he was being sent to some sort of happy hospital facility, where they were gonna baby him and be monitored 24-7. NO FREEDOM AT ALL, HE'S JUST GONNA BE A CAGED ANIMAL!

But no Mags allowed him to do as he pleased... once he realized that he tried to pretty much annoy Magolor into kicking him out. Using his natural crass, sass, and of course, pranks to do it, however, Magolor didn't fall for any of them. Remaking at each of them describing them as "cute"...

Magolor: Nice try, but... You're not gonna to trick this trickster~

Marx: WHAT!?

Marx assumed Kirby that Magolor was another goody-two-shoes, but... did they bring him to some anti-prank master's house. He should've been angry, but he couldn't help but be impressed. It didn't take him long to stop his fruitless effort... there was nothing else to do but wait till he had a chance to escape.

Marx: "Nothing else, Just sitting and watching this guy... uh what is that you're working on... " leaving being instantly enamored and captivated with Magolor's work. Marx's interest and fascination with Ancient Technology is what drove him to use the Galactic Nova in the first place... which sparked Marx's interest and forgetting his original plans to escape.

Which led him to discover all the similarities they had... However, there was this secret unknown wall the other had up. Wanting to keep there both their "unsavory past beginnings with Kirby."

Magolor didn't want to scare Marx away especially when he was finally starting to get comfortable with him. And Marx not wanting to screw up another friendship he was starting to make, by revealing what he was. Both did not want to ruin the only good thing they had in a while.

When finally Marx recovered, Mags was just about to call Kirby and the gang, and immediately Marx pretended to still be sick. Visibly nervous when the check-in call comes in. This doesn't go unnoticed by Magolor,... so when it comes time to call up Kirby for the update, he buys him more time.

Magolor: I gotcha another week...

Marx: Wait, what...

Magolor: Listen I don't think I can get you another when the time comes so... so you think you can tell me what's going on... Kirby's a nice guy I'm sure he'll-

Marx: But I'm not-

This leads Marx to tell Mags everything about the whole "NOVA FIASCO," and Magolor is just speechless as he reveals each detail. Marx loner he spoke couldn't help but feel like he sunk in even deeper believing he blew it again...

Waiting with bated breath for Magolor to answer expecting him to respond in disgust... only with him to respond with. "Yo, same!"

Thus leading Magolor to reveal his past with the Kirby & the Master Crown, along with his road to redemption. This gives Marx a little hope, but not as much confidence that he could do what Magolor did... But Mags assures him that he's still a work in progress himself and that if he wants to be better he should give himself the chance to do better... after all the first step is always the hardest.

Needless to say, everything works out but even after the whole thing, Marx is still hanging out with Magolor... Hmmm... I wonder why! :3

Thanks again to everyone for sticking around and being patient with the asks... I know I'm taking a while to answer (and the things I promised to be done aren't... sorry, my work schedule is hectic.)

I've kinda hit a bit of a roadblock with the fanfic's art style and recently have been wanting to change it up... but anyhow I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually. (So for now I'm trying to knock out a few more asks).

Hope you enjoy the content and have a great day~

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Metal on you little mouse

Karl Heisenberg x fem!reader

warning : smutish, implied dubiouse consent, kiss, collar, Heisenberg uses his power a little diffrent, no use of Y/n, some german words

Summary : There were four houses in the neighbourhood, including Karl Heisenberg, a man who liked soft, fragile things as well as hard metal, so why not pay his little mouse a visit again?

Info : So my second piece for this pretty Lord and I had this idea and wanted to explore it further so have fun reading and hope you like it.

@thatsthewrongwallcraig hope you still know whitch idea I mean ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The factory just outside the village seemed to be the only thing that brought anything like modernity or progress to the medieval-looking village.

The torches that lit up the village at night, the oil lamps that swung back and forth and the wooden fences were almost pathetic compared to the Heisenberg factory - even the lady's castle seemed strange and out of place.

The sounds of the factory were always too metallic, robotic and flesh meeting metal. But deep, deep inside the factory there was another sound, the sound of a man walking through the factory in heavy leather boots.

He entered the rooms and corridors where only he had access to, simply shoving aside the metal of the door with his powers where any other normal person would only have been able to get in with dynamite. The room behind it was probably the only one not taken over by the factory - on the contrary, the room seemed almost too normal.

Like something out of a furniture store, a normal room, a room that wasn't his, a room that belonged to her. ,,Little mouse, are you awake?" he asked and a grin appeared under his hat, a grin that looked like joy. His greenish blue eyes looked at the body lying on the bed facing away from him.

The light blanket, especially in the colder days, just invited him to lie next to her, to press her sweet, frail body against his, for how could she ever defend herself from all these dangerous monsters? The Overlord turned away from her for a moment and looked around the room, ,,Our home darling," he had said, remembering his words when he had first shown it to her.

Her body in front of him ignoring the look of bewilderment on her face showing her everything from the wardrobe with the pretty simple clothes just enough not to look sloppy but free enough for him to have her to himself.

The pictures on the wall photos of her and him, landscapes and a few paintings she had done in the beginning. ,,Such an interesting butterfly you are darling," he praised, running his leather-gloved fingers over her paintings almost as if he were touching them like he did every night. His favourite.

Turning back to her, he walked the last few metres towards the bed and sat down next to her, the mattress giving way slightly under his size and weight. ,,Aufwachen kleine Maus" he said in German, giving her the nickname appropriate to her form beside him, a thought that had him in its grip.

Such a pretty woman, his favourite soft and gentle in such a harsh environment…he took what he deserved for the plan he would soon make.

Slipping the gloves from his hands so as not to stain her body with extra oil, dirt and blood, he pulled the blanket from her body piece by piece, releasing her. ,,So pretty," he murmured with a broad smile when he saw that she was still wearing his shirt from the previous night. It was much too big for her, of course, the sleeves twice as long and it ended just above her knees like a little extra blanket.

He ran his rough hands over the crumpled fabric, giving himself a moment's rest before continuing with his plan of why he was here. ,,I know you're awake, darling," he said, letting his fingers settle suddenly and more roughly on her bust, which lay beneath the front of her shirt.

He felt the soft breasts under the fabric and smiled as he felt the slight flinch as he gently twisted her sensitive nipples between his fingers.

He usually kissed her body, loving her intimately night after night, she just had to be his, his pretty little bird and he loved her. But with day after day of the power of his "siblings" and the power of the holy woman, he too was more tense, no nothing could go wrong.

His other hand played with the end of the shirt, pulling it up ever so slightly, leaving little circles and his metallic leather smell mingled with her sweeter one.

A mix that wouldn't let him go and he wanted more. ,,Come on, wife, give me a kiss," he whispered to her and felt her tense up instantly when he called her the nickname she hated and he knew it only too well.

But his little mouse seemed to have more composure than he did because all at once he let go of her as he felt the metal around him with a simple thought.

Less than a second later, her body was moved against her will, against her own wishes, and she was only halfway up so as not to simply hang down. ,,Let me go," she said, not screaming but not quietly either, it was like a calm warning which he answered with a laugh that made the bed squeak.

Before he steered her body forwards to place his fingers on the metal collar he had given her. ,,Such a beauty…hate doesn't suit you darling," he rebuked, running his rough fingers over the skin of her neck as he had done many times before, sometimes gently, sometimes firmly, taking her breath away.

His darling was his whether she wanted it or not. She couldn't move, instead closing her eyes to avoid looking into his captivating gaze.

His voice could still influence her body as with his abilities it was like a moth being drawn to the light again and again. It was natural attractiveness with a hint of hopelessness and that he was the only one she still saw.

His other hand-free hand went to hers, the metal ring on her finger making her respond to his touch like a puppet he could control when he pleased.

,,I know it's all getting used to…but believe me it will get better" he tried again with gentleness like the other times he was always gentle to her he couldn't hurt her at all. He only wanted the best for her from the way he "housed" her here to his obsessive love with the hook and the ring.

A ring that showed their bond to everyone. One thought and he could feel her and know she was safe. Something he couldn't do without the metal it was all out of love. ,,My love, I know you like it too," he murmured to her, entangling her in another kiss, feeling her return his kiss with a gentle pressure on her hand, she didn't move and he turned his hand away from hers.

The length of her upper body slid down to the soft breasts that lay so perfectly in his hand, which he lavished with kisses when he had caused her "pain". Her hips, on which both his hands were placed, were covered in bright colours and gently kissed when she was a good girl.

All the way down to her thighs he felt the wince as he lightly squeezed the soft skin, his fingers digging into her flesh. He remembered the previous nights, the trembling of her body, the twitching of her legs when he pinned her in place with the metal.

Her moans echoed against the walls as he lay between her thighs, seeking his reward after a long day. ,,You're just my source of inspiration, you understand that, don't you?" he asked, seeing her nod briefly, but wanting to feel her love him just as much.

Sliding her body back onto the mattress, the two of them engaged in another kiss, a position that wasn't entirely forced, if that was even possible. Just as he was about to put his hands back on her body, he suddenly felt a vibration not only go through the floor but apparently also through the factory.

He felt something or someone explode his inventions. But it wasn't the power of Miranda or the annoying doll or the fish, it was human. ,,Sorry darling I'll be back with you as soon as I can, don't let you regret it" he said giving her one last kiss on the forehead from which she turned away which he ignored as he pulled his gloves back on and pushed the door aside with his strength only to slam it back into the wall harder than ever.

No one, not even Ethan Winters, would get it, his darling was his and he would kill even Miranda if she threatened them. He was the only one she needed and that would never change.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[shuttershocky]

The reason there's no DMC6 yet is because the only playable character is gonna Lady so they need to figure out her moveset so its perfect. I'm not coping of course not.

This is going to be blasphemy and sacrilege to say (on the same level as "DMC2 isn't unplayable" which I DO NOT ACTUALLY THINK BTW) but I think we're more than ready to get a Devil May Cry game without Dante. From how badly the girls got sidelined in 5 while teasing a Lady and Trish adventure that we never got, they deserve at least a full game.

Shit, make it a whole girl's night. Bring Lucia back and put her in an actually playable game. Expand Lady's moveset and so she's not just Gunslinger-only but DMC3-strength Gunslinger+++, she's called the walking arsenal for god's sake, give her twice the guns Dante has. Trish doesn't have the demon sword Sparda anymore so have Nico fashion up a big sci-fi scythe for her. V's summoner playstyle was undercooked in 5 and deserves a second chance but V himself can't be reused? Well it turns out Patty's a big girl now and she's the descendant of an incredibly powerful demon summoner so... Make her inherit V's playstyle (just replace the demons since they can't be DMC1 enemies anymore) but have actual attack and movement options for the summoner beyond just Royal Fork so Patty can fight and actually style on enemies, while adding more of the summoner-summon interactions that made V actually pretty cool like the ability to walk on Shadow's skewer or ride on Nightmare to force Domination.

And because gamers are going to cry if there's not a single man in the playable cast, Nero's still on Earth, except he now has both robot limbs and devil limbs, which made DMC5 Nero on new game plus play like a goddamn dream. Dante even officially left Nero in charge of Devil May Cry while he's in hell, so just have Nero in the office surrounded by all the girls. Everyone around's gonna think he's a debonair lady's man when he's actually a married guy surrounded by women his very poor uncle owes money to.

Besides, I think there's a lot of fun potential in Nero and Patty meeting each other. Both of them were orphans that eventually had run-ins with Dante, and Patty even posed as Dante's daughter while they traveled, making Patty the closest thing Nero can have to a weird cousin. They're even opposites in attitudes, with Nero being an unrefined gorilla (Nico herself can't explain how Kyrie fell for him) while 8 year old Patty was a pink balloons, flowers, plushies, and sundaes girl that probably stayed just as girly even when she grew into an adult. They would not work well together. Kyrie would love her though.

And fine of course Dante wouldn't actually get skipped over, it's just that being tied to Vergil means he's gotta play by Vergil's rules. This means the inevitable DMC6 Special Edition comes with both Vergil and Dante in a special mini campaign in hell on their mission to prune the underworld's biggest plant with the tiniest possible garden shears, the Yamato and the Devil Sword Dante. Maybe they piss off Mundus with their lawnmowing and that's what causes Mundus to launch an invasion on Earth, causing the events of the main story.

[nardo-headcanons]

Hey my dear mutual! Another super stupid and weird request coming, so, please, feel totally free to ignore completely if you want, really. So, let's say instead of a criminal organization, the Akatsuki are actually a lab team. Which would be their roles, their work focus or their research topics? How would they behave at work with each other or, I don't know, whatever you can think of. Inspired by your agar plates post, by the way, hahahaha

Hello Sasuke, my dear. Don't call your asks weird, I love how creative they are! If anyone wants to write a fic about this please TAG me!

Big thanks to @the-real-sasuke-uchiha for requesting!

The Akatsuki in a modern research lab AU

Akatsuki Labs, Inc. No one knows what they're actually researching, and how they get their funding, however everyone hires them, they're incredibly popular with institutions and businesses alike...

Deidara is a lab rookie who is still at the beginning of his study. He went to a scientific high school and an absolute ace at chemistry. Besides studying chemistry, his other major is pyrotechnical engineering. He blows shit up on the regular and even adds copper sulphate to fires when he is the one supposed to put them out. He frequently steals minerals from the lab to use them for his pottery projects. And yes, he knows how to make meth.

Hidan is on his way to become a neurologist. He is fascinated by the way the nervous system works (especially while processing pain) and has the ego of a neurosurgeon twice his age. However he is regularly asked for a second opinion because he knows his shit. He's pretty popular with the ladies due to his confidence, however many of them are freaked out when they find out what a huge masochist he is.

I've never seen Itachi as a huge stem guy, but I've actually had a discussion about this with my dear moots @pet-plasma-bubble and @suki91 and came to the conclusion that he's either a plant biologist or studies medicine because he's one of these kids with a chronic and/or underdiagnosed illness going into medicine to make a change. Plant biologist!Itachi regularly talks to his plants when no one is looking and he gives them names as well. He doesn't really care much for the actual lab work and prefers to take care of the plants in the different lab greenhouses. Med student!Itachi is one of these anatomy girlies who draw their stuff in fancy colors and actually enjoy studying human anatomy.

Kakuzu is a senior scientist/professor who initially studied pharmacology/pharmacy to save many lives and prolong the lives of millions, but eventually got disillusioned and sold his soul to the pharma industry. He should technically be retired now, but he joined the Akatsuki labs inc to make some money on the side.

Kisame started out as a marine biologist specializing in shark research, however, seeing these beautiful, innocent creatures get bastardized by Hollywood and pollution made him apply to Akatsuki labs inc to help find solutions to the current crises caused by humanity. During his free time, he volunteers in a dolphin rehabilitation center.

Konan is the cofounder of Akatsuki labs inc, everyone respects her and even looks up to her. Once a brilliant scientist in the field of engineering, she got tired of how male dominated it was and how her male colleagues kept getting the credit for her ideas. She frequently holds lab courses for young girls interested going into the scientific field.

Nagato is the Akatsuki labs founder, and rarely seen in the lab. He has made himself a name in the field of robotics by inventing the Shurado robotics system which helps millions of automated machines run to this day. Rarely seen in the lab, he communicated with his employees via his Pain Alias Email. though to be fair, Konan writes most of these emails for him; she's the only one regularly talking to him face-to-face.

Orochimaru is a geneticist and biochemist, his focus being finding ways to avoid cellular decay, as well as the human genome and anti aging research. His parents are academics as well and he lived up to their expectations to the fullest. He has his own skincare formula which keeps him looking snatched at all times. Given the rumors about several scientific ethical code violations, everyone is kinda scared of him except for his personal lab tech, Kabuto.

Sasori is a renowed mortician who's also very interested in histology. His preparation techniques are unmatched and he even invented new preparation- and histological staining methods, which are called "Red Sand" and "Red Technique", respectively. He often gets into fights with Kakuzu about his microtome collection being unnecessarily expensive.

Tobi is the Akatsuki labs CEO cosplaying as a clueless intern that always steals from the candy bowl in the waiting room. In reality, he has a PHD in physics, his thesis being about rifts in space time and interdimensional interactions, however all of his papers are published under an alias. He has a soft spot for Deidara and refuses to fire him despite the latter's frequent "accidents".

Zetsu is a biological anthropologist fascinated by human evolution and human behavior. Some think even his colleagues are subjects of his studies. Some people say he's two-faced, but he is very chatty and inquisitive most of the time. He volunteered to have Itachi's venus fly traps in his office and can sometimes be seen feeding them dead flies or mosquitoes.

[shieldofiron]

We have totally totally never talked about this before but I’m gonna bring it to your asks

Big (dilf? Kind of? Maybe) dom Billy who’s just like the most experienced kinkster ever but refuses to wear clothes that aren’t knitted and has the strongest prescription glasses and refuses to get a phone more modern than the brick

Then Steve who’s like hyper modern party animal and is immediately like “I want him” the moment they meet but keeps trying to drop thirst traps on tiktok and obviously Billy doesn’t even know what tiktok is

It’s a comedy of errors which I love

Oh I do like it. But I think I'm gonna add... Doctor Hargrove and Nurse Harrington into the equation.

Heather was always trying to show him her phone. He didn't necessarily see the appeal, but it was easy enough to just sit through whatever inane video she wanted him to watch. He was tired from a twelve hour shift might as well just let it happen.

Today he was really annoyed because his new t-shirt had a tag and he'd cut it out but he could still feel the scratching even though he'd taken it off hours ago.

"Can it wait until later?" Billy sighed, closing his eyes and resting against the back of her couch.

"No, it cannot wait until later," She tossed her hair to the side, "It's you, Billy."

"Me?" Billy shook his head without even consciously thinking of it, "Like when I texted you to pick up that lube I like?"

"No, and I'm not doing that by the way," Heather's perfectly painted lips quirked up into a smile, "No, it's a video of you."

"Someone took a video of me? What? Is that legal?" Billy leapt for her phone, grunting when she pulled back quickly and he flopped to the couch.

"It was at that grocery store you go to by the hospital that has terrible produce, not like, in your bathroom," She shook her head.

He sighed, "Okay fine."

He fully expects to see some video of him doing something clumsy, but instead it's just him, at a far distance. He's wearing the scrubs he wore on Monday, with the Scotty dogs, and he's still got his stethoscope on, yawning in the bread aisle. The video doesn't show his face, but it's unmistakably Billy, down to his old school digital watch.

A cheery robot voice says, "When you see your work crush outside of work." The video then cuts to a darkened car dashboard.

"I don't even know if I got groceries. I blacked out," A man's voice says with a laugh.

Billy frowns, "What is this?"

"It's tiktok, Billy," She swipes up and it cuts to one of Heather's favorite astrology videos, that she's showed him before.

"Wait, go back to the guy," He asks, grabbing for her phone.

She rolls her eyes, "Okay fine. Like you don't get enough ego boosts at the club with everyone begging you to be their dom."

"This is different. This is, actually me," Billy reaches out but she navigates back to the first video, tapping until another video fills her screen.

"What people think you do as a male nurse," the same cheery robot lady's voice says. A beautiful man fills the screen, wearing scrub bottoms and a silly costume nurse's hat.

"I'm here to take your temperature," The man bends close to the camera, brown eyes sparkling as he shamelessly angles his hairy chest towards Billy.

"Oh no," The man puts his hands to his cheek, "It seems you have sexy sex disease. I guess I'd better..."

He turns, arching his back just a little and Billy's mouth goes dry. beauty marks are scattered across his toned back, and he looks back coyly over his shoulder. The video cuts off.

"What I actually do as a male nurse," The robot voice says. It cuts to the same guy, his pretty fluffy hair a mess under a thick headband. He's got glasses on, and ugly, the Grinch themed scrubs.

"And you say it got stuck up there by accident?" He purses his pretty pink lips and writes something on a clipboard, "Okay, sure."

Billy laughs, "Heather, how do I get to this on my phone."

"Oh my god," She rolls her eyes, "Spare me from the Nokia."

"Well, then, what... how do I see the other videos?"

Heather complains, but as she sets him up on his ancient laptop. He has a tiktok account now, that only follows one thing, NurseStevie.

Heather watches a few more with him and then laughs, "I gotta go meet Barb for dinner. But I'll give you a hint. He works in pediatrics."