#2. cuddling pile with the segments

[fatuismooches]

HIII!! First of all I wanted to say that i love your blog and your writing! it brings me so much comfort :(( ANYWAY I WANTED TO REQUEST SOME CUDDLING HEADCANONS AND MAYBE A SMALL SCENARIO WITH DOTTORE?? fluff!! yknow just sleepy cuddles <3

It wasn't often that you woke up to your husband in the same bed as you. Of course, at this point, you were used to Dottore's absence, but nothing could quite fill the void that you felt when you rose from a cold bed. And although you did bother the other segments for affection to your heart's content, even they found themselves many times too busy to entertain sleeping in with you. Still, you were just happy to be with them and cherish the soft moments that happened whenever they did.

However, a habit of yours that had developed whenever you were feeling the lack of attention, was slipping into your husband's (or a segment's) room and snuggling on his (not very comfortable) bed. If you were being honest, Dottore's bed, much to your dismay, didn't really smell like him very much, for a simple reason - he rarely ever lays on it. An easy remedy to this, however, was just to steal one of his shirts. The scent was very... Dottore-like, something that oddly brought comfort to you.

On this particular day, you easily made your way into his office - empty, unfortunately, but not too surprising. He was probably in that lab of his as usual. Regardless, as you entered into the connecting (very bland) bedroom, you immediately made yourself at home on his bed. In fact, it was exactly how you left it a few days ago, messy and tussled, meaning that Dottore certainly hadn't slept on it again. Perhaps he didn't even enter his own room for that long. Your urgent words for him to rest only got through his thick skull once in a blue moon. Regardless, you pulled the blankets up and curled into them, eager to preserve the warmth, and too tired to fluff the pillows a bit more before you fell asleep.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was that you were a lot more warmer than usual. And then, when you tried stretching to pull off a bit of the blanket, your body's movement was strangely constricted by something else. Plus, it felt like it was a lot earlier than when you usually get up. Your sleepy mind had just barely begun processing the situation when a sudden voice abruptly woke you up a lot more.

"Go back to sleep." The voice was a bit deeper and gruff than usual, but undoubtedly, it could only belong to one person, which made your heart start racing with excitement.

"Dottore!" You immediately began wiggling in his arms, trying to turn around and see him, sleepiness still holding your body hostage, not to mention how tight his arms were. "Let me see you," you complained.

"Stop moving around," he grumbled some more. "Now is not the time I wish to entertain you." And yet he languidly began to nip at the nape of your neck. But that reminded you - for him to be in bed was already a rare occurrence, and from his voice, it sounded like he was genuinely sleeping. This was... excellent news, so you probably shouldn't push your luck.

"Fine," you complied, relaxing your body once more. A wave of sleepiness hit you despite your energy from a few moments ago, but you ignored it. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Dottore parroted, as his sharp teeth continued to dig into your skin. "I come back to my room and find my bed occupied by someone who wasn't invited. The question should be, what are you doing here?" You could only sheepishly laugh as you remembered everything.

"Well... you should know your room is mine too, you know! Besides, to make it even, you're welcome in my room anytime too!~" Dottore clicked his tongue, but it was obvious to you he didn't mind your intrusion in the slightest.

"Regardless, go back to sleep. You are tired." Despite your attempts to stifle your yawns and hide your drooping eyes, your husband had noticed it all too well.

"Don't wanna," you quickly protested. Before he could open his mouth again (and perhaps teasingly threaten to help you sleep) you spoke again.

"If I go to sleep again now, when I wake up, you won't be here anymore, will you?" You didn't need to see his expression or wait for a response to know the answer to that.

"So let me do as I please, Zandik. Let me be with you." Let you bask in this moment, fully conscious of what is going on, being able to feel and process his skin against yours and more, for you would hate to be unable to remember this gentle encounter.

"... Do what you wish, but don't bother me when you're too tired to do anything." His seemingly annoyed statement was betrayed by his arms tightening around you.

"I will." Your response ended the line of conversation, a comfortable silence now taking over. Needless to say, you wallowed in his strong back pressed against yours, his callused hands against your own, a long lock of blue hair tickling your neck. You made sure to take note of even the most minuscule details before it was time for life to resume.

What existed at this moment was merely two human beings, so similar yet so different, with their troubles and masks discarded to savor the presence of each other.

[wooeo]

Hii! Idk if your request are still open or not but if it is can I request a jongho x member!reader concert/fansign moments since I miss him so much 😔🩷

☼ OOPSIES — ateez x f!member!reader

note, you’re so right,,, i miss him too

1

— “(name) noona and i went to the same school. she was my senior,”

“i’m still your senior,,”

“yeah, you’re old,”

you paused, eyeing him, “i’m only a year older than you”

“grandma,”

jongho held back a chuckle at the look on your face. he turned to the live the two of you had going on.

“choi jongho.” you pinched on his cheek, “behave yourself,”

2

— jongho silently walked behind some of the boys to get to you. you were sorting through some of the hair bands that had been given to you, trying to find one to put on. he poked you on the arm, “noona, fix me please,”

he pointed to his own hair accessory wooyoung had put on him. it had gotten all tangled up in itself.

wordlessly, you did as he asked and he dutifully moved his head to make it easier for you to see what you were doing.

the onslaught of clicking noises coming from the cameras made him chuckle.

“done,” you fixed the front of his hair as well, pushing it to the sides so his eyes would be more visible.

“thank you,”

he picked one of your headbands, a cute one with sheep ears, and put it on you. the sound of adoring shouts came from both the atiny in the room and the rest of the boys.

3

— you wrapped your arms around jongho’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug.

it was nearing the end of the final concert of the tour and jongho’s emotions had caught up to him. you had seen him turn around during his segment and hadn’t wasted a moment going to him.

his tears landed on your bare shoulder. you paid no mind to it, running your hand up and down his back.

the rest of your boys had crowded around you and your youngest. mingi was the first to wrap his arms around you and jongho, then wooyoung was quick to join in, then yunho. eventually everyone was roped into the hug and what had initially started as comforting jongho ended up with a cuddle pile in the middle of the stage.

[hoodoo12]

Doll (1/2)

More Robo Fizz s-m-u-t you thirsty, thirsty people.

NSFW

@go-commander-kim @monsterlovinghours @mimiscappinisideblog @jester-junk @jesterfestivle @beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo

Enjoy!`

You didn’t show it to anybody, and you definitely didn’t keep it out for anyone to see if they ever came over to your tiny one room flat, but you had an old Robo Fizz doll. It was a hold over from your imphood, and it had been your favorite toy. A constant companion when you were young, the doll was now ragged and worn; not only was the colorful costume discolored and his face a grimy grey, but Robo Fizz had had multiple repairs in uneven stitching, and his left shoulder cap no longer had a frowning face. You’d rubbed it off with your thumb because you wanted him to always be happy. 

Now his plush limbs were lumpy from where the stuffing had clumped and flaccid in spots where the stuffing had settled elsewhere. Any original texture was threadbare. You didn’t care, you still occasionally cuddled it when sleep didn’t come easily. 

None of the hundreds of Robo Fizz dolls in the window of the souvenir shop looked anything like your old doll. These were all bright and shiny and brand-spankin’ new. 

Jostled repeatedly by a seemingly never ending string of the implings and their either exasperated or also overly excited parents, you finally just went along with the crowd and entered the store.

Inside was a marketing director’s wet dream. If the Robotic Fizzarolli himself had come in and vomited, it would probably look like this place. Robo Fizz merchandise was everywhere, and if it wasn’t his exact likeness, it was the colors that made up his outfit. Everything from breakfast cereal to pencils to kid’s outfits to hats to water filled globes with glitter and a tiny Robo Fizz inside to keychains to posters to . . . there was so much you could barely take it all in. You decided to stick close to the display of dolls. 

They were of varying quality. The smallest were vague and minimalistic in their likeness of the star of the carnival. The larger ones had much better workmanship and one, in a glass display case, purported to be wearing a vintage costume the Robotic Fizzarolli had worn in one of his shows. The dolls that were the same as the one you had loved through your imphood were somewhere in the middle, towards the lower end. 

You picked one up out of the pile. This pristine doll in your hands had pom-poms on his collar that weren’t compacted balls of felt, like yours. You’d forgotten that originally your doll had had metallic fabric edging the costume; this one’s fabric was uncracked and gleamed in the overhead lights. All of his limbs were properly stuffed. It was tempting to buy a new one. You did love your doll, and were still a fan of the Robotic Fizzarolli. But all these shiny, mass produced dolls didn’t have the personality of your well-worn and well-loved Fizzy, and it felt a little like a betrayal to buy another. 

Just as you were setting the doll back on the pile, a impling shoved between you and the display. You stumbled back. The doll flew out of your hands. It landed almost back where it belonged, and you managed to keep your feet under you. No one apologized: not the impling, not his parents who were now also crowding you out as if they hadn’t seen you or, more likely, didn’t care. 

You should’ve put up a fuss but it wasn’t worth it. You wandered away from the large display of toys to look at the other bobbles. Just like the dolls, some had cheap and shoddy quality, while higher end products were better made. Their price tags reflected it.

At the back of the store, near a wall rack of shirts emblazoned with his face, a doorway with a beaded curtain caught your eye. 

You’d been in this gift shop at Loo Loo Land before and had never seen that door. Granted, it was when you were a young imp, and your brain had been overloaded with sugar and the joy of getting your very own Robo Fizz doll. It was partially behind the cashier’s counter, but there was no sign that indicated it wasn’t for the public.

The imp in a smock at the register looked a combination of bored to tears and annoyed at her situation, so you didn’t feel comfortable asking about it. Out of the corner of your eye you watched two imps disappear through the door, and feeling bold, you followed. 

The beaded curtain parted and one strand trailed along your horn as you went into the back room. There was a very short hallway, and a turn to the right into another room, which was why you couldn’t see anything past the initial doorway. 

Inside the room was another plethora of Robo Fizz merchandise. 

However, there were no implings, only adults, and the few customers there, although excited, all seemed to keep their glee subdued. 

Looking to your right, your eyes widened at the wall display of dildos in various shapes and sizes, all their packaging proclaiming they all were authentic Robo Fizz replicas, exactly like the original Robo Fizz’s assortment of phalluses. Past that display was a large selection of bdsm products, including handcuffs that mimicked Robo Fizz’s cuffs, and whips that looked segmented, possibly to look like tentacles? You weren’t exactly sure. 

In front of you were standing racks of clothing again, but these were lingerie, all designed as riffs  his jester’s outfit. A couple was looking through them; one skimpy bra and panty set was held up and they both seemed pleased it was in her size. 

There were piles of lollipops molded like his tongue, tentacles, and again, various cocks. A huge shelf of DVDs all had Robo Fizz on the cover, each touting to provide a different sexual fantasy. 

Along the far wall, there was another large display of dolls. 

Like in the front of the store, you were drawn to them.

Although there was still a wide assortment of size and quality, none were smaller than the one you had at home and all promised a more intimate encounter. The top of the line was a Personal Companion Robo Fizz, which you’d heard about but never had the chance to see one in person. It towered over you, looking vaguely menacing standing so still and lifeless compared to its manically boisterous original. 

“It comes with a free gallon of lube. You can get a subscription to have a gallon shipped to you on a monthly basis,” someone said behind you. “Uh--what?!” 

An employee in a smock like the imp’s out front stepped up beside you. Nodding towards the Personal Companion, she said, “You buy it, it comes with the first gallon of lube. You might need more, if he’s receiving, but even if you use if more for giving, you still need some to make his tongue more pleasant. No one likes getting eaten out by a cold mechanical mouth with zero lube!”

She shuddered dramatically. You weren’t quite sure what to say. Luckily--you guessed--she continued. “He’s top of the line, of course. Everything you’ve heard on the commercial is here. He’s got the BDSM feature, has two tentacles that you can attach so you can be double penetrated and spit-roasted at the same time, has so many speeds and patterns for vibration, and is super easy to clean! There’s a standard set of phrases he can say, but he can also be programmed to call you whatever you’d prefer, like Mistress or sweetie pie, and you can add a few other personal words too. And if you upgrade to the semi-AI package, he learns your preferences and his interactions with you can be even more life-like!”

You blinked up at the Personal Companion, overwhelmed by the enthusiastic sales pitch. Even if you were interested, there was no way you could afford it. Maybe, if they offered rental of him, you could swing half an hour, but more likely only fifteen minutes. 

You thanked her and told her it was out of your price range and made to move away. She grabbed your arm and pulled you down the line of dolls. “I get it. A Personal Companion is expensive. But there are lots of other options!”

The grip she had on your arm was relentless, just like her sales talk. She gave you the specs and features of each type of doll available. They all had different attributes, some only vibrated, some had interchangeable cocks, some were designed for imps who preferred to penetrate. Several of the middle to high end dolls had a ‘sparking’ feature for a more authentic experience. All of them were machine washable. 

Despite yourself, you began to think maybe you did want a new doll. 

You still couldn’t afford something fancy. There was one type that was similar in shape and size to your old Fizzy, but came with a single cock folded up under his costume. It had a bit of a heft to him, and the sales clerk told you it was because of the motor--it didn’t have thrusting gears, but did have three different vibration settings. The price was slightly higher than you expected so you hemmed and hawed, but with the sales clerk smiling encouragingly, you decided to buy it. 

“Excellent! Listen, since you’re a first time customer I’ll throw in a voice chip for you. Free of charge.”

You nodded your thanks, and followed her to the register to ring it up. She made sure the “adult” attributes of the doll were tucked away and the button was off, and it looked like any other innocuous Robo Fizz doll in the gift shop’s bag. She also tucked a tiny bottle of lube into the bag for you too, another free gift. 

She thanked you for your purchase and you went back out into the main room of the shop, clutching your special Loo Loo Land souvenir to your chest. 

tbc . . .

[jennie-bb-sg]

Dance Girls pt 2

It was the first week of the June holidays and the five of us were really excited to visit Ms Sim’s place to relax and unwind. We had a really enjoyable SYF and stressful mid-year exams so it was a good time for us to have a break. Ms Sim had invited us over to her house since her husband was out of town and we could have our girls time.

We met at the MRT early at 9 and walked over to Ms Sim’s place. It was a big landed property with a pool outside (that’s why Ms Sim was leaving teaching at the end of the year haha). We were going to do some baking and Ms Sim had bought the ingredients earlier. She also bought lunch because she knew we were not really interested in the cooking segment of the day hehe.

We all got settled in and started work on the no-bake cheesecake.: the simplest and least messy thing we could make (it was a good recipe and I still make it till today). Anyway, I won’t bore you with the details of teenage girls making a mess of the kitchen. I’m sure you are here for.. saucier.. stories.

We helped to wash up and were done around 3 so we decided to chill out at the pool. Ms Sim went up to change and the five of us got into our swimwear in the living room.

Amanda and Shu brought cute bandeau bikinis while Jane and I were in triangle tie bikinis since our boobs could fill them. Amy, being the blur sotong she is, forgot to bring her swimwear.

“Just wear your bra and panties luh,” Amanda said. “Don’t you want to get a tan? The sun is so nice today!”

Amy agreed and stripped down. It was a matching black set and I’m such a big advocate for matching underwear yo.

Ms Sim emerged in a beautiful red monokini that could barely cover her breasts. It also had a high cutting side that basically showed off her side boobs to her legs. I don’t know about the other girls but I was WET.

We all had some fun outside and soon enough everyone was in the pool except Amy because she could not get her lingerie wet. So eventually she decided to skinny dip with us and all six of us were frolicking in the pool. It wasn’t long before the fun and games started since there was already one naked girl in the water. Within minutes, wet swimwear was being flung out of the water onto the patio as moans started to replace giggles in the pool. Ms Sim was sitting on the poolside as Shu and Jane ate her out, while Amanda, Amy and I were having our favourite three-way french kiss.

Ms Sim suggested that we move inside because we were getting a bit too loud so we dried off, put on bathrobes that Ms Sim got us and headed up to the master bedroom where the real fun was about to begin. As part of the fun, we all brought our sexiest piece of lingerie that day. I chose a lacy black bralette with a matching lace thong. We all took some time to wash up, dry our hair and touch up on the make up. It took a while but eventually, here were six horny ladies in a room ready to get down and dirty.

We unravelled our bathrobes to reveal our intimates. I took a moment to appreciate the sight of these 16-year-old bodies and Ms Sim’s half cup bra. We climbed onto the bed and lust took over our bodies. Jane and Amy were scissoring till they fell off the bed. Amanda rode Ms Sim’s face like a thirsty slut. The sight of six naked bodies, tits and pussies all over., was one to behold. Before long I squirted, and I did so multiple times within a really short time period. Climaxes and loud screams were aplenty, I even lost count of them. Even as I squirted, as with our practice, we do not stop masturbating the girl, until she is truly sore. Ms Sim whipped out a box of vibrators and toys and I spared no time getting that on Amy’s clit. She let out a scream as she thrusted her hips into the vibrator. Ms Sim’s bed was starting to get soaked with everyone’s juices. Thankfully, the room was also sound isolated so we could moan and scream out heads off.

We decided to attack Ms Sim to thank her for the day. I had the honour of eating her out while the other girls stimulated her nipples and gave her something to feast her tongue on.  All vibrators were going at top speed and her moans drowned by Amanda’s pussy. It was really, really climax-worthy. Ms Sim squealed into a massive climax as I fingered her G spot as we all collapsed into a pile. The room was filled with the musky smell of juices and sweat, the floor littered with intimates. Six girls cuddled, fondled, fingered and licked one another for a good half an hour as the whole house was filled with soft moans and sounds of the vibrators.

[saltfics]

Villains AU: Hot Chocolate

For the RWRB Winterfest 2020. Day 2: Hot Chocolate.

Based on Playing His Game, a Hero/Villain AU. 

Nothing quite says truce like sharing hot chocolate and trying to distract the crowd from the fact that one of the cups is floating. 

(Full text below the cut)

AO3 link

He never realized how uncomfortable he is wearing his suit in public for no reason. Clearly, there’s a reason why he’s not the kind of over-glorified hero who participates in public appearances, aside from the fact that this city is not the kind to sanctify its heroes, or that Alex isn’t the most moral role model to begin with.  Even with the mask on his face, he feels like they can all see through him, and even though this spandex-looking fabric is the socially acceptable hero costume, he still feels super dumb wearing it.

And yet, after the hundredth post he saw of people hoping they would get to see some of the superheroes in the Christmas Market like they were a couple of fucking Santa Claus’ elves, and the thirty additional times Portal told him she wanted to go, Alex had caved to the request. Kid, however, wasn’t coming. As it turns out he always goes back to England for Christmas, so at least Alex has that going for him.

He lost Portal in the crowd within an hour. She keeps blinking in and out of places to make the kids whoop and laugh, so Alex has spent the past forty-something minutes strolling around by himself, nursing a cup of hot chocolate that’s barely even warm at this point. The Christmas Market is perfectly charming, all little wooden houses decorated with fake snow and tinsel and an absurd amount of fairy lights. The air smells of melted sugar and wine, and it makes him want to overspend on sickly sweet things he’s going to regret later. But as beautiful as it is, he would much rather spend an afternoon here with June and Nora, instead of wandering alone, and he can’t do that while he’s in costume even if he knows they’re somewhere there in the crowd.

He has just downed the last of his chocolate when a voice comes up behind him.

“Hello there.”

Alex yelps, earning confused glances and more than a few chuckles from people passing by. He turns around to find nothing but air and snow and a grinning old vendor in his booth too far away from him to have been the one talking. Frowning, Alex carefully stretches his hand out in front of him until his fingers brush against fabric.

“Take me out to dinner first,” the voice whispers, tangled in a soft laugh.

“I know that’s your stomach, you ass,” Alex scoffs, his own words just as quiet, speaking from the corner of his mouth so people don’t realize he’s talking. He turns back around so he can pretend to watch the people walking around the market but he keeps their shoulders close together to make sure the other is still there. “What are you doing here? I doubt they invited you.”

“I can’t enjoy some holiday cheer?”

“I guess,” he shrugs. “You’re not going to steal the gifts, are you?”

“Is that how you think of me? As a Grinch?”

Alex sighs. “Not really. If anything you’d be the kind of person who’d rob a toy multi-corporate that like, secretly donates to fascist organizations, and then just dump the toys here.” Figures it would be Alex to have an arch-nemesis too nice to actually stop so they can both play hopscotch with line of right and wrong like schoolchildren. “Was that your plan?”

Mirage chuckles, the sound sending a chill down Alex’s spine. “Not this year.”

“That’s almost a threat. Please tell me I won’t need to fight you during the holidays, Invisiboy. Come on, give me a break.” He’s joking for the most part but it would also be really fucking nice if his secret job could leave him alone for the season so he can feel like a normal person for once. Plus hiding his extracurriculars from his family is always draining in all the worst ways. As much as June helps, she cannot take away the worry in his mom’s eyes since that has burrowed there from the day they almost lost him, or rather the one they got him back, or the way she acts when Alex is being weird like she wonders if somehow he returned wrong.

He’s thought of showing her more than once. But he thinks she already knows. She’s seen the news segments, the time-line matches and Ellen Claremont is no fool. So as long as Alex withholds that confirmation from her, she can sleep a bit better, not knowing for certain what her son is doing after dark. Alex loses enough sleep for the both of them.

Mirage shifts against him, breaking him out of his thoughts. Alex could swear he’s moving closer. “Are you…?” He snorts. “Are you snuggling closer to me?”

“You’re like a human radiator—are those your powers?”

“Might be. Never thought about it. Honestly, I just thought I was warm because of the chocolate.”

“Oh, that would do the trick.”

Alex must have spent too much time with him if he can grasp the slight longing in his tone.

“If you’re that cold why don’t you just get some for yourself instead of cuddling with the guy who might try to kill you?” he asks, raising his brows towards what he hopes is Mirage’s general direction.

“You wouldn’t,” Mirage says but he does move away from him, and okay, thanks, he feels like an ass now. “I think people just might notice if there’s a cup of hot chocolate floating around. And like you said, I wasn’t invited. Heroes only.”

Alex could argue about this both in his favor and against it but the last thing he needs is to tell Mirage he’s nice to his face, more than he already does by not dragging his invisible ass to jail every time they meet. Instead he decides to do something that will work for both of them. “Tell you what. You tell me what you’re planning for the holiday season, and I’ll help you drink your chocolate.”

“Truly?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Mirage is quiet for a moment. His shoulders brushes against Alex’s again. “All right. You weren’t far off. Just… not here. The children’s hospital.”

Alex’s heart clenches. “Where are you taking them from?”

“Spitfire, why don’t you go on vacation next week?”

He tries to look at him again, squinting his eyes at the emptiness where his voice is coming from like he could catch a glimpse, a shadow of his figure. He has to be wearing his costume to be invisible in it but is his face bare? Would he finally see a hint of his features if Mirage let him? There’s nothing but fairy lights next to him but if he focuses enough he can just pick up the barest puff of a warm breath in the cold air.

Alex smiles despite himself. “I think I might.”

Mirage bumps their shoulders together in response.

“Okay, time for my end of the deal I guess. Wait here.”

He buys another cup of hot chocolate, insisting that he pays for it after the vendor gave him the first one free of charge ‘for his service’. If he’s going to be feeding super-villains he should do that out of his own pocket.

The hole in his plan reveals itself when he returns and he… can’t see where Mirage is. Of course he can’t. Fuck. There’s a couple taking photos in the spot where they were and even if he had perfect eyesight he would not be able to spot a little cloud of a breath with all these people around.

“This is what I get for being nice to you,” he mutters under his breath, as he goes to take a sip from the chocolate he’s apparently going to drink himself. Oh, yay, more sugar.

He jumps when someone steps lightly on his foot but as he looks around, no one is close enough to have hurt him.

There’s an extra pair of footsteps on the snow in front of him.

Alex fights back a laugh. “Hey, is snow your mortal enemy? When it snows do you have a little white pile floating around on the top of your head?”

“Did it truly take you three seconds to give up on me and try to steal my chocolate?”

“You should be the last person to lecture me about stealing. And I paid for it!” Alex can’t stop the grin from spreading on his face as Mirage laughs nearby. “Okay, are you ready? Wait for my cue.”

“What are you—”

 Ignoring him, he walks over to where most of the children have gathered. “Hey, kids! Do you want to see a magic trick?”

He thinks he hears Mirage groan somewhere behind him.

All the kids and a number of adults turn to him at his exclamation. He sees the recognition on their faces and he tries to focus only on those who seem happy to see him and not on the ones who would have him arrested if they could—he can see the distaste on their faces, so stark against the holiday cheer the surrounds this place. Once they realize he’s messing around, most of them turn back to their business but a couple of kids break off the mold and approach him, waiting with their big, curious eyes to see what he’ll do.

“Don’t get too excited now but I know one trick and I know it really well. You ready? I, Spitfire, hero extraordinaire, will make this cup”—he shows off the hot chocolate with the flair of a magician presenting his empty hat— “float in the air.”

Some children giggle in front of him. If Mirage bails on him now, Alex is going to kill him. “In three… two…” He feels Mirage’s fingers against his own around the cup. “… One!”

Alex lets it slip from his hands and though Mirage fumbles with it for a second, it looks like it’s floating. It stays in the air on its own then gets lifted towards what he can assume is Mirage’s mouth as Alex points at it with exaggerated movements.

He’s surprised Mirage doesn’t dump the whole thing on his head for the unnecessary drama.

With the kids still gathered, he decides to play some fire tricks as well, crudely-shaped birds born of flames like phoenixes flying around them, swirls and storms and whirlwinds in his hands, if only to redirect the attention from Mirage who must be trying to finish his drink in peace. Relative peace.

The combination of both ‘tricks’ leads to some confusion in the audience as the two spectacles  neither match in powers nor are they at all coordinated. The headlines in the morning might be more accusatory than usual if somebody notices the second pair of footsteps next to his. But he can hear Mirage laughing and he can see the children staring with open mouths and wide eyes in front of him, and maybe it’s fine if the media questions him once more.

He’ll even let Mirage do his thing next week too, if he wants to. Alex can always kick his ass after the holidays. Even supervillains deserve a gift after all, if they’re as nice as he is.

 @rwrb-fests 

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[ceruleanchillin]

Fitting

Modern Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Note -  I just went to a word generator and took random words to use for plot ideas. It switches from the Reader to Arthur’s POV by segment (in case you get/got confused).

Annnnd, hooray for technologically illiterate, and borderline luddite, Arty.

Finally, I need to apologize to all the mobile users. It’s gotta be HELL scrolling past my shit in the tag ugh, I wish keep reading worked on mobile.😩

1. Rain

Arthur didn’t used to be too fond of the rain. It made travel hell on earth. If you were in a cold place, you froze. Hot place? It made you feel sticky, and teased you about feeling cooler. He didn’t understand why people were so in love with it. That was until he found a home.

The gang had worked long and hard to set themselves free from their former lives. Freedom looked like a sprawling, luxury ranch resort, staffed by former criminals. It amazed him that people were willing to pay big bucks to vacation the way he’d lived the majority of his life for free, but they were. He couldn’t knock the weirdness too much, because it allowed him to meet you, and gave him a place for a new start with you.

So he got it now. Why people enjoyed the rain so much. Sitting on a cozy living room’s window seat of the ground’s main house, your back to his as you dozed lightly, the rain painting the window next to you. He understood.

He looked down at you, and couldn’t stop what he’d been told was a “goofy” grin from spreading across his lips. You looked stunning, long lashes touching your cheek and lips pouting in dream concentration.

Absentmindedly, he ran his thumb across your cheek in soft swipes, enjoying the moment. He’d have to remember to draw this later.

You shifted lightly, paused to realize he’d been studying you, yawned cutely, and narrowed your eyes. “You watching me sleep Morgan?”

“Yes ma’am, you’re goddamn beautiful.”

“Translation, ‘I wanna fuck you on these new cushions-”

He quickly silenced you with a kiss, one that quickly devolved into laughter from both of you.

Yeah, Arthur Morgan could appreciate the rain. He would go so far as to say he downright loved it.

2. Bedroom

When people asked what you missed the most on your travels, it now came down to two answers. Arthur, and your bedroom.

The first one wasn’t surprising. In your five months working for the gang’s resort, you and Arthur had grown inseparable. The two of you let instinct and feeling be your guide, and it hadn’t disappointed you yet.

The second one was a bit more strange for most people. Being settled for most of their lives left them taking personal space, such as a bedroom, for granted. Residing with your new family had been the closest thing to settled you’d ever been. You found out it was pretty much the same for them, and Arthur shared your appreciation for a space away from constant prying eyes.

You burrowed your cheek into the pillow, trying to appreciate your bed and the sunrise at once. For the next three-and-a-half weeks, you would be in Australia, and would miss seeing the sunrise this way.

A warm arm came over your side, and you relaxed into the body attached to it. Arthur buried his face in your hair, his hold tightening when he breathed in.

“Your plane doesn’t leave til’ twelve, you trying to get away from me already?” he was teasing you, but you could still hear a slight edge to his tone. He respected your love of travel, but he missed you terribly when you were away from him.

You laced your fingers with his, and gave a tight squeeze. “Don’t even try it, you know I cry on the plane every time now. I didn’t do that before you.”

“I am both delighted and upset to hear that.” his voice was still colored by sleep, and somehow managed to hold a rougher tone to it.

“I suspect more of the former than the latter.”

He chuckled and moved his lips from his hair to your cheek. You hummed and sunk further into his warmth, allowing him to claim more of your skin with his kisses. The comfort of the bed, the warmth of Arthur, and the softness of his kisses, started to make you dizzy in the best way. Who knew Arthur Morgan was king at cuddling?

He pulled you under him, lips now on your own.

“I have to get ready, I told Mary-Beth I’d help her with giftshop duty before I leave.” very few of your words managed to surface between kisses, but you knew he’d heard you.

“Mary-Beth ain’t stealing my last few hours with you.” his reply was rough in tone, his next kiss firm to back up his point.

You felt your body abuzz with adoration for the man and his cute declaration. He was pouring how much he’d miss you into his actions. He wouldn’t outright declare he’d miss you, but he would show you.

Your hands danced across his back in gentle motions. “I’m going to miss you too Arthur.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. His gaze said a lot, and his follow up kiss said whatever it left out.

When he pulled away, he touched his forehead to yours, eyes closed. You recognized his expression as one that said he wanted to tell you something, so you waited.

“I was thinking, you might be able to come home to find your bedroom in mine.”

It took you a moment, but you realized what he meant when the poor man’s expression got panicked. He wanted you to move in with him.

“I’m thinking I might like that.”

A look of relief crossed his handsome features, before he ducked his head by your ear. “I’m thinking you might like something else to.”

3. Dizzy

The most important moment of Arthur Morgan’s life came at 4:45 AM on a Saturday.

He hadn’t been expecting anything beyond seeing you for the first time in weeks. That’s all he needed to be honest. He hadn’t seen hide nor tail of you, with the exception of a frustrating FaceTime (was that what you called it?) that everyone felt they needed to be a part of, in two weeks.

Every other moment of communication boiled down to phone calls, and confusing texts (goddamn, why couldn’t you let him keep his flip phone?!).

Arthur was a simple man, and he liked his communication the same way. Nothing was more simple than talking to you face to face. He could hold you, see your face clearly, and not make a complete fool of himself for lacking poetic graces.

So when he got a call from you, asking him to pick you up from the airport a week ahead of schedule, he nearly ran out of the house in his underwear.

The bustling airport pickup wasn’t the best place to play catch up, so the two of you followed what was tradition at this point. A tight hug, and then a comfortably silent ride to your favorite diner. There you would share a million questions and a million kisses, until your food was cold, and the sun was unbelievably hot through the window.

“I can’t imagine what’s back here in Texas that’d make you leave those Australian fellers behind.”

You flashed him a tired smile from across the both. Knees drawn up to your chin, hair messily piled on top of your head, and swathed in a colorful t-shirt, Arthur would bet money you were the most gorgeous thing on earth.

“I have a pretty good answer I think.” you carefully raised your hot mug of peppermint tea to your lips.

“Yeah? They wouldn’t wake up at the break of dawn and kill spiders for you?” he chuckled, raising his own mug of coffee.

You shook your head, and when you lowered your mug he saw you were smirking. “None of them got me pregnant.”

The coffee went down the wrong way, and aspiration kicked in. He spluttered, a hand coming up to grip the table. You leapt up, and circled the table to slide into his booth.

“Are you ok?!” your voice was wrought with concern as you thumped his back. “I hoped you’d have a funny reaction, but I wasn’t trying to kill you!”

He sucked in a mouthful of air, a burning pain snaking through his chest. “You pranking me? Like in those stupid videos you and Mary-Beth watch? I don’t wanna end up on that dumb video site.”

“Wow,” you gave that funny little ( loud ) laugh of yours, and threw your arms around his neck. “I expected a lot of reactions from you, but not that one. No, I’m serious.”

He sighed, and ran a hand over his chin. He was sure all color had drained from his face, if the faint dizzy feeling was anything to go by. He could you hear you calling his name, but his mind just kept wanting him to hear the word “pregnant”.

Your hands uncoiled from around his neck. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t say you got me pregnant either.”

He shot you a withering side glare at your joke. “No, I don’t believe it does.”

He could feel you staring at his profile, but he was too busy staring at his mug instead.

“Well...I need some kind of response big guy. I mean what do you think?” you placed your hands on the table, fingers pressing into each other. “Are you...mad?”

He could hear you were unsure, a sound that was foreign for you. Mad? He found it hard to get mad with you as it was, and this certainly wouldn’t have been a valid case for it.

“You know me better than that, of course I ain’t mad….just a lot of other things I guess.” he exhaled and turned to face you. “You certainly seem relaxed enough for the both of us.”

You grinned and shrugged, and he wondered why he had ever expected a typical reaction from you.

“I had two whole days, and a long ass flight to think it over. I’m not scared Arthur, I’m ok with this.” your voice was firm this time, steady. “It’s like a new adventure, you know me and adventure.”

He snorted. “Catnip.”

“I’m as settled as I’m ever gonna get, I’m fine with it, I can still explore the world in the future. But...I need to know where you stand.”

He felt your gaze on him again, and repeated your words in his head. Pregnant. The best thing he’d ever come across in his life, and he’s quite possibly ruined yours. You were a beautiful young woman who, while well traveled and experienced, still had so much to offer the world. Had he stolen that away from you?

He saw your hand tremble slightly, and took it into his much larger one. For a second, he just stared at it, before enclosing it in his. “My lady I stand with you. I just want you to know what you’re tying yourself to is all.”

He could sense you wanted to stop him. You didn’t like when it seemed like he was going to “put himself down”. Being honest is what he called it.

“You know about my past.” he exhaled and continued when he felt you squeeze his hand. “You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig that’s committed too many atrocities to name. I don’t rightly know what kind of business I have being near a child for too long, let alone raising one of my own, but I would never leave you. You know that.”

“I do.” you squeezed his hand again, longer this time.

“So, if you wanted to do the leaving...If you wanted to give this child something different than me...or do something..else for yourself. I wouldn’t fight you.”

“I want to stay with you.” your arms returned around his neck. “Fight me about that.”

“I should.” he drawled, leaning into the warm lips you’d placed on his cheek.

��But you won’t.”

He faced you fully, finally, hand coming up to cradle your jaw. “No, I won’t.”

Goddamn he’d made yet another mess, but when he saw your face light up as you started talking about the future, he couldn’t be too angry with himself this time.

4. Coffee

Waking up before everyone else, to get the house kitchen for yourself, always made losing that extra bit of sleep worth it. You loved finally having a family, but the quiet moments were nice too. No bickering, it wasn’t quite time to worry about what the guests wanted (not that you had to worry about that again for a while), and you could just exhale and take your time.

It was also a great time for coffee, though you had tried to scale back with the pregnancy. Decaf coffee may not have given you the buzz of caffeinated coffee, but it still helped with the craving. Maybe Charles was right, and you were a slave to the bean….

You chortled into your mug at the thought.

“That mug funnier than me?”

You laughed again, extending your foot to slide out the chair across from you. “Arthur Morgan I bet you’re jealous of my pillow for getting to touch my hair all night.”

He took the offered seat, and sleepily ran his hands through his hair. “Probably, I do like that shampoo you use.”

You rolled your eyes, and brought your mug up to your amused grin. A comfortable silence settled between you two, as the morning’s first light began to shine through the giant picture window.

Arthur was the first to break it. “Are you sleeping ok? I know you usually get up early, but it was dark out. If you aren’t sleeping, we should probably tell th-”

“I’m fine mother hen, god you’ve been adorable through this.” you beamed at your protective man, who was currently blushing and ducking under your gaze.

“Yeah, yeah. It ain’t as noble as all that. I’m just trying to save myself the ‘this is your fault’ speech when the time comes.”

You sat down your empty mug and gave him a pitying look. “Aww. No baby, that’s still happening regardless. Sorry.”

“Can’t blame a feller for giving it his best.” he looked out of the window for a while, his gaze darting across the scenery, before clearing his throat. “Look here (Y/N). I’ve been sitting on this thing for a while.”

He reached into the pocket of his pajama pants, and you tensed up. It didn’t take a genius to gather what the moment’s energy was telling you. Sure enough, he produced a ring, revealing your instinct to be right. You gasped, though it came out somewhat choked, but didn’t speak.

“Now it’s not because you’re pregnant, Abigail said you wouldn’t like that to be the reason, and it’s not. I was planning on asking when you got back from Australia-”

“Yes!” you screamed the word that had been looping in your mind since you saw the ring.

“Ssh.” he half-laughed half-shushed you. “You want everybody in here? Nosey enough on their own, make em’ work for it at least.”

“I don’t care who hears.” you lightly stamped your feet on the tile floor.

He laughed again, blue eyes shining with confidence now that rejection was off the table. This poor sweet man thought you’d reject him, even after all you’d been through and had yet to go through. Not a chance.

“Well then.” he kneeled on the tile floor you knew to be freezing, and held up the ring. “Miss (Y/N) (L/N), I would very much appreciate if you would be an old fool’s wife.”

You pulled him to you by his shirt, and threw your arms around him. “Yes, but I don’t know any, so you’ll have to do instead.”

You two shared a solid embrace, Arthur ever careful of your growing stomach, and you nearly choking the life out of him. He took your hand is his, and you could feel his trembling. He slid the ring on your finger and just stared at it as if he couldn’t believe it. Maybe he couldn’t, you were sure his self-doubts were telling him it was all a lie. You kissed his forehead, hoping if he was having any such thoughts, they would perish. His hands came up to lay gently on the just-noticeable bump of your stomach.

“I swear to you, I will do my best to make you two very happy, and keep you safe.”

You just kissed him instead of responding with words. You didn’t have to. You knew he loved you deeply, and would do his best to keep his word. He was a big part of what you called home, and you couldn’t think of any place safer.

End Note - I took so much longer than I wanted with this. I just kept deleting and going back and forth. I hope it’s ok.I’m gonna be posting a HC for this AU, and then posting something for Hosea after that.

[fireteam-dumb-luck]

Sleep

The Tower was silent. Shadows caressed the buildings, the only light coming from Guardians who had volunteered themselves for night watch, and the maintenance frames busying themselves in the middle of the night.

~

In the open window of one apartment sat the silhouette of a woman. To a distant eye she was almost indistinct, only visible because she was darker than her background of shadow. To her, and her companion, her skin was grey-blue, eyes glowing white and smoke rising from her hands. Her hair, choppy and uneven, fell around her shoulders, and she brushed her fringe out of her eye as she closed her book. Getting to her feet, Liran stretched her shoulders and pulled a blanket around her torso, tumbling into the nest of blankets and pillows that was her bed. Her companion, Spook the Ghost, transmatted her book into a different space, and floated down to nestle against her chest. She pulled the blanket over the two of them, shutting her eyes and fidgeting with certain pillows until everything was just right.

~

In the room adjacent, Ralia lay sprawled on her bed, blankets half-covering her torso and unconsciously making adjustments to how she was laying. Her bed didn’t have much in the way of blankets, something which she and Liran frequently joked about. Dim light briefly illuminated her slack expression as her Ghost passed overhead, zipping through the window. Her bright orange hair was mussed, the only reason it avoided tangling was its length. She shifted in unconscious response to a cool breeze, rolling onto her side and revealing a sculpted blue waist, adorned by a collection of scars. She murmured something unintelligible, grabbing onto her blanket and holding it closer to her chest.

~

Downstairs, Archer-7 rubbed his eyes and quite literally rolled out of bed. Pollux, relaxed on his pillow, laughed at him. He grabbed a loose shirt, tugging it over his head before retrieving his pad from the bed. Oh and his communicator too, when he noticed that it was lit up. Joints whirring as he moved, he picked up his pencil from his desk and flipped to a clean piece of paper. He tapped the warm light on, picking up a couple of nuts from the bowl he keeps on his desk. Perusing his communicator before he starts drawing, he notices that he’s got a message from Echo-9, one of his closest friends — he thinks. They get a little more involved than friends normally do but he’s not going to disrespect her distaste for romance. He’s just not sure what to call their relationship. Anyway. After responding to her message, he placed the pencil to paper and began smoothing the lead over the page.

~

(Netraptor)

In another apartment, Jayesh lay curled in his bunk, a slight frown on his face. His computer glowed faintly in the background, screen slipping to sleep as he did. A Ghost lay huddled in his arms, pressed against the underside of his chin. Phoenix couldn’t sleep, of course, but he was glad that his Guardian took comfort in his presence. He gave the Ghost equivalent of a smile and shifted a tiny bit closer.

~

An Exo man leaned in a comfortable looking chair, appearing for all intents and purposes to be awake, but if you were to look closer, you could see that his eye-lights were dimmed, and he was in fact asleep. His Ghost hovered nearby, watching and waiting for his inevitable middle-of-the-night question. She used to be confused as to why he would wake up and ask her something, occasionally about fighting, history, or even a crush of his, but now she knew that it was just something he does. “Mhrm.” There it is.

“Hey Valis.”

“Sssssakura?”

“That’s me.”

“Do you think I’d have a chance with Charon?” Oh, Charon again. She had to fight back a giggle.

“I keep telling you that I don’t know. I’m going to make you ask her at this point.” He groaned and shifted his head, eye-lights dimming again.

“G’night.”

“Good night.”

~

(The-curious-titan)

An Awoken woman, muscled and scarred, shifted in her sleep and makes a muffled noise into her pillow. As she moves, her black t-shirt shifts up her torso to reveal an assortment of scars, and then she shifts again. Ivara kicked in her sleep, heart-rate increasing to the concern of her watcher. Boop floated down closer to her face, murmuring to her that everything’s okay. Sweat pricks at her hairline, goosebumps rising on her arms in response to not the cool breeze but her memories that she can’t seem to fight back. Boop gets a little louder, offering comfort and reassurances until she wakes up gasping. He hurriedly moved to reassure her, and to his relief she offered him a shaky smile and pulled him into her arms. “It’s alright. Thank you.”

~

(Voidsingers)

Cassiopeia ran their fingers through their hair, humming to themselves as they sat cross-legged on their bed. Sirius sat perched on their knee, projecting a screen of pictures and assorted notes. “You sure you want to do this?” They looked down at him.

“I’m sure. Where’d those tracks in Old Finland lead again?”

“Nowhere. Just an old settlement.”

“Damn.” They tapped on a particular segment of the projection, Sirius enlarging it at their silent request. They continued their quiet discussion with their Ghost, pulling a blanket over their shoulders. Their comfortable shirt fell off their right shoulder when they leaned to the right, peering at a particular detail in a picture.

“What about that?”

~

(Jsmulligan)

A ship swept through the atmosphere, flying from Mercury to the Tower docking bays. Inside the cockpit, a human man lay slack in his seat, eyes closed and mouth slightly slack. An exo-like leg lay across his lap, and it was evident that it wasn’t some odd salvage, it was his leg. It was fairly scratched up, and Claney subconsciously adjusted his grip on it as Elgan adjusted the ship’s trajectory. “Hey. We’re almost there.” He groaned. “Come on Claney. Eyes up Guardian.” As if jolted, his eyes shot open, looking for the threat- and then he turned to give his Ghost a tired glare.

“Why’d you wake me? I was having the best dream.”

“We’re docking, sleepy-head. Get your leg on.”

“Oh SHI-”

~

(Newbabyfly)

Echo-9 pulled the weighted bar over her head and flipped it so she could hold it for ten seconds before lowering it. She repeated the deadlift four more times, Polo timing for her before calling a break. Grabbing a bottle of water, she drank half of it in one go before pulling her communicator out of her bag. Ooh, Archer had replied.

Can’t sleep?

Nope. You neither?

What are you doing?

I’m drawing. Any requests?

Ooh! Draw a Warbeast. And Shaxx.

I’m at the gym btw.

Having fun?

Hell yeah!

Did you know I can do 50 deadlifts in a row? Heavy weights too.

That’s impressive.

The conversation continued for a minute or two until she headed to the running track. Maybe she’d go say hi to Archer when she’d had a shower.

~

Stoomdorm-2 huddled into her pile of blankets and tossed and turned. Her arm nudged the body beside her, but thankfully Killy didn’t stir. She was asleep too, and a light rumble came from her voicebox every so often. It wasn’t often that you’d find a snoring Exo, and Stoom was scary enough that no one would risk her wrath by pointing it out. If asked about what caused her movement in her sleep, she’d give a typically enigmatic answer, but in reality it was memories of the Deep Stone Crypt. Good thing it didn’t bother her.

Beside her, Killy rolled over and attempted to cover himself with blankets. Nihei, stifling giggles, watched with Stoom’s unnamed Ghost as the pair had an unconscious blanket tug-of-war.

~

In the midst of a pile of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals, Pikachu could just see her Guardian’s bright pink hair sticking out from under a stuffed dog. Oh boy. Skitty had burrowed down into her hoard and she didn’t think anyone could get her out. The woman slept like the dead too. Actually... she wasn’t moving. Oh dear. She descended toward her Guardian, scanning quickly — and she was just sleeping very heavily. She was breathing. Thank the Traveler. Suffocating while sleeping would be kind of awkward. Interesting tale though. She looked a little closer. Aww, Skitty was cuddling a stuffed chicken. She perched on top of a pillow, enjoying being near her Guardian.

[imforrestgumping-blog]

conversations with a mirrored me

We seriously don’t need to make this a lengthy conversation?

- Yeah yeah but listen what’s the point of trying to attach a time frame when you’ve waited your whole life to have a conversation with yourself. Yourself?! I mean isn’t that at some point of every thinker’s mind a sort of mission? In the figurative…

I think it is. And well you’re here. And I’m here and somehow you thought it was an artist idea to put it out there. Figure that I didn’t say it was good or bad idea. 

- Pssht but you perpetually know how to bring a brother down Fam. But listen, do you think we think in the same voice? I can sort of figure out our thinking voice but you know that thing you do when you try character something but some fraction of your brain always has it covered and you are waiting to get that answer but you somehow get lost in solving it yourself and you end up like a dumbass because you somehow get it twisted? 

What?! Nah fam. That’s just you. I mean sure I do think about what voice I think in. Like I think it changes with your emotion. But you can sort of recognize that overtone of you, the echo. The subconscious echo. Or am I bullshitting you? Because I think for real, they’ll always be a constant trait of you in everything you do. For everyone one of us. Like how the moon will be the moon even in daylight when it’s not needed. And that’s how unexplained shit like eclipses appear. Because rationally speaking the moon isn’t suppose to be there. But science messes up the beauty of it through justification. 

- Ag guy it’s as though you were birthed by science. You’re fuck curious. Always trying to make sense of shit that sometimes needs no logic. Till today I have not meet anyone who wants to know some of shit you want to know. What do you think about this writing project you’re doing? 

I think it’s expressive. One dimensionally though. And I dig how I’m able to recognize the parts of my brain I channeled and how it’ll always remain reflective of shit people will never truly know. Sort of reminds me of Frank’s music; it’s tapping into his conscious but you can never know how. And of course I’m no Frank bro but I rate it’s pretty cool I can see his art in my art. Or at least I’d like to convince you and me so. Are you convinced man? 

- Sure I think anyone who knows you, especially me. That’s cool right? Feels good actually saying that. But its dope how much of an inspiration he is. It’s like seeing Gambino inspire himself on Atlanta. That’s an epic series. Too bad Season 2 had to be postponed. But there’s Game of Thrones to look forward to. 

Yeah but July…

- Hey, I think it’s worth the wait. And each episode will be like an hour and a half. More movie like if you ask me. Not that you should be complaining. But talk to me about this project of ours. 

Where was I. Umm.. Yeah I was saying bro. I think it’s pretty cool how as I re-read the shit is wrote I could also pick out the elements that are consistent in my scripting. It’s an entirely different experience on its own and how I let flow of my conscious. I mean they’d be times where writing in the weirdest of places would feel normal. I still reckon I’ll be nervous when I put it together and it’s ready for publishing, if I can call it that. Sure there’s always that underlying fear of hate critique you know. I think, I think I wrote a love story. I know what’s like to fall in love and I think what I did here was create a love story. With what I don’t know but it feels good looking back unto what I’m making here and going through so many feels. Its dope. It’s explosive. And I get to fiddle with a reader’s emotions. That connection I hope to create is something beyond what I can control. And isn’t that love? Isn’t that wanting more for someone more than they want for themselves? 

Why we’re both here trying to let them read and feel something? 

Love hey. Speaking about women and cuddles, do you remember that Ab-soul interview you read where he spoke about how women are everything? The good, the bad, the root of all? And how a real OG knows that most wars have been fought over women? That piece was something you’ve never been able to forget. Especially because you made her read it. 

- Yah neh, her. Do you miss her bruh?

Fuck yeah I miss her. I mean, I miss her it sort of irritates me man. I hope she gets to read this too. She barely understood what writing meant to me but when she wrapped her mind around it, she eventually encouraged me to write. And I think I’ve been able to channel more of her into me than when we were together. Okay maybe I just miss her. She was misunderstood and I think she’ll remain that way for a very long time. So will I of course but I appreciate how that’ll always be the connection we had - lost and in love. A beautiful mess. It’s the part where we began misunderstanding one another that will forever hurt to the core... What else are we supposed to be speaking about? 

- Wow, that’s an ancient load, a very expansive question I’ve been meaning to ask us. Questions likes do you think we’re attractive, why didn’t we began writing earlier, confidence levels, a ton of questions about the world, your teenage life and the life prior this life. I mean there’s so much to actually ask that I don’t even have a starting point. Why you prefer certain metaphors and a stream of conscious, dirty realism, Coldplay, your depth understanding of a being like Lil Wayne or Allister Crowley. I mean dude, I can only manage to attempt an holistic answer to that question but it steams down to one complex principle and I think it’s how you want to understand yourself beyond the idea of a mirror, writing or introspection after most, if not all, events. So what do we speak about, yeah that’s a lifetime worthy conversation mate because growth, that shit happens every single day and it’s how most of us have this imbalance of piling up questions for God when we forget one simple ideology; it’s in us… So what do we speak about, for now we speak about letting them know only a fraction then we write about the rest and hopefully they pick that up whilst we grow. 

You’ve been too attached to this Boys Don’t Cry magazine, and that interview with Lil B about the sexiness of money. Let me do the honours, do you think money is sexy?

- Of course man. I think it’s dirty. But the sexy sort of dirty. Like a female. A bad bad. That’s sexy. The kind that deserves an entire species title in her honour. Because it has this destructive thing about her. And isn’t that sort of power just darn attractive. Hey, we can dwell on the chemistry of how it fits into this world and actually how physically dirty it is to touch it but money, money is sexy Fam. Sexy doesn’t always have to be good though. Or relevant. And you know how you actually feel about money. That’s my point. 

I agree with you. It makes you do some pretty messed up things, like how a mentally explosive female would make you do things that test your self-control without many words. Money is like the dangerous sort of female and all of us are the testosterone filled boys. There are just as many songs about that one girl as they are about money. Ask Abel. 

- Growth. That words sums up everything we need to speak about, I think?

Funny you mentioned that, I was just thinking about how I’ll release something new if this one reaches anything over ten souls. In the right way of course. So here I am debating with myself how I need to grow. We both know that entails more music, more hers, more travel and more of new. More situations in life, more milieus, addressing more world problems and a growth of conscious. And because I’ve started writing some crazy material since I relapsed. Not too dark, not too much personal me but something I deem fit for the world to grow. And hopefully I’ll get there. I mean, I started it right? With a different vocal chord in my brain back then but like I said to dad, “I can do more writing out there than in four corners” who knows maybe I’ll meet a team that’s all arty and shit and prepared to make things happen in the right way. Yeah well.. that’s the segment of growth I’ll comment on. A musician, a writer, a photographer. Choose one.

- Well the rapping scene is too fast and misguided for me, I think I’d script fire lyrics though. Although we did play the guitar at a stage for another genre. The photography scene is too literal for me. And I’d position myself more to the writing prospect but my feeling is it that it’s too narrow. Let’s talk music bro. 

Music man? Do you want us to be here till our death? There’s so much to say about music. But let me summarize this; there’s a song for your every emotion and I feel so sorry for people who haven’t urged themselves to step out of their comfort zones with their music taste. But music is.. Music man. Music is infinity and whether it’s someone like Lil Wayne, some Soundcloud singer, a trap artist, a live session, a Little Dragon concert, Amy Winehouse tribute or even a random cover of White Ferrari. Music is simply and complexly infinite bro. 

- We’re not done right? 

Of course not. 

- Fam? Bro? Anima? Anima…

END OF EPISODE ONE

[hazbinextgeneration]

Allison Theory P3

(the image is not mine. Im just using it for context for my headcannon/theory. It and the characters belongs to @vivzportfolio​)

From left to right:

Allison: A young lady who is the first ‘Lost One’ to stumble down into Wonderland for a good while and Cheshire’s old friend. Allison was born and raised by a single grandmother and is now done with everything. She’s seen too much stuff to be surprised anymore. While she was able to escape the madness that usually consumes humans when they stay a long time, many wonder if it’s really any of Cheshire’s doing?

Many would describe her as her own type of crazy, as many of Wonderland’s residents don’t really understand the outside’s world’s way of thinking with Cheshire being a somewhat exception. She doesn’t eat the teacups or dunk her tea cakes in water before she eats them? Bizarre. And what’s wifi? Humans stare at a glass box all day? WHat’s the point? She tries many times to explain these things to them with Cheshire chuckling behind her but to no avail. Living in Wonderland has it’s perks though. No taxes or other annoying people. Almost no real danger. And she’s always preferred surrounding herself with magic. She sometimes does miss the human world and sometimes her and Cheshire would take trips there or a special place know as Safe Haven.

Allison used to have regular brown eyes to go along with her strawberry blonde hair. Being introduced to Wonderland’s madness filled magic as a child and then as an adult may have caused the red madness in her eyes. While not magical herself, she often carries a magical umbrella that when opened can fly her anywhere and can somewhat understand the laws of the strange land.

Cheshire C. At: The last living Cheshire cat, his anscestor’s were helpers of witches and created the stereotype of witches having cats as helpers. They were often tasked with helping the humans or ‘Lost Ones’ that stumble into wonderland back to the human world. 

Cheshire is a....interesting one to be sure. He often speaks in riddles or rymthes and acts like a crazy ringleader. As if the world is his own personal circus. He loves doing all the normal cat things like climbing trees and purring, you can often find him in trees. He LOVES to cause mischief and often chuckles at everyone’s reaction, but tones it down around Allison. His more chaotic magic includes flying, detaching his head and segments of his tail, going to and fro from the human world, teleporting others, summoning objects, and turning invisible. No one knows the full force of his magic, but he sometimes uses his cane as a wand. While egotistic and eccentric, he treats Allsion pretty fairly and often the two could be scene trolling around the local upside-down houses or sipping koolaid from teacups. Typical bff stuff. But deep down he’s pretty lonely and a bit paranoid about those in power. After the incident with his past, he’s not ready to let go of certain feelings yet.

Cheshire resides in a giant tent in the middle of the Wonder Woods where he’ll perform and just go about his daily business. He has an incredible singing voice and talent for the art for performing, romance, comedy, tragedy, etc. He often draws a crowd. His most proud feature is his eyes

Deedee and Dumea Twiddle: (I don’t know they’re real names but because there’s 2 of them I headcannon they’re the equlivant of Twiddle dee and Dumb from Alice in Wonderland. Plus Dumea is Hebrew for silent so this will come in handy.) The troublesome conjoined twins works for Queen Heart’s court mostly as entertainers in her ring and as a call by friend of course, but basically a spy. The three get along pretty easily and often just as vain and rude as their queen. Despite that, both are very good singers and performers. Often using performances to gather info from the ones who come and watch them perform or too jump bask in the spotlight.

Deedee Twiddle: (the head with short dark pink hair) The more talkative of the two and just LOVES to gossip and spread rumors about others. Strangely very good at gathering information for her Queen’s subjects and will often talk for both of them. Often very vain like her Queen and will spend literally HOURS getting their outfits and makeup in line. Very protective of her Quuen and younger sister(by a minute) and will be the first to snap and get into heated arguments with others.

Dumea Twiddle: (the second head with whiteish hair) Dumea like her name says, is mostly silent most of the time. The only times she will talk is when performing with her sister, or in private and she barely talks in private as well. She usually communicates with facial expressions. Her sister can seem to know what she’s thinking all the time and can have arguments or full conversations with Dumea just making faces or nodding her head (think of Sven and Christoph from Frozen). While usually taking a step back and letting Deedee do the talking, she can be just as sudistic and rude with her snobby glares and scoffs.

Mad Hatter: As the name applies, a crazy little man who LOVES wearing his many hats and enjoys tea and tea parties. This little wackadoodle has a whole collection of hats, cards, teacups, teapots and things covered in polka dots around his home. Marsh Hare is always scolding him and trying to get him to organize the place but strangely enough he knows where everything is under the stuff including their pet mouse. You’ll often never see him without his favorite hat or polka dot suit. Just don’t touch the hat. SERIOUSLY. DO. NOT. TOUCH IT!

(In one pic Vivz drew the Mad Hatter and Marsh Hare hugging really cutely so I don’t know if they’re together or not so just bare with me on this next bit) Mad Hatter is often seen outside of the home he shares with the Marsh Hare having wild tea parties and is open to anybody coming and joining in. Anyone’s welcome! His personality is upbeat and very happy and energetic 24/7. He loves to make people smile and isn’t beyond physical affection like hugs. But if you join his party prepare to be sun A Very Happy Un-Birthday, see dancing teapots and edible cups, lots of tea, and maybe even another song or two. He’s very close with his roommate the Marsh Hare, the two go with each other hand n hand and often hare will be the one to calm Hatter down if he gets a little too wild for their guests. The two often share many hugs and physical affections like cuddles, so it makes others wonder if they’re just really close friends or secret lovers.

Fun Fact: His nose honks if you boop it and his favorite guests are Cheshire and Allison. Cheshire and him loves singing together and Allison is so interesting. Telling stories about humans that make no sense.

Marsh Hare: The comical companion of the eccentric Mad Hatter. Marsh Hare is very similar to the Mad Hatter but more calmer and can think a bit more down to earth. But the two get along very well with each other. The two share a house and a pet mouse together and try as he might, he always seems to be the one to try and somewhat organize the place. But his definition of organizing was to put his own clutter on his side of the house and move Hatter’s stuff in a pile of his own. He actually doesn’t like polka dots that much but all his clothes are made by Hatter so you’ll often see the two in matching outfits. 

While he is not the best singer, he’ll often join his friend is songs while singing offkey and downing Tea like crazy. Funny enough Marsh hates being referred to as a bunny or rabbit(or heaven forbid rodent) and will often go out of his way to correct others and insist on being called a hare.

Fortune Teller: The mysterious moth that resides in the mushroom fields. Not many know of him or his true intentions, but he’s a master of telling people major events of their futures using his crystal ball. While he can’t see into the future, he can see certain events or most likely moments to happen to someone in the future. Not that it’ll be any help to him anyhow, but it’s entertaining to say the least. He doesn’t get many visitors and when he does, he loves to spook them with fake chants and his creepy demeanor. 

Because of his appearance many mistake him for a female but he doesn’t mind and usually doesn’t correct them much. He has a bad smoking habit and often carry around his pipe and make it blow different colors, usually a dark pink or red color. Adds to his creepy demeanor. His most amusing visitors are the Queen and Allison. He likes to see the usually demanding Queen squirm in his presence as she lightly demands to know her future or things in the other Card kingdoms, he enjoys seeing the change in personality. And Allison is always such a sweet polite girl. But very strage. Exotic even.

Queen Heart: One of the Four rulers of Wonderland, the Queen of Hearts doesn’t have the best reputation because of what her family did and whatshe does, but she is much better compared to her ancestors. She doesn’t really behead anyone after her mother, but likes to threaten her subjects with the dungeon very much. The Queen can easily be described as vain, spoiled, cruel, and not an easy likable person. But really she’s paranoid about everything. She’s swore to never put herself through the past, so what’s the best way to go Once a month, the Queen puts on a performance of sorts staring her and her crew and invites the other rulers as a sort of peace offering when in reality it’s to check up on them to sense any threats. And to of course satisfy her lust for performance. She’s always been one for the center of attention.

She honestly does have a wonderful voice and runs her kingdom as her own personal stage with her as the ringleader. She believes she’s doing everyone a favor by being strict and making them follow her orders and in her own way ‘protecting’ them to make up for the blood at the hands of her family. As Queen she has hundreds of subjects to boss around and card guards as her subjects. Owns 1/4 of Wonderland as one of the 4 card rulers but the most wide known. 

Gets along best with the Twiddle sisters and maaaaayybeee the Fortune Teller. She really doesn’t like how he’s able to bring out certain emotions of hers and only goes when her paranoia allows. She absolutely Loathes Cheshire with his condenscending ways and stupid teases, but she wouldn’t hurt him. Not after the past. She....doesn’t know how to feel about the ‘Lost Ones’ personally hasn’t been one since Allison and she prefers to keep it that way. But you bet she was going to keep a very close eye on that girl.