#I actually wrote this on my break

[ceruleancattail]

The Heart’s Rage

Butler Jade x reader

Your fingers trembled.

Digging them into the walls, plaster cutting deep into your nails. Hands closing around a hilt, squeezing tight. Clad in leather, wrinkled with age. An old sword, framed onto the walls of your mansion.

For too long has it stood upon its lofty perch, staring down at you tantalisingly. The gleam of the metal mocking you, in the gentle morning light. It taunts you, challenging you to grasp its hilt.

Today, you shall.

A metallic stench wafted into your nostrils, stinging like a thousand wasps. The stench of rust, a crimson red along the blade. A metal that once was stainless, now crumpling to dust, bit by bit. Nothing could stand against the gruelling march of time forever, yet you hoped. You dared to hope.

Hoping that this blade had some life to it yet.

Storming down to the courtyard, you fling that insufferable letter down. With a heave, you thread it underfoot, stomping it into disarray. Sword held ready, you swing it down, that blunt blade stabbing through the papers. Absolutely skewering its contents into nothingness.

That flowery prose that sent shivers down your spine. That self assured manner which the sender carried themselves with, the sheer confidence that you would accept their proposal. The audacity of them to make plans for a wedding, without even consulting you.

It disgusted you.

Expletives were uttered as you stabbed, pressing your body weight into every blow. Sword striking again, again, and again. Sweat dripped down your brow, slipping into your eyes.

The salt stung, tears dripping out of your eyes. Emotions burning red hot, searing your veins like molten lava. Everything hurts. Your arms, aching from the exertion. Your back, throbbing away incessantly.

Your heart, slighted and offended. Doomed to be married off to another, without a single thought given to your opinion.

Planting the sword firmly onto the ground, your legs give way. Crashing to the earth, hands still grasping the hilt desperately. Your forehead brushes against the blade, weighed down with despair.

Your lips part, to form a single word. A curse, a plea, just something. Anything to release that stifling pressure pressing down on your chest.

“Fuck.”

Soft. A handkerchief was brushed gently over your forehead, down to your cheeks, before finally wiping your neck. Gathering all the sweat with one fluid motion. A gloved hand cupped your cheek, the linen brushing against your skin. A pair of mismatched eyes peered into yours, brows pressed together in concern.

“Master, you really shouldn’t use such crass words.”

His gaze flickered towards the letter. Or rather, what remained of it. Moving his shoes over the scattered remains, he nudged the pieces in place. A sigh, as fragments form into readable words. A name was all Jade needed, before his feet planted themselves firmly into the paper.

“That family is certainly… determined, are they not?”

You groan, an insufferable sound.

“Determined isn’t the word I’ll use. More like desperate. I’ve shot them down again, and again. Yet they haven’t taken a single hint.”

Jade shrugs. A casual movement that has his shoulders rippling through his suit. Smooth, like the crystal clear waters rushing down a stream.

“Perhaps they were… a little too blinded by your prestige, my dear. Perhaps your wealth was another factor.”

A sharp click fell from your tongue.

“They’ll never have it. They’ll never have me.”

A low chuckle. Jade brings his fist upwards, laughing into his glove.

“How admirable, Master. Yet the longer you remain unwed, more and more… suitors will come crawling out of the woodwork.”

The word suitors was said in a low, menacing voice. Positively dripping with venom. For a moment, a shadow shrouded Jade’s face. A sinister expression one might find in a horror film… on the killer himself.

However, one blink and it was gone. Wiped cleanly off his face like it never existed. Although a deathly chill still ran down your spine, all the same.

“Honestly, Jade. I’m tired of this.”

Leaning back, you plonk yourself on the ground. Arms stretched out behind you, supporting your weight. Dirt and grass presses into the plush of your palms. Silvers of pain stabbing through your skin.

Although, compared to the pain of a sword’s hilt? You prefer these emerald blades of grass instead.

A rustle of cloth, as Jade takes a seat next to you. His slender legs bumping against yours, shoulders just barely grazing your own. Hand sneaking towards yours, Jade threads his fingers through yours. Clutching it firmly.

Not tightly enough to hurt, but not loose enough for you to slip out of his hold.

You shoot him a quizzical gaze, holding up his hand. Jade gently presses his other hand over yours, folding your fingers into the back of his palm.

His touch was cold. The refreshing temperature of a lake in the summer, transparent drops of water twinkling in the sunlight. They lap against your skin, delightfully cool. Unconsciously, your fingers grow just a smidge tighter.

Pulling his palm closer.

Pulling him closer.

Closer to you.

Jade lowers his head, lips pressing into your fingertips. Light, fleeting kisses alighting upon your skin. First, they’re on the very tips of your fingers. Then, he slowly moves up, the plush of his lips resting on each of your knuckles. Before he slips to the back of your palm.

Pressing a gentlemanly kiss into your hand.

His glance flickers up, eyes gleaming in the sunlight. Filled to the brim with adoration, a certain slyness lurking deep within. He holds you ever so gently, a lover’s touch.

“Well, if I may be so bold…”

Moving a little closer, Jade’s voice lowers into a sultry purr. Velvet, wrapping you within his arms. Yanking you closer to him, a mere fish in the clutches of an eel.

Honestly? You don’t really mind.

He could squeeze you to death, if it meant you’ll live the rest of your days in his embrace.

“Perhaps the best way to avoid any more.. suitors would be to.. elope, ourselves.”

His grip grows tighter.

A silent threat?

A promise of passion?

A gesture of affection?

Either way, he’ll never let you say no.

“What do you say, Master?

Would you grant me the honour of your hand?”

[puppyeared]

I just skimmed through the art part of your blog and holy bajeebus your LMK art is so beautiful and the headcanon ideas you come up with are so good I wanna steal em-

Kinda wanna see like a part 2 of the little angst you did between MK and Macaque a while ago. It's so interesting and I wanna see Macaque's reaction in your art style. (You don't have to of course, it's just a suggestion [idk if i spelled that right])

Thanks for reading and hope you have a good day/night!

Hope this is to your liking ^^

Part one here

[siren-of-agony]

Answers to "please stop"

No.

I can't.

I won't.

I don't want to.

I don't know how.

I will soon.

But then how will you learn?

We're almost done.

It's almost over.

Ask me again!

Oh well, if you're asking that politely…

Fine. For now.

Only once I've come up with something more fun.

Only once you've come up with something more fun.

Or what?

I know you can go a little bit longer.

You know I won't.

I love it when you beg.

I hate it when you beg.

I'm so bored by your begging.

Not until you're too weak to ask me to.

But I don't have anything better to do.

I wish I could.

Alright! See? All you had to do was ask nicely.

I'm not doing anything.

What, exactly?

Just once more, I promise!

Just once more, I promise! (🤞)

You're doing this to yourself.

You wanted this.

You want this.

You know you made me do this.

Are you ready to give me what I want, then?

I will once you give in.

What will you give me in return?

Why should I?

You know there is only one way to end this.

You know there is only one way this will end.

(Answers to "it hurts")

[obey-me-headquarters]

hi! could u perhaps write about mc accidentally finding out about the boys’ hard limits? like, just something that triggers their fight or flight response. maybe like inflecting severe pain or something. idk… thank you and sorry if u can’t!

Summary: Reader finds out where their demons' hard limits lie.

Warning/kinks: Degradation, Mirror play, bondage, sensory deprivation, punishment, spanking (with your hand and with a paddle), public play (? You're at an orgy, so everyone around you is consenting), food play, safeword use. In general, there's some panic on the boys' part as they realize that they don't like what you're doing. Along with some of them holding in their safeword for a bit, but you reprimand them for it.

Word count: 8,500+

Reader is completely gender natural and their genital isn't described.

-

Lucifer:

You know that Lucifer has complicated feelings when it comes to his body. He hates that he's missing a set of wings, but he wouldn't go back in time and stop himself from tearing them out. Yet his preference towards wearing as many layers as possible stems from more of a fear of being vulnerable than a lack of confidence in his body.

If anything, he's a bit overconfident in his physical appearance, if someone were to ask you.

("Is it really overconfidence, or simply knowing what I'm worth?"

"It's overconfidence Luci, my beautiful stupidity prideful demon.")

Using mirror play in the bedroom has proven to be an excellent way to break down Lucifer's walls. Whenever the demon struggled to get into subspace all it took was bringing out a mirror and having him nakedly kneel in front of it while you remained fully clothed for him to fall straight into subspace.

Something about him being so vulnerable while you remained untouched and fully clothed did something to him. Made him feel small and submissive. You didn't quite understand, but you definitely saw the appeal.

So, when Lucifer struggled to get into subspace one evening. When collars and putting him over your knee didn't do the trick, you brought out the mirror. It was full length and wide, able to reflect nearly half of the entire room, but you doubt that Lucifer would pay much attention to anything besides you or himself.

As you place Lucifer in front of the mirror he snaps at you, barring his teeth into a snarl and you know that tonight is going to be a difficult fight of trying to get him to relax enough to slip into subspace.

That proves true when you watch Lucifer struggle to fall into subspace. His pride battling his desire to be vulnerable and let you take control, you watch as he relaxes, before tensing up and snarling, before relaxing again, creating a vicious cycle.

Determined to break it, you decide to try something else that always makes Lucifer squirmy and lightheaded:

Degradation

"God, you're pathetic," you hiss as you pace around the demon. "Look at you, snarling at your own reflection like a wild animal. You know, sometimes I think you're no better than a wild animal with how much you fly off the handle."

Lucifer blushes at your words, but his pride is still roaming, and it doesn't let himself relax just yet.

"How dare-"

"Shut up!" You snap, wrapping a hand around Lucifer's mouth to silence him.

"Shut your dirty, lying, cheating mouth! How dare you think you can talk like you have something worthwhile to say."

Lucifer's breath catches in his throat, as the haze of vulnerability starts to creep up on him. Seeing his desire spark in his eyes you smirk and continue.

"Come on Luci. We both know that you never said anything worthwhile in your life. That at the end of the day, you're worthless. No, no, you're less than worthless. You only seem to make everything worst, don't you?"

Lucifer feels his pride crumble at your words, washing away as he starts to feel truly insignificant.

"You can never do anything right, can you? Not for Diavolo, not for your brothers, and certainly not for me."

The mention of disappointing Diavolo and his brothers strikes something inside of Lucifer, something he wasn't prepared to feel. Yet before he can examine what he's feeling, you continue.

"You're constantly fucking up, disappointing everyone around you. I wonder how long it'll be before everyone around you sees what I see. Do you know what I see Luci?"

Breath catching in his throat, Lucifer shakes his head.

You raise his chin with your index finger and direct it to the mirror, and Lucifer flinches when he sees himself.

He knows he would look vulnerable, and normally he would take great delight in how small and weak he looks compared to you, but coupled with your words, instead of feeling small and submissive and safe in your gaze, he feels like dirt. Normally when he drops down into subspace he feels soft and cared for, now he can't help but feel worthless and exposed.

Your sneer doesn't help as you take in the kneeling demon.

"Ugh, look at you. Can you believe that you used to be considered the star of the Celestial Realm?" You grab onto Lucifer's chin and force him to look at himself in the mirror.

"Well, can you?" You demand.

"N-no." He asks barely a whisper as tears spring to his eyes.

Immediately your hand drops from his chin as you stare at your demon in alarm. You're used to Lucifer being shy, especially as you break his pride down, you're used to his tears, but you never heard your demon sound so broken before.

"Luci, darling, are you ok?" You ask softly.

"I, I can't believe that I used to be the star of the Celestial Realm, Master. I am, sniff, I am worthless." Lucifer ignores your concern as he continues to cry, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Immediately you wrap your arms around him and pull him into your chest. "Hey, hey, shhhhh. It's ok baby. I don't think you're worthless. Demonus, ok? Demonus, the scene is done, it's over." You repeat your safeword a few times so Lucifer knows that the scene is over.

As you continue to hold Lucifer against you, mumbling praise and assurances slowly the demon starts to calm down. When his tears finally stop he leans away from you for a moment to catch his breath.

"Sorry, I- sorry. I don't know what came over him." He says, looking everywhere but your face or the mirror.

"It's ok sweetheart, you know you never have to apologize for needing to stop the scene. You know that right?"

"Yes, I'm aware. I just, didn't expect to react that way."

"If you're willing, do you mind telling me what caused it?"

Lucifer sighs and collapses back into your hold, and you think for a moment that he's going to shrug the whole scene off, but after a beat of silence he answers:

"It was the degradation. Normally I like it, love it even. But as I fell into subspace, hearing you talk about me like that made me feel vulnerable, and not in a good way."

Blinking, you will your tears away for now. Later, when tensions are lower, and everything isn't so raw the two of you will have a more in-depth conversation about this and will be able to apologize. Now your demon needs you.

"Thank you so much for telling me, baby. I just want you to know that I didn't mean a word of what I said. I, and I'm sure everyone else, rely heavily on you. We don't think you're worthless at all."

"I know," Lucifer states, a bit of his prideful overconfidence returning.

"Now, why don't the two of us stop laying on the floor and listen to a few of my records instead? I got this new one that curses those who listen to it to sing until their throat bleeds." Lucifer stands, reaching out a hand to pull you up.

It's a bit silly, seeing the still naked demon being so confident, but you hold all teasing remarks as you follow along.

-

Mammon:

You wanted to do so much to Mammon that it became a question of not what you'll do to him, but what he'll allow you to do to him.

And it turns out Mammon will allow you to do a lot.

Hence the list. After a very exciting night of thinking about every fantasy, kink, and wet dream you ever had, you came up with a list of what you wanted to do with Mammon, and are currently in the process of working through that list.

A lot of things on the list Mammon never tried (or heard about) before, which took a lot of talking, and a lot of easing him into certain kinks. The very kink you're trying out tonight being one he never tried before.

You gather up everything you'll need for tonight. A blindfold, noise-canceling headphones, and a pair of chains. You're a bit excited that the blindfold and headphones are magic, meaning that cut off all light and noise, as it was basically impossible to find a human realm blindfold that blocks out all light.

You could tell Mammon was getting excited too by the way he keeps eyeing the items, but in his usual Mammon way, he keeps that fact to himself.

It's adorable how he rushes to lay against the headboard at your command, as he's usually a bit of a brat and drags his feet before obeying your orders.

The chains are the first thing to go, seeing as Mammon and you were intimately familiar with them. As you lean over to secure the right cuff Mammon steals a kiss, leaning upward his lips ghosts over your cheek. With a grin, you pin him to the bed.

"Greedy boy~ we haven't even gotten started and yet you're already teasing."

"Guess it's just in my nature to be a little greedy." He teases back.

Rolling your eyes you give him one last real kiss on the lips before cuffing him to the bedframe. As you back to enjoy your work you can't help but feel giddy.

Pulling out the blindfold and headphones you turn to your demon with a grin as you present them both to him.

"Blindfold or headphones first?"

Mammon looks a bit caught off guard at being asked his preference, before eyeing them both critically. After a beat, he answers: "The headphones, I want the extra time to see you."

You huff at the flirt, not believing just how bold your demon can get under the right circumstances. (The circumstances being chained to the bed as you lay on top of him.) Leaning down you place the headphones around his ears and give him a moment to adjust.

"Wow, this is really weird! Woah! I can't even hear my voice! Am I being loud? I feel loud!"

Rolling your eyes you lean down and tap Mammon twice against the forehead - the signal you two came up with when you want to check in.

"I'm really to go! Just give me one last moment to look into your eyes -" Mammon stares into your eyes unblinking for a solid five seconds "- I'm good to go!"

Wrapping the blindfold around his head you plunge your demon into darkness.

And it is incredibly weird for Mammon. As a demon he has pretty good night vision, so even in complete darkness he can make out shapes pretty well. So being in complete darkness takes him a moment to get used to.

The warmth of your body grounds him, and it doesn't take long before he's relaxing into the plush bed.

Shimmy downwards, you try to make yourself comfortable sitting between Mammon's legs, sitting right in front of his cock. Leaning down you give the half hard cock a puff of air and watch as Mammon jumps at the sensation.

"Th-that felt weird. It felt like, a lot? Even though it was so little?" Mammon mumbles, and you wonder if you're going to get a rubbing commentary the entire night.

Maybe you should have added a gag to your myriad of tools.

Wrapping your hands around your demon's dick you begin to slowly pump it. Mammon gasps at the feeling, before moaning and leaning into your touch. Your touch is light and extremely slow, but the demon has always been extremely sensitive and it doesn't take much before he's nearly spilling.

"I'm cumming-"

Your hands fly away at his words, and he growls in annoyance. With a grin, he can't see you bounce off of the bed and begin looking through your toy chest. Normally Mammon would be peaking over, curious about what you'll pick out. But seeing as he can't currently do that, you grin as you realize that you're going to completely surprise him with whatever you pick.

As Mammon comes down from his high he realizes that you're no longer on the bed. The warmth he previously felt emulating from you is gone, and his heart quickens as he realizes that he's alone.

"Hey, what's the big idea? Where'd you go?" Mammon calls out.

You roll your eyes at the dramatics, too busy with shifting through the toy box. "In a minute, Mamms, I'm just getting a few toys." You answer, half forgetting that he can't currently hear. Mammon was just so loud, so responsive, that you momentarily let it slip from your mind that he didn't actually expect a response from you, and couldn't receive one.

Mammon tries his best to calm down. Surely you're just messing with him, right? Wanting to make him crack and beg for your touch? You do like to make him beg. Yup, that's it. You were just teasing him.

You are still definitely in the room with him.

Right?

Seconds become minutes to Mammon as he strains his ears to hear you. Normally he knew exactly where you were and what you were doing, even when he was kneeling and staring at the ground his demon senses allow him to hear everything. Now he has no idea where you are or what you're doing.

"Ok, fine, fine! I give! Can you please touch me?" Mammon whines.

Picking up the fleshlight you want to use on him you intend to do just that. Only to realize that the demon forgot to clean it. Gagging you put the toy aside to clean later, and decide to punish your demon by continuing to ignore him by looking through the toy box.

"Come on, please." His voice takes on a real edge of desperation as he starts to spiral.

What if you left? What if you got bored of him and decided that you didn't want to play with him anymore? Is he all alone, begging to an empty room because he wasn't good enough? He begins to fight against his chains in earnest now, instead of the teasing, testing pulls he's used to. But he finds that they're locked up tight and that he can't break out of them.

Will you hear his safeword if he says it?

Finally finding a suitable and clean toy you stand up and stretch. Glancing over at your boyfriend, you notice that he's strangely calm as he's no longer begging or struggling against the chains. You believe that he's just pouting and the second you touch him he'll start whining about you taking forever.

Before you can reach him, Mammon mumbles out a soft, broken, "Goldie".

Dropping the toy in your hand you rush over to him and immediately remove the headphones before moving onto the blindfold.

"Hey, hey it's alright. I'm right here." You mumble, hands shaking as you lean up to undo the cuffs.

Mammon has never safeworded before, and you're kinda panicking at the moment, but you do your best to remain calm as you rush to take off the chains.

The second Mammon lays eyes on you he lunges at you, pinning you to the bed in a hug. His arms are firm, yet they shake as they hold you. It takes you a moment to realize that the wetness you feel on your neck is from Mammon, but once you do you coo in sympathy.

"I thought you left me," Mammon whispers into your chest.

Blinking back tears you lean down to kiss the demon's forehead.

"I would never leave you alone like that Mamms. I just wanted to get a toy from the toy chest. I'm sorry, I should have communicated that to you."

"It's alright just... I don't think blindfolds and noise-canceling headphones are for me."

"That's OK, that's alright. Sometimes we're going to find stuff we don't like."

-

Levi:

Levi is an extremely obedient sub. In your many months of dating each other he never once received a punishment. You two set out rules together, with him not being allowed to touch himself without your permission and him being required to leave his room and go to RAD a certain number of times each month.

You had expected a rule to be broken at least once, so you were very surprised to see that it never was. Levi was just obedient, and even when he didn't want to do the thing you ordered him to do, he did it. (Even with an excessive bit of whining)

So you were content to never punish your scaly demon.

Levi wasn't.

"Why do you never punish me," Levi asks, pouting in his bathtub. His face is partially hidden by the pillow he's clenching to his chest.

"Because you never actually break a rule or be a brat?"

"Hmmmmm," Levi pouts. "It's not fair! You punish the others! Yet you never punish me. Is it because you don't want to? Because you could never bring yourself to punish a gross otaku like me?"

Holding back a laugh you crawl into the bathtub. Really, only your Levi could be envious of those you've punished.

"Well, if you're so interested in being punished, why don't you do something bad?"

Levi's eyes snap towards yours, like he never actually considered that option. "Gahhhh?!? Be, be bad? How could I, wouldn't you hate me forever?!"

Softening you reach across the tub to cup Levi's face in your hands. Moving his shocked face towards yours you pepper his face in kisses.

"Nope! Levi, I could never hate you." You say softly, stopping your kissing momentarily to gaze sincerely at your boyfriend.

Levi blushes at the look and hides his face in the pillow that's currently squished between you two.

"O-ok, if you say you wouldn't hate me, I'll, I'll try being bad!"

-

You walk towards Levi's room with a pep in your step, excited to continue playing the new RPG the demon recently brought. You only stopped playing last night as your eyes burned too much for you to continue looking at the screen.

As you cheerfully open the door to Levi's room you immediately notice that something is off about the demon. Instead of excitedly smiling at you and handing a controller over to you, he's curled up on his gaming chair and nervously fidgeting with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"What's wrong?" You ask. Standing over your boyfriend you check him over. Did Mammon steal something of his again? Was an anime he liked canceled?

Levi shakes off your concern and reaches for a controller. "N-nothing is wrong! We don't we start playing?"

He shoves the controller into your hand before scurrying off to turn on the game console. Unsure of what else to do to help your nervous demon you follow along, thinking that he'll open up once you start playing.

As the title screen of the game pops up you see Levi nervously staring at you in the corner of your eye, and you debate asking again if he's alright. Before you're able the title sequence stops and you press the "play" button. A column of saves pops up, and in your confusion, you momentarily forget about Levi's nervousness completely.

"Levi, where's my save?" You ask, flicking between the different saves, yours mysteriously gone.

"Oh well. Um. I sorta maybe, deleted it?" He says in a whisper so quiet you have to strain to hear it.

Snapping your head towards him you watch as Levi nervously fidgets. His left arm is covering his face in a classic sign of Levi's nervousness as a blush paints his cheeks.

Wait. Blush?

All of a sudden your previous conversation about punishment from yesterday comes back to you. You honestly didn't believe that Levi would gather up the courage to do something "bad", so you're momentarily impressed that he did.

All previous concerns about your save fly out the window, as you're sure that Levi backed up the save and is only pretending to have deleted it to elicit this punishment. Stalking forward you wrap your arms around your demon's shoulders and force him to face you.

"Oh, did you know? I didn't know my little demon could be so.... naughty~" You tease.

Levi's face darkens, at both your close proximity and your words. His mouth opens to defend himself but no words make it out. You watch as Levi reboots himself as you teasingly rub circles onto his shoulders.

As moments pass by and Levi is nowhere closer to calming down, you decide to pick up the lead again. "Does my demon want to be punished? Is that it? Were you sitting here in your room wondering what you could do to make me mad and pull you over my knee?"

Wordlessly Levi nods and confirmation, and you can't help but laugh a little. Even when being punished your demon can't help but be good for you.

Returning to your chair once again, you pat your chair and pat your thighs expectingly. Rushing to comply Levi lays across your thighs, and you give him a warning smack of what's to come.

"Ah!" Levi cries out, more in surprise than any real pain, as it will take a lot more than a little smack to hurt a demon Iike him.

It's not the first time you had Levi over your knee, though the previous times were more to explore a curiosity than for a punishment. Yet the previous experiences fill you with confidence, as you know where to smack to tease him, and where to smack that will cause him real pain.

As Levi gets himself situated on your lap you pull down his pants in one quick motion, jeans and all. The demon shivers as cold air meets his rear and you laugh at the pout he gives you in response.

Testing out the waters you give the bare ass a firm smack, and delight in the way Levi flinches at being caught off guard.

"Ah hmmm!" Levi moans, thrusting back for more.

"I expect you to count and thank me after each hit Levi-chan." You say sternly.

"O-one! Thank you, Master!"

Grinning you continue, giving your demon a few more smacks. You didn't give him a number on purpose, as you want to see how many smacks it'll take before his ass is a bright red and he's sobbing out for mercy.

As his ass gets redder and redder Levi begins to squirm against you, thrusting his hips against your thighs. You sigh in response, deep and disappointed, and the sound snaps Levi out of his pleasure filled hazy.

"No grinding against me. This is a punishment, remember? You're not supposed to be enjoying this."

Your tone is harsh, and it sends Levi flinching. You never sounded so.... frustrated in a scene before. Levi is used to you being teasing and gentle, always there with a soft word and a teasing touch. The idea of you being upset with him sends him spiraling.

Tensing up Levi tries his hardest to sit still and obey you, believing that maybe if he shows you that he can be good, and is willing to listen to your commands, you'll praise him. (You'll still want him.)

The next few swings of your fast, delivered before Levi has the chance to count them individually. Because of this, he miscounts them.

"Fifteen, s-sixteen, seventeen! Th-thank you, master."

Slowly, as Levi catches his breath your hand trails upward before suddenly wrapping tightly around his hair. Pulling him upward you lean down to whisper in your best Disappointed Dom voice: "Are you sure you counted right?"

Levi feels his heart stop at your words. He did, right?! He wouldn't miscount - didn't mean to miscount! He swears! It was an accident-

Slowly you watch as Levi's breath starts to stutter, stopping completely before gasping in and out. Immediately you drop your hold and Levi begins to hyperventilate against you.

"Sorry, I'm s-sorry. Didn't -gasp- didn't mean to! Sorry!"

Instantly you pick the demon up and hold his back towards his chest, hopeful that the extra room will allow him to calm down, as you begin mumbling praise into his ear.

"Hey, hey, it's ok! I'm not angry, I promise! There's no need to be sorry, it's ok, I forgive you."

Eventually, Levi gets his breathing under control, and he collapses against you once he does. Shifting him slightly, you pull him into your chest and he immediately buries his face into your neck. You continue to whisper praise as you being to gently stroke his back, allowing Levi the time to compose himself.

"I'm sorry." Is the first thing he says when he does.

"I know baby, I know. There's nothing to apologize for, though, you know that right? When I was disappointed that was only a part of the scene, right? Like when you sometimes pretend to not like something when you do."

Mutely you feel Leve nod against you.

"I, I didn't actually delete your save. I have it backed up on my computer."

"I know, sweetheart, I know." You whisper before leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"How about this, we continue sitting here for a bit longer, and then we both get something to eat and drink. Then we have a little chat about the scene before loading up my save?"

Levi grumbles at the idea of actually having to talk about what happened, but he nods against you once.

"Good boy. That's my good boy."

-

Satan:

You hold up a pair of handcuffs and Satan grins.

You two haven't played around with the idea of bondage much, there were other kinks that you wanted to try out first. Sure, you toyed around with pinning his hands down to the bed or ordering him to sit still while you edged him. But you two have yet to use any tool to bind him.

A distinct click echoes throughout the room as you fasten the cuff to his right hand before moving to his left. His hands are looped around the bedframe, stopping him from reaching down to touch himself or you as you play with him.

A wise choice seeing as you plan to edge him until he's sobbing.

The first edge passes through him well, only resulting in a choked-off groan before you give him a few moments to calm down. As you do Satan begins to pull at the handcuffs, testing out their strength.

As he pulls his hands back and forth he feels his heartbeat pick up for a different reason. A looming sense of dread slowly starts to creep in, but before he can focus on it you begin to stroke his dick once again.

Arousal floods through his system once again, but so does anxiety. As he chases his denied relief once more he pulls against the handcuffs, flinching when they make a loud clicking noise as they scrape against the headboard.

When you shift away to allow him to cool off the anxiety settles in replacing all thoughts of arousal. He begins to fight earnestly against the handcuffs, pushing and pulling them, trying to will them to break. But they're strong cuffs, made out of demon-resistant metal and almost impossible to break.

In your mind all you can see is Satan shaking against the bed, sneaking out the pleasure you've denied him. But in Satan's, he's reliving an experience he hasn't felt in thousands of years: entrapment.

Memories of heavy chains wrapping around his body, caging him in and denying his escape as he withers and shakes in rage. Memories of dark closets and being chained to this very same bed as he screamed out curses and profanities until his throat bleed.

He thought he was past this stage of his life, where he was angry and trapped. Caged like a wild animal.

"S-SHAKESPEARE!" Satan growls out your safeword - a safeword that has never been used before.

It takes you a second to realize what he said, but once you do you're on him in an instant. Reaching up you fumble with the keys to the handcuffs as Satan struggles beneath you. You whisper praise and assurances as you unlock the cuffs, but you doubt he can hear you.

The moment he's free Satan flinches backward, his back hitting the wall as he scrambles to get away from you. His eyes are wide, his pupils are pinpricks as he studies the world around him. Akin to a wild, caged animal he crotches down like he's preparing to lunge, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You know he wouldn't attack you, yet you do your best to look passive as you raise your hands in surrender.

It takes a few moments, but eventually, Satan comes back to himself. He seems to realize where he is, and what's going on, as he composes himself.

"Baby, are you ok?" You ask in a low, gentle tone.

And Satan breaks.

He completely shatters as he rushes into your arms. You barely have time to realize what's going on before you feel your chest wetten as Satan begins to sob.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." You mumble, hands lightly touching Satan's head. When he leans into the touch you begin gently petting him.

"It's, sniff, it's ok. You didn't know I would react like that. I didn't even know I would react like that."

"Still, I saw you struggling against the handcuffs, I should have checked up on you."

Satan doesn't know what to say to that, too tired to try to argue with you so he simply hums in response. After a few minutes of sitting in comfortable silence, your hands threading through his hair, he leans up and rubs the remainder of the tears out of his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather we do something else?" You ask, rubbing circles into his back.

"Can we read a bit first?" Satan asks, and on a normal day he would cringe at how timid he sounds, but he's too tired to care right now.

One day he'll tell you about his "childhood". About this memories of chains and ropes, of dark rooms and confined spaces, of rage and curses.

But now he just wants you to hold him as the two of you pour over a good murder mystery, him free to move around and shift, and you with your hands wrapped around his waist.

-

Asmo:

You and Asmo tried nearly every kink known to man, and even some only known to demons. So you know when Asmo's limits lie, and he knows yours. You know when he's fake whining to get a rise out of you, and when his cries border on actually "too much", you can tell the difference between pleasure tears and pain tears, and after many many conversations you know what kinks he absolutely wouldn't want to try under any circumstances.

Fortunately, polygamy wasn't one of them.

It wasn't often the two of you invited another into your bed, you could entertain each other just fine. But sometimes you wanted to see Asmo dom another person, or Asmo wanted to show off his skills next to a less experienced sub, and gangbangs were just fun! You only had two hands, and sometimes you wanted to see Asmo be taken apart by a dozen.

The orgy the two of you are going to tonight didn't have a "main character", but it was hosted by a prominent sex toy brand owner, and Asmo said that the snack bar was "to die for". So you decided to give it a try.

Asmo was being a brat the whole car ride over, pawing at your jacket and trying to kiss you. Trying to save the poor Uber driver you tell your demon to behave, but Asmo only giggles in response as he tries, and fails, to undo your buttons.

You hope that once you got to the orgy Asmo would settle down, but he's  committed to being a brat. As you hand over your coat to the door demon, Asmo rushes ahead of you and sits down onto the lap of a demon he knows, who is very clearly in the middle of having their dick sucked by another attendee.

He tries to persuade them to let him take over and replace their sub's spot, but you're able to pull Asmo away by his collar and onto your lap.

For one glorious moment, you believe that this calms your demon down enough to start behaving, as he quiets down once as he gets settled. It wasn't long after that another demon started up a conversation with you, asking if you were the legendary exchange student, and how you felt about RAD.

While you talked Asmo absentmindedly sucks on your fingers. He tries squirming against your lap, but one smack to his thigh was a clear message for him to calm down.

Or so you thought.

When Asmo continues to grind against you and begins adding teeth to his sucking, you snap. If he was so determined to be punished tonight, he would get punished.

Rising you stand before Asmo wearing your best Disappointed Dom look. He giggles at the look, clearly happy that he thinks he's getting what he wants. That is a public spanking.

You have different plans though, and you walk towards a corner of the room no one is standing near. Snapping your fingers at the corner you command your demon:

"Asmo, over here now."

Asmo rushes off the couch to obey as he skips over. He eyes you a curious look as you force him to his knees, obviously not expecting his punishment to be somewhere so out of the way and private. You pay it no mind, and when he sinks to the floor and assumes a standard kneeling position you give him another command:

"You're not to move, and unless it's your safeword you're not allowed to speak either until I say your punishment is over."

He pouts as he feels the command take hold, staring up at you with pleading eyes. But you don't allow yourself to be swayed.

"Since you were so determined to be a brat and not be patient, this is your punishment. When I think you're finally to sit still I will release you."

You give him one last pat on the head before making your way back to the couch.

As you resume your conversation with the other demon about RAD, more demons start to join in. Some are curious about your life as an exchange student while others are more concerned with the reason why you're here.

A bold demon leaned in close and whispered something in your ear, causing you to blush and gently swat their arm. After that it was like the other demons suddenly remember that they were at an orgy and not a press conference, and began cuddling up to you.

All the while Asmo stews from his spot kneeling in the corner. At first, he was upset at you for hiding him, but now that you're getting more and more attention a prickle of envy runs through him. Not at you, but at the demons now vying for your attention. You should be focused on him - even if it was to punish him.

Normally Asmo wouldn't mind you getting cozy with a few other demons, under different circumstances he would have been delighted to sit back and watch as you had your way with a few of them. Now? When he's hidden away in a corner, forgotten?

Something stings in Asmo, and he desperately tries to whine out for your attention, but the command stops him. All that leaves him is the wheeze of his chest as he desperately tries to force words out of his mouth. Your safeword was on the tip of his tongue, and if you two were alone he wouldn't hesitate to say it, but something about being in a room full of demons stop him.

He's the Avatar the lust, and this is barely a punishment, what would the other demons say if they saw him use his safeword just because he was put into a corner? He knows that safewording isn't a sign of weakness, but he can't shake the thought of what rumors might follow him if he shows vulnerability.

But when he sees a demon crawl into your lap, and you kiss them on the lips, he can't help but yell out a desperate "Majolish"!

Immediately you push the demon out of your lap and rush toward Asmo. Your knees hit the ground with a loud thud but you pay it no mind you kneel before the now sobbing demon.

"All commands are over! Asmo are you ok, what happened?!"

Asmo doesn't waste a second as his arms shot around you and pull you close. As he sobs into your chest your hands slowly wrap around your demon, trying to piece together what went wrong. You don't get must time to think before Asmo's lips are on yours, kissing you desperately, which you quickly return with enthusiasm. Asmo calms down once you make it clear that you desire him, slumping into your chest.

When you break for air you timidly look around the room and breathe a sigh of relief as you notice that the surrounding demons are making an effort not you look in your direction. As you make eye contact with a demon they mouth out a "side room" while pointing at a closed door.

Understanding that this must be some type of aftercare room, or simply a private room couples can retreat into, you quickly pull Asmo up and lead him into the room. As you make it through the doorway you relax as you see that no one else is in there and gently push Amso onto the bed.

"Asmo, sweetheart, darling, we don't have to talk about what happened right away, but I do want to make you feel better. Can you please tell me if there's anything I can do?"

Asmo, whose been holding your hand in a death grip slowly nods as his other hand wipes at his tears.

"Yeah, yes of course. Just can you, can you hold me for a bit?" His voice gets quieter at the end. "Maybe tell me you love me?"

It's rare to see Asmo so shaken up, even after using his safeword, and something breaks inside of you. But you're determined to focus on him, and you nod.

"Of course baby, scout over."

Asmo does as he's told and you're quick to pull him into a tight hug before you begin to slowly rock him back and forth. All the while whispering praise into his ear about how much you adore him, and how beautiful he is.

-

Beel:

It seemed so simple when you suggested the idea: why not mix two of Beel's biggest pleasures and bring food into the bedroom?

You haven't had much experience with food play before, but after doing some research (watching porn on DevilHub and writing down things you found hot), you were confident you could make food sexy.

After discussing what will happen in the scene, you and Beel come up with a game plan. Beel was a bit worried about not being able to focus on sex when he was eating, so you proposed a solution: you will command Beel to sit still and tease him with food from Madam Screams. When he's a good boy and shows patience, you'll reward him by feeding him a piece of food and then stroking his dick. Trapping in a cycle of wanting pleasure, and being hungry.

The start of the scene went according to plan, with Beel able to control himself as he sinks to his knees in front of you. You dangle a curly fry in front of his face, and Beel drools at the sight.

Teasing him you press the fry against his lips and tell him by a good boy and hold it there. Like a dog, Beel obeys and holds the treat against his lips and makes no move to bite. While your other hand sinks to the edge of his boxers.

Palming his dick Beel lets out a guttural groan, the motion causing the fry to ever so slightly push past his lips and he gets a slight taste of the slaty goodness before you rip it away. The glutton barely has time to mourn that loss before he sinks into pleasure once more as you pull his dick out of his underwear.

Already hard and dripping Beel's dick bounces against his stomach, and you coo in delight.

"Oh baby, you're already so wet for me. Excited already?"

Beel moans in response, unable to think clearly as it was growing harder to think through the pleasure filled haze of his mind.

Wrapping your hand around your dick you give it a firm tug, just how he likes it. All thoughts of food and hunger spill out of his mind as you begin playing with his dick.

Until you press the curly fry against his nose and he breathes in the scent. Hunger overtakes him once more as he tries to lunge for it, but you move it away before he's able. Pressing a firm finger against his slit Beel groans as he's stuck in a tug of war between his two different desires. Food, and sex.

As you deny him his treat once again a growl rumbles through his chest and you pause. Beel has never growled like that during sex before. Smiling you continue to jack him off, but Beel is less excited about his rough growl. He normally tries so hard to keep his hunger rage away from you, what if he loses control?

You don't give him much time to worry about concern as you pump him toward an orgasm. Yet the moment Beel feels like he's going to tip over, your hands retreat and he's left wanting.

As a reward you pop the fry into the demon's panting mouth and he instantly inhales it. But it doesn't provide him much relief as he just feels hungrier.

Beel is used to fighting off his hunger and he's used to you edging him. But dealing with both at once? It's an overwhelming, all encompassing desire he never felt before.

And he's not sure if he likes it.

As you lean down to touch his dick once again Beel lets out a throaty whine, sounding more desperate than you ever heard him before. Horny, but worried you glance up at your gentle giant.

"Are you doing alright, buddy?"

"Hungry- no, horny. I can't, I don't know. I want to stop." He rushes out the last part quickly, but you hear it all the same.

"Oh! OK, alright. Yeah, we can stop no problem. Um, which one do you want first? Do you want me to get you off first or do you want to eat first?"

Beel moans hopelessly at the question, and you mentally berate yourself for even asking. It's not like he can't do both at once.

Shoving a handful of fries into his mouth you begin pumping his dick in earnest now, determined to actually get him off this time. Every time Beel moans in hunger you're quick to feed him more food, and Beel is treated to the sensation of eating while getting pleasure.

It doesn't take long for him to cum, shooting into your hands and getting a bit of your chin as he does. As he breathes out a sigh of relief he lays boneless against you, and you remember to finally undo the sit still command you previously placed on him.

Patting his back with one hand the other reaches over to grab a nearby drink and you hand it to him to help wash down the food. After he downs it one gulp he leans back to give you a dopey, but incredibly fond look.

"That was nice. I liked it when you feed me while jacking me off."

Grinning at the honesty, you lean in and kiss your demon.

"Thank you. I liked how desperate you were and how to relied on me to give you everything you wanted. What about the teasing?"

"I.... didn't like that. I was afraid I'll get too needy and hurt you." Beel says the last part ashamed and you're quick to lean up to give him another kiss.

"I get that, it seemed like a lot. If you want to do this again I would tease you again, I promise."

Beel grins, and you momentarily mourn your wallet at how much food you'll be buying in the future. But that fond look is enough to banish all mournful thoughts in an instant.

"I'll like that."

-

- Belphie:

Belphie being a brat isn't a new development for you. He's been a brat since the first time you bedded him. Which resulted in a lot of punishments. A lot.

You almost believe that Belphie prefers to be punished than his regular scenes, and that makes you want to up the ante and show him a real punishment is like. Maybe you'll finally convince him to be obedient for once.

So you got a new toy you wanted to try with him, a paddle. It's a thick, strong paddle. Made in the Devildom because you don't think a human realm one will survive Belphie's ass.

Yet the demon doesn't so much as cower when you present the toy to him after he caused you to sleep in and miss class again. Well, you'll show him. You'll have him pleading for mercy in no time.

The Avatar of Sloth, true to his name, doesn't put up any type of a fight as you pull him across your lap. Only grinning when you pull his pants down and you notice that he's not wearing any underwear.

"You were really committed to being a brat today, weren't you?" You tease, giving the demon a quick pop on the ass with the paddle.

Belphie moans at the sensation, and giggles a cheeky "no". Wasting no time with foreplay you get right into business by delivering a fury of blows to the demon's plush. You don't bother to tell him to count them, knowing that he wouldn't, or that he'll miscount on purpose.

Moaning at the feeling Belphie arches his back as he leans into the swatting, enjoying the pushing sensation.

Yet, as time continues and you keep hitting and his ass gets redder and redder Belphie starts to feel weird..... tender. You normally don't cause him to feel this raw until much later in his punishment. When both of your hands sting with the amount of blows you dealt, the two of you are out of breath and ready to tear each other's clothes off.

As you strike down the paddle once again, Belphie feels something he hasn't felt in a very long time:

Pain

Sure, your spankings hurt before. But it was more of a force, a push, a physical reaction to movement than any real kind of pain.

And Belphie is not prepared to handle real pain. As the spoiled youngest of the Avatars, he's used to not having to lift a finger. This made your punishments even more exciting as Belphie felt the closest he did to pain he felt in a long time, without actually crossing over into actual pain.

He may not be as physically resistant as Beel or Lucifer, but he's still an Avatar, a high class demon who can take a lot before anything even fazes him.

Which makes this situation laughable.

A simple human like you, causing him, a ruler of the Devildom, pain? It's impossible, it should be impossible.

Yet here he is, forcing back tears as a flimsy wooden paddle causes him pain he hasn't felt since the Celestial War. He wants to laugh, but he wants to cry even more.

The safeword is on the tip of his tongue, but he refuses to cave. He's been spanked dozens of times before, why should he admit defeat over a stupid paddle? He knows you'll disagree with him framing it like that, but you're too busy creating welts on his ass to argue with Belphie's mind.

When you show no signs of stopping or slowing down, Belphie starts to crack. For once he just wants a punishment to be over and for him to apologize and for you to hold him in your arms.

When you strike down once more, Belphie cries out a "No!" That's a little too desperate, a little too panicked, that snaps you out of your rhythm

"Baby?" You ask, placing the paddle next to you. "Are you ok? Do you need a breather?" You know not to suggest stopping, as Belphie will scoff at the notion before edging you on, but something about the way he's flinching makes you want to pause the scene for a moment.

"No," Belphie sniffs, hand reaching upward to rub the tears out of his. "No I'm fine, keep going." He insits, but you notice the way he leans away from you as he says it. Belphie may be a brat, he may pretend to huff and hate punishments, but he never shifted away from you during a scene pause.

Placing down the paddle beside you, you host Belphie up and press him against your chest. The moment you do he's hiding his face in your shirt, an act of shyness that's out of character for the demon.

"Belphie, baby, are you ok? We can stop if you want to."

Belphie sniffles against your shift and you raise your hands to rub comforting circles into his skin.

"I'm fine, just.... I'm not letting a stupid paddle break me." He mumbles out the last part, but you're able to catch the gist of it and you frown.

"You know that's now how that works. You're not admitting defeat, or saying you're not strong enough if you use your safeword."

Believe grumbles out a response you don't catch, but you doubt he's agreeing with you. Shifting his head upwards you create eye contact between the two of you, and don't relent until he's staring into your eyes.

"What if I didn't want to do something and so I used our safeword? Am I breaking then?"

Belphie pouts, knowing that he'll never think any less of you if you were to use the safeword. So reluctantly he shakes his head.

"Well, why's it any different for you? Because you're a demon?"

He flashes pink at being so easily read, and he keeps his mouth shut as he shrinks down.

"No, but......" Belphie trails off, unsure of what to say. Smiling softly you lean forward to press a kiss into his lips, one he's quick to mirror.

"Alrighty, so no more holding in your safeword, ok?"

With an exaggerated sigh, Belphie nods before cuddling up to you. As you lay down with your arms wrapped around him, careful to shift him so his tender ass isn't touching anything, you begin stroking his hair. In the following silence, all that can be heard is the steady rise and fall of both of your chests before Belphie says determined:

"I'm going to burn that paddle though."

-

[tackytigerfic]

Drarry ~ E ~ 10k ~ Blacksmith Draco ~ Unspeakable Harry ~ attractive adventurer Teddy Lupin

Written for the @drarrymicrofic song prompt Who We Are by my countryman Hozier. "Oh Christ, hold me like a knife" inspired this one.

A gift for my dear friend @sitp-recs who means so much to me and who inspires me to look beyond my own drarry-centric brain and see the beauty in Teddy Lupin other characters. Happy belated birthday, Livvy!

Love and thanks to @maesterchill and @sweet-s0rr0w who lend their brilliant brains to me and always make things so much better.

Please check tags and author's notes for warnings!

Wield Me

You’re not an easy man to track down,” Harry said from the doorway, where he was leaning like he was meant to be there. Draco hadn’t heard him arrive over the greedy roar of the flames in the forge, the measured exhaled rhythm of the bellows.

Harry was sweating already, top lip shining, cheeks pink with heat. His t-shirt had damp patches under the arms, a dark spreading vee across the chest.

“You have to really want me to find me,” Draco told him, taking a lazy sort of pleasure when Harry smiled at that, as Draco had known he would. “And anyway, you saw me last week at the pub.”

“Doesn’t count,” Harry said, succinctly. “That was pleasure, not business.”

Pleasure, Draco thought, the word rolling over him, something physical in it, like the memory of spilled beer and low lighting and, much later, Draco’s mouth swollen from the feel of Harry’s stubble, and then he remembered himself and cast Harry a chastising look.

“Are you just here to distract me, or do you have a purpose for this visit? Only I’ve got a lot on, so…” He gestured at their surroundings, the low fervid light from the forge, the fat-bellied leather bellows, the anvil sitting squat, backlit against the flames. Harry followed his movement, his eyes catching on the faint gleam of tools sitting on the workbench and beyond that, the display shelves where metal winked through the faint haze of smoke.

“I need to commission you,” Harry said.

Read the rest on AO3

Image: Octavian Dan on unsplash

[ventiswampwater]

Griffin Dunne as Jack Goodman in An American Werewolf in London (1981)

[milk-ducts]

I'm so glad to have encountered a fellow Cecil stan. I freaking love coming up with headcanons for Cecil, platonic or romantic, because he's such an interesting character. For real though feel free to dump any Cecil headcanons (platonic or romantic) on me anytime.

AWAAAA!! YES HAII OTHER CECIL AFICIONADO !!! im so glad theres more of us sprouting out here. my wife is so underappreciated, you have no idea how much he means to me. i'd love to req n swap headcanons anytime !! I have so many thoughts on that morally ambiguous gilf.

[messy, disorganized surface level autism rambling ahead. this will be just random scenes and characteristics i like of him]

BUT YES .. cecil's character is just so interesting to analyze. he does unethical, necessary things. But he doesn't subscribe to idealistic notions of "the greater good" or justifying his actions to make himself sleep better at night. He knows the harsh reality that someone has to make the difficult decisions, no matter how unethical. The psychological toll it takes to calculate how many civilian lives can be spared, and how many are inevitably lost in order to achieve the optimal outcome. He doesn't celebrate after victories like the other heroes do. After the dust settles, his mind is already racing - calculating, strategizing how to prevent future catastrophes. How to minimize casualties next time.

his methods are...questionable,, as ive said,, but there's a hint of nobility to it that just makes you respect him, A SHADY GOVERNMENT CHAR that does the dirty work and takes in all the heat for it so no one else has to? SIGN ME TF UP! i love exploring his character and all the little glimpses of humanity we get to see from him,, especially with debbie, SO SOFT FOR HER, there's so much depth there. that old fuck would MOVE mountains for her if he could,, TRUST. EVEN though he doesnt deserve her .. <<

LETS CONTINUE TO CIRCLE BACK TO S1 with his confrontation w Nolan in the desert, the way he entrusted his survival to the skills of his team operating that teleporter watch (I'm aware he can control it himself, I think this was just my interpretation of it since the employees seemed directly involved here). The margin for error was nonexistent. One miscalculation, one millisecond too slow, and Cecil would have been reduced to a red smear across miles of sand. MY WIFE HAS BALLS ON HIM. (also love walton goggins breathy lil giggles here .. hwaghffhh)

All this, All the whilst Nolan could have ended him with a casual backhand, as easily as swatting a fly. And for what? For humanity's (mostly his) right to know the truth. For Debbie's right to understand what she had truly married because Cecil respects her that fucking much for her to have a part in all of this, and what fate may lay in store for her son.

AND what I particularly liked about that scene is that unlike most SHADY GOV CHARS ™.. Cecil isn't afraid to regularly place himself in life-threatening situations, and for that im just.. FKING obsessed. finally. a hyper competent gov char that gets shit done and occasionally by his own hands instead of always puppeteering in the shadows. Love u .. love u honey snooch, please stop putting yourself in danger for your crazy alien side-hoes .

but ahem ... back to s2.. and some flaws of his that i'm not afraid to point out. the way he's been treating mark is killing me. manipulating my son by comparing him to his dad then keeping him on lock by saying he's not like him??? The breadcrumming definitely didn't work out at all, cuz Mark is too damn stubborn to continue to be swindled by fear tactics he does not give a shit for anymore (homegirl DEBBIE taught him better) hes not gonna listen to a cranky skullet-having side bitch of nolans who clearly has been tryna manipulate him since s1. i HATED how he went "ur broke tyrannical bitch father felt the same way" in the last minute when mark tried to leave earth and yet i still lobve ceci cause ough,,.. my bastard wife knew something was probably up.

Him wanting to keep a short leash on MARKY could be summed up after all that has happened in s1. i'm not going to justify his scummy manipulations or paranoia,, especially after all the shit mark has done and endured to prove himself over and over again that he's not like his father BUT its somewhat understandable for cecil 2 be wary if you look from it in his perspective.

moving on from that, lets dive back into ep 2 ..

Debbie was semi-right in her deduction in s2 ep2, that this is what it's really all about for Cecil - being in control. Not of any situation, but of Mark. To ensure history does not repeat itself in the form of Mark becoming another Nolan. imo He likely doesn’t actually view Mark as his father, Not saying the possibility of it being a part of Cecil's subconsciousness is out of the equation but the way I see it? He was just exploiting that one weakness, that one insecurity Mark has - the fear of becoming like Nolan. And it’s a fear Cecil seemed to prey upon to keep Mark under his thumb and in the fucking GAME.

awaaaa :3 !!!! psychologically damaging teens by comparing them to their abhorrently shitty fathers !! FUCK YOJ STEDMAN (love you snookums..)

,,,,I'd also like to think in my warped deluded perception (aka hcs) that he sees Debbie in Mark, so he can't help but care for the kid too. IVE ALWAYS seen a lot of comparisons between Mark and his dad, plus the whole motif of this new season hasn't helped it allay. But Debbie and Mark share so many similar characteristics as well and i wish that was talked a bit more often &lt; 3 (I will go in depth about it at a later post.)

n umm like ...,,, bck to cici in gen. I guess the safety of earth is one of Cecil's redeeming qualities along with his compassion for side characters like Debbie. His pragmatism and utilitarianism define him. He lacks normal morals but has his own code that cultivates to his character. this ramble could not do justice to him ughfglg..,, what a compelling jezebel.. how can u captivate me so !!

My inbox is always open to discuss this multi-faceted rat man. here's to more cecil content in s2..,... hopefully with more of his dynamic with Debbie because I LIVE for that shit. though its unlikely their interactions could range to anything positive now since they may be hinting to cecil becoming an antagonist and/or taking extreme measures w/ mark. soo.. i dont think debbie's scolding was enough for that slut 2 take in ..

in the mean time i'll be catching up on the comics/re-reading them, look up more of his backstory and hopefully create 10 novels worth of google docs of analysis' of his character < 3 cuz .. he means .. that much 2 me.. and i want to prod at every crevice n brain matter he has inside that megamind head of his .

((hwaghhhhhh << hoping that one day the discord moots ive been keeping in my basement and most invincible fans fall victim to cecil stedman propoganda.. no one should be immune to my girlboss and his awful skullet.))

[endoskeletons-and-turtles]

teehee-giddly twirls my hai

Perhaps some; Donnie dating headcannons?

« Simp bot

Dating Donnie headcanons

Request status: received and answered

I also used 2018 Donnie, I'll probably default to the 2018 guys if not specified, unless I'm in a mood for one of the other shows!

He's so whipped for you

He loves having you hang out in his room or his lab! He's not the most touchy feely person, but having you around him makes him feel really happy and secure

He makes you a lot of gifts! They range from small trinkets and figurines, to your own hoverboard or jetpack. You might have to ask him to tone down some of his gifts though. You don't really need a toaster that can also turn into a light Saber that is also sentient

He gets super happy if he sees you wear or use anything he made you. Makes him all warm and fuzzy inside. Though, he'll absolutely play it off all suave like, saying that of course you'd use something as high functioning as that

Please tell him you like the stuff he makes because he made it, he'll get so flustered and happy. He has a hard time wrapping his head around you liking him already, let alone what he makes you

You're the only person saved from his sassy remarks. Usually.

If you're more on the shy or prone to get your feelings hurt, he'll rarely make any mean comments, and if he does they're usually on accident. He'll absolutely destroy anyone who insults you, and that includes his brothers.

However, if you're more sassy and can handle his snark, he'll absolutely have mini compitions with you to see who can out sass the other.

He's not the biggest hugger, but for you? He'll gladly wrap you in a hug whenever you want. His favourite thing to do is hug you from behind as he explains whatever sciencey stuff he has going on, moving your hands around to mimic whatever he was doing at the time

He calls you sweet sappy stuff like 'my love' or 'my dear' but his favourite is probably 'Dearest'. This is a double bladed sword because he absolutely calls you stuff like 'the dearest love of my life!' And 'honey bunches' and other really really sappy names.

He makes you a pair of goggles to match his own! He loves seeing you wear them, and often brags to Leo about having someone cooler to match outfits with

Leo gets very offended by this

Likes to fly around with you. Sometimes he holds you in his arms, other times he'll give you your own device to use

Cheek kisses cheek kisses! He loves pressing kisses against your cheek and temple throughout the day, even more so if he has to lean down slightly. It's his favourite spot to kiss you

He loves receiving back of the hand kisses I don't make the rules. He'll absolutely melt if you kiss the back of his hand when the two of you are out. He gets all flustered and stuttery, but he'll never pull his hand away from you

[good-beanswrites]

"Prisoner @waivyjellyfish ! Milgramblrgram has judged you guilty for your crimes! It is time to meet your judgement. As the wardens' fang, I take that responsibility upon myself!" (Muahaha -- Es angst for you 👊)

Es clutched at their head. Their fingers tore through their hair. It was the middle of the night, so they resisted the urge to shout. They didn’t want to draw any attention to themself. If they remained completely silent, though, they wouldn’t need to refrain from crying.

And so they cried.

You see, there is only one sensation worse than waking up from an awful dream: waking up from a very, very, good one. 

Es had grown accustomed to the nightmares that Milgram produced. In these dreams, Es might take the place of the prisoners. Their stomach would twist with horror at the blood on their hands. Other times, they found themselves in the victim’s shoes. They’d wake in a cold sweat, feeling hands closing around their throat, or weapons swung at their temple. 

But they weren’t prepared for a dream of absolute peace. They were happy. They were laughing. There were people nearby, smiling. It was all emotion and no detail – not a single face, place, or voice, was clear – but they knew for sure what the dream had consisted of.

Es was with their family. 

They choked out another sob. 

For the longest time, they wondered if they even had a past to remember. But that was all foolishness – Milgram was in the business of judging humans, not creating them out of thin air. They’d tried asking Jackalope, once. He turned out just as cryptic as some of the prisoners in their interrogations. Another time, they had considered using the prison’s mysterious machine on themself. There was no way to operate it alone, though. And when it came down to it, they were always alone.

They curled themself tight, dragging the bedsheets with them. Usually when they wondered about their past, mere curiosity washed over them. Now, they were flooded with an entirely new type of longing. It filled their chest. No, that wasn't it. Rather, the feeling left a wide hole through them.

If they did have a family, had Es been stolen away? Could there be someone else out there right now, crying in the middle of the night, just as hard as Es was crying for them? The thought was not comforting.

Or, like Es, had they forgotten all traces of their connection? That possibility also did more harm than good.

Es tried to reassure themself – if this family hadn’t come looking for them, maybe it meant they weren't wanted in the first place. Maybe Es had been willingly turned over to Milgram, their parents glad to be rid of them.

That thought didn't help at all.

Something clattered out in the corridor. That must have been what woke them. They rose from bed, ready to raise hell. How dare one of the prisoners rip them from such a dream. Es could never return. The offender would pay for this. 

It took only a moment to put on their uniform and wipe the tears from their cheeks. They swung the door open to find Haruka stumbling down the hall. 

“Prisoner number one, what the –” they grabbed his arm. Only then did they notice the dazed look in his eyes. His body flinched, waking from what must have been sleepwalking.

“Ah! W-warden!” He blinked, his mind still stuck somewhere else. “I’m s-sorry! What, ah… I was dreaming... She was – she was right here…”

Es took a measured breath. They steeled their expression. There would be no unleashing hell tonight. They had lost sight of their role. They had gotten distracted with childish emotions and silly dreams. They were Milgram’s warden, not some kid like Haruka who wandered around the prison late at night looking for his mama. 

Es adjusted the hat over their hair. It was good, they told themself, that they couldn't remember a thing from the dream. They didn't need any of those people. They were perfectly fine on their own. Such a distraction would not happen again.

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

“But, my p-parents, they were–”

“They’re not here. Nobody is. Back to your cell, prisoner.”

[comic-sans-chan]

Fic I'll never write where Julian has a latent one-way telepath gene activated by some sci-fi nonsense and can suddenly hear everyone's thoughts. And he's like, "Shit, I don't remember there ever being any betazoid blood in the family. This must be connected to my augmentations. No! I have to fix this James Bond style." So while he's doing that, life goes on and he has to keep a straight face against the cacophony of noise from all his friends and patients.

With his patients, the telepathy actually ends up being pretty useful. He can hear everything they're too embarrassed or proud to say, so examinations go much smoother. Though he really could do without all the sudden "mmm sexy doctor" thoughts interrupting his professionalism. Especially when they cause him to bash his head on his own equipment out of pure, scandalized shock. Twice. 

With friends, the challenge is mainly in not responding to their thoughts, because they’re always interesting. His friends are incredible people and he's bursting at the seams to talk to them about their interests, hobbies and concerns. Then, of course, there are the occasional "Julian is annoying" thoughts. He always knew they were there, but actually hearing them sucks. He takes heart in the equal amount of "Julian is a sweetheart" thoughts that pop up, often shortly after the annoyed ones.

Then there's Garak, who Julian avoided for as long as he could because he knows Garak wouldn't appreciate having his thoughts heard. He was literally a spy. Julian listening in on his thoughts would be tantamount to bugging his quarters or something. It's not fair to him. Julian and Garak might lie to each other all the time, but that doesn't mean there isn't a trust there, and Julian doesn't want to break that. Maybe in the beginning, but not all these years later. Not now that they're close.

But ultimately, it's just (hopefully) one lunch, and if he avoids Garak for too long, he's going to hurt his feelings and he can't do that, either. Garak only has so many friends. And anyway, what's the worst that could happen? Julian finds out what Garak really thinks of a book? Maybe Garak's soup is too hot, but he won't admit it? Maybe he'll mentally shit-talk a Bajoran, and that'll suck to know about him, but it won't be shocking. Hell, he’ll flatter himself, maybe Garak will have a lustful thought or two about him. That wouldn't be any great revelation. He knows Garak's attracted to him, and he's attracted back, but fucking an ex-intelligence agent isn't a good idea for someone with a secret as big as Julian's. So, he might have to rub one out after lunch. He can deal with that. No harm done. He comes to lunch.

And it's a spectacular mistake. He should have made another excuse, any excuse. He should have known better. He knows who and what Garak is. He knows he's traumatized and hypervigilant and a little bit of a maniac. Garak's even hinted at sentiment being a particular weakness of his before. He should have anticipated Garak filing away every little thing he hears and sees like his life depends on it. He should have anticipated the checked violent instincts and guilt and depression. He should have anticipated Garak wondering what secret Julian's keeping and coming startlingly close to certain truths. He especially should have accounted for the possibility that Garak is more than just attracted to him. He's deeply in love with him.

He leaves lunch shaken and sick to his stomach. So much of it is unsurprising. Garak's life has been terrible. Is terrible. Julian has known that much ever since meeting Tain. Since Garak spat that he hated it on Deep Space Nine and he hated Julian specifically for being something he doesn't hate. He doesn't hate him at all, apparently, but he does resent him. He feels ashamed for wanting an alien so much, for feeling such a strong connection to something outside of the State. Something that Tain would punish him for. He punishes himself in Tain's absence. It's horrible, the cruel things he thinks so calmly about himself, like it's natural. Obvious.

Julian's always known Garak was miserable and he's done what he can to help him, but he admits there's been a part of him that thought being away from Cardassia and the Order was good for him. That the station hurt him so much because it was a remedy, and sometimes remedies feel like poison at first when you're so used to sickness. But of course it's more complicated than that, of course it runs deeper, and Julian should have done more. Should have invited him out. Should have dragged him into some tennis matches. Should have double-checked that his damn medication was still working after the number that implant did on his brain chemistry.

Shouldn't have gone to lunch, because now he knows Garak fantasizes about taking him back to Cardassia and enjoining with him and fucking him in fields of flowers and... adopting bloody war orphans together. That is not the sort of thing Julian should know without Garak's consent.

Even worse, now Garak is suspicious, and he pops into the infirmary the next day to "check on him after his hasty departure the other day." It's not even subtle. They both know Julian's hiding something, but Julian can't have this conversation without having about ten others that he has no idea how to have yet. And Garak won't stop thinking about running a soothing hand through his weird human hair and over his fucked up human eyebrows and - once when he makes the mistake of turning around - grabbing his ass. He doesn't even have an ass, but apparently that doesn't stop Garak. Bastard! Julian snaps that he's fine and rushes him out because he has work to do, thank you, my dear tailor. Garak jokes that this is the first time he's ever been forced out of the infirmary before, but he's thinking about hacking Julian's computer while he does it, so Julian growls at him and storms off to upgrade his security system. Again.

Time passes and Julian's losing his mind trying to solve this mind-reading problem and figure out what to do about Garak. Because of course he has feelings for the man, but he's avoided thinking too hard about that because Garak's never been a romantic option. Now he knows there's a very real possibility that Garak can be trusted, just like he’s always hoped. That Garak loves him to a degree that challenges his loyalties, and if Garak is loyal to Julian, then Julian doesn't have to worry about him using his augmentations against him. He could finally have a partner he doesn’t have to lie to, who might even understand and accept him. But the fact remains that Garak didn't want him to know that, and Julian feels guilty. And conflicted. And horny, because Garak's been spying on him in the promenade without knowing Julian can literally sense his stupid ass and every third lizard-brained thought is about how much he wants to lick him. There's a part of Julian that wants to just yank him into a changing room and hope that the healing power of sex will just solve everything.

Unfortunately, he knows there's no way out of Garak freaking out about Julian having heard his every crazy, paranoid and lovelorn thought. And Julian's savior-complex is going haywire. How do you comfort a man who won't allow himself to be comforted? How do you return a love someone hates themselves for feeling? Julian updates his medication, but there's only so much medication can do. Garak needs more than just Julian to kiss him. He needs things Julian doesn't know how to give.

In the end, Julian is able to deactivate the gene responsible for the telepathy, and things go back to normal. He has lunch with Garak, who is notably pouty, but Julian can only guess at the reason (probably because he couldn't hack into Julian's computer--ha), and it's a relief. They're back on even footing, Garak is an enigma once more, and all is right with the universe.

Except that everything has changed.

Julian can't tell him he could read his mind without concocting a lie about why he could suddenly read minds in the first place, because he can't tell him about Adigeon Prime. In the end, it's less about whether Garak can be trusted, and more about Julian's issues. It's selfish, but Julian's never told anyone before and he's not ready to now. It's too big. Too much. He couldn't stand it if Garak looked at him differently after. But to lie about it now, so baldly, after the profound vulnerabilities Garak's expressed without having any idea he's expressed them, feels wrong, too. 

So, Julian doesn't tell him a lie or the truth or anything at all. He doesn't tell him until they're in a prison camp, until Garak's told him Tain is his father, until the possibility of Garak being ordered to betray Julian is dead and they might die soon after and Julian needs Garak to know he was loved by someone. He needs Garak to know who Julian Bashir really was. A liar. An imposter. A coward. Someone who only ever wanted to heal, who didn’t ask to be a monster. And Garak will forgive him.

But for now, Julian is all those things, so instead of confessing his sins, he brushes his hand against Garak's. He squeezes his shoulder on his way to get a refill. He brings back a dessert for them to share. He argues and recommends terrible books and invites him out to shows and drags him to tennis matches. He encourages his friendship with Odo and Keiko and later Ziyal. He asks him to teach him Cardassian. He brings him fresh Red Leaf tea. He starts keeping a heated blanket in his quarters. When Garak falls asleep for seventeen minutes and fifty-two seconds while they're watching a holofilm, Julian pretends not to notice. Inwardly, he cheers.

In the absence of one type of honesty, another takes its place.

[mcybree]

“why do i miss gem and the scotts suddenly theyre barely even real”

LITERALLY!! like. that team was held together with scott tape and the sheer force of gem’s personality. i don’t think scott and impulse ever actually even talked the entire time. it only worked because for the first time scott was faced with someone who was bossier than he was. they were awesome i should rewatch secret life

they were actually so fucking funny. All three of them promising to remain loyal and stick together until the very end (bc together they can win this!!) only for gem to hunt scott for sport an episode later was literally so based… their dynamic will always be funnier in my head i think but god it was awesome

[epitomereally]

Binderary 1 of 3: Everything is Relative to You

Everything is Relative to You by @thehoneybeet

Potter was supposed to have lived. Draco is certain of this. That Potter would no longer walk the earth was tantamount to the sun moving west to east across the sky. If only he could have stopped this from happening, if he’d have known…

It comes to him as ideas often did: too late.

Or, Harry dreams of his past lives, and Draco is in every one.

This was my favorite fic I have read thus far from H/D Erised 2022 — it’s an incredible non-linear story that keeps defying your expectations and the PROSE omg. I am so happy to have bound a copy for @thehoneybeet and myself. I bound this as a part of Renegade’s Binderary 2023 (where we challenge ourselves to make as many books as we can in a month). I specifically focused on some of my favorite fics published in 2022 that I hadn’t already bound :)

This fic is romantic and melancholy and shows two lives twining, diverging, and then coming back together over and over again, and I really wanted to show all that in my bind. I designed a long stitch pattern with two colors of thread with the colors pulling away, but always coming together again, and dyed the bookcloth to fit that moody vibe of the whole fic. Some vibes I had listed out that I tried to stick with throughout the whole design: dancing apart & coming together; the watery depths; elemental; string theory; the boatman who takes people ‘beyond’; and lonely but hopeful. 

This was my first time doing a quarter-legal binding. I love the size; it fits so nicely in my hand. I’ll absolutely bind more fics in this size. Thank you so much for writing this, honey, and so happy to make you a copy!

Materials:

Dyes: Dharma Trading Procion dye

Thread: UberArt on Etsy

Body font: Adobe Garamond

Title font: Signature December

Smoke brushes: XResch on DeviantArt

Endpapers: Craft Consortium Ink Drops in Ocean (my beloved)

[bogkeep]

they found a girl at the beach

her words all washed away

still feeling waves against her legs

and whale skin at her touch

foam in her hair, salt in her veins

so

they tell her about the sea

[fedorah-the-explorah]

Player: Whatever Carmen, if you go to prison I'm not waiting for you

Carmen: Pfft! Don't be ridiculous.

Carmen: No prison can contain me.

[waterfallofspace]

What A Way To Start A Year

T/im learns a little something about karma, friends, and care. Seems even J/on isn't quite as cold as he seems.

A M/agnus A/rchives fic, set somewhere pre-season 1. Shouldn't have any spoilers, but proceed with caution just incase~ (nothing late game, just character dynamic things)

Welcome to "I meant for this to be a little drabble and I wrote 3k words"~ Having a bit of hyperfixation and burn out as I started this new year, soooo I decided to make T/im suffer <3 Not promising quality seeing as I wrote this all in the span of tonight, but consider it a lil 'too long' drabble, and happy new years!

Best way to start off the new year, giving one of your lil guys a lil snz <3

Characters: T/im, M/artin, S/asha, and J/on. Word Count: 3.9k

(CW: There is some swearing, and light descriptions of high fevers)

Christmas had been good this year, maybe the best it had in a long time. Life of the party as always, Tim had enjoyed getting to spend it with his old, and new, colleagues. On top of that, Jon had been laid up with a pretty awful cold for a couple days leading up to it, so he wasn’t around to crush any brilliant ideas Tim came up with. 

This led to the budget receiving a fairly substantial hit, though many researchers donated to the cause when they learned this borrowing wasn’t exactly approved. Hell, even Elias had pitched in, claiming something or other about ‘archivists fit for the job not exactly growing on trees’, and wanting to ‘save some of Jon’s sanity’. 

“Tim? Are you even listening to me?”  

Pulled back to the conversation at hand, Tim lifts his gaze to the taller man fidgeting nervously in front of him. Martin was never one for confrontations, and usually the first ‘no’ would have been more than enough to lead to a string of apologies for even asking. Today however, he seems to have grown a spine. At the worst possible moment. 

“Oh come on,” Martin continues, missing the groan slipping from Tim’s throat. “Even Jon agreed to it!” 

“I’m not really in the party mood,” Tim retorts, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, Jon didn’t agree to celebrate, he agreed not to stop the celebration. Not the same thing.” 

From across her desk, Sasha gives a low chuckle. “He’s got you there, Martin.”

“Can you at least give it a little thought before turning it down?” Martin insists, completely out of character for someone usually so eager to please. 

What the hell has gotten into him today? He didn’t even seem to enjoy himself that much at the Christmas party. Sure, he had a few drinks and mingled with the staff, but he’d left as soon as it was over, not waiting around for chatting like Tim and Sasha.

Clearing his throat with a grimace, Tim casts Sasha a dark look as she chuckles again. Knowing far too much, as usual. Especially when it came to him. If it was anyone else, Tim would hate it with all his being, but given that it’s Sasha… well it’s a welcome invasion. 

Still, it would be nice if she didn’t rat him out. And to Martin of all people, well let’s just say he saw what happened when Jon was sick. Yeah, passing on that one. Attention is great, Tim lives for it, but the coddling? Not really his style. 

“hiEH– guh…”

Damn, that had been a close one. Thankfully Martin seems oblivious, though Sasha sits up in her chair, reaching down into a drawer to fish something out. 

Turning his focus back to Martin, Tim provides an offer, desperate to just have the interaction come to an end. 

“Fine, I’ll show up, but I don’t want any part in planning it.” 

“Oh of course, I’ll handle all the details, I mean it’s just a new years party, how much can there really be to do? I mean food, timing, gotta make sure we have keys to the building– oh but if Jon’s there, that shouldn’t be a problem…” Martin says, rambling beginning to fade into the background as Tim finds himself unable to- 

“hH– ek’CHhiew!” 

“-Oh, bless you!” Martin says, his own thoughts long forgotten. 

Unable to get a word out, Tim merely waves a hand, ducking into his shoulder for another, “eTChhew!” 

“Bles-” 

And another, “iTSChh’ew!” 

“Oh ble-” 

And another, “ehh– kTChh’iew!” 

Silently Sasha stands, handing Tim a pack of tissues. Must have been what she was looking for in the desk. Once again, knowing more than she should, of course she picked up on his patterns. 

Accepting them gratefully, Tim pulls a few out and roughly rubs at his nose, pointedly avoiding Martin’s worried gaze. Gripping his still trembling nose through the tissue, Tim sucks in a tight breath through his teeth, holding for a beat, before finally spinning around in his chair for a final- 

“hH’ETCSHh-ieuw! Whew, bless me.” 

Martin’s hands are fidgeting again, seemingly unsure of what to do with himself as Tim gives his nose a light massage through the tissue. He’s aware enough not to point it out, but is nearly shaking with the effort of suppressing his concerns. 

With a sigh, Tim meets his eyes. “I’m fine, Martin. I always sneeze like that.” He leaves out ‘when I’m sick’. It also happens if he’s suffering allergies, though he doubts that would be a point in his defense given it’s the middle of winter. 

“Yeah he’s not kidding,” Sasha pipes up, throwing Tim a wink as he glares. “You should hear him in spring, once it starts he can be going for hours.” 

“I wouldn’t say hours, Sash-” 

“Remember the cherry blossom incident?” Sasha interrupts, sending a sugary smile over to Martin. “He was wrecked for the rest of the day, I was almost certain he was never gonna stop. Even considered giving a statement here, that reaction was almost supernatural.” 

Tim winces, an audible moan slipping from his lips. “We swore to never speak of it again.” 

Sasha laughs, Tim giving her another playful glare from behind his tissues. “You swore that, I did no such thing.” 

Thankfully Martin doesn’t pry, having enough common sense to offer a polite chuckle, and offer some excuse about ‘planning’. Still, he can’t help himself from shooting a meek “I hope you feel better soon” over his shoulder, Tim giving him finger guns in return. 

“This is karma, you know,” Sasha calls after Martin’s outside earshot. “You took pleasure in Jon’s suffering, so now it’s your turn to suffer the same fate.” 

“No, thi- eTChhew! Scuse me,” Tim says, rubbing his nose with the tissue one last time before depositing it in his nearly overflowing trash can. Another tissue is plucked as his eyes begin to water, nostrils flaring with reckless abandon. Never just one. 

“kTChh’uew! hh’iTChh –uew! Tihhckles… eTCHh! etchh’uh! hiehh–” 

The last one toys with him, tracing the rims of his nostrils, back up his sinuses, a gentle itch that seems to burn against every inch of his nose. Finally, with a desperate gasp, Tim ducks into his wrist for the last, “heh’ATChhh –iew!” 

“Many blessings. Sounds like you need them,” Sasha offers with a wince, tossing another pack of tissues over, which Tim catches with a single hand, the other still gripping his nose. 

After taking a moment to clean himself up, Tim shoots her his signature smile, ignoring the eye roll she shoots back. “Where was I?” 

“Admitting this is karma?” 

“It’s not karma, it’s lack of common sense. Going to a party where a coworker is sick, and still drinking and eating the same meals” Tim says, aiming a rough cough into his sleeve. 

Sasha winces once more at the quality of the cough, hands rummaging through her drawers once more as she tosses a reply back. “And yet you’re the only one who caught it. Seems like karma to me.” 

Closing the distance between them in a single stride, Sasha places a hand on Tim’s shoulder, voice softening. “It’s two days till new years, why don’t you go home and try to get some rest? I doubt Martin will object, and I’ll cover for you with Jon.” 

Before Tim can form his rebuttal, Sasha places a box of paracetamol and a jar of vapor rub in front of him. Nodding his thanks, Tim lets out another harsh cough into his arm, leaning as far away from Sasha as he can manage. 

With a light rub to his shoulder, Sasha walks to the door, holding it open with a pointed look. “Go home, you sound awful.” 

“Alright, alright. I got the message. hH’ETchhiew!” Tim says, gathering his care package and beginning his walk down the hallway. 

“If I hear the rest of that fit happening in this building, I’m telling Martin how ill you really are,” Sasha calls after him, a smile flashing over her face as Tim holds up his hands in mock surrender, before ducking back into his arm with another muffled burst. 

— 

“You look horrible.” 

Tim manages a weary smile from behind the tightly wound scarf. “Thagk you.” 

Martin winces, standing in the doorframe, seemingly oblivious to the winter chill soaking into Tim’s bones. Even just the walk from the train station was hell on earth, standing out here is doing him no favours. 

Turning away with a throat scraping cough, Tim manages to clear the congestion enough to finish the sentence somewhat understandably. A great feat, given how fast his voice is retreating. “May I remind you that I’m only here because you insisted.” 

“Right, well I… I didn’t know how bad-” Martin begins, realizing spreading across his face like a wildfire as a chill leaves Tim breathless. “Oh god, I’m making you freeze to death while you’re already this sick, I’m so sorry, come in, I’ll go make you a tea.” 

Tim nods his thanks as he piles inside the warm institute, cursing his aching lungs as each breath of warm air seems to burn them from the inside out. Martin rushes away, nearly crashing into a few researchers as he makes his frantic dash for the kitchen. 

The scarf is reluctantly removed, a shudder running through Tim’s back as the warm air does nothing to soothe what he’s now certain is a growing fever. A few researchers wave to him, offering some idle chit-chat as he makes his way inside.

For the most part, people give him a wide berth, apparently he looks as bad as he feels. Tissues in hand, gripping them like a lifeline, Tim finds his way to a couch and lets himself sink into it. The party buzzes around him, fading into background noise. 

Martin returns soon after, the mug vibrating slightly as he attempts to steady his hand. “I wasn’t sure what kind you’d want, we have a pretty limited amount, but I have a few extras in my desk– oh I could have probably found one for colds and flus, I’m not sure which this is, I thought cold before but you look-” 

“Martin,” Tim interrupts, voice cutting uncomfortably through his raw throat. “Can I have the cup?” 

“Oh, right, sorry!” Martin says, a sheepish grin crossing his face, nerves more than anything else, as he hands Tim the mug. Tim gives another appreciative nod, taking a cautious sip. 

The warm liquid feels like heaven against his throat, and he barely manages to choke back a whimper. The flavour is still a mystery, Martin never actually got to that part. Given how little he can taste at the moment, seems it’s gonna remain that way. Still, the heat beginning to warm his chest is a welcome relief, and Tim has to fight to keep his eyes from drifting shut…

“Watch out!” 

The voice rouses him, his eyes snapping open just in time to witness Jon dropping to his knees in front of the couch. The realization doesn’t sink in for another minute, Tim blinking the tired from his eyes and trying to figure out why people are staring… and why there’s a hand on his finge– 

Oh, the tea. Thankfully Jon’s reflexes seemed to kick in just in time, his hands guiding Tim’s cup to the table next to him. Judgement clouds the boss's eyes as he turns back, fully ready to chastise Tim, no doubt. Jon opens his mouth, one hand beginning to point, but as his eyes scan Tim’s form, his demeanor changes instantly. 

“You don’t seem well.” Jon’s voice is still firm, but with a hint of something Tim can’t quite place. On anyone else, he’d call it concern. On Jon… perhaps concern isn’t far off, though the underlying criticism of the statement irritates him. 

“I wonder why that could be? It’s almost as if someone came to the Christmas party sick enough to fall asleep standing. Twice.” Tim says, sarcasm lining his words, alongside the congestion he can’t seem to fully shake. 

“Well in that case,” Sasha chimes in, cheerful voice a natural antithesis to the misery coursing through Tim’s system. “Seems you’re halfway there!” 

“Hey, I was lying down, that’s hardly the sahh… same thing– hH’ETchh!” 

“Here we go,” Sasha says, already turning on her heel to find a tissue box as Tim’s hitches increase in desperation. 

“aHTChh’ew! gn’tchhew!” 

“Bless,” Jon offers, a brief confusion crossing his face as Sasha laughs, shaking her head. 

“He’s not done,” She says, handing over the tissue box. 

Tim grabs for it blindly, too caught up in the fit to even attempt dignity. Still, the eyes on him do leave him with a hint of embarrassment, and the onslaught is muffled as best he can manage. “hH’MMpshhew! eMPFShh’ieh! hh’MFSHhueh!” 

Blessings sound out from the room, Tim managing to wave a hand towards the ones offering them, eyes still watering. As the fit seems to stall, he lowers his tissues, red nose now visibly twitching. 

“Are you alright?” Jon asks, the hint of concern from before now plainly evident. That’s frankly more alarming than it should be, and Tim finds himself wanting to… reassure the boss. 

“I’m okay, it’s juhh… j-just… huhh–” But it seems his nose has other plans, a tissue being raised once more as Tim paws at the appendage. “‘Scuhhse me, I still have… hahhve to… to… hiHh– eTCHh’ew! hk’ASCHh–oo!” 

This time the tickle fades with the final pitchy sneeze, Tim letting out a low groan as he mashes his nose into the ever growing collection of tissues he’s clutching. A few people call out final blessings, Sasha laughing out hers as Tim’s face goes red once more. 

Martin picks this time to enter the room with drinks, Tim letting his eyes flutter shut as the focus shifts off his misery. A gentle touch keeps him from drifting off to sleep, prying open an eye to find Sasha settling onto his left. 

“Careful, don’t want to catch this,” Tim manages, leaning against his right shoulder to muffle another stream of chesty coughs. Sasha winces as it goes on past the realm of comfort, her hand finding his back. 

“Don’t worry about me, I haven’t earned this cold, I didn’t make use of Jon’s or your suffering,” She says, the playful tone not masking the growing worry in her posture. 

While she can read him like a book, she’s no mystery to him either. The tension in her fingers, absentmindedly stroking patterns on his back. The way she subconsciously tries to support his body weight, despite them both sitting. The look in her eyes when he manages to stall the coughing long enough to meet them. 

With this brief respite from the attack, Sasha takes the chance to bring Tim’s tea back, his fingers wrapping around the warm mug. The first few sips burn, his lungs protesting, begging to return to their efforts to expel all the irritation. By the third, however, the warmth is spreading once more, easing the spasms. 

“Alright?” Sasha asks, beginning to stand from the couch. Tim nods his reply, taking another slow sip. “Think you’ll make it till midnight? We’ve still got a few hours to go.” 

He nods his approval again, not yet trusting his voice enough to make an attempt. Sasha simply smiles, easing back into the party that– Tim had almost forgotten existed. That fever must be worse than he thought, given how loud it is. A fact that’s now pounding against his head in harmony with his heartbeat. 

The party continues on, Sasha and Martin taking turns checking in on Tim as he slips rapidly in and out of consciousness. Seconds turn to hours, and before he knows it, it’s two minutes to midnight. 

As Tim blinks against the harsh fluorescent lighting, it’s Jon that stands before him, hand hovering near his side. Tim begins to speak, breaking off into a cough as his voice comes out rough with sleep and congestion. 

“What’s up boss?” He manages with the second attempt, not missing Jon’s wince at the nasal quality. 

“You simply look… well, the festivities are nearly over, I was just inquiring as to…” Jon seems to get stuck, eyes wandering down to the couch as he finishes. “I know you took the train here, I was seeing if you needed an escort home.” 

“How kind, I’d be delighted to have your accompaniment,” Tim responds, the wit clouding the fact he… hadn’t actually considered needing to go home. Jon seems to take this answer as satisfactory, ignoring all the sarcasm as he gives a tight nod and an out of practice smile. 

From across the room Martin calls out, something about a countdown. Tim attempts to pull himself to a stand, finding Sasha’s arm around his waist, guiding him to the wall. Leaning against it, he lets his rough voice join the chorus as they count into the new year. 

Despite how the lights and noise had pounded into his skull, everyone chanting in unison helps Tim realize that… there actually aren’t that many people here. Aside from his coworkers, there’s only a few researchers, and Elias is not in attendance.

Honestly, thank whatever cosmic being may exist for that one, he had been none too fond of Jon’s arriving sick. Tim shudders to think what he would have said about this state. He shouldn’t have come, but… something about how insistent Martin was… well he just couldn’t disappoint that loveable idiot. 

Somehow Tim finds he’s managed to keep up with the counting, despite being worlds away in his thoughts. As they approach the final numbers, a feathery sensation begins to spread through his nostrils- no. 

Absolutely not, this is not the time. It’s never just one, there’s not enough people here, someone’s gonna notice. And I mean, it’s not like he’s hiding the fact he feels like death, but… drawing that much attention is also not the goal. 

“Five! Four!”

“hiehh- h’ngTchh!” He manages to stifle the first, the congestion pounding in his head as the tickle seems to only get worse. 

“Three! Two!” 

“I cad’t– nNDtch! nGTCh’uh!” 

“One–” 

As the cheers begin to erupt, Tim ducks into the tissues with a scraping, “ehg’TCHhiew!” 

“Happy new years!” 

“yiEShh’iew! etchh’uh! hH’AESHH –oo!” Tim dips into his hands again, managing to sink down against the wall as he lets out a congested blow, ending the fit.

“What a way to ring in the new year,” Comes Sasha’s voice, her form blocking the light from Tim’s eyes as he looks up, fever blurring his vision.

“Shud ub.” 

“Christ Tim, you sound awful,” Jon adds, his form appearing behind Sasha’s. 

“Thagks boss,” Tim retorts, groaning as he notices a third form, Martin’s nervous fidgeting easy to spot even from this angle. Martin remains silent, though his eyes seem to hold more concern than any of them, and… guilt? Or maybe that’s just the delirium. 

Glancing up to meet Sasha’s gaze, Tim offers a weary, “Tibe to go hobe?” 

She nods softly, kneeling to help him to his feet, Martin wordlessly taking his other arm. Jon stands off to the side, hesitating. What for, who knows. All Tim can focus on is one step after the other, just gotta make it home, then he can sleep. For the rest of forever, at this rate. 

As they get to the door, Martin helps wrap the scarf around Tim’s neck, forcing him to lift it from its perch against Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha, for her part, supports his weight with ease, she was always stronger than she looked. 

Martin keeps casting glances towards Tim, obviously fretting over something. Too tired to manage his usual charm, Tim gives Martin the softest look he can manage. “Jusd say id, please. You’re makigg me nervous.”

“I’m so sorry I asked you to come, you’re obviously so unwell, and I know I didn’t really know that at the time, but I should have, or at least texted and checked in, I just… I wanted us all to get along so bad and I thought if you came it would mean more fun because you’re always so lively and good at talking to people and-” 

Tim holds up a hand, eyes glazing over as Martin stops short, breath coming almost as rapidly as Tim’s. After a minute goes by, Martin starts to open his mouth, seeming confused by the interruption, before nearly jumping out of his skin as Tim ducks into his fist. 

“eTCHh’ew! hH’YEAShh –iew! Sorry, I feld those cobigg… waid– hih’ETCHhew! heAYSHh’oo!” Tim ducks down again, Sasha grabbing him tighter to support the harsh shudders as he attempts to keep his balance. 

“Oh bless you,” Martin offers, voice coming out timid. Tim gives him, what he hopes is, a warm smile despite the fever taking hold of the last corners of his mind.

“If I didn’t wanna cobe, I would have stayed hobe. I dod’t blame you.” 

Martin nods silently, a relief seeming to flood his face. Taking his place once more supporting Tim, they move towards the exit. Opening the door, the first wave of cold floods the entryway, and a chill so violent runs through Tim that both Martin and Sasha take a step back to brace him. 

It’s now that Jon speaks up, voice strained with a type of worry Tim hadn’t heard before. “No, we’re absolutely not doing this, I refuse.” 

The trio turn towards him. Though perhaps a more accurate description is that Martin and Sasha turn, Tim simply goes along for the ride. Martin mumbles something about ‘no other choice’, but Sasha asks what Jon’s on about. 

“It’s too cold out there, it’s the middle of the damn night, there’s no way I’m letting him go home like this.” 

“And what do you suggest we do as an alternative? He can’t stay here-” Sasha begins, pausing as Jon turns towards her. 

“Why not? I’m the archivist, this is my archive,” Jon begins, pausing for a moment, before adding, “Well, Elias’s, but I hardly think he’d suggest we send an employee home in this weather while they’re this sick. That’s just bad management, he’ll freeze to death before even reaching the train.” 

As if to confirm this assumption, Tim shudders violently, ducking into his chest with a tired, “hh’eshhew! eTCHh’iew!” followed by a heavy sigh. Martin mumbles something about covering, but quickly silences himself as Tim begins to tremble again. 

Sasha gives Jon a look, seeming to read him for any hints of doubt, perhaps searching for an ulterior motive. After a brief pause, their eyes meeting, she gives a tight nod, approval of some kind. 

“Come on Martin, let’s get him back to that couch, he can sleep there for the night,” Sasha directs, Martin nodding his acceptance. 

Tim manages to catch snippets of the conversation as they get him settled. Jon fetching him a blanket he keeps in his office. Martin providing some more tea. Sasha grabbing tissues and medication for when he wakes up. Something about Jon sleeping in his office so he’s not alone, and Sasha coming in early to help him home. 

With his final bout of consciousness, Tim holds up a hand, the conversation immediately pausing. “Thagk you guys. And… esSHhh’ew! And, I’b sorry.” 

All three stare at him for a minute, before Sasha breaks first. Her laughter fills the silence, Martin joining in soon after, and even Jon letting a few chuckles slip out. When they’ve finally collected themselves, Sasha gives Tim a warm smile. 

“Sleep well, Tim. I’ll come fetch you in the morning.” 

With a content sigh, Tim lets his eyes drift shut again, his consciousness fading to the soft hum of his friends in the background. 

Alright, so maybe coddling isn’t quite so bad after all.

[oifaaa]

Wait. I’m out of the loop for the Harley Quinn comic tie in. And I hope I’m reading wrong but. Are you saying they deaged Cass?? To be shipped with Damian??

I'm not sure if that's the reason why she shows up deaged but yeah in the last issue its decided that Cass will go to themyscia with wonder woman but just before she leaves she kisses damian on the check and damian blushes like im crosing every finger I have that it's meant to be platonic but at the way it was framed my hopes ain't exactly high