#I've never done one of these before hAh

[museenkuss]

loving and moving my body this week (06.11.-12.11.)*

Monday. 20 MIN EVENING PILATES TO RELAX AND FEEL CALM - EASY AT HOME WORKOUT

Tuesday. Beginners Belly Dance Tutorial | Beautiful Hips & Arms!

Wednesday. Everyday Pilates Mobility and Stretch | Posture, Hips and Hamstrings

Thursday. Victoria's Secret Train Like An Angel Live: Martha Hunt + Ballet Beautiful

Friday. 20 MIN FULL BODY PILATES WORKOUT FOR BEGINNERS - AT HOME PILATES or Waistline Shimmy | Belly Dance Workout

Saturday. 30 MIN FULL BODY PILATES WORKOUT FOR EVERYBODY - AT HOME PILATES

Sunday. "Chocoholics" Valentine's Day Waist Winding Workout

__

* the idea here was to find fun little ways to stay active according to my schedule this week. This is completely 'no suffering, joy only'. :)

In case the suggestion doesn't feel right for that day, here are some alternatives (12 minutes or less, can also be used as add-ons). No shame in taking it slow! Let's move according to our needs! :) nightime flexibility stretches // bedtime yoga stretch to release stress & tension // 8 min beginner's ballet flexibility. // 10 min | Beginner Belly Dance Workout | Slow & Smooth Tutorial // 15 min Gentle Pilates Workout For Beginners

[tgcg]

an open fly walking

i didnt like this one but i thought id finally air it out since its been sat in my folders for months now

TG: hey karkat

CG: YEAH?

===

TG: you ever noticed you like

TG: walk weird

CG: WOW, OKAY.

CG: HAVE *YOU* EVER NOTICED THAT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT?

TG: pff

===

TG: no listen because i got my ears scoping that shit im like a scouter for dude activity

TG: ok maybe me mentioning it to you is gonna fuck up your ecosystem or something but

TG: you have the heaviest feet of the century man

CG: I DO???

TG: just thrust them straight down into the ground like youre trying to homebrew a san andreas fault

TG: viciously tamping on tectonic plates hoping for top score on the richter scale

TG: waging war against solid particles and the basic flow of gravity

TG: i could ID those footfalls out of a million i mean it

CG: SERIOUSLY?

===

TG: i mean theres nothing wrong with it but

TG: yeah

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW.

TG: im not fucking with you striders honor

TG: when have i ever lied to anybody about anything

CG: NOT UNPACKING THAT QUESTION WITH YOU TODAY.

CG: BUT SHIT, HOLD ON. LET ME SEE.

TG: yeah take the umbrella go over there and just walk to me

CG: ON IT.

===

===

TG: see you just kinda slam em straight down dude

CG: THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY RIOTOUS FUCKING JOKE OF A LIFE.

TG: dont your feet ache

===

CG: MOOT POINT. THIS MIGHT SOUND INSANE BUT I'VE ACTUALLY HAD MY STRUT PODS FOR A WHILE. ANY KIND OF PAIN THIS WOULD'VE BEEN CAUSING WOULD BE TOTALLY FILTERED OUT OF MY SPONGE BY NOW AS BACKGROUND NOISE.

TG: damn i didnt think that through

TG: my shades

CG: ALRIGHT, GET BACK UNDER THE SHITTING UMBRELLA AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME.

TG: look ive fucked myself over here too i dont have shit to clean these with

TG: ugh

===

TG: guess its karma

CG: HOLY FUCK. HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE THIS BEFORE?

TG: i dunno but im gonna assume having a dad thats a literal crab monster is probably a contributing factor

TG: im guessing thats not a great role model for this kinda thing

TG: just conjecture i mean

CG: YOUR ENVY IS OVERWHELMINGLY OBVIOUS DAVE. AS A DISCLAIMER, HE WOULD'VE ABSOLUTELY KICKED YOUR ASS.

TG: yeah probably

CG: THAT'S PRETTY MUCH ALL THERE IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

===

TG: but see bro had me stringent on feather feets

TG: i bet i could slip across a bike horn warehouse with nary a fucking toot

CG: HAHA. ASSUMING YOU DON'T MAKE A TOTAL ASS OF YOURSELF, AS PER USUAL.

CG: IF YOU WEREN'T CONSTANTLY RUNNING YOUR GASH ABOUT EVERYTHING AND BEING AN INIMITABLE CLOWN I SERIOUSLY THINK YOU COULD BE ON PAR WITH YOUR CUSTODIAN.

CG: THAT IS A MONUMENTAL "IF".

TG: well look at it this way

TG: im basically doing you all a favor by being a dumbass

TG: never gonna get caught off guard by the bozo patrol

CG: WOW. GOOD POINT.

===

TG: also screw this can i use your shirt

TG: this stupid hoodie is just smudging my lenses up

TG: i cant see dick

CG: UH

CG: SURE, I GUESS.

TG: cool

===

TG: so yeah i could be prowling around like a goddamn verbal assassin sniping convos left and right

TG: but no ive got the decency to go bunp in the night

CG: YEAH.

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY COMPOUNDED BY THE CONSTANT INANE RAMBLINGS.

CG: BUT

CG: IT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY RELAXING, Y'KNOW? IT HAS ITS OWN RHYTHM.

TG: see yeah i sound it off and

===

TG: wait really?

CG: YEAH

CG: I DON'T KNOW

CG: FUCK. HOW DO I EXPLAIN THIS WITHOUT WANTING TO CRAM MY FROND DOWN MY PROTEIN CHUTE.

===

CG: IT'S LIKE

CG: A SALVE FOR MY AGGRAVATION SPONGE.

CG: YOUR VOICE IS THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF ASPIRIN.

TG: uh damn karkat hold your hoofbeasts i was talking about the rhythm thing

CG: ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M TAKING US BOTH THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW. YOU HAVE REACHED THE BAD END OF THIS CONVERSATION.

TG: you think thatd be heroic or just

CG: IF I WAS STILL GHOSTING AROUND THE RUINS OF SGRUB'S ARCANE FRIGGIN GAME SYSTEMS, THE COMPLETE LACK OF SHIT AFOOT NOWADAYS WOULD BORE ME TO DEATH.

CG: LIKE. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME OUR THERMAL HULL LEVELLED UP, DAVE?

TG: hah

===

TG: but uh

TG: i mean we had aspirin on earth

CG: NO, NUMBNUBS.

CG: I'M SAYING YOU ARE MY ASPIRIN.

TG: oh

CG: YEAH, TAKE THAT TO THE BANK AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR 20-KARAT ASS.

===

TG: heh

TG: well get this

TG: i will literally talk at you forever for free

TG: you got lifetime priority seating for the davealogues

TG: never gotta go to the drugstore again you can just get doped up on my dulcet tones for the rest of time

TG: take that and some of this

TG: im packin punches

CG: OW, FUCK! NO! MY MIGRAINES!

CG: SWEEPS OF VEINCLOTTING AND NERVEFRAYING DOWN THE FUCKING GAPER. BECAUSE OF YOU.

CG: YOU ASSHOLE, THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

CG: AND YOU'RE LAUGHING.

TG: chuckle up it only gets worse from here

===

CG: BE HONEST WITH ME. DID FONDLING MY SHIRT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET EVEN DO ANYTHING?

TG: barely but yknow sometimes you just gotta deal the cards youre given

TG: ill just be astigmatic for a while its cool

CG: PFF… OKAY MAN.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various ! pt two

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: boothill, aventurine

side comments: my first voice line fic was well received and for that I thank you all <3 so of course this is for all my boothill and aventurine lovers out there! (including myself for boothill...)

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, I genuinely loved writing boothill's, minor spoilers for both favourites: boothill word count: roughly 1000+

care to see the first part? includes dr. ratio, jing yuan, & blade!

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

WHO ARE THEY? I "Out here askin' question huh? Well if you're that curious... then you better listen close."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Met them on a bullet train in a neighbouring star system. Turns out we were chasing after the same fudge-heads. You could've seen them- a sly creature that's who they were, whipping out the most slick sniper I've ever seen. I'd reckon that was one of the most thrilling fights I've ever had: came out with dents all over my arms and a broken gun. Their bullets nearly punched a hole through my cheek... hah!"

GREETINGS? "They may be a load of dormant gunpowder, but they sure are sweet! Full of laughter and courtesy. But I'll let you in on a little secret... ( Name ) likes to walk in, pretty as always- and plant kisses all over my cheek before they even say a word."

PARTINGS? "Being a Galaxy Ranger means never staying in one place. ( Name ) is no Galaxy Ranger... I'd reckon it's better that way."

ABOUT US: SHOES IN THE HOUSE "I can't exactly 'take off my shoes' now can I? But ( Name ) likes to keep the house tidy and I best not anger them... like that one time- anyways, we came up with this whole fudging system just to keep the bottom of my damn boots clean! It's fudging ridiculous! *Chuckles* I can't help it, but ( Name ) is understanding. Even if I trudged through all the grime in the universe- they'd still wipe it all off."

ABOUT US: FAMILY "You see, ( Name ) has this big family. Siblings, cousins, extended cousins, aunts and uncles, you name it. We were on their home planet once, and I finally understood where ( Name's ) knack for puttin' a real good home together came from. Their family lives in the countryside where all you can see are open fields, lush hillsides, free-roaming animals and wildflowers. Consider it a quiet paradise. They even grow their own food for fudging sake! Everythin' made by hand and land. Darlin' nearly coaxed me into joining them for dinner once, but I knew better. Best not spoil the family get-together."

CHAT: HATS N' POSES "Personally, I like my hat and flare the way it damn is. How would fightin' be without it? But of course, your partner has to be a cheeky tease about it."

CHAT: WARMTH " I've seen it in the movies- those fudging 'romcoms'- and read it in books. When it gets cold... I'm no help. Can't do much except reach for a blanket and wrap them up. But even then, metal and skin don't fudging work."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Count me in on a dance sugar plum! Have to admit, darlin' has a fair share of good dance moves. Nothin' like a hard-earned victory being celebrated with a cool glass of whisky and a smooth dance."

ARGUMENTS: "Bitter things that's all they are. Leaves you knocked out cold. Reminds you of all the things you can't take back."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Following the hunt ain't an easy task. But someone has to punish the wretched. That's the thing about the hunt- you get cold, hard. Sugar follows another path that doesn't make any fudging sense to me. But that doesn't matter. None of that ever mattered, not to them, not to me or even the hunt. Call it selfish, but I'd like to one day settle down... Just like their family. Out where no one could find us."

WHO ARE THEY? II "They call me their 'sweet lover'. But really it should be me saying that. If anything I am the sweat of their brow- a nuisance at times. But they still love me. They still fudging love me."

EXTRA: IPC ENTRY "Normally, Galaxy Rangers travel alone. However, we have seen the wanted Galaxy ranger- Boothill- be accompanied by someone who appears to be a vagabond follower of Xipe. Despite the information we possess, the relationship between Boothill and his supposed 'partner' is very limited."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Fancy meeting you here- oh? A rumor you say? Rumours do have peculiar ways of reaching the ears..."

FIRST MEETINGS? "All business ventures possess their gains and losses. However, I did not expect my pockets- alongside others- to be picked on a night meant to celebrate the Strategic Investment Department. The person who did it played their cards exceptionally well. I applauded them and the subtlety of their skills."

GREETINGS? "Despite their rather cunning nature, ( Name ) is quite kind... shockingly so. I thought their smile was a chip they played for their own meticulous advantage. *Chuckles* I was wrong, there was simply nothing to understand behind that smile."

PARTINGS? "One transaction after another, the universe keeps spinning. Don't keep up, you fall behind. Simple. I don't have to worry about that around them, or at least, for a while, until another wager must be made. Until the peck on the cheek is over."

ABOUT US: LOCKET "( Name ) has a keen eye for trinkets and bought- well stole- a locket for the two of us to share. I keep it with me, a lucky charm if you may."

ABOUT US: NAPPING "Personally, I don't nap. But, ( Name ) is a terrible influence and says I should. I must admit, waking up to them in the afternoon is not a bad way to spend my time."

CHAT: THEVERY "( Name ) is a thief... a good one at that. Oh don't worry, they struck a deal with the IPC. Primarily on their terms because they have been such a nuisance to the IPC. It's rather amusing seeing the IPC chase their own tail. We've definitely shared laughs over it."

CHAT: CONFESSIONS "Who could possibly love something so broken? It's like keeping a clock that won't tick or a deck of cards missing a queen. Sometimes, I wish they didn't care so much. It would be... easier."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Of course, a good game of cards is a fun way to pass the time. *Chuckles* Though, ( Name ) is a terrible player. Not that I mind, I'll guess I'll play the role of 'loser' this time around- best you not tell them."

ARGUMENTS: "What else is there to say? Nothing. That part is the worst."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: HEART OF GOLD "( Name ) steals to give to the poor. It's their motto... I saw them once with a group of kids on a planet in a distant star system. They were giving back to the orphanage- the smiles on the children's faces when given toys, marbles to be exact, were so bright."

WHO ARE THEY? II "In all honesty, I'm not quite sure. However, what I do know is that luck finally worked in my favour... I'll hold onto that for as long as I can."

EXTRA: DR RATIO'S OPINION "The gambler- without hesitation- will bet 'all in' even if it means his own life hangs in the balance. However, amongst the chaos of his bets, there is one person who will drag him back to reality... ( Name ). Aventurine will never gamble nor forfeit the one person who truly understands him. Even I don't fully understand the gambler's crafty nature. I suppose a thief is the only one who can and more importantly, will."

masterlist.

[stupidphototricks]

The Way of Mrs. Cosmopilite, as recorded in Thief of Time by Terry Pratchett.

"Is it not written in the sacred text, 'There's a lot goes on that we don't know about, in my opinion'?" said Lu-Tze.

"For it is written: 'I can't be having with that kind of a thing.'"

"For is it not written, 'It does you good to get out in the fresh air'?"

"For it is written, 'There is no time like the present,' which is Mrs. Cosmopilite's most profound understanding."

"For it is written, 'You can't tell a book by its cover.'"

"It is written, 'You've got to learn to walk before you can run,'" said Lu-Tze, putting his broom over his shoulder.

"It is written, 'Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs!'" he said.

"Truly it is written, 'You could knock me down with a feather,'" he muttered, as they headed up the sloping passage.

"It is written, 'I've got a feeling in my water,'" said Lu-Tze.

"Hah! It is written, 'I'm not as green as I'm cabbage-looking'!" snapped Lu-Tze.

"For it is written, 'Wrap up warm or you'll catch your death.'"

"Is it not written, 'Every second counts'?"

"Oh, well, in that case," said Lu-Tze, "is it not written, 'If you want a thing done properly you've got to do it yourself'?"

"However, is it not written, 'When you have got to go, you have got to go'?" said Lu-Tze.

"And also that 'You should always wear clean underwear because you never know if you will be knocked down by a cart'?"

"But is it not written, 'If you have another one, you won't have an appetite for dinner'?"

"For is it not written, 'You never know what's going to turn up'?"

[blueepink07]

I'm sure that it is a well-known thing, but I want to talk a little about it anyway!

Trial 1 voice trailers -> future (after murder)

Haruka: "Then what should I have done instead?! Tell me! Tell me so even I can understand!"

Yuno: "Hah... I can't be bothered."

Fuuta: "Everyone else was having fun, weren't they? What about them? Was it just me?"

Muu: "Fufufu... It's your fault... for doing horrible things to me."

Shidou: "(laugh) Not dead... Yeah, she's definitely not dead... I finally understand the value of what I've been robbing people of..."

Mahiru: "Is this... love? This is love...!"

Kazui: "I'm so dumb... Why did I have to dream?"

Amane: "Ahh! I'm so sorry...! I'm sorry...! I'm sorry for breaking the rules!"

Mikoto: "My life... It wasn't supposed to be this way..."

Kotoko: "...Fufu... This feels so good."

Trial 2 voice trailers -> past (before muder)

Haruka: "I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!!! Making you waste your life on someone like me...!! "

Yuno: "Nice to meet you, my name is Kashiwagi Yuuko! Well then, where shall we go?"

Fuuta: "Hahaha you think just because you’re a brat I’ll forgive you? You’ll pay for this"

Muu: "Hey..why don't you listen to me...? I'm telling you... Hey...HEY, I'M TALKING TO YOU"

Shidou: "You're in my way...hurry up and die"

Mahiru: "Ehehe...I love, love, LOVE YOU!! Don't ever let me go, ok!"

Kazui: "Hinako, I love you more than anything."

Amane: "Father is a very praiseworthy person. Once his virtue increases, he'll come back home, right? It's a little lonely, but I'm fine!"

Mikoto: "AAAHHHHHHHHHH!! DESTROY EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!!"

Kotoko: "From the begin I've never asked for your understanding! My actions, one by one, are bringing earth closer to peace. Useless Weaklings should just shut up and let me protect them!"

Meaning that it is very possible to be like this:

Trial 3 voice trailers -> present (during murder)

[alice-everafter]

"This is so exciting! I've never had a sleepover before!"

Kalim is practically glowing, even among the darkened shadows of his bedroom. The moon itself seems to be drawn to him, lighting up the red of his eyes and white of his teeth. His hair shines like the finest of silks while his skin looks like it might feel as such.

He's the picture of affluence and care lying underneath his all too expensive sheets. And you're just sort of there, with him, in his bed.

What started out as a nonconsensual sleepover has since morphed into a consensual, nonconsensual sleepover. Being held captive in Scarabia certainly wasn’t originally part of your winter vacation plans, but neither was dimension hopping. And look at you now. A dimension hopper and a Scarabia captive.

Much like dimension hopping, Kalim is an unstoppable, otherworldly force to be reckoned with. He had been so welcoming when you first met. Pulling you this way and that, giving you food to try and games to play. Smiling so wide it put the sun to shame. Showing you the sky like no one else ever had before. Until something had changed and you found yourself in the shadow of an elephant as it marched you and the rest of the dorm through a desert. Trying your best to stave off heat exhaustion.

You have your theories, of course you did. You don't stop three overblots and not see the signs. But there's something more to this. Call you paranoid but you kind of had the right to be. There was something more to Kalim's situation than what Jamil said it was.

Now, you could help, like you always do. But Grim was insistent, and you could still remember your struggle under the blaze of heat. Besides, it was better to regroup and save face than rush headlong into things with just a feeling to guide you.

You planned to escape in the night when Kalim would be asleep. So call you surprised when he came to you with panic set deep into the usually cheerful lines of his face. And against all greater judgement, you knew you'd hear him out right then and there.

Which brings you to the now, laying side by side with him in his bed. Hoping that Jamil never finds out you’re here. Else you’ll probably never wake up to see tomorrow.

“Do siblings count?”

“Huh?” You blink back to yourself and meet Kalim’s questioning gaze.

“Does it count if you have sleepovers with your siblings? Cause I’ve definitely done that before!”

Kalim grins and it’s all teeth, like usual. Your chest tightens like you’ve just seen the cutest animal on planet earth— wonderland.

You knew right then and there that you’d probably never be able to say no to this boy. Well, in this moment, that is.

“It counts as long as you say it does.”

“Hmm,” he seems to think on that. Pursing his lips, eyes downturned. “Well, in that case, I don’t want it to.”

“What?” Your expression pinches and you choose to ignore the brief flare of anxiety in your chest. “You don’t want it to?”

“Yeah,” he gazes back up with a new twinkle in his eyes. “Cause I want my first sleepover to be with you, Prefect!”

…Oh god, you’re gonna have a heart attack from goodness overload. Tell Crowley to prepare you one of those emo coffins.

"Prefect?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Your voice is muffled where it's squashed into a pillow. You feel like you've just eaten a lemon with the way your face is currently squeezed up and contorted. "Thanks Kalim, means a lot."

"Nya hah hah! You're so funny." Kalim pats your shoulder as he laughs.

When you're certain you're no longer choking on his purity and looking like you're two steps past constipated, you chance a look up. Kalim is smiling, soft and relaxed, like he should be. You almost don't want to break the peace, but he asked you to come here for a reason.

"Um, you mentioned something in the hall. Something about your memory?"

His expression drops and your stomach soon follows. You're already mentally kicking yourself before he responds.

"Yeah, it's..." He seems to shrink in on himself, curling over on his side and drawing his knees up. "It might just be nothing, ya know? I might just be overreacting about the whole thing, so don't worry about it, Prefect. Really, I'm fine—"

You reach out before you can think better of it, taking his hand in yours. It's warm and soft, just like silk, like you thought it might. The action shocks him and you very nearly pull back when the realization of what you did dawns on you. Then his fingers close around yours in a grip that makes your heart lurch.

"It's obviously not nothing." You squeeze his hand, hoping to communicate all that you wouldn't be able to. "You... You don't seem very ok, Kalim. What's wrong?"

His lip quivers and that's all the warning you get before pearlescent tears are spilling down his cheeks.

He hiccups, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be crying. It's not worth it, but..."

It only takes one shuddering sob for you to pull him close. You clutch him to your front, letting his misery muffle itself into your shoulder. You keep hold of his hand while you cradle the back of his head in the other, mainly because his grip has turned something fierce. Like he's scared to let go of you.

You don't say anything, just let him cry into your shirt. Feeling his tears dampen the fabric, his body shake against you. Holding him as tightly as you can until he raises his head enough to be heard.

"T-There are spots," he begins, "in my memories, that are gone..."

"Gone?" The confession is beyond what you thought it'd be, but you're used to that after being at Nightraven for this long. "Gone how?"

"I don't know." He sounds miserable and it breaks your heart even more. "But I just can't remember what I do sometimes."

"Which is normal! Y-You normally don't remember what you have for breakfast the day before o-or, what you did three days ago." He sniffles and you realize his arm has wrapped around you. He's currently clenching the fabric of your shirt in a shaky fist at your lower back.

"But," he goes quiet. In an effort to encourage him, you soothe a hand down his back. Hesitantly at first but growing in confidence when he starts to untense just the slightest. "It's like I blink and... I'm no longer where I was. I wake up, go to breakfast, blink, and then it's dinner."

"I-I mean, a few days ago, we were having so much fun. But then, even you..!" His words break over a strangled whimper and he clutches you ever so tighter.

"Me what? What did I do, Kalim?" There is dread building in your gut. Whether it's for you or for him doesn't matter, you just want it to stop. "If I hurt you, I'm so sorry. I—"

"You were scared of me! I saw it!" The admittance flies from his lips and all but strikes you. "You looked at me like they all do! Like I'm a step away from exploding! Even now I can tell you're scared and I hate it! I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to hurt anyone! But what if I... am? W-What if I'm hurting everyone and I don't even remember it? I'd never forgive myself if I was h-hurting my friends. A-And I know I'd never want to b-but, the more you all look at me like... like t-that, the more I start to think that I am. That I'm a bad person—"

"It's ok."

He's gasping for breath, coughing around the build up in his throat. He holds you rigidly, gripping your hand so hard your bones are starting to protest but you'd never dream of telling him to let up.

"It's alright, it'll be ok."

You never did stop the motion of your hand. It continues to drag up and down the line of his spine. Feeling his shoulders jerk with every sharp intake. Wishing more than anything that you could wipe away the pain from his trembling form. Wanting to give him the same warmth he gave you on that carpet in the sky.

"We'll figure it out, Kalim, I promise."

You're not certain of a lot of things, not since you'd been dragged here. To this world, this school, this dorm. But in this moment, you are.

"It's not your fault. You're not a bad person."

[amandacanwrite]

A Plain Stack of Parchment - Gale x Tav/reader

Pairing || Urchin Backstory Tav/Reader (unspecified gender) x Professor Gale

POV || Second Person

Length || 3,200 words

Scenario || Gale has tasked you with writing your wedding invites so that he can finally take them to the courier. The only problem is, you don't have anyone to send invites to. In hopes of smoothing over the conversation in which you finally tell him that you really don't have any family, you attempt to make dinner....and destroy his beautiful kitchen in the process.

A/n || This is my first piece of fanfic I've ever shared publicly, please be kind to me about it. I don't really know what the rules are. This has been brewing in my head for days, though and I must get it OUT.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” you’d asked. 

“Hah…I suppose I am,” he’d responded.

He’d carried on about how much Tara would love it, and of course his mother. Words to fill the silence while you’d found yourself bound in stunned silence; words to cover his nerves while you’d worked through the shock of having been asked to join his family. 

Family…a real family. You’d never had one before. It had been an easy answer to give, a joyful one to give. 

“I accept. I’ll marry you, Gale Dekarios.”

He’d begun to prattle on again in that way that you’d loved and it’d been impossible not to smile as he spoke about arrangements. That was until he’d said it. 

“--And you’ll have invites of your own to send out, I’m sure…but that’s all to come.”

You’d not had much time to worry about it, though. Moments later he was kissing you, his fingers curled into the hair at the nape of your neck in that way that always made you melt. You could worry about this conversation another time, you’d told yourself. 

But that time never came around. Gale had accepted his position as professor at Blackstaff, and you both had spent so many long nights on repairing the crown of Karsus so that he could finally be free of netherese magic inhabiting the space so dangerously close to his heart. The day Mystra cured him was one you’d remember forever, because you were both finally free of not only the danger looming over your love for one another, but from the ghost of the past Mystra had been since you’d met him. 

But now? Now you felt regret. 

Gale was working late–a problem student he took on as a project needed his help. He implored you for the umpteenth time to please finish your invitations. They really must be sent out, dearest, if our families are to have time to travel for the wedding. 

How could you tell him you had nothing to send out? How could you explain that you didn’t come with a family; didn’t come with any kind of support system? 

His mother had accepted you as one of her own so quickly. Tara had become just as doting and fussy over you as over the wizard himself. But you couldn’t give him that in return–with your there would be no inlaws, no great aunts, no distant cousins…no grandparents should you decide to have a family of your own one day…

You looked at the optimistic stack of parchment he’d left for you, the quills, two pots of ink. He’d even left you his very own signet ring to press the Dekarios clan crest into your sealing wax, so ready for you to join his family that he would let you claim his name prematurely. 

You wondered if that would change once he knew…once he knew that you’d always been scrappy and alone before the tadpoles and nautiloid brought you and the others together. That was why you’d done everything that you did. It was why you helped Astarion destroy Cazador, why you did everything you could to figure out how to fix Karlach’s infernal engine, even now. It’s why you lifted the shadowcurse for Halsin and helped Wyll rescue his father. It’s why you’d urged Shadowheart to endure the pain of her curse…

Because they all had family, and with time they’d become your family. You’d wanted so long to have one, to have a reason to be good. No one had ever asked after you–where you’d come from, how you became who you were. And you were relieved to not have to tell the truth of the matter. 

You were unloved. 

Thrown away by a mother who couldn’t care for you and living off of scraps you could find in the streets or coin you could slip out of the pockets of strangers. 

So all you could do was stare at that pile of parchment and try to scrape every recess of your memory for anyone; any single godsdamned person to send a wedding invitation to. Damn Gale Dekarios for sending off the ones for your old companions. At least you would have had something to show when he got home today. 

In the end, you gave up. You took the time to put the fine linen parchment away and place the ink pots back on the shelf with the others. You placed the sharpened quills back in the glass goblet he kept dozens of others and…and simply placed the signet ring in the middle of his writing desk where he’d left you hours before. 

And then you decided you would make dinner. 

Gale always cooked, even after his longest of days. You’d offered to do it many times but he always insisted that he liked to cook. That he liked to feed you. 

But the sun was setting lazily behind the Waterdhavian horizon, and Gale was certain to be exhausted after dealing with his problem student all evening. Dinner was the least you could do. Sure, you were never much of a cook, but it couldn’t be that hard to roast a chicken and some vegetables, right? There was certainly no shortage of recipe books in the tower. You were the savior of Baldur’s Gate, you’d taken down an elder brain! Certainly you could figure out cooking a bird. 

You got to work. 

Things seemed to be going pretty alright at the start of it, too. Coat the skin in butter and herbs; check. Scallop the potatoes; check? At least you thought that’s what a scalloped potato looked like. Blanch the asparagus…what did blanching mean?    

 Okay. No asparagus then. Gale could be a meat and potatoes man for one night, couldn’t he?

When you put the chicken and potatoes in the oven to roast and started working on reducing some red wine and spices for a sauce that things started to go south. Things started to go south very, very fast.

First, you realized the red you grabbed was not a Waterdhavian red as you’d thought, but a bottle of fire wine. Fire wine was already heavily spiced, so the the spices you added would be too much. Okay, okay–so, you would try again. 

But when you lifted the saucepan to…hide the evidence somewhere, you also spilled that fire wine directly onto the stove, directly into the flame. You eyes landed on the quickly spilling liquid just as the puddle ignited.

“Oh, for fuc–”

The explosion was nothing less than spectacular; it sent you sprawling across the room, smashing into the brick wall on the other end of the kitchen. The room filled up with black smoke as you tried and failed to get back up to your feet. Your head was spinning and you could barely get a breath in your lungs. 

Shit, shit, shit. You needed to get up. You needed to get up and figure out how to clean this up before Gale got home. He was no stranger to explosions, sure. But gods help the man or woman that prevented him from making his morning cup of tea and enjoying it at the kitchen table. 

You steeled yourself. “Come on. Savior of Baldur’s gate. Come on, get up,” you said. 

But as you slowly got up onto shaky legs you heard a familiar voice booming through the room. A second later, a great storm cloud formed above you and then doused the room in torrential rain. Your soft-soled boots caught on the wet tile floor and you slipped, falling to the ground again. Gale had casted Create Water. 

“Nine hells,” he shouted as he ran over to you, cupping your sooty face in his rough hewn hands. “Are you alright, my love?”

His hands patted over your body, then. Your arms, your hands, bending and extending your legs, checking your ribs. “Is anything broken?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed out. “Just…wet. And embarrassed.”

“Better than being incinerated. Did I leave something out–we’re working on disarming traps in class and–”

“No, no,” you said. “I–I was just trying to make dinner.”

His face contorted into an expression that looked almost affronted. “Make dinner?” he said, sounding confused. 

He looked back at the smouldering wreckage of his kitchen. “Oh no,” he said as he slumped onto his knees and slipped his hands into his wavy, brown hair. “What have you done?”

He must not have fully registered the room he’d doused, which you supposed was very sweet in it’s own way. He’d only hurried to make sure you were okay, he didn’t think for a moment on the damage. At least not at first. 

“I just…I thought that you would like to come home to dinner prepared for you, for once. I was trying to surprise you,” you said. 

“Well you most certainly succeeded in that, didn’t you?” he asked, his tone biting. “This is just what I needed after dealing with Jeremi all day. To leave a destroyed classroom to come home to a destroyed kitchen. Just–fantastic.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just–”

“Tell me that you at least got your invitations done,” he snapped. “That this wasn’t some sorry excuse for a distraction from planning our wedding? That you didn’t destroy my kitchen and almost kill yourself and potentially Tara so that you could claim you forgot again?”

He looked at you, his brown eyes tired and a little sad. You almost wished you had been incinerated. You knew he didn’t need to use Detect Thoughts to read your mind. You were certain your expression said it all. 

“Your silence speaks volumes,” he said as he stood up and started cataloging the extent of the damage. 

You knew he’d just had a bad day, that the vitriol was more because of the late hours and the unpleasant surprise. The sharpness of his tone still cut like a knife. It was all you could do to sit there and watch him clean up after you. 

You usually loved to watch him do little mundane tasks with his magic. You found the delicate flourishes of his hands so charming, loved the spark of joy in his eyes as the weave spun to meet him. But watching him now, watching his sharp, staccato movements as he zipped recipe books back into place and disappeared broken glass into some pocket dimension…you felt like an utter failure of a partner to him. 

You just sat there while he worked, wanting to get up and help, but afraid that another sharp comment would eviscerate you. You’d had disagreements with him before, of course. And he had been sharp with you about a few of your more adventurous choices (he still brought up the time you licked a dead spider once in a while.) But he had never been truly, truly angry with you. Not like this. 

He opened the demolished stove and took out the raw bird sitting on the bed of potatoes. He hissed out a tight breath and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“I have a feeling I am not ready to hear the answer to this question, but have you changed your mind?” he asked. 

The question took you by surprise. “Changed my mind?” you asked. “About what?”

“What do you think?” he snapped, looking at you. “About the wedding. About…about marrying me.”

“What?” you asked. “Of course I haven’t changed my mind, why would you ever think something like that? I’m more excited than I’ve ever been to be a part of your family.”

“Then why?” he asked. “Why have you been avoiding writing your invitations. I have asked you to do them at least half a dozen times now, and every time you have some excuse to tell me. ‘Oh, I just got caught up in this book.’ ‘Sorry, dearest–the tadpole headache strikes again.’ And now? Now dinner?”

“Is it a crime for me to want to make dinner for my intended?” you said. 

“My love. My flawless, exquisite, darling,” he said. “You are many things. A gifted fighter, an astonishing leader, an excellent dancer, and none too shabby beneath the sheets. But you. Are not. A cook. I allowed you to cook ONE time. A singular time in our travels together and do you remember what happened?”

You pouted. “Everyone got sick,” you grumbled in a low voice. 

“YES! Everyone GOT SICK,” he shouted. “Everyone got so sick that we had to spend THREE DAYS in camp. And do you remember what you swore to me that day?”

“That I would never cook for people again,” you said. 

“THAT YOU WOULD NEVER COOK FOR PEOPLE AGAIN!” he shouted triumphantly. “So then, why, my love. Why would you be cooking now if not to avoid sending your wedding invitations? And why would you want to avoid sending your invitations unless you had changed your mind about spending the remainder of your days with me?”

You nibbled on your lip and exhaled, looking down at your soot-covered hands. 

“I don’t…” you said, almost choking on the words, almost looking for a lie. “Gale, I don’t have anyone to send invitations to. And every time I think to tell you that, I get terrified that you’ll realize the mistake you made in proposing to someone who brings nothing to the table.”

“No one to send invitations to?” he asked, seeming surprised. He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow.  “No, I’m sure that isn’t true. We’ve talked about your family before, haven’t we?”

“Not that I remember,” you said. 

“During our travels, you…we…we shared stories,” he said. “All of those times around the campfire. The nights alone between us.”

You watched as his eyes became distant, as if he’s searching his memory for some cache of data he’s stored about you. He smoothed his hand over his chin before covering his mouth with his hand. His brow furrowed and his expression saddened before he dropped his hand and crossed his arms. 

“Gods,” he said. “Every story you told us, everything you shared…tales of treachery, of bar fights and street brawls, the times you told us you almost lost a hand. All the times you told us about those…strange meals you would scrounge up with that glimmer of warm nostalgia in your eyes.”

He walked slowly over to you and kneeled in front of where you sat, still soaked to the bone and covered in soot. He took your hand in his and squeezed your fingers. 

“I may be an impressive scholar, but I am a fool, my love,” he said. “All of this time together and I was always so caught up in how lovely it felt to be truly accepted and understood. All the times you told me that I was enough for you as I am and I couldn’t even spare the proper courtesy of asking you about your family. You must think me an ogre of a man.”

You forced a little airy laugh from your lungs and shrugged. “Not much to tell about,” you said weakly, swallowing as your throat became uncomfortably tight. “Nothing really at all.”

You bit the inside of your lip and looked down at your hands again, willing yourself not to cry. You promised yourself a long time ago not to cry over this anymore. No one got to pick their hand in life, it was useless to cry over it. 

Gale cupped your cheek in his hand, angling your chin up again so you’d meet his eyes again. “I asked you to write invites to a family you didn’t have. Then you tried to make dinner for me when you couldn’t do it, and I shouted at you for ruining my kitchen. Please forgive me, my love. I have been a miserable, self-centered ass.”

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me for ruining your kitchen?” you offered.

“You have yourself a bargain,” he said.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first; chaste, even. It reminded you of your first kiss with the girl who sold papers in the lower city. But then it changed. He scooped the hand cupping your chin back into your hair, curling the locks around his fingers before smoothing his free hand up your thigh, gripping your leg and pulling you closer. 

He hitched you up onto his hips and stood, still surprisingly strong despite the more sedentary life you both were living these days. You draped your arms over his shoulders, loosely hooking your fingers together as you tilted your head, parting your lips to breathe in that ever present scent of cinnamon and warm tea. 

He let out a low hum, the sound of his buzzing against your mouth. 

He parted from the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours as he sat you down on the charred countertop. “You are lovely,” he said. “Your beauty, your generosity? As intoxicating as any glass of wine.”

You let out a little huff and are surprised when you feel a few drops of wetness fall onto your cheeks. Gale tuts, backing up just far enough to swipe that wetness away with the rough pad of his thumb. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “I…I never cry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said. “Don’t you even think about it.”

You gave a sheepish smile and exhaled, nodding once. 

“You know what?” he said. “The kitchen can wait.”

“But your morning tea…” you said. 

“Tomorrow, you and I will get tea together at that little bakery I haven’t had a chance to show you, yet. And tonight? Tonight we’ll walk to the vendor down the road, we’ll get some delicious Waterdhavian street food and we won’t think at all about the origin of said food, trust me, it’s not worth it,” he said. “And then we will cuddle up on the balcony and I will ask you extensively and exhaustively about your life before you met me.”

“What if you don’t like what you hear?” you asked. “What if I was never honest, or smart? What if I didn’t have a wholesome youth like you did?”

“My love,” he said. “When you met me I was a man with a tadpole in my brain and an orb in my chest that would level the whole of Waterdeep if I didn’t eat your precious magic artefacts. I was a man who tried to become a god, and when I thought of making the same mistake a second time, you’re the one who talked sense back into me. You’re the one who showed me that I was worthy of love, just like this.”

You smiled and nodded as he kissed your forehead. “You’re a remarkable wizard of great renown,” you teased. 

“I’m just a man, and a teacher with a student who seems intent on torturing me,” he said. “I’m also remarkably humble.”

“And?” you said. 

“And nothing you do or say could make me stop loving you,” he said, “Not even you…destroying my beautiful, wonderful kitchen.”

“I thought I was forgiven,” you said with a look. 

“I have most certainly forgiven, but I have not yet forgotten, my love,” he said. 

“Perhaps I could remedy that tonight, after your questions,” you suggested, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Give you a bit of a distraction.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you made me forget something with your diversions,” he said. “That sounds like the perfect way to end the night.”

“Well, then, let’s get cleaned up and go buy some of that questionable food,” you said. 

“With pleasure.”

[mvskedxrtist]

Way Too Prideful

Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: PwP (Plot what Plot), Master Kink, Degration, Hair Pulling, Mindbreaking, Slight Bondage

Nᴏᴛᴇ: Yes I know it seems weird that I'm not matching the colors. Here's the thing, at this point I've already showed what fandoms I'm writing for and y'all know that, so I'm now gonna let loose with these and just write whatever character comes in my mind that night. It also means I'm open for requests! I really do want one.

AMAB!Reader x Lucifer - Way Too Prideful

'How did he get himself in this situation?' He couldn't really remember much as he was getting his ass pummeled. It was only from his hair getting pulled from you that he now remembered.

Lucifer was just doing some paperwork that he had gotten from Diavolo when he heard the knock on the door and he turned to see you leaning on the door. "Ah, hello MC... I would like to chat, and I know it's around the time for my break. But not now, not until I get this work done." He explained and got back to putting his signature on some of the documents as you were looking at him.

You had a sneaky little glint in your eyes as you closed the door and stood behind him. "Yes.. I know you do. But you're gonna stop and take a break, Lucifer." You stated and turned the chair around so he could face you. "No I'm not MC, Lord Diavolo want this done soon." He retaliated and turned back around to his desk, not even knowing what would come up.

You on the other hand, rolled your left sleeve up so his demon pact mark could be shown as you looked straight at him. "Lucifer. Turn around and kneel." The demon of Pride felt a shiver run down his spine as he turned around and got on his knees in front of you. "We're not doing this damn game again, Lucifer. Seems you really need a break~" You chuckled under his breath as Lucifer knew what was going to happen.

Which had lead to now. Lucifer's hands were tied behind his back, the man was still on his knees but he looked so out of it while your thick cock was just stretching his ass out. "Nghhh~ h-hah~" He whined softly and knew he couldn't do much once he was in your control. You grabbed his hair and tugged on it while looking down at the sin, chuckling. "Isn't this a nice break, Luci?~ Or do you need more time?~" You were teasing him endless as you slammed your cock inside of him.

"The sin of pride, never really knows how to take a damn break. Always thinking he'll get praised by Lord Diavolo if he does his bidding~" Lucifer was whimpering and whining softly while he listened to your degrading thoughts. "M-master...~ G-gahhh~" He groaned and looked back at how you fit inside of his hole well. At times he regretted doing stuff like this, but he could care less at the moment. All he could think about was your cock deep inside of him.

"Such a whore for Diavolo's approval.. Even we both know who's the one in control of you. Right?" You tugged his hair again, pulling his head back so he can look you in the eyes. "Y-yes Master~ you are~" He moaned and whimpered from you pulling out of him. He wanted more of you.. Maybe he should beg for your cock and you'll give it to him.

"M-master~ please, please, please~ I need your cock deep inside me~ please~" Lucifer was begging you relentlessly while he was laying against his desk. You were just chuckling under your breath and looking down at the demon before you kissed his neck a bit. "For the most prideful demon in the Devildom, you sure are a cockslut~"

[muffinrecord]

Current Plans + Musings

I don't plan on playing Exedra to the degree I did for Magia Record, or playing it at all. Because of that, I won't be taking an active role in the community and archiving anything for it. Of course, if Exedra has like amazing gameplay and stories then this is all subject to change, but for now I think I'm done with phone games.

The two youtube channels will stay up and I'll check em periodically to make sure there aren't copyright strikes against the content. I've saved all my raw files, especially for the battle animations, so I can remake them in the future if the music ever becomes a problem for some reason.

Google Drive will stay up until Google rots away. I haven't recorded footage in a long time (as in stories, I do for the character doppels and such), but I'll upload things if they're sent to me.

Magia Union Translations still plans on translating things and making videos, especially leading up to the end, but also for after the game is over for whatever wasn't made in time. I'm not sure what form this will take in the future-- if it'll be manual captions added to the videos or not, but I know it WILL happen.

As for this blog, I'm not going to delete it or anything. However I'm going to be taking a step back. I'd like to say that I'll do liveblogs but I mean... *gestures at blog* I've been saying that for years and the only one I really did successfully was the Oriko one lmao. Ahhh oh well.

I'll have more words later, but it was really fun to be part of a fandom experience like this. I'm excited to work on my own original story projects though and quiet down a bit.

...

When I started this blog, I never expected it to have people actually read it. Or look at it. I just wanted a place to gush about how much fun I was having. I didn't even want to tag the posts with "Magia Record" at first because I was terrified people would be mean at me, haha.

But I'm glad I did. I made so many good friends through this game. I'm glad it existed. And it made me happy to have a place where people cared about what I had to say. Some folks actually got their news from here, can you imagine that? They had notifications turned on for this blog. My god.

Anyways, I'm going to be here for the next two months, and tomorrow I'll start reblogging fan projects and initiatives, plus general news. Maybe this blog will turn into a dumping site for art and fanfic reblogs, who knows. I might watch the remaining stuff and add various thoughts here and there.

Otherwise, you can find me on my main blog @malignmuffin, which only reblogs stuff (I don't talk much if at all there). I have another tumblr blog for my comic, but I think I'll reshare the name once I actually have content you can look at on it. It's pretty bare bones for the moment.

Actually it'll be funny if the end of this game is what makes me finally work on it again. I was in the process of working on it when NA came out, and it totally derailed me. Stopped writing, drawing, just focused on this silly little phone game. Now it's like those five years have gone by and I'm going back to where I started, except I think my lil comic is going to be a bit better than it was before. If I actually make it, that is.

If I ever do actually make my comic and start posting it, I'll be sure to update y'all here. hah

Anyways, thanks for being on this wild ride with me. The memories have been great, and I'm glad I had this experience, even if it had to end.

[phyrestartr]

Man of Worship (P.1) | Zagreus x M!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 |

w/c: 2.3k #NSFW themes, demigod reader, eventual polyamory, traumatic past, healing from trauma, mentions of dub-con, mentions of suicide, hurt/comfort, boys being boys, toxic parents, olympic gods doing typical olympic god bs

Note: SO this is basically a rework of Rhubarb, even though I still want to pursue the rest of Rhubarb with that particular reader character, HOWEVER I generally make two or three versions of the same story while I'm brainstorming, and I ended up digging into more Greek mythos while looking for inspo and BOOM.

ANYWAY I didn't tag for this since it's a new fandom I'm writing for, but if you'd like to be tagged, pls feel free to leave a comment!! I'll update my tag form thing in a moment too :D I hope this is a fun read!!

--

1. A Gardener?

He noticed first the flutter of feathered wings. It was an odd thing to hear in the underworld, and even odder still to hear it come from the outer gardens–the place poor, pitiful Zagreus was barred from. 

Father won't tell me anything of this. And that was true--Hades was anything but straightforward and honest with his son. So, to the real parent of the house was where the prince went.

“Erm, Nyx?” Zagreus asked, shooting glances back at the iron gates as he met his mother-figure. “I've got a question for you, if you don't mind.”

“I do not mind. I will do my best to answer, my child.” She watched him with eased attention, then followed his gaze to the forbidden outdoors. “Is something the matter?” 

“No–well, maybe? Not sure, but. Well.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck. “Just–are there birds out in the garden?” 

Nyx blinked. “Birds?” 

“Yes. I keep hearing something fluttering around every now and then, and I swear I've seen something moving around in the garden. You know, the one I'm not allowed to enter?” 

“Ah.” The goddess nodded. “Of course. There is a new servant of the house, one who was chosen to tend to the gardens.”  

“Really.” Zagreus planted his hands on his hips and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, gaze returning to the forbidden area. “Well, that's the first I've heard of it.” 

“He does not linger long; he arrives with the sun, and leaves only when the work is done,” Nyx explained. “He is a diligent helper of the House. Your father is quite pleased, I've noticed.” 

“Well, I've never thought that Father could be pleased in any regards.” Zagreus’ mismatched gaze flickered back to Nyx. “But why now? The garden's never needed a tender before.”

“A flower wilted,” Nyx sighed, looking aside. “And your father has grown concerned.”

“Hah. Concerned for the plants? Good to know he can still give a damn about something,” Zagreus bit, sending a scalding glare to the throne. “Guess that's why he locked it up, kept it from me.”

Night smiled, sympathetic. “You do have a reputation.”

“One that I must uphold,” he agreed, heart light and spirit lifted higher. “Thank you, Nyx. I should get back to ransacking my father's domain.”

Nyx nodded sagely and reached a hand up, fixing the tilt of Zagreus’ burning laurel. “I would hope for nothing less, my child.” 

–

“You play music?” 

Your voice startled Zagreus, sending a Zeus-like jolt through him and holding him in place with a fit of numbing static. Thankfully, however, twas not the true bite of the sky king, and Zagreus had the luxury to back out of his room a few paces. 

“You heard?” He asked, face somehow both paling and burning in tandem.

You, whilst leaning against the iron gate, nodded. “‘N if I did?”

“Oh.” Zagreus rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “That's unfortunate. Sorry for the bother.”

“Don't misunderstand me, god.” Your spectral eyes bore into him with easy confidence. Zagreus quite liked that look. “You played much like a dying pigeon at first, I'll admit, but you've improved.” 

Zagreus laughed and approached you. Your dry informality pricked him with intrigue. “Well, now I know you're lying.”

“Lies are useless for those who need the truth.” Your words came so bold, the prince had no choice but to believe you. “I can hear it. The notes–they come easier to you. Sweeter, even. Like figs ripe on the tree.” 

“Figs?” Zagreus tilted his head much like Cerberus might. “Huh. Can't say I've had one of those.” 

“Really? Well, then I shall see to it that you wonder no longer, god.” You leaned away, nearly out of sight of the iron-barred gateway, and jostled through the leaves of a bush or tree of sorts before the sharp snap of something announced your return. 

You stuck your arm through a gap in the fence, one where your glowing skin was threatened by a cascade of decorative thorns, but you didn't much care. That care, instead, found itself funneled into the deliverance of a ripe fig to the prince of the underworld, it seemed. 

Zagreus stared for a moment. He wasn't used to receiving gifts unless he bestowed one upon another, first. To him, this almost felt like–could it be--

“If you don't take it in the next three seconds, I'm going to eat it myself and not hand you another,” you groused.

“Hah.” He snatched the fruit from your hand. “You wouldn't dare.” 

“I've dared much worse, god, believe me.” You withdrew your hand and drummed your palms against the iron. “Well, enjoy. And be sure to clean your hands before touching that lyre again.” You looked him over, face placid as it'd been for his entire short history knowing you–but your eyes, the strange things, they hinted at hidden curiosities. “I'll be listening.” 

–

“Say, Meg, do you know much about the new House attendant?” Zagreus asked, flourishing his Stygian blade as he walked towards the Fury, prepared to fight after a quick chat.

Megaera's eyes narrowed. “You're talking about the flirt.”

“The flirt?” Zagreus rested his sword down, digging its diamond tip into the cracked ground. “Is that really what he's known for? Flirting? He doesn't seem like the type.”

A heavy sigh left Meg. “Ask Than. He might be more willing to endure your rambling and answer questions. I am not.” 

“You know, I think we really need to work on your patience.” Still, he flicked up his blade of the underworld, and lunged first. 

–

As the Fates would have it, Thanatos was already at the House. Even more fateful, still, was where he stood–not by the river Styx, no, but by the garden’s gate for a change. Death's presence on that side of the house seemed…odd, despite his infrequent visits to the lounge. Never before did he show interest in a coworker, neither, not unless it was his twin who needed some firm and stringent guidance. 

“Admiring the flowers?” Zagreus asked, and Death flinched. 

“No, I–” He sighed, and spared a look over his shoulder. “What do you want, Zagreus?” 

The shorter one shrugged, and stood beside his age-old friend. “Came to find you. Is that so odd?” 

“If you're going to shove more nectar in my hands, then you can forget it.” Thanatos looked away again and scowled beyond iron bars. “You've made your bed.”

Zagreus stifled a sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I–well–in all honesty, I had a question, one that I'd hoped you could answer.”

“Then ask.”

“Right to the point then.” Zagreus cleared his throat and shuffled closer to Death. “Who exactly is the new gardener? Meg said you might know.” 

Thanatos graced him with a wide-eyed stare. “I thought you'd know by now.”

Zagreus shrugged. “I wouldn't be asking if I knew.” 

“He is–” Death paused, his jaw tightening, tendons threatening to snap. “Why do you want to know?”

Zagreus convinced himself not to pry. “We haven't had a new servant of the House in, well, eternities. Father wouldn't allow just anyone in here.” 

“Sure, but don't you think you should ask him yourself?”

“It's hard to catch him. He's quite flighty, as Fate would have it. Must be the wings.” 

“Must be.” Zagreus swore he heard the inkling of a smile on those words. “Well, I don't think it's fair for me to spoil the introduction. But I will say this–he was a servant of the House in life, and now continues on in death.” 

“Really?” Zagreus couldn't quite wrap his head around it. How could someone be devoted to the house before even arriving?

“Yes. He made my job easier, in some regards. Assisted, at the very least,” Death said.

“Huh.” Zagreus crossed his arms and scuffed his sole against time-worn stone. “Guess that explains that. I don't suppose you'd be willing to go into elaborate detail regarding what exactly our avian gardener did in life to earn yours and Father's favour? Or, even just his name?” 

“No.” A luminous wash of turquoise licked off Death's shoulders, his scythe. “Ask him yourself. I've work to do.”

And with the toll of a bell, he was gone. 

–

It took a while to catch you again. Apparently, you kept to a strict, self-imposed schedule that Zagreus couldn't even begin to understand despite its simplicity. Nyx told him you arrived come morning, at the very least. That may have been helpful, if Zagreus could tell the damn time in the underworld. 

So, he resorted to guessing; if he could not find you through the convenience of your daily routine, he'd swing by whenever he died. He was bound to run into you at some point. 

And he did. It was when he wandered to the lounge, eager to deliver a wealth of fish to the head chef, that he caught the ghostly sound of feathers against leaves.

Zagreus backed out of the lounge in time to see your curious glance. A rush pulsed through him–finally, finally, he'd get his chance to interrogate you.

“Hey!” He called. 

“Hey,” You called back. 

“Just--don’t go anywhere. I need to hand over some river denizens and then I need to speak with you,” Zagreus rambled off as quickly as he could. 

Your brows furrowed, but you offered a shallow nod. “I'll wait up.”

With that, Zagreus sped by the gossiping Meg and Dusa and a gaggle of other patrons to all but throw his catch to the head chef. It was a good haul today. Hopefully that meant–ah ha. 

Zagreus rolled the bottle of nectar over in his hands. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he sang, and ran off, tucking the gift away before approaching the iron bars.

You were toiling away, a little farther in the garden than before, but not too far to escape the prince's presence. It gave him a chance to take a good look at you: simple black chiton on a well-muscled frame, wings full of bronze feathers, wild hair tied back into the smallest of ponytails. You looked quite ordinary, save for the wings. 

But your eyes had been strange: they glowed. Not with the morose cold of Ixion, but with the exact opposite. Warm. Bronze. Sunlit, maybe. He'd never known sunlight, but you must have kept a drop of it in your very soul.

“So?” You said as you meandered back to him. You walked with unbothered confidence, much different to Zagreus’ sprightly impatience. “What important matters must we discuss?”

“Your name, first of all,” the prince requested. “I am Zagreus, son of Hades and--"

“Prince of the underworld,” you added. “Well, I figured you were him. Good to have a proper introduction, I suppose.” You took a breath. “As for me, you'll call me (Name).” 

Zagreus repeated the name. It held a fullness in his mouth, something sweet and foreign, too much like the fig you'd offered him not too long ago. Maybe you were the minor god of figs (wouldn't that be something?).

“Pleased to meet you, then. I trust the garden will be well-kept in your capable hands. And wings,” Zag said. “Oh! And, ah, here--a token of thanks for your hard work.”

Your brows raised and Zagreus’ chest filled with hope; for once, your blank mask changed, and you looked less like a gorgon-born statue and more like a human. Somehow, it gave him relief.

But your expression crumpled into furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “Nectar?” You wondered aloud. 

Zagreus nodded and slipped the bottle best he could through the gap. “Yes, I…I hope you will take it, if it pleases you.”

You examined the bottle as it slipped into your hand and leaned a shoulder up against the gate. “Odd. Why is it in the underworld?”

The tension left Zagreus’ muscles as you accepted the gift. “Not a clue. Maybe Olympus ferries some down here from time to time to try and liven things up.”

“Hah.” The mock laughter almost sounded genuine. “Dionysus would, from what I've heard of him.” You held the bottle up, watching the light reflect shards of gold and ghostly greens. “He's not so bad, that god of wine.” 

“You've met him?” Zagreus wondered.

“No,” you admitted. Your light-filled eyes found him again. “But I've met gods, when I once lived. No man should have to meet them. They bring misfortune, even the supposed good ones.” 

The prince took a sure step forward, and your eyes steeled. “Well, you're right about Dionysus,” he assured instead of scorned. “He's good. I'm sure he's had his moments, still. But I get on with him well.” I'm sure you would, too, he decided against saying; the more he took in your features, the more he realized the god's work carved into you, painting you unnatural colours and robbing you of something only humans could have. He didn't think you'd much enjoy being forced into a hypothetical with them. 

“Then I shall take your word for it,” you said. “And I will pretend this bottle comes from Dionysus, to make it more palatable.”

“Well, whatever pleases you.” Zagreus smiled and leaned against the wall by the gate. “But, if I may ask, which gods have you–”

“Boy,” Hades’ voice thundered, echoing down the hall. “Do not disturb the rest of the House and distract them from their duties. Unlike you, they do not wish to disappoint.” 

Zagreus clicked his tongue and looked over his shoulder. “Yes, of course, Father. I'll get right to ignoring every blasted person in this damn House. Perhaps I'll consider a life of solitude while I'm at it!” 

“Do not test me further, boy.”

Zagreus rolled his eyes, but gave in, finding your (gentler?) eyes once again. “Well. I'd more than happily argue with my father all day–or night–about this, but I wouldn't want you to bear the punishment.” 

You nodded a little and glanced from the prince back down to the bottle. “I appreciate this, princeling.”

“It's nothing, really.” Though Zagreus did indeed beam with delight. “Well, then I'll leave you to your work.”

“Be sure to come back. I need to return the favour,” you said as you turned. “Until then, princeling.”

[howlingday]

Jaune Arc Cannot Be Happy

Jaune: Pyrrha! What's happening?!

Pyrrha: (Fading into embers) I didn't want to believe it, but it's true! I'm a clone, Jaune!

Jaune: What?! B-But how?!

Pyrrha: There's no time to explain. I don't have much time left.

Jaune: No! No, no, no! This can't be real! This can't be happening!

Pyrrha: Don't be sad, Jaune... Who would want a fire clone as a wife anyways?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: That wouldn't be the worst thing actually.

Pyrrha: Jaune-

Jaune: Honestly, I think I could manage that.

Pyrrha: What- What are you saying right now?

Jaune: I'm saying that I'll take what I can get. Like, fire clone? Sure. Fuck it.

Pyrrha: But I'm not even the real Pyrrha Nikos! The woman you love!

Jaune: Look, if I can get past the obvious molecular differences and incompatibility of our states of matter, then I can get over something as small as the philosophical debate of identity.

Pyrrha: ...

Pyrrha: This isn't a side of you I'm used to.

Jaune: Well, neither am I with you drifting into embers. Speaking of which, does it hurt?

Pyrrha: Not really, no. It actually feels kind of nice once you get past the whole existential dread of the end of my life.

Jaune: Right.

Pyrrha: Face it, Jaune; I'm not going to be around for much longer. I'll just be ash in a matter of seconds. Let's not fight anymore. I want my final moments to be spent thinking about us-

Jaune: Wait, hang on a sec. I think I saw some kindling over there.

Pyrrha: JAUNE! COME ON!

Jaune: No, no! Seriously! It would probably take less than a minute!

Pyrrha: No! No! Stop it! You can't seriously be thinking about tossing kindling on me?!

Jaune: Hah... You're right...

Jaune: ...Maybe if I use a block of wood instead?

Pyrrha: JAUNE!

Jaune: Gosh, I'm so sorry, Pyrrha, it's just... I've been trying to get us together for years. And I've seen the other universes. Some have you leaving me for another guy, some where you and I break up, and there's even one where Salem breaks us up!

Pyrrha: Salem?!

Jaune: Yeah, we've already done this bit- But seriously! Look at this! Jaune Arc finally gets his happy ending! He gets the girl! And she fucking BLOWS AWAY?! FUCKING! BLOWN! AWAY?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THE WORLD HAS IT OUT FOR ME! AM I NOT ALLOWED TO BE HAPPY?!

Pyrrha: Jaune... Look... I know this is hard... Actually, no, there's no good way of putting it. Your life is shit.

Jaune: Thank you.

Pyrrha: I mean, I'd cry right now, but all it would do is just make my death come a lot faster.

Jaune: I-I appreciate the gesture.

Pyrrha: NGH!

Jaune: Pyrrha?!

Pyrrha: This... This is it, Jaune... I'm dying... Or maybe... I was... never alive... Where do you draw the line? Consciousness or- ARGH!

Jaune: Just hold on, Pyrrha!

Pyrrha: You'll find happiness someday, Jaune... She's out there... Somewhere... Or at least there's a competent writer. One of the two.

Jaune: I'll always love you...

Pyrrha: ...

Pyrrha: You're handling this really well.

Jaune: Loved one dying right in front of me because I'm too weak to stop it otherwise. Just another day ending in Y.

Pyrrha: Oh, and before I forget, you'll have to change back the insurance. (Disintegrates)

Jaune: (Screams in Roman Torchwick)

[ewwap]

Doting Yandere x Transmasc Reader

Y/n's tongue traced his teeth, rubbing the slimiest parts in disgust. How long ago had Oliver kidnapped him? Y/n hadn't kept track, too focused on the fact he hadn't been able to brush his teeth this entire time. Y/n's eyes soullessly dragged from their firm position looking at the floor to Oliver's face, comforting, and in Y/n's mind, in complete contrast to the heinous actions he had committed. Oliver noticed Y/n looking at him and like a puppy, his face lit up.

"It's alright Y/n." He soothed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder--who had no will to flinch away anymore. "I'm taking care of you here. You don't need to worry about anything any longer."

Oliver smiled sympathetically as if he was not the one who created the situation Y/n was now in. Of course, he did, being so rich and coddled--Y/n was the first person to not act like a yes man and let Oliver get away with anything he wanted. God, Oliver had been waiting for someone like that. Someone who wouldn't suck up to him, someone real.

Something snapped in Y/n over the line of Oliver taking care of him. He grit his grimy teeth and glared.

"Taking care of me? Hah." Y/n scoffed. "For the entire time I've been held up in this manor of yours I have not been able to brush my teeth once! Do you want my teeth to rot? Hmm? Do you want my jaw to ache from cavities and my teeth to turn black?"

Y/n's hands balled into fists. However, there was not much else his hands could do--being restrained in expensive cuffs.

"Not only that--I haven't been able to wash my face! Do you know how oily my face gets when I don't take care of it? It disgusts me. You disgust me." Y/n turned his head away. "And you have the gall to say you're taking care of me."

If Y/n had looked at Oliver's face he would've seen an expression of pure guilt and utter defeat. Y/n felt two strong arms warp around him, one hand wrapped around his waist and the other patting his head. Y/n remained defiant in looking away.

"I'm sorry Y/n... I'll do better." Oliver buried his face in Y/n's neck, embarrassed at his incompetence.

How was he supposed to be everything Y/n needed if he was too drugged by Y/n's presence to remember to brush his teeth? No, he had to do better.

______________________________________________________________

Y/n sulked in his golden prison, looking out the window at the gardens that were so well maintained. He looked at the flowers, blooming with vibrance. At that moment, he felt like a wilting lily, drying up because its master had neglected to water it.

Oliver opened the door, making sure to close it and wait for the click as it automatically locked. He drunkenly took in the sight of Y/n, but his heartbeat flattened at Y/n's lack of a smile.

"Love... I've done some research. I've found the most luxurious products for your face type--I even found the perfect cleansings for your hair! Oh, and of course, the toothpaste, quality, of course." He paused. "Only the best for you, Angel."

Soon, Oliver had Y/n in the en suite bathroom, his love in a fluffy bathrobe on a stool.

'Say aaaahhh~" Oliver held out the toothbrush, wetted after applying the toothpaste per Y/n's preferences.

"I can brush my teeth myself." Y/n glared at the toothbrush, feeling babied.

"I'm not sure I can trust you out of the handcuffs yet, Angel." Oliver smiled sweetly "Remember what happened last time?"

Y/n practically growled.

"Fine." Y/n opened his mouth, allowing Oliver to brush his teeth.

Soon, Y/n found himself in a bath, bubbles and sweet-smelling oils in the warm water. He tried to remind himself it was fine, Oliver had seen him like this before. Still, Y/n felt uneasy. He knew Oliver would never hurt him, but one glance at Oliver's face reconfirmed he was restraining himself from doing something else.

Oliver tried to steady his breathing, god, Y/n was ethereal. Every feature so perfect. It took all of his strength to keep his blood in his brain. Of course, he had to wait. He would wait forever for Y/n.

He took special care in scrubbing Y/n down, tracing Y/n's skin as if it were the softest material on earth. Accidentally spending longer than he intended to wash Y/n's thighs.

He hummed as he massaged the shampoo into Y/n's scalp. Rinsing before applying conditioner and lathering it in Y/n's hair. Y/n's perfect beautiful hair that he would find himself running his hands through. Oliver brought out a facial scrub to put on Y/n, coincidentally caressing Y/n's face as he rubbed it in and washed it off.

Oliver brought a cream out and traced Y/n's top surgery scars, marveling at how a body could be so perfect. How even a scar--which he had been taught was an imperfection or a flaw--could be so beautiful.

Finally, Oliver scooped Y/n up before wrapping him in a warm fluffy towel. He placed Y/n down as if he weighed nothing and dried him off softly, taking extra care with Y/n's precious face and hair.

______________________________________________________________

Later, Y/n was dressed in soft comfortable clothes, a new pair of handcuffs linking his hands together. Oliver was snuggling with Y/n, clinging to him like a koala. He sighed dreamily, as always, Y/n was right. He took a deep breath, drinking Y/n in. He was so beautiful like this. He looked at Y/n's resting figure, slight unease on his face even in his sleep.

"Don't worry love. Nobody will hurt you here, I'll give you anything you want. The world is at your fingertips, all you need to do is ask." Oliver pressed a kiss onto Y/n's forehead. "My angel."

[your-local-hoemie]

I've genuinely never put in a request for something before so ur the first T.T

I was wondering, what would happen if you just wandered into scaramouche's room?

Im sorry if this is oddly specific, but I was hoping for a NS!FW M4M, possibly with Balladeer instead of wanderer, and if you do this thank you so much :))

NS!FW. 18+ ONLY!!!

OF COURSE!!!! Thank you for asking!!!!

You’ll have to forgive me if it’s not great. Even though I edge more towards masc im still not 100% sure how dudes work djdhdu

Also good lord, I went kind hard (hah) with this one, my cheeks were gLOWING while writing this. I’m never seeing heaven istg 💀

Edit: I accidentally went a little off script because I got extremely flustered so I’m sorry T-T

Warnings: ns!fw, dom!scaramouche (he needs his own warning), mild degradation, mean words, bratty behaviour, smug little shittery, lots of spicy words, swearing, male!reader, not proof-read.

Characters: scaramouche as: The ✨Balladeer✨

Scaramouche and you had a weird relationship.

No one knew whether you hated each other or if you were actually close.

Including you-

Sometimes you’d be at each other throat with any sharp object you could find and then the next, you’d be defending the other for whatever morally questionable crimes you had committed.

You happened to be one of the unfortunate fatui members that had been assigned to Scaramouche.

You don’t really know how he didn’t decide to murder you for your instinctive comebacks whenever he’d insult you.

He’s never admit it but he enjoyed having someone to banter with that wouldn’t immediately shit themselves the second he glanced at them.

Which is why you were now in his office for…

Well you didn’t really know.

He was busy doing paperwork that he was making extremely obvious that he hated every second of.

You were sitting in a chair across the room from him, equally as bored.

“So what exactly do you need me for… sir”

“To sit there and shut up.”

“…why?”

Letting out a sigh, Scara rolling his eyes, waving your questions off.

“You know, I’m supposed to be doing work. Going out, getting information, torturing, stealing, all the good stuff. Not sit in a room with a pouty brat-”

Clearing your throat, you suddenly realise what you had done.

Oh shit-

With a glare more threatening than a cryo mage in the rain. Scara placed his pen neatly down on the table, carefully organising the papers in front of him with sly grin.

Double shit-

“You know, you do a lot of talking for someone who can’t even handle to be alone in a room with their boss for more than an hour”

“Yeah well you’re not really the most enjoyable to be around…boss.”

The balladeers grin became even more sly as I pushed the chair away from his desk, standing up and taking a few steps forward, positioning himself right in front of you.

“I’ve had a very stressful day and I think I could use a little worshiping. Why don’t you use that mouth for something other than pathetic remarks, hm~?”

“Excuse me-?”

Without a hint of hesitation or shame, the harbinger placed his hand on your head. Most likely relishing the feeling of actually being taller than someone for once.

“Don’t act like our… banter doesn’t get you hard. I’ve seen the way you squirm when I get a little too close~”

Scaramouche pressed your head close to his crotch, speaking with a tone laced in sly smugness.

“I know you’ve imagined what I could do to you. I bet you even stroke yourself to the thought of me. Having the hand of a deity stroke you~”

Obviously he was right. Which just annoyed you even more, causing your pride to outweigh the sheer embarrassment coursing through your veins at his lewd words.

“You know how much shit you’d be in if I told anyone about this, right?

Scaramouche frowned at your remark, swiftly taking your chin in his hand and forcing you to look up at him.

“If a word of this leaves your mouth to anyone other than me, I will make you wish that I killed you. Understand me?”

Feeling your words catch in your throat, you give him a irritated nod, unable to fully deny how hot the whole situation was becoming.

“Good. Now, be a good for your god and worship me the way I deserve.”

Smirking down at you, Scara unbuttoned his shorts, letting his already hard dick bounce out against your face, making him sigh out in satisfaction.

“I always thought you looked so much better on your knee’s~ now suck.”

Blushing violently and not even able to deny how turned on you were, you locked eyes with The Balladeer and took him inside your mouth.

“Good boy~ just like that..”

Petting your hair with a surprising amount of gentleness, Scara pushed your head back and fourth, making you gag as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Why don’t you touch yourself for me like the desperate, horny slut you are~”

Letting out a small, muffled whimper, you knew you were completely at his mercy as you couldn’t help but move your hand down, touching yourself as he commanded.

Scara thrust his hips more intensely, picking up his speed as moans and grunts escape his lips causing you to match his speed with your hand.

Feeling his hand grip tighter on your head, with one finally thrust and a loud groan of pleasure, scara finally released himself down your throat, pushing you over the edge as you coat your hand and pants in your load.

“Mmh! You’re such a good fuck toy,m. Now make sure to clean up the mess m’kay?”

Pulling out, leaving a messy string of saliva mixed with his load; Scara took a deep breath and returned to his paperwork like nothing happened, leaving you panting and and mess on the floor, still somewhat dazed.

“Y-yes…sir…”

HSIDUDICUIDJDIVUDO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

squeaks 👺👨‍🦽👹🧍

[dira333]

dira my darling!

can i request a fluffy plotbunny with bakugo? something with casual dominance, bc i would love to have someone boss me around. like,, he says sit and im sat? Im very bossy/pushy overall so a bf that's casually dominant and who i dont have to think around or help lead like i do everything else would be a dream come true xD

thank you for being so kind as to share your amazing pieces with us!!!!

*Pretending I have the time to write by eating my lunch in front of the computer* It's called Multi-Tasking

Also, I've had a hard time with this prompt because it feels like it's skirting along the line of suggestiveness, or is that just me being weird?

Going back in time...

"Stay," a voice whispers as you get up, warm lips pressed against the shell of your ear. "I'll get your drink."

"If only you'd listen to someone else like that," your best friend scoffs the moment you're seated again.

"Hah?" You ask, hackles rising.

"You know exactly what I'm referring to," Mina scoffs yet again, staring you down. Or at least, she's trying.

Your best friend of almost twenty years might just be as bossy as you are, but that doesn't mean you bow to her whims. Like she'd do it for you...

"What are we talking about?" Kirishima leans in, propping his head on his girlfriend's shoulder.

"How my best friend in the world does not listen to me." Mina points one pointy nail at you. "Especially considering I'm the one planning her surprise party."

"Please," you scoff, "like it could have been a surprise. You could never keep a secret from me. I'm just taking care of it."

"Bakugo!" Mina calls for the kitchen where your fiancé went seconds ago to get you another drink. "Help me here! Your fiancée's still trying to weasel her way into planning her own surprise party."

"Like hell, I'm helping you," Bakugo scoffs, looking down his nose at her. "And if my Baby doesn't trust your taste, I fully trust hers." He leans down to kiss you, pressing the glass into your hands.

"But I'm getting the flowers tomorrow."

"But-" You try to intervene but one look from him has you silent.

"See!" Mina asks Kirishima, pointing at the two of you. "One look and she shuts up. It never works when I do it."

"Yeah, but it's Bakugo," Kirishima offers like it's all the explanation needed.

-

"Do you ever listen to somebody?" Bakugo asks, raspy morning voice cutting through the Silence. You barely keep yourself from flinching, but the smirk on his lips tells you that he noticed. It seems he loves surprising you the most, mainly because you pride yourself in not getting surprised.

"I listen to a lot of people," you claim as you return to checking the Buffet table. You'd asked for Vegan Options and an egg-free dessert for the new secretary. Sweet-tooth, but highly allergic. It happens.

"You hear them," he says, "but you don't listen. Because I definitely heard Yukon tell you that he had the Buffet under control yet you're checking his work."

"And rightly so," you point out. "We're missing the egg-free dessert option."

"So?"

"So? I asked for it. He said he'd get it done. Do I have to do everything myself here? Apparently so."

"Sit down," he orders calmly, and you'd maybe wonder about his lack of temper had you not experienced him being like that around you for the last three years. Apparently, Bakugo turns into the chillest little prankster you could think of, but only around you. "I'll get it done."

You want to say something, but you decide against it. You've seen Bakugo deal with other stuff before, stuff that was definitely more important than getting an egg-free dessert for the new secretary. You know he can get this done.

"Fine," you huff, "But make it quick. I still need to go over the new recruits with you."

"Have I ever kept you waiting?" He asks as he turns away, leaving you flustered.

-

"Maybe we should appoint her for Class President," Sato offers quietly, but not quietly enough. "She's managed to talk Mina down in less than five seconds and it doesn't look like she takes shit from anyone."

"The title of Class President is-"

A loud boom interrupts whatever Iida has tried to say. When the smoke clears, there's only a small force field keeping Bakugo from strangling Kaminari, who looks a lot less frightened than anyone in his position should be.

"Calm down, will you?" You ask, looking down at Bakugo from where you're standing. Keeping up the force field is taking its toll, but you'd rather puke than admit to it. Not in front of Bakugo at least. "Aren't you better than that?"

Surprisingly, that seems to work. He calms down quickly, leaning back in his chair with a scoff. "True." He says, but his blood-red eyes don't leave you. It feels like a Challenge. One you're not sure you'll win.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: I'm so fuckin' pissed at Tumblr right now. I had everything all done and the fucking thing wouldn't post. So, here's the bare bones of what I had.

MDNI UNDER THE CUT

THIS IS SMUTTY AND FLUFFY. IT'S FLUT. PLEASE JOIN ME IN ADDING THIS TO THE READILY AVAILABLE TAGS.

I LOVE THIS MAN. I NEED THIS MAN IN SO MANY WAYS I'VE LOST COUNT.

PLEASE ENJOY THIS. GIVE KAFKA THE LOVE HE DESERVES.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING.

WC ::: JUST OVER 800.

"Ay-yo! Just what do you think you're doing? Mm, miss? I don't think my lady would appreciate you grabbing my ass like that. Especially since she's not around to defend what's hers." Kafka batted your hand away from his chest after you lightly smacked his cute little butt. 

"Oh hush. If your 'lady' had any clue as to just how much of a stud muffin you are, she'd never take her sights off of that sexy dad bod you've got going on here." You climbed into the shower and stood behind him, pressing your still dry breasts against his soaking back. 

"D-dad bod? But I - we - there are no kids. I don't have kids. I - we haven't even talked about having kids." He sounded like he was starting to panic. 

"Calm down. Calm ..." You ran your hands from the fronts of his shoulders down his chest and lightly scratched his upper thighs with your nails, "down."

You felt him tense up beneath your fingertips before he pushed your hands away and turned to face you. 

"Look, Miss...?" He backed you up against the shower wall and pressed his erection to your own cute, pudgy belly. "Eh, y'name's not important. I'll forget it anyway because my heart belongs to another. But I'm gonna make damn sure you never forget who I am." 

Kafka grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head and he held them there with one hand. His other hand traced the swell of the outline of your left breast. 

"Keep your hands there. Don't move them until I tell you to do so. Understood? Miss?" He was speaking so closely to your ear that you could feel the breath behind his words. 

You nodded, looking a little taken aback by his behavior. 

He grabbed your right thigh with his hand and hiked your leg up over his hip and pressed into you. You felt everything. 

Kafka slid his hand from your thigh to your backside and lifted your other leg up to wrap around his waist. He slowly lowered you onto his cock, watching your face all the while.

"Miss, you're so tight. Can't say I've ever experienced anything quite like this before. Damn, heh."

You gasped as he fully buried himself inside of you. The warm water was making the entire experience even more enjoyable.

"I told you not to move, Miss. What part of that didn't you understand?" He growled at you.

Kafka shifted his hips and thrust himself into you with such force that you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. His hands gripped your backside so tightly that you were sure he was going to leave bruises.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, trying to free your hands from his grip.

"Ah, ah, ah. No. You stay right there." He bit down on your shoulder, drawing a moan from you.

Kafka continued to slam into you, and you could feel yourself starting to tremble from the intensity everything.

"K-Kafka! I-I'm gonna ... oh shit! Oh my god!" You tried to pull your arms away from him, but he wouldn't let go.

"Hold it. Not yet." He moved his hips in a circular motion, grinding into you.

"Please! Please, Kafka! Let me cum! Please!" You begged him.

"Alright. Go ahead, Miss. Cum for me." He released your wrists and held on to your hips with both hands, pushing himself deeper and deeper into you.

You dug your nails into his back and screamed his name as you finally released the tension that had been building inside of you.

"Ah, hah hah hah! Fuck, Kafka! Fuck!" You continued to moan as he slowed down his pace and gently slid out of you.

"That's it, Miss. That's a good girl." He groaned as he reached his own orgasm. You could feel him cum hard inside of you. Your walls pulsating around his throbbing dick. 

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, kissing your neck and shoulders. "Was that too rough? I didn't hurt you, did I, kitten?" 

You were still trying to catch your breath. But you smiled and shook your head no, "Mm - Kafka, that was so hot. And where did you get the idea to call me 'Miss?'" You found yourself blushing, even after all of that you two just did. 

"Mm-mm-mm. Jus' came to me. You uh, you liked it, huh?" 

"Kafka, you were amazing." You pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes. "You are amazing."

He smiled and kissed you on the lips and gave your butt a playful smack.

You reached for the body wash and started to soap yourself up.

"I don't know about that, Miss. There's something about you that I find strangely irresistible." He winked at you.

"You are talking about me, right? You must be crazy." You teased him.

"Nah, just crazy happy." 

@supersecretsaga @kazutora-kurokawa @southside-otaku

@darkstarlight82 @bakubunny @arlerts-angel

@reiners-milkbiddies @trevengersprincess @katkusuo

@viburnt

[cod-dump]

I come back with another TV series quote, Stranger Things addition. I've been seeing all these posts about how done Gaz is with Soap and Ghost, so I thought I'd contribute.

Ghost, driving to the rendezvous point: *Arguing with Soap* What are you gonna do, walk to the extraction point?

Soap: I will do anything if it gets me a way from you!

Gaz, very tired and very done with this bullshit: Children! Children! Children! This interminable bickering was amusing at first, but it's getting stale, and we've got a long drive ahead of us.

Gaz: So why don't you two cut the horseshit and get to the part where you admit your sexual feelings for one another.

Ghost, almost stearing into a ditch: Woah!

Soap: You are way off base, buddy!

Gaz: Oh, spare me, spare me, spare me! *Leans into the middle concel, looking at Soap*

Gaz: Yes, yes, hes a brute. I know. Probably reminds you of a bad relationship, and gosh, you'd really like a nice man to settle down with, but admit it, you're real curious to know what he's like I'm the sack!

Gaz, turning to Ghost: And you! Hah! Well, you're just a big man baby who'd rather act tough than show his true feelings because the last time you opened your heart, you got hurt. Owie.

Gaz: And now, rather than admit these feelings, you're dancing around one another with this mind-numbing and frankly borish mating ritual. So please, for my sake, either quit

Gaz: Or pull over, tear off those clothes, and get it over with!

Ghost and Soap: *Silence*

There was a period after all that was said that Gaz was sure that he was dead.

The silence was loud, suffocating. Nothing was said for several minutes and that gave Gaz plenty of time to think about what exactly he had said and to who. He’s known Ghost longer, he knows how he feels about being confronted with his emotions, his humanity. Gaz felt comfortable with Soap but he knew the man sometimes had a explosive temper. So the silence, the silence that would not exist if it was just one of the men instead of both, was very nerve racking.

The fact nothing was said the rest of the drive said far too much, that Gaz said too much.

They made it to the extraction point where Nik was waiting. Again, nothing was said that was strictly business on the flight back. It was obvious that Nik picked up on the tension and quickly figured it stemmed from Gaz. Man had always been observant so Gaz was hoping he could rely on him for protection if it came to that.

They made it back to base and thankfully Price was there, waiting for them in a professional yet relaxed pose. Silently, the three climbed out and Gaz hung back to avoid walking between the all too quiet Soap and Ghost. He felt Nik’s gaze on him and then Price’s, the man quickly picking up on whatever Nik and felt/seen. Fortunately the man didn’t say anything about it and just walked them inside to debrief.

Everything after that point would just be too quiet. Even with the regular chatter of the soldiers, everyone moving and working as normal, it was too fucking quiet. Soap and Ghost went their separate ways after the debriefing and just disappeared all together after that. Gaz was terrified to go to his office or room so he chose to stick next to Price.

“Sergeant… dare I ask what the hell happened on that mission?”

Gaz just sat silently next to him, eyes flickering to the door of the room, as if expecting someone to come barging in and attack him. That might’ve been Soap’s approach, Gaz has never seen Ghost go in guns blasting unless there was no other option.

“More like what happened afterward… I think they’re going to kill me.”

“Why would you think that?”

Price was definitely showing more interest in whatever was going on with Gaz over the paperwork before him. Man loved to hear gossip even though he would rather eat straight coffee grounds than admit it.

“May have overstepped with Soap and Ghost.”

Price was laser focused on him and it made Gaz shudder. He tried to avoid looking at his captain and just focus on the door completely. Gaz knew he couldn’t beat around the bush forever (Price would beat him if he did) so he just took a deep breath and told him everything. He explained their argument, what lead to it, and what Gaz had said to them on the car ride to the extraction point. Gaz took a breath after the final word, leaning over the table and closing his eyes to avoid looking or perceiving anything.

Price laughed loudly and Gaz just hunkered down more. Price tried to say something throughout his fit of uncontrollable laughing fit but was simply unable to get anything out. Price wasn’t the type to laugh at someone’s misery (though it has happened) so Gaz was hoping the situation was just too ridiculous and Gaz’s worry was purely irrational.

Finally, after Price laughing long and hard enough for him to be out of breath, the man calmed and pat Gaz’s shoulder.

“I wish I could’ve been there!”

“Cap-“

“You’re fine, Kyle. They’re not going to do shit.”

Gaz relaxed at Price’s certainty. Price was right, he was fine.

Gaz would stay fine until the next day early in the morning. He would be at breakfast in the mess, attempting to chase away the grogginess with coffee when he noticed someone sit at the table he was at.

“Hey, Gaz. How’d you sleep?”

Gaz was surprised to hear it was Soap, “Fine. You losing your voice, mate? Sound like- OH MY GOD-“

Gaz had opened his eyes to see Soap and the absolute murder scene that was his neck. It looked like someone strangled him then bit him to hell and back. Gaz gawked, Soap avoiding looking him in the eye like he was Medusa. Gaz struggled to say something, anything.

“What the fuck happened to you?!”

Soap was red in the face, turning his upper body away from Gaz. Gaz was going to push more but then Soap muttered, face practically on fire.

“Had a… ‘talk’ with Ghost about our feelings yesterday.”

Gaz gasped louder than what others would’ve deemed necessary, but to him it was very necessary. Soap decided to leave quickly, Gaz just staring after him with his jaw hanging open. Soap disappeared out of the mess and Gaz didn’t know what to do other than grab his phone and immediately text Price what he had just learned and seen.