#about high school as a liminal space

[usuimisaki]

Why do I like reading shoujo so much?

My first reaction is to deflect. That’s how society is. Adults write and write sordid stories about teenagers all the time, a la Gossip Girl and Euphoria. Furthermore, we live in a man’s world, and men gobble up stuff which is ostensibly for boys: superheroes and their ilk. But when women fangirl over stuff ostensibly for girls we’re belittled for being juvenile.

Even if it’s not an unusual problem, it still begs the question why. Why is the world so preoccupied with youth to the point that they have characters who are literal minors? I’ve actually read and enjoyed multiple josei works, but they’ve never inspired the type of hyperfixation that shoujo manga has inspired. Josei and seinen are complex and messy. I accept that messiness. But with shoujo like KWMS and GSNK things are simpler. There’s more room to play. The characters, no matter how developed, are still literally undeveloped. This can inspire future fic of what the characters will be like as adults. It also makes them more malleable. High schoolers exist in a liminal space. They can go anywhere, be anything. They have choices and the freedom to take those choices in hand.

Adult manga (not sexually explicit, but dealing with adulthood) is about limits. The characters are getting old. They’re leaving dreams behind. They’re settling in their careers or accepting that their relationships aren’t ideal. They’re compromising—because reality. Besides romance and friends, they also have to deal with a job and taking care of their parents and/or taking care of kids. I love these kinds of stories because they are a mirror of my own life, or things that I can realistically imagine having to deal with.

My high school days are behind me, and I have to say, I didn’t enjoy them that much. The teenage dramas I read about are less a reminder of my high school days than a high school fantasy—one where school is more of a background than a concern and parents hardly even make an appearance.

Contrast this to office worker josei. Even the most sexually explicit manga where you’d think the office space is just a convenient setting always has some office drama which is ultimately about worker competency. Love is Hard for Otaku is mostly about dating and being an otaku, but fitting into office culture and being competent at your job is inseparable part of it as well.

KWMS is actually fairly complex for shoujo. It acknowledges that some students have financial difficulties and it has Misaki compete with Usui academically and studying for college entrance exams is a big plot line, but most of the time she’s more concerned about school council activities in a hyperbolic manner. And despite the series being about the contrast between being a school president and a maid, more of the storylines center on her part-time job at the maid cafe. She enters into a relationship with a rich foreigner with a tragic backstory which causes them to have to endure a long-distance relationship. But somehow they overcome all of that. And Misaki’s family’s dire financial straits get resolved even before she marries into the .01%.

GSNK though? Those kids must all be frickin’ rich. They never seem to have any concerns about having money to go out to a cafe, buy manga, or buy clothes. Kashima is the only one with a job, and she’s probably just working there because the cafe needs staff. There’s maybe one chapter where three not-so-great students try to study together with poor results—but since these students aren’t very academically focused, it’s just played off for laughs. The best student (Kashima) also has some of the least common sense. The one with the actual least common sense (Wakamatsu) is the second best student out of the cast. The only time we’ve seen parents are when it was played for laughs how Nozaki could live away from home because 1) he had his own money and 2) he knew how to cook, though he was lacking in 3) romantic experience.

Shoujo is about the possibility of love, and that when you do fall in love, that it’s going to last a lifetime. It’s about one true pairings.

Josei is about navigating new relationships with the scars of your previous relationships. One of my favorite josei series, Kimi was Petto, is all about that. It’s about the uncertainty that the relationship you’re in is good enough to stand the test of time, the realities of finances, career, social pressure, familial acceptance, and sense of self.

Shoujo hardly ever touches on those topics, preferring to create a love triangle for manufactured conflict. Again, KWMS is a bit of an exception. There’s definitely the love triangle aspect because you need to look at the different possibilities without, like, having had those other possibilities, but it does at least address class differences and different family culture and how that can lead to social pressure for college and career paths (which is why Usui goes to college in the UK and Misaki feels like she needs to get into a more competitive college). In the meantime, Tsubaki-sensei has acknowledged her fans’ with for an endless summer, so that Hori will never graduate and go to college—which is kind of odd, considering that there’s a college so local that they work at the same cafe as Kashima. But still, if Hori were to be a college student, then he wouldn’t haunt the hallways of Roman Academy or be able to interact with Kashima in drama club.

So let’s get to the gist of it. Why do I write smut with high school characters. Well, I love these characters. And they’re in high school. And I’m a sucker for canon. So it makes sense to set these sex scenes in high school. It’s not that I’ve never aged up these characters, but when I do I run into problems, like the fact that Misaki and Usui don’t live in same country. Or that Hori and Kashima are actually dealing with some actual drama about their future careers and how to define a relationship. Or they have kids, which are a huge impediment to having sex.

I recently read about centering lives around friendship instead of romantic relationships, and what it is that creates barriers for friendships, platonic or not. You need to have time and a shared space and touch. Two of the three are really easy to come by in school, where you don’t just spend 8 hours a day kind of goofing off on your parents’ dime, but you also live close together. Not to dismiss the huge pressure some students have to study and get into an elite college, but you do have more free time on your hands as a student, just because you don’t have to spend that time paying bills or cleaning your own house. I really don’t know how Nozaki does it.

[birlwrites]

How goes Bloodfinch! Are you at the stage of writing parts yet? Is there a particular area of writing (dialogue, point of view etc) that's particularly fun with it?

And another hopefully answerable but somewhat generic question (to give you the power of surprise yet if you want it!): what person and tense have you gone for? or have you varied it according to a pattern of your own design?

If there's stuff to say about the process of writing concerning what brings you joy (and not further worldbuilding/plot details necessarily that I'm sure time will reveal) it'd be interesting to hear it!

Also, as a side note, you said you very much identified with the sliding meme of your opinion on your skills varying. Hence, I desire to communicate that I think you're consistently brilliant! I am curious why you feel that way though, as I was shocked it was somewhat widespread (I have days where things don't go so well writing, naturally as consistency isn't quite how it works as an area, but find my faith in my skills is rather solid and veers only between "I'm fine at it I suppose?" to "oh yes, it's an area of skills I've worked on that I'm good at" with more sporadic bursts of "I'm a genius! I'm so great at this!" never reaching more despairing "I'm hopeless, utterly hopeless").

it goes well!!! i'm having fun!!! i'm nearing 2.5k now - i had a longer draft, but had to frog that since i decided to start the story in a different place. i'll probably grab and reuse snippets of it later on though. and the outline is complete!! i'm hoping that it'll be similar to lachrimae in terms of time it'll take me to write, although unlike lachrimae i'll then do at least one round of editing once i have a full draft, plus then i'll need to do like. layouts and get cover art and stuff

finch, the pov character, is a singer, and i'm having a WILD time being able to write a very highly trained singer - her tutor (dulceis) definitely has. some traits in common with. certain singing teachers i've had. just wrote a line about dulceis standing on the opposite side of the room from finch yelling 'WHERE ARE YOUR CONSONANTS I CAN'T FIND THEM' and. yes

it's first person present tense and it'll stick to that - normally i'm a third person present tense writer by default, but i'm going for first person here because a) we are VERY deep inside finch's head and b) that was the best way for me to make clear that despite her calling herself finch, that's not what other people call her

i also just created yet another saint today, the sea-saint, who's associated with the sea (duh) and those who make their living from the ocean (sailors, fishers, etc), AND ALSO rhetoric, poetry, and all of the word-arts. the sea-saint is associated with fluidity (duh), impermanence, but also a certain type of control - navigating uncertainty. there is a story about the sea-saint calming choppy waters just by speaking to them and persuading them to settle. they're represented with a wave, a seashell, or a siren (this tends to be the less positive side of the saint, representing fickleness, hunger, and misleading appearances)

oh and i also just wrote up a little story about the origins of bloodfinches, because i was going to type up my handwritten notes but writing up notes was boring and writing up a story that conveyed the same information was far more interesting - so perhaps i'll post that! in a different post though, so it can just be its own thing instead of being buried in this response

naturally from finch's pov i also get to go wild with the auditory imagery which is fantastic, and i'm also having a great time with introducing original characters - even though i work with very, very, very, very, VERY minor characters in hp fanfiction, so minor that in many cases i am inventing characterization out of wholecloth, people still already have certain impressions about characters' appearances, personalities, and general vibes. that is not at all the case with completely original characters and figuring out how to introduce them and convey impressions of them is SO MUCH FUN i forgot how fun it was

i think that the reason my perception of my own writing tends to swing back and forth wildly is because i associate it with ease. words are flowing? plot details are blooming? everything feels great! but if i am not living up to my own expectations, if trying to write feels like banging my head against a wall, or if a scene isn't coming out the way i imagined it and i don't know what the problem is, or i DO know what the problem is and it's going to be a shitload of work to fix, or if it's not connecting with readers the way i thought it would, then i do have a tendency to spiral

logically, i am a fairly confident writer, but emotionally, i'm of course more inconsistent, and emotions tend to rule the day when it comes to how i'm feeling about my skills at any given moment. fortunately, i'm at least aware of that, and i know that feeling like it's hopeless means a) it's not actually hopeless, my brain just likes to latch onto worst-case scenarios, and b) it is well past time for a break

a central issue here is that i often expect very high levels of productivity from myself, and so then even if i know it's time for a break, i then am fighting a separate battle in which i have to convince my brain not to beat me up over needing Break Time, and it all leads to me staring at the wall wishing i could put my brain in a washing machine

[majorbaby]

2ne (dune 2) was good. power corrupts, family corrupts, religion corrupts.

[ckret2]

So y'all know the Gravity Falls production bible that leaked three weeks ago. Someone in one of my discord servers pointed this out:

And, naturally, that spawned an entire AU.

AU Concept: Ford was kicked out instead of Stan and takes a job as a trucker to makes ends meet since he couldn't go to college, while still studying the weird and anomalous however he can.

Ford driving around from quirky small town to quirky small town, drifting through the liminal spaces of truck stops, meeting odd people in isolated diners, seeing strange things out on the road—a deer with too many eyes bounding across a two-lane highway, a flirty woman at a rest stop who doesn't blink or breathe, mysterious lights in the sky at night, inhuman growls on the CB or 50-year-old broadcasts on the radio—and taking notes when he stops for gas or food.

Aside from having gotten kicked out before graduating high school, Ford's the same person he is in canon.

He's still an ambitious guy, and here "ambitious" means working hard and saving as much money as he can—so, a long haul owner-operator who spends weeks at a time on the road. (He goes through a LOT of educational audiobooks.) Plus, this is the easiest way for him to get to travel the country; and since it looks like his "travel the world" dreams with Stan are dead, he'll take what he can get.

Since he's never in the same spot long and carries his life in a truck, almost all of Ford's research is in his journal. His bag of investigation supplies has an instant camera, a portable tape recorder, a thermometer, a flashlight, rubber gloves, and a few zip lock bags—and that's about it. It has to share space with all his clothes, toiletries, and nonperishable food when he's on the road. He doesn't have much opportunity to closely examine anything odd he finds, unless he's lucky enough to run into something when he can stop for the night. He has to cram his paranormal research around the side of his full-time job.

He doesn't live in Gravity Falls, but he knows it exists. Every time he moves—to Chicago, to Nebraska, to California—he seems to inch closer. He currently lives in Portland and usually hauls loads between the Pacific Northwest and Chicago or New York. He stops at the truck stop outside Gravity Falls when he can and has gone fishing in town a few times. He doesn't have the benefit of extensive research to know that this is the weirdest town in the world; but it seems pretty weird to him, there are local rumors about the town, and he's had some weird experiences in the area.

Plus, he can't explain it, but it's like the town's calling to him. He wants to move there, but it'd put him over an hour outside of Portland where the nearest jobs are. Maybe if somebody chucked him like $100k to build a cabin in the woods; but what are the odds of that?

He does know Fiddleford. Truck broke down somewhere and Fiddleford kindly pulled over to fix it on the fly. They looked at each other, had mutual knee-jerk "dumb trucker/hillbilly" reactions, and within ten minutes both went "oh wait you're the most brilliant genius i've ever met." Fiddleford's living the same life he was in canon before Ford called him to Gravity Falls—with his family in California, trying to start a computer company out of his garage—but they make friends and keep in contact.

One time Ford stops at a kitschy roadside knickknack store that also sells new agey magic things—crystals, tarot cards, incense, etc. He bought a "lucky" rearview mirror ornament that looks like an Eye of Providence in a top hat and hung it from his cab fan, and ever since then he's had weird dreams whenever he sleeps in his truck.

Things I don't know yet: what Stan's up to; or why Ford's the one who got kicked out. I tend to believe that in canon Stan wasn't just kicked out because he ruined Ford's college prospects, but rather because the family thought he deliberately sabotaged Ford; so in this AU, Ford would've been kicked out over a proportionate crime.

[floralcyanide]

𝟑𝟎,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

jackson rippner x f!reader

Usually, airports were the bane of your existence due to your career and the constant requirement to travel. But when you stumble upon a handsome man at the airport bar, your disdain for flying seems to change.

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, public sex, mile-high shenanigans

word count: 2780

author’s note: not proofread again lulz but when do I ever?? anyway I got a request for this and had to write it right away because I love jackson sm omg. please lmk if you enjoyed and send some feedback <3

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You wouldn’t mind it if you didn’t have to step foot inside another airport for the rest of your life.

Unfortunately, your career requires you to travel every month, so your escape from airports will have to wait. You doubt there’s anything that will make your experiences with the liminal spaces any brighter or more profound- you doubt there’s anything that would make them even a smidge exciting. But, who knows, maybe one day you’ll eat your words. So, until then, you’ll fast-walk through airports and terminals with your carry-on with the deepest resting bitch face you can conjure up. And it appears that today will be yet another day that you muster up one.

Deciding to hit the best bar in the DFW airport during your routine TSA spiel, you weave around the other flyers in the corridors in a hurry. Even if your red eye flight has been delayed about two hours, you figure two hours in an airport could be better spent drinking. After scouring the entire airport numerous times on each trip you’ve taken from DFW, you finally settled upon a corner bar near your gate. After passing by it a few times, you decided to give it a chance. Its appearance is initially off-putting- it is dark and moody. Still, it had an oddly comfortable atmosphere and good drinks, obviously. You stroll up to the bar, smiling and nodding to the bartender you’ve come to know here. Going to sit in your usual booth, you discover there’s someone already seated there.

“If this were middle school, I’d tell you this is my spot,” you joke as you approach the man, whose face is covered by his long bangs.

A pair of sharp blue eyes glance up at you from their place on the cocktail menu in his large hands, and a sweet smile graces his lips when he looks you over, “I certainly apologize for stealing your spot. Care to join me? I can buy you a drink to make up for it.”

You give him a questioning look, half-joking with your tone, “What’s in it for me?”

“A free drink and your spot back,” the man says haughtily, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Deal,” you reach a hand out for him to shake.

“Deal,” the man says, accepting your hand and shaking it firmly.

You slide into the booth, sizing the man up, “What’s your name?”

“Jackson,” the man says, his eyes nearly piercings into yours, “Jackson Rippner.”

“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows, suppressing a giggle, “your parents must hate you.”

Jackson laughs, shrugging, “Yeah, you could say that. But you can’t hate anyone if you’re dead.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry-”

“No need. Finished them off myself,” Jackson says, deadpanning.

You pause before laughing at his joke, “Gotcha.”

“So, what’s your drink of choice?” Jackson asks, changing the subject lightly.

“Hmm, I don’t think I’ll tell you just yet,” you let your eyes roam everywhere but Jackson’s face until you land your gaze back on him.

“You want me to guess, then?” Jackson asks, “I’m good at that, actually.”

“Oh, really? Prove it, then,” you say with a playful edge to your tone.

Jackson puckers his lips, furrowing his eyebrows in thought, “I’m thinking white liquor,” he trails off, “Maybe vodka, something fruity but not too skimpy.”

“You’re close, but not quite,” you bite your lip.

“I think you’re the type to have a classic no one considers.”

“Which is?”

“Dirty Shirley,” Jackson snaps his fingers, pointing at you confidently.

“Nope,” you say, grinning, “Just a vodka and Sprite for me.”

“Ah, but I was close.”

“Yes, you were very close,” you say, having the urge to flirt with this man you don’t even know.

“I’ll go grab that for you,” Jackson says, getting up out of the booth and heading to the bar.

While he’s gone, you rummage through your bag for a perfume roller, quickly rubbing some on your pulse points. Then, you unbutton the first two buttons of your blouse, revealing your cleavage just enough to be subtle. Turning around for a second, you see Jackson heading back to the booth, and you brush yourself off before slipping the perfume back into your bag.

“A vodka and Sprite for the pretty lady,” Jackson places your drink down in front of you before returning to his spot across from you.

“‘Pretty lady,’ huh?” you raise an eyebrow, taking the two black straws into your mouth.

“What can I say?” Jackson raises his hands in defense, “You are a pretty little thing. I’m glad I sat in your spot.”

“Oh,” you say, trying not to let your face heat up at the compliment, “Well, I’m glad too.”

The both of you silently sip your drinks after that, sharing fleeting glances while giggling. You decide to be cheeky, slipping off one of your heels and running your foot underneath Jackson’s pant leg. You nonchalantly look around the bar, chewing on your straw as if you weren’t up to anything. Jackson is staring right at you with a smirk as his eyes stare holes into your off-cast ones. 

“Feeling a little naughty, are we?” Jackson whispers, just loud enough to hear over the music.

You move your eyes toward him, “How do you mean?”

“I see,” Jackson looks down at the remainder of his second drink, “You wanna play like that, huh?”

“Play like what?” you challenge him, pushing your foot farther up his leg, now going over his pants and toward his thigh.

Jackson chuckles, about to say something, but he’s interrupted by the airport intercom. Your flight is a few minutes from boarding.

“Oh, that’s me,” you frown, downing the rest of your second vodka and Sprite before looking at Jackson, “What do I owe you?”

“For the drinks? Nothing,” Jackson licks his lips, “But for the teasing? We’ll have to see about that.”

“Oh really?” you ask, your heart rate now picking up at the obvious flirting.

“Really.”

“And what will you do about it?” you daringly ask.

“Well, we are on the same flight,” Jackson says, “So we’ll have to see.”

The two of you head over to the gate, getting in line to board. You boredly flip through a book your friend suggested for you to read on the flight. Jackson takes notice of this.

“Bookworm? Didn’t pick that up about you,” Jackson asks, rolling back and forth on his heels and toes. 

“Depends on the book,” you say, pursing your lips as you skim over the words, “Don’t think I’m a fan of this one, though.”

“That’s a shame. Any ideas of what you’re gonna do on the flight?” Jackson inquires, a flirty undertone in his question.

“Hmm,” you wonder, “Probably sleep. Unless I find something else to do.”

“Ah,” Jackson nods, “Hopefully, you will.”

“Hopefully,” you chuckle.

You and Jackson get separated during boarding, but you do a double-take when you arrive at your seat.

“Are you in the right seat?” you ask.

A familiar pair of striking eyes look up from a book to meet yours, “Did I steal your spot again?”

“No,” you shake your head, laughing, “I’m seat fifteen B.”

“And I’m fourteen B,” Jackson closes his book.

“Interesting,” you say, “Small world, huh?”

“Small indeed,” Jackson exhales, about to say something, until a lady a few rows down asks for help with her carry-on.

You move to the side, allowing Jackson to scoot by you. As he does, he puts a gentle hand on your waist, sending goosebumps up your spine. You watch as he helps the lady, and you try not to laugh when she tries flirting with him. Jackson returns to the row, moving past you again and plopping into his seat. 

“I know we talked for what, two hours? But I never asked, why are you headed to Miami? Work or play?” Jackson asks, buckling his seatbelt as the flight attendants announce preparation for take-off.

“Work, unfortunately. I take this trip often, red eye and everything,” you say, resting your head on the headrest behind you.

Jackson nods, “I’m here for work too. I hate flying, not going to lie.”

“Me too,” you grumble, “I hate everything about flying, including the airport and everything that comes with it.”

“Everything?” Jackson presses jokingly.

“Well, today was different. I actually had a nice time at the airport, especially since I got to meet you,” you say, keeping your eyes on the flight attendant as she goes over the safety precautions and flotation devices under the seats. 

“Good to know,” Jackson says, placing a hand on your knee.

You look at his hand, feeling very warm all over. The plane begins to speed up and ascend, and you relax in your seat, Jackson’s hand still on your knee. His nose is in his book as you try your best to read your friend’s book suggestion. When the plane finally reaches 30,000 feet, the seatbelt light turns off, and the lights dim. Flight attendants offer pillows and blankets, and you take a blanket, tucking your book away and covering yourself with the blanket. You’re on the verge of sleep when you feel Jackson’s hand slide up your thigh. You pretend you’re asleep, not moving or reacting to his touch. His hand is hidden by the blanket, so no one can see his hand move further up, dangerously close to your core. You’re wearing a dress, so there’s easy access. Not that you were complaining that Jackson was touching you. You were feeling him up earlier at the bar, so now it’s his turn. 

Jackson sneaks his hand back down your thigh and over your dress, slowly making his way over your hip and waist, up to your clothed breast. The blanket‘s hem was tucked behind your shoulders, covering up your entire body, so no one could see Jackson’s hand crawl underneath your dress again. This time, to squeeze at your breast. You try not to move or make a noise as Jackson takes your nipple between his fingers, pinching it lightly. Pretending as if he woke you up, you rouse and sit up straight.

“What are you doing?” you ask, acting as if you were asleep.

“I know you’ve been awake the whole time, sweetheart,” Jackson whispers.

“No, I wasn’t,” you say innocently.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jackson chastises, twisting your nipple harshly.

You bite your lip, muffling a moan. You squeeze your legs together as he continues to tweak the bud. 

“Is this what you want? Hmm? Teasing me earlier with your foot, I figured I’d play with you too.”

Jackson’s hand moves to your other breast, flicking your nipple. His other hand travels under your dress, his fingernails pressing into your skin. You bite your lip to stifle a moan from the sharp sensation on the sensitive skin of your thigh. His fingers ease to your core again, ghosting over your clit as you open your legs.

“Be quiet like a good girl,” Jackson says, eyes darting around to ensure no one is looking despite the lights being off.

You nod as he presses two fingers to your clit, rubbing slow, soft circles. Warmth gradually spreads in your lower belly at the sensation, and you widen your legs further. Jackson pulls his fingers away momentarily to slip them inside your underwear and continue his movements on your bare bundle of nerves. You cover your mouth, exhaling shakily at the stimulation. Jackson slips a finger inside you after playing with you for a while.

“Already so wet?” Jackson teases in your ear, his lips brushing against it.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath.

Jackson slowly pumps his finger in and out, eventually adding a second one. You shutter from the delightful stretch. You look around before subtly jerking your hips forward, riding his fingers.

“Fucking yourself on my fingers so good,” Jackson nibbles at your ear lobe, “Can’t imagine how you’d feel around my cock.”

You bite your knuckle to hold in a desperate whine at his words, “Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what?” Jackson asks, his fingers picking up the pace.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, “Take me to the bathroom and fuck me against the wall.”

“What a brazen little one you are,” Jackson grins, pulling his fingers from you and sucking your arousal off them, “It’s gonna take a little more than that, though.”

You groan at the loss of fullness, “Like what?”

“Beg.”

You pull Jackson’s hand back to your soaking slit, “Please touch me, fuck me, do anything you want to me. Please.”

“Keep going,” he pants, circling your clit with his fingers again.

“Jackson,” you sigh, “God, I need you inside of me. So bad,” you hiss.

“Go,” Jackson whispers, “I’ll meet you there.”

You hurry to pull down your dress, pulling the blanket off you before quietly walking to the bathroom. You check the vacancy before pulling the door open, leaving it unlocked for Jackson. You sit on the toilet, waiting patiently as your pulse thumps in your ears. A few moments pass, and the door opens slightly, revealing Jackson before he slips inside the bathroom. You stand up, but before you open your mouth to say something, he picks you up and presses you against the wall. You wrap your legs around Jackson’s waist, kissing him with a bruising force. Jackson slides his tongue through your lips and into your mouth, exploring it as his hands grip your ass. You reach a hand down and unzip and unbutton Jackson’s pants, your hand snaking past his underwear band and wrapping around his cock. 

“Fuck,” Jackson seethes, already hard from previous events in your seats earlier.

He pushes up the hem of your dress around your hips, pulling your underwear down far enough for him to slowly enter your throbbing core. Both of you gasp at the feeling, hours of pining hitting the climax. You thought Jackson was attractive the moment you laid eyes on him. You aren’t passing up the opportunity to join the mile-high club with such a gorgeous man. Jackson pushes further into you, and you relax more so he can press his hips into yours. Your fingers grasp at his hair as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Your back roughly hits the wall behind you, but it wouldn’t be the last time. You have to hold onto the wall with one hand to not bang into it, your other hand holding onto Jackson’s hair for dear life as he fucks you without mercy. 

“God,” you say, the word drawn out as you and Jackson’s hips slam into each other. 

Jackson covers your mouth as you stare into his blue eyes, now darkened with lust, “Stay quiet.”

You nod, “Mhmm,” you hum from underneath his hand.

Your eyes stay on each other as you move your body forward in time with Jackson, his cock hitting that spot inside you perfectly, sending shockwaves over you. Jackson wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady as his other hand moves between the two of you to rub tight figure 8’s on your bundle of nerves. You squeal, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Jackson continues to fuck into you like you’re a sex object. You feel yourself clenching around him as your orgasm creeps up. You pull on Jackson’s hair harshly, causing him to moan as his hips stutter. You do it again, and he has to bite your neck in order not to moan out loud. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Jackson grunts into your ear, “Huh?”

“Yes,” you gasp, “Fuck yes, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum around my cock, pretty thing.”

Your release smacks you in the face, sending your body reeling as it nearly convulses against the lavatory wall. Jackson cums right after you as the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock sends him over the edge. You milk him for all he’s got, rutting your hips through both of your orgasms. You both catch your breath as Jackson lets your legs collapse back to the floor weakly. He holds you up as you regain your posture.

“I suddenly really like flying now,” you push your hair out of your sweaty face.

“Me too,” Jackson says with an expressionless face, which you match.

Suddenly, both of you burst out laughing but cover your mouths quickly before anyone can hear in the plane. After cleaning yourselves up, you both successfully sneak out of the bathroom and back to your seats, covering up with the blanket.

“Ever barhopped in Miami?” you ask Jackson, trying your best to hold your eyes open.

“Nope. You?’

“Nope. Want to?”

“Absolutely.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER SIX - run, hide, fight

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

Arriving at this new base brings many changes.  Some good, others frustrating.  The best of which being a new phone, wiped clean of anything that could track you, and a new room.

It's a bit bigger, this time.  The bed is less of a cot and more like something you would be given at the residencies you used to find yourself in and out of; and it's quite the relief for your sore back.  There’s enough space to wander and even a desk with a window, overlooking more concrete buildings and bleak snow.  This time, though, you don't let yourself rot between your sheets.  After you get about ten hours of sleep, you get up, get dressed, and become acquainted with the new base.

It's different.  Much, much bigger.  Soldiers of all kinds dart around from several different countries you can't quite pinpoint, and you feel very out of place in hoodies and jeans while everyone else seems to be in some important uniform.  You see Soap in the hallway and briefly come across Laswell just as she arrives to meet Price, but other than that you don't see any of the others often.  They seem content to leave you to your own devices—let you linger with them in the dining hall, squished between Price and Gaz as the others talk.  Occasionally they’d leave the base, leaving you continuously more restless and bored as the days pass and nothing new happens.

This leads you to where you stand now, aimlessly wandering down the barren hallways of the base, late at night.  You had intended to go find something to snack on if the D-fac was still open, but instead you find your curiosity leading you down a dark, liminal hallway you haven’t yet familiarized yourself with.  A few people eye you as you pass, others turning to get a second glance—but you barely pay them any mind.

Eventually, you find yourself in some kind of training room.

It's empty; save for mirrors across the walls and a cushioned floor that sinks below your shoes.  There's a worn punching bag pressed off in the corner and someone's gym bag laying abandoned next to it.  The lights are off, though, and you find yourself staring back at your reflection in the mirror.  The bruises on your eye are beginning to yellow.

Fists clench and unclench; a buzzing, restless energy in your veins.

You glance around and listen back down the hallway, waiting to be seen and reprimanded for being somewhere without clearance.  Footsteps don’t echo down the hall, or talking, or anything of the sort…so, you approach the bag tentatively.

You push it, first, and your brow furrows as you realize it's heavier than you thought.  The recoil nearly sends you flat on your ass and you stumble back a few steps, surprised.  Your hands ball into fists and you land an experimental punch to the object, and you feel the impact down your arm and into your elbow.  A curse leaves your mouth as you shake the ache out of your fist, and the sound echoes slightly in the silent room.

How did they do it?  How did that kid punch you hard enough to leave a bruise, but walk away uninjured?  Was it muscle?  The element of surprise?  What did he have over you that you didn’t?

“Fix your thumb.”

You jump and whip around to face the door.  Ghost is there.

He’s leaning against the side of the doorway, tattooed arms crossed over his chest.  There is a towel over his shoulder and in the light you can see the dark marks of sweat staining the black t-shirt he wears.  You think it's safe to assume he's at least a little bit psychotic, because he's exercising this late at night and still wearing the balaclava.  This time, however, it's hiked up over his nose—revealing where faint scars jut through the blond stubble on his chin.  His expression is neutral, if maybe a little bit annoyed that you’re in the room he was previously using.

His eyes narrow at you and your shoulders straighten. Your fists lower slightly with surprise and initial panic, but it fades a little as you process the command he gives you.

"What?”  You breathe, trying to keep your voice level.

“Fix your thumb,” he says again, cocking his head slightly and gesturing towards you with a gloved hand.  You notice, with slight amusement, that his gloves have a skeletal pattern on them.  “You punch like that, you’ll break it.  Keep it over your other fingers and try again.”

You give him a strange look, confused.  You had expected him to shoo you out, maybe snap at you a little—not give you advice on how to fix yourself. Nevertheless, you do as he says.  You situate your thumbs over your other fingers and punch the bag again.  This time, it doesn’t ache as bad.  You throw a few more punches, and still the punching bag barely moves.

“You’re barely bloody hitting it, kid.”

“Trying,” you huff between hits, frustrated.  “Not exactly buff like you guys.”

“You don’t need to be strong; you just need to be smart.”

You launch your fist again with a grunt, but suddenly he’s got a hand on your arm, stopping you.  Your face whips around to snap at him and he stares back at you with a look of calm resolve.  His eyes are dark behind the smudge of sweat and eye black, and you can almost picture how his face looks, this close.  His hold on your arm tightens and you grimace, flashes of a facial scar and a southern accent cutting through your mind.

“I’m not meant for this,”  you argue. 

“Maybe not,”  he hums in response.  “But you’re not helpless.  Where’s the kid who put up a fight last week?  Who took a chunk out of Soap’s arm?”

“That kid was panicking.”

“That kid was angry,” he presses, nearly interrupting.  “And tired of being pushed around, yeah?”

You’re biting your cheek so hard it hurts, but his words strike a chord within you.  You tilt your head in a nod of agreement, and your fists clench again.  You swallow thickly.

“So tell me how you did it the first time.”

You close your eyes tight, digging deep into your memory of last week.  You barely remember doing it—biting Soap’s arm and kicking free, distracting him long enough to stumble down the steps.  You remember the coppery taste of blood in your mouth, the split second where you nearly gagged from it, how you still taste it in your nightmares and wake up retching from the memory.

“I bit him,” you strain.  “Then I kicked him.”

“Where?”

“In the dick.”

“Always a good option,” Ghost shifts his stance behind you.  “What else could you have done?”

You wrack your thoughts, and it's then you notice his head is above yours, his neck exposed.  You jut your elbow into it and he shifts to stop it.  You gasp, surprised by the sudden movement, and the dog tags around your neck swing in front of your face.  

“Good,” he grunts.  “If it were anyone else that hit would’ve landed.”

You let out a breath.  Your heart slows its incessant thumping as you roll your shoulders and right yourself again, rubbing the sore spot on your collar where he had you restrained.  "Even on Soap?"

"On an off day, maybe."  He responds with a nod, before turning to saunter over to his gym bag.  "Soap's strong---but he's smarter.  To win a fight against him you'd have to catch him off guard."

You scoff, "You're making it sound like he actually plans to fight me."

"Just…hypothetically.  Doesn't have to be Soap.  Him and Graves are a lot alike."

"So I've heard," you mumble, rubbing your sore neck as Ghost throws the gym bag over his shoulder.  He turns to face you one last time with one last word of advice.

"Keep your head on and you'll be fine if anything comes up," he says.  "Run first, hide second, fight as a last resort."

You run a thumb across your red knuckles in thought, your brow furrowed as Ghost gathers his things and leaves without another word.

Run first, hide second, fight third.

His words repeat in your head as you leave the gym to go back to bed, and they continue to echo in your brain throughout the rest of the week.

The strange routine continues.  You find yourself walking to the training room often, finding him there, and letting off some steam for a few hours before returning to bed.  He doesn't ask why you keep coming, and you don't ask why he keeps agreeing to spar with you; you just appear and jump into it.  Sometimes you talk, sometimes you don't, but it isn't really anything substance other than his clipped version of small talk and fighting advice.

You're up in time to meet the others for breakfast in the mornings, so other than a raised eyebrow from Price at the bruises on your knuckles, he doesn't question it.

"Maybe I punch the walls in my sleep," you say with a shrug whenever Soap is the first one to point it out, earning a chuckle from Gaz who sits to your right.  You glance up at Ghost to see his eyes crinkle a little, but he doesn't usually regard you much at the table on a good day, anyway.

"Definitely wouldn't be the weirdest thing," Gaz juts a fork in Soap's direction.  "Pretty sure this bloke's a sleep-wanker."

Soap smacks Gaz's arm and the British soldier chuckles.

“Nah,” Ghost pipes in. “But I did catch 'em sleeping with an AR-15 underneath his pillow like he was gonna kill the fuckin' tooth fairy.” 

Soap begins to defend himself, his mouth full of cold military food. "I was piss drunk.  And it was right after Macarov.  Gimme a break."

"You're piss drunk now, Sergeant."  Price comments.

"M’not drunk.  Hungover."

Gaz leans over slightly to explain, holding a hand to his face as if it was a secret; "he tried out-drinking Ghost last night."

"Really?"  You smile a little over a glass of orange juice.  "And how'd that go over?"

"Bloody hilarious," Ghost interjects, earning a smack to the shoulder from Soap.

You were seeing more and more of what they were like outside the battlefield, now—slowly grasping a hold on their personalities.  They were quite the group whenever they weren’t actively terrifying and you figure, despite how they didn’t seem to agree with your presence at the start, they were starting to warm up to you.

Maybe that was Price's intention, inviting you to meals with the others when you started leaving your room more.

"'Should take the kid, next time," Gaz suggests suddenly, causing your head to perk up again at the same time Soap's does.  "Get 'em off base for a bit."

Price sighs, shaking his head.  "I don't know, Gaz…"

"I'm seventeen," you argue.  "That's technically almost an adult, here."

"Still not old enough to drink."

"Alright, then I won't drink."  You shrug.  "Or start any wars.  Promise."

You think, maybe, they all can read each other's thoughts from the amount of time they spend together—because Price's eyes sweep from Soap, to Ghost, then back to you and Gaz as he takes account of everyone's opinions on the matter.

Then, he lets out a breath, shaking his head.

"Fuckin' hell," he chuckles.  "Alright.  Don't see why not…next time we're out, we'll take you with."

You crack a grateful smile, happy to have something to look forward to after all this chaos is over.  It's short-lived, though, because Soap scoffs—lifting himself from his crossed arms to lean back in the seat.

"Price," he speculates.  "Aren’t they supposed t'be hidin'?”

Something thuds under the table, and by the heated look Soap and Ghost immediately shoot each other, you think it's safe to say Ghost kicked him.  Before you can open your mouth to retort, however, Price beats you to it.

"They've done a damn good enough job of hiding so far, Sergeant."

"They're a kid.  What could they possibly know about anything?"

Your brow furrows.  This time, though, you find your voice.

"The hell did I ever do to you?"  You ask, fists tightening under the table.  "I didn't ask to be here."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly go to bootcamp so that I could babysit some orphan, either."

"MacTavish," Price's tone is thick with the closest thing to anger you've heard from him so far.  "Come off it."

The table is silent.  Ghost sits up straighter in his seat and Gaz clears his throat awkwardly.  You narrow your eyes at Soap, your heart rate beginning to pick up in your chest.  

"Do you have a problem with my dad or something?" You press.  "Because I'm not him."

"Aye, you’re not him, and that’s exactly the fuckin’ problem,”  he retorts quickly, jutting his finger into the wood of the table.  “You’re just his deadbeat, spoiled kid who he left behind after he brough a whole fuckin’ mission.”

Your chair launches backwards when you stand forcefully to your seat, rage running hot in your veins.  Soap seems a little surprised at your sudden outburst—eyebrows raised as he watches you stand.  

“You don’t fucking talk about him,” you all but snarl, hands on the table.  “This isn’t about him.  You didn’t know him, and you don’t know me.”

"Tell 'em, kid," Ghost murmurs, unfazed by your temper.

"Ghost, you're not helping."

"Good."

"You’re right.  We don’t know you.  Which is why we shouldn’t give you special treatment just because you’re some bigwig’s kid,"  Soap stands as well, looming over you.  You hold his gaze as he talks.  "You were bound to get roped into this shit sooner or later, and y'knew that.  S'not the time for you to play the scared-little-kid card.”

“I am not fucking scared.”

“Then why did you run?  Bite me?  Why won’t you hand over the fucking codes?”

Your heart beats wildly in your chest.  Your mouth opens, but you don’t have an answer.  You never had the answers—and you don't have a response.  Instead, you scowl and avert your gaze.

“That’s right.  You’re just some fucking charity case,”  He points a finger into your chest.  "Just the fucking delinquent mutt the C.I.A. dragged in that’s better off back in the system that made you this way.”

Something boils over, then.  Two weeks of fear and uncertainty melting into something like molten lava.  It's wicked and hot and sharp as it floods your chest and moves your muscles before you even have a chance to think clearly.  Before you realize it—your knuckles collide with the side of Soap's cheek with a pain that burns so good it's invigorating.

The table erupts in shouts and curses, and Price grabs your arm.  You try to wretch free, but it's no use, and you're dragged around the corner and out of earshot.  When you finally pull your arm away, he grabs it again, pulling you close so he can whisper.

“The fuck has gotten into you?”  

“Did you not hear any of that?”  You retort.  “You aren’t gonna fucking back me up?!”

“You make it a little hard to when you’re knocking my sergeant’s teeth out, mate.”

You grit your teeth.  “It was long fucking overdue, and you know that.”

Price sighs.  Aggravated, he squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers, shaking his head.  “This was a bad idea…”

“Then let me help!”  You grab his sleeve as he pulls away, desperate.  Now that the words have started, you found it hard to stop them.  “He’s right.  I’m a fucking burden.  I don’t know shit about anything.  Not the fucking codes, not how to fight, how to make bombs or shoot a gun—I’m terrified and I’m useless and I’m fucking tired of it!”

“No.”  Price breathes, meeting your gaze again.  “I made a promise I’d keep you safe.  Keep you out of this.”

“To who?  My dead dad you never met?”  You laugh bitterly through the tears that prick your eyes.  “I have nothing, Price.  I haven’t for years.  And now you guys show up and give me an opportunity to make something of myself and you think I’m just going to be okay with hiding?”

He scowls.  Seeming conflicted, or just trying not to lose his patience and yell at you, he turns away.  You turn to hold his gaze, preventing it.

"Look, you've done a lot for me and I appreciate it.  I do.  But this is the only thing I'm gonna ask of you."

You squeeze the sleeve of his fatigues.

“Let me avenge my dad, Price,”  you’re begging now, looking up at him.  “Please.”

You hold his stare for a while.  Blue eyes soften, just slightly, as he considers your words.  Considers you.  You think, maybe, he might actually look unsure of himself and his next words as he stares at you, and his mouth opens as if he’s about to say something.

Then, the room is engulfed in a red light.  

You yelp at the alarms that sound—latching onto his arm.  John’s head whips around, confused, to the light above the door that flashes red across the room.  You hear footsteps and yelling before Gaz appears in the doorway, eyes wide and out of breath.

“Captain,” he pants.  “We gotta move.  Graves found us.”

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @karurururu @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech @scuftryo @0alk0msan @synthe4u @stunkbiggu @bebobeboben

[wolfjackle-creates]

Emapthy Verse

Part 7

Story Summary: Jazz is struggling as the only liminal in Gotham. Interactions with regular humans just feel so hollow when she's used to the dual sense of language and projected empathy from ghosts and liminals.

But everything changes when she literally runs into another liminal on the way to the library. Maybe she can make this work after all.

Jason just has so many questions.

Parts 1-6

Word Count: 1k

-----

Jason exited the bus at Jazz’s side in Elmerton; it looked like your average small Midwest town. Across the street from the bus station was a cafe and Jazz grinned at him as she took his hand and pulled him over to it.

“I can’t believe we’re almost home! I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.” <excited, happy>

Jason pulled on her hand to bring her closer so he could kiss her cheek. He sent back his own <happy, curious>. “You sure I’m gonna make a good impression?”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Danny will give you a hard time. But that’s just because I’ve dated some real jerks in the past so he automatically doesn’t trust anyone I bring home. His behavior will be a reflection on me, not you.” Her <exacerbation> filled every word.

<concern, righteous anger> “Is there anyone I have to beat up? You know I’m good for it.”

She laughed and projected her <gratitude, amusement, don’t you dare>. “If you even try, I’ll kick you out to spend Thanksgiving at Wayne Manor.”

Jason shuddered. <horror> “Right, no searching out your exes.”

He felt a <delight, good to see you> that felt so different from Jazz that he stopped in his tracks. But Jazz kept hold of his hand and was waving widely with her free hand as she dragged Jason into the cafe. “Angela, Trisha! You’re here!”

Two girls—one with dark brown hair, the other with light brown hair—were waving back just as exuberantly. Both were dressed for the November chill and had rolling suitcases sitting by the corner table they’d taken.

Jason set down their bags against the wall as Jazz ran over to hug them. The strong emotions of <hello, happiness> filled the space. Jason was content to hang back and watch them, a small smile on his face.

Suddenly the lighter haired one broke the hug and spun to face him. “Woah! You just projected? Jazz, where’d you find this guy?”

Jazz grinned and settled back at Jason’s side, sliding an arm around his waist. “Gotham, can you believe it? I was so homesick and needing some good death-talk. I was maybe two weeks away from transferring somewhere that had at least two other Amity Parkers when I literally ran into him outside the public library. Instead I got to stay and got a boyfriend out of it.”

“How could you!” screamed the dark-haired one. But she was projecting <relief, happy-for-you>. “You haven’t talked to us for months! We’ve been worried about you all by yourself. And here you are, just waltzing back with a boyfriend you never bothered to mention.”As she finished, a thread of <frustration> did work itself into her emotions.

Jazz frowned and sent back <I’m sorry>. “Honestly, I wanted to. But Jason here didn’t know anything about liminality. So I didn’t want to talk about him until he got used to that. And my courses have been hell. I’ve so many projects constantly.”

<annoyance, forgiven> “Just don’t forget us again, okay? Hello, Jason. I’m Angela and this is Trisha. We’re both studying at Ohio State. We’re high school friends of Jazz’s.”

Jason shook both their hands. “I’m Jason. Not in school at the moment, but I work odd jobs around Gotham.”

“You should think about enrolling,” commented Jazz. “You’ve mentioned how you wanted to study literature when you were younger.”

Jason grimaced and knew he was failing to hold back his <uncertainty, dread>. “I’d need to finish a GED first. And my jobs are keeping me real busy. Not sure I’d be able to spare the time to go to class.”

Trisha cut through the awkwardness with a laugh and <tired>. “Well, classes are killer. I’m almost regretting going to college right now.”

Jason laughed as well <thanks>. “Honestly, seeing this one”—he nudged Jazz—“and her workload is making me reconsider my former college aspirations.”

“Mr. Baxter isn’t going to be here for another hour,” said Angela. “Get yourselves a drink and something to eat and join us.”

“Has anyone else arrived?” asked Jazz.

“Oh yeah. With your arrival, there’s a good dozen of us in Elmerton right now. No one else from our grade, though.”

Jason kissed Jazz’s temple. “Take a seat; catch up with your friends. I’ll go order us drinks. Any requests?”

Jazz sent him a wave of <gratitude>. “Tea and a scone.”

The barista’s smile was strained when he went up to place their order. But she was professional and only asked what he wanted. Behind him, he could feel the excitement between Jazz and her friends as they began debating Thanksgiving day traditions.

While waiting for their order, he heard the employee whisper to her coworker, “More Amity Parkers.” She used the same tone someone from Metropolis might say “Gothamite” and Jason bristled.

He must’ve let something leak, because Jazz, without turning to look, sent a forceful <don’t>.

Jason rolled his eyes and huffed. <fine>

She reiterated the silent order. Through their silent communication, her conversation with her friends didn’t so much as pause. But the <amusement> from the other two women was quite clear.

The barista who handed him his orders squeaked as she called out his name.

It took all of Jason’s willpower to keep from raising his eyebrow at her and give a simple, “Thanks.” If the muffled laugh from Jazz was anything to go by, though, he wasn’t as successful at holding back the <really?> that he was feeling.

Jazz had told him about Bruce’s visit. Maybe he could learn how to hold back his feelings, too.

But he pushed the thought to the side. For now, he wanted to focus on the upcoming meeting with Jazz’s family. And what better way to practice than by meeting her friends?

He sat down next to his girlfriend and flashed the other girls a smile. “So, do you have any good stories about Jazz from high school?”

They burst out laughing while Jazz feigned offense. Jazz’s friends were more than happy to tell him about the things Jazz and her brother had gotten up to during their high school years.

Jason, in turn, told them about her time in Gotham. Including the time Batman and Nightwing paid her a visit in her dorm room and freaked out her roommate. They thought it was hysterical that Jazz was now in a single because housing had no idea what else to do with her.

The hour wait for their transport passed so much more quickly than Jason had expected.

-----

Hope you guys enjoy this glimpse into Jazz's life beyond just Danny.

Updates will be sporadic, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want to be notified when I do!

[captain-hawks]

[slides you a snack of your choice] you’re my favorite writer on this site fr thank you for hosting such fun sleepovers!! (Smutty or not hehe)

ahem. May I request chifuyu (darling baby boy of ever) and baji + ✨comforting ✨reader after a bad day?

Thank you MWAH!!!

(nonnie you're too sweet thank YOU!!!!<3!!!!!)

keisuke baji x f!reader x chifuyu matsuno

c: 18+ only, smut, fingering, oral sex (f + m receiving), cum swallowing, finger sucking, oral fixation

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — THREESOME EDITION!

Admittedly, this wasn’t quite how you expected the night to pan out when Chifuyu and Baji picked you up earlier, the latter rattling off a string of expletives even after the front door of your cheating boyfriend’s house swung shut with a resounding thud. 

It’s not that you haven’t drunkenly made out with Chifuyu more than a few times—

And you did end up dry humping Baji’s thigh in a closet during a stupid game of seven minutes in heaven once—

But this—

Chifuyu lets out a little groan as your fingers thread through his soft blonde locks, your grip tightening as his mouth closes over your nipple, and your back arches at the vibration against your sensitive, peaked bud.

It was innocent enough, the way the three of you piled into Chifuyu’s bed under a pile of blankets and pillows, the only light in the room the glow from the television sitting atop the dresser. You’d picked up the habit back in high school, when you and Baji would sneak over to Chifuyu’s house late at night. And even now, despite the fact that your best friends share an apartment with a fully functional couch, you still find yourselves here sometimes out of habit.

The boundaries between the three of you have always existed in an odd, liminal space, something you can’t quite define, particularly at times like this when you can feel the protective energy radiating off of both of them in the wake of your messy breakup.

(Baji fucking hated him from the start.)

You could blame it on the sex scene playing out on-screen, the way the heat already simmering between your legs flared white-hot as Baji’s hand accidentally brushed across your breast, a small sound escaping your lips.

You could blame it on your terrible day, the way you felt even needier with the two of them than usual, unable to resist the sudden urge to let your lips press against the side of Chifuyu’s neck as you burrowed against his shoulder.

But there’s no use in turning over the factors of liability in your head, not when this feels so fucking natural—Chifuyu’s thumb gliding gently over the curve of your jaw, a trail of spit hanging between your lips as he pulls back from a deep, messy kiss that’s left you breathless under his touch—

—Baji’s laugh, somehow both soft and rough, as you exhale a stutter of embarrassment over the less than flattering underwear his fingers are currently hooked in on either side of your hips, your shorts long-since discarded at the edge of the bed.

(The unbothered, somehow fucking endearing look on his face as he slides them down your thighs, looking downright mischievous as he pockets them.)

“Gonna jerk off with those later, Keisuke?” you ask, though it comes out less teasing and more breathless as Chifuyu’s lips return to your nipple, mouth sucking at the pert bud like he’d drink from it if he could. 

“Probably,” he winks, and you can’t deny the heat that flares in your gut at the mental image of the green fabric wrapped around his fingers as he strokes his cock.

“Worry about him later,” Chifuyu murmurs, lips blazing an open-mouthed trail up your sternum and across your collarbone. “We’re gonna make you feel good right now.”

Baji lays his hand flat atop your abdomen, slowly trailing it downward between your spread legs, his middle finger catching against your clit and gliding through the gap between your slick, dripping folds.

“I don’t like seeing you sad,” Baji says, one of his sharp incisors gently pressing against your skin as he leans his head in to mouth at your inner thigh. “We should’ve started doing this a long time ago, then maybe you wouldn’t keep dating fucking losers.”

He slides not one but two digits into your cunt, like he knows you’re so wet for both of them that your soaked walls won’t hesitate to accommodate the immediate stretch. 

Chifuyu swipes his pointer and middle fingers across your lips, and before you realize what you’re doing, your mouth falls open of its own volition as you take the digits into your mouth. 

“You like that?” he asks in a low tone, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as he watches you suck on his fingers while Baji pumps his own digits in and out of your wet cunt, drool sliding down the side of your chin.

You nod, tongue sliding around his fingers as you take him a little deeper, a little more eagerly, moaning around the digits.

“You wanna suck his dick?” Baji asks, and you can feel Chifuyu stiffen beside you.

“This is about comforting her.”

But—

The thing is—

You want Chifuyu’s dick in your mouth, want to feel the weight and taste of him on your tongue.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve imagined it—not after a memorable morning when the girth of his cock became abundantly clear as he unknowingly stumbled into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of boxers and a t-shirt as you and Baji sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast. 

(At which point you fucking choked on your cereal when he tiredly stretched, the head of his fat dick poking up through the waistband of said boxers.)

You want to get lost in the sloppy, wet, warm feeling of hollowing your cheeks for him, listening to his groans of pleasure—especially now that Baji’s decided using his mouth would be better, too.

Arching under the wave of pleasure that shudders through your limbs as Baji licks a firm, broad stripe down your throbbing clit, you breathe out, “I wanna suck your dick, Chifuyu.”

You can hear the hitch in his throat, the rough, pleased groans of pleasure that leave both of them at your exhale of those crude, honest words.

And fuck if this isn’t the single hottest thing you’ve ever experienced, your lips wrapped around Chifuyu’s dick, drool shamelessly pooling in your mouth at the taste of him, Baji’s hands grasping the tender globes of your ass as he laps at your soaked cunt with devastatingly filthy precision.

You’ve never liked sucking dick, not particularly.

But now, you’re not sure you ever want to stop, your entire head spinning with heady, dizzy pleasure as he strokes the back of your head, softly moaning your name as you bob on his cock.

(And you nearly get ahead of yourself, thinking about doing this for Baji, too.)

(How he’d probably want to fuck your mouth.)

(How you’d let him.)

Baji eats you out like he wants to lick your dripping cunt clean, your pleasure rapidly peaking without warning as his tongue repeatedly slips in and out of your tight hole.

“Come for us,” Chifuyu says, like he needs to watch you fall apart on Baji’s tongue first before he can spill his load down your throat. 

—and that thought is what ultimately sends you tumbling over the edge, moaning and whimpering as Baji tongue-fucks your pussy through the shuddering waves of your climax. 

“Good girl,” Baji murmurs, pressing a kiss against your clit, and you jump slightly from the overstimulation just as Chifuyu lets out a shuddering exhale, hot cum spurting from his cock into your mouth.

They both watch with rapt attention as you lick his shaft clean, Baji murmuring, “Fuck,” under his breath when you make a point of swallowing. Then, without warning, he leans in and kisses you, uncaring of the smear of Chifuyu’s cum that’s still on your bottom lip as his mouth slots against yours.

When you part for air, Chifuyu wastes no time in threading his fingers into Baji’s hair, mouth crashing against his in a rough, messy kiss. One of them groans, maybe both, and their lips part wider as the kiss deepens, their tongues sliding together.

You stare at them both, wide eyed and far too fucking turned on again to even function, let alone say anything.

Chests heaving, they eventually separate, and Chifuyu’s spit-soaked lips curve upward. “It’s not fair he got to taste you first.”

spicy sleepover masterlist

[themculibrary]

Bucky/Clint Road Trip Fics Masterlist

Americana is for Lovers (ao3) - ccbytheseashore M, 8k

Summary: Please tell me you are still alive, read Steve's text.

In Virginia, Bucky replied.

The hell are you doing in Virginia?

Would you believe me if I said trying to find a foam sculpture of Stonehenge?

Tony said to make sure his car comes back in once piece. Please don't shoot each other.

Clint and Bucky set off on an adventure to find an infamous work of Americana history, but find literally everything else (including love) instead.

Aw, Blood, No (ao3) - Reremouse (TheBelfry) M, 19k

Summary: Being turned into a vampire was never part of Clint “Mr. Actual Ray of Human Sunshine (sometimes)” Barton’s life plan. But they say life is what happens while you’re making other plans, and when an Avengers mission to take out a Hydra base goes disastrously wrong, Clint comes out of the fray undead.

Unfortunately for Clint, SHIELD has guidelines to deal with agents who have been turned into vampires: bring them in, or take them out. Fortunately, Bucky is both well-versed in vampires (Hydra—what are you going to do?) and evading SHIELD. Fortunately, Bucky is both well-versed in vampires (Hydra—what are you going to do?) and evading SHIELD.

And sometimes “I’m your hostage. Get moving,” is the way Bucky says “I love you.”

blank passivity (i'm hiding my shit-eating grin) (ao3) - WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN T, 21k

Summary: Upon being handed a mission that includes a tiny car, a cross-country roadtrip, and also, oh yeah, the Winter Soldier, Clint can honestly say that he's not having a great time. Adding in the fact that Barnes doesn't even want to talk to him has Clint preparing himself for the longest drive of his life.

(Clint is also pretty sure that Captain America hates him, but that's neither here nor there.)

OR

If I had a nickel for every time [Bucky took a picture with a beaver], I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice -Dr. Doofenshmirtz

crying wolf out to the moon (ao3) - shatteredhourglass T, 3k

Summary: Clint decides it's a good idea to drag Bucky on a road trip on the day of the full moon. Bucky's too weak for Clint to deny him anything, even if it is in fact, a goddamn terrible idea.

drive ‘n whine (ao3) - hawksonfire G, 1k

Summary: Bucky’s been stuck in the Tower for too long, so Clint does something about it.

Liminal Spaces (ao3) - thepartyresponsible M, 20k

Summary: “Clint,” Steve says, and it’s that same no-bullshit, do-or-die, I really, really mean it voice he used to trot out in the last few innings of close games in high school. “Bucky’s not gonna fly. He’s not going to drive himself. He can’t— I need you to drive him here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Clint says, and hangs up.

Runaways (ao3) - madetobeworthy G, 1k

Summary: Sometimes Bucky needs to be gone, and sometimes Clint goes with him. They don't need to speak, just listen to the radio as the car devours the miles ahead of them.

see the stars come out of the sky (ao3) - veryrach M, 11k

Summary: “Arrested, yeah, I remember. How the hell do you have ten grand in cash - no, you know what, don’t tell me, forget I asked,” Clint says resignedly. “So let me get this straight. You want me to drive all the way out to Niagara Falls, pick up what I’m sure is a totally legit random bag of cash from somewhere, use it to bail you out, and drive all the way back.”

In which Bucky helps Clint help Barney. There’s a road trip, slightly inept fumbling of the emotional and physical varieties, and a bit with a dog.

the search for clint (ao3) - pherryt G, 2k

Summary: It’s a long road Bucky’s on, and he can only hope Clint is at the end of it.

The Start of Something (ao3) - kookykoi T, 1k

Summary: Bucky had the bright idea of going on a road trip. Clint had the brighter idea of going with him.

worse than a motel 6 (ao3) - spiralsystem T, 7k

Summary: Nat and Clint are assigned to take down the remaining Hydra bases on the outskirts of civilization, the ones that the others clearly don’t have time for. Oh well, road trip for Clint! Until Nat, Clint, and the one person Clint Really wanted to avoid, run into each other at the shadiest motel Clint has ever seen.

you’re my best friend (ao3) - pherryt G, 9k

Summary: Clint and Bucky need to go on a road trip to get to their next mission which Clint figures is the best way to get to know Bucky even better. It goes better than planned!

[kinglazrus]

this isn't the beginning (but it's a start)

Danny Fenton can never go home. The same buildings are there. The same streets. Maybe even some of the same faces. But two decades in the Ghost Zone have siphoned away his memories, and Amity Park has changed while he’s been gone. He has one tether anchoring him to the life he’s forgotten, and when it breaks, he risks losing every scrap of himself that he’s worked for in the past two years. Desperate, Danny sets off in search of something, anything, familiar in the place he once called home. Meanwhile, Casper High has a new teacher with stars in his eyes. A series of not-quite first impressions upon Danny's return to Amity Park — An AU where Portal Danny went missing his senior year of high school.

Characters: Danny Fenton, Vlad Masters, Kwan, Mr. Lancer (mentioned), Original Characters, Original Child Character(s)

Tags: Eldritch Danny Fenton, minor Portal Danny, minor Void Danny, outsider POV, space core, liminal spaces, Comes Back Wrong, you can never go home, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Teacher Danny Fenton

Read on Ao3

Chapters on Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Cover by @lil-yardstick

Glass figures by @what-even-is-sleep

For Invisobang 2024! Had a fantastic time working with Yardstick and Blazing. Please go check out their art! The cover Yardstick made is so cool (I can't stop thinking about Danny's ghost design), and Blazing's glass figures are amazing.

[jonathanbiers]

a list of liminal spaces/situations where reality feels a bit altered to use as inspiration or writing prompts!

feel free to also use as an ask game if you like!

mirrors in a dark room

playgrounds at midnight

when you're moving out of a house and checking your room when it's almost or completely empty and sorted out

rest stops on highways

a room lit by candlelight only

an empty laundromat at night with the washing machines still on

deep in the mountains

churches at night

abandoned gas stations

hospitals at midnight

abandoned warehouse

out-of-commission lighthouses

empty parking lots

rooftops in the early morning

early in the morning wherever it’s just snowed

trails by the highway just out of earshot of traffic

schools during summer

bowling alleys after close

a cornfield next to a long country road

being the last person awake at a sleepover

hospital waiting rooms

airports at night

foggy cemeteries

abandoned prisons

hilltops in full moonlight

empty barns

marshes

a body of water shrouded in fog

hiking/biking trails during winter

winter twilight

back allies between houses

empty roller rink

dirt roads on fall evenings

libraries after closing

the woods during a rainstorm

roads covered in snow

train stations after 10pm

the air outside right before a massive storm

the woods just after twilight

the beach in winter

the bottom of swimming pools

secluded back corner of a library

windy roads at night when you can only see what's immediately in front of you

empty skatepark on a warm night

anywhere immediately after a really bad fight

the lakeside anytime between 2 and 6 am

firework shows when you’re sitting on the grass

being the only one downstairs on christmas  

stepping outside in the early morning when it has just snowed

when its dark and you see snowflakes falling down in the light of a lamppost

that one clear spot in the forest with trees surrounding it

a parked car in a snow/thunderstorm

corn fields with the wind blowing over them

malls about to close for the night

woods at twilight/dawn

being on a train after midnight

theme parks at night

being alone in an elevator for a few minutes

looking down at the trees from up high

the ferry about to take off in the middle of the night

tree houses

4-6 am on a winter morning

the feeling of being chased

condensation coming out of your mouth when it's really cold in the morning

arcade just after close

stepping out on an unfamiliar metro/train stop

greenhouses that have been left to grow alone

biking/walking on the main road when it's dark and no cars are around

foggy swamp

bakery just after opening, everything is fresh and warm and the sun hasn't risen yet

hotel corridors in the middle of the night

foggy mornings in a meadow

flickering streetlights

long, dark hallways

the middle of a park when its snowing

train tracks in the forest

bonfires in the quiet

a little lake in the middle of the forest

lonely swings swaying with the wind

the woods on a night with a full moon

rest stops

empty metro stations that are usually crowded

gas stations on long mountain roads

the old part of a city when you’re the only one in the street

under an old bridge

knowing you're not alone in a space where you can't see anyone around you, like a forest

junkyards

a dimly lit stairwell

empty sidewalk outside of a small venue when you can hear live music through the walls

corner store in a small town

parking garage at night

an empty field with old/out-of-commission industrial equipment/large machinery

graffiti'd train car

[stormywanderer]

Calling on God

Premise: Y/N (undescribed) is a sorcerer at the Metropolitan Jujutsu High. She teases Gojo about having kids and Gojo follows through on her joke.

Rating: Mature

Author Notes: Reposting cause I found out I had my tumblr HIDDEN. Gojo/YN. NSFW. Light restraint, P in V. Y/N is whipped. ONE BED TROPE. Use of "good girl". Wearing his shirt. My Gojo is a bisexual king.

(thank you @voloslobotomyservice )

It was quiet, in an eerie way. The school’s halls, normally filled with the loud reverberation of cursed technique being practiced nearby, the yelling of the students or simply the overwhelming and heady feeling of cursed energy harbored by all the sorcerers, were absent now. All asleep in their beds and unbothered. And why would anyone be worried? This was the only place one could relax their guard behind the protection of Master Tengen’s barrier.

Y/N yawned as she shrugged off the oddity of liminal space, dropping her report in the drop box outside the office of the admins. The only reason she’d be here so late, knowing if she went home before… she’d never remember to bring it back.

“Ugh my feet are killing me too~” she begrudged, lightly hitting her head against the wall next to the box before straightening back up and heading back the way she came. But each step hurt. Boots rubbed every curve and bone in her feet the wrong way. She barely made it to and back to the elevator before admitting defeat. Dragging her feet, she slowly trudged out of the elevator on the bottom floor towards the common area. Spying the nearest couch, she kicked her shoes off before entering the conversation pit and flopping down. The normally uncomfortable furniture, more appearance focused than functional, was oddly welcoming as she sank in. She was doomed if she thought she would be getting back up. The thought of putting any sort of footwear back on painful. Instead, she rested her head back, staring at the ceiling as she looked back at the thoughts of that day.

“Oh Gojo~” Y/N cooed, leaning over the railing of the walkway to get his attention as one student seemingly launched another. “What do you think of my new nails?”

Gojo, not caring too much about being the most responsible teacher, quickly turned his back on the moment to greet her and sauntered over to where she was. “Well now, let’s take a look-“

Y/N held her hand out, showing off the precisely curated almond shaped nails with a combination of the magnetic cat eye gel and the dewy reflective drops. The overall affect being that of what she felt like if rain drops contained star light. Another fun and whimsical set like all the others she’d gotten before.

“Oh, now those are best yet,” Gojo hummed in appreciation, hand on his chin as he inspected them despite the blind fold. “I don’t know Y/N, I’m not sure you’re topping this design any time soon.”

At this point, the student not in combat had hopped over to get a look too, leaning over with stars in her eyes.

“Where do you get nail like that around here?” The ginger haired girl gushed, clearly over with the two fighting boys in the background.

Y/N pulled her hand back to appreciate them again, watching the way they caught the bright afternoon light. “Oh, I go into Tokyo for these since I don’t live here at the school.” She corrected with a smile. It was nice to see another girl on campus, her graduating class being the one and only time in a decade that sex diversity had happened so strongly on campus.

“But then what are you doing here? Who is this?” The girl asked, consecutively, before turning back to Gojo.

“Oh, she’s just one of the many sorcerers who report here when there is a job to do. Only the teachers and administrators live on campus, really.” He mused, turning back to the boys just long enough to see they hadn’t seriously maimed each other before turning his attention back to the girls. “Actually, she graduated with me.”

“Yup! It’s true- but Shoko is nose deep in her job and not big on fashion. Utahime is at Kyoto, and Meimei…” Y/N made a face and shuttered, not willing to continue the thought around the students. “So, I rely on Gojo to appreciate these things.” She wiggled her nails in emphasis.

Gojo simply hummed again in agreement.

“Which means, uh.. what’s your name?”

“Nobara Kugisaki!” The girl proclaimed, puffing out her chest confidently. “The best first year this class.”

Y/N looked from her to the boys, one of which was currently being chased by a pair of shikigami wolves, and back to her. She did not comment on the fact that she had known Megumi for most of his life. “Well, well. Nobara, you’re gonna have to do us all a favor and find Gojo-sensei here a girl okay?”

Gojo immediately tried to cut in. He attempted to push Y/N off the railing, but she quickly dodged him to keep the girl’s attention. “He’s getting far too old, and we need to pass the 6-eye down to someone. You got that? Give all the clients his number.”

She winked and bounced off just in time to avoid the impending wave of Limitless, a silent threat as Gojo chuckled nervously.

“Oh well it looks like its time for Y/N here to head out, we’ll be seeing you.” He waved as he nudged the young Nobara away. Nobara herself was cackling it this new information about her sensei.

“Or at least an egg donor if he’s gay!” Y/N yelled out lastly before stepping into a slip stream of cursed energy to avoid a last wave of Limitless. Effectively vanishing into the air of the training ground to head out on her mission.

“God I’m pathetic” Y/N muttered, sighing as she sunk further into the couch. “Absolutely whipped like everyone else.”

It was promptly after that moment that she went off the decimate a near by abandoned building. A facility for the sick a long time ago, left to rot. It wasn’t too bad of a job. But it had been tedious. Every floor and wing a mess of low- and higher-grade spirits that had gone unknown for too long due to the lack of trespassers. She had tried her best to go through one by one, to leave the building intact. She hated paperwork after all… But by the 3rd wing she was more than over it. The sun had already been setting and there was no end in sight. So she had stepped back out the front doors of the building, took one look back, and with all her frustrated affection with Gojo spat out an energy ball at the building as if it was a bad taste in her mouth. The aftermath of frustration and unresolved feelings. Buried deep down for nearly a decade. Cause she knew him. Hated that she knew his deep-down dislike of that sort of attention these days. Something that he matured into and had only made her appreciate him more.

“I need to get over this.” She uttered out lastly, blinking at the ceiling till it drifted off with the ebb and flow of sleep. A wave that won as her eye lids became too heavy. The quiet halls soon replaced with an endless see of green rolling in the summer breeze…

~

“You’re heavier than you look,” a voice said, soft but heavy simultaneously.

Y/N rolled her head towards it in the grass, the soft blades tickling her face in the warmth of the afternoon. She was comfortable here, a lazy afternoon exactly what she needed. “I’m trying to nap here-.”

The voice distant yet near, chuckled in her ear. As if the grass itself spoke to her. “Heh, that’s okay, just sleep yah?”

“Mhmkay” She whispered out, too comfortable to question the all too familiar voice.

The world gently rocked. A back-and-forth motion, lulling and soothing. It was easy to drift off again as the grass caressed her face. It was sweet. That is, till the world rocked too far in one direction and had her spilling with a soft thud onto a bed.

A bed?

“Okay, I’m gonna give you one of my shirts. What you’re wearing, as cute as it is on you, doesn’t look comfortable to sleep in.”

Y/N blinked, the first sense hitting her being smell. The heady smell of an expensive cologne, specifically. Cologne and… fabric softener? Then it was touch. Fabric so soft she wanted to melt into it. It bunched under he hands and caressed her face as she slowly opened her eyes to the dark room.

Ah, and then it was sight. A bright blue, like two stars, shining in the night as something white is handed to her. Blearily, she pushed herself up from the bed with a heavy head.

“Come on, put this on, you’re almost there.” The same voice from the grass.

She accepted the shirt, registering the pale hand that had offered it but not much beyond that. Nodding, she started to unzip her top to change.

“Woah- okay. I’ll just… turn around.”

She didn’t look to see what the voice meant. Y/N was sleepy, and there was a comfy bed waiting for her. And God did she want to be out of her working clothes. She fumbled through the motions till she felt the relief of the cool night air on her skin as she dumbed her pants, top, and bra to the floor in favor of the far-too large shirt. Spilling the material over her head, it fell into a pool at her thighs due to its size. And the sheets? They were nice. She couldn’t wait a second longer to turn back to them and crawl into the bed. Large fluffy pillows were here. And the comforter was both light weight and fluffy. Y/N tucked herself in without hesitation only to bask in the heaven of the bed she was in.

“I assume you’re decent-“ the voice asked, still soft as if trying not to disturb her too much.

She responded, or at least attempted to. It was more of an incoherent muttering as she buried her face into the crisp pillow.

“Okay, well this is a big bed and there is more than enough room to share, yah?” It continued. Large hands gently prodded their way beneath her side, slowly coaxing her further over on to the bed, till a dip in the mattress signaled another body joining her. Seemingly settled, the hands retreated, but not before soothing her back and patting her shoulder gently.

“You get some sleep now, okay?”

“Okai-“ she whispered into the pillow. The gentle lull of sleep now like a sweet cool breeze on a summer night.

~

There were birds. So, so, many birds. Much more than normal outside her place in the city. With a groan, she felt her limbs slowly wake as she stretched her legs, torso arching too-

Y/N gasped as she felt the full of her stomach meet the skin of another. Startled, she flew into alert as she looked up to be met with familiar halo of white. Gojo- sleeping with a soft pout, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. His arms were loosely draped across her, one slightly tucked under the shirt that had bunched well above her ribs. Y/N’s felt a twist her gut as she registered the intimacy of it all. Unwilling to wake him, confused, she slowly lowered her head back to what seemed to be his bicep that had become her place of rest.

“Mmm~”

He hummed above her, having woken up, pout opening into a wide yawn as his hand ghosted up further on her back. The action caused her to gasp and yawn simultaneously, unable to control it as her body pressed further into his. This time though, Gojo bumped a thigh up higher between her thighs where she had tucked her own.

“Gojo-“

“I normally don’t sleep in this late, but I think I could get used to this” He said, voice sultry and teasing as always. But, with something else? Something more intimate than she’d ever heard from him before. The hand that had been ghosting up the bare skin of her back slid back down, fleetingly touching curves before resting on top of her thigh. The bicep beneath her flexed as his other arm curled round to enclose her shoulders.

If she hadn’t just woken up from the deep dead of sleep, her thoughts would be racing. Her pulse certainly was with how hot her face felt. But thoughts turned to mush as she bunched her fingers in the soft cotton of his tee.

“So why haven’t you?” There is silence as he considers her question, thumbs rubbing small circles in her shoulder and thigh. He still had even opened his eyes.

“So many responsibilities, too little time?” He answers after a moment, in complete seriousness.

Y/N couldn’t help but note the disappoint in that statement. Knowing all too well the weight that rested on his shoulders. Instead of dwelling on the reasons for all that weight, she pulled herself up to nudge her nose to his.

“It’s- it’s okay,” she whispered as he finally opened his eyes. It was hard to see those brilliant blue eyes so early. Something she rarely saw as it was. But she wanted to see him. Always, to see him. Someone only Nanami, Shoko, and Y/N knew. “We’ll make time now. If you want…”

“I’d like that” he whispered back as his breath ghosted against her lips, nudging back and bumping his forehead to her own. “Plus, apparently I’m getting too old too-“

“Oh. My. God.” She hissed in embarrassment, turning her face only for Gojo to nudge his nose against her cheek and turn his attention to her ear.

“What? Did you not want my attention?”

Gojo punctuated that by using his hand to hold her thigh in place as he pressed his own against her clothed sex.

“Don’t remind me how pathetic that was, please.” She rushed, unable to help as a slight whimper worked its way out as his breath tickled her ear and the thick muscle of thigh rubbed against her in the best way.

“I don’t know, it was rather cute. Would be cuter if you hadn’t done it in front of my students”

Gojo pulled away, leaning over her so she was forced to face him again. “Cuter, if you had been with me like this.”

He ran his hand further down her thigh, hiking it up on his hips before pressing himself in. She gasped at the pressure; lids heavy as Y/N rolled her hips up to meet him. The sweet drag of her sex on his thigh sinful.

“Yeah… definitely like this.” He finished, leaning in to capture her mouth before she could respond.

His lips were softer than she could have imagined, unable to help herself as she rose up to meet him. His kisses were more precise than expected, slow and sweet as he coaxed her head to tilt just so-. Y/N couldn’t help but sigh. And all the while he ground that thigh down, forcing her to ride him. And she did. Up and down, down and up again. She dragged herself up and down him till she felt the small high or an orgasm flicker inside her. She came quickly with a gasp against him, a hand threatening to tear his shirt as the other slid up to his hair to hold him to her as she vibrated with sensation.

“Gods yes~” she whimpered as the acute climax pulsed through her like a wave.

“You know you call on god a lot with me.” Gojo noted with a cluck, breaking the kiss with a soft suck to her bottom lip and a ‘pop’. “Satoru is fine though.”

“Try insufferable” Y/N panted, chest heaving as she flicked her sight between his eyes and the kiss swollen, wet, lower lip of his.

As if to tease her more, or subconsciously noticing her attention, he sucked his lower lip in and rolled it in his teeth to taste her.

“Trust me, I plan to be.” Gojo declared. He reached down between them, fingers toeing the edge of her panties before diving down to press against the soaked gusset of them and rubbing up against her lower lips. Reaching the apex, clit still sensitive, he rubbed against her with middle fingers in slow circles.

“Satoruu…”

“Yeah, that’s it. Say my name- come on.”

Y/N groaned as he continued, writhing beneath him as he slowly increased the pace.

“Satoru its sens-“ She gasped then, legs twitching. “Wah-WAIT.”

She let go of his hair to cover her mouth, eyes watering as he tortured her over sensitive clit immediately after getting her off on his thigh.

“Ohhh? Sorry baby. Is it too much? You going to cry?” He taunted, words harsh but tone endearing. A devilish juxta positioning.

“Here, I’ll relent-“

And he let up before the feelings become too much, only to hook his fingers in the band a loop through each leg. In a show of strength, a blur, her panties were torn from her and left her exposed from the ribs down. “Its okay, I’m feeling impatient to feel you wrapped around me.”

Panties tossed somewhere else, Gojo returned to her to rub his fingers up her pussy once, twice, before sinking two digits inside slowly till he was knuckle deep.

“Yeah-, fuck yeah. Been wanting to feel you like this for so long-“ He whispered, the two of them both diving to kiss each other as he slowly rocked those fingers inside.

And he was relentless, taking no time to find the spot against her upper wall that had her keening for him the most. Curling his finger just so- so that he could drag the pads of them against as he pumped them in and out. The only sound in the room that of sloppy kisses and the wet movement of him inside her.

Gojo broke away to kiss down her jaw, wet open-mouthed kisses down her neck as he searched for and tested each spot that garnered more reactions. Sucking against her pulse point as he rubbed a slow circle inside her tight heat before receding again to move lower.

“That’s it baby.” Gojo whispered to her chest, using his nose to push her shirt up the last of the way to expose her breasts. “I can feel how much you like it. Feel how you squeeze my fingers. Gonna squeeze my dick this good yah?” He peered up for Y/N’s response, watching her with a heady look as he licked his way up the underside of her breast to suck her nipple into his mouth.

Y/N could only nod dumbly, breath hitching as his second knuckles caught against her tight entrance with each thrust. Gojo unrelentingly assaulted her nipple till her breaths were ragged.

“Good.” He said, popping off one slightly purpled nipple before switching to the second.

As devilishly as before, his soft coos were conjoined with cruelty. Sucking in the second nipple to lavish it, he pressed his thumb to her clit. If she was in her right mind, she’d be impressed. But Y/N could only mewl for him as he thrust his finger in slow circles while simultaneously rubbing her clit. The hand clutching his shirt was trapped under him, pressed between their bodies as her other dug into the sheets. Her hips rocked to his hand, grinding out a rhythm till that coil tightened just this side of too much. Rocking, rocking, till she couldn’t take no more. Coiled all the way to her chest where Gojo was keen on sucking out her soul from her. All the way to her throat till she arched into him, breast bouncing up against the bunched-up tee. Till her lips fell open in a silent scream before the gush of release rocked though her and over his hand.

“There you go- I got you I got you, come on baby I got you-“

Y/N shook again with her release, jolting in her pinned beneath him.

“S-sa-sato- SAT-“

Gojo crashed his lips into hers again, tongue fucking her. Effectively silenced as he quickened his pace inside her with quick movement of biceps. Quickening until she was attempting to run from him, lurching away as he worked her release out of her till she couldn’t stand to be touched anymore.

“F-FUCK.” She finally ground out, pushing him away. Struggling to worm out of his grasp. Trying to ignore the way he chuckled darkly.

“Fuck that was hot.” Gojo rushed, slipping out his finger with a wet squelch before bringing them to lips as he watched her intently. Making sure that she was watching as he dipped those very fingers into his mouth before closing his eyes and humming in approval.

“Yeah, fucking amazing.” He rushed, pulling them out with a ‘pop’.

“Fucking evil is more like it” Y/N gasped out, heart beating in her chest against her ribs and threatening to escape. She could only close her eyes, drag her hand out from under him to run it through the sheets. Grounding herself on the soft material of what was likely designer.

They were probably ruined now.

“Have to say, those nails were definitely worth it.” Gojo pondered, sitting back to look down at his chest.

Y/N opened her eyes to see what he meant, met with the deep holes gouged into the cotton. Practically ripped down the middle. Her gaze continued down, down to the blue briefs with the distinct bulge. Briefs that were now soaked.

“It’s okay, they can be washed.” Gojo said, following her gaze as she gulped.

But that wasn’t what had her gulping. No, it was the size of the bulge and what was waiting for her there.

“You still gonna squeeze me good, right~” He teased, finger trailing down his torso and along the edge of his briefs. He ran them across the hem twice, before hooking the hem and pulling them down slowly. Watching her watch him, and the way he slowly revealed himself till the thick length of him finally sprung free.

“Y-yes?” She whimpered, still observing his dick as he stepped off the bed and out of his briefs.

“Hey-“

“Yeah?”

“My eye’s are up here Y/N” Gojo teased, lifting the destroyed tee over his head. He tossed it to the side too, with a wink, before crawling back over her with the grace of a tiger mid hunt. “Lets see the rest of you.”

Y/N nodded meekly, lifting her own tee only for him to slam his hand down one her wrists and forcing the material to remain there. It effectively trapped her hands above her head, vulnerable to him as he slowly lowered himself down while kneeing her thighs apart.

“Sorry, would love to see what those claws could do to my back but- gotta stay appropriate on school grounds. But we can still have fun like this, yah?”

“Yeah-“ she swallowed, fighting the urge to struggle against the restraints

“Good girl.”

Gojo adjusted so that his hand encapsuled her own, fingers tangle with hers as he settled himself against her. Gentle again as he used the other hand to hook under her knee to open her up for him. He expertly rubbed his dick up her slit one, twice, before rolling his hips forward with his head to her sex and slowly pressing it. He was velvet to her, a thick and soft caress and her lip wobbled at the tight fit.

“That’s it-“ He cooed, more to himself, as he slipped in till he was half way before pulling back to lean back up above her. If she wasn’t already a mess, it wouldn’t have gone in so smoothly. But all it took was a roll of his hips and he was sinking in. In till felt himself slide all the way, her thighs meeting his hips. Toes curling as she unconsciously opened her thighs further for him.

They breathed, both gasping as he bottomed out. Searching each other’s eyes as he rested so deep inside her. Gojo’s head tilting as studied the way her tongue flicked out just behind her lips, her bottom lip wobbling with the smallest movement, the way her breast bounced with every gasp. Watched as her as he pulled himself out to swiftly press back in. Press the air from her lungs as her eyes rolled back. It was all she could do too. Fingers tangled in his tight grip, toes curling as he squeezed inside her over, and over, and over.

It was everything. Each thrust a punch to her lungs as she gasped for him. Gulping for air the only thing she could sanely manage. Gojo dragging himself against her expertly, canting his hips till his was pressing her deepest spot. The one that had her seeing stars as her cunt fluttered around him.

“So-so good Satoru.” She whispered, barely audible above the soft squelches.

“Yah? Does that feel good?”

“Ye-yes yes yes.” She panted, holding his hand as if her life depended on top.

“Yah- you make such a pretty mess you know. Such a pretty little mess for me~”

Gojo quickened his pace, hips meeting hers now with wet slaps. Each slap a meeting of thick muscle against the round fat of her ass. Each one almost enough to bounce her off the mattress.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He bit out with a gasp.

“Go-“ stars already beginning to gather behind her eyes.

“That’s not my name.” Gojo snapped his attention down. Eyes boring into hers as his hips punctuated each word. “Look at me and say my name”

“Sa-to, Sa-sato-Satoru!”

Y/N’s eye widened, unable to look away as his crystalline ones bore into hers. Unable to control the way his stare brought that coil creeping back up on her. A white-hot flame threatening to sear through her.

“Just like that, watch me. Watch me fuck my name into you.”

“Y-yeah, yeah yeah yeah. Please Satoru plea-“

It was all she could take. A damn inside her breaking as her body lifts from the mattress to meet his, Thigh shaking around his hips as her vision went white. White except for his stare. Blue boring down into hers. A beautiful crystal sky that crashed down to her earth as she screamed his name.

“F, fuck-“ she was squeezing him so hard, practically milking him for all he had. He could barely contain himself as her last orgasm took him down with her. His hips stilled, buried inside her has he convulsed. Unable to maintain eye contact as his eyes squeezed tight and he spilled himself inside her.

They stayed like that for a while, panting and coming down from their respective highs. Gojo collapsed on top of her, grumbling something about not want to work as he snuggled into the crook of her neck. It was lost on deaf ears as Y/N tried to bring herself down to earth. Room tilting just slightly, far too dehydrated and in a calorie deficit by now.

She tilted her vision to the rest of the room, finally taking in the rich wood of the expensive bed frame. Across from her more matching furniture with the familiar modern yet mid century style. A trash bin next to his dresser and clothes hamper nearby.

A singular trash bin, with a familiar white tee shirt hanging over the edge.

“Satoru…”

“Yah?”

“You’re too fucking much.”

“You love it,” he cooed, slipping her shirt over her wrist to nonchalantly toss it behind him to the clothes hamper.

[restricted-on-13th]

How to Train Your Ghost (still trying to find an appropriate title)

Low-key inspired by a lot of fanarts and highkey inspired by areaper au I found that's pitch pearl in the fanfiction.net. This is my 2nd time writing this idea (since ive been thinking of it for the.....past 18 hours), my draft got accidentally deleted and I am mad (wrote the first draft sleep deprived and running on 30 minutes of sleep, still is running on 30 minutes of sleep, I'll visit this idea back after I get at least 4 hours of sleep and not low-key delirious, yes I still am low-key delirious) forgive me if i dont explain well or my horrendous punctation and grammas, i know. ill just word vomit/narrate/write my prompt/story/thoughts. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Tags: Human Danny (more like liminal but hes not a halfa, he does have powers though but much more altered and weaker for his squishy human body but if its a more ghost power, well, he doesnt have it), Danny Fenton is a ghost hunter, Danny Fenton has a scythe, No trio trio-ing here (Sorry, Sam, Tucker and Danny aren't friends, maybe yet), Pitch Pearl (minor, slight, if you squint, platonic, Idk) Phantom is a dork, Phantom is a sin-ammon roll (.....), Phantom is learning all about Life and Humans (mostly humans), Secret Identities, No One Knows

I found the fic I took inspo from! Do mind that while it may look very similar (probably at the first) I have different plans for mine (ques the clues I left behind and the glaring title) but still feel free to check out their work!

Just Like the Story by Kitsune's Dark Shadow

___________________________________________

Danny probably didn't die in his parent's portal last week on Wednesday, he thinks. He was pretty sure that he was still breathing when he crawled out of the portal, feeling the warm breathe he feels his lungs exhale on the cold ceramic tiles of the lab's floor bringing no comfort to his charred flesh as he stares at the swirling green of the portal, feeling hollow inside as he felt that something was taken from him.

Even though he could feel phantom pain on every nerve of his body all the way to Monday, the first day of school, he chalked it up to being electrocuted by at least a million volts in his body when he unwittingly slipped and press the on button inside the machine. Why there's an on button inside a portal? Danny unfortunately knows how it was mistakingly built inside.

But aside from the near death painpainI'mscaredhelpHelpMe, it stands to reason that for a teenager, such triffling matters were thrown into the metaphorical trash bin for more important matters. Like the A-listers, his studies, space and finding friends cause he's so terribly lonely, just wanting to not be seen as a freak. So it really isn't Danny's fault that he forgot about that one Wednesday noon, he was and still is busy trying to find his place in Casper High, determined to find one friend who would like him. Who wouldn't leave him due to him being Danny Fenton, son of deranged scientists believing ghost exists, the local freak of Amity and the lonely loser of Casper High.

He would have forgotten about it until he woke up floating from his bed, face first in the ceiling. Doing the approximate of a reverse dive into his week and remembering that one Wednesday brought the memories fresh, clear and crisp back to his newly (already) traumatised teenaged brain.

___________________________________________

Soft moonlight streamed down from the covered moon as the dewy grass below is disturbed, a floating glow of a silhouette dashes through the forest. Panting as blobs of green dripped from its wounds, gripping its sluggishly bleeding arm. It muttered "No...No...No.....No" as it ran for its afterlife, scared at something that was following it. Blue lights hallowed in green with little flecks of it across it iris narrowed as it captured and saw its target.

The ghost immediately ducked, the wind whistling as though something flew through the air. The ghost screamed in fear as they came into a clearing, sudden whips of air came and dropped in front of the ghost, effectively blocking it from its escape.

A large black scythe stood in front of the ghost, nothing of note to its design but only the tiny flecks of dark green stars across its blade. The ghost stared at the weapon in fear and apprehension as the moon sifting to the forest below slowly peeked around the clouds.

A shadow hovered and blocked the moonlight as the ghost stilled. Green eyes slowly looked up, following the handle of scythe and stopped at a figure above. Foot firmly placed on the handle of the scythe while still holding it, a boy looked down at the ghost.

Black whispy hair framed the boy's face, wind swept and frazzled from the chase. A long single white tuff of hair was partially hidden by a crocheted black and white headband, a striking difference to his dark hair. Blue eyes hallowed in neon green with flecks of different shaded oof green dancing in his eyes like stars as he stared the ghost down.

His face was framed by the moon as he slowly moved and pointed a modified ecto-gun to the ghost's head.

The ghost whispered "Azrael..."

___________________________________________

Notes:

Danny goes by 'Azrael' while Phantom is Phantom, the only one with a secret identity here is Danny and Valerie. No one knows who Danny moonlights as or that Danny for one is ghost hunting, so no Jazz, his parents and since the thrio aren't friends, they dont know too. I dont know about Valerie, Vlad or the ghost population yet as I haven't planned that out yet. The No One Knows tag can be applied here and his...accident too.

I have plans on Phantom but treat him as an independent character from Danny, while he does have a correlation with Danny (soul bonded) other than his looks being an invertion of Danny's (likes Danny therefore copied his human looks), they're not the same person.

___________________________________________

Phantom: We're soul bonded! :D

Danny (holding a gun and his scythe while staring at the local hero of Amity): ....

*silently cocks gun at phantom*

___________________________________________

Notes:

Anyways, Danny being a ghost hunter doesn't mean he doesn't sympathise with ghost. (He's liminal) that's also where the 'Azrael' name comes. He guides the dead, like a psychopomp, and also protects humans from the ghosts and vice versa.

I have more ideas for him but.... I won't share :)

All in due time.

___________________________________________

Danny was slowly stalking down the road near the forest, brushing his upper lip and his hand coming away bloody. His hands tightly clenched as he gritted his teeth and gave a low snarl.

"Fucking Dash Baxter and his stupid-" he hissed lowly as he kicked a can to the bushes. He huffed as he clutched his bag when suddenly he heard something. He looked around, a bit confused and wary when he saw nothing, he clutched his bag closer to him as he quickly opened it and took out a modified ecto-gun.

One of his latest projects in his sudden venture into ghost hunting, he was proud of how much he was able to customised it to his liking. He heard another sound and quickly aimed at where he heard it, the same bush he kicked the can at.

He slowly creeped up to it, prickles of unease all around his skin. He knew he wasn't a professional ghost hunter, he's still new to the whole thing. The world of Ghost hunters is a cruel and cold place, its either being lucky enough to not find a quack to ally with or lucky enough to survive until you changed careers. It's especially much more harder for an aspiring un-allied ghost hunter that sympathises with ghosts to learn the ropes. No back up and No supervision means that Danny has to always be in high alert in case for a ghost attack.

A melodic tune came from the bush as Danny crept closer. Using the muzzle to nudge the bush to the side as Danny immediately aimed.

He stared down at the wide green eyes of an amorphous blob ghost with a little white tuff of hair on its head as it gave a tiny squeaky tune.

"Beewp?"

[raekensarcher]

Thiam fic rec <3

I’ll probably keep coming back and adding new ones in the notes, but here’s the list I have made so far :)

(in no particular order)

1. Handle with care 190.1k words, completed

Summary: Theo's back from hell and there's a lot of shit to sort out. Liam helps with that, sometimes.

2. Stray Dogs  2 fic series, completed?

Summary: *basically Theo is like I would break so many laws for u if u just ask*

3. The things you notice 2 fic series, completed

Summary: It’s literally just Theo and Liam loving each other in their pov’s. so special to me, actually.

4. You are stuck with me (so I guess I'll be sticking with you) 30k, completed

Summary: a look into how theo and liam’s relationship built up in the background of teen wolf 6b

5. when I watch the world burn, all I think about is you 6k, completed

Summary: Theo wakes up on the McCall couch and Liam is inside of his shirt. Asleep. On Theo.

6. liturgy for an atheist 2k, completed

Summary: “I don't want to hurt people,” Liam says, eyes flashing bright and blood dripping from his clenched fists, every line of him pulled taut like it's all he can manage to stand there destroying only himself. His rage smells like gunpowder and gasoline, ready to spark and burn the entire school down around them if someone doesn't put it out.

So Theo says, “Okay, then hurt me instead.”

7. a catalogue of spectacular alive things 4k, completed

Summary: In which Theo makes breakfast, goes to a baby shower, shows up late for dinner, falls into bed with someone he loves, and drowns in contentment.

8. coordinates (we are two points in space)  4k, completed

Summary: Liam can’t control all the leaving but he can control his not-knowing where. 

9. smoke rises, and with it the truth of ourselves 4k, completed

Summary: In which Liam invites Theo out into the middle of the woods, gives him a stale s'more, rambles about death, and teaches him to scream.

10.  old ghosts gather in liminal spaces 6k, completed

Summary: Liam asks, “What are you doing here, anyway?” 

“Same thing you are,” Theo says. Avoiding, searching, not-thinking, maybe. 

His answer seems to appease Liam. Or maybe he’d just rather not elaborate on the circumstances that made him seek shelter in a bus stop with a boy that he only spends time with when danger is making a home for itself in the corners of their lives. 

(Theo thinks everyone might be a little out of place, trapped.)

11. and I'll find my way back to you, party of two 2k, completed

Summary: On Theo Raeken’s nineteenth birthday, he is gifted three bullet wounds, two flat tires, and a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich made by the boy he might love. None of it is as bad as it sounds, really.

12. coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine 5k, completed

Summary: The funniest thing is -- most everyone seems to be under the impression that Theo's driving Liam.

Like most things in Liam's life, it doesn't quite work out that way.

13. lovers alone wear sunlight 8k, completed

Summary: Liam comes home, in more ways than one.

14. when oblivion is calling out your name, you always take it further than I ever can 8k, completed

Summary: In which Liam is terribly high and completely smitten, Theo is allergic to emotions and totally whipped, Mason has the patience of a saint, and everybody wins, except for Stiles.

15. tell me no more secrets, I'll tell you no more lies 1.4k, completed

Summary: "Look at me," he says, and Liam almost can't. "Liam."

Liam looks. "You were attacked. It was self defense."

"Okay," Liam says, and feels the blood trickle from the corner of his mouth, the iron coating his throat catching in his lungs. "What if it wasn't."

Home is the first grave.

[strawbubbysugar]

So(u)l Chapter 2

Chapter 2!! :3c time for Y/N to make their first appearance! Here's the AO3 link to read it there as well! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48206098/chapters/121565137#workskin -------

“What does this image make you think of?”

You fidgeted nervously with your fingers, taking in and examining the image being shown to you by the interviewer. It was the sun, bright and shiny on a cloudless day.

“Er ..” you paused. Did they want your honest answer, or your interview answer? .. you were probably going to give them your honest one.

“Warm. Hah, obviously.” You chuckled nervously. “But also a little overwhelming? I’m more of a night owl, if I’m being honest.” You smiled, hoping that would get you extra brownie points. The job had been labelled as being after hours, so hopefully being a night owl was a checkmark in your column for being hired.

You needed this job. You DESPERATELY needed this job. You were in your mid 20’s, and every other person you knew .. it felt like they already figured out their lives. They knew who they were, what they were doing, where they were headed.. While you felt like you were floating through life, especially once you’d graduated. You didn’t know why you’d gone for an engineering degree, you were never one for structured schooling and .. well, that was about as structured as it got. Besides being a doctor. But you kind of were a doctor! Just for computers.

You imagined a robot in a hospital gown with a thermometer in its exhaust vent and a giggly smile tried to force its way onto your face. You held it down- no. This was a serious job interview.

This was going to be your big break. You were applying to be an engineer for fazbear entertainment, specifically for the massive, all powerful Freddy fazbear’s mega pizzaplex. Getting to put your degree to use by repairing and upkeeping the impressive animatronics housed inside a giant amusement park would be like a dream come true. Not only would you feel like you hadn’t wasted your money and time on your degree, you’d get to see the insanely cool robots, see how they worked up close- maybe even get to peek at the code that allowed for them to be so advanced!

You’d never had a chance to visit the pizzaplex before- it was .. significantly out of your budget, and you couldn’t justify spending an entire paycheck on a single day somewhere. Even if it was a super cool arcade slash indoor amusement park slash laser tag slash.. jeez, you could keep going! You knew, in the back of your mind, how terrible the company was. Of course you did. You weren’t stupid. The rumours that piled up around the company were uncountable, and they grew by the day, to the point where it was hard to tell if people were just making them up to jump on the bandwagon.

They did make you a little nervous. As did the idea of working for such a large monopoly- one that you’d found out during the interviewing process wouldn’t have you interacting with many other coworkers. Out of a lack of need, given their robots, or out of a high turnover rate.. you couldn’t tell.

Long nights, all alone, surrounded only by animatronic robots and the liminal space of a completely empty entertainment centre. No interruptions for small talk. Maybe even getting to enjoy some attractions after hours.. was that scary?

.. nah. That still sounded like a dream.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the interviewer clearing her throat. “Did you hear me?” She asked.

You blinked, glancing to the image she had on her screen, currently turned to face you. It was the moon, on a clear night, small silvery stars shining around it. You smiled again, your best ‘please god hire me’ smile, and nodded. You hadn’t heard her, but you could take a wild guess as to what she’d asked.

“Calm.” You responded. “Relaxing. Is that the same as calm? Peaceful. Er- kind of just- being a thesaurus here.” You rambled, continuing to smile. You didn’t know what made you always feel like you had to fill silences, but it was hard to escape the urge. “Oh- uh- did you need anything .. more?”

This was weird. This was *really* weird, right? These were the type of questions you’d get asked in a therapists office, not at a job interview. It was fairly invasive, and was this lady even qualified to determine what they meant? Even you didn’t delve that deep into your own psyche. Surely they were allowed to, if they were asking. The Fazbear corporation didn’t seem like the type to leave themselves open to being sued. So it had to be .. at least *somewhat* legal.

You didn’t wait for her to repeat the same question question as she began pulling up the next image. “If I can talk about the sun one again-“ you started nervously, worried now that you’d made the wrong impression. “I think it makes me think of .. friends? Like- the feeling of being with someone. Comfortable- like-“

She cut you off before you got too poetic, showing an image of an alligator next. “What does this make you think of?” She asked, before beginning to type out her notes on your first two responses.

You raised an eyebrow. An alligator? … you had a strong feeling she was asking about your gut instinct, but you couldn’t help but feel like she was trying to see what you’d instinctively feel about the glamrocks. After all, you’d be spending a lot of time with them. You’d get to know them, hopefully, and see how they were able to be so lifelike.

You chewed your lip in thought, deciding to say the first thing that came to mind. “Respect. I mean, they haven’t evolved past what they are right now in.. hundreds of thousands of years- you gotta respect that. They’ve found their niche and they really stuck to it. Almost like crabs. Oh- did you know-“ you cut yourself off with a big smile, biting your tongue. “.. respect. Yes.”

An interview was no time for fun facts, as much as it pained you to not begin your tangent on carcinization.

She nodded, ignoring the sentence you’d left hanging. She pulled up an image of a chicken next. You almost laughed. It felt so silly to be being quizzed on this, about how you felt about the real world counterparts to the very much not realistic robots.

You wondered for a moment why they’d shown you the sun and moon first. Maybe they were testing if you really would be able to handle a night shift.

“Cute.” You began thoughtfully. “And super underrated as pets. They’re really good for your lawn, too. They eat .. bugs.” You smiled sheepishly after almost telling her another fun fact. So much smiling- not that you weren’t already an incredibly smiley person, but your cheeks were starting to hurt.

She typed out her notes, taking a worryingly long time before showing the next image. A wolf. A stock image you were sure you’d seen on the shirt of a very cool grandma you’d seen at a bus stop once.

“Cool. I mean- obviously. That’s .. that’s kinda the standard opinion on wolves, huh? Man’s old best friend. Cool. And respectable. Like- I respect them. As a creature.”

She raised an eyebrow slightly, but otherwise didn’t reveal her opinion on your opinions. More typing, before showing the grizzly bear.

“Pizza.” You said firmly. The interviewer blinked slowly. “.. it .. I mean, I think bear, I think Freddy, I think pizza.” Your smile wobbled, as you could feel your joke falling flat.

“… strong.” You eventually relented to her calm silence. “… there’s a lot of stuff you can relate to bears, uh. Is that good?”

She nodded, apparently much more approving of this answer as she typed it out.

“This is the last image before the final questions we have for you, please let us know what you think about this image.”

You craned your head to see, as she hadn’t turned it quite far enough to be able to see it without the glare from the window masking it. It was a gigantic spider, one of those ones you hear about being in Australia. The reason why kids programming there can’t say spiders are friendly and shouldn’t be squished.

“… uh.” You glanced up at her then back to the screen. “Cool also.” It wasn’t a lie. A spider that big was cool, even if it was equally terrifying and making you itchy just to look at it.

She nodded, turning the monitor back to herself and typing out her last notes for that section. “Thank you.”

You nodded again back to her, beginning to feel like a bit of a bobble head, tapping your fingers on your knees as you leaned back. Whew. That was certainly more interesting than the half hour you’d had to talk about your qualifications.

She continued typing before glancing back to you, speaking as she finished up. “Have you met your soulmate?”

You blinked a few times at the question. Of course. Of course she would ask that. That was all anybody cared about. Even in a job interview. After the psychotherapy questions, you really should’ve been more prepared for this.

“… are you legally allowed to ask that?” You tried to joke, throat suddenly feeling very dry.

“Yes. It’s a standard question, we ask since people your age usually begin experiencing the signals and that can interfere with work. We like to know so we know if we need to expect several days or weeks off in order to find your partner at some point and get acquainted before returning to work.”

You picked at a loose thread on your jeans, smile slowly turning more forced. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I don’t have one. I haven’t had any signals.”

She raised an eyebrow again. “.. none? Even children get-“

“Yep!” You interrupted, embarrassed talking about this to a complete stranger. “I’m colourblind, so.”

She’d been entirely stoic this entire interview, but that suddenly changed as she flushed, feeling embarrassed herself upon realizing how deeply she’d intruded. “Oh- I’m sorry. It’s so rare we- we don’t usually-“

“It’s okay!” You interrupted again, this time to save her from her embarrassment. “It is pretty rare! I’m alright, I’ve had a long time to come to terms with it. It just means you guys will get one hundred percent of my attention.” You nodded, smiling wide. “Even if I did have a soulmate, they’d have to come to me. But I don’t! I’m pretty sure I don’t. I’ve never felt any tugs, or anything. I know other colourblind people can feel the more uh.. tangible signals. But .. I’ve never felt em! So. No harm no foul!”

She gave you a pleasant, professional smile, eager to finish this awkward conversation. “Alright. Last question- how soon can you start?”

You blinked, before beaming. “I-immediately!” You answered as soon as your mind caught up to the implication. “As soon as you need me! .. does this mean I’m hired?”

You just had to confirm. To make sure. You had a terrible habit of assuming things, and this was something you really had to make sure of.

“Your resume was .. impressive, in terms of your schooling. You’ve done a lot of retail gigs, so I know you can work well with schedules. You answered all the questions satisfactorily, and your responses to the instinct questions were.. well. Interesting.” She paused. “In a good way. So, yes. I’ll need to run it by the head engineer, and a few other higher ups, but between you and me I say.. welcome to the Fazbear family.”

You jumped out of your chair, pumping your fists in pure delight and excitement. “Yes!! Yesyesyesyes!!” You cheered.

It took a few moments for your excitement to die down before you took your seat again, clearing your throat. “I look forward to working with you.” You held out your hand, very professionally.

She took it, shaking it firmly. “I’ll send you an email by the end of tonight to let you know if we’ll move forward. Come to the pizzaplex tomorrow at 10 pm, and I’ll make sure someone gives you a tour.”

You were beside yourself with delight, nodding over and over, almost enough to make you dizzy. You could finally start building your life, figuring yourself out- and it all started tomorrow at 10, if your luck held out. You hoped it would.

[seeminglydark]

1. would caro and john be into the tv show, the x-files? would they buy tapes of the episodes and talk about their own conspiracies and guess about the outcomes of the episodes.

2. also your comic has help peak my interest for the supernatural and conspiracy theories. what are some stories or theories that you’ve learned about that you have found the most interesting? and were you a believer before starting your comics or has your interest grown as you’ve continued with your comics.

3.lastly, i’m trying to buy more secondhand items and become the diy punk that i’ve aspired to be since high school (too afraid since i was a closeted trans man and living with an unaccepting family), any tips?

i, like john, try to stay away from modern tech as much as i can. i’m able to stay off my phone for the most part and rarely use my computer but i’ve been looking around and audiobooks on cassette are kinda expensive around me so i like to narrate book as i read them in paperback. i was wondering if canonically john uses resources such as the library and what his favorite books and movies are. i love horror and am just now getting into sci-fi and i love watching movies on my vcr + tv combo and i sometimes use a blu-ray player for more rare or expensive (at least in vhs format) movies.

sorry for the long winded paragraph, i’m unfortunately unable to escape my strict household (despite being an adult) until i find a job and am able to save every cent. i also tend to isolate myself so i have no friends to help me out. sorry to vent to you about this but i just wanted to end this by saying your comic and characters inspire me and give me hope that i’ll be okay once i’m free.

YES. John is obsessed with x-files. every once in a while you can see he has the iconic 'i want to believe' poster in his younger years on his walls. He still has it as an adult. both caro and john like watching those together, they also enjoy the twilight zone, charmed, Buffy (they they agree the corny movie from '92 is the best) and those old Bruce Campbell shows noones heard of, re: Brisco County Jr. I think as kids they theorize, and as adults they talk about everything everyone gets wrong, now that they know how these things really work. John can always guess WhoDunnit.

Ive always been interested in the idea of the supernatural. im a big skeptic though, ill be honest there, even though ive had many 'experiences' myself. i kinda like the idea of the unbelievable. definitely making the comics has peaked my interest in things i wasn't too keenly aware of before, like cryptids. im fascinated by the concept of Missing 411, and missing people who reappear somewhere else, but Liminal Spaces hold my heart specifically. ive always been keenly aware of the off feeling in those places before i even knew what that meant. i love scouring the internet for images of things like abandoned hotels that give me a weird kind of uneasy, most of the things people tag as Liminal aren't really that, so its a scavenger hunt to find something that fits my idea of it. coming up with the lore of my stories has been an adventure. my interest has definitely grown, more in places and phenomenon than in ghosts specifically.

there are so mnay things you can do to diy punk stuff, in my opinion thats the best and most rewarding way. it sounds to me that you need to start small and slow for your safety, so let me reassure you right here anon, that punk is a set of ideals, and not just fashion. youre still punk no matter what youre wearing. a jacket or vest is always a good place to start, you can literally buy ANYTHING at the thift store that strikes your fancy. this is a canvas you will be adding too for as long as its yours. once you have your canvas, its time to create, and there is literally no wrong way to do this. you can use paint markers, embroidery, bleach, ect. dont have money for spikes and studs? you can use soda can tabs and bend them, metal lighter caps, hell even staples and safety pins always look cool. you can make your own badges by bending metal soda or beer caps around a soda tab with a safety pin through it and then paint whatever you want on the cap. dental floss is what you usually see when punks have the white stitching on their pants and jackets, its durable and doesn't break, since crust and gutter punks need tough clothes that last. if you're worried about your family, i would personalize it first in small secret ways that are just for you, such as a message beneath your collar as seen here on my friends jacket. and here, and here! he hides patches on the inside as well! Im including a pic of john hiding a patch on caros varsity jacket as well. i will post my jackets one day, my camera is broken but i figured id share his since he hides things more than i do!

John absolutely uses the library, its a fantastic resource for SO many things, depending on where you're located. He would also probably use a digital reader later, because many of them you can get library cards on and borrow books that way. he is not a strong reader so he mostly reads books that may be under his age level, like goosebumps, but who cares, do what you enjoy. movie wise hes very obsessed with cosmic horror (hence the UFO tattoo) his favorites are Alien, The Thing, Killer Klowns from Outer Space and the Blob from the 80s. both he and Caro love the original Evil Dead franchise, horror comedy like American Werewolf in London, lost boys, etc.

Thank you, Anon, for the long winded paragraph. You asked some really fun questions for me to answer, i love nothing more than to talk about my characters, it was a really nice little break from editing a new podcast episode. I am so so sorry about your situation, and i am sending you all the best and all the love and strength that you can come out of this free and on the other side and live as yourself. If my comics and characters stories can provide a tiny bit of hope that its going to be ok, than ive succeeded at what i set out to do. wishing you all the best. and look into your library, they may have resources to help you with this as well.