#blue fuzzball

[a-roguish-gambit]

Can I just give a lot of kisses and pets the mini Kurts pls? They are so cute and adorable blue furry balls!

There you go anon, most fun thing ive done today!

Also enjoy the litany of noises they can make!

[jakorcuppa]

please sir may i please have some more It's eternity in there. It's longer than you think. please??? reference under the cut

[butterflyscribbles]

Have Maddie's parents and Tom's mom met the boys yet?

Yep! (At least in my mind they did)

Tom’s mom was already frantic when she saw her son on the news in movie 1 and as a result was a bit trepidatious when he finally explained why and that he and Maddie had taken Sonic in. She had always wanted grandkids, especially bc her older two sons never had any. Now all of a sudden this fuzzy blue alien caused her son a whole lot of grief and then moved into his house/cost him his job in San Francisco. However, after a few visits and with her overwhelming need to coddle taking over, she becomes a great grammy. She loses her MIND when Tails showed up especially bc “that boy is a BABY��💖

Maddie’s parents were a bit more instantly accepting of all three kids, having seen some seriously wacky stuff in their days as both a park ranger and news writer respectively. They were a bit more unphased and had a more “this might as well happen” attitude about it. They’ve always known their son in law and especially their daughter are driven by the desire to help those in need. Maddie’s dad is actually just relieved the “blue devil” exists (he was a low key believer from minute one and was one of the only others in town to give Crazy Carl the light of day). Tom feels like he’s going crazy bc “it was easier for your parents to accept you adopting three alien fuzzball kids but they still give me the side eye as your husband of 13 years???”.

All three grandparents spoil them rotten eventually.

[marlynnofmany]

Fuzzy Eggs

After several deliveries that we had to cross alien terrain for, it was nice to have a client actually meet us at the ship for pickup. We didn’t even have to leave the spaceport, small though it was.

“I can’t wait to try this out,” said the green lizardy guy as he tapped away at the payment tablet. “The advertising promises it will repel any small pest with a sense of hearing, and the last three repellents we tried did nothing.”

I asked, “What kind of pest?” (Was I about to find a hard downside to meeting someone right outside the airlock? I really didn’t want any kind of infestation on our ship.)

The guy handed the tablet back and gestured vaguely. “Round furry things. I don’t know what planet they’re from, but they could easily overrun this one if we don’t get a handle on the situation fast. The colony’s already having to keep every window and door shut, but they slip through the tiniest cracks. At least they’re wildly colored and easy to spot before they eat all your food.”

Mur tentacle-walked over with the package, holding it up like he was a squid-shaped butler with a tray of champagne. He gave me a look as the client snatched it up eagerly. “Well, animal expert?” he asked me. “Any insights?”

I shrugged. “Sounds like rodents from Earth, though ours aren’t usually wildly colored. And I have my doubts that a product exists that makes noises to repel every kind of pest. Especially without also repelling the people who set it up.”

The client was already ripping open the box. “Gonna find out. I see a few of the fuzzy little food thieves over there.” He jerked his snout toward a cluster of bushes at the edge of the landing pad.

I’d thought the puffs of color on the ground were other plants, but now that I really looked, they were moving. All in wild pinks and blues, too. Exceptionally fluffy.

Paint came trotting up. “The captain says we should close the door as soon as possible. Apparently there’s a known pest in the spaceport. Oh, hi.” She greeted the client as an afterthought.

He mumbled something polite back, more interested in getting the gadget to work than in greeting another of his own species. He hadn’t stepped back far enough for us to shut the door yet.

Mur peered past him suspiciously. “Did those things come here by stowing away on another ship?”

“Probably,” the client said. Then something clicked. “Aha!”

There might have been a noise. I couldn’t really tell. General spaceport sounds and local breeze made a background ambiance, but I kind of felt like there was something I should have been able to hear. Almost. A glance at Paint and Mur showed similar non-reactions. The fuzzballs by the bush did nothing.

“WHAT is that SOUND?” demanded Zhee, sticking his bug eyes around the corner. He had his pinchers clenched and his posture lower than usual, like he was crouching to make the sound quieter. I still didn’t know where his ears were. “Kindly stop it!”

“Sorry.” The client produced another click, apparently turning it off. “At least I know that it came fully charged. I’ll go test it on the fuzzball invasion.”

Zhee had already picked up a foreleg to continue down the hallway, but he paused at that. “What kind of fuzzballs?”

The client launched into an explanation, but I just pointed at the bush. “Those things over there. Lots of them, apparently.”

Zhee hurried over for a look, nearly knocking Paint off her feet. He sounded absolutely delighted when he exclaimed, “This planet has Egg Day?”

Blank looks all around. I asked, “Egg Day?”

He clicked a pincher arm and spoke quickly, like he was explaining something blindingly obvious that we all should know. “Mesmer holiday. The fuzz eggs emerge all at once — the first wave, anyway — and culling the population is great sport.” He addressed the client with an intense look. “These are an invasion you’d like to be rid of, yes?”

“Yes,” the client said in surprise. “They’re—”

Zhee was already turning away from him and talking to Mur. “Tell the captain to wait a little. We’re not in a hurry.” He looked at Paint. “Don’t tell Trrili.” Then he dashed out onto the landing pad, purple exoskeleton gleaming in the sun, a spectacle of predatory joy.

I’d made a step towards the hallway at one point, with thoughts of putting the payment tablet away, and an ominous voice hissed over my shoulder. “Don’t tell Trrrrrili what?”

I flinched a little, and pretended I hadn’t. “Hi there. Something about Egg Day?”

The tilt of her antennae and the flare of glossy black mandibles looked offended. “And he wanted a head start? The cheater!” She launched herself past all of us in a whirlwind of black and red. Paint thumped against the wall and the client nearly dropped the gadget.

Outside, Zhee already had a pile of crumpled furballs at his feet, and he was excavating the bushes for more. Trrili charged past him to upend a wheeled cart and expose the cluster of rainbow fur underneath. She put her praying mantis pinchers to their intended purpose, all the while bickering with Zhee about unsporting head starts.

The rest of us stared from the doorway.

“Oh my,” said the client.

Mur picked up some stray packing foam and handed it to him to put back in the box. “Those two ought to make a dent in your infestation,” he said. “And I daresay we can pass the word on to any other Mesmers nearby to come join the fun. Depending on the scale of the problem.”

“That … might be a good idea. Thank you.”

Eggskin appeared with a medkit, looking concerned. “What’s happening? I heard something about wanton violence.”

I hurried to reassure them. “Nothing to worry about. Just pest control. And a competition, apparently.”

Eggskin peered outside, shading their pale-scaled face from the sun. “Oh, Egg Day!”

Paint demanded, “You know about that?”

“Sure, it’s a Mesmer holiday,” Eggskin said, setting down the medkit. “Looks like somebody accidentally introduced the fuzz eggs here, huh? They leave egg cases in every hiding place they can find, and you usually don’t suspect a thing until they emerge all at once like that. Good thing we brought a couple of Egg Day veterans with us.”

The client was still clutching the box of electronics, wide-eyed. “They mentioned calling in more?”

“Probably wise,” Eggskin said. “We’ll have to be on our way before too long.” They picked up the medkit again. “Speaking of which, I should make sure we have enough storage space in the refrigeration unit, since they’ll want to eat every one of those.”

I shook my head. “This is a far cry from Easter when I was a kid. Though we did get to eat the hard-boiled eggs. And the ones that had candy inside. None of those took much of a battle to open, though. Well, except for the really little kids who weren’t strong enough yet.”

Paint looked up at me in consternation. “Your species has the same violent holiday as theirs?”

“Ours isn’t violent,” I said. “Unless kids fight over who saw an egg first, I guess. And there is that one noteworthy bit of lore that features a violent death, but that’s just part of the story behind it all. The actual event is totally different from this.” I watched my coworkers seek out brightly-colored round things in every little crevice about the spaceport. “Totally different.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 9: Double Penetration with Kurt Wagner.

Pairing: Kurt Wagner X Fem!Reader. Work Count: 1926 Warnings: Double penetration, Tail used for anal sex, P in V sex, Open communication, Teasing, Praise kink (Literally one "Good Girl"), Probably incorrect use of German, Pet names (Maus - Mouse, Leibe - Love), Teeth kink (?) mentioned but not acted on, Reader is specified to be a mutant with a more benign power, References to Kurts Catholicism and horny stereotypes therein, They're in love your honor.

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

This is 100% not your fault.

Kurt is completely to blame for this one and that’s the story you’re sticking to.

He was the one that did the thing that unlocked this, apparently very, deep seated kink you didn’t know was there…Okay, maybe you might have had an inkling, but you were totally content to never acknowledge it!

What was the thing? You might ask. Kurt, little devil that he is, used his tail during sex. And in the way you might be thinking.

While balls deep the blue imp decided it would be a good idea to give your, erm, rear entrance some attention. It was just a little brush with the tip of his spade, but it was enough to awaken this new part of yourself.

So, here you are, sat on your bed facing your fuzzball with flaming cheeks, and him smirking like he already knows where this is going.

“I want you to use your tail again.” You admitted after a couple non-starts.

“And you’re embarrassed about this?” He asked like he thought it was silly, which you supposed it was a little silly, you two had been through some pretty crazy stuff together since you met.

Using his tail during sex was hardly the strangest thing you two have talked about.

“I mean…It just seemed a little, I don’t know, taboo? I mean, Kurt. You’re Catholic. I’m kinda lucky you have sex with me to begin with.” You explained trying, and failing, to keep your incredulity off your face.

His smirk widened and he snorted before descending into giggles, giving you a peek at his little fangs. That was another conversation for another day.

“Ah, mien leibe. You really are so silly sometimes.” He said through his laughter. “Did you forget about the biggest Catholic stereotype?” Your brows furrowed in confusion, so he continued. “Why do you think we have so many children?”

Then it hit you. “Oh…Oh! Oh my God.” You covered your face with your hands to hide your embarrassment.

This time his chuckle was fond rather than at your expense. “You know you can tell me anything, Maus. I love you, and I’m more than happy to do whatever pervy bedroom things you want.” He teased as he pulled your hands from your face to kiss the tip of your nose.

“Pervy things I want? You’re the one who started this...” You pouted with a lifted brow.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He feigned.

“Sure, you don’t.” You rolled your eyes.

You both fell silent for a moment after that. You, waiting for him to say something. And he, for you to ask for what you actually want to say.

“So…Did you have like…Anything you need to do later or…” You started slowly, looking off to the side and waiting for him to have mercy on you.

“Why wait till later?” He asked before he was suddenly on you, literally. He had you pressed into the mattress. “When right now is just as good.” He finished before claiming your lips in a kiss that quickly became all tongues and teeth. You really did like those teeth…

“Now is good…” You managed between kisses, hands moving up to thread into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

One of his hands, which had previously been pressed into the fabric next to your head, moved down to caress your body, cupping your breast through your shirt for a moment before moving down to slip under the material to roll your nipple between his fingers.

“No bra?” He asked as if he couldn’t tell this whole time.

“Shut up.” You groaned before yanking his lips back to yours, his whole body following the movement and pressing his front to yours, allowing you to feel how hard he already was.

“And I’m the perv.” You teased, proud to finally fire back at him.

“Be careful Maus, I’m the one that has what you want so bad…” He taunted wickedly and your mouth snapped shut.

Blue jerk.

“Good girl.” He said and watched with a pleased grin as you melted under him.

“No fair…” You grumbled but didn’t get to say anything else as he leaned back down, nipping at your lower lip before slipping his wicked tongue into your mouth, exploring like he owned it.

Clothes were removed in a blur, all too focused on each other and where your hands were going next.

Somewhere along the way you ended up on top of him. Your wet pussy running along the length of his dick, his tip flushed so dark it was proper purple as it peaked out from under you with each rock of your hips, brushing against your clit every time.

Your fingers tugged at his hair as you devoured his lips with desperate whimpers mixing with his own moans, his own hands gripped your hips to guide your movements, though you didn’t need guidance. You had no intention of stopping.

“Leibe…” He whispered between kisses to catch your attention. You let out a hum in question and parted from him just enough for him to speak. “I need the lube from the nightstand.” He panted against your lips.

You didn’t bother trying not to seem eager as you reached out to open the drawer and grab the little bottle and he was too focused to tease.

Rather than start with his fingers, seeing as they were definitely too thick for this particular situation, at least to start with, he wiggled for a moment to free his tail from under himself.

The little blue spade came to hover between you two as he poured a generous glob of the clear fluid on the center. “Care to assist me, Maus?” He asked with smoldering eyes watching yours.

Your fingers reached out to spread it, your other hand wrapping delicately around the base of the spade for stability, and to tease him a little because you know his tail is sensitive. Not really an erogenous zone, but still, lots of nerves.

And the little hitch in Kurts breath was a dead giveaway of this as you made sure the lube was spread over the whole end of the appendage, then applying another dollop.

Once both of you were satisfied you released him from your hold, about to climb off him so he could be on top, but his hold on your hips stopped you. “I want you to have control of how fast this goes.” He explained when you looked at him confused.

Your chest filled with butterflies as you looked down at him, leaning in to give him a much more innocent kiss. “I love you…” You whispered against his kiss swollen lips.

“I love you too…” He whispered right back before slipping his tail from between you to hover near your bottom, arched in the air in this position. “I’m going to start slow, and when you’re ready for more let me know.” He said softly.

At your nod the slick tip of his tail pressed to your hole, spreading the excess lube over your pucker.

It was cold, but felt good, the skin of his tail was as fuzzy and soft as the rest of him, but there was a muscular density that was shockingly reminiscent of his hard cock.

One the lube was adequately spread the very tip pressed in just a little, just enough to almost massage the muscles till they relaxed, allowing the spade to press in just a little more.

Bit by bit this went, till you reached the widest part, and he froze as you let out a quiet sound, not quite a groan, but not just a moan. “Leibe?” He asked, breaths a little ragged from the sensations this was giving him.

“I’m okay…” You assured. “Just give me a sec…” He let out a relieved breath, worried for a moment that he might have hurt you.

Soon your body relaxed again and you pressed back a bit, thinking there was a little more before you would past the flair but letting out a shocked, high and pleasured, moan when you felt the rest pop in.

“Fuck…!” You gasped, your face falling down to bury in his neck, body shaking as it tried to process the pleasure of it. “Kurt…” His name was a drawn-out sound that had his dick kicking up against your belly.

That’s when you had a thought, well, it was also a thought you’d had before, but you hadn’t initially intended to act on it tonight too, but your sex addled brain didn’t care to wait to bring it up.

“Can I have your cock too?” You asked, voice a little whiny as you managed to look up at him, utterly shameless, eyes half-lidded and shiny. You were sure your pupils were blown to hell.

“Verdammt…” He groaned as his head fell back to the mattress, wondering what he ever did to deserve the woman currently begging him to fuck both her holes at the same time. “Yes.” He said, because how was he to say no when you looked so sweet and needy?

You moved to reach between your bodies, but he stopped you. “Let me.” He said, replacing your hand with his own to take himself in hand, holding the head to your poor neglected pussy, dripping wet and sensitive.

Kurt was by no means a small man, but now he felt massive with the stretch of both holes. Every nerve felt like it was lighting up as you sank down on his cock, the tighter space made it so the whole length was pressed right up against your g-spot.

And it was everything you could do to remain on this plain of existence.

It was times like this that made you glad your mutation was rather benign, lest you knock the power out or something with how little control you felt like you had over your person.

You remained still as your body got used to being filled so completely, but the moment you were. Well, it wasn’t your world getting rocked.

As you rocked your hip, riding the blue teleporter under you, you watched as his golden eyes rolled closed and his grip on your hips tightened, aiding in each roll and press as you chased both your pleasure.

The room was filled with a mix of wet noises from between your bodies, and your mixed moans, too lost to think too hard about how loud you were probably being.

You couldn’t have missed the tightening in your belly if you tried, and it didn’t build slowly.

No, it coiled fast and tight as you practically bounced on the bed with each thrust, Kurts hips meeting you halfway now as he felt you quivering around him, tail moving in tandem with his hips to never leave you empty, when his cock was pulling out his tail was pushing in.

And when the knot snapped you came with a cry and he followed less than a second behind with a groan that you were pretty sure was meant to be your name, but it trailed off halfway through into incoherent babbling, much like you.

As the waves of pleasure crashed over you, your rhythm faltered into slower rolls as you collapse on top of your boyfriend.

“Holy shit…” You murmured as the twitching in your body ebbed away and you both fell into a pleasant silence in the afterglow, his hands holding you close.

“Are we going to talk about the teeth next?”

“…Shut up…”

[emmyrosee]

Cate hate kageyama and that’s canon!!! Imagine reader bringing home a kitten (assuming that it was born in the shelter so they had any interaction with the strays )and its the first ever cat that reciprocated tobio’s affection 🤭 our baby boy would probably bawl her eyes out hsjsndvdvs

GOD MY POOR BABY NOOOOOO

You’d passed the little fuzzball completely by chance driving home from the bakery, breakfast sandwiches in a brown bag in the passenger seat next to you. You slam on your breaks as hard as you can, completely oblivious to the other drivers blaring their horns at you.

A tiny grey cat, pawing at a toy in front of the window, with the sweetest little face you’ve ever seen. Your jaw slacks as you coo in your car, hands clutching your chest.

You immediately whip out your phone, snap a picture of the little ball of fur, and send it to Tobio.

SENT tell me not to get a cat

tobio 🩵 ok

don’t get a cat

SENT but tobioooooooouhhhhh

tobio 🩵 we don’t have room for a cat

SENT we can make room

tobio 🩵 why would you tell me to tell you to not get a cat

if you’re going to argue that we should get a cat

SENT f u I’m getting this cat

tobio 🩵 DO NOT. GET. THE CAT.

Needless to say, your breakfast sandwiches, now cold and soggy, rest in one hand, the other hand grasping a small carrier case, a tiny kitten inside looking around curiously at the changes in scenery. You excitedly drive home, talking to the small cat about Tobio, where the kitten will be sleeping, and how he’s going to be hesitant at first, but will grow to adore her.

It’s his adoration of you that’s in jeopardy right now.

You pull up home much later than you’d originally left for, and you brace yourself for the worst as you haul the kitten and sandwiches up the stairs to your front door, struggling with it briefly before coming face to face with a pouting Tobio.

“No thanks, wasn’t hungry at all,” he grumbles.

You merely rock back and forth on your feet, “you’ll forgive me once you meet our new addition.”

He rolls his eyes, “so I tell you no cat, and you immediately hear ‘buy the cat’?”

“Yes.” You open the small carrier case and allow the tiny cat to creep out on her own time, sniffing the air and looking up at you both in intrigue.

Then, she makes a beeline for Tobio’s pants. And starts to fiddle with it.

“Cats don’t like me,” he scoffs, reaching for the bag of barely edible breakfast sandwiches.

“What!” You say incredulously. “That’s ridiculous, cats like everyone!”

“First of all, no, they don’t,” he says, trying to ignore the kitten clawing his pajama pants. “Cats are notorious for hating people and hating their company. Secondly, every cat I’ve met has bit or clawed or hissed at me. Hell, look at this one-“ he gestures his hand down to the little cat chewing the cuff of his sweats. “Trying to bite me and shit.”

You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, “if she wanted to bite you, baby, she would’ve. Come here,” you gently scoop the kitten into your hands, “just pet her.”

“Shes going to scratch my eye out.”

“And I’ll love you all the same.”

Hesitantly, he reaches out to let the cat sniff his fingers, and once she does, she rubs her tiny face against him, purring softly. You beam, “see? She likes you!”

“She doesn’t know what she likes,” he grumbles. Regardless, he continues to rub his thumb over her head, the size contrast making you swoon. “….she is real damn cute though.”

“See?” You say happily. “And she does like you. See how she’s angling into your touch?”

He blinks his blue eyes down at the kitten, her eyes fluttered closed the longer he lingers his touch back and forth over the pattern on top of her head. He cracks a smile, a small one, and you feel your heart soar.

“Fine,” he says, smiling at the cat. “We can keep her.”

“YESSSS!”

“But you’re cleaning her shit. They may hate people but they’re also fucking feral creatures.”

“Just like you?” You ask, and his face drops.

“One time. ONE TIME I forget to flush the toilet, never hear the end of it.”

[j1nx-l0v3r]

Hybrid cat!User

Tangled Tail

[🐋]

Neon lights blinked erratically, half-buried beneath blueprints, wires, and discarded gadgets. Somewhere in the chaos, Jinx was working—muttering to herself, tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she tightened the final screw on her latest project.

Meanwhile, you were sprawled lazily beside her, nuzzling your head against her thigh with an exaggerated groan of boredom.

“Ughh, Jinx… I’m dying here,” you whined, dragging the last word into a plaintive mewl.

“You’re not dying, you’re just being dramatic,” she snorted, not looking away from her work.

Your ears flicked. You bumped your head against her again, just under her hand this time. “Scratches. Behind the ears. Now.”

Jinx finally looked down at you with that wild grin—eyes alight with amusement and mischief. “You really are such a spoiled furball.”

“I’m not a cat,” you grumbled.

“Sure you’re not.” She gave in, scratching behind your ears with skilled fingers that made your tail twitch despite yourself. You hated how easy it was for her to find your weak spots.

You were about to swat at her hand when her eyes lit up even more. She straightened up suddenly, holding something small and metallic in her palm.

“Look at this furball! It’s a gift for you.”

Your tail started swaying side to side instinctively. That always betrayed you.

She held up a shiny metal plate—your name carefully engraved into it in crooked but loving letters. It glinted in the workshop light, attached to a collar with bright neon-blue paw prints glowing along the edge.

Your eyes widened. “No. No way.”

“Yes way,” Jinx said, practically bouncing. “Come here!”

She lunged forward, and you scrambled backward on all fours, hissing softly in protest. “I said I’m not a—!”

Jinx pounced, tackling you to the ground in a heap of giggles and yelps. You struggled, your claws poking at the floor for leverage, but she had you pinned.

“This is abuse,” you hissed.

“This is love” she corrected, already buckling the collar around your neck.

It clicked into place. You froze.

Then you looked up at her. She was beaming at you like she’d just won the Shimmer Lottery.

“…You’re lucky I like you,” you muttered.

“I know you do.” She smirked, flicking one of your ears before leaning close. “You’re my stray now.”

Your tail thumped the floor once in warning—but you didn’t take it off.

You sat up slowly, one hand brushing against the collar as if it might burn you. The engraved tag clinked softly with the motion, and the neon paws pulsed faintly with light—mocking you.

“This is humiliating,” you mumbled, ears pinned back as you adjusted it.

Jinx plopped down beside you, legs crisscrossed, chin in her hands as she grinned like a proud kid showing off a new toy. “Nah. You’re adorable.”

“I’m supposed to be a failed weapon, not a pet.”

“Well, lucky for me I like broken things,” she said, too casual for the words not to sting a little.

You looked away.

She noticed—of course she did. “Hey. I didn’t mean it like that. You know that, right?”

Your silence stretched for a beat too long.

She nudged your arm gently. “I don’t keep you around ‘cause you’re ‘useful,’ fuzzball. I keep you around because… I want you around. ‘Cause you’re fun. And warm. And you don’t scream when I wake up from a nightmare and start throwing knives.”

You blinked. That was unusually… honest for her.

The edge in your posture softened, and without quite realizing it, you leaned into her side. Your tail curled loosely behind you, flicking just enough to let her know you weren’t really mad.

She took it as a victory.

“C’mon,” she said, hopping to her feet and grabbing her boots. “Let’s go show Silco your new look.”

Your head snapped up. “We are not going out like this.”

“Aw, come on! He’ll love it. Or hate it. Either way, I win!”

You lunged at her—pure reflex. She shrieked, cackling as you tackled her to the floor, both of you wrestling between loose wires and empty vials. The tag around your neck jangled wildly as she shouted, “Stop resisting! Embrace the floof!”

“You’re dead!” you growled.

“You wouldn’t dare hurt the one who feeds you!”

“I find my own food—!”

“Trash doesn’t count!”

Despite your protests, your laughter cracked through, mixing with hers in the cramped little world you’d both carved out of the chaos.

Later, after the struggle ended and the collar remained firmly in place, you lay stretched across the workshop floor again, her head resting on your stomach as she toyed with a smoke grenade while you brush her hair with your claws.

“…You’re not gonna take it off, are you?” she asked quietly.

You looked at the ceiling. “…Maybe not tonight.”

She smiled.

“Good,” she said. “Because it suits you.”

𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝙼𝚈𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙲𝙴𝙰𝙽...

I needed to post 😫

[ducksido]

Haii! Im here to bother u again😝😝😝😝😝 okay imagine this, Idia🤤 with a gothic reader who hates the outside world as much as Idia does, so they also attend school as a magical crow (Brian for once working🤭), okay basically it’s just a regular day, reader’s crow is listening to the alchemy lesson when the one day Idia pops up in class, someone in the class makes a potion explode and now Idia ´s a cat (uno reverse) so Idia runs to reader and reader in all their gothic calm amazing glory takes care of kitty Idia yayayayayayayayayyayayayayayayayayayyayayayayayyyayayayayaayyayayayayayayayayayayayayaayayayayayyaayayayyayay

The alchemy room buzzes with cauldrons boiling and students pretending to care. Perched high on a wooden beam, your glossy black feathers shimmer in the low candlelight. As a magical crow, you blend in with the shadows, watching the chaos below with passive disinterest. Grim often mutters about being replaced as NRC’s main animal companion—but he couldn’t match your gothic elegance if he tried.

You hated the outside world. Too loud, too bright, too peppy. So this crow form was your perfect out—quiet, hidden, detached from the expectations of socializing, and conveniently skipping the need for group projects. Professor Crewel let it slide, mostly because you always aced the theory work and also possibly because you once stared him down in your human form for too long without blinking.

But today was... different.

The door creaked open. Heads turned. You cocked your feathery head, mildly intrigued.

Idia Shroud had entered the classroom.

In the flesh.

Not via tablet. Not via hologram. Physically there.

He was hunched over, hoodie up, practically blending into the shadows like you usually did. Your feathers ruffled slightly. What was he doing here? Did he lose a bet?

But the answer would come sooner than expected.

Some half-witted alchemy student added powdered phoenix feather instead of fire salamander scale. There was a flash, a BANG, and then—

“MEOW??!”

The smoke cleared. The class gasped.

On the floor, where Idia had once stood, was now a fluffball of cursed adorableness.

A Selkirk Rex cat with messy, curly fur like a ball of smoke—tinted an ethereal indigo-blue and licked with ghostly flame along the tufts. His wide yellow eyes flicked around in horror, and his little kitty mouth opened to yowl—

But then he bolted.

Straight up the walls. Straight across beams.

Straight into you.

He barreled into your crow form like a flame-furred comet, and you flapped slightly in surprise before steadying. Idia—now a magical blue flame cat—clung to your side like his life depended on it.

A pause.

He blinked up at you with wide, panicked eyes.

You blinked back, slow and calm.

Then, still in your crow form, you gave a low, throaty caw of “sigh.” The universal goth noise of “I guess I’m handling this now.”

With eerie grace, you fluttered down to the floor and shifted back into your human form. The class gasped again, but you ignored them. All eyes were on you now—gothic robes trailing, heavy boots thudding, eyes lined with smudged black makeup, and an aura that screamed “don’t speak to me if you value your life.”

Cradling the trembling blue fire-fuzzball in your arms, you turned to Crewel.

“I’ll take responsibility for this one,” you intoned flatly.

Crewel blinked. Then sighed. “Very well. Just don’t let him set anything on fire.”

Back in your room...

The dorm was dark, curtains drawn, lit only by the soft hum of black flame candles and the flicker of your favorite haunted lamp. Gothic posters lined the walls. A bone-shaped incense holder smoldered faintly. It was quiet. Peaceful. Home.

On your lap, Idia curled into a ball of blue curls and gentle fire. He twitched his little whiskers as you brushed through his fur with a comb you conjured just for him. He hissed once—reflex—but then let out a begrudging purr.

“You make a surprisingly cute cat,” you said, voice dry, a rare smirk tugging at your lips.

He let out an offended meep and rolled onto his back, staring up at you with mortified golden eyes.

You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I wouldn’t dare tell Ortho you made biscuits on my cloak earlier.”

The loudest cat groan echoed through the room.

Still, he stayed there. On your lap. Safe. Warm. Surrounded by darkness and someone who understood him—someone who hated the sun, crowds, and mornings just as much as he did.

For once in his life, Idia Shroud didn’t mind being around someone else.

Even if he was a cat for the time being.

You scratched under his flaming chin. He purred like a broken video game console.

The dorm room was still as shadowed and cozy as ever, lit only by dim lanterns and a flickering TV playing some obscure JRPG’s cutscene on mute. Incense swirled lazily in the air, curling around the edges of a spell circle chalked into the floor—half-finished, abandoned in favor of more important matters.

Like the sentient blue puffball curled in your lap.

You lounged lazily on your bed, black silk robe draped over your shoulders, heavy boots kicked off to the side. Idia—still a blue-flame Selkirk Rex—was stretched across your thighs like a spoiled little prince of darkness, his fiery fur faintly glowing against your monochrome aesthetic.

He’d been surprisingly docile, purring so hard at one point that your entire lap vibrated.

Of course, you had to take advantage of the moment.

Your black lipstick glinted faintly as you leaned down and kissed the top of his little flamey head.

“Smooch.”

He blinked. Then let out a soft, confused mrowl.

You kissed him again. Once between the ears. Once on his chubby cheek. Once near his twitchy little nose.

“Smooch. Smooch. Smooooch~”

Each kiss left a black lip-print on his blue-tinged fur. Like gothic seals of affection. Marks of adoration.

His tail started twitching wildly, like a meter slowly maxing out his embarrassment stat.

You tilted your head. “Aww. You’re all covered in love now, poor thing.”

Idia let out a muffled mrphhh, half-limp in your arms, half-melting from the attention and affection.

And then—

FWOOOSH!

A bright blue light engulfed him. Your arms instinctively tightened to hold him in place.

And when the light faded...

He was no longer a cat.

Idia Shroud—gangly limbs, hoodie, and all—was now awkwardly sprawled in your lap, blinking rapidly, entire body frozen in a crash-reboot of social anxiety.

...Covered in black lipstick marks.

One on his forehead. One just above his jawline. One on his neck. Several on his cheek. You counted seven in total from your perch beneath him.

And his hair—

It was pink. Flaming hot pink. A blushing bonfire, complete with flickering sparks of mortification.

“A-A-AH?! W-WHY—WHO—ME???”

His voice cracked hard enough to shatter your lamp. He scrambled but failed to escape, since your arms were still loosely wrapped around him.

You blinked up at him, calm as ever.

“You turned human again. While in my lap. After I covered you in kisses.” You dragged a finger up his cheek, smearing one of the lipstick prints like you were signing your name.

“That’s on you, babe.”

“B-BABE???!?!” he squeaked, voice hitting a pitch only dogs could hear. He clutched his hoodie drawstrings like they were a lifeline.

“Your fur was soft. You were cute. I was emotionally vulnerable,” you said deadpan. “So obviously I had to smother you in affection. That’s just what one does with magically cursed cats who panic and hide in their goth crush’s lap.”

“G-GOTH CRUSH—????! ERROR—!! STOP—!! BLUE SCREEN—!!”

He turned an even deeper shade of pink as you reached up and plucked another lipstick mark off his nose with your thumb.

“You’ll survive.” You smirked. “Unless you burst into flames. Which, judging by your hair, might actually happen.”

He buried his face in your shoulder with a pained wheeze. “I’m never showing my face in public again…”

You patted his back comfortingly. “Good. Neither do I.”

[jjwolves]

LITTLE WAR RERUNS ‿̩͙ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻

Clown Phone: Biiiiiiig thank you to @namosaga for commissioning this piece! I hope it lives up to expectations... I had fun writing it. Once again my habit of spinning up little stories by accident has occurred. But maybe you guys like that? Honk honk.

What: 5 Headcanons of ENA the Worker X Werewolf Reader

Who: ENA the Worker from ENA Dream BBQ (By Joel G)

How Much: ~1200 Words, ~7 Mins

Credits: Image Banner -> Joel G, Divider -> @saradika-graphics

Warnings: Brief Violence, PTSD (as per Soldier ENA Theory), Slight Angst

You and ENA had been dating a while, and over time you found that there was a deep connection between you two—a spark of symmetry, a heart of transformation. One of aspirations and the other of form. ENA loved you because she understood your similarities and, in you, found not just a good friend but someone that she could rely on and trust. You loved ENA for her oddball insight and her determination. She was someone who never went back on her word, someone with determination and courage. Most entities were scared of your unpredictability—one moment you were an odd outlander, with your being segmented into hair, skin, face, clothes. But the next moment you could blur into fur and fangs and strength. Most would be unnerved, but ENA? “A changer of shape, I see? How trademark! As for me, my fate has found purchase in a similar field.” She wiggled her clawed hand at you. You really adored her attitude and how kindly she treated you. Your brave ENA. You loved everything about her, and that’s why it was so disheartening to see her pale before your form on that fateful day.

ENA was tasked with overseeing advertisement, according to her employers, which is why you were at this place with red carpets for roads and radio towers for trees. Signals could be seen resonating out into the air. Spotlights shone into the pulsing, navy blue sky from somewhere obfuscated. You told her that she’d be a natural. After all, you continued, she was essentially a walking advertisement half of the time, at which her pale side demanded, “Oh yeah?! If half of me’s a corpo shill, then what about the other half?! Am I some sorta half-assed decoration for you people?! Or am I. Am I.” You raised an eyebrow. A signal materialized and crashed into a nearby tower at the wrong angle, breaking it into glossy pixels which rained down around you, clinking on the ground like shell casings. “Am I. Doing… something? Doing…” ENA’s face flickered static and she stood stalk still. Her silhouette was smoke and gunfire. Oh no. You could tell your services were required! It was time to go wolf. You proudly stretched and underwent a metamorphosis. It was a grotesque sight, to be sure, but ENA was never one to be scared of you—if a hulking, furry beast was what the doctor ordered, then that’d have to be that. You wrapped ENA into a very powerful (and soft) werewolf hug, and you could feel the rigidity in her posture melting away. She never said it directly, but being hugged by a muscly fuzzball made most problems in life seem to disappear. The smoke and bullets went to hide for a time. You asked if she wanted to go somewhere else. “Y-yes. Get me outta here, dammit.”

You never asked ENA about her episodes. There was really no way to know if she had been through some truly scarring experiences or if those were just another odd quirk of her existence. You hadn’t been brave enough to ask, but you figured that she’d tell you when she was ready. Either way, nurture or nature, ENA was set on getting her company’s name out into the wild and completing the job that she was assigned. Later that day, she went straight back to that place with you in tow in order to sell them the pitch of a lifetime. The spotlighted city had a town square surrounded by massive, rusty televisions displaying rotting static. You set up a stool for ENA so that she could properly embody the peak of the corporate ladder. “Thank you for the stool, dearest. I’ll look like the head honcho standing up there! This’ll be the pitch of a lifetime. Guaranteed!” She gently pet you and scratched under your chin. Your tail thumped. You were excited for her! “You are always sold on scritches, huh? It’s… cute. Lucky for you, you have bought into a lifetime supply! You know, I bet we can work that into our public relations campaign. Let’s circle back on that.” She was clicking her pen already.

You thought that you were there for moral support, but ENA expectantly shoved index cards into your hand. Welp, looks like you were going to be in the advertisement, too! You asked what the name of the company was, at least. “The company is my employer. They could hire you, too, if you're not careful!” Several router-people gathered around ENA’s soapbox and observed as she used you as a mascot and/or a “pretty face that the customers can relate to”, having you switch back and forth as the half ad-libbed display played out. One moment you were saying slogans ENA wrote for you using your earlier moment as inspiration, such as “scratch company’s back so they can scratch yours”, and “everyone loves a belly rub, but here’s the real rub-down: insurance”. Things were going pretty well, but you began to feel tense (and a little tired from doing shapeshifter anaerobics, phew). The crowd was a little thinner each time you looked back. The old, decrepit TVs became alight once more with the confused faces of router-folks. And a dark figure emerged from the shadows to accost your cubist girlfriend. “I’m sold,” the figure said, extending a hand of lost signal. “Joy! True wonderment. Let’s shake on it.” ENA went to shake the figure’s hand, but you transformed and got in between them. “I’m in the middle of a deal, pal!” Meanie exclaimed. You told ENA that you were pretty sure this guy wanted to put her into a TV, and as her sworn protector, that wasn’t going to happen. The figure seemed to hesitate before trying to get around you and grab at ENA anyway. And you snapped.

You had had enough of the beings in this world treating ENA so poorly. You went forward with teeth and fangs, stomping up to the figure and tearing into him, rending him into smoke and missing channels and a stylish coat that went flying somewhere. The crowd scattered, terrified shrieking ensuing. You were used to it. But you weren’t used to what ENA was doing. ENA was crouched, muttering something about four-legged tanks and trembling. Bullets and smoke. It broke your heart. She flinched when you moved, so you decided that it was time to be the pretty face, as she put it. You transformed back behind a hedge and returned to find ENA clutching her cap, looking afraid for a moment, before Meanie’s hand shot out and grabbed yours. “Y-you, uh… Made dividends. Of him… Thank you.” She hugged you, tight. You were relieved, and scared, and coming down from the high of lycan-powered violence. It felt weird to be held when you were about the same size as her, but it felt… right. ENA was safe, and here, and the enemy was dead. Your little war was won.

A/N: If you want to get into my headspace for writing ENA stuff, check out the album Some Kind of Strange, by Collide, but the instrumental album specifically (Inside is my favorite). That and ambient nine inch nails/trent reznor songs. These are exclusively what I write ENA to.

[bamfaholic]

From Eden to Sit at Your Door | Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3|

AO3 here! ❤

TW for assault! Viewer discretion advised!!!

A/N: It's getting hot in here! Very juicy part imo

Kurt Wagner is in for it when you get your hands on him. This little disappearing act is growing stale; he needs to refresh his routine. You scramble out of the bed, at least making it — unlike a fuzzball we know — and changing into the spare clothes he brought.

The revelation you are a mutant had you think a little differently. You found yourself really focusing on what you could hear. Any whispers that could be useful to you. There was plenty of deafening ambience, just like last night. You ball your fists. Just… Just focus. Focus on one thing.

You picture Kurt, his smile, his radiant eyes. Your cheeks burn. Yet… There it is. Ever so faintly, the familiar sound of his breathing, the tip of his tail cutting through the air.

So, you’ve managed to hear him, but that doesn’t narrow down where he is. You aren’t aware of the limitations to your abilities just yet, your radius could be 50 feet or 50 miles for all you knew.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You figure you might as well use context clues to decipher his motives. After some fumbling around in the dim room, you find the box of matches. A strike later, and the match roars to life. You make your way around, lighting the few candles, until the match burns to a nub singing your fingertips.

You yelp in surprise, dropping the remains on the floor. It’s nothing, not even a true burn, the shock is what rocked you the most. Once you recollect yourself, the first thing to draw your attention is the open manilla envelope on the bench.

You snoop, flipping through the pages. Everything is written in English. You kick yourself for not paying better attention in class, as so many words are too complex and foreign. Beginner English you pick up on, and the few cognates. In defeat, you flip back to the front, seeing a photo of a woman. Blue, angled cheeks, sleek vivid red hair. Surprisingly, her eyes match Kurt’s in color, but in addition they have slit-shaped pupils. Just how common are blue mutants?

You slip the photo in your pocket. Not much of a plan, you realize, but you can at least make it so Kurt can’t deny the existence of the folder. You leave it on the bench, trading it for your white cane, and make the voyage out of the spare room.

You swear you get lost in the claustrophobic corridors at least twice, and it doesn’t help when you realize you’re in the basement. You avoid anywhere that grows too dark for your comfort. You aren’t sure how long it takes you, just that the sun is up when you finally make it to the sanctuary.

“Wow…” It’s completely different from last night, like you stepped through a portal. The sheets are gone, dust eliminated, warm candles illuminate the gorgeous stained glass and adorned ceiling.

It looks inviting, like its excitedly awaiting the next congregation. Kurt is hung by his tail, upside down, wiping down a beam with a rag. He softly hums a hymn to himself as he does so. It’s a cute sight, his nappy hair suspended midair. He’s still wearing his tank, now trying to slip off his toned body due to gravity, and his light-colored shorts.

He releases the grip with his tail, flipping himself upright, and lands flawlessly on his feet in just a few seconds. Hands on his hips, he admires his handiwork.

You tip toe across the aisle to stand behind him. “Good morning, Kurt.”

“Ah!” He jumps, launching the dirty rag across the room, his tail sticking straight up like a cat. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, Schatz?”

You snicker, unable to help yourself. “Sorry, sorry. It was too easy.” You get on your tip toes to ruffle his hair, only now you realize how tall he is.

He gruffs, but you see the grin threatening to peak through. “Apology accepted, but I won’t be so nice next time.”

“How so?” You cock your head to the side.

“Like this!” He lunges towards you; his hands making their way under your arms and tickling you. You shriek out before crumbling into a ball of laughter. Once he’s wrecked enough havoc, he sets you free as you gasp for air. “That’ll show you.”

Your chest noticeably rises and falls. “R-Right. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t spook you again.”

“Damn right,” he says with a laugh, helping you back up to your feet. “did you sleep well?”

“Uh, yeah. I did.” You nervously run circles into the back of your neck, too ashamed to admit it was the best sleep of your life. “So what are you up to?”

“Oh, well someone very sneezy said I should dust,” Mischief flickers in his eyes, “And I should honor God , what better way than to clean His home?”

“I suppose you have a point.”

“Aye, friend, I do!” He hops on top of a pew, crouching like before, in your flat.

“But what now?” You look around the room, unsure what he could do next. You rub your fingers together with the photo between them in your pocket. You aren’t quite sure how or when to bring up the file.

“Head to the market, probably.” His tail happily sways behind him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Right on cue, your stomach loudly proclaims its emptiness. Kurt only laughs, hopping back down to his feet. You now note how active he is, he can’t seem to sit still. He pats your back before spinning around, throwing on his coat and hat. “I’ll be off, don’t answer the door.”

“What? You’re going alone?” You’re stunned, but he continues on, heading to the front door.

“Ja, you’ve already been hurt Schatz. I can’t… I cannot allow it again. I will not.”

You don’t know what to say to that. His tone sharply switching grim, serious. It was strange to see him this way.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you. Ciao!” Kurt opened the door, his trademark grin back, and right as he took a step out the door lightning crackled down, striking a few blocks away. Thunder tumbles over your heads, rain pouring from above.

“Shit.” He swears under his breath. “There goes that.” He sighs, putting his coat back on the hanger. “The church will flood and I can’t let it be ruined more than it already is. I’m its only protector now…”

Kurt briskly saunters past you, and you can already see what he means. So much water slowly drips from the ceiling, but a few spots have proper holes causing the downpour no difficulty.

You fiddle with your hands, not sure what to do to help. Kurt has already dipped into some corridor. He is hard to track, hard to spot. It isn’t hard to see why he was so surprised you caught him in your apartment yesterday.

Slowly, you walk back down the aisle of the sanctuary, running a hand along each pew. Some are pristine, but most are cracked. Some have their upholstery torn up, most likely from mold and water damage. There remains a handful of bibles in the shelves, none of them in great condition. The pages are puffed up, discolored, and wavy. A few flames have died out from the rainwater, shifting the ambience cooler. A hole in the roof creates a spotlight on Christ’s face. His peaceful expression, eyes casted downward to onlookers below. Holes in his wrists and ankles, oozing marble blood.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

The bible at the altar is open, and with the thick layer of dust it’s evident it hasn’t been touched in quite some time. Why was this the one thing Kurt didn’t touch? You wonder.

It’s open to the book of Mathew, and some of the phrases are familiar. Lines you’ve heard incessantly in your life, such as: “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” You never understood the seeming hypocrisy, what it really meant.

Your eyes are drawn to a specific line thickly underlined:

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

There’s a thin scratch in the dust layer, like a nail digging through. You reach out to touch, to read more, maybe this will give you a glimpse into Kurt. This entire adventure had you forget why you even interacted with the man in the first place: your book.

You hear a crash and a commotion, like tons of metal falling to the ground. “Kurt!” you shout, rushing to his direction, but his blue-self pops out from a hallway.

“Ja?” He says, chipper as ever.

Kurt comes back with pots, bowls, and buckets. He strategically sets them up, before seating himself at the altar. He lights two candles before mumbling to himself, clasping his hands in prayer.

You carefully seat yourself beside him, enjoying the beauty. The candles are warm, comforting. They remind you of last night. You never cared for church, hated it in fact, but were happy it gave Kurt peace.

“Amen.” He finishes, raising his head and glancing to you.

“Why do you believe?” You spit out.

His glimmering eyes examine you, “Why don’t you? There is no proof to swing you one way or another.” He leans back, propping himself up with both of his hands.

“Well, it’s just… You’ve been through an awful lot. Not many would be thanking God for that.”

Kurt throws his head back in a laugh, his hand mere inches from yours. “I suppose not, but that is what makes me different. God destined me for these trials, these… Tribulations. I will prove myself as much as He needs me to.” His other hand moves up to feverishly clutch the rosary adorning his neck.

You click your tongue, not one to be religious. “I just don’t think it’s fair.”

“Aye, well, nothing is fair, friend.” He gently pats your head. “We would be puppets if not for the first sin, if our mother and father Adam and Eve hadn’t listened to the serpent. It was the cost of our autonomy.”

You hold your tongue, not comfortable in fighting his beliefs. At least he isn’t forcing it upon you. “Your rosary is beautiful.” You point to it. “Where did you get it?”

“That…” He peers down his chest. “The nunnery that raised me claims they found me with it, so I’d assume my mother.”

“You don’t know her? You grew up in a nunnery?”

He winces, slightly. You’ve accidentally opened an old wound. “In a sense, no. She… She abandoned me, for even I was too monstrous for her. So God led me to the sisters. I am ever grateful.”

You don’t think as you make your move, gently placing your hand on top of his. “Well, this mother of yours, she doesn’t deserve to know the kind of man you’ve become. You’re better than she will ever be.”

He chuckles, cheeks flushing. “You flatter me, Schatz.” He turns to look at you, his smile melting you into a puddle. “I’m so happy you think so.”

Thunder rolls above again, lightning cracking and snapping outside, yet you two are focused on no one else. The tension is thick, and you hear his heart fluttering.

“I’m so happy I met you, friend.” His brilliant glow is blinding.

You nervously swallow. “M-Me too.” You glance away, your face so hot it feels like it’s melting.

“And…” He gives your hand a squeeze. “I am no saint, friend. I am very much a dirty sinner.” He drops his voice to a whisper, leaning in close to you.

His mouth is slightly parted, breath hot. You can see the tips of his fangs threatening to poke out. His grip is a little tighter. You forget to breathe.

“Will you sin, with me?”

Your heart does cartwheels before lodging in your throat. Unable to speak, you just nod.

His eyes slowly close, his head slightly askew. He’s leaning closer to you, his breath warms and tickles the tips of your ears.

Blood is rushing through you, digging your nails into your palms just to stay grounded. This feels so soon, way too soon, but you can’t help it and comply.

You allow yourself to melt, leaning in, pressing your lips together. Fireworks burst between you, his lips so soft and gentle. Your skin is electrified. He’s so warm, and he smells sweet like a doughy pastry.

A hand of his slides up your back, cradling your neck. He pulls you into his lap, enveloping you in intoxicating warmth and desire. You raise a shaky hand to run through his hair. This all feels like a dream, a magnificent dream.

He bites down on your lower lip, hard. Its as if ice cold water is thrown on you. You inhale sharply in distress, the taste of blood filling your mouth. You try to yelp as you open your eyes but find yourself staring at someone else. Their features melt and realign, but the golden sclera remain. It’s the woman from before, the mutant Kurt was after.

She wipes your blood from her lips with her thumb, licking it away. You open your mouth to scream something, anything.  “Ah ah ah~,” She tuts, jamming a large metal device in your gut.

Electricity burns your skin, your muscles convulse and fight against your senses. You fall backward, to the harsh unforgiving floor. She rises to her feet, heels of her boots clicking on the stone.

She speaks in English, just barely out of your view. All you can see is her blurry blue silhouette. The footsteps circle themselves, before she comes back straight to you. She stretches up in height, her skin forming metal plates, and in a blink she’s a broad man made of metal.

She heaves you over her shoulder, and out the front doors of the church. The icy rain beats down on your back, soaking you completely while you still fight the convulsions. You’re hurled into an armed vehicle with English lettering on the side.

Inside, you’re completely surrounded. Soldiers, just like the ones from your flat. They pay you no mind, one of them slapping jagged, strange looking handcuffs on your wrists.

The truck squeals before it begins to move, and you’re jostled by every bump and turn. Rain drops down from your hair, and you watch the puddles grow at your feet. The despair in your heart is soul crushing. Again and again, you’re left like this: helpless. When will it end?

You close your eyes, the lack of visuals comforting. Something you were accustomed to, something you knew you couldn’t rely on. Maybe Kurt was someone you never knew, stringing you along. Maybe he was this horrible woman all along. You couldn’t be certain, and you didn’t know if you ever could be.

For now, it didn’t appear to be in the cards for you to know anytime soon. Instead, like a lamb being led to the slaughter, you quietly await your future in the dim back of the truck; blood from your split lip dribbling and mixing with your tears.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 (WIP)

Banners by @/cafekitsune

[majoryeager104]

Fuzzball

Dabi/Touya x gn!reader

Summary: Touya comes to your room for a late night visit only to find you had another guest in your bed

Warnings: Touya being jealous as fuck over an actual kitten, like to a concerning extent, Touya being a suggestive horny mf, basically Touya being Touya ig. Language obv

Touya couldn’t sleep alone anymore. Tossing and turning was practically part of his routine sleep schedule when you weren’t in bed beside him. It wasn’t like he’d get cold- he had plenty of heat to spare all on his own- but he’d get lonely without the feeling of your body weighing down the other side of the bed, or even better, close to his. 

And being a lonely man, in these moments of weakness when you weren’t around, he’d find himself needing you, your empty space on the bed adding to his frustration as he sat up, rubbing his tired blue eyes. He was reluctant to get up and bother you, it wasn’t like the two of you were fighting, but he knew that sometimes you needed your personal space, just as he’d need his. 

But lately, as he’d noticed with disdain, something had been different about you. You were constantly going to bed earlier, constantly walking in and out of your room, sneaking groceries in on the rare occasion that you were out and about past ten o’clock. 

It used to be that he could count on you in the late hours of the night- he’d go on walks with you, watch movies, cuddle… the list could go on, but for the sake of his own desires he shook the thoughts from his head, sitting up to march towards your room down the hall of the small abandoned house the league was temporarily inhabiting.

He walked up to the door, stopping before he knocked, his brows immediately furrowed as he heard you within the four walls of your bedroom. You were giggling. What for? Were you watching something? No, he’d be able to hear it, as well as the gentle hum of your projector. He clenched his fists, growling a bit as the thought entered his mind. Were you with someone? 

His brow furrowed even further. He’d trusted you for so long that the idea of you sneaking around on the side was the last thing that entered his mind. Now some of your recent behavior started to click, That’s on him for trusting again, or at least that what he thought. 

He raised his fist, his knuckles already white as he beat them against the door- not too loud to wake the rest of the league, but enough to stop that damn giggling. 

He groaned in frustration as he heard you get up from your bed, the gentle creak of the old mattress a familiar sound to him for reasons he was now trying to shake out of his head. 

You opened the door, peeking out. When you saw it was him, you smiled a bit, but he immediately saw the way your smile twitched- you were nervous. “Hey Touya! What’s- oh!” You yelped softly in surprise as he pushed past you into the room, his cold blue eyes scanning every inch for any sign, anything. “What were you laughing at?” He said gruffly, checking under the bed. “Laughing? I wasn’t laughing” you said nervously, to which he shot you a glare, which silenced you immediately- now wasn’t the time to lie. “What the hell are you up to?” He narrowed his eyes, checking your closet, bathroom, everything. “If you didn’t want me anymore, you coulda just said so” he growled, his hurt getting the best of him, boiling into anger as he slammed the bathroom door shut, checking the window “what do you mean? Touya, I-“ “if you wanna lie to me you can just call me Dabi” “okay, Dabi, check the bed” you crossed your arms, scoffing at his attitude. He shot you another glare, marching over to your bed, ripping back the blankets, his eyes narrowed as they landed on-

A cat. It was a damn cat. 

He sighed, dropping the blanket as he glared at you, the cat, which he realized was merely a kitten, black and white, mewed up at him, its little voice squeaky as it waddled towards the edge of the bed, where he watched it almost fall off. 

Luckily, you caught it with a gasp, cooing as you held the kitten in your arms, sitting on the corner of your now messy bed. “Babe what the fuck.” Touya said bluntly, watching with shock, frustration, and a bitter sense of relief as your gentle fingers soothed the kitten, dancing along its fluffy back with a content hum. “I found it in the alley out back and Tomura said I could keep it-“ “who gives a shit get rid of it.” “Touya-“ “do it or I will” he said gruffly, crossing his arms, almost like a kid throwing a tantrum. You pouted slightly. “No. You don’t even know his name yet.” “It’s a he? Nah, no chance it’s staying.” “It’s a cat, Touya?” “What’s that got to do with it? These are basic principles.” He sat next to you, taking the small kitten from your arms with one hand. “So this is the little shit that’s been keeping you from me.” You tried to protest but he stood up, pushing you back down as he held it in the air, like a scene straight outta the lion king. “It’s fuckin ugly. I say that’s its name. Now get it out of our fucking room before I burn the thing” he growled, causing you to gasp as you stood. “Our room?” You retorted, trying to jump up and retrieve your furry friend, who was currently and surprisingly quite content in his one handed grip as he held it over your head. “Yeah, if you’re gonna pull shit like this I clearly can’t leave you alone” he smirked down at you, watching your feeble attempts with amusement. “Why can’t he stay?  He’ll die out there” “truly a tragedy” “Touya!” You pouted, his words clearly affecting you as you stopped your attempts. He tilted his head, chuckling. This was getting fun. “It’s a cat” “he’s my cat” you crossed your arms as he lowered it down to eye level. “You better not have named this thing” “his name is Levi” you said bluntly, causing Touya to groan, cringing slightly “like the anime character? Now he’s definitely getting tossed-“ “Please Touya, let him stay” you pleaded, and maybe he was crazy, or maybe it was just the lighting, but your eyes kinda looked…

“Are you actually crying right now?” He scoffed, the kitten meowing loudly in his hand, as if telling him to lay off you. You sniffled, an audible confirmation to his question, to which he huffed in annoyance, or rather shame, knowing he’d taken his teasing revenge a bit too far.

He sighed, placing the fluffball in your hands as he turned away, walking back towards your bed, waving a hand. “Whatever. Keep it. Just quit crying…please” he said gruffly, leaning down to fix your blankets while you stood behind him, wide eyed and confused. 

“I…thanks” you said softly, placing the kitten down on the newly fixed bedding as he sat down, crossing his legs as he glared down at the ball of fuzz that had caused him so much trouble. “I said whatever. Go get ready for bed” he deflected, rolling his eyes as he pulled out his phone. You nodded, reluctantly leaving the kitten lying on the bed next to him, shutting the door  behind you as you quickly got dressed. The kitten, Levi, padded up to Touya, mewing at him a few times before cuddling up right in his lap, purring softly against his sweatpants. He scoffed, glaring down at the kitten. He supposed it wasn’t too bad, it was kinda soft when he pet it, and the purring was loud and adorable. But still. It was annoying as hell getting used as a heating pad by yet another individual now present in his life. 

“See? He’s sweet” your voice came from the doorway as you stepped out in your pajamas, smiling at the two of them. Touya scoffed, pulling the kitten from his lap, with little Levi yelling in protest. “Whatever. C’mere, you’ve been ignoring me” he huffed, yanking you into his lap instead. “Replacing me with a fuckin cat” he mumbled against your shoulder, shaking his head as he gripped your hips gently, pulling you closer as he planted kisses on your neck. “Not replacement!” You corrected with a chirp, and he rolled his eyes “guess you’re right, u mean I certainly bring more to a relationship than him” he smirked, shoving Levi over, who had been once more attempting to climb into his lap. You scoffed, picking Levi up to pet him, only for Touya to take him and gently place him on the floor, grinning as he now had your full attention. “And what more do you bring besides being mean?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Shouldn’t have asked doll now I have to show ya” he chuckled, before flipping over to pin you to the bed, grinning as he looked down at you. “Shouldn’t have been ignoring me all week”

Levi will love Touya (cos he’s so warm lmao) but Touya will always give Levi the meanest side eyes

Banner Creds to @ itszygo on Instagram! 🙌🙌🙌

[demigoddessqueens]

Can I request honey calcite (confidence) - "if you could see yourself the way i see you, you'd never be insecure about anything ever again." from crystal prompts ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐚 ꒱ list with Marvel Gambit, Nightcrawler, Deadpool, Wolverine, and poly Deadpool and Wolverine telling this to his gn s/o please?

-CV-Non

Got it!

Rock/mineral prompts HERE

Oh and CV-Non, I do have a Valentine’s list going on for next month, prompts found HERE, so if you had any additional ideas go ahead and send them my way 😉.

I got your request for “adore” for my list, and there’s three more spaces left

Masterlist 12

Nightcrawler

Given that he’s canonically been called “devil”, insecurity can easily overwhelm him

But you love your blue fun fuzzball so much that he feels those struggles can be faced with you by his side

Deadpool

He’s gotten so used to the mask that Wade sometimes forgets his new face can disarm some people

On a particularly bad day, he finds reassurance in your words because you were never deterred away from him

Gambit

He can play the role of a roguish charming, card dealer but sometimes feels he’s not enough

The name is Gambit, remember it!

When you reassure him and his doubts, he may turn that charm back on or for once just let a sweet moment sit

Wolverine

He may grunt in response but also lets himself get close to you, letting actions speak louder than words as he leans into you

You may say something like that but he’s more than grateful he got lucky with you

Poolverine

Awwh!!! It’s so sickeningly sweet Wade might have some of wise ass response but he’ll save it for another time. Probably tackle you (and Logan) both in a hug

[rodytrepp]

Fuzzball keychain I made!!!!

the blue gel pen I used for two years sadly passed away. the funeral is held on april tenth.

but! I got new gel pens with lots of colorrs but I suck at colors so I’m still sticking to red and blue for now

[airytificer]

i just remembered that someone in a reblog of 1 of my posts was curious on my take on razor because of my safety tunnels sruvivor post. the one that is actual art of the STS. so uhhh sofry tumblr i'm not sparing the 10 paragraph post because this singular person was curious. you know who you are

apologies, dear razor fans, she is simply insufferable and i am a hater. proceed with caution there is so much text

firstly, her existence makes no sense, how in the WORLD is she a hybrid bestial if the "child logic" chart from pushpin and fossil exists. how is anyone in her pack a hybrid bestial. like are they going to explain that because if one has a child via either spawning stone OR respawn terminal they. aren't hybrids. or usually even the same animal as their parents?? how does razor's pack even exist??? explanation pls?? please don't tell me that she's a wolf-bear hybrid for plot convenience i beg.

other than that, razor also feels a little unreasonably aggressive for someone who is 23. even her packmates don't seem like the type of people to immediately threaten a random person's life because her silly little best friend is fucking dead and they also have nothing to do with it. Actual Grown Woman i tell you, even if she was raised in the forest. her packmates. are better.

speaking on aggressiveness, she is also violent. unreasonably. she hunts survivors; she is omnivorous. gum points this out. razor mutilates a citizen because they wouldn't give directions to a respawn terminal. she has killed fuzzball's classmate because they were "intimidating" her instead of like, idk, being reasonable and indirectly helping fuzzball's school situation. fuzzball didn't even want her to be killed but razor passes it off as like "oooh but it sounded like sheee wanted to kill youuuu" girl you KILLED HER and LIED to YOUR mother so YOU wouldn't get in TROUBLE AND YOU GOT ANOTHER PERSON KILLED AND EATEN IN THAT PROCESS. and fuzzball just goes "maybe you did a good thing" THEY COULDN'T EVEN GET THE HUSK BACK OH MY GYFOSFSUDGGG.

i need an entire paraggraph dedicated to razor and the safety tunnel survivors im so sory

the safety tunnel survivors' situation is dire, their literal only choice to stay completely safe is camping around in the tunnels and eating people. other food sources? probably all consumed by now and they would risk their lives dearly (they are DELICATE OBJECTS mind you, just adds on to the risk even just with the parasites) by going outside. ("it's our only food source" -lava lamp) "those people can't defend themselves" NEITHER CAN THE FUCKING DELICATE OBJECTS. THEY HAVE TO BE COWARDLY OR THEY WILL DIE. they probably know that it's unethical, but they would also have 0 clue on if this apocalyptic event will ever end so what's even the point of worrying about those people's families from their perspectives? it's hopeless for them. sure, wanda COULD go outside to get food. she is a trained assassin. BUT WANDA IS BLIND. THE RISK IS STILL FAR TOO HIGH IN THIS SITUATION. echolocation probably isn't even good enough to avoid parasites (they're so tiny dude)!!!!!! and especially the lage-stage events where the parasites are doing backflips through ways of infecting people. echolocation makes noise and attracts assimilated objects. also, RAZOR IS UNNECESSARILY POWERFUL WHEN KILLING THE SURVIVORS. razor can break A FUCKING FISHTANK, WHICH HAS REINFORCED GLASS, JUST BY ROARING AT HIM. and then she just fucking one-shots the other guys and figuratively dies. why? because they mentioned chowing down on her already-dead best friend. ooo this was TOTALLY just to show off delirium symptoms oghmyfshgjhj. girl this is what i mean by the delicate objects can't even defend themselves.

dragonscale can breathe fire because she is a demon. why can't sticker sheet paralyse and kill razor using his incredibly toxic venom, he's a blue ring octopus, right? LAVA LAMP IS ALSO A DEMON, WHY CAN'T SHE ALSO BREATHE FIRE? oh sorry forgot that the main characters aren't allowed to die sorry plot armour hahaah i hate everything

warhammer, a lawless king, is her father and it genuinely kind of makes her sound more like a mary sue oc because of that. i find it a litle funny.

most of my hate stems from the safety tunnel survivors stuff. it drove me a biiiiit insane. i hope the person who reblogged my post is happy with this.

[whatcoloristhatcat]

Any ideas for my little fuzzball? (Pictured in her favourite places: couch chillen and on top of gym clothes)

Thank you for your service 🫡🫡🫡

a wizard!!!!

a dilute black (blue) tortoiseshell tabby (torbie)!

[moonlaceletters]

yandere! theodore nott x reader ୨୧ ˖˚ nota bene - before you read ˚˖ ୨୧ ʚ burnt edges of lost letters, spilled ink all over ୨୧ ⊱ desolate evening within haunted library corridors & wrong soul, lost in melancholic, tragic time ❤︎ ୨୧ reader discretion is strongly advised. not all pretty things are safe — this piece is undiluted potrayal of second wizarding war realities & related issues.

themes include: ⊱ theodore, with all silk smiles, walks the line between possessive affection & something much darker ⊱ implications to theodore having connections to pure-blood supremacists + questionable power dynamics ⊱ allusions to darker sensuality; whispered between lace curtains ⊱ lack of clarified consent, lost in poisonous suspension

Library has been… strangely quiet.

Hushing of students passing around; along with flickers of old pages filled space around with some sort of noise; faded whispers filling space with unexplainable longing – sense of calmness, one could say.

However, impending news titles splashed across first pages of the the Daily Prophet did not bear any good circumstances . . . everyone understanding You-Know-Who has (probably) returned – albeit, Ministry kept denying such claims as ‘hoax’. Trying to get rid sense of ever-longing anxiety swelling somewhere within throat; girl scrumpled parchment within trembling fingers; gaze fixating somewhere on the ceiling. Intricate patterns adorned the surface, latin incantations of spells adorning in swirling patterns; repeating countless times to fill up the space.

Some of the phrases were well-known, such as ‘expecto patronum’ – others, not so much. Clicking away thought to research some of the more fascinating ones into the so-called stash of ‘mental checklist’. Gaze shifted away across the window, thick droplets drumming with unpredictability – storm raging outside; another flash of lighting reverbarating from old tapestries. Blue skies mixed with cursed heavens above, signaling subtly about certain . . . individuals written down in the neat cursive.

Bleak eyes scanned down the blank, correcting little informality by crossing it out – it should have been ‘Mr. Malfoy’, not lowercase intended. Most probably unspoken exhaustion was blurring clear consciousness, girl once more reading carefully throughout the letter, making sure the wording was appropriate, correct. Moments after, paper was folded with great attention to detail; all edges matching – cream envelope to match. It would be addressed slightly later . . . mind wandering into silly nargles floating above hair. They shifted, floated – leaving a trail of golden glitter, albeit, invisible to most. Eyes sparkled with wander, dainty finger reaching out to pet the fluffy fuzzball, it purring in response; when everything went… deathly quiet.

Thick goosebumps covered the skin; shivers etching themselves until narrow of bones – nargles vanishing into nothingness; terror settling within depths of the soul.

Dementors . . . ? No matter how vicious creatures they have been, they never harbored within Hogwarts inner grounds, no matter the circumstances. Unconsciously, shaky hand started to reach out for the wand; figure finding herself cornered close to the windowpane; the edge digging into the hipbone uncomfortably.

Alas, it was least of the worries at the given moment; candles suspiciously flickering with strange intention? Books shifting just slightly to unsettle most primal part of the human conscious.

Unfortunately, letter found its’ away on the cherry carpet, staying.

Another loud, grimacing flash of thunder passed the skies; windows rattling with intensifying storm outside. Broad, shadow figure faded into view, stepping slightly closer – just enough to illicit heart beating under ribcage faster. ‘You seem to be involved in spaces you shouldn’t been’

Velvety voice, smooth – yet, a easily discernible edge of danger lingered within spoken words; girl stepping closer into the corner (if that was even physically possible) between wide windowpane and cold, concrete wall; trembling hand clutching wand further.

‘I– What sort of nonsense are you talking about?’ -- voice sounded visibly shaky.

‘Rumours float around the dormitories, the halls, the lessons… that you ought to possess what Potter would seem as valuable’ -- another step followed – heels clacking off in a muffled manner; closer.

‘Me? A mere student – excuse me, but I think you are mixing up people; there are plenty of students at Hogwarts’ -- girl tried to raise her voice to no avail; breath hitching into dreaded lump between chest bones; settling in.

‘Of course, there are many – I am not denying that . . .’

Thick silence followed; covering every single surface with heavy, unspoken layer of never-ending dust. Heart aching to escape within prison of ribs; aching to jump out than to suffer inflicted terror of the unknown. The worst kind – the kind which is primal, encoded in our very nature to behold.

‘But it is impossible not to notice white streaks within your hair – as banal as it sounds – they set you apart… well, visually’

Heart rolled into the ground with this statement; mystery emerging from the shadows – lanky, tall build and these curiously dark eyes paired with familiarly emerald robes –

‘Theodore . . .?’

Why him out of all students would torment her? As far as girl was concerned – he seemed to be quiet individual, usually keeping to himself, causing no trouble. None of this made any sense; and there was no time to figure out interior motives.

His name rolled off with more anxiety behind it than intended; wand stashed somewhere in the deep pocket of the skirt – understanding this won’t be necessary (…hopefully). Gulping away myriad of emotions, she finally looked.

Looked properly; with attention. Intent. Dreamy, round gaze – albeit, flickers of fear lingered.

‘It seems I finally managed to properly capture your attention, yes?’

Subtle nod. Calculated step forward; unclear want dancing within eyes.

‘Please understand that . . .’ -- he stood silent for a brief while, collecting further thoughts into comprehensible speech.

‘I mean no harm, no matter how unorthodox my actions may seem’

Before these words could fully sink into crevices of mind, dawning so-needed realisation – ominous eyes directly floated above the sights; her figure cornered. He moved smoothly, velvet-y, gracefully – slithering throughout corners with such innate ease.

‘W-what are your intentions here –’ -- yet her body seemed utterly frozen once more; limbs stuck in motion.

Theodore carefully leaned over; whispering silencing charm around them – there was no need for a third party interference, after all.

‘You’ll figure out soon enough, I hope’

Warm breath tickled into the skin, it covering once more (out of pure reflex) with thick goosebumps. Yet . . . these seemed to appear out of not necessarily . . . fear, more of the feeling of implied danger. Venom.

Soft curls tickled the side of the neck at once, one of the hands sliding to the small of the back; another one delicately wrapping around the nape; girl attempting to struggle away muistering – behaviour met with tightening of force around the neck as a clear sign.

‘I-I! Let me go, you bloody brute!–’

‘If I were you, I would stop this nonsense of yours’

While grip remained firm, it somewhat loosened; in turn soft kiss pressed against sensitive skin. Once. Twice.

Sprinkling across the collarbones like stars, black bruises mornings to follow after.